Page 57 of Speak in Fever
They eat in the living room on the couch, watching reruns of House Hunters where some unfortunate couple is going to buy a fixer-upper they're completely unprepared for, and Percy tries to focus on his food and not on the visible hickey on Rath’s neck that he himself put there. The mark is fading now, purple bruise settling into yellow-green, but it's still clearly there, still obviously what it is.
Percy remembers making that mark, remembers the way Rath had gasped and arched beneath him, the way his hands had fisted in Percy's hair. The memory makes his mouth dry and his common sense fuzzy.
"JP cornered me about my intentions with you," he says during a commercial break, which he thinks is probably the best opening line for this conversation as he's going to get.
Rath rolls his eyes, but flushes all the same, color rising in his cheeks in the way that always makes Percy want to kiss him. "Did he offer to duel you for my honor?"
The response is so perfectly Rath—deflecting with humor while still betraying his embarrassment—that Percy can't help but smile. "It didn't quite come to fisticuffs, but it was a near thing. You guys have been close since last year, huh?"
"Yeah, he's a good guy." Rath chews a mouthful of pasta and swallows before continuing, not quite meeting Percy's eyes. "I, uh, I talked to him about you. Before."
Both of Percy's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Before?"
"Before we hooked up," Rath clarifies, setting his empty bowl on the coffee table with careful precision. The flush has worked its way down his neck now, and Percy can see the edge of another fading bruise just above the collar of his hoodie. "Before, you know, everything that happened."
The phone call had been weeks ago, so it's not that surprising that Rath might have confided in his best friend about his attraction before they'd acted on it. It's just... there's something about the way Rath says 'before' that gives Percy pause, like there's more to the story than he's letting on.
Percy collects their empty bowls and carries them to the kitchen, using the time to process what Rath has told him. When he returns to the living room, he sits next to Rath on the couch instead of across from him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Rath's body.
The proximity seems to affect Rath the same way it affects Percy. Without hesitation, Rath swings a leg over Percy's thighs and straddles him in one smooth motion, settling into Percy's lap like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Percy tilts his head up to capture Rath's mouth in his own, and there's no other way to describe it—Rath melts against him like he's been waiting forever for exactly this contact. He tastes like tomato sauce and something that's uniquely him, and Percy licks into his mouth hungrily, opening Rath up underneath him and holding onto the back of his neck with one large hand.
Rath can take care of himself on the ice. He's got a mean right hook when provoked and can take a hit from players twice his size without backing down. But here in Percy's lap, with Percy's hands on his neck and hip, he feels small and precious and completely trusting in ways that make Percy's chest tight with protectiveness.
The surge of want that washes over him has Percy biting his way into Rath's mouth, swallowing every whimper and gasp it earns him. Rath gets his revenge when he grinds down into Percy's lap, against his rapidly hardening cock, and Percy groans against his lips at the friction.
But there's still something nagging at him that he can't get over, the conversation with JP echoing in his head alongside theweight of what Rath had said about talking to JP 'before.' So he pulls back reluctantly and presses a sweet kiss to the tip of Rath's nose, a gesture so tender it surprises them both.
"You said you like me," he says, because he definitely remembers that part of their first real conversation. It had been so open and vulnerable, delivered with a honesty that had taken Percy's breath away. Because he might have guessed that Rath was attracted to him physically, might have suspected that Rath looked up to him professionally, but the simple admission of genuine affection had been something else entirely.
Rath hums contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans into Percy's touch. But his expression shifts when Percy's hands grip his hips more firmly, holding him in place instead of encouraging movement.
"Rath," Percy says carefully, "how long ago did you talk to JP about me?"
He can tell immediately from the way Rath's face shutters that it's not something he's supposed to know, that this question is leading somewhere Rath doesn't want to go. That reaction says a lot already, tells Percy everything he needs to know about the timeline he's trying to understand. If he's not supposed to know how long Rath has wanted him, then the answer is probably longer than Percy expects.
Rath twitches like he might move, like he might get up and put distance between them, but Percy's grip tightens on his hips instinctively. The physical restraint makes Rath's frown deepen, but he doesn't actually try to leave.
"Do you want to talk about this, or do you want me to blow you?" Rath asks, raising an eyebrow with forced bravado, but the deflection doesn't have quite the same effect when it's easy for Percy to feel the tension running through his body, the way he's holding himself carefully still.
Despite everything, Percy's not a robot, and he swallows hard around the mental image of Rath on his knees in front of the couch, kneeling between Percy's thighs with his mouth hot and eager. His dick gives an interested twitch in his pants, and for a moment he's tempted to let the distraction work, to lose himself in physical pleasure instead of pushing for emotional honesty.
But the reminder that this is important hangs heavy between them, JP's words echoing in his head about Rath needing to know where he stands. Percy doesn't want to fuck this up. For once in his life, he wants a relationship to work out, wants to do right by someone who matters to him. And if it's going to work, they're going to have to be honest with each other. There's no way around it.
"How long?" he asks again, his voice gentle but implacable.
Rath holds his gaze for another moment, then seems to deflate all at once. He leans forward, resting his forehead against Percy's shoulder, and groans in defeat. Even with his head buried in Percy's neck, Percy can tell he's turning red with embarrassment.
"Since rookie year," Rath murmurs into Percy's throat, the words barely audible, and Percy almost chokes on his own tongue.
"Rookie year?!" Percy jerks back, dislodging Rath from his hiding spot, and his suspicions about Rath's blushing face are confirmed. The younger man looks mortified, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes fixed firmly on Percy's collarbone rather than meeting his gaze. "Rath, rookie year?"
Rookie year. Two years ago. Rath has had feelings for him for two fucking years.
The revelation hits Percy like a body check he didn't see coming. Two years of working together, of arguing and pushing each other's buttons and building the foundation of whateverthis is between them, and Rath has been carrying this attraction the entire time.
Rath sighs and gently pushes Percy's hands off his hips, moving to the other end of the couch with obvious reluctance. The distance feels like a loss, but Percy can see that Rath needs the space to have this conversation without the distraction of physical contact.
