Minor Penalties Bonus Story: 3 Fines Luca Levied +1 He Paid Himself

3 Fines Luca Levied and 1 He Paid Himself

"After a nail-biting first period, the Sea Lions beat the home team soundly with a near-shutout for new goalie Arnold Henderson and two goals for Jax Grant. Team captain Tom Crowler stood out with three assists. After a mixed first half of the season, things are looking up for our boys!"

Top comments:

seelionssaylions: GO BOYS GO

1682rox: can someone please post how many of each others' goals Tom and Jax have assisted on?

(From: "Sea Lions beat Buffalo 4:1" by Maxie Moore, published in the online sports section of the San Francisco Chronicle on 01/15/2026.)

"Later," Luca promised Chris with a kiss to the cheek.

Chris pouted, but took a seat next to Diego on the team's charter plane all the same. Luca, meanwhile, slid into place beside Jax before Tom could get there.

Jax stared at him in shock for an instant, then craned his neck to see what Tom would do.

"Tom knows other people on this flight, he will be fine."

"He gets anxious," Jax said. "Just let me—"

But Tom had already grabbed a vacant seat in a four-way with Hayes, Vanderbilt, and Henderson. "See? He's fine. You are not attached at the hip."

Jax opened his mouth, presumably to say they had been last night.

Luca raised his most critical eyebrow (the right one).

"What brings you to me, then? Tips on checking?"

Actually, Luca could use a few. Being slighter than many hockey players had advantages in terms of speed and edgework, but it also left him more susceptible to hard hits than he wanted. "Later. I need to talk to you about fines."

"Oh no." Jax shook his head. "You're fine master now. No take-backs."

"Yes, yes, but I have never played on a team where fines were exacted." This wasn't entirely true; his Juniors team had had a fine master, but because he was also a bully, Luca had paid several hundred Canadian dollars for looking at him wrong over the course of his ill-fated two-year stint in Winnipeg.

For a split second, a guilty expression flitted across Jax's face, but he conquered it quickly.

"In Philadelphia—"

"Yeah, we had a fine master who collected fines regularly."

Luca nodded expectantly, but no further words were forthcoming.

"Can you tell me more?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"What people were fined for, how much money was exacted, how it was collected…anything, really."

Jax shrugged uncomfortably. "You can do whatever you think is right. No one will complain."

Luca didn't need to answer. It was so obviously untrue Jax had to glance out the window to escape his own lies.

"In Philly…" Jax cleared his throat. "In Philly, fines were always about team image or "respecting the NHL". You wore the same suit too many times in a row, boom, 500 bucks. You got wasted and the cameras caught you? 500 bucks. You fell on the ice during warmups? 500 bucks."

"You sound…critical."

Jax picked at a fingernail. "I didn't have a lot of suits when I started out. I had my draft suit, and one or two others. My parents…well, they needed some help with expenses, so there went my signing bonus, and I figured suits and fancy shit could wait until I had a big contract."

It took effort to maintain a neutral expression. Jax had so much "fancy shit" these days, branded watches and shoes and gadgets, not to mention his vast collection of designer clothes.

But Jax must have caught his shock all the same. He grinned, too wide to be genuine. "I have a big contract now, don't I? Anyway, I got fined a bunch my first year. Underage drinking, dressing badly, all of it."

"And it bothered you," Luca interpreted.

"Well, yeah. Felt like I was being punished for being poor. And everyone got wasted. Not drinking was not an option, even if I was underage, not if I wanted to fit in."

Luca filled in the missing pieces with the other things he knew of Jax: his long-hidden sexuality, how he thrived on company and support of his teammates, and how sensitive he could be when his pride was wounded. Pesky empathy filled him to the brim for the rookie Jax had been, trying so hard to fit in and be one of the guys, all the while terrified of being excluded for things he couldn't hide, like his family's economic situation, and hiding everything he could.

"I see," he said. "Well, I don't want to do that on our team."

"I didn't think you did."

Allowing himself a quick smile at Jax, Luca explained his ideas on fines. "I thought perhaps we could center fines around respect. Not for the NHL," he added hurriedly, because, well, he didn't respect the NHL overly much. "But for the team. For each other."

"Go on."

