Archive of Our Own

summer

Sometimes Kent sits on the floor by the windows of his apartment and watches the city of Las Vegas. He sits with his nose pressed to the glass, breath leaving small blushes of condensation of the surface and marvels in the glitter that make up the city in the desert. Sometimes Kit sleeps curled in his lap and sometimes she lets him be, sipping on a glass of water because he can’t remember the last time he had drank anything stronger than that. He sits and sees everything that he’s worked for laid out in front of him: a Calder, two Art Rosses, a Conn Smythe, and two Stanley Cups. Not bad for eight years in the league, working with a team nobody thought could do anything, defying every expectation presented of them, of him. He sits and breathes and remembers all of the things he went through to get there, and thinks maybe the rampant repetitiveness of all of it was worth it. Maybe he meant something, maybe he would mean something, to someone, someday.

Sometimes Kent sits on the floor by the windows of his apartment and feels inexplicably lonely in a city seeking glory and affection, lets his heart feel full of things lost and yet to be found, and hopes for better things to come.

–

fall

Dear Forgiveness, you know that recently

We have had our difficulties and there are many things I want to ask you.

Kent Virgil Parson is 26 years old when the only person he’s ever loved in his life faces him down under a blanket of bright lights, on a sheet of ice, in front of thousands. His heart feels like it’s migrated from his chest, and he can feel his hands break into a sticky sweat in his gloves. He pushes the air into his lungs with shallow breaths that leave him feeling dizzy and unsure on the ice for the first time since training camp his rookie year when he was convinced he had forgotten how to skate.

Swoops, his A, sees his ankles wobble and skates over to give him a clear smack to the space between Kent’s shoulder blades, punching the air out of him in one go. Kent spins around, shorter than Swoops even in skates and ready to spit something out at him about how radically uncool that was, man , when Swoops just pats him on the cheek and gives him a grin with his mouth guard half out of his mouth before slurping it back in and reveling at the look of disgust Kent gives him.

The ref whistles over at Kent to get his attention and he shifts back to center ice, and Jack Zimmermann, and his world narrows down to getting to that puck first.

They don’t have words for each other, manage not a single check or run in throughout the entire game, and it isn’t until they’re heading out into their respective tunnels, the Aces away and the Falconers at home, that they make eye contact in the last moment. Kent’s ever shifting eyes and Jack’s bluer than the sky meet and Kent knows in that instant he’s going to be sick.

Jack’s eyes sweep over him, cursory and unfeeling, before he turns back to respond to something one of his linemates says to him. Kent bites down the rise of bile in his throat and turns to yell at Auds and Dubs for attempting to smother each other with their jerseys. The boys are happy, going home with a win from their only real rivals in the league, giddy from the high of it.

“Yo, assholes, knock it off,” Kent yells after them, shaking his hair out from under his helmet.

Auden Davies and Waylon Graves, or Auds and Dubs, the best D-pair Kent has ever had in his life, the perpetual thorns in his side, and also possibly the greatest friends he has next to Swoops, reach him in all their 6 foot plus glory.

“Aw Cap, c’mon, let me smother Dubs, it’ll be fun!” Auds pouts at him, actually pouts at him, before reaching over to muss up Kent’s hair even more than he thought possible.

Dubs just snorts before reaching over and tugging Auds’ hand away and tugging him down the tunnel, giving Kent a head tip of acknowledgement. He’s Kent’s favourite.

“Dubs is my favourite!” Kent calls out down the hall at their retreating backs and Auds just turns around to beam brilliantly at him and call back “mine too!”

They make it to the visitors room before Swoops converges upon Kent and he has to duck from yet another smothering of his hair against his head; damn cowlick. Swoops just laughs at him and takes his spot next to Kent, avoiding media duty that has been relegated to their perpetual sunshine, Auds, and their goalie, Kozlovsky, or Goat amongst the boys.

“Good game tonight, Kenny,” Swoops smiles over at him, a full shit-eating grin on his face at the use of the nickname.

Kent tries not to bristle, it’s just Swoops, but tonight, here, especially after seeing Jack like that, it sticks something in him, and he swallows down whatever mean retort that readies itself on his tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” he mumbles half heartedly and rolls his eyes, as he pulls his jersey over his head and starts to methodically undress before he heads for the showers.

He almost makes it out of the building without any mishaps but who is waiting for him when he gets out, but none other than Jack Laurent Zimmermann.

Kent stops in his tracks, the sticky sweat settling in on his palms again but feeling this time like his heart has kicked up ten fold before Auds bumps into him and causes him to lose his footing. He’s caught by Dubs’ hand and boxed in by Swoops on the other side, and soon the four of them were staring down Jack Zimmermann in a very public hallway.

The three of them had been Kent’s rocks the whole time he had been with the Aces, Jeff drafted the same year as him, on the same line as him, and Auden and Waylon coming just two years after his rookie season, drafted from the same team in the Q, no one quite willing to break the two of them apart and miss out on their great chemistry. They knew everything about him, his life before the league and his life in it, and they were well aware of what Jack had meant, what Jack continued to mean, to Kent, and none of them cared very much for him as a result.

“What’s up, Zimmermann?” Auds asks, resting his chin over Kent’s shoulder and giving Jack the most menacing smile that Kent had ever seen grace his face. Kent leans back against him and forces one of his signature cocky smiles onto his lips, crossing his arms in an attempt to get as far away from Jack as was physically possible in the confined space, mimicking Swoops in the process.

Jack flushes gently, reaching up to run a hand through his wet hair. Dubs is glaring and Swoops looks to be one muscle away from outright sneering at Jack, and Kent is starting to get worried.

“I just wanted to talk to Kent for a second?” Kent keeps himself from flinching at Jack’s use of his full name instead of the Kenny he was so used to hearing from that voice, and chooses not to respond.

“Kenny don’t we have that thing we gotta go to, you know that thing, the thingy thing?” Auds responds without missing a beat, totally and completely unrepentant, looking Jack in the eyes and still smiling that manic grin of his.

Dubs snorts, yet somehow doesn’t ruin the menacing aura he’s managing to maintain, and Swoops just raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, I’ll catch up with you guys,” Kent responds, straightening up. He can see the relieved exhale that leaves Jack as clearly as he can see the second raised eyebrow from Swoops and the strain that envelops Auds’ smile.

“You sure, bro?” Auds asks, reaching over to clasp his fingers around Dubs’ wrist.

Kent shrugs. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you guys at the hotel.”

Auds gives Kent a skeptical look but moves towards the exit of the hallway, tugging Dubs along, who shoots Kent a two-fingered salute as he lets himself be dragged.

Swoops stays the longest, possibly just to embarrass Kent, and lets his face actually slip into a sneer before spitting out, “watch yourself Zimmermann” and then leaving.

With the tension between them thick enough to cut a knife through, Kent scrubs a hand down his face before he turns to look at Jack.

“Can we take this somewhere more, I don’t know, private?”

Jack nods jerkily and starts walking down the opposite end of the hallway from which he came, and Kent moves to follow. They end up outside, near the loading dock and Kent takes a seat on the concrete ledge.

“So what’s this about, Zimms?” He asks, swinging his feet, unable to let go of the stupid nickname and trade it for a simple Jack, or even just Zimmermann.

Jack doesn’t sit next to him per say, but takes a seat a few feet away. Kent snorts.

“I don’t have cooties, you can sit next to me.”

Jack awkwardly shuffles over to Kent, and they sit shoulder to shoulder on the cold concrete. The weather is nice for late October in Providence. Only chilly enough that Kent barely feels it in his thin jacket over his nerves.

Jack clears his throat and sags the tiniest bit in his posture before he turns to look at Kent.

“So?” Kent breathes in and out, slow measured breaths, and tries to not lose the protein bar he had eaten at Auds’ insistence when he had gotten out of the showers.

“I don’t know,” Jack responds, rubbing his face with both hands. “I thought we should talk.”

“About what, Jack?” Kent snorts mirthlessly. “About how the last time I saw you I was a complete and utter asshole, and you weren’t too great to be around either?”

Jack starts but Kent cuts him off.

“Or how about we talk about the fact that we haven’t actually talked, not really, not at all, since I found you on your bathroom floor eight fucking years ago and you shut me out and acted like I didn’t matter and you didn’t care? Is that what you want to talk about? Is that what you want to discuss , now of all times? After eight fucking years?”

Kent says it all in one breath, coming out like a rush that leaves him dizzy and breathing deeply, nostrils flaring. The feeling of nausea has left and instead something angry and hot has settled in Kent’s gut and it’s taking all two years of the intense therapy he’s been going through with Sylvia ever since he last saw Jack for him to not say more, cut deeper, hurt harder.

Jack recoils as if Kent has physically punched him and hurt flashes across his eyes.

Kent squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists, trying to count through the breathing trick Swoops had taught him to calm him down when his anger was threatening to get the best of him. He was getting better, he was working at it and trying and getting so much better at not being an asshole to people, at not going for the kill at the first available opportunity, and instead trying to pace through a conversation so that something productive could come from it. Something that wasn’t just blood.

Neither of them say anything for a while, just sit there breathing and trying to collect themselves on their own. Kent finally opens his eyes and takes a look at Jack, really looks at him, and tries to piece together what he’s lost in the past eight years.

Jack’s taller, only a smidge, but it’s there. His hair is shorter than how he used to wear it in the Q but it still flops over his forehead in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent to a 90s boy band member. He fills out his shirt and jacket well, thighs barely contained by the fabric of the dress pants, clearly not entirely having lost the off-season bulking yet. His face is sharper, more distinct lines than Kent remembers, cheekbones that could cut clean through you, he thinks. His hands look the same, same soft hands that knew how to work a stick like no one else Kent had ever seen. Same eyes he fell in love with, same eyes that made his gut twist.

“Look,” Kent begins, breaking the tension between them. “I’m sorry.”

Jack looks up.

“I was an asshole, I know, and probably an unforgivable one at that, or so my therapist tells me.” Swoops might think otherwise , Kent thinks to himself. “I went for what I knew would hurt and I dug until I couldn’t dig anymore, and that was shitty of me, I shouldn’t have done it.” He looks at his hands for the next part. “But I really did miss you, you know? You were my everything and then you up and disappeared and well,” he breathes out roughly. “It sucked.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, just sits there staring at Kent, words gone from him like they were that night that Kent showed up for Epikegster and made a spectacular ass of himself when his heart felt like it had been ripped straight from his chest.

“I’m not– I don’t– I can’t–” he tries, tripping over his own tongue. “I can’t be friends with you, Zimms.” Kent’s voice is wobbling dangerously now, and he’s blinking so rapidly shapes are hardly forming in front of him. “I can’t do this to myself anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for leaving, even if it was what you needed, even if it was what was best for you, because I had to go through everything alone and I was–” Kent cuts himself off and tips his head back because he’ll be damned if he cries in front of Jack Zimmermann of all fucking people. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Zimms.”

Kent scrambles to get up, feeling the fight leave him as he finally successfully blinks the tears back and takes a deep breath of the cool night air in to calm himself.

“Kenny,” Jack says softly, and Kent freezes.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Kent closes his eyes and thinks that Sylvia would be proud of him,

“Bye, Zimms.” He says, turning for the door.

He doesn’t hear the reply if it comes.

–

Bear patiently, my heart,– for you have suffered heavier things.

Kent makes it back to the hotel in a cab without crying, just wordlessly crawls into Swoops’ bed when he makes it to his room, and waits for room service while he texts Auds to come over with his Gamecube.

The boys show up minutes later, walking in with food and Gamecube in tow, Auds loudly announcing that they were going to play Mario Party because he said so and that was how this worked.

Kent chirps him half heartedly but stays curled up in Swoops designated bed as they set up, only sitting up when his room service arrives and eating that without much effort, getting food down because he knows how much his trainer would berate him for skipping a meal after a game. He takes the controller that’s handed to him and manages a pretty decent game of Mario Party, propped up on pillows and gradually getting back into laughing at the dumb jokes Auds was making and Dubs’ unsuccessful attempts at smothering him when his puns got particularly bad.

“So,” Swoops says after a while, nudging Kent with his elbow. “Do I have to go punch Zimmermann’s face in or?”

Auds perks up at the mention of punching Jack, almost like a puppy when the word walk is mentioned.

“Who’s punching Zimmermann? Can I punch Zimmermann?” He turns to Dubs and starts pouting. “I wanna punch him!”

Dubs rolls his eyes, and turns to Kent.

“Well, we know that out of all of us I have the best right hook, so I feel like I’d best be suited for that position.” He says mock seriously, shrugging a shoulder.

Kent manages a laugh, and shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m alright guys. Got it covered.” He shrugs right back, pursing his lips. There would be no punching Jack off the ice as long as he was Captain of this team, the media would go nuts if that were to happen.

The looks around the room are all practiced skeptical faces, faces that usually are pulled out in response to some outrageous request from Auds that Dubs firmly shoots down maybe 50% of the time, and joins in on the other 50% of the time.

