YETI
Rocket's apartment door is open and there's an old lady looking at me from down the hall but I feel weird just letting myself in? I've done it before but it feels weird now.
She's definitely staring at me. "Sir?" I hear a little call.
I clear my throat. "Hi, yeah, hey." My first 'hi' came out very Swedish and then I overcorrected, it was a mess.
She gives me a soft smile. "I miss being young. Tell your boyfriend to let you in, you can't keep a guy locked out after the night you ha-"
I pale, putting my hand on the door and pushing it right open, I don't need that conversation right now.
When we get together, rule number 1: no sex here apparently. I mean, it's fine, it's a fine rule, I'd rather it happen at my place mostly because I like the idea of him in my bed, but.
Then I'm standing in his kitchen and listening to the shower running and trying to decide what to say to announce that I'm here.
I start to say something more than once, but I can't muster the confidence, which frustrates me probably too much.
"Håkon, fuck," he's in the door and I'm standing in the kitchen. "The hell did you get here?"
I stutter a little staring at the water falling from his hair. "The door was open, and this- this lady was watching me, so I," I clear my throat. Fuck. "I came in."
"Yeah, let me put on clothes, give me a minute." He's flushed pink.
The water is slipping down his chest, down the centerline of his stomach, his abs exist but they're not prominent, like I've said: he's lean. God and he's soaking wet and hot. His hair is all tousled and it's making me dizzy. The towel is too low on his hips and his body slips down into it. I'm dying to see just a little more. Just a little. The sailboat inked into his ribs is a pretty little thing, a single line wrapping around the shape of the boat, maybe the size of a quarter and nothing more.
"Rocket?" I call.
"Yeah?" He's in his room.
I clear my throat and my head. "Why do you have that tattoo?"
"Ah," he doesn't say anything for a minute. "It's a goal. Before everything happened, Roman and I used to sail together. It's to remind me to try to fix it with him."
"Oh." I respond. He comes out of his room, shorts and a white undershirt that's sticking to his wet skin. "Why on your ribs?" I take my eyes off him.
"So my mom wouldn't see it." He laughs a little. Then we're both standing there, wondering what the fuck happens next.
He makes his way to the fridge and starts to get stuff out to cook with. I watch, trying to come up with anything to say, anything at all.
"I came out to Nico today." He blurts. My heart pauses for just a moment and I have to catch my breath. "She's cool about it, joked around with me a little. I asked her to run the idea past Fen for me, just to see if he's going to be okay with it."
"Oh, I," I stumble over my words. "Congrats?"
"Yeah, thanks." He turns around to me, gesturing to a cutting board. I take to the opportunity immediately, dying to reduce any tension in the room. "But she was really chill about it, it was a relief, honest."
"Is that why you and her disappeared from the weight room?" I mumble. His shoulder brushes mine as he works next to me and my core shivers.
"Yeah, she took me to the break room and I kind of just blurted it. I really don't know, but she was really good with it, didn't say a single thing wrong."
I nod. "I mean, that's Nico. She knows when to be gentle about things."
"Yeah," He slides diced onions off his cutting board into a skillet with oil. I hand him the peppers when he gestures for it.
"What are you making?"
"Omelettes. I'm bad at cooking everything but breakfast."
"Alright, I mean, I like omelettes." I shrug. He shrugs back, then gets out the leftover ham from dinner with his Mom last night and starts cutting it into cubes.
We stay quiet for a long time after this, I make the egg mix and he's working the stove. We're silent but I'm hyperaware of every tiny brush of his body and the tiny whoshes of air that circle him as he walks past me.
"So, I uh," he pauses. "I feel obligated to ask. Are you, like," He flips the omelette, getting the perfect shape first try. "Only men? Or is there a shot in the dark you could go either."
"Why?"
"Well, because everyone's different." he flops the first omelette onto a plate. "I know I'd be chill with dating a girl, but that I'm not even close to sexually attracted to them. It confused the hell out of me forever, but I know what it's about now. I mean, I got a crush on a girl once when I was fifteen and I was suddenly terrified that I'd been wrong, but still the only thoughts I had about her were dates and cute stuff, nothing in the sheets, if you will, that was all guys and only guys." He pauses. "Well, then there was Pluto back in Boston, they worked at a coffee shop I liked and they were another one of my very confusing crushes because I was actually sexually attracted to them but I wasn't sure if that like counted as gay or not."
"So you're," I take a second. "A little bi?"
"Dunno. Yeah, probably. I don't feel like labeling it." He shrugs. "But what about you?"
I take a deep breath. "Only guys. It's only ever been guys."
"That's honestly so much less confusing than whatever happened to me." He laughs, pouring in the other omelette into the pan. "But boobs, ew."
I let out a really nervous chuckle. "Yeah."
"You sound a little confused."
"No, I just don't like, uh-"
He raises his eyebrows. "Talking about it, I know."
"Yeah." I flush.
"So you've just always been into guys and it's never been anything different?"
