Hat Trick- noun

1. Three successes of the same kind, esp. consecutive ones within a limited period

2. (chiefly in ice hockey or soccer) The scoring of three goals in a game by one player

Puck Drop:

Trick shoved Murphy back against the crossbar of the goal. "Need I remind you again, Murph, goalies aren't supposed to accumulate penalty minutes?"

The dark haired brother was too busy staring at the brawl Connor was tangled in near the blue line. Murphy wanted to go help, and Patrick 'my friends call me Trick' Matthews was tired of sitting in the box for him, riding out his penalty minutes so their star goalie could stay out on the ice.

Murphy made to skate around the defenseman in front of him. "C'mon man," Trick almost whined as the goalie ripped his mask from his head.

"Get t'feck out o'my way!"

The resounding slap of skin on ice made them both turn and see the man Connor had squared off against was lying motionless on the smooth surface of the rink. The ref grabbed the lighter haired brother and pushed him towards the bench, angry words in the man's ear.

"Maebe if ye remembered yer feckin glasses I wouldn't need t'take care of shit like dis."

The ref shoved the smart mouthed MacManus hard against the boards. Before Conn could spin around to face the man in black and white, the ref was caught with a strong forearm across the back of his head, sending him to the ice beside the unconscious Shamrock player.

Another whistle sounded in the arena.

"Roughin!" the linesman barked. "Five minutes misconduct to number 22."

Trick threw his stick to the ice and shot a dirty look at Murphy standing over the two men flat on the ice before heading to the penalty box with his head down.

Hoisting his stick bag over his shoulder, Murphy headed to the T station, half wondering where his brother was. Stubbing out his cigarette on his way down, he shrugged to himself, knowing Connor would catch up with him at McGinty's.

Dropping a T token through the slot in the turnstile, Murphy made his way to the platform. Since the trains were few and far between on a Saturday night, he was quick to find a piece of wall to lean his weary body against, dropping his equipment bag at his feet.

God, he was tired. Purple Shamrock was always a difficult team to play. They played as hard and as dirty as the McGinty's crew. Murphy's defense men spent entirely too much time chasing the puck past the blue line and not enough time watching his ass.

He would have to talk to them. Again.

Murphy let his eyes drift, the back of his head resting against the tiled wall. Part of him really wanted to call it a night. He was bone weary and ready to drop. All he wanted was to down one cold beer and then crawl into bed.

He smacked his hand against the wall when he realized Connor finished their last beer before they headed to the game.

Fuck.

Guess that screwed that plan. If he wanted a beer he either had to buy more on his way home or suck it up and meet the rest of the team back at McGinty's. With a weary sigh, he pulled his eyes open, searching the platform for his brother. He wasn't surprised to see his lighter half was still amongst the missing. However, Murphy was pleasantly surprised by the pretty brunette with big green eyes looking at him from a nearby bench.

Cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips, Connor leaned against the brick wall in a dark corner in an alley behind the arena. His head arched back, and his eyes closed as he heard the zipper of his jeans open and felt the cold air hit his overheated skin.

"Ahhh," he grimaced. "Easy, lass, easy." Connor helped her pull his jeans and shorts into a position that didn't make the growing puck shaped welt on his hip ache more. He was certain Byrne had barreled that puck at him on purpose, trying to aggravate an old wound.

As moist heat enveloped his cock, he tried hard to concentrate on the feel of the girl's mouth. Hot, wet and nice. Not the best he ever had, but in Connor's mind, head was like pizza: even if its not very good, it's still pizza.

He snorted to himself softly as he realized that sounded like a line he had heard in a movie at some point. But he couldn't recall what movie; had one of the fucking Baldwin brothers in it, he mused. Alec or Adam or whatever the fuck his name was.

Looking down at the dark haired woman on her knees before him, Connor struggled to remember her name. Connie, Carol, Cheryl, Chloe... fuck. The amount of time she spent with her tits pressed against the glass behind the penalty box and draped over his and Murphy's arms at the bar, he should remember what it was.

But he was drawing a complete blank. Tonight was not his night for remembering names. Maybe he took too many blows to the head, he decided as he chose to ignore the ringing in his ears.

Teeth grazed the bottom of his cock, and his mind cleared of everything but the sensation of her mouth. As her hand slipped over the elastic of his shorts resting not far below his balls, he felt her tug at the boys, cupping them in her too cold hands. As she pressed her finger against that spot just behind them, Conn was suddenly lost, exploding down her throat. His hands yanked her mouth tight over him until he softened in her mouth. The girl in the tiny skirt on her knees in front of him swallowed loudly as he slumped hard against the wall.

Flicking the accumulated ash to the side, Connor adjusted the cigarette between his lips and took in a lungful of smoke before straightening his jeans and belt back into place.

He needed a drink, he decided with a heaving sigh as he reached for his bag as his companion got to her feet. She reached for his cigarette, taking a the last draw before tossing it to the ground. She stomped on the butt with her booted foot.

"See you at McGinty's later?" she asked, exhaling smoke as she straightened her coat before walking up towards Comm Ave, not even waiting for his response.

A/N: I came up with this idea back in March towards the end of the hockey season after my team was taken out of the playoffs in the first round. I just figured if our boys played any sport, it was gonna be God's greatest game. I was challenged to write it and promised bonus points for using the following hockey terms:

penalty box, offsides, power play, roughing, and hat trick

Thank you to Valerie E. Makin and DeDe324 for brainstorming, preread, and beta, and Rhanon Brodie for the hockey prompts.

I have no claim on any part of the BDS movies, and this is just for my own entertainment, and hopefully yours as well. The un-movie names in this tale came from a host of followers on Twitter. Not the least of which was Trick who is loaned from one of Ms Rhanon Brodie fics.