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“Matthew,” Joseph says carefully, his voice soft in that way it only ever is for Matthew. “Matthew, we have to be careful about this.”
Matthew pouts, that cute little one that’s Joseph’s favourite. He probably knows it, too. “We’ve been hooking up in, like, the locker rooms and closets for months. Mitch Marner is on our team. I think everyone knows.”
Joseph can’t help it; he laughs loudly as Matthew talks. Matthew snorts back, and then sips his coffee, raising his eyebrows at Joseph as he does and causing them both to laugh again.
They’re both at a coffee shop, some place in New York, talking quietly about… well, them. Matthew had snagged his wrist, just after their game against the Islanders last night, and told him, hey, Joey, I can’t go around doing this shit anymore. In that moment, Joseph had felt his heart sink to his knees; had been about to ask Matthew so… you don’t like me the way I like you?
Yet Matthew hadn’t even given Joseph enough time to think that, because in the next moment, he was saying, we need to talk about us. And what we, like, are. Because I can’t be doing all this with you, not knowing if you feel the same way.
It was really hard, then, for Joseph not to kiss Matthew in the middle of the locker room, in front of all their teammates.
“It’s true!” Matthew is protesting now. One thing about the guy is that even during serious conversations such as this one, he’s always going to find some way to make it completely unserious. “Like, Mitch definitely knows. If he ever figures out what the fuck him and Auston have going on, then maybe-”
“Matthew.” Joseph rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about the team. I was, um, talking about like, the league. The NHL.”
“Oh.” Matthew’s voice lowers significantly on the one word. They already got the we really both like each other and we’ve been hooking up in closets for the past three months out of the way, got to the how about we actually date and call ourselves boyfriends phase, and now, they’re into the fuck, we both play in the most homophobic league known to man – how are we going to do this phase.
“We have to be careful,” Joseph repeats himself, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup that’s lukewarm at this point. “I want to date you, Matty, and I want to go to restaurants and shit with you. But I also – we’re both NHL players. We’re both recognizable. If we were in Toronto, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in public. I don’t know what your plans on coming out are, or if you ever-”
“I do…” Matthew struggles with his words for what is likely the first time Joseph’s ever met him. “I do want to come out eventually, Joey. But not, like… not when I’m a rookie. If I was a guy like Auston, with more notoriety on the team and in the league, then maybe I would. But not… right now?” He ends his statement more like a question, and looks at Joseph with a slight expression. “And I don’t want you to think that it’s because I’m trying to hide you, or our relationship, or anything. But I… coming out to my parents was enough. My dad was enough. I don’t need to get that reaction over and over and over everywhere I go until I think I can handle it. And I – I don’t think I can, just yet. I promise I’m not embarrassed of us, Joey, but I-”
“Matty.” Joseph cuts off Matthew’s rambling, wishing he could reach over and hug him or touch him on the shoulder. He’s only rambling like that because he’s nervous; nervous that Joseph thinks that Matthew doesn’t want everyone to see them together because he’s afraid of their relationship, not himself. “Matty, stop. It’s okay. Coming out isn’t something that I can dictate for you, Mats. I’m not out to most of the league, either. It’s okay. I’m not saying we post wedding pictures tomorrow on Instagram, I’m just saying that if we want to make this work, we need to be careful.”
“Thank god. I haven’t bought your engagement ring yet. Those pictures would be so awkward without it.” Matthew smiles again, that slight panicked edge to his voice gone.
“You’re ridiculous,” Joseph grumbles. “But, hey. We’re both in agreement that it’s probably not a good idea to, like, kiss on the ice?”
“For however hot you look in your gear,” Matthew replies, which causes Joseph to blush, “yes. Probably smart. The locker room is a different story, but-”
“Okay,” Joseph says, holding up a hand. “Okay, Mats. Great. No kissing on the ice.”
“I mean, unless you’re like, really hot in your gear.”
“Shut up.” Joseph laughs at Matthew and then stands – he’s so happy with how this conversation went, and was only mildly terrified that he would be leaving this coffee shop without Matthew’s comforting presence by his side. “How about I take you on our first official date together when we’re back in Toronto, before the game?”
