#burakinnon

It wasn’t unusual for Nate to leave with a pretty blonde when the team went out for drinks; in fact, it was expected. What was unusual was Andre following him out of the bar. 

He didn’t mean to be creepy, but he was curious. Mostly he was sick of the team trying to shove girls up against him, but he could admit that he was curious. 

“I’m sorry,” Nate was saying to the blonde he was with. They were on the sidewalk outside the bar, but Andre didn’t think they could see him.  “You’re lovely, but I think I might just head home alone.”

The girl objected, trying to lay a hand on Nate’s elbow. Nate, looking obviously uncomfortable, tried to shrug her off, but she was quite determined.

“Nathan,” Andre yelled, louder than he needed to. The girl jumped back at his appearance, hands falling to her sides. 

“Um, see you,” she smiled awkwardly. “It was nice to meet you.”

She rushed off, probably to call an Uber or find her friends. When she left, Andre turned to Nate.

“Are you okay?”

Nate huffed a laugh.

“Have you ever - do people -” Nate sighed, sitting on the bench to the right of the bar’s exit. “People expect things of me. Say this, do that, date her. Because I’m twenty five and a face of the NHL. But I can’t be the dude they want, you know?”

Andre cleared his throat. Nate, vulnerable like this, wasn’t something Andre got to see. Baring his soul outside of an upscale bar in Denver. 

“Yeah, I understand,” Andre responded after a minute, voice raw. He took the seat next to his teammate.“Juniors was hard for me.”

Andre laughed humorlessly, sticking both hands in his pockets. “Has Juniors ever been easy for people?”

Nate’s laugh was just as humorless. “Point.”

“I’m sorry you deal with that.”

“There are worse things, I guess.”

“You deserve better than that, though. Even if there are worse things.”

“Thanks, Burky,” Nate said with a small grin. He nudged their shoulders together and turned to stare across the street. 

Andre took a deep breath, just tipsy enough to be brave but not drunk enough to do something he’d regret. It was easier for him to say with Nate not staring at him, at least.

“It was  - they don’t like people like me. Juniors.”

Nate’s eyes snapped to meet his. “Like you?”

Andre rolled his eyes, aiming for nonchalance, like he wasn’t almost shitting himself. “You have got to stop blocking shots with your head.”

“You’re...gay?” he said after another moment’s thought.

“So smart,” Andre grinned through his fear.

Nate took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, staring at his hands. “People like us, then.”

“You?” That - that wasn’t something Andre had ever stopped to think about. Obviously it would make sense that there was at least another gay Av, but that it was Nate.

“Me.”

Andre stuck out his fist in solidarity, ignoring the way his heart traitorously fluttered. If it was Nate - if Nate was - then he had a chance? Right?

He shook those thoughts away. They were dangerous, especially now that he knew Nate was gay. He smirked instead. “So your thing about Sid -”

Before he could finish Nate had him in a headlock, both of them laughing.

-

Knowing Nate was gay added a different facet to their friendship. It wasn’t in a bad way; on the contrary, having Nate made him feel more comfortable in the locker room. Someone to share an exasperated look over their horrifically heterosexual teammates, someone to use as an excuse to get out of hooking up.

But there was also the part of him that wished Nate had never come out to him. Because Andre - he could do crushes on teammates, if said teammates were straight. That wasn’t anything new. He fancied himself in love with Tom Wilson for almost his entire time in Washington, and he lived through that. That he could do. 

The thing about having a crush on Nate was that he’d have a chance - if Nate wanted him.

It was worse knowing that Nate could but didn’t like him back; that he wasn’t good enough for someone like Nate.

But that wasn’t fair. He didn’t think Nate was better than him just because he was the best player in the league. 

Because he was a disaster off the ice, in the best possible way, and Andre cared for him so much.

He was shaken from his reverie by a large body dropping into the stall next to him. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“Okay, if I say something do you promise not to interrupt me?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Andre blurted out. He slapped a hand over his mouth; Nate looked shocked, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s - what I was going to ask you.”

Andre removed his hand to return the fish mouthed look. “What?”

“What?” Nate’s voice cracked slightly, turning the word into two syllables.

“Is that a yes?” Andre asked tentatively. Hope was blooming in his chest, reckless and beautiful.

Nate nodded vehemently, eyes wide and earnest. “Definitely.”

“For sure?” 

“For sure.”