Chapter Text
Jordie stares at the center of the steering wheel, trying to motivate the car to start with force of will alone. He turns the key again, and there isn’t even a whir, not any sign of effort.
“You’re not even trying,” he complains. Turns the key again and listens to another stupid click.
If Jordie was the kind of person to beat on inanimate objects when he’s pissed, he’d be bruising his hands against the steering wheel. Instead, he takes a slow breath, takes out the key, gets out of the car and very carefully does not slam the door behind him.
Fuck. He is stuck in fucking Cedar Park, Texas. Three and a half hours from Allen. Jamie is with the Texas Stars, probably on a plane by now. The brothers said goodbye to their parents early that morning, put them on a plane headed for home, so they can’t help him.
He’s not sure if he has any guys on the Americans that he would ask to make a seven-hour round trip to come pick him up, and even if he wanted to, and they weren’t all headed home already after their season, and if one would do it, his car would still be sitting in a hotel parking lot in Cedar Park.
Fuck. He puts his head down on the roof, grits his teeth.
“Car trouble?”
Jordie has no reason to cringe at the sound of Tyler’s voice. The guy has never done anything to him. Not really. Not like fucking up an important relationship and leaving him homeless on the street.
Recognizing his irritation as guilt doesn’t do much to help Jordie reign it in.
He gets a hold of himself, sighs and turns.
“Yeah. Won’t start.”
Tyler nods. Chews on his thumbnail. He looks so different than the first time Jordie saw him, even if only a few short months have gone by. Older, with his hair short and dark all over instead of the gaudy Mohawk. He’s leaner around the face, broader through the shoulders. If Jordie thought he was worryingly handsome before, he really looks like a guy that’s out of Jamie’s league now.
But. Tyler walked out, to nothing, rather than stay as Jamie’s whore. Left when he could have wrapped Jamie around his little finger instead, could have taken every advantage, fucked with Jamie's head until he got everything he wanted from Jamie. Tyler left a considerable stack of money behind because he cared what Jamie thought of him, even if they were broken up.
“You know anything about cars?” Jordie asks. He feels he has to, that he would have asked it of any of his guy friends, but it kind of puts him back on firm ground when Tyler shakes his head. It’s not homophobic if he was right, right?
“Nah. But I could phone-a-friend.”
Jordie is fucked enough that even that small chance of getting out of this without a tow bill that almost makes abandoning the car fiscally reasonable makes him nod. “Yeah. If you could. I’d appreciate it.”
Tyler nods and takes out his phone, dials and says hi to someone. “Hey, so I’m down here in South Texas and my friend’s car won’t start. Any idea what I could try?”
He listens, looks over at Jordie. “Try the radio?”
Jordie kicks himself for not thinking it first, to check the battery. He turns it on, and the music is fine, loud and strong. He turns it off again. Tyler, still on the phone, motions to Jordie to pop the hood. Leans in and pokes around while Jordie swelters behind the wheel, the door open to let in whatever pathetic breeze the weather graces him with.
Tyler steps where Jordie can see him, mimes turning the key as he talks to the other person. Jordie tries it, hears the now-familiar click.
Tyler disappears behind the raised hood again, gestures one more time for Jordie to try and then gives up, puts his phone away.
“Dion says you’re probably looking at the starter, maybe just the cables if you’re lucky,” Tyler says. He looks resigned, far-from-thrilled. “Look. Jamie put me on his AAA account. I can call you a tow to a repair shop.”
Jordie nods. That’s really the best he can hope for. He just. Fuck. The ECHL is pro hockey, but it ain’t really a living wage.
Tyler fidgets with his keys. “You can ride back to Dallas with me. If you want to. I won’t need Jamie’s truck for the next week; I can drive Ron and David’s car if I have to go somewhere. Drop me off at their house. You use the truck until Jamie is ready to come back to Dallas; drive the truck down to him and drive your car back.”
It’s a workable plan. Better than staying in a cheap-ass hotel while his car’s in the shop over the weekend and then until it gets fixed. He needs to get his apartment packed up and his boxes stored at Jamie’s, and he’d probably have been wishing for the truck by the time he was done making small loads in his car.
“If it’s not a problem,” he says, like Tyler doesn’t know he’s pretty much screwed if Tyler decides it’s too much work, or he’d rather not be in a car with Jordie for half the day.
Tyler shrugs, but he takes his phone out again, calls AAA with their address, what’s wrong with the car, asks for recommendations for shops nearby. It’s weird for Jordie, who has been the one taking care of Jamie, taking care of the younger guys on his teams for so long, to just hang out and let this get done without him.
“Better move your stuff over before the truck gets here,” Tyler suggests, and Jordie moves his crap. It’s not like he brought a ton of stuff for less than a week, but it’s stuff he’d rather not leave in the car for who-knows-who to mess with while it’s in the shop.
The tow driver shows up and Tyler explains how his friend had been driving him around and the car broke down, because if Tyler was not in the car then he can’t use the card. Tyler lies with an ease that makes Jordie wary. It would be so easy to end up on the wrong end of that smile, that easy shrug, the words that come so smoothly.
They watch Jordie’s little old car get loaded up on the flatbed, and then Tyler glances at Jordie. Jordie’s first impression had been that Tyler wasn’t that big, but the kid nearly looks him in the eye. Probably still growing, Jesus fuck. What are the odds, two kids like Tyler and Jamie getting together and staying together and not tearing each other apart with their inexperience?
