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Casey rolls his shoulders as he opens the door to his dorm hall. Hockey practice severely kicked his ass tonight, and his back feels like Coach has been tap dancing on it for two hours. He’s buzzing with the energy of a good workout, though, and he half-skips down the hall to his door.
While not paying attention, he trips on something. Ends up with a mouthful of dorm carpet, his favorite late-night snack.
He sits up, rubs his jaw, looks over his shoulder. It wasn’t a some thing , he realizes, he tripped over some one . There’s a man sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall between his dorm and the one next door. He’s pretty, too, with the greenest eyes Casey’s ever seen.
Those bright green eyes are blinking blearily at him, and Casey realizes that this guy was asleep. In the hallway. His brain goes a thousand miles per hour as he tries to figure out why this man would be sleeping in the hall.
“Did you get locked out?” he asks, at the same time the guy says, “Shit, did I trip ya?”
They both pause, look at each other. The guy cracks a sheepish grin.
“Sorry ‘bout that. I’m Raph,” he presses to his feet and offers a hand to Casey.
Casey takes it, lets the guy—Raph—haul him to his feet. It takes one hand, barely any effort, and Casey definitely doesn’t stare at the way Raph’s bicep flexes and shifts. When Casey’s back on his feet, he realizes: he’s a full head taller than this guy. He’s looking at the top of his head, or would be if Raph wasn’t looking up at him, and he can see directly down Raph’s loose red tank top. He’s not staring, of course, but he thinks maybe he sees the wink of metal somewhere around the chest area.
Raph is looking at him with wide, green green green eyes. Casey’s brain is short circuiting, maybe, because there’s no thoughts happening besides ‘Wow, Raph is fucking gorgeous. I wonder if he’s gay’.
“Hey, man, did ya hit your head?” Raph is taking stock of the duffle bag that’s still on the floor, hockey sticks poking out one end. “Oh shit, you’re an athlete? Fuck, if I gave ya a concussion I’ll never forgive myself.”
That snaps Casey back into the moment. “No, no, I’m good, sorry.” He kicks his bag up against the wall, leans against it, subtly flexes his own biceps. “Yeah, I play hockey. I’m the starting center.”
“Oh fuck, 12? You’re Casey Jones ?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Casey chuckles, a little awkwardly. “Your local campus celeb, I guess.”
“Dude, that score you made on Utica last week? That was insane!”
“Thanks, thanks. Uh. What are you doing sleeping in the hallway? Did you get locked out? You can call the police, y’know, if you can’t find an RA.”
“Nah, it ain’t that,” Raph brandishes his key card. “My roommate—my brother, has a boy over. I’ve been sexiled. But I’m trying not to think about that because, ew, he’s my brother.”
His brother has a boy over. Casey mentally files that. Not homophobic, then.
“Ugh, shit, that sucks.”
“Yep. Relegated to the hallway.”
“Not the common room? There are couches—”
“Nope,” Raph interrupts, “They’re missing.”
“ Again ?”
“Uh huh. I hope whoever’s got ‘em returns ‘em soon. I can’t afford that shit.”
Casey barks a laugh. “Alright, Raph. Ya wanna come in? I’ve got a single.”
Raph’s eyes light up, and maybe Casey’s imagining it, but he thinks his face flushes. He grins up at him, “Yeah? Maybe I’d like that.”
“Maybe?” Casey grins back, he really likes this guy, “Y’ain’t gotta if ya don’t wanna. If it’s only maybe, then maybe I’ll take back my offer.”
“Yeah? I betcha would, asswipe,” Raph scoops up Casey’s heavy ass bag and slings it over his shoulder like it’s nothing.
“Alright, lemme grab my keys, barfaroni.”
Raph snorts, holds out Casey’s bag. “Ain’t got it on your phone, camelbreath?”
“Dome-head.”
Raph gasps dramatically, hand splaying across his sternum. “Elf-lips.”