Swoops throws an arm around him and gives him a squeeze, and Auds reaches over to take ahold of his kneecap and shake it. Dubs offers him a smile and grabs his other kneecap in support and Kent feels so loved and supported in that moment, the waterworks might actually start up again.

He shrugs them all off with a smile and reaches for the bag of Doritos in Dubs’ lap before Kent declares himself the winner of Mario Party even though he’s behind a few stars but no one fights him.

They keep playing until Auds is falling asleep on Dubs’ shoulder and he makes the executive decision to drag Auds back to their room and let Swoops and Kent have some peace. Dubs packs up the Gamecube, leaves the Doritos, and hefts Auds onto his back to carry him back down the hall to their room. Kent swears that part of his work out must factor in hauling Auds around literally everywhere when he’s tired (maybe one day they would get their shit together, Kent thinks idly. Unlikely but possible).

“You wanna sleep here?” Swoops asks as he turns off the lights, crossing the room in a few short strides.

Kent gives him a small, sheepish smile. “If that’s ok?”

Swoops rolls his eyes. “It’s always okay, Kenny.”

He slips into bed beside Kent, reaching an arm to wrap around Kent’s middle and pull him closer.

“I’m proud of you, Kenny.” Swoops whispers into the dark of their room, and Kent smiles, feeling a little less shattered and a little more like things were working out.

–

winter

I missed all the things loneliness taught me: eyes that follow you

crossing a room, hands that find their home on you. To be noticed. Even.

The season happens, it moves forward in a blur of bruises and injuries, blood and ice. November fades into December, December fades into January, and the All-Star Game rolls around with Kent and Auds representing the Aces, and Swoops and Dubs getting a nice short vacation. Auds looks like he’s about to cry when the names are announced and Dubs isn’t on the list with him, but Kent knocks him in the back of the head and tells him to pick up something good for Dubs while they’re out in Chicago. It’ll be a painfully cold All-Star Weekend, but at least he would have Auds with him. Last year Goat was selected, and while Kent gets along with everyone on his team, he wasn’t and isn’t particularly close with Goat and he spent the weekend mostly Snapchatting Auds and Dubs who had gone to the Caribbean for the weekend or Swoops who was at home with his fiancee, Clara.

It’s unsurprising then, when Jack is selected to represent the Falconers, along with Alexei Mashkov, someone who has never had a nice word to say to Kent on the ice and left him bruised more often than not. Kent wasn’t looking forward to seeing him, seeing as him and Auds were on Team Pacific, and Mashkov and Jack were going to be on Team Metropolitan. He doesn’t bother to check if they were up against each other in any of the skills exhibitions, figured he’d rather find out there and then than stew on it for weeks ahead of time.

Auds spends the night before they’re supposed to leave at Kent’s place because they have to get an early start and both of them are shit at communicating first thing in the morning, so they buy their tickets together and it works out. They stay up maybe a little too late watching old seasons of the Great British Bake Off and arguing about whether or not Dubs could bake the various things the contestants were being challenged to bake.

They make it to Chicago, bleary eyed and in desperate need of coffee. Luckily, they’re rooming together so Auds makes the executive decision that they were going to nap before they’re due on the red carpet. Kent tries to claim his own bed for the nap, but Auds gives him the biggest puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen, green and bright and threatening tears if Kent says no, and he’s forced to crawl in beside Auds on the bed that, thank god, was big enough to fit two hockey players.

“You get your shit together with Dubs yet?” He asks, after Auds has gotten situated and comfortable, using Kent’s chest as a pillow even though he has a solid two inches on Kent on a bad day.

Auds shrugs easily, only jostling Kent a little bit.

“We’re happy, it works, I’m fine with it.”

Kent rolls his eyes, but musses Auds hair affectionately.

“Alright, bro, whatever you say.”

He sets an alarm for the two of them that would give them enough time to shower and get dressed, and Kent enough time to tame his damn cowlick maybe, and they drift off to sleep.

–

Kent has to admit, they look good. He’s in a dark slate suit, and Auds has miraculously smoothed his cowlick back with some gel and a travel sized comb. Auds is in emerald green, making his eyes stand out against his tanned skin even more, his dark brown hair combed back and silver bowtie making Kent roll his eyes.

“Couldn’t you wear a tie like the rest of us?” Kent asks, adjusting his knot.

“Nope,” Auds responds, popping the ‘p’. He smiles brilliantly before looping his arm through Kent’s and dragging in towards the door. “Now c’mon, or we’ll be late and everyone will” he pauses to wiggle his fingers for effect “ discuss .”

Kent groans. There were a few pictures from Auds rookie year that had spawned mountains of speculation and fanfiction that Auds would send him time to time, critiquing people’s descriptions of their dicks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

They make it downstairs and grab a taxi to the venue, making it fashionably late rather than scandalously so. They pose for photos and stop for interviews, nothing particularly exciting seeing as the Aces had been doing well, great even, all season and Kent was having a solid point streak that people only had good things to say about, for once. Auds is teased about being seen without his “other half”, which he responded to good naturedly, considering all of the snapchats he was taking with Kent and the other players they ran into were going directly to Dubs.

Kent’s almost inside when he’s stopped by a reporter calling his name. He spins around to see a very uncomfortable Jack Zimmermann and a reporter he can’t quite name smiling at him and waving him over.

Kent takes a deep breath and braces himself, before forcing on his best media-ready smile and walking over to the pair. Auds hovers behind him, ready and waiting to intercede if need be. Kent gives him a wave to go and head on inside before he reaches Jack and the reporter.

Jack looks so physically uncomfortable that Kent wants to laugh but he doesn’t. He just smiles and stops a respectable distance from Jack, and turns to the reporter and the man next to her holding a camera.

“Hey,” he starts, giving her his most charming smile.

“Hello!” Her voice is bright and her demeanor seems genuine, and Kent can’t really fault her for putting the two people who probably were aiming to spend the least amount of time with each other this weekend, together. “I was wondering if we could get a few photos of the two of you together, seeing as this is your first All-Star Weekend together?”

Kent doesn’t have the heart to tell her no, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s really enjoying watching Jack squirm under the cameras like he is.

“Sure.” Kent gives her his biggest and best smile before throwing an arm over Jack’s shoulder and posing for the photographer.

It should be awkward, the last words Kent said to Jack hanging in the air between them, making it almost suffocating; Kent being several inches shorter than Jack and his jacket tugging in an uncomfortable way at the strain from reaching up and over Jack’s shoulders. it should be awkward and it is, but Kent can see Auds from the corner of his eye documenting it and the little crease between his eyebrows that betray his actual concern. As soon as the click of the shutter informs them that the photo has been taken, Kent retracts his arm and smoothes down his jacket, trying to look as cocky and unaffected as his media persona always comes off as, and just about succeeding.

“So, Kent, are you excited to be sharing this All-Star Weekend with Jack?” The reporter asks, thrusting a microphone into his face.

Kent wobbles for a minute but doesn’t let his composure slip.

“I mean, yeah, sure, if he’s ready to lose this weekend, I’m definitely game.” Kent grins and shoves his hands in his pockets just to have something to do with them.

Jack’s lip curls a bit in distaste, and the reporter eagerly swings the microphone in his direction.

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Parson.” He responds, trying to keep the distaste from being too prominent across his features.

Kent grins.

“We’ll see man, we’ll see.”

“You two are competing in two of the skills events this weekend for your respective teams, aren’t you?” The reporter asks, cutting into the building tension.

Kent curses the idea he had to not look into what skills they’d be competing in and flicks his eyes over to Auds who’s mouthing something unintelligible at him, no doubt trying to save him the embarrassment of not knowing what events they were both in, but really, truly failing at it.

“Well,” Jack cuts in. “Kent has always been the faster skater of the two of us, but I think I have the more accurate shot.”

Kent finds himself blessing Jack Zimmermann for the first time in working recent memory for saving him by basically spelling out the competitions for him and responds with a smile and “Oh, I don’t know, Zimms, I’ve been working on my shots.”

The reporter thanks both of them for their time and wishes them luck before scurrying away in the direction of the entrance.

Auds strolls up to them then, his smile a little less menacing than last time, and holding a hand out for Jack to shake.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Auden Davies.” He’s being friendly, not usual Auds level friendly, but friendly nonetheless.

Jack attempts a smile and reaches out for the shake.

“Jack Zimmermann, nice to meet you.”

Auds’ smile goes up a wattage. “Oh, I know.” He turns to Kent then. “Ready to head in?”

Kent shrugs and starts heading towards the doors, throwing a “See you later, Zimms” over his shoulder as they exit.

–

I wanted to hurt you

but the victory is that I could not stomach it.

The opening ceremony is a bore, and Kent spent most of it texting the group chat between him, Auds, Dubs, and Swoops, or playing Candy Crush on his phone. Auds wanted to hit up some of the after parties that people were hosting in various places that night and Kent had no good excuse to not tag along. It was always fun to watch girls try to flirt with the very, very gay Auden, since he always started stumbling before morphing into someone suave and cool who would casually press the girls onto some other guy in the vicinity, and then retreat back to a laughing Dubs.

They head back up to their room to shuck off their respective ties, and swap out their suit jackets for something a smidge warmer. Auds ops for rolling up his sleeves but keeps on the rest of his outfit and Kent decides to follow his lead. Besides, Auds has complimented him on how good his ass looks in his dress pants enough times for him to take it as enough encouragement to keep them on.

When they arrive at the club downtown that someone has rented out for the night it’s not packed, but it’s not empty either. Kent can recognize most of the guys around the room, some former Vegas players, some people he’s used to grabbing drinks with after games in different cities. He grabs a booth in the corner and motions for Auds to go grab them drinks, no doubt coming back with something fruity and full of sugar that’ll make Kent crash so fast.

Kent’s seated and comfortable, scrolling through the messages he missed in the group chat, when Auds’ voice makes him look up.

“Well I’ll be damned, Jack Zimmermann deigned to show his face.” He snorts and sits down next to Kent, passing him his drink (Sex on the Beach, Kent guesses, it was Auds’ favourite).

Kent’s eyes snap up to the other side of the bar where there stands, in fact, one Jack Laurent Zimmermann, and one very short blonde guy who Kent vaguely recalls from his disastrous visit to Samwell.

They’re pressed up against each other at the bar, hip to hip, and Jack is saying something that makes the other guy smile, and something twists in Kent’s gut. The guy is definitely shorter than Kent, blonde and brown eyed, looking up at Jack like he hung the moon, and Kent knows that look, has seen that look on his own face in old photos of him and Jack, knows that look can only mean one thing.

So he texts the group chat.

kenny

guess zimms brought his boyf w him 2 chi

tweedle-dee

wha???? i’m literally sittin next 2 u how am i not seeing this

kenny

[img attached]

tweedle-dee

that’s creepy dude. he looks like u

tweedle-dum

You sure that’s his boyfriend?

Jeffrey Daniel Swanson

Yah that could b any1 bro

kenny

it’s his boyf trust me

boy looks at him like the sun shines out of his ass

tweedle-dee

he cute, zimmermann aint got bad taste

Jeffrey Daniel Swiper

I wish u cud c dubs’ face rn

tweedle-dum

-_-

Jeffrey Daniel Swanson

Yah that’s p much it

“Well,” Auds says, startling Kent. “I’m going to go say hello.”

Kent twitches.

“No you’re not, sit your pretty ass down right now.” His eyes narrow as he takes in the grin slowly unfurling on Auds’ face.

“Why not? I think it’s a great idea.” He shakes his hair back away from his face and gets up, despite Kent’s protests. Kent slowly sinks down into his seat until he can barely see Auds approach the blonde guy who was with Jack, now left to fend for himself at the bar, while one of hockey’s most attractive players attempts to chat him up. The guy looks a little star struck initially but easily gets into a conversation with Auds, as most people tend too, and Kent is feeling a little bit less like he’s going to throw up by the time he pulls himself back up to full sitting height.

He goes back to texting Swoops, outside of the group chat, in case blonde guy happens to glance over and see Auds’ phone. He’s bored to tears, lazily playing through a level of Candy Crush when Auds comes back over with the blonde guy in tow.

The guy’s reaction to Kent is notable though, as soon as he recognizes him, he freezes up for a moment and a look of intense distaste flits across his face.

Well this is going to be interesting, Kent thinks.

Kent gives him an easy smile as Auds sits down and the guy hovers around the front of the table.

“Hi, I’m Kent.” He pairs with a little, awkward wave, and Auds snorts.

“Kent, Eric, Eric, Kent.” Auds introduces the two of them with a wave of his hand and goes back to happily sipping on his drink.

After an awkward moment’s pause where Eric very decidedly does not sit down, Kent speaks up.

“Gonna take a seat, Eric?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Eric responds primly, not looking Kent in the eye. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about his face that Kent can’t quite place, and then suddenly it clicks. The guy who witnessed Kent being possibly the biggest asshole of his entire life is standing across from him in a club in Chicago, of all places, looking almost like he’d take a swing at Kent if it was offered.

