Archive of Our Own

Ideally, Alexei’s Halloween party was going to be the most memorable one any of his teammates had ever attended. Forget Zimmboni’s college days or whatever partying any of them might have done in Juniors to celebrate the holiday—Alexei was going to have the best party with the best decorations and the best food.

Ideally. 

The tip of the screwdriver slipped out of the notch in the screwhead for the umpteenth time, and Alexei swore loudly in Russian, barely stopping himself from hurtling the screwdriver across the room. With less than an hour to go until guests began to arrive for his Halloween party and the food still warming in the oven, he was running out of time to prepare. And now, when he’d tried to do a last minute check to make sure that all of his decorations were ready to go, he’d found that the novelty crawling monster hand, the one he’d been so delighted to find at the home decor store and then purchased especially for this party, wasn’t working. Changing the batteries should have been a two-minute task at most, but it was turning out to be far more of a challenge than expected.

Attempting to fit the screwdriver into the screw slot again only resulted in him accidentally stabbing one of his own fingers, and Alexei let out another furious curse at the flare of pain. Then, setting side both the monster hand and the screwdriver, he slumped down onto the couch with a sigh. 

He’d wanted so badly for this party to go well, not just because he loved his team, but because he loved the American Halloween. When he’d first arrived in the US, celebrating the strange but fun holiday was what helped him forget his homesickness and realize that the US finally had something that his homeland didn’t. Back in Russia, he’d always been intrigued by the celebration, but the controversy surrounding it and his parents’ status as known public figures had prevented him from ever taking part beyond private parties amongst close friends. 

However, in America, everyone loved Halloween, from the children to the adults to most of the churches. People of all ages wore costumes, and Americans even dressed up their pets, which Alexei thought was very silly but very adorable. Not only did every store have a Halloween section during October, but there were entire stores that opened only during Halloween and sold only Halloween items. Now, Alexei could celebrate as openly as he pleased. If he could actually get his celebration ready, that was.

Just as Alexei was about to abandon the monster hand in favor of going to pull the food out of the oven and arranging it on the tables he’d lined with fake cobwebs, his phone buzzed with a text. As he went to answer, Alexei’s stomach knotted when he glimpsed the time: he had less than forty minutes now to get everything set up for his guests.

The text was from Snowy, asking about party preparations. Alexei groaned out loud before going to answer.

Snowy: How’s progress for the party? Everything going boo-tifully? :D

Tater: Not good. Should have accept Little B’s offer when he ask to help. (((

Snowy: Don’t worry, big guy, I’ve got you. Someone’s going to be stopping by and helping you out. 

The response brought Alexei to pause and frown down at the screen in confusion, and just as he was about to reply to Snowy with a question, the doorbell rang.

Hauling himself to his feet, Alexei made his way to the entrance hall, ducking beneath the black ribbons and rubber spider-laden fake vines dangling from the chandelier, and pulled open the door.

He was expecting one of his teammates, maybe Snowy himself, or perhaps Bitty with Jack in tow. He was not expecting to find Kent Parson standing on his porch, wearing a hooded black robe and looking very pretty but vaguely menacing as the light of Alexei’s electric jack-o-lanterns flickered across his features. And parts of his face, mainly the tops of his cheekbones, glimmered oddly, as if he’d added a dusting of fine glitter to his skin. Then again, he was from Vegas.

But he still looked good, though. Kent Parson always looked good. Alexei had learned this by scrolling through his Instagram several times, unable to avoid checking for more of the regular photos Parson posted of himself at his pool. 

“Parson?” Frozen in shock, Alexei could only gape at him, barely able to believe his eyes. This moment so easily could have been stolen straight from one of his dreams. He’d let himself have fantasies that centered around Parson being at his house (more specifically, in his bed). Granted, Parson had most decidedly not been covered from head to toe and dressed like a monk in any of those.

“ ’Sup, Mashkov?” Parson raised a hand in a lazy wave, that smirk of his, the one that both intrigued and incensed Alexei, firmly etched onto his lips. “Snowden sent me over here to be your fairy godmother and help out with your party.”

“Snowy sent you,” Alexei echoed. Going by the text message, he didn’t doubt it, but he wondered why and how Snowy had recruited Parson, of all people, to rush to his rescue. He’d known of Alexei’s attraction to Parson, sure, but he’d kept it quiet when Alexei had begged him to. Neither of them had wanted to upset Zimmboni by revealing Alexei’s crush on his rival, and Alexei had always done his damnedest to pretend to be infuriated by Parson’s performance on the ice. Sometimes, he didn’t even have to pretend.   

“Like Vancouver sent Messier back to the Rangers,” Parson confirmed, cocking a hip, the fabric of his long robe rustling. “You gonna invite me in?”

Still blinking but deciding that maybe he shouldn’t question this, Alexei stepped back to allow Parson across the threshold, watching as Parson glanced around the foyer, every inch of which was swathed in an array of Halloween decorations. Sudden self-consciousness prickled through him as he wondered what Parson would think of the garlands of glittery black vines and glowing orange lights woven around the staircase bannister and the velvet silhouettes of black cats and purple owls that lined the walls, but Parson just grinned at the sight.

“Looking pretty good already,” he commented, smiling appreciatively as he took in the surroundings. “You’ve got a great house. Lotta personality.” 

Alexei’s stomach swooped at the compliment. His home was a large Victorian with blue paint—he’d actually gone ahead and purchased it because of the color. “Falconer blue,” he’d called it. While he knew most players his age tended to go for those sprawling generic houses in the suburbs (“Cookie-cutter McMansions,” Snowy had huffed, who himself owned a lovely historic Queen Anne.), Alexei had fallen in love with this one the moment he’d walked through the door. For whatever reason, he found this house, with its old-fashioned hardwood floors and latticed windows bordered with stained glass, to be so much cozier and more welcoming. Knowing he’d earned Parson’s approval had his pulse quickening, and he could feel himself growing tongue-tied.

“I’m like costume,” he said, too flustered to actually respond to Parson’s remark. “You be—death ghost?” 

He thought he recognized the image of a figure in a hooded robe; it was a fairly common character for the American Halloween, but he couldn’t think of its name at the moment.

“The Grim Reaper,” Parson replied easily. “I don’t have my scythe, though. I gave it to one of your neighbors whose lawn looks like total ass. The fuck is up with that fake wishing well and the fake windmill? You should sicc the HOA on him.”

Alexei let out a bark of laughter as he showed Kent to the living room, where he’d lined each window with purple and orange icicle lights and where every surface displayed some kind of Halloween prop, from haunted mirrors to self-turning spellbooks.

“Can you be testing all them?” he asked sweeping a hand at the multitude of extension cords connected to various Halloween animatronics. “Be sure they be working.” He held up the monster claw ruefully. “This one not be.”

“Jesus, does St. Martin know you chopped one of his hands off and took it as a trophy?” Parson accepted the monster claw, and then his eyes landed on the pack of batteries and the screwdriver. “Huh. Does it just need fresh batteries?”

“I’m not for that.” Alexei spread his large hands. “Little screw too small.”

“It would help if you were using the right kind of screwdriver,” Parson remarked dryly. “This is a flat-head. You need a Phillips-head. Here, lemme have your toolbox, and I’ll take care of it.”

Alexei gave a sigh of relief that at least one of his problems was getting solved and pointed Parson in the direction of the hall closet. “Toolbox be there. I’m work the food. Okay, Parson?”