Casey is snickering as he grabs his key card. Raph lets the bag swing back towards his hip as Casey pushes the door open. “Here ya go, dorm room sweet dorm room. Come on in, fungoid.”
“Cringe,” Raph smiles and follows Casey in.
Casey gestures towards the closet door, and Raph obediently drops the bag in front of it. He then spins in a slow circle, taking stock of the room. His eyes flash towards the windows and the doors, so briefly Casey almost didn’t notice.
“Nice dorm, uh. What letter are we on?”
“Um. G?”
“Nice dorm, gack-face.”
“Thanks a lot, hose-brain.”
“Okay, okay, I’m out, you win.” Raph is grinning. “Seriously, though, can’t believe you’d invite a stranger into your dorm. Ya thinkin’ of kidnappin’ me or somethin’?”
“Maybe I am,” Casey offers a genuine smile, but it slips pretty quickly. “I saw ya lookin’ at the exits. You ain’t gotta stay if ya don’t feel safe.”
Raph looks up, green eyes (seriously, Casey thinks, golf courses want what he has) wide, like he wasn’t expecting Casey to notice.
“Oh, oh, no no no. It’s not. I, uh. My dad is. Paranoid? It’s uh, reasonable, I think, cuz of his past ‘n all. It’s just. A habit, we all picked up from him? My brothers do it too.
Casey nods, easily picking up the blatantly nervous energy radiating off his new friend. “It’s cool, man, no worries. You can leave whenever ya want.”
Raph nods, playing with his fingers, clearly still anxious. Casey hops casually onto his bed.
“Brothers, huh? You got more than just the one next door?”
Raph’s anxiety melts away, and he lights up. His eyes seem to get brighter, which Casey didn’t think was possible.
“Oh yeah, I got three siblings. They’re pretty great, I’d die for ‘em, y’know?”
“Tell me about ‘em,” Casey doesn’t quite ask, shifting over to make room for Raph on the bed.
He hops up after only a brief hesitation. “Mikey is the one next door. He’s the youngest. He’s a freshman this year. He’s got pretty bad anxiety, so I’m livin’ with him for the year. Doesn’t seem to be having any trouble making friends, though.”
Raph throws an annoyed glance in the direction of his own dorm room, and Casey realizes that by friends , he means whoever it is that got him kicked out for the night. He snorts. Raph looks back at him, and despite the sardonic twist of his lips, his eyes are soft.
“Anyways. Don’s the middle child. He’s. Well, he’s a genius. He graduated high school a year early, he’s double majoring in mechanical and computer engineering.”
“That’s a little cliche, huh? Introducing him by his major,” Casey teases.
Raph throws him this bright smile that makes Casey’s heart stop, “Well that’s the thing. Ya can’t talk about Don without talking about engineering. It’s part of who he is. He builds the coolest shit, man, made phones for my brothers and me from scratch. I still don’t know how he got us on a service plan.
“Leo’s my sister. She’s my twin, technically, but she loves to claim that she’s older than me. Acts like it, too, the brat.” His smile turns fond, and he’s looking at the ceiling like he’s watching memories play out up there.
“Hang on, she? Ain’t Leo a masc name?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s trans,” Raph waves his hand flippantly, “Loves her name, though, because it makes a set with the rest’a ours.” He snorts.
“So, trans sister, gay brother,” Casey starts, pulling Raph’s attention back to him. “What about the rest of ya?”
“Oh, yeah. Well Mike is pan, and of course Leo’s trans. Don is ace, and I think he might be aro, too, but he ain’t come to that conclusion himself yet, so I ain’t gonna say nothin’ about it.”
“And… you?” He’s trying so hard to be casual about it, but he can see a knowing glint in Raph’s eyes as he leans in.
“Me? What about me, Jones?”
