Chapter Text
Jeremy could find a place to hide before the game, let the nerves wash over him in private. He could do that.
Or he could go ahead and start crying on the bench in the locker room.
Which is what he does.
No one really pays much attention because he’s doing a great job hiding it, thank you very much. Charlie does, though.
“Dude, you good?” He asks, with genuine concern, a quiet whisper that hopefully goes ignored by anyone else nearby.
Jeremy nods because he has to be okay. Whether he actually is okay is irrelevant.
He’s starting in net against Ottawa because the NHL needs the story. They need the two guys who were known for their bear hugs, their friendship, their brotherhood to be headlining news for the next 24 hours until the next big event in hockey happens.
Hopefully some rookie scores a hat trick or something.
Linus is down the hall, getting ready in the wrong dressing room. He’s wearing the wrong colors. He’s on the wrong team.
He gets that hockey is a business. He understands it all too well after his disaster of a contract negotiation process for the second time.
He knows realistically, the Bruins couldn’t afford to pay two good goalies. He knows they would have both had to take insane discounts.
He just knows he probably would have if given the chance.
Being here without Linus has been hard. He can’t lie to himself, and he’s stopped trying to lie to anyone else at this point.
“Just a lot of emotions tonight,” Jeremy sniffs.
Charlie pats him on the back, wordlessly tries to comfort because he’s smart enough to know words don’t mean shit when you’re heartbroken. He’s also smart enough to know that drawing attention to Jeremy at this moment could be disastrous.
The vibes of the room are positive.
Ottawa has had a decent year, but they struggle against physical teams like the Bruins. No one thinks it’ll be an easy win, but they’re confident they can pull off a win in regulation.
Most of them know Linus’ soft spots, so they might be right.
Jeremy doesn’t want to lose, but he doesn’t want Linus to, either.
Being in love with the opposing goalie is fucking hard.
****
Jeremy doesn’t look up from his warm-ups. He can’t. If he sees Linus, it’ll fuck with his head too much.
The guys seem to catch on, skating by him, tapping sticks against his pads to show support. Even the new guys recognize that he’s in for a rough night.
Being a goalie is just as much mental as physical, that’s what every good coach tells you. If you aren’t in the right state of mind, you might as well consider the game lost. A part of him hopes Linus is struggling as much as he is so that maybe there’s hope he won’t look like swiss cheese in net. A bigger part of him hopes Linus pulls off the win so the Bruins management team knows what they lost.
He knows he has to do his best, though. His own career depends on it.
Too many fans were up in arms about his contract, nitpicking every bad goal throughout the season. More attention was on him this year than any year previously, and not in the way he’d wanted.
He’s still a top five in the league goalie, but you’d never know it looking at comments on Facebook.
The last time he talked to Linus, nearly a month ago now, it was awkward, a little stilted. Almost like he felt forced into it.
He sounded different, almost like he was settling into his new life, and Jeremy kind of hated it.
Luckily, warmups are over quickly and he manages to be off the ice before he gets a chance to turn his head to Ottawa’s side of the ice.
If he doesn’t look, he can pretend it’s just another team.
****
He looks.
He can’t avoid it since 95% of his job is to look.
Tkachuk is on a breakaway and his defense is failing him and he’s going to be forced into a pressure situation. He makes some impressive saves, but Tkachuk knows how to find small spaces and utilize weak spots.
He makes the save, the crowd is losing their minds. Normally, he tunes out the noise of the arena the best he can, but he’s not in the zone tonight.
The moment the whistle blows and the ref skates over to get the puck from his glove, Jeremy looks over at Linus.
He can’t see his face from here, not while they’re both wearing their helmets, but he sees him tap his stick on the ice once and point at Jeremy.
Their sign for “good save” from last season.
It hurts more than it should. It also works as a great distraction because Ottawa manages to score top shelf on him right off the faceoff.
Ottawa is still trailing by a goal going into the third, but Jeremy knows he’s not the guy to win this one.
He’s off his game every time he catches even the smallest glimpse of Linus in his net.
The professional thing to do would be to tell the coach.
“Sorry, I think you should put Korpi in for the rest. I’m not feeling confident.”
But all Jeremy hears in his head is, “you have $8.25 million of confidence.”
He’s still working through all of that in therapy.
He stays in because he thinks a loss would be better than admitting he’s this affected by facing Linus.
Ottawa scores in the first minute of the third.
Charlie passes by him after, apology on his lips for not being where he should have. Jeremy shakes his head because Charlie wasn’t so far off from protecting the net that it mattered. Jeremy should’ve had that one.
