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It was cold and windy when they started practice, and only kept getting worse. The water was choppy enough from the gusts of wind that it was becoming a pain to row, and Don was almost praying for the coaches to call it and end the practice early.
In hindsight, Don realized that Bobby had seen it coming first—he’d been facing the right direction, unlike the rest of them, who were blindsided by the wave that would capsize their boat. Don’s eyes had been locked on the cox, in the middle of a run, when suddenly Bobby’s eyes went wide. Don’s brow barely had time to furrow with a question before the wave jostled and crashed through them, tipping over the shell and everyone in it.
The water was so freezing it was almost painful, and the waves continued to be relentless. Don managed to tread in the water, gasping for breaths between the ebbs and flows of the waves around him, sometimes spilling water over his head. He would have to time his gasps correctly, spitting out water before gulping for more air.
Once he got over the shock of the cold and processed what had happened, his mind only had one panicked thought: Bobby .
He knew the coxswain’s asthma could be triggered by the cold, and combine that with the effort it took to stay afloat in the choppy water—Don immediately feared his cox wouldn’t be able to withstand these conditions.
He quickly surveyed the area around him. He could see a few of his fellow oarsmen, in similar states to himself, and the coaches’ boat was carefully approaching to pull them out. It looked like maybe another boat from the shore was coming out to their rescue as well.
“Bobby!” Don shouted, panicking when he couldn’t find him.
He heard some wheezy gasps behind him, a weak response between the breaths. “Don!”
He quickly turned, spotting Bobby barely keeping his head above the water. Don swam over as fast as he could, nearly colliding with the cox when he reached him.
If Bobby had wanted to say anything more to him, he failed to do so, only able to wheeze and gasp and spit out the water that would fill his mouth every time a wave poured over them.
“Just breathe, Bobby,” Don said. He reached out, grabbing Bobby’s wrist to pull him closer. “I got you.”
Don was in survival mode—he wasn’t thinking of anything beyond getting Bobby safe. He pulled Bobby against his body, wrapping one arm around his small frame while the other continued to tread to keep them above water. Bobby was still struggling to breathe.
“Don’t worry about swimming, I got us,” Don said. “Just focus your effort on breathing.”
Bobby must have been in a similar survival state. He didn’t speak, didn’t protest—he only hugged closer to Don, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. His legs wrapped around Don’s waist, too, which the stroke was grateful for, making it easier to hold onto him and keep swimming for the both of them. His arm around Bobby adjusted, tucking under him to hoist him higher around his waist, better assuring Bobby’s head would stay above the water. Bobby’s face was near Don’s ear, and he could hear the cox’s breathing, panicked and wheezy and too fast. His body was shivering against him in the freezing water, and Don hoped his own body would provide him some warmth.
“It’s okay, I’m gonna get you out of here,” Don said, trying to ignore the fact that he was starting to shiver as well. “Just breathe, Bobby. Try deeper breaths, if you can.”
He turned them back around, looking for the coaches’ boat—it was farther away than he’d hoped, seeming to have stopped at whoever they could reach first. He didn’t know how to get the boat’s attention, or how it’d get to them without causing too much wake for the team members between them. Don’s eyes scanned the water, and he called out to the blonde, closest to him and Bobby.
“Joe!” Don shouted, continuing when Rantz turned around to look at him, “We gotta get Bobby on that boat fast! His asthma is acting up, he’s in bad shape.”
Bobby’s grip on Don’s shoulders tightened—Don knew Bobby normally hated looking weak in front of crew and would do everything in his power to not let them see his asthma getting the best of him. But Don didn’t give a shit in the moment, only caring about his safety.
“Shit,” Joe cursed, looking between them and the boat. He turned to the person nearest him, carrying along the message. “Jim! We gotta get Bobby!”
Jim seemed to understand, looking over at the two of them and nodding. He was close enough to the boat to call out, pointing to the situation.