Hearing his name in Raph’s voice makes his brain stutter, and Casey just sorta stares at him, wide eyed. Raph has this smirk on his face that Casey thinks might be flirty, but maybe that’s the gay panic he’s experiencing. Raph leans in closer, close enough that Casey can smell his cologne. It’s leathery and woody, and underneath it, a subtle hint of vanilla. Casey is obsessed . And he just keeps looking into Raph’s too-green eyes, silently, like a fucking dumbass.
Raph leans back, laughing, “I’m bi. Whatcha freakin’ for, man?”
It’s Casey’s mouth’s turn to stutter, “I– uh– I don’t– what are— what d’ya mean?”
Raph slugs him gently in the shoulder, head tipped back in laughter, calloused knuckles dragging across Casey’s skin. Casey can’t help but laugh too.
…
Casey doesn’t run into Raph for a couple weeks after that, which might be strange, if they’d ever run into each other before that night. But he hadn’t slept great last night, so he decides to swing by the campus coffee shop to get some caffeine. He places his order (hot coffee with oat milk, no sugar, and a vanilla scone), pays, and swings around to look for a seat. Casting his gaze around the cafe, he pauses on familiarly striking green eyes. Raph is sitting on the corner couches with three other people, who Casey assumes are his siblings.
He picks Leo out easily enough, even though her back is to him. She’s the only one of them with long hair. It’s the same rich chocolatey brown as Raph’s, and half of it is pinned back with a blue hair bow. Donnie must be the one sitting next to Raph. He has the back panel of a computer open on his lap, he’s poking around the electronics with a tiny screwdriver. Raph’s hand is up and open like he might be holding the tiny screws. That leaves Mikey, who must be the one sitting beside Leo. His most defining feature, from this angle, is his not-quite-an-afro mop of bleach blond curls.
He turns his gaze back to Raph, trying to analyze whether it would be okay to go over and say hi. Raph’s face is tight, like he’s annoyed, and he leans forward minutely to snap something at either Mikey or Leo. His shoulders are loose, though, and his left ankle is resting on his right thigh, with his free arm thrown over the back of the couch. Casey goes to turn away—Raph hadn’t seemed that relaxed the night he crashed in Casey’s dorm, and Casey feels like he might be intruding on a vulnerable moment. But then.
“Casey?” the barista calls, and he turns back around to grab his snack.
When he spins around again, Raph’s eyes are trained on him. They make eye contact and Raph breaks into a grin, waves. “Jones!”
Hooked by those eyes (has Casey mentioned his new favorite color is that specific shade of green?), he almost floats across the room to the corner couches.
Raph stands and claps him on the shoulder when he gets close enough, giving him a small grin before turning to his siblings.
“See, guys? I told’ya I met the hockey team’s starting center.”
“No way ,” the guy Casey assumes to be Mikey’s jaw drops. “Your secret boyfriend is actually number 12?”
Raph’s hand snaps off of Casey’s shoulder like it’s burned him, and he tucks it under the opposite shoulder. “He ain’t my boyfriend, Mike. We ain’t even talked since the night you had Leatherhead over.”
“Leatherhead?” Casey asks, semi-incredulous. “You mean the hockey goalie who never talks to anyone?”
“That’s the one!” Mikey grins, and it looks exactly like Raph’s.
“Maybe you haven’t talked because you didn’t think to give him your phone number, Raph,” Don says, and Casey grins, leans over Raph.
“Hey, yeah, you didn’t.” He’s absolutely using his height to his advantage, trying to intimidate Raph, but Raph steps into him anyway, unshaken. “You gonna offer me your number?”
“You gotta earn that, Jones.”
“Ew, can you guys please not flirt in front of us?” Donnie gripes. “And Raph, I need those screws back.”
Raph huffs and backs out of Casey’s personal space, and Casey is absolutely certain he’s blushing nearly as red as his shirt. He plops back down next to Donnie, offers out the screws.
“Casey, would you like to sit with us?” Leo offers, and Casey isn’t sure if she’s just being polite.