“Call me Kent,” Parson, or rather, Kent said, flashing his smirk, looking very handsome when he did. “I think Snowden wants us to be a team and bond or some bullshit, so you might as well use my first name.”

A thrill shot through Alexei at the invitation, and he had to stop himself from shouting out loud in happiness. Never had he imagined that he would get to be on a first name basis with the infamous Kent Parson, not with the intense rivalry between the Falcs and the Aces on the ice. And yet here Parson was, telling him to do just that. 

“You be calling me Alexei, then,” he replied, surprised by how steady his voice was and somewhat proud of himself. 

“Alexei,” Kent repeated, and Alexei tried not to let the sound of Kent rolling his name around on his tongue shoot straight to his groin. “Well, go get the food ready. Everyone thinks the drinks are the key to a good party, but come on, we know it’s the food. No one fucking likes a party where they got to go hangry.”

Grinning, Alexei made his way to the kitchen, brushing past the ragged strips of gauze he’d arranged to hang over each doorway. If Kent valued food above all else at a party, then he was going to be very impressed with the spread Alexei had for tonight. And his heart was thudding at the prospect of winning another compliment from Kent.

It was traditional for American parties, it seemed to Alexei, to select one type of food to serve, usually to go with a theme. But he liked all kinds of food, and saw no reason why he should limit his offerings to guests, so he had everything that he liked, from crab rangoon to enchiladas to those pinwheels with cream cheese in them. Most of it he’d ordered in huge quantities from restaurants, but some dishes he’d prepared himself. The spiked cider punch, complete with skull-shaped ginger ale ice cubes, was his own creation, and he’d personally tasted a dozen different recipes before perfecting his pumpkin-flavored mac and cheese. But he was most proud of the dessert he’d made by baking several dozen double chocolate cookies, coating the flat sides with peanut butter and then adding four rounded pretzel pieces on either side, before sealing each one with a second cookie to make a sandwich. Then, after using another dollop of peanut butter to add two M&M’s to the top of each one, he had a plate of cookie spiders. It was the most intricate dish Alexei had ever prepared on his own, and he was very proud. 

Just as he was transferring the cookie spiders onto a large Ouaji board serving tray, Kent wandered in from the living room, toolbox in hand. 

“Your personal light show is ready,” he informed Alexei. “And if you’re looking for someone to be its shining star, I guess I’m game.” 

“Not be getting enough of star in Vegas?” Alexei asked, extending the tray. “Have cookie.”

“Heh.” An odd half-smile twisted at Kent’s lips. “Would you believe me if I told you that these days, I prefer to be more of an audience member than anything else? Maybe I’m growing up, but . . . I don’t know, I get a little bit tired of being treated like I’m the only member of my team who’s important. I know I’m the face of the franchise, but it’s damn time for the rest of my boys to get some credit for all the work they put in.” He waved off the cookie tray. “No thanks. I try to avoid unnecessary sugar.”

The ready defense of his teammates and desire to share recognition with them impressed Alexei—with the way Kent acted, it was easy to assume he was perfectly content with the media regarding him as the only player on his team who mattered. It was gratifying to discover that wasn’t the case. And it made Alexei want to shake his cookies with him even more. A good teammate should be rewarded, even if it wasn’t his teammate. Even if it was one of the Falcs’ rivals.

“Just one,” Alexei coaxed him. “I’m work very long to make them spider shape.”

For a few seconds, Kent hesitated, but then he shrugged and reached for one, splitting it in two. “Thanks, Alexei. Here, you take half,” he said, offering him one of the pieces. “And don’t think you can beat me in being a good host, by the way,” he added, pointing at him with his cookie half. “Next time you’re in Vegas, I’m gonna take you out to a show. There’s this one at the Neon Museum I think you’d really like. It’s cool but pretty low-key.” He bit into the cookie, and his eyes went wide as he broke out into a smile. Not that strange and unhappy smile from before, but a genuine, earnest smile, one that warmed Alexei’s entire body just at the sight. “Oh, hey, this is terrific. You’re an amazing cook.” 

A fluttering started in Alexei’s stomach at the compliment, while a strange melancholy trickled through him at the same time, and he wished fruitlessly that he could bottle this moment so he could hang onto it forever. This quiet little scene of he and Kent sharing sweets and making plans for the future was a reality he desperately desired, just in a different form—in another life where they were actually together. It almost felt like a cruel joke that he was living out one of his dreams, just altered a few degrees so that he didn’t actually have the very thing he’d been aching for all along.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Alexei searched his mind for a response that wouldn’t betray his haze of wistful thoughts, and Kent sent a curious glance his way. But before either of them could speak, Alexei’s phone buzzed with an alarm: he had less than five minutes before guests began to arrive and he still had to get into his costume. He apologetically relayed the information to Kent, who leapt to supply him with a solution.

“You go and get ready,” Kent urged him. “I’ll answer the door if anyone comes.”

Alexei grinned in spite of himself. “Be true Halloween scare?” he questioned impishly as he lingered in the doorway. “Falc be knocking on door and finding surprise Kent Parson?”

His heart swelled as Kent threw back his head and laughed, pleased that it was so unexpectedly easy to joke with Parson. Going by the cocky way he spoke in interviews and the way he showboated on the ice like he owned whatever rink he was in, Alexei never would have guessed his laugh sounded so genuine. It wasn’t even ruined by Kent following it up by flipping him off, and Alexei just grinned to himself as he mounted the staircase, very satisfied that he’d managed to create what Snowy might call a “mic-drop moment”.

Yet when he continued to linger on Kent as he bounded up the staircase and entered his bedroom, the sense of melancholy remained with him. Working alongside Kent felt so natural in a way he never would have guessed, but it could only be temporary. Kent was only here because Snowy asked him to be, and Alexei could never actually be with him without upsetting Zimmboni. Working together might have seemed easy and natural, but dating him would never be so simple. Alexei would be able to enjoy his time with Kent tonight, but when it was over, there wouldn’t be anything more.

While his stomach clenched at the thought, Alexei did his best to shake off his dreary thoughts and focus on getting into the Halloween spirit by donning his costume.

Tossing aside the tradition of dressing as some movie character or a standard creepy monster, Alexei had decided to fashion his costume after the figure-skating outfit his mother had worn when she took gold at the 1988 Olympics—tailored to be Tater-sized, of course. Admittedly, the outfit was certainly a product of its time, and Alexei’s costume mirrored it almost exactly. The fabric of the dress was hot pink and covered almost entirely in shimmering sequins, and its miniskirt was composed of only spiralling strands of fringe. The dress’s design was a graceful halterneck, with the rhinestone-studded strap looping around the back of the neck to connect seamlessly back at the front of the chest. While the crystal-embroidered sleeves were designed to look detached and entirely separate from the rest of the dress, they were actually connected by flesh-colored fabric at the shoulders and collarbone. The entire ensemble was all one piece, just like it had been in real life.

Between the dated style and the loud color, the sized-up outfit would have looked ridiculous on Alexei even if the original hadn’t been specifically designed with the body of a slim, petite figure skater in mind. But he didn’t care if it made him look silly—most of the point of Halloween seemed to be looking silly or strange or scary. Besides, Mama had been delighted when he’d sent her the photo of him wearing it—he’d had her put him on speaker phone so he could hear her laugh when she first glimpsed the image of him dressed up as her.

Before slipping into the costume, Alexei tugged on a pair of black running tights, since nights in Providence were already starting to be a bit chilly. For shoes, he’d found a pair of patent leather mid-ankle white Doc Martens boots that could pass for women’s ice skates. He’d actually purchased the boots first, liking the way they looked when he’d worn them over dark jeans, and then was hit with inspiration for his costume when Snowy had shaken his head and clucked over Alexei’s fashion sense.

