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“Stay with Cap, hmm?” Jack suggests, soft, despite the accidental violence he just experienced. “You can't fly home with me, Rusty.”
Luke starts with a but at the same time Jack hushes him with a bud, and fixes him with a gaze. Luke feels bile in the back of his throat–Jack shouldn't be comforting him, he should be reassuring Jack that it will be alright, that they’ll win for him against the Stars, that he won't cry, that Jack will come back, but all he can manage is the burning feeling in his chest that lets him know he's about to cry.
He’s not sure he can face Nico either, a warm hand on his back as Luke cried and the other guys whisked the media out. The crunch repeating in his head between whispers of it’s okay, Lukey, he’ll be okay, he's strong. As if he's the one that got hurt. He wasn't supposed to cry like he did when they were kids, when the bigger kids would slam Quinn or Jack into the boards and he couldn't help. He's older now. Bigger, too. A defenseman who can't defend the important things.
There's a rush in his ears as Jack gets swept away to get his things and get on a plane or go to the hospital, leaving only a kiss on Luke’s sweaty forehead with a quiet see you, Rusty. The knot in his stomach doesn't quell when Nico guides them to the showers to wash off their loss. Luke doesn't even know how Jack managed to stay conscious enough to speak through the obvious pain he was in. Is in. Will be in.
—
There’s a chime in the quiet room, Luke fumbles
for his phone before remembering he doesn't even recall how he got to Nico’s room, let alone where his phone might be. Nico shifts beside him with a soft I got it before handing it to Luke.
“You don't have to answer, you can save that until tomorrow,” Nico says, palms dry as they make their way up and down Luke's flank. Luke still isn't sure what's allowed and what's not between them. They haven't talked–and maybe that's Luke’s fault, he knows he gets flighty when it's just them and Nico starts talking ablut the future. But the way Nico treats him feels like more. Friends don’t touch each other with the tenderness that Nico does, under the safety of blankets. Friends don't invite him over to cook him dinner and sleep in the same bed after. Nico treats him with such kindness that sometimes he can't stand it. Always the one being taken care of.
The chime was Quinn, a simple good? is all he texts. It's late, even later in Canada, maybe. Luke stopped paying attention to time differences long ago. something jerks in between Luke’s ribs at the message, he doesn't want to start something when Quinn is just being good to him. Quinn wasn't here. Quinn isn't the one that saw what happened first hand. Luke saw it–and didn't think for a second to check up on Quinn, it won’t be fair if he texts back something bitchy, Luke knows he will lose–Quinn doesn't let him get away with pathetic tantrums like Jack does. His fingers skim over the screen before settling on with cap, he clicks the blue arrow before he can tack on more.
There's no light in the room save from the blinding white of the pixels on his screen and the moonbeams from their window. The little dots appear and disappear before Quinn settles on tell big dawg sup which does nothing to calm Luke’s nerves, so he clicks it off and places it on the nightstand. Taking stock of the twin water bottles, of the way his phone looks besides Nico’s, the way Nico’s watch looks besides Luke’s baseball cap. Something harsh twists in his chest. He just wants Jack, just wants Jack to call him and tell him the trainers were overreacting. That their mom is overreacting. That nothing happened out on the ice.
“is Quinn okay?” Ever the worrier his Captain is, Luke thinks again how he didn't even spare Quinn a second thought–Jack and Quinn are brothers, too. But he knows there's jackandquinn and there’s The Hughes Brothers. Both separate entities. There isn't lukeandquinn. There's sort of a jackandluke, but not on the level of jackandquinn. Luke snorts at this–that there are so many discussions about their relationships when they are just his brothers–lets out a breath at him telling big dawg sup for his oldest brother. He can see Nico lifting a perfect bushy brow in the light bouncing off the plains of his face. luke doesn't elaborate, and Nico takes all of Luke's quirks in stride, never questioning when he’s quiet, and never asking him to be quiet when he can't shut his mouth.
“Yeah, he’s good,” Luke says, scooting ever closer to Nico in their big bed. “Jack will probably attempt to facetime him during surgery–”
He cuts himself off, feels his eyes burn again, his face pinch, at the thought of Jack having to go through rehab again. At being out again. at the fact that he couldn't stop Eichel before they crashed into the boards.
“It's okay bud,” Nico soothes, which makes him feel worse, like he's a petulant child who can't stop crying. “He'll be ok.”
Luke feels peeled open, exposed. Each pet of Nico’s hands between his ribs and hip bone feel like his squishy flesh is turned inside out and glistening, just there for Nico to scoop out if he pleases. And Luke doesn't think Nico would, but he would let him if Nico wanted. Easy as anything.
Nico’s sweet as he leans forward waiting for Luke to give him permission. Too tender, too good. The first press of Nico’s lips to his make him shudder and pull back–which doesn't deter Nico, he waits for Luke to gather himself with rapt attention, hand rubbing circles on Luke’s hip, like encouragement. Sometimes he wishes Nico would yell at him, tell him to stop being a pussy, that it's just a kiss. That it's just sex.
