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All Brock can do is pace, so he does nervously back and forth in the private waiting area and he’s happy that even though they’re not playing on home ice, they’re in familiar territory. Bucky was traded barely four months ago and now Brock needed him more than anyone aside from the one person he needed the most. Right now he was the best company to reassure him and keep him from tearing the place apart from bottled up anxiety, Steve was there too keeping his energy calm and quietly talking on the phone with PR.
All three of them barely managed to break away from public eye and race to the hospital for updates, pulling on regular plain clothes to sneak away easily, hair sweaty and damp from an evening on the ice. Bucky was icing his wrist as they loitered and Steve was sporting a cut across his cheek that was held with butterfly bandages, they both got away with minor issues like Brock’s own bruised and banged up body.
He swore his heart stopped the second the pile up happened while he was on the bench watching Jack play like he always did, big and tall yet agile on skates and so fucking dangerous maneuvering on the ice. Even the chill of the arena couldn’t soothe the heat across Brock’s own cheeks when he watched him especially when he had the puck in his possession and was avoiding defensemen like it was a tiptoe through the flowers, though to him it probably was.
Jack was checked from the side, barreled into by one guy and he collided hard into another and a teammate, the trip knocking him into Barnes’ team's goalie and other players were jumping in left and right when fists started going. Brock stood up from the bench with others while referees were swarming the mess and pulling everyone apart. One by one everyone got away, on their feet or dragged by teammates, except Jack who had to have medical called out for him.
A hand rested on Brock’s shoulder and he was ignoring it, ignoring everything when he pushed past bodies in the box and was skating as fast as he could, falling on his knees against the ice and grabbing Jack’s arm while someone was removing his helmet after they rolled him on his back.
His face was too pale as Brock hunched over him, blood staining his skin almost too brightly, caked around his nose and smeared across one cheek, “Jackie, fuckin’ wake up, ain’t no way we can win this game if you play possum you asshole.”
“Rumlow, let us do our job.”
Someone was pulling him back and at first he struggled to get away from them but then two came in and Bucky was in his ear, telling him to move and forcing him backwards flat on his ass as he just sat and watched in disbelief, worrying as the crowd in the arena became too quiet for him to cope with.
Jack was awake by the time the stretcher came for him, confused and losing the ability to speak English while they carted him into an ambulance and the game was called back on. They keep talking about a head injury and he sees the blood in his hair. Through the scuffle there had been bloody noses, someone’s tooth was knocked out, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder so anything could have happened buried under everyone. Brock lost all ability to play but he was the captain, he had to stay for morale even if he couldn’t handle carrying on when Jack was being taken away.
He skates into face off position, Bucky staring across from him with a worry in his eyes and all Brock feels is despondent and hollow, fingers coming up to a thin silver chain around his neck protected by layers of padding and a sweater jersey. He tugs at it gently, just enough to feel the heavy wedding band tumble out so he can assure himself everything’s fine and it goes back into hiding before the puck drops and he’s burying himself into the thick of it again.
“Brock,” Bucky breaks into his thoughts and he turns to see the doctor telling them it’s alright to go see him. He wants to go by himself but Bucky keeps a hold of his arm and smiling at him reassuringly, “He’s still talking in Polish.”
He nods to Barnes and they both go inside, a nurse patting Jack’s arm, half propped up by the bed and a mess of pillows as he nods to her groggily and vaguely gestures what Brock assumes is a thank you as he eyeballs crackers and ice chips on a tray table hovering over his lap.
The nurse turns to them and smiles, “He understands English but he’s having a hard time trying to work out saying words due to his head injury but he’ll be fine he just needs some rest. Also he doesn’t remember anyone, it should be temporary.”
Bucky starts talking to Jack in fluid and smooth Polish because Bucky and Jack practically grew up together, immediately Jack’s eyes shine in recognition and he says a few words tiredly, fingers lightly brushing over bandages at his hairline.
Brock can pick up a minor amount of words, and he’s disappointed in himself that it’s not more. Jack’s always preferred speaking in Polish; he likes swearing in it, lacing bits into English sentences even though he’s fluent in both by now, loves talking dirty in Brock’s ear with it and that’s one of the top reasons why Brock hasn’t bothered learning but now he feels like shit and he’d probably be a better husband if half Jack’s family especially his in-laws got to speak to him in their native tongue instead of in broken English.
