“Not who you were expecting?” Blake asks.
“Definitely taller than I was expecting,” Adam replies. “I didn’t think Elliot was into guys that are so much taller than him.”
“He’s not that much taller than me,” Elliot grumbles.
“Only, like, twenty feet.”
“Shut up.”
“Here, Blake,” Adam says, “have some dumplings. I picked them up at this place Elliot and I love a lot.”
“Oh, I know the place.”
“It’s a great place.” Adam smiles down at a box of dumplings. “I’ll miss that place.”
There’s a pinch to Elliot’s mouth now, so Blake hands him another box of dumplings, because that’s pretty much all he can do right now. He’ll hug him later. And tomorrow he’ll buy him those fifty dumplings he owes him, if he doesn’t have enough of them already.
Adam is a nice guy, which isn’t exactly surprising, but Blake didn’t expect they’d get along so well. Adam eventually leaves, because he’s busy packing up his entire life, but offers to leave them his blanket.
Blake and Elliot stick around for a little while longer, Elliot lying on his back, dozing while Blake looks out at the park, watching people and their kids and their dogs, throwing balls and frisbees, chasing each other around the park, reading under trees, sharing food, laughing.
Blake jumps when Elliot touches his elbow.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Elliot says, laughing. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Fuck.”
Elliot bites his bottom lip and sits up, fingertips brushing lightly down Blake’s arm. “Blake?”
Blake huffs at him.
“I’ll buy you ice cream to make up for it?”
“No, don’t go anywhere,” Blake says gruffly. Although ice cream doesn’t sound like the worst idea. “Or let’s go together.”
Elliot nods and starts grabbing the blanket before Blake has even had a chance to get off, that overeager shit. Blake grumbles at him a little more, following Elliot down a path that leads fuck-knows-where.
Elliot knows where he’s going, though, like he did before. They get ice cream and then Elliot pulls him up on a rock, half in the shade of a tree but still pleasantly warm when they sit down. Elliot is close, his arm brushing against Blake’s whenever he moves.
“You wanna sleep at my place tonight?” Elliot asks.
“Sure,” Blake says.
“Can I make dinner?”
Blake laughs. “Okay.”
“Not that I don’t like the dinner you make.”
“Elliot.”
“But… I like cooking.”
“You can cook at my place.”
“I know. It’s not the same, though,” Elliot says.
“Because you hate my pans?” Blake says, and he’s teasing but he knows that he’s right. Elliot hates every single pot and pan in his kitchen. “That’s the issue, right?”
“They’re not my pans,” Elliot whines.
“Oh my God.”
“I just like having my own stuff, it’s not that yours is bad, but when I’m in my kitchen, I know where everything is and I–”
“It’s okay, Elliot. Take a deep breath.”
Elliot sticks his tongue out at him. “You have ice cream in your beard.”
“It’s not a beard.” Blake wouldn’t voluntarily grow a beard in a million years. He looked ridiculous during the playoffs.
“You’re scruffy. Is that better? Have I pleased you with my choice of words? Do you want me to pull up a dictionary so we can find another word?”
“It’s called a thesaurus and no, thanks, Elliot, we’re all good here.”
Elliot laughs and leans into him. His skin is warm against Blake’s, little specks of sun on his face, in his hair, eyelashes curved against his cheeks. Some of his chocolate ice cream has dripped onto his shirt. Right onto one of the white stripes. He hasn’t noticed yet, but he’ll complain about how the stains are always on the light stripes and never on the dark ones, like all striped shirts are cursed somehow.
It won’t always be like this. The season will start and they’ll go back to their separate lives, but they’ll match up their schedules and they’ll see what they can do, and they’ll see each other on the ice four times next season and… “Elliot, next summer…”
“Iceland?” Elliot asks, eyes bright.
“If you want to.”
“I always wanted to go with you,” Elliot says. “Remember the first time I said I wanted to go? You said you’d go with me.”
Blake nods. Back then, he didn’t believe they would.
Elliot smiles, trying to outshine the sun. “I want to kiss you so much right now.”
“Do it,” Blake says, only because he knows that Elliot won’t.
“I can’t.”
“You can do it later,” he says. “Standing invitation.” Elliot can kiss him when they’re back at his apartment, as much as he wants, for as long as he wants.
“In ten years,” Elliot says, “we’ll come back here. And I’ll kiss you.”
Blake snorts. “In ten years?”
“Yeah.” Elliot tilts his head. “Okay, maybe five.”
“Elliot…”
Elliot raises his eyebrows at him, a silent challenge.
“I meant you could just kiss me at home,” Blake mutters.
“In five years, Blake,” Elliot only says.
“Why?”
“Things might change in five years.”
“Or maybe they won’t.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll kiss you right here. In five years.”
“Okay,” Blake says.
They’ll forget about this.
He doesn’t even doubt that they’ll make it through five years together. He can see himself sitting here with Elliot in five years, but what are the chances that anything will change? Progress is a slow thing. They’re crawling.
Elliot was so scared of this. Seven years ago. Seven years, and maybe now he thinks he’ll be willing to take that risk in a few years, but if nothing changes, why should they take that risk? They’ll have to tell their agents. Maybe one day he’ll tell Evan. Maybe Elliot will tell his parents.
Adam Ishida already knows. Mattie knows. Two teammates who won’t be their teammates anymore. As time goes on, they’ll tell more people, people they
