Page 70 of Speak in Fever
The question is fair, and Rath recognizes that he's going to have to be completely honest if he wants to fix this. No more assumptions, no more reading between lines that might not exist.
"I'm in love with you," he says, forcing himself to maintain eye contact despite the way Percy's expression goes very still. "And I couldn't take you not feeling the same way. I thought it was better to end things before you had to let me down easy."
Percy goes completely motionless, his attention entirely focused on Rath's words. Even his breathing seems to pause.
"I thought this was just a casual thing for you," Rath continues, needing to get all of it out before he loses his nerve. "Something fun but not serious. I can't do that. I thought I could, but I can't. But then you got your ass kicked defending me, and I thought that maybe..."
Percy's expression softens, some of the hurt from the past few days easing from his features. "I'm not good at this, Rath. Relationships, feelings, saying the right things at the right time. In fact, I'm really bad at it. And I'm not used to being bad at something."
"Maybe I'm not great at it either," Rath admits, reaching out tentatively to cover Percy's bruised knuckles with his hand. Percy's skin is warm and slightly sticky with dried blood, but he doesn't pull away. "Maybe I'm better at jumping to conclusions and creating problems where they don't exist."
Percy's laugh is surprised and slightly pained because of his split lip, but genuine. "Maybe it would be better for me to tell you what I'm thinking rather than flying off the handle because someone checked you."
"Maybe," Rath agrees, then leans closer, careful not to jostle Percy's injuries. "But it was pretty hot, watching you defend my honor like that."
"Rath—" Percy starts, but there's something fond in his voice now, something that sounds like relief.
"I mean, you got completely destroyed, but the thought was romantic," Rath continues, grinning despite the pain in his ribs.
Percy's expression grows serious again, and he turns his hand under Rath's so they're palm to palm. "You mean a lot to me," he says quietly. "I'm not good at saying it, but I mean it."
Rath feels something tight in his chest finally relax, weeks of panic and fear dissolving in the face of Percy's certainty. He leans forward and kisses Percy gently, careful of his split lip, and after a week of not touching him it feels like coming home.
Percy makes a small sound of pain against Rath's mouth, but he doesn't pull away. When they finally separate, Percy is looking at him with an expression of wonder, like he can't quite believe this is happening.
"We should probably get you to a hospital," Rath says, touching the cut above Percy's eyebrow with gentle fingers. "This definitely needs stitches."
"It can wait."
"Percy."
"Five more minutes," Percy says, pulling Rath closer despite the protests from his various injuries. "I've missed this. I've missed you."
They sit together in the mostly empty locker room, Percy's arm around Rath's shoulders, both of them battered and sore but finally, finally on the same page. Outside, they can hear the team loading equipment onto the bus, voices calling back and forth about departure times and dinner plans.
As they finally finish getting dressed and head out to the team bus, Rath feels lighter than he has in days.
Percy keeps one hand on Rath's back as they walk through the arena corridors, a gentle but possessive touch that makes it clear to anyone watching that something has changed between them. When they reach the bus, their teammates look up with obvious curiosity, taking in Percy's battered face and the way he and Rath are walking close together.
"Nice fight, Cap," Torres calls out, and there's a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.
"Thanks," Percy says, settling into the seat beside Rath instead of his usual spot near the front. "Totally worth it."
Rath leans against Percy's shoulder as the bus pulls away from the arena, careful of his captain's injuries but needing the contact. Through the window, he can see the lights of the citypassing by, but for the first time in weeks, he's not looking toward the next destination. He's exactly where he wants to be.
Chapter 23
The 4-2 victory over Boston feels like a statement game—the kind of performance that announces to the league that the Thunderbirds are serious playoff contenders. Percy's assist on the game-winning goal came from a pass that found Rath in perfect position, and Rath's two goals showcased exactly why he's become one of their most dangerous offensive weapons.
As the final buzzer sounds, Percy feels the familiar rush of satisfaction that comes with a complete team effort. Around him, his teammates are celebrating—fist bumps, helmet taps, the usual post-win energy that never gets old no matter how many games he's played.
But his attention is entirely focused on Rath.
Rath is skating toward him with that bright, uninhibited smile he gets after particularly good games, his face flushed with exertion and satisfaction. There's something about seeing Rath happy, seeing him confident and successful, that makes Percy's chest tight with pride and affection.
"Hell of a game," Percy says as Rath reaches him, and without thinking, without considering where they are or who might be watching, Percy pulls him into a hug.
It's not unusual for teammates to embrace after big wins. What is unusual is how long they stay pressed together, how Percy's hand finds the back of Rath's neck, how their foreheads come to rest against each other as they catch their breath in the aftermath of adrenaline.
