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Sunlight rays reach through the window, climbing higher and higher as the sun rises in the sky. When it reaches the two sleeping figures in bed, one of them moves as he wakes up. Frank jolts awake, he panics for a second when he sees how bright it is in the bedroom. He tenses, thinking they are late for practice, and starts going through a list of things they can do to cut time and get to the arena. but then, just as he starts organising his list, he catches a glimpse of the clock on the bedside table and recalls that they have been knocked out of the 3rd round of playoffs, and the clock hands haven't stopped turning since.
It is already been a couple of days since the "close enough to almost start seeing the glint of the cup", yet so far "they couldn't even see its silhouette", and caught up in the various post-season obligations, they haven't had the chance to rest properly until the locker clean-out day done the day before. They were finally free to go to a place where they could safely lick their wounds and allow them to air and start to heal.
They came to Kent's apartment last night. Kent didn't even put his stuff away, he dropped it by the couch, and sat down to pet Kit, while Frank left his things on the kitchen counter on the way to grab pre-prepped meals for them to eat. Afterward, they took a fast shower before heading straight to bed. Too mentally and physically drained to do anything.
They barely dried up before getting in bed. They would have slept as they were, each on his own side, but even drained and exhausted, Kent turned on his side, and tucked a damp curl behind Frank's ear. Frank turned around to press a kiss to Kent's eyebrow, before turning again and tugging Kent to wrap around him to spoon as they slept. Frank didn't even touch his hair products, something he knew he would regret come morning, but not enough to get up and do anything about it.
And here they are, with the sunlight steadily coming closer and closer to where they are. Even if it is only 9 a.m., after months of waking up with the sun to get to practice, 9 a.m. feels pretty late. All these thoughts running through his head don't make Frank unwind any, if anything, they make him hunch into himself more, pulling into himself and sinking into his head more as he goes through the last game. they were so close, and then to lose it all in a game 7 overti-
Kent shifts behind him as if pulled from his sleep by the grind of Frank's teeth. He shuffles forward to recover the space gained between them until he is pressed against Frank once more. Upon feeling their point of contact, where Kent's chest rises and falls with each breath, Frank is pulled back from his whirlpool of what-ifs. With each inhale Kent takes, and each exhale fanning across the back of his neck bit by bit, gradually and slowly as he surfaces to the present. To the feeling of being pressed sternum to his spine, and the sun warming up their legs. Frank closes his eyes and matches Kent's rhythm; he contemplates whether he should get up and start the day after all or whether he should remain as he is until Kent wakes up. But truthfully, it didn't take a lot of consideration, as Frank can't get himself to remove himself from the arms surrounding him, he closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep.
Kent tightens the arm wrapped around Frank's waist for a lingering second in a quick "Hey, I'm here it's okay." and that's when Frank realises Kent is up as well. Maybe has even been up before him, and his heart swells in his chest, overflowing with love at the thought behind the gesture and the fact that Kent is still in bed. Kent must have not been able to part either.
"Good morning," Kent says, voice low voice, and thick from sleep and exhaustion, like he should get something hot to drink, and maybe clear his throat a couple of times as well. Frank hums and leans his head back against Kent's shoulder. "Morning, slept well?" he asks him, as he laces his left hand with fingers of the arm wrapped around his stomach. Once he has successfully wiggled his fingers in place, he lifts their joined hand to press a kiss against the back of Kent’s hand, before tucking it back into place, but making sure to give Kent’s arm a slight tug, hoping Kent understands what he wants.
Kent nudges the back of Frank's ear with his nose, before pressing a kiss then another to his nape, uncaring of the hair that tickles his face or the fact that he is mostly pressing kisses to Frank's curls than his skin, "Not really, I keep thinking what we could have done differently, what I could have-" Kent doesn't finish off his sentence, it is too early and too late for this. Instead, he tightens his hold around Frank's stomach as tight as he dares to, mindful of Frank's bruised shoulder from a hard check into the boards last week. He huffs when Frank attempts to wiggle back a bit, even if there is no space left between them trying to borrow himself deeper into Kent’s embrace until their existence overlaps.
They stay like this for a minute, when Kent interrupts the silence. "I miss your beard," Kent whispers, face tucked into Frank's hair like he can't bear to see Frank's reaction, or worse, his judgment.
Frank exhales slowly, giving himself time, but ultimately the words make their way out anyway. “Me too, I wish we..." he trails off, grabbing the word thread back, because what can he say? "that we made it?" It's a given. But so is, "that I played better, and pushed myself more. That injuries didn't plague our playoff run this year." And this is something out of his control, out of everyone's control he knows that, and yet, he wishes he could have pushed himself more.
Maybe even beyond the-
Frank sighs and changes the subject, "Want to get up? We can go feed the princess earlier?" He runs his thumb on the back of Kent's hand and keeps talking. "I can make you the pancakes with berries just how you like it?" Kent mulls over it a bit, his breath still tickling Frank's ear, "Not really..."
"Then can you, please, keep holding me?"
It has been a long time since they had a morning to themselves, without any team obligations or urgent personal obligations tearing them apart. And yet right now, in this moment of time, all that Kent wants is here in his arms. Well, he also really wishes they were still in the running for the cup, with the whole team dragging themselves forward through another game, another round, but he will take what he can get right now.
