The team spots them and the energy shifts, everyone straightening up slightly, voices quieting just a fraction, because Washington's still the captain even when we're not on the ice.
"At ease, gentlemen," Washington says drily as he and Leila approach the bar. "I'm off duty."
"You're never off duty, Cap," Groover calls out.
"It's pathological," Becker adds.
Leila's laughing, used to this. She orders a glass of wine and Washington gets a beer, and they settle onto barstools at the end of the bar.
And of course Hendrix spots them too.
He puffs up his chest and marches toward them with the determination of a tiny feathered general. "Kiss kiss."
"Awww," Leila coos. "You want a kiss, mister?"
Oh, you sweet summer child. "He wants you two to kiss."
"KISS KISS." Louder now, insistent.
Leila's trying not to laugh while Washington's already leaning in, and then they're making out like they're alone in their bedroom, not in a crowded bar. Washington makes a sound that's definitely not captain-appropriate, his hand sliding into her hair, and they're just... going for it. Tongue and everything.
The bar goes silent, everyone watching with expressions ranging from amused to scandalized to impressed.
They finally break apart, both are breathing hard, Leila's lipstick smeared, Washington's face flushed.
Hendrix stares at them for a long moment. Then: "WHAT THE PUUUUCK?"
The team fucking erupts.
"Cap!" Becker's screaming with laughter. "Get some!"
"I did not need to see that," Wall says, but he's grinning.
Washington's trying to look dignified while wiping lipstick off his mouth. "You're all children."
"You're all jealous," Leila corrects, completely unbothered.
Devon returns from the back with a box of napkins, taking in the chaos. "What did I miss?"
I point my chin toward Hendrix, who's already on the move, scanning the room for his next victims. "That bird has the intelligence of a high schooler and the sense of humor of a five-year-old."
Hendrix's beady eyes land on Becker and Groover, who are laughing at something on Becker's phone.
"Oh, fuck," Becker says when he notices.
"Kiss kiss."
"No. Absolutely not. Not happening."
Hendrix is undeterred. He half-flies, half-hops onto their table and gets right in Becker's face.
"KISS KISS."
"Hendrix, buddy." Becker's using his most diplomatic voice. "We're teammates. Bros. It would be weird."
Groover's already shaking his head. "I'm not doing it."
"Neither am I."
