Chapter Text
The arena is alive, the crowd pulsing with the thrill of the conference title. "We're going to the Stanley Cup Final!" Jordie yells; his voice echoes through the locker room, and there are hugs all around. Jamie is already sweaty again after his shower, just trying to catch a breather after leaving the media madness, when he leaves the locker room.
This time, it can't be a coincidence.
Tyler's there, leaning against the wall in a faux-leather jacket and dress shirt with the buttons on wrong. His jeans are too short and his ears are a bit red, because he's being chatted up by some WAG Jamie still can't put a name to though she's been to a few functions.
Jamie's not surprised anymore. "Let's go," he tells Tyler, his voice rough from the yelling, his body tired from the game.
"Show me some of this southern hospitality they speak of," Tyler rumbles into Jamie's ear, and his whole body shivers like he's been electrocuted.
"I'm too tired, but I can do food," Jamie says, and Tyler agrees, letting Jamie lead him to the vehicle, and drive across town to Jamie's favourite late-night eatery. They order greasy burgers that break Jamie's diet worse than he's allowed himself all season, and talk about Tyler's last months since they'd seen each other.
"I went south after Mexico," Tyler says. "I went and saw some really good punk bands that didn't speak English, but they got me caught up in some riot and most of them were arrested that night, so I went to Brazil for a while. Did you know there's some real danger out there for women alone at night in Brazil?"
Tyler babbles for a long time, and lets Jamie nod sleepily at him. That night, Jamie takes him home to his apartment, too empty since Jordie moved out – Tyler fills the space the same way tissue paper fills a gift bag.
"I'm too tired," Jamie insists as Tyler tucks them into bed.
"It's okay," Tyler says softly. "We can in the morning, if you want."
"I do," Jamie says, eyes already shut.
And he does, because in the morning, Tyler is there; his feet are cold from poor circulation and his hands are callused from hours of blue collar work. His eyes are wise from years of travelling the word, but his heart is thumping heavily in his chest, nervous, like it's their first time though there'd been times before.
Jamie can see Tyler's eyes steady; he can feel his heartbeat slow. "We can take our time," Jamie offers, kissing him slow and steady.
"How slow can you go?" Tyler asks, ducking his head shyly and pushing his body against Jamie, searching for his warmth and security.
Jamie holds Tyler close, strokes his hair, and breathes his air. "As long as you will stay."