“He’s already complaining about the stitches being itchy.” Bucky snorts with a wide grin, all the worry melted away from him.
Jack’s got deep dark black circles around his eyes and a cut across his bottom lip, knuckles scraped up but aside from the stitches everything else looks good. He does look out of it and like he’s almost two steps from fainting but he’s talking like he really wants to and at least he was cleaned up, the sight of the blood around his nose scaring the fuck out of Brock.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Barnes looks a little annoyed while talking to Jack, he shifts around and folds his arms over his chest before he glances over at Brock, “He keeps saying he’s not hungry, see if you can get this idiot to eat something..”
Anything, Brock’ll do anything they need of him so Jack gets better, then he’ll chew him out when they get home because he’s a fucking idiot for scaring him like this and Brock’s the damn captain, he can pull rank shit like that. He steps in past Bucky and holds himself beside the bed as he picks up the package of crackers and carefully opens them, resting the pair on one of the napkins. While he’s doing that, Jack’s stopped talking altogether and most likely watching him since he just pretty much moved in out of nowhere.
Lifting up the white Styrofoam cup with the ice chips he shakes it a little towards his husband, “Can ya drink some of this Jackie? It’s good for ya to get some of this in yer stomach.”
All Jack does is keep staring at him dumbly, blinking a few times, dry lips parted a little.
“Please?” Brock says lightly. He ignores Bucky’s snort behind him.
Jack licks his lips and blinks slowly again, something set in his eyes as he mumbles absently towards Barnes but eyes still on him, giving him a look that though he’s doped up, is definitely Jack’s subtle bedroom eyes. He hasn’t seen them in a long while since well now that they’re married Jack pretty much goes caveman on him and picks him up when he wants him. Hey they’re hockey players who can blame them? They fuck like they play, fast and hard. Jack riled up (especially from a win) really does it for Brock anyway and if Jack wants to push him against a wall and fuck him senseless who is he to judge?
Bucky’s making some sort of strangled giggle noise behind him and he sharply looks back for a translation but Bucky only looks from Brock to Jack while pressing a hand over his mouth.
“What’s he sayin’?”
Jack says something else in Polish and Brock turns to see him staring at him like a lovesick idiot, he’s not sure if he remembers him or what he’s doing.
“Do you know who I am, Jack?”
Pressing his brows together, Jack looks a little annoyed before he shakes his head and looks bad about it. Brock tries not to let it bother him and he can only force a smile as he presses the cup into his hand again and holds out one of the crackers, “That’s fine, jus eat.”
Jack still looks like he feels bad about it but there’s a glint in his eye as he opens his mouth for the cracker and Brock can’t help the smile across his face, “You want me to feed you? Lazy ass.”
Like they’re talking the same language, Jack murmurs something low and sweet to him and gives him a playful wink and Bucky’s trying not to laugh some more behind them. Brock knows that tone, it’s the one he uses when he’s saying dirty things to rile him up in public and they can’t leave because of the reporters. It’s his asshole voice because he is an asshole.
Brock wants to flirt right back for the fun of it because really, Jack’s never usually like this. He has his playful moments but they are what they are, moments. Brock’s used to physical care and touch but most of his husband’s endearments come out in Polish because even though commentators have coined the term Winged Hussar for him on the ice because of his moves and sheer tenacity, he still seems shy to say honest nice things to Brock in English. Plus with Bucky laughing at the both of them and the fact that Jack does need rest he moves back instead, “Maybe you should get some rest since you busted up yer head.”
Before he can really do anything though, Jack sputters out a clear nie and pulls him back by the wrist, eyes desperate and he’s rambling off something in a sincere and gentle voice as both hands end up cupping Brock’s. Brock knows that tone too, when they’re taking it slow in bed and he’s whispering things like he’s beautiful, that he can’t believe he’s spending the rest of his life with him, that Brock’s the love of his life.
