Chapter Text
December 2026
“Columbus?” Jake yelped.
“Columbus.” Mason confirmed. His voice sounded steady on the other side of the phone and Jake tucked his knees up into his chest as he listened. The trade was so fresh Elliotte Friedman hadn’t even gotten a hold of it yet. Jake had never been traded, but he’d seen enough teammates traded away to have a good idea of how fast in-season trades moved. Mason would probably be in Columbus by bedtime tonight.
“That’s less than ideal.” He replied, not sure how to voice the concern that he was actually feeling.
“I think geographically it’s technically closer to you.” Jake could hear the humor in his boyfriend’s words, and he thought it a good sign that the news was being taken well. He stayed quiet until Mason spoke again. “Aha, only 1,041 miles. That’s over 1,000 miles closer.”
“Are you going to drive to come see me?”
“I could. It’s only fifteen and a half hours.”
“Uh huh.”
“Or I could fly. I bet we can squeeze in an extra visit if one of us makes some stupid decisions on a day off.” Jake rolled his eyes, even though Mason couldn’t see him.
“Yeah… But we’ve already played Columbus both times this year. And we had the game next week. It means I don’t get to see you again.” He felt selfish even saying it, but he’d really been looking forward to the second Seattle game of the season. They’d already planned out a handful of things to do around the city, along with getting dinner with Ebs, who Jake could begrudgingly say he’d come to like.
“You could see me in the Stanley Cup Finals.” Jake didn’t laugh, but Mason let out a snort at his own joke. “Otts, We’ll see each other. Christmas, All Star break. Plus the odds I get traded again before March seem high.”
“Probably to Montreal or something. That’s got to be almost as far as Seattle.”
“Okay. We don’t need to put that negative energy out there.” Mason sounded appalled, and Jake finally smiled.
“How are you feeling about it?”
“Mixed feelings. Being traded still kind of stings, but at this point I don’t know how much I care where I go. As far as teams go I feel like Columbus fits me better. As far as people, well, that’s going to be harder.” That was almost definitely true. Despite the rocky start, Mason had become a core part of Seattle and well loved by his teammates. Jake knew he also loved the way he could be more open around his team. Well, now former team. A trade meant new players and trying to scope out the level of bigot in a new room. It meant hiding.
“Anyone you’ve managed to piss off in Columbus?” He asked instead, rather than asking what he really wanted to. Are you going to tell them about us? He didn’t care if Mason did. It was something they’d talked about extensively while navigating how to be in a mostly private relationship. Anyone Mason trusted, Jake trusted too. And vice versa.
“I’m sure there is. But I don’t think anything beyond the normal. You tripped me, you cross checked me, you said my hair looked ugly. I think I can handle it.” There was the first hint of nervous anticipation Jake could hear in his voice. He wished he was closer to Mason so he could go hug him.
“Okay, well as long as you don’t get into any fights.”
“I think I’m done fighting for a little bit. It’s your turn to carry the team now.”
“I’ll pass. Anyway, I’ve got to start my nap. Do you have a flight tonight?”
“Yeah. Right when your game starts too.”
“Well call me after. Don’t forget to pack your shoes, okay?”
“Fuck off. Good luck tonight, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
There was absolute chaos on the ice. One of the worst parts about goaltending was that Jake couldn’t fully be part of the action. Instead he’d been forced to watch along with the crowd as Miro started carrying the puck in to the St. Louis zone on the power play. The replays would start soon, but he could clearly still see Kyrou lining up Miro for a hit in his mind. Jake had watched as Kyrou caught a toe on the ice and fell into Miro's legs at speed, twisting him awkwardly into the boards. It was in all likelihood an accident, but Jake could feel his anger rise as he locked his eyes on Miro who was still on the ice next to the boards.
A large scrum had broken out right next to him, and Mikko was on his knees trying to shield Miro from the surge of skates and legs that surrounded them. Roope had Kyrou by the sweater, gloves already on the ice, a maniacal grin on his face as he swung wildly. Jake could see the blood on his face from where he’d been hit and could see it trickling down his chin to blossom pink on his white jersey. Nobody else had dropped gloves, but the refs were trying and failing to contain the tempers that were rising quickly as the Stars tried to enact revenge for their fallen defenseman.
