Work Text:
Look, if Jamie’s being honest, Halloween isn’t his absolute favorite holiday.
It’s really no contest - his family’s always been more about Christmas and winter and good cheer than the tricks and treats and mischief around Halloween. All of his favorite family traditions revolve around Christmas, decorating together and cooking for the holiday meal and carving out time to spend together around the frantic and busy life of two growing hockey players under one roof. Christmas is - it’s special, to him, in a way that Halloween just isn’t.
But it’s a big tradition with the team, and for Jamie, it’s easy to let himself get swept up in the enthusiasm of everyone else. He doesn’t need to do it, personally, but it’s fun when everyone else gets into the Halloween spirit with the costumes and decorations and absurd amounts of candy. And the Stars in particular seem to go in hard for Halloween, year after year.
Tyler really likes Halloween, and that alone pretty much guarantees that Jamie’s going to get into the holiday spirit somehow. Not that he minds getting dragged into whatever harebrained plans Tyler comes up with - oh, on the contrary. Jamie can admit that much to himself, even if there are other parts of that equation that he doesn’t want to examine too closely.
Anyway: it means that a few weeks away from Halloween, when they’re out to lunch and talking about something totally unrelated, Jamie isn’t phased in the slightest when Tyler kicks at his foot to get his attention and says, “We should do dog costumes this year.”
Tyler’s smile is infectious, like it always is. “Sure,” Jamie says easily, trapping Tyler’s bouncing foot underneath his own sneaker and grinning when Tyler bites his lip, comically struggles to get out from underneath the weight of his foot. They’ve always been about matched when it comes to height, but when it comes to weight and sheer strength, Jamie’s got a bit of an advantage. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Like - the whole thing,” Tyler elaborates, gesticulating with his fork as he talks. His eyes are bright and warm in the waning afternoon sun, with not a small amount of that tell-tale twinkle of mischief. Jamie ignores the little skip of his heart in his chest at the sight. “There’s gotta be some out there that we can buy, or put together from different pieces.”
Jamie’s already seen costumes for dogs in the seasonal Halloween stores that have popped up all over DFW since the beginning of September. He hadn’t been paying attention to whether or not they were big enough for dogs the size of Tyler’s labs, but there’s always the internet, too.
“Yeah, for sure,” he replies, unable to stop the smile from taking over his face - with Tyler, it’s just inevitable, like the moon reflecting the light of the sun. “Got a few weeks to get it together - should be plenty of time, eh?”
“Plenty of time to have the best costumes at the party,” Tyler grins. Because, like every hockey player Jamie’s met, he’s incapable of approaching anything that could be taken as a competition with even a modicum of chill.
Jamie doesn’t call him on it other than raising his eyebrows pointedly, and grinning widely when Tyler holds out his knuckles for a fist-bump.
This is something they’re doing, then. It’s officially the start of Stars Halloween.
Tyler calls exactly forty seconds after Jamie sends him a series of doggy Halloween costumes in their text conversation.
He’d been poking around online here and there after their other conversation, just when he has the time around games and practices and the other time they spend together. The costumes are cute and tasteful and look decently well made, in Jamie’s non-expert opinion, which - well, what more do you want in a Halloween costume for a dog? As long as it looks good and doesn’t fall off, it’s doing its job as a costume. And that first part is as much up to the dog as it is the outfit.
“Hey,” Jamie answers on the second ring, wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear - he’s in the middle of folding laundry. They have an off day, for once, and it’s nice to catch up on the little things. “Were they that bad of ideas for dog costumes, or that good?”
There’s a pregnant pause from the other end of the line, and Jamie lowers the tee he’s halfway through folding. “Ty?”
“Jamie,” Tyler says carefully, “Jameson. Benny. When I said dog costumes, you thought I meant - costumes. For dogs.”
“Well, yeah, I- ” Jamie frowns and slides the phone out from between his shoulder and ear, and into his hand. “Of course you want costumes for the boys for Halloween. It’s a whole thing that people with dogs do.”
“Yeah,” Tyler says, “yeah, it’s - a whole thing.” His words are a little strangled, but at the same time - amused? Jamie frowns down at his pile of folded shirts. Of course Tyler wants costumes for his dogs - Jamie’s a little surprised that it isn’t something Tyler has done on previous Halloweens with the dogs, actually. Sure, with Gerry he’s now got the full matched set of three, but Marshall and Cash have always been well-tempered enough to tolerate costumes, let alone any of the other weird forms of affection Tyler showers them with.