Raph’s eyes flash to his, though, and Casey decides, yeah, he really does.
“Uh, sure, thanks,” Casey mutters, and Raph scoots over to make space for him.
Casey stares for a moment, Raph’s arm is thrown over the back of the couch again. He glances at Raph, who’s looking straight at him, the challenge evident on his face. Holy shit , Casey is so fucking into him. He shoots a look back at Raph of equal intensity, plops down on the couch, all up in Raph’s space. The shade of red painted across Raph’s cheeks as he pointedly doesn’t look at Casey is incredible.
Leo rolls her eyes, “So Casey. We heard that Raph told you about us. Did he ask you anything about yourself?”
Casey grins and leans into Raph’s side, rolling his head back to rest on the arm behind him. This close, he can hear the way Raph’s breath hitches at the contact.
“No, he didn’t. That was my fault, though. Hot guy napping in the hallway? I had to know more,” he shrugs.
Donnie makes a gagging noise and Raph elbows him in the ribs to silence him, nearly causing him to drop the screwdriver.
Leo frowns at Raph, who in turn, looks down at his beat-to-shit high tops. “Well, he should have asked,” she directs towards Raph. “But since he has no manners, I will. Tell us about yourself,” and she’s back to talking to Casey.
“I, uh. Well, I guess, um. I’m a sports science major, and I’m on the hockey team. Um, I’ve got a little sister named Angel. She’s in high school.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Is there, uh, anythin’ specific you wanna know?”
“How’d you get into hockey? How do you feel about the infinite marching of time leading us steadily towards death?” Mikey rambles, eyes bright and wearing a playful smile.
Leo rolls her eyes, Raph groans into his hand, and even Donnie looks up from what he’s doing to stare at his little brother.
“Um,” Casey starts, laughing nervously. “ I played hockey a lot with my dad when I was a kid, ended up good enough for a scholarship. And I’m. Not quite sure how to answer the other one.”
“You ain’t gotta answer the other one,” Raph grumbles, shooting a glare at Mikey. “Could you, like. Not embarrass me for 5 fucking minutes?”
They hang out for an hour or so, well after Casey’s coffee is empty and he’s split his scone with Raph. It turns out that not only is Raph super interesting, but all of his siblings are too. It’s some of the most fun Casey’s had since he came to school, outside of hockey, and he finds himself regretting that he’s just met the Hamatos now.
…
Coffee with Raph and his siblings becomes a weekly thing. They meet every Wednesday after Casey’s 2:30. It becomes routine, something Casey looks forward to. It’s at one of these coffee hours that Casey casually throws himself into his seat next to Raph, subtly sliding his hand into his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the slips of paper hiding in there.
“Hey,” he greets, and after the chorus of greetings he gets back, he asks, “Are you guys busy tonight?”
“Tonight?” Raph thinks for a minute. “Nah, I don’t think so. We were supposed to go have dinner with our pop, but he’s sick, so he canceled. Why?”
Casey can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face as he pulls out the tickets and presses them into Raph’s hand. “Wanna come to my game?”
He catches the attention of the other three with that, and he shifts under the oppressive weight of all four stares.
“Tonight's game?” Donnie asks, mouth open slightly.
“Against UConn?” Leo blinks at him.
“Um. Yeah? What, why are you guys looking at me like that?”
Raph closes his hands around the tickets, fingers brushing slowly across Casey’s own. “Yeah, we’d love to come,” his bright green eyes flicker back and forth between the paper in his hand and Casey’s eyes, incredulous. “Thank you for the tickets.”
Casey thinks he’s probably imagining Raph fluttering his eyelashes at him, but he flushes bright red anyways, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, yeah, no problem.”
Mikey gives him a grin that looks like he knows exactly what Casey is thinking.