“Oh man,” Kent mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for Auds to hear and shoot him a look.

tweedle-dee

u good man?

kenny

that happens 2 b the kid who heard me tearing into zimms when i went 2 c him

tweedle-dee

o shit

After the five minute mark has passed and Eric is still standing at the head of their table, looking incredibly uncomfortable, Kent bites the bullet.

“Really man, I won’t bite.”

“Much!” Auds interjects playfully,

Kent rolls his eyes and gives Auds a playful shove.

“Go get me another drink, would you?” He asks, giving Auds a look of Leave Now.

Auds shrugs and does as he’s asked, stopping to ask Eric if he wants anything while he’s up. Eric shakes his head, says a polite “No thank you,” and goes back to glaring at Kent.

“Listen,” Kent starts, as soon as Auds is out of earshot.

Eric gives him a look that wraps up skeptical and distaste all in one.

“I know the shit you probably heard last time you saw me was probably not too great but like,” he scrubs his hand through his hair, probably making his cowlick even worse. “It wasn’t my best moment, and I said sorry to Zimms about it and, like,– shit I don’t even know if you care? I mean you probably do, seeing as you’re here and all–” which makes Eric go bright pink, “but yeah, it’s whatever. I was a major dick, and Zimms wasn’t all too great either but we cleared the air and it’s fine now, I guess.”

Kent feels like crawling out of his skin and polishes off the drink on the table in front of him, figuring it at least gives his mouth something to do other than babble at this kid who hardly knows him. But he figures, at least he’s getting better than he was. Two years ago he would have snapped that it was none of this kid’s business and to butt the fuck out, he didn’t know him and whatever he thought he knew about Jack wasn’t really who Jack was.

Kent knew Jack. He had held his hair back when he vomited, had woken up at 5am to go on runs with him every single morning of the Q. Had been his first kiss, his first fuck, his first everything. The first boy he ever said “I love you” to and had it said back (though it was Jack, and he was scared and they were young and stupid, so Jack had mumbled out a soft “Je t’aime” to the fabric of his pillow one hot summer night while they were curled up in bed together and Kent had smiled so wide he thought his face would split). He would have torn into this guy he didn’t even know for the sake of preserving the idea in his head that he was Jack’s one and only, something painfully obvious even two years ago that it wasn’t the case.  

Kent figures he’s making progress, reaching out and trying to play nice with this guy who hasn’t been anything but icy polite to him since he walked over, instead of throwing up a defensive wall that would shut everyone and everything out, and let him brood in the miserable little corner of the world he had created for himself.

Eric regards him for a moment, face twisted up into something unpleasant, but ultimately decides to sit down nice to Kent in the booth. Kent cracks a weak smile and holds his fist out to Eric for a fistbump, which he returns with a roll of his eyes.

Auds chooses to that moment to return and plop down beside Kent on his other side before informing them that he was forcing them to do shots because he wanted to see how drunk he could get Kent before the skills competition tomorrow. Eric giggles and Kent groans, but agrees to the first shot he throws back. He wrinkles his nose at the bitterness of the vodka on his tongue but relaxes against the chair nonetheless.

“So, Auden,” Eric starts, and Kent raises an eyebrow in Auds’ direction. “Are you competing tomorrow, too?”

Auds pulls a face.

“No,” he responds and begins to pout. “Kenny’s hogging up all the spots for team Pacific. He’s in fastest skater and most accurate shot.”

Kent grins and shrugs, pleased that he’s been singled out for the skills competition for the third year in a row since he always has fun ribbing out the other guys.

“Shut up Kenny.” Auds says, reaching over to push at Kent’s face.

Eric laughs, something soft and twinkling that settles warmly in Kent’s stomach. It reminds him of the softness of string lights and the way they make him feel like home, the way Eric’s laugh reminds him of falling asleep watching them trickle overhead.

Kent ignores the feeling, lets it seep into his bones until it’s not too noticeable every time Auds says something that makes Eric laugh, something that happens more and more as the night continues and Auds uses his magic powers to make the three of them relax and joke around like they were old friends, until they’re suddenly interrupted by the appearance of one Jack Zimmermann.

“Bitty?” He asks, coming up to the front of the table to rest a hand on Eric’s shoulder.

Bitty? Kent mouths at Auds, which earns him another shrug.

“Oh, hi honey, I was wondering where you went off to!” Eric’s vowels are a tad more drawn out than they had been earlier in the evening due to the steady stream of alcohol Auds had been supplying the three of them with, and it takes most of Kent’s willpower to not outright smirk.

“Just went to talk to Tater for a bit, and got caught up with some of my dad’s old friends who are here for the weekend.” Jack says, looking rather uncomfortable at the image of what Kent assumes to be his current boyfriend sitting next to his ex-boyfriend, a few months after said ex-boyfriend told him he wants absolutely nothing to do with him. Kent wonders idly if that was a bit of information Jack had shared with Eric.

Eric cocks his head to the side and appraises Jack for a minute before grabbing his phone and going to stand up.

He turns back to Auds and Kent.

“Well it was nice meetin’ y’all,” he says, smiling.

Kent smiles back and Auds gives Eric his best and brightest grin.

“You too,” Auds says, leaning his head into the cup of his palm.

As Eric is almost entirely gone, Kent calls out.

“Wait!”

He scrambles to pull up Twitter on his phone and holds it out to Eric.

“Best way to get ahold of me,” he says, feeling a little bold and a whole lot terrified with Jack standing right there, but he likes Eric. He likes the way he laughs and the way his drawl becomes more pronounced with each drink he has. He likes the way he sips at his drinks, pinky in the air like a true southern gentleman, and how he covers his mouth if his laugh is going to go too wide. He likes the jokes he cracks and his sense of humor. He likes how he was so willing to give Kent another chance after he saw Kent at what he thinks hands down was the worst moment of his life, even worse than finding Jack in that bathroom all those years ago. He likes him and he thinks Eric might just like him back, and he’s willing to take that chance, even if it does mean pissing off Jack Zimmermann for the upteenth time, he’ll take it.

Eric gives him a small smile and takes his phone to follow himself on Kent’s account. When he hands the phone back, their fingers brush and Kent shivers at the feeling of warm skin on skin, no matter how fleeting it might be.

Jack and Eric leave without so much as a goodbye from Jack, which Kent expects, and Kent turns away from their retreating figures to see Auds giving him a knowing look.

“What?”

Auds raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t fuck Zimmermann’s boyfriend.” He says casually.

Kent sputters. “I’m not gonna fuck his boyfriend, Jesus, Auds!”

Auds rolls his eyes but Kent is distracted by a notification on his phone.

+ Eric Bittle (@omgcheckplease) has followed you!

“‘I’m not gonna fuck his boyfriend’ my ass.” Auds murmurs at the smile that sneaks its way onto Kent’s face, and then giggles at the inadvertent joke he made.

Kent groans, and sinks down into the chair a bit.

“Live a little, Kenny.” Auds grins cheerfully and raises his glass to Kent. “Cheers!”

–

The skills competition goes as Jack predicted, Kent takes first with the fastest skating time, but falls one goal short of Jack’s accuracy shooting. Though to be fair, Kent does his accuracy shoot going backwards with sunglasses on, while Jack is no nonsense, going for goals like a man on a mission, which, Kent reasons, he probably was. They smile and take photos together at the end of both competitions and wish each other luck in front of the cameras for the day to follow. Auds gives Kent double high fives as he makes it back to the bench both times and makes Kent take what feels like a million selfies for twitter later (how he even got his phone to the bench in the first place, Kent doesn’t want to know).

Jack sits on the other side of the bench from him and Auds, but Kent plays nice and waves when Jack goes to sit. Jack gives him perhaps the world’s most awkward wave back before he sits next to Mashkov.

“Remember once upon a time when Mashkov was nice to you?” Kent whispers, leaning over to rest his head on Auds’ shoulder.

“Da.” Auds grins.

“Showoff.”

The rest of the day is rather uneventful, people Kent doesn’t really know or care for winning the other two skills, Auds forcing him to take selfies with increasingly stupid snapchat filters. They file out ready for another night of drinking when it’s all over and done, only a handful of players choosing to stay in their hotels, taking tomorrow’s game more seriously than anyone else.

Auds decides he wants to go to some tiki bar downtown, so the two head back to their room and get changed. Kent switches into clothes more fit for going out more quickly than Auds, so he sits on his bed and waits for him to finish. He scrolls through his twitter notifications, filtering out the ones from people he doesn’t know and focusing on the ones from his friends and family.

There are a couple of tweets from his sister, Beth, critiquing his backward skating form, the years of skating training and her Junior Championship title giving her license to critique anything she wants when it comes to Kent’s skating.

Beth Parson @bethp94

Maybe one day my brother will learn how to skate

Kent Parson @KentVParson90 (Replying to @bethp94)

I taught u everything u kno beth

Beth Parson @bethp94 (Replying to @KentVParson90, @bethp94)

Not likely, your footwork is sloppy

Kent Parson @KentVParson90 (Replying to @bethp94, @KentVParson90)

ouch, harsh sis

Kent’s almost done scrolling when he sees an image tweeted him from @omgcheckplease. It’s of him very nearly falling on his ass while skating backwards towards the goal.

Eric Bittle @omgcheckplease

Nice shot, @KentVParson90!

Kent grins and shoots back a response.

Kent Parson @KentVParson90 (Replying to @omgcheckplease)

u kno it finger guns

“You done making gooey eyes at your phone yet?” Auds asks, running a hand through his hair. Kent jumps a bit, but recovers enough to give Auds a shove before following him out the door.

–

summer

My body was a specter which haunted me, appearing when I stripped

in the bathroom, when I crawled into empty beds, when it rained.

Summer comes too early for them, bowing out in the second round of the playoffs after the President’s Trophy curse following them through it. Kent’s bitter at locker clean out, scared about who he’s not going to see next year, who won’t and will be joining them, and whether or not Swoops would be with them come fall.

He makes it through the media attention with a soft smile, the one that Swoops says “woos babies”, and manages not to let much of his bitterness at the early end of the season come through. Periodically he checks his phone for tweets; Eric had sent a few following their game two days ago, mostly a series of frowny faces that cheered Kent up a little, but they hadn’t really talked much in the few months since they'd met. He kept up with Eric’s twitter, sending back emojis depending on the context of the tweet, avoiding those that alluded to Jack at all costs, generally acting like a mutual you aren’t really friends with but still interact with from time to time.

As soon as he’s all cleared out and packed away into his car, plans made to hang out with the guys later at Auds’ and Dubs’ place, he gets a notification for a direct message.

Eric Bittle

Hey, I saw some of the clips from locker clean out, you doing okay?

Kent presses his forehead against the steering wheel and resolves to not reply until he gets home or else he’s never leaving the parking lot. He shifts the car into reverse, then drive, and makes his way from the T. Mobile arena.

He makes it home in record time and throws his stuff in his room before collapsing on the couch, nearly on top of a very disgruntled Kit. She meows at him affrontedly before settling in his lap.

Kent Parson

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

it is what it is i guess

It takes a few minutes for Eric to reply.

Eric Bittle

:/

Anythin I can do?

Kent considers this, really thinks about it, but ultimately decides against asking for anything. They aren’t good enough friends, it would feel too weird and hang too heavy on Kent, something his therapist has been trying to work with him on, but not something that can go away overnight, or even over two years.

Kent Parson

nah, thx tho

He pauses and considers, he doesn’t have anything to do for the next few hours so a bit of conversation couldn’t hurt.

Kent Parson

how’re u

Kent dumps his phone on the couch and starts petting Kit instead, willing himself not to obsessed over whether or not a reply comes from Eric.

Kit kneads his thigh, little claws burying themselves into the muscle of his leg and making him lift her gingerly from his lap and place her gently on a nearby pillow so she could continue to knead without mauling him. His phone buzzes from it’s place on the couch and he reaches over to unlock it.

Eric Bittle

I’m alright! Home for the summer. What about you, any fun offseason plans?

Kent Parson

where’s home?

and nothing rly, going to ny for a few to see the fam

hanging out w the boys mainly

Eric Bittle

Home is Georgia (:

Who are the boys? Auden is one of them I’m assuming?

Kent smiles at his phone.

Kent Parson

yeah

auds dubs and swoops

Eric Bittle

Name names please?

Kent Parson

waylon graves and jeff swanson

Eric Bittle

Ohhh okay, I’ve seen some of the Aces PR videos

of you four together

They seem like a fun bunch

Kent Parson

they r they’re gr9

The conversation pitters off into something meaningless and stilted, awkward conversation between two people who didn’t really know each other attempting to make conversation. Eventually it’s time for Kent to head over to Auds’ and Dubs’ place, so he changes into jeans that don’t betray him sitting at home all afternoon doing nothing.

