#sorry for the hockey sneak I just felt like it was necessary

[formulanni]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TUMBLR

Do I do a tag list here…? idek

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal l @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009 @korolrezni-nikolai @d00dlespng

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 11

Word Count: 3,827

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders (more to come)

Notes: You guys have spoken and so here it is the next part of Bubble Wrapped. The new Jamie Benn series RUINED will be out on Thursday.As always feedback is greatly appreciated and wanted...hahaha! Luv ya all!! Happy Reading to all!

The elevator door opened and you walked with Dougie, Joel, and Svech to your suite. All you could think about was how you were going to live with these three for the next few days. They were extremely easy on the eyes, not to mention the comment you swore you heard Edmundson say in the elevator, had you wondering if he'd be sneaking into your bedroom. Not that you were opposed to that, but the bedrooms were kind of close together so the other two would know what was going on. That was unless they were all in there with you.

 Oh god, you needed to get your mind out of the gutter. You opened the door, inviting them all in. "I'll be sure to have keys made for you guys for the next couple of days." Though if you had to guess Carly was probably already taking care of that as you spoke. "So I'll give you a quick tour. This is the living room, obviously, and over there is the dining room." You pointed out each thing as you went. "The bar is fully stocked, but please don't drink all my pinot noir." The last thing you needed was them showing up to a game drunk and their coach reading you the riot act, but they were grown men and it wasn't like you were going to lock up all the alcohol as if they were teenagers. Well, on second thought, maybe you should after what they did to your hotel room. "This is the kitchen. If there's something special you want, just write it down and I'll have the staff bring it up."

 Svech opened the refrigerator doors and took a peek inside. "Man, you've got cookie dough ice cream in here!" It wasn't something that you indulged in every night, but there were times that you just needed a couple scoops to get through the week.

 "If there's another kind you like, just let me know." You told him and his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Now, if you want to follow me upstairs; I'll show you your rooms." They trailed after you and you felt like a mama duck with her ducklings. "This door right here will take you to the rooftop pool, but please don't go up there if it's not your team time." The last thing you need was someone being pushed off the roof or some such nonsense. "This is my room." Joel craned his neck inside and damnit if you didn't blush as one of your bras was laying on top of the bed from when you were getting ready this morning. You tried to keep them moving down the hall. "Over here is the room with the king and then this one has the two queen beds. Your stuff should be up in a few minutes, but feel free to make yourself at home. I'm going to have to get back to work and clean up the mess that you made."

 "We're really sorry," Dougie told you, with a sad look in his eye. It was really hard to be mad at someone when they were being somewhat adorable at the same time.

 "I know, it's fine, but please tell me what the hell you guys were doing that you broke a water pipe."

 The three of them exchanged glances debating on whether or not to spill the beans, while you tried to give your best impression of your mother. It was the look she always gave you when you did something wrong that just made you so guilt ridden that you finally confessed all your sins. Svech, being the baby of the group, finally couldn't take it. "You see we have a game tonight against Boston," he explained as if that was supposed to be the answer. When he didn't say anything more, you crossed your arms across your chest and just waited. "Anyhow…we heard that Pastrnak's room was above Joel's here. We thought we could interrupt his sleep and maybe throw off his game."

 Oh my god, you had to be kidding. Did these three really think that something like that would work? From the look on their faces, the answer was a resounding yes. "What about you guys? Wouldn't you be missing sleep as well?" They all looked at you dumbfounded as if that never occurred to them. God, athlete's were really didn't think sometimes, did they? "So I take you were banging on the ceiling a little too hard with the hockey stick that I saw?"

 "Yeah," Joel answered sheepishly for the group. "Again, we're really sorry."

 "Well, please don't let it happen in this room. I'd like to keep my job."

 "No, never," Dougie told you.

 "Besides, we're on the top floor. We couldn't annoy anyone if we tried." Svech added. Obviously, he didn't include you in that anyone part.

 "Well, I need to get back to work." Just then there was a knock on the door and you took off downstairs to answer it. It was a couple of bellhops with all their luggage. "The guys will show you what rooms to put it in. Thank you two for coming up so fast with all this stuff. I'm off to the lobby, if you need anything just give me a call."

 "Will do," you heard the trio say as you headed out the door.

 "Oh, and one more thing. No parties up here."

 "You got it, boss." This time you weren't sure if it was the bellhops or your new roommates calling out to you as you shut the door behind you.

 The day went fast, as you were helping Carly find parts to fix the room as well as trying to get all new furnishings in. You literally had a small window of time you were working with. Thankfully, you still had some new mattresses tucked away, when you changed some of the queen beds to king-size. It was the dressers and televisions that you needed to get in, as well as new flooring. Before you knew it, the night shift was taking over and you were headed up to your room.

 The guys were still playing game three and the suite was quiet as you entered. Last you heard they were losing but you hadn't been able to see any of it on television. You hurried upstairs and changed into some comfy clothes, before putting the game on. It was in the third period and the Canes had the puck in the offensive zone. You were too busy following the puck to see exactly what happened, but then the whistle blew and you saw him laying on the ice. Players often went down and then only seconds later got back up and were back ready to play, so you tried not to think the worst, but then they replayed what actually happened. What you couldn't decide was whether it was Svech's knee or ankle that seemed to totally snap as he fell. Your stomach dropped and you couldn't even watch it again, as the camera seemed to zoom in. Trainers dashed onto the ice to take care of him until they finally helped carry him off; Svech not putting any weight on his leg. You weren't sure if he'd be back tonight or not, it was obvious that he needed to go to the hospital to be evaluated, but he was definitely going to need someone to take care of him when he did get back.

 It was a couple hours later when Dougie and Joel came in, neither of them knowing how Svech was doing at the moment, only saying that he was getting scans and MRIs done. They were both mentally and physically exhausted and everyone headed to bed, including you. It was about one-thirty in the morning that you woke up, your brain in a slight sleep fog as you remembered you forgot to set the coffee pot to have your morning brew ready. Let's face it you weren't a functioning human being until at least one cup of caffeine in the morning, well unless you were greeted by a certain smiling hockey player when you rolled over. Quickly, you darted out of your room and down the stairs. You fumbled with the coffee maker for a few minutes in the dark before setting everything up for auto-perk, then went to head back up to your room.

 You'd just stepped into the living room when a figure in white moved on the couch. "Jesus!" you gasped, not sure if you were asking for his help or seeing his spirit move in your suite. As your eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, you could make out that it was Joel squishing his large frame on the sofa. "What are you doing down here?"

 "I couldn't sleep." He mumbled, punching at his pillow before throwing it behind his head in hopes of finding some sort of comfortable position. His gaze lingered on your body a little longer than necessary and it was then that you realized you were only in a cutoff t-shirt and a thong. You hated wearing sleep pants to bed as your legs always got overheated and, in your haste, to get the coffee ready, you hadn't thought to put any on.

 "Is something wrong with the room?"

 "God, no," he was quick to tell you. "It's just…" he seemed to hesitate, so you took a step closer, knowing that it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do given your lack of dress, but you wanted him to know that he could talk to you. "I rolled over and saw Svech's empty bed and kept thinking about how he went down. Thought if I came down here, I could maybe get some shut-eye."

 "How's that working out?"

 He obviously knew you were teasing, as he gave a light chuckle. "Not so bad." His eyes looked you up and down again, and the sympathy you had for him a moment ago, almost vanished.

 "Oh good, then I'll just head back up to my room if you're all comfy."

 "Wait," he said stopping you even though you were kidding. There was no way you were going to let this nearly six-and-a-half-foot body, fit on that tiny couch all night. "Does this thing pull out or something? This couch is actually kind of small."

 "Well, no it's not a pullout. I was actually going to offer my bed to you." His eyes got huge at your suggestion and he started to grab his pillow and sit up. "I'll just take your bed if you don't care."

 "Oh, no I can't let you do that. I'm fine here." Fluffing the pillow back up he threw it behind his head. His frame curling up as best he could on the sofa.

 "Don't be an ass, and take my bed."

 "What kind of gentlemen would I be, if I did that?" Was he just trying to be difficult now or nice; you couldn't really tell?

 "Seriously, you'll be all cramped up if you sleep down here. Now, get your butt upstairs."

 "We could share your bed." Ah, so there it was, the real reason, he wouldn't take your bed. "I promise no funny business." He sounded like your grandmother when he put it like that.

 "If it lets us both get some sleep, then sure." Joel jumped up off the couch as if he hadn't been curled up in a ball on it, grabbing his pillow and following your up the stairs. Once ensconced inside the room, you shut the door before asking, "Which side do you want?"

 "Doesn't matter." You went to crawl in the under the right side of the covers and heard him make a noise, obviously distressed that you'd chosen that side.

 "You could've just said you wanted this one," you teased him, then scooted over to the left side of the bed.

 "I'm trying to be accommodating."

 Turning, you faced the middle of the bed. The fact that it was a California king meant that even with how tall Joel was there was still enough room between the two of you to fit another person. "Goodnight," you whispered over, closing your eyes and wondering if he'd make any sort of move on you.

 "Night," you heard him as he lay facing you. You were almost asleep when you felt him shift, not wanting to open your eyes to see if it was closer to you or if he actually just turned over. Instead, you laid there and waited, and were surprised when nothing happened. Sneaking a quick peek told you that he was laying on his back. You took a moment to take in his well-chiseled form; arms well defined from lifting weights you assumed, a smattering of chest hair barely noticeable in the moonlight, and that indent leading to a happy trail which was covered by blankets. If he didn't do something soon, you were pretty sure you were.

 He moved again, this time presenting you with his back. "Is something wrong?" you called over, and he flipped back once again. Thank god this wasn't a waterbed or you'd have been seasick.

 "Hmm," he mumbled. "No…sorry." You opened your eyes then, and he was just laying there staring at you. "God, you're beautiful...sorry…I promised nothing…" You didn't let him finish, as you scooched over and planted a kiss on his lips. It didn't take long for it to turn into something heated as his tongue quickly sought entrance into your mouth. His hands slipped up under your shirt so he could cup your breasts. The globes molding perfectly in his large hands. A moan escaped your lips as he tweaked each nipple and you felt a rush of wetness go straight to your core.

 You slid your hands down his chest, raking your nails over his abs and causing him to shiver. Joel gathered the hem of your shirt, then lifted it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the bedroom. Pushing his boxers down, you palmed the length of him, and god was there length to him. He hissed out his pleasure as you slid your hand up and down his shaft.