"This, okay?" "Yeah perfect." "But your shoulder..." "I don't care right now, I just want to kiss my boyfriend, and it's almost healed anyway." "You don't have to lie for my sake, you know?"
But then Frank cranes his neck a bit more, trying to kiss Kent anywhere he can reach, like this, he almost reaches his jaw. However, he wants more, he wants to really kiss Kent, and so Frank goes to wrap his right arm around Kent, to maybe even finally reach- instead, he hisses in pain, as the movement pulls on his injured shoulder. He tightens his grip around their joined hands wrapped around his chest, and Kent freezes, worried he has hurt Frank somehow, but then Frank exhales and tries to reach for Kent again. however, the moment is cracked between them.
"Hey, maybe we should-" "No! No, just, ah fuck, just kiss me already."
Frank groans when Kent detangles from him completely, He gently pushes Frank to lie on his back, and peers down on him. Frank looks up at Kent, he thinks he is not above pleading for a kiss. however, when he looks up at Kent leaning over him with worried green eyes, he can't help but melt. "Please, it is just bruises," Frank reassures him, reaching out and tracing the engraved letters on the dog tags dangling from Kent's neck with his good arm. "You are bruised too, it's still good, we are good, it doesn't hurt anymore, come on..." Frank grabs lets go of the dog tags, and runs his hand down Kent's arm to grab his hand hoping to convince him.
Kent looks into his eyes for a couple of seconds, searching for something, before replying, "All alright, just give me a second." he moves, to lean over his side of the bed in order to reach his bedside table, dog tags clinging as he rummages through the drawer. Under the well-lit room, and now with enough space between them, Frank looks at Kent properly, he counts the bruises covering Kent’s back as Kent makes a small frustrated sound, as he shoves things around to grab the lube.
"Ah, there it is!" He comes back, smiling in triumph, his smile widens when he faces Frank, holding the lube up and shaking it a bit for emphasis. Frank can't help but echo back the smile and return it, happy to just see Kent smiling. Je reaches out to Kent with his good arm and tugs him closer by the hand. Kent falls into him with an oof, and yet, even then he makes sure he isn't putting any weight on Frank's shoulder right shoulder. He drops the lube somewhere to their right, joins hands with Frank, and kisses him properly for the first time since they woke up.
They lose themselves in the kiss, lube forgotten right beside them. Something about how they can take their time now and not worry about the world outside just yet makes them linger. They separate for air, only to go back for another kiss and another and another.
Frank almost forgets how to breathe when he feels something digging into his shoulder. he breaks the kiss, and looks to the side to see what it is, and when he looks back up at Kent, he feels pinned into place under the weight of Kent’s stare. It isn't heavy, it makes Frank feel lightheaded and heady to have the full focus of Kent Parson concentrating on him and only him. He is captivated and can't do anything but meet Kent's stare right ahead. There is something about Kent's grey eyes pinning him like this that promises, "If only we weren't we weren't here, in this moment of time born as a result of the last couple of weeks."
It's a look that promises the world and more, and Frank wonders what does Kent see when he looks at him? Can he tell how much he loves him back? For a second, he fervently wishes telepathy was real if only so he could upend his insides, and pour his heart's contents into Kent’s.
Surely it would overflow, unable to contain every thought he couldn't put into words, or every word he trapped back behind his teeth and swallowed back down until it felt like a choking hazard because he can never release them as long as they are in public. Every time he sees Kent and feels like his heartbeat is picking up and he can't quite catch his breath. But maybe, just maybe Kent can understand him without Frank saying anything? Maybe he can see the shape of the words trapped inside his throat just a little?
Sometimes, when they are on ice, it feels like they can read each other minds when coming up with plays so maybe they are getting there after all.
And just in case they aren't there yet, Frank sits up, leaning on his good arm the other slowly wrapping around Kent's shoulder for support, he goes to press a trail of kisses from Kent's collarbone, all the way up till he finally presses a kiss to the corner of Kent's mouth. He touches their foreheads together. "Hey, I love you so much, I am blanking out on what to say." He watches as Kent's eyes widen in surprise. Kent always looks surprised whenever Frank tells him he loves him, almost like he can't quite believe it just yet. Frank doesn't mind, he will just keep surprising Kent then. "You know I am a shit liar and I can barely keep a secret, but for you, I would swallow down the whole world of secrets a thousand times."
Kent blinks and hides his face into Frank's shoulder as if Frank can't see his red ears, and when he composes himself, he whispers against his neck, "I love you too," he finally looks up to see Frank smiling, "we will get our one day too." He promises and pushes Frank down the bed to kiss him.
"Let's try again. On our side, okay? it won't fuck up your shoulder that way," "Yeah yeah, it's perfect... just don't let go of me."
Slowly they come to their side, running their hands all over each other. Tracing skin and noting the difference between the now-in the postseason, and their pre-season selves. and yet nothing drives the point as much as when Kent grabs the lube and lathers some between Frank's thighs before pushing between them. It feels good, it always feels good but it is also starkly apparent how much weight he has dropped in comparison with the start of the season. Not that Kent is in a better place either.
For now, they just lose themselves in each other ignoring the world outside.