…
He shoots down the ice, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, teeth clenched tight around his mouthguard, biscuit right in front of him. He can sense the UConn defenders hot at his heels, but they left the slot wide open, and he gears up for the shot. He fakes a clapper towards the upper right corner of the net, the goalie shoots towards it, and Casey slides the puck into the bottom left corner. A grin lights up his face as the goal horn goes off, followed quickly by the final buzzer. He can hear the crowd screaming, and he circles around the back side of the net, skates back towards his team. The home crowd is on their feet, and Casey scans the front few rows for Raph while his teammates clap each other on the shoulders and slap his helmet.
He locks in on Raph’s green, green eyes (seriously, best color ever). Raph’s at the front of the stands with his siblings. All four of them are on their feet, but Raph is standing on the railing, leaning over it, yelling. The expression on his face is nothing short of beautiful , Casey thinks, and he holds that in his mind as he and his teammates crowd off the ice and towards the locker rooms.
He showers and changes as quickly as he can, and of course his team notices.
“Hey, Boomer, whatcha rushing out for? Ya got a girl waiting?” the team captain cajoles.
Casey looks up at his nickname, grins, “Somethin’ like that.”
Cap nods, waves him off. “I’ll tell coach you had to jet. Great job tonight, Booms. Now go get her.”
Casey claps him on the shoulder as he throws his duffle over his shoulder. He’s rushing out the door when he spots Leatherhead out of the corner of his eye. He changes course, dropping low to mutter in his ear.
“Hey, man, Mikey’s here.”
To his surprise, Leatherhead actually responds, “Michelangelo? He’s here?”
“Yeah, you should text him. …Wait, Michelangelo? Mikey isn’t short for Michael?” Leatherhead shakes his head, amused, and Casey mutters, “I gotta ask Raph about that,” on his way out the door.
He finds Raph and his siblings in the parking lot, hanging out against the side of the building, half in shadow. Raph looks up as the door swings open.
“Oh, it’s just Casey,” Raph mutters as he looks back down at his phone.
Casey splutters, shocked. “Exc use me? Just Casey? Did you not see that buzzer beater? Bitch, you’d better—”
He’s cut off by Raph tackling him and picking him up, bag of gear and all.
“Yeah we saw that fuckin’ buzzer beater! Way t’ kick Husky ass, man!”
Casey laughs, wraps his hands around Raph’s neck.
“C’mon, man. We’re takin’ ya t’ dinner.” Raph sets him down and wraps an arm around his shoulders, trading insults with Mikey as they walk towards the parking lot.
…
He and Raph have been spending a lot of time together. Like, a lot of time. They’ve been making time for each other outside of the designated coffee hour, spending time in each other’s dorms. Casey is making secret plans to take Raph out on a dinner date soon, but. Small steps. He shoots off a text, inviting Raph to hockey practice. He knows it’s alright (he’s seen Mikey around from time to time, watched him scamper out the door with Leatherhead in tow after practice), so he includes the date and the time. He sends it maybe 15 minutes before practice starts, while he’s already in the locker room, so he can pretend he has an excuse to shove the phone in his bag (embarrassed), ignoring it in favor of shooting out onto the ice to skate anxious laps before practice officially starts.
Cap is out there, too, milling around by the benches. He’s always first there, though, it’s part of why the team voted him captain. He looks up when he hears Casey’s skates scraping across the ice, straightens up when they make eye contact. Raises a hand in greeting. Casey drifts over, letting the anxiety over the text get drowned out in the feel of his blades leaving fissures in the ice. The small talk soothes him like a balm, smoothing out the rest of Casey’s own icy fissures.
By the time practice is going, Casey’s forgotten all about the text anxiety. In fact, he’s forgotten he invited Raph at all. Until he’s in the rink, facing off against the team’s other center, waiting for Cap to come drop the puck, and Slash says, “holy shit, that guy’s eyes are green as hell .”
