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[Harris]
“They let you in the locker room?”
“They let you hang out with the team?”
The words shouldn’t have affected Harris. He knew the Centaurs weren’t a traditional team; they were better in so many ways Harris lost count. They had accepted Harris, each of them, with open arms. They never once made Harris feel lesser about his job.
Or his sexuality.
Or his income.
Or his body.
Harris never felt ‘othered’, though he would be remiss to say the thought hadn’t prickled the back of his mind. He was nothing like the men he worked with. He was nothing like Troy - the most frustrating man he had ever met. The man he couldn’t seem to banish from his mind. It was there, sometimes. It lurked in the same space all of those worried glances from his family lived. The team acted like Harris was family of course, but… that was in front of Harris’s face. What did they say behind his back?
Visions of Troy’s earliest shock flitted through his mind. That would have been any player’s reaction, really. Harris dropped his hand where it was outstretched, reaching for the locker room door. Only now did he notice the trembling in his fingers. Laughter. So much laughter boomed behind that door.
Harris wasn’t a part of it. Perhaps they preferred it this way. What if he had simply been intruding this whole time? Worse… what if Harris really did make them all uncomfortable? The thought had never so much as crossed his mind before those words echoed through the hotel lobby. But now… Harris’s left foot slid back, squeaking against the tiled floor first. Then his right.
Before he knew it, Harris was once again alone in his office. He would stay here, he decided. He would be here except when requisite photos or videos were demanded.
For a week, Harris’s days followed the same pattern. Each dragged worse than the previous. He’d show up to the office just before the team. He’d venture out to capture practice content; he might mutter a greeting when someone from the team offered one first. Then, he would disappear into his office again. Hide. It felt unnatural, but…
Well, he’d been rattled. His poor heart couldn’t take much more. It all came crumbling down that Friday.
“Hey, Harris!” Bood’s voice boomed from the hallway behind. Harris continued walking. If he kept his eyes fixed outside, he could do it. “Drover! Wait up, man!” Bood called again. Of course Bood moved faster than Harris down the hall. A steady palm landed atop Harris’s shoulder. “Can I bribe you to bring a few cases of Drover Cider to the barbecue tonight? I’ll save the biggest piece of chicken for you - just don’t tell the other guys.”
Bood winked, and Harris’s stomach dropped. He almost felt like he fit in. Almost. He was almost certainly overthinking everything. Harris knew that. Still, once an idea snaked its way into Harris’s mind, it tended to stay there. Burrowing. Feeding. Leeching.
“Oh.” Harris swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Yeah.”
“I mean, you don’t have to.” Bood paused. “You are more than welcome to just bring yourself. And maybe a certain other sullen hockey player?” His voice was so light. Harris had missed this this past week.
Rozanov strolled up. Seemingly out of nowhere. “Come on, Harris. One of us has to be there. Can’t have two most fun members of the team absent.” Rozanov winked, the sauntered off as abruptly as he’d showed up.
“No. Yeah. I mean it’s not a problem. I can definitely bring cider. I just-” Harris swallowed, cutting his own words off. He sounded stupid.
“Just what?” Harris didn’t realize he had stopped moving until he felt the sun’s rays just inches away through the door.
“Nothing. It’s stupid.” Harris shrugged.
“You’ve met the guys. Can’t get much stupider than some of the stuff I’ve heard them say.” Bood laughed, but it was stilted now.
“No. I just,” Harris swallowed. “I just didn’t realize I was invited. That’s all.”
“Drover. Have you ever not been invited?” Bood’s eyes searched Harris’s face. “Did something happen? DId someone make you feel uncomfortable?”
“No.” Yes, but not like that.
Bood assessed Harris, slowly. “Let me know who I have to kill.”
“It’s really not like that. I’m just,” Harris gestured circles around his head. “I’m just being ridiculous.”
“If you say so.” Bood started to walk off. “I’d better see you later, Drover.”