As a finishing touch, Alexei swept up his hair into a quiff by using a copious amount of glitter hair gel, and then he tried to add the body gems he’d picked up last week at one of the American Halloween stores. They didn’t seem to stick very well even though he’d shaved that afternoon for that explicit purpose, and he knew he was running short on time—the music had already kicked on downstairs, and he could hear the front door opening and shutting. So, he grabbed one of the tubes of super glue he kept in each room for quick and easy home repairs and winced his way through the stinging until his face had more rhinestones than Bad Bob had Cups. Then, grinning in the mirror at how foolish he looked and determined to put aside his sadness over Kent, Alexei left his bedroom and hustled down the staircase, ready to show his guests a good time.

His carefully curated mix of dance music and Halloween songs was already blasting over the speakers, and it seemed like most of the team had arrived in the maybe twenty minutes he’d been gone. The house was swarming with his teammates and their significant others, and Bitty and Jack were just squeezing through the door as he came down the steps. 

“Hey, Tater!” Bitty called to him excitedly, touting a foiled wrapped dish. “This shindig’s already real lively, isn’t it? And it’ll only get more happenin’ when after we heat these up in the oven and I bring out my—Jack, pull the foil back so he can see—my Georgia-famous, county fair award-winning mini pies! They’re pumpkin, see? And each one has a different jack-o-lantern face on them.”

“Can confirm,” Jack told Alexei dryly. “He picked my brain all throughout the decorating process. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about so many different human emotions in my life.”

Alexei laughed and led them to the kitchen, weaving around various teammates and greeting them as he passed by. “Thanks so much for being thinking of me, Little B. We be warming them in kitchen for little while and then sharing with everyone.” 

Bitty beamed. “Sounds good to me! I love your costume, by the way—it turned out so well!”

“Thank you,” Alexei replied happily. He took a moment to glance at their costumes: Bitty was wearing a red shirt with a large decal of a strawberry and a white band around the chest and shoulders, and red pants with the same white band at the knees. On his head was a round, flat white hat. Jack had on the same costume but in beige, with a decal of what might have been pecans. “What be your costume?”

“Oh, Jack is almond butter, and I’m strawberry jam!” Bitty enthused, gesturing with his free hand. “We thought that it would be really nice because— oh.”       

He stopped short as they arrived in the kitchen to find that it was already occupied. Kent was there with both Gabby and Marty, carefully blotting the former’s inner arm an antiseptic wipe as Marty hovered. 

“Thank you so much, Kent,” Gabby was saying gratefully. She was wearing a slinky floor-length gown with high slits and a tiara, but also combat boots, a gun holster, and a sash that read Miss Congeniality. “I’m the only person who can cut herself while trying to uncap a bottle of beer, I swear.” 

“No worries, Gabs,” Kent reassured her. “I mean, you’re talking to a man who almost loses a limb whenever he tries to give his cat a bath. You’re doing fine.” He reached into the open first aid kit nearby and fished out a band-aid, swiftly unwrapping it and smoothing it across the scrape. “There we go. Good as the gold strike.”

Gabby laughed, her long curtain of dark hair swishing back. “Aren’t you going to kiss it better?” she teased. 

“That’s a dangerous thing to ask of Kent Parson at a party, babe,” Kent warned her. “You don’t know where these lips have been.” He cast a sly glance at Alexei, acknowledging him, Jack, and Bitty for the first time. “But maybe our host would like to do the honors?”

Very aware of how Jack had stiffened beside him at the sight of Kent and unable to avoid noticing the glare of nuclear winter extremes Bitty was aiming in Kent’s direction, Alexei decided he needed to lighten the mood. So he gallantly swept up Gabby’s hand and clasped it gently in both of his, looking at her mock-solemnly. 

“Be great honor,” he told her. “If I’m be kissing hand of lovely Gabby. Very kind and generous woman. She even be getting award for it,” he added, nodding at her sash.

Gabby grinned at him. “Only if that kiss comes with the promise of dancing,” she replied, shooting Marty a teasing glance. “Usually my wonderful husband has to see me dancing with at least three different guys before it even occurs to him to ask me.”

Alexei could still feel the dual stares of Jack and Bitty boring into the back of his head, and Marty was shooting Kent quizzical glances. He liked Gabby, and he would have loved to dance with her under any other circumstances, but he probably should explain the situation before any arguments spoiled the good time.

“I’m be kissing,” he said, raising her hand and softly pressing his lips to her fingers. “And Kent be dancing. Once in life chance to party with the Parser.”

“I’ll take it,” Gabby said, laughing. She thumped Marty on the shoulder and gave him a quick kiss of his own before leading Kent out by the bicep. 

“Yeah, you will, baby!” Kent enthused as he was towed away. “Trust me,” he told her, slinging an arm around her shoulder, “ain’t nothing this Vegas boy likes better than seeing someone take a chance.”

The remaining four watched them go for a moment before Marty turned to Alexei with a quirked eyebrow.

“Speaking of Vegas—why the hell isn’t Parson there? Why is he at your house?” he asked skeptically. 

Alexei didn’t have much of an answer to that. “I’m be not knowing,” he replied honestly, only able to give Marty, Bitty, and Jack a shrug. “Snowy be sending him. I’m open front door and find Kent Parson.” He tried his best to keep any of the happiness that had surged through him at the unexpected discovery out of his voice, but couldn’t stop himself from throwing a guilty glance Jack’s way. Here was his friend standing just a meter apart from him, and all Alexei could do was lust after his rival.

“Huh.” Marty glanced over in the direction of the family room, even though the angle obscured it from view. He seemed more curious about Kent’s presence than anything else, and not at all concerned about his wife waltzing off with Kent. “So Snowy’s the culprit, then?”

Both Jack and Bitty started to speak in that moment, with a heated “Well, I’d say so” from Bitty and a “But why would he—” from Jack. But they were both overwhelmed by a new voice overpowering them as Snowy strode into the kitchen to join them.

“Yeah, that would be me,” he said easily, shooting them all a roguish grin. It went well with the long pirate coat and feathered tricorner hat he wore. He hadn’t stopped there: a fake hoop glinted in his eyebrow and kohl eyeliner was smudged around his eyelashes. 

“I sent Parson to your house,” he said to Alexei, his tone nonchalant. “Mostly to just see if he would. See, I was the highest bidder on him during a benefit auction back during the summer—‘Win a date with Kent Parson’ or whatever it was—and I decided to save my date until I could bring him to a party with all of the team here. Thought it would be good for a laugh,” he explained lightly, winking at Alexei. “You know, to have Parson celebrating right along with all of us Falcs.”

“Ha ha,” Bitty responded frostily.

Alexei tossed him a quick glance, worried that an argument was going to break out that he wouldn’t know how to stop—he hadn’t understood everything that Snowy had said. A stab of self-consciousness and stress pierced through him as he tried to go over his friend’s words again, trying to piece together their meaning. Auction in particular left him struggling—that sounded a lot like action, a word that PR used whenever they needed to publicize an apology on behalf of the team. But when he looked at Marty’s face, Alexei noticed he didn’t seem worried, so it didn’t seem like Snowy had done anything wrong during the summer. 

Bitty seemed to be the only one offended. Jack’s expression was unreadable, and Marty just shrugged and clapped a hand on Snowy’s shoulder.

