ROCKET

I'm on the bench again, you know, because Edmonton is an actual challenge and we need Paxton for that.

Holt is on Yeti's ass. That's what I've been watching this whole game. Fuck the score and the rest of my guys, I just need to see this man live to tomorrow. I've seen Yeti get pissed off before, but he's not quite there with Holt. I mean, I'd be pissy if I was the one getting repeatedly cross checked by him. He hasn't gotten called yet, and I know that's annoying Håkon, but he hasn't done anything back, which is good.

Cross checking is just right-out rude. I mean, I've been cross checked before, but not this frequently. I'm a goalie, most of the time I'm safe except for the puck flying at me. Håkon, my dear boy, not so much. He's playing fair as far as I can see, okay he's not but I like to keep him golden in my eyes. He's definitely not, he's jabbing at Holt's skates and he's probably chirping him but that's fine I think. Holt's the one that's throwing his stick into Yeti's back at every chance he can get. 

"How you feeling?" He flops onto the bench and I lean over to talk to him.

"Angry, but that's his fucking fault," Håkon grumbles. "I just need to get him to fuck off."

"Alright, uh, don't get bloody on me." I pat his helmet awkwardly with my glove, the basket of the glove covering the majority of the top of his head. 

"Sure, sure."

"Håkon-"

He gives me a little smile and then slides down the bench to let the next line in.

In a minute, he's back out on the ice, marking Holt the second they're out together. Holt is now back on Paxton, shoving him around. Paxy's mad now.

The second Holt is away from Paxton with the puck, Håkon throws a check I can feel from here. It's a gross one, too far away from the boards to be a board check but too close to them for Holt not to hit the boards on the rebound. He gets tossed and kinda stumbles, falling over. Then he's scrambling to get up. Håkon passes the puck to Steph who takes it down the ice.

Holt has his helmet off when I look back over, grabbing the front of Håkon's jersey. I'm watching, a little stunned.

Yeti grabs both of Holt's hands to keep him from taking a cheap shot, his dinner plate palm wrapping both Holt's wrists to keep them still, and pulls his helmet off with the other hand. Two buttons and the chin strap. The moment Håkon's hands wrap around his wrists and his helmet hits the ice, skittering off to the side, Holt knows he's fucked. You can see it in his poor terrified eyes. Even I feel slightly bad. Not actually, though, this is what you get for cross checking my baby. 

He lets go and Holt throws a punch. Håkon repositions his legs and is just holding the front of Holt's jersey, getting position. Holt gets in another punch before Håkon throws one at him. 

All it takes is one, the lock of his extended elbow to hold Holt out far enough that his reach is just short of Yeti's face, and then the full body twist and smack. Holt's head snaps back and Håkon gives him a nasty little shove, tossing him to the ice.  

"Holy shit, again?" Nico is on the bench next to me. "Sometimes he's scary."

Holt is face down on the ice, hands over his head. Håkon took one shot at his jaw and it knocked him over.

Håkon's shoulders are grabbed by two refs and he's led away from Holt, which, by his expression, I can tell that Håkon isn't going to to back and try that mess again, he's done. He grabs the lip of his jersey in one hand and brings it up to wipe off the blood that's dripping down his neck from his cut, getting red on the white trim. I can practically feel the equipment manager bristle from behind me, knowing he's going to have to get that blood out. I can see the red across his knuckles from here when he lifts his hand to brush his hair back. The greater powers are testing me today. 

I try to cover up the blush that creeped up my neck from watching that. Håkon tips his head to me on the way to the penalty box and all I can do is swallow the lump in my throat. That was hot.

He did get bloody though. Håkon has a cut on his jaw and it's going to bruise on the side of his face.

HÅKON

Okay, yeah, maybe I did it to show off to Rocket, maybe that was one of the motives. From the look on his face when I went to the penalty box, it might've worked. I mean, I do what I normally do, lifted up my jersey to wipe blood off my chin from where it's leaking out of a cut on my jaw. I felt around my eye with my hand to see if my cheekbones had any damage and then that was that, I went to the box. 

I wasn't sure if he was pissed or impressed or anything of the sort. All I got from his expression is that he was feeling something. It's good. I like it when I can get him to feel something. It feels good to come hot off a fight and see him staring at me. 

 The true tell is that he shows up to my house after the game.

"What in god's fuck were you thinking!" He closes the door and takes ten strides up to me in the kitchen. "Håkon you could've gotten hurt!"

"I know." He puts his hands on my face, yanking me roughly toward him, touching the cut and the bruise, then running his fingers all over, tipping my head every which way to check to see if I'm alright. "It's alright, kid, hey."