[Troy]
The mere notion of attending a team function wrecked Troy’s nerves enough to send him into orbit three times over. Still, Wyatt had let it be known in no uncertain terms that Troy was to attend. So, attend he did. Thick air in the chilly Canada weather was odd to say the very least. The smoke hung heavy, embedding itself into every hair on his eyebrow and thread on his olive jacket.
“Yo! Barrett!” Bood’s voice boomed across the deck. Every player stilled, like they were all in on… something. Hesitating three seconds before moving felt like too long. Still, Troy indulged in that final shield. He looked around the space as he walked slowly, searching for that just-a-little-too-loud voice he’d come to find comfort in. Searching for the man brave enough to wear pride pins in front of a hockey team.
Harris was nowhere to be found. Troy couldn’t let anyone know that that fact disappointed him so, least of all Harris. Harris deserved someone kind - someone good. He deserved someone distinctly not Troy Barrett, ex best friend of the biggest purveyor of homophobic slurs in the League.
“You came.” Bood talked to his grill as Troy stepped up to him.
“Yeah.” Troy grunted. “Thanks for the invite.”
“Everyone in the Centaurs family is invited. Always.” Troy’s hackles raised. The words should have been welcoming, but he couldn’t help but feel Bood had intentionally honed a sharper edge to each syllable. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
“I-” Troy sputtered. “Why would that be a problem?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out.” Smoke rose from the grill in pillars. One piece of chicken seemed particularly engulfed in smoke. Everything else had been grilled to perfection. That couldn’t have been an accident. “I know I don’t only speak for myself when I say that hatred won’t be tolerated on this team.”
“Good to know.”
“We’ve all noticed you had been hanging around a certain social media manager a bit more than usual.” Fuck. Was Troy that obvious? He’d have to apologize. Have to - “Now that social media manager is nowhere to be found. It’s like a brother is missing. He doesn’t start the day with us anymore. Hasn’t said more than three words at practice in a week. Rozanov will kill you personally if he no longer gets to see Chiron.”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with me.” Oh, but Troy had a feeling. He hated this facade he’d built. He hated it all. He’d tried to be friendly with Harris, but men like Troy weren’t built to make friends. Men like Troy had their destinies written out for them. Live alone, die alone. That was the roadmap.
“You know that Harris has been a part of this team longer than half of the players?” Bood never looked away from the grill. Troy only just noted that his voice never raised above a whisper’s decibel. No one else seemed aware in the slightest the conversation above open flame boarded on hostile.
It was probably better that way.
“Okay.” It was the only safe answer.
“So imagine my surprise when Harris told me he hadn’t planned on attending this barbecue today.” Well fuck. Troy was the horse and Harris was the carrot; it would be damned hard to get Troy to go to any more team bonding events now that the carrot was gone. “Imagine my utter shock when Harris didn’t even realize that he was invited. As if he doesn't have an open invitation to my house any day of the year.” Bood choked. “Imagine how it felt when my brother, for all intents and purposes, seemed afraid to talk to me. He was fidgety.” Bood’s mind went somewhere else as his hands worked diligently to remove and replace slabs of meat on the grill. “Harris was awkward. Quiet. I have never seen that man quiet. Never.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. And that got me wondering, you know? What changed? What could possibly be the difference?” Blood flew away from Troy’s face. From his heart. He knew exactly what Bood was insinuating. Worse yet, he wasn’t actually certain that Bood was wrong. It had never been Troy’s intention to isolate. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Harri’s soft shoulders, soft ass, might feel like beneath him.
But Troy Barrett was still Troy Barrett at the end of the day. That was as damning an evidential fact as anything, he supposed.
“I. Shit.” Troy sighed. “I’m not really great at the whole ‘being nice’ thing. I was trying. I think? Fuck.” Bood’s eyes softened, finally glancing in Troy’s direction as Troy stumbled through the minefield of his words. “I didn’t mean to… I’ll leave him alone.”