Matthew stands too and gets close to Joseph. Close enough that, had they been in Toronto, the picture would be all over the Internet. “Okay. But only if I get to still kiss you in closets and the locker room after practices and games.”
Joseph rolls his eyes. “That can be arranged, probably. As long as you’re not out there kissing me during games or like, murdering someone in my honour, then I think we’re okay for now.”
Matthew grins as he starts to walk away to throw his coffee cup out. “No promises, Joey. Your gear is like, really hot.”
---
The team flies back to Toronto the following evening, and Matthew spends the two hour flight listening to music and curled up to Joseph’s side. It’s not really weird for him to do that, since it’s something they’ve always done, but now that they’ve established their relationship, Matthew feels so much more – well, he isn’t sure. Mitch chirps him for being lazy and shit, but Matthew doesn’t mind, because being pressed up against Joseph’s side (his boyfriend’s side) is nice, and sometimes Joseph runs his hand through Matthew’s hair, which… well. Matthew’s human. That’s also nice.
When they land, Matthew means to say goodbye to Joseph, because he does have, like, an apartment in Toronto, but before he can really get all of it out, he’s telling Joseph instead that he can come back to Matthew’s apartment, that they can order takeout or play some video game, or just something. Ever since Joseph told Matthew that he wanted to try, that he liked Matthew in the same way Matthew liked him, Matthew just needs to see him constantly. There’s a piece of him that thinks maybe he made up what Joseph said in his mind, and that if he leaves, then everything will go back to normal – it will go back to Matthew and Joseph ignoring each other during off days and team hangouts, go back to them kissing each other frantically in the closet in Scotiabank Area and then pretending that nothing happened ten minutes later.
That’s stupid, though, and Joseph tells Matthew so later that night after Matthew somewhat embarrassingly admits that to him. Tomorrow morning they have practice, but Mitch and Auston always drive in together, and Joseph doesn’t always practice with the team in the morning, so he stayed over. Earlier, he claimed he liked Matthew’s apartment more than his own, but even if Matthew didn’t buy that, he’s glad now that Joseph stayed.
He’s a little less glad in the morning, because Joseph is distracting and makes them both fifteen minutes early to practice rather than their usual thirty, which gains Matthew some more harmless chirps from most of the younger guys, but he doesn’t mind, because after practice him and Joseph go out for lunch at some restaurant. They’re careful not to, like, interact too much, or act too lovey or some shit, because they’re in Toronto, so they’re likely to get recognized, but it’s still fun.
“I fucking hate playing fucking Florida,” Mitch complains later as they’re all putting their gear on in the locker room. He’s lacing up his skates angrily, scowling at Auston beside him. “Cousins has a fucking issue with you, Aus, which means I have an issue with him, which means that I get like three penalties in the whole game.”
Auston raises an eyebrow. “You could always try not going after him?” he suggests.
“Fuck off,” Mitch says, poking Auston in the shoulder. “Cousins has a thing for going against goalies, too, so I gotta watch out for you, Woller.”
Matthew tenses at that, fingers stuttering as he laces up his skates. Joseph isn’t sitting right beside him, but he looks up at him anyway, wanting Joseph to know that he’s going to watch out for him, too. For however much Mitch talks, unless someone actually hurts Auston, he usually isn’t one to throw punches. Matthew doesn’t think he is, either, but it would be different if it came to Joseph. It's likely the same for Mitch and Auston.
Joseph merely laughs. “I’m not worried about it,” he says simply. “I can take hits. I have more padding than all you. You should be careful.”
Auston laughs, too. “Well Mitch is defending my honour, so no one will dare to board me.”
In the end, it’s not Mitch or Auston that Matthew ends up worrying about.
The game is a physical one, because it’s the first time meeting Florida since the playoffs last year. The fans are rowdy; they want the Leafs to beat the team that knocked them out last year, and Florida seems desperate to prevent that from happening, because they’re physical, boarding nearly everyone and chirping in every situation possible. By the time there’s ten minutes left in the third, there’s been at least 7 or 8 penalties on both sides, and Matthew is getting frustrated. The Leafs are winning, but barely – the score is 2-1, but Joseph’s played excellently, so the defence is not to thank for the score -- he is.
