CHAPTER 5- Go on...tell me how much you hate this....

The bass thumped through the walls of The Icehouse, the team’s favorite upscale club downtown. Neon blue and white lights pulsed across the crowded dance floor, reflecting off glass tables and mirrored columns like shards of ice. The Wolves had reserved the entire VIP section — bottle service flowing freely, private leather booths arranged in a loose circle, and a bouncer stationed at the entrance to keep the regular crowd out. Laughter and shouts already filled the air. This wasn’t just a night out. It was Raphael Thorne’s official welcome party, and the boys were determined to make it memorable.

Liam knew he had to come out to show team spirit and bonding or else he'd look like a bitter and sulking captain who couldn't accept that his rival had become the golden boy of his team.

Liam sat slumped in the corner of the largest booth, nursing what had to be his fourth whiskey. The glass felt slick in his palm from condensation and nerves. Around him, the team was loud and loose, shouting over the heavy beat, clapping Raphael on the back like he was some long-lost brother returning home.

“Another round for the new guy!” Marcus yelled, slamming a shot of tequila down in front of Raphael. “Show us how the Reapers party, Thorne!”

Raphael grinned that same cocky, unbothered grin Liam hated  and tossed the shot back without flinching. The guys cheered wildly. A couple of girls who had wandered over from the dance floor laughed at something Raphael said, one of them touching his arm as he leaned in to reply.

Big Mike leaned forward, grinning. “So, Thorne, you really into dudes too? Or is that just a rumor you've carried with you for so long?."

Raphael laughed, low and easy, setting his empty shot glass down. “I like who I like, man. Had a couple serious girlfriends back in the day. Had a couple boyfriends too. Doesn’t change how I hit or how I pass. Simple as that.”

The table erupted in a mix of laughs and snide remarks. Liam forced a tight smirk along with them, but inside his stomach twisted with disgust. He hated how comfortable Raphael looked. Hated how quickly the team was accepting him.

Marcus nudged Liam’s shoulder hard enough to slosh his drink. “You good, Cap? You’ve been quiet all night. What's got you in your feelings?”

Liam shrugged and accepted a fresh whiskey from the server. “Just not in the mood to be social.”

Raphael’s eyes flicked over to him from across the table, amusement sparkling. “You need another drink, pretty boy? Looks like you’re falling behind.”

“Don’t call me that,” Liam hissed, but the pulsing music swallowed most of it. He took a long sip instead, letting the burn settle in his chest.

The night kept loosening up. More shots appeared. Someone dragged Liam onto the dance floor for a stupid group chant about the Wolves. Lights flashed. Bodies pressed close in the crowd. Liam’s head was already starting to spin somewhere around his sixth or seventh drink. The alcohol made everything feel distant and too loud at the same time.

Back at the booth, Marcus suddenly clapped his hands. “Alright, alright! enough dancing like idiots. Since Thorne’s officially one of us now, we gotta do this the right way.” He grinned, leaning forward with mischief in his eyes. “You know the tradition. Never Have I Ever. Let’s welcome the new rookie properly and see what kind of shit he’s made of.”

The guys roared in approval. Pouring more alcohol into their glasses. Raphael raised an eyebrow but looked game. “I’m in. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Marcus started strong. “Never have I ever scored on my own goalie during practice.”

A couple of rookies drank and laughter followed.

Big Mike went next looking directly at Marcus as she spoke. “Never have I ever hooked up with a puck bunny in the arena parking lot.”

Half the table drank, including Marcus, who took his shot with pride.

It was Raphael's turn next. He leaned back, thinking for a second before smirking. “Never have I ever turned down a threesome.”

The table exploded in cahtter. A few guys drank, including Big Mike. 

"I've never even been asked for a threesome mate!" A rookie grumbled jokingly.

Raphael just chuckled and glanced at Liam. “Your turn, Captain.”

Liam’s head was fuzzy, but he forced something out. “Never have I ever… been kissed by my fellow guy.” it was a direct attack on Raphael and everyone knew it.

Raphael drank immediately, locking eyes with him across the table. “Guess I’m guilty there.”

Marcus whistled. "The legendary Thorne!"

