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*bzzt* *bzzt* *bzzt*

Jordan blinks awake to find his arm outstretched to the nightstand, phone buzzing under his hand and face still half mashed into the pillow.

The clock's glowing 3:23 AM and Laddy's snoring softly across the room, so Jordan stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him before looking down at his phone.

It's stopped buzzing and is instead informing him that he missed a call. Benn. Weird. He calls him back, mostly out of sheer curiosity.

"Oh, thank fuck," Jamie's voice slurs out of the phone. He sounds pretty sloshed, but lucid enough and slightly frantic.

"Benner, what the hell?"

"Sorry, sorry, I just, I—" Benn trips over his words, pauses, tries again. "No one else was picking up, and, uh, I think I'm stranded? In the suburbs, because I went home with this girl but then her boyfriend came home and that was, uh. Awkward. And my fucking phone's screen broke, so I can't even use googlemaps to figure out where the fuck I am or look up the number for a taxi."

It's probably the most that Jordan's ever heard Benn say at once unprompted by an interviewer, other than that time he started a huge argument at World Juniors about Star Wars versus Star Trek that took over the whole locker room for twenty minutes until Coach Quinn came in to yell at them.

It's a good thing for Benner that Jordan's only half awake right now, otherwise he'd be giving him so much more shit for this. But as it is, priorities. "Wow, that sucks. What do you need me to do? Can you find some street names? I'll get my laptop."

Between them, they manage to figure out what part of Helsinki Benner's in and the right cross streets to tell a cab driver, and Jordan looks up the numbers for a couple of cab companies for him to try. It takes them way longer than it should, but most of Jordan's brain is still thinking longingly of his warm bed and Jamie's definitely on the more-impaired side of tipsy, so Jordan counts it as a win.

He's about to hang up when it occurs to him to ask, "Wait, do you have enough cash? You're pretty far away."

"Uh, shit. Good question." There's a brief rustling noise. "Okay, uh, maybe? I might have enough but I don't know for sure. It depends."

"Right." Who needs sleep, anyway. "I guess I'll stay up until you get back, then. Call me when you're close and I'll come down to meet you, so if you need more cash I can spot you."

"No, you don't have to do that. One of us ought to get some shutsy."

"'S fine, I don't mind. Just don't forget to call, okay?" Jordan hangs up before Benner can keep arguing about it. The quicker he gets back the quicker they can both go to sleep.

Jordan makes himself comfortable in the bathtub with his laptop balanced carefully on his knees and pokes around the internet until his phone buzzes again, about thirty minutes later.

"Hey, we're almost there," Jamie says, sounding exhausted. "Can you come down? I think I'm gonna be short maybe five euros. Sorry about all this. I promise I'll pay you back tomorrow."

"It's okay, Benner, really. I'll be right down." Jordan grabs his wallet and shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he can find before heading downstairs.

He loiters around the front door for a few minutes until a taxi pulls up. Jamie looks as tired as he sounded over the phone, and when Jordan goes out to chip in for the fare, he can smell the alcohol wafting off of him as soon as he gets close. He's a little unsteady on his feet, but stays upright easily enough to get inside safely, though Jordan sticks close by, just in case.

They slouch next to each other against the back wall of the elevator.

Benn tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, then laughs, quietly. "Crazy night," he says. "She spilled her drink on me at the club," he points to a reddish splotch on his shirt, "and then when her boyfriend came home, he threw a beer bottle at me. Luckily he missed, but it got all over my shoes." He shakes his head, gestures at his shoes. "I'm never gonna get the smell out."

Jordan grins at him. "You gotta stop picking the crazy ones, man. You're just lucky my phone always wakes me up."

The smile falls off of Jamie's face and his wide brown eyes go dark and serious as he turns to face Jordan. "Shit, yeah, about that. I really am sorry about all this. Really, really, really sorry. Really."

Jordan feels his face flush, fixing his eyes on the shiny toes of his dress shoes as he shakes his head. "Really, it's okay." He clears his throat. "I don't mind." He glances up to see Benner still looking at him anxiously, biting his lip like he wants to say something else, but then the elevator dings and they head out and down the hallway to the room Benner's sharing with Purcell.

After he gets the door open, Jamie turns back to face Jordan and smiles at him sheepishly.

"Seriously, Ebs, thanks. I owe you one." Then he reaches out and wraps his hand around Jordan's wrist, leans down, and presses his lips to Jordan's, just for a second. By the time Jordan registers the kiss, Jamie has already straightened up and is looking at him.

Usually Benner's eyes tell the world exactly what he's feeling, but whatever that is right now is too complicated for Jordan to read in the long, slow seconds they stand there staring at each other. Jordan blinks, and Jamie gives him a tiny smile and lets go of his wrist. Steps back, closes the door between them.

After a moment or two of staring at the door, Jordan goes back to his room. He can't shake the feeling that maybe Jamie hadn't been quite as drunk as he'd seemed.

The next day, Jordan gets to his stall before practice to find a five euro note sitting on the shelf, with a little plush HockeyBird keychain perched on top of it.

Jordan pockets the money, then picks up the keychain and concentrates very hard on not smiling down at it foolishly as he attaches it to his key ring.

He swears he doesn't blush at all when Hallsy makes fun of it for days when he gets back home.