The last game of the tournament happened to be an important one, deciding their final placement in the league tables. This year, the team had experienced ups and downs. One could say there had been mismanagement by the coach on odd occasions, however in all honesty, many clubs could blame bad results on this or on the weather or on a single player's unfortunate circumstances. In truth, all excuses were just excuses and wouldn't change the final results. As it happened, during this last game, all the stars must have been in alignment and the heavens looked down favourably upon Zee's team, for each and every player played at their finest with tactic understanding and almost to the point that they seemed to be able to fully read the intentions of their team mates. Not to say that there were no mistakes, just that they were too few and none were able to stunt their momentum. Zandre was not in the initial line up, the coach was still obstinate in the face of the manager and club owner, but due to an injury caused by an unfortunate tackle in the first ten minutes, Zandre was finally sent out to play. There were a great many cheers from the audience when they became aware just who was running to take the blindside flanker position, causing a certain discontented Fly-half to spit out a curse beneath his breath. Fortunately, that man was still more serious about the game than he was about suppressing Zandre's fame, thus his temper did not effect the game in the end. In fact, it couldn't really have been better. Despite all of their excellent efforts and continuously brilliant plays, their opponents were no pushovers, being at the top of the league tables for a good many years already, the result by the final minute was that scores were tied. Both coaches stood in their respective dugout's, fists clenched and knuckles white, as Lewis, who'd been unable to find an open path to the scoring line tossed the ball backward to another player, who in turn slipped it back to Dan. They were too short on time to make the try, he only had one option and could only pray it would work. Zandre was not too far from his position and understood the tricky manoeuvre the Fly-half was attempting as did a nearby opponent, his eyes widening as he burst into a run to tackle Dan and cause him to fail. Zandre also leapt into gear and managed to intercept that man, throwing them both to the muddy ground. The ball dropped to the ground, bouncing up at an awkward angle, but this had been anticipated, Dan's boot captured it on its slight ascension and sent it flying towards the goal posts. Zandre and the man beneath him watched its flight as did the audience in the stands, as did the coaches and other players as they jogged to intercept, as they hoped that it would or would not reach where Dan intended it to go. The ball flew through the two white goal posts on high. Three points were scored. They had won! Tremendous bursts of cheerful screams leapt out of the throats of the men and women that supported the winning team, while the rest could only look on despondently. With only seconds left of game play, no amounts of effort would steal back what Dan just earned for his team and sure enough, the whistle blew and Dan was tackled to the ground by ecstatic team mates. Zandre joined in the hugs and back slapping, shaking the scorer's hand willingly. Dan was an arsehole, but he was still an excellent player. They did not top the league tables, but their position was better than the previous year and this game, against the staunchest of opponents had topped off the tournament with sweetness. Naturally, their manager was in the mood to celebrate, booking out a bar and insisting all his players join him in. Spouses and plus ones were extended to in invitation. Zandre's reached for his phone and told Ichiro that he was coming to pick him up from his apartment. Ichiro had been enjoying a rare day off, laying in in the morning, pottering around in the afternoon. He couldn't enjoy the game as he had no television and Jiro had to hand in an urgent essay after the weekend, so the computer was not free either. However, his brother did pass on the final results, having checked when he realised the time. So when he saw Zandre's name appear on his old phone, a smile came unbidden to his lips and he answered the call with a hearty; "Congratulations!" "We won," Zandre said, his deep voice brimming with emotion as he confirmed what Ichiro already was aware of. "I know," Ichiro smiled, a melting sensation in his chest. He'd never heard such unrestrained emotion within the Alpha's voice. Possessiveness, yes, authority, yes, lust, most definitely. But there had still remained some vestige of clarity, a feeling that he was not entirely controlled by these intense feelings. This time was different. "I'm coming to pick you up," Zandre declared and before Ichiro could question him, he ended the call. Ichiro scowled, so much for his lazy day! Picking himself off of the sofa, he quickly went to freshen up in the bathroom and throw on decent clothes, the reliable old skinny jeans and a shirt combination. It really didn't seem to take long for Zandre to appear and drag him out of the apartment, suggesting that the boys within should lock the door and not wait up! That earned him a slap on the arm, but it was like hitting a brick and Ichiro, despite the strength earned within his own sport, ended up the one hurt. "Ow!" He pouted, looking at his reddened palm, only for Zee to place a kiss upon it, causing the redness to spread elsewhere instead. An awkward silence followed them into the elevator, one Alpha smug due to tasting a little tofu, one Omega feeling indignant that he'd once more allowed his tofu to be tasted. Ichiro broke the silence in the end after rubbing at his palm for half a minute. "Congratulations, by the way." "Thank you," Zandre grinned, cheerfully, glancing down at those paws he wished to grab once more and hold indefinitely. "So..." Ichiro drew out the syllable, before continuing to ask; "Where are we going?" "To celebrate," Zee replied. All manner of questionable thoughts ran through the Omega's mind, clearly echoed upon his face, Zandre thought it was adorable. "My manager has booked out a place, he's paying for all of the food, drinks are on ourselves. Guests are invited." He didn't mention that the majority of those guests would be wives or partners.