Chapter 112 112: Inebriation
Sloane was already waiting in the locker room when the two of them stepped in, the door shutting behind them with a dull thud.
The rest of the THC members were scattered around the benches, peeling off gloves and helmets, the sharp smell of sweat and ice lingering in the air.
Sloane clapped her hands once.
"Alright, listen up."
The chatter died down.
She turned to Saint and Baby with a proud grin.
"That was solid work out there. Clean passes, sharp positioning, and you two practically carried the pace of the game."
A few teammates nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, Danvers was on fire today," someone added.
"And Kross wasn't far behind," another chimed in.
Sloane gestured toward a tall man leaning casually against one of the lockers.
"And since you two clearly enjoy showing off, I might as well introduce you properly."
The man stepped forward.
He looked older than most of the players in the room, broad-shouldered with calm, steady eyes that carried the quiet confidence of someone used to leading.
"This is Edward Stone," Sloane said. "Captain of the main THC team."
Edward extended a hand first to Saint, then to Baby.
"Nice playing out there," he said politely.
His grip was firm but friendly.
"Keep working like that and you'll both be joining the main roster sooner than you think."
Baby nodded respectfully.
"Thank you, Captain."
Saint gave a short nod as well. "Appreciate it."
Edward smiled faintly.
"Good luck getting there."
With the introductions done, Sloane stretched her arms over her head.
"Since that scrimmage didn't turn into a bloodbath like I feared, I was thinking of taking everyone out for lunch," she said. "There's a place near the arena that—"
Baby spoke up before she could finish.
"Thank you, Ms. Vane, but I think we'll pass today."
Sloane raised a brow.
"We?"
Baby slipped his helmet off and ran a hand through his hair.
"We've got a long flight tomorrow. Thought we'd head back to the hotel and rest."
Saint immediately nodded.
"Yeah, we can find our way back."
Sloane studied them for a moment before shrugging.
"Suit yourselves. Just don't cause me scandals."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Saint replied.
A few minutes later, the two of them stepped out of the arena together.
The evening air outside was cooler, the noise of the rink fading behind them as they walked down the street toward their hotel.
Baby shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
"Green Vine really thought that defense was going to stop us?" he snorted.
Saint glanced at him.
Baby continued casually.
"Their left wing was slow. Did you see how he kept over-committing every time I cut inside?"
Saint nodded automatically.
"Yeah."
"And their goalie?" Baby laughed softly. "Poor guy practically telegraphed every move."
Saint forced a small chuckle.
But something twisted in his stomach.
Baby sounded... normal.
Too normal.
Saint had expected questions the moment they stepped away from the locker room.
Expected anger.
Jealousy.
Something.
But Baby just kept talking about the match like nothing had happened.
Like Roman had never touched Saint's chin.
Like he hadn't whispered those words.
Saint's chest tightened.
By the time they reached the hotel and stepped into their suite, the silence between them had grown heavy.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Baby kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket over the chair.
Saint didn't wait.
He crossed the room in two steps and gently pulled Baby into his arms.
The movement caught Baby slightly off guard, but he didn't resist.
Saint held him there.
Warm.
Close.
His arms wrapped tightly around Baby's back as if anchoring himself.
For a few quiet seconds, neither of them spoke.
Saint lowered his head slightly, his voice soft against Baby's ear.
"He's nothing to me..." he whispered.
"I know," Baby sighed.
Saint arched a brow and stared down at Baby. "You do?" He didn't sound convinced.
Baby nodded. "Of course. I saw the way you looked like you needed someone to dial 911." He chuckled, ruffling Saint's hair and walking toward Saint's room.
Saint stood there for a while, not sure if he should relax yet.
"You see..." Baby paused in front of the door and glanced at Saint before walking into the room.
Saint followed.
"After everything we've been through, some crazy ex can't be the reason we separate again. You love me, not him... right?" he questioned slowly.
Saint nodded almost too quickly, walking over to Baby. "Of course, love. But you're wrong about one thing..." He paused, tilting Baby's chin. "He's not my ex. He's not my anything... has never been. You're the first and last guy I'm dating, baby. Just you." He whispered, leaning in to kiss Baby.
