Work Text:
Josh is always the last to leave the locker room after a loss.
Wins are different, of course – he usually has the club picked out and half a dozen models texted by the time he gets through the showers and suit ups – but losses…no, he takes his time then. As if by stalling, rearranging his locker, holding his sweaty jersey a little longer, he could go back and change everything.
But, he can’t. They are officially out of the playoffs. First round.
He sucks a deep breath in and sits on the center bench of the deserted room. Everyone else had filed out fairly quickly, given their interviews, talked half-heartedly about next year, and took off. His friends had lingered for an extra second, pausing in the hall and saying, “You know, you’re on the first year of your contract…you’re gonna grow a lot, Dun. The team’s gonna grow a lot. Don’t let this knock you back.” Josh hadn’t even looked up; he just nodded, staring resolutely at the roll of electrical tape clutched in his hands. He hadn’t heard anyone leave but when he finally glanced at the door, his others were gone.
But now, it’s finally time to leave. He drags himself off his seat and meanders to his car, praying he doesn’t run into any drunk, angry fans on his way. It only takes him a matter of time to navigate through the streets and just out of the city. (He made sure to rent a loft close enough that he could party without much of a hassle, but leave the bustle whenever he needed.) As he heaves himself out of his car (fuck, he can still FEEL that seven foot tall asshole’s elbow digging into his back during that penalty kill), he sees a shadowed figure sitting on his stoop.
Clutching his wallet and phone tight in one hand, he approaches, wary of stalkers and haters and all sorts of nefarious characters who somehow got their hands on his address. But, then the person steps into the streetlight and…Josh isn’t much relieved.
“Hey,” he deadpans, pushing past the guy and slotting the key into the lock.
Without another word, he unlocks the back door and calls the elevator.
“Do you…wanna talk about it?” comes a voice from slightly behind him.
“Not particularly.”
There’s another pregnant pause as they wait for the elevator to reach them and Josh doesn’t make eye contact as they both shuffle in and Josh hits the button.
Less than a minute later, he’s dropping his bag two steps inside the door and flopping face-first onto his couch. Oh, how he loves this couch…he bought the fluffiest and coziest one he could find specifically for nights like this. His body sinks into it and he feels the ghost of knuckles tracing down his spine.
“You want some coffee?”
“I want a fucking win.”
“Alright then…well, I’m going to make coffee.”
Josh rolls his eyes (even though they’re closed) and listens to the sounds of shuffling through the kitchen, of his hyper-expensive-but-boils-in-under-a-minute electric kettle being clicked on, of mugs being set on his countertop. After a deep sigh, he rolls onto his back and peers over the top of the couch.
“Why are you even here, anyway?”
“I wanted to come up and see the game.”
“Scout, you mean.”
“It’s hard to turn that part of my brain off, I guess. But I also wanted to see you play.”
Josh scoffs and flops back so he can’t see the broad doofus making him tea in his kitchen.
“What I meant, was why are you here. As in, my apartment.”
“You didn’t pick up your phone, otherwise I would have asked. I thought you’d like company.”
Josh snorts again, but he can’t lie to himself – he’s not sure how drunk he could have gotten alone before falling asleep, but he would have tried quite hard.
“Well, we’ve got to be careful. The last thing either of us want is the press getting wind of this.”
“So, what, you want me to throw on a wig next time?”
And then he’s perched on the end of the couch, his glowing smile dimming for a second as he slurps a bit of tea. Tyler Joseph, all-star center and captain of the Cheetahs
Currently leading the division for goals and second for assists. And, unbeknownst to the entire hockey community, Josh Dun’s…well. Josh isn’t sure what they are.
Tyler slides the second mug down the coffee table and Josh reaches for it. He stirs it, sniffs it, and sips it. Made just to his liking, though he has no idea how Tyler managed it.
“Thanks,” he mutters.
“Of course,” Tyler replies, too much care in his eyes. He reaches out a hand and pats Josh’ socked foot. “Anything else I can do?”
“No, no, don’t worry…I was just gonna soak for a bit and then sleep.”
“Want company?”
Josh smiles a small smile and gives the slightest of nods. Tyler follows him into his sprawling bathroom and lazily strips as Josh begins filling his gigantic Jacuzzi tub with steaming water. Tyler’s naked by the time Josh starts unbuttoning his shirt and Tyler grins and brushes Josh’ hands away, undoing the buttons one by one. Josh rolls his eyes and sighs.
