Between Us

Parker

The amazing thing about the offseason was all the free time it allowed, giving Parker a chance to dive back into hobbies that had fallen by the wayside during the grind of the regular season. Sure, he still had conditioning sessions and meetings with his trainer, but they were nothing compared to the relentless demands of playing hockey full-time.

For the last few weeks, his Friday nights had taken on a familiar rhythm: ESPN droning in the background, a beer in his hand, and his best friend at his side. Tonight was no different.

Parker strolled into Derrick’s apartment using the spare key—because, of course, he had a spare—making his entrance as obnoxiously grand as ever.

He held his phone up, a wicked grin plastered on his face, and launched into a dramatic reading. “He whispered in my ear, ‘Baby, I want you so bad,’ as he fondled the hem of my compression shorts. I was rock hard, about to burst from the seams—literally.”

Parker doubled over with laughter, his voice cracking. “Oh man, itgets better.”

Derrick

When Derrick first moved into this condo, there had been just one key in existence. It was his first real place, secured on the back of a three-year contract with the team that had finally decided he was worth committing to. Finding a decent place to live was easy. What was harder to explain was how Parker had finagled his way into owning a spare key within weeks of the move.

“What if you’re hopped up on pain pills and need me to help you inside?” Parker had argued. Or, “What if you lose your key and your precious padding gets locked in here?” Scare tactics, every one of them, but they’d worked. A quick trip to Walmart later, and Parker had a copy of the key in hand.

Derrick really should consider changing the locks.

The vivid mental image ofcompression shorts stretched to their limits made Derrick want to crawl out of his own skin. He didn’t evenown compression shorts, and yet, Parker was standing there, gleefully reading aloud a scene that would haunt him for weeks.

“Would youstop it?” he muttered, fanning his face with the edge of his laptop. He glared at Parker—not that it did much good—before shuffling over on the couch to make space. Because, of course, Parker would inevitably join him.

“That your own personal work this time?” Derrick chirped, voice clipped with faux cheer. “Youknow I don’t wear compression shorts.” Derrick felt his ears grow hotter. “For the record,” he added, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in those things.” And, unfortunately, they’d seen each other naked enough times in the locker room for him to make that statement with absolute confidence.

Parker

Parker would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of the spicy fanfiction the internet had whipped up about him—especially when it starred his doe-eyed goalie partner. This was entertainment gold, the kind of content you could pair with a bottle of wine and a cozy night on the couch. His grin only widened as he strolled over to the sofa, dropping himself into the cushions with theatrical flair.

He wasn’t blind to the fact that their relationship might seem... unconventional to outsiders. Hell, it was a full-blown bromance at this point—complete with the sloppy kisses he’d planted on Derrick’s cheek after press interviews and their infamous handshake that had made its rounds on social media. But Parker was perfectly comfortable in his masculinity, unbothered by whatever rumors their antics might spark.

Besides, he wassorta seeing someone.

Grabbing the laptop off Derrick’s lap, Parker plunked it onto the coffee table unceremoniously and stretched out like he owned the place. He shifted until his head was resting against Derrick’s thigh, eyes half-lidded with mischief. “How’d you guess?” he drawled at Derrick accusing him of writing their fanfiction, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I’ve been secretly writing about us from the very start. Helps me work through all the... sexual frustration.”

Parker had to bite back a laugh at the way Derrick tensed beneath him, cheeks still flushed from his earlier protests. If anything, the redhead’s discomfort only made this momentthat much better. Parker tilted his head slightly, glancing up with a sly grin. “Don’t worry—I gave you the bigger... stick.”

Derrick

This was just how things went with Parker. Derrick had long since given up trying to understand why he’d been the man’s target of choice, but their friendship had been cemented since day one, even back in juniors. Derrick had been the quiet kid, barely surviving in an unfamiliar country, and Parker had been the lifesaver—the boat kind, not the candy. Well, maybe both. Whatever this thing was they had—on the ice and off of it—Derrick cherished every second. Even if Parker made it difficult when his summer hobbies included reading porn about himself. And, more often than not, about Derrick too. Maybe they should rethink the whole bromance-on-camera thing. He almost snorted aloud. As if he actually had any say in that.