 His hand slithered into your panties; his fingers toying with both your clit and pussy. "So wet," he breathed out and you took the opportunity to push him down so he lay on his back. You quickly disposed of the flimsy garment that was your underwear, before straddling his hips and positioning his cock at your core. Leaning down you touched your lips to his as you slowly sunk down on him.

 Once he was buried fully inside you, you broke the kiss. Whispering for him to be quiet as you started to rock back and forth. Grabbing the headboard for leverage, your body moved up and down on his length. Joel's hand went straight to your hips, helping you find a rhythm that both of you enjoyed. It didn't take long to find a pace that had you both worked up. "Don't stop baby." He hissed out, then took one hand and started to rub your clit. Your back arched and you felt the hand on your hip slide up to cup your breast as you rode him. His hips were rising to meet you now and with the flicking motion on your clit, you could feel the orgasm start to build. Your pussy started to spasm, squeezing his cock as you climaxed. "Fuck," he moaned and flipped you on your back mid-orgasm. Joel, grabbed your hips pinning you to the bed as his cock pistoned in and out of you, as he thoroughly fucked your pussy, and though you'd just climaxed seconds ago, you felt another bursting to the surface. Your legs started to tremble and you clasp them around Joel's waist holding on for dear life. His head dipped down to your shoulder and he softly bit you there as he thrust a few more times before spending deep within you. His arms were shaking with an effort to remain upright and not just topple on you, but he managed to kiss you quickly before rolling back onto his side of the bed.

 You laid there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, had you ever orgasmed so close together like that before? There wasn't a time that came to mind, well except when Tyler was playing with that vibrator, but that really didn't count. Joel was like some sort of sex god, and you had to wonder if you had sex again would it be just as good? Hopefully, you'd find out tomorrow night or the next for that matter, but for now, you needed to not act like the man had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life. You rolled onto your side to face him, propping your head on your hand. "Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

 He laughed at the comment, still a bit out of breath. "Oh yeah," he responded finally, though he padded out of bed to the bathroom and you heard him splash some water on his face, before coming back in with a wet washcloth to clean you up. Joel pulled the covers back, then gently spread your legs, before wiping your thighs and then your pussy. It was all rather intimate but after what the two of you had just done, nothing seemed off-limits. He tossed the cloth, back in the bathroom, then crawled back into bed, bringing the blankets up around both of you, before scooting closer to you and tucking you into his side. "I think I'll sleep even better if you're like this. Unless this is too uncomfortable for you?"

 Damn, if this man wasn't a gentleman. "Not at all," you told him and snuggled a little closer toward him. His breathing evened out in minutes and the hand that was idly stroking your back, slowly stopped. It took him all of about two minutes to fall asleep. You chuckled to yourself at that fact, though quickly followed behind him.

 You were still locked in the same position the next morning when you felt the sun peeking through the small opening you'd left in the blinds. Slowly, you opened your eyes, careful not to move too much in hopes of not disturbing Joel if he was sleeping. Though as you opened them, you were greeted with his staring back at you. "Morning," you whispered groggily.

 "Morning, beautiful." You stretched as much as you could, while still held within the comfort of his arms. "Thanks again for last night. Best night's sleep I've had since I got in the bubble."

 "Well, we do pride ourselves here in our customers getting a good night's sleep."

 He laughed, then dropped a kiss to your forehead. "You definitely live up to your word."

 Glancing over at the clock, you noticed the time and knew that you had to get ready to start your day. "I'd love to stay here in bed with you all day, but some of us have work."

 He pulled you close, and took the opportunity to kiss you fully on the lips before answering. "We have practice as well. I should probably grab a bite to eat first. I'll meet you downstairs in a bit." He kissed you one last time, before climbing out of bed and heading back to his room.

 It was about forty-five minutes later, that you came downstairs to find both him and Dougie sitting at the dining room table where a full breakfast was laid out. "Wow, what's this?"

 "I took the liberty of ordering room service," Joel told you. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so there's a little bit of everything." You were used to just grabbing a yogurt and maybe a banana, but the Belgium waffles smelled delicious, so you sat down and joined them.

 "Thanks," you said, as you grabbed a bit of fresh fruit and put it on your plate. "Did you guys sleep well?" You already knew Joel's answer but you wanted to make it look good so that Dougie wouldn't know what the two of you had been up to.

 "I slept like the dead," Dougie answered. "Haven't had that good of sleep in a long time."

 "Same," Joel said only his face turned a delightful shade of red and he started to cough.

 "Dude, are you choking or something?" Dougie said, patting him on the back.

 "I'm fine," he finally got out. "Wrong pipe." Joel was saved from further embarrassment as the door to the suite opened and in came Svech, hobbling on a pair of crutches and wearing a boot on his leg.

 "Hey man, how are you?" Dougie asked as you all got up to go check on him.

 "Ok, still not sure the extent of anything. They're going to do another MRI tomorrow. Doctors just said to stay off it and take it easy." Andrei answered the question you were all dying to know.

 "Well, here why don't you sit down," you told him, motioning for him to go on the couch. He plopped down and you immediately went and grabbed a few pillows to prop under his leg. "Can I get you something to eat?"

 "Yes, I'm starving. I haven't had anything since before the game." You went over and made him a heaping plate of breakfast food, while the guys talked specifics with him. He was definitely out for the rest of the series and you had a feeling it would be the rest of playoffs if the Canes made it through this round. "This is great, thank you."

 "I need to get downstairs and check on things, are you going to be ok here?" You asked Svech.

 "Yeah, I just have to figure out the stairs. I slept like hell." His face confirmed the words he'd just spoken as there were bags under his eyes. "Sure, that wasn't the case for you guys."

 Joel avoided looking at his younger colleague and you almost burst out laughing. "If you can wait here for about twenty minutes, I'll take you in through the pool." You told him. "We can use the door upstairs that has a private entrance into the suite that I showed you yesterday, that way you don't have to use the stairs. You just need a different key to get back in."

 "Wow, been holding out on us." Dougie teased. "We could've had a pool party last night." You rolled your eyes.

 "Finish your breakfast, and I'll be back in a few." You headed off to make sure that everything was fine in the hotel and to see if you were needed for anything as you had a feeling that Svech was going to need a lot more help than just making it upstairs.

[bittysvalentines]

I Promise You, Everything Will Be Just Fine

From: @iboughtaplant

To: @sophiegaladheon Rating: It's rated G or T so nothing to worry about rating wise. 

I hope you enjoy this fic!! It was a lot of fun to write and a challenge for me to write something under 3k (and this fic is like 2999 words so I succeeded, but not by much, lol)!  

Kent arrived home after working at the rink. He had a smile on his face as he unlocked the door, excited to just sit and watch a movie with Eric. Their schedules hadn’t lined up the last few days and they kept only seeing each other as they got ready for bed. 

Today was also the first day in a long time that Kent’s knee wasn’t acting up. It hurt from time to time, sometimes more than others. Some private ice time when his knee was feeling good last week was fun, but in hindsight, he realized it probably wasn’t worth it if his knee gave out on him a few days later. 

For Kent, thinking about his knee and how he injured it was annoying at best and traumatic at worst. But it was also good in a twisted way. If he hadn't injured his knee, he wouldn’t be coaching. And he wouldn’t have met Eric.  

An injury at the end of his rookie year (at least he got a Cup out of his short-lived career, if he could call it that) took him out of the NHL for good. Retirement the way no one wanted to retire. He didn’t even reach his prime. From number one draft pick to the rookie who busted his knee so bad he couldn’t play in the big league anymore. 

Which was how Kent ended up in a different city assistant coaching a women’s hockey team. It was also how he met Eric. 

Eric was a men’s singles figure skater who trained at the same ice rink complex as the women’s hockey team. They met by pure chance almost colliding in the doorway of the men’s locker room one day when Kent was running early and Eric was running late, which somehow made their schedules overlap. 

It was by no means love at first sight, but there was some lust. Kent couldn’t help but stare at the attractive skater in his tight fitting workout gear, a slight flush already on his face from changing so quickly. 

“I’m sorry, hun. I wasn’t watchin’ where I was going. I’m just running late and Katya’s gonna kill me.” He patted Kent’s shoulder as he walked past. “Sorry again, I gotta get to practice.” He said as he turned to walk down the corridor, skate guards clomping on the floor as he went. 

Kent shook himself out of his silence, “It’s okay…” only to trail off since the guy was already halfway down the corridor. 

Kent would spend the rest of the day—and subsequent week—thinking about the blond figure skater with the sweet Southern accent. Until, as fate would have it, they ran into each other again. And this time neither of them were running late and there were no near collisions. And most importantly Kent now knew the blond skater’s name. Eric.  

-------------------

After running into each other the second time, it became a thing. Kent’s schedule hadn’t changed, so he figured maybe Eric’s had. This time they saw each other in the locker room when they were both heading out. Kent had just finished changing his clothes as Eric walked by, skate bag in hand. 

Before Kent realized he made a decision, he called out before Eric left the locker room. “Hey, Eric! Wait up?” 

Eric stopped in his tracks. He looked hesitant, but curious as he turned to face Kent. Kent who was shoving his feet into his shoes and nearly tripped over the bench as he made his way over to Eric, who was trying to stifle a laugh behind his hand. Kent didn’t remember being this clumsy, but at least someone found it amusing.

“Ha ha, laugh at the guy who almost brained himself on his locker.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bitty said with a giggle. 

Kent just scoffed before putting on his charming smile. “I guess I can put up with my newfound clumsiness if it means I get to see you laugh.” 

“Well, Mr. Parson, that was not smooth, but I appreciate the confidence.” 

“In that case, I’m going to confidently ask you to get coffee with me?” 

“Really?” 

“Yup. So what do you say? You, me, coffee? You can laugh at me if I walk into a door.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

-------------------

Years of training away from home made Eric appreciate the people in his life, his found family. And while his parents supported him, they never fully understood him. Sure he and his mama were close as was possible with him training in a different state halfway across the country, but that didn’t mean his parents really knew about his life. They knew he was gay and still supported him and wanted him to succeed, but they didn’t understand why he couldn’t stay in Georgia to do it.

But moving away from Georgia to continue skating was one of the best things Eric did. He had his coach Katya, Larissa and the girls who Katya also coached, Ransom and Holster who lived nearby and befriended him when they all met while skating at a public rink, Jack and Tater who played NHL hockey, and Kent. He had Kent. 

Kent who Eric met two years ago at the rink. Kent who became Eric’s best friend—don’t let Larissa hear him say that—and then something more. 