Jake skated up to the blue line, just to get a better view. A gasp rose from the crowd, presumably as the screen started showing replays of the hit that had dropped Miro. Jake didn’t look, knowing it would just piss him off even more. Behind where Roope and Kyrou were still tangled together, Jake watching Binnington skate forward as well, and he could see the other goalie was shouting at him. The words were indistinguishable above the noise of the crowd, but the intent was clear. Let’s go. Now that was a guy with a reputation. Jake had never fought, had never felt much of a desire to fight. But Mason was going to Columbus, and Miro still hadn’t gotten up, and he had the sudden urge to do something stupid.
He threw his stick to the side. Message clear: Challenge accepted. That was all the invitation Binnington needed. He took off full speed for Jake, past where Kyrou had just toppled Roope. The referees were so focused on pulling the Blues player off Roope that they didn’t seem to notice the new situation unfolding at centre ice.
Binnington met him in the middle, still yelling shit that Jake still couldn't pick out from the noise. He wiggled his hand out of his blocker and reached up to pull his mask off and toss it onto the ice too. He barely had his glove off before Binnington's hand grabbed onto his jersey, pulling with a sharp tug, and pain exploded across the side of his head. Fuck. Ringing echoed through his ear and down his jaw. Oh shit he was meant to be hitting back. Or ducking, or something. Something other than standing there and watching his opponent pull his arm back again. He reached out with his hand that was now free of his glove and twisted his fingers into the collar of Binnington's jersey, barely pulling back in time to avoid the second hit as it came at him. He swung his other hand in wildly, feeling it connect with flesh and bone. Before Binnington could wind up again Jake hit again in a second attempt that barely grazed hair and sent him tumbling forward off balance.
Binnington yanked Jake’s collar again, and Jake felt his jersey rise up and envelop his head as his momentum carried him forward and down. His head didn't really hit the ice, his layers of padding putting enough distance between his head and the hard surface as he crashed down onto his shoulder. The next hit from Binnington landed though, the other goalie following him down and aiming another punch against his already sensitive jaw. Jake felt thoroughly pinned to the ground under the weight of the other man and their combined padding, and had the sudden thought that another hit connecting would probably be very bad for him.
Whistles. And then the weight on top of him was ripped away. The crowd was chanting, even as Binnington was forced toward the tunnel. Jake felt his vision swim for a moment, but staying down on the ice seemed like a worse option so he pushed himself up on shaky arms. The ref gripped his shoulders, guiding him to the benches, and Jake tried to avoid everyone's eyes as a trainer grabbed him and hauled him the rest of the way down the tunnel.
The med room was packed, and Jake's eyes fell first on Roope who looked like he was having his lip stitched back together. Jake followed Roope’s gaze to Miro, or as much as he could see through the swarm of people who crowded around the defenseman, giving meds and manipulating his leg in ways that sent an unpleasant sense of déjà vu through Jake.
"Sit here. We'll be back for concussion testing in just a moment." Jake sat. The anger had faded sharply and he felt exhaustion seep through his body in its place. His hands were still shaking, and he flexed his right one carefully to see just how bad it felt after it’s encounter with Binnington’s nose.
They did something to Miro's leg that caused him to hiss out a curse in Finnish, and Jake squeezed his eyes closed. He could hear Roope talking quickly now too, even though his mouth had looked bloody and raw in the few seconds Jake had seen it. One of the training staff was saying to hold still and Jake wasn't sure if it was to Miro or Roope. Or maybe even to him. He couldn't tell if the room was swaying or if it was just him. His jaw throbbed as he waited for the trainers to come tell him what he was pretty sure he already knew.
"I missed it!" Mason's voice was loud and it made his teeth vibrate. He was pretty sure he wasn't meant to be able to hear them like that. Maybe he should report that at his follow-up concussion appointment tomorrow.
"Mush..." He groaned out, squeezing his eyes shut and balancing the phone on his chest. He had put the call on speaker, hoping it would help with the whole volume thing.
"I can't believe I fucking missed it. I'm sitting on a plane from Seattle to Columbus and the Wi-Fi isn't working and we land and suddenly my texts are blowing up because my boyfriend did the hottest thing known to hockey-kind and I missed it." Mason did not listen to Jake's plea, instead continuing to barrel on at a volume that made Jake feel like his head was about to fall apart. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the concussion protocol that had been painstakingly laid out to him before he left the arena.
"Mush. Fuck."
