“Fair.” He sits back and takes off his gloves. “We’re going to run a few more tests, but what I’m assuming happened is the puck hit your vagus nerve and caused your blood pressure to tank, which explains the delayed reaction and why you got light-headed. I’m not seeing much else here.”
“When can I leave?”
“Give us a few hours to monitor you, and if all the tests come back clean, I’ll let you go. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say then ask the more important question, “Can I play?”
“When’s the next game?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
He thinks it over for a minute. “I’d take it easy tomorrow if possible. Then as long as you check out okay and aren’t having any complications, I’m okay with it. Your team doctor will probably want to check you out, too.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Archangel and I are left alone.
I reach a hand out for him. “Come lay with me.”
“You’re too big for the bed by yourself. Where do you think I’m going to fit?”
“I can’t believe you’d make fun of my size in my weakest moment!” I fight a smile because I want the guilt trip to work.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He comes closer but doesn’t get into bed.
“You won’t.” I scoot over as much as I can, creating a little space without wincing.
He studies me before slipping into the bed beside me. He has to lay on his side to fit into the few inches of room. “I’m never getting my dick sucked, am I?”
I laugh, but it hurts, and my hand goes to my neck. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m not trying to make you laugh!” But he laughs, too.
I lean into him a little, taking the physical comfort he’s always provided on my worst days. “Are you honestly worried I won’t suck your dick?”
He side-eyes me but doesn’t answer right away.
“It’s okay if you are worried,” I add after a few moments.
“I’m not worried about it in reciprocation—it’s okay not to be into something. But I am worried about the greater implications of it.”
I try to turn to look at him, but it hurts to turn like that. “What are the greater implications of it?”
“Stop trying to move.”
“I want to look at you.”
“The only way you’re going to be able to look at me is if I straddle you, and I’m not doing that in a hospital.”
“I mean, I’m not saying no.”
He picks up his head so I can see him rolling his eyes. “Not here.”
“Are you going to tell me these great implications?” I ask again.
“That you don’t actually like dick,” he laughs. His head is on my shoulder, and I can’t make out his expression, but his body language tells me enough.