------------------

Kent was having a good day. Practice was going great, the team really had a shot at winning their next game in a couple days, and he was having a great lunch with some of the women on the team he was friends with (he was technically one of their coaches, but he was also in the same age range as a majority of them). 

Which of course was when he felt his phone buzz with a text, followed by what seemed like a couple more. He smiled as he slipped his phone out of his pocket, figuring Eric was sneaking texts during practice. He was affectionately chirped to oblivion for the sappy smile on his face as he unlocked his phone.    

The laughing and chirping stopped on a dime as the smile fell off of his face, a furrowed brow and concerned frown taking its place. 

“Dude, what’s going on?” March asked.  

“Um, it’s Eric, I mean not actually him, Larissa sent me a text from his phone, and Katya texted me too. I have to go.” He stood up so quickly that his chair tipped over. 

“Kent, go, we’ve got it,” said Caitlin as she stood up to pick up Kent’s chair, “I hope Eric’s okay. Let us know what’s going on and give us an update when you can.” 

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Yeah, thanks. I’m gonna…” he pointed to the door. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and grabbed his bag. 

He ordered a Lyft and leaned against the window of the cafe while he waited. It said it should be there in three minutes, but by the time it arrived it felt like it had been thirty. 

Once the car arrived he opened the door, maybe a little more aggressively than was necessary, “Sorry,” he apologized to the driver, “just in a bit of a hurry.” 

“No worries,” the driver assured him. 

“Thanks,” Kent replied slightly short of breath. Once they were on the road, Kent finally read through all the texts more carefully. Eric got injured in practice. It was serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. He hit his head on the ice when he fell on the landing of his triple loop. That’s what the text from Larissa said. She wasn’t sure what caused Eric to flub the jump. 

The text from Katya, who usually hated texting, was more informative. Apparently Eric’s ankle had been bothering him a bit, but it was just sore not sprained or anything. So he was only supposed to work on his jumps a few times so he could take it easy for the rest of the day. But he must have put too much strain on it. 

Kent could feel his breathing getting more and more labored. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of a panic attack. He didn’t get them often, and he was more used to being on the other side of them—when someone else was having one—but he could feel his mind spiraling a bit. 

He didn’t want Eric to go through what he did, to have a major injury that cut his career short. Rationally, Kent knew that Eric probably didn’t experience a career-ending injury, but his brain kept showing him worst case scenarios. 

Kent anxiously tapped his fingers on his knee as he tried to slow his breathing. He was mostly worried because Eric got hurt, but also freaking out because the situation kept making him cycle back to thinking about his own injury and how he didn’t get to live out his dream. He didn’t want that for Eric.

Kent pulled himself out of his anxiety spiral enough to fumble his phone in his hands and send a quick text to Jack. It was a moment where Kent was immensely grateful that he and Jack were friends despite a bit of a falling out after Jack’s overdose several years ago that meant being anything more than close friends again was out of the question. Kent was okay with that though, he and Jack worked much better as friends than boyfriends anyway. 

He expected a text back, but his phone rang only a few seconds later. He heard Jack’s voice coming through the phone. “Hey, Kenny. How are you doing?” 

“Uh, I’m okay,” he paused, “No, that’s a lie. I’m not, not okay. My figure skater boyfriend is in the hospital and I’m having a panic attack in the back of a Lyft,” He laughed, self-deprecatingly. 

“Take a deep breath, Kenny. You’re on the way to the hospital, you’ll see him soon. Just listen to my voice, I’ll stay on the phone until you get there.”

Kent tried to get his breathing under control as he listened to Jack’s soft voice. He sighed as his mind stopped racing and he was on the verge of breathing normally again.

“Thanks, Jack.” 

“Anytime, Kenny. I hope Eric feels better soon.” 

--------------

Eric couldn’t believe he fell, and on his triple loop. It should have been fine. His ankle had only been a little sore, the trainer at the rink said it would be fine for him to do a few practice runs of his jumps and take it easy. Katya agreed. Now he was sitting in a hospital bed with a fractured ankle and a pretty bad concussion. 

Katya went out into the hall to call Eric’s parents so they would know what was going on. Eric was glad he didn’t have to do that himself, but he would make sure to call his Mama later so she wouldn’t worry too much.  

Aside from that, all Eric could think was ‘Where’s Kent?’ He knew Katya and Larissa texted him, not that he was allowed to look at his phone anyway to know for sure. And even unsupervised he couldn’t check since his phone was currently in the pocket of Katya’s coat because she knew him too well. 

Just as Eric sagged back against the pillows, eyes closing as he sighed, the door was pushed open and Kent walked in. He looked a little frazzled and his hair was an absolute riot, but he smiled when Eric caught his eye. 

“Hey,” Kent said, voice rough, waving as he walked closer to Eric, throwing his bag vaguely in the direction of the chair near the bed. He stepped closer and grabbed Eric’s hand. 

“Hi, sweetheart, I was hoping someone called you.” 

“Of course they did. I’m here now. How are you? I mean I’m sure you’re feeling pretty shitty. But… you’re okay?” 

Eric managed to smile up at him even though his head was feeling a little fuzzy, “I’m okay, ‘specially now that you’re here.” 

Kent huffed out a half-laugh and then sat on the edge of Eric’s bed, putting an arm around his shoulders. Eric leaned into the embrace and instantly burst into tears. His emotions finally catching up to him now that he felt safe in Kent’s arms.  

He thought about how hard he had been training and how excited he was for this year’s short-program after tweaking it a bit, only to be disappointed he wouldn’t get to perform it in competition again. He had such a shot at placing at Nationals and then Worlds, and now thanks to one bad landing he was out. 

He was out for the year. His ankle wasn’t the worry, but the concussion was. There was no way he would be healed in time to skate at Nationals, dang head injury. And no Nationals meant no Worlds, he’d have to wait until next year. At least he would have another chance next year. It was a sobering thought, and while he wasn’t done being sad about the missed opportunity, he was lucky that he would get another shot. 

His full-fledged crying lasted a few minutes more until it devolved to sniffling into Kent’s neck and Eric was able to catch his breath. “I’m sorry for crying on you, honey.” 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. Cry as much as you need. I know how much it helps.” 

“Guess there’s always next year,” Eric responded with a half-smile, his eyes still watery as he gripped Kent tighter. Kent lightly kissed him on the forehead and hugged him back just as tightly. 

It wasn’t much, but it had Eric finally feeling a little better after his disaster of a day. 

--------------

When they got to their apartment, Kent opened the door so that he could help Eric inside since crutches weren’t the best idea while he also had a concussion throwing off his balance. 

Half of the hockey team (March, Caitlin, April and co.) stopped by in the following days. Most of them were friends, not only with Kent, but Eric too. 

It had been a week since Eric got injured, and Kent was taking care of him while he recovered. He made them dinner and even assisted Eric in the kitchen so he could make a pie. Kent tried to do all of the chores so he didn’t have to worry about Eric getting dizzy or needing to hobble around with his still healing ankle. But Eric insisted that he could still do things and he really didn’t want to sit on the couch 24/7 until he healed. 

Eric made sure to wrestle the laundry basket out of Kent’s arms so that he wouldn’t just start folding the clothes after he washed them. Their deal was one washes and the other folds. 

Eric also kept up with some yoga. “Honey, I still need to stay in shape. And yoga means I can do the poses that don’t involve putting weight on my left leg. Plus I’m already close to the ground, so quit worrying about me falling.”  

“Sorry, sorry. I should have known I was smothering you.” 

“Mothering maybe, but not smothering. I love how much you care ‘bout me.” 

“Yeah?” Kent asked with hope in his eyes. 

“Mmhmm, of course. Thank you for taking care of me. But shouldn’t you be at the rink? The team needs you. I know that they have a game coming up.” 

“I’m just an assistant coach, they can make do without me.” 

“Kent Parson, stop undervaluing yourself. You are an asset to that team, and we all know it.” 

Kent blushed in response to Eric’s forceful reassurance of his worth. 

“I guess. But yeah, I probably should be at the rink. I got enough angry texts that I’m choosing to ignore.” 

“Kenny, please go to the rink. We can make dinner and listen to some podcasts when you get back later.” 

“Well you didn’t suggest watching something, so at least you remember you’re still on limited screen time.” 

“As if you’d let me forget,” Eric grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

-------------------

One Year Later 

As the music faded out, Eric glided across the ice towards the edge of the rink, stopping with a flourish before leaning his arms atop the boards. “How was that!?” He excitedly asked Kent who was standing on the other side.

“Amazing! You hardly wobbled on your quad and the landing on your triple axel was perfect.”  

“Thanks for staying late to watch me run through this, honey,” Eric said and leaned further over the boards to wrap his arms around Kent.  

Kent laughed, bracing himself as he wrapped his arms around Eric as well. “Of course, I love watching you skate. And with just the two of us here, it feels like you’re skating just for me,” Kent said, his breath tickling Eric’s ear. 

“Mr. Parson, you really know how to charm a boy.” 

“It’s a gift,” Kent smirked. 

“Sure,” Eric said with a smirk of his own. “I’m just so excited for Nationals next week. I can’t wait to skate this routine.” 

“You’re gonna be great, babe.” 

“Thanks, honey. Now what do you say we stop and pick up take-out on our way home?” 

“I think it’s the least you can do since you kept us at the rink for hours,” Kent replied jokingly, shaking Eric who was still in his arms, despite the awkwardness of the boards between them. 

“Ha ha,” Eric said deadpan. 

“Whatever, I’ll grab our stuff, you change out of your skates,” Kent said as he let go of Eric and they met at the rink door.  

“Meet at the door near the side parking lot?” Eric questioned. 

“Yup, five minutes.” 

“I bet I’ll beat you there.” 

“Oh, it’s a race now?” Kent asked, eyebrows raised. 

“When isn’t it a race?” Eric asked, smile on his face, a hand on his cocked hip.   

[winryofresembool]

Love Can Melt the Ice, ch. 12

Aka ice skating au ch. 12!

A/N: That’s right my peeps, this fic /finally/ has a name. I hope you find it fitting! (Obviously I’m not referring to literal ice this time, but instead a certain character who’s acting a bit cool sometimes :P) I don’t really have much else to say this time, enjoy and review! This chapter continues directly from the events of last chapter :)

Previous chapters:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Next chapter: [x]

Words: 1940+

Genre: flooof in this chapter, even a tiny bit of humor? (I feel we are back to ch 1 in a way)

Warnings: swearing and some drinking on the background

“So, how’s everything going, brother? How’s your leg?” Al asked when he and Ed made their way into a quieter corner in the room. With the room full of Ed’s teammates and music playing loudly, it was hard to hear your own thoughts, but the brothers decided to at least try since they had a lot of catching up to do.

