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Mitch huffed as he plopped down on the couch. He had just woken up from his third nap in the last 36 hours. Switching on the television he skimmed through the channels, looking for something, anything to watch. He huffed again when he found nothing. Not having hockey to play was going to be the death of him.
He exhaled and pushed off the couch. He plodded to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cupboards and the refrigerator, he found some leftover chicken and orange juice. Mitch poured a glass of the orange juice and grabbed a fork for the chicken. Not wanting to waste the energy to walk to the dining room, he ate right where he was standing. Mitch winced a couple of times at the strange flavour combination of the orange juice and the pesto sauce on the chicken, but he managed to finish both without incident. He placed the dishes in the sink and told himself he would wash them later; Lord knew he had time.
Pacing around the kitchen for fifteen minutes left Mitch no closer to an idea of what to do than he was when he started. He huffed and sat on the floor in front of the oven. He rested his head against the door with a soft thunk. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his elbows on his knees. Mitch pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the team group chat. Everyone was sharing pictures of what they were doing around the house. Mo had fixed a leaky faucet by himself, which had earned him a few chirps for waiting so long.
Mitch was about to put his phone away when he got a personal text message from Soupy. Mitch cocked his head as he opened the message.
To: Marner
From: Soupy
I know we’re supposed to be quarantined, but could you come to hang out with me? Buddy and Fettuccine were supposed to arrive today... now they’re not coming for god knows how long because of everything that’s happening.
A few strings tugged away at Mitch’s heart. He knew how much Soupy loved his cats. Soupy talked about their adventures together all the time and talked about how much he missed them nearly as often.
To: Soupy
From: Marner
Of course, dude! I’ll be there in two minutes. :D
As Mitch slipped into a pair of shoes to head up to Soupy’s apartment, he was struck with a sudden thought. Soupy could’ve picked any of the players that lived in the building. He could’ve picked any of the players that lived on the same floor as him. He had chosen Mitch. Something warm and soft bubbled in Mitch’s gut at the thought of Soupy picking him. Swallowing nervously, Mitch made his way to Soupy’s apartment.
When he knocked on the door, Soupy answered in a faded LA Kings shirt and loose blue sweatpants. His hair was tousled and sticking out in various directions. Mitch nervously swallowed as Soupy stepped aside to let him enter.
“Thank you for coming,” Soupy said. His voice sounded strained as if he’d been crying. “I’m not exactly doing the best since receiving word my cats weren’t coming anymore.” He motioned to his face. It was then that Mitch noticed the puffy circles around Soupy’s eyes and the red tint to the corneas.
Mitch nodded sympathetically. “Anything for a friend, man.” Soupy smiled, but Mitch thought he saw something contradictory in Soupy’s eyes.
Soupy guided Mitch to the living room. He had set up a game of NHL 20 on the television; it was cued to the team selection menu. Mitch smiled and jumped over the back of the couch to grab the player one controller. Soupy chuckled and calmly walked over to sit beside Mitch.
“I thought we could play tonight’s game on here instead,” Soupy said. He made his point by selecting Nashville as the away team.
“Yeah, I like that idea,” Mitch beamed as he selected Toronto as the home team.
Mitch was fiddling with the lines, trying to match them to what he thought they would’ve been that night. When he got to the goalie screen, he turned to Soupy. “Who should I make the goalie? You or Fred?”
Soupy shrugged without looking at Mitch. “That depends on who you think Keefe would’ve put in tonight.” He was flipping through Nashville’s lines, leaving them relatively untouched. “I’m going with Saros because Rinne didn’t play well against you guys last time.”
Nodding, Mitch turned back to the game and switched Freddie out for Soupy. He quickly glanced at Soupy and noticed a small blush rising on his face. Mitch grinned and turned back to the game.
At the start of the official game, Soupy won the faceoff. He passed the puck around a few times before the virtual Josi received it at the point. Soupy pressed the button to wind up for a slapshot, but Mitch sneaked in with virtual Hyman and bolted down the ice with the puck. Soupy cursed and made virtual Josi and virtual Ellis chase after him. Having a clear-cut breakaway, Mitch made virtual Hyman delay and then shoot blocker side on virtual Saros. The net lit up green and the spotlight found virtual Hyman as he skated to the corner. Mitch smiled and did a thrusting motion with his arm. Soupy chuckled and gave Mitch a fist bump.
“Nice goal, Marns.” Soupy brushed his knuckles across Mitch’s. Whether it was intentional or not, something warm blossomed inside Mitch’s abdomen at the feeling.
“Thanks, Soupy,” he croaked. He tried to hide the distortion in his voice with a cough, but Soupy looked at him with a tilted head and sideways smile. Thankfully, he said nothing on the matter.
As the game progressed, Mitch was winning 2-0 by the end of the second period; virtual Nylander had scored on a powerplay toward the middle of the second period. Even though he was losing, Soupy looked like he was having the time of his life. Mitch caught Soupy glancing at him a few times; each time, Mitch smiled warmly. Soupy would always duck his head as if he was embarrassed about being caught. There was something inside Mitch that found that endearing and adorable.
Nearing the end of the third period, Soupy decided to pull virtual Saros to give Nashville a 6-on-5 advantage. With the score still being 2-0, the move made sense to Mitch. As the play continued, virtual Barrie passed the puck to virtual Soupy. Mitch glanced briefly at the Soupy sitting beside him. Exhaling softly, Mitch pressed the button to make virtual Soupy shoot the puck towards the empty net. When the puck went in the net, Mitch looked at Soupy. He had frozen in place, finger hovering over the body checking button. Soupy slowly turned to face Mitch. The look he had on his face made Mitch melt.
Soupy’s face was plastered with an elation Mitch couldn’t begin to describe. Soupy paused the game before leaning over and wrapping Mitch in a giant hug. Mitch smiled into Soupy’s shoulder as he hugged back.
“Thank you,” Soupy said. “That made me feel better about the cats.” He ran a hand through his hair. When it made it more tousled, Mitch swallowed a lump that was in his throat.
Mitch didn’t trust himself to talk and not give away how he was feeling; he nodded instead and hoped Soupy found that sufficient. Soupy tilted his head and gave Mitch a lopsided smile. Fondly, Mitch looked at Soupy. Soupy’s expression shifted to something Mitch couldn’t decipher. He moved closer, dropping his controller between them.
“If I’m reading this wrong, let me know.”
Soupy leaned in and briefly brushed his lips across Mitch’s. He darted his glance to Mitch’s eyes. When Mitch nodded, Soupy firmly pressed their lips together. Mitch dropped his controller and grabbed Soupy’s face. Soupy grinned into the kiss, grabbing Mitch’s shoulders. Mitch felt electric as they kissed. The electricity coursed through his veins and pulsed in his ears. It was the best kiss he’d ever had. Said kiss lasted for a solid two minutes before they pulled apart. Soupy’s hair was a mess and his lips were red. Mitch felt his chest tighten at that.
Running a hand through his hair, Soupy smiled softly. “Since we’ve already broken protocol, do you just want to spend the entire quarantine with me?”
“On one condition,” Mitch replied.
“That being?”
“You kiss me again.”
Soupy chuckled and kissed Mitch again. Mitch felt a thousand fireworks going off inside him. If every kiss with Soupy felt like this, he couldn’t wait to spend these two weeks with him. Quarantine for two weeks wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d originally thought.