Keefe gets his first line out in the last five minutes, because he knows Florida will pull their goalie, and thus, Matthew ends up on the ice with about four minutes left. Despite their goalie still being in, Florida has had offensive zone possession for the better half of the period, so the majority of Matthew’s shift is spent trying to prevent anyone from scoring on Joseph.
Florida manages to get some very good chances, and Matthew swears loudly when Joseph makes his best save all night via diving, keeping the Leafs with their lead. Morgan sends it down the ice after that, which, thank fuck , because Matthew’s legs feel like fucking jelly after his long shift. He sighs, slowly skating over to the bench, but before he can get there, he hears raised voices over by his net. Keefe’s waving him over, and Max looks like he’s about to go out to replace Matthew, but –
“Eh, buddy, what the fuck?” That's Mitch’s voice, loud. “You think you can just do that to my fucking goalie?”
Yeah, Matthew probably never would have made it back to the bench in any universe.
By the time he’s turned around and skated probably like 3000 miles an hour over to his net, Mitch and Nick Cousins are already going after each other, punching and trying to make contact. They haven’t dropped the gloves, but it’s only because Mitch’s attention is clearly occupied on something else, which is probably–
It’s probably the fact that Joseph is lying on the ice not moving, blood dripping off his face.
“Joey!” Matthew’s sure everyone in the area hears him shout the name, but he doesn’t care. Mitch is still going after Cousins, and some Panther shoves him as Matthew skates up to Joseph and sprays snow all over him, but he doesn’t care. “Joey,” Matthew demands, crouching down beside his goalie. “Joey, please look at me.”
One of Matthew’s teammates – Morgan, he thinks – shouts something about needing medics. Matthew puts his hand under Joseph’s head, trying to figure out where the blood is from. After he gets his head up, he carefully removes his helmet, and then discards it somewhere behind him where he hopes it’ll trip a Panthers player, who are all still in brawls with the rest of Matthew’s teammates.
“Hi, Matty,” Joseph says when Matthew gets his helmet off, and then he spits blood all over the ice.
“Joey,” Matthew replies, borderline hysterical. He puts his hand on Joseph’s face. Joseph appears to be bleeding from somewhere on his face, but he spit blood, and Matthew never really paid attention in fucking biology. He thinks he’s going to murder, like, all of Florida, or something. The U.S doesn’t need Florida. People can find a new vacation destination, or some shit.
“I feel so awful right now,” Joseph observes, blinking. There’s blood all over his face, and Matthew’s hand is still under his head. “Oh god. Ouch.”
Yeah. Fuck Florida.
“Where does it hurt? Are you okay? Are you – Joey. Joseph.” Matthew’s tone gets hysterical again as Joseph tries to sit up and then sags against Matthew’s body. “Please let me help you.”
“I’m…” Joseph doesn’t finish that, and Matthew doesn’t need him to. However, before he even gets the chance to say anything more, the medical personnel are finally over by Joseph and pounding him with questions. One gets close to Matthew and then is carefully moving him away in favour of holding the goalie up by himself. Joseph’s initial responses to the medical team’s questions are short and clipped, which is how Matthew knows he’s hurting, because he’s always so polite.
Once Matthew’s been moved to the side, he realizes that the fighting his teammates are doing around him are mostly over. Auston’s talking to Mitch, trying to calm him down, and Morgan and John are standing close, trying to gauge Joseph’s injury, probably.
“He fucking high sticked my fucking goalie,” Mitch is telling Auston angrily, trying to get loose of his own teammate’s grip. “Let me go, Aus. I need to fucking punch that sneer off his of his fucking face.”
“No,” Auston says, looking pained. “You’re not going after Cousins. I like you too much.”
Cousins. That information is all Matthew needs.
“You want some too?” Cousins asks with a sneer as Matthew somewhat blindly skates over to him. He’s bleeding from his lip, which is probably from Mitch, yet he grins at Matthew in that feral way, his teeth stained with blood.
