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parvuls · 3 years

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fic: need seek no further

Jack shrugs. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

a disgustingly fluffy, plotless ficlet about how well jack knows bitty and how he perfected the skill of nonverbal communication through the force of sheer will. also, the frogs.

read on ao3

Dex called Bitty one evening in early May, let Bitty shower him with hellos, and then stated, “We won the NCAA championship.” He said it matter-of-factly, like maybe Jack and Bitty hadn’t been there when it happened, like Jack hadn’t watched him cling to Bitty for a full minute after the stands had spilled onto the ice.

“You did,” Bitty replied, raising his eyes to meet Jack’s with confusion wrinkling between his brows. His phone was set on the kitchen island between them, Dex’s voice filling their kitchen through speaker phone while Bitty’s floured hands were busy kneading dough. Jack was keeping him company on another last-minute testing session for his rhubarb pie recipe, even though the last proof of his book had been approved by his editors over two weeks before. Jack was running out of team members to send leftovers to.

“And Whiskey got voted captain,” Dex continued.

Jack watched as Bitty squinted down at his phone. Bitty had spent half an hour on the phone with Whiskey the night of the banquet; he hadn’t disclosed the details of their conversation to Jack, but his face when he’d returned to their room, had sat down next to Jack on the bed and had leaned his forehead on Jack’s bicep for a long while -- Jack had seen that face before. Had known that expression meant pride.

“So we were talking about it just now,” there was the sound of more people whispering furiously in the background, and Jack thought he could maybe hear Chowder’s unsteady voice calling out, hey Bitty!, and only then he began contemplating the solid possibility that Dex may have been a little drunk. “And -- so we won last year, with you, and now we won again, and we wanna keep winning, right? So we gotta make sure to keep doing everything that’s working.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bitty said agreeably, faintly amused. It was obvious to Jack from his tone that Bitty, at least, had already realized Dex was a little drunk, but was only too happy to play along.

“‘Swawesome,” Dex said fervently, like Bitty had agreed to something very important. “So you see why Whiskey’s gotta learn to make a pie.”

That stopped Bitty in his tracks. Jack blinked, watched Bitty’s long fingers halt their motions in the dough, the pressure of his fingerprints leaving crescent grooves behind. “William Joseph, that doesn’t make a lick of sense,” he said, and narrowed his eyes at the screen of his phone like Dex could feel their weight on him through the line. But then he seemed to think it over again, and the pitch of his voice rose as he demanded, “Wait, are you sayin’ Whiskey’s willing to learn how to bake?”

“He says he’ll do it for the win,” Dex said, and Bitty gaped at the phone, then gaped at Jack, and with his cheeks pink and his eyes wide he exclaimed, “Of course I’ll do it!”, like there’d ever been any other option to consider.

Jack kept it to himself, but he had no doubt in his mind that there hadn’t been.

Dex, Chowder and Nursey wait for them at the doorway of the Haus, broad shoulders wedged together in the narrow doorframe.

Bitty had said before they left home, “You don’t have to come, sweetpea,” and Jack had said, simply, “I want to,” and had meant it. It was only in the summer months that Jack had the privilege to see his friends whenever he wished to, and now that the Falconers were out of the playoffs -- well, Jack was feeling a little more withdrawn lately, even quieter than usual, but this felt like something he genuinely wanted to do with the time on his hands. There was also the fact that soon the frogs would graduate, and with them gone Jack would be too far removed to visit the Haus comfortably, even if Bitty still could.

Right now Jack could, and he wanted to, so Bitty and he got in Bitty’s car and drove the forty-five minutes down to Samwell, Bitty’s phone hooked through the aux and his hands tapping on the wheel to the beat. He was nervous, although Jack wasn’t sure exactly why -- only knew it was obvious in Bitty’s restless hands and the frequency he switched songs midway through. Jack reached out and placed his hand on Bitty’s thigh, squeezed, and let Bitty burn his nervous energy whatever way he deemed best.

“We did all the shopping!” Chowder announces as Jack and Bitty walk up the porch steps, and then immediately bounces forward and wraps Bitty in a hug. His long limbs envelope Bitty within them, and soon Jack’s dragged into their circle, too, feels Nursey’s arms fold around his shoulders and Dex’s tentative hand patting him on the back. It doesn’t overwhelm him like it could’ve, maybe, a year or two ago -- it just feels nice, familiar, welcoming. A display of affection he readily returns.

When the huddle breaks, the five of them shuffle through the door and head straight into the kitchen. It looks about the same as it has since Bitty took over it five years ago -- no longer just a room with a fridge full of beers and a broken down table, but a real kitchen, with Suzanne’s hand-sewn curtains and clear countertops and the oven that Jack is still irrationally fond of. Although it seems like it’s been revamped in the months since Jack has last seen it; the cupboards’ hinges are no longer busted, and there are actual shelves stacked along the walls. Jack assumes the likely suspect is Samwell Men’s Hockey current captain, and has to curb a revealing smile that would surely draw questions. It’s another unspoken team tradition, Jack thinks, recalling freshman Will Poindexter: no one leaves it entirely unchanged.

“Y’all are joining us for some baking lessons?” Bitty asks Nursey and Chowder, hand almost unconsciously drifting over the edge of the counters. He looks good there, really, looks right. He’s not the same as he was when he graduated and certainly not the same as when he first claimed this kitchen, but to Jack, Bitty would always look right in the sun streaming through the Haus’ dusty windows, puttering between pots and pans.

“Nah, C and I will get out of your hair for that, but Whiskey isn’t back yet so we’ve got some time. And anyway --” Nursey glances sideways at Dex and Chowder, fails at stifling a smile, “uh, the waffles heard you were coming today, Bits.”

“Going by their reaction, they’ve definitely missed you,” Dex says, arms crossed over his chest, his face serious but a single upwards quirk to the corner of his mouth. It could be a chirp at the waffles, maybe, but Jack is almost certain that it’s sincere nonetheless.

Bitty turns to the shopping bags spread across the counter and starts picking them apart, taking out the ingredients for inspection before setting them down with that same nervous energy, the one that rarely ever follows Bitty into his domain in the kitchen. Jack watches him smile at Dex, honest but jittery, and realizes what he should’ve already known -- how very important it is to Bitty that this goes perfectly.

“Oh, bless them, I’ve missed them too! I’ll tell them hello so we can get started right after,” Bitty says, setting down a bag of brown sugar and taking out a packet of butter from the bag. He looks -- momentarily disappointed, and Jack frowns, searches Bitty’s face. It’s probably only visible to Jack, who recognizes the subtle shift in Bitty’s jaw and the fleeting movement of his eyebrows, but still. He follows Bitty’s eyes down to his hands and to the butter in them, and surveys it for a moment, deep in thought.

“You’ve got two seconds to prepare yourself, bro,” Nursey warns, and then Bully, Hops and Louis descend loudly into the kitchen, flock around Bitty like ducklings. Bitty’s always had that effect on hockey players, on people, even before he got the C. It’s with intense fondness that Jack thinks it, knows the feeling intimately as someone who’s lucky enough to experience that affect every day. He can’t blame them for the way they beam down at Bitty, fight for his attention, laugh when he laughs at the rising volume of their clashing, simultaneous stories.

It’s a good opportunity if nothing else, though, so Jack shoulders his way between Bully and Louis, brushes two fingers over Bitty’s elbow to get his attention. When Bitty turns his head, Jack takes advantage of his height to lean in and say into Bitty’s ear, “Hey, bud, I’m stepping out for a moment.”

Bitty smiles at him, reaches up to stroke a hand down Jack’s cheek just warmly enough to be soothing, just quickly enough to be appropriate. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and thinks, it will be. He pauses, looks down threateningly at the waffles, and leans in to kiss Bitty's temple swiftly, before someone he can’t intimidate as easily as these sophomores could try fining him for it. The space he leaves between Bully and Louis closes as soon as he leaves their side, Bitty disappearing from sight behind their tall forms, but the sound of his cheerful laughter rings after Jack as he walks out of the kitchen and exits through the front door.

When Jack comes back he has to open the door one-handed, the other one busy clutching the handles of a grocery bag. His cap is pulled down low, a protective measure from the crowd that swarmed the Stop and Shop on Pemberton, so it takes a few steps into the Haus’ hallway for him to notice Whiskey hovering in the kitchen doorway, apparently stopped right on his way out of it.

“Jack,” Whiskey looks surprised -- or maybe still mildly star-struck, Jack has always had trouble telling with his face. “You’re here. I haven’t seen you.”

“Got some stuff from the shop,” Jack raises the bag by way of explanation, adjusts his hat, and after a brief moment of stillness hunches his shoulders to bypass Whiskey into the kitchen.

Whiskey bends his neck to peer down into the bag as Jack passes. He looks somewhat horrified at what he finds, as much as Whiskey ever betrays his emotions -- a slight frown, a barely noticeable widening of his eyes. “We need more groceries for this thing?”

Jack shrugs, noncommittal. They don’t, really, but. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

The frogs and waffles have moved to the den while Jack was out -- he can hear them now, Bully’s low voice and Chowder’s quick speech and Hops’ rolling laughter -- but Bitty must’ve heard Jack come in, because he appears next to Whiskey in the kitchen doorway. His gaze darts between the two of them before it lands on the bag hanging from Jack’s fingers, and Jack reaches in to pull out one stick of butter, holding it out so Bitty can see the brand. Bitty’s eyes light up when he realizes, go round and bright, and he declares, “Sweetpea, you shouldn’t have!”, in the tone that means he’s beyond pleased that Jack did.

“That's more butter,” Whiskey says, staring at Bitty and then at the butter already stacked on the counter from the frogs’ shopping trip, clearly bewildered.

Jack twists his body, turns his back to them to find an empty spot somewhere on the counter. “Cabot has a half percent more fat, and Bittle likes his crust flaky,” he explains absently while emptying the contents of the bag onto the spot he chose. It’s important to Bitty that this goes perfectly, and while Jack can’t control Whiskey's abilities in the kitchen, wouldn’t be able to fix baking mishaps if those occur, this is something he can do. Make sure Bitty has the best conditions to work in, grant him a little peace of mind.

When he turns back around Whiskey is gone, and it’s only Bitty standing behind him, his eyes twinkling and his lips parted slightly.

“What?” Jack asks, confused.

There’s a long stretch of silence while Bitty just looks at him. Jack’s rarely comfortable with intense scrutiny from others, but Bitty -- Bitty’s gaze is soft, and he looks at Jack like he’s something good, something to admire. It’s a look he gives Jack often, usually accompanied by the gentlest of kisses, the warmest of hugs, the kindest of words. Sometimes Jack’s mind is slow to catch up, too stubborn to be convinced of his own worthiness, but this is the look Bitty gets when his emotions are broadcasted so loudly that even Jack’s mind has to pipe down and listen.

Bitty takes a few steps closer, grabs Jack’s palm between both his hands. “Marry me?” he asks breathily, with a smile curling at his lips.

Warmth flutters in Jack’s stomach at the words, and an answering smile grows on his own lips. The ring glints on Bitty’s finger whenever he moves his hands, is glinting now, where his fingers are curled around Jack’s in the sunny kitchen. It’s been a distraction many times in the past year, but each time Jack sees it he’s reminded of what Bitty and he have promised to each other. The future that is still to come.

There’s no one in the kitchen but them, and the Haus residents sound busy enough in the other room that no one would notice if Jack stole a lone moment. “Sorry, I can’t,” Jack deadpans, grabs Bitty by his hips and gathers him into his arms. His fingers slide over the soft fabric of Bitty’s clothes and find the gap between his top and his shorts, dipping inside to rub against Bitty’s warm skin. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m already engaged.”

“Leave him, then,” Bitty says without missing a beat. He tilts his head up to nudge Jack’s cheek with his nose, wraps his strong arms around Jack’s neck. His face is so close to Jack’s that Jack can count his pale eyelashes, can see the splotches of fading pink on his skin. He’s been spending a lot of time editing his cookbook on their balcony since springtime has arrived, and his body tans nicely but the bridge of his nose has been reddened and peeling for a while. “Run away with me.”

Jack can’t help the temptation, kisses Bitty’s right cheek and then his left one. “Sorry, bud.”

“Why ever not,” Bitty sighs, most dramatically, and uses his grip on Jack’s neck to lean his upper body backwards. “A man who knows his butters? You better believe I’m willing to fight for you, mister.”

