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the boy who cried gay

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It starts his first night home. Well, not really home, because home is Brampton and home is Boston, but home is also wherever Tyler is, and so the apartment in Glens Falls is close enough. After a couple rounds of seriously awesome sex (like, way better than he’d thought Brownie would be up for considering he’d just finished playing a kickass game-- Segs had maybe gotten a semi watching him lay that guy out) when they’re watching some really shitty Disney Channel movie, Segs grabs his phone and tweets glad to be back with this stud #reunitedanditfeelssogood, attaching a photo of Tyler’s super hot, super shirtless back where he’s sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around his waist. He doesn’t hesitate before posting it, because he’s super gone for Tyler and there’s no Bruins PR department to worry about right now and so basically yolo.

(Except actually, it takes a lot of courage to decide to post it, because he’s telling the whole world-- well, the whole Twitter world, anyway-- that he’s in love with a dude. He’s just okay doing it now because he got all the scary thinking out of the way on the ridiculously long flight from Switzerland.)

“What are you doing,” Tyler grumbles from where he’s face down in his pillow.

“Tweeting.”

Tyler reaches out blindly, groping around till he grabs Segs’ phone and tosses it down to the foot of the bed. “Sleep.”

“It’s like eight am in Biel right now, I just want you to know that.”

Tyler lifts his head enough to open one eye, and yeah, Segs can’t see most of his face but he knows that look. “Sleep.”

“Ugh, fine, you’re so bossy, god.” Even as he whines, though, he turns off the lamp and sets a sleep timer on the tv because they’re both really bad at falling asleep without background noise. Once he’s actually laying down and has himself situated, Tyler curls around him from behind. “Uh, why do you get to be the big spoon?”

“Because fuck you, that’s why.”

“You are unnecessarily cranky for someone whose boyfriend just showed up from halfway around the world to cheer him on at his game and then give him a very spectacular celebratory-slash-I-missed-you blowjob is all I’m saying here.” Tyler’s hand tightens on his hip, and Segs sighs long-sufferingly. “I know, I know. Sleep.”

The next morning, though, Tyler makes it up to him, waking him up by blowing him and then driving to Dunkin Donuts to get coffee because Segs is still feeling all weird and jet-lagged. Best boyfriend ever. Besides Segs himself, obviously.

While he’s laying in bed waiting for his coffee, propped up on the nest of pillows he’s made for himself, he scrolls through Twitter to see the response to his post last night. It’s pretty disappointing, no lies, because like, after psyching himself up to let everyone know his boy was actually his boy so that he could just play AHL trophy wife for the rest of the lockout, no one seems to be taking him seriously. They’ve all marked it down in their “Oh hey, Tyler Seguin is posting another picture of one of his shirtless bros” file and moved on. Massively lame.

Ah well. He’ll do better next time.

 

:::

 

So, what his trip home teaches him is that his family is made up of terrible people who did not miss him at all and do not deserve the Swiss chocolate he brought back for them. This is mostly because his mother wants to know what his real plans for the rest of the lockout are, and also because Candace asks him what he calls Ty during sex, because apparently dating someone with the same name as you makes you conceited.

Segs eats the chocolate himself, in front of them, and then takes his dog (who has grown too much) and flees, claiming the weekend he’s been there is all he can stay. Really he just wants to go home to the hubs. He’s not like, scared of his mother or anything. Seriously.

When he finally drags himself and Marshall out of the car for the last time (and really, how many pee breaks does a dog need, honestly) and gets inside the apartment, Ty’s passed out on the couch. Marshall pays this no mind, barking excitedly and practically leaping on top of him.

Jesus, what-- oh. Hey, bud.” Tyler scratches Marshall behind the ears as the dog, convinced he’s still a puppy, settles himself on Ty’s chest. And once again, it’s like there’s a stupid magnet inside him that pulls him to Tyler. It’s ridiculous. One second he’s standing on the other side of the room dropping all his stuff (instead of taking it in their room), and the next he’s sitting in the floor next to the couch with his head leaning on Tyler’s arm, watching their dog practically vibrate with excitement.

“Life’s pretty good right now,” Segs says after a minute.

Tyler’s grin is so huge it’s ridiculous. “Yeah. Really kinda is.”