“Tyler,” Jamie finally sighs into the phone, when his liney doesn’t elaborate further beyond vague pained whale noises.
“Jamie,” Tyler says back, with barely a moment’s delay. But then he groans, the sound muffled a little like he’s rubbing his face with his hand. “I definitely, absolutely, totally want to get costumes for the dogs. The ones you sent over are great. We’ll totally pick some out next time I’m over.”
Jamie doesn’t roll his eyes, but he’s pretty tempted to do so - he can hear the but dangling off the end of that sentence. “But?”
“But,” Tyler continues, at least having the decency to sound a little sheepish, “but I meant like - dog-themed costumes. For us to wear to the team Halloween party. Like, matching costumes. Both of us as dogs.”
Oh, god.
“How does ‘Hey, let’s do dog costumes’ equate to dressing up as dogs rather than getting costumes for your actual dogs?” Jamie asks, letting out a ragged sigh. This is the most Tylerian thing he’s heard all month. “You gotta admit, Seggy, it really could have gone either way with you.”
Tyler laughs good-naturedly at the chirp, the smile evident in his voice when he clears his throat. “Too bad for you, dude, you already agreed with my idea anyways. Dog costumes. It’s happening.”
Jamie exhales something that’s part-sigh, part groan, and Tyler snickers at his exasperation through the phone. If they still lived in the same neighborhood, he’d be over there to fuck up Tyler’s hair in retribution in a heartbeat.
“Okay,” he concedes, scratching at his beard at the corner of his jaw. “But only because I don’t have any better ideas. And I’m not going to go full mascot costume - Tyson’s the furry, not me.”
“Sure,” Tyler says good-naturedly; Jamie can still hear the full-blown grin in his voice. “You don’t have to kinkshame a bro when he’s not here to defend himself, but sure. Hey - let’s get lunch after practice tomorrow, there’s this new place in Frisco.”
They stay on the phone a while longer, chatting about nothing and everything and chirping each other all the while. Jamie works his way through the entire basket of clean laundry, folding and sorting it all and then putting everything back in the basket to take upstairs, and they’re still on the phone - the conversation has drifted back to hockey, of course, and Jamie kind of just basks in it. Tyler’s voice is warm and full of laughter and right there in his ear, and it’s not hard to sit on the couch and imagine that Tyler’s there too, telling him all these dumb things about Rads’s instagram and Cash’s new favorite toy in person.
Eventually dealing with doggy dinner-time pulls Tyler away from their conversation, and when Jamie finally hangs up the sun has sunk low in the sky, bathing the room in dim orange half-light.
Jamie lets his phone rest on his chest, unmoving from where he’s laying haphazardly across the couch. The house is so big and quiet, and seems to echo with Tyler’s voice - or maybe that’s just Jamie’s mind, unable to shake the melody of Tyler’s laugh like an earworm pop song.
Somehow, he’s got a feeling that this Halloween is going to be the death of him.
Tyler sends him a flurry of photos from the internet, photos of actual costumes on actual dogs, in a series of rapid texts over the course of the next week. They’re all pretty cute, and he helps Tyler pick out three of them for his boys on the plane home from the road trip. He’s not blind to the look Ben gives them when he passes their seats; Tyler has pushed up the armrest so he can lean into Jamie’s space, and they’re whispering to each other because it’s late and because Tyler refuses to have any of his Halloween surprises spoiled. Jamie just quirks an eyebrow, and Ben does something kind of close to an eye-roll as he makes his way towards his seat toward the back of the plane.
Yeah, Jamie knows, he’s not very subtle about the thing he has for Segs. The rest of the team can see it from across the room - or probably from space. Tyler himself, of course, doesn’t ever give him any indication that he’s aware of Jamie’s arena-sized affection for him. At least - not really. There are moments when Tyler looks at him and Jamie can feel the weight of his stare, or he’ll turn to say something to Tyler when they’re side by side on the couch and he’s just -
He gets this look on his face, sometimes, that makes Jamie’s stomach bottom out and his chest ache with the possibility, but Tyler never moves closer. Even right now, leaning into each other’s space and without the armrest between them, it feels like they’re riding the thin yellow line between what Jamie really wants and what it seems like their friendship is supposed to be.
