Page 72 of Speak in Fever
The plane touches down in Portland just after midnight, and Percy is grateful for the late hour that means fewer people around to notice or comment. But even in the dim parking garage, he's aware of his teammates' glances, the way JP keeps looking between him and Rath with obvious concern.
"Ride home?" Percy asks Rath quietly as they collect their bags, keeping his voice carefully casual.
Rath hesitates, and Percy can see the conflict in his expression—wanting to say yes but aware of how that might look right now, when they're already under scrutiny.
"I'll catch a ride with JP," Rath says finally, and the rejection stings even though Percy understands the reasoning.
Percy nods and heads for his car alone, spending the drive home thinking about damage control and plausible explanations and how to protect what they have without denying its existence entirely.
His apartment feels too quiet when he gets there, too empty without Rath's presence filling the space. Percy makes himself a cup of tea he doesn't want and settles on his couch with his laptop, reluctantly returning to Twitter to see how bad the situation has gotten.
It's worse than he'd hoped but not as catastrophic as it could be. Most of the comments are positive, fans who think their "chemistry" is entertaining rather than suspicious. The shipping content is extensive but seems to be treated as harmless fan speculation rather than serious investigation into their personal lives.
But there are other comments too, ones that make Percy's stomach churn.
Percy's phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number, and he automatically lets it go to voicemail. Then another call, and another. Reporters, probably, or bloggers looking forcomments about the "intimate celebration" that's suddenly all over social media.
He turns off his phone and goes to bed, but sleep doesn't come easily. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees that photo—the way they'd looked at each other, touched each other, existed in their own private world for just a moment too long.
Chapter 24
Rath has lots of great ideas. Writing papers the night before they were due, threading a pass through six inches of traffic in a tied game, coming on to his captain in the middle of a crowded club. Ideas are the easy part and that's not to say he always thinks them through, but he always has them.
So it's no surprise that, when he shows up at Percy's doorstep the next day, he has an idea. He's been thinking about it overnight and, by the time he finally works up the courage to see Percy, he's convinced himself it's even a good idea.
When Percy opens the door, Rath slips inside quickly, aware of the neighbors and the possibility of being seen. The last thing they need is more speculation about why Rath Platts is showing up at his captain's house at ten PM.
"Okay," Rath says without preamble, settling heavily onto Percy's couch with his phone clutched in his hand. "I've been thinking about this all day, and I think we're approaching it wrong."
He watches Percy close the door and turn to face him, noting the careful way his captain moves, like he's bracing for bad news. The sight makes Rath's chest tight with affection and determination in equal measure.
"Wrong how?" Percy asks.
"We've been panicking about damage control, about explaining it away, about making it seem like less than it was." Rath runs his hands through his hair, trying to channel his nervous energy into something productive. "But what if we don't do any of that?"
Percy settles into the chair across from him, and Rath can see him trying to read his expression, trying to figure out where this conversation is heading.
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting we do nothing." The words come out in a rush, and Rath leans forward, needing Percy to understand. "We don't confirm anything, but we don't deny anything either. We just... let people think what they want to think."
"Rath—"
"Hear me out," Rath interrupts, pulling up his phone and scrolling to the screenshots he's been collecting all day. "I've been reading the comments, the threads, the analysis posts. You know what most people are saying? They're saying we have amazing chemistry, that we're friendship goals, that our connection makes the team better. Even the people who think we might be together are being supportive about it."
He watches Percy process this information, can see the wheels turning in his captain's head. This is the part Rath was most nervous about—convincing Percy that this isn't just wishful thinking or reckless optimism.
"But the media questions—"
"We answer them the same way we always have," Rath says firmly, the conviction in his voice surprising even himself. "Wetalk about our chemistry on the ice, about working well together, about building trust as linemates. We don't lie, but we don't give them anything concrete either."
Percy stands and starts pacing, which Rath recognizes as his thinking-through-all-possible-scenarios mode. Rath forces himself to stay quiet and let Percy work through it, even though every instinct he has is telling him to keep talking, to convince, to persuade.
"That's certainly an option," Percy says finally. "But once we stop actively shutting down speculation, it's going to grow. People are going to look for more signs, analyze every interaction."
"Maybe." Rath shrugs, trying to project more calm than he feels. "But they're already doing that anyway. At least this way, we're not exhausting ourselves trying to hide."
He can see the exact moment when Percy starts considering it seriously, when the pacing shifts from anxious to contemplative. Rath holds his breath, waiting.