“I wish I could already get rid of the cast, but other than that, it’s fine. I just want to skate already.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” Al said with genuine sympathy. “Hey, I brought something to cheer you up.”

Al handed Ed a gift bag and he took it curiously. Inside it was a book that Ed recognized as one he had wanted for a long while, Advanced Biochemistry, but much to Ed’s surprise, it wasn’t the only gift. There was something between the book. Two small, thin foliage packages that must have had…

“Al!” Ed yelled with a red face. “How the fuck did you… why… what the hell is this supposed to mean?!”

“Thought you’d need some extra protection with the way your love life has been progressing…” Al chuckled. “I know you well enough to know that you’d never have the guts to get them by yourself.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you. We aren’t even dating!”

“It’s funny you say that when you both are practically undressing each other with your eyes every time you look at each other.” Al pointed out, nodding towards Winry significantly.

“I’m not… Fine, she’s hot,” Ed said through his teeth, “but surely I’m not the only the only one who’s noticed that! Just look at Havoc trying to tell her jokes…”

“She doesn’t look too impressed,” Al noted. “Oh, look at that, she’s coming here. Hi there, Winry!”

“Hi guys.” She turned to Ed and noted his mortified expression. “Why are you so red? You sure you don’t have a fever or something?”

Ed didn’t have time to answer when Roy started speaking into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him.

“So, as you all know, we have all gathered here to celebrate the 18th birthday of our very own Fullmetal Forward, Edward Elric. Congrats, kid! Now that you’re officially allowed to buy alcohol, don’t forget the promise you made me!”

“Hah, you haven’t won anything yet!” was Ed’s immediate response, and everyone burst out laughing.

“Anyway, I’d like to suggest we sing for the birthday boy. Everyone, on the count of three. One, two, three.”

Roy gave his sign, and the choir of more and less talented singers started: “Happy biiirthday too you, happy biiirthday too you…”

Ed felt a bit overwhelmed when a room full of people sang for him but waved his thanks when they finished. Soon Roy continued speaking to the crowd:

“Before we let Fullmetal give us, without a doubt, a very amazing speech, there are a couple of other people in this room as well we should congratulate. The little birds have told me that in less than a year this team will have a brand new member. Congrats, Maes and Gracia! Your kid will without a doubt become an amazing skater.”

Nearby, Maes started rambling about the greatness of his future wife to anyone who was willing to listen, but Winry barely noticed because she squealed happily at the news and rushed to hug Gracia who had been approaching the trio.

“A baby! That’s absolutely wonderful! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Aw, thanks Winry-dear. I got the confirmation from my doctor about an hour after the free skate. I’m gonna have to discuss this with him and Maes, but with this piece of news, I think I might skip the individual competition.”

“But you would have done amazingly…” Winry said, upset for her friend.

“Maybe, but I’ve seen you skating and I dare to say you would beat me 9 times out of 10 these days. And I already won gold 4 years ago, so really, I’m not too upset. How could I be when I look at him?”

She turned to see her fiancé flailing as he told Riza, the only person patient enough to listen to him ramble for ages, how he would decorate the baby’s room and how he secretly (or not so secretly) wished the baby was a girl.

Ed hadn’t had a chance to say anything while the women were chattering, but now he decided it was his turn to get himself heard.

“Congrats, Gracia! I’m sure you’re gonna be a great mother, but I’m a bit worried about your fiancé. I bet he’s that person whose locker will be 100% covered with photos of the kid and he’ll forget how to skate when he keeps staring at them.”

“Don’t worry, I will make sure to kick his butt if he starts slacking because of it,” Gracia smirked.

“That’s good to hear. But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. Babies are amazing!”

“Thank you. I think someone’s gonna be one lucky lady to be a mother to your kids in the future, Edward.” Ed wondered if it was just him or did Gracia look at Winry one second longer than necessary when she said that. And did she emphasize the word someone? He felt himself getting flustered for the second time within minutes and he was about to turn away when Winry asked, pointing to the pack still in Ed’s hand:

“Did you get a present from Al? What did he give you?”

“J-just a biochem book…” he stuttered and left before she could ask more questions. Damn Al. He’d show him. Speaking of the devil, Ed noticed his little brother was snickering almost uncontrollably nearby after seeing the scene between Ed and Winry unfold.

“Are you trying to kill me?” the older brother growled and punched Al on the shoulder when he got close enough.

“Relax, bro, it was just a joke! I won’t change my mind about you two though, I have never seen you this flustered over a girl before. It’s adorable. I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier, so did you tell her?”

“Yeah, I did. I hate to admit it, but you were right. I do feel better now. And things… are going quite nicely.” He turned his head towards the spot where Winry chatted with her friends (Paninya and Rose had joined her and Gracia now) and Winry gave him a small smile.

“That’s great to hear,” Al interrupted Ed from his thoughts. “Hey, I heard Mustang saying something about a speech, so how about it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ed sighed and wheeled to where the captain of his team was clearly waiting for him. Taking the mic from his hand, he started:  

“It’s so weird to see so many of you here! To be honest, if it weren’t for a couple of friends, I wouldn’t even have remembered what day it is. And the worst part is that I’m not even allowed to drink because of my condition!”

Many of Ed’s teammates laughed. They knew Ed had never particularly cared about drinking.

“I’m not one for long speeches, so I guess thank you everyone for coming, and special thanks to that one gearhead who made this happen.” His gaze met Winry’s for a moment, and he thought he could see her blushing slightly. “Now, let’s have some fun! But not too fun…” His gaze stopped at Havoc this time. “… because some of you have a big game tomorrow!”

The guests chuckled and continued their partying. Mustang was now dancing with Riza, Havoc was having a drinking contest with Breda despite Ed’s warning, Armstrong was wiping his tears into a huge tissue, Paninya was trying to sneak a small bottle from Roy’s back pocket and Al was probably telling Winry some embarrassing stories about Ed. For some reason, all of that made Ed feel calmer than he had felt in a long while.

Later that evening, Winry was sitting alone on the balcony, enjoying the fresh, cool air when Ed appeared behind her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Why are you sitting here alone?”

“I guess I just wanted a moment to hear my thoughts. No offense, but you hockey players are loud.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Ed rubbed the back of his head. “But your friends are kinda interesting bunch as well. You should have seen Havoc’s expression when that Paninya chick made a show of kissing Rose right in front of him. It was almost as if his hopes and dreams had both been shattered into pieces and fulfilled at the same time.”

“Oh, that definitely sounds like a Pan thing to do,” Winry laughed. “They’re great though. After losing my parents they’ve become like a new family to me. I guess you could say the same about your team.”

“I guess…”

“You said you have tried to push people out of your life, but you know, one way or another, you have affected all of them,” she gestured towards the full room. “They all care about you. And for some weird reason, so do I. You don’t have to carry your weight alone.

“Yeah…”

“I guess what I really wanted to tell you after our chat earlier is that if you think you’re the only person in this world who’s feeling guilty about something, I have some news for you. For so many weeks, I kept thinking that things would be so different if I had simply told my parents to not go into that car. Finally, my granny wrenched some sense into me and told me that I can’t change my past, but I can chance how it affects my future. It didn’t sink into me right away, but I understand what she meant now. I’m not saying that I’m never thinking about it anymore, because that’s a lie, but I know my parents would want me to live my life, so that’s what I’m doing. And that’s what you should do as well.”

Ed stared at her with surprise. He realized Winry’s words were very similar to the ones he had used when confronting Rose, but he wasn’t living by his own advice.

“I probably deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” Her tone got softer when she continued: “By the way, I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. We are way past that point now.”

For some reason, Winry’s statement made Ed remember the realities of their situation, and he asked: “How are we gonna stay in touch after the Olympics, though? We are both busy with our sports, traveling on different sides of the country and sometimes even out of country.” “Phones exist, Elric. If you know how to use one. And it’s not like I’m always gone, there are off-seasons, breaks, and so on… And to be honest, at the moment I can’t say how long I’m gonna continue my skating career. I’m kinda itching to move onto mechanics soon enough.

“Sounds like you have already given a lot of thought to your future.”

“What about you, though? Do you have any plans?”

“I want to continue playing as long as I can and study as much as I can. Maybe I have some other wishes as well, but… one day you might know.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Ed leaned his head against hers and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. They stayed like that for a good while, until the tender moment was interrupted by a crash inside the restaurant.

“What was that?” Winry asked worriedly.

Ed just sighed. “I think it’s time to take Havoc back to the hotel.”

[justlookfrightened]

Third part of Neighbors AU, Prologue and Chapter 1, Fourth of July

Read it on AO3 here

Or read Part One or Part Two

Prologue

Suzanne stood in the doorway of Eric’s old room, an armful of towels clutched to her chest.

The room looked much the same as it had when Eric left for college in Massachusetts five years earlier.

Well, it was far neater than it ever had been when Eric lived in it, she thought with a rueful smile.

The shelf over the desk still held figure skating and hockey trophies. A bigger collection of medals hung over the side.

A large poster of Beyonce wearing a fur -- something -- and open down the front hung over the narrow bed.

Suzanne had been so hopeful when Eric put that poster up. It wasn’t to her taste, precisely, but it was clearly intended to be sexy. Eric wouldn’t have put up a sexy poster of a woman if he liked boys, she had reasoned.

Well, that hadn’t really worked out, had it? Five years after Eric hung the poster, when he was home for Christmas during his senior year, he’d sat her and Richard down and, face pale and knuckles white, and said. “Mama, Coach, I have to tell you something. I’m gay.”

And then before Suzanne got her wits together enough to say anything, he forged ahead. “And I’m not moving back after graduation. I’m going to stay in New England somewhere, where I can be close to my friends and where I don’t have to hide who I am.”

Suzanne had burst into tears at that point, which she knew was probably not the best reaction she could have had. She wasn’t sure Eric had ever believed that her tears came at the thought of never having him live at home again, or after that, never having him in a house down the street or the next town over, popping over to share a glass of sweet tea and bringing her grandchildren for Sunday dinner every week.

Well, maybe some of the tears were for the grandchildren that it seemed so much less likely for her to have.

But not because he liked boys. Surely he didn’t think that really came as a surprise, Beyonce poster or not. She knew that Samwell was a school that actively welcomed students who were gay or any other part of the alphabet soup she could never keep up with -- they practically advertised it. And she was more than aware of the rumors about her Dicky that people spread behind her back. And the truth was, she didn’t care. Dicky was bright and loving and generous and smart as a whip, and strong and athletic to boot. To her mind, anyone -- boy or girl -- would be lucky to catch his eye.