And Jamie can’t for the life of him figure out which side of that line Tyler is standing on, no matter how late he stays up in bed, staring at his ceiling.
Jamie chew a little at his bottom lip in thought, the heavy sensation of something like anticipation and dread and excitement churning in his stomach, underneath the easy happiness of having Tyler at his side. It’s messy, having all these emotions about the guy who is your best friend and bro and coworker and everything else.
That’s biggest reason this Halloween costume thing is so dangerous.
They absolutely clobber the Kings at home, the Tuesday before Halloween. Well, the Tuesday before the Halloween party - it’s in the middle of the week this year, so the festivities are set for Saturday night between the game against the Ducks and their roadie to Detroit. It feels good, to be heading into another home game with such a decisive win, and Jamie collapses into bed afterward and falls asleep easier than he has in a long time.
It’s not really a surprise when Tyler texts him the next day, in the early afternoon: u up?
You’re the one in this friendship who naps until 2pm, Jamie texts back. Tyler responds to the chirp with a string of indecipherable emojis, and then Jamie watches as the the little dot-dot-dot bubble next to his name comes and goes a few times, lingering as Tyler - apparently - has trouble figuring out what he wants to say.
Come over after dinner? He finally asks, quickly following it up with I wanna see ur costume before the party! ;)
It’s such a clear opening that Jamie barely even thinks about his reply as his fingers fly over the keyboard. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours
JAMESON!! Tyler’s reply is instantaneous this time, and Jamie grins down at his phone - he can just hear Tyler’s voice through the words, imagine the glint in his eye at getting an innuendo out of Jamie. It’s a rare thing, so it always gets a smile out of Tyler. See u around 7?
Sounds good, Jamie says, and frowns as he tries to remember where all the parts to his costume went.
He doesn’t even try to ignore the little burning ember deep in his belly at just the thought of going over to Tyler’s.
Okay, so upon trying everything on, maybe his idea is a little dumb.
But they’d agree not to full-suit it, and this is the best thing Jamie had been able to come up with. Hey, he’s not super creative - and he certainly wasn’t going to text Jordie and try to explain the entire situation to him in order to get advice; that’s just a sure-fire way to get some (possibly well-earned) older brother teasing. Jamie regularly provides enough chirping ammunition to the rest of the team as it is - he doesn’t need more of that in his life.
Jamie climbs out of his truck and doesn’t waste any time walking up to Tyler’s front door, attempting to stamp down the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. He’s just a dude coming over to see his best bro, his liney - to check out the state of their matching Halloween costumes a few days ahead of time, just in case they need to do something else to match better. No reason to be nervous around Tyler, his best friend, his hopelessly-visible-from-the-moon-crush, his -
His thoughts are completely derailed by Tyler opening the door before he knocks on it, letting Cash and Marshall and Gerry swarm around Jamie’s knees in delight. He lets out a breathless laugh as they nose along the exposed line of his thighs and snuffle into his hands, circling him in their usual enthusiastic examination - they’ve got their costumes on, too, the ones they’d picked out together and Tyler had ordered post-haste for the party. All three of them are completely adorable, even if Gerry’s little Popeye sailor hat is already coming loose in the lab’s excitement.
“Aw, boys,” Jamie coos at them, idly aware that he’s being watched from the doorway as he drops to a knee and gets his fingers in the fur around Marshall’s collar. The hair at the nape of his neck prickles lightly. “You look so good! You’re being so good!”
“You must say that to all the boys,” Tyler says from where he’s leaning against the door-frame. Jamie rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond -
And freezes, when he finally catches sight of Tyler’s costume.
Oh, fuck.
Jamie flushes hot, the words on his tongue forgotten as his mouth goes dry. Tyler’s found the most scandalous, revealing, male version of a sexy cop uniform that Jamie’s ever seen - and hell, maybe it’s not meant for dudes, for how high the shorts ride up his thighs. It’s complete with a fake silver badge pinned to one side of Tyler’s chest, a black uniform cap perched on his head, and a pair of handcuffs latched through his belt loops. He’s added a few things to it: there are a pair of ears coming out of either side of the hat, a matching tail just barely visible around his back. With a careful hand, Tyler’s drawn on a black nose and given himself a few dark whiskers, in - in what’s probably eyeliner, Jamie realizes faintly. He’s a police dog.