Meanwhile, Joe started swimming towards Don, and Don did his best to meet him halfway—it was harder than he’d like to admit to swim in the tumultuous water and hold Bobby at the same time.
“Here,” Joe said when he was a few feet away, and Don understood.
His arms moved to pull Bobby off of him, but the cox only clung tighter.
“Bobby, you gotta let go now,” Don said. “We’re getting you into the boat, it’s okay.”
He was shivering, trembling uncontrollably, and he still clung to Don.
Don gave his side a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right behind you, but you gotta go now. Can you swim to Joe?”
Bobby drew in a shaky breath, but he wordlessly listened to Don. He pulled himself away from the stroke, and Don gave him something of a push towards Joe. Bobby managed to swim the gap between them until he was in Joe’s arms.
The boat had managed to reach McMillan, and so Joe managed to repeat the exchange again with Bobby ending up in Jim’s hold. Jim helped push Bobby out of the water, Ulbrickson and Bolles managing to grab and pull him into the boat. Since Jim was right there, they pulled him in, too.
“Go back with him!” Don shouted, unsure if he could be heard over the crashing waves. “I can wait for the next boat! Just get him to shore, get him help!”
Joe heard and relayed the message, seeming to have said the same thing for himself, because the boat turned and sped back to shore. Don sighed in relief, despite how achingly cold his body felt. Bobby leaving his arms had only left him colder, but he didn’t care. The second boat would reach them soon enough. He just wanted Bobby to be alright.
~
Don was lying in the hospital bed, in a room by himself, and he was annoyed to be there at all. The whole team had been treated for hypothermia once they got to the shore, but a few of them ended up being admitted to the hospital—Bobby, because of his asthma, and Shorty, Joe, and Don, because they had been in the water longer than the others, having to wait for the second boat to rescue them.
To only further Don’s annoyance, Joe and Shorty dropped by his room when they were released later the same day. He, on the other hand—
“The doctor wants you to stay overnight for observation, considering your medical history,” the nurse told him. “The lung damage you have leaves you more prone to sickness—”
“So I can come back if I get sick,” Don said, sighing when the nurse gave him a pointed look—there was no use in fighting it, the decision had been made. He laid his head back against the pillow. Sometimes he really regretted that stupid job at the pulp mills. “Fine.”
The nurse started to turn away, but Don stopped her.
“Wait—can you tell me how Bobby Moch is? He’s still here too, right?” Don asked.
The nurse hesitated, but gave a nod. “He’s also staying overnight.”
“He’s not—he’s okay, though, right? Please, he’s my friend,” Don said when it looked like she was considering refusing to disclose any details.
She gave a gentle smile. “It’s just precautionary, like you. He’s responded well to treatment.”
Don felt something in his chest loosen—relief, maybe. Another thought occurred to him, and he sat up straighter. “Can I see him?”
“He’s resting,” the nurse said, stepping towards the door to end the conversation. “You should be, too.”
Don rolled his eyes. Hospitals were an awful place for rest.
~
Joe stopped by the next morning to visit Don. He wasn’t set to get discharged until later in the afternoon, so Don welcomed the distraction; he was otherwise just waiting for the hours to tick by on the clock.
“Did you see Bobby? How is he?” Don asked eagerly, then feeling his cheeks warm at his sense of urgency. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m just so—”
“Don’t, not here,” Joe said gently, glancing out the door.
A while ago, after a drunken night with the guys, Don’s alcohol-loosened lips had let slip his feelings for Bobby to Joe. He should have been in serious trouble, but instead he’d gotten lucky that Joe was willing to keep his secret. If anything, he was actually quite protective of Don and his situation, like now, not wanting any doctors or nurses to overhear Don being overly concerned for their cox.
“I did drop by his room; he seems okay, maybe a bit tired. I think he’s most wounded in his pride, with how much we had to help him out there,” Joe said with a chuckle. “He said was hopeful he wouldn’t have to stay here much longer.”