But she knew that not everyone -- around here, hardly anyone -- would see it that way, and she couldn’t argue his decision to stay up north if he didn’t want to hide that part of himself. And really, she knew, he shouldn’t have to. But she still cried for the future she wouldn’t have with her Dicky.

That seemed to be that until the panicked early morning phone call she’d gotten in April.

Dicky certainly hadn’t mentioned that he was seeing anyone before that, but it turned out that not only did he have a boyfriend, he had a famous boyfriend. Who was a professional athlete. Which meant that Dicky being his boyfriend -- that he had a boyfriend at all -- was going to be an item of gossip far beyond the local Methodist church.

Suzanne had done what she could in the moment, insisting that Dicky bring his boyfriend to meet his family as soon as was practical, to make sure he knew anyone he chose would be welcome in her home. Then, when she hung up, she called all the relatives -- Bittles and Phelps -- and told them that if anyone called or came around asking questions about her Dicky, the’d best not answer. If they did, they could expect to never taste so much as a crumb from her kitchen again. She’d called Richard at work, told him what was going on, and asked him to give the same message at the high school.

It had worked, after a fashion. She had heard from Dicky that there were a couple of photos from his youth than found their way onto the Internet gossip sites, but they were things that had been published in local papers, from his days figure skating and winning prizes for his pies at the county fair.

“Really all anyone else could say is that they thought I was gay,” Dicky said in a Skype call from what looked like a lovely apartment. “Since Jack and I confirmed our relationship, that’s not really news. Neither is the baking or figure skating, for that matter. A good YouTube search would find plenty of both.”

Still, how did one prepare to host one’s son and his boyfriend? Her own parents, and Richard’s parents, would never have allowed an unmarried couple to share a bed in their home. Was this different? They wouldn’t have the scandal of an unplanned pregnancy, and any scandal of who was sleeping where -- in the town’s mind, at least -- would be eclipsed by the scandal of their relationship.

Searching her own heart, Suzanne found she couldn’t bring herself to disapprove of Dicky sharing a bed with his Jack. They’d been together for months now, and it was clear from the way Dicky talked about Jack that he loved the boy. From the few conversations she’d had with Jack, either over Dicky’s shoulder on Skype or once or twice when Dicky handed Jack the phone while he finished something, she was fairly certain he felt the same.

Coach walked up behind her and looked into Dicky’s room as well.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Just getting ready for Dicky and Jack to come tomorrow.” Suzanne shrugged. “I’m not sure we should have Dicky in here.”

“You can’t seriously expect two grown men to sleep in that bed?” Coach said. “I guess I assumed we’d put them in the guest room.”

“You don’t mind that?” Suzanne asked.

Richard wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.

“I don’t know that I could say I don’t mind, exactly,” he said. “Some things I just don’t want to think about, and Junior’s sex life definitely is one of them. But he’s not a teenager, and it’s a big step for him to bring his boyfriend home, and I don’t think we shouldn’t make them spend the night sneaking back and forth like we did.”

Suzanne nodded.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll just put all these towels in the guest room then. I hope the new bedding we got is good enough.”

“For Junior?” Richard raised an eyebrow.

“For Jack Zimmermann!”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting all flustered about a hockey player,” Richard said.

“He’s Alicia Montgomery’s son!” Suzanne said.

“And a hockey player,” Richard said. “So no matter how much he makes now, I’m pretty sure I can guarantee he’s slept in worse accommodations. A few flowers on the comforter won’t throw him off.”

“I suppose,” Suzanne said. “I just wish the house was more, well, stylish. More some high-end European brand I don’t even know and less La-Z-Boy.”

“He’ll be fine, I promise,” Bob said. “Everything else ready?”

“Well, I do have to get some more butter, and maybe more blueberries and peaches,” she said. “Dicky’s still Dicky, after all.”

Chapter 1

Madison, Georgia

When the plane landed, Jack rolled his shoulders and stood up. The extra room in business class was nice -- necessary, he told Eric, for an athlete of his size, so Eric wouldn’t complain too much about Jack paying for the tickets -- but the best part was getting off the plane before the poor travelers stuck in coach. Jack was raised to be polite, but the few times he’d had to fly near the rear of the plane, it was all he could do not trample people to get out once the aircraft taxied to a stop.

Eric was standing next to him, bent over his phone.

“Mama’s already waiting at baggage claim,” he said, not looking up. Jack didn’t have to see his face to know it was pale and pinched just a bit. He’d been like that since they left for the airport this morning.

“Hey, Eric,” Jack said, bumping him lightly. “It’ll be OK. I promise.”

Eric looked at him, nodded, and reached out for the carry-on Jack retrieved from the overhead bin.

“OK,” he said.

As soon as they made their way out of the narrow aisle and off the plane, Jack reached for Eric’s hand and interlaced their fingers.

“We’ve got this,” he said.

He didn’t let go until they approached the baggage carousel and their was a small woman with Eric’s blond hair and brown eyes smiling broadly and not-quite-running towards them. Then Eric had to let go to return the long, hard hug his mother was giving him.

“Dicky, it’s been so long,” she was saying, finally loosening her grip on her son and looking at his face. “You look wonderful.”

Then she let him go and pulled Jack into a hug, not quite as tight or quite as long, but it was certainly more than just a polite gesture. Jack found his own arms coming up to embrace her.

“You’re Jack,” she said, somewhat unnecessarily as she let him go.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bittle,” Jack said.

“Please. Call me Suzanne,” she said. “How many bags do you have to get? They should be out soon. Then we need to stop at the market on the way home -- or we do if you want to make anything with fruit, Dicky, because I clean used all the peaches and blueberries up -- and we should get some fresh salad greens for dinner. Coach is going to grill, Dicky. Now, Jack, I know Dicky’s said you have a strict diet to keep to, so is all right we have steak tonight? There’s also some chicken we could put on the grill, but I was hoping to fry that tomorrow, but if we’re stopping at the market we could always get more …”

Jack just let the torrent of words wash over him. There might be a time when she actually wanted an answer to her questions, but it seemed like she could go as long as Eric did when he was on a roll.

“Mother!” Eric hissed. His face had gone from pale to red. Well, Jack supposed, being embarrassed by his mother was better than worrying that they weren’t entirely welcome.

Mrs. Bittle -- Suzanne -- pulled up short.

“Lord, I’m going a mile a minute, aren’t I?” she said. “I’m just a little nervous. I never thought I’d be meeting Alicia Montgomery’s son.”

Eric blush went a shade darker.

“Mother!” he said again.

“I’m sorry!’ she said. “So, bags. How many are we looking for?”

“Just one,” Jack said. “We only really had to check a bag at all because of our skates. And steak for dinner is just fine, ma’am. Really, whatever is fine. It’s the off-season, and I’m vacation here, eh?”

“You’re accent is just so cute!” Suzanne said. “Is that how your mother speaks too?”

“No, ma’am,” Jack said, shooting a look at Eric and shrugging. Most people he met wanted to know about his father, if only because most people he met had something to do with hockey. “She’s from the States, although she’s lived in Canada more or less full-time since my father retired.”

“That’s right, he was a hockey player, too, wasn’t he?” Suzanne said. “I think my sister Connie thought he was attractive for a few years.”

“I’m going to get our bag,” Eric broke in, before turning on his heel and walking away. Jack followed him with his eyes, surprised to register that Eric’s shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t crying, Jack realized when Eric turned with their duffel bag. He was laughing.

***********************************

Eric couldn’t help giggling at the spectacle his mother was making of herself. Jack was going to get the full dose of southern hospitality, and he wasn’t even going to know what hit him. But really, it was about the best Eric could hope for. If only Coach reacted as well. Where was Coach, anyway? It was a Sunday in July, so it couldn’t be football,

“Where’s Coach?” he asked his mother as he toted the bag back and the three of them turned for the exit.

“Home,” his mother said. “We’ve got the family barbecue tomorrow, so he wanted to get the yard ready as well as he could today. He’ll start smoking that pork shoulder pretty close to sunup, so he has to make sure he has everything he needs for that, and he was gonna cut the grass and do the edging.”

“Of course.” Eric rolled his eyes. “The edging. Because the world will end if a blade of grass casts its shadow on the walk.”

“That’s enough, Dicky,” his mother said. “He’s not asking you to do it, so you have no call to complain.”

That’s when they hit the doors and Jack looked like he’d been hit with a hot, wet sponge.

“Your father is doing yardwork in this weather?” he asked after a moment.

“What weather, sweetheart?” Suzanne asked absently, feeding her parking ticket to the pay machine at the entrance to the garage. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to storm now, does it?”

“He means the heat, Mama,” Eric said. “Canadian, remember? Jack, this really isn’t all that bad. You get used to it.”

“Says the man who uses the heated seats in May,” Jack chirped.

The ride home and the stop at the market were uneventful. Well, except for the way Jack put his hand possessively on the small of Eric’s back when they turned into the checkout lane behind Eric’s mother, and took his hand again as they crossed the parking lot.

Eric didn’t see any drivers crash their cars in shock. That was a plus.

When they arrived home, the lawn was clipped to an evenness that would have done a golf course groundskeeper proud, and there was a clear inch of space between the grass and the pavement of the driveway and front walk.

Suzanne parked in the driveway and led the way through the garage to the kitchen door, and Eric smirked when Jack visibly sighed with relief when he made it to the air-conditioned interior.

“Richard?” Suzanne called.

“In here,” Eric heard Coach call from the living room. “Need help carrying things?”

Coach was on his way to the kitchen, Eric realized a moment before his father appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, there you are,” his mother said. “No, I’ve got these two young men to help me. I think they have everything, even with their bags.”

“Junior,” Coach said, looking him up and down and giving him a nod that might have been approval or might have been simple acknowledgment.

“Coach,” Eric nodded in return. “It’s good to see you, sir. This is my, uh, my boyfriend, Jack.”

Coach stepped forward and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Jack,” he said. “Welcome to Madison.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, shaking Coach’s hand and returning his look with a level gaze of his own.

“I watched that last series you played,” Coach said, as he released Jack’s hand. “It was a shame it turned out the way it did. Still, every game has its share of lucky bounces -- or unlucky bounces, as the case may be.”

He really had watched, at least the last game, Eric thought. Jack’s shot with three minutes to go had ricocheted off the right goalpost, all the way over the left goalpost and then bounced out. If it had gone in, the game would have been tied and the Falconers would have at least gotten a shot at another game instead of losing to LA in six.