Casey follows Slash’s gaze, pivots slow on his skates. Locks eyes, brown on green, with Raph. Raph grins, unashamed, and raises a hand in a wave, a reflection of Cap’s action earlier. Casey waves back, much more subdued. He turns back to Slash, who’s looking over at Raph with a lusty glint in his eyes.
“Think he’s single? …Think he’s gay?”
“I think he’s fucking taken ,” Casey snarls, deep in the back of his throat.
Slash’s eyes widen minutely in surprise, and then a grin slowly spreads across his face. It’s a look Casey knows well, especially on Slash’s face. It’s the same look he wore when he challenged Casey to a “duel” (Slash’s word) for the position of starting center. The same look he wore in the locker room after losing that match, panting heavy, as he promised to make Casey’s life hell until one of them graduated. It’s a look that, on his face now, holds the promise of ruining whatever thing Casey has going on with Raph.
Slash waves at Raph, slow, flirty.
Cap skates up, calls them to positions, and drops the puck.
At the end of practice, Casey darts across the ice to where Raph is leaning against the rink barrier. He stops right in front of him, and Raph gives him this shy smile that does funny things to Casey’s chest.
“You looked great out there,” Raph mumbles, leaning (up) into Casey, and the space between them is heady with something unnameable.
Whatever response Casey is about to give is interrupted by Slash checking him out of the way and sending him sprawling across the ice.
“Thanks, handsome,” Slash is saying, hopping the barrier.
That smile Raph was wearing is gone, and Casey watches Raph slowly inch away, tucking his hands into his pockets and curling his shoulders inwards. Slash either isn’t getting the hint, or is straight up ignoring it, because he chases Raph backwards until his calves bump the front bleacher. Slash is taller than Casey is, and Raph isn’t really all that tall to begin with, so Slash is towering over Raph, who’s looking more uncomfortable by the minute. Slash wraps an arm around Raph, effectively pinning him in place, and leans down to mutter something in his ear that makes him turn bright red. Slash’s hand slides down Raph’s back, and Casey watches him blatantly grope Raph’s ass.
He’s on his feet and launching over the rink barrier in seconds, ready to throw hands with Slash, but. Apparently, Raph has it handled. He grabs Slash’s arm and, with no preexisting momentum to speak of, throws the twice as tall, twice as heavy man five full rows up into the bleachers.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Raph snaps, shoulders tense and minutely curled in on himself. “Stay the hell away from me, and stay the hell away from Casey. Or I’ll do worse than embarrass you in front of your team.”
Casey finishes jumping the barrier, crosses the distance to Raph, takes his face in his hands. “Are you okay, man? I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I didn’t think he would—”
“It’s cool,” Raph cuts him off, settling a hand on Casey’s chest. “But your skates, man. You ain’t wearin’ guards, you’re gonna fuck up your blades. Plus. Your team is watching.”
“You’re way more important than my skates,” Casey breathes, but Raph just shakes his head and hauls Casey over his shoulder, dumping him unceremoniously back onto the ice.
“Nope, nuh uh. We both know damn well you can’t afford new skates. Go take ‘em off. Change. I’ll wait.”
Casey slowly rises to his feet, flashes a glance over at Slash, who’s groaning and struggling to stand. “You gonna be alright with handsy over there?”
Raph nods once. “You just watched me handle him. I ain’t afraid to do it again.”
Casey turns, looks back at Raph again. Raph gestures for him to go. So he does. He passes his team, ignores how they part for him like that Bible guy with the ocean or whatever. None of them really look at him, they’re all watching Slash clamber his way off the bleachers.
Casey’s head is swimming as he changes, and like. No shit Raph can fuckin’ throw him and his gear around like it’s nothing, because apparently he’s strong as fuck . As far as Casey knows, neither Raph nor any of his siblings are athletes, which makes it sorta weird that he’s stronger than several of the hockey players on the team. It’s a mystery that Casey is itching to solve, but he knows he’s got bigger problems at the moment, because Cap is dragging Slash into the locker room by the front of his collar.