“Don’t touch my goalie,” Matthew snaps, hitting Cousins in the shoulder and causing him to skate backwards slightly thanks to gravity. He meant to leave it at that, to just let Cousins know that Joseph is his goalie, but then the fucker opens his mouth and yaps some more.
“You all keep saying that,” he says in an amused manner, “but none of you mean it. He’s not actually any of yours. He’s no one’s, probably. I just pushed him – he overreacted.”
Matthew sees black. A ref skates up to him, tries to restrain him, and fails. Matthew isn’t even sure how it happened, but one moment, he’s standing near Cousins on the ice, and the next, he’s grabbed a fistful of Cousins’ jersey and slammed him against the boards.
“I said,” he snarls, his voice sounding unlike anything even he’s ever heard from himself before, “Don’t. Touch. My. Fucking. Goalie.”
Cousin’s small grin turns into a sneer, despite the fact that Matthew slammed him into the boards moments prior. He opens his mouth to probably make some homophobic retort, so, well, Matthew thinks of Joey, the way he had laid there for a second and the way he gasped in pain, and he –
He punches Cousins right in the face.
Cousins evidently wasn't expecting that, because he jerks violently, practically moans in pain like Matthew fucking shot him, and then, with one hand holding his nose that’s dripping in blood, he feebly tries to shove Matthew with the other. Matthew’s expecting it, so he lets himself skate backwards thanks to gravity, and he and Cousins try to basically kill each other. Somewhere, Matthew vaguely hears the fans screaming, hears another whistle, and sees a ref trying to separate them, but that only makes him work harder, because Cousins hurt Joseph. He hurt Matthew’s goalkeeper. He hurt Joseph.
In the end, it's John that pulls Matthew away, not a ref. “He’s gonna be okay, kid,” John says in his ear as he grabs Matthew and hauls him away. “Matty. This isn’t worth a suspension over. Joey’s gonna be okay.”
Joey’s gonna be okay. Matthew relaxes, slightly, maybe a fraction, as he hears the words. Johnny nods slightly at him, and then lets him go. A ref is escorting Cousins over to the bench, so he was probably given a major — good. Matthew looks for Joseph automatically, sees him just getting to the bench to be taken to the locker room, and then gets stressed all over again as a ref comes to escort Matthew himself to the box, telling him he’s got a two minute ‘unsportsmanlike conduct’. Matthew doesn’t fight it too much, just lets himself be led to the box. He should be thinking about how it’s lucky that he didn’t get a four-minute, since the Leafs are going to be on the PK and they’re only up by one, but Matthew can’t bring himself to worry about that, right now. He’s more worried about Joseph and if he’s okay, and as he takes a seat in the box and play resumes after Sammy is brought out to mind the net in Joseph’s absence, he can’t think about anything else but if Joseph is okay.
He’s okay. He is. He’s fine. He was skating on his own, mostly, so, like, he’s fine.
He didn’t skate all on his own, but he’s fine. He’s good.
Oh, fuck. Did he even skate on his own? Fuck. Why didn’t Matthew fucking pay attention in biology? It can’t be good that Joseph was fucking spitting out blood. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The world tilts slightly around Matthew. Somehow, he’s glad that he’s sitting. Mitch skates past the box a few times, circling more than he would, especially since he’s a winger, and at one point he shoots Matthew a look. Matthew isn’t sure what the fuck that is supposed to mean, isn’t sure what the fuck is wrong with him, but it’s fine. It’s whatever. Joseph is the one that is hurting right now, not Matthew. He’ll be fine. He didn’t even get hit. So why the fuck is the world spinning? Why can't I fucking breathe? Maybe Matthew should get checked out himself by the team medics.
The two minutes pass fast, and somehow, the Leafs don’t surrender a goal on the PK. There’s 2:07 as Matthew steps back on the ice, and he plays a short shift that consists of him skating behind Auston and then fucking up multiple of Mitch’s perfect passes. He’s distracted, and he knows it. His head just – it isn’t there.