Don nodded. “That’s good.”
“I should get back to campus, I have a class,” Joe said, turning to leave, but then stopping at the door. “Bobby got a bit mad at me, though.”
Don furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“He’d wanted to know how you were doing—was mad I didn’t come check on you first,” Joe said, giving a smirk. “I’ll see you later.”
A smile itched at the corner of Don’s lips—he could imagine Bobby, trying to use his coxswain authority, to scold Joe for not seeing Don first. The fact that Bobby was concerned—well, he would have been for any of the guys, naturally protective of his crew. It was just because Don was the one still in the hospital. But Don let his heart believe for a moment that it was because Bobby cared about him especially.
~
Don gathered his things, pocketing them to then leave the hospital room. He was relieved to be cleared to go, and he was ready to return to the crew housing in hopes of a proper, decent nap. First, he needed to figure out the best way back to campus.
He’d only been walking down the hall a few strides when he heard a familiar voice call out his name.
“Donnie!”
Don turned around, and his heart fluttered at seeing Bobby stood a few feet away from him. He was in his UW sweater, seemingly having been discharged as well. His expression wasn’t quite a smile, but something of wonder all the same. Don stared back at him wordlessly, taking in the beauty of him looking back to his normal self, until finally he smiled.
At his smile, Bobby moved, and Don stepped towards him as well. They collided into each other in an embrace. One of Don’s arms went around Bobby’s shoulders, his small frame easily engulfed in his hold. His other arm cradled Bobby’s head to his chest, his hand in his hair, and Don leaned down, his nose buried into the top of his head. Bobby’s arms wrapped around Don’s back, reaching up into his shoulder blades. His hands gripped Don’s shirt, hugging him just as tightly as Don held him.
Bobby felt so wonderfully warm . Not hot or feverish, but just the right amount of warmth, such a relief after holding his shivering cold body in the icy water. Don wasn’t sure he’d ever let go of him, ready to keep him in his arms forever to serve as the constant reminder he needed that Bobby was okay— Bobby was okay .
But Bobby’s arms smoothed down his back and fit between their chests to gently push them apart. It was just as well—they were in the middle of the hall, and had probably hugged for longer than appropriate already. Don felt his cheeks flush and hoped it wasn’t noticeable.
If it was, Bobby didn’t show it. He just met Don’s gaze with his gorgeous blue eyes, a hint of a smile on his lips, as he asked, “You’re okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. It was stupid I had to stay as long as they made me,” Don said. “What about you?”
Bobby shrugged. “I’m fine. Probably was appropriate that I stayed as long as I did. But I’m good now.”
Don nodded, and they started walking down the hall together.
“You need a ride back to campus? Ulbrickson is picking me up to take me back,” Bobby said.
“He is?”
“Yeah, you know I think he actually feels an ounce of guilt for making us row in such dangerous conditions,” Bobby said with a chuckle. “He’s known about my asthma for years, but he’s never seen me in a state like that before, so I think he feels bad. Or maybe he just wants to make sure I don’t push it so I can still cox the next race—who’s to say?”
Don huffed, shaking his head. He was tempted to point out that he’d never seen Bobby off so badly either, that it was actually quite terrifying —but Bobby seemed in high spirits, and he didn’t want to make him suddenly feel self-conscious; what had happened wasn’t Bobby’s fault anyway, so there was no reason to scold him for it. Instead he just said, “I’d take a ride.”
~
They didn’t get far into the crew housing before they were noticed, having to pass through the common area before they could reach their rooms.
Roger and Jim stood up from the couch to spot them entering from the front door, grinning.
“They’re back!” Roger called out, and then it was like the whole team appeared out of the woodwork, crowding the hallway and pulling them into the common area to be shrouded in hugs and claps on the back.
Soon the whole crew was strewn along the couches, recalling what had happened.