Segs grabs his phone and holds his arm out enough to snap a picture of all three of them, even if Marshall won’t look at the camera, and then tweets it along with the caption great hubs, great dog, what more can a guy ask for. oh right, hockey. #thanksGary.

And yeah, maybe that one wasn’t blatant enough, because the next morning he’s got a lot of responses that are basically teenage girls cooing at him and rude jackasses chirping him, but no one seems to have gotten it. Apparently if he wants people to believe him, he’s going to have to go balls to the wall.

As soon as he figures out how to do that. Maybe after dinner. He’s really hungry.

 

:::

 

Here’s the thing: Segs like, really loves Tyler. For a long time he thought it was just that they’d been having really awesome sex on and off since juniors (not that Ty was his first, okay, he wasn’t, Segs had been having sex like a boss before he went to Plymouth and fuck anyone who says different), because like, Tyler’s hooked up with a lot of guys and even more girls, but it’s never been quite as good as it is with Ty. And somewhere along the way that turned into actual feelings. Who knew.

But he’s never actually said it out loud. Because like...what if Ty doesn’t? That would really suck. He says he loves Segs, but that’s usually during sex and like-- Segs is pretty spectacular at sucking dick, not to toot his own horn or anything. He’d say he loved him too.

Except then one morning they’re in the kitchen, moving around like total zombies because it’s ridiculously fucking early (Ty’s morning skate is basically a dawn skate) and Marshall is winding around their legs, trying to trip them and kill them so that he can have their breakfasts, and Ty just like-- says it in between bites of cereal.

Segs blinks. “Whuh.” Thankfully he realizes pretty quickly that’s not like, an acceptable response. “I mean, I love you too.” Oh. Cool. Awesome. Not that he fist pumps or anything.

(Spoiler alert: he does.)

Tyler snorts. “You’re an idiot.”

“Whatever, you love me,” Segs sing-songs, leaning over the island to give him a smacking kiss. “Go away, you’re gonna be late.”

“Rude.” Tyler takes an extra minute to finish his cereal, then to kiss him again, lingering over this one. It goes on long enough that Segs is able to grab his phone and snap another picture, this one a full-on disgusting couple makeout shot, before Ty shoves his hand away. “Seriously, dude?”

“Look, people don’t believe me, babe. I need hard evidence.”

There’s silence for a long moment, then, “I hope you realize that it’s proof of how much I love you that I’m totally ignoring that.”

“Yeah, I appreciate it.”

He posts this one right away, captioning it why am I up so fucking early. oh right this guy. This will definitely get a response.

Spoiler alert: it does. Sadly, the response is basically “Oh hey, Tyler Seguin’s playing gay chicken with one of the bros from his harem again” (and when did the internet decide he has a harem, although, okay, tiny bit accurate-- in the past, anyway. He’s obviously a one-dude guy now).

Back to the drawing board, then. (And what are drawing boards, anyway?)

 

:::

 

Over the next week, he posts a series of pictures that would put any fifteen year old girl with a Facebook and her first boyfriend to shame (and he knows from fifteen year old girls with Facebook, because Candace and her first boyfriend were the worst, he still wants to send Big Z after that guy). All of the pictures involve him kissing Ty, although one is on the cheek, and sport such captions as best boyfriend ever <3 and this is love, bitch and Segs’ personal favorite, don’t you wish your boyfriend was hot like mine, complete with musical note emojis around the lyrics.

“It’s not working,” he whines, falling onto the couch next to Ty, who doesn’t even look away from where he’s thoroughly trouncing Coots in MarioKart.

“That’s because this isn’t really new behavior for you,” Coots says helpfully. “It’s like the boy who cried wolf, Segs. You post enough pictures of yourself with a bunch of half-naked dudes, people are going to stop caring.”

Which, okay, isn’t a bad consequence at all, except for that now he wants people to care.

“So what are you saying, I’m like, the boy who cried gay?”

He gets up and leaves when Coots falls off the other sofa laughing. And it’s possible that on the way down the hall, he texts Hallsy and asks him to board the hell out of that guy the next time the Phantoms play OKC. Like, if his shoulder’s up to it, obviously.