"I'd prefer to exact fines for showing a lack of respect for teammates and coaches. Slurs or disrespectful language, obviously, though that hasn't happened since…well, you know. But other things as well. Disregarding curfews or missing too many team outings, not taking part in PR campaigns, forgetting to put in for Christmas gifts for the trainers and equipment managers, disregarding instructions…"

Nodding slowly, Jax said, "Makes sense. I do think people should have a chance to appeal to you if there are exacerbating circumstances, and I don't want anyone being shamed in our locker room for making mistakes."

"I would never," Luca said.

He deserved the look Jax gave him.

"All right, then I hope you will forgive me this." Luca got to his feet and stuck two fingers in his mouth to whistle loudly, a trick he'd learned refereeing his brother's informal soccer matches as a teen.

The shrill noise brought everyone's attention to him. The plane had yet to begin taxi, so there was no rush of engines to drown him out. "As many of you know," Luca began, "I took over Jax's role as fine master when I took on the A."

Grumbled mutterings broke out. Not having a fine master had been very comfortable for far too many teammates. Some did well without a person to keep them in line, others, though…well, Luca would see about them.

"And it is now time to exact the first fine under your new overlord," he continued. "The culprits are none other than our very own captain and alternate, Tom and Jax. You were three minutes late to the team bus this morning. That will be 300$ each."

He rattled off the email address Mara used to collect PayPal donations for the shelter and both Tom and Jax dug out their phones to transfer the money with mostly exaggerated grumbles. Around them, the others laughed at the captain's expense and as he sat down, Jax clapped Luca on the shoulder.

Luca breathed a silent sigh of relief. The first one would surely be the hardest.

****

Spotted: Sea Lions out for chill team brunch after taking Nashville to overtime in yesterday's game

Top comments:

sealionsfan82: Yo this feels kind of invasive and paparazzi-ish

amazetti: @sealionsfan82—agreed but also where is our tendy??

(Posted to r/sf_sea_lions on 02/03/2026)

The natural tendency in levying fines would, of course, be to relentlessly fine the people who annoyed him most, but Luca was a mature and responsible adult and therefor did not. Not when Hayes wore drawstring pants for walk-ins, and not when Vanderbilt rolled his eyes over Jax and Henderson's drawn-out debate about the movie version of Wicked, and not even when Fedorov hit on a girl so clumsily he got slapped in public.

It could have been the language barrier.

It wasn't, but it could have been.

This, however, was a bridge too far.

The only problem was the awkwardness.

"I don't want to do it," Luca moaned in the car on the way to the practice rink.

"Shouldn't have volunteered to be fine master, then," Chris sing-songed in the driver's seat. It was unseasonably sunny today, so he wore his sunglasses for driving. They weren't a brand name Luca recognized, nor were they particularly suited for his face, but he loved them so much Luca hadn't said anything.

"I've never really talked to him. I can't just go ask him for money."

"You've been on the same team for almost two years! How have you not talked?"

"I don't like talking." Luca folded his arms over his chest, awkward under the constraints of the seatbelt.

Chris chortled. "You love talking about how bad American pizza is. And about how dumb you think romantic comedies are. And about—"

"With you! Talking to you is fine!"

"Ooh, fine. I'm so flattered. My boyfriend, the love of my life, thinks talking to me is fine."

When Luca didn't manage to muster a response for several minutes, Chris glanced over at him.

"Shut up," Luca muttered. He wasn't blushing. He wasn't.

Chris's smile bloomed wider. "Anyway, you'll get along great. You have so much in common!"

"Such as?"

"You're both from Europe!"

If Chris hadn't just called Luca the love of his life, Luca might have pointed out that Russia and Italy were very, very different parts of Europe. As it was, he sighed and sank deeper into his seat, resigned to his fate.

He found Dmitriyev in the blissfully empty steam room after practice. The Finns, who would live in the steam if they could, had lunch plans, giving Luca the perfect opportunity.

Luca took a seat on one of the benches and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees (the polite way to sit in the steam room. Fuck Vanderbilt's traditional sprawl. No one wanted to see that.).

Dmitriyev nodded.

Luca nodded back.

He eyed the clock. How long had Dmitriyev been here? Luca only managed to hold out for fifteen minutes at a time, but the Russians and Scandinavians were known to go for ages. Did he rip the bandage off and address it now, or did he wait so as to avoid an awkward silence afterward?

"I've been looking for you," Luca blurted.

Dmitriyev made a noncommittal guttural sound.

"You owe 400$ in fines."