Pasta scores a shorty and Jeremy tries to breathe. A one goal lead means he has to focus. He cannot be the reason this goes into OT, or worse, turns into a loss.
His guys play pretty defensively for the next five minutes of the period, and he’s grateful he’s only had to make a couple saves. He knows he got lucky that one hit the post from a deflection off Brandon’s skate. He knows he’s lucky the net dislodged during the one rush Ottawa had and the puck managed to stay on just the right side of the line before the whistle was blown.
He’s lucky that Beecher scores with only three to go. A two goal lead sucks, but with this little time left, he thinks he can hold off any goals.
He’s wrong.
Giroux is a beast, going end to end like he’s still a rookie, and sneaks it right under his left leg.
But it’s fine because a one goal lead is still enough to win. And less than two minutes on the clock means his guys just have to clear the puck.
They don’t clear the puck.
He makes four saves in a row and he can hear his guys yelling, and he can hear the crowd yelling to clear it and he’s tempted to join them, and Monty is losing his shit on the bench because they can’t go into OT, not again, they just had two OTs in a row last week.
They finally manage to clear it, but there’s still 30 seconds, and that’s plenty of time for a goal.
He makes two more saves and then he hears the ping of the puck hitting the post and-
It deflects the wrong way, off his shoulder, into the net behind him.
He hangs his head, has never felt so dejected during the final minutes of a game before.
His guys are all trying to casually pat his shoulder or helmet in apology because some of it is on them for not getting the puck out of the zone when they should’ve. This is a team sport. But some of this will stay on Jeremy for not being the $8.25 million a year goalie they deserved when it mattered.
It’s just a game, but every game counts.
The Bruins always do great in OT, though, so he doesn’t let his mind stay in the gutter for too long. Plenty of time later for that.
They can still win.
And they do.
Brad nets one on Ully’s blocker side less than a minute into OT and Jeremy manages a smile.
Everyone lines up to thank their goalie, though he’s not sure he deserves it tonight.
As soon as Kastelic finishes tapping his helmet with his gloved hand, Jeremy starts to skate off the ice. He’s stopped by a stick on his leg pads.
He looks over and Linus is standing there, smiling at him like he just left the Bruins bench and wants nothing more than to hug him. Jeremy almost thinks he might do just that as he skates closer.
“Good game, Jer,” Linus says as he pats his helmet.
It’s not a hug, but it’s enough to make Jeremy feel faint. He probably should get some Gatorade. He’s feeling a bit lightheaded.
“You too,” Jeremy says, and he knows he sounds like an idiot, and maybe he is, but this is the first time he’s been close enough to Linus in months to see the freckles on his nose and words are hard when you’re trying to map constellations on skin.
Linus is looking at him, searching his face through the mask. He must find what he wants because his smile gets even broader.
“For old time’s sake?” He asks.
Jeremy’s confused at first. And then it hits him.
“You wanna? Now? Like this?” Jeremy sputters out.
“If you’re okay with it,” Linus shrugs, like what he’s suggesting won’t completely rewrite Jeremy’s DNA. “Might be nice to have at least one bear hug with you this season.”
“But…are you allowed to-”
“I don’t care if I’m allowed or not. I just want something to feel normal for the first time this season.”
Jeremy has never been happier that face masks cover their mouths. He can’t end up in the headlines for kissing Linus, even if it’s all he thinks about. He knows Linus just wants to do something familiar.
Kissing would not be familiar.
“Yes, please,” Jeremy says.
It’s easy to fall back into position, to lean down and stand up, arms above their heads as they fall into each other. The crowd is screaming, and he thinks both benches are banging their sticks on the ice.
One thing he’s always loved about hockey is that it’s more than just a game.
Teams can be nasty as hell to each other on the ice, but when they head down that tunnel, everyone’s back to just being guys who hang out in the offseason.
Linus doesn’t let go for a lot longer than usual. Jeremy doesn’t either.
It’s easy to lose track of time when he’s in Ully’s arms. It’s always been that way.
He’s missed him so much, much more than he even thought now that he has his arms around him, squeezing.
“You busy after?” Linus asks.
“Never too busy for you.”
It’s a little too honest, but Linus just pulls away and beams at him.
“Meet at yours?”
“Do you still have a key?”
Linus nods. They have to get off the ice, but even with the promise of seeing him soon, Jeremy can’t look away, can’t pull away completely. He’s in Linus’ orbit, letting the gravitational pull of his warmth and excitement keep him grounded.
“See you in an hour?” Jeremy asks, hopeful, borderline desperate.
“Maybe less,” Linus winks.
He skates away, and Jeremy skates away, and everything falls into place again.
For the first time since Jeremy signed his contract, he feels like he’s home.