Page 8 of Speak in Fever
Everything feels charged and electric in a way that makes Rath's skin buzz with nervous energy.
During a battle drill in the corners, Rath finds himself paired against Raul Sortego, one of the veteran defensemen who's built like a freight train and hits like one too. The drill is simple—fight for puck possession in the corner, try to work it out to a supporting player. But when Raul pins him against the boards, applying two hundred pounds of pressure that makes Rath's ribs creak in protest, it's Percy's voice that cuts through the chaos.
"Good battle, Platts! Keep your feet moving!"
The encouragement gives Rath the extra push he needs to slip out of Raul's grasp and work the puck free, feeding it to Torres for a clean scoring chance. When he skates past Percy on the way back to the line, their captain gives him a brief nod of approval that makes Rath's chest swell with pride.
It's such a small thing, but coming from Percy it feels monumental. Rath has spent so much time thinking that Percy sees him as a problem to be managed rather than an asset to be developed, and these tiny moments of recognition feel like glimpses of something different.
By the time Coach runs them through a full scrimmage at the end of practice, Rath is playing some of the best hockey of his life. Every pass is crisp, every shot is placed with precision, and he moves through traffic with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing you belong. When he scores twice in the scrimmage—once on a beautiful individual effort, once on a perfect feed from Torres—he can't help but look toward Percy for approval.
Both times, Percy is watching. Both times, there's something in his expression that looks almost like pride.
By the time they're finally heading to the locker room, sweaty and sore and buzzing with the particular satisfaction that comes from good hockey, Rath's head is spinning with JP's revelation about Percy requesting his promotion. In the short and sweet it changes absolutely nothing: Percy still rides him harder than anyone else on the team, still questions every creative play he makes, and still looks at him like he's something he doesn't understand.
But, on the other hand, it changes everything, right? Because it means Percy sees something in him; it means Percy believes in him.
The locker room is loud with post-practice energy, players rehashing plays and planning their evening activities. Rath sitsat his stall and methodically removes his equipment, but his attention keeps drifting across the room to where Percy is having a quiet conversation with Coach near the door.
"Earth to Platts," Torres says, snapping his fingers in front of Rath's face. "You in there?"
Rath blinks, realizing he's been staring at Percy while holding the same shin pad for the past five minutes. "Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."
"About what? You look like Christmas came early."
"Nothing important," Rath mumbles, finally removing the shin pad and tossing it into his equipment bag.
But that's not true. It feels incredibly important, this new piece of the Percy puzzle that JP has given him. Because if Percy really did advocate for his promotion, if he really does see potential that's worth developing, then maybe all of their antagonistic exchanges mean something different than Rath thought.
Maybe Percy's criticism isn't dismissal—maybe it's investment. Maybe the reason Percy rides him harder than anyone else is because he expects more from him, believes he's capable of more. The possibility makes something hopeful and terrifying unfurl in Rath's chest.
Chapter 3
Here's the thing: Percy isn't gay.
He's exclusively dated women since he was 15 years old and, although he tends to focus on his career with a dedication that always has Torres calling him a sexless hockey robot, he primarily hooks up with women when he's hooking up at all. Which…okay, key word there is "primarily." Because he has been with men before. Not many. Not enough to make him consider giving up women entirely, but it's been enough that he could admit to himself (and only himself) that he's probably bisexual.
There's nothing wrong with being bisexual, except that he's in the NHL and it's just not something that happens. There are no "out" players. He definitely knows of guys who are into guys, and not all of them are exactly subtle about their preferences, but it's not something they announce to the media. He doesn't know what would happen if someone came out, but he has to assume it would be bad, because otherwise why wouldn't someone have done it so far? Sports in general is not a super accepting spacefor that kind of thing, so it makes sense that it's something that's kept under wraps.
Percy remembers being nineteen, drunk on cheap beer and victory after winning the Memorial Cup, when he'd let his teammate kiss him in the back of some dive bar in Windsor. It had been impulsive, hungry, and absolutely terrifying in the best possible way. But then he’d had been drafted to the AHL, and they'd never talked about it again. Percy had convinced himself it was just adrenaline, just the high of winning, just experimentation that didn't mean anything.
Except it had meant something, at least to him. And then there had been others—not many, not often, but enough that Percy couldn't pretend it was just a phase. A defenseman in his second year who'd cornered him in a hotel elevator during a road trip. A forward from a rival team during an off-season charity event, both of them knowing it was dangerous and doing it anyway. Always discreet. Always temporary. Always with the understanding that it could never be anything more than stolen moments in the dark.
Which all means that, because nobody talks about it, he doesn't have the first clue whether or not Rath is into guys.
First of all, it shouldn't matter. Rath can be into whoever he wants to be into. It shouldn't change anything, because that's a line that Percy shouldn't even be thinking about crossing. He's Rath's captain, and he's seven years older than him, and he's someone who Rath looks to for guidance and leadership–those are all great reasons why he needs to maintain a professional relationship with the fiery winger he can't seem to stop thinking about.
But Percy's brain doesn't seem to care about professional boundaries when Rath is around. It doesn't care about the age gap or the power dynamic or any of the very good reasons why this is a terrible idea. His brain only cares about the way Rathmoves on the ice like he was born to play hockey, all fluid grace and controlled aggression. It cares about the sharp line of his jaw when he's concentrating, the way his eyes light up when he scores, the rare moments when his guard drops and Percy catches glimpses of something softer underneath all that attitude.
And, even if Rath were into guys and Percy weren't in a position of power over him, it doesn't mean Rath would be interested in him. He knows they haven't always had a great relationship, and even though things are slightly better this season than last, he knows they're treading a very precarious precipice on which either of them could shove the other off at any moment.
Percy still remembers their first real fight, back when Rath was fresh out of juniors and thought he could mouth off to anyone without consequences. It had been during a team meeting, Rath questioning one of Percy's strategic decisions with the kind of arrogance that only came from being young and talented and convinced you knew better than everyone else. Percy had shut him down hard, maybe harder than necessary, and Rath had spent the rest of that season treating him like an enemy rather than a captain.
The irony isn't lost on him that now, two years later, he's lying awake at night thinking about that same arrogant rookie and wondering what it would feel like to kiss the smirk right off his face.
Which is why, when the universe starts conspiring to put more of Rath Platts in his life, Percy figures it must be because life has a twisted sense of humor and is getting off on his discomfort.
It starts small—Rath staying late to work on his shot while Percy reviews game tape in the video room, the sound of pucks hitting boards echoing through the facility long after everyone else has gone home. Percy tells himself he's not timinghis departure to coincide with Rath's, that he's definitely not lingering in the tunnel to watch the kid run through his shooting drills with methodical precision.
