Page 58 of Speak in Fever
"You fought me about everything," Percy says, trying to reason this out, trying to reconcile the Rath who'd challenged his authority at every turn with the Rath who'd apparently been harboring a crush. "I thought you hated me."
"I was nineteen and thought I knew everything," Rath says with a self-deprecating shrug, like it's something he's come to terms with through hard-won experience. "But I liked the way you put me in my place."
Percy makes a strangled sound that might have been a laugh or might have been something else entirely.
Rath gives him a withering look that's undermined by the lingering flush in his cheeks. "Don't make it weird, Percy."
But it is weird, or at least surprising in ways that Percy is still processing. Rookie year means Rath has had feelings for him for two years—longer than any relationship Percy has ever been in, longer than he's maintained interest in anyone else. That seems significant in ways Percy doesn't fully understand yet.
The timeline also explains so much about their dynamic, the push and pull that's characterized their working relationship from the beginning. If Rath has been attracted to Percy this whole time, then all those arguments, all that challenging behavior, takes on a different meaning. It wasn't just professional disagreement or youthful arrogance—it was complicated by personal feelings that Rath couldn't express directly.
"This doesn't have to be an issue," Rath says quietly, and Percy can hear the careful control in his voice, like he's trying very hard to sound casual about something that clearly isn't casual for him. "Yes, I've had a thing for you for an embarrassing amount of time. Don't let it make you feel like... pressured or whatever. This doesn't have to be complicated."
The words are clearly meant to be reassuring, but they have the opposite effect. Percy can hear the resignation underneath Rath's attempted nonchalance, the way he's already protecting himself from potential rejection. It makes Percy's chest tight with something that might be panic or might be the opposite of panic.
Because the truth is, Percy wants it to be complicated. He wants this to matter, wants it to mean something beyond physical attraction and convenient timing. The knowledge that Rath has been carrying these feelings for years doesn't feel like pressure—it feels like proof that this thing between them is real, that it has foundations deeper than either of them has acknowledged.
He knows it's not his place to ask, that pushing for more information might be crossing a line, but the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them: "Do you want it to be complicated?"
Rath's jaw clenches, his expression shuttering again in that way that means Percy has hit too close to something vulnerable. Percy immediately wants to take the question back, to apologize for pushing when Rath has already given him more honesty than he had any right to expect.
"I'm not planning on hooking up with anyone else," Percy says quickly, backpedaling like he's trying to avoid a penalty. "If you want to keep doing this."
Some of the strain in Rath's face softens at the assurance, and Percy realizes that uncertainty about exclusivity might havebeen part of what was making him tense. Of course Rath would be worried about that—he's young, relatively inexperienced with relationships, and Percy has a reputation for keeping things casual.
"Do you want to keep doing this?" Rath asks, and there's something carefully neutral about the question that suggests he's prepared for either answer.
Instead of responding with words, Percy holds out his hand and keeps it extended until Rath finally takes it. The contact is simple—just their palms pressed together, fingers intertwining—but it feels significant in ways that more dramatic gestures might not.
Percy guides Rath back onto his lap gently, giving him every opportunity to resist if he wants to maintain distance. But Rath comes willingly, settling against Percy with a soft sigh that suggests relief more than anything else.
Percy cradles Rath's face in both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones in a gesture that's more tender than sexual. "I want to keep doing this," he says simply, and watches something fragile and hopeful bloom in Rath's expression.
Chapter 19
The worst part about having a secret relationship with your team captain, Rath has discovered, is that he still has to see Percy every single day and pretend like he doesn't want to climb him like a tree.
It's particularly difficult on days like today, when Percy's been in full captain mode since they hit the ice for morning skate. There's something about the way he carries himself when he's focused—shoulders squared, jaw set in that determined line, eyes sharp as he surveys the team like he's cataloguing every weakness and strength. It makes Rath's mouth go dry and his focus scatter.
Which is probably why he nearly took out Torres with that sloppy turn during the passing drill, earning himself a glare from Coach Reeves and a concerned look from JP that he's been trying to ignore for the past twenty minutes.
The locker room after practice is always chaos—a symphony of gear hitting the floor, shower water running, and conversationsoverlapping as guys decompress from the intensity of training. It's loud enough that most conversations get lost in the noise, which is usually a blessing. Today, it feels like a curse, because the noise means Rath can't tell if other people are talking about him and Percy, can't gauge if their careful distance is fooling anyone.
He's sitting at his stall, methodically peeling off his gear and trying not to watch Percy strip out of his practice jersey three stalls down, when the ambient noise around him suddenly quiets. Not the whole locker room—just his immediate vicinity, like people are deliberately tuning out.
That's when he realizes Terrible is approaching, and Rath's stomach drops.
Terrible has the observational skills of a private investigator and the tact of a sledgehammer. He's also Percy's alternate captain and one of the most perceptive people Rath has ever met, which makes him approximately the last person Rath wants to have this conversation with.
"You know," Terrible says, settling beside Rath at his stall with the careful casualness of someone who's been planning this approach, "I've been thinking about team chemistry lately."
Rath's hands still on his shin guards.
"Have you?" Rath asks carefully.
"Mmm. How some players just click, you know? Like they're on the same wavelength. Reading each other's minds." Terrible's tone is conversational, friendly even, but his eyes are sharp in a way that makes Rath feel like he's being dissected. "Take you and Cap, for instance. That connection you two have developed is pretty remarkable when you consider we thought you were going to kill each other last season."
Rath can feel heat climbing up his neck. Across the room, Percy's back is to them, but Rath can see the tension in his captain's shoulders, the way his movements have gone justslightly too controlled. Percy's heard this conversation, and he's fighting the same urge to look over that Rath is fighting right now.