“Just the type of plan a scallywag like you would come up with for tonight,” Marty said cheerfully. “And buying Parson at an auction . . . Jesus, you really should be part of the Pirates of the Carribean ride.”    

“Rather a pirate than a, uh—” Snowy eyed Marty’s outfit of a plaid shirt and jeans. “A lumberjack?”

“Nope. Wayne from Letterkenny.” Marty hooked his thumbs in the empty belt loops at his waist. “See? No belt.”

“Such creative. Much imagination,” Snowy replied dryly. Turning from Marty, he sent a nod at Jack and Bitty, before sidling over to Alexei.

“I was beginning to wonder if Parson had kicked you out of your own house and seized it for himself or something,” he commented. “Why are you hiding back in the kitchen? You should be hanging out with all of us guests.”

A guilty flush rose in Alexei’s cheek at the reminder; he hadn’t meant to be a neglectful host.

“Am distract,” he admitted. “Should be doing that now.” He looked at Jack and Bitty. “You being okay for using stove?”

“We’ll cope,” Bitty replied, his tone civil but somewhat cool. 

“Yeah, we’ll be okay,” Jack added, giving Alexei a small smile. “Go and enjoy your party, Tater. Bits and I will manage here.”

“Fantastic,” Snowy said brightly, and then all but steered Alexei in the family room where a number of the guests had gathered, Marty following up behind them.   

Several couples were dancing, Kent and Gabby being one of them. As they watched, Kent twirled Gabby around, her long hair fanning out around her, and she laughed as she spun and then ducked beneath his arm. 

“You going to—ah, lean in?” Alexei asked Marty as he noticed him watching them. 

“I think I’ll spare the team from my dancing for a little while longer,” Marty returned dryly. “Besides, they look like they’re having fun.”

They did. Kent was smiling again, his real smile, and a part of Alexei ached at the sight of it, knowing he might never have the chance to see it again.

“Are you going to cut in?” Snowy inquired, arching an eyebrow at Alexei, its fake gold hoop glinting in the light.

For a split second, the possibility flitted through Alexei’s mind, and he yearned to bring it to life, but he quashed the urge. 

“Am not,” Alexei said hurriedly, very aware of Marty, Jack’s friend and fellow A, standing right beside them. “Dancing be not much for me.”

“Hmm.” Snowy’s ice blue gaze swept over him, and Alexei had the distinct feeling that some kind of plan was evolving in his friend’s mind, but before he could ask about it, Snowy just clapped him on the back. “You’re right, you should be saying hello to everybody instead. And hey, when you’re doing that, do you mind if I add a song to the playlist?”

“Go to it,” Alexei encouraged him. “Goalie pumping self up with music will only be good thing, yeah?” He forced himself to offer Snowy a smile, determinedly not looking again in Kent’s direction. “Help self. I’m greet team.”

With an affectionate pat on the back to Snowy and then Marty, Alexei started to make his rounds, focusing on being a good host and connecting with each one of his guests. Part of it was simply etiquette—he never wanted to make anyone feel unwelcome or ignored in his home—but another part was to distract himself from Kent’s swaying on the dance floor and how much he wanted to be the one dancing with him.

It worked for a while. Chatting with his teammates and their significant others, just hearing about their day-to-day lives, genuinely interested him. He got to hear from Poots and his girlfriend Becca, an extraordinarily pretty college student dressed as Uma Thurman from Kill Bill , about a stray dog they’d found while out hiking and now hoped to adopt. Charger and his wife had recently purchased their first home and were bursting with stories about their adventures in trying to furnish it (“They wouldn’t let us buy the couch if we didn’t buy a warranty plan for it, too. A warranty plan for a fucking couch, can you believe it?”). And Thirdy and Nicole were bursting with pride and eager to share how their daughter had been given an award by her school for being the top reader in the third grade.         

But just as one of the rookies, Ziggy, was introducing Alexei to his girlfriend, the music suddenly changed in song and tempo to a beat and sound that stirred vague images of Egypt and the pyramids in Alexei’s mind. It definitely hadn’t been a song he’d included on the playlist, and, curious, he swiveled to check to the source of the new music, just as most of his guests began looking around as well.

He turned just in time to see Kent, alone on the dancefloor and swaying to the beat, toss off his long black robe to reveal an extremely minimal outfit beneath. Alexei swore he could feel his eyes popping out of his skull as he looked Kent up and down, gaping at his attire—or lack thereof. It took him a moment to realize Kent was actually wearing clothes, not just lingerie.

A skimpy pear green bikini top that might have been no more than a few strips of gauze barely did a thing to cover Kent’s slim upper torso, the sides just wide enough to fit the horizontal slits that allowed slivers of his pale gold flesh to peek through. It sat so low that the top edge seemed in constant danger of dipping even a millimeter down and exposing Kent’s nipples to the world. The material was secured—if that much could be said about it—at the back with a smooth knot. The long silky ties hung down to sway mesmerizingly with each of his movements, stirring and trailing around his middle and drawing even more attention his impressive abs that the bikini already put on clear display. 

Looped around his svelte waist was a sleek gold chain belt that contrasted beautifully with the exceptionally brief pair of bright blue ( Falconers blue, Alexei’s mind automatically supplied) shorts that struggled to contain his plump ass, showcasing every curve in mouthwatering detail. The belt was strung with sheer green and blue wisps of scarves as well as several peacock feathers. All of them draped tantalizingly down around his hips, framing the tops of his thighs and emphasizing the swell of his ass, fluttering with every motion.

Chains seemed to be a repeated accessory for the outfit. Narrow strands linked together in a continuous T-shaped pattern to span the length of Kent’s cream-colored boots, connecting at the line of silver and turquoise studs that ran from knee to toe down the outer leg of their leather sides. Multiple layers of slim gold chains also now rested in his hair, sitting atop his head like a crown. One chain was interspersed with tiny glistening white beads and another with blue. A small silver oval set with iridescent crystals had been strung on the chain closest to his hairline, falling to hang in the center of his forehead, and two more crystals, one on each side, dangled beneath his ears like earrings would, unexpectedly softening his face.

Even the many bare areas of Kent’s body hadn’t been left unadorned. Tiny false gems, similar to the ones Alexei wore on his face, but in red and gold, had been arranged to form a fiery sun around Kent’s navel. Chunky silver body glitter winked from his neck, shoulders, arms, and legs, flashing and gleaming as his shifting muscles caught the light. There was a different, subtler kind of glitter on his face, Alexei realized as he watched Kent dance. That was what he’d spotted when he’d first glimpsed Kent standing on his porch. Now, as Kent turned and twirled beneath the combination of bright lamps and the dim orange and purple light strands, it almost seemed as if his entire face had some kind of radiant glow. And it might just have been Alexei’s imagination, but he could have sworn that Kent’s lips were pinker than normal and now glimmered wetly, as though someone had run a coating of gloss over them.

While Alexei didn’t mean to stare, he couldn’t help it. The movements of Kent’s body, from his undulating hips to his gyrating shoulders, hypnotized him where he stood. Kent didn’t just dance; it wasn’t that simple or passive. And he wasn’t lost in the music, he was an extension of it. The beat wasn’t controlling him or taking hold of his body, it was more like Kent was put on the Earth specifically for this moment, solely for the express purpose of dancing to this one song. He writhed and twisted to the melody, each movement dramatic and shamelessly provocative, but it all looked almost incomprehensibly fluid and graceful, with any shake of his hips or shimmying of his shoulders seeming perfectly natural and suited to his lithe form. 