When Kent finally makes it to their place, Swoops is already there, lounging on a pool floaty and sipping on some concoction Auds has no doubt come up with. He’s got a baseball cap and sunglasses on, both blue to match his blue swim shorts, and he’s absolutely smothered in sunscreen (like Kent should be, but Kent doesn’t burn, he freckles). Kent shucks off his shirt and cannonballs into the pool, making the biggest splash he is physically capable of making, and completely soaking Swoops.

Dubs barks out a laugh as Swoops spits pool water out, and Auds stands at the edge of the pool, t-shirt soaked and sticking to him, looking flabbergasted.

“Oh it’s on , Parson.” He says, pulling off his shirt and diving in after Kent.

–

The summer is long , and it haunts Kent. Haunts him on the blistering morning runs through Vegas, in the extra weight he’s been adding on to get through the first few months of the season. It haunts him in the way it seems to drag and drag, stretch itself thin on the boiling sidewalks, make him feel like pulling his hair out strand by strand.

He goes to New York for his birthday too see his mom and his sister. The trip is uneventful and short; it’s not much of a weather relief in upstate New York than Vegas, the major difference being the amount of humidity threatening to suffocate Kent to death.

He gets a call from Auds and Dubs (spending the summer together like always) at midnight on the 3rd to drunkenly wish him a happy birthday, and then a text from Swoops following that wishing him a good 27. He goes to sleep to the sound of rain pattering on the rooftop, missing his friends, but grateful for their presence in his life.

In the morning he wakes up to a few more birthday related notifications. One from the Aces official twitter wishing him a good one, and a few hundred tweets from people he doesn’t know following that up. There are a few messages from teammates and some other guys he knows in the league, obnoxious instagram collages courtesy of one Auden Eliot Davies, and a message from Eric.

Eric Bittle

Happy birthday, Kent!

Kent smiles and types back a “thank u” in response. They haven’t really talked since the awkward conversation on locker clean out day, and it’s left mixed feelings in Kent’s gut, something weird and slippery he can’t quite pin.

So he messages back asking how Eric’s summer at home has been, and they start talking. Little things at first, stories about Eric’s family, pictures of what havoc Kit has wrecked on Kent’s apartment on any particular day. Once, Kent messages him at 1am Vegas time about how incredibly bored he is and how he’s running out of tv shows to watch on netflix and after that Eric keeps up a steady stream of chatter directed at his DMs about the things that are going on in his day.

They start up a game of would you rather, Eric learning that Kent really doesn’t have many limits when it comes to doing or not doing things.

Kent Parson

look im spontaneous, not impulsive

i won’t do something hella stupid

it’s not my fault if i regret everything

Kent can practically feel the eyebrow raise from several states over.  

Eric Bittle

Whatever you say, Mr. Parson

He pulls a face.

Kent Parson

dnt “mr parson” me

i dnt deserve this

Eric Bittle

hahahaha

Something warm fills Kent’s stomach at the idea of him making Eric laugh. He still remembers Eric’s laugh from all those months ago. Giggly and soft, filling the air like bubbles, bright and shining.

Auds texts the group chat then, distracting him from his conversation, with a photo of Dubs with pink glitter on his face in the place of a beard. Auds is giving the camera an enthusiastic thumbs up and Kent knows that revenge will be creative and swift.

The photo is funny enough without context (not that it had any to begin with) for Kent to save it and forward it to Eric, selfishly hoping to get another laugh out of him.

Eric Bittle

Oh my lord.

That boy is really gonna be in for it, isn’t he?

Kent Parson

yeeeee

–

It’s later in the summer, a week or so before camp, when he gets a phonecall from Swoops.

“Hey man,” Swoops starts.

“So?” Kent is practically vibrating in his seat. Swoops was set to be an UFA this summer and there was no guarantee that he’d be signing with the Aces for the upcoming season, something that scared the shit out of Kent. While he always wanted what was best for his friends, and Auds and Dubs were great, he didn’t really know what he would do without Swoops there, keeping him from getting too lost in his own head.

“So, my agent talked to management.” Swoops pauses for effect, killing Kent a little bit on the inside.

“And?” No one ever said patience was his forte.

“And, you know, they talked. It took a few days. Lots of meetings involved.” Kent can practically hear Swoops grinning through the line.

“You’re such a little shit, did you sign or not?” Kent bites out.

“Excuse you, I’m taller than you.” Swoops retorts indignantly.

“ Jeff ,” Kent groans.

“Ooo, kinky.”

Kent huffs a laugh he tries to conceal. “Tell me already!”

Swoops starts singing the “Jeopardy” theme song, just to piss off Kent even further before he breaks down laughing.

“Oh my god, you are the world’s biggest asshole.” Kent grumbles.

“Stop worrying so much, mom , I signed a NMC for a couple of years. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

Kent whoops with joy, startling Kit in the process, and then proceeds to curse Swoops out in every language he can for being a shit about telling him.

Eventually they calm down and Swoops goes quiet.

“I’m really happy, Jeff.” Kent says, holding his phone just a little too tightly.

“Me too, Kent, me too.”

–

fall

My body was abandoned construction, restoration scaffolding

which became permanent. My body’s unfinished became its finished.

There’s a regularity to the fall that the rest of the season didn’t really seem to have. Wake up, go for a run, take a shower, go to practice, go home, or wake up, go for a run, take a shower, go to practice, take a nap, go to the game. Roadies only changed that minorly, usually just getting rid of Kent’s morning run because he couldn’t be bothered to come up with running routes for cities he didn’t know, and he hated treadmills. The only difference really was that Swoops was there, bright and cheery first thing in the morning, which always freaked Kent out, pushing Kent along in his morning routine until they were out the door and on their way to practice.

Kent’s gotten used to the way the falls work, the way the regularity gives him some sense of place, something to ground him in a world that’s constantly shifting under his feet. Just last week they lost a D-man who was drafted with Auds and Dubs, a trade no one saw coming, and Kent’s feeling a bit thrown. He wasn’t particularly close with Branden Smythe, but Auds was, and he took the trade hard, panicking that maybe he or Dubs would be next. Kent had spent the better part of the week trying to explain to Auds that that would never happen, he and Dubs were the best D-pair that the Aces had ever seen in their (admittedly short) history, so there would be no reason to trade them.

Interspersed with the occasional meltdown from Auds that he would be leaving them (for some reason it was always Auds that would be hypothetically traded, never Dubs), Kent was getting to be better friends with Eric. They had finally exchanged numbers at the start of the season when one particularly heated debate about the placement of meat in pie had left them both complaining about the lag that Twitter DMs had, and from there they hadn’t stopped talking since.

They texted almost every day, little things, keeping each other updated about their days. Their image history was full of candids of Kit, the boys (both LVA and SMH), and Eric’s latest baking creations. In a moment of weakness during a game of twenty questions, Eric had admitted to having a baking vlog and given up the username to Kent, who promptly had found the channel and watched through all the videos (this was in exchange for information that Kent not only watched Gilmore Girls but had certain episodes memorized and owned the whole thing on DVD). The videos were cute, very Eric, and from there Kent had learned three things: one, most people called Eric “Bitty”, which Kent immediately teased him about; two, Jack Zimmermann hadn’t changed much since his hockey robot teenage years, at least while he was at Samwell with Eric; and three, it’s a little painful to nurse a crush on someone so obviously in love with someone else, especially when that someone else is your ex-boyfriend, who essentially broke up with you by ghosting you.  

So when Eric was having some rough patches with his yet unnamed boyfriend, Kent was there to listen and text him back, being as encouraging as he could without overstepping boundary lines or making it clear that he knew Eric’s boyfriend was Jack. It was in his first few months with Sylvia that it really got through to him that friends and family were more important to his overall well-being than hockey; they would be there for him when hockey couldn’t and wouldn’t be. It was all he needed to start shifting the scales of his priorities, and while he still gave 100% to every practice and every game (not that 110% bullshit, that made no sense), he placed more importance on his close friends and his mom and sister, putting anything they needed above hockey if need be. And somehow Eric had made his place beside the boys into Kent’s circle of friends, and that meant he had Kent to lean on whenever he needed it; Kent was going to be there for him.

There had been a few instances throughout the fall, here and there, where Eric had been upset about something that had happened with his boyfriend, mostly communication issues that Kent assured them would be fine if they just talked through what was wrong, but still, things that were hard on Eric nonetheless. It was killing Kent a little on the inside to be so far away and so helpless when Eric was texting him sounding so beaten down and upset. He tried to be the best support he could be over text message for Eric, even if it left his heart a little sore afterwards. Their conversations were entirely over text, no Skype calls or FaceTime, not even a normal phone call.

It’s surprising, then, when he wakes up from his post game nap (it was a matinee game) to a text from Eric that just says “Can I call you?”

Kent immediately texts back “ye ofc” and when Eric calls he picks up on the first ring.

“Eric? What’s wrong?” It feels like his heart is in his throat, and it notches up a smidge higher when he hears the sob that leaves Eric’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call, I didn’t know what to do I’m just, I’m such a mess and I–” Eric blubbers out all in one breath, making Kent’s heart twist into something protective and fierce.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, you can always call me, I’m here, just tell me what’s up?”

Eric tries, he really does, but all he does is break into heaving sobs, voice watery and unintelligible, and Kent lets him cry it out, murmuring things like “it’s gonna be okay” and “I’m right here” over and over until Eric’s breathing starts to resemble something even and measured, despite the ragged quality to it.

“It’s just hard.” He says finally, quieting down.

“What is?” Kent prompts.

“It’s hard being second best to something, even though I started this relationship knowing that he was always going to put ho– something else first.”

Kent breathes out slowly, trying to unclench the feeling in his chest, a mixture of relief that it’s not something more serious, and anger at the fact that Jack was the reason Eric was feeling this way, that he was the reason Eric had called him sobbing over the phone.

“You deserve more than being second best to anything , Eric.” Kent tells him, trying to keep his voice soft.

Eric laughs wetly, not a happy thing, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Thanks Kent,” he responds.

“Anytime.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Kent breaks it.

“There has to be more to this than just that one outburst, you wanna tell me everything else that’s got you feeling down?” He asks, sitting up and making himself comfortable on his pillows, Kit coming over to curl up in his lap.

Eric hesitates, Kent can tell, but ultimately agrees to tell him what’s bothering him. He talks about the late nights, waiting for Skype calls that sometimes didn’t happen, or if they did they kept him up so late that he was a zombie in morning practice. He talks about senior year and how terrifying it is not knowing where he’s going to go or what he’s going to do next year, how he loves his major but it’s sort of useless when it comes to getting a job, and how he wasn’t ready to pursue more academia just yet. He talks about being on the other end of jokes about his boyfriend’s girlfriend, and how it hurts to not to be able to just say he’s the one dating him, him not some girl, but he knows the jokes make his boyfriend uncomfortable enough already so no, he hasn’t said anything to his boyfriend about them, but they still suck to hear about. He talks about how long distance is slowly killing him from the inside out, but he’s trying his hardest to make it work out, and he knows his boyfriend is too it’s just hard when he’s a professional– well a professional athlete. He tries so hard to get around saying that it’s Jack he’s dating that somewhere around the two hour mark of the phone call Kent blurts out “Eric, it’s okay, I know you’re dating Jack,” without thinking.

Eric goes deadly quiet.

“Pardon?”

“I mean,” Kent scrambles to think of something that might make Eric relax and not hang up on him there and then. “I just sort of figured? When I saw you two together in Chicago?”

Eric doesn’t respond and Kent goes on babbling.

“I mean it’s not like I wouldn’t know what that looks like, I dated the guy for like two years, I know what it–” he stumbles over his own tongue, “I know what it looks like.”

Eventually Eric responds.

“Jack never mentioned that you two dated,” he says quietly.

Kent laughs without humor, dry and pained. “Yeah, sounds like something he’d do.”

Eric’s quiet again then, stretching out the silence between them.

“Listen,” Kent says, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I just wanted you to feel like you could talk about it with me without having to tiptoe around it. I’m sorry if I freaked you out, but I promise there’s no way anyone else would be able to tell just from seeing you two interact. I just sort of put two and two together. We don’t ever have to talk about it again if you don’t want to, but from the sounds of it, you needed someone to talk to and I want to be there for you when you do.”

It takes Eric some time to digest Kent’s small monologue, but Kent can practically feel the tension dissipate when Eric breathes out and says “okay.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, Kent, I know you didn’t mean any harm by it.” Eric says, voice sounding soft.

“Wanna tell me about that blueberry pie recipe you were trying out yesterday? I just might have to drive down to Samwell when we’re playing the Falcs to come have a slice.” Kent says jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Really? You’d come?” Eric’s voice sounds so hopefully and happy in that moment, Kent doesn’t have the heart to tell him he was kidding, doesn’t ever have the heart to tell him no, so he smiles down at Kit where Eric can’t see and makes up his mind.

“Yeah, but I’d have to bring the boys. They’d kill me if I was holding out sweets on them.”