 

:::

 

“What do you want?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Segs asks, pulling a face.

Ty just like, fixes this stare on him. “You only sigh like that, all passive-aggressive and shit, when you want something.”

Segs frowns. “Why can’t I just sigh?”

“Because you-- will you just tell me what’s up?”

“I think we might need to like, actually get married.”

Ty blinks. “Yeah, that’s not where I thought you were going with this.”

“No, but, hear me out.” And because he’s (hopefully) only gonna do this once, Segs drops to his knee in front of where Tyler’s sitting on the couch, yanking at the Ring Pop in his pocket until it comes out and then unwrapping it. “Check it out. Blue raspberry, whaaat. But seriously. I want you to be my husband and shit. Like, this is awesome and I want it to keep being awesome.”

“Wow.” Ty nods slowly. “No, yeah, that’s the sweetest proposal I’ve ever gotten, dude.”

“Fuck you, I’m serious about this. And don’t even front, you know you want to be legally bound to me for the rest of your life and whatever.”

“Ugh, fine,” Ty says, all salty, like he’s doing Segs a favor or some shit, but he’s grinning like an idiot and Segs knows he is too.

Later, after they call their parents and then have a couple totally awesome rounds of “we’re engaged” sex (and like, Segs thought maybe they’d peak by now, but they just keep getting better-- it’s clearly just further proof of his awesomeness) he sits straight up in bed, jostling Ty, who groans.

What.”

“I gotta tweet the news, dude!”

“Seriously. Again.”

Yes.

“Fine.” Ty even plays along, putting the Ring Pop on and pulling one of those stupid surprised faces while Segs kisses his cheek and basically tries to make it the cheesiest photo ever.

He posts it with the caption HE SAID YES!!!. Ty grabs his own phone and tweets actual proposal: i want you to be my husband and shit. damn, he's romantic.. Yeah, he’s totally getting woken up with a kickass blowjob in the morning for that one. Like, if Segs remembers to set his alarm so that he’s up before Ty has to go to practice (he usually sleeps in before he goes to the gym or one of the rinks in the area, because it’s the fucking lockout and he can and also yolo).

Not only does he remember to set it, he sets it early enough that there’s time for Ty to blow him too, which is like the greatest start to his day ever. He doesn’t even think to check Twitter till after Tyler leaves.

Which is good because it means Ty gets to escape all the whining he wants to do when still no one really believes him.

BizNasty replies with oh look you finally put a ring on it, because he’s that kind of douche, and Ference is all they grow up so fast. sorry to all the hearts he broke along the way-- watch your back @tbrown121 but like, everyone else just waves it off, because apparently since he and Tyler have been calling each other husband and wife for years, stuff like that can’t be taken seriously.

He’s face down on the couch when Ty gets home from practice, a long morning of people being stupid behind him.

“What’s your deal?”

“Nrmeblvsme.”

“Use your words, man.”

Segs lifts his head. “No one believes me.” He’s well aware he’s working up to an epic pout, but what the fuck ever, he’s allowed. “I even called Cabbie to see if he’d do a podcast so I could get it out there that way and he thought I was trying to prank him!”

Ty is very blatantly trying not to laugh. Segs pinches his thigh.

“Sorry. Just....okay, let me try it my way?”

Segs narrows his eyes. “What do you have in mind, though.”

“Just-- hey, do you trust me or not?”

“I mean, mostly.”

Mostly?”

“Ugh, get off me, you octopus, yes, fine, I trust-- Jesus, uncle.”

 

:::

 

Sitting Down With Tyler Brown
11 January 2013

After today’s practice, we were able to briefly grab Tyler Brown and ask him a few questions before tomorrow’s game against the WBS Penguins....

[....]

When asked what he gets up to when he’s not on the ice, Brown laughed out loud. “Uh, play with the dog, I guess? Marshall’s kind of turned into a spoiled little monster, though. It’s mostly because Segs-- Tyler Seguin, my fiance?-- is at home like, all the time when he’s not training, so he pretty much lets him do whatever he wants. I’d love for the lockout to end just so that Segs will get off my couch and go back to Boston. I love him and I’ll miss him, but he gets really whiny when he’s not playing hockey.”