Also, Alexei couldn’t help but avidly track the movement of the scarves and feathers as they swayed and swirled with the motion of his ass.

“Baby, don’t you wanna dance up on me?” implored the throaty voice of the singer, and as Alexei gaped, Kent dove into the gathered crowd of Falcs for a split second and then emerged with Guy in tow. Pulling him out so they could dance together, Kent grasped his arm and then spun back towards Guy, tucking himself firmly against him so he could mercilessly grind his hips back into Guy’s pelvis. 

“Woohoo, yeaaah! You can get it, Guy!” Thirdy shouted, with several other Falcs yelling encouragement, too.

As Alexei stood, frozen, Guy did just that. With a rare grin on his face, Guy placed both of his large, calloused hands on Kent’s narrow waist, grasping his hips firmly and squeezing them several times as he started to give back to Kent just as good as he was getting. For a moment, Kent’s movements slowed as he threw back his head as if in ecstasy, content to let Guy press up against him and enjoy the sensation as he did. But then he resumed his dancing with even more enthusiasm than ever just seconds later, tilting his head back for a kiss and smiling as he received a peck on the lips from Guy without any hesitation.

The other partygoers all cheered as their perpetually stoic and grouchy D-man let loose his sexy side with the scantily clad captain of the Aces. And for a moment, Alexei was content to grin over at the pair of them, before the smile began to slide off his face as a new thought occurred to him. 

Yes, Kent was beautiful. He was sexy, he was confident, and he was caring, even if his cocky demeanor tended to hide that side of him. 

But this night was the only time Alexei would ever have with this side of Kent. The Kent who materialized on his doorstep at the behest of Snowy to help him with his Halloween party, the Kent who complimented his cooking and smiled at his decorations, the Kent who spotted the most somber person at a party and made a point to draw him out to have fun, would vanish at the end of the night. By tomorrow, he’d simply go back to being the leader of the Falcs’ rivals, to being Jack’s rival, and the camaraderie he and Alexei had shared would have to be forgotten. 

It doesn’t have to happen like that, a traitor voice whispered in Alexei’s head. You don’t have to say goodbye. You could get see this part of him all the time, if you just were willing to take a risk.

Clenching his jaw, Alexei looked away from the sight of Kent and Guy, trying to tamp down the rising desire within him to throw caution to the wind and hazard a chance with Kent. He couldn’t. Jack was one of his captains on a team he loved dearly and had played with since he’d been drafted. And more importantly, Jack was his friend. Even if he didn’t talk about it, Alexei saw how he retreated into himself in the days before an Aces game, spotted the clench in his jaw whenever he glimpsed an interview with Kent on TV.

The tension from Jack was understandable, Alexei had told himself many times over. Kent and Jack had been close once—they’d been best friends, and Jack’s family had billeted Kent throughout Juniors. And for Jack to be faced with Kent’s immediate launch to success, to see Kent claim the Cup and the Calder, would have been incredibly bittersweet and a battle to even cope with. Alexei himself knew how hard on himself Jack could be.

For him to be achingly, agonizingly aware of the hurt Kent’s sheer existence brought to Jack and then go ahead and even consider dating him anyway—well, that would make Alexei an unforgivably terrible friend. So whatever he felt for Kent might as well be buried away. It wasn’t as though it could ever be acknowledged.   

The song changed to something he vaguely recognized as being a remix of the theme music from one of those pirate movies that always seemed to be playing on TV. Alexei forced himself to watch as Guy backed away from Kent with his hands held up in joking protest, desperately wishing he himself could step up and be the next person to dance with Kent. But instead, Snowy was the one who tossed his coat aside, revealing his poofy white pirate shirt beneath, and tugged Kent closer to him with a smile. Kent smirked back at him and didn’t hesitate in the slightest to start grinding into him, too. 

Something inside of Alexei he couldn’t quite name twisted unpleasantly as he watched his closest friend and the frequent star of his fantasies dance together. It wasn’t jealousy, not quite—he just knew he’d never be able to do that with Kent. The certainty of it brought him to clench his jaw and fight not to look away again, but within seconds, he’d given up, turning away entirely. He figured that he go back to the kitchen; finding Bitty and Jack and going through a repeat not-quite-argument over Kent’s presence at the party at all would be less painful.

But before he could bring himself to walk away, there was a tug on his arm, and then Snowy was dragging him over to where Kent was swaying and shimmying. And then, suddenly, Alexei found himself sandwiched in between the both of them, pinned right up against Kent and gazing down at his gleaming golden hair. While it crossed Alexei’s mind to push away, to leave if he truly didn’t want anything to do with Kent, the thought flitted straight out of his mind as Kent wrapped his arms around his neck to lean against him, the warmth of his skin intermingling with the cold of his metal jewelry as he pressed into Alexei’s exposed throat and collarbone. Heat radiated from Kent’s body, easily diffusing through the flimsy fabric of his bikini, almost as though he was entirely naked and crowding into Alexei out of longing for his touch. 

Even though Alexei could still remember every reason he’d listed out in his mind about why he and Kent Parson could never come to pass, in that moment, as he could feel the gyrations of Kent’s hips and the vibrations of his chest with each breath, none of them seemed important any longer. 

He just wanted Kent so, so badly. Wanted this beautiful, sexy, confident champion hockey player to look at him, to direct that wonderful smile his way just one more time. 

And now? Now that was happening. Now he had Kent for however much longer this song lasted.

One song would be okay, Alexei convinced himself as he let his hands drift to Kent’s waist and settle there. It was just one song. That was all.

But as he inhaled and breathed in the sugary scent of Kent’s body glitter that brought images of frosted cupcakes to spring into his mind, only detecting the barest trace of Kent’s citrusy cologne beneath it, he couldn’t ease the rising temptation to do whatever he had to do to make certain that he could hold Kent this way anytime he wanted.

All too soon, the song ended, and Kent pulled away from Alexei, grinning up at him. Regret already searing through him, Alexei couldn’t quite bring himself to grin back, but luckily he was rescued from trying and failing by Snowy.

“Damn, that was a hot one,” he drawled in a way Alexei could never quite recall him speaking before. “Tater, didn’t you tell me you’d decorated your backyard? Why don’t you take Kent outside and show him? The two of you can cool off a little bit,” he added, a hint of a pleased smile curving across his lips.

“Yeah, Alexei, why are you holding out on me like this?” Kent teased, his eyes sparkling to match his body glitter. (His eyes were prettier, in Alexei’s opinion.) “And here I thought you’d told me everything. Show me these decorations. I fucking love Halloween.” 

Alexei had been debating whether to make an excuse and run off back to the kitchen, to stand in the same room as Jack and force himself to look at the friend he’d have to give up to get Kent. Now, he glanced at Snowy in surprise, grateful for the opportunity to have time with Kent alone but also flooded with nervousness and dread at the thought.

He fumbled for a response. “Is cold,” he managed. “He be not wearing much,” he added, gesturing at Kent’s flimsy attire.

Kent chuckled, giving his hips a little shake that had heat surging within Alexei. “That’s true.”

“He can take my coat,” Snowy offered, glancing around to spot where it had landed when he tossed it aside. But Guy, who was brushing past them on his way to the spread, overheard them and seemed unable to pass up a chance at chivalry..

“Oh, here, have mine,” he said, shrugging out of the black leather jacket he’d been using for his biker costume and carefully draping it around Kent’s shimmer-encrusted shoulders. 

Kent aimed a winning smile his way that sent Alexei’s heart thumping—not with envy, just with excitement at seeing it all. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Returning his smile, Guy reached out a freckled hand and ruffled Kent’s hair lightly, taking care to avoid the chains, before walking off. 