"Don't 'hey kid' me, please." He tips my chin back, looking at the rest of the bruise and finishing his exam. Then he picks up my hands and looks at the little bit of blue and red on my knuckles. "God I hate it when you do this."

"It's not a big deal, hey, I'm supposed to be the grinder on the team, it's really just something they need me to do." I don't know what I'm feeling but I like this. I like him checking all my fingers individually. But I hate that he thinks I'm vulnerable because of it. 

"No, no no."

"This is a lot of concern for a guy that isn't my boyfriend."

"Isn't yet." he grumbles, still poking and prodding me. "I can't date you if you're dead or crazy injured, so-"

I grab his hands holding them to his sides. "I'm alright."

"Yeah but-"

"Rocket I'm fine."

"But-"

I pull his hands up and put them on my cheeks, stopping myself from melting into them from the second they touch my face. "I'm still breathing, am I not?"

"But-"

"Milo."

"But you could've gotten hurt or a concussion or-"

"Shhh, I love that you care about me like this, but it's not that big of a deal. I fight, that's my spot on this team."

"I wish it wasn't."

"Mhmm," I knot my fingers up in his on my cheeks, still holding them there because I like the attention. 

"I like you."

"I know."

"Kind of a jerk move to call me a bottom last night." He mumbles, staring up at me. 

"You're not still irritated at me for that, are you?"

"A little."

"Rocket."

"You know I do both, why the hell would you say I'm only a bottom-"

"Because I'm a top, and the last time I checked you wanted to date me. So that means you'll probably bottom."

"Okay, okay, yes, but-"

"Shh, it was cute how frustrated you got," he gets pink again. "Rocket it's fine, I was just picking a little fun at you."

He rolls his eyes then starts mocking me. He starts off in english then launches seamlessly into a long winded explosion in Czech, pointing a finger around and letting words I don't understand roll off his tongue. 

Eventually, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him into a hug. He stays stiff as a board, but quiets down. "You done being huffy with me?"

"No."

"Alright."

He doesn't say anything else, instead leaning his head against my shoulder and looking off to the side, thinking about something.

"Are you alright with yourself yet?" He huffs, his accent a little stronger from the recent outburst. 

"Not really, not yet."

"Get around to it," He flips his head so his nose is on my neck instead of facing away. "I want to kiss you again."

"I know." I rub his shoulders. "You still mad at me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Damn, you're fussy." I snort. "Just tell me."

"No."

"I can't fix it if I don't know what it is."

"I'm tired."

"That's an easy fix, just nap."

"I don't want to."

"Well then why are you complaining?"

"Attention."

"Oh my god," I pick him up and walk him to the couch in my living room, setting him down there. "Sleep."

He frowns, then stands back up. "No."

"Why?"

"No."

"Yeah, I know you said no, I just don't get why you said no." He shakes his head and opens up his arms. I take one stride and let him hug me again. "What are you doing?" He pulls me backward onto the couch and manages to position me under him. From there he grabs one of my blankets and covers us up on the couch. "Rocket?"

"Sleep."

"No, Rocket, I want to make something to eat-" He wraps his arms around me in a Rocket death grip and puts his head on my chest, his eyes close and I know I'm absolutely trapped. "Jeez, kid."

"Don't 'kid' me."

"Fine, fine, I just can't think of anything better."

"Rocket. Milo. Milos. I've got a lot of names. Kid isn't one of them."

"Why don't you like it?"

He opens one eye and glares at me. "My dad used to call me kid, frankly, not in english, but it feels like the same condescending bullshit."

"Oh, I, sorry."

"Not your fault, you didn't know." he burrows back down into my hoodie and I'm stuck there, not exactly tired, but completely required to stay here because he's asleep and comfortable against me.

So instead, I lie there and scratch his head, wondering how the hell I got into this situation. Then I just end up listening to his little sleepy Czech conversations. 

***

slow down your heartbeat

close your eyes and don't speak

lay with my body

play dead, play dead with me

play dead - tom walker

***

CAN SOMEONE INFORM ME AS TO WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED YESTERDAY? I'VE BEEN JUMPING ~900 READS EVERY DAY ON PLIE AND CLOUT THEN OUT OF NOWHERE I GET 1,500 AND THEN YESTERDAY IT WENT UP 2400 READS IN ONE DAY. 

WHAT

WHAT

WHAT.

AND I GOT ADDED TO A COUPLE READING LISTS TITLED TIKTOK? WHO'S TIKTOK AM I IN????? WHAT THE FUCK

anyway

-rabid

ALSO

This gif of nolan patrick, which i might remove later if I want to, basically sums up what yeti did

though yeti and NP don't look anything alike i guess it's the same motions