Cracking Ice 7

by N. J. Lysk

  “Thanks,” his lover told him, fingers brushing Carry’s knuckles.

  “I’m thinking,” Carry warned him, then started to unpack the food. Keenan helped him, asking for a fork but not saying anything else.

  “So you always wanted to help,” he said once everything was set up. “But you didn’t think anyone needed your help.”

  “Yes,” Keenan agreed almost enthusiastically. “I mean... obviously lots of people need help, but it’s not like I’m going to walk up to a stranger and ask them if there’s any way I can be of service...” he joked, bright and salty.

  “But you have,” he pointed out. “You’re volunteering.”

  “That was Vithusha’s idea,” Keenan said, hunching a little like it was an admission and not simply a fact.

  But it was that which made it all fall into place for Carry. “So someone asked you and that’s how you knew they needed it?”

  Keenan stopped moving. “Yeah, I— Yeah, I needed someone to ask, I guess, so I would know I was helping and not... I don’t know, doing it to feel better.”

  It was eminently sensible and ethically unquestionable and yet, something about it nagged at Carry. Fortunately, Keenan’s stomach rumbled before he could get too lost in thought. “Still thinking,” he told Keenan. “Let’s eat and finish the episode, the cliff-hanger is masterful...”

  THEY WERE ALREADY IN bed by the time the question solidified into words for Carry.

  “Did you think I was asking you to help? When I told you about Sanderson?”

  Keenan rolled towards him and Carry let him take his hand. “No. I thought you were angry, and I didn’t get what you were talking about.”

  “And then you did?” It was not like Carry exploded at people often, but even so, he’d never got anyone to do anything beyond make comforting noises at him.

  “And then,” Keenan said pointedly, probably reading his doubts like he was an open book. “I looked her up and I started reading the forums, and... and I saw what it did to you. I felt it, sometimes, when you didn’t close your shields all the way and I was around at a bad time.”

  “But I didn’t ask you.”

  “No, I know.” Keenan’s thumb was rubbing at his wrist bone hypnotically and Carry almost missed his next words, “Vithusha did, actually.”

  “What?”

  “She’s an alpha so technically the help wasn’t for her, but... but when she told me I was one of the few people in a position to help... I wanted to. And then you said I should.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Carry said immediately.

  “No, not like that,” Keenan agreed. “I mean, you said I should do what I wanted, what I thought was right.”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the same as asking—”

  “I know,” Keenan insisted. “But maybe I didn’t need to be asked because I was sure, just seeing it made it obvious that it had to change. So maybe if I’m sure, I don’t need to be asked.”

  He did not speak like someone who was certain, but he was acting like he was. He was helping train those kids and he’d spoken out—maybe a little more often than was advisable, but still.

  “Thanks for telling me,” Carry said. He didn’t know what else he could offer.

  Except he knew what else he wanted to offer; he rolled closer to Keenan and got his arm around him, feeling the alpha relax against him like he’d relieved his pain with his touch alone. Carry held on to him, feeling the strength of Keenan’s body given over to him. A gift he could never repay, but could, perhaps, if he was brave enough, give back.

  Epilogue: Carry & Keenan

  Being with Carry wasn’t easy. But not for any of the reasons his lover had listed. It was the secrecy that weighed on him, and the knowledge that secrecy would continue. Telling his family had helped, but it still irked to have to book a private room in a restaurant to have dinner with his boyfriend.

  He’d known this was the price of their relationship, the price Carry had been paying all along for being an omega. It was hardly something he could complain about when it merely affected him by association. But...

  It did mean he couldn’t say no when they asked him.

  Except of course he couldn’t say yes, either, not without asking Carry first.

  KEENAN WALKED INTO the restaurant looking pale, but it was his shields down to a level 1 that truly alarmed Carry. Was he that upset or...?

  “What is it?” he demanded, getting to his feet but not approaching any further. They’d asked for a private business room, which he was willing to risk getting discovered in if reporters or fans happened to get that lucky. It had the added bonus of no candles.