He’d barely moved three steps away before Snowy was all but steering the two of them towards the rear door. 

“There’s a beautiful moon out there tonight,” he informed them as they stepped out in the cool air. “Be sure to take your time looking at it.”  He then shut the door firmly behind them.

Flummoxed by Snowy’s strange behavior, Alexei’s brain automatically began wondering at his reasons for bringing Kent to the party in the first place when an appreciative sigh from Kent himself distracted him.

“All of if it looks phenomenal,” he told Alexei sincerely, a hint of wonder in his voice.

Turning to survey the results of his hard work, Alexei had to agree that he was very pleased. He’d propped up cornstalks and hay bales in every corner of his deck, patio, and backyard and then strung orange lights all around them. In the lower-hanging branches of his yard’s trees, he’d added purple lights in the shapes of bats or spiders and scattered shimmering silvery-white glow-in-the-dark ghosts amongst them as well. Finally, he’d lined his walkway with flickering torch stake lights and added the occasional spooky resin creature, a black cat or a bullfrog, every few paces. To Alexei, the decorations added up to create the perfect blend of a Halloween and fall atmosphere, and he’d been eager to share it with his team. Unfortunately, the temperature had other ideas, and since he prioritized his duties as a host first and foremost, he was loathe to try to persuade his guests to celebrate in the cold. 

Kent set off further into the yard, pausing every few steps to drink in all of the sights around him, and Alexei snagged a cozy plaid blanket from the pile he kept in a large wicker basket before following him. Eventually they found themselves in the far corner, the one that had the best view of the moon. Kent started to settle down on one of the hay bales, Alexei hurried to stop him.

“Wait,” he told him, and then hastily spread out the fuzzy blanket, draping it over the top of the bale and down the side so that none of the rough straw would prod or scratch at Kent’s bare legs when he sat. “There. Very better.”

There was an odd kind of expression on Kent’s face as he sat down and glanced up at him, a similar kind of look to when reporters were trying to pry every last smidgen of information out of Alexei because they had their sights set on a juicy story. It was like Kent was trying to evaluate him, determine if he were being honest.

Alexei wasn’t quite sure what to do with that kind of look from Kent.

He also wasn’t sure if it would be too much too fast to sit down next to Kent—if he did, they’d be crowded very close together. So he hesitated, but was rescued when Kent patted the spot on the blanket beside him. With a jolt of his stomach, Alexei folded himself down to join him on the hay bale, a thrill zipping through him as he noticed their thighs were unavoidably touching thanks to the close quarters. And then his breath caught in his throat as he realized that their faces were only maybe a foot apart; he had an up-close view of Kent’s face as it glimmered beneath the moonlight.

“You really are very thoughtful, you know,” Kent said softly. “From this blanket—” he twisted its fringe in his fingers, “—to your costume, to not bouncing me back to Boston to hang out with the Bruins when you found me chilling on your porch.”

“Send you back to see Bruins? You friends with all them. If Chara find out I treat you bad, he beat me up next game,” Alexei joked, trying to cover his nervousness. Then Kent’s full sentence registered, and he couldn’t hold back a wide grin. “You know my costume?” he asked, excitement rushing through him. If Kent knew without Alexei having to tell him, then they had—what was it that Gabby frequently mentioned?—right, a real connection.

Kent laughed slightly. “I’d never be able to forget a dress that pink. It practically seared itself into my eyeballs,” he said dryly. “I saw a blurb on your mom at the Olympics back when I was still a rookie. Since she was invited to be a flagbearer that year, they did a little retrospective piece on the time she took the gold medal.”

The Olympics when Kent was a rookie—that would have back in 2010, the year Kent scored the game-winning goal at Vancouver and earned the US hockey team the gold medal. “The golden goal for the golden boy,” the press had repeated whenever they’d had the chance. Kent been the youngest player on any team and the only rookie present that year, but he’d still led his team to victory. And yet, even in the midst of all his accomplishments and acclaim during that time, he was still able to recall the name and costume of a figure skater who’d won her own gold medal more than two decades prior.     

Another surge of affection for Kent and his unexpected kindness rippled through Alexei, and he went to favor Kent with a smile, only to find Kent watching him with a soft but somehow still serious expression. Under the moonlight, Alexei could see that Kent’s eyes were the most enthralling shade of blue-gray he’d ever seen—he wondered suddenly how he’d could have never noticed their amazing color before. 

“I really mean it about letting me hang out,” he said quietly, holding Alexei’s gaze. “Thanks for not kicking me to the curb or anything. I can’t imagine you were really all that thrilled to see me. And I know some guys are okay with treating me like a douchebag because of my reputation for being a douchebag, so it was pretty cool that you didn’t do that.”

The admission stunned Alexei—had Kent really thought that he was some kind of mannerless jackass who’d turn him away at the door? Even if he hadn’t been dreaming of Kent Parson for the better part of two years, he still wasn’t so rude or inhospitable that he’d chase him away instead of inviting him into his home.

“Am tall,” he said, pointing at himself. “But not ogre. Won’t send you off from party without invite you to drink and eat. And you know? Sometimes we all are being douchebags on ice. Part of game. Don’t mean you be douchebag off ice.” Emboldened, perhaps by the need to reassure Kent, he reached out and playfully tapped him on the cheek. “Ice is ice, you are nice.” 

A slight chuckle escaped Kent’s throat, and he leaned his head against Alexei’s shoulder for a few moments. Sparks shot through Alexei at the contact, but the sensation faded to the background of his mind as the words he’d just spoken to Kent echoed within his mind. Ice is ice, you are nice. It was true, not just for Kent, but for many others. Few hockey players were the same people on the ice as they were off of it. 

And off-ice Kent was so, so much more than Jack’s rival. Alexei actually felt somewhat stupid for not realizing that before. As much as he’d fantasized about him, he had never once considered who Kent actually was as a person, instead locked into the view of Kent as some sort forbidden prize he coveted, an opposing player he wanted but could never have. 

But now that he’d spent some time with Kent, now that Alexei had a better understanding of who he was, Kent being Jack’s rival didn’t seem that important, and Alexei found himself questioning why he’d ever considered it to be an insurmountable obstacle. After all, being with Kent would be far more than just being with Kent Parson: Hockey Player. He’d be dating Kent Parson: The Complete Person. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized that earlier.

Meeting with Kent face to face had been a wakeup call, one that Alexei had sorely needed—and he was willing to bet that Jack did, too—that Kent didn’t exist solely to antagonize Jack. He was a human being just like them. And now that Alexei could see how alive and vibrant and genuinely kind Kent was, it almost seemed insulting that he’d never contemplated who Kent was outside of hockey. He couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed.

And suddenly, he knew with clarity that he couldn’t allow his fear of Jack’s reaction influence his decisions about Kent any longer. It wasn’t fair Alexei to himself, and it wasn’t fair to Kent. He had a life and a personality far beyond anything that even involved Jack at all, and in all honesty, so did Alexei. Alexei should have recognized both aspects long ago instead of constantly prioritizing what he thought Jack might want.

Determined to atone for his mistake, Alexei turned slightly and lifted Kent’s head up with one hand so he could look him in the eye. “I think Kent Parson be great and fun,” he said stoutly. “He be helping me and Gabby also, then be dancing with her and Guy also.” He held gazes with Kent, trying to make sure he understood, trying his hardest to communicate that he thought Kent was a fantastic guy who didn’t just care about himself or his team, but all any given person around him. “You not being lucky I let you be here. I am being lucky that you is being here.”