Eric brightens up instantly.

“Oh I’d love to see Auden again! And meet Waylon and Jeff, they all sound like wonderful boys.”

Kent chuckles. “It’s a date then.”

“It’s a date.” Eric repeats.

The conversation shifts to the pie then, and the boys favourite flavours so that Eric can make something everyone likes, not just blueberry pie for Kent. Kent put the call on speaker and texts the group chat to ask for pie requests and inform everyone that they were visiting Samwell to see Eric when they played the Falcs in a few weeks.

kenny

so eric is making us all pie b4 the game against the falcs

any requests

tweedle-dee

HOLY SHIT I GET TO SEE BITTY AGAIN YASSSSSS

kenny

that’s not a pie request

tweedle-dee

apple pls

Jeffrey Daniel Swanson

Cherry for me!

tweedle-dum

Do you think he could do pecan maybe? I haven’t had a good pecan pie in ages.

Also I’ll rent a car for the drive.

He laughs in the middle of Eric explaining something complicated having to do with a jam feud in his family and quickly explains the boys’ enthusiastic reactions, sending a screenshot of the conversation to Eric.

“Oh my, well tell Auden I’m excited to see him too!”

Kent dutifully relays the message.

kenny

eric says he’s excited 2 see u

tweedle-dee

TELL BITTY I LOVE HIM AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE HIM TOO

He forwards a screenshot of that conversation to Eric as well, and the conversation shifts to discussing one of Auds’ latest pranks on Dubs and speculation on the retaliation that was going to occur.

Kent doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep, just wakes up a few hours later with his phone hot and pressed to his face, an indent lining his cheek from where the phone was.

He murmurs a quiet, “G’night, Eric” before he ends the call and plugs his phone in to charge, going back to sleep.  

–

winter

My body was a house I had closed for the winter. It shouldn’t have been

that difficult, empty as it was. Still, I stared hard as I snapped off the lights.

They play the Falconers on the first week of December that year. Auds is practically vibrating in his seat through the whole flight to Providence, and then stays that way, declaring they were skipping optional morning skate in order to go visit Bitty, practically dragging Kent and Swoops out of bed in the morning to get there on time.

Kent shoots Eric a heads up text to let him know they’re on their way and receives a smiley face in response.

Dubs is the one with the Zipcar card, so he announces that he’ll be the one driving to Samwell, but Auds can choose what they listen to. He puts on some indie crap, and leaves Kent and Swoops to continue their game of words with friends, which Kent was only winning by a handful of points.

Dubs announces that they’re about five minutes away, according to his phone, and Kent suddenly feels nervous. What if Eric doesn’t like him? What if interacting in person is weird? What if the boys are too overwhelming, and Eric doesn’t like them ? He doesn’t know if he could be friends with someone who doesn’t get along with Auds and Dubs, let alone Swoops. And Eric only met Auds that one time, what if prolonged exposure makes him hate Auds?

“Dude, you okay?” Swoops asks low, leaning over to Kent in the back of the car.

Kent shrugs.

“Irrational panicking.”

Swoops gives him a little chuckle. “It’s gonna be fine, dude loves you.”

Kent heats up at that, blush dusting his cheeks and a small smile twisting the edge of his mouth. “I hope so.”

Swoops rolls eyes eyes. “I know so, trust me.”

They pull up to the driveway of the somewhat dilapidated frat house to see Eric waiting on the front porch steps, bundled up under a puffy jacket.

Auds practically bounds out of the car, running from the open door (and Dubs’ exasperated yet fond sigh) to scoop Eric up in a huge hug.  

The rest of them take their time exiting the car, making sure not to trip on the ice around it (which Auds had miraculously missed) and lock the car before making their way over. Once Auds has finally put Eric down, both Swoops and Dubs give him half handshake half hugs. Kent just holds his arms out for a hug, feeling awkward and nervous, until Eric practically tackles him in a running leap. Kent laughs on impact, making sure not to drop Eric, and sees the appraising faces of his friends over Eric’s shoulder, choosing very maturely to stick his tongue out at them.

After another moment, Eric lets go of Kent and leads them into the house. It seems empty, but Kent can’t accurately gauge since Auds makes a beeline for the kitchen from the smell of pie alone and Kent scrambles to keep up with him. Auds grabs Dubs arm and drags him on at the same pace as him and Eric was surprisingly good at keeping up with hockey players that had over half a foot on him.

There were four pies cooling on a rack next to the sink, and Auds had already made himself comfortable at the big table in the middle of the kitchen, sipping on some cider Eric handed him. Dubs takes a seat next to him and immediately starts talking to Eric (calling him Bitty only weirds Kent out a little), asking him for his favourite pecan pie recipes since when he tries baking them the pecans always come out burnt. Swoops shrugs at Kent and takes the seat closest to Dubs, leaving the open seat next to Eric. It takes everything in Kent to not kick Swoops in the shin when he sits down, mostly out of fear of accidentally kicking Eric instead.

Eric easily holds conversation with the boys, hopping from one question to the other without missing a beat, preening over the noises that they make when each of them bite into their personal pies (Auds going so far as declaring his undying love for Eric and asking him to marry him). Kent can’t say he’s not pleased that his friends are getting along so famously, because he is, but he’s the one who wanted to see Eric in the first place and getting his attention proves to be difficult. He figures now was as good a time as any to bust out his surprise, and the sly look on his face catches Eric’s attention.

“Now I know that face cannot mean anything good, Mr. Parson.” Eric says, brandishing a fork in his direction (he had chosen to split the blueberry pie with Kent only after Kent had taken a slice, stealing bites from Kent’s place; Kent was only dying a little bit on the inside).

Kent grins and takes an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Eric. The squeal that happens when he opens it and sees what inside has Auds laughing and Dubs and Swoops grinning wide. Kent had gotten Eric boardside seats for the game, obviously near the Aces bench, because he was a shit like that, one for him and one for a friend.

“We can drive you down to Providence,” Auds pipes up. “Dubs got a car big enough to fit everyone.”

Eric springs up and excuses himself to go as one of his housemates if he was free to come, and the boys busy themselves finishing their mini-pies.

He comes back accompanied by a gangly kid with braces who looks just about as excited as Auds, hastily introducing himself as “Chris, but everybody calls me Chowder,” and immediately endearing himself to Kent’s D-men when he tells them he’s the goalie for SMH. Auds gives up his chair in favor of Dubs’ lap. Eric sends an inquisitive glance Kent’s way and Kent nods at his phone.

Kent

they’re dating. sorta

Eric

Ohhhhh that makes so much more sense now okay

Is it okay that I know that?

Kent

ye it’s p much an open secret, just dnt go telling deadspin

Eric

Cross my heart and hope to die

Swoops elbows him to get his attention and Auds announces they need to head back soon if they want to make it to the game on time and not get chewed out by Coach.

Eric and Chowder go upstairs to change, both sheepishly into Falcs gear that Auds ribs them for good-naturedly.

“At least wear an Aces snapback for Christ’s sake!” He complains as they get into the car, taking the hat off of his own head and offering it to Chowder. Chowder sputters and turns red, saying he couldn’t possibly take Auds’ hat but Auds plants it firmly on his head and smiles. “From one D-man to a goalie, my gift.”

Eric turns to Kent then, looking expectant and Kent laughs before taking off his own snapback and putting it backwards on Eric’s head.

“Looks good on you,” he says, grinning.

“Why thank you, Mr. Parson.” Eric responds, grinning right back.

–

They lose the game, 4-3 in the last five minutes of the third. Jack puts away what, even Kent has to admit, is a beautiful goal, right over Goat’s right shoulder.

Everyone is, understandably, annoyed. It was a close game, but Kent is secretly relieved they didn’t go into overtime. Auds had scored Eric and Chowder visitor passes for after the game, and Kent didn’t know if he’d be up for seeing them both after facing a period of overtime, but of course, he’d have rather that the Aces won.

Kent gives his soundbites to the media about how it was a close game, but a good game, and how he’s happy the roadie is almost over because he misses his cat. He showers up, changing into his favourite suit before heading out into the hallway with Auds to an awaiting Eric and Chowder.

“That save in the second was so awesome man! ” Chowder exclaims, much to Auds’ delight and goes in for a hug. The two get caught up showing each other recent bruises from their games, and Kent turns to Eric.

“Sorry we couldn’t win for you,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets.

Eric laughs his twinkling laugh that sets off something warm in in Kent’s belly. He’s still wearing Kent’s hat, backwards on his head the way Kent had put it there, and Kent can’t help but smile.

“I’d have been happy no matter who won, darlin’.” Eric responds, grinning at him.

“So, you gonna teach me those fancy flips of yours sometime?” Kent asks, leaning into Eric’s space.

“Well I don’t know if you’re up for it, Mr. Parson.” Eric hip checks him gently and starts off on another stream of giggles before he’s interrupted by someone calling his name.

“Bitty?”

Jack is standing maybe five feet from them, hair still dripping wet, looking so confused Kent almost feels for him. He had assumed that Eric would have told Jack first thing when Kent had given him the tickets for tonight’s game, but for the first time he’s thinking that he might have been wrong.

“Oh! Hello Jack!” Eric says, spinning around and walking over in Jack’s direction.

“What are you doing here?” There’s that familiar crease of concern between Jack’s eyebrows, framing his entire face. Kent knows that look so well, he can practically recite it from memory with his eyes closed.

Swoops and Dubs chose that moment to exit the locker room, Swoops coming up to Kent’s side and Dubs to Auds’. Kent leans back a bit into Swoops and steadies himself for the oncoming storm.

“Oh well, Kent and the boys were just coming down to visit me before the game,” at this, Auds waves, “and they surprised me with two tickets to come watch y’all play!”

The furrow grows even deeper, and Kent’s caught between being amused and being worried for Eric’s sake.

“I didn’t know you and Kent were...friends.”

Kent flinches at that. He thought Eric would have told Jack by now about him, they talked everyday, sometimes for hours. He was a part of Kent’s pre-game routine, a phone call that lasted exactly 5 minutes before his nap, wishing him good luck and telling him he was going to do great. He told Eric all the same info he kept the boys updated with, sent him pictures of Kit. He thought he had meant something to Eric, but apparently not.

Swoops hand covers Kent’s forearm and gives it a squeeze.

“Well we talk almost everyday, honey, I think that constitutes friendship, wouldn’t you say?” Eric responds with an awkward chuckle, and Kent relaxes a bit.

“Oh.” Is all Jack has to say in response.

Auds speaks up in the very uncomfortable silence that follows.

“Well we’ve got to get back to the bus, but it was really great seeing you Bitty, and thanks for the pie!” He steps forward and gives Eric another one of his hugs that lift Eric off the ground, before turning to Chowder and giving him one too.

Dubs goes for a simple fist bump, and Swoops gives gentler hugs to the duo that don’t involve picking anyone off the ground. They trail down to the end of the hallway with Chowder, not quite leaving, but giving Jack, Kent, and Eric some space.

Kent sucks his teeth, feeling so out of his element, but unwilling to say goodbye without a hug from Eric.

“So,” he says, curling in on himself a little. “I’ll talk to you later?”

Eric gives him a soft smile.

“Of course, message me when your flight lands.”

He walks over to Kent, rather than have Kent walk over to him, and gives him a hug that probably lasts a second too long, but hey, whoever said that Kent was self sacrificial?

Kent nods at Jack when Eric finally steps away, and gets a slightly jerky nod in return, and then Kent is off, down the hallway, and out of Providence.

–

Later, when he’s in bed cuddling Kit, Kent texts Eric.

Kent

everything all good b/w u nd zimms?

Eric

They’ll be fine, Jack was just a little startled, that’s all.

Kent

dnt want 2 get u in trouble w the big guy

just wanted 2 surprise u

Eric

I know, sweetheart, and I really did enjoy the surprise

I don’t get to go to games as often as I’d like and having Chowder
there was so great!

Thank you, really ❤️

Kent

ofc

They text back and forth meaninglessly for a little bit, and Kent waits until there’s a lull in the conversation before he sends: “i rly missed u”

Eric

I missed you too! It was so good to actually *see* you

Kent

haha we can skype sometime u kno

Eric

I would really love that

So Kent sends Eric his Skype handle and they make plans to Skype the next day. Kent curls up with Kit and sends a quick goodnight text to Eric before plugging his phone in and shoving it under his pillow.

He wakes up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and checks his phone, only to see a text from Eric waiting for him.

Eric

Goodnight honey ❤️

–

summer

    Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts

           from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big

and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out

                                             You will be alone always and then you will die.

So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog

        of non-definitive acts,

something other than the desperation.

“Okay, explain to me again why you’re freaking out?” Kent’s driving home from locker clean out, fiddling with the volume of Eric’s voice filtering into his car. The Aces had made it to the Western Conference Finals only to be knocked out by fucking Edmonton, and Kent was already agitated by the particular viciousness of the reporters when they had been so close to making it to the cup finals.