“Taking your sweet time there.”
“You’ve done enough work. Ease up.”
Well, he’s correct there.
Josh accepts the help as Tyler eases him out of his dress shirt and pants, Josh hissing occasionally as one of them bumps the many bruises beginning to purple his skin. Tyler hums comfortingly under his breath and steadies Josh’ hip with a firm hand. Josh peels off his boxers himself, at least, and sits down in the tub with a splash. Tyler bites his lip and tentatively climbs in opposite Josh, rearranging his limbs so Josh has the most real estate. It’s impressive, especially considering Tyler has several inches on Josh. (Which Josh works very hard at never, ever considering.)
The hot water does the trick, Josh’ muscles slowly relaxing. He leans his head back, resting it on the edge of the tub. He barely realizes Tyler shifting, pulling Josh’ right foot into his lap and beginning to knead it with his fingers. Josh can’t help himself – he sighs deep in relief. Even though his skates feel more comfortable than most shoes he owns, his feet can only take so much.
“Feel okay?”
“Feels fantastic, thanks.”
“No problem.”
Josh shoots an eye open.
“What…what are we doing?”
Tyler giggles a bit.
“Uh, we’re in the bath, Ty…”
“No no no, I mean…us. What is this. What’s happening.” He can’t believe the words are tumbling out of his mouth, but hey, there it is. A season’s worth of locker room blowjobs and bar bathroom quickies between them, and they’re finally discussing their feelings. On the eve of one of the worst games of Josh’ career. Lovely.
“Uhm…” Tyler glances back at Josh, eyes wide. “I don’t know, really. I just…do you…want to stop this?”
“No! I mean, no, I just…I don’t know. Like I said, with press…and stuff…it’s very tricky.”
Josh’ not even sure what he’s saying anymore. Worst of all, Tyler stopped the massage.
“Well, alright, what kind of relationship exactly are you looking for, Josh?”
Josh can’t help himself – he needs fondling if he’s to get through this kind of conversation. He twists his heel in Tyler’s hands and Tyler goes back to pressing into his sole, smile playing at his lips as he does.
“Not a relationship, I guess—“
“Is this – are we…not exclusive then?”
Josh pulls his wet hands out of the water and rubs his face.
Tyler coughs, then continues.
“I mean…I haven’t slept with anyone since we started this. But…if you feel differently…”
“I haven’t either.” Josh’ voice is a bit muffled through his palms, but he says it. “I don’t want to.”
“Oh! Well…um…great, I guess?”
There’s another long pause. Josh thinks to himself that this should probably be a lot happier of an occasion. He’s not sure he remembers how to do happiness.
“Not to shove the issue but…are we, properly together then? ke can I tell my mom?”
Josh chuckles to himself, pulling his hands away and wiping the droplets off his forehead with his shoulder.
“Of course you can tell your fucking mother, I’m not going to stop you.”
“Well, then the question is…who aren’t we telling?”
Josh inhales sharply and glances back at Tyler. He’s stilled with the foot in his lap again and looks grave.
That’s the question of the century, isn’t it. Telling your mom is a lot different than telling the National Hockey League.
“I…I’m sorry. I’m not…I can’t.”
Tyler shrugs as if Josh was turning him down for dinner.
“No problem, then. I’d just tell her and a pal or two from home, if that’s okay. I don’t have to name you, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
Josh nods, mind still a bit blank.
“Yeah that would…that’d help. Thanks.”
Tyler shrugs again, bending back to the task at hand.
They stay there for another twenty minutes, until they’re both pruney and the water’s gone lukewarm. Josh hauls himself out and strolls across the bathroom to grab them towels but Tyler beats him there, turning with Josh’ largest and fluffiest to wipe them both down. Josh smiles a bit as Tyler strokes down his back, their chests practically touching. They don’t even bother getting dressed; both of them climb into Josh’ bed naked and still a bit sweaty from all the steam. Tyler doesn’t make any sort of move and Josh’ grateful – usually he’s all for an orgasm to twist him out of a loss, but when it’s season-ending, nothing quite feels right.
Josh curls on his side of the bed, staring down his clock that declares the obscene hour of night/morning it is. He has no practice to get up for in the morning – the first time in months – and can’t believe he can sleep without an alarm. Just as his eyes drift shut, he feels Tyler’s strong arm snake around his waist and tug him closer. He feels the print of a kiss at the base of his neck and fuck, if that’s not the first time all day he feels like he’s doing something right.