“No, I wasn’t doing anything. Thanks for asking,” he muttered, sarcasm soft but deliberate as Parker’s head rested on his thigh. It wasn’t worth the complaint—especially since they both knew he didn’t really mean it. He let his hand drift into Parker’s curls anyway, fingers weaving through familiar territory. This was just... them. Locker room, bus rides, plane seats—they were always like this, practically on top of each other. It had embarrassed the hell out of Derrick in the beginning, like being caught in some compromising situation. It had taken a good year to learn not to care and a few months more to let that comfort extend to their new teammates in the national leagues. Parker’s confidence was contagious. His obsession with fanfiction was not.

Derrick stared down at his companion, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. “The scary part is, theonly reason I know you’re lying is because you can’t string two words together if your life depended on it.” Interviews were proof enough of that. He wrinkled his nose as Parker rambled on, the smugness practically radiating off him. “I swear to God, if you’re actually getting off on this crap, I will shove you off me. And if you get a concussion, that’s on you.”

He tugged gently at Parker’s hair for emphasis but let the threat linger. Honestly, he might feel less prickly about the whole thing if every damn story Parker found didn’t insist on painting Derrick as some fumbling, wide-eyed virgin. He wasn’tthat helpless.

Parker

For some reason, they just worked. Parker had given up long ago trying to figure out how someone as loud and in-your-face as him had managed to click so well with Derrick, the quiet introvert who seemed content to exist in the background. While Parker and the guys celebrated victories by bumping chests and howling over the dumbest shit imaginable, Derrick had been the one sitting quietly in the corner, smiling just enough to let everyone know he was enjoying himself. Maybe that was what had drawn Parker in—the enigma of his red-headed teammate, the giant mystery card he was desperate to figure out. And years later, even with all they’d shared, Parker couldn’t shake the feeling that there were still pieces of Derrick he hadn’t unlocked yet. That thought didn’t frustrate him. It excited him.

“What could possibly be worth any attention now that I’m here?” he teased, the smirk on his lips making it clear he didn’t believe his own hype. Parker wasn’t blind to the fact that Derrick’s quiet strength grounded him in ways no one else could. As he let the redhead’s fingers rake through his hair, Parker felt himself relax entirely. This was better than any post-game massage.

At Derrick’s playful jab, Parker arched a brow, pretending to be deeply insulted. “So what are you tryna say? That I’m illiterate?” He wasn’tcompletely illiterate, just... not exactly eloquent. High school had been more about surviving classes so he could get back on the ice. If something caught his interest these days, he turned to YouTube or Google for his learning. Parker wasn’t ashamed of it—he just hadn’t cared much for formal education. “I’m deeply and thoroughly offended.”

Snickering, he pulled his phone out again and waved it in Derrick’s direction. “Come on, you’re not even a little curious to see how this story ends?” The grin on his face widened as he leaned in closer, knowing full well Derrick’s patience was running thin. “I mean, you’re themain character, dude. Don’t you wanna know if you and I finally live happily ever after?”

Derrick

With a quick flex of his foot, Derrick snapped the screen of his laptop shut. This was one password he’d managed to keep out of Parker’s hands, a small victory in their otherwise boundaryless friendship. And thank God for that, considering the very incriminating dating profile open just beneath the password-protected screen. It had been his sister’s ridiculous suggestion, born of concern that her “lonely little brother” needed to put himself out there. Why he was actually humoring her, Derrick didn’t know. She wasn’t even on the same continent, let alone close enough to meddle properly.

“Nothing,” he said absently, meaning it. Parker was, naturally, the center of attention. Derrick didn’t mind it as his fingers dipped to Parker’s temples, a practiced distraction.

“Yes.” Derrick managed to deliver the word with a perfectly straight face, though it didn’t last. About ten seconds in, his resolve cracked, and a grin split across his face. He snorted, the laugh bubbling up despite his best efforts. Keeping steady was a lost cause, and he ended up bouncing Parker’s head atop his thighs in the process. “The king can’t cope with a taste of his own medicine,” he teased, tugging lightly at a curl before shaking his head. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. Nor would it be the last, Derrick was sure of it.

With a wrinkled nose and a deliberate sigh, Derrick held up a hand, fingers splayed. “If it includes the words: rimming—” he ticked off one finger, then another, voice dropping as he continued, “—virgin, deepthroat, throbbing… or Penguins, then no thanks.” By the end of the list, his voice had grown barely audible, and his face was flaming red. The words were all ones he’d learned courtesy of Parker’s incessant fanfiction readings—except for “Penguins.” That one had a whole different story attached. One time, Derrick had been caught giving his former mentor (now the Penguins’ starting goalie) a kiss on the cheek. One time! Who took that as permission to write smut about them?

