Page 50 of Speak in Fever

R ath has lots of great ideas. Writing papers the night before they were due, threading a pass through six inches of traffic in a tied game, coming on to his captain in the middle of a crowded club. Ideas are the easy part and that's not to say he always thinks them through, but he always has them.

So it's no surprise that, when he shows up at Percy's doorstep the next day, he has an idea. He's been thinking about it overnight and, by the time he finally works up the courage to see Percy, he's convinced himself it's even a good idea.

When Percy opens the door, Rath slips inside quickly, aware of the neighbors and the possibility of being seen. The last thing they need is more speculation about why Rath Platts is showing up at his captain's house at ten PM.

"Okay," Rath says without preamble, settling heavily onto Percy's couch with his phone clutched in his hand. "I've been thinking about this all day, and I think we're approaching it wrong."

He watches Percy close the door and turn to face him, noting the careful way his captain moves, like he's bracing for bad news. The sight makes Rath's chest tight with affection and determination in equal measure.

"Wrong how?" Percy asks.

"We've been panicking about damage control, about explaining it away, about making it seem like less than it was." Rath runs his hands through his hair, trying to channel his nervous energy into something productive. "But what if we don't do any of that?"

Percy settles into the chair across from him, and Rath can see him trying to read his expression, trying to figure out where this conversation is heading.

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we do nothing." The words come out in a rush, and Rath leans forward, needing Percy to understand. "We don't confirm anything, but we don't deny anything either. We just... let people think what they want to think."

"Rath—"

"Hear me out," Rath interrupts, pulling up his phone and scrolling to the screenshots he's been collecting all day.

"I've been reading the comments, the threads, the analysis posts.

You know what most people are saying? They're saying we have amazing chemistry, that we're friendship goals, that our connection makes the team better.

Even the people who think we might be together are being supportive about it. "

He watches Percy process this information, can see the wheels turning in his captain's head. This is the part Rath was most nervous about—convincing Percy that this isn't just wishful thinking or reckless optimism.

"But the media questions—"

"We answer them the same way we always have," Rath says firmly, the conviction in his voice surprising even himself. "We talk about our chemistry on the ice, about working well together, about building trust as linemates. We don't lie, but we don't give them anything concrete either."

Percy stands and starts pacing, which Rath recognizes as his thinking-through-all-possible-scenarios mode. Rath forces himself to stay quiet and let Percy work through it, even though every instinct he has is telling him to keep talking, to convince, to persuade.

"That's certainly an option," Percy says finally. "But once we stop actively shutting down speculation, it's going to grow. People are going to look for more signs, analyze every interaction."

"Maybe." Rath shrugs, trying to project more calm than he feels. "But they're already doing that anyway. At least this way, we're not exhausting ourselves trying to hide."

He can see the exact moment when Percy starts considering it seriously, when the pacing shifts from anxious to contemplative. Rath holds his breath, waiting.

"You realize what this means," Percy says slowly, stopping to look at him directly. "If we're not actively denying it, if we're letting people speculate..."

"It means we can be ourselves," Rath finishes quietly, the words carrying all the hope and longing he's been holding back. "Within reason. It means I don't have to pretend I don't care about you more than anyone else on the team. It means you don't have to act like I'm just another player to you."

The silence stretches between them, and Rath can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. This is it—the moment that will either change everything or confirm that he's been naive about what they could have together.

"We'd have to be careful," Percy says, and Rath feels something tight in his chest start to loosen. "Set boundaries about what we're comfortable with people seeing versus what we want to keep private."

"Of course," Rath agrees quickly, relief making his voice stronger. "More careful than we've been."

Percy stops pacing entirely now, fixing Rath with that intense captain stare that usually makes him want to either run away or do something stupid. Tonight, it makes him want to close the distance between them and kiss Percy until they both forget why they were worried about anything.

"You're sure about this?" Percy asks.

"I'm sure."

Rath stands and crosses to him in two quick strides, reaching up to frame Percy's face with both hands. He needs to touch him, needs to make this real and tangible and theirs.