It’s the sincerity in his voice that has heat prickling across Jack’s skin, raw pleasure squirming in his chest. It’s a futile battle, though, a battle Jack realized was lost when he dropped Bitty off at this very Haus after their very first summer together, longingly watched him skip up the stairs and thought, oh, I wanna marry him. “I can’t,” he tells Bitty quietly, pulls him closer so the words stay trapped between them, rough and intimate like a secret. “I love my fiancé too much.”

“Oh,” and Bitty flushes at this, red blossoming on the apples of his cheeks like he’s flattered -- like the ring around his finger hasn’t been there for a year, like Jack hasn’t taken to kissing it before kissing Bitty goodbye on nights he leaves for games; like Jack loving him too much to ever consider anyone else is still a novelty, a compliment, after all this time. “Well. Lucky him.”

Lucky me, Jack thinks, and bows his head to fit his mouth to Bitty’s in for a lingering sweet kiss.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits #zimbits fic #you'd think one would want to capitalize one's frogs and waffles. but bitty's lack of capitalization on twitter claims otherwise #and who am i to argue #pavfics

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Day Four: 12/17/20

On the fourth day of Ficmas, Hazel gave to thee, Sweater Weather behind the scenes!

Sweater Weather Outtakes. Sometimes I changed it because I feel like the pacing was off, which is the case in the first big chunk, and sometimes I changed it because I just wanted the plot to be different. I wrote a lot of the end of Sweater Weather in the very beginning before most of the fic was even written, just musing to myself about my boys winning the Cup. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of being outed.

(This takes place right after they were outed.)

Sirius was doing something wrong, and that was not calling Remus for two days.

Sirius stood. “So, we’re settled.”

Alice nodded. “We have our plan. Now, as Arthur says, we just have to wait for a few punches. Good thing you’re familiar with those.”

Arthur stood, too, and slapped Sirius on the back. “I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve let no one own you, and that’s hard for someone in your position. You’ve come a long way. See you on TV, eh?”

Sirius glanced at Remus, who was talking to Alice as they walked out of Coach’s office and into the hallway. “It hasn’t been without help. Merci, Coach. For everything.”

Sirius ducked out into the hallway, half expecting to find Remus gone, disappeared, to find all of this not real. He felt like he was floating above everything, dreading the comments that he knew to expect from others, kicking himself for running, fighting to be brave about it all.

Sirius had a lot of people making decisions for him.

This one was for him to make.

There Remus was, back turned, watching Alice disappear back into her office.

Sirius’ heart pounded as he reached out and lay a gentle hand on Remus’ back. He felt like he was going to collapse with it, with wanting to be alone with him, to say he was sorry, to say how thankful he was to have him. Remus turned and looked at him, face soft. He looked as tired as Sirius felt.

“Come with me?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded hurriedly and Sirius followed Remus towards the quiet room, where they seemed to be just making memory after memory. Remus shut the door and stayed against it for a moment, hands on the smooth wood.

Sirius took a few quick, nervous breaths. Looking at Remus, he was done trying to protect the both of them by pushing him away. He hurt without Remus and, by the set of Remus’ shoulders, he felt the same.

“Remus,” Sirius stepped forward, and Remus turned.

“I don’t care if I get fired,” Remus said suddenly, all in one breath, back against the door. “I want you. I care about you. Sirius, do whatever you need to, just talk to me about it so I can do what I need to—”

Sirius strode forward and took Remus’ face in his hands. Remus sank into his touch, like it pulled the tension coiled in his muscles. Like it was all he needed.

“I’m scared of a lot of things right now,” Sirius whispered, thumbs stroking across Remus’ cheeks. “But I’m the most scared of losing you.”

Remus’ lip shook, and he brought his hands up to hold Sirius’. “You are?”

Sirius hated that Remus even questioned it. He couldn’t seem to get close enough, pressing them together, feeling Remus’ warmth through his t-shirt.

“Remember what you said? What you said about people who told me I wasn’t good enough?”

Remus’ hands tightened around his wrists, eyes filling. He nodded. “I’d make you forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Sirius said softly. “But I didn’t need you to make me forget.” He stroked his thumbs through the slow tears that blinked down Remus’ cheeks. “I needed you, so I could see that they were wrong.”

Remus let out a tear filled breath, curving a hand around the back of Sirius’ neck.

“Re,” Sirius whispered, brushing their noses together. “I see now.”

Remus let out a laugh, half sob. “C’est l’heure?” He twisted his wrist, making his watch flash in the dim light. It’s time? he had asked.

Sirius smiled, tears in his throat, relief in his chest. “Oui, mon vœu.”

Remus pressed up onto his toes and kissed Sirius hard, breath hitching. Sirius let Remus clutch him close, craving the feeling of him after what felt like so long. He wrapped him up, his strong shoulders and slim waist, and buried his nose in his hair, breathing in.

They stayed like that, kissing and close in the semi-darkness. It didn’t matter if anyone walked in, Sirius suddenly realized with a thrill. It didn’t matter at all. He could hold Remus like this in the middle of the street if he wanted. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. The image of a burning jersey, his burning jersey. A chill crept in, but he pushed it back, holding Remus’ warmth closer. He was leaving tonight. He needed all the warmth he could get. It was as if Remus remembered, too, because then he was pulling back and pressing kiss after kiss to Sirius’ mouth, to his cheeks and jaw.

“I’ll miss you,” Sirius whispered. “I wish you were coming with me.”

Remus tucked his face into Sirius’ neck, hands locked around Sirius’ waist, resting at the base of his spine. “Me too.”

“My mother will be there,” Sirius’ voice shook despite himself. “Because my brother.”

“Maybe…” Remus pulled back just enough to look at Sirius. “Maybe it will help to see her. To talk to her. Maybe it will show you that she really has no say in your life. Not anymore.”

Sirius nodded. “I think, maybe, but I also…When I see her, I can’t help it, I get all…”

“Aw, baby,” Remus sighed and pressed his cheek to Sirius’ chest.

“What about you, your family? Have you talked to them?”

Remus made a guilty noise. “I texted them…I don’t know why, I just—I wanted to sort things out with you first. I couldn’t think about anything but you.”

“Remus,” Sirius sighed. “Merde, you’re so…this happened to you, too. How are you, mon loup?”

“Worried about you,” Remus laughed and then pressed his forehead to Sirius’ chest before looking up at him. “I’m…I’m actually okay. This isn’t how I wanted to tell my family but, when I talk to them…I get to talk about you, too.”

Sirius stared at him, smile slow. “Jules.”

Remus laughed again. “Oh my fucking god. I think he’s going to pass out.” He groaned. “God, I hope he didn’t see those pictures, though. That’s…I don’t know. I wish we could have surprised him, or told him together.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know yet,” Sirius offered. “Maybe we can.”

“Maybe,” Remus said, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’ll call them tonight.”

“Text me so I can call you when I get to the hotel?” Sirius asked hopefully, and Remus nodded.

“You better.”

“You wanna come over and help me pack?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re gonna get any packing done with me there?”

Sirius shrugged, ducking to brush their mouths together. “Maybe a little.”

Remus kissed him, and they pressed together for a few minutes, mouths hot. Remus laughed breathlessly as Sirius leaned against him, their kisses turning deeper.

“This sounds crazy, given everything,” Sirius said, dragging his mouth across Remus’ jaw. “But I feel—I’m relieved. Are you?”

“Yes,” Remus whispered, tilting his head back so Sirius could kiss more of his neck. “I can have you.”

“You could always have me.”

“Yeah,” Sirius could hear the smile in Remus’ voice. “But now I can have you wherever I want.”

Sirius grinned, biting gently on Remus’ jaw. “I’ll take you back to Sid’s and you can wipe food off my face all you want, cameras be damned.”

Remus laughed out loud. “My dream.”

“Should we get out of this dark room?” Sirius said softly after another lingering kiss.

Remus smiled and nodded.

Here’s a really early piece of dialogue I wrote where the team finds out about Sirius and Remus on the ice after they win the Cup:

“Holy shit,” Finn said tearfully. “You and the fucking Captain. I didn’t even know who I was talking to, did I?”

“No,” Remus laughed, and Finn kissed him right on the cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Loops, we’re in love and we have a Cup.”

“We really do. Proud of you, Harzy. All of you.”

“I love you.”

It came out of nowhere, slammed into Remus like a check to the boards, like a gust of pure, clean win across a frozen pond. He was blissful and awake with it.

“I love you,” Sirius said again, whispered against his skin. “I love you, Remus, je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime, mon loup, Remus…”

Sirius was gasping with it, as if the words were air themselves.

Remus clutched him, hands fisting his jersey. “I love you. God, of course, of course I love you, too.”

And here’s me almost giving Pascal a career ending injury during the playoffs, which Sirius and Remus overhear the Cubs comforting Logan about. Just incase the discord wants some angsty roads to go down :)

“Oh, sweetheart,” Leo’s voice came gently, followed by a low sob, probably from Logan.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Sweetheart Sirius mouthed, and Remus shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Logan said, voice thick. “I’ll be fine, let’s go, we need to play.”

“You’re not fine,” came a third voice, Finn’s, Remus realized. “And you don’t need to be. Lo, c’mere, please let us be here for you. C’mere.”

There was the unmistakable sound of a short kiss, and with that, Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm and pulled back back down the hallway as fast as he could. They ended up in Remus’ office, staring at each other.

“I…” Sirius began. “Okay, I don’t know what we just heard, but…”

“He’s being comforted by his—friends,” Remus said. “That’s all we know because…”

“They haven’t said anything yet.”

#12 days of ficmas 2020 lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove #wolfstar #coops #o'knutzy

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

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Quarter-Century

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mild heavy petting, but this is pretty tame, oh & lots of fluff, likely enough to kill someone, so watch out for that, k?

What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do.

Words: 3754

Notes: if i call this a drabble are y’all gonna get mad at me?

Quarter-Century quar·ter-cen·tu·ry /ˈkwôrdər/ - /ˈsen(t)SH(ə)rē/ noun a period of 25 years

Twenty-five.

It’s always spoken about like it’s some kind of milestone. Eh, it’s just another year, Kiyoomi thinks, tugging his sweaty shirt off of his back and walking toward the MSBY team dressing room, there’s nothing special about it.

He’d woken up at 5:25, taken his first shower, kissed your sleeping form absentmindedly on the cheek before he left the bedroom, and jogged the three miles to the training facility.

He’d worked on his digs, on his jump float, and looked over the drills. The team had two practice games and had huddled up for the review at the end, the same as always. As Kiyoomi made his way out of the locker room Atsumu and Bokuto had both clapped him on the back, joking about the fleeting joys of ‘youth,’ and congratulating him on his performance on the court before they all went their separate ways, each gliding along their own trajectory.

No, there’s nothing special about birthdays.

You’re not back from work when he gets home, so Kiyoomi pads around the empty apartment, flitting from room to room, disjointedly flipping on lights and switching them back off seconds later. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Should he take a nap? He could sleep off these uncharacteristic and frustrating jitters that keep coursing through him. No, he reconsiders naps just make him groggy and irritable. What else?

He’s showered twice today, there’s no need for another, and it looks like you’d cleaned up the living room and kitchen before you’d left for the day, so there’s nothing for him to clean either. Ugh, what’s with this restlessness?

There are old matches that he can watch, already primed and loaded onto his laptop, but it’s charging in the bedroom, likely tucked under some of your leaflets and various heapings of paperwork. It’d be a pain to move everything.

Eh, he could start a puzzle, maybe flip through some channels, see what’s on TV, and there’s that book that you’d told him he should check out, he’s weeks behind on starting that, but it’s in the bedroom too, and–

Damn it. It feels like he’s stuck in some kind of loop.

He flops down on the couch, tipping his dark head back, obsidian curls fanning around his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do. He smiles at that thought, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep exhale. It’ll be alright, he reasons, you’ll get back and he’ll shake himself out of this funk, and then maybe he can–

The sudden scrape of the lock turning makes him jump, and he pops his head up just as you step through the door, a smattering of canvas bags tucked under your coiled hands. You spot him as you tap the door closed, a broad grin lighting up your face. “Hey there!” you call out, stepping toward the kitchen to deposit your purchases. “Did you just get home? Practice go okay?”

“It went well,” Kiyoomi replies, hunching forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That reminds me, the next match is this weekend, you still planning on going?”

“Yeah!” you confirm, tucking a few things into the fridge before you pace over to his seated figure. “It’s right before the playoffs start, so it’ll likely be one of the last ones I can get a good seat to. Once you guys get in those end of season bouts it gets...Hey, you sure you’re alright? You look a little, I don’t know, downcast?” You kneel in front of him, your hands reaching, stroking gently over his hair and down his jaw.��

“I’m fine. Feel a little...off...is all. Happens.”

