Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Eric Bennett/Kyle Swift

Characters:

Kyle Swift, Eric Bennett, Maria Villanueva

Additional Tags:

Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kyle Swift Loves Eric Bennett, Eric Bennett Loves Kyle Swift, Kyle Swift Needs A Hug, Feelings, Morning Kisses

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Mornings, Part 17 of Incremental Gains

Stats:

Published: 2026-10-21 Words: 1,268 Chapters: 1/1

The Wrong Kind of Sleeping In

Summary

Eric Bennett loved him, all day, every day, and he showed it in a million tiny ways.

It was the kind of thing he and Maria used to make fun of.  Curled up on the couch, watching holiday movies and dramatically recounting their own misadventures in love.  Alternately scathing about how unrealistic the plot line was and envious of characters who could casually bump into the love of their life on what they thought was their worst day ever.

Kyle couldn’t remember if he’d bumped into his, but he knew it wasn’t the worst day of his life.  It had been an average shift at the Kingfisher and predictably forgettable.  Which only felt like something he should feel guilty for in hindsight, since it turned out of the dozen or so people he’d bumped into that night, one of them was finally the man who would love him back.

The kind of man who told all of his friends about Kyle as soon as he possibly could.  The kind of man who held his hand in public and took him to restaurants that didn’t have private rooms to hide away in.  The kind of man who was sincere when he said he was happy to tag along to distilleries and vineyards, despite having drunk zero ounces of alcohol since before the age of twenty-five.

Kyle still hadn’t succeeded at getting the details of that story out of him, but he had time.

A thought that still sometimes scared him into a bad mood.

For once, the man who hugged him close and passed him the salt and fucked him senseless wasn’t planning on going anywhere.  And he didn’t have any plans to send Kyle away when the shine of a young, handsome, easy good time wore off.

Eric Bennett loved him, all day, every day, and he showed it in a million tiny ways.

Like how every day, after rolling out of bed and brushing teeth and grabbing clothes, Eric kissed Kyle on the forehead before heading upstairs to do his sunrise yoga.  Always always.

On the mornings after they’d had a fight.  On the mornings when all Kyle did was grunt in response.  One the mornings when Kyle was dead to the world and didn’t even register it was happening.  On snowy mornings and rainy mornings, at their home in downtown New York City or in a hotel in Athens, whether Eric was sick or Kyle was sick or the lady who delivered the mail was sick.

Always always.

It was the cheesiest thing a younger Kyle and a younger Maria would ever have been able to come up with, and some mornings Kyle laid in bed, listening to his partner in life pad softly out of their bedroom, the thick extra blanket pulled up almost to his nose, and tried to talk himself out of crying about it.

Because having a partner who made the effort to start his day with a declaration of affection, every day, no matter what else was going on in their lives, was a good thing.  A great thing.  Maybe the best thing.

It was just that some mornings, it reminded him of all the other guys who hadn’t done any such thing.

Which didn’t help, because Eric had played goalie for more than half of his life.  He was good at noticing things.  Moving pucks.  Sneaky players.  Sniffing sounds that Kyle was sure were too quiet for normal human ears to hear.

And on the mornings that Kyle was feeling overwhelmed by memories that weren’t quite dead and feelings that hadn’t quite healed, those bare feet would pause by the door, super human ears listening, before padding back toward the bed.  The mattress dipping behind Kyle as the blankets shifted.  A strong arm wrapping around him while a solid chest tucked itself against his back and the mouth that always quirked into a smile when it saw him pressed a second kiss against his shoulder.

“Sweetheart?”

Fighting, unnecessarily, against his display of emotions, Kyle burrowed backwards into Eric’s chest.  The sob winning no matter how hard he tried to make it sound like a hiccup.

The arm around his waist squeezed.  “Hey…”

That Eric was willing to skip his beloved yoga for a day was always more than Kyle’s emotions could take on mornings like this.  Growling at his inability to shove his feelings into a box and pretend they didn’t exist, Kyle rolled over and buried his face in Eric’s chest.  His own chest shaking as things that weren’t true anymore bounced around his head, making him feel small and stupid and unworthy.

It was a fucking crime that therapy didn’t work overnight.

Eventually, like every morning that started this way, the feelings passed.  Disappearing back into the darkness with the rest of the scary and sad and painful things.  Leaving behind morning sunlight dimmed by shades and the quiet sounds of the heating system and the feeling of Eric’s chin resting on the top of his head.  Waiting patiently until he could do more to help than simply hold on and mumble nonsense sounds.

Maybe that was what made mornings like this hard.  Because some days even Hallmark wouldn’t think a guy like Eric was real.

But he was, and he was here, and as Kyle settled against him, he pressed a third kiss to Kyle sleep-destroyed blond hair.  Because of course Eric was the kind of guy who didn’t care about bed head or dark circles or drool that had dried on Kyle’s chin.

“You should see what hockey players look like in the morning,” Eric grinned.  “You’d never doubt your own good looks again.”

Having woken up to Eric’s handsome visage nearly every day for years now, Kyle didn’t buy that bullshit for a second.

But it was thoughtful, and kind, and very Eric, and at least Kip would agree with Kyle when he called him later to bitch about how hard it was to be loved by men who might, despite their own protests, be perfect.

“It’s OK,” Eric murmured, speaking the words into Kyle’s hair.  “I’m here.  It’s OK.”

It had been the kind of thing he and Maria used to make fun of.  The idea that the lovers ever stayed together after the credits.  As if a few weeks in a cute Christmas town or a picturesque Irish village or at a summer beach retreat would ever be enough to prove that it was love.  And he still didn’t believe it.  Anyone could be anyone for a few weeks.  But despite years of trying to callous over his own heart in the name of having fun without getting hurt, maybe one of these days he’d be able to concede the movies were right about something.

Not that people who’d only known each other for three weeks could be madly in love.

But that the right guy did exist.  That he didn’t leave.  That someone like Kyle could be an actual mess - not the convenient kind, but an illogical, emotional, stubborn mess - and the guy he’d told himself he’d given up dreaming of would still love him.  Still hold on to him.  Still kiss his forehead every morning and make them both eggs and listen to Kyle’s latest ramblings about themed events.

Eric Bennett loved him, all day, every day, and he showed it in a million tiny ways.

And today, one of those ways was staying in bed long past when he wanted to get up, letting Kyle get snot on his chest and pretending he thought bad hair was sexy.  And like every morning that started this way, Kyle didn’t think he’d ever be able to feel more loved.