"Hold on," Baby plastered his palm flat against Saint's lips. "If you're saying the truth... how did your so memorable first kiss happen?" He watched Saint with scrutinizing eyes.
Saint sighed, raking his hair.
"High school. Party. Drunk. Kiss." He listed.
"Mmm... must've been more than a kiss—"
"No. It's as simple as I listed," Saint said. "I was the drunk one, he wasn't. So he thought it was wise to take advantage of my inebriation to explore his secret crush on me. That was all, and I promise you, it was less than five seconds—"
"I believe you... just never allow him to put his hands on you... I hate it," Baby frowned. "Understood?" he asked.
Saint nodded. "Crystal, Baby... crystal." He murmured, lifting Baby's hand to kiss the back of it.
"We return tomorrow," Saint reminded with a smirk.
"So?" Baby questioned.
"Cam would be happy to see us," Saint winked, leading Baby toward the bathroom.
"I don't think so. Maybe he will be, but I'm sure he hates me now," Baby murmured, letting Saint pull his shirt off in front of the bathroom.
"No one can hate you, baby..." Saint whispered, nuzzling his nose against Baby’s neck. "You're impossible to hate..."
Baby let out a quiet huff as Saint’s breath brushed against his neck.
“You say that now,” he murmured, though he tilted his head slightly, giving Saint more room without even realizing it.
Saint smiled faintly against his skin.
“Because it’s true.”
His hands slid down Baby’s sides, slow and careful, as if still afraid the moment might somehow slip away from him.
“Cam’s dramatic,” Saint continued. “He’ll sulk for a bit, complain loudly, maybe threaten to disown us both…”
Baby snorted softly.
“…but the moment you show up looking like this,” Saint added, nudging Baby toward the mirror, “he’ll forget what he was even mad about.”
Baby glanced at their reflection.
His jersey had been tossed aside somewhere between the door and the bathroom. His hair was slightly messy from the helmet, and faint marks still dotted the skin near his collarbone—mostly hidden now, but visible enough up close.
He sighed.
“You're very confident in my charm.”
“I’ve seen it in action,” Saint replied easily.
Baby rolled his eyes but didn’t move away when Saint’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
For a moment they simply stood there in the quiet of the bathroom.
The tension from earlier—the arena, Roman, the long walk back—slowly loosened its grip.
Saint rested his chin lightly on Baby’s shoulder.
“You really weren’t bothered?” he asked after a moment.
Baby looked at him through the mirror.
“About Roman?”
Saint nodded.
Baby hummed thoughtfully.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t bothered,” he admitted.
Saint’s arms tightened slightly.
Baby continued, voice calm.
“I just didn’t want to start a scene in the locker room… or ruin the match over someone who clearly wanted attention.”
Saint exhaled slowly.
“Fair.”
Baby turned around then, facing him properly.
“But,” he added, poking Saint lightly in the chest, “if he ever touches your face again like that, I might accidentally forget we’re in public.”
Saint blinked.
Then laughed softly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The jealousy.”
Baby scoffed.
“That’s not jealousy.”
Saint leaned closer, eyes glinting.
“No?”
“No.”
Baby crossed his arms.
“That’s called protecting my investment.”
Saint’s grin widened.
“Your investment?”
Baby nodded seriously.
“Years of emotional damage, one dramatic breakup, one chaotic reunion… and a very expensive hotel suite later.”
Saint chuckled.
“Sounds costly.”
“Oh, it is,” Baby said dryly.
Then his expression softened just a little.
“So don’t make me fight off random gingers again.”
Saint raised both hands in mock surrender.
“Noted.”
Baby turned back toward the sink, reaching for the faucet.
“Good.”
Behind him, Saint watched quietly for a second.
Then he stepped forward again, slipping his arms around Baby’s waist one more time.
Baby didn’t protest this time.
Outside the suite window, the city lights flickered against the night sky.
Inside, the quiet between them felt warmer now.
Steadier.
Like something fragile had survived another test.