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They beat the Coyotes by a single goal in the last five minutes of the third period, and as the clock runs down to zero, Darcy breathes a sigh of relief from the bench.
It's been close the whole game, and Jason has been beating himself up since his turnover in the neutral zone allowed Vermette to tie it up in the second—Darcy can tell from his face as he heads off the ice back down the tunnel.
He lets the chaos of the post-game locker room wash over him. No one has much to say to him because he didn't play tonight; Backstrom played a respectable game, and his own mid-game outing the previous week hadn't exactly been stellar. He's been sent up and down so many times in the last two weeks that he's losing track, just tries to keep his head down and focus. He glances up at where Jason's talking to some reporters just in time to hear one of them ask about his game misconducts and suspension in the AHL this year and, oh, jesus, that's not a happy face. He winces.
Jason's going to get sent back down again. They both are. And not just because Mitchell and Hards are coming back.
He'd kind of hoped that they'd get to have some fun tonight, both of them together in an actual city with some real night life, and a day off tomorrow, but it's looking like that's less likely now. He sighs as he finishes putting away his gear, and is startled when someone clears their throat right next to him.
He is even more startled to see that it's Parise. He didn't realize he'd finished talking to the reporters about how his foot felt fine, really, and he definitely didn't notice him coming over here. "Uhm, hey?"
Parise looks at him for a moment, then glances kind of meaningfully at Zucks and back. The last of the reporters are clearing out, and Jason's rearranging the pads in his locker kind of angrily. Darcy just blinks at him.
Parise opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then seems to think better of it, and just hands Darcy a scrap of paper. There's an address scribbled on it, and...the name of a bar? Darcy blinks at him again, confused.
"They'll be serving twofers by the time you get there," Parise says, smiling at him and glancing pointedly at Jason again. Darcy wonders how much he actually knows about their relationship, debates asking him, decides against it.
"Okay? Uh, thanks," Darcy says, but Parise's already (gingerly) jogging to catch up with Koivu.
Huh. Well, okay then.
---
They don't say much on the way there. Jason barely says three words as they run into the apartment to change out of their suits, and the silence isn't exactly uncomfortable, but it's really not like Zucks to be this quiet...well, ever. They've been kind-of-dating (dating? dating.) for something like half a year, and this is weird; Darcy's not really sure what to do. Jason's normally the one to fill up awkward—and not awkward, for that matter—silences with mindless chatter. He just hopes, as they climb back into his car, that Parise's not-so-cryptic advice works, because he has no idea where he's driving to.
It turns out to be a tiny, chintzy-looking karaoke dive bar just outside downtown Minneapolis. They're clearing away the remnants of a bingo game as they walk in, and Scandi is already there, standing in front of the karaoke sign-up station with a slightly worrying grin.
He waves them down and leads them back around the other side of the horseshoe bar, clutching a fistful of little song choice cards and a beat up binder with the complete list of available songs. Most of the other guys seem to already be there. Nino is just finishing helping the waitress push two tables together for them when Marco plunks the whole lot down.
"Right," he says, "I'm going first because I'm the oldest—" Darcy snorts derisively because yeah, like a few months matters, "and also definitely the best at karaoke—" he gets several protests on that one, and Granny isn't having any of it.
"No way, I am better," he insists, and he and Scandi get into what sounds like some sort of complicated bet that involves...native languages? Darcy turns his back on them to focus on Jason, who's already settled at the head of the table on the opposite end.
Pulling a stool right up next to Zucks, Darcy nudges him with a shoulder. "Hey."
Jason manages a half-smile before nudging him back. "Hey yourself."
Darcy's about to open his mouth to say...something, he's not even sure, when the waitress comes back over to take their orders.
"What can I get you boys? It's two-for-one right now. We're cash only, pay-as-ya-go." As everyone orders their drinks, Darcy tries to remember what he wanted to say to Jason, but then Marco gets called up for karaoke. As Scandi starts to belt out the opening notes of "Bad Romance" (surprisingly on-key, actually), and Darcy gets two beers put in front of him (one of which he immediately slides over to Jason), he gives up. Alcohol is clearly the answer.
He thrusts his glass towards the middle of the table and shouts, "To two points!"
---
At least Zucks is looking looser now. He's laughing at something down the table, where it sounds like they're arguing about...a bet? Oh right, Granny and Scandi. Something about singing and languages and serious handshakes.
