Sasquatch to the Moon

23: Forest F*cking Green

HÅKON

Suits. The moment the soft interior of my suit slides up my arm I know it's go-time. Whether I like it or not, I'm about four hours away from Isa being married. Like, actually honest to god married. We ate lunch, we kept everyone busy through their private part, now, I guess, it's go time. Ceremony time. For fuck's sake.

Lunch was fine, I guess, it was the second time Rocket spent time around my parents and my mom called him Paxton again, which he told me was 'fine' but I could tell from the tiny little crick in his neck when she said it that it made him mad. Once is a mistake, twice is deliberate. He managed to put up a good facade with my father, nodding and not talking when he went on his little 'modern media is ruining everything' rant, happy he might have found someone willing to listen to him. Rocket was 115% zoned out. 

It's kinda fun, actually, after he told me all the little details about his ADHD I can now pick up on different stuff that I wasn't able to before. Like knowing that when he's staring aimlessly off at something above my dad's head at lunch, that he's not actually staring at the cupboard, he's just off in his own little world, just present enough to do the 'mhmm yeah' every once and a while to keep my dad engaged. It's adorable. 

"How are you feeling?" I turn around, messing with my tie to find Milo leaning against my door frame. Forest fucking green. My new favorite color. His eyes are twinkling with excitement and I have to pause for a moment, god I'm gay. Gay gay gay gay gay. Very very entirely gay and oooh so very attracted to this man. 

I swallow hard enough to dislodge the lump in my throat and then try to say something. 

"Nervous." I mumble. "The bad type."

"It's gonna be fun," he stands up off the frame and steps toward me, smacking my hands gently away from my tie. I was too nervous to get it right and having him right there fixing it is not making me any less nervous. His fingers brush my shirt, barely bumping into my skin here and there as he slides the tie together into its knot, then up around my neck. His head straightens up, then he smooths down the front of my shirt, tucking the tie into its clip on my chest.

God this man. I let my eyes linger, his shoulders, hugged tight by forest green and black, the front of his coat is open, showing off a suit vest I've only seen him in twice, slim waist accentuated by the cut of the whole thing, long long long legs, fucking converse. I let my eyes flit back to the way his newly shorter hair is dragging out the lines on his high cheekbones and jaw, his angular nose and the tough cut of his eyebrows, the intensity constantly roaring behind those eyes, everything.

I stick my foot out and kick the door shut, my hand flying into his hair, gripping. His hand twists my tie, finishing the distance and wrecking the knot he just did. His mouth is parted slightly with the surprise but quickly surprise turns to invitation. 

"Yeah?" He grins into my lips, sending my consciousness right under.

"Yeah." I mumble back, staring at his mouth and the easy quirk of his smile and the little scar I've just noticed through the top of his lip. He closes the distance again, harsh, intense, holding me still to avoid rustling our clothes, or at least he's trying to. His hand cradles the back of my head, careful not to muss my hair. His kiss is gentle, mine a little not-so.

He steps back when I tug his belt. "I love the enthusiasm, but this is your parent's house."

I swallow hard. "Fair point, unfortunately."

"Let me... redo that." He gestures at my chest and I look down to find my tie slightly wrinkled and way out of place. In moments he fixes it, biting his tongue. "I missed you in game day attire." He pats my chest, then pulls my suit around my waist, buttoning it.

"You too," I mumble, watching his fingers. "You're definitely outdressing me."

"Of course," he winks at me. "You look perfect too, don't worry."

"Ready to listen to a full hour and a half ceremony in Swedish?" I ask.

He makes a face, thinking, then: "Ja, tack."

"I mean, you got the J noise sorta right."

"I'm Czech," he smiles. "Same J."

I shake my head. "It's... no it's like J in..." I pause to come up with a word. "In yolk. J noise as the Y in yolk. You made a J noise like the y in yard."

He drops his forehead to my shoulder. "It's like barely different, how is that-"

"Shh," I pat his back. "It's definitely different."

"Alright, at this point we're going to be late because we were arguing about the proper pronunciation of J which is definitely not like in jump I dunno who wants to tell english speakers that but it's not gonna be me."

"Not me either," I respond. "And yes, we have to move. We're supposed to be in the church in ten and it's ten minutes away. Not for the start of the actual ceremony but for the whole hello-nice-to-meet-you part."

He winces. "What am I expected to be doing for that?"

"Making pleasant conversation with someone, I dunno who but I'll point you in the direction that I'm hoping Wilhelm, Hugo, Svea and Maja."

"Maja like the pre-pro women's league one, right?"

"That one," I nod.

"Oh, good, so how are we getting there?"

"It's a short drive, I should probably let you drive, though, considering we're late and all that."

"Oh, goodie." 

***

yes, okay, it was short, it was supposed to be longer but then I re-realized that I have an uncanny knack for drawing three point perspective architectural drawings and got like nose-deep in a apartment sketch with the theme of 'old new england mill building remodeled' and then that was that and now it's two in the morning

ANYWAY

have a nice weekend

-rabid