The next morning – or, afternoon, technically – Josh wakes up to an empty bed and a note. He chuckles to himself as he sees it perched on his nightstand, folded neatly in half with “Dun” written across the front, as if he wouldn’t know to read it. Who still leaves notes anyway?
Josh smiles as he reads it over:
Had fun last night, sorry I can’t stay and make you breakfast – long ride back to NY.
I know you might be done with hockey, but there are always a couple extra box seats for you. Just don’t bring your other boyfriend ;)
Xxx, Tyler
Josh folds it back and creases the line. So, that’s that then. Lost his chance at the Cup, gained a – his mind stutters over the word – boyfriend. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Tyler and him had become exclusive, something Josh was more than willing to do; he wasn’t lying about not wanting to sleep with anyone else. But jumping immediately from that to notes and labels gives him a bit of vertigo.
On top of that, there’s hockey. Tyler’s continued season. Josh wants so badly to bounce back, to be able to waltz into the Cheetahs stadium and watch his – cough, deep breath – boyfriend play like it’s no big deal. But…he can’t go back, just like that. His whole life he’s lived and breathed hockey, but…he just can’t do this one. Especially not when the Cheetahs are up 3-1 in the series. Josh does his best to be a good person, but he can’t celebrate with Tyler on this one. Not now.
It takes him a full ten minutes to construct a text, doing his best to be casual.
hey, can’t make it out tomorrow for the game, hope all goes well.
At the last minute, he tacks a kissy face on the end.
Josh watches through the first period with his heart in his throat. Tyler’s playing good – lots of aggressive opportunities, no stupid penalties, keeping his team in line. Josh admires that in a captain. Well, Josh admires it in Tyler.
The first period ends with both teams still being 0-0. Second period gets a bit more exciting. About halfway through, Tyler’s right wing gets called on some shit tripping penalty and starts mouthing off to the ref. Tyler’s there in a heartbeat, pushing on the guy’s chest and edging him toward the box.
“Fucker! He fell! What shit, what shit…” Josh takes another long swig of his beer and looks over to his friends eyeing him. “What?”
“When did you become a Cheetahs fan, Dun?” Mark asks, mouth full.
“What? I - I’m not. Just a stupid call, y’know? Hate that.” This answer, apparently, passes.
But, Josh’ palms are sweating now. Tyler’s known as one of the best penalty killers in the game right now. They can do it, Josh’ sure. At least, sort of sure.
There’s a flurry initially, the other team barreling through their defense, making them frantic.
Calm your men, Joseph, focus…focus… Josh thinks, doing his best attempt at telekinesis. Sure enough, the men tighten, a bunch of quick blocks and a clear and they’re into the second minute. Josh sets his plate on the table with a clang and wipes his hands on his jeans. Easy, easy…
During the clear, there’s a line switch that puts Tyler back on the bench, but Josh’ still nervous. He can’t bear to see the look on ’s face if they get this one, all off a ridiculous trip charge.
But, through three more shots on goal and one very dangerous pass across the middle, they manage it. The stadium rages as all five players take the ice again, Styles’ curls flowing out the back of his helmet.
After that scare, they all seem more connected, somehow. (Josh wishes his team had that – all it takes for them is one bad call and their whole group crumbles.) Passes are quicker and he can see them talking more chances up the middle, more cuts into the crease.
Then, in the last two minutes, there’s a turnover center ice and suddenly it’s Tyler a, up against just one defender. Tyler does some outrageously quick stick-work and flicks it over to a teammate who pops it just above the goalie’s right shoulder. The entire stadium erupts and Josh leaps up, punching the air with the fist that isn’t clutching his beer.
“Damn straight! Did you see that? Perfect communication, just amazing, shit…” He scans the room to see everyone with pursed lips. “…what? It was a good play.”
Paul just shakes his head and Mark bursts out laughing. Josh lowers himself back to the couch and lets Mark pat his knee.
“ke I said…proper Cheetah supporter, right here.”
Josh shoves him off and huffs, resigned to watch the rest of the period calmly. The next two minutes are a flush of attacks, with the Cheetahs barely able to get it out of the zone. Josh fails. Magnificently. But, they manage to hold it off again, filing into the locker room as the announcers take over.