Jamie knows he’s staring. When Tyler said dog costumes, he wasn’t expecting this.
Tyler’s muscular enough that this totally works on him, though. His tattooed arms are on full display with the short-sleeved cut of the shirt - is it a shirt? Christ, the whole outfit’s so small, it could nearly be a one-piece uniform with a belt basically just for show. And Tyler knows he’s got the hockey thighs and ass to fill out the shorts; the soft brown tail only draws attention to his bottom half. But that’s probably the point. Tyler knows what he’s got to show off.
Jamie wasn’t wrong in his suspicions about this Halloween being the holiday to do him in.
He swallows thickly, unsure of where to look - Tyler’s eyes are covered by mirror-shiny aviator shades, but his lips are tilted up into a smirk. Jamie’s eyes keep getting drawn down to his powerful thighs - what he wouldn’t give to have them wrapped around his waist. Or on either side of his ears. He’s really not picky, when it comes to Tyler.
Despite the fact that half of the blood in his body seems to have rushed to Jamie’s face in a warm blush, and the other half is - well, headed in the opposite direction - it’s a small miracle that Jamie winches himself to his feet, patting absently at the dogs as he keeps his eyes on Tyler. Flipping his shades up to give Jamie a wink, Tyler twirls in place to show off the full extent of his costume. And yes: the chestnut-brown tail pokes out the back of his uniform at the dip of his lower back, doing very little to hide how tight the dark blue shorts are. Sexy Halloween costumes are not built for hockey bodies - not that Jamie would know from experience. Besides that he’s currently witnessing, that is. Uh.
“Uh,” Jamie says, tongue poking out to wet his lips. For all that he’s dressed up like a dog - a police dog, oh my god - Tyler’s grin is totally that of a cat that has gotten the canary.
“C’mon in,” Tyler says, beckoning with one hand as he turns to go back inside. He doesn’t say anything about the costume, for better or worse, leaving Jamie to not-so-subtly watch his ass as he strides off the direction of the kitchen. “Boys, inside! Gerry, I swear to god - ”
Jamie closes the front door, heart hammering in his chest. With all of them inside, it’s easy to focus on the dogs again.
“So?” Tyler finally says, waving a hand in Jamie’s direction - he’d nearly forgotten his own costume, in the wake of seeing Tyler’s. “What’s with the yellow shirt?”
“It’s -” Jamie sighs, a little annoyed at himself at how easily heat floods his cheeks. “It’s the dog snapchat filter? You know -” He sticks out his tongue in an approximation of the look - and from Tyler’s giggle, it must mostly work. He’d found the headband with fuzzy brown ears online, along with the face-paint to draw on a puppy-dog nose. The yellow shirt with ghost-shape cutout was just about the extent of his crafting ability, when Jenny wasn’t around to bail him out of the trouble he got himself into.
Hey, not everyone is as pedal-to-the-metal about Halloween as Tyler is. Jamie certainly wouldn’t be rocking that outfit to a party full of his teammates - but it’s absolutely Tyler’s M.O.
“You really gonna host the Halloween party like that?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen bar top. Tyler has the good grace to look a little abashed, at least, biting his lower lip and rubbing at the back of his head. Fuck, even the usual little Tyler things he does are transformed by the costume - and Jamie was weak for those little things anyways. “You’re gonna be chirped to New Years and back if any of the boys see you in that getup. Especially Faksa.”
“Faksa has no room to judge when it comes to pun costumes,” Seggy laughs. His grin shifts into a coy smirk, an eyebrow cocking as he poses with one hip out. “What - you don’t like it? I thought it was a pretty good look on me.”
Tyler looks practically edible and he knows it. He’d pass for a stripper cop, which is more of a compliment than anything else. Clearly Halloween costume companies have been missing out on a critical demographic of the costume market: costumes for hockey players who like to flirt the line between funny and hot.
Jamie clears his throat. “Not liking it really isn’t a problem,” he says. Something warm coils in his gut when Tyler’s eyes instantly darken, and lock on his own.
Tyler’s hands drop to his belt, thumbs hooking into it as he takes a slow step forward, somewhere between predatory and tentative. It sends a shiver running down Jamie’s spine, to be the subject of Tyler’s laser-focused attention, but it’s quickly replaced by heat. The air has gone out of the room, with only static-electric tension left behind, sparking between them as Tyler draws closer. It feels like every single one of Jamie’s nerves is at attention, straining towards Tyler as if he’s magnetic, waiting to see what he is going to do next.