Dmitriyev snorted. "Why?"

"You missed team breakfast."

"Am not on team."

"Don't be ridiculous," Luca scoffed. "You're on LTIR, not dead. Or traded."

Dmitriyev shifted, the tiny modesty towel he wore dipping to reveal the still-red surgery scar. "You have good goalie now. Will be traded soon, I think."

"Not a chance," Luca said instantly. He had no clue if it was true, but it was what Chris would say. Laying it on thick, he added, "Phil wouldn't let it happen."

Phil, as an assistant coach, had less than no say in trades at this point in his career. But Dmitriyev sat up straighter. A strange, sniffling noise emanated from his end of the steam room. "You would really want me at team events? I am no use, now."

"You're part of the team," Luca told him firmly. "Four hundred dollars, and you are inviting us out for drinks after the game tonight."

He'd never been thanked for fining someone before.

He hoped he wouldn't have to repeat the experience.

****

"After an Olympic break, in which five team members flew to Italy to represent their countries, and a spectacular run throughout early March, the Sea Lions are reportedly taking a well-deserved team break in Las Vegas before heading into the final games of the season. Fingers crossed they'll secure a playoff berth very soon!"

Top comments:

calabreezy: it's the least my sweet cupcake breezy deserves after he had to play against his drift compatible D-partner in the olympics

sealionsfan82: if we get "gay wedding in vegas" reports out of this I will lose my mind

clions2010: I can't imagine many of their teammates want to go on vacation with Crowler and Grant knowing what we know now :(

(From: "Sea Lions go 5-0-2 after the Olympic break", article posted in the San Francisco Chronicle's online sports section on 03/14/2026.)

"Check out her—"

"100$," Luca snapped.

Vanderbilt groaned, collapsing into his sun lounge on the pool deck of the fancy Las Vegas hotel the team was staying in for a rest day before the next game. "You are the least fun alternate."

"If you want fun, you can go play." Luca jerked his head toward the pool, where Breezy and Jax had roped half the team into some sort of bastardized version of water polo.

He returned his attention to his book. Historical fiction was such a fine line—almost every book he tried set in Renaissance Italy was unforgivably pulpy or unforgivably inaccurate. This one had potential, though. He'd found it at the airport in Calgary and while the author wasn't exactly the Hilary Mantel of the Medici, Luca relished the intrigue of a historical murder and he hadn't yet guessed the culprit.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Vanderbilt's sunglasses to up as he examined a passing woman's posterior.

"Another 100$."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks. I'm taken."

Vanderbilt sneered, but he was quickly distracted by a group of girls Luca desperately hoped were over eighteen.

"You must love donating to charity," he remarked. "You keep racking up those fines."

Vanderbilt's head thunked against the deck chair. "Come on, man. I know you sleep with women, too. Can't a man visually appreciate what’s on offer?"

"Slept."

"Huh?"

"I don't anymore."

Vanderbilt mimed vomiting over the edge of his chair.

"Does the mere concept of monogamy sicken you now?"

"Only when sanctimonious pricks do it. Aren't the gays supposed to be all about alternative life styles?"

With supreme effort, Luca unclenched his jaw. "Neither Chris nor I are gay. And if you were interested in ethical polyamory—"

"Dude, I am not reading that book you got me. It's sex, not rocket science."

Luca eyed the pool. Dmitriyev flanked Fedorov, blocking his access to the ball. Was this still polo? Or was it handball? Luca doubted anyone knew.

He also doubted Dmitriyev knew how Vanderbilt felt about his affair with Vanderbilt's wife. The man refused to talk about it no matter how much Luca prodded him.

"Come on," Vanderbilt cajoled. "You used to hook up all the time. I saw you hit on chicks at bars."

"So?"

"So, it's not fair to penalize me for looking just because you're a kept man now."

"I'm not fining you for looking, I'm fining you for being a pig about it."

"Come on, do you see her swimsuit?" Vanderbilt gestured to a woman in a hot pink bikini which covered perhaps a quarter of her ass. She had platinum blonde tips growing out of her brown hair and a small script tattoo on her ribs. As she wandered over to her chair, Luca spotted a canvas bag next to it with a knitting needle poking out the top.

Heedless of all the indicators of human personality attached to the woman, Vanderbilt continued, "She wants me to look."

"Fine doubled. 600$."

"What the fuck!"

Luca opened his book and continued reading.