Leaning down, Derrick tapped Parker squarely on the forehead. “Don’t you have better things to do during the offseason than read up on all your ridiculous fantasies that will never happen?”

Parker

The redhead’s swift shutting of the laptop, whatever had been on the screen disappearing to black, hadn’t escaped Parker’s notice. His brows knit together in curiosity. Sure, Derrick always treated his laptop like it contained state secrets that belonged at the Pentagon, but something about this move was... different. Suspicious. Like something incredibly juicy had just been hidden. Was it porn?

Even though Derrick practically radiated innocence, Parker knew better. The guy had needs. Everyone did. No matter the saccharine-sweet packaging.

Still, Derrick had always been tight-lipped when it came to intimate details. Parker couldn’t recall a single time they’d genuinely talked about Derrick’s sex life. It was always one-sided: Parker gushing about the hot brunette he’d banged the night before, or recounting the legendary threesome that had absolutely lived up to the hype. But Derrick? Total black box. For all Parker knew, the guy was running a BDSM dungeon on the weekends.

“I can,” Parker shot back at Derrick’s muttered denial, grinning. “But that’s just rude. At least I’m funny.” He winked to make sure Derrick knew he was kidding, though his grin didn’t waver. “Lame. Those are all the best keywords.”

Leaning back, he arched until his spine gave a satisfying crack, letting out a lazy yawn. “Nah.” And then, with a glint of mischief, Parker reached for the laptop Derrick had placed on the coffee table. He flipped it open, revealing the password screen. “Can I use your laptop? It’ll only take a minute.” Parker had a pretty solid poker face.

Derrick

“Is it really rude if it’s the truth?” Derrick muttered absently, tugging softly on a curl. At the start of their relationship, the goalie had been unable to make such quips. Fearful of upsetting one of the few friends he’d made since arriving to the US, he’d avoided roasting like the plague, even though it was an essential part of the game they played. But Parker had encouraged Derrick to join in on the fun. The rhythm they’d fallen into together had been one he prized. Of course, he’d still looked to Parker after most insults at the beginning to ensure that he hadn’t offended. That lingering effect had since died away. The redhead didn’t bat an eye as his friend announced him as rude.

Derrick couldn’t recall the moment that Parker had first started this hideous fanfiction obsession. Other guys on the team chatted casually about its existence, but the man took it one step further by seeking out the collection of smut and insisting on regular readings. Out loud. In Derrick’s apartment. To a very unwilling participant. He tapped his friend sharply on his forehead with a single finger. “Get. Better. Hobbies.”

The redhead flinched beneath his teammate as the man scooped his laptop off the table. The sight of the password screen flaring into existence had him letting out a sigh of relief. “As long as you don’t pull up your porn-y literature, then sure.” Derrick collected it from his friend, thankful that he had the advantage of being over his head and out of view. He typed with one hand and then quickly dove to close the incriminating dating profile on screen, only slightly peeved that he’d need to start from scratch on his account. Maybe he wouldn’t bother. “There ya go,” he muttered, dropping it unceremoniously onto his friend’s lap.

Parker

To be fair, fanfiction of him and his best friend wasn’t the only salacious content Parker indulged in. The goalie enjoyed smutty writing of all kinds. What could he say? It was an entertaining way to pass the time. It’d also helped during stretches of celibacy, before he’d started seeing someone, when the grind of the season left him too damn tired to bother schmoozing anyone at a bar. He wrinkled his nose at Derrick’s incessant finger-tapping on his forehead, still grinning despite himself. “Okay, Mother-fucking-Theresa,” he fired back with a soft snicker.

The moment Derrick flinched, Parker’s brows quirked in intrigue. Combined with the unmistakable tension radiating off his friend, it was clear there was something on that laptop Derrick desperately didn’t want him to see. The decent thing to do would’ve been to respect his friend’s privacy, hand over the laptop, and leave it alone. But Parker never claimed to be decent—or anything less than a nosy fuck.

“Fine, fine,” he said resolutely, accepting the laptop with an exaggerated air of surrender.