His eyes are so, so dark - darker than Jamie’s ever seen them before, blown wide - all pupil, with only a thin ring of brown-gold around the edge. Jamie’s heart quickens in his chest, his pulse jumping when Tyler reaches out, trails the backs of his knuckles down Jamie’s arm.
“Is that so?” he asks finally, the edge of humor in his tone overwhelmed by how soft and low his voice has become.
With scant inches between them, Jamie can feel Tyler’s breath stutter when he catches Tyler’s wrist in his hand and circles it with his fingers, keeping him close. Between that and the clear flush working up Tyler’s neck, it’s enough proof for Jamie to feel a little bit bolder.
“You know how good you look,” he murmurs, thumbing Tyler’s pulse at his wrist - and fuck, his heart’s jackhammering just as hard as Jamie’s is. “I think you wanted me to come over to get a look at you, not because you wanted to check my costume. You wanted to be seen. And it’s for me, not for the rest of the team.”
He doesn’t realize the truth in his words until he’s saying it, but it’s undeniable - the effect his words have on Tyler is instant, electric. Tyler’s eyes go half-lidded and his languid expression only gets more heated. His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes flicking down to Jamie’s lips and then back up again. He squeezes Tyler’s wrist, lightly, and Tyler leans even further into his space.
“And here I thought I was supposed to be the detective,” Tyler nearly purrs.
“You are the one with the handcuffs,” Jamie points out, surprised at how gravelly his own voice has become. Tyler perks up at the suggestion as if he’s actually considering it, a troublemaking glint in his eyes.
It probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but - well. Jamie’s into pretty much everything about Tyler, at this point. He’s never seen Tyler quite like this before, visibly turned on, and it lights a fire in his belly to think that it’s because of him. For all that there’s been a thread of low-level tension between them for a while, a does-he-or-does-he-not between him and Tyler, this is just -
Tyler runs his tongue over his bottom lip, tilting his chin down so that he can look up at Jamie through his eyelashes. “Is that a proposition, Mr. Benn?”
Jamie chuckles, a little breathless. “You really think you could get the handcuffs on me?”
It’s the kind of challenge Tyler usually can’t resist, but he tips his head back, bearing the long line of his throat. He raises an eyebrow at Jamie, smirking lazily. “I think you’re all bark and no bite.”
“Very funny,” Jamie murmurs, but he’s smiling too. He shuffles a step forward - until their chests are nearly brushing, Tyler’s fake badge and stupid handcuffs pressing into his chest and hip. The pulse under his thumb is as quick as his own, which thunders in Jamie’s ears as he leans closer. “You want me to prove you wrong?”
“I want you to kiss me already,” Tyler breathes. A wave of rippling heat surges down Jamie’s spine and into his belly; for all that they keep dancing around this, the faint brush of Tyler’s mouth against his when he speaks and the earnest, raw want in his tone is what finally spurs Jamie into action.
He can’t - doesn’t want to - say not to that. Not when he finally knows Tyler wants this, too.
He twists his fingers into the fabric of Tyler’s ridiculous outfit, somewhere over his abs, gets just enough purchase to pull at the same time that he surges forward, capturing Tyler’s lips with his own. They seem to be on the same page in terms of skipping the chaste part - call it a natural evolution of their friendship, but it feels like maybe they’ve been tipping towards this precipice forever, and now that they’ve finally taken the plunge there’s no sense in going slow.
That’s how Jamie feels, at least. From how Tyler’s kissing him back, he must be on the same page.
Tyler’s eyelashes brush Jamie’s cheek as they flutter shut, at the same time that he licks expertly into Jamie’s mouth, brings a hand up to wind his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jamie’s neck. He tugs a little, and Jamie groans into the kiss - Tyler is everywhere, against him and surrounding him in all of his senses, and he falls back against the counter with the force of their kissing. The relocation doesn’t stop Tyler from trying to practically climb him in the slightest. They’re running blood-hot everywhere they’re touching, lips quickly turning wet and slick and swollen. Jamie can feel the flush working its way down his neck, something hot and tight coiling in his gut as his fingers itch to wander the body pressed against him.