Darcy totally missed the first part of this conversation, but it sounds like Marco is trying to argue that he won because Mikael couldn't find anything in Finnish to sing. Mikael has some things to say about that. Also he is sitting in Nino's lap, and Darcy seems to have missed when that happened too. Huh.
"It's not forfeit!" Mikael is insisting. "Not fair!"
"It's totally fair!" Marco shoots back. "I found a song in French, I sang it! You didn't sing anything in Finnish, so mine is better, I win by default!"
"But yours was only part French," Nino points out.
"Shut up Nino, this isn't even your bet!"
"You guys all suck," Dumba says, "I'm going to sing some Usher."
"Whatever, Dumbass! Also, Usher, really?"
As Matt sticks his tongue out at Marco, Darcy turns back to Jason. "Hey. Heyyyyyyyy." He means to nudge Jason's shoulder again, but he maybe overestimated the amount of force needed because Jason ends up sort of catching his whole body.
"Ooof." Jason chuckles. "How many you had, Kuemps?"
"More than you." Darcy frowns. "You should drink more, you still don't look happy."
Jason adjusts his arm because, oh yeah, Darcy is still leaning on him, he forgot. "Um, I'm fine, dude."
Darcy huffs, then shifts his weight off of Jason. "Fine. Fine." He stands up and, woah, he's really far from the floor, wow.
He trudges over to the other end of the table and ducks under Scandi's arm, which he's using to wildly gesticulate in Nino's direction. (Granny, still in Nino's lap, seems to be involved in a completely separate conversation across the table with Chuck.)
Grabbing one of the little song choice slips and scribbling something on it, Darcy walks over to hand it to the karaoke operator, who nods, before jogging back to his seat. As he plops down onto his stool, he grabs the beer still sitting in front of him with one hand, and points at Jason with the other. "Just remember, you basically forced me into this."
"Dude, you're so drunk," Jason says, just as Matt gets called up to sing his Usher song to much catcalling.
---
"Hey Kuemps," Scandi shouts at him, "you gonna sing?"
Oh. Right.
Darcy takes a moment to drain the rest of his beer, then gets up from his stool and points at Jason meaningfully. "Remember: your fault."
Jason just narrows his his eyes and looks confused.
Walking around the table, Darcy buttonholes Chuck—who seems to have spent most of the night flirting outrageously with the waitress, who can't be a day under 50, to prevent her from noticing (or caring, maybe?) that he's been really obviously slipping Matt drinks—and drags him towards the small stage. "Wha—"
"Come on. I need you to be Snoop."
"Uh," Chuck says, stumbling after him and laughing bewilderedly, "oh...kay?"
As they get up to the stage and grab mics, Chuck gives him a look. "What exactly are we—"
As the music starts and the title comes up on the screen, his expression twists into...yeah, that's definitely a chuckle. "Really, dude?"
Their whole table has broken out in laughter and catcalls now. Darcy just elbows him. "Hey, it's your part."
Dutifully, Chuck says, "Let's take a journey..."
Darcy ignores the noise the guys are making (and...whatever it is that Scandi is trying to—oh, it's a dirty gesture, okay) and throws himself, falsetto and all, into singing California Gurls.
He can see Jason's face the moment he really realizes what Darcy is doing. Good. He throws an exaggerated wink at the table as he belts, "Warm, wet and wild!" Charlie is cracking up next to him, so he very reasonably drapes himself all over Chuck as he sings about nothing coming close to the golden coast.
Darcy is actually a terrible singer. He knows this. His brother used to tell him not to bother singing O Canada, because with his voice, it was more patriotic to leave it to someone else. It's the thought that counts, anyway, right? He tries to make up for it with some really over the top dancing. On the second "sun-kissed skin so hot, we'll melt your popsicle!" he actually starts to unbutton his shirt, which draws some very loud catcalls from the guys, and...also some catcalls from the soccer moms on the other side of the bar. And the bartender. And, oh god, is that Nino with his phone out? Darcy buttons his shirt back up.
He's pretty sure his words are all coherent at least, if not on-key. And Jason...Jason is smiling. Which was the whole point. Darcy beams.
(At least he's not the only one making a fool of himself. Charlie throws his whole body into his verse, and a fresh round of laughter erupts from their table as he attempts to rap about bikinis, zucchinis, martinis, no weenies. Dumbass yells, "nice rappin' white boy!", which makes him feel a little better about how much he will probably regret this in the morning. At least he'll have some of the burden to share.)
