He kisses Matt one more time, slow and deep and full oflove,pushing everything he feels into the embrace.
He hopes Marco’s thought up some kind of excuse, because they will not be returning to the party for awhile.
Chapter Twenty-Six
[Image Description: Nick Tiernan and Matt Hudson in running clothes, mid-stride as they jog through a park. Both men are looking towards each other, talking while they run.]
@CalamityJanie: Obsessed with the idea that these two have become workout buddies. We love a celebrity bromance
@DesertDweller04: @CalamityJanie Bromance suuure
@CalamityJanie: @DesertDweller04 look I know hockey is homoerotic af but not everything has to be gay let guys be friends without being creepy
@DesertDweller04: @CalamityJanie Not you calling me creepy after taking a pic of two strangers jogging and posting it online without their consent
—Twitter, March 24th, 2023
As promised, the four members of Sticks+Stones arrive at the Lair the next morning, hockey bags in hand. Nick has to bribe the Zamboni guy, but it’s worth it to see their excitement.
Picard whoops when Spencer pulls out his full goalie pads, hurrying over to admire his mask. It’s the one from his UMich days, decorated in yellow and blue with a roaring wolverine and a grim reaper swinging a hockey stick, emblazoned in skulls and music notes and exactly the kind of emo shit Nick would expect from a college-aged Spencer. On the chin, the wordMichiganstands out in bold lettering, and each “i” is dotted with a different heart: one that’s striped in pink, yellow and blue; the other striped in green, white, gray and black.
Nick has never been prouder of his teammates when not a single one of them tries to hide or act in any way different while getting dressed in front of three guys they know are attracted to men. Casey is changing in the equipment room, of her own choice. But the handful of teammates who agreed to this little adventure aren’t batting an eyelash, still doing exactly the same shit they’d be doing if it were just the team involved—right down to throwing dirty jocks across the room because Nick is surrounded by goddamnchildren.
Casey joins them once she’s fully dressed, and Nick studies her. She’s wearing her old Michigan Wolverines jersey, a beacon of bright yellow that he has to squint to look at head-on. “Good God, those jerseys are obnoxious,” he mutters, making her laugh.
“You get used to it.”
“Do you, or have you just told yourself that?” Nick shakes his head in dismay. “Gimme a second.”
He disappears into the equipment room, coming back with four silver practice jerseys. “Please, for the sake of my eyes, wear this.”
“Rude. That’s our college pride you’re pissing on.” She sticks her tongue out but strips off the highlighter-yellow jersey all the same. “I guess it’ll do.”
“Man, these are sick.” Spencer’s a lot more enthusiastic, tugging his over his head.
By the time they all skate out onto the ice, the four rockstars look like legitimate NHL players. Joel whoops as he races from one goal line to the other, while Spencer parks up next to Picard to join him in his warm-up, dropping into a split without hesitation. Fucking goalies.
Nick skates up beside Matt, twisting to skate backwards as he keeps pace. “So I realized I never actually asked,” he says, “which is shitty of me, but whatever. What position do you play?”
Matt’s loud laugh echoes through the rink. “Wow, narcissist much?” he jokes, reaching out to shove Nick’s shoulder. “Take a guess.”
Nick makes a show of eyeing Matt up and down, arms folded over his chest. The obvious answer hits him. “You’re a goddamn centerman, aren’t you?” The words come out exasperated, and Matt cocks his head. Nick huffs. “Don’t mind me, just realizing I have a type.”
Matt laughs so hard he almost trips, his brown eyes dancing. “Oh, stud, I could’ve told you that weeks ago,” he drawls.
“Fuck off.”
“Make me.”
With that challenge, Nick lunges for Matt, who immediately turns on his heel and sprints off down the ice. They pass several bewildered, laughing teammates in their game of chase. At some point someone tips out the bucket of pucks they brought with them, Matt scoops one up, and it becomes a game of keep-away instead. Sunny steals it from Nick, and then Joel swipes it out from under Sunny’s nose, and Casey bodychecks her bandmate to claim the puck for herself, racing towards Spencer’s net. Thegoalie settles in to guard his crease instinctively, dropping a knee to block Casey’s shot and cackling when it rebounds right onto Matt’s stick.
They don’t run drills, or work on skills, or do any of the things a normal practice would entail. They play stupid games and challenge each other to make increasingly ridiculous trick shots. At one point Marco starts up a game of Crack the Whip like they’re all eight years old again.
Matt whoops loudly as he scores against Spencer, letting himself slide all the way into the crease and knock the goalie into the net too. “Double goal!” he cheers, sending the rookies into childish giggles.
“Get off me, you freak,” Spencer groans, shoving at his friend. Matt laughs as he hauls himself to his feet, helping set the net to rights again. “Here I thought I was done playing hockey with you idiots.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re never done playing hockey with us idiots,” Casey calls in reply, skidding to a stop that throws snow all over the drummer. She beams as he growls at her, and the next thing Nick knows, he’s watching a fully dressed goalie with his stick raised like a weapon going full-tilt across the ice, chasing after a cackling Casey.