“Off?” you question, bright eyes finally catching his onyx. “Well, we can’t have that. Not today!”

“Hmph, it’s just a Saturday,” Kiyoomi huffs, catching your wrists and lowering your hands from his face.

“Yes,” you continue, watching as he distractedly toys with your hands, trailing his thumbs over your fingers and flipping your palms this way and that within his hold. “It’s also a Saturday where I’ve played the role of good– no great, girlfriend and got us some tickets! Surprise!”

“Tickets?” he echoes, his head cocking to the side as he lifts his gaze back to yours. “To what? If it’s some kinda concert, not to be an ass, but I don’t really want to go to a–”

“Really?” you deadpan, arching an eyebrow at his morose expression. “You think, after two years of dating, that I’d take you to a concert? You? Kiyoomi Sakusa, the man who is pretty much allergic to crowds, who completely dipped out of a shoe store once because there were five people in the ‘athletic wear’ section, who abhors the mere thought of tight spaces and groups of twenty or more, thought that I, his loving partner, decided to put some some color into his living nightmares, and on his birthday no less, by bringing him to a concert?”

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and exhales a tight laugh. “When you put it that way, no. But on the off chance that you did, and you’re trying to bluff your way out of the situation by over elaborating your reasons for not bringing me, well…I’m gonna have to decline the gift.”

You narrow your eyes at his impassive face and purse your lips. “And to think, I was gonna come over here and give you a kiss and everything.”

“You’ll still give me one,” Kiyoomi smarts, a coquettish smirk lifting his lips when you openly scoff at him. “So, out with it, what are the tickets to?”

“Oh? Now you wanna know? Suddenly you’re curious. Well you can hold on to that buddy, cuz’ I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why should I?”

“It’s my birthday,” he intones simply, broad palms already sliding up your arms, pulling you closer. You smell nice, Kiyoomi thinks, lips barely missing your own as you twist playfully away from him.

“Pfft, what happened to ‘it’s just a Saturday?’” you tease, following his insistent tugs, one knee pressing down into the cushions of the couch as you lower yourself over his lap.

“Changed my mind,” Kiyoomi states, finally catching you and caressing his lips sinfully against yours. “I’m allowed to do that,” he continues, sucking a rasp from you as he drags his sharp teeth across the plush swell of your lower lip. “Mmm, you might have gotten a little distracted, so let me repeat my question: what are the tickets to?”

He is genuinely interested; he wants to know what you’ve planned for the two of you, but his hands have already started that downward journey, long digits stroking over the curves that flow down your side, cupping and pulling just the way you like. Your knees lift when he buries his fingertips into the flesh of your upper thighs and you sigh, breath warm against his flushed cheeks.

Actually, this is fine. After all, he’s good at this. He’s had plenty of time to learn you, to practice, and he loves that he knows just what to do to make you quake between his heated palms. But when he jerks you closer, your lips slip from his and you’re careful to brace yourself away, momentarily safe from his distracting caresses.

“Baseball,” you pant, hands resting over the hard plane of his pectorals.

“Huh?” he queries, heavy brows furrowing, wholly distracted by the rise and fall of your uneven breaths and the gentle twitch of your spread legs against his hips.

“A baseball game. I got us tickets to a baseball game.”

“It’s smaller than what I was picturing,” Kiyoomi says, adjusting the placement of his mask before looking down at you. “And what are you gonna do with that bag? Can you even take that in here?”

You laugh at his question, hoisting the thick strap of your insulated pack higher on your shoulder. “It’s the Yomiuri Giants, they’re part of the minor league so it’s a smaller stadium and don’t worry, they let you bring coolers and snacks in.”

“Eh? Snacks? Don’t they have concessions? Seems counter-productive if they let you bring your own food. How are they supposed to make money? Atsumu said that half of our vendors make a good deal of their revenue from their booths during the playoffs and the regular season. So I don’t see how that’s practical. What do you have in there, anyway? It looks heavy. Oh. Did you want me to carry it?”

“I’m not sure which one of those I should answer first,” you grin, dodging his extended hand and stepping forward. “Come on, I think we can head in now.”

The seats are located in the shade of the upper deck, right behind the third base, giving you both a perfect bird's-eye view of the action that will take place down on the field below. True to your word, the ticket inspectors had let you and your pack pass through without a word of protest, and as he flipped down his plastic seat, you carefully tucked the thick canvas between the two of you.

“What’s in it?” he asked again, peering over your shoulder as you unzipped the long teeth and reached into the dark depths, hands searching for something.

“You’ll see,” you promise, leaning back once you found your prize, a small bottle of hand sanitizer. You pop the lid up and nod for his palms, carefully pressing some of the clear antiseptic onto his hands. “Game should start soon,” you inform, repeating the cleaning process yourself before closing the top and tossing the bottle back into the bag. “And I wanna make sure you’re set before I head down to the concession stands.”

“So it’s food,” he determines, slipping his mask off of his face, tucking it under his chin, an appreciative smile winding its way up his lips.

“Of course it is! You think I’d leave you to languish for 9 innings while I sit beside you, gorging myself on the delicious food they sell at the concessions, which you refuse to eat? Alas, not even I am that cruel. Nah, I brought something that I hope you’ll like.”

“I’ll like it,” Kiyoomi replies, resting his muscled shoulder against yours, watching as you arrange a few clear sets of Tupperware in your hands, lifting them evenly out of the bag.

“Careful,” you jab, tossing him a mischievous grin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “It’s from you; I’ll like it.”

Your hands still after his declaration and you twist your head back to him, eyes wide, searching his placid expression. “Okay,” you laugh, setting the Tupperware aside, fully turning to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, your other hand cupping his cheek, pulling him down to your seeking lips. “That was too much. There some sort of class you stoic types take? How to make others swoon in five lessons, or less?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, prying your hands from him. “It’s true. No need to make a big deal about it. You put a lot of effort into today, and I...I just think that...I mean...thanks,” he finishes lamely, dark eyes balefully avoiding yours. You chuckle again and reward him with another peck to his cheek.

“So cute.”

“Stop it,” he grumbles, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “Weren’t you gonna show me something? Better hurry. After all, there’s still time for me to mess it up.”

“What does that mean?” you puzzle, pulling away.

“I dunno. I always say the wrong shit. You know that.”

“Well,” you ponder, tapping a finger against your chin. “We’re at a baseball game, so, in the spirit of the sport, why don’t I give you three strikes?”

“Just three? I mean, wow, that’s so generous of you.”

You flash him a quick glare, tutting your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Oooh, swing and a miss. Strike one!”

He’s just about to give you some retort when you press two of the containers into his hands. The heat of the plastic feels nice against his calloused palms, and he can see the fresh steam that surrounds the food that’s waiting inside. “Onigiri?” he questions, popping the lid, mouth watering at the sight of all of that pristine rice. Damn, when did you have time to make these?

“Homemade onigiri with pickled plums,” you inform him, a gleeful smile lighting up your face, pleased that he’s already reaching for one, a look of genuine happiness falling over his usually impassive expression.

“You remembered,” he murmurs, picking up the carefully shaped ball and lifting it to his lips. He bites into the fluffy rice, fastidiously letting the flavors fall over his tongue and across his pallet. It’s perfect, he thinks as he chews, just the right amount of pickled savoriness and clean, delicate grains. Damn, when did you do all of this?

You let him finish the first onigiri before you pass him a can of beer. It’s chilled, likely sitting toward the bottom of the bag, and he flicks a stray chip of ice off of the rim. A sealed can of beer, a carefully packed meal. Is there anything you haven’t thought of?

He’s just about to turn, to tell you that...well, he’s not sure what exactly. Maybe it is something about how lucky he is. How he’s somehow stumbled into something so sublime, so wonderful, as you, and how he should tell you that more, when you stand.

“I’m going to hop down to the food stands. Inning should open up any minute. I’m glad this is an off season game, we’ve pretty much got this whole deck to ourselves! Be right back, ‘kay?”

He nods, eyes lingering on your hands, your smile, your eyes, just everything that he can see that’s you, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t. What’s he gonna say? Don’t go? Stay here. He’ll go down.

He’ll do whatever you want; anything for you, anything.

You tilt your head at his stony, almost stricken expression, but you don’t comment on it, content with tucking one of his stray curls behind his ear before you spring up the steps, stepping away from his overwhelmed and utterly entranced form.

Damn.

He’s scrolling through his phone when the 1st inning ends, thumb whisking over the lists of required paperwork, the $50 dollar notarial fee, the Kon-in Todoke, mentally counting up the required signatures, the necessary witnesses. This is crazy, he thinks, skimming over the U.S. Embassy & Consulate regulations on the ‘Affidavit of Competency to Marry’ in Japan, he hasn’t even talked with you about this, but he’s honestly never felt more sure of anything in his life.

Right as he flips to a secondary tab, one that holds a few jewelry stores and ideas about ‘how to pop the question,’ he catches sight of you. You slide down the row of empty seats, your hands filled with various snacks and a tall glass of foaming beer.

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting to take that long, I completely missed the 1st inning! Good thing no one scored. Hopefully things will liven up with the 2nd and 3rd innings.” You settle in beside him, setting your beer against the cold concrete before jostling your popcorn and hot dog to your opposite hand, eyes peering over the brightly lit field.

Kiyoomi bites back his grin and switches his phone off, obscuring the glittering pixels of diamonds and his future plans from view and tucks his device into his jacket pocket. You turn to look at him, your eyes narrowing and brow arching at his poorly controlled attempts to hide his giddiness.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replies, slinging a long arm around your shoulders, tugging you close and planting a quick kiss against your temple.

“Liar,” you accuse, leaning back, eyes following the sharp angles of his handsome face.

“What made you pick baseball? You feeling homesick or something?”

“Hmph, no! I just...hmm, how to put this. I figured it’d be nice to take you to a game that’s not volleyball. One that we can just watch. There’s no need to worry about analyzing anyone’s performance, or your own here…you can just relax.”

Kiyoomi cocks his head at you, a few errant curls falling over his brow. “Do I do that when we go to a volleyball game?”

You nearly choke on your beer. “Mmm...koff...do you do that? Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, obsidian eyes watching you closely. Wait, is he a pain to go to a game with?

“Kiyoomi?”

“Hmm.”

“I wasn’t about to take you to a volleyball game for your birthday. That’d be like you taking me back to the office and asking me to celebrate with you in the staff break room. I mean, I know you love the sport, but it’s your job. It’s what you do all day. Besides, the last time we went to a match I don’t think you said more than five words to me and you were constantly writing down the plays on your phone. I–Oh! That’s not a bad thing, not at all! It makes sense,” you amend, catching sight of his abruptly ashen expression.

“It’s just...you’re good...no good doesn’t cut it...you’re amazing at what you do. You’ve got that hunger that all the sports documentaries I’ve ever watched talk about and you’re constantly looking to improve. It’s impressive, really! But...I just thought this might be a change of pace. Something that we could both go to, could watch, with no additional stakes. Who cares who wins? I mean, I want the home team to, obviously, but we can leave here when it’s over and just take memories, not more worries or challenges. And definitely not any notes. Sorry, that prolly’ sounds so rude, but I really want you to relax today. You more than deserve it.”

“It’s perfect,” Kiyoomi confirms, finally leaning back against the strong plastic of his seat, pulling you closer, bringing his knee toward your thigh, pressing until he can feel the heat of you past the material of his jeans. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” you laugh. “It’s the least I could do. If you’re happy, then I’m happy! Oh! Speaking of, you gotta try this beer! It’s so good!”

He looks skeptically down at the plastic glass that’s still clutched between your fingers. “No. I’m not drinking out of that cup.”

“Kiyoomi,” you begin, fixing him with a hard stare. “You know we live together, right? If I pick anything up from this, then, and I hate to tell you this, but you’ll get it too, eventually.”

With a scoffed exhale and a curl of his lip he leans away from you, nose wrinkling distastefully at your threat.

“Come on,” you taunt, shaking the cup playfully in your hand, “You won’t regret it!”

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, you know that?”

“Never heard that before,” he laughs, coiling himself toward you, his arm around your back, squeezing you closer, holding on as tight as he can.

It’s dark when the two of you get back home, but you won’t let him flip on the overhead lights, not yet. “Just wait, gimme a sec. There’s one more thing I wanna do...why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll turn on the lamp and be right back, promise.”

Obediently, he perches on the edge of the cushions and waits.

He can hear you as you move around the kitchen, and he feels like he can still feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. Throughout the game, on the cab ride home, as he stood behind you in the darkened hallway, waiting for you to unlock the door, he’d kept his hands on you. It was like you were some kind of magnet and he couldn’t help but be tugged forward by your irresistible pull.