As soon as he’s in sight, Slash’s gaze locks onto Casey. Now, Casey ain’t a coward, and he’s faced down Slash on more than one occasion, both on and off the ice. But here, with this tension in the room and the captain’s fist curled tight in Slash’s collar, he feels frozen, pinned to the spot by hazel eyes. Those eyes stay trained on him as Cap throws Slash down on the bench.
“I’ve ignored your antics until now, Silas.”
The team collectively clenches their jaws at the use of Slash’s real name.
“Picking fights off the ice, chirping your teammates, sleeping around,” Cap continues. “Really, it was none of my business. But now? Here, in my rink? Blatantly groping your teammate's boyfriend? Coach Honeycutt and I will be having a conversation, and until we settle on a suitable punishment, you are suspended .
“And you ,” he rounds on Casey, “could have told us you were dating one of the Hamato twins. But we can talk about that later. For now, get out of here, and take Raphael with you.”
Casey nods, backs out of the locker room. Doesn’t break eye contact with Slash until he’s out of sight and they can’t make eye contact anymore. Turns and heads back to the rink.
Raph is in the same spot he was when Casey left, leaning with his back against the rink barriers and looking absently out into the bleachers. The open space between them swallows the sound of Casey’s footsteps, so he’s surprised when Raph drops his head over his shoulder to look at Casey. Casey’s steps stutter and he tenses, but then Raph gives him this tired smile and stands upright, turns to watch him walk over, shoulders loose, and Casey feels a little better.
When he gets close enough Raph says, “So, dinner?” and he wraps an arm around Casey’s waist as they leave the rink.
Casey doesn’t work up the courage to actually ask Raph anything until they’re two beers deep at the bar around the corner.
“Hey, man, what the fuck was that?”
Raph, for his part, looks surprised. “Oh, you’re asking now? I thought it’d take ya another two beers.”
“You. Huh?”
“I thought it would take ya longer t’ ask about it.”
“I mean. Hey, don’t avoid the question! What the fuck was that?”
“He touched me. It was self defense.”
“You know what I mean, Raph. You fuckin’ threw him from standing , and he’s twice your height and weight. Are you secretly an athlete?”
Raph sighs, rests his elbow on the table, settles his cheek in his palm. He’s playing with the top of his beer bottle with his free hand. “Alright, yeah. This was bound to come up eventually.”
Casey raises his eyebrows at him, an invitation to continue.
Raph sits up, full attention now on Casey. “Remember that first night in your room? When I was looking for exits and told you my dad was paranoid?” Casey nods. “Right. So. My dad grew up in Japan. He was a member of a ninjutsu clan, one of the really big ones. See, they had this beef with another clan, one that liked to pick fights. My dad married a woman that the leader of the other clan was in love with. In retaliation, Saki burned down and murdered everyone in my dad’s clan. My dad escaped, moved to New York. Adopted my siblings and I.
“He thinks Saki followed him here, intent on wiping out the rest of his clan. And, y’know, since we’re his kids, that includes us, or whatever. So to protect us, he’s been teaching us ninjutsu since we were like, 5.”
Casey stares at him, incredulous. “Hold up. So you and your siblings, you’re ninjas ?”
Raph nods, then slams back the rest of his beer. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Casey pops his elbow onto the table, rests his chin on the back of his hand, leans forward. “That’s hot as fuck.”
…
Casey can’t sleep.
It happens, from time to time, when practice doesn’t wear him out enough and he can’t get his brain to slow down for five fucking minutes. His heart is racing, too, like it’s trying to keep up with his thoughts, and rotating in his bed like a gas station hot dog just isn’t gonna cut it.
He gets up. Opens his dresser drawer, fumbles around in the mess of black for a pair of socks. All he finds are two different ones, but laundry can wait until morning. He throws the socks on, jams his feet into his sneakers, grabs his keys. Gym visit it is.
