“Well…” Blake considers his bowl and eats a tomato. “I usually went home for Christmas, but then last year, I obviously couldn’t and Evan came over and it was… so fucking sad. We had the worst Christmas of all time. And this year I’m going to Mattie’s, because I’m his charity case, and maybe it won’t be sad, but it’s weird, because I’m only just starting to realize that every Christmas is gonna be like this from now on. It’ll just be me. I’m basically on my own now.”
“I’m sure you’re more than a charity case,” Elliot says.
Blake chews on his bottom lip. “I mean… yeah. I guess.”
“But, yeah, it’s… I’m sorry, Blake. That she’s not around anymore.”
Blake ducks his head. “Told you it was depressing.”
The thing is, though, Blake never talked about jackshit. Never even mentioned his parents to Elliot, other than that they’d died. Blake always liked to pretend that he’d never had a feeling in his entire life, and now he’s in Elliot’s kitchen, actually talking about this. Elliot wants to hold him as tightly as he possibly can right now, but that’s the worst idea he’s ever had and he has a salad he needs to work on.
“How are your folks doing?” Blake asks.
“Oh, they’re okay,” Elliot says. He doesn’t keep himself from talking about his parents anymore. He used to. Especially when they came to their games.
“Yeah? Are they coming down for the holidays?”
“They’re coming a week before Christmas. For those two home games we have before the break. And they’ll stay here for Christmas, and they’ll come up to Boston for that one away game we have and they’ll fly back from there. And I’ll come back here for the New Year’s game.”
“Matinee?” Blake asks.
“Yeah, thank fuck. Are you playing?”
“Nope. First time since I started playing in the NHL that I get to sleep in my own bed on New Year’s Eve.”
“Seriously? Where were you last year?”
“Edmonton.”
“Ew,” Elliot says, with feeling.
Blake laughs.
The demon that possessed Elliot never wants him to leave.
#
The second time Elliot cooks for Blake, it’s Blake who has the matinee game in Brooklyn and Elliot who has the day off because he came back from a roadie the night before.
Blake isn’t sure if he actually wants to go to Elliot’s after a game, is convinced that he’ll be terrible company, especially if he ends up losing the game, but then Elliot sounds so excited when he tells Blake that he found another day when their schedules might match up that Blake doesn’t have the heart to say no. He has a day off the next day, the first one in a while. He’ll sleep in.
At first Elliot only asks if Blake wants to hang out, then he calls him a few days before and says, “I’ll cook for you again, but you’ll have to come to mine.”
“You’re just saying that you’ll cook for me because you don’t wanna hike all the way over to my place, aren’t you?”
“I like cooking,” Elliot said, defensive.
Anyway, they could have met up somewhere in Manhattan. Would have been easy to get to from the Mariners’ arena. It’s also easy to get to Elliot’s, so Blake isn’t really complaining.
He leaves the arena in high spirits, after a shutout, technically on the road, even though it’s just Brooklyn. They’re having a great season so far, are at the top of their division. They’ve had to deal with some injuries in November – Blake missed four games, Kells missed six, Charlie missed three – but they quickly got back on track.
Blake takes a cab to Elliot’s. He isn’t insane enough to go on the Subway after a game, not when their fans are making their way back to Jersey. A bunch of them recognize him when he heads out of the arena, even though Blake did his best not to look like he’d just played a game. He left his suit with Mattie, put on jeans and the most nondescript hat he owns, but they somehow figure him out, so Blake takes a picture with them, signs their jerseys and then quickly flags down a cab before anyone else has a chance to get a good look at him.
When he gave his suit to Mattie, he grinned and said, “You got a hot date, kid?”
“If I had a hot date, I’d keep on the three-piece suit,” Blake deadpanned.
Brammer, next to them, was howling with laughter.
Mattie chucked a ball of tape at him that hit him square in the eye, so Brammer shut up pretty quickly after that.
“I’m hanging out with a friend,” Blake said, more quietly, so only Mattie could hear.
Mattie hummed, like he didn’t quite believe him. “Old friend on the Mariners?” he asked.
“Uh… no.” It did dawn on Blake eventually why Mattie had asked. Blake used to disappear very regularly after their games against the Mariners to hang out with an old friend. “Different friend.”
“I’m surprised you have more than one,” Mattie said drily and wandered off with Blake’s suit, but not without inviting him over for dinner the next day.
The ride to Elliot’s place takes longer than expected and when Blake gets to his apartment, Elliot is already in the middle of making dinner. When he opens the door for Blake, he’s wearing an apron. Striped. Like his shirt. But different stripes.
“Hey, you’re, uh… stripy,” Blake says, which is probably not the best greeting. He didn’t even bring pie this time because he came straight from the game.
Elliot grins and waves him into the apartment. “Nice game today. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”
“Thanks,” Blake says as he hangs up his coat. “Hey, do you want me to go get something for dessert, or…”
“No worries, I’ve got it covered. I found something at
