Page 37 of Speak in Fever
Now they're at a dive bar three blocks from their hotel, riding the high of a game that felt more like art than sport.
The energy is infectious—even the veterans are animated, crowded around two pushed-together tables with beers and the kind of easy camaraderie that only comes after a perfect team performance.
"That second goal," Torres says for the fourth time, gesturing wildly with his beer. "JP, I don't know how you saw that opening. The angle was impossible."
"Cap put it exactly where I needed it," JP replies. "Perfect pass made it look easy."
"Speaking of perfect," Terrible announces, "did I tell you guys about the bartender at that club?"
"Only about fifteen times," Harley mutters, but he's smiling.
"Hey, when you meet perfection, you talk about it," Terrible continues, undeterred. "Legs that went on for miles, this smile that could melt steel, and she wrote her number on my napkin with a little heart."
"Did you call her?" Torres asks.
"Course I called her. We’re sexting." Terrible grins smugly. "Sometimes the road trip gods smile on you."
"Lucky bastard," Raul says, shaking his head.
"Raul, what about that girl in San Jose?" JP prompts. "The one from the coffee shop by the hotel?"
Raul's expression brightens. "Maria. Yeah, she was... wow. Spoke three languages, studying to be a doctor, and had these eyes that just..." He trails off with a dreamy expression that makes the table laugh.
"Look at him," Torres grins. "Our stoic defenseman, gone soft over a med student."
"You get her number?" Terrible asks.
"Got her number, took her to dinner the next night, and we've been texting every day since." Raul's smile is soft in a way that suggests this is more than just road trip fun. "She might come visit Portland."
"Damn, Raul," Harley says with genuine approval. "That's serious."
"Maybe," Raul admits, but he's still smiling. "We'll see."
The conversation continues around the table, teammates sharing stories about dates and near-misses and the complicated logistics of dating as professional athletes. Percy finds himself listening with half an ear, more focused on the way Rath has gone progressively quieter as the night has worn on.
"What about you, Cap?" Terrible asks, turning his attention to Percy. "You've been suspiciously quiet. Any road romance brewing?"
Percy's eyes flick briefly to Rath before returning to his beer. "Not really my scene," he says carefully. "I prefer to keep things simple on the road."
"Simple's boring," Torres protests. "Live a little! We're young, we're professional athletes, we're in a different city every week. The opportunities are endless."
"Endless opportunities for complications, you mean," Percy replies dryly. "I've got enough to worry about without adding dating drama to the mix."
"Fair point," JP concedes. "Though you can't stay single forever, Cap. What are you waiting for?"
The question hangs in the air, and Rath finds himself holding his breath, waiting for Percy's answer. But before Percy can respond, Terrible's attention shifts.
"What about you, rookie?" Terrible asks, focusing on Rath with obvious interest. "You seeing anyone or just hooking up on the road?"
All eyes turn to Rath, and he feels heat climbing up his neck. This is dangerous territory—too many questions, too much attention on his personal life when he's been so careful to keep things private.
"I plead the fifth," he says finally.
"Oooh, that sounds complicated." Terrible leans forward with obvious interest. "Long distance? Secret relationship? Married woman?"
"Jesus, Terrible," Raul mutters. "Let the kid have some privacy."
"I'm just curious! He hooks up with one girl while we’re on the road and suddenly he’s being mysterious."
Rath takes a long pull of his beer, trying to figure out how to navigate this conversation without revealing too much. The problem is, his teammates are like dogs with bones when they sense a mystery, and his evasiveness is only making them more curious.
And, maybe, this is something he wants to tell them. Maybe this is something he doesn’t want to keep to himself anymore.
"I didn’t hook up with a girl,” he says carefully, and feels a little emboldened when JP nudges his foot underneath the table. “Just so we’re clear.”
The table goes utterly silent for a long moment, and Terrible’s mouth opens in a surprised ‘O’. Across the table, JP smiles at him. He doesn’t dare look at Percy.
“Well that explains a lot,” Torres finally says, taking another draw from his beer.
"So this is why you've been so cagey about dating," Terrible observes. "Makes sense. Can't be easy, being in the closet in hockey."
Rath feels the tension in his body slowly drain.
"I'm not exactly broadcasting it," Rath admits. "The league isn't exactly known for being progressive about this stuff."