And then, with all the finesse of someone born to cause chaos, he clicked on the beautifully convenient “reopen closed window” option.

The laugh that escaped him was something between a shriek and a roar—loud, obnoxious, and full of mischief. Holy shit. Mother Teresa was on a dating site. This was almost too good to be true.

“What are you, forty-seven?” Parker teased, the grin splitting his face as he turned the laptop slightly toward himself. “In our age, the app of choice is Tinder. Get with the times.”

Derrick

It was a hideous website with bright pink hearts littered throughout the logo, a shining beacon that insisted that ‘love connections are made here.’ Derrick was all too grateful that his information had disappeared with the initial closure of the tab. He didn’t need Parker knowing his idea of a perfect date or if he preferred plaid or solids (even if that was far from incriminating). His cheeks burned. The blush leaped right off his face to the tips of his ears.

In one quick movement (goalie reflexes), Derrick reclaimed his laptop and sent a knee into the center of Parker’s back, effectively delivering his friend from his lap as he paid little heed to where the other ended up. They were in the offseason. His friend had more than enough time to recover from whatever injury Derrick’s toss-off might bestow on him. Anyhow, he completely deserved it. And if the backup got more starts because Parker had banged himself up on the convenient and very solid coffee table, then so be it!

“Fuck you,” the goalie muttered, suddenly wishing to be encased in his padding. Game days were the only occasion in which he felt invincible, bigger than everyone, and unstoppable. It was unfortunate now to be stranded in only a hoodie and shorts (all shameless self-promotion).

The laptop sealed itself with a click, throwing the computer’s content into oblivion once more as the password that had already failed him once rose again. Derrick rose with narrowed eyes, his face had darkened into a rogue of anger, embarrassment still lurking beneath. “We can’t all be desired and coveted like you! Sorry, I don’t want to just fuck and run all the time.” He said it all with his hands in the air, fuming, before he departed for the kitchen in search of a beer or a Gatorade or something. Anything to clear his head. Derrick sneered at Parker as he departed the room, not bothering to extend the offer to his joke of a friend.

This was one subject that the goalie wanted and needed full support on. He hadn’t dated since juniors. And he was... fuck yeah, he was lonely. There were needs and longing and Parker should get it. Not tell him to get his rocks off on Tinder. The anger would pass eventually. But for now, Derrick was happy to slam the cabinet doors as he searched for a beverage.

Parker

Parker felt the instant stab of pain as Derrick’s knee collided with his back, a grunt escaping him as he grabbed at the sore spot. How the hell did someone so innocent-looking and timid know how to land such a brutal hit? It wasn’t the reaction Parker had been expecting—or aiming for—and he was still blatantly clueless about what exactly he’d done to deserve it.

Tinder was theit app, wasn’t it? Parker couldn’t figure out why Derrick had chosen some outdated dating site instead. Those were for people who were ancient and alone. Derrick was neither.

“What?” he asked, genuine confusion in his tone as he half-sat, half-sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling off and the other bent awkwardly. Watching Derrick storm off to the kitchen was like witnessing a rare phenomenon. Parker could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen his best friend get genuinely angry, and none of them had ever been directed athim.

This was new.

And then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Parker’s eyes widened, then softened as realization settled in. His hand ran through his curls in that sheepish, nervous way it always did when he knew he’d stepped in it. Slowly, he got up from the couch, trailing after Derrick into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, arms crossing loosely over his chest as he watched his friend yank a beer out of the fridge with more force than necessary.

“You totally don’t have to answer this or anything,” Parker started, his voice unusually soft, “but, uh…” He shifted on his feet, clearing his throat. “Are you, um… are you a virgin, dude?”

It made sense. Itfit. The embarrassment, the defensiveness, the insistence on using a dating site instead of a casual app—it all pointed to one thing.

“Not that I’d judge you or anything,” he added quickly, the corners of his lips twitching up into a hesitant grin. “It just sorta explains everything. The sudden anger and all that.”

Parker scratched the back of his neck, grinning wider now as the thought settled in. “Honestly? It’s kinda adorable.” The word felt foreign coming out of his mouth, but it also felttrue. Derrick wasn’t like most people. He wasn’t the hookup type, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Hell, it was endearing.