“Hey! Close your eyes!” you call, feet soft against the wood as you pad back to him. He shakes his head at your request, a faint smile pulling at his lips, but he obliges you. How can he not? “No peeking,” you warn, and he it’s like he can almost feel you again as you come to stand in front of him once more. “Alright…I think that’s good. Now...open them!”

The space in front of him is bathed in a soft glow, with whisking yellows and gentle oranges dancing, flickering across your arms. The light from the candle illuminates your face, catching against your eyes and making them shine, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing anymore.

“I know it’s not much,” you justify, cupping your fingers around the delicate flame and lifting the cupcake toward him. “But I learned my lesson last year. Got you that huge cake and the leftovers languished in the fridge for almost a week. And you know what they say, less is more, right?”

Without thinking, his hands race forward, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “Woah,” you exhale, a laugh bubbling from your lips. “Careful! I don’t wanna catch you on fire. Some birthday that would be. Come on, time’s a’wasting birthday boy, blow it out and make a wish!”

He’d lied earlier.

When he’d thought that there was nothing special about birthdays. There is something special about this birthday and, for the first time, he knows just what he’s going to wish for.

It’s easy to blow out the light. It’s a little harder to protect the cupcake from his downward tug, his hands insistent, firm, but somehow you safely tuck it behind you and twist back to him, fingers lacing into his onyx curls.

“What did you wish for?” you ask, settling yourself across his lap.

“Can’t tell you yet,” Kiyoomi answers honestly, lips already seeking yours.

“Huh? You’re not supposed to tell me at all!”

“Too bad,” he intones, silencing any further retorts with the heady persuasion of his caresses and wandering touch. “I’m gonna tell you soon. Now let me enjoy you.”

notes: hbd! shoutout to @albinoburrito for her excellent edits and suggestions :*

#hbd sakusa 🧁#sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #hq!!#hq #hq imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x y/n #drabble #sort of???#whatever #it's a drabble

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staal-eric-archives · 2 years

Text

title: true love’s kiss (part one; part two)

keywords: getting together; magic!eric; witch!eric; curse; magic au; true love’s kiss; gally is cursed; reunited

word count: 1,658

pairing: staallagher (eric staal x brendan gallagher)

you know... we loved teasing gally about it and i thought it was pretty legit to write something about it... and add a little magic to it. with some brainstorm ideas i made with @pawfield 💝

btw this will have multiple parts... so keep your eyes open for these! enjoy the first part!!!

~⁎~

Cursed. Brendan is cursed. He should know better after all but he fell right into the trap of the witch by laughing at her at this stupid bar. And now, he can't score any goals. No matter how hard he tries, it just doesn't work.

And it's like a running joke now and if Brendan found it kind of cute at the beginning, it definitely is not now since he really can’t score any goals. Yes, it’s sort of a weight on his shoulders.

When Marty came in, he said to him to take it easy. But Gally deeply knows it’s more than just time. It’s also magic but he doesn’t tell anyone first. At least, as long as he can.

The first to know is Lehky, of course. He’s the first one to notice that something else is wrong than just luck because Brendan has a ton of chances and can’t just miss it. “You’re what?”

“You heard me right the first time, ok?” Gally sighs.

“So, what do you have to do to break it?” Lehky asks him. And Gally blushes. That’s the stupidest and yet the most obvious answer for a curse to anything. “So?” Lehky impatiently asks.

Brendan tries not to die of embarrassment at this very moment and he can’t believe he’s finally going to confide in someone about this. “True love’s kiss?”

“Oh my god!” His friend laughs.

Gally buries his face of embarrassment. Of course, it’s true love’s kiss and the witch was crueller: for the curse to be broken, the feelings of the person he has to kiss has to go both ways.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, man…” It’s not ideal too. They’re heading West for their next team trip and it seems like the slump is going to continue. And it’s not like Gally tried to kiss some other girls. It just doesn’t work. The person has to have a deeper connexion with him.

And for now, he just sighs and tries not to think about it and not read anything about it. That’s until they reach Calgary to reunite with Toff.

“Eric is going to join us later.” Toff announces to them.

“Eric as in Eric Staal?” Cole gleefully asks.

Gally’s heart skips a beat when he hears Eric’s name. It can’t be real, right? The Eric Staal? The one he kissed so many times last year during the playoffs? The one and only? Toff seems more than sure and he doesn’t know how to react or how to be.

No one knows that they had a thing going on. Or they didn’t say anything to him after their run to the playoffs because Eric basically got back to Minnesota to see his kids.

He never really heard of him after that. A couple of texts sometimes but not enough to say that they were really in contact.

“Yeah, he’s coming to see us. He misses us, you know?” Toff adds. Yeah, Brendan read that too somewhere where he was reading articles and interviews about him and the Olympics. Eric was also very happy to see Marty in the Habs entourage.

Really, just in a very distant contact.

“That’s so cool.” Nick says.

And Eric shows up at the same moment. Sharp as ever, coming back from Beijing. Fresh haircut and beard and all. Brendan thinks he’s about to pass out but he tries to hide everything. He knows he’s blushing so he takes a sip of water to let it pass.

“Staalsy!” Cole runs immediately to him.

“Hi!” Eric laughs as he hugs the young rookie. “Looking good, eh?”

He runs into the guys and Gally stays lowkey. He doesn’t want to be obvious and he doesn’t want to show that he’s happy to see Eric back. He wants to show it but he doesn’t want the others to know.

It was their secret back then. It still is now. His heart races when Eric comes forward to him to hug him as he can hear a: “Hey.” in his ear. Their eyes meet.

They are still the same. Brendan blushes more. Eric and his goddam smile. “You look sharp.” Is the only thing he can replies to the vet.

Eric then sits next to Brendan for the rest of the evening when everyone catches up with him with the Olympics and his half-retirement plans. They also learn that Eric is very much divorced and that he’s basically available on the market…

Right? Nothing too shiny!

Eric is also in the attendance for tonight’s game with Cat, of course. And Brendan doesn’t score that night, of course but he feels a boost of energy. He also misses the net too many times he loses the counts. But Marty has faith in him. And he knows that… he may have a chance? Not just to break the curse but with Eric too?

They win in Calgary and they take the bus to Edmonton. Eric is also with them and he joins them for the short trip.

They talk later in their way to Gally’s hotel door. They’re basically the two of them. It’s getting late and Brendan doesn’t know what to say anymore. “It’s good to see you again, Staalsy.” Gally finally admits.

“Yeah, I missed you guys. I miss hockey sometimes.” Eric replies.

“I know I… read that somewhere.” Gally admits and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing again. He’s alone. With Eric Staal. It almost reminds him of their little talks and moments they had in the playoffs.

Eric seems surprised. “Really?”

“Well… uh, yeah? I kind of followed what you did after the playoffs and stuff…”

“Same for me. I didn’t stop following you guys since I left and it was good relieving this time since the last twenty-four hours or so.”

Brendan just simply can’t resist him anymore. He comes closer to him. “Relieving everything? Really?”

Eric bites his lips. “Kinda. Misses something though...”

And just like that, they naturally and clumsily find their way to kiss each other and Eric’s lips are soft against his as he can remember. He feels Eric’s arm around his waist, getting him closer to Eric’s body.

“Let’s bring this somewhere else, shall we?” Gally teases him as he takes Eric by the shirt to his hotel room.

A couple of minutes later, their respective clothes are all over the room and Brendan feels like he’s going to heaven because he missed Eric on the top of him, fucking him like there’s no tomorrow. Sex wasn’t the only thing Brendan missed but also his big arms around him and falling asleep in them.

The next day at game day, Brendan finally scores his goal and Eric watches him from the stands in Edmonton. He does think that the vet is the one who cheered the loudest for him in the audience.

Oh, and he even forgets about that stupid curse.

Until he gets back to the locker room where Lehky tells him: “Hey! You did it, you broke the curse!”

Well almost.

Brendan is about to reply something but he meets Eric glaze in the door of the room and he just freezes as he sees him storming out of there. Fuck, he thinks and he leaves Lehky alone to try and go after Eric. The corridor seems so long for an arena one. But he’s not giving up.

"Eric, wait..." Brendan begs him as he wants to reach for his hand.

"Brendan, don't." Eric snaps. Gally takes a step back. "It wasn't a joke to me when I kissed you last night. Or when we slept together."

"Me neither!" He tries to say but the vet doesn’t even look at him. It seems so fucked up from outside but he's not giving up on him now that he's here. And Brendan can understand where Eric is coming. He feels used because he scored and that they never discuss of anything. But it's more than that.

As he sees him slipping away from him again, he has no choice but to tell him. "Eric, the feelings had to go both ways to work." Gally breathes.

Eric finally stops in the middle of the hallway as he turns slowly to Brendan who walks closer towards him. "So, you..."

"Well, yeah." Gally laughs nervously. "We did kiss once after that goal in game 7 last year and... more during the playoffs... and I guess that… being away from you for so long…” He shakes his head as he laughs nervously. “I realize that... yeah, it meant something. You mean something more than a fucking goal, Eric."

They finally look into each other’s eyes. Eric’s eyes are not filled with any grudge. “I came back to see you, you know? You’re the one I missed the most.”

“I… I am?”

“Do you think I really came back just for Toff and the other guys?” Eric is dangerously close to him. “We kind of had something special…”

“Eric…” Brendan says softly to him. “This kiss meant something more than just a goal. I want to be with you, Eric.”

The vet face lights up as he slowly takes Gally’s hips to bring him close to his him. “I want to be with you too, Gally.” He kisses his lips softly.

Gally replies by deepening the kiss and to hold on to Eric’s shoulders. “Ok, good… good… so… that means that we can kiss and make out a lot more, then.” Eric snorts as Gally approaches his lips to his ears. It’s a stretch but he manages to whisper: “I really appreciated last night but let me return the courtesy by riding you tonight.”

“Sounds like you got it all plan, uh?” Eric embarks on his game, raising an eyebrow and teasing Brendan back. “How much time since we have to go catch the flight for Vancouver?”

Brendan doesn’t even answer and he just smiles before kissing Eric harder.

#staallagher #hockey rpf #milou fics #milou ships and writes #eric staal #brendan gallagher #milou comfort corner #milou graphs #ENJOYYY #i will separate the parts! it's going to be easier for me :)#true love's kiss

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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wyattjohnston · 3 years

Text

you and me might end up together (praying that) - alex galchenyuk

series: not shy of a spark

word count: 2,842

warning: this contains smut. if you are under the age of 18, back away now.

summary: A much needed reunion after a lengthy break.

Lola could honestly, hand on heart, say that her only intention when heading to Scotiabank Arena was to watch playoffs hockey. The Leafs were finally not facing Boston in the first round, and she wanted to enjoy it as best she could. Maybe it was inappropriate to be there, maybe even more so to have accepted her friends’ invitation to the family box, but she’d put on a nice blouse, her best jeans and showed up at Daphne’s house with no regrets.

Game 2 was exciting and went far more favourably than Game 1. The women in the box had warned her that being too excited was going to draw attention from the cameras—especially as she was somewhat famous—but Lola barely spent any time in her seat the entire game. Definitely not when Kerfoot scored an empty net goal right at the end of the game. That was the moment she knew the cameras had seen her—the many questions marks from Anna Galchenyuk being all the proof Lola needed. The shrugging emoji she sent back was not well received.

Definitely inappropriate was saying she’d join Daphne on her walk down to the locker room. No malicious intent was meant, honestly, she just wanted to finally see the depths of Scotiabank Arena.

“This is the type of game that deserves an after party.”

“Not in the middle of playoffs,” Daphne said, sounding a little disappointed.

“I’ve never experienced playoffs. The Habs and Yotes couldn’t get it done and this time last year I had nothing to do with hockey. Not that the Wild made it anyway,” Lola said before she realised that nobody had asked and added slowly, “Thanks for bringing me.”

Daphne smiled, amused.

It was far from the first time Lola had waited outside a locker room and she didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest being there. Talking to the players’ partners and families was easy, definitely, and enough of a distraction that she didn’t even notice the players leaving the locker room until Willy Nylander was sweeping Tulle off her feet right in front of Lola.

She introduced herself to the players as they got close enough, Mo really the only one she’d met previously—it was at that point that she started to get antsy about being there. She was right to feel that way, too, if the look on Alex’s face as they made eye contact was any indication.

Lola excused herself from the group to move toward Alex who, in turn, was putting distance between him and everyone else.

“Hey, baby,” Lola greeted softly, unable to stop herself from smiling.

“Why are you here?” he asked abruptly.