“Matthew,” John says as Matthew skates to the bench during a line change. He frowns at Matthew and adds, “you’re okay?”
“No, I’m not fucking okay,” Matthew grits out, refusing to look at his captain. He isn’t sure why he can’t, but, just… he isn’t sure. “I don’t know if Joey’s okay,” he manages after a second. “I can’t… I can’t fucking focus, Johnny.”
John doesn’t reply to that, because there’s nothing he can fucking say in response. He can’t calm Matthew down, because John isn’t sure if Joseph is okay, either. Fuck. the world goes slightly blurry again, and Matthew finds that he can’t sit still. He wishes Cousins didn’t get a ten minute so he could fucking punch him again, just to fucking do something.
“Matthew,” John says again, his voice sounding kind of far away. What the fuck? Have Matthew’s ears stopped working? “Matthew, he’ll be okay. Look, there’s a minute left in the game. A minute, promise. With stoppage, that’s probably two, max. The two minutes in the box didn’t go by very slowly, did they? That’s all you have, and then you can be the first in the locker room to see him, okay? Matthew. Look at me.”
Matthew blinks, and takes a deep breath as he realizes he’s been holding it for like, a minute or some shit. John’s right – the two minutes in the box weren't that long. He’s fine. Matthew needs to fucking suck it up. He isn’t the one that got hurt. He’s going to be fucking fine.
And in the end, the rest of the game happens, in a rush of time that roughly translates to too fucking long, and before Matthew knows it, the horn is sounding. He knows that he should stay out on the ice for a second, should celebrate with his team, should skate over to Sammy and applaud him for his efforts of blocking out Florida's shots in the last minute, but he can’t. He just – he can’t.
Instead, the second the horn sounds, the second all the fans break out into cheers, Matthew’s skate is hitting the bench floor and he’s booking it for the locker rooms. Keefe chirps him, some shit Matthew doesn’t bother to listen to, and then, finally, fucking finally, Matthew barges into the fucking medics room or whatever the fuck it’s fucking called, and there – there is Joseph.
“Matty-” is all Joseph gets out before Matthew is barrelling into him, pulling him into a hug so tight he probably can’t breathe.
“Hi,” Joseph whispers softly after a few seconds, pulling away from Matthew and looking at him. Matthew still has his skates on, so he’s a bit taller than Joseph, but the latter’s eye contact somehow, somewhat embarrassingly, calms Matthew down. “Hi, Matty.”
“You look awful.” Matthew doesn’t mean for those words to come out, and wrinkles his nose slightly after he says them, but he’s not wrong – Joseph hasn’t taken the time to clean himself up, yet, and there’s still blood covering his face as well as some pieces in his hair. It’s been only ten minutes, probably, but Matthew’s sure he can see a purple bruise starting to bloom on Joseph’s cheek.
“Well thanks,” Joseph grumbles, hitting Matthew lightly on the shoulder. “I’m flattered that you were so worried for me.”
Matthew laughs. It’s easier to breathe when he can see that Joseph is okay, that he’s not fucking dying in the back locker room. Huh. That’s kind of weird.
“You know I didn’t mean that,” Matthew reassures Joseph. “I just, like, I’m so glad you’re okay. I kind of freaked the fuck out back there. I don’t think I breathed for the whole two minutes I was in the box.”
Joseph frowns. “You were in the box?”
“Yeah?” Matthew raises an eyebrow – how did Joseph expect Matthew not want to fucking murder Cousins? “Two minute misconduct. I was lucky it wasn’t four.”
“For… what?” Joseph frowns, now. “Did you go after someone, Matty? We agreed to no murdering.”
Matthew shuffles his feet slightly. “Cousins needed a good punch to his ego.”
“His ego?”
“Maybe his face, too.”
Joseph’s face contorts to disbelief. “You fucking punched Cousins?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my fucking-” Joseph cuts off, a small grin on his bloodstained face. “Come here,” he says, opening his arms. “I did not need you to punch Cousins to defend my honour, but I appreciate it, Matty. Thank you.”