Jack had been very quiet for a very long time following that game.

Now, he said, “That’s the way it goes sometimes. The idea is to play well enough that it takes more than a bad bounce to derail you.”

Coach nodded -- definitely in approval this time -- and said, “Absolutely. I have the Braves game on. Get a beer if you want and come and sit a while. You too, Junior. You can rest a bit before you get to baking.”

Jack looked at Eric and shrugged. Eric shrugged back, opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. To be honest, spending some time on the couch, out of the heat, sounded pretty good. Even if he couldn’t curl up against Jack’s side the way he wanted to.

***************************

Eric had sat in the living room with Coach and Jack for an inning of the baseball game before hopping up.

“I’m going to see if Mama needs any help getting things ready for tomorrow,” he said, and took refuge in the kitchen.

“Want me to come with you?” Jack asked.

“No, that’s all right,” Eric said. “You rest. I’ll drive you around later if you want to see the town. It won’t take real long. And I got permission to get on the ice at the rink at 5:30, after public skate ends.”

“Supper’s at 6:30,” Coach said. “But it’s just us tonight, so I imagine we could wait a bit for you.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Eric said. “I’ll ask Mama about it.”

Then he disappeared.

Jack settled a little further back into the couch cushion, resigning himself to at least another inning of baseball. He hoped Coach wasn’t one of those people who got all poetic and nostalgic about the game. It was like watching the grass grow. What kind of game kept the ball in the hands of the defense?

“Baseball’s not really your sport, is it?” Coach asked.

“It’s all right,” Jack said.

“It’s OK to say it’s not your thing,” Coach said. “Not really my thing either. But there’s no football in the middle of summer.”

“I can’t say I know too much about football either,” Jack admitted. “Although it is more fun to watch than baseball.”

“It’s always been hockey for you, I guess,” Coach said. “With your dad and all.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said. “I can’t say that I ever wanted to do anything else.”

Coach nodded and looked back at the TV.

“You’re a lucky man, then,” he said.

“I know I am,” Jack said. He wasn’t just talking about hockey, and he hoped Coach knew it.

“This thing with Junior,” Coach said. “I know it’s not been easy so far, and you wouldn’t be here -- you wouldn’t be together -- if you two weren’t serious. Both of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said, wondering where Coach Bittle was going.

“So I’m not going to tell you how hard this will be, or everything y’all’ll end up giving up,” Coach continued. “Junior never was one to make things easy on himself. I want you to know that Suzanne and I love Eric, no matter what, and we’ll stand behind him.”

“You’re wrong,” Jack said.

“Pardon me?”

“You’re wrong about one thing,” Jack said. “Being with Eric, it’s not hard. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Sure, sometimes the attention isn’t great, but that’s not Eric. That’s everyone else. I love Eric too, you know, and he loves me, and I’ve got his back, no matter what.”

Jack took a long drag on his beer and looked back at the TV. It didn’t look like anything had happened while he was talking.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Coach said. “Go find him. I’m sure he’s in the kitchen, elbow deep in some kind of pastry.”

Coach raised his own bottle to Jack in a salute when Jack stood.

“Good talk,” he said.

Jack picked up his beer and headed across the hall to the kitchen.

His progress was arrested by the series of photos of Eric, progressing from a kid with front teeth not all the way in to a young teenager in a progression of figure-skating costumes, each one more snug and sparklier than the last.

The first photos had Eric posing for the camera, but as Eric got bigger, the photography got better, and the images of Eric were spinning and leaping across the wall.

Jack was standing there when he heard Eric’s voice, chattering to his mother, apparently about Jack’s mother.

“Alicia -- yes, ma’am, she told me to call her Alicia -- is really just lovely,” Eric was saying. “You’d like her in person. I mean, she’s beautiful and she always looks so put-together, but she’s really friendly and good at putting people at ease.”

Suzanne must have said something when Eric paused.

“She definitely likes my baking, but maybe not as much as Jack’s dad? Bob really likes it -- and he likes to bake too. He even came and helped when I had to go in on my day off one day.”

Jack decided it was time to stop eavesdropping and turned into the doorway.

“They love more than your baking, mon coeur,” Jack said. “They really like you.”

Jack smiled as Eric’s cheeks went pink and he turned his attention to the pie crust in front him.

“What kinds of things do your parents like?” Suzanne asked. “If you give me their address, I’ll send them a care package.”

“Let me just finish these pies,” Eric said. “We can get out of here once they’re in the oven if Mama’ll take them out.”

“Of course, Dicky,” Suzanne said.

“I wanted to show Jack around a little and take him to the rink,” Eric said. “Something about his Canadian blood. He turns into a moose if he goes three days without coming in contact with ice.”

“A moose?” Jack said.

“I was trying to think of a Canadian animal. Maybe a goose?” Eric suggested. “A Canada goose?”

************************************

“Can I take the truck?” Eric stuck his head in to ask his father once his hands were clean.

“Sure, Junior,” Coach said. “Drive careful.”

“Yes, sir.”

It would have been easier to take his mother’s minivan -- it was parked in the driveway, after all -- but Eric was watching for the way Jack’s eyes widened a bit when he swung up into the cab of the black Ford pickup.

“This is huge,” Jack said. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drive.”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “It’s what I learned to drive on.”

Eric maneuvered the truck past his mother’s van, their skates safely stowed in the cab behind the seats, then drove sedately down the street.

“We’ll go downtown first, and through the historic district,” Eric said. “There’s some big pre-Civil War houses, and the town park. Then we can go by the high school, and then over to the rink. See all the sights.”

“Whatever you say,” Jack said. “I want to see your places.”

“My places?”

“Places that were important to you.”

“Well, here, that’s basically home, the rink and school,” Eric said. “It’s not where I learned to skate, but it is where I learned to play hockey.”

“Where’d you learn to skate?”

“The rink? It’s the other side of Atlanta,” Eric said. “We lived over by Monroe, but we had to leave there.”

He didn’t want to talk to much about why.

“Anyway, with the traffic, it was just too far for every day once we moved,” Eric said. “And I was getting to the point where even every day with Katya wouldn’t have been enough for me to progress. I probably would have had to move away from home, and I didn’t think I was ready to do that.”

Jack nodded.

“I moved out for hockey when I was 16,” he said. “The hockey was good, but it wasn’t really good for me, I don’t think.”

“Yeah, well the hockey I was playing at 16 was with a co-ed club team that was actually a lot of fun,” Eric said. “Most of them went to school here, but a few came in from other towns that didn’t have their own teams. It was a good group.”

“Will we see any of them while we’re here?” Jack said.

“Maybe Tuesday at the community picnic,” Eric said. “Tomorrow’s the family barbecue -- you’ll get your fill of Bittles and Phelps -- and then the whole town gets together for a picnic and concert on the Fourth.”

“I see the opportunity for lots of pies,” Jack said.

“Pies, tarts, brownies, lemon bars … “ Eric said. “We’ve barely begun. But we can skate first. Let me put the truck in back and then we can wait ‘til public skate clears out to go in.”

“So we have time to kill?” Jack said.

“Fifteen minutes or so,” Eric said. “Think we can think of something?’

Eric wasn’t disappointed with the kisses and the cuddling they were able to indulge in before he checked the time on his phone and sent a quick text.

“Mandy says most people are gone,” he said. “Zamboni’s out. Shall we?”

“Sure,” Jack said. “Which skates for you?”

“In this rink? Hockey.”

“Didn’t you figure skate here too?”

“Sometimes,” Eric said. “More the year before I left for Samwell. But in the beginning, when I left Katya, I didn’t put on figure skates for months. Then when I tried, I’d outgrown them.”

“Were you that burnt out?”

“No,” Eric said. “It wasn’t that. I just missed it so much, and I didn’t think I could cope with skating just for fun. It seemed like a clean break would be best.”

“That seems like maybe you didn’t want to stop,” Jack said.

“I didn’t, in some ways,” Eric said quietly. “But I didn’t want to keep going either, if that makes sense. Moving seemed like it was a chance for a new start, to be someone else.”

“Did it work?” Jack said.

“Well, my parents made sure I got new skates, and I used to stay after hockey practice to figure skate, so maybe not so much?” Eric said. “But by that time, I had friends -- or teammates at least -- so it wasn’t so bad when people found out.”

Jack was quiet while Eric finished tying his skates and stepped onto the ice.

“Race you?” he asked.

“Why do I do this to myself?” Jack responded with a groan and took off after him.

************************

Jack helped Eric clear the table after dinner and listened as his mother ran over the schedule for the next two days.

Tomorrow, July 3, the family -- which sounded like it would be anywhere between 20 and 30 people -- would come over to the Bittle’s house for barbecue. Most people wouldn’t have to work, so they’d start arriving around 3.

“Moomaw’ll probably be here first,” Eric told him. “You’ll like her. She’s the one who taught me to bake, and later to to adjust recipes on my own. I have a feeling she’ll like you too -- she has a thing for tall, dark and handsome.”

“Speaking of tall, dark and handsome, Connie and Roger will be here too, with the kids” Suzanne said.

“Roger’s not --” Eric started.

“Tall, dark or handsome? I know, sweetheart, I know, but remember Connie had a poster of Bad Bob Zimmermann in her room when we were teenagers,” Suzanne said. “I think she’s a little bit excited to meet his son. Especially since he looks so much like his father.”

“Oh, God, we’ll keep her away from you as much as we can,” Eric said.

“That’s OK,” Jack said. “I mean, if it gets really crazy, feel free to rescue me, but if she just wants to tell me how great he is, I can handle it.”

“To be fair, he is pretty great,” Eric said.

“He is,” Jack agreed. “Although so many people talking about him was a but much to take when I was younger.”

“What about Aunt Bobbi and Uncle Lee?” Eric asked. “And the boys?”

“They won’t be coming this year,” Suzanne said shortly.

“No? They on vacation or something?” Eric asked. “Not like them to turn down a free meal.”

“They’re not invited,” said Coach, who was nursing an iced tea at the kitchen table.

“Why not?” Eric asked.

Jack saw the Bittle parents exchange a silent look, then Suzanne said, “I don’t know that they would have come if they were invited, sugar. When the news broke about you and Jack, well, you know people were talking about it. Bobbi called me to ask if I knew before, about you …”

Eric’s expression had hardened.

“About me being gay?”

“Well, yes. And I said I did know that, not that it was any business of hers, and she said I should have told her as soon as I suspected anything and not let her put her sons in danger by bringing them here.”

She stopped talking.

