17: Trip

YETI

...which was... a huge motherfucking mistake, because in an hour and a half when my alarm starts going off, one of my arms is slung around his chest, and he's pressed against me, warm and soft and gentle.

Rocket rolls over under my arm, facing away from the alarm clock but not moving away from me. It takes me a minute to realize that the very solid, definitely warm, absolutely disheveled cedar-smelling body right here with me isn't a product of a dream. I'm not good enough at dreaming to make something like him.

"Jävlar," I swear under my breath and roll off him, mattress creaking under my sudden shift of weight.

"Promiňte," Rocket's awake too, his voice comes out as a drowsy growl. I slap my alarm off and sit up. I'm in jeans. I slept in jeans. And lord I'm stiff.

I groan and rub my eyes, standing up and fumbling around to shut off the alarm instead of snooze.

Rocket is trying to get up, but then he's pressing his head into the pillow. He's mumbling indecipherably in Czech. Then he lifts his head to look at me, he's messy and the shirt that I gave him is hanging off him in quite possibly one of the most staggering ways possible. "You know the hangover is bad when you can't think in English." He's trying to laugh it off, but his eyes are fuzzy in the migraine way.

"I'll get you something to drink and a little breakfast." I say, tearing my eyes off him, ripping them, really.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "Oh no, no."

"What?" I watch his body tense and his eyes get wild.

"Yeti?" He leaps up out of bed and he's panicking. At first I think he remembered that he came out to me. "Yeti, I fucked up with Steph, oh my god-"

"That's okay, we've got time until practice starts." I point at the clock, trying to use a calm demeanor to get him to chill a little. His hands are all the way up in his wreck of bedhead, rustling it back and forth aggressively. I watch, throat gone dry, staring at his hair, his thick and endless hair.

"What?"

"Practice. It's hell day."

"No, no no, this, this is worse than that, no, Yeti you don't get it," One of his hands drops to his side, leaving one half of his head of hair sticking up straight. "No, no, Steph relapses if something bad happens to him when he's drunk, he's, no, fuck, Yeti he went to August, what if he told her? What if he fucked that up? I'll have to get him back to the hospital, oh no," His voice is breaking. "Yeti, I messed him up again, god, no."

"Rocket, shh, hey," I grab his shoulders and hold him still. "We'll go to August's on the way to the rink, I'll leave time for it, just breathe."

"No, Yeti," He's freaking the hell out. "I can't just do that to someone I just, I totally-" I shake him, knocking his hair back, getting his attention.

"Rocket." I smooth his shirt over his shoulders, trying to find something to do with my hands that isn't holding his deltoids and shriveling inside at the way he feels under my palms. "It's fine."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know. Now, let's go downstairs and get you something to drink, you look like your head hurts."

He nods and I stand up off the edge of my bed, pointing him toward the hall then down the stairs into my kitchen.

He slumps down on one of the barstools at my counter, setting his head on the cold granite.

I slide a glass of water over to him, "that'll take the edge off, here's some Advil, you're going to need that too." I throw him the little bottle and he manages to swat it out of the air.

He takes the Advil, then sits there, staring gently at me. I try to think of something to do to lighten the atmosphere, the only thing I come up with is that he's incredibly food-driven. I'll make him something to eat.

"I'm sure Steph is alright." I keep my voice as quiet as I can, making sure he can still hear me, but also being sure that it's not overpowering. "He's a strong guy, and if it really got bad, August would always take care of him. She and I might not know him as well as you do, but she knows enough as his girlfriend to get him through one night, and I know enough as his team mate to know that he's in really good hands with her."

Rocket just nods, looking absolutely miserable. I put two pieces of bread in the toaster, then crack an egg into the skillet I have heating on the burner.

"Listen, Rocks, it's not your fault what happened, it's not anywhere close. What you feel in relation to Steph and the differences you two face is completely justified and understandable, I'm positive that he's a good enough guy to get that what you said and acted like last night was a simple product of a situation. I'm not sure what ticked you off but Steph's your best friend, you can't just get rid of a connection like that." I flip the egg over, grabbing salt and pepper out of the cabinet and sprinkling a little on top. The toast will be easier to manage, I grab it and set one slice on the plate, cutting it clean in half and sprinkling shredded cheese on the open slice. The egg goes on top of the shredded cheese and then the second half of the slice, bingo, egg and cheese sandwich and a second piece of toast for me.

"Finish that water," I tell him, setting the plate down next to his head on the table. He peeks up at the sandwich as I make my way back across the kitchen for my toast.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast." He mumbles, pulling the plate closer. "What is it?"

"Egg and cheese sandwich, and yes I did. Just eat."

He sits up just a little and takes a hesitant bite. I watch, perched up on the countertop, slightly amused at his cautious approach to the food. Within seconds he seems to have decided it's good enough for his standards and is halfway through it before asking another question. "Do we really have to practice today?"

"If any day of the year is required, it's the day after Casey's. Which is why I didn't drink."