As he’d begun to speak, he’d braced himself for a flood of guilt, steeling himself for self-recriminations for betraying Jack and Bitty along with him. But instead of any doubt or misery, Alexei felt . . . lighter. Better, actually, for speaking his mind to Kent and reassuring him. He didn’t even feel that he’d betrayed Jack or Bitty at all—in fact, he found himself filled with a certainty that he’d made the right choice for himself.  

It seemed as though he’d made the right choice for Kent, too, because the corners of Kent’s mouth tugged up. 

“You’re a great guy, too, Alexei,” he said, and then started to lean forward, closing the short gap between them.

Instinct taking over, and, with his pulse surging and adrenaline pumping, Alexei leaned in to meet him halfway.

Later on, he would never be able to remember who had kissed who first, even as much as he’d go over the event in his mind. But ultimately he’d decide that it didn’t matter, given the outcome.

And it didn’t matter to him now. Because all he knew was that Kent Parson, wonderful Kent Parson, golden boy Kent Parson, was kissing him, pressing his warm, scantily clad body into Alexei’s, a moment that Alexei never actually thought would come true in real life.

The kiss didn’t last long, and it wasn’t deep or passionate but soft and more than a little bit hesitant on both their accounts. Still, as Kent broke away, a hot yet shivery thrill shot through Alexei all the same. The sensation reminded him of times when he walked out of the shade on a cold winter’s day, the chill nipping at his fingertips and toes especially, and stepped into a bright patch of sunlight, the warmth unexpectedly soaking through him. 

While Kent leaned back, Alexei could only remain rooted to the spot, watching Kent with a mix of excitement and trepidation. For a moment, Kent stared at him skeptically, but then his expression lightened into a shy smile.

“Snowden said you were interested, all the way back at that auction in the summer,” Kent remarked, just a trace of insecurity surfacing in his voice. “I thought he was just lying to get his kicks, but you haven’t decked me yet, so . . .” he trailed off, looking at Alexei hopefully.

His English might still be clumsy and stumbling, but Alexei recognized his chance when he saw it, and this time he pounced on it without hesitation.

“Snowy be right,” he declared wholeheartedly, swooping forward to take Kent’s hands in his own, just like they did in the movies. “I’m be interested in Kent Parson, but not thinking Kent Parson be having the time for me.”

That wasn’t quite the issue, not all of it, but Alexei was too damn happy to feel any guilt about Jack at the moment. Kent had kissed him. Kent had kissed him. Alexei was so charged that he could’ve fought through and won all seven playoff games all on his own.       

Unwilling to bring Jack into the conversation, he chose to point out a question that continued to nag at him. “So—Snowy be buying you at . . . action? What be this meaning?”

Kent scoffed and rolled his eyes, his head chains jangling with the gesture, and somehow he even made unmistakeable disdain look good on him. “It was a charity event. People could offer money to go on a date with me, and the person who offered the most money won. Snowy was that person, and he decided he wanted to take a raincheck for a while. Probably to get some kind of plan together. So he called me as soon as you sent out your party invitation. He had a scheme running all along, the bastard.” There was clear admiration in his voice.

The explanation gave Alexei pause—it sounded suspiciously similar to prostitution. “He paying you to be here?”

Kent shook his head. “No. He donated thousands to my favorite charity back during the summer, and then trusted that I would be a man of my word by showing up here tonight. Always a dangerous assumption, but I guess it worked out for him in the end.” He slung an arm around Alexei’s waist, pressing against him again and looking up at him affectionately. “Don’t worry. I’m not kissing you because he paid me. I’m too stubborn to accept that kind of bribe from a Falc, anyway.”  

Relieved, Alexei beamed down at him, fondness for Snowy swelling within him. “It be honor to become the first Falc who be bribing you.”

Kent smiled at him, that wonderfully warm and happy smile that sent Alexei’s heart fluttering. “Well, I’m not going to say no to a good bribe somewhere down the line. But right now?” He slipped off Guy’s jacket, tossing it onto one of the other hay bales. “You can just kiss me good.”

Alexei didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Kent’s hips, he pulled him flush against him, exhaling shakily when he realized he could feel Kent’s thoroughly hard nipples pressing into his own chest, even through the sequined fabric of his costume. The thought had the blood racing directly to his groin, and the feeling of Kent’s smooth hands sliding across his face to cup his jaw only increased the rush.

But then one of Kent’s fingernails snagged on one of the gems Alexei had superglued to his face, the motion yanking sharply on the soft skin of his cheek, and he pulled back abruptly with a hiss and a yelp.

“What’s wrong?” Kent asked immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

Alexei rubbed ruefully at his stinging skin. “My fault, really. I use very strong glue to hold the little sparkles to my face.”

One of Kent’s eyebrows quirked upwardly in a severely skeptical expression. “It wasn’t superglue, was it?” he asked, and then let out noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff at Alexei’s sheepish nod.

“C’mon,” he said, rising to his feet and towing Alexei up with him. “That junk is hell on your skin—one of my rookies once sealed his lips shut and then moaned for days afterward about how rough the residue was.”

“If Kent be saying it important, then it be important to me,” Alexei told him, putting an arm around Kent’s shoulders as they walked back up the path to the back deck, and he was rewarded with Kent looking up at him with an unpredictably tender expression.

A chorus of wolf whistles greeted them as they re-entered the house, Alexei’s teammates seeming to have somewhat accurate suspicions about what had taken place. 

“Damn, Tater, that didn’t take long!” Ziggy shouted after him as he followed Kent into the kitchen, and Alexei didn’t hesitate to good-naturedly flip him off while Kent just sent the rookie a thoroughly unimpressed glance.

The kitchen wasn’t empty when they arrived; Bitty was there, brewing something in a pot over the stove, chatting animatedly with Becca about his own days in college. He broke off suddenly as he spotted the two of them.

“Tater. Kent. Hello again.” To Bitty’s credit, he tried to offer them a smile, but it was strained enough that it ended up unmistakably resembling a Maltese bearing its teeth in warning. “I was just whipping up Becky here some home-brewed hot apple cider. Y’all want a mug?”

Again, Alexei had braced himself to be overcome with guilt at the sight of Bitty, to feel torn between Jack and Kent once again. Maybe it was because Kent had specifically said that he didn’t want Alexei to choose him over Jack, or maybe it was because Alexei had finally realized that he needed to see Kent for his whole self and that it was Jack and Bitty’s own problem if they couldn’t.

Either way, Alexei didn’t feel ashamed. Not when he was here with Bitty, and he was willing to bet he wouldn’t feel it when he would tell Jack the truth, either.

In response to Bitty’s offer, Kent shook his head. “No. Thanks. I don’t do fruit juice. Too sweet.”

“I’m be good,” Alexei told Bitty cheerfully. “Can’t be drinking. Kent must be fixing my face.”

“It’s a change of pace for me,” Kent commented dryly, meandering over to the fridge and pulling out the tub of I Think It Tastes Like Butter and observing the minimal contents remaining within. “Hope you can deal with eating your toast dry, Mashkov, because this stuff is going straight on your face.”

“We’ll, uh, leave you guys to it,” Becca said, picking up her mug of cider and ushering Bitty out of the room.

“This really works?” Alexei inquired as Kent approached him with a glob of the pretend-butter on his fingers.

“Tried and tested,” Kent confirmed. “The grease will help wear down the glue, and then your skin and the rhinestones will separate faster than a suburban couple when the breadwinner husband loses his white collar job.”  