Derrick

Pressing forehead to freezer, Derrick allowed himself to crave the ice. With their playoff run non-existent, their teammates had started talking early about the many destinations they were traversing off to during their summer break. Most opted for somewhere tropical, craving heat and sun after long winter months. Derrick evaded vacation plans in favor of the ice.

He was different from his fellow player, the odd one at parties, and far more meek than any career where his face was regularly broadcast on TV would ever allow him to be. It was difficult not fitting in, even more so when you acknowledged the many strong personalities on the team. Even his own best friend was a stark comparison to the redhead with whom he shared a goal.

Letting Parker’s question stew, the goalie popped the top of his beer with the convenient bottle opener magnet hanging off the fridge right before his face. A long sip prolonged the silence. Derrick eyed his friend as he pressed on, apparently his attempt at salvaging the situation. There had been some overreaction involved back in the living room. It hadn’t been the first time the other man had invaded his privacy. While it wasn’t his best attribute, Derrick couldn’t fault his best friend for wanting to know things about his friend, given that the backup goalie tended to be reserved as it was. They probably wouldn’t have made it as far as his middle name if they’d left the friendship at his disposal.

With a groan, Derrick yanked the fridge open and snatched another beer from the shelf. He abandoned it on the counter, figuring that Parker would get the point, and took up a position of safety clear on the other side of the room. He perched against the dining room table and crossed his arms, eyes downcast.

“No.” The anticlimactic response surged out of the redhead after a few more sips. Anger had faded from his voice. Hesitance arose in its place, though this was far more normal for Derrick. “I’m not a virgin. Not exactly...” He rubbed at his arm, already berating himself for his choice of wording.

“I’ve slept with someone. Once. And it was... it was— ” A groan. “—it was bad, man.”

Knee bouncing, the words that he’d never spoken aloud before seemed to spill out. “I was young, and it was the thing to do, so I did it, and.”

His eyes closed. There was pressure at every level of this game. From the fans, the coaches, and even the team. Weak-willed baby Derrick never stood a chance.

“I hated it. Thought something was wrong with me. Probably because she was—” A woman. But Derrick was far behind the broaching of that subject. They could stick with the fact that he had only just admitted that he had slept with a single person. He risked a peek out of the corner of his eye at Parker, half convinced he’d find him laughing.

Parker

There were a lot of things Parker didn’t know about his enigmatic friend. For the most part, he’d learned to brush it off. Derrick wasn’t a sharer—cool, whatever. Parker didn’t mind carrying the conversational load, spilling stories about his colorful childhood or even the embarrassing tale of his first awkward boner. Their dynamic worked that way: Parker the over-sharer, Derrick the exact opposite.

But in moments like these, Parker couldn’t help but yearn for a little glimpse into his friend’s carefully guarded life.

Grabbing the beer from the counter, Parker popped the top off with the electronic opener and took a long, thoughtful swig. To be honest? He wasshocked his friend had gotten any action at all—not in a douchey, condescending way, but more in aholy hell, this human being had actually done the dirty? kind of way. Derrick was just so...innocent in Parker’s mind. The idea of him in a sexual situation felt borderline irrational.

And yet, now that it was on his mind, Parker couldn’t help leaning against the counter, steeped in curiosity.

“I mean, everyone’s first time is kinda shit, dude,” he said, twisting the bottle in his hand. Parker’s own debut had been in a hot tub with a girl who thought biting his dick was sexy. Needless to say, it was not a memory he cherished. “But, uh...” He cleared his throat, fumbling for words.

Subtlety wasn’t his forte, and Parker had never been one for beating around the bush. So, as usual, he just went for it.

“So, are you... like—” He scrunched up his nose, trying to force the words out. “Into dudes?” The question hung in the air, blunt and to the point, but without malice. It just madesense to him, suddenly. Derrick didn’t talk about girls like that. Never had.

Parker’s own sexuality was, as he liked to describe it,complicated. It often shifted depending on his mood, but he considered himself a lover of people. Anatomy wasn’t a deciding factor.

“Unless you’re not, and I’m just a fuckin’ prick,” he added quickly, raising his hands as if to ward off a blow. “But either way...was celibacy a personal choice, or...?” He gestured vaguely with his beer bottle. “I mean, dude, you coulddefinitely get laid whenever you wanted. There’s gotta be plenty of people out there salivating over riding some famous hockey player’s dick.” He grinned around the neck of his bottle before taking another swig, waiting for Derrick’s response.