He’s nearly dizzy for air when they finally part for breath, and Tyler immediately slides his mouth down to the pulse-point in Jamie’s neck, sucking as he goes. It’s all Jamie can do to scrabble for something to hold on to - and a perfect opportunity, really, to get a double handful of Tyler’s ass.
“Been wanting to do this for a while,” Tyler admits, the words muffled and wet against Jamie’s skin. God, Tyler’s definitely working a lot of color to the surface, probably intentionally - there is no way Jamie is walking away from this without a massive hickey to show tomorrow.
Actually, he’s not going to walk away from this at all. There’s no way anybody is going to be able to keep them apart now.
Heat coils in Jamie’s gut at Tyler’s words, and he gives his ass a squeeze. It has the effect of rocking Tyler’s hips into his own, and - oh, fuck, yes. That thin little sexy cop one-piece does as much to mask the swell of Tyler’s growing hard-on as it does to hide the muscular curves of his ass, or the dense muscles of his arms. Which is to say, it does pretty much nothing at all to hide any of it, and feeling all of that - all of Tyler against him - only has Jamie’s pulse surging. He swallows the groan that Tyler kisses into his mouth, curling their tongues together in a hot, slick slide.
This is the best fucking idea Tyler’s had in a while - even if, in retrospect, it’s a pretty clear ploy for this exact thing to finally happen.
Just for that, he knocks the ridiculous ears-and-hat combo off Tyler’s head and onto the floor, feeling Tyler grin against his lips as he seals their mouths together again. Some of Tyler’s giggles still escape, and despite the growing heat and urgency between them, Jamie finds himself smiling, too.
“You fucking - ” Jamie bites off his own words so that he can nibble at the juncture of Tyler’s neck and shoulder, hooking a thumb into the collar of his police uniform to bare more of his tattooed skin. Tyler gasps prettily, hitching up one of his knees so that they can better slot together, groin-to-groin. Jamie gets his other hand underneath Tyler’s thigh to hold it there. “What am I saying, of course you wanted this to happen.”
Tyler chuckles, but he still tugs at Jamie’s hair to get his attention, pulling his face away so that they can meet each other’s eyes. “I wanted this to happen,” Tyler murmurs, his voice soft and gravelly, eyes half-lidded with lust but also - also not a small amount of fragile, eager fondness. Jamie’s almost distracted by the way he bites his lip before he continues. “I still wasn’t sure that it would work out this way.”
“God, Ty,” Jamie sighs, pressing a gentler kiss to Tyler’s lips, and then his cheek, and then his ear. “It hasn’t been obvious enough how crazy I am for you, over the past few months - years?”
“Well,” Tyler blushes - blushes more, since he’s already a very attractive shader of pink from their amorous activities. He rolls his hips in a lazy, languid movement, clearly enjoying the way Jamie’s eyes nearly cross and he has to concentrate to hold the thread of the conversation. “I mean - sometimes it’s hard to see the truth of things and not just what you want to see, eh? I’ve been - I was sure you’d figured out what I felt for you ages ago.”
“No,” Jamie murmurs, running this thumb along Tyler’s lower lip, to the corner of his mouth when Tyler gives him a brilliant smile. “I’m glad you took the gamble for both of us - but I’m not sure I want you wearing this costume to the Halloween party with the rest of the guys, to be honest.”
Tyler raises an eyebrow, but his eyes are sparkling. “You just want me all to yourself.”
And, well, Jamie just has to kiss him for that.
They get caught up in it, making out in Tyler’s kitchen, against the counter, with late afternoon sunlight streaming in from the front windows. Jamie could kiss Tyler like this for hours, soaking in the feel of their bodies pressed together, the heat where they touch seared into Jamie’s sense-memory. The urgency had tempered a little with their confessions, but they slowly work back up to it - in no small part because of Tyler’s ridiculously revealing costume and Jamie’s wandering hands. Now that he can touch, he just can’t help himself.
Tyler gives as good as he gets, meeting Jamie halfway in this just like he does with everything else. They’re so attuned to reading each other’s bodies that this feels like an extension of their play on the ice; Jamie twists his hips to push Tyler back and he goes so easily, letting Jamie pin him to the counter rather than the other way around. His abs flex under Jamie’s fingertips when Jamie keeps leaning in, forcing Tyler to work to bend backwards against the cool marble of his own counter. A thready whine builds in Tyler’s throat, and Jamie lets the sounds wash over him, filing every place that makes Tyler keen or moan or gasp into his memory.