  Keenan took the seat in front of him, so lost in thought he didn’t even try to meet Carry’s eyes.

  “She wants me to do an interview,” he told Carry in a rough voice. “About... omega rights,” he settled for, right hand fiddling with the fork.

  “She as in Vithusha?” Carry checked, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Keenan was ridiculously brave, but he also tended to panic at times Carry found disconcerting.

  “Yeah, with... um, with Ukazu,” he added a little shyly.

  “Wow,” Carry said slowly, starting to understand too. “That’s... congratulations.”

  He still didn’t know anything about rugby, but he'd watched one of Ukazu’s games after her speech. He didn’t really need to understand the rules of the game to marvel when she ploughed through her rivals like a force of nature.

  “Yeah,” Keenan said. “But... I mean, if I do it, then everyone...” He waved a hand around the empty room, looking at Carry and then away.

  “Everyone what?” Carry asked as patiently as he could. He was free, not stupid, but he wasn’t going to try to read Keenan’s mind.

  “Everyone will start paying attention to me again,” his lover said, like a confession. Like it would be his fault if the press and the fans went after him. The same lie Carry had been fed all his life; that if he was a good omega, kept to his duties and the expectations set out for his gender and presentation, people would respect him and leave him alone. And if they didn’t, it was because he had failed, somehow. “And then—”

  “Keenan,” Carry cut in, firm but not angry. He paused, allowing the sharp pull in his mind to dissipate now that he no longer needed to pretend it didn’t hurt him to do this. “Do you remember what I told you the last time you had a chance to speak out?”

  Keenan sighed, dark eyes almost begging. “Yes, but I don’t... I can’t...” he trailed off, for which Carry was grateful.

  “You can do whatever you want, whatever you need,” he corrected. “And I will do the same. This...” He swallowed, looking down at his untouched glass of water. He was no coward, but it was still new, and Keenan didn’t mind if he looked away—he’d never even asked Carry to look at him like some people did when they wanted to have a serious conversation. “Being together doesn’t change that.”

  “I... If it gets out and they...” He huffed, looking up and opening his shields all at once. “Carry, I can’t risk you getting traded!”

  The force of his determination was hard to swallow and for a moment it was all Carry could do to remain upright. He gestured, signing for Keenan to tone it down.

  “Sorry,” his centre said sullenly.

  “You broke up with Amalia to do this,” Carry pointed out when he could manage words again. He took a drink of water too, hoping to calm his heart. Keenan evidently still needed some practice if he could drop his shields that fast.

  “She broke up with me,” Keenan corrected.

  Except that for all his past anger at her, Carry knew very well that was not what had happened—just like Keenan had back then. Now that he didn’t have to look at it past his jealousy, it was easier to speak of it. “Because you decided not to stop.”

  “Yes, but...” He groaned. “Can we order? I’m starving and I just— I can’t right now.”

  “Hey,” Carry said, reaching for his hand and tugging to get h
is attention. Touching like this still felt like a luxury, and it was not one he meant to waste. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

  It should have been obvious, but it still seemed to calm Keenan down to hear it. Carry didn’t know whether to smack him or feel guilty, he settled for passing him the electronic menu. “Get us some food, these tablets are too bright.”

  Keenan ordered an appetizer, then started reading over the rest of the menu as if it were a very detailed hockey manual.

  Carry was about to burst and tell him to just talk when the waiter walked in with breadsticks and flavoured oils.

  Carry waited for her to go, then made himself eat through three grissini before allowing himself to speak, “You know how you said you needed someone to tell you what they needed before you could offer?”

  Keenan nodded, chewing slowly even though he’d been taking tiny bites all along.

  Carry chose his next words carefully. He was well aware of the risks he was taking, but he had not decided to stop playing it safe and go after Keenan only to drag someone else down with him. He was free. And Keenan wasn’t going to lock himself in a cage to keep the lions from getting to Carry. “Well, I need not to be the reason you stop being yourself. If you stop doing what you need to do, then... You said you liked who you were with me. And I like it too; I like that you are brave and that you care.”

