Actions

Work Header

Chapter 2: chapter two

Notes:

Hold me close now, I can't feel my face
I keep mixing up red, I'm all over the place

Chapter Text

It was late May when the league announced their 24 team playoff format, effectively ending Detroit’s season in the tracks.

“I guess I saw it coming,” Mo flipped his phone on the couch after reading the news. He was comfortably stretched out on the couch in sweats, flipping the channels on the tv for something new to watch.

Dylan nodded. “Guess it sucks we can’t train or play for months now.”

“I miss the ice. Miss the boys.”

“You’re a sap,” Dylan absentmindedly replied as he glanced to see if Anthony picked anything good to watch.

“You miss them too, don’t fucking lie to me,” Mo rolled his eyes. He turned the tv off to give Dylan his full attention, appreciating him in the tight gray shirt and gym shorts he had on.

“I guess I miss someone else giving me a hard time for a change.”

“How dare you,” Anthony threw his hand over his heart in fake shock. “I have been an honorable guest these past months.”

Dylan didn’t say anything, he just lightly laughed as his eyes fell down to his lap. It stayed quiet for a moment before he replied. “I’m happy you’ve been with me during all of this. I think it would have been a lot harder without you around.”

“I thought I was the sap?”

Dylan laughed again and his heart swelled when he saw the glint of playfulness in Anthony’s eyes. He seemed so natural there, just lounging on the couch inside his place. Nothing about his stay had felt unnatural or forced, he just belonged here. Dylan wished he could live with him forever, even when all of this was over and they were back on the ice.

“At least we aren’t locked up as much,” Dylan continued. “Maybe we should make a drive out west and go annoy Glenny, Abby, and Danny for a few days.”

“Maybe,” Mo stretched his hand to rub his neck. “I should probably head home for a little first. Family misses me.”

Larkin felt like a crack just broke over his heart. Of course family time was important, but selfishly he didn’t want Mantha to leave him. He didn’t know when he’d come back to stay with him, if he’d come back at all. “Right, family, sure they’re bugging you to come back,” Dylan tried to shake off his doubts.

“A little,” Mo’s eyes moved to scan Larks. It was obvious in the way Dylan spoke his demeanor changed and his body had slumped. “You good?”

Mantha over the past few weeks had learned to pick up on almost every sign Dylan could give him with his voice or his body language. Dylan secretly appreciated it but sometimes it annoyed him that Mo could read him like an open book now. No one had ever been able to do that before.

“Maybe I don’t want you to leave.”

Dylan couldn’t even look him in the eye when he said it. It was up to Anthony to look at him, observing how Dylan looked like a lost puppy, slouching on the couch with most of the color drained from his face. “I don’t want to leave myself, but I do miss them too.”

“Maybe you can come back?” Dylan muttered.

“Maybe.”

“You sound like you don’t want to.”

“I want to, man, but I also don’t know when the season is gonna start for us. And I have my own place to take care of.” Anthony wasn’t trying to be vicious with his answer, but there was a certain level of annoyance seeking into him as he tried to ration with Dylan. It’s not like they hadn’t been spending time together already or they would never see each other.

“I know, I know,” Dylan replied softly. “I’ll just miss you, Mo.”

“I’m gonna miss you too Dylan.” Mantha couldn’t stay peeved for long at him, especially seeing how deflated he already was like this. He understood why it would hurt Dylan, even if that was never his intention. Mo just wanted to lighten the mood before things got worse. “Besides, you wanna hang around all those boring contract phone calls and meetings?”

“Sure I would. You’re sticking around anyways.” Dylan finally looked back up at Mo only to see it was Anthony now who seemed to close up. Like suddenly he was afraid of speaking and wished he just kept the tv on.

“Yeah…” he trailed off.

“Aren't you?” Dylan pressed.

“Of course I want to stick around, Dyl, but I don’t know if I want the long term deal I know Yzerman is gonna suggest.”

“Why’s that?”

“You gotta remember I’m a few years older than you-”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” It was Dylan’s turn to start feeling annoyed, his voice seeming sharper and nearly bitter.

“If we’re going to be in the basement still in 3, 4 years then maybe I want to look to sign somewhere else before then.”

“So you want to fucking leave?”

“It’s not like that-” Mo didn’t mean to abandon the team, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t think about playing for a good team. He wanted to make it to the playoffs before it was too late. Before he started to feel like he was getting too old to matter.

“What’s it like then? I got drafted here, trained here, worked here, I’m not gonna give up cause the plan isn’t as fast as I want it to be,” Larkin was starting to raise his voice.

“You’ve been the favorite the minute you put that jersey on, Dylan. Blash has always trusted you. No one ever doubted how good you are-”

“You’re a great fucking player and we all know that!”