Luke leans forward again, ghosts a kiss over Nico’s nose, his cheek, his eye, before reaching Nico’s lips, he nudges with his hand that isn't trapped between them on Nico’s shoulder until he’s on his back, face warm between Luke hands, eyes fluttering closed at each open mouthed kiss that Nico lets him take. Luke tries to gracefully maneuver himself on top–tries to go for seductive instead of half dead–so they aren't cramped, so he doesn't have to look in Nico’s eyes as he trails down Nico’s body. There's confusion in Nico’s furrowed brows as Luke pushes on with heat–confusion at the rush Luke is taking.
Nico’s hair fans out into a halo on the scratchy hotel pillow. His chest rising in an off beat rhythm. Luke wants this, his body feels tight. He wants this. He wants to show someone he cares about that he’s capable. He doesn't need to be taken care of.
He makes his way back up to kiss Nico again, Nico planting his hands–warm and solid–on Luke’s sides as Luke licks into his mouth. He can feel the desperation crawling up his spine. Nico pants into his mouth and Luke thinks he sees God, standing in front of the window, backlit and otherworldly.
Luke focuses his attention back on his personal God, so languid beneath him despite Luke trying to make him frantic, make Nico want him. He trails back down Nico’s neck, making quick work of every bit of bare skin he can reach, the hair on Nico's face scratching the side of his cheek, Nico’s gruff voice in his ear. Luke knows Nico is indulging him, allowing Luke to put on a show.
Luke adjusts Nico how he wishes, like a porcelain doll. Up against the headboards and shirt off instead of rucked up. He knows Nico sleeps without clothes most nights, which makes Luke think the thread-worn pajamas were for his benefit, which makes something nasty flair in his ribs. Nico grunts when Luke takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth, hands tangling in Luke’s curls. Tugging him back up to Nico’s face, too far away from where he wants to be. And maybe whining about it isnt showing that he's capable, but he's only a man.
“We don't–” Nico starts, “You don't have to, kiddo. We can get some sleep.”
Kiddo stings in a way he can’t explain. It isn’t a new nickname by any means, but with the way his skin feels too hot and everything feels too urgent, it hurts. And before Luke can hide his face, Nico realizes his misstep.
“Chrüseli, let me see you.”
“I want this. I want to do this,” his voice comes out gravelly, wrong. “Just let me do this, Nico, please.”
The look in nico’s eyes cause something to twist in his gut. he’s going to fuck this up, too. By being pushy, by being too much.
He crawls back on the bed until he can pull Nico's cock free. He's half hard already which Luke is pleased about–his little show of crawling onto Nico’s lap did something. Nico’s hand is a heavy weight on the back of his head. He doesn't mean to act like an animal by burying his nose into the coarse hair at the base of Nico’s cock and inhaling, but he can’t help it. He is here, there is something he is good at right in front of him. He can take care of his captain.
Luke spends time fretting about over the junction of Nico’s hips, nipping and licking. It’s his favorite part, Luke thinks, the vastness of Nico’s bare body–the way his skin flushes a pretty shade of red, the way bruises bloom purple and green when Luke spends hours sucking Nico’s flesh into his mouth. Luke doesn't even mind when he gets one of Nico’s thigh hairs stuck between his teeth on a particularly vicious bite.
Sometimes Nico calls him a vampire. A needy puppy, teething. Bite after bite until he's satisfied and Nico is putting him through the mattress.
And each grunt Nico lets out when Luke licks a stripe up his cock fuels his need to show Nico that he can handle this. Tongue circling around the tip until Nico’s fingers dig into his skull. Letting spit gather into his mouth so it leaks down his length, his fingers coming up to knead the wetness around Nico’s balls, trail his finger featherlight across Nico’s taint. He can handle this.
He wants Nico to fuck his mouth, fuck his brains out until he can't think anymore, he wants it so badly, but he knows Nico won't fuck him. Not when they have a game tomorrow.
He ruts against the bed as he swallows Nico as deep as he can, hands working on the part of Nico’s cock he can't reach, he tries to breathe through his nose and control his gag reflex. But he can't, he shudders and his eyes start watering. They start watering and he starts crying in earnest. Snot and spit and tears running down his face. He tries to ignore it and keep going as Nico pulls him up by the shoulders.
“You can't do this,” Nico says as he situates Luke against himself. “I shouldn't have let you even start.”
He tries to cover his face with his hands as he lets out a sob. His stomach turns with each fragile kiss Nico leaves on his face and hands.
Luke croaks out the words I wanted to take care of you between hiccupping sobs.
Nico is warm under him. Solid. He tries to curl closer to Nico’s heart. “You did. You always are.”
And that's how they fall asleep. Luke too bone-tired to do anything other than wipe his snot on the blanket, Nico too good to leave him alone. They have tomorrow. They have forever.