“Dicky, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she said. “She had no call to say anything like that.”

Eric’s chuckle was grim.

“As soon as you suspected?” he said. “Pretty much everyone has suspected I was gay since before I knew what gay was, including her. She’s probably just afraid that people will think her kids are gay by association.”

“Well, I told her that anyone who didn’t want to associate with my son wasn’t welcome in my home,” Suzanne said. “I think it’s caused some hard feelings in the rest of the family.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Eric said. “I never wanted to make things tough for you.”

“Oh, not hard feelings against us,” Suzanne said. “Against them. Although apparently the feeling is that cutting them off entirely wouldn’t do those kids any favors.”

Eric looked surprised, Jack thought, but pleasantly so.

“Anyway, Tuesday’s the community picnic, so we’ll have our hands full tomorrow morning getting ready for both days,” Suzanne said. “Jack, if you don’t want to spend the day in the kitchen, maybe Coach could take you to use the gym at the school? Dicky said you have a pretty strict regimen.”

“Uh, that might be good,” Jack said, looking at Eric for help. Was this OK for Eric? Eric shrugged, and Jack said, “I thought we could go for a run in the morning, but some weights would be good, too. But really, I’m fine helping out.”

“Don’t you worry, son, we’ll put you to work, too,” Coach said, standing up. “I’m for bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

“Me too,” Suzanne said. “Dicky, we put both of your things in the guest room. Make sure the lights are off and the doors are locked when you go to bed.”

Eric looked like he’d been dipped in hot water, but all he said was, “Sure thing, Mama.Good night.”

As soon as Eric’s parents were safely upstairs, Eric turned to Jack and said, in an exaggerated whisper, “They put both of our things in the guest room?”

It was Jack’s turn to chuckle. “I think they figured out that we’ve slept together, mon coeur.”

“I know, but did they have to make it so obvious?” Eric said. “I mean, it’s not like we could both stay in my old room, unless we wanted to sleep on the floor like a slumber party. But still …”

“What did you think what would happen?” Jack asked. “I mean, maybe they should have said something before, but they’re trying, right?”

[keystonewarrior]

short story

All over again

“Ah, there you are, or there you were, I was wondering if you were ever going to manage it, but of course you did,” the man speaking was tall and slim and had an accent, “it is absolutely silly of me to get so impatient.”  He said that part mostly to himself but he was still looking at me.

The look on my face must’ve said it all.

“Oh, well, see,” he paused with a finger on his lips, pursed “you’ve made a torus, sort of, a kind of bubble in the universe, right?”  He dropped both hands behind his back and straightened up a little and looked at me with a little concerned amusement.

I wondered where he was going with all of this before he cleared his throat and continued.

“Well, there’s something you want to change, I haven’t any notion of what it is myself, not this time and not last time either,” he strode over to the open door at the end of the office, “But for the time being, and for the space involved there’s sort of two of you, but it won’t last long.  It never does.  It never could” he gestured for me to follow, “come have a look at yourself.”

I followed him out of the office into an old-fashioned cube farm.  The tops of heads were just barely visible over most cubes.  He had walked into a foyer next to an empty secretary station shrouded in artificial plants and was waving me over.  I remembered this place.

He gestured at the mirror.

I was so young.  Those clothes!  I can hardly believe anybody used to dress like that.  I felt like a fool, but I fit right in.  An elevator, one of four on this floor, pinged nearby and four people got out, and they all kind of looked like me.  And there was, oh damn, what was their name? Stacy? Tracy?  Three of the people walked to offices on the other side of the building but Stacy-Tracy walked past me, “See you tonight, right?”  

They seemed to have a knowing look on their face so I gave a noncommittal grunt of agreement and looked at myself in the mirror again briefly.  My hair!  Those glasses.  I suddenly recalled where my cube was.

I turned and followed my friend (office buddy? acquaintance?) along the cubes, they turned down a side aisle but I kept walking.  I could see the man waiting for me in his funny clothes, but not that funny, everybody would dress that way later.  He didn’t even stand out much.  Everybody probably thought he was in a temp, or maybe in advertising.  I went past the copy room and caught a bit of office gossip I’d forgotten, and was almost to my cube when he raised a hand to stop me.

“Now, you’ve done this before,” he looked into my eyes, “but you won’t remember.  There is usually no danger at all. Unless you try to run away.”

Suddenly he didn’t seem so friendly.  Suddenly his height and obvious physical fitness made it clear he was much more of a threat.  The man who had felt more like a confidant and counselor now seemed much more like a cop.

“The energies involved in changing the past aren’t trifling.  It helps to be close to a good source of gravity.  This can’t be done on the Moon and it is more successful here than on Mars,” he continued, “Running is the worst thing you can do.  It stretches out and magnifies the energies.  It demands more and more from you and the part of the universe you are currently in.  In both places and in both times.  You know what you came here for, so do it and don’t dilly dally.  When you see yourself in a moment there will be a sort of battle of wills, it will be brief.  You’ll be surprised - the younger you will be surprised - but you’ve got all the regret and anxiety and emotional baggage of what you believe - the older you believes - was a mistake, ebbing and flowing around you like a hurricane.  That is usually more than enough to make the change.  If necessary, just get physically violent.  You’ve done it before successfully.  You’re not old anymore.  You know how to struggle, how to take a little temporary pain, and to people nearby,” he indicated the cube farm “thank goodness there really won’t be any witnesses, not really, all anybody would see would be you shiver or maybe you wig out a little.”

I looked over at my cube.  “I’ve done this before?”

“Yes,” he turned and gestured to invite me to finish what I came back for.  He wasn’t being impatient or rude, but I sensed part of him didn’t really want to say what he said next but that another part of him desired to explain it all to me.

“A great many people have done this sort of thing a great many times, and nobody ever really remembers” he looked down at me “you may have dreams of a different you, with different people you know or knew or didn’t, doing things you did or didn’t do.  You may have dreams of odd arrangements of people and places and times you’ve known that don’t seem to go together and if the discontinuity is discomforting it wakes you up, but it all feels real enough.  You may imagine alternative pasts, with their ascendant futures, and while a lot of that is just ordinary wistfulness or wishy wash trash on a star, some of it is just a little space and time flotsam and jetsam and the overlap of memory, what was once real and what is really real because that was what you did and not what you didn’t.”

He had maneuvered beside me and put a friendly hand on my shoulder, giving me just a little nudge.  

“You’ve done this before and I’ve been here to keep you honest before.”

“I ran before, didn’t I?”

“You did.  What was an embarrassing momentary lapse for you was years of grueling overtime and paperwork for me,” the nudge was becoming a push, “so get on with it.”

I walked to the cubicle.  I might have walked a little apprehensively.  I knew why I was here and what I had to do.  I had done something like this before. I could hear myself typing in the cube.  Did I try to do something or not do something before?  Was I trapped in a loop?  I looked back. He was right behind me.

“No, you aren't in a loop.  This isn’t Groundhog Day” he whispered.  “You’ve never been back to this particular moment.  You’ve been back to high school and college and other times.  Of course after this all the other times I knew you after this will be different in some way.  You are changing the past to alter your future after all.  Maybe you’ll have to sneak backwards in time to events after now and keep making little changes, a twist there and a tweak there.  You’re never one for big changes.”

He smiled at me.  I realized it was the first time he smiled at me.

“But you’ve been through this with me before?  I’m putting you through the ringer?”

His smile got bigger and brighter.  “Your concern for me is your most endearing trait.  I do miss you.  Don’t worry about me.  All that overtime I put in got me a nice timeshare in Florida.  I even wrote a book; made good money too.  I can’t retire, not yet, but when I do me and the missus are set.  The kids have a great future.  Thank you.”

“Maybe I should be the one thanking you, for this chance to get a do-over.”

I turned the corner and stood in the cube.  The phone was tucked between my shoulder and cheek, my fingers were hovering over the numbers, but my attention was on the computer screen.  I mashed the hook switch down and yanked the phone out my other hand.  The momentary contact with my other self almost overwhelmed me while it damn near knocked other me out.  The energies involved are not trifling.  I could feel a dam breaking.  I spun the chair around to look at myself.  The look of shock and fear in a face from so long ago was pitiable.  I was so weak then.  Overcoming myself felt like crushing a tinkertoy under a HEMMT wheel.  I felt nothing but contempt and disgust as I crushed myself and suddenly felt myself falling.

I jerked upright in the chair and gasped.  Ben stood and looked over the cube wall at me.

“Dude, you okay? he asked.  That mullet has got to go.

“I’m okay I said,” I looked up at Ben, “just a little deja vu.”

Ben disappeared, sitting.  “I get that too sometimes; except mine doesn’t usually sound like a cab going into a manhole without the cover.”  He laughed at himself.

I looked at the phone in my hand and hung it up.  I looked at the computer screen, saved my work, closed the tab, and logged off.  I stood and picked up my Y2K mug, I was looking at Ben in his cube, his lips moved as he read what he just typed.

“Ben, that mullet has got to go,” I said.  Ben nodded, grunted, and typed.

I walked down the rows of cubes to the cube that did duty as a coffee station.  Shawn Tracy was standing by the windows talking with Stacy McAllister looking at the snow falling in Pittsburgh.  I could see Civic Arena in the distance.  They turned and looked at me.

“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” he said.

“I already told you he said yes” she said.

“I���m sorry I gotta cancel on you two,” they put pretend expressions of hurt on their faces, “I’m driving to New York after work to see my folks, it’s a surprise”  I said that part on impulse.  I just had an urge to go see my folks.  “Pens are in New York tomorrow anyway.  I’ll wear my sweater and hassle my little brother.  Take Ben, he could use some hockey.  I’ll bet he’s missing Minnesota anyway.”  I gestured out the window with my mug before I filled it up.

I went back to my cube and almost spilled coffee crashing into my chair.  

From his cube next to mine Ben razzed me a little, “It’s like deja vu all over again.”

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 35

Word Count: 2,514

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Sorry this took so long to get out. I had planned on having it up yesterday, but life got busy. I’d love to have those 12 hours back that I lost, but it’s not happening. So with that feedback is always welcome and happy reading!

Nervous Regrets Masterlist

You sat there staring at the picture in your direct messages for you don't know how long. It wasn't until Jace started to cry that you put the phone down so that you could tend to your baby. Jace's little cries filled the air, and you took him over to change his diaper. When he was all clean and dry, his face filled with a smile, which melted your heart. When you looked in his sweet face, you could see your husband there, as Jace had Tyler's eyes and even though he was only a couple weeks old he had that little smirk as well. It was in Jace's expression that you knew that message was nothing but a lie.