The table laughed and within seconds they'd move past it like it had never happened.

The game rolled on, the shots flowing faster. Marcus, clearly enjoying himself, leaned in with a wicked grin. “Alright, this one’s good. Never have I ever gotten dumped right after sex because I couldn’t… finish the job properly.”

The table howled and their attention was solely on Liam. Liam felt heat crawl up his neck. He tried to play it cool, but he silently cussed Marcus as he reluctantly took a long drink from his whiskey.

Marcus barked out a laugh. “Oh shit, Cap! You still sore about that time with Sarah? She told half the team you were so stressed about the playoffs you couldn’t even get it up after she rode you for twenty minutes!”

The booth erupted in loud, crude laughter. Liam forced a chuckle, but the embarrassment burned. “Fuck off, Marcus. Ancient history.” he tried to sound aloof but his embarrassment wouldn't even let him look Thorne's way.

Raphael watched him with interest, his smirk deepening but saying nothing for now.

The game continued, drinks kept coming, and Liam’s world tilted more with every round. By the time the group started breaking up, he was so drunk that his legs felt wobbly and his head was swimming.

Raphael appeared beside him near the exit as the team filtered out. “You’re hammered, Lannister. Time to get you home.”

“I’m fine,” Liam slurred, trying to pull away. The cold night air hit him like a body check as they stepped outside. The sidewalk tilted dangerously.

Raphael caught his arm in a firm grip. “Yeah, you’re real fine. Come on, Captain. I’ve got you.”

The walk back to the apartment was a hazy blur of quiet streets and Liam’s stumbling steps. Raphael kept hold of his elbow, guiding him steadily.

“You always drink like this when you’re pissed off?” Raphael asked, voice low against the night.

“Only when my life gets fucked by trades,” Liam muttered back, words clumsy.

Raphael huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t let go.

Liam was pissed that Raphael was just too nonchalant for his liking.

By the time they pushed through the apartment door, he was done holding anything back.

He yanked his arm free the second the door clicked shut, nearly losing his balance. “Get your fucking hands off me. I don’t need help from you.”

Raphael locked the door and turned, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re drunk off your ass. Sit down before you break something.”

Liam stumbled toward the kitchen, bracing himself on the counter. “You don't tell me what to do in my house! This is my house! You shouldn’t even be here. None of this should be happening.” His voice rose with every word, the alcohol fueling the fire.

 “You and your constant bullshit! the teasing, the ‘pretty boy’ crap, parading around half-naked like it’s normal. You think you can just show up and make everything about your gay shit?”

Raphael stepped closer, his expression hardening. “It’s not ‘gay shit.’ It’s my life. I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve had boyfriends. It doesn’t make me less of a man, and it sure as hell doesn’t make me your problem.”

Liam laughed bitterly, spinning around too fast. The room swayed. “You are my problem! You’ve been in my head for two seasons, whispering your disgusting crap on the ice, and now you’re in my room. In my space. I have to smell you, hear you, deal with you every single fucking day.”

He shoved Raphael hard in the chest. Raphael staggered back a step, then shoved back harder. Liam’s back hit the wall with a thud.

“You really want to go there?” Raphael growled, voice low and dangerous. He planted one hand on the wall beside Liam’s head, leaning in. “You’re so fucking scared of me, Lannister. Scared of what? That I might actually be right about you?”

"What the fuck do you mean by that?!" Liam growled.

Liam’s chest heaved. They were too close now, barely inches apart, both breathing hard from anger, alcohol and adrenaline. Raphael’s body heat radiated against him. His dark eyes bored into Liam’s, intense and unreadable. The air felt thick, charged with something ugly and electric.

"You know exactly what I mean by that pretty boy. Stop deluding yourself, thinking you're fucking straight."

Liam’s fists clenched at his sides. His heart slammed against his ribs as he shook his head furiously, denying with all the strength he could muster. He opened his mouth to snarl a reply, but Raphael shifted even closer, their faces now dangerously close, their noses touching.

Time seemed to slow.

Raphael’s voice dropped to a rough whisper. “Go on, Captain. Tell me how much you hate this…”