"You didn't drink because you're just like that," Rocket's face falls a little as he finishes off the last of the sandwich. He's still sulking. "I don't remember anything I said, but I'm sorry, I was probably a dick to you."

"No, you were fine, I swear." I don't think he could be a dick to me if he tried. "Eight to noon, and then we're done for three days, the 24th, 25th and 26th and then we're back."

"Steph's going home for two days, I think he's crazy for it, but he's basically just dropping Jilly off and then coming back," Rocket sighs. "That means it's him and his girl alone for a week without anything to interrupt them. Kid's going to be a paraplegic."

"What?"

"Kid's going to be a paraplegic," Rocket looks up at me. "If I didn't fuck it up last night."

"What do you mean by paraplegic?" I smile a little at him and then realize I'm smiling at him and turn around to get some water for myself.

"There's no way in hell he's a top- or dominant, considering."

I choke on the freshly poured water and spit a little out, "what?"

"Have you met his girlfriend?" Rocket sets his empty glass on the table and I watch his long fingers start to push it around.

"But isn't the guy always the top in straight relationships?" I totally just sounded like I'd never had straight sex before. I mean, I have, but not... enjoyably.

Rocket raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, but sometimes-"

"Alright, makes sense, but," I stumble to cover the blunder.

"It's just because they never get to have sex when Jilly's around because Jilly's around and they're crazy in love so," He furrows his eyebrows. "I'm oversharing about them."

"Yeah, no, just a little," I smile down into my glass, I don't really want him to notice how much I like spending time with him, even if he is hungover and sad. "I won't be able to look at him right today."

"After he told me some of the shit they ended up doing I couldn't make eye contact with him for a week."

"That sounds... freaky," I have to laugh. "I don't know how I feel about Steph, the team softboy, liking stuff like that. I had always assumed he was as vanilla as they come." I pause. "Pun intended." Rocket snorts at my joke.

"Weird, there's no other feeling about that than weird," Rocket laughs. "No, Steph's not like that. He's vanilla. Or... he is now. After Morgan I don't think he could go back to being into the same stuff he was into back then."

"The model?"

"Yeah, the model," Rocket puffs out his cheeks. "That was a lot of information I learned about him that I did not want to know."

"I-" I look for something to do to busy my hands. "... I... just, what?"

"I dunno, he had a traumatic childhood, you develop stuff because of those," he pauses. "Please don't tell me you find her attractive."

"No, not at all. I get... why one would be, but, no, not me."

"Good, she's a psychopath."

"What do you mean by that?" I lean up against the counter and let my eyes calmly touch him. The shirt I gave him is hanging over just a little so I can see his collarbone and the slight t-shirt tan line he has. It's too long in the sleeves and they come down to brush against the tops of his forearms.

"August and Steph are all safe and friendly and completely understand each other, she understands that because of his past traumas he's developed certain preferences here and there. They communicate incredibly well," Rocket eyes me. "Sexually as well as normally. They don't push each other's boundaries and Steph would cry if she told him that he had gone too far."

"Okay?"

"Morgan, not so much. She drugged him, cut him, tied him up, scarred him, left him hanging, made him cry, got him drunk and left him clinically depressed and in need of professional help."

"Jesus christ," I choke on my own words. "What the fuck."

"Exactly." His face is suddenly showing me the toll that took on him as well. He looks like he aged 10 years just thinking about it. Rocket's always bouncy and fun, but I can definitely tell that this haunts him.

"So Morgan is clinically insane?"

"About as close to it as one can get."

I puff out my cheeks, trying to think of a decent response, "that's awful," Rocket just nods, staring off into space now too. We're both standing there, lost in our heads, thinking weird thoughts. "We should get going."

"Yeah," He yawns and looks down at himself. My shorts, my shirt. "Hey, I don't want to bother you anymore, but, do you have smaller shorts? I don't know if you've seen the ass size difference between me and you-"

I laugh, "I've got jean shorts, I already gave you the smallest pair I own, those are the only ones that might be any smaller." My shorts on him are rolled up three times at the top, the drawstring hanging out. My instinct is to tug him in with the drawstring and tie it off again, just to get close to him.

Rocket's eyes light up in a weird way. "You've got what now?"

"Cutoff jean shorts."

"Cutoff where."

"Mid-thigh? It was a joke, I'm not giving you those to practice in."

"Alright, no, I was just wondering if it was like an on-purpose look or a ripped jeans to shorts thing."

"Kind of both," I shrug and let him walk up the stairs before I do. "I wore them this summer for a joke."

"Do you have pictures? This idea is funny to me."

"Why?"

"Because I also have cutoff mid-thigh shorts," He raises his eyebrows at me, turning around to walk backwards up the stairs. I'm on high alert because he's probably going to fall over and I need to be ready to catch his clumsy ass. "Fuck, God, you know. Shit, Håk, I'm- I didn't mean-" Håk. He called me Håk.

"It's okay," I reach up and stabilize his hip, watching him teeter.

"No, I just, I- I, fuck."