Loa looked back over at the group, gesturing, “I’m friends with Daphne. She asked if I wanted to come see a playoff game.”

“Right,” he said tightly.

“You won’t believe me, but I wasn’t going to come down here.” Knowing a heavy sigh was going to leave his mouth, she added, “Baby, I’ll leave if you want me to. Just say the word and it’ll be like I was never here.”

“But you are here.”

Lola nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. She kept her mouth firmly shut, waiting for Alex to say anything at all or give any indication that she really wasn’t wanted. He seemed to be thinking about it very seriously.

The answer was getting closer when Mo and Daphne wandered over to them.

“You’ve already made a move, eh, Alex?” Mo chirped.

Lola wasn’t shy and, despite Alex basically shutting down in front of her, said, “He tried about three years ago. Quite successfully, too.”

“You kept that quiet,” Mo said to both of them, taken aback. Daphne wasn’t at all surprised.

“Didn’t, actually. If you go back far enough, he’s all over my Insta.”

“Lola,” Alex said through gritted teeth.

She shut her mouth and smiled apologetically, deciding it would be best to let Alex relax—the tension in his shoulders was causing her own to hurt—and left them to return to her conversation with Tulle and Will. Both had many questions about why she had been talking to Alex; they were all brushed off.

Daphne joined them again shortly after. With a quick check back at Alex, Lola whispered in her ear, “I’m going to go. I should have left right after the game. It was unfair.”

“He’s fine,” Daphne assured her. “Surprised, definitely, but he really seems okay.”

“This is his space, his team, his friends, and I shouldn’t have intruded. Thank you for inviting me; I would love to watch a game again. The girls are great.”

Daphne asked a few times if Lola was absolutely certain about making her own way home before she finally let her leave with a tight hug. Lola said her goodbyes as she hauled her bag up over her shoulder and left without so much as a glance back at Alex.

As bad as she felt for showing up without any notice, it had been nice to see him and a weight off her shoulders to know that they were done with their relationship; to know that things couldn’t just go back to what they were even if they were finally living in the same city.

More than a few people did a double take as she walked by them. Lola never knew it was because they recognised her, her looks or they didn’t think she belonged, but she made it to the security doors without being stopped.

She stopped herself when she reached them to ask the security guard how to get to the street. The directions were far lengthier that expected and she was very nearly starting to type them into her phone they were so convoluted.

“I’ll get her out,” Alex’s voice came from behind her, startling her. “Thanks, Jim.”

“I was going to get out eventually,” Lola said wryly, dropping her phone into her bag. “Or I could just wait here for Game 5.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?” he asked when they were facing each other.

Lola hesitated—she wanted to say ‘yes’ both so that she could spend time with him but also, so she didn’t have to get on a train with hordes of people. She had barely reconciled that there was no chance of a reunion, though, and didn’t know if it was such a good idea to be spending time with him.

Lola scrutinised Alex’s face, every line, and every twitch she remembered as one of his tells—he was just standing there, though, his hands in his pockets and his expression sincere.

“Take me home, baby,” she said, her feet carrying her to his side.

Walking to the parking lot with Alex was unsettlingly normal, even though they’d never left Scotiabank together. The only way it would have been more normal was if either of them was talking incessantly, unable to keep their hands off each other after however long their jobs had kept them apart.

Lola was still happy with the distant silence compared to the absolutely nothing of the last 14 months. As they walked, she struggled to keep her eyes straight ahead because she wanted to take Alex in. He was doing the same to her, too.

“Anna said she saw you on TV.”

“Yeah, I drew too much attention to the box.”

“They would have just been waiting for you to do something. Always were.”

“Yeah, the girls all hated me for it,” she joked disparagingly. The memories were nothing but fond.

They left the building and entered the parking lot, the breeze a welcome change from the somewhat stale arena air.

“Was that your first game at Scotiabank?” Alex asked as they reached his car.

“Finally got here,” she cheered, her hands in the air triumphantly. “Only took me 26 years and a friends who’s engaged to a player.”

Alex laughed with her while they were getting in the car.

“I could have got tickets for you,” he said when the doors were shut.

Lola cracked the window as soon as the engine started, feeling instantly suffocated by his offer. She wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Really? Because I messaged you when you were just traded, and you ghosted me.”

Alex’s hand was on the gearshift, frozen halfway to first gear, his gaze firmly fixated on out the windscreen.

He’d read the text, too. Immediately. The three dots had even popped up. They then disappeared and no message had ever come.

“I don’t know—I thought it was…”

“Did you think I’d sent it just to be polite?”

“Yeah, Lola. I thought you hated me,” Alex revealed, finally shifting the car into first and pulling out of the parking spot.

Lola forced her hands under her thighs and tried to remember to breathe.

“I don’t hate you, baby,” she whispered. “I’ve never hated you.”

The car would have surely overheated had the window not been cracked—surely, they would have run out of oxygen as well.

“But I broke up with you.”

“It was mutual, Alex,” Lola said, confused.

“It felt like it was my idea.”

It had been, truthfully. He was the one to bring it up, sitting on his hotel room couch in St Paul, together for the first time in a month and a half and finally admitting that it was all too much. The wetness in his voice was what had led to Lola agreeing tearfully that it had been getting harder for her, too.

“Maybe it was, but it was the right one at the time.”

The streets of Toronto and all the city’s traffic were laid out before them. The only sounds were the air outside the car, the music Alex had put on to kill the silence and Lola’s occasional directions to her apartment. It was a short drive to Downtown Toronto, made only slightly longer by the game traffic that hadn’t yet dissipated.

It startled Lola a little when Alex put his indicator on outside her building but didn’t cut the engine. It made sense given their reunion, and yet she had still expected him to find a park like he always had done in the past.

She sighed, opening her door and went to say goodbye and thank him for driving her home. What came out of her mouth, though, was, “Do you want to come up and talk?”

Alex’s response was solemn, low, “I don’t know where I’ll be next season.”

“That’s something we can talk about. I just miss you.”

He nodded, agreeing to find a park and join her. Lola smiled, small but sincere, opened the door and stepped out onto St Patrick’s St. She waited for him in front of the doors, nervous that if she went inside and lost sight of the car that he might just drive away to never come back.

Alex was truthfully one of very few people in the world who made her nervous. Maybe the only person who did so in a butterflies-in-your-stomach, never-want-it-to-end sort of way.

It felt like an age waiting for him on the sidewalk; longer, somehow, than any of the months they had ever spent apart. When he did walk up to her, his smile so genuine that Lola nearly jumped into his arms right then and there. She controlled herself, though, and opted to hoist her bag over her shoulder and hold out her hand. The butterflies swarmed in her stomach when he placed his in hers and followed her to the elevator and up to her apartment.

The first thing to happen when the apartment door closed behind them was to put her bag on the side table, begrudgingly let go of Alex’s hand so she could get her boots off and put them beside his dress shoes and then lead him further into the apartment.

He’d been there before but was still taking in everything as if it were brand new. Some of it had to be. Lola was by no means a seasonal decorator, but it had been such a long time since he’d been to her home.

“I miss you.”

The words startled her—Alex had been the one to say them. Lola cocked her head, taking in the words and how he looked standing in her living room. Comfortably. Like he belonged.

She closed the space between them in three strides.

Alex was ready for her, his hands immediately on her waist to hold her close. Lola’s hands were on his face, his playoff beard wiry yet soft beneath her palms. Their kiss was rough, intense, something that both of them had missed. It wasn’t just kissing that Lola missed—it was how he smelt and how big his hands felt on her waist and the sounds he made as she pressed in to deepen the kiss.

She moved her hands into his hair, pushing it out of his face so she could see him clearly when she pulled back.

“I’ll move. I miss you all the time not even being able to speak to you has been fucking awful—but, baby, I will move to Edmonton if that’s where you end up next season.”

“You thought Montreal was too cold,” Alex said, his mouth curled up at the sides. “You would hate Edmonton.”

“But I love you, so I’d manage.”

“You still love me?” he asked, bowing his head so their foreheads were touching.

“Baby…” Lola said softly. “You’re the love of my life.”

Their mouths connected, she would never know who lead the kiss, but it took no time at all for it to become much more. Alex was untucking her blouse from her jeans, running his fingers up her bare skin until they were resting on her rib cage. Lola gasped as she arched her chest into his hands.

Alex leant down, his breath hot against the exposed skin of her neck. He asked, “Do you want—”

“Fuck me,” she begged.

He didn’t need to be told twice, he never did, before he was walking her backwards to her own bedroom.

Images and ideas flashed through her mind of what they could get up to—there was no shortage of experiences they’d had, nor a shortage of things they’d always talked about trying—and yet, as they stood at the end of her bed, Alex sucking a nice hickey onto her neck, all she wanted was missionary.

She didn’t want him just to fuck her; she wanted him to make love to her. She wanted to see his face as he did.

The hickey would be addressed later when her mind was functioning properly, because, even though it was actually going to impact her next photo shoot, it felt incredible to have him so focused on her.

They were barely in the bedroom when he was pulling her shirt over her head, immediately followed by his own. He was leaner than she remembered, a long, gruelling season cutting into any weight he’d managed to gain in the prior off-season. Her hands moved across every part of his stomach and chest she could touch. His muscles flexed under her fingers.

“Baby, I missed you so much,” Lola breathed. “Alex.”

He moved his mouth away from her neck and down her breasts, kissing along the line of her bra. Lola pulled her hands away from him to reach behind her own back and unclasp her bra. It was off within seconds, thrown to the side carelessly.

“What do you want, Lo?”

“You. I just want you.”

No time was wasted in taking off each other’s pants. Lola frantically worked at Alex’s belt while he faux-grumbled about her four-button fly. Their underwear was removed simultaneously with their pants—there would be other opportunities to take their time.

Alex jumped back into the bed and quickly started removing his socks, unable to stop grinning as he watched Lola walk around the bed and start fishing through her drawers for condoms. As soon as a strip was in her hands, he was pulling her onto the bed by her waist. She laughed loudly as she collapsed onto the mattress.

He hovered over her, his face soft and full of joy.

“Make love to me, Alex?” she asked in a whisper, one hand cupping his face while the other toyed with the chain hanging from his neck.

“Always, Zaika.”

Her eyes fell shut as she melted at the term of endearment.

Neither of them needed much foreplay—they never did, usually just ready and wanting when they were finally in the same room after weeks, sometimes months, apart.

Their kisses were breathy, their touches were hot, and their bodies moved in perfect tandem. With her legs wrapped around his waist and him leaning forward on his forearms beside her head, they were closer than either had ever imagined they’d be again.

“I love you,” Alex whispered. “I don’t think I told you enough.”

“Oh, baby,” Lola sighed. “I know you do. I’ve always known.”

Please consider leaving feedback - reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

#alex galchenyuk fic #alex galchenyuk imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #fic: leafs #homemade fic #not shy of a spark fic #two fics in one week??#who is she??#also like this hasn't been edited #i literally finished it and said to hell with it and now it's here #if it's horrible to read please tell me #also an experiment on posting times and if I should just keep doing it right before I go to bed #or if when I start work is better

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 40

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I don’t even know how this became 12k words. Anyways I hope to have 41 out in the next week, but be prepared. It’s dirty ;)

Chapter 40

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut (oral male receiving) thigh riding

Word Count: 12,000

“Hey babe" you hear a raspy voice mumble.

“Hey" you smile closing the fridge door and are met with him leaning against the counter, arms crossed across his chest, fitted suit clinging to his frame. You bounce on your feet, Elise pressed against your chest squirming slightly having just ate.

“How was your nap?” you ask.

“Alright didn’t get much of one, mostly laid there.”

You pull a mug down and reach over to the fresh pot of coffee, pouring one for him.

“Thanks. Where are the boys?” he asks graciously taking the cup from you.

“Outside with your parents by the pool.” With the summer approaching and Fred’s parents down Oliver was very eager to get in the pool. Since opening it the only time you have been able to pull Oliver from the water was for Fred’s hockey, him being more fish than human most days.

“Daddy" you hear Oliver squeal followed by stampeding footprints.

“Hiya” he bends down to pick him up for a hug.

“I like your suit" Oliver says playing with his tie, pulling it out from behind the jacket.

“Thanks bud”

“Grandpa says he is going to take me to the game.”

While Ernst and Charlotte have alternated taking him to the games, tonight is the game. Tonight is game six of the Stanley Cup Finals. If they beat the Canucks tonight they win the cup, if they lose they play game seven in Vancouver in three days.