"Oh shit, Jake. Your head." Mason's voice dropped suddenly a hushed whisper that Jake had to focus just a little too hard to hear. That didn't especially help with the head situation either.
"Just... Normal volume. Please?"
"Okay, I'm sorry.” Mason recovered quickly. “You're not very good at fighting. It was still hot as fuck, but you kind of got owned."
"Goalies aren't meant to fight." Jake mumbled out, running his tongue over his teeth to settle them and confirm they were still all accounted for. He’d been told they were all still solidly in place, but he was pretty sure half of them would fall out overnight. “I’m not meant to be good at fighting. That’s your job, remember?”
"Do you have a concussion?"
"Yep. And hamster cheeks. Cheek." Jake brought up a hand and ran it along the swollen side of his face. The skin felt swollen and raw under his fingertips, the sensation distorted like it didn’t belong to him.
"Send me a picture? Shit are you by yourself? Shouldn't you have someone watching you?" Jake had to fight to keep up with Mason’s train of thought.
“It’s a mild concussion Mush. I’m not going to drift off into a coma and never wake up.”
“But someone has to make sure you keep breathing overnight. Dutchy-“
“Dutchy has multiple kids and adult responsibilities. He already told me he’s coming to check on me in the morning. I’ll just have to make it until then.”
“I should be there.” Mason said, his voice was smaller than it had been yet, and Jake tried not to think about just how nice it would be to have him here. “Should have been there to stand up for your bad fighting, and should be there now to hold ice to your face so you can be pretty again as soon as possible.” The joke fell a little flat, and Jake poked at his cheek again.
“Sounds like you should start driving. I’ve heard its only fifteen hours.”
"I'm going to text Dutchy."
"Go for it." Jake groaned, not liking the way it caused his jaw to vibrate. "Where are you anyway?"
"Columbus. How hard did you get hit in the head baby?"
"Fuck off." Jake said, even as Mason burst into laughter on the other side of the phone. It was a lot nicer than the morose reflections from a minute ago though, so he’d take it.
"I'm at the hotel. Jenner picked me up and dropped me off. We're going on the road tomorrow so I figured there's no point unpacking yet. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I promise. As long as you're okay with me being a little more crooked for a while."
"I still want a picture."
"I'll try and get one with Roope. They had to stitch half his face back together."
"How's Miro?"
"He's gonna be okay. Sounds like it's not as bad as they originally thought." Miro had gotten very lucky. He was sore, but after some ice, meds, and time was able to bear weight on his injured leg. They’d released both Miro and Roope into Esa’s care to go home for the night with the promise of more scans in the morning.
"Good." A pause rang through the room, and Jake could tell Mason was trying to find a way to say what he really wanted to. "Jake?"
"What's up?"
"Can you stay on the phone? Just in case?"
"If I die on my sleep you're not going to be able to hear it over the phone." Mason made a choked off noise on the other end of the line, and Jake instantly felt bad. "I'm going to be okay Mush. But yeah, I'll stay on the phone if it makes you feel better."
“Yes.” Another moment of hesitation and Mason added on a “Please.”
“I love you Mush. Try and sleep and not just spend the night worrying about me.”
“I love you too. Goodnight Otts.”
“Goodnight.” Jake tucked the phone next to his pillow, hearing Mason’s breathing and some shuffling happening in the background. Mason started humming slightly as he did whatever he was doing and Jake tried to focus on the noise, determined to stay awake for a little bit. He was asleep almost immediately.
“Smile!” Jake smiled on instinct more than anything, immediately regretting it as his jaw screamed in protest. “Yeah, that’s good.” Esa lowered the phone he’d shoved in Jake’s face, thumbs tapping furiously. He had a grin of his own plastered across his face, which wasn’t unusual for the smiley Finn.
“He really didn’t think I was going to send him a picture?”
“Were you?” Esa quirked an eyebrow at him, and Jake didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Esa was undeterred, smile widening if possible. “It’s a good day Otter.” And with that he disappeared back into the chaos of the locker room. It was an ominous statement coming from Esa, usually one that meant a prank was on its way, and Jake resolved to be extra cautious this week.
MM: On the to-do list for next summer: Learn how to fight
JO: Hey have you seen Binnington’s nose? I think I did okay
MM: 3/10
JO: You can have fighting back. I don’t want it to be my job anymore
MM: Deal.
MM: Remember
MM: Ice