"Not a word out of my mouth, okay?" I stop walking, making him turn around. He looks scared this time, not angry, terrified. "I promise you, okay? I keep the team safe, that's my job, you're no different. I'll keep you safe too."

He coughs, bringing his arm up to hide it, "thank you, I- I'm sorry I yelled at you and all that, I just remembered all of it."

I hum in response, knowing things are going to get weird if I don't change the subject, "so, the shorts?"

His eyes go bright. Bright but soft. "I wore them to Pride with Steph."

"You went to Pride with Steph?"

"Yeah, as a joke, we wore masks, nobody knew who we were, but it was a ton of fun." He trips on the last stair as I was stepping onto it, his leg hitting mine at the knee. I wasn't ready for it, his ankle hooking the back of my leg, yanking my knee joint forward, collapsing my body.

Then I'm laying on him, between his legs, panicked and breathing hard. He's startled with my hand on his chest, palm feeling the race of his heart and the tight muscle over it. I swallow, noticing his hand on my tricep, long fingers digging into my muscle.

Rocket's pink and I scramble to get off him, standing up in my room and pushing my hands into the front pockets of the jeans I wore all night.

Rocket sits up on the last stair, looking away.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I fell."

"I fell first," He clears his throat, then checks to see if I'm looking at him, I look away and catch a glimpse of him shifting his shorts, my shorts, on him, my shorts on him.

I force away the thought. No, he's not attracted to you, he's gay and I just pinned him down, that'll turn most people on just a little. No, no it wouldn't. If Fen fell on me like that I wouldn't be turned on.

Yes, you would.

No, but, that's, no, he doesn't find me attractive, he can't.

But I'm a hockey player and I'm built like in that one way that people like-

No, no no no no no no. I can't think like that.

Milo I'm gay too, I'm like you. I almost say it but I stuff it back down my throat.

"Shit this is awkward," Rocket stands up, his hands in his pockets too. "You probably feel weird because guys get weird around guys when they're gay," He stops talking. "Not that you're gay," He splutters. "Or homophobic! It's just that guys get weird when they're with gay guys," He stops and tries again. "Like they get awkward and they distance themselves because they feel like I like them!" He chokes again. "But I normally don't like my friends-"

"It's not weird!" I say it too loud.

"It is, that was a weird tone of voice-"

"It's not! You're fine!" I try to laugh it off but then it looks like I'm being hysterical. I pull my hair backward with one of my hands. The other is still desperately trying to downplay what's happening in my pants. "It's okay, Rocket, you're good, I really could care less that you're gay, I'm just a little flustered."

"What?"

"Flustered?" I can't believe I said it again. "No, not, no, I just didn't sleep much, we need to go."

"Yeah," Rocket shakes his head like he's trying to shake a weird feeling, the same shake he does to reposition his helmet. "We need to go, I need to get to August's to say hi to Steph."

"I, yeah, yeah, let me get you some smaller clothes," I look around my room. "You know, I don't-"

"It's okay if you don't have any, I can just keep these shorts rolled up."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I find myself shorts and a t-shirt.

"Is she going to have us on ice today?"

"No, no, not today," I clear my throat a couple times and then go to the bathroom to change. I stick a toothbrush in my mouth and pull my shirt from yesterday over my head. Then struggle with the workout shirt for today. I drop my jeans and mess with the shorts. After that I spit out the toothpaste and rinse. I've got a sensitive tooth in the back of my mouth and the cold water hurts. I take out my retainer, setting it on the counter and sticking my toothbrush back into my mouth, brushing over the edges of the two teeth on either side of the gap, then lightly over the skin between, reveling in the two minutes I'm giving myself without the retainer.

I brush it off with the toothbrush and then it goes right back in. I'm too damn insecure about missing those teeth to be seen dead without the retainer. I take it out to sleep, scrimmage and play games.

I push open the bathroom door and toss my clothes into the hamper. Rocket's got his shirt in his teeth and he's rolling the shorts. God, he looks good in my clothes.

"You're going to need a hoodie too," I throw him one of mine and put on one myself. He's wearing the one he had at the campout and he's not slow to roll it up past his elbows. Goalie fucking forearms.

"Well," he sighs. "Let's go."

"Yeah," I grab my bag and put on my shoes, still flustered. He glances at his converse and shrugs, putting them back on. Then we're in my car and driving somewhere he's directing me to.

It's quiet and I don't like it.

"Hey," Rocket laughs to himself a little before continuing. "Hey, Yeti?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm assigning myself as your wingman." His eyebrows go up at my expression. "Because I feel like you're lonely and could use a little spark in your life."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm getting you a girl."

Ah, fuck.

***

i didn't mean to come undone

i'm gone now, i'm here for you

enough - RKCB

***

Ughahdfhadfafd I've been trying to finish the next epilogue bit of PC but it's just so SLOW moving to write while uploading. like damn I can't iMAGINE doing that for a full book

-rabid

(update on that comment 8/13/21, yeah no you're doing it for a full book lol emd is fun tho)