Eric sighs.

“I’m stuck in Georgia, with nothing to do, nowhere to go, no post graduation plans to speak of, and a degree that is all but useless when it comes to finding real people jobs!” He sounds frazzled and frustrated. Kent’s heard this before, this is the nth phone call they’ve had about this exact set of problems since Eric graduated a few weeks prior, not to mention Skype calls and FaceTimes.

“So come out to Vegas for a couple of days, clear your head.” Kent says, half paying attention, but mostly trying to merge into a different lane so he could get home sometime this century.

“Oh yes with my non-existent job I can definitely afford a flight out to Vegas, how very astute Kent.” Eric says with a snort.

“I’ll fly you out, duh.” Kent responds, relieved his car is finally moving in this traffic.

“You are not buying me a plane ticket, Mr. Parson.”

Kent whistles and grins to himself.

“Too late, I’m booking it as soon as I get home.”

“Do you even know how to work a plane website?”

Kent pauses, trying to remember the last time he booked his own tickets somewhere and didn’t have his agent do it. He honestly can’t remember.

“Well…”

“Ha! I’m not helping you figure it out either!” Eric crows.

“That’s fine, I’ll call Swoops over.” Kent says as he finally turns into the garage of his apartment building.

“Hmph.”

They bicker goodnaturedly about the ridiculousness of Kent purchasing Eric tickets and by the time Kent has worn him down on the idea, he’s pulled up the airline’s website that Eric had suggested to get him tickets from and discuss what are the are the best dates for him to visit. Kent successfully purchases Eric tickets to stay for a week with him in two weeks and is more excited about it than he wants to admit out loud.

“I still can’t believe I let you do this.” Eric says, and Kent can hear the pout in his voice.

“Hey, I’m happy to, and I can more than afford it, so hush and let me treat you this once?” Kent says as he makes himself comfortable on the couch, beckoning Kit over to him.

“ Dickie? Are you there? Come help me unload these groceries! ” The voice Kent hears through the phone is distinctly that of Eric’s mom, who he’s met on Skype once or twice now, and like always, he can’t help but snicker at the nickname.

“Why are all of your nicknames ridiculous?”

“Oh hush you, comin mama! ” Eric yells back, causing Kent to wince. “I’ll talk to you later, gotta go help mama unload her groceries.”

“Alright, I’ll email you the ticket confirmation.”

“Sounds good! Bye, Kent!”

“Bye, Bits.”

As soon as Eric hangs up the phone, Kent is busy dialing another number.

“So I did something stupid.” He says to Swoops as soon as he picks up.

“Oh yeah? In the like, hour since I’ve seen you? Other than being yourself?” Swoops responds.

“So I sorta bought Eric a ticket to come stay with me in two weeks. For a week. Have I mentioned I did something stupid.”

Swoops just sighs.

“It’s gonna be fine, I promise. I won’t do anything stupid, everything is gonna be just fine.” Kent says in a rush.

Swoops just sighs again.

“I’m so fucked.” Kent groans, and Swoops hums in affirmation.

–

It’s late when Kent is waiting at the airport to pick up Eric. He’s hanging out by baggage claim, playing Candy Crush on his phone, and waiting for the familiar sight of short blonde hair and bright, brown eyes to pop up in his line of sight.

“Lord, it is so dry here!” He hears, and his head pops up.

Eric is standing in front of him in a tank top and shorts, sweater tied around his waist, and one hand propped on his hip. He’s got a backpack thrown over his shoulder and a small rolling suitcase behind him. Kent grins at the sight.

“Well it is a desert, Bits.”

Eric rolls his eyes, and huffs impatiently.

“Are you even going to say hello, Mr. Parson?” He asks, tapping his foot.

At that, Kent pockets his phone and scoops Eric up into a bear of a hug, whispering hello into the skin of his neck.

They make their way to Kent’s obnoxious yellow lamborghini without incident, just Eric clucking his tongue and telling Kent he hopes that Kent has something left over for retirement.

Kent just grins.

“Don’t worry, I have a great stock broker.”

The drive to Kent’s place from McCarran is short, no more than 15 minutes, and Eric spends the time marvelling at the sights once they get close enough to Kent’s building.

The lights are all on in the strip and the sky glows with an eerie bloom in the middle of the desert. Kent remembers feeling so small, so insignificant the first time he drove through the city at night, on his way to a game. Feeling like no one at all, and now here he was.

“It’s gorgeous,” he breathes.

Kent’s eyes flit over to Eric’s mildly awestruck expression and he suppresses a grin.

“It’s alright.”

Eric shoves him.

“You are such a brat.” Eric responds, as the pull into the garage of Kent’s building.

Kit is waiting for them by the door, immediately winding herself around Eric’s legs and sniffing the ticklish spot behind his knees with her wet nose, sending Eric into a fit of giggles that make Kent’s heart clench painfully.

Eric squats down to protect his knees and pet Kit, giggling more at how she forcefully bumps her head against his hand and purrs so loudly Kent can hear it from the other side of the room.

“She likes you,” Kent says, quietly. Eric looks up and gives Kent such a brilliant smile that twists up his insides, and Kent can’t help but smile back.

“I like her.” Eric responds just as shyly.

They stay there like that, just looking at each other for a moment. Eric has gotten tanner, faint freckles dot his shoulders and the bridge of his nose, and his hair has been shorn shorter than Kent has ever seen it, almost to the skin in the back. The top curls in golden wisps, almost but not quite falling into his eyes. There’s a touch of sunburn on the tips of his ears, turning them a darker blush pink than the skin surrounding them. His long lashes fan out around his deep chocolate colored eyes, and Kent suddenly, irrationally, wishes he was close enough to count them.

Eric seems to be studying him with the same sort of attention, and after the silence has stretched too thin between the two of them, almost brittle, like it could snap at any moment from the slightest noise, Kent chooses to break it.

“Your room’s this way, if you want to put you stuff down and get comfortable?” He asks, leaning back against the wall on his hands and gesturing with his head. “I thought we could order takeout.”

Eric nods and gets up to grab his stuff, and follow Kent into the guest bedroom.

It’s modestly furnished, with a queen sized bed sitting in the middle and a nightstand situated next to it with a small lamp and a box of tissues. Eric drops his bags on the bed and trails after Kent back into the living room and onto Kent’s giant couch. They pick up where him and Auds’ left off watching the Great British Bake Off and order Chinese.

Long after the food has arrived and they’ve made their way through it, Eric is curled up on a pillow and Kit is in Kent’s lap, the three of them close enough to touch.

“Thanks for inviting me, Kenny.” Eric murmurs sleepily.

Kent’s heart stops at the nickname.

“Anytime, Bits.”

–

Kent surprises Eric the next morning with interviews at a few of the best bakeries in Vegas lined up for the next few days. Eric had been banking on his baking experience to get him a job post-grad, so Kent called a few guys he knew who were promoters for various places to see if they knew any bakeries that were hiring, and it spiraled from there.

He shrugs at Eric’s awestruck expression.

“I know a couple of guys.”

Eric’s screech leaves a ringing in Kent’s ears, but forces a laugh out of him.

“It’s gonna be fine, Bits, really. You’re an amazing baker, the entirety of the Aces and the Falconers could vouch. I’ll even take you interview outfit shopping.” Kent says, pulling up Uber on his phone to call them a cab to the nearest decent shopping.

Eric looks a little like he’s about to throw up.

“Want me to invite Auds, would that help?”

That snaps something in Eric. “Oh Lord no, I’ve seen how that boy dresses himself.”

He shoots the boys a text informing them of Eric’s burn and receives a series of teardrop emojis in response from Auds.

The two of them go shopping as Eric texts someone (his mom and/or Jack, Kent guesses) to inform them about the development. He rolls his eyes at a notification and shows Kent the text from Eric’s mom that says “bless him!!!!!!!!!!!!” and Kent snorts.

“Score one for Parson.”

The afternoon is a struggle of Kent trying not to oogle Eric’s ass in designer cut pants and alternatively fighting with him to not look at the price tag of the outfits he was trying on so that Kent could get them to the counter and pay for them without Eric starting a yelling match in the middle of Macy’s.

Eric walks out of the dressing room in a pair of slim cut grey trousers and a white button down and Kent feels like setting himself on fire.

“What do you think?” He asks, hands in pockets. The shirt is slightly unbuttoned and the pants pool a little at his ankles.

“I think they need to be tailored a bit, but other than that they look great.” Kent is screaming internally, entering the pits of his very own hell.

Eric nods in agreement and turns halfway around to survey how his ass looks in the pants.

He throws a curious look in Kent’s direction and Kent scrubs a hand down his face.

“Your ass looks fine, can we buy the pants already so I can call the tailor over here?” Eric giggles mischievously but acquiesces. He makes pleasant small talk with the tailor as he pins the trousers to the right length and the man promises to have the pants ready in a few hours. Kent goes to the counter and pays for everything while Eric is too busy being stuck with pins to effectively argue, and smiles a little to himself at the domesticity of it all.

–

The interviews go just fine, as Kent had predicted, with a few places even offering to contact Eric with an offer by the end of the week. Eric is giddy with relief the first time he hears that and practically tackles Kent down with a hug to say thank you.

They’re hanging out at Kent’s place later that night, not doing much of anything, just watching episodes of Chopped while both of them scroll through Twitter on their phones when Eric gets a phone call.

His face twists up something strange when he sees the caller and he immediately picks up the phone, much to Kent’s curiosity.

“Hey, honey.” Eric says in what Kent realizes is his placating voice.

Jack doesn’t shout, he never shouts, as far as Kent remembers. He gets the quiet sort of angry you have to strain to hear, and this is what Kent guesses Eric is experiencing.

He had asked Eric earlier in the week what Jack’s reaction had been to all of this, and Eric had just gotten very quiet and mumbled something about being happy for Eric to have the opportunity. He quickly changed the subject and Eric visibly relaxed, so Kent figures the conversation hadn’t gone too well. The thing is, Kent would do something like this for any of his friends, hell he hid in the bushes to film Swoop’s proposal to Clara so they’d have a video to remember it by. Eric had been one of his closest friends for over a year now, and when he had the power to help alleviate some of the post-graduation panic of course he would try to.

“Just watching TV with Kenny.”

There’s the nickname again and the almost punch to Kent’s gut that he can hardly handle. Eric is chewing on his lip as he listens to whatever Jack has to say, and Kent hesitates to reach a comforting hand over before deciding against it. After a few moments, Eric gets up and walks in the direction of his room, and Kent turns up the TV volume to drown out the sound of his conversation.

Once or twice he can hear Eric’s voice raise slightly louder than what’s happening on the TV, but not loud enough to be clear enough for Kent to make out what he’s saying. Kent studiously pays attention to his phone as Kit makes her way into his lap and away from the occasional yelling from Eric’s room.

After a while, Kent goes to check up on him. It’s been close to an hour since he’s seen Eric, half an hour since there’s been an audible outburst from his room, and Kent is worried. He gently shifts a sleeping Kit off his lap and mutes the TV before walking over to Eric’s door and knocking.

“Bits, you okay in there?” He asks, leaning with his hands in his pockets.

A few moments later the door opens and Kent is left facing Eric with bloodshot eyes, using his sleeves to wipe at his face.

“I’ll be fine.” He all but croaks.

Kent frowns.

“Hey, bud, really, what’s wrong?” He asks, still maintaining his distance.

“It’s just,” is as far as he gets before he cracks and Eric is sobbing into Kent’s chest.

“Woah, woah there it’s going to be okay, hey, shhh,” Kent steers the two of them to the bed and sits down, wrapping his arms around Eric. His protectiveness kicks in, the same way it would with Beth when she would come home crying because of kids who had made fun of her for wearing hand-me-down costumes to competitions. He rubs a soothing hand up and down Eric’s back and waits him to cry it out before he prompts him to tell Kent what’s wrong again.

“You want to tell me what’s going on, bud?” He asks gently.

Eric sucks in a breath and starts on a steady stream explaining Jack’s discomfort with the fact that Eric was looking for jobs in Vegas rather than Providence, and how he didn’t like the way that Eric had gotten so close to Kent.

“He told me he thought I was going to move to Providence after the summer was over, like, what? With what job, I asked? With what place to live? We’re just asking for someone to out us if we live together, I can’t do that to him. And I can’t afford a place in Providence without a roommate, and no one I know is even considering moving to that state, let alone city!” Another sob ripples through his chest and Kent bites his lip to keep from interrupting his stream of consciousness. “Obviously I want to live there, obviously I want to see him, he’s my boyfriend, I love him,” and that stings enough for Kent to bite down and taste something metallic. “But I can’t just pack up and move to a city where I don’t know what my future will be. At least here I might have a job. I might have a really good job. And it’s not like I’m going to move here before I get the job, and even then I can get a place outside of the city and take the bus in or something, something that would be more manageable rent-wise.”

“Or you could always live with me?” Kent blurts out.