“Worst fucking rowing accident I’ve ever been in,” Chuck said. “I barely knew what was going on and all of the sudden I was in the water!”
“And it couldn’t have happened in the summer?” Gordy chimed in. “Fucking freezing out there, I don’t know how the lake wasn’t ice.”
“If only it had been, we would have been spared from practice,” Johnny said.
“You two are alright, though, yeah?” Roger said, nodding to where Don and Bobby had ended up next to each other on the couch.
Don just gave a nod, knowing the crew would accept it as a normal response from him.
Bobby grinned, stealing a glance at Don before he said, “Yeah, it was rough as hell, but I’m okay. And I hope none of you will look at me any differently after this,” he added with an accusing finger, pointing among the crew. “It was fucking mortifying getting passed around like a sack of potatoes.”
“Come on, Moch, you know we’d never,” Jim said. “If anything, I was impressed you managed to stay conscious that whole time.”
“Seriously, I’ve never been so winded in my life than when I hit the water—I can’t imagine how it was for you,” Shorty chimed in.
The rest all agreed, vouching they would never see Bobby as anything less from it—it was a freak accident that had affected them all, how could they judge Bobby for such a thing?
Satisfied with their reassurances, the cox stretched, standing up. “Well, I am still pretty worn out—believe it or not, those hospital beds are even worse than the ones here. I think I’ll head upstairs for a nap.”
“I second that,” Don said, standing up, too. “I could use some real sleep.”
The rest of the crew was understanding, letting them leave up to their rooms without any protests.
Once upstairs, Bobby was a step ahead of Don, but he kept looking back to the stroke. At first Don thought it was just a coincidence, but the longer it went on, the more deliberate it became. Until Don reached his room—instead of opening the door, he looked at Bobby, who watched him over his shoulder. Don arched a brow in a wordless question. Bobby tilted his head in answer, taking a step, and only moving again when Don stepped towards him.
Don followed Bobby to the end of the hall—as the coxswain, he had his own private room. Bobby held open the door for Don to follow inside after him, and then Don closed the door behind them, his heart racing.
He turned to Bobby, and it took everything in his power not to immediately step into another embrace like they’d shared at the hospital. All Don ever wanted was to hold him in his arms like that again.
Bobby gave a small smile, and he nodded towards his bed. “Wanna sit?”
“Sure,” Don said quietly.
They both sat down next to each other on the edge of the bed. Don stared at his hands, too nervous to look at Bobby. He knew there were things he wanted to say to the cox: I was so scared; I’m so glad you’re okay; I love you, I love you, I love you . But they all felt so vulnerable—he feared if he said one, the rest would come spilling out of his mouth, and the last one was something he couldn’t take back. Bobby would know, and Don had no idea how he’d react. So he kept to his usual ways, staying quiet and letting Bobby take the lead.
Bobby sat close enough to him that their knees bumped together, and he seemed to be messing with his own hands in his lap as well. Was Bobby nervous, too?
Finally, the cox spoke. “I just. Want to thank you for what you did for me, out in the water. You really saved my ass.”
Don cracked a small smile. “Of course, Bob. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Bobby huffed a weak laugh, shaking his head. “But you know, I’m almost mad at you for it?”
Don frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
Bobby continued shaking his head. “You get sick so easy, Donnie, risking hypothermia for my sake? If you’d gotten seriously sick or hurt from it, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”
Don finally looked at Bobby. The cox was staring down at his lap, and he had such a sad expression on his face—solemn, more serious than before any race. He was truly concerned for Don’s health, and Don couldn’t comprehend it, not when Bobby had been so clearly in danger.
“What? Bob, that’s ridiculous. I can get sick and get better; I do that all the time. You needed serious help out there, if I hadn’t—if you’d—” Don’s voice cut off, and he lowered his head. He couldn’t think about it too much, let alone say it outloud. He had to take a breath—god, he didn’t need to cry in front of Bobby.
