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John knows that there are worse things than spending New Years Eve in Boston, especially after a win. They spend the post-game out in the city with Sam Adams filling their glasses and laughter in their chests. Colin’s in his element, relaxed after just a couple and John eases into that more quickly than usual. He’s loose under the weight of Colin’s arm over his shoulder and how easy it is to smile even if they’re still looking up.
John knows there are worse things than spending New Years Eve in Boston, especially since they’d spent Christmas in Toronto with his family while he nursed a hip that kept sex on the back-burner, much to Colin’s perverse deflower-Johnny-in-his-childhood-bed chagrin. Because Colin has a thing about that and John allows it even if deflower is so the wrong word for it. Colin’s enthusiasm just always pays off.
There are too many people and midnight comes and goes with just a tightening of Colin’s arm around his shoulders. John often thinks the whole thing is anticlimactic and he never feels any different. It’s just a change in numbers and that’s simply a part of his life regardless. He’s not a resolutions kind of guy because he’s trying to be better every day whether it’s hockey or family or this thing that’s settled in against his ribs and given him a place to land when he falls on his ass.
They aren’t drunk but Colin’s cheeks get pink when he’s buzzed. He drags John back to his place and it’s cold there, for all of its season’s emptiness. John complains about that, but Colin shuts him up with lips and some teeth, which isn’t fair since John’s decided waiting until the offseason to fix his is the best option. He thinks he should complain about that - and the fact that Colin had tortured him with All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth the entire holiday season - but there are worse things than spending New Years Eve in Boston getting warm and being kissed by a guy who’s been the biggest surprise of his life.
Colin’s gotten less and less shy about this whole thing and John really likes that. He’s been finished with the kid gloves everyone’s used with him since he arrived on Long Island and Colin’s pretty much the first one to discard them completely. He isn’t even careful now, not with how he yanks on John’s tie just to loosen it and tug at buttons to open his shirt. He drops to his knees and scratches his beard against John’s abdomen and fuck if that doesn’t make John jump and then clamp his hands down on Colin’s head. To think his mom had gotten on Colin’s case to shave just last week. Psh.
Thinking at all isn’t an option with the descending trail of breath Colin leaves against his skin and the wet licks at his naval. Colin’s a fucking tease, mouthing at his cock through his trousers and making no moves whatsoever to open those, too.
“I swear to God if you keep that up, skating will not be an option for you Thursday,” John mutters. It’s supposed to have some captainly force to it, but he’s not really good at that when he’s alone with Colin and he just wants that kind of attention.
Colin mutters something about the face wash John’d had given him last week and did he really think he should be making demands right now? His mind is drawing a blank on when that happened, unless Colin means Detroit and John had been crazy fucking happy when he’d pushed his glove in Colin’s face in celebration.
“C’mon, c’mon, no fair,” he mutters, his fingers curling into the tangle of Colin’s curls. His mom had also tried to convince Colin to get them both haircuts. Christmas is such a screwy time of year, he thinks, and New Years is the kind of better that has him tugging hard at Colin’s hair.
“You’re lucky I like you,” Colin murmur-bites into John’s skin before he works belt and zipper.
Relief only lasts for a few seconds once John’s dick is fit tight against the back of Colin’s throat. The guy gives head like it’s his favorite thing in the world and well getting it might be one of John’s. Colin had been cruel with the whole ‘nursing the injury’ thing and taking abstention way too far as far as John was concerned, so this is a long time coming even if John really isn’t. It’s sort of embarrassing, actually, that he can get there so quickly, but Colin kisses John’s hips and licks his lips with such a pleased look on his face that John can’t really deny giving him his due.
Really, John can’t deny him much of anything, not when their clothes are littering the floor and Colin’s laid him out for more. John likes this best, when they’re alone and all of the masks come off. He’s just John and any deference Colin might show is left out of this space when he’s fucked into sleep.
John is well aware that there should be some restraint with that, especially in the morning before they decide to drive back. He thinks they owe each other, though, after the losing streak, Colin’s inability to stick in the lineup, and what he considered false starts to exactly this, once they’d ended it. John knows he’d been pretty ridiculous with his refusal to consider the streak well and truly over until they’d strung some points together, but understanding superstition was part of what made Colin absolutely perfect for him.
The house is exactly how they left it before the Devils. There are still packages from Christmas littering the living room and the mistletoe is still hanging in the entranceway. That’s all Colin’s doing but John’s been real enthusiastic about the benefits. Colin kisses him when they get in and drop their keys and disappears up the stairs like he has every other day for the last seven months. It’s the first day of a new year and it’s just numbers, but John knows there are worse things than starting this one off at home with mistletoe and the pleasant ache of the previous night’s celebration.