Matthew laughs, falls into Joseph arms, and then laughs again. Was he upset literally two minutes ago? He can’t remember. He’s fine now, though, because Joseph is, too, so everything is fine. There probably isn’t anything wrong with the world.
They won the game, Cousins got the punch he fucking deserved, and Joseph is okay. Everything is fine, now, and this time, Matthew believes it.
–--
Probably ten minutes later, Matthew is shooed away from the medic room (he still hasn’t figured out what the fuck it’s called) and into the main locker room. The second he enters, Mitch, no joke, essentially fucking jumps on him, demanding to know if Joseph is okay.
Matthew assures Mitch that Joseph is, that he’s just got a broken nose, and that it’s not as serious as it initially looked. Auston breathes a sigh of relief, and, Matthew realizes, the tense atmosphere of the locker room slowly swirls away, replaced with the warmer, carefree environment that Matthew’s more used to with his team.
Everyone files out slowly, after doing the belt photos for the media and doing some press, and before Matthew knows it, it’s just him, Mitch, Auston, and John in the locker room. Matthew was hoping to stay later because he wants to see Joseph again before he leaves, and wants to see if he wants to come back to his apartment. Just to make sure he’s okay.
“Hey,” John says right as Matthew goes to leave. “You’re seriously okay, Matthew?”
“What?” Matthew spins, pausing at the door to face his team captain. “I’m – yeah, Johnny, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Mats,” Mitch says, almost cautiously. He’s standing close to Auston, who is also wearing a concerned expression. “You seriously did not look okay when you were in the box. Or on the bench after. You – have you ever had a panic attack before?”
Oh. Fuck. “Uh,” Matthew says, because he isn’t really fucking sure what he’s supposed to say about that. “No – I mean, it… it wasn’t, um, that. I was just, like, worried and shit.”
Mitch frowns again. He moves so his and Auston’s shoulders are touching. “I have,” he whispers, softly. He isn’t one to get like that, all quiet and, almost, like, fucking small. Auston moves his hand, seems to hesitate, and then must give in and puts his arm around Mitch’s shoulder. “It sucks. You don’t – you don’t know what it’s like unless it fully happens to you, but it didn’t to you. At least not completely.”
“Oh – Mitch.” Matthew says, his voice also soft. “Mitch, I, um, it wasn’t that.”
“Okay,” Mitch gives in, but Matthew knows he doesn’t believe him. “Just, like, you can talk to any of us, Matty, okay-”
“Are you and Auston dating?” Matthew asks the question, and then immediately wants to fucking punch himself. What the fuck kind of, like, timing was that? They weren’t – they weren’t even fucking talking about that.
John laughs at the abrupt change in conversation, and after a second, so do Mitch and Auston. “Yes,” Auston replies before Mitch can. “Yeah. Where the fuck did that come from?”
“I just, like – me and Joey are, too.” Matthew’s ears go pink, but he continues on. “That’s why I freaked the fuck out. It wasn't, like, a panic attack or anything like that."
“Yes!” Mitch moves away from Auston, which makes him pout, and Mitch practically does fucking laps in the room. “Mo owes me fifty fucking bucks!” He cries. “Breakfast is on me tomorrow, Aus!” Auston rolls his eyes fondly but doesn’t protest.
“Idiots in love,” John says, shaking his head. He walks forward and claps a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “You guys are adorable, just so you know. Can’t wait to chirp the both of you the way I do with Mitch and Auston.”
Matthew rolls his eyes, sees the way that Auston is looking at Mitch as he prances around the room, and wonders why he didn’t just ask them sooner. Now that he knows, it’s so obvious. It’s so them. It’s so cute.
Matthew hopes that he and Joey are like that, too.
–
Mitch: just so ur aware pretty sure me and aus knew about u and joey before u and joey did. ur so cute together and i love you guys so much. joey literally looks at u like ur the fucking sun
Mitch: don’t chirp aus and me too much next game bc i DO HAVE BLACKMAIL about u and joey
Mitch: also do you guys wanna go out for breakfast with aus and i
Mitch: i can’t guarantee kissing won’t ensue