He’s not sure if Tyler’s always this receptive and vocal or if it’s the fact that it’s him that does it for Tyler, but either way - it’s a lot.
“We should probably move this,” Jamie says against Tyler’s mouth, enjoying the pleasurable burn of his beard rasping against Jamie’s skin. Both of them are going to be marked up tomorrow for practice; if the hickeys weren’t enough, he’s certain they’re going to have beard burn on both their necks.
Hopefully the guys at least have the common sense not to comment on beard burn in other places, when they’re in the locker room, but Jamie knows hockey players. The team will be happy for them, but this is also going to be prime chirping material for weeks. Hockey players are notoriously shameless in their love of gossip and juicy details.
And, well. If Tyler and Jamie individually thought their affections for one another were obvious, they probably were, to the rest of the team.
Anyway - with the frantic tempo of their kisses reaching a crescendo, and the hitch of their hips together in a way that Jamie knows will eventually make him come in his pants, it’s probably past time that they relocated to a more suitable horizontal surface. God forbid one of the dogs comes back into the kitchen, looking for Tyler. Every single one of them would be scarred.
“Aren’t we moving already?” Tyler laughs breathlessly, rolling his hips up into Jamie’s again with a grin. He’s toying with the hem of Jamie’s shirt at the same time, slipping his fingertips up along the small of Jamie’s back. His hands feel as good and big as Jamie always imagined they would, and he sighs Tyler’s name into his lips. Every little thing Tyler does drives Jamie perfectly crazy with desire, the desperation turning his hands clumsy and his lips insistent, his blood hot where it throbs in his neck and face and fingertips.
“You know what I mean,” Jamie says, pawing at the buttons on Tyler’s outfit - god, why did they make it properly button up in the first place? He just can’t get enough of Tyler’s freckled skin, which looks nearly bronze even though they’re heading into winter - compared to Jamie, at least, who always seems to just freckle lightly over his Canadian paleness. Tyler gasps and writhes when Jamie manages to catch his nipple through the thin layer of fabric, and - fuck, this is taking too long.
Jamie tugs, once more, at the offending button - and they both gasp at the sudden tearing sound, the rip of elasticized fabric followed by the ping of three fake-gold buttons on the kitchen’s tiled floors.
There’s a beat of silence where they both look helplessly down at the floor - Jamie has no idea where the buttons bounced off to - and then back up, to Tyler’s now-bared chest. Jamie’s ripped a foot-long hole into the fabric, effectively shredding the front. He’s no expert, but it doesn’t look like there’s any possible way to repair it - certainly not in time for the Stars’ Halloween party in just a few day’s time. It probably didn’t cost Tyler enough to be worth fixing, anyhow.
“I, uh -” Jamie mumbles, flushing brightly at his own actions. Who does that, accidentally ripping the clothes off one’s maybe-boyfriend maybe-hookup?
“Fuck, that was hot,” Tyler exhales, beaming up at Jamie. He makes quite the picture - lying prone with his back against the counter, the sinuous stretch of his chest and abs on display even more now that the front of his costume is torn open. Whatever black make up he’d used to draw on the puppy nose and whiskers has started to smudge from all the kissing, and without the ears to go with it, Tyler just looks - on the way to wrecked.
Jamie licks his lips. Tyler looks even more like he’s walked out of Magic Mike than he did before, which is quite the feat. “Well, that’s one way to make sure I don’t wear this costume in front of the whole team on Saturday, eh?”
If Jamie could blush any harder, he’d be doing it. “That’s not what I -”
“I know, I know,” Tyler chuckles, reaching up to link his arms around Jamie’s neck. It puts him closer to sitting up properly again, which is too bad for Jamie’s view of his abs, but it also makes him that much closer for kissing, so Jamie does. It’s going to be hard to resist ever kissing him again; he can’t seem to get enough of this.
They kiss, and kiss; Jamie plies Tyler’s mouth open with his tongue, explores the taste of him like he’s always wanted to. There’s still a small part of him that can’t believe this is happening - like he’ll wake up any moment now, like Tyler will realize this isn’t what he wants and pull away from him. But there’s another part of him that aches for how inevitable this feels, how perfect it is now that it’s finally happening. Jamie hums into the kiss when Tyler pulls away to press a few chaste kisses against his mouth, eyes fluttering open when Tyler gives the arms around his neck a faint squeeze.