As the song begins to wrap up—fine, fresh, fierce, we got it on lock—Darcy makes eye contact with Jason. He can't tell from Jason's expression if he's amused, embarrassed, or both. He mentally shrugs, grins, and finishes out the song maintaining eye contact.
When they finish, it's to raucous whistles, laughter and clapping from their own table, and polite applause from the rest of the bar.
As they make their way back to their seats, Chuck stops to bow dramatically, but Darcy makes a beeline for Jason and his own stool. As he collapses into his seat and plants his face in Jason's shoulder, he hears Chuck say, "Zucks, are you blushing?"
"No," Jason says quickly, but Darcy raises his head and sure enough, there's a definite pink tinge to his cheeks. "Shut up."
The laughter gets louder, and Chuck says, "No seriously, I'm not sure I've ever actually seen Zucks blush before. I'm impressed, Kuemps."
Ignoring them all, Jason says in an undertone, "You know I'm really from Vegas, right."
"Well, I don't know any songs called 'Vegas Boys', so it was that or 'Waking Up in Vegas' and frankly, I'm really drunk right now and thought that might send the wrong message," Darcy says, before settling his face back into the curve of Jason's neck. His skin is still all cool there, maybe from his post-game shower? That was kind of a long time ago now, he supposes. Maybe Jason’s skin is just magically the perfect temperature for Darcy to rub his face against.
Jason is exactly the right height to lean his head or arms on. Darcy likes it, likes the way that he fits so comfortably into him and around him, likes the way that Jason is leaning back into him now, his arm throw over the back of Darcy's stool and his hand resting on his ribcage, lightly, just enough to keep him from overbalancing and falling over.
Darcy shifts his face so he can see the rest of the table. Scandi and Granny are arguing about something again, maybe the same thing as before? He doesn't know, and frankly, he doesn't care. Jason is laughing at them, really laughing now. His body feels more relaxed, and Darcy can tell that he's smiling. Turning his face back into Jason's neck, he mutters, "'m glad it worked, just want you to be happy."
"Hm?"
Darcy doesn't want to move. The room is genuinely starting to spin, he's really tired, maybe all that beer is actually catching up to him. He settles for tilting his head just enough so that he's speaking into Jason's collarbone.
"You were so sad tonight. You've been so sad lately. I just want you to be happy. I don't like it when you're sad. You're awesome and we're awesome and everything is just...going to be awesome, okay?"
Jason turns his head so his chin is brushing Darcy's forehead. "Wow, you are so much more drunk than I am tonight, I kind of like this."
"Good," Darcy babbles, "I like when you like things."
Someone across the table laughs. "You should probably takes Kuemps home, Zucks. Before he like, passes out," Chuck says.
"Yeah," Matt chuckles, "or starts giving you—" He's cut off by a sharp elbow from Nino. "Um, ow."
Jason laughs again. "Okay. Come on, you giant." He starts to get up, and Darcy can't help the little whine of protest that escapes from his throat. He was comfy. Jason just tightens his grip with the arm snaked around his side, and starts manhandling him towards the door.
As they wave goodbye to the guys (to smirks and catcalls, typical), Darcy turns his body back towards Jason and buries his face in Jason's neck again. He trusts Jason to guide him safely to the car, and he's all warm and his beard is scratchy and it's cool but not too cold for November, and what if he just stays here, outside some dive bar in Minneapolis that Zach Parise sent him to, wrapped around Jason and pleasantly, blissfully drunk.
He doesn't realized he's stopped moving until Jason gently nudges him. "Hey. You still awake there?" It's almost a whisper.
Darcy doesn't answer, just turns Jason's body and pulls him into a proper, full-frontal embrace, burying his face in Jason's neck again.
He likes that spot, where Jason's neck meets his shoulder. It might be his new favorite spot in the world.
"Hey. Kuemps, c'mon, let's get in the car and go home, it's not that far."
Darcy pulls back and looks at Jason's face. He's laughing a little, finally relaxed, for the first time in...he can't remember how long, actually.
"Please stay happy."
Jason looks at him. He doesn't answer, exactly, just gives him a little lopsided grin and says, "You're pretty awesome, you know that?"
He glances around quickly before darting up and stealing a quick kiss. Darcy tries to follow him back down, stretches to keep the contact going, but Jason pushes him back and says, "Come on. Let's go home."
Darcy nods. "Yeah. Home."
"Home" could be a lot of places these days, but as long as Jason's here, and happy, and smiling at him, Darcy's comfortable calling that pretty much anywhere.