Work Text:
October 6, 2012
Jack dropped his bag by the front door, kicked off his shoes, and made a beeline for his bedroom without a word to his Hausmates. The game had been a close one and the team was taking the loss hard, but nobody was taking it quite as hard as Jack.
His first game as captain and he couldn’t even pull off a win.
Johnson clapped him on the shoulder at the top of the stairs. “Don’t worry, cap. It’s just a plot device to get you some cuddles.”
Jack grunted and slid into his room without giving a real reply—he never quite knew what to say to his goalie.
“Hey,” Kent said, glancing up from his phone. He frowned. “Rough game, Zimms?”
Jack shrugged.
Kent pulled the comforter back and patted the bed next to him.
Jack dropped half on top of him, his head buried in Kent’s chest, and clutched at his t-shirt. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
“It’s gonna be okay, babe.” Kent’s fingers found his hair, still wet from his post-game shower. “It’s just one game.”
“My first game as captain.”
“Being captain doesn’t mean taking all the responsibility for a loss, Jack.”
Jack huffed. Like Kenny could talk. He always took his team’s losses personally.
“Shut up,” Kent muttered, like he knew exactly what Jack was thinking. (He probably did.)
“I could’ve been better.” Jack’s grip on his husband’s shirt tightened. “I could’ve made the last goal if fucking Danson had gotten the puck to me sooner. Then at least we’d have had a shot in overtime.”
Kent pushed Jack’s hair back and tilted his head down to kiss his forehead. “I know babe. I’m sorry you lost.”
Jack sighed. “You would’ve gotten me the puck.”
“You’re damn right I would.” Kent traced his fingers over Jack’s cheek. “And someday soon we’ll be playing on the same ice again. But until then you just gotta keep working hard and know that you’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got. It’s not your fault that some of the guys on this team are absolute shit.”
Jack huffed a silent laugh. “Yeah. I guess not.”
“You’ll get them to shape up. Just take it one practice at a time, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jack turned his face to look up at Kent. “When did you get good at the advice thing, Parse?”
“Hey! I’ve always been good at advice!”
Jack stared at him.
“Okay, fine, I’ve always been terrible at advice. I just know you really well.”
“Oh.” Jack blushed, pleased, and loosened his grip. He took a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in what he now recognized as one of his own Samwell shirts. He smiled. “I guess that’s true.”
Kent’s hand cupped his face, tilting it up until he could lean down and press a kiss to his lips. “Damn right it’s true.”
Jack kissed him again, a little more intensely, and Kent tugged gently on his hair in a way that made him whine.
“Shhh. Your friends don’t know I’m in here, babe.” He kissed him again. “Gotta keep it down.”
Jack nodded. He spent a moment admiring the man beneath him before Kent took advantage of his distraction and flipped him onto his back.
With Kent hovering over him and pressing kisses down his neck, Jack forgot all about the game.
~
Jack did not enjoy waking up early. But between homework and early morning classes, he was more or less used to it. Still, he grumbled and groaned when Kent shook him awake and it was only when he realized that Kent would have to leave soon that he forced himself to open his eyes.
“Well hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” He kissed Jack’s nose. “You’re so much like Maman sometimes it’s hilarious.”
Jack shoved him and rolled his eyes, trying to hold back his smile. (Kent and Papa had always been the early risers in the house.)
“D’you make coffee?”
Kent gave Jack a mug that was steaming with fresh coffee. He held it up to his nose and inhaled deeply.
“Mmm.”
Kent laughed. “Am I the best husband ever or what?”
“Or what.”
“Hey!” Kent kicked at his ankle. “Rude! I just made you coffee with my own two hands.”
Jack rolled his eyes but he leaned over and kissed Kenny’s cheek. “Fine. You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”
“Technically meaningless, but better. I’ll take it.”
Jack nuzzled his nose against Kent’s cheek and closed his eyes. It was too fucking early. “When do you have to head back to Boston?”
“In an hour.”
He resisted looking at the clock. “Jesus, Parse. Didja have to get up this early?”
Kent reached out for his mug, but Jack held it back and pouted.
“Gimme that, you dumbass. I’m gonna lie back down with you.”
Jack rolled his eyes but handed it over and lay back on his pillow. Kent set both mugs on the dresser and climbed back under the covers with a smile.
“Wish you could just stay,” Jack murmured.
“Mmm. Me too, babe.”
Jack sighed. “I’ll come to Vegas over American Thanksgiving.”
“I’m not cooking turkey, Zimms.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you. I’ve had your food before.”
“My food is just fine!”
“Your Kraft dinner is just fine.”
Kent poked his chest. “And that’s exactly what you’re getting for Thanksgiving.”
“And chicken tenders, yeah?”
“God. Fine. Mac and Cheese with a side of chicken tenders. I’m not making those either, though.”
“Frozen is fine.”
“There’s a good place in town. We’ll order out.”
Jack was struggling to keep his eyes open again. “Mmkay.”
Kent kissed his hair. “Let’s go back to sleep, baby. I’ll set an alarm.”
Jack hummed. “Wake me up before you go?”
“Are you not planning on going solo?”
Jack scrunched his forehead, glaring at Kenny when he laughed. “What?”
“Never mind, babe.” He kissed his cheek and pulled him in close. “Go back to sleep.”