He almost startled when warm hands clasped his own, but then he sighed in relief at Bobby’s touch, holding his hands firmly, a much needed anchor.
Don explained it another way, “If I could do it over and over again, every time, I’d do it the same. It’d be you before me, always.”
He met Bobby’s eyes by the end of his words, wanting to convey how much he meant with them. He held his breath as Bobby held his gaze—his blue eyes seemed to be searching Don’s, for something they were aching to find.
Bobby licked his lips, and he whispered, “Donnie.”
Don exhaled the breath he’d been holding. He couldn’t tell if he gripped Bobby’s hands tighter, or the other way around—maybe they both held on harder.
Don looked between Bobby’s eyes and lips, waiting, wondering and praying that this was what he had been searching for. Just an inch, Don leaned in closer to Bobby—now was his chance, if Don was mistaken, to pull back. To clear his throat, ignore the advance, ask him to leave his room. Don waited for that to happen.
But instead, Bobby leaned forward with him. A hand escaped Don’s grip, and it came to his cheek, guiding him into a kiss.
It was gentle, maybe the softest Don had ever been kissed. But his chest felt light and every nerve in his body felt alert and he wondered how it was possible to feel so intensely over such a small piece of affection.
His heart was racing as they pulled just a breath apart, only to dip right back into another kiss, this one fuller, then another. Don wondered if he could spontaneously combust from how much he felt.
Bobby suddenly moved, still kissing Don, but shifting to straddle his waist. His arms went around Don’s shoulders and with his legs on either side of Don, it didn’t feel so dissimilar to the way Don had held onto Bobby in the water; he was grateful to hold him close again, this time in a much more pleasant situation.
“I love you,” Bobby whispered, so close that his lips still brushed against Don’s, every word almost a kiss of its own. He pulled away enough to meet Don’s eyes, speaking more confidently, “I love you. I loved you long before you saved me out there, and I still love you more than my heart knows what to do with.”
Don drew in and exhaled a shaky breath, worried he could actually cry this time. His hands held Bobby’s sides firmly, and he leaned in to kiss Bobby, saying between his words, “Oh, Bobby, I love you. I love you, too. You must know, you must see it every day, every second , how much I love you.”
“I do now,” Bobby whispered, smoothing his hands up to hold Don’s face, smiling down at him, his own eyes damp.
They smiled at one another for a moment, before Don pulled Bobby forward, into another hug, his hand smoothing up his back to hold his nape. He closed his eyes, just taking a moment to appreciate the warmth of Bobby in his arms.
“Can I stay?” Don whispered. “I’m so tired, but I don’t think I can leave you now.”
“No, no—stay,” Bobby said, pulling away again to be able to look at Don. He smiled, gently brushing his fingers through Don’s hair. “Stay here and sleep next to me.”
Don nodded.
They kissed one last time before Bobby moved, getting out of Don’s lap so they could lie together in the small bed. Bobby lied on his back, and Don lied on his side, his arm hugging onto Bobby’s middle. Bobby’s arm was around Don’s back, and Don’s head rested in the crook of Bobby’s neck. Don closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into the soft skin below Bobby’s jawline, enjoying the scent of his aftershave. He pressed a soft kiss to his neck, and Bobby returned with a kiss to his forehead. He hummed, able to relax for the first time since the accident. He felt his body growing heavy, his mind drifting away.
~
They must have slept solidly, because when Don woke up, they were in basically the same place as they’d started. Don lifted his head to see if Bobby was awake yet, and he was greeted with a smile and a hand brushing through his hair.
“Sleep well?” Bobby asked.
Don hummed, burying his face into Bobby’s neck for a moment, pressing a kiss there before smiling up at him. “Best sleep of my life, I think.”
Bobby chuckled, shuffling down to be aligned with Don, cupping his face to kiss him. Don held him close, forever grateful to have him safe and warm in his arms.