jonas siegenthaler hours

Jonas: dinner's on me next time I see everyone.

Luca: finally, he buys me dinner #blessed

"What's wrong? Should I have signed with Toronto?" Jonas asks when he walks into their bedroom. It's not their bedroom, not really, not like the one they have in Jersey, but it's the closest thing to it while they train for the next two weeks. 

"Fuck off; they can't have you." Nico smiles, making grabby hands at Jonas until Jonas' weight topples them both down on the bed, his back hitting the mattress.

"Congratulations. Proud of you," Nico says because it's true, and Jonas should know. He's so proud of him. He sighs happily when their lips meet. 

"Then what's with the face?" Jonas asks.

"I thought you loved my face?" Nico says, earning him a raised brow from Jonas. "You could have asked for more, you know. You deserve more."

Jonas hums in response, his lips closing around the spot under Nico's neck. "Maybe, but that would hamper the team, and I want to stay in Jersey." His teeth graze over Nico's skin, the sound of Nico's moan echoing in the room. "Besides, it'll all be conjugal funds, anyway. That's what my lawyer said."

Nico freezes. "Conju--what?"

Jonas threads their fingers together. "Yeah. Conjugal funds," he repeats. "When you marry me."

His heart feels like it's beating out of his chest, and Nico can't help the smile blooming on his face. "That confident, eh? You haven't even asked me yet."

"I haven't," Jonas says. "But when I do, will you say yes?" He's usually better at hiding his emotions, but Nico can read Jonas like a book right now. He's nervous. Unnecessarily so, because for Nico, there's only one answer to that question when Jonas asks.

Nico pulls Jonas down until their bodies are touching, their legs tangled together. "Yes."

--

“You‘re here!” he says, stupidly, too loud, alerting the rest of the team to their visitor. Well. New teammate.

Jonas claps him on the back, laughing, the hug entirely too short. “I‘ve missed you too, man,” he says.

“It‘s captain for you now,” Nico teases, lets it cover the urge to say you don‘t have the slightest idea because they‘re standing in a locker room with a whole hockey team gathering around them, because it‘s Jonas and he doesn‘t say these things to Jonas, not ever, but mostly because he doesn‘t really have the slightest idea, himself.

2.

“God, I‘ve missed this,” Jonas says and Nico has to hide his face in his wine glass, because the sound Jonas makes around his mouthful of Raclette next is downright indecent and because I‘ve missed this isn‘t exactly another I‘ve missed you, but it does translate to this being some amount of comfort, of home he gets to provide for Jonas.

There‘s a bit of a swimming feeling in his stomach. All the raclette wine, probably.

“We should make this a weekly thing,” he says, and puts another slice of cheese into his pan even though he feels fuller than he thought he could be already.

“Coach would have our heads,” Jonas laughs. He takes a sip of his own wine, then leans back in his chair, arms behind his head. He‘s the picture of contentment and Nico‘s stomach gives yet another deep tug. “So, I‘m in,” he adds and it makes Nico join in the laughter.

3.

The thing is, Nico‘s been here countless times. He‘s sat in his family‘s garden watching Jonas approach up the way to the house more times than he can count, he‘s sat around a dinner table with Jonas and too many Hischiers time and time again. He‘s also been living with the guy for months now, for fuck‘s sake. And it‘s truly not like his ill-advised crush is a new thing either.

He really shouldn‘t still be this nervous.

Jonas is waving at him now, and Nico is out of his chair. Fuck, he looks good, he thinks to himself, and then he‘s walking to meet him, something he can‘t even help at this point.

There‘s no audience for their hug this time, and Nico desperately tries not to read anything into the way Jonas holds him a little longer, a little tighter than at the start of the season. Tries not to notice that there‘s no slap on the back, this time, instead the fleeting tangle of fingers in the long hair at the back of his neck.

There‘s also no I‘ve missed you, today, even though it sits right at the tip of Nico‘s tongue, even though he chokes a little on it when he swallows it back down.

4.

Jonas gets back to their New Jersey flat when Nico‘s already been home for half a week. He looks dead tired when he plops down next to where Nico‘s playing XBox on the sofa. Nico leans into his space, softly lets their shoulder bump. “Welcome home,” he says, never taking his eyes off the screen. Jonas smells like airplanes and long hours in the same clothes, and underneath it all, mostly; like Jonas. Inherently familiar.

Nico almost throws the controller across the room when there‘s movement in the corner of his eye and Jonas‘ head lands on his thigh. There‘s a rush of hot air noticeable even through the soft fabric of Nico’s shorts where Jonas mumbles, half against him: “I‘m glad I‘m back.”

Then, with a finger poking him just above his knee, he adds: “Relax, Nico.” And Nico makes a conscious effort to let the tension bleed out of his muscles, let his thigh be as soft a pillow as possible.

“You‘re losing!” Jonas comments, the words tapering off in a yawn, and Nico focuses on the screen again, grateful to have somewhere to direct his spiraling thoughts, the restlessness coursing through him. For a while, the only sounds in the room are coming from the tv, and as Jonas‘ breaths slowly even out, Nico lets himself sink deeper into the sofa cushions, lets himself enjoy the moment, just a little.

“Jonas?” he asks quietly, when the game ends, and he‘s left staring at a loading screen.

“Hm.”