“I couldn’t do that.” Eric responds, not looking at him.

“Sure you could, I always need a sitter for Kit when I’m gone anyway, and I live way closer to the places you’ve been looking at than you’d otherwise be able to find. I’m gone half the time during the season, and you’ve already declared you’re going to marry my kitchen.” Kent shrugs with one shoulder. “I’m not saying you have to make a decision right now or anything, but I have the extra room and I’ve kinda missed having a roommate. Besides, Kit loves you, and do you know how hard it is to find someone to feed her while I’m gone who she doesn’t actively try to maim?”

Eric laughs wetly at that, sniffling. Kent leans over to the nightstand and plucks a tissue from the box sitting there, and hands it to Eric. He blows his nose and sighs, relaxing against Kent a bit.

“If I get a job out here I’ll think about it.” He finally says, and Kent grins.

“Deal.”

Kent changes the subject to the merits of the different bakeries they had seen throughout the week, asking Eric to rank them from least to most favourite, until eventually Eric drifts off to sleep on his shoulder, exhausted from the combination of crying and interviews. Kent scoots him onto the bed horizontally and pulls the covers up over him before getting up and walking towards the door, turning off the lights when he gets there.

“Goodnight Bits, sleep tight.” He says, and shuts the door.

Later, when he’s in bed himself, Kit curled around his head, he digs the heels of his palms into his sockets.

“God, I am so fucked.” He groans.

–

fall

Let me do it right for once,

                                                                                 for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,

you know the story, simply heaven.

It’s barely October, Kent has barely got a feel for the season, when Eric calls.

“I got the job!” He says, giddy and breathless with excitement.

Kent’s in the middle of brushing his teeth but he spits out his toothpaste into the sink and crows a “hell yes you did!” in response. He quickly rinses out his mouth as Eric starts on a stream of how nervous he’d been, how he’d literally been in contact with this particular bakery for months, and how he’d been sure last week when they had talked that the job had been given to someone else. Kent just grins the whole while, not putting Eric on speaker for fear of missing even a moment of his excitement. He goes through his morning routine as Eric continues, and Kent honestly can’t think of the last time he was this excited for someone, or this proud. His cheeks hurt from smiling, even though Eric can’t see, and his heart feels like it may burst. There’s only one nagging question hanging out in the back of his mind.

“So,” Kent starts, when Eric pauses to take a breath. “You gonna move in with me then? Kit will be ecstatic. Or, well, as ecstatic as she gets.” He ends with a laugh.

Eric stays quiet for a bit longer, and Kent scrambles.

“No pressure though, obviously, if you’re more comfortable staying on your own I will 100% help you find an apartment near Vegas that doesn’t have ridiculous fuckin rent, that’s for sure.” Kent’s chewing on his bottom lip now, nervous for what Eric might say, how he was going to turn Kent down.

“Well my mama and I were talkin’,” he starts, slowly. “About what would be best if I were to, you know, actually get the job in Vegas,”

“Yeah?”

“And, well, she thought it’d be best if I moved in with you, so that I’d have someone to hang out with and not feel alone, and not get robbed , lordy,” he says with a nervous laugh, and Kent is doing everything in his power to push down the feeling of overwhelming excitement and happiness that is threatening to bubble up, after all, Eric hasn’t actually said he’s moving in with him yet.

“So are you gonna do it?” Kent can hardly keep the giddiness out of his voice.

“I suppose I will, Mr. Parson.” Eric’s sounding a bit entertained at this point and Kent lets out another whoop of joy.

“Aw man, all my best buds in one city together, this is going to be great!”

They start discussing technical matters, Eric carefully copying down Kent’s address so that he can start shipping stuff out there, discussing what Kent already owns (most things they’d probably need, until they get to baking equipment and Eric honest to god sighs ) and what Eric can bring. Kent’s verging on being late to practice when he realizes he hasn’t asked what Jack’s opinion about the whole thing was.

“What’d Jack say when you told him?” He asks as he tugs on his sneakers.

He can hear Eric inhale and exhale slowly.

“I haven’t actually called him yet. I told you first.” He admits, and something twists up inside of Kent.

“Ah well, I’ll let you go call him then. Let me know what he says?” Kent says, feeling about a hundred different ways at once, trying not to read too far into the fact that Eric told him that he’d been hired by his dream job before he had even told his boyfriend.

“Sure thing, sugar.” He responds, sounding anything but sure. “Oh, lord, look at the time, you’re going to be late to practice! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, Bits. I’ll talk to you later?” Kent says as he locks his front door and heads towards the car.

“Of course. Bye, Kenny!”

“Bye, Bits.”

–

Kent gets out of practice to the world’s shortest voicemail from Eric.

“Hey sweetheart ,” his voice sounds warbled, almost like he’s viable to start crying on the spot. “ I know you’re in practice right now, but could you give me a call when you get out? Thanks. ”

Kent waits til he’s home to call back, not trusting himself to drive normally if he was on the phone with a sobbing Eric, and dials his number as soon as he’s got a foot in the door.

“Hey, bud what’s–” He starts, but is immediately cut off by Eric.

“He broke up with me.” Eric says, clearly crying now, voice thick with tears.

“He what ?” Kent spits out, feeling so shocked that he sits down on the floor in front of his door.

“H-he said h-he didn’t– couldn’t m-make me choose,” Eric tries to explain. “B-between you and him? W-which is r-ridiculous!”

Kent sucks in a breath.

“What did he mean, choose between me and him?”

“ I don’t know! ” Eric wails, breaking Kent’s heart with the sound.

“Did you tell him he was being crazy? That we’re,” Kent swallows. “Just friends? I mean you’re like one of my closest friends but he’s got to know that I’d never–”

“I told him that, I told him that a h-hundred times over! But he wouldn’t listen. H-he kept insisting if I was moving to Vegas I’d end up having to chose between the two of you and he didn’t w-want to put me in that position and I just–” Eric breaks off, and starts crying again.

“Shh, Bits, Bits it’s gonna be okay, Bits,” Kent tries, but he feels kind of hollow. Eric was one of the greatest people he had ever met, and Kent was so lucky he had him in his life, and here Jack was, throwing it all away. He was cutting himself off from Eric because he was afraid of getting more hurt down the line, but Kent knew if he was in Jack’s position he would have held on until the very end, fighting for his chance at happiness with Eric, because honestly there’s nothing in the world he wants more.

Eric just keeps crying and Kent wishes he was there to hold him. He keeps murmuring calming things to Eric while Eric clutches the phone on the other line and cries, curled up on his bed.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispers eventually, what feels like hours later, when Kent has already ordered takeout for dinner and is sitting with Kit eating right out of the carton. “Today started off so well.”

“I’m so sorry, Bits,” Kent says. “Honestly, you never deserved this, not in a million years, and especially not today.”

That just starts Eric crying again and Kent can’t do anything but sit on the other end of the phone and feel particularly useless.

–

Eric moves in on a Monday.

It’s an off-day for Kent, and he’s there at McCarran bright and early to pick Eric up. Most of his things had arrived in the week before, huge boxes mailed from home straight to Kent’s door that he had started piling up in the guest room-turned-Eric’s room. Eric still looks somewhat miserable when Kent spots him, in pants and a t-shirt this time, a black Aces hoodie Kent had sent him for Christmas last year thrown over his suitcase.

Kent manages a weak grin for him.

“Look at who’s reppin’ the right team.” He says as Eric walks up to him, and Eric just rolls his eyes before going in for a hug. They hold on to each other for longer than strictly necessary, Kent breathing in the familiar scent that is Eric and Eric attempting to squeeze the life out of Kent.

“Missed you, bud.” Kent says into Eric’s hair.

“Missed you more.” Eric responds into his collarbone, and Kent’s heart tightens.

Eventually, they peel apart and head towards Kent’s car, throwing Eric’s suitcase in the trunk and taking the short route back to Kent’s apartment. They make it inside the building and up the elevator, and Eric is barely inside the door before he starts crying again. It had only been three weeks since his breakup with Jack, and he was still taking it pretty hard, something that was ripping Kent to pieces on the inside.

Kent locks the door behind them and steers Eric over to the couch where Kit is patiently waiting for them. She waits until Eric is sitting, curled up in on himself, before forcing her way onto his lap, purring up a storm. Kent sits down next to him and lets his arm sit loosely on the back of the sofa behind Eric. He picks out some mindless TV and grabs a tissue box from off the table that he purchased specifically for this purpose, and hands it to Eric.

“I feel like whenever I’m talking to you lately I’m crying.” Eric says, scrubbing at his face with a tissue.

Kent shrugs.

“You went through some really hard shit, I’d be more worried if you weren’t a mess, honestly.” He responds.

Eric laughs a little at that.

“I promise I’ll try to get myself together soon, don’t want to have a breakdown my first week at work, you know?”

Kent gives him a small smile and nudges him with his shoulder.

“Take your time, Bits. I’ll be right here.”

Eric looks up at him and Kent swears he’s never been more in love than in this moment.

“Thank you.”

Eric leans against him and starts making idle commentary on the attractiveness of the hosts for that particular TV show, which Kent immediately debates, and gets the two of them flipping through channels rating hosts.

–

Eric’s first week on the job goes beautifully, just like Kent knew it would. The bakery is just off the strip, a few minutes walk from their shared place (a thought that make Kent feel a little giddy on the inside, and caused Swoops to just sigh when he had heard about the whole arrangement). Eric always leaves breakfast out for Kent before he leaves, something healthy that sits nicely in his nutrition plan, and Kent comes home to more baked goods than he could have ever imagined. He leaves for his first away game at the end of the week with a small package for him and the boys while they’re on the road from Eric that leaves Auds nearly in tears.

“I’m serious, can I marry him?” Auds asks, biting into an apple mini pie.

Dubs rolls his eyes and cuffs Auds in the back of the head.

“Hey!”

Swoops snorts and Kent remembers the jam Eric had packed for Clara.

“Oh, this is for Clara, I mentioned to Eric how she’d been looking for a good raspberry preserve.” He says, handing the jar over to Swoops.

Swoops just raises an eyebrow and murmurs a thanks before slipping the jar into his suitcase.

“Aw, I want jam!” Auds pouts, and this time both Kent and Dubs roll their eyes.

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” He responds.

“So,” Swoops says, a little while later when they’re getting ready to board their plane. “You two seem awful close now, you know, that Eric’s single.” He punctuates single with a wiggle of his eyebrows and Kent gives him a shove.

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh really? So tell me what it’s like?” Swoops asks.

“I don’t know, like roommates?” Kent shrugs.

“That doesn’t sound like roommates to me. None of the roommates I’ve ever had have packed me pie for my roadies.”

“Yeah because you lived with guys on the team and now you live with Clara, who, god knows, is busier than all of us combined.”

“That’s not the point, Parser.” Swoops says, giving him a look, coupled with his more serious nickname usage.

“Yeah well, it’s not anything, okay? And it’s not going to be anything unless he’s the one to do something about it.” Kent responds, shuffling forward in the line. It wasn’t exactly a secret to the team that Kent liked men, that he tolerated the homophobic bullshit even less than other captains in the league, but an airport wasn’t really the ideal place to be having this conversation.

“Really now.”

“Really. He just got dumped, how much of an asshole would I be if I tried to get with him while he’s still very clearly not over his ex?” Kent carefully kept from saying Jack’s name, but Swoops knew who he was talking about.

Swoops just looks at him, and lets them board the plane in peace. Once they’re sitting, the plane just about to take off (Kent’s favourite part) he leans over.

“You’re a good guy, Kenny.”

Kent gives him a weak grin.

–

winter

In my defense, his hands. In my defense, his arms. In my defense,

how when we just sat listening to each other breathe, he said, This is enough .

Kent’s just gotten back from All-Star Weekend when Eric walks out into the living room and informs Kent that they’re going out.

“But I’m tiiiiiired.” Kent whines, but gets up anyway to go change into something going out worthy. He texts the boys, informing them that him and Eric are heading to their usual place and they’re welcome to come. “I invited the boys!” He calls out from his room.

“Okay!” Eric calls back.

Kent pulls on a pair of jeans he knows make his ass look better than it already does, and a tight fitting black long sleeved shirt, grabbing a black snapback at the last minute.

He waits for Eric in the living room, lounging with Kit on the couch, trying to not get too covered by her fur.

“Ready to go, Mr. Parson?” Eric asks from the doorway, spooking Kent. He turns over his shoulder to look at Eric and nearly dies at the sight.

He’s wearing jeans so tight that from the couch Kent is wondering how he got them on in the first place, and a tshirt so thin Kent can see right through it. Kent’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry and he has to swallow.

“Yeah, ready to go.” He responds, getting up. Eric turns to the door and Kent gets a perfect view of his ass in those jeans and has to swallow again.

“Did you call an Uber?” Kent asks when they’re in the elevator.