Derrick

No proper hockey player could resist the call of beer. Though they were confined to the light stuff during the season, Derrick, with his European roots, kept his fridge thoroughly stocked during the offseason. Even with his mild personality, he rarely wasted time announcing to other players that they had shit taste in beer. While he didn’t encourage the underage drinking that seemed to run rampant through their league, Derrick had slipped bottles of the good stuff into the rookies’ hands when they’d come over. If they were going to do it anyway, may as well start them off young with worthwhile brands.

Parker’s palette had always been... lacking. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from keeping every beer, snack, and odd ramen flavor that was a favorite of his friend’s around the house. True friendship right there.

“Easy for you to say. It was going to be bad no matter what. I didn’t want it to happen at all. I just wanted everyone else to stop.”

Junior boys were breathing down his neck, insisting that ‘getting some’ was in his best interest; it had been too much for a young Swede to handle. Years later, and Derrick couldn’t even remember her name. Just that they had both been intoxicated, and it had been atop a couch of disgusting proportions. He hated to bring up the memory now, preferring to leave it distant and unattached to the life he was leading now.

Parker, never at a loss for words, seemed to be struggling trying to get out whatever it was he had to say. Still planning for the worst, Derrick sipped his beer slightly faster. It might be easier to handle this situation slightly inebriated. It was the wrong decision, given that Parker suggesting that he was gay had him spraying the table. While it was probably fairly obvious where Derrick’s tastes lay, it also wasn’t something he went about broadcasting. His family was not in that loop. It was best that they didn’t know.

His cheeks tinged pink. “I don’t—it’s not like I’ve—and I haven’t... not like I’ve kissed a guy to know.” The games of spin the bottle with teammates didn’t count. Most of them had chickened out and covertly kissed cheeks anyhow.

“We know you’re a prick.” The corner of his mouth twitched, a shy smile poking through for the first time since they’d started this rough conversation. Even so, a sigh followed as he continued. “Thank you for not writing me off as tragic.”

The actual answer to the question was complicated. Derrick was trying to silently convey that fact but doubted that Parker would be okay with his usual lack of information.

“It wasn’t a decision, really. I just felt better waiting until I could be with someone... God, this sounds pathetic. Someone who cared about me? Fuck.” He flattened his palms against the cold wood of the table, feeling ridiculous and so far off from the typical hockey persona. They should probably revoke his cool guy card with all this talk of feelings.

Parker

Maybe Parker didn’t entirely understand the struggles his friend faced, but that didn’t stop him from damn well trying. The whole construct of sex—occasional hiccups notwithstanding—had never really been a struggle for him. He was a traditionally attractive guy, towering at an imposing 6’3”, with just enough muscle to sidestep being called a beanstalk. Charismatic and outgoing, Parker had a knack for making just about anyone swoon, and as arrogant as it might sound, he had the track record to back it up. His teammates had even turned it into a game, timing how fast he could charm a girl into leaving the bar with him. His personal best? Five minutes.

But Parker wasn’t oblivious to the fact there was more to life than notches on a bedpost. He had hobbies—plenty, actually—and he knew better than to let his reputation define him. Still, it felt pretty damn good to be “the man.”

“Half the guys who were egging you on had probably never seen pussy in their lives, either,” Parker said casually, his grin widening. It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest.

Sexuality, in and of itself, was a pretty loaded topic. Parker had grown up hearing all the usual toxic spiel—his dad tossing him a beer at thirteen and practically thumping his chest with pride that his son wasn’t, in his words, “a queen.” Real men, according to the old man, played sports, drank beer, chased women, and worked honest jobs. Parker, of course, hadn’t bought into any of that crap. Not entirely, anyway. Sure, he hadn’t exactly sat his father down and announced he was screwing around with dudes too, but who cared? It wasn’t like he was marrying them.

Taking another swig from his beer, Parker snickered at Derrick’s jab before straightening up against the counter. “Well,” he said, the words rolling out with all the nonchalance of their usual banter, “you could always, y’know, kiss me. I wouldn’t mind poppin’ your cherry n’ all.” He punctuated the offer with a mischievous snicker. A kiss wasn’t a big deal. School kids kissed. Surely, they could too—without sacrificing the nature of their friendship.