Charlotte stayed home a couple times with Elise so you could go to some games, but you have missed most of them caring for your newborn daughter. But it hasn’t been that bad, either you have had one of them home to help you with the three young ones. On a few occasions the two of them have gone taking all the boys leaving you with just Elise.

“Yeah daddy looks handsome” Charlotte says walking in. She sets Lucas on his feet, who wobbles for a few seconds on his uneasy legs before dropping to his bum and crawling over.

“Thanks ma" he chuckles bending down in his suit to be closer to Lucas’s level while setting Oliver on his feet. Next Ernst walks in, Noah clutching his fingers as he takes a few uneasy steps.

While neither boy on is walking on their own you are hopeful it will be soon. The idea of the two of them tripping over everything and getting hurt doesn’t excite you; but you hope Charlotte and Ernst get to witness it before heading back to Denmark after the playoffs.

“Woah” Fred calls reaching out to pick up Lucas as Noah guides Ernst towards him. He grabs him pulling him into his other hip earning a slight chuckle from the toddler, just before he stands up Oliver jumps on his back wrapping his hands around his neck.

“Oof" he laughs. “What were we thinking with a fourth?” he turns to face you. “Didn’t have enough hands when there was three babies.”

“You weren’t thinking” Ernst says with a smirk while Charlotte shoots him a glare. Ignoring his father’s comment he walks towards the couch, leaning forward to not drop Oliver. Once standing over it he leans backwards.

Oliver begins to laugh and squeal as his grip loosens before finally letting go and falling onto the couch. Fred gives both of the twins a kiss on their foreheads and sets them on the floor. The two of them make their way over to their toys and Oliver jumps back into Fred’s arms.

“Good luck daddy”

“Oh thanks buddy" he kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you at the game tonight.”

“Mhm" he nods with a big smile.

Next he heads over to his parents both of them wishing him luck before making his way to you.

“Good luck babe, you’re gonna do amazing" his lips press against yours. You run your fingers through his rough beard, it having grown substantially during the playoff run.

“Thanks" he reaches to put a hand on your waist, careful not to pull you in too tight with Elise between you and his lips press briefly against yours.

Pulling away he reaches to grab Elise and you coil away slightly. “Baby you look really nice in that suit, and your daughter has a tendency to puke after eating.”

“Its fine" he laughs grabbing her from you. Her legs stretch out with a slight cry. Once pressed against his chest his familiar scent calms her down and she begins suckling her mouth. He bounces slightly and presses her head against her chest. “She isn’t gonna puke on me" he runs a hand over her back as a small yawn falls from her lips.

“Oh you tired pretty girl" his lips press against her forehead. “Almost your nap time eh” he bounces her a few more times. At that moment you hear her little cough and Fred immediately stops moving her and looks down.

You smirk knowing you were right and Fred pulls her away and you see the vomit staining his white dress shirt and his navy blue suit.

“Don’t say it" he smiles.

“No idea what you’re talking about” you tease following him upstairs.

Once upstairs you take Elise to change her into a clean onesie while Fred switches his suit. Once changed you bring her back into your bedroom setting her in the bassinet, as she isn’t quite six weeks she still sleeps in the room with you both, likely will for a little while longer.

Fred walks out of the closet with his burgundy dress pants on. A crisp new white shirt is tucked tightly into his pants. So tight it hugs the curves of his muscles and you can see his abs through the stomach. He has the matching vest and jacket in his hand tossing them on the bed as he grips the black silk tie.

You take it from him running the smooth fabric through your fingers a few times before wrapping it around his neck. You slowly tie it, not breaking eye contact as you tighten it around his neck and fix his collar.

You rise to your tippy toes gently pressing your mouth against his pulse point, earning a breathy “thanks baby.”

You smirk in response his cologne flooding you as he leans around you to grip his vest and jacket.

“Very handsome Mr. Andersen” you adjust the tie as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeve.

“Fuck you’re something" he groans.

Ignoring his comment you reach around his neck, running your hands through his hair and pulling his lips down to yours.

“You’re gonna be amazing tonight.”

“I can’t convince you to come eh” he presses his lips against yours again; you can taste the minty mouthwash as his tongue spreads your lips and slides in.

Because of how young Elise is she hasn’t been to a game yet and you don’t think she should be at the game tonight. You considered getting Christie for the night but Elise hasn’t had a night without family and you just aren’t ready to do that yet.

Charlotte spent the last two days trying to convince you to go; and you really have gone back and forth. It’s not an easy decision choosing between being a supportive fiancé or your mom duties. Fred has talked with you about it briefly, but he can tell how hard it is for you. Not wanting to make your decision harder he didn’t press the issue.

When you finally decided you would stay home with Elise Charlotte immediately said she would stay with her, that you should be at the game. But you couldn’t do that to her. His parents would wake up early to drive him to practice, and gave up everything for their kids. Now Fred has the chance to win the biggest prize in hockey, something he never would have accomplished without them so you want them there.

“She is so little” you pull away eyeing to your sleeping daughter.

“She’ll love it” his mouth finds a spot under your ear gently nipping the skin. “She’ll be fine up in the family suite, all she is going to do anyways is sleep. She can do that in the suite.”

His hands trail down your body landing on your waist holding you close to his chest as your arms wrap around his neck. “Need my good luck charms there” he gently nuzzles his head into your collarbone “all of them.” His long beard itches against your skin as he nuzzles in deeper “my girls are a part of my good luck charm.”

“You’ve won games without us there” your hips roll forward groaning as he peppers you with soft kisses, your loose t-shirt easily falling off your shoulder to allow him more space.

“But it’s so much better when you’re there cheering me on” his hands slide around to the small of your back as he places soft kisses to your jaw. “No matter what happens I want you there, need you there.”

“I know babe” you whisper softly feeling tears prick your eyes. This is an impossible situation, you want to be there for Fred but Elise is still so young. You sniffle lightly against his chest and he pulls away sighing when he sees your face. His large hands easily cup your face and his thumb wipes away the few tears that have fallen.

“I’m sorry” you whisper rubbing your face against his hand as your eyes gently close.

“Hey no don’t cry” he presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry babe.”

“I feel like I’m disappointing you” you say softly.

“Never” he holds you tight against him as a few slow tears roll down your cheeks. “You’re an amazing mom; I know it’s not easy. Maybe the birth of our next unplanned child will work better with my hockey schedule” he tilts your head to look into your eyes.

You chuckle slightly “no more unplanned babies” you say rolling your eyes blinking back some tears.

“What about planned babies” he smirks.

“Stop” you laugh through blurred lenses.

“There it is” he smirks seeing you smile. He brings his lips to yours briefly “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your hands slide into his hair while his hands trail down your body. His tongue slips in your mouth and his hands grip your hips as the kiss changes from soft to hungry.

“You’ll be late babe" you mumble against his lips.

“I don’t care” he groans pulling you closer to him. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze and pulling you firmly against him. He presses his lips back to yours, his overgrown mustache slides into your mouth along with his tongue causing you to pull back.

“I can’t wait until this is gone” you laugh raking your nails through his beard. Through the years you have witnessed his playoff facial hair grow in, but they have never made it the finals before, so he hasn’t gone this long with trimming it. In the beginning he would shave away the few hairs that are high on his cheeks, to help keep the shape while the hair grew out. But part way through the second round he stopped and now his beard begins much higher on his cheeks than ever before.

“I was thinking of keeping it for the wedding” he presses his lips back on yours.

“No” you laugh pushing him off you shaking your head. “This” your index finger points to his facial hair “is not welcome at our wedding. Now get going.”

“See you when I get home” he smirks with one final soft kiss before walking out of the room.

“Mommy. Why are you wearing your jacket?” Oliver asks when you walk into the living room a little while later. You have on jeans with a while t-shirt under a black, white and yellow leather jacket with Andersen engraved in cursive font on the back. It’s a custom jacket that every WAG had made for the playoff run. The few games you have gone to you’ve either worn this or your jersey; but it largely has been unworn.

“It’s such an Important night for daddy I thought he’d want all of us there” you say as Charlotte smiles seeing you.

She walks over and wraps her arms around your neck “I’m glad you came to your senses dear, he will want you there no matter what.” Her lips gently press into your cheek and she pulls away “I love you Char" you wipe a tear from your eye.

“Is Elise coming too" Oliver asks as Charlotte smiles her response to your words.

“Yes" you walk into the pantry and pull out a bag you have hidden away that contains a small pink jersey you had custom made to fit her, complete with Fred’s number and daddy embroidered on the back. While you never intended for her to wear this to a game, you were planning on sending him a picture or video with her in it. “I got her this to wear, what do you think Ollie?”

He nods in agreement “mhm daddy will be so happy to see her.”

You find Elise in her swing, pulling the small jersey over her head. She stirs slightly in her sleep and Charlotte hands you a pair of noise cancelling headphones with a grin, she knew all along you would come.

The seven of you climb in the car, Fred having recently traded in the SUV for the seven seat Mercedes. While your old one fit the five of you, it didn’t have a sixth seat. This one can fit 7, so there is more space available for all of you since he refuses to have anything that resembles a minivan.

You all are heading down early. There are festivities in and out of the arena, but you know Oliver won’t be interested in them, too anxious for the game. And the other kids are too young to participate. But they do have a dinner in the family suite, and everyone will be excited to meet the newest addition to the Penguins family.

Once at the suite Elise is immediately pulled from her carrier and whisked off, being shuffled around by the other WAGS. With Ollie you used to try to object, but now you’ve just grown accustom to the babies being gone as soon as you walk in.

“I can’t believe you came" Kathy wraps her arms around you. “You were adamant in not coming a couple hours ago.”

“Please I couldn’t miss this" you pull back “or you. What are you now, 5 months?”

“Four and a half” her hand runs over her stomach.

“That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you" your arms wrap back around you.

“Mhm" she hums her head turning to follow some food being brought in. You chuckle slightly and walk over with her; she’s practically drooling looking at the options.

“Hey Ollie" you call out having no idea where your son is in the room.

“Yeah mommy" he runs up beside you as you make him a small plate.

“Take your jersey off so you can eat” otherwise you know he would spill some ketchup down himself.

“I think she’s hungry" someone says handing Elise back to you just as you sat down.

“Do you need help?” Kathy asks watching as you adjust Elise under a blanket.

“Why? You want to feed me Kath?” you joke adjusting twirling spaghetti on a fork and bringing it to your lips.

“Well I mean if that’s what you need" she laughs “guess I should get used to feeding someone else.”

“You have time for that" you laugh. “But you do learn how to multitask very early on. I mastered the art of eating while I feed my baby pretty early with Oliver. Otherwise I would have starved.”

Fixing your clothes you pull Elise out and drape the blanket over your shoulder, not wanting to have to wear baby vomit for the rest of the night as you burp her before she dozes off again.

“Mommy! The skate is going to start" you hear Oliver notify you. Looking around you see some of the group has filtered out while they make their way down to the glass. Elise is asleep in your arms, pacifier in her mouth; grabbing his hand you make your way down.

Charlotte and Ernst both have one of the twins, and you would think having a sleeping new born and the oldest (who should be the best behaved) would be easier. But Oliver is trying to run down the hall, if he was much stronger he would be dragging you. Once at the glass you check that the headphones haven’t shifted from her or the twins and when you glance up some of the boys have stepped on the ice.

Fred steps on the ice and heads to the net, as he lifts his helmet he finds the group in the corner. Leaving his helmet on the net he skates over, you see the moment he notices you are there because his entire face lights up with the biggest smile. You carefully pull Oliver into your other arm so he can be closer to Fred.

He taps on the glass by the twins, their eyes lighting up and small laughs coming from them, Lucas clapping his hands as they see Fred in front of them. They have no idea what is happening but they always have the same reaction when they see Fred in his goalie equipment on the other side of the glass.

His large smile has yet to fade as he leans over to Oliver waving at him. Oliver holds a fist up and the two of them fist-bump through the glass; their pre-game ritual.

Next he shifts to you shaking his head still in somewhat disbelief. You see his lips moving; while you can’t talk hear through the glass you can tell what he is saying.

I can’t believe you’re here. I love you so much.

You mouth an “I love you” to him and adjust Elise so he can see the writing on the back of her Jersey. A large smile crosses his face as he waves goodbye and skates off, the seven of you returning to the lounge.

You do have actual seats, really good seats actually. But it’s easier with Elise and the twins to be up in the suite. It has space for the stroller, so whenever one of them falls asleep you can set them down in there. It will also be much quieter for everyone, and some comfort and privacy.

You offered to watch Elise and the twins upstairs so the others could watch from the actual seats, Charlotte said no. Wanting to help you so you aren’t left alone with three kids even though you have much experience with that already.

