Page 18 of Speak in Fever
"Yeah," Percy agrees, leaning in to the touch. "I guess the extra time together paid off."
"Think we're figuring it out?"
Percy considers the question as they head toward the locker room. They're not there yet—not the kind of seamless partnership that makes highlight reels—but they're building something real and sustainable. More than that, they're building something that feels significant, something worth investing in.
"Getting there," he says. "Good foundation today."
Rath's smile is warm and genuine, and Percy feels that familiar tightness in his chest at the sight of it. "I can work with a good foundation."
They join their teammates in the locker room, the familiar chaos of post-practice routine surrounding them. Gear comes off in stages—helmets first, then gloves, followed by the careful process of unlacing skates and peeling off jerseys soaked with sweat.
"So," Terrible says with obvious glee, pulling his jersey over his head, "you two stop fighting for four minutes and suddenly you're the dream team?"
"We weren't fighting," Percy protests, though even he knows that's not entirely true. They hadn't been fighting exactly, but they certainly hadn't been working together effectively either.
"Could have fooled me," JP chimes in, sitting down heavily on the bench beside his locker. "Last week you two looked like strangers who'd never played hockey before."
"It could have been like this all along," Raul laments, shaking his head as he unlaces his skates. "Coach has been trying to get you two to connect for a year."
"It takes time," Percy says, aware of how defensive he sounds but unable to stop himself. "You can't force these things."
"Apparently you just needed the right motivation," Torres says with a knowing grin that makes Percy's stomach flip with anxiety. "Whatever you figured out, keep doing it."
As Percy finishes changing, he finds himself stealing glances at Rath, replaying their on-ice connection and trying to process what it means. The chemistry they'd discovered goes beyond professional partnership—there's something personal about the level of trust and understanding they'd achieved, something that makes Percy's chest tight with possibility.
Rath catches him looking and offers a small smile that Percy feels in his chest like warmth spreading outward. It's a simple gesture, probably meaningless, but Percy finds himself analyzing every micro-expression, searching for clues about what Rath might be thinking.
"Alright, boys," Torres announces loudly as he pulls on his street clothes, "that practice deserves celebrating. O'Malley's, one hour. Cap and Platts are buying the first round."
"Why are we buying?" Percy asks, though he's already mentally agreeing to the plan. Post-practice drinks with the team are part of the social fabric that holds them together, and after today's success, it feels like the natural next step.
"Because you two just put on the greatest chemistry display in team history," JP replies with a grin. "That last power play goal was pure poetry. That's worth at least a round of beers."
"I'm in," Rath says immediately, then turns to Percy with that bright smile that's been appearing more frequently. "As long as Cap promises not to get all modest about those passes."
"He was showing off," Terrible chimes in with obvious delight. "Our captain was showing off for his new favorite winger."
Percy's face burns with heat, but before he can protest, Rath is already responding with theatrical indignation.
"Hey, if Cap wants to make me look good with impossible passes, I'm not complaining," Rath says with smugness that's clearly performed for the team's entertainment. "Though I should probably warn him that my redirect game is only getting better."
"Your redirect game?" Percy raises an eyebrow, grateful for the opportunity to deflect attention from his allegedly showing off. "That last goal was pure luck."
"Luck?" Rath's voice pitches higher with mock offense, his hand pressed to his chest in exaggerated affront. "Excuse me, that was athletic artistry. Perfect timing, flawless execution, absolute—"
"It was a decent tip," Percy interrupts, but his tone is fond rather than critical.
"Decent?" The entire locker room is watching their back-and-forth now with obvious entertainment, teammates pausing in their changing to follow the playful argument. "Cap, I turned your cross-ice prayer into poetry. Show some appreciation."
"I'll show appreciation when you can do it consistently," Percy challenges.
"Oh, it's like that?" Rath grins, and there's something almost predatory in his expression that makes Percy's stomach flip with something that isn't entirely comfortable. "Fine. Tomorrow'spractice, I'm going to make every single one of your passes look better than it actually is."
"Looking forward to it," Percy replies, and realizes he absolutely means it. The prospect of tomorrow's practice, of continuing to build this connection with Rath, fills him with anticipation that goes beyond professional interest.
"This is the best entertainment we've had all season," JP announces to general agreement. "Please tell me you two are going to keep this up at the bar."
"Only if Cap keeps buying rounds every time I make his assists look good," Rath says with obvious satisfaction.