Jack’s eyes are pleading with him and Brock feels his body warming up to how vulnerable he puts himself out before him still saying things in that same tone and he really needs to stop talking that way especially here. Brock nods to whatever Jack’s babbling about that he assumes is everything under the sun to keep him there from the way he reacted and slowly Jack eases back on the bed and relaxes when he’s sure Brock’s not leaving. This time Brock feeds him a cracker to appease him and Jack’s shoulders rest back on the pillows, staring at him dopily as he takes small bites and a few sips of ice water.
Jack mumbles something else and keeps holding Brock’s hand, thumb softly brushing his knuckles and Bucky snorts but then finally heaves a sigh like that’s enough, giving Jack’s blanket covered foot a pat while he’s shaking his head in amusement.
“Jackie,” He gives his foot a squeeze and gestures his head to Brock, “Brock’s your husband.”
Jack’s mouth drops open in sheer awe of the new information and Brock looks at Bucky, “Is that what he’s been sayin’? Tryin’ to ask me out?”
Folding his arms over his chest, Bucky grins wide, “Basically. He thought you were a nurse then realized you weren’t and assumed you were a model, then a friend like I was. Then he asked me how long you and he have been friends for because maybe it was time to kick it up a notch and that he was stupid he hasn’t yet. He wanted me to tell you he thought you were the most beautiful man he’s ever seen and that he wanted to take you out.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brock grinned, turning his head to Jack, “You’re a romantic dope you know that?”
Jack was too busy staring with wider eyes, hands pushing away the food tray to run his hands along Brock’s arms and over his shoulders like he couldn’t believe his luck. Brock’s heart jumps and he leans in a little more for him, large hands cupping his cheeks and murmuring something softly between them.
He still looks like he can’t believe it though and shifting back just a little, Brock pulls at his chain, letting the ring tumble out of his t-shirt, gesturing for Jack to do the same. Confused a second, Jack looks down to his own chest and fumbles a hand around the collar of his hospital gown until he hooks a finger around a similar chain and draws it out, a matching silver engraved ring in his hand.
And Brock isn’t a crier, he isn’t but the stunned look on Jack’s face is worth so much especially when it shifts into a relieved smile, full and earnest as he’s pulling Brock’s hand up to his lips, pressing kisses against his knuckles and murmuring Polish endearments Brock is familiar with and makes his face burn red because they’re not alone even if it’s just Barnes with them.
The one word Brock picks up over and over again is kochany and he brightens to it, wistful as he nods to Jack and full of so much sentimentality to it because Jack gives him lines all the time but that one word is burned into his mind just like when he says he loves him.
Jack kisses the bruised red knuckles on his other hand like he’s meeting the pope, brushing his nose against the back of his hand like Brock’s the patient here.
“Lucky.” Jack slurs like he’s drank too much with the guys after a much needed win, accent thick and heavy on his tongue reverting back to speaking in Polish again and pulling Brock’s arm to the side to give him room to move.
Brock’s confused as to what Jack wants him to do and Bucky tries to hold back another laugh, “He said since you’re married to him you should turn around so he can get a full view of what he’s got.”
Rolling his eyes, Brock glares at Jack who’s too doped up to even feel bad about it, pawing at him as he tries to get Brock to do it because this is definitely his stupid husband. Drugged up or not, he’s always trying to grab or touch his butt whenever the need hits him.
He lightly slaps at Jack’s hand and shakes his head, “Hey asshole, calm down!”
Grumbling, Jack makes a face but stops trying to turn him around. Brock takes his face carefully instead, wary of his husband’s bumps and bruises, leans in and gives him a kiss. The happy hum Jack lets out seems to be enough, hands holding Brock close at his hips and they rest their foreheads together as they enjoy the quiet moment.
That is until Jack grabs a handful of his ass and says something low and dirty in his ear just for him that he’s sure is something about fucking him when they get home because he’s heard the same phrase so much he’s able to parrot it back precisely even if he doesn’t know entirely what he’s saying. He turns to Bucky for help only to finally realize the guy's been filming the whole thing and flips the finger at the camera lucky Jack’s injured or he would have tore himself away and punched him hard in the chest just because.
He doesn’t know why he married him.