“Ready?” Tyler asks, and Jordie hears in his voice that he’s still uncomfortable with this. That he’d rather not do it, but he’s doing it anyway.
“Yeah.” Jordie nods. Climbs in Jamie’s familiar truck, tries to relax with an unfamiliar driver behind the wheel.
============
Tyler can’t think of a time he was on a more tense road-trip. Maybe the last time his parents tried to take him on vacation and he kept his headphones on the entire six hours each way, trying to drown out the sounds of their low-level dissatisfaction with themselves, their marriage, him. He keeps the radio on, and Jordie doesn’t try to change the channel, doesn’t turn the volume down. It’s too warm to roll the window down, but the road sound is discouragement enough to any hope of conversation.
Tyler is sincerely glad.
They stop at a Whattaburger around noon. Tyler probably would have driven straight through to Dallas, but between messing with Jordie’s car and waiting for the tow truck to show up he’s hungry before they even hit Waco.
“Hey, let me get it,” Jordie says, and Tyler stops himself from bristling. He might not need charity anymore. He might have a little spending money, rightfully earned helping out Ron and David’s neighbors, doing favors for people he knows from church (legitimate favors. The kind that don’t involve him being even a little bit naked). He’s still saving Jordie a shit-load of money and inconvenience and if he wants to buy lunch, there’s no real reason besides pride for Tyler not to let him.
“Yeah. Okay. A Whattachicken and fries. Chocolate shake.”
Jordie goes to get the food and Tyler stakes out a booth in the back, far enough that he can’t smell the grease in the kitchen. Jordie finds him and brings his own soda, the little orange plastic pyramid with their order number on it.
They just need to eat, and then Tyler will get them the rest of the way to Dallas. He’s pretty sure Jordie would jump at the chance to drive, but that’s a level of trust that Tyler can’t bring himself to yet. They’re probably going to hit Friday traffic, so figure that in, it makes about four more hours and then he’ll be at Ron and David’s and he won’t see Jordie for months.
“Hey,” Jordie says, and his voice has that serious ‘we should talk’ tone that Jamie gets sometimes and it’s all Tyler can do to not cut him off cold.
“Look,” Jordie continues when Tyler doesn’t encourage him but doesn’t shut him down either. “I know. We started on the wrong foot. We. I had assumptions. And I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Tyler says, looks over to see if the tray with their food is coming anytime soon.
“I mean it,” Jordie says, and Tyler tracks him with his peripheral vision but doesn’t turn his head. Jordie’s hands are on the table, fingers laced together. Not a good position to swing from, even if Jordie was going to hit him here. He’d have to swing double-fisted or separate his hands first. Tyler’s pretty sure he could dodge.
“I heard you,” Tyler says. “I said okay.”
Jordie frowns, and Tyler leans his elbow on the back of his booth seat.
“And that’s…” Jordie starts, frustrated, but he falters like he has no idea where he’s going with that.
“Words,” Tyler says. A Whattaemployee is wandering around with a tray, looking at the little paper slip. Tyler gets his hopes up, but she hands it off to another table.
“The fuck do you want from me?” Jordie asks.
Tyler cuts him a glance, because seriously? “What do you want me to say?” Tyler asks. “Words are nothing, dude.”
Their food still isn’t there. Tyler really should have taken the Whatta-drive-through.
For just a second he thinks Jordie is gonna be dumb enough to offer him money or something, but he settles himself, leans back in the booth, frowns like Tyler is some puzzle for him to take apart.
“So what do you want?” Jordie asks again, more measured. “If words don’t count, what does?”
“Look,” Tyler sighs. “We want the same thing. For Jamie to be happy. I’m gonna try really hard not to be a dick to you, and you just…” he waves his hand, not even sure himself what he expects from Jordie. Go be you somewhere else is the best he could translate it and even he knows that would be fucking rude.
Jordie mulls that over, takes a sip of his soda, and fucking finally their food is delivered out to their table, a mound of catsup packets dropped on the dull formica. Tyler unwraps his sandwich with impatient hands and Jordie takes his own, distracted and slow.
They don’t talk much, the rest of the ride back to civilization (seriously, nothing between Austin and Dallas meets that definition). Tyler drives to Ron and David’s place, trying to tamp down on the instinct against leading someone he doesn’t know to his home. Jordie isn’t going to trash their house over them being queer, over them letting Tyler stay. Isn’t going to show up and make a scene on their front porch.
He gets out, leaves the engine running, grabs his bag and half-waves over his shoulder.
Fucking finally, he thinks as he goes in, as he is engulfed by the old-people smell of the house, Ron cooking something in the kitchen, David probably in his office. Finally that’s over.
===========
There is no fucking reason for Jordie to call him two days later. No reason for him to say “Hey, I got nothing to do until Jamie is done with the playoffs. I was wondering if you’d like to catch lunch. Maybe you could give me some pool tips. Up my game a little. Or golf. Golf if you want. That’d be cool too.”
He’s awkward, like he’s asking Tyler out on a date or something, but there’s none of that feel to it, no hint that it’s code for something else.
Tyler doesn’t have to say yes.
He does anyway.