“I figured we’d just walk, enjoy the nice weather.” Eric says with a coy smile, and Kent dies a little on the inside at how every man in Vegas is going to stare at Eric like he’s a piece of candy for the entire walk over there.

Kent’s a little slow out of the elevator and Eric hip-checks him jokingly, before smirking.

“You all there, Mr. Parson?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He replies, praying to every deity he knows that he’ll make it through the night without doing something exceptionally stupid.

–

They make it to the club without much incident, though Eric does get stopped twice by two different men to get his number, much to Kent’s frustration. Eventually, they make it to their usual place, and spot Auds and Dubs sharing a booth once inside.

Auds notices them first and waves them over, grinning. He whistles once Eric is close enough, making Eric’s cheeks color slightly.

“Day-mn, Bitty, someone’s looking to pick up tonight.” Auds says, eyebrows raised.

Eric grins and shrugs, looking coy.

“No problem with that, already got two guys numbers on the walk over here.” Kent says, grinning on the outside but on the inside he feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust any second now.

“Oh hush you,” Eric punctuates the statement with another playful hip-check, and, yup, Kent is going to die tonight, it’s happening. “I’m gonna get something to drink, y’all want anything?”

“We already ordered!” Auds responds cheerfully.

“Vodka tonic for me,” Kent says, moving to slid into the booth next to Auds.

“‘Kay.” Eric leaves them and Auds immediately turns to Kent.

“Oh man, on a scale of one to ten how much are you dying inside right now.” He asks, grinning.

“Like a fucking fifteen, okay?” Kent says, dropping his head down onto the table. “Jesus, just put me out of my misery.”

“Last I checked, my name was Auden, but nice try.” Auds says cheerfully, as a waitress comes up to them to drop of his and Dubs’ drink; Kent kicks him while he’s taking his first sip. “You’re an ass.”

“I hate you.” Kent says, mostly to the table.

“It’s going to be fine, just maybe stay down there.” Dubs says, smirking into his drink.

“You know, I hate you too.” Kent still hasn’t come up from the table, and Dubs shurgs where he can’t see.

“Why is Kent makin’ out with the table? I don’t think that’s exactly sanitary.” Kent hears Eric’s voice, and his distinctive giggle. He thought that after living with him for almost four months, and hearing it countless times over the phone or skype, he would have been desensitized to the sound, but no, his stomach still twisted itself into a mess whenever he heard it, especially when it was at his expense; it meant he was the one to make Eric happy, even for a moment, especially when lately he had been so down and morose more often than not.

Kent props his head up, and gives Eric the finger, which just earns him more giggles. Eric hands him his drink and they cheers before he takes a long gulp and prays for some liquid courage.

“I’m going to dance,” Eric informs him, putting his drink down after he’s drained nearly half of it in one go. “Any of y’all wanna come?”

“Hell yeah, Dubs scoot.” Auds says, poking Dubs in the arm until he rolls his eyes and gets out of the booth. “You coming, Kenny?”

Kent debates the level of hell he’d be entering if he joins them, stuck watching from up close different men dancing on Eric in those obscenely tight jeans, and decides maybe not today, Satan.

“Nah, I’ll sit this one out, come and get me later?” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

Eric smile dims a watt, but he nods anyway and goes to drag Auds to the dance floor by the wrist, who in turn drags Dubs.

Kent tries his hardest to ignore them and play Candy Crush on his phone, but he can't help but peek up every once in a while, and every time deeply regretting it. More often than not, Eric is dancing with someone, who has their hands all over him, but sometimes, he’s alone, or doing something ridiculous with Auds. Those times, Kent’s heart twists up again like something fierce, seeing Eric happy and carefree, and having a great time.

He isn’t left alone for too long, however when “Countdown” comes up over the speakers, he looks up to see something very akin to pain flash across Eric’s face before he very determinedly walks over to Kent and looks expectantly at him.

“You coming, Mr. Parson?” He asks, hand on his hip.

Kent downs the rest of the drink he’d been nursing and gets up, letting himself be dragged back to where Auds and Dubs are not exactly grinding, but pretty damn close to, to the beat.

Eric wastes no time slotting his back to Kent’s front and moving with the face-paced beat and Kent swears this is how he’s going to die, dancing with the man he’s utterly head over heels for in the middle of a crowded club on a Sunday night. Carefully, he slips his hands onto Eric’s hips and laughs softly at Eric and Auds’ loud singing.

The song ends with a dramatic pose by Auds, before the familiar beats of “Drunk In Love” start up and Auds drags Dubs off somewhere, presumably to do something Kent would like to never think about occuring, ever.

Eric turns around, and winds his arms around Kent’s neck. They start swaying to the beat, and Kent’s heart is beating a million miles a minute. Not that he would mind being outed this way, and the place’s discreteness was why they chose to come here so often, that along with the dimmed lighting, shifted to suit the mood of song, made it nearly impossible to recognize Kent in that moment. He was just any other blonde boy, dancing in the corner, not Kent Parson, NHL superstar.

Eric slots a leg between Kent’s lining up their hips, despite the small height difference, and looks Kent dead in the eye before very deliberately licking his lips.

Kent is actually on fire.

Suddenly, it’s just the two of them. Suddenly, there’s this beat and this boy, and Kent this his heart is going to come out of his chest from his mouth because everything is him, him, him, and he feels like the waves are crashing way over his head, and he won’t be coming up for air soon. But then Eric tils his head and leans forward, and somehow the spell shatters.

Kent all but leaps back, knocking his hat off in the process.

“Kent?” Eric’s all worry, eyes huge and hands frozen in the air. “Kent, honey, I am so sorry. Kent?”

“I’ve got to go.” Kent says, and bolts.

–

Kent hails the first cab he sees once he gets outside and makes it home in record time. He takes the stairs, two at a time, up to his apartment, feeling out of breath and a little bit like his legs are going to fall off when he gets to the top, but also like he’s burned off the nervous energy that had accompanied him upon his exit.

He makes it to his room and locks his door, peeling off his clothes and heading into the ensuite bathroom to take the hottest shower of his life. He had never been able to deal with things by taking freezing cold showers, he had much rather feel his skin scorch than turn into a popsicle.

Eventually, when his skin is pink and hurts to the touch, Kent gets out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist, and uses another to scrub the water out of his hair. He dries off quickly, and pulls on an old faded tshirt, boxers, and a pair of pyjama pants, before venturing out of his room for a glass of water.

“Kenny?” Eric’s voice carries over from the couch in the living room and Kent freezes.

Eric gets up and approaches him slowly. The bottom of his shirt is wrinkled and twisted up, as if Eric had been wrapping it around his fingers repeatedly. His hair is a mess, and Kent doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so sorry in his entire life, and it makes him feel terrible.

“I’m sorry.” Eric blurts out, once he’s close enough. “I’m so sorry, I thought–” he cuts himself off, biting his lip, before starting up again, voice more frantic than before. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable, and in such a public place, I can’t believe myself sometimes, I mean what was I thinking, in a club for Christ–”

“Bits stop.”

Eric frowns. “No, what I did was wrong, and I’m apologizing.”

Kent sighs and swallows.

“No, it wasn’t.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah, not the greatest venue, but like, fuck,” he scrubs a hand across his face. “You weren’t wrong, I wanted–” Kent shuts his eyes, unable to see Eric’s reaction to what he’s about to say. “I wanted that. I want that. I want you .”

Eric lets out a squeak and all but jumps on Kent, crushing their lips together with so much force it nearly knocks Kent over, his eyes flying open and hands steadying him on Eric’s hips.

Kissing Eric is everything Kent has imagined it would be in the dozens of times he has allowed himself to imagine it happening. His lips are soft, and his mouth tastes like whatever sweet drink he’d been drinking before they left the club, saccharine sweet. Kent wants him so badly he can feel it in his teeth, and he shivers a bit when Eric runs his tongue across Kent’s lips, asking for entrance.

Eric’s hand goes to the waistband of Kent’s pants, and Kent breaks the kiss.

“Can we just,” he says, then takes a deep breath. “Can we take this slow?”

Eric’s smile could melt the Arctic, and Kent feels like he’s got his own personal sun in his arms.

“Yeah, honey, whatever you want. This is enough for me.” He says, leaning upwards to give Kent a peck on his nose.

Kent gives him a small smile, and hesitates for a moment before he speaks.

“It’s just,” he presses his lips together and tries to figure out the best way to phrase what he means. “I can’t deal with you out there still skating while I’m trying to go home.”

Eric’s smile twists up into something sweet, his eyes warm and full of love.

“Welcome home, honey. I’m not skating off anywhere.”

And Kent kisses him.

–

spring

So in my defense, when he touched me the lights of my body came on.

In my defense, the windows were thrown open. In my defense, spring .

Arguably, this isn’t the most important game of Kent’s career.

Arguably, it is.

Eric’s in the stands, sitting with his mom and Beth, all three wearing Parson jerseys. His sister is undoubtedly tweeting up a storm commenting on the game in her own style, posting photos on Snapchat and Instagram that she’ll no doubt have stories for after when they’re hanging out. Eric is probably intermittently FaceTiming his friends from back East, showing off his new tan as well as maybe a little bit bragging that he’s at Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

Kent is so nervous he could vomit.

There are 100 minutes, give or take a few, standing between him and either winning or losing his third career Stanley Cup, his second as Captain of the Aces. You never quite get used to the feeling of being in the cup finals, he thinks as he tapes his stick, watching Auds and Dubs joke about something dumb, both balls of nervous energy. Swoops gives him a little shove, and a smile of his own that Kent can’t help but return, feeling good about tonight.

He had a plan if they were going to win, already talked over with and approved by both his agent and Aces PR Management, and he was really hoping he would get the chance to do it, and if that meant playing harder than he’d ever played before in his life, he was going to do it.

“Alright boys,” Coach calls over, and Kent stands up. They’re playing on home ice, a beautiful rarity that Kent is going to take so much advantage of. He picks up his helmet and walks towards the door; he has this.

–

Somehow, when the final horn blows, Kent is standing on the ice and they’ve done it. Swoops is immediately crashing into him, followed directly by Auds and Dubs, both dog piling onto the two of them, sending them all spinning on the ice. The players keep coming until it’s just a mass of Aces players, screaming and squirming at center ice, amidst an arena of thousands of fans all yelling their names. It feels surreal. His first cup felt like this, won at home, but his second cup was an away game that lacked the excitement and love he felt when playing at the T-Mobile Arena.

They squeaked by with a score of 4-3 in the last 5 minutes of the game, a shot coming off Kent’s own stick in when he, admittedly biasedly, thinks is the most beautiful shot of his career.

The yelling keeps happening, leaving a ringing in Kent’s ears, and he’s just grateful that everyone he loves is here to see the celebrations.

Eventually, the boys get off each other, skate around for pictures at the boards, and the Conn Smythe is announced, giving Kent his name added to it a second time. He’s all grins as he shakes the commissioner’s hand, posing for photos. He skates off to find Swoops, Auds, and Dubs, posing for what becomes the iconic photo of the four of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling like nothing in the world can stop them.

The cup is presented, and each takes their lap on the ice, Kent hearing the most beautiful roar in his ears when he hoists the cup over his head, feeling like those 35 pounds are nothing at all in his hands. He hands it to Swoops, who in turn hands it to Dubs, joking, only loud enough that the four of them can hear, that Dubs deserved something for being everyone’s favourite, and laughing at Auds’ pout. Dubs hands the cup over to Auds, who winks at him saying “at least I know I’m your favourite” before skating off. They take a photo of the four of them together with the cup after everyone has taken their lap, and Kent promises to have it framed for each of them for Christmas.

Eventually, the families start trickling onto the ice to take their photos. Kent had warned his mom and Beth of his plan; his mom had teared up, and Beth had just mumbled something about being proud of him before putting his head in a headlock. They walk over to Kent, Eric in tow, though he seems caught between feeling ridiculously uncomfortable at being on the ice, even though he knows most of the Aces by name, and ecstatic that Kent has just won the cup. His mom hugs him first, then Beth with a selfie, then Eric tackles him in a hug that nearly sends him off his skates. He laughs and gives Eric a squeeze, letting Beth get a photo of the two of them on the ice, before letting him go so that Auds, Dubs, and Swoops can have their turns hugging him.

They bring the cup over for a family photo of Kent, Beth, and his mom, which Eric tries to edge out of. Beth just rolls her eyes and hauls him into the photo, right next to Kent, and Kent winks at the photographer giving him a heads up before he turns to Eric.

“Hey, Bits?” Kent asks, grinning, eyes only for Eric.

“Yeah, hon?” Eric’s eyes are wide and excited, and his smile still makes Kent’s heart flip, even after winning another Stanley Cup. His jersey is a tad too long in the sleeves, but he’s pushed them back so his hands are out and on Kent’s. The moment is perfect, everything Kent has ever wished for to happen to him; he almost can't believe it.  

“I love you.” He says, smiling, then leans forward and kisses Eric, right over the cup, right as the flash of the camera goes off.

Fin