 Tyler had worked so hard to win you back and you knew that he would never jeopardize your family with some trivial one-night stand. As you sat in the rocking chair, in Jace's nursery feeding him, you pulled up the message again. This time looking at the picture with unfeeling eyes instead of ones that felt hurt and disappointment. There was no denying that, that was your husband, but the closer you looked it was an older picture. Tyler's hair wasn't that long right now, and where his shirt was unbuttoned you could just make out his lack of chest tattoo. This picture was probably taken well before you were even in Tyler's life; more than likely a couple months before you'd met him.

 Switching Jace to your other breast, you set the phone back down trying to decide what to do next. Obviously, this person wanted to cause a rift between you and Tyler, and messaging her back would just give credence to a conversation that wasn't necessary. You'd been so wrapped up in the stupid message, that you never heard the garage door open or Tyler come in. "There are my two favorite people in the world." He made his way over to you, kissing you on the lips, causing Jace to stir. "Hey buddy, daddy missed you." Jace looked around searching for Tyler's voice. "Is he done, babe? I'm dying to hold him."

 "Mostly," you answered, handing the baby over. "He can finish later. Right now, I think he wants his daddy more." Tyler took Jace from you and held him close to his chest, his one finger caressing his chubby cheeks.

 "Bud, did you get bigger? Mommy said no, but I think so." Jace's tiny hand fisted around one of Tyler's fingers. "Look at those muscles; you working out?" The interaction between father and son made your heart so full it could burst and a tear slid down your cheek. "Baby, you ok?" Ty asked taking his eyes off his son for a moment.

 "I…" you couldn't seem to get out the words and so you nodded your head.

 "Babe, I know you said you're still emotional, but what else is going on."

 You sighed heavily, knowing for your relationship to work; you needed to be completely honest. "I got a message on Instagram earlier." A look of concern immediately crossed his face, before he started to shake his head. "I know it's not true Ty. It just took a toll on me."

 "What did it say?" And you could see the anger visibly changing him, in the way he stood and held the baby.

 You stood so that you could touch and feel him; hoping to release some of his tension. "It doesn't matter. I just wanted to tell you so there wouldn't be any secrets between us."

 "If it hurt you, it matters." He wrapped his free arm, the one that wasn't holding Jace, around your waist and pulled you to his side. You looked at Jace, so comfortable in his father's arms as he stared up at his parents. "Tell me (Y/N)."

 "It was just a picture of you and some girl. I'm assuming she's the one that sent the message. It said that my "baby daddy" was cheating on me." Before he could say anything you continued. "I know it wasn't true Ty. When I looked at the pic closer, it was old."

 "(Y/N), I will never in a million years cheat on you, babe." He cupped your chin so that you would look in his eyes. "You believe me, don't you?"

 "Of course, I do Ty. The message just threw me."

 "I'm deleting my damn account. It's caused us nothing but trouble."

 "Tyler, we're fine. This is just one fangirl, who's making up lies." You were telling yourself this as much as him. "You have your sponsorships to think about and your fans. Don't go deleting things just because of this one instance. I'm fine." He still looked unconvinced. "We're fine. I promise."

 "It just annoys the fuck…oops sorry," he spoke more to Jace than to you. "That people think that they can get away with doing this. Like I'm some sort of sex addict that can't wait for my wife to…" you could see him struggling to find the right words.

 "Heal?"

 "Yeah, heal before I wet my dick in someone else pussy. Shit!" He swore again and you had to laugh at his attempt to control his language around your son.

 "I think it's ok to curse around him. He definitely didn't learn to talk in the few days you were gone."

 He looked at you a little sheepishly. "Still…I need to learn not too." His eyes went back to his child, where Jace's little face just lit up. It was probably gas, but it was still adorable. "Maybe I'll send this person a message myself." He said drawing you back to the conversation about the direct message. "Or get my lawyers on it."

 "How about we just drop it, and if it happens again then we worry about?" He cocked his head "Please Ty?"

 He scrunched his face up at you, before agreeing. "Fine, but you have to promise you'll tell me if it happens again."

 "Done. Now can we please talk about other things."

 "In a minute, there's one more thing," and before you could ask him what that was, his lips were on yours. His mouth searched yours and all the longing that you felt for him over the last several days melted away. Jace squirmed in his arms and the two of you broke apart. "Now that's a better welcome home. I missed you."

 "I missed you too, Ty." The rest of the day Tyler barely let Jace out of his arms. He of course allowed you to feed him, but he wouldn't let you put him down for a nap in the bassinet; instead opting for the baby to lay on his chest. You had a feeling if he kept this up you were going to have a hard time training Jace to sleep in his own crib.

 "So babe, I was thinking maybe you could bring Jace to practice tomorrow. You know to meet all the guys." You were crawling into bed, after just laying the baby down for the night.

 "Yeah, I can do that. Little man and I will be down to have lunch with you guys."

 "Can you maybe put on his Stars stuff too?" Like your child would wear anything else when going to see his father at work.

 "Of course, babe." He pulled you close to him and you inhaled his scent. God, you missed this even if it was for a few days.

 "Thanks, baby. I'm so excited for the guys to meet him." He kissed your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

 The next morning as soon as Tyler headed off to practice you started to get ready for Jace to meet all his hockey uncles. It was really the first time taking him anywhere other than the doctors, and you found yourself throwing things in the diaper bag you knew you were never going to need but wanted to be prepared. Jace's Star's onesie fit perfectly, but then you had one in every size imaginable. It was his jersey that was a little bit, so you opted to just carry that in the bag not sure if you were going to put it on him or not until you got there. You also threw in a little jacket since he'd be down close to the ice. You made sure to feed him before you left, but also took a bottle on the off chance he'd be fussy.

 You buckled him in the car seat, and he whimpered a bit. Cash immediately going to see what was wrong with his brother. "He's ok Cash, just doesn't like to be cooped up in there." The pup looked at you skeptically and you had to laugh. The dogs had definitely become protective of Jace over the last week and hated to hear him cry. Once you had him in the car and were headed down the road, he quickly fell fast asleep.

 They were just finishing up practice when you went into the arena. All of the guys were still on the ice, running a few drills. It was Jamie who saw you first, smiling and giving a wave as the puck sailed past him, and you kind of laughed. That got him a few chirps from some of the guys until Monty saw that you were there and called them all in. "Looks like we have a special guest in the building. I'm gonna cut this short, but damn it, wash your hands and shit before you touch the kid." You chuckled at his words, but it was nice to know that he didn't want their sweaty hands all over your child any more than you did.

 Tyler was the first to skate off. "Hey babe," he said pecking you real quick before turning down to his little guy. "Hi bud, did you see daddy skating?" Jace's eyes were taking everything as he woke the minute, he heard the pucks on the boards. The guys started to crowd around you and the carrier, trying to sneak a peek at Jace.

 "Oh he cute Seggy, nothing like you." Rads said punching your husband in the arm playfully.

 "There's my godson," Jamie added. "Sportin' the team colors bud. They look good, though there needs to be a fourteen on there somewhere."

 "Get out Chubbs, my son is not wearing your number, even if you are his uncle."

 "Alright, hit the showers, then you can have baby time." You told them all.

 "I'll meet you in the dining room?" Tyler said before kissing you again and heading off to the locker room. You went down to the kitchen area, setting Jace's carrier on the table so you could take him out. The room was warm so you didn't put his sweatshirt on him, that way everyone could see his little Seguin ninety-one on the back. You propped him up on your shoulder and he looked around a little bit, before flopping his head back down and sucking on your shirt. Perfect, just what you wanted baby drool on you. It didn't really matter though, as long as Jace was happy.

 You no sooner were comfortable, then Justin Dowling came in. "Hey (Y/N), how are you feeling? Heard this little guy gave you a bit of a scare." He took a finger and trailed it along Jace's back making him shiver.

 "Yeah, he definitely had his own idea about when he wanted to meet us, but I'm good."

 "Can I hold him?"

 "Of course," you handed Jace off to him. Justin was a natural, the way he swayed back and forth with your little guy in his arms.

 "You've got to bring him around Meg, she's dying to meet him. We just didn't want to overwhelm you after everything."

 "Yeah, I was planning on having the girls over soon."

 "Maybe you can convince her, that we need one of these."

 "Oh! You guys will make great parents." They were already one of the cutest couples on the team. "You've got a natural touch there."

 "Thanks."

 "Alright quit hogging the baby," Bishop chimed in taking Jace from Justin. "Hey Jace, you and Ben are gonna be best buddies. You can have playdates and go on bike rides and take hockey lessons together."

 "Woah, slow down there Bish. He's only a couple weeks old." You told him.

 "I know, Andrea is dying to bring Ben over."

 "We've talked several times. I think she was coming over tomorrow night for a bit. We thought we could watch the game together."

 "Wait you're not bringing Jace to the game?" Your husband asked looking too handsome for your liking.

 You simply rolled your eyes at him. "Not yet, you knew this though."

 "Kinda, just thought maybe you'd change your mind." He walked straight to his child and you could see him fighting the urge not to take him away from Bishop. "But I get it. He's still too small, but in a couple weeks you'll be big enough to come and cheer daddy and all your uncles on." God, you loved your husband like this. That playful cute side, that just adored his child; there was nothing better in the whole world. Well, maybe your son.

 The rest of the guys filtered in and it became a game of pass the baby around. You were surprised when even Miro took a turn, however the minute he turned fussy he was handing him back. After an hour, Jace was done with meeting everyone and basically just feel asleep as the guys continued to fuss over him. One by one they all left until there were just a few of you milling about and you figured it was time to head home before Jace needed to be fed. Tyler helped you pack him up, and then the three of you left with promises to bring Jace back real soon. You had a feeling if it was up to Tyler, he would've had him on the ice today, but thankfully he never once asked.

 Tyler had ridden with Jamie, so he could take you and Jace home and as you traveled the highways of Dallas he finally said. "Thanks for bringing him down today babe. It meant a lot."

 "Ty, I will bring him down whenever you want."

 "So…uh…when do you think you'll bring him to a game?"

 "Babe, I know you're excited for him to go, but I'd like him to be a little older. Those headphones you got barely fit."

 "I'll get a box, so you guys don't have to deal with the family section and you can have Jenna and the girls up there." He was really trying everything he could, but honestly, with that fangirl message, you were leery about taking Jace out in the public.

 "How about the next long home stretch?"

 "Yeah babe, that will work." The smile on your face was enough to put your doubts at rest, at least for the moment.