Bood’s eyes were too sharp, then. Too assessing. He shook his head and turned back to the grill. Somehow, though, that one glance, that one look, was more invasive than any x-ray. Bood knew. Somehow. Troy knew that Bood knew.
“Some would say that I’m a decent authority on relationships.” Bood’s voice dropped even lower, if at all possible. “I’d say that leaving him alone might be the worst decision for both of you.” Troy’s mouth snapped open to refute, to save himself, but no words came out. Bood just chuckled and continued. “You don’t have to say anything, Barrett. And you don’t have to look so scared. Don’t tell me if I’m right or if I’m wrong. Just know that this team won’t think less of you for anything. They’d have to answer to Wyatt. And Rozanov. And myself.”
“Oh. I-” Troy tried to speak again, but Bood continued straight through.
“The only thing that we would be upset about, the only thing that would cause us pause, is if you hurt a member of this family. Because that’s who Drover is to us. He’s a member of this family.” Plate pressing into Troy’s hand, Bood winked. Troy noticed, with no small amount of shock, that the burned piece of meat didn’t wind up on his plate. Bood held his gaze in challenge, and the plate in offering. “I trust you won’t jeopardize this family. But I also won't jeopardize the opportunity to welcome another member into it.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Troy mumbled.
“Talk to him. And eat.” Bood turned, and said nothing else. The silence of the evening weighed heavy on Troy. As the day faded into dusk, his teammates sought to pull him into conversation. Troy tried to seem open. He really did, but -
“Drover is here! And he brought cider!” Wyatt’s shriek yanked Troy from his reverie.
Troy sat straighter, and rehearsed his apology for what must have been the millionth time that night.
[Harris]
Harris hated feeling like he didn’t belong here. He’d been to how many of these team events during his tenure with the Centaurs? The number must have easily wavered around a hundred.
“Sorry it took so long. It’s fresh from the farm!” Harris chortled, probably too loudly. As always. He forced himself not to cringe. The crate disappeared from Harris’s hands more quickly than he’d picked it up. The players didn’t scatter, though. No.
Harris found himself at the middle of a group hug. God, he wanted to bask in this glory. Harris was at the center of fifteen of the best men hockey had to offer. Accepted.
“Where have you been, man?” Wyatt patted Harris on the back.
“I was about to go out and search for you myself.” Bood winked. “I meant it when I told you that your attendance wasn’t optional. You’re part of this team.”
Welcomed with open arms, as he always had been, Harris ambled his way to the back deck to enjoy the party. He whipped his phone out, capturing the evening. Surely some of this would be good to humanize the team. Harris wavered only once, when his phone settled on Barrett.
“You’re still working?” Barrett’s perfect raven eyebrow arched. His voice was light, or at least it was as light as his voice ever was. There was always the hint of something, some weight heavier than any human should have to carry alone, weighing it down. “Shouldn’t you put the phone down for the night?”
“Sorry. I won’t post you.” Harris turned around quickly, noting somewhere in the recesses of his mind that Troy took a deep, shuddering breath. Troy looked off to somewhere - someone? - for steel. Reassurance.
“That isn’t at all what I meant.” Troy sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at this.”
“At what?” Harris gulped.
“Being a human, I think.” Troy laughed, but it sounded more like a melancholy lament. “Being nice.”
“That’s-” Harris started, his voice hitching. He drew a few eyes at his volume. Of course he did.
“Shh. I need to get this out.” Troy’s shoulders pulled tight. Harris very intentionally did not focus on those taught muscles. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know how to make things less weird. Between us. Can you tell me - what exactly did I do? I mean. I know I did so much, but… Well some of the guys think I made you uncomfortable. And I hate that I think. No. No, I know I hate that.” Toy sighed. “Fuck. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”
“It wasn’t you. I’ve just been thinking.” Harris sighed, turning. Troy’s hand landed atop his shoulder. Harris tried not to cringe at what Troy was thinking. Okay. He might not have been a homophobe, but he was most likely silently judging the lack of tension, lack of firmness, in Harriss’s shoulders. Harris was soft where Troy was firm.
