Noah texts him all the time, pictures and jokes and whatnot that Blake more often than not rolls his eyes at, but he’d also miss those texts if Noah wasn’t sending them, so he won’t complain.
Before Noah pulls Blake into his bedroom, he asks him if he wants anything to eat, hangs up Blake’s suit jacket and then starts chirping Blake’s teammates. There’s no way around that, and Noah doesn’t really mean anything by it, just runs his mouth until Blake shuts him up. Blake enjoys shutting him up; maybe he’s a little smug about it.
Noah peels him out of his clothes, pushes him into bed, but Noah isn’t the kind of guy who takes his time and it’s not like they lovingly gaze into each other’s eyes or anything, they’re not… that. Noah does usually tell him to stay, doesn’t kick him out in the middle of the night, but they don’t cuddle or anything. Sometimes Blake will wake up with Noah’s leg hooked over his, sometimes they’ll bump into each other during the night, but it’s not like Noah wraps himself around Blake like… certain other people that Blake has shared a bed with.
In the morning, Noah will make him breakfast, he’s good at that, and then Noah will send Blake on his way.
It’s good enough.
#
The playoffs aren’t going well for the Ravens. They only barely managed to get into their wildcard spot, ended up playing against the Grizzlies, and they absolutely destroyed them in their first game.
Shutout for the Grizzlies, the final score 3-0.
The second one didn’t go much better, again, they played in Boston, again, they lost, this time 5-2.
The third one was a little closer, but they still didn’t manage a win, walked down the tunnel after a 4-3 loss, quiet, knowing that they had to win the next one or it’d be over. After three losses, the faces in the locker room are stony. They’re missing Jacob, one of their D-men is injured and the guys the Ravens traded for before the deadline don’t really fit into the lineup. It’s a fucking disaster. Elliot goes and talks to Andreas, who looks like he’s given up on life, not sure afterwards if it helped or if he made everything worse.
They need to win four times, and it’s not impossible, but it’s not exactly realistic either. Natalie looked up the stats for him when he told her exactly that over breakfast yesterday, to see if any team had ever pulled this off before, and the answer was yes, it’s happened before, but Elliot didn’t ask how often, only kissed the top of her head and left to contemplate whether drowning himself in the shower would be preferable to playing another game against the Grizzles.
They’re on home ice for Game 4, but it’s worth little when the crowd goes dead silent after the Grizzlies’ first goal early in the first. Elliot manages to tie it up, but only halfway through the third.
They go into overtime.
They lose the game and Elliot wants to lie down on the ice and never get up again, but he doesn’t get to.
He hugs Swanson, even though they usually only bump helmets. He tries to ignore the Grizzlies who are celebrating at the other end of the ice. They all want to get the fuck off the ice and lick their wounds, but Jacob isn’t here and someone’s going to have to start the handshake line. Andreas is standing next to him, still looking totally defeated, and Elliot can’t look at him anymore, so he goes, on autopilot, and skates to the middle of the ice.
The Grizzlies’ captain, Nikolai Ivanov, doesn’t keep him waiting, detaches himself from his teammates, who are a little slower to follow, and comes to shake Elliot’s hand.
“Good game,” Elliot says. He remembers that part from last year.
Ivanov nods, serious, pulls him in a little, pats his back. “Well done,” he says and Elliot isn’t sure if they did anything well, but this is not the time to correct Ivanov on that. “Was hard without Desjardins.”
Elliot nods, keeps going when Ivanov lets him go, and somehow makes it through that handshake line. He waits until everyone’s done and they all follow him to the middle of the ice and they raise their sticks for whoever stuck around until the very end.
On the way off the ice, Elliot hands his stick to a kid who’s wearing his jersey, because maybe today doesn’t have to be total disappointment for everyone.
Jacob is waiting for them in the locker room and he pats Elliot’s back as he passes, says, “Well done,” and once again Elliot isn’t sure which playoff series Jacob has been watching, but they didn’t do a single fucking thing well.
Elliot’s face must be telling Jacob exactly what he was thinking, because Jacob smiles a little.
“You,” Jacob says. “You did well.”
Elliot isn’t too convinced, but shuffles away to his stall in silence.
It’s late when he leaves the arena that night. Thankfully he’s not too far away from home. He takes a cab, because he can’t bring himself to go on the Subway. He shares it with Adam, drops him off at his girlfriend’s apartment, and then heads home. He told Natalie to come over, because he wants to sleep in his own bed tonight.
“I’m so sorry you lost,” Natalie says when he gets home. She must have looked up the score. She isn’t really turning into much of a hockey fan, but Elliot won’t hold it against her. He’s not interested in law either.
But she stayed up for him, which is nice of her, although he almost wishes she hadn’t so he could just curl up
