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Kent sighed internally. Even after so many years in the NHL, he still wasn’t the hugest fan of talking to reporters. On the best days they were simply downright annoying. On the worst? Well, thankfully years of therapy had helped him learn how to hold in his potentially violent urges.
But oh boy was that training really being put to the test right now.
Kent didn’t really begrudge Zimms coming out with his cute little blond baking boyfriend, not really. Sure, he was (maybe more than) a little hurt that Zimms didn’t let him know about Bitty, and sure, he may still be a little bit still in love with him. But after their disastrous last meeting at Samwell, Kent had really tried to make a genuine effort to get over him once and for all, and this time it seemed to be actually working.
That being said, Zimms coming out meant people were dredging up the old rumors about them, and simply Kent’s past association with the man meant that reporters were being even more annoying than usual, which Kent had previously thought impossible.
The worst part was they were in the fucking preseason for crying out loud. This was supposed to be the time of year were Kent didn’t have to deal with the worst of the press’s annoying tendencies yet. And yet here they were, not even asking him about hockey, not really.
If Kent didn’t get away soon, he just knew he was going to do something stupid.
“Kent Parson, obviously you and Jack Zimmermann played together during juniors and both fought for the top spot in that year’s draft. Do you think his sexuality played a part in his inability to enter the draft? Is the league not fit for lgbt players?”
Kent’s mouth opened without his brain’s permission, and he heard himself say. “Well if there’s any connection between being gay and playing good hockey, the obvious conclusion is that gay people do it better. I mean, Zimm’s stats this season alone prove that. Not to mention, I think I alone am proof aplenty that gay people are amazing at hockey.”
Ah yes, there’s that stupid thing he knew was coming.
Kent froze, along with everyone else in the room as they all processed the words he just said.
“Kent Parson,” a different reporter interjected after a solid half minute of silence, “are you trying to say you’re gay?”
“Uhhhh”
Real eloquent there, Parse.
Before Kent could kickstart his traitorous brain into enough movement to make an actual response, he was being dragged out of the room by an Aces employee.
“Thank you all for coming, that’s enough questions today. Catch the boys again in two days for their game against the Schooners!” She called behind her as she shoved Kent through the door. “Well,” She said, as the door shut behind them, “That certainly wasn’t how we expected today to go. I’m going to go give PR a heads up, you just sit here and, I dunno, freak out or something?”
“Oh trust me, that is most definitely going to happen.”
Kent barely registered her exit as he found himself more and more drawn into himself. He’d never had a proper panic attack, not really, but he’d seen Zimms have them enough times to recognize that that was probably where he was headed.
Without even thinking (once again), he picked up his phone and hit a button he hadn’t pressed in a long time.
“Kenny.”
“Heeeeeyyy Zimms. So, funny story…” Kent laughed nervously.
“What did you do?” Kent could practically picture what Zimms looked like in his head. It may have been years since they had really seen each other, but his Captain Voice came over the phone loud and clear, and Kent could only assume the facial expression that normally accompanied it back in the day was present too.
“I just kinda sorta maybe came on on TV on reflex when a reporter was asking annoying questions about you?” His answer came out in a rush and was met with silence.
“Oh my god, Kenny, what were you thinking?” Zimms’ exasperated response came a minute later.
“Well, you see the entire problem stems from the fact that I wasn’t. Thinking, that is.” Kent’s breath was getting shorter and shallower. That probably wasn’t a good sign.
“Kent.” Zimms’ voice brought Kent back into the present, “I need you to breathe with me. Come on. In one two three. Out one two three.” Jack spent a couple minutes helping Kent regulate his breathing. By the end of it, he was feeling surprisingly calmer. Not great, but better.
“Thanks, Zimms.”
“Well, if you really did just come out, I should probably send some of my PR people your way, seeing as we already had contingency plans for all sorts of situations, which ended up being a good idea for you and me both I guess” His voice got quieter as he moved his mouth away from the mic, “Hey Bits, can you come keep him occupied?”
Kent sat helplessly on the floor trying to keep his breathing under control as he listened to the phone jostle from one hand to another.
Kent had never had a proper conversation with Eric Bittle. Sure, they had probably exchanged a few pleasantries when they had taken that selfie at Samwell before everything went to shit, but that was before he overheard all the things Kent said to Zimms. Suffice it to say, as far as Kent was convinced, Eric Bittle probably hated his guts. And here he was, about to have phone conversation with him to distract him from the stupidest thing he had ever done.
“Well well, what kind of situation have you managed to get yourself in, Mr. Parson?” It was the lack of malice in Bitty’s voice that surprised Kent more than anything.
“I may or may not have accidentally outed myself by making a stupid joke at a reporter.”
Kent heard some strange almost choking sounding noises coming from the other side of the call when Bitty managed to get out a quick “I’m sorry.” before he burst into a violent fit of laughter.
Well at least someone found this funny.
After he managed to catch his breath Bitty said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just— I know we don’t know each other all that well, but from what I do know about you, that seems to be the most quintessentially Kent Parson way to come out.”
Kent snorted, “You’re not exactly wrong.” Surprisingly enough, this more than anything was helping him calm down. Finding the humor in the situation was making it seem less apocalyptic and crushing. “It’s definitely dramatic and stupid enough for me.”
“What’s your favorite kind of pie?’ The question, which seemingly came out of nowhere, caught Kent off guard.
“…. Why?”
“We may have our differences, Mr. Parson, but you just did something while very very stupid, is still very brave. I know how stressful it all was for Jack, and I also have a feeling you don’t have as…. Enthusiastic support system as he does. Not to knock any of y’all in Vegas, but we can’t all be Shitty.” Fair. “The very least I can do is set those differences aside at least for a while and send you a dang pie.”
“Cherry. I like cherry pie.”
“Consider it done. Oh, it looks like Jack finished those emails. I’ll give him back to you.” The phone rustled for a bit again before Kent heard Zimms’ voice once again.
“Still with us, Kenny?” Kent finally felt his body unclench, a small smile developing.
“Yeah, still here.”
Maybe this wasn’t quite the stupidest thing Kent had ever done.