And Ollie said he wanted to stay with you, resulting in all of you upstairs along with a few others including Kathy.

The Canucks come out strong, as expected. Tonight is a must win if they want a shot at the Stanley cup. They easily dominate the first period, shots 10-3; though none have made it past Fred. Oliver is over the moon watching Fred in night. He commentates some of the plays to you and Kathy, yelling whenever Fred has a save.

“You ready for that" you laugh eyeing towards him as he jumps out of his seat for the first save of the second period.

“Honestly I don’t know how much time Sid has left to play” she sighs. “Peanut might not get to see him play, and if they do they surely won’t remember.”

You smile not wanting to push the topic further. As Sid has gotten older the question of his time in the league always comes up. Any time he gets injured or if he blows a play; it’s constantly coming up. Everyone knows this might be his last season, adding an extra layer into the team’s performance.

Part way through the second period a Penguins defenseman pinches to try and keep the puck in the Canuck zone. Brock Boeser beats him to the puck, banking it off the boards before starting off down the ice. The other defenseman takes off along with Pettersson creating a 2 on 1.

The defenseman a few strides back slides to attempt to block the pass, but Boeser manages to pass it a few feet from the net. Landing right on Elias’s stick. Fred having committed to stopping Brock on the right side tries to slide across but not in time. Pettersson tips it over hid pad and in; giving them the lead.

It was a beautiful goal, one that Fred had no chance on. He had to assume Brock would shoot and protect that half of the neck. But regardless of the circumstance it gives them a lead, and a fire they desperately need.

Five minutes later, while on the power play a second one goes past Fred. An absolute rocket from the blue line, and he was screened by 2 Canucks and one of his own men. Another goal he had no chance on, but still frustrating for him nonetheless.

Silence falls over the building.

This is the moment you wish were in your seats. To be closer to Fred. When he would take his helmet off for a drink maybe he could find you in the stands. See you smiling back at him, or maybe he would just feel you there close to him.

Going into the third the Penguins need momentum, and they have it. Keeping the puck in the Canucks end for the majority of the first 10 minutes. Vancouver manages 1 shot and Pittsburgh 7. It’s the change of pace they needed. The momentum brings the fans back into but they are unable to execute on it.

You can almost hear a pin drop as the clock winds down, less than 5 remaining. That’s when Sid is fed the puck behind the defense and takes off on a breakaway.

He dekes left and back right drawing the goalie over. He fakes a shot and the goalie goes down only to flip it up off the crossbar and down. It lands on the goalies back bouncing off him and into the net.

The entire building erupts; yellow towels are being spun around the entire stadium.

This is what they needed. The fans back in it and a change in momentum leads to another quick goal and three minutes left in the game.

The next three minutes feel like 3 hours to you. You are on the edge of your seat, along with every other person in the building. Neither team scores and the game is off to overtime.

While the twins fell asleep, Oliver hasn’t. You hope he does soon, because at some point regardless of the outcome you and the kids will have to leave given the time, and you don’t want to have to deal with a meltdown when that comes during overtime.

One thing you know about overtime is anything can happen. One bad bounce, it can go off your own players skate, one miscue and everything is over.

There are no comebacks in overtime.

The Canucks chip the puck down to Pittsburgh end and everyone starts a change. Fred skates out to stop the puck for his defensemen only there isn’t one. Looking up ice he sees the rookie and sends the puck down. Skating in he takes the shot only to have it be saved, but the rebound is quickly lifted over the goalie and in the net.

Shock washes over you, as you sit in your seat. You don’t hear the horn or the entire stadium erupt, you don’t see the confetti fall from the ceiling. It’s not until Oliver jumps in your arms, pulling the air out of your chest that you realize it actually happened. You didn’t dream it.

Fred won the Stanley Cup.

“Daddy did it" he squeals as your arms tighten around him.

“He sure did" you feel tears prick your eyes.

Tears, hugs and laughter fill the press box, champagne being passed to those who can drink. Through your excitement and commotion you missed the handshakes, Vancouver having left the ice. You watch as the Cup is brought out and handed to Sidney for the fourth time.

It is handed around to the rookie next, the game winning goal scorer. Likely the next face of the organization when Sidney leaves.

And he, well he hands it to the man that fed him the puck. Fred.

You watch as he hoists the cup above his head. Charlotte and Ernst both have tears in their eyes, while Oliver’s face is lit up brighter than on Christmas morning. You feel a couple warm tears fall down your cheek when you hear Kathy in your ear “Let’s go.”

Scanning the room you realize everyone has filtered out, making the trek down to the ice. Once the cup has been passed around and the team photo complete the doors are opened and families begin to flood the ice.

“Daddy you won!” Oliver cheers when he picks him up, squeezing g him into his chest.

“I sure did" he chuckles giving his dad a hug.

“I’m so proud of you Frederik" Charlotte says pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks ma" he smiles setting Oliver down beside her.

He takes a few steps and your arms open, immediately you wrap your arms around his neck blocking the florescent lights from your eyes. His hair is soaked with sweat and covered with a “Stanley Cup champion" hat. His equipment makes him bigger than ever and his jersey smells of something you can’t even imagine.

But you don’t care.

Your fingers hold the back of his head and pull him down to you. He reaches around hands landing on the small of your back as your mouths collide.

It doesn’t start slow, he dives right in. You can taste the sweat on his lips, the Gatorade on his tongue. Tongue slipping inside and you moan into his mouth before he pulls away briefly to capture his breath.

“Don’t make baby number five tonight" you hear someone mumble but press back in, smirking through the kiss.

“Congratulations baby" you pull away for a second only to kiss him again. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you" he smiles kissing you again. “Or my four good luck charms.”

He pulls away and skates to the stroller. The twins having woken up with all the commotion are wide eyed taking in the sights while Elise still sleeps soundly.

Pulling the twins out he bounces them on his hips, pressing kisses into both of their short red hair. Neither has any idea what is going on but pick up on the energy and smile, Noah clapping in his hands.

“Let’s get a family picture” he smiles. Ernst grabs Elise and you Oliver. You grip on to Fred’s arm as he leads you out on the ice. It’s not that you aren’t a decent skater; it’s just different wearing shoes and holding a child.

Once out there you get situated and Fred skates away to help Charlotte. He comes back a couple minutes later with the rookie and the Stanley Cup. He sets the cup down in front and Fred gets his dad to set Elise gently in the cup, using some unused towels to cushion it for her.

“Is that necessary?” you laugh when Fred comes back beside you.

“Babe how many babies get pictures in there?” he laughs as the team photographer takes a few of just Elise. “Much better than those newborn pictures you had done a few weeks ago” he teases.

“That’s ridiculous” you say.

“I think it’s perfect” Fred says helping you get in position beside him and the cup.

“Me too daddy” Oliver claps.

“Two to one, you’re outvoted” he kisses you again before everyone gets set for the family pictures. The celebrations continue over the next little while, champagne passed around just as much as the Stanley Cup. Trying to safely maneuver on the ice becomes somewhat of a challenge, but you are happy you settled on a pair of converse instead of heels.

“We’re going to take the kids home" Charlotte wraps her arms around Fred and you next. Looking to the stroller you see all three kids are asleep and Oliver’s eyes are closed as he rests in Ernst’s arms. Some of the players have begun to filter off the ice, continuing the celebration in the locker room.

“Have fun tonight momma" Charlotte winks as Fred helps them off the ice.

Almost instantly Fred’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight against his chest protector. You wrap your arms around his neck, struggling to reach with the extra inches his skates give him. He picks you up and sets you on his boots bringing his hands finding the back of your thighs to hold you in place.

His lips find your neck as he peppers kisses pulling some moans from you. “Babe people can see" you say. While many fans have left and are likely celebrating in bars or in the streets, there is still a decent amount that has remained inside.

“Let them see" he mumbles. “I’m sure they can figure out why I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Babe" you warn as he kisses you below the collar of your jacket.

“Jump up" he whispers and you wrap your arms around him tightly, your legs around his waist as he skates off the ice towards the dressing room where some of the team is waiting.

“See you in a bit” he sets you down with a kiss before heading into the dressing room.

“Hey babe" Fred’s hands grip your hips to hold you steady as you walk directly into his chest.

“Hey champion" you smile looking up to him. His eyes are glossed over and red from the alcohol you can smell it on him. Or do you smell it on yourself?

He grips your hips digging his hands gently into your cool and damp skin, chuckling slightly at your words. It’s only mid-June but Mario has the pool heater on for a party in the backyard. It’s warm in the water but once out the cool night air sends a slight chill through your body.

Fred lifts you in the air eliciting a slight squeal from your lips. Spinning you both 180°C he sets you back down with a kiss on the cheek. With a smirk he walks back into the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sure you could have found your way back” he teases opening the door to see you in the bedroom waiting for him. A dark smile crosses your face and you put your hands on his chest backing him into the bathroom.

“Babe" he groans as you turn the lock on the door.

Wordlessly your mouth finds his neck, sucking lightly to taste the chlorine on his skin. Your hand begins to trail down his body running over his dripping swim trunks. The wet fabric clinging to every muscle of his lower body. Your hand presses down his hips to his thick thighs before palming over him a few times.

“(Y/N)” he warns but that only encourages you. You rub over his member and drag your teeth along his neck, Fred chuckling at your determination.

“We can’t do this here" he pushes your hips so your flatfooted pulling you from his neck.

“We fucked in Sid’s bathroom at a Halloween party" you move to his chest placing open mouth kisses on him gently sucking on his warm skin.

“That was my captain’s house, this is the owners” he gasps as your teeth sink into his chest. “And we were trying to make a baby then" he groans as you feel him start to harden under your hand.

“Well" you rise back to your tippy toes wrapping both arms around his neck. You press your hips forward, his hard member pressing into your stomach “my fiancé just won the Stanley Cup and I want to celebrate.” You place kisses along his neck and jaw between each word, Fred taking a sharp exhale.

“We are celebrating, hence the party.” You can hear the music and muffled laughter through the open window. You can’t make out what is happening but you can tell everyone is enjoying themselves from the loud laughter and cheers.

“I was thinking a more private celebration was in order” you lean forward your mouth centimeters from his ear “one with me on my knees.”

Danish curse words fall from his lips as you quirk an eyebrow up at him. Both your hands find the string tied around his waist and undo the knot, a wide grin on your face. While this behaviour isn’t entirely in character for you, after a few drinks you tend to get a little frisky. Something Fred has always been in favour of.

“Fuck du er utrolig (you’re unbelievable)” he mumbles as you slide fingers under the waist band of his trunks.

“You love it" you mumble kissing his chest, slowly trailing your way down his body. You leave soft kisses in your wake, ensuring not to leave a trail of marks for when you return to the party.

You push the fabric off his thighs, the wet fabric landing harshly against the floor as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. He steps out of them and you lands on your knees in the puddle of cold water that has been dripping off him onto the marble floors.

His pink tip is throbbing inches from your face as you stroke it up and down his shaft a few times. The precum glistens in the light and you press your tongue to the back of your teeth with a soft moan. You swallow your saliva flicking your eyes up to meet him. His pupils are blown as he watches you slowly stroke up and down, your other hand gently grazing over his thigh.

Your tongue darts between your parted lips, wetting them

Your mouth finds his thighs, placing soft open mouth kisses on his thighs. Your mouth moves to his hard member placing a few kisses on his shaft. You feel him twitch faintly at the contact before your mouth moves back to suck on his hips and pelvis.

“Babe" he groans after a few minutes of you toying with him “we don’t have time for this.”

While you know everyone is busy and won’t notice your absence you don’t want to keep him waiting. “You’re right. You deserve it” you wink.

Your mouth wraps around his tip, tongue licking up the precum that has oozed out. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip a couple times before your mouth wraps around him.

“Fuck (Y/N)” Fred groans as you bob up and down on him a few times. Hollowing your mouth for him you take him deeper every time, before he hits the back of your throat.

His hands tangle in your hair pulling it from your face as the other leans against the counter. You look up at him through your lashes, watching as his eyes snap shut. One hand gently rakes up his thigh, the other reaching around to his ass.

His skin is cold and damp as you give him a soft squeeze pulling his hips closer to you and he laughs slightly. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead as you stare up through your lashes taking him further.

“Fred" you hum around him.

His eyes open and finds yours, smiling at the sight of you on your knees. You pull off him with a pop, some saliva dribbling down your chin.

“Fuck my face" you almost hear his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“You’re amazing" he brings his other hand to your chin cupping it lightly. “Absolutely amazing" he strokes over your jaw before pressing it down to open your mouth for him.