In almost every manner.
“Whatver it was, it started with me. Didn’t it?” Something glistened across Troy’s face, and oh that was so wrong. A man as beautiful as Troy shouldn’t be crying. It was the beauty of an angel, long forgotten. It was the beauty of a melody, cast aside and forgotten by the rising tides of the ocean. It was the kind of beauty that transcended all appearance. And in that beauty, there was solace. There was peace. Harris knew Troy meant no harm. That kind of soul deep beauty wouldn’t allow it.
“It was… It was what your dad said.” Harris sighed. Troy choked. “It just got me thinking, is all.”
“My father is an asshole. I’ve never cared much for him.” Troy growled low.
“You don’t have to do that.” Harris sighed, ceding a step away from Troy. Troy didn’t drop his grip on Harris’s shoulder.
“Why? He’s never cared for me either. We’re pretty evenly drawn.” Then, Troy laughed, and it was the final battle song - the harpsichord of the angels. The final chant before an army marched into battle. “He’s… not a good man. He’s classist, and very homophobic.”
“Right.” Harris winced. “I understand.” Despite it all, Harris wouldn’t shield the pins on the lapels of his jacket. “I… I know you’re not exactly like him.”
Troy’s eyes warred, the starlight sparking in their endless chocolate depths. He spared a furtive glance around. Everyone was watching now. There was a crowd. Harris moved to back away.
“It’s… It’s not a secret I think you’re attractive, Barrett.” Harris focused on the deck beneath his feet. “I know that’s not what you want to hear. I’ll leave you alone.”
Troy’s words were barely more than a beleaguered groan. “I’m nothing like him.” A lament of the heavens.
“Okay. Thats. I believe you.” Harris stepped back again, and hated when Troy let his jacket go.
“No. You’re not hearing me.” Troy stepped forward, knocking a small, wobbly smile over his shoulder in Bood’s direction. Odd. “I’m nothing like him. I’m.” Troy swallowed, barely a whisper. Barely a choked sob, “I’m gay, Harris. I’m nothing like him.”
“Oh.” For perhaps the first time in his life, Harris was speechless.
“I. I like you.” Troy said, a bit louder now, despite himself. Despite the team surrounding them. Harris’s heart was dangerously close to stopping.
“How?” It was all harris could think to make his mouth say.
“How? What do you mean?” Troy drawled.
“You’re you. You could have any man. I’m not athletic. I can’t be. I’m not rich. I’m not famous. I’m a small town cider boy that does social media,” Harris rambled. Troy’s thumb found Harris’s cheek. He stroked once.
“And you’re you. I don’t want just any man. I want you.” Troy’s voice was louder, now. Harris wondered what this might cost Troy. It was certainly more than Harris could pay. “You’re beautiful. And loud. And kind and brave. And I don’t deserve you, but I hate to think I made you uncomfortable.”
“I don’t know how to respond.” Harris exhaled.
“You could kiss me.” Troy quirked a smile - a real one.
“In front of everyone?” Harris guffawed.
“In front of everyone.” Troy nodded once. “Unless you don’t actually want me. That I would understand-”
Harris’s lips landed on Troy’s in half a second. He wouldn’t squander an opportunity, not one like this.
“I want you,” Harris leaned back, hands threading through Barrett’s raven locks. “I want you so badly I don’t have words to describe it. And that’s quite unusual for me.”
“So what do we tell the team?” Troy giggled through the glistening tears dripping to his lips.
“I think they can infer all they need to know.” Harris sealed his lips to Troy’s again, applauded by a cacophony of whoops and cheers from his teammates. No. Harris didn’t know how exactly his life had gotten him here.
He was certainly glad it had, however.