“And there’s nothing wrong with you being a romantic,” Parker continued, shrugging as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Not embarrassing or pathetic or anything, dude. I respect it.” He pushed off the counter, tipping the bottle back to drain the last of his beer before tossing it into the trash with a casual flick of the wrist. Then, with that signature shit-eating grin spreading across his face, Parker stepped forward, closing half the distance between them.

Holding his arms out in an exaggerated, inviting gesture, he said, “Well? Come here.”

Derrick

It occurred suddenly to Derrick that a very important topic had been evaded during their conversations about sex all this time. “I dunno about that. I mean, you had to have been pretty young during your first time, right?” He knocked the butt of his beer softly against the table, considering. “Fourteen, I bet. And already your first threesome. Probably used your draft year to get them all into bed with you. No one can resist those real good pros.” Just the corner of his mouth perked up as he smirked at the table. It was all nonsense, the first things coming to mind. But a part of him was ready to believe it all if Parker confirmed it.

Though sex would never be his favorite topic, it was far easier to discuss when they were well outside of Derrick’s personal bedroom. They had talked about sex before. Often. But their conversations favored the present tense. ‘Would you do that chick over there?’ No was the usual answer. And he was spectacular at evading questions directed in a male’s direction. The few times he’d been set up, usually by guys from the team, he’d feigned illness or promptly ditched his companion at the next bar they set up in. Most of his teammates had come to terms with the fact that he liked to keep his personal life private. Easy to keep secret the fact that he wasn’t getting any (on purpose) when they all believed he was.

“But we already spend so much time together, and I feel nothing for your ugly mug.” All managed with a straight face until a millisecond later when a grin broke through, and he snorted into his beer. The statement was only relatively true. Though there had been a time when he looked at Parker as if he’d hung the moon and had secretly home that he might be Derrick’s first male partner in the bedroom, such thoughts had long since retired to the furthest recesses of his mind.

His most romantic thought now seemed to always possess the non-verbal tag of ‘no homo.’ Even if Derrick fit like a square peg in a round hole in that particular category. It was completely bros acceptable to look at his friend and think ‘what a nice, damn face.’ It was in the code. “And I’ve kissed you before.” Just on the cheek, much like his former mentor. Thank god there hadn’t been any cameras around thus far to provide documentation.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Derrick considered the proposition. It didn’t escape him that this wasn’t the strangest thing Parker had ever offered to do to him. He recalled the goalie once guarding a pair of his lucky boxers when he’d overheard a d-man threatening to steal them and wash them. Good friend. And good friends, in turn, shouldn’t really take advantage of the situation. Derrick had stood before him, angry and then upset, pulling on heartstrings like this was what he’d been aiming for all along. Parker didn’t owe him anything, particularly not a kiss.

“Don’t you think your one-day fiance will be a little put off that you made out with me, your best man?” Was it presumption to think that he’d one day play best man during a pivotal day? Absolutely not. Presumptuous to think that one kiss would progress to making out? Perhaps. But Parker was the one who had barged in reading erotic literature. Derrick couldn’t be too careful.

Derrick stood as he was called to the embrace. Damn, their constant closeness. He could barely resist the call of a bear hug, even if such a questionable act accompanied it. He laid his head on the man’s shoulder when he did finally arrive in the warmth, savoring the height difference for a rare moment. “Might as well get it over with, yeah?” The goalie smirked to show he was only joking but felt the look give way to what must be a look made of nerves. It was just kissing Parker.

Nothing special, right?

Parker

Even though Parker had considered himself a fairly adventurous shithead in his adolescence, he’d actually been pretty vanilla. A threesome? Nah—he wished. That would’ve made for a hell of a story over beers. He hadn’t really started experimenting until he was eighteen, when he’d grown into himself and gained some popularity. “You think I’m way cooler than I am, dude,” Parker snickered, though the grin on his face made it clear he didn’t entirely disagree. Because, let’s be real, he was pretty fucking cool.

It was rare to find a conversation topic that made Parker uncomfortable. Derrick? Not so much. Parker probably should’ve cut his friend some slack, but he was way too amused to stop now. “We both know you’re excellent at suppressing your feelings, baby,” he teased, flashing a disgustingly saccharine smile. “And you don’t get to call that a kiss,” he added, scoffing dramatically. Unless it was full-on mouth-to-mouth action with a respectable amount of tongue, Parker refused to acknowledge it as such.