  “Carry...” Keenan had dropped his breadstick and was staring at him. Carry couldn’t meet his eyes, not when he sounded close to tears.

  “Do the interview,” he told him before he lost his nerve. “Tell people your truth, and... and if they look at you, then let them look.”

  “And what about you?”

  For this, he knew he had to look up and he did, despite the way his neck hurt at the effort. “I am free,” he said, aloud for the first time. “They can trade me, but they can’t...” He choked a little, but a sip of water helped him swallow. He was afraid, but he would not be less afraid for toeing the line like he’d been doing so far. He’d been traded once and he’d be again, it was a matter of accepting it and moving on. “They can’t own me,” he finished. “I don’t know how to live without hockey, but I can’t live for hockey. Not anymore.”

  Keenan didn’t speak, just watched him, wide eyed and... bright. It was the only way Carry could describe his scent; the ocean, as usual, but also... sunlight. Not on the sand, but on skin. Warm sunlight on skin. Carry had no idea what his own scent was giving away but he could feel the bond pulsing between them. If they’d been in bed right now...

  Keenan clenched his eyes shut and the bond stuttered. Carry pulled on his end without meaning to and his partner let out a broken whimper, bending over the table as if physically impelled forward by a force he couldn’t resist. Carry exhaled, loosening his hold.

  “Sorry,” he said, breathless. “I didn’t mean...”

  Keenan waved him away, still not looking at him.

  “Are you okay?” Carry asked.

  “Yes,” he gritted out, dark brows furrowed like he was in pain. “I just... I want to touch you.”

  Carry was on his feet and around the table and tugging at Keenan’s arm a second later. “So bloody touch me!”

  Keenan was still as a statue under his grip, like he’d frozen on his seat. Then he shook his head. “I don’t...”

  “You’re not going to bond me by holding my hand,” Carry told him, deflating a little. He rubbed at Keenan’s shoulder, standing by his side but no longer demanding his attention.

  For a moment, he thought he’d need to let go altogether, even though the idea made his skin hurt in anticipation. But just as he was about to step back, Keenan straightened, tension leaving his body. He smelled like sunlight again, on sand instead of skin. Carry wanted to rest his face against his warmth, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

  And then Keenan’s arms came up and surrounded his hips, Keenan’s cheek pressing against Carry’s ribs as he exhaled and leaned his weight into him.

  Carry hesitated, then put his own arms around his lover’s back, leaning forward and resting his chin on top of Keenan’s head.

  “I love you.” It took Carry a moment to process the words had come from Keenan’s lips and not his own.

  He’d said it before, but saying it back now seemed impossible. Not when Keenan had just heard him... heard him. Truly listened. Just like he always did, only this time Carry had given him something so fragile even a little hesitation would have cut him to shreds and Keenan had held it close, not moving for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing.

  Carry didn’t need the words.

  He hoped Keenan didn’t need them either, but he deserved them.

  He lifted his right hand only enough to tap his fingers against Keenan’s back. His centre made an inquisitive noise, burrowing closer like he thought Carry might want to pull away. Carry tightened his hold with his left hand, then traced the 'L’ through Keenan’s dress shirt. His lover let him do it, relaxing further into him as Carry completed the word. It was only after he paused and traced the ‘Y’ that he reacted, lifting his face enough to speak, “Are you... writing on me?”

  Carry stopped, feeling his face heat up. He knew it was ridiculous, to need this distance with someone who...

  “Do it again,” Keenan asked, resting his head on Carry’s belly with a little sigh that made him shudder.

  Suddenly, it occurred to him to wonder how long they’d been like this. If Keenan had ordered them anything else, the waiter could walk back in at any time... He didn’t know if his pulse was racing out of fear or excitement, but he’d said he was done living in fear and he meant it: he was going to do what he wanted to do.