This time, Josh emphatically stands up and strides into the kitchen. He hadn’t realized all the girls had congregated there until they all stopped talking abruptly to peer at him. He just gave a little nod and reached into the cabinet for a glass. If he was going to survive the third period, he needed liquor.
He blinks his eyes into focus on the screen to see that he missed the very beginning of the period – too busy talking- but thank God, thank God thank God, the score is still the same.
He squints and panics for a second that he can’t find Tyler before remembering he’s second line. First line aggressive, second line smart. Tyler’s coach’s motto. Josh thinks Tyler is both – plus cute, he’s really cute actually – but he’s not about to correct a coach.
Josh continues gulping his drink through the next few minutes and at one point he’s pretty sure he puts it down empty and picks it up full. As the game clock ticks down to the last ten minutes of regulation, he can’t help feeling that Tyler needs to...amp everybody. Do something. They’re playing well, just not…hard. He sniffs and wonders if he should say this out loud, but then, Mark replies.
“You’re right, dude, they’re playing flat.”
Josh claps a hand over his mouth and bites his tongue. He needs to get better at this filter thing.
He shakes his head back and forth. Everything feels slurred, even the game. But he can’t tell if that’s him or the players.
They’re down to the final few minutes now, Tyler’s last time on the ice. He skates beautifully, Josh can’t help but think, watching him stride across the ice in long strokes, weaving just in front as they narrow in on another offensive attack. But, the other team’s goalie gets pulled, and Josh knows this feeling, lived it less than a day ago, that gut-burning knowledge that this might be all you get to leave out on the ice for a year. No team goes down without a fight.
The six offenders throw the Cheetahs off, no doubt. Josh blinks through the blurs in his vision as he struggles to place Tyler, to see that he hasn’t managed to get off the ice in almost two minutes. He’ll be stuck until the end of the game, now, and Josh is whiteknuckling his drink.
Just don’t score, just don’t score, just don’t-
The final buzzer sounds, Josh not even realizing the actual gameplay time, and the camera zooms on Tyler’s face as he tears off his helmet and crashes into his team in bone-crushing hug. Josh blinks. Well, then.
It’s as he downs his third shot of Vodka for the night that he thumbs open his phone, finding Tyler’s name. The man didn’t respond to his morning-after message, but Josh supposed he was probably stuck with various captain-y things. Right. Important guy.
heyyyyy juss wanted 2 say you played GREATTT toniite. is all that Josh can muster before clicking his phone asleep and accepting another drink.
Josh is cemented to the couch, laughing so hard his sides ache, when his phone buzzes.
thanks babe : ))) hope your night turned out okay!
Josh rolls his eyes at the smiley faces. Even when drunk, he doesn’t resort to those.
it’s oging awwwwsum thnx for asking!!!!!!!!!
It occurs to him as he hits send that Tyler didn’t actually ask, but, y’know, that’s alright, everything will be fine.
“Who ya textin’?”
Josh jumps as Jenna settles down next to him, having abandoned her friends.
“Oh, uh…just a friend…” Josh sees his phone light up in his hand but is afraid to check it now.
Jenna smiles and bobs her head.
“It’s okay, you’re allowed to have friends.”
Josh lets out a nervous laugh and struggles with his passcode a few times before seeing the message: Is someone a little drunk?
He just types out yes!!!! with a string of emojis. (Four beer, two cocktail, ten eggplant.)
His phone buzzes. Luckily, it’s the persistent kind – a call.
“Wow, you really did hit the booze once I left, didn’t you?”
It’s Tyler, fresh from a win, and Josh can practically hear the beam in his voice. The punch of disappointment, the I-won’t-have-this-anytime-soon hits him and settles in his gut.
“Uh…yeah, yeah I guess…”
“I’m not pulling you away from anything, am I?” Josh can hear Tyler’s own party sounds in the background. Maybe he’s outside a bar. He’s not sure.
“You are…but…but in a good way…”
Tyler chuckles and Josh gut twists again, but in a very different way. God, he loves making him laugh.
“Well, good then.”
There’s a beat and Josh realizes he left his drink inside. Probably a good thing. Tyler’s voice crackles on the other end of the line.
“Anyway…you can get back to your party. I guess I just…wanted to hear your voice. Sleep good, okay pup?”
Josh’ whole mouth is dry.
“I, uh, yeah…okay. You too.”
Tyler giggles a bit and the line cuts out.
Josh leans heavily against the railing and sighs. What is he going to do about this