“Get out of your own head,” Tyler murmurs, smearing the words with his lips across Jamie’s cheek to his ear, which he gives a light nip. Jamie can hear Tyler’s grin in his words, infecting the tone of his voice, and it’s so hard not to smile in turn. Tyler’s always able to make him smile, just by being around him. “Maybe we should take this upstairs, if it means having your full attention.”
“You always have my full attention,” Jamie breathes, running his fingers up and down Tyler’s torso - letting his fingertips catch on the open collar and drawing downward, parting the outfit nearly to the waist so that he can admire more of Tyler’s bared skin. There’s a faint trail of hair leading down from his belly-button and disappearing into Tyler’s waistband; Jamie’s mouth waters just looking at it.
“Good,” Tyler tilts his head, tosses his curls out of his eyes - preening under Jamie’s gaze. “But yeah - upstairs? Let me up, eh?”
Tyler flexes, reading to sit up and hop off the counter, and for a moment Jamie considers not letting him - pinning him in place by the wrists, kissing him and laying Tyler back out against the counter-top. He looks so fuckin’ good against it, arms splayed and hair wild and eyes dark, a study in contrasts with the rest of the neatly-kept kitchen. They both seem to realize this at the same time, eyes meeting in a heated exchange before Jamie takes a step back, enough for Tyler to squirm to the edge of the counter and hop down onto his bare toes.
It’s only half a second before Tyler is catching Jamie’s hand in his, laughing at the awed expression on Jamie’s face when he looks down at their linked hands. It’s just - it’s so good. Such a simple thing, but it’s what he’s wanted for so long, and here Tyler is just giving it to him. Tyler wants it too.
It’s a lot to take in.
“Come on,” he chuckles, tugging lightly at their linked hands - and Jamie goes, shucking his shoes at the bottom of the stairs as Tyler leads them up to the master bedroom. “Just think - if we had gotten to it in the kitchen, it would be another thing at Halloween, eh? Trying not to get hard in front of the entire group knowing you’d literally had me over the table only a few days before, in the cop costume? I would have had a hard time keeping a straight face.”
Jamie tries not to stumble, his heart thudding in his ears as he stares up at Tyler’s muscular shoulders in front of him. God, that - Tyler’s not wrong. He can see it in his mind’s eye: Tyler’s house, full of the Stars and their wives and girlfriends, Jamie trying desperately not to blush and give away the dirty line of his thoughts, all the while knowing that earlier that week he and Tyler had gotten off where there are now chips and dip and buckets of non-diet-plan candy.
Aside from the having-to-keep-a-straight-face part, Jamie wants to have Tyler against every surface in this entire house. But the bedroom is a perfectly good place to start.
He laughs, a little breathlessly. “You can never keep a straight face anyways, nerd.”
The grin Tyler shoots over his shoulder is indulgent and unrepentant, and he squeezes Jamie’s fingers when he winks.
Needless to say, when they finally tumble into Tyler’s bed, they do a lot more than just laughing. But there’s plenty of that, too - chuckles and giggles and outright laughter as they learn each other’s bodies, partaking in the easy joy that comes with spending time with your best friend, one you’re now allowed to kiss. How did they get this lucky? The question lingers in Jamie’s head long after they’re sated and lying curled against each other, two commas slotted together under Tyler’s sheets, a matching set.
“We are going to have to figure out new costumes,” Tyler says sleepily, from where his head is laying on Jamie’s chest. Jame’s fingertips brush up and down the length of his shoulder, just feeling - just because he can. He hums in agreement, stomach flip-flopping at the sensation of Tyler’s smile pressed into the bare skin of his collarbone. “Seeing how you went all Tarzan on the police dog outfit I worked so hard on.”
“We can still do matching costumes,” Jamie says, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand. Tyler sighs contentedly, muscles shifting as he stretches against Jamie - it’s a good feeling. It’s perfect, even when Tyler tucks his chilly toes between Jamie’s calves and the mattress, where it’s already pleasantly warm. His heart just swells, and swells. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”
I mean, Jamie thinks. We already have.
And they do.
Three days later, they end up at Tyler’s Halloween party with Mario-and-Luigi onesies, more ridiculous hats, and novelty cars that by all rights should not fit a full-sized adult, let alone a six foot hockey player. But they make it work.
In Jamie’s opinion, it’s the best Halloween yet.