****

Scenes from yesterday's Cup parade: [Image slideshow with the following subtitles]

1.                   Alternate Jax Grant lifting the Cup so his captain and boyfriend Tom Crowler can drink an unspecified substance from it.

2.                   Shortly after: Jax drinking from it himself and getting completely drenched.

3.                   Jimmy Hayes, shirtless on the top deck of the party bus, sharing a cigar with Mike Vanderbilt.

4.                   Semyon Fedorov, shirt tied around his head, napping on the ground with his arms around the cup.

5.                   Luca Mazetti with his arms wrapped around Chris Calabrese's neck under multicolored strobe lights at a club.

Top comments:

seelionssaylions: 2026 CHAMPIONS

clions2010: GO SEA LIONS

amazetti: so is this confirmed mazeezzi?

clions2010: @amazetti—tbh I think they're just smashed on this picture

(From: "Sea Lions Cup Parade" by Maxie Moore, posted on the San Francisco Chronicle homepage, 06/17/2026)

Luca blinked awake slowly. His head was pillowed on Chris's chest, which was normal, so why did his back hurt so much?

Under his ear, Chris's chest vibrated with a groan. Luca gripped at him tighter, his lank, sweaty hair falling into his eyes. "What…"

"Morning!" Jax said, far too cheerily for someone who had been doing tequila shots with his shirt off past three a.m. His phone flashed brightly as he took a picture of the two of them.

Luca winced and buried his face deeper in Chris's skin. He pulled away with a grimace when he encountered the scent of stale sweat and stale beer.

"Huh?" Chris managed.

"Jesus, look at him," Diego said from somewhere behind Jax. "Did you maul him?"

Luca pushed himself into a seated position. He was on the couch in Jax and Tom's den, which explained the backache, and he needed a shower, a change of clothes, and probably a few days with no excessive drinking. Since they'd won the Cup the day before yesterday, the latter would not be happening. But he didn't look that bad, all things considered.

"Not you," Diego said. "Breezy. What did you do to our poor, sweet boy?"

Blinking a few more times, Luca surveyed the expanse of Chris's bare chest. It was littered with love bits. Oops.

Through the haze of alcohol, he fought for a recollection of last night.

They'd done the parade, at the end of which Luca had already been a bit unsteady. They'd had dinner, extremely delicious and high-end steak none of them were in the right frame of mind to appreciate. Then they'd gone on to several clubs. Vanderbilt made everyone try cigars and Fedorov vomited into a beer glass after he'd tasted it.

"Is Fedorov all right?"

"He's in Artemis's kennel," Tom said, padding into the living room on bare feet with two large glasses of water. "I think he's fine, though."

"Where's Artemis?" Jax asked.

"She was sleeping on top of him when I found them. I let her into the garden." Tom pushed a water glass at Luca. "Drink."

Luca drained his and then prodded at Chris until he was upright enough to drink his as well. Sitting up revealed the biggest hickey yet, nestled right under Chris's ear. Luca winced. He remembered dancing at one of the clubs. Bad dancing, because Chris had very little rhythm and very much enthusiasm. He remembered laughing. He remembered kissing.

He remembered doing his level best to crawl into Chris's lap on the team bus when their driver took everyone still standing to Tom and Jax's house for a nightcap.

He remembered actually crawling into Chris's lap in this very couch, and he had no idea if they'd been alone when he did it. His stomach roiled.

"Did you seriously fuck on our couch?" Jax demanded.

"No!" Chris said instantly. "We wouldn't—we didn't—"

Luca grimaced. He certainly would have. But for Chris, arousal was inconceivable when he was so focused on the team, which meant he simply had no interest in sex anywhere near a cup celebration event. As a consequence, Luca, who got very turned on by winning and also by being in Chris's vicinity for any length of time, had spent the night half-hard and all over Chris. Of course he'd had to bite Chris about it a little bit. He could only hope he'd waited until they were alone.

Chris's arm pressed into Luca's, reassuring him he hadn't done anything that Chris felt was too much.

The couch sagged as Diego fell into place beside them. "Gonna be real, guys, I feel like you owe us for having to see this." He gestured toward Chris's bare chest.

Luca dug his phone out of his pocket and swiped away the congratulatory messages from everyone he'd ever met and many more people he didn't know at all. He opened Paypal and sent an even 500$ to the shelter account. "Agreed."