  He dipped his fingertip under Keenan’s collar, relishing the shiver that ran through the other man like a whole body caress. Keenan was quiet as he repeated the message, exhaling a laugh as the first word was finished but staying still for the second anyway.

  This time, Carry didn’t try to hold on when he pulled back and Keenan gently guided him to take a step back, not relinquishing his own hold on Carry’s hips as he looked up at him, just enough distance to meet his eyes. “Tell me in Italian,” he asked, smiling a little, smelling good enough to lick.

  “What?”

  “Go on, I know you like to show off.”

  “Ti amo,” Carry said, confused but sincere.

  “Ti amo,” Keenan repeated, a little awkward but correct. “And German?”

  “Ich liebe Dich,” he said, almost laughing when Keenan’s face twisted. “Spanish?” he offered.

  Keenan gratefully nodded.

  “Te amo,” Carry whispered. It was hard not to look towards the door, but he managed. It still did not open.

  “Hey, that’s the same!”

  “Not quite, but very close. French’s very different, you want that too?”

  “I want everything,” Keenan said, a tad too intensely to be speaking about mere words. Except Carry could see right through him; saying the words in other languages was a silly little game, but it meant he was saying them to Keenan again and again until it seemed... normal.

  “Je t’aime,” he told Keenan, savouring the particular softness of the words in French.

  Keenan hesitated, then echoed, “Je t’aime.”

  Carry smiled, both at the meaning and the secondary school accent.

  “Polish?” Keenan prompted, maybe aware French was not his forte.

  Carry’s brain went blank and Keenan’s face fell. It took him a moment to derail his brain from its frantic linguistic struggle and realise what Keenan had to be imagining. “It’s not that!” he told him a little testily. He was over bloody Ali Puccio and he didn’t need Keenan walking around on eggshells when it came to his ex-teammate. “I just don’t remember. My Polish is shit.”

  “Oh,” Keenan still seemed on the verge of apologizing, then Carry’s stomach grumbled loudly and he laughed instead. He let go, giving Carry a gentle push towards his seat. “It’s a relief, really, it’s probab
ly a nightmare to pronounce.”

  Carry went around, waving away the comment, “It’s fine if you’re not coming from English. What is it in Tamil?”

  “Naan ungalai kaadhalikkiren,” Keenan offered after a beat.

  Carry stared at him, but he didn’t get to respond—or ask him to repeat—before the waiter came in. The timing was good enough to make Carry look at her.

  She met his eyes even as her scent rose, fresh herbs and lemon.

  “Do you have any questions about the menu?” she asked him directly. Him, not Keenan. Oh, thank fuck, he thought.

  “Steak, medium rare, with a salad with no onions,” he told her. “Please,” he added, realising how fast he’d spoken, but her scent was still light and easy. She was probably laughing at him inside; he couldn’t blame her—he’d made sure to decide what to eat in advance because he knew he tended to dither and didn’t want to waste her time, but he’d forgotten basic manners when actually asking for it.

  “Damn, when did you...?” Keenan started to ask. “Sorry,” he told the waiter. “I need a second.” He went back to the tablet, which still made Carry squint. “I’ll have the salmon in white wine and the spaghetti carbonara as a second.”

  Carry let him choose the wine too, it was an expensive enough restaurant that they wouldn’t get anything too bad no matter what they chose and he was intrigued about what Keenan would get. He watched as his teammate asked the waiter a couple of questions before making a decision, all the while not giving any sign he noticed she was an omega, his own scent still muted.

  “Did you notice she...?” he asked as soon as they were alone.

  Keenan glanced up at him from where he was for some reason still perusing the menu. “That she was an omega? Yeah, of course, that’s why she left us alone so long.”

  “What?”

  Keenan swallowed, then straightened his shoulders. “I asked for an omega to serve us when I made the reservation.”

  “Oh.” He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but Keenan was too familiar with his suspicious nature to leave him hanging for long.