“You’re good at it,” Jacob whispered. “Like…stupidlygood. It makes me feel safe.”
Tane’s throat tightened for a second. He covered Jacob’s hand with his own, thumb brushing over knuckles. “Good. That’s the point.”
They finished the smoothies in comfortable quiet, the only sounds the being the fridge and the distant city traffic below. Jacob’s color was better, his eyes clearer. He stretched, winced at the motion, then looked at Tane with renewed mischief.
“Roast Days?” he asked hopefully. “Brunch. Pancakes. Bacon. Coffee that doesn’t taste like jet fuel?”
Tane raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re up for it?”
“I’m hungover, not dead,” Jacob laughed, his voice still croaking from the late night. “And their breakfast burrito is basically medicine.”
Tane considered him for a moment… the hopeful tilt of his head, the way he was already reaching for the hoodie he’d left draped over a chair last night. The shoulder twinged in reminder, but the thought of sitting across from Jacob in a booth, watching him demolish food and chatter through the fog, felt better than any physio session.
“Fine,” Tane said. “But we’re going straight there, eating, and coming home. No detours. And absolutely no kink room today.”
Jacob’s face fell comically. “But?—”
“No buts,” Tane laughed. “Not even that juicy butt of yours. You’re hungover. I’m not tying you up when you can barely stand coffee. You’ll safeword the second the ropes touch skin.”
Jacob pouted, dramatic and endearing. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m plenty fun when you’re not three sheets to the wind and reeking of IPA.”
Jacob sighed theatrically, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Fine. Brunch only. But you owe me.”
Tane arched his eyebrow and stepped closer, cupped the back of Jacob’s neck, and pulled him in until their foreheads touched. “Deal.”
Jacob leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second. When he opened them again, the mischief had softened into something warmer, more vulnerable.
“Thank you,” Jacob said quietly. ““or last night. For this morning. For… not making me feel stupid about being a mess.”
Tane brushed his thumb along Jacob’s jaw. “You’re not a mess. You’re twenty-one, you just won a playoff game, and you’re allowed to celebrate. I like all the versions of you. Even the drunk, horny, off-key ones.”
Jacob laughed softly, the sound muffled against Tane’s shoulder as he wrapped both arms around Tane’s waist in a sudden, tight hug. Tane returned it without hesitation, one hand splayed across Jacob’s bare back, the other cradling the nape of his neck.
They stood like that for a long minute—bodies pressed close, breathing in sync, the apartment quiet around them.
Eventually Jacob pulled back just enough to look up at him.
“I meant what I said last night,” Jacob said. “Even if I was drunk. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”
Tane’s chest squeezed. He didn’t brush it off this time, just leaned down and kissed Jacob slow and gentle, tasting honey and berries on his lips.
“I know,” Tane murmured against his mouth. “Now get dressed before I change my mind about brunch and drag you back to bed for non-kinky cuddles.”
Jacob grinned, bright and unguarded. “Yes, Captain.”
Jacob then darted off to the bedroom to find clothes. Tane watched him go, then turned back to the sink to rinse the blender. The shoulder protested when he reached for a dish towel, but he ignored it.
Outside, the city waited.
Later that week there would be a meeting at Pine Rise for a film review, another game looming on the way toward the championship. But right now, there was brunch, and Jacob’s hand in his under the table, and the simple, profound pleasure of taking care of someone who let him.
Tane smiled to himself as he dried his hands.
One morning at a time.
There was life in the old champ yet.