“That was before everyone thought my development was fucked. No one second guessed you,” Mantha was yelling now, matching Dylan’s tone and level.

“So I had it easy then? I don’t understand hard work like you do?”

“That’s not what I fucking said.”

“Then say what you mean, Anthony.” Dylan’s tone was flat, desperate.

“I just want to make sure I go somewhere I belong okay? And maybe that’s with a team who has a better shot at winning something.”

“Where you belong? Is that what this is over? Finding somewhere you belong?” The anger that was building up in Larkin’s chest deflated when he heard Mo speak.

There was never a question or reason to doubt that Dylan was meant to be part of the organization. Hearing Anthony’s voice crack subtly, something only Dylan could probably pick up on, made him realize that Mo had a point. He couldn’t understand what it was like to second guess your place with a team, Detroit was his home the minute he slid the jersey over himself during the draft all those years ago.

Mo spoke after a moment of silence. “Yeah, Dylan, I just want to fit in for good.”

“You fucking belong here. You belong with this team and this city and you fucking belong with me.” Dylan was sweet with his sincerity as his eyes pooled and stared into Mantha’s.

“With you?” Mantha was staring right back.

“With me.”

“Dylan, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything,” Dylan lied, swallowing his feelings. He wanted nothing more than to tell Mo that for weeks all he could think about was how his lips would feel on his. He couldn’t confess today anyways, he didn’t want to guilt him into staying if he wanted to head home and he didn’t want to push him away if he didn’t happen to feel the same.

The mood continued to lighten as Dylan’s heart grew when Mo softly smiled. “I know you better than almost anyone else man.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then I won’t leave, Larks.”

Mo was happy with staying. Dylan’s place felt safe. Dylan felt safe. His family would understand him staying for a while longer, and they both had plenty of time anyways before they were due back for next season. What was a few more weeks?

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you about the contract stuff,” Dylan sighed. “You’re right when you said I don’t get it, and I might never understand, but uh..” his eyes trailed to the floor.

“It’s just me, Dylan.”

“I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thanks Larks-”

Dylan’s nervous blabbing cut him off. “Even if you go to another team or something happens and you get traded I’ll always been a phone call or text away and you’ll always have a place to stay here and-”

As much as Mo loved to watch Dylan ramble himself into a hole, he knew he should stop this one. “Dylan, I know. I’m here for you too, yeah?”

Dylan stopped in his tracks and reconnected his sight line with Mo’s dilated pupils. Relief filled his system as he felt more at ease with Mo’s validation. “Yeah,” he smiled in his reply.

It was later that same night when Dylan realized if he didn’t tell Mo how he was really feeling he might never find the courage. He wasn’t planning on Anthony getting drunk, though, and it definitely took a lot for that man to start feeling a tingle.

Larks helped the bigger Canadian stumble up to the guest bedroom. Dylan wasn’t even thinking about telling him now, it didn’t feel right given Mo’s intoxication. But he couldn’t turn away when Mo was pouting and begging Dylan to stay with him that night.

Dylan crawled into the other side of the bed after he got Mantha laid down and situated. It was Mo’s orders, actually, that Dylan stayed with him at least until he passed out. Dylan was content just sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for Mo to sleep until he started drunkenly talk.

“You have pretty hair.”

“Thanks Mo.”

“You’re a reeeeally good hockey player.”

“You too, Mo.”

“You deserve to be the next captain.”

“You’re sweet, Mo.”

Dylan thought it was like talking to a toddler, but it was sweet and adorable so he didn’t mind. He liked Anthony’s complements and how he was excited about the small things. The small praises went on for a few more minutes and Dylan could have sworn Mantha’s eyelids were falling shut when he heard him mumble.

“I love you, Dylan.”

He didn’t think twice about his response. “I love you too, Anthony.”

“You didn’t call me Mo?”

“I changed it up,” Dylan spoke through his heart freezing in his chest. He hoped the beer in his roommate's system cloaked the nerves in his voice.
“You only call me Anthony when you’re being serious….” Mo trailed off, sounding half asleep. “So you must be serious about loving me baaaaack.”

“I… I am,” Dylan was hoping he wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning despite his heart knowing this was what he's wanted for weeks now.

Slumber finally took over Mantha as he didn’t speak up again. Dylan watched him doze off just for a few minutes to make sure he was actually asleep, trying to address his emotions and make sense of the last 30 seconds.

When he went to stand up from the edge of the bed he realized Mo had outstretched his hand on top of his. Dylan realized, even if this wasn’t the most ideal scenario, he was happy the hard part was done for him as his thumb trailed Mo’s skin.

Notes:

thank you for reading! comments/kudos are always welcomed and appreciated. <3

song inspo is growing on you by the story so far :)