Bracing both palms against the counter, Parker leaned in, effectively boxing Derrick in. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he shrugged lightly. “I’m not marrying anyone who isn’t completely okay with me having an overly touchy, intimately questionable relationship with my best friend,” he said easily, the truth laid bare in his words. Because Parker couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t smack Derrick on the ass after a win or plant a sweet kiss on his cheek during a victory celebration. If anyone had an issue with that, they could see themselves out.

“Now,” Parker murmured, his voice low as he leaned in closer, their faces just millimeters apart. “You’ve gotta stop distracting me,” he added, lifting a hand to cup Derrick’s cheek. “So I can properly kiss you.”

The moment their lips brushed together, Parker smirked wickedly. And then, after the briefest hesitation, he went in for the kill.

Derrick’s lips were soft, with a faint taste of beer lingering on them. It was shocking how well they fit, their mouths slotting together effortlessly. Parker’s thumb brushed delicately against Derrick’s jawbone, and for a moment, it felt...different. Not bad. Just new. He even found himself getting into it, sliding his tongue past Derrick’s lips as the kiss deepened. Time slipped away, and it wasn’t until Parker realized he was full-blown making out with his best friend that he let out a quiet, breathless laugh and pulled back.

“So, uh,” Parker said, grinning as he caught his breath. “The verdict?”

Derrick

“Isn’t that my job? To think you’re so cool?” The young goalie was emulating every surfer speech cliche he’d ever heard. “I mean, dude, that’s the only reason I hang out with you.” Despite all the time the two spent together, Derrick wasn’t convinced that Parker didn’t have a secret, explicit life apart from him. Preferring the cautious approach to life, he often depended on Parker to provide the extension to his boundaries. Dragging him to shady bars, encouraging his presence at even those PR events that were optional, and, yes, even his fond obsession with fanfiction.

There was a comfort zone and he should amble outside of it here and there. But Parker had to get bored with waiting for Derrick to catch up with his lifestyle. On the side, surely he was living it up. Hooking up, going out, parading himself for all the perks that came with being an NHL player. If Derrick couldn’t be Parker, then next best thing was being his best friend.

Wrinkling his nose at the additional term of endearment (baby, really?), Derrick cocked his head. Did Parker really have any right to be the one talking about feelings? No offense intended but he hadn’t seen his companion honestly hold down a relationship since they had embarked on this journey that was the overly attached friendship. He tried not to let that fact stir his opinion of Parker given that he himself was just in the midst of pursuing his first relationship through a dating platform, but it did make him question his friend’s motives each time he became one half of a couple. Silently question. Who was Derrick to call Parker out for getting some through regular means? He wanted that! With the right person... “It was still a kiss. Just because it doesn’t fit your standards.” Cheek kissing really should catch on in the Americas already.

Marriage was in Parker’s future. The way his life had been plotted out included the big day, the vows, probably not a church, definitely an unlimited bar. Derrick tried to imagine who he’d end up with. A woman with fiery hair and an even spicier temper. She had to have a backbone to put up with Parker. Or maybe, just maybe, a man? Despite not wanting to say it out loud, Derrick would be waiting for the day when he fell much further down the list of people that Parker cared for. They could only keep this up for so long. Perhaps Derrick would marry one day. He imagined his own partner and could only summon the vague picture of a woman who made his family happy. Maybe he would just stay a bachelor.

Derrick flushed as he was boxed in but didn’t tamper with Parker’s plan, allowing him to surge ever closer. Their faces were impossibly close now. He felt his breathing pick up and his heart race simply due to proximity. Parker pressed in and Derrick momentarily panicked, wondering if he should close his eyes. That was a thing you did, right? His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he slid them shut. And then Parker was kissing him.

Oh.

Revelation was too strong a word. But Derrick couldn’t deny this feeling, like taking a deep breath after being underwater for years. It was good. So good. When Parker stepped away, Derrick also had to take a physical step back to keep from launching himself at Parker and taking more. It had just been a sample. He didn’t get to take the full package home.

“Wow. I mean... nice. It was-it was nice.” And yeah, this was one of those bro moments where he was gently reminded how nice Parker’s face really was. He had laughed as they parted. Derrick could do nothing but pant and grin in return. “Uh... yeah, I think I might be a little gay.” Saying those words for the first time was liberating. Even if Parker had known all along.