I nod. "Only guys."
Rocket chews his lip. "What about guys. Tell me something you like about guys."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me something you find attractive."
"Are you sure?"
"Jeez." He laughs. "I'm not going to take offense to this. Just say something."
"Uh," I take a long minute with this. "Guys when they're holding kids? Does that count as something I find attractive? Not in a weird way, I just realized that probably-" I groan.
"Don't worry, I didn't take it like that," Rocket flips the next one. "And you're completely right about that. That shit is fucking adorable."
I have another little nervous laugh. "What about you, something you like?"
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"When a guy hasn't shaved in a couple days and he gets scrappy all up here," he gestures at his face. "This is really specific and kind of related, but when a guy is sick and they're all sleepy and recovering from a cold. That's wholesome."
I smile. "Also sick voice." I mumble. "Sick voice is cute."
"Sick voice is nice."
"Anything a guy does when he's tired." I flush a little when he looks at me. "I mean, like, sleeping together but the cuddly way. The little yawn noise."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I clear my throat a little and Milo hands me one of the omelettes and we make our way to the table.
"Groggy voice is hot, yeah?" he suggests.
"Mhmm." I nod over a mouthful.
"So, you're talking to me about guys. Being gay. How do you feel?"
"Fine." I mumble. "I mean, weird. But good. A little uncomfortable."
"Because you've never had someone talk with you about this or that I'm making you uncomfortable."
"Because nobody's ever talked to me about this."
Rocket chews for a moment. "Celebrity crush. Go."
"Uh," I pause. "In the least weird way possible, Loki from the avengers."
"Interesting." He grins.
"Stop it with that shit eating grin." I laugh. "Tell me yours, come on."
"Who's the guy in Good Will Hunting and the Martian."
"You know his name, you're just being shy." I cut off another hunk of omelette and chew, watching him.
He just laughs at this. "Matt Damon when he was younger."
"I get that." I snort. "Anyone else?"
"Uh, Flynn Ryder from Tangled."
I choke and then laugh. "Yeah, yeah."
"Do you know the Prince of Denmark?"
"Personally? No?"
"No." Rocket laughs. "No, like do you know of him."
"Yeah."
"Uh, need I say anything else."
"Nope." I snort. "You know Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars?"
"Fuck me up." Rocket laughs. "Yeah, that was my childhood."
"Same here." I shake my head. "I was way too into him."
He's watching me a little. "Is it just me, or is hockey gear way too fucking attractive."
I nod. "Way too attractive, but not on most people, it's like, it's specific people."
"Good, just wanted to make sure I'm not crazy."
"Everyone just gets so," I try to come up with words. "Extra big? They get bigger? That makes no sense."
"No, no, I get what you mean, shoulders." He nods. "And the pants."
"Yeah, yeah." I laugh. "Offense and defense look fantastic in gear, you just look cuddly."
"Oh shut up." Rocket snorts, reaching up to push his damp hair back.
"I mean, you think you look all big and scary, and you do, I mean, you're six six on skates, but to me you kinda just look like a big poofy marshmallow." I watch his response to that. "Also, I've been meaning to ask. Can you just, do the splits? Like, in gear, do you just-"
He's got that shit eating grin back, getting up from the table, fork in hand. Then he just drops. He's on the ground, one leg on either side of him, facing forward.
"Jeez." I mumble, unfortunately a little turned on by this.
"Yeah, and then I gotta get that extra little mobility," he takes a breath and pulls his chest over one leg until it's flush and then over the other one. "So that I don't tear anything like this."
"Holy shit." I laugh. "Damn, goalie." he sets his elbows on the tile and closes his legs behind him, standing up.
"That's my best party trick." He bows and sits back down.
"Yeah, I don't think I could get all the way down. I mean, I have to stretch, but I'm not stretchy."
"You'll get injured if you don't get a little more stretchy. I can give you some stretches if you want them."
"I mean, if you want." I chew for a moment. "What's the craziest save you've ever made?"
"Back in Flint. This is a clear winner." He gets back up again and sets down in the goalie ready position, bent all the way over, hands to the sides, knees ready to drop at any point. "I had my glove up and I knew I'd get it, right, real simple, I saw the release and everything. But, someone tipped it off the butt of their stick in the air, and it was so fast I couldn't move to change anything, you know what it did?"
"What?" He's holding his hand like he's got his glove on, and he flips it over.
"Went up my sleeve." He laughs. "Okay, but that's not even the crazy part. They thought they scored, right? Because it wasn't in my glove. I didn't think at all about if the play was still going, all I knew is that it hit my elbow and it hurt. So I shook out my sleeve and it hit the ice again. Steph noticed and ran right for it, he knew that it was still in play, and he needed to get it out, right?"
"Right."
