Page 72 of Goaltender Interference

Aiden was asleep when Matt got home, and he took a second to look at him in the bed, peacefully asleep and illuminated only by the sporadic lights from outside. Some of the dark circles under his eyes and the hollow shadows in his face had started to fill in, and he was just so fucking beautiful, long eyelashes fanned out against his cheek. Matt stripped as quietly as possible in the dark, trying not to wake him, but Aiden’s eyes opened groggily when he got into the bed and peeled the covers back so he could get under them, too.

“Matt?”

“Sorry, baby,” Matt mumbled, pulling the covers back over both of them, “I was trying not to wake you.”

“Mm, don’t apologize,” Aiden said, still half-asleep, shifting in the bed so he could wrap his arms around Matt’s body, tuck his head into the hollow of Matt’s throat. “I was trying to wait up for you, but...”

“I’m here now.”

“Yes.” It was more a sigh than a word, the heat of his breath against Matt’s neck.

Matt did what he’d wanted to do so badly earlier: bury his face in Aiden’s hair, inhale the familiar, comforting smell of him. It didn’t matter whether his knee fucking hurt, whether he was probably going to have to do another injection before practice tomorrow, whether the contract situation was uncertain or whether he was going to broach the topic of introducing Aiden back into team activities. All that mattered was Aiden in his bed, a warm, comforting body against his, the only anchor he’d ever needed.

He was asleep before he even realized it.

One of Aiden’s promises to Dr. Gauthier was that he would try to give things a chance without immediately dismissing them, which was probably at least three-quarters of the reason he ended up outside of a karaoke bar on the Main, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket like that alone could protect him from the awkwardness he could already feel heavy on his shoulders.

The other reason was that Matt had looked at him, with an expression so hopeful it was almost sweet, and asked, “Will you please come?”

And Aiden, even though his brain was yelling,no! no! absolutely not!had nodded, dumb, and said, “Sure.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” Matt said, as he tried to blow some warmth into his hands. “It means a lot to be able to, you know, bring you to team stuff again.”

“Yeah, of course,” Aiden said. He was still staring at the door like it was the barrier to a pit of lions. In some ways, it was. The one positive note was that Saarinen was one of the few guys still on the roster who knew Aiden back before he and Matt broke up, before they had to deal with the aftermath. So most of them probably didn’t want to kill him on sight the same way the majority of Matt’s teammatesthatyear probably still did. That didn’t mean he was looking forward to it.

“All right,” Matt said, “it’s just a team bonding night, no pressure.”

“Of course. Do your thing, Matt. Don’t worry about me.”

It was dive-y inside, dark with only paper lanterns above the grimy tables to illuminate the space. The tables themselves weresort of crowded in the small space left between the bar, the wall and the fairly large stage in the background.

Matt squeezed Aiden’s shoulder, and murmured, just loudly enough for him to hear over the din of the crowd, “Thanks, baby.”

Aiden waved him away and wandered a little deeper into the bar itself as Matt went to greet a crowd of the rookies, lurking awkwardly near one of the tables.

Aiden looked around. He never thought he’d be glad to see Aatos Saarinen, but his life had taken him to such weird places that it was almost a relief when he caught sight of him by the bar. He nudged his way through a crowd of regular bar patrons and Royal. He recognized a few of the older guys—Morozov, Lee, Fournier, Singh, Ayer, the Morin twins—and their young superstar in the making, Jack Crane. He didn’t know any of them as well as he knew Saarinen, though, so that was where he made his beeline.

“Buddy,” Saarinen said, and pushed a shot glass toward Aiden. “Here, take this. I can order another one. You look like you need it more than me.”

It was clear liquid. Aiden took it and drank. Just vodka, neat. “Thanks. I got the next round for you.”

Saarinen raised his fist and tapped it gently against Aiden’s. “Deal.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“Oh, it was all Safy. We do this every year, around the beginning. It’s not as expensive as the rookie dinner, but same thing, you know? Humiliate the rookies, let some of the old guys have their day with the songs of their youth. If you can get Fourns to stop singing Backstreet Boys, I’ll buy your drinks for the rest of the night.”

“You’rean old guy.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty sick. Just wait ’til Safy and I take our turn.”

Aiden tried to imagine Matt doing karaoke every year. “Doeshe sing?”

“Not until the end of the night when we bully him into it.”

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this.”

“There’s still time, buddy.”

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