This kiss feels different from all the others—not stolen or hidden or shadowed by anxiety, but open and honest and completely theirs. Rath melts against Percy's chest, making a soft sound when Percy's hands find his waist and pull him closer.

They kiss again, slower this time, and Rath savors the freedom of it. When Percy's hands slip under the hem of his shirt, finding warm skin, Rath arches into the touch with a quiet gasp that makes Percy's breath hitch against his mouth.

"Bedroom?" Rath asks against Percy's ear, the single word carrying all the want and need that's been building in him since the moment he saw Percy.

Percy nods, taking Rath's hand and leading him down the hallway.

Rath follows, his heart racing with anticipation and the heady realization that they don't have to be careful anymore, don't have to worry about being too loud or leaving marks or any of the hundred small ways they've been protecting their secret.

As soon as Percy's bedroom door closes behind them, he turns in his arms, pressing Rath back against the wood with a kiss that's all heat and intention. Rath’s hands find the hem of Percy's shirt and start working it upward, desperate to feel more skin, to have nothing between them but honesty and love and the freedom to show it.

“I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart,” Percy says and it sends a shiver down Rath's spine.

Percy carefully guides him to the bed. He softly, slowly takes his time.

He lifts Rath's sweater from his body and then sits back on his heels to look at him.

His hair is all messed up, ruffled and soft from where Rath has tangled his fingers in it.

There's a slight pink flush to his cheeks and a dilation to his pupils.

He's hard in his boxers but seems content for now to just..

. leave it be, and focus entirely on Rath. He drags his fingertips down his chest.

“Jesus, Rath,” Percy says. “So beautiful.”

Percy leaves a trail down Rath's taut stomach, drags his hand downwards and then back up towards his nipple and circles it with his fingers. He shifts his body so that he's hovering above Rath and leans down to kiss him again.

Percy kisses him with the same firmness as before, his tongue searching and hips rocking against Rath's.

“Tell me what you want. I want to make you feel so good,” Percy says between kisses. What Rath wants is for Percy to just never stop. He wants to feel Percy's lips on his skin, kissing trails of fire there forever.

“I–” Rath moans. “Fuck, I–”

The thing is. The. Thing. Is. Well, the thing is that there is something Rath wants. Something he's been... curious about but hasn't known how to voice, how to ask for it. He wants to give himself, every single inch of his body, to Percy.

“You’re overthinking,” Percy says, with a soft kiss to his forehead. “Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want?”

Rath swallows. “I want–” His eyes flick up towards Percy, and he sees Percy looking back at him with steady, beautiful eyes. “I want you to fuck me,” he says. It comes out in a rush, breathless and slurred and Rath almost winces because not once has he ever brought it up until now.

“Fuck,” Percy says, pink lips falling open in surprise. Something flickers across his face and he pauses, fingers stilling over the waistband of Rath's pants where he's been slowly dragging his fingertips. His eyes are very dark. “Are you sure?”

Rath nods again, and then says, “Just... go slow?”

Percy kisses him on the forehead, a tiny ghost of his lips on Rath's skin. “Of course. Tell me if you want to stop or anything, it's–”

Rath cuts him off with a kiss. “Please.”

Percy smiles in response and nods. “Okay.” He kisses Rath again, and there's something different about it now, something somehow both harder and easier, as though the simple act of telling Percy a thing that he wants has shifted something between them again in the best possible way.

He wonders if things will ever stop shifting, if there will ever be a time where he feels like this is them: settled and done.

He hopes there isn't. He hopes he and Percy never stop surprising each other, that they're always moving, always growing together with intertwined roots.

Percy kisses him, drags his fingers back along Rath's chest. He kisses his way down his navel and the trail of hair there, then brings his fingers to the buttons of his jeans, where he's hard and aching.

Percy leans back on his heels again and leans over to the bedside table and opens the drawer..

“How do you want to–” Percy asks, fishing the bottle out of the drawer and throwing it on the bed.