"But their forward saw it too and dove. Like a psychopath, right into Steph's way. Steph ate absolute shit on the ice over this guy, and he was swatting at it with his stick, trying to get it between my legs. I didn't realize the whole thing was going on, but I fell backward and barely caught it with my stick." He falls behind him, mimicking placing his stick on the ice. "And then I did something a little like this." His feet are still on the ground, but he twists his shoulders and back so he can be facing the ground with his head, his other hand comes to the floor. "And put the glove over it. I swear to god my life flashed before my eyes in that moment."
"Jeez." I mumble. "So it went up your sleeve?"
"Yeah, weird feeling, wouldn't repeat." He stands up and joins me back at the table. "What about you, weirdest thing you've done?"
"Swedish national team, junior year." I nod, it comes back into my head clearly. "Got my helmet knocked off with something, broke all the straps on it. If you look under my chin I've still got the rope burn from it. I had the puck though, racing up the ice, now helmetless. I threw a guy off me and his defense buddy came up to me ready to fight, but I had to keep moving. It was me on the goalie and nobody else, bad shot, my stick broke and I hit the ground, but the goalie was so stunned at what just happened that he fumbled the puck and it went in." I shrug. "Then the guy that wanted to fight me just a second earlier knocked me clean, but."
He's chewing the inside of his lip. "I keep forgetting you're a fighter."
I flush. "Yeah, I've gotten pretty bloody before."
"And you're virtually undefeatable." He shrugs.
"Not even close."
"Are you kidding? Remember earlier in the season when that guy fell right on his ass without you even doing anything?"
"Yeah, but that's-"
"Because everyone knows you're a fighter and you'll probably knock them out."
"I guess." I shrug. "I don't like fighting, but Finnican and I are the biggest guys on the team so it has to go to someone."
"Finnican is terrifying. I'll be honest. He's so fucking quiet all the time and I'm so afraid he'll just explode one day and completely flatten everyone."
I nod. "He's seen some shit. Definitely seen some shit."
"Yeah, but he's kinda cute in a could-easily-murder-me way. His all black thing is weird though."
"He's a nice guy, just a little cold."
"Actually the one person that scares me most while fighting." He shivers a little. "Fen."
"Stringer. Yeah. Stringer likes to pick on him and Fen hates it." Kasta Stronger is the one person that our goldenboy captain will throw hands with. Only him.
"The hell does Stringer even say to get Fen worked up?"
"Misogynistic shit about Nico. I've heard it, he bothers me sometimes, but he really goes at Fen for it because he gets a reaction fast."
"Does he have some sort of death wish?"
"I think he just wants to see Fen get a really big penalty or something." I shrug. "Fen's fought Stringer every single game we've played against them. Doesn't take them long to square up either. Normally the second period. It's alright though, normally Fen gets him good enough to sedate him for the rest of the game."
"Sedate????" Rocket is horrified.
"Yeah, get him fuzzy enough." I wave my hand around my head. "Dunno. That's not exactly the goal, but."
"Damn okay." He chews his lip and stands up with his plate. I follow him to the kitchen and we put away our dishes. "Fen is scary, honest."
"Fen, yeah."
"He's also really fucking hot." I laugh at this. "Obviously I can't actually be into him because he's on the team, but like, if I wasn't his goalie. Plus, like, Nico is an olympian, to keep her entertained you know they play rough."
I choke at this, laughing. "Rocket!"
"You have to admit." He pokes me in the stomach. "There's no way in hell they don't get rough. You've fucking seen his back sometimes, you know."
"They do wrestle competitively for fun." I nod, trying not to think too much about it. "Like actually wrestle for a winner."
"Jeez."
"And they don't go soft on each other. I showed up to Fen's apartment and walked in on Fen being held in a choke hold."
"What did he do about it?"
"I assumed he was going soft on her, but he flipped her the hell over, then they noticed I was there so they stopped, but I assume they have to have some sort of rule, some safe word because they sure as hell were fighting competitively."
"Uh," He laughs. "When we get together eventually, let's avoid doing that."
"Why?"
"Because you'd murder me. I weigh like a hundred pounds. You could throw me."
"You don't weigh a hundred pounds."
"Okay, yeah, one ninety. But you're like two eighty."
"Okay, two fifty, but-"
"Yeah, but you're literally sixty pounds heavier than I am, and three inches taller. In total, that's a hell of a lot more Yeti than Rocket." He grabs my arms and shakes me. "I mean, look at you."
"Shut up, I know." I laugh.
"Also, Nico might want to bother you."
"What do you mean?"
"Talk to you."
"What about?" I'm panicking.
"She asked if you got interesting, because she knows we're friends, and you've never opened up to her, so she wants to get to know you."
"She does?"
"Yeah, you're a nice guy, Håkon, get that through your head." He ruffles my hair. "Just keep telling yourself you're a good guy and it'll get in there some day."
***
some days man I got it all together,
most days though I'm just tryna get better.
everybody's got that something,
they can't fix with love or money.
Not OK! - Chaz Cardigan
***
oof
just realized i gotta not write 6k words a day because now i'm in school and not on break
rip
-rabid