Page 59 of Speak in Fever
"People change," Rath manages, focusing intently on pulling off his shin guard. "People mature."
"Absolutely." Terrible settles more comfortably against the partition between stalls, clearly prepared to make this a longer conversation than Rath would prefer. "But some chemistry develops naturally over time, through shared experiences and complementary playing styles. And some chemistry..." He pauses, and Rath can feel the weight of his scrutiny. "Some chemistry is more immediate. More intense."
JP appears on Rath's other side before Terrible can continue, clearly positioning himself as backup. Rath has never been more grateful for his best friend's protective instincts, even as he realizes that JP's intervention probably confirms exactly what Terrible is fishing for.
"Chemistry takes time to build," JP says diplomatically, dropping into his own stall and immediately beginning the ritual of post-practice gear removal. "Rath and Percy have put in the work."
"Oh, I'm sure they have," Terrible agrees with obvious amusement, and the emphasis he puts on 'work' makes Rath want to sink through the floor. "Lots of extra work. Late nights. One-on-one sessions."
The heat in Rath's face is definitely visible now, a flush that probably extends down his neck and chest. He focuses intently on unlacing his skates, using the task as an excuse to avoid meeting anyone's eyes. This is exactly what he was afraid of—Terrible's radar is too good, his observational skills too sharp, and Rath has apparently been as subtle as a brick through a window.
Because the truth is, there have been late nights. There have been one-on-one sessions, both the legitimate hockey kind and the kind that involve Percy's hands in Rath's hair and Rath's name on Percy's lips.
And if Terrible has noticed, how many other people have noticed? How long before someone says something to Coach, or to management, or—worse—to the media?
"The power play stats speak for themselves," JP continues, his voice steady and reasonable in a way that Rath envies. "Their timing has improved significantly since the start of the season."
"Their timing is incredible," Terrible agrees, and there's definitely a double meaning there that makes Rath's stomach clench. "Yesterday's practice, for instance. That give-and-go sequence? It was like they knew exactly what the other was going to do before they did it."
They did know. That's the problem. Rath can read Percy's body language now in ways that would have seemed impossible last year. He knows the subtle shift in Percy's posture that means he's about to change direction, knows the way Percy's eyes narrow slightly when he's about to thread a pass through traffic, knows the exact sound Percy makes when—
"It's just good playing," Rath says quickly, his voice coming out rougher than intended. "We've been working on communication."
"Communication is key," Terrible nods sagely. "Though sometimes the best communication happens without words, don't you think? Like this morning, during the line rush drill. You changed your route without any signal from Cap, but somehow you were exactly where he needed you to be."
Rath remembers that moment. Percy had looked up ice, caught Rath's eye for maybe half a second, and Rath had known—not through any hockey instinct, but because he knows Percy,knows the way his mind works, knows him in ways that extend far beyond the rink.
It had been beautiful hockey. It had also been completely inadvertent intimacy displayed in front of the entire team.
"Lucky guess," Rath mutters.
"I’ve never known you to be modest, Platts," Terrible says with a grin that suggests he's enjoying this way too much. "I don't think luck has much to do with it."
Across the locker room, Rath can see Percy finishing up with his gear, moving with the kind of deliberate efficiency that usually means he's either very focused or very agitated. Probably both, in this case. Percy's ability to compartmentalize is legendary, but even he has limits, and having his relationship with Rath dissected in public—however obliquely—is definitely testing those limits.
Percy appears beside their group before Terrible can continue his interrogation, his timing either coincidental or deliberately protective. Given how well Percy reads the room, Rath suspects it's the latter.
"Platts, you got a minute?" Percy's captain voice is carefully neutral, the same tone he uses for actual business. "Want to go over that power play positioning from today's drill."
It's a transparent excuse to get Rath alone, but not one that would seem unusual to anyone who doesn't know what to look for. Percy's notorious for his attention to detail, and it's not uncommon for him to pull players aside for individual film sessions or tactical discussions.
Terrible's knowing smile suggests he knows exactly what to look for.
"Sure, Cap," Rath says, following Percy toward the video room. He's hyperaware of every step, every movement, trying to project casual professionalism while his heart pounds against his ribs.
As they walk away, he hears Terrible's voice behind them: "Those film sessions are really paying off, huh JP?"
JP's response is diplomatically noncommitant, but Rath can practically feel his friend's amusement. There's affection in it too, though—JP might be entertained by the situation, but he's also covering for them, and Rath makes a mental note to buy him dinner or something later.
The video room is small and windowless, designed for watching game footage and tactical discussions. It's equipped with a large screen, a computer setup, and just enough seating for a few players and a coach. More importantly, it has a door that closes and locks, which makes it one of the few private spaces in the entire facility.
They don't actually review any footage. Instead, Percy closes the door and immediately crowds Rath against the wall, his hands bracing on either side of Rath's head. The sudden shift from public Percy to private Percy makes Rath's knees go weak—this is his Percy, the one who looks at him like he's something precious and impossible, the one who touches him like he's been thinking about it all day.
"We need to be more careful," Percy says quietly, his face inches from Rath's. His voice is tight with controlled frustration, and Rath can see the tension in the line of his jaw, the careful way he's holding himself. "Terrible is asking questions, and we almost gave ourselves away during line rushes."
"I know," Rath breathes, distracted by Percy's proximity, by the familiar smell of his soap and deodorant, by the way his captain's eyes keep dropping to his mouth like he's fighting the same magnetic pull that Rath feels. "But it's hard to pretend I don't want you when you're right there being all... captainy and competent."
Percy's laugh is rough, surprised out of him despite the seriousness of their situation. "Captainy isn't a word."