"Fuck the league," Harley says bluntly. "Your personal life is your business. Anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with us."
The fierce loyalty in his voice makes Rath's throat tight with gratitude. He'd been so afraid of this moment, so convinced that coming out would change everything, but his teammates are just... accepting it. Like it's no big deal.
“Hey, this doesn’t explain why you never hit on anyone at clubs,” Raul says, bringing the conversation back around. “Do you need us to hook you up? Should we go to a gay bar?”
“If we go to a gay bar then Harley is gonna get hit on more than anyone,” Torres says, and Harley snorts into his beer.
“No, I’m serious. We should be better wingmen.”
Rath flushes across his cheekbones. “I’m good.”
“Yeah, Rath finds his own hookups. Unlike you.”
“Hey!”
The easy humor helps break some of the tension, and Rath finds himself smiling for the first time all evening.
His eyes flick involuntarily to Percy, who's been unusually quiet through this entire conversation.
Their captain is watching him with an expression Rath can't quite read—something warm and proud and maybe a little concerned.
His secret is out, at least partially, and the world hasn't ended. His teammates still accept him, still have his back, still treat him like family.
As the conversation gradually shifts back to other topics—tomorrow's travel schedule, upcoming games, Torres's ongoing war with the hotel's breakfast buffet—Rath finds himself stealing glances at Percy.
His captain has been unusually quiet since Rath's revelation, but not in a bad way. More thoughtful than withdrawn.
Later, when the team finally calls it a night and starts dispersing back to the hotel, Percy falls into step beside Rath as they walk through Salt Lake City's downtown streets.
They end up back at the hotel and they’re barely in the door when Percy has a hand on his hip, guiding him back against the wall next to the bathroom.
Rath lets himself be pressed into the plaster, Percy a long line of heat all along his front, and he inhales sharply when he looks up and Percy is looking down at him with dark, heated eyes.
“Hey,” Rath says, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of Percy’s jeans.
“Am I the first guy you’ve been with?” Percy asks, obnoxiously perceptive as always.
Percy has a hand against his hip, holding him steady against the wall, and another cupping his jaw, keeping his head right where he wants it, and Rath feels trapped in the best way possible.
He thinks he could probably bring Percy closer with his grip on his jeans if he wanted, pull him forward until he’s flush against Rath’s front, but for the moment he keeps the distance between them as Percy leans forward and huffs out a breath against his mouth.
“Is that like an ego thing or something?” Rath asks him, raising an eyebrow, trying to remain steadfast even as Percy’s thumb snakes underneath his shirt to rub circles at his hipbone. “You get off on the idea of being first or something?”
“That’s not a ‘no’, Platts,” Percy brushes their noses together.
Rath huffs out a laugh, and this time he does pull Percy closer. “Yeah, you’re my first, Cap. Does that get you hot?”
Percy groans and kisses him finally, soft and slow and filthy, licking his way into his mouth like he’s been thinking about it all evening.
It feels so good having Percy against him like this, and the thought that it’s Percy doing this, Percy that he gets to have, is still so new and amazing that he gets a little lightheaded just from kissing him.
He feels Percy’s grip on his hips tighten, and he has the wild thought that Percy could lift him up, right here in the hotel hallway, and press him against the wall with all of his weight.
Rath imagines wrapping his legs around Percy’s waist, feeling the heat of him between them, and he moans into Percy’s mouth as he presses forward, eager and wanting.
Percy pulls back just enough to say, “I want to do everything with you.”
Rath feels his heart flip in his chest. He wants that desperately. “Yeah?”
“Have you ever been fingered?”
A flush of heat rushes through Rath, from his head to his toes, and he feels hot all over in an instant. He licks his lips and Percy leans forward to nip at his neck with his teeth.
“No,” he manages to say, around the rush of noise in his ears. He swallows. Percy is mouthing at his jaw and he can’t think.
“Would you want to try?” Percy asks, and he pulls back enough to look at him.
Rath can’t speak. He nods, face hot, and then Percy is pulling back, guiding him toward the bed with a hand on his, and Rath realizes, slightly shocked, Oh, he means right now .
He’s not sure where else he thought they were headed, but his nervousness is dwarfed by the surge of desire that floods through him when Percy turns and starts helping him remove his shirt.