If someone had told Alexei that his night would involve a practically nude Kent Parson slathering margarine product all across his cheeks and jawline, he would have assumed he was misunderstanding some kind of American joke or saying too deeply based in the country’s culture for him to catch onto. Nevertheless, he was more than happy to lean back against the counter and let Kent do his work, biting back a grin when he realized he could peer straight down down Kent’s bikini. Once he was aware of his view, he had to fight temptation not take advantage of it again, but then stopped bothering when he found himself simply giving in over and over again.

Kent, meanwhile, only smirked as he spotted the direction of Alexei’s gaze and proceeded to lean up against him as close as possible as he gently peeled one gem after another off of his face. The process wasn’t painless; Alexei winced throughout at the tugging and yanking on his skin. But the sweet, airy scent of Kent’s body glitter, as well as the sensation of his warm body unashamedly tucked close to Alexei’s own, were both welcome distractions.

“All done,” Kent said after what seemed like both too long and too short of an amount of time, stepping back. Disappointment swooped briefly in the pit of Alexei’s stomach at the loss of contact, but it evaporated as Kent broke out into an unmistakable grin.   

“What be funny?” Alexei asked.

“Your face is all greasy from that fake butter,” Kent replied, clearly fighting down a laugh. The undisguised happiness was a wonderful look on him. “And I guess I must have accidentally rubbed some of my glitter onto your face. You’ve got more sparkles on it now than you did when we started.”

The grin on Kent’s face was much like his smile—earnest and infectious—and Alexei found himself grinning back. He reached out to draw Kent close to him again, pulling him in by the shoulders and then sliding his large hands to Kent’s narrow waist.

“Is good, maybe?” he asked, looking down at Kent, loving that he could feel every one of his movements. “This way, everyone be seeing me and knowing I am belonging to you.”

Kent’s unbridled happiness faded slightly at that, the same hint of insecurity flickering in his eyes again. “You want to belong to me?”

For an instant, Alexei wasn’t sure how to respond, nerves and uncertainty momentarily suppressing his English altogether. But the words slowly pieced themselves together in his mind, and when he spoke, he knew he was exposing a portion of his heart with them.  

“I’m wanting us to be belonging with each other,” he said quietly, holding Kent’s gaze. “Sometimes, I’m be thinking I’m not to want Kent Parson because Jack Zimmermann be on my team. What kind of friend I be if I be dating my friend’s rival? But now I’m seeing you being here, I’m seeing you with my other friends, and I’m seeing entire Kent Parson. And I’m wanting to date entire Kent Parson. You are being a lot more than just Jack’s rival on ice. You are person I’m being happy to be around.”

In terms of love confessions, it was probably one of the most inelegant of its kind to ever be spoken out loud. But it made Kent smile his beautiful smile all the same, so to Alexei, it was a victory. 

“It’s a hell of a guy who knows Jack and loves him but chooses me anyway,” he said to Alexei, the insecurity in his eyes fading into something far more tender. “But I don’t want you for that. I like your style, plain and simple. You bring your whole self to whatever you do. You play with your whole heart, and you’re there to offer your team everything you have. You’re dedicated. And you’re . . .” he gave a self-conscious shrug. “You’re nice to me. I want that. I want all of that.”

“You will get all of that,” Alexei vowed, exhilaration pumping through him. He could hardly believe that Kent, the superstar of the NHL, had not only noticed so many traits of his but thought highly of him for them. It seemed almost unreal that they’d been his deciding factor in choosing Alexei when he could have anyone else he wanted. And yet, here Kent was, speaking to Alexei earnestly and honestly.

Gently, tenderly, Alexei cupped Kent’s face with his large hands. “I’m always being nice to you, Kent. I promise. You deserve such nice, and I want to being one who give to you.”

“Thank you,” Kent replied lowly, looking up at Alexei with the softest eyes he’d ever seen and laying a hand on his arm. “Seal that promise with a kiss?”

“I’m cannot wait,” Alexei assured him. “Won’t even be minding the glitter.”

After saying his goodbyes and pointing out in response to any protests that his wife was at home with a sick and cranky eighteen-month-old, Snowy slipped out the front door, striding down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk. Whistling jauntily as he walked along, he congratulated himself on a job well done where Parson and Tater were concerned. Usually, he was content to leave matchmaking in insultingly terrible romcoms where it belonged, but desperate times and all that. Sometimes he swore that Tater would give up hockey entirely and take up lacrosse if he thought it would be best for Jack, Jesus.

Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t that Snowy had anything against Tater being nice to his teammates. One of the many reasons why Snowy was proud to consider Tater his best friend was because of Tater’s insistence on always being there for the people who needed him, Snowy in particular. So Snowy thought it was only fair that he return the favor.

When he’d first learned of Tater’s crush on Parson last season, Snowy had actually found it pretty funny that he would be drawn to the guy who routinely wiped the floor with their team, even if Parson was more than hot enough to make the interest understandable. And then when months passed and Alexei’s infatuation remained, Snowy realized that the crush was more than just a case of a passing attraction. He’d decided then to do something about it and went on to nab Parson at that charity auction. While initially he hadn’t been sure of what he was going to do with Parson at the time, and he hadn’t even been sure he’d be able to convince Tater to make a move tonight, he was glad that he had. It was high time Tater took something for himself and stopped putting Jack’s feelings before himself. 

After all, Tater had been forced to watch as the team who drafted him, the team he’d carried on his back through game after game, the team for which he’d specifically gone to tutoring to learn English, awarded Jack an A after the latter had only spent a few months with the team. Both Tater and Snowy and probably a few more savvy of the others knew that if “Zimmermann” hadn’t been Jack’s last name, Tater would have been wearing the A on his jersey instead. It was a simple matter of deserving it more and having demonstrated his devotion to the Falcs repeatedly. He’d been with the team longer and showed leadership throughout every one of his seasons. But Tater was a Russian who still struggled to adapt to US culture, not a good Canadian boy, and the latter would always win out over the former.

So Snowy wasn’t really all that concerned with Jack’s feelings where Tater and Parser were concerned. Sure, he loved the guy like he loved all the rest of his teammates, but if Tater could learn to cope with Jack being named alternate captain, then Jack could deal with a teammate dating his ex boyfriend or former best friend or once upon a time hookup, or whatever the hell Parson had been to him. With Jack, it could be really hard to tell.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Snowy set off down the street to the church parking lot where he’d left his SUV (Tater’s neighborhood was beautiful, but the street parking was total ass). He had a suspicion that Tater might be frantically calling him either tomorrow or the day after, wracked with guilt over the possibility that he’d “betrayed” Jack by starting something with Parson. If he did, Snowy would be there to soothe him and talk him through it. And then he’d be there to shake some sense into Jack if Jack caught wind of Tater’s romantic choices and got pissy.

Tater had been there for Snowy. Tater been there for Jack. Now, it was time for the both of them to be there for him.

Epilogue

Captains’ Log

7:48 PM EST

Parson: Evening, gentlemen. Who wants me to be a Slave 4 U? 

<Attach IMG_4098>

Giroux: HOLY SHIT

Ovechkin: Me first! )))))

Crosby: Those shorts don’t do you any favors and just make your ass look really big. Maybe try some pants? Might be more flattering.

Chara: Make sure you wear a jacket if you go outside. It’s chilly on the East Coast at night this time of year.

11:33 PM EST

Parson: Never mind. Went to a party, netted a Falc. #Winning