Casey doesn’t go for 3am post-practice workouts very often. When he does, he usually just goes for a run, but today’s practice was cardio heavy, so he opts to do a little lifting. His team is always saying his shoulders are awfully small for a hockey player, so. Maybe he’ll hit chest.
He pops his headphones in, takes a quick sip of water, heads towards the bench, and—shit. Someone is already using it. Just Casey’s goddamn luck, a fucking 3am workout, barely anyone around, and the one other person in the gym is using the same equipment Casey wants. Well, maybe he can work in between the guy’s sets. Even if he is repping at least one plate.
He approaches slowly, not wanting to startle the guy mid-set, and takes out one of his earbuds. When the guy reracks the barbell and sits up, Casey approaches, offers a quiet, “hey man–”
The guy turns around, and. “Raph?”
Raph takes off his headphones, gives Casey a confused smile. “Case? What are you doing here? It’s like 2am.”
“It’s like 3, actually. Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”
He pulls a face, “sexiled again. Don’t wanna think about it.”
Casey frowns. “You coulda crashed in mine again. Y’know I don’t mind, right? Shoulda just texted me.”
Raph shrugs, rolls his shoulders, stands. “Yeah, well. I needed a workout anyway. Ya need the bench?”
“I, yeah, I was gonna– but you’re.”
Casey finally takes a moment to actually take Raph in. He’s not wearing a shirt, and he’s sweating from whatever workout he’s been doing for the past hour or so. Casey takes an uncomfortably long look at his shoulders, toned and broad and Casey would pay good money to be under those , and then his gaze travels down Raph’s chest and.
“Your nipples are pierced?” he blurts out before he can think, then slaps his hands over his mouth and rushes, “I’msosorryohmygod.”
Raph just laughs, starts pulling his weights off the bar. “You didn’t know? Hell, the night we met I was wearing a loose ass shirt, ya didn’t see ‘em then?”
Casey buries his face in his hands and whines, “I dunno, maybe? Shit, man, don’t tease.”
“Who’s teasing?” Raph looks at Casey over his shoulder, “what weight?”
“Fuck, uh. 20s? As a warm up.”
Raph nods, “You ain’t gotta defend yer’self to me. Ya want 20s, ya get 20s.”
Casey sighs again, drops onto the bench, mutters, “yeah, but you were lifting like, 65s.”
Raph pauses where he’s loading weight onto the bar. “Hey, listen. Everyone who lifts does it to get stronger. It don’t matter where ya start, just that ya do it, right?” He finishes loading the weights, brandishes the clips. “Want a spot?”
“Yeah, sure.” Casey slides under the bar as Raph locks the clips around the bar, then swings around the back of the bench to spot. Casey gets a couple reps in before Raph leans over him.
“So, uh. Do ya like ‘em?”
Casey chokes and drops the bar, but Raph catches it before it can land on him, reracks it as Casey sits up, spluttering.
“Sorry, sorry. Probably a bad time to ask.”
“Ya fuckin’ think?” Casey is trying so hard to be mad, but shit, Raph is topless and he’s got nipple rings and Casey’s too caught up in the gay gay homosexual gay to actually be upset, so he laughs instead, high and breathy and he’s definitely staring at Raph’s chest. Fuck.
“Don’t worry about it man.” He flips the other way on the bench, sets his elbows on the racked barbell and leans towards Raph, “but yeah, I really like ‘em.” And in a bold ass move that he probably wouldn’t have made if there were any braincells left in his skull, he reaches out and flicks one.
Raph stares at him.
Casey stares back.
And then Raph’s hands are on his face and Casey is being tugged over the barbell as Raph kisses him so hard he thinks he sees stars. As first kisses go, it isn’t the longest, but they’re both breathless when they pull away.
“Uh. Wanna go out sometime?” Casey wheezes.
“God, I thought you’d never ask.”