You feel his hard dick fall on your tongue as his hips rock forward slightly. Your mouth wraps around him again while he pulls back. He slowly repeats the action a few times grinning as his cock disappears into your mouth.

You’re eyes find his and he smirks before snapping his hips thrusting into your mouth. You cough choking on him and he eases up slightly. You moan slightly, your throat relaxing around him. Your hands give his ass a soft squeeze, giving him the encouragement to increase his pace yet again.

One of his large hands in your hair gripping your neck the other cupping your jaw he thrusts in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust.

Tears prick your eye as saliva dribbles down your chin. Staring at Fred through glazed lenses you see his are dark with fire, loving the sight of you on your knees. Your hand tightens its grip on his ass as his tightens in your hair digging into your scalp.

The fire between your legs is ignited, and if it wasn’t for the fact you opted to wear a one piece bathing suit you would slip some fingers down your bottoms into your folds.

Every thrust of his hips is calculated with purpose. You feel in your heat, wanting nothing more than for him to pull out and bend you over the counter. Pound in to you from behind while you grasp the porcelain for stability, but you know that won’t happen here.

Besides the fact you are at the owner’s house with his entire team, you also haven’t had your six week check-up. Some Fred is adamant you get before he does anything. Sex during the playoffs was always limited, reserved for days when a series has ended and they have a few days off before their next opponent. He never has come home after a playoff game when he has another in 2 or 3 days and had sex, but on occasion he has fingered you, especially if you find time to join him in the shower.

But this year has been nothing. He insists you wait until your appointment, and no amount of pleading has helped. If the sight of you on your knees while he fucks your mouth isn’t enough for him to slide between your dripping heat than nothing is.

You can feel him getting sloppy, as his hips stutter. Muttered Danish curse words fill the bathroom as his dick twitches. He holds your head on him, shooting warm ribbons down your throat. When he pulls out some saliva mixed with cum spills out on your chin and down to your chest, landing on the curve of your breast.

Holding a hand out he helps you to your feet before pulling his trunks back up his legs. You wipe the sides of your mouth, cleaning his cum from your face. You scan the bathroom for a cloth to wipe the smeared lipstick from your face “I can’t believe I just gave a Stanley Cup Champion a blow job.”

You hear him chuckle while he brings two fingers on your chest. He wipes the cum from your chest, cleaning your skin before bringing his fingers to your mouth. You open for him and wrap your lips around him. He groans as you swirl your tongue around his thick digits. Pulling them out he wipes them on your bathing suit “thank you" you smile.

“Mmm tak baby pige" (thank you babygirl)” he hums in your ear before sucking gently on your neck. You feel his lips curl against your skin as he places warm open mouth kisses on your exposed skin.

The cool night air blowing through the window against your damp skin and Fred’s soft touch causes goosebumps to erupt on you. You shiver and press yourself into his chest, his warm arms quickly wrapping around you.

“I love you" he whispers in your ear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so happy in five weeks you get to be my wife.”

Your hands reach around him running up his back, you lean your head back to glance into his eyes. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“We can run off to Vegas, you could be my wife in a few hours” he smiles as you shake your head remembering a night a few weeks ago.

It was about two weeks before Charlotte came to Pittsburgh and you had a particularly rough day of wedding planning. Since she was visiting a lot of the vendors on your behalf in Denmark, you wanted to have everything in order before she left. You could still talk with the planner after that, but you found it easier having Charlotte there to see things in person and give her honest opinion.

Trying to coordinate with the florist you thought everything was set up perfectly until Charlotte went to see the mock ups and they were not even close to what you thought. And then she told you that you booked the photographer for the wrong date and they weren’t actually available on your wedding day. It was disaster after disaster and you were uncomfortable from the pregnancy.

When Fred came home at 3am he tried to be soft and quiet crawling in to bed beside you. But the bed shifting and your uneasy sleep caused you to stir and wake up. You immediately broke down in his arms, the stress of everything unravelling in front of you sending you over the edge.

Fred tried to convince you to push the wedding back to the following summer, give you more time to plan. Said you could use this summer to go out and see everything and then next year you could just show up, everything already planned. He was worried about the stress you were putting on yourself to get it done, especially since you were pregnant.

But you told him you didn’t want to wait another year to get married. You said you were going to have four kids soon and just wanted it to be official. At that point you didn’t even care if you had flowers, a cake or a photographer, you just wanted to be his wife.

That was when he suggested eloping; he had an optional skate the next day and said you could run to the courthouse.

“I already see you as my wife, but we can make it official tomorrow" he whispered in your ear as his hand ran over your bump. “Tell no one or tell everyone I don’t care. Let’s get married now.”

“Mkay” you hum as he kissed your neck.

“Yeah baby you actually want to” he pulled back with a big smile.

“Well we we’re planning in being married in the summer what’s a few months” you smiled as his lips press down to yours. “We could still have a reception this summer, but might take away some stress if we go into it already married.”

Not wanting to have to rebook everything and lose the deposits (which you know he could care less about) you thought it could alleviate some pressure going into the day already married. Maybe the details wouldn’t matter as much this way.

But when you woke up the next day you had a change of heart and decided to wait until the summer as planned, but now it’s become a running joke with you two.

“I can wear my Andersen jacket" you smile as he closes the gap, his lips brushing against yours.

“You look so good with my name on your back, can’t wait until it’s your name too" he growls lowly as you feel your core ignite. You chuckle to disguise your moan as his voice vibrates off your skin. Your legs rub together slight and you push him off you slightly “we should get back” you whisper knowing every second you stay in there it will be harder for you to walk away. You turn around to face the mirror, fixing your bathing suit and hair as his hands rest against your hips.

“So that’s a no on getting married tonight?” he chuckles against your collarbone.

“Yeah" you sigh. “You can wait a few more weeks.”

“I don’t want to” he mumbles sucking hard on your neck.

“Frederik" you scold. He tilts his head to look at you in the mirror. His eyes are dark as he sucks again on your neck not breaking eye contact. Your eyes go wide, as your stern mom look comes across your face causing him to let up and chuckle.

“I’m not scared of your mom look babe" he kisses your neck again. “It actually turns me on.” He presses into you, pushing you into the counter “and you know calling me Frederik gets me hard.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you whimper slightly.

“Well I am heading back out to the party “you smirk wrangling out of his embrace. You hold a hand out for him “let’s go Mr. Andersen.”

You watch as he takes a deep breath closing his eyes for a second. He opens them shaking his head slightly before grabbing your hand and heading out together. Once in the hall you run into Sid and Kathy, actually run into them coming out of a bathroom together.

“What were you doing" you tease seeing the flushed look on her face.

“I’m gonna guess the same thing as you" she smirks.

“She’s four and a half months pregnant, can’t help it" Sid laughs walking up behind her, putting his hands on her hips as he guides her down the hall as she giggles like a teenager. While this is unusual behaviour for Sidney he is normally more reserved but you know it has to do with the hours of drinking.

“Four and a half months was a fun time" Fred mumbles in your ear.

Laughing you pull him closer so his chest is against your back as you make your way outside.

The music is just as loud as before, and the guests even more intoxicated than before you left. Fred gives your ass a light squeeze before jumping in the pool while you find some of the girls by the bar, pouring yourself a drink.

Fred shoots you a wink as you take a sip. After Sid and Kathy’s wedding you had a few glasses of wine at dinner before discovering you were pregnant. But tonight is the first night you have had a drank since Sid and Kathy’s wedding, and really the first time in over two and half years. For that reason you should take it easy, your body likely unable to handle alcohol like it used to. You’ve had three drinks since getting here plus the champagne at the arena but it doesn’t stop you from pouring a shot.

You don’t know if it’s the lingering glances over the rim of his whiskey glass, the not too subtle winks and smirks Fred sends your way or the alcohol coursing through your body. But there is heat in your cheeks and core; a dizziness in your head.

Waking up the next morning, you are in an unfamiliar bed. The pillows are softer than normal and duvet not as comfortable. You blink a few times allowing your eyes to adjust. The room is dark; except for some light filtering through the few inches the curtains are open. The room in unfamiliar but the simple décor indicates it’s a hotel.

You blink a few times adjusting to the light before continuing to look around. Your eyes land on Fred beside you lying on his stomach. He is lying topless, his red hair a mess on the pillow, his chest slowly rising and falling as he snores softly. The sheet is hung low on his hips, his broad arm wrapped under the pillow.

Pulling the duvet back you wander to the bathroom, the clock catches your eye. 11:42 illuminated in red.

“Fuck” you groan seeing yourself in the mirror. It seems like you attempted to wash your makeup off but failed and your hair is an absolute mess. You look around the room for a brush but there isn’t one but you settle on washing the remaining makeup off your face.

“Hey" Fred smiles when you walk back in, “nice hair” he laughs.

“I don’t know where a brush is" you grumble crawling back in to the bed not having a hair elastic either.

“Yeah I thought a hotel would be nice so we could sleep in, but we didn’t have a bag packed” he pulls you in against his chest. His skin is warm and you can still smell the alcohol on him.

“Yeah sleep is nice" you laugh knowing the kids would have woken you a long time ago. Even if they were kept from the room you would have heard their laughter or cries at some point.

“When did we leave the party?"

“Around 4…after your fifth shot" he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

“How do you feel?” he asks as you groan.

“Like a nap or a shower. I don’t actually know"

“Let’s shower, get it out of our systems and then maybe nap or food.”

He crawls out of bed starting the shower before returning to get you, carrying you to the bathroom. You would protest him carrying you the twenty feet but he would feed you some line about being a hockey player. But you know he just wants to take care of you, and honestly today you don’t mind it.

He sets you on the floor pulling his t-shirt off your body and you shiver in response, your nipples getting hard from the cool air. Your arms cross over your stomach hiding your stretch marks. Once his boxers are off and he turns his attention to you a scowl crosses his face as you look away.

“Baby you look beautiful" he brings his hands to your elbows but doesn’t pull them down as you look away.

“Babe look at me" he hums in your ear. You turn to face him, tears having hit your eyes. With a sigh he pulls you into his chest, a hand finding your neck tangling in your hair.

“Why are you crying?” his chin is resting on your head.

“I don’t know" you say through some light sobs. “Because I had a baby six weeks ago.”

“Sure that’s it?” his other hand runs up and down your spine. The steam from the shower begins to fill the room warming your body. Fred has spent the majority of the time with you while you’re pregnant or post-partum. Because of this he has grown accustom to you crying randomly and without cause, but he can also tell when there is a reason to your tears. And he knows you are lying about this.

“I don’t know" you mumble turning to the mirror though you can’t see anything through the fogged glass. “Sometimes I just hate how I look. Stretch marks, extra weight” being around some of the other woman who have had kids and look amazing the night before didn’t help. That’s why you opted for a one piece instead of a bikini; something you would never admit.

Fred pulls you back against his chest, stopping you from examining yourself.

“Babe I don’t see any of those things. All I see is an amazing badass woman that brought our babies into this world. I was never with you for your looks" he pulls a hand from you to tilt your head to look at him.

“Thanks” you whine as a strangled sob catches in your throat even though you know that’s not how he intended it to come across.

“That’s not what I meant” he groans. “You are absolutely breathtaking, but it’s not why I’m with you or why I love you. “I love you for your big heart and the fact that when I’m with you nothing else matters. I can be having the absolute worst day and I see your face, even if it’s just a picture on my phone, and I know everything will be okay.”

You smile lightly at that as a few tears roll slowly down your cheek. “But my favourite thing is when one of our babies smile at me. I’m not sure about Elise yet but the boys they all have your smile.”

He wipes a few tears from your eyes “I love you and the fact that you gave me four perfect babies. If you want to go to the gym and get what you want your body to look like I’ll be behind you. 100%. But you are only doing that for you, because I think you are perfect and amazing just the way you are okay?”

You know he is right, but it’s hard for you. After having Oliver it wasn’t as hard to find time to go to the gym or to take Oliver for walks and the occasional run. But with four kids you find you free time few and far between. On top of that your body changed so much after being pregnant with twins.

With all your insecurities and struggles Fred has always encouraged you, never missing an opportunity to tell you how beautiful you are. Some days you find it hard to see what he does, today being one of those days.

“Looks can fade babe, but your compassion and empathy, your beautiful smile…none of that will.”

You nod slightly and rise on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips “love you" you whisper before pressing your lips back on him. He pulls you in to him as your tongue slides into him, tasting the alcohol that remains in his mouth.

“Let’s go" he pulls away stepping into the shower where you immediately wrap your arms around his lower back tilting your head to him. He smiles at you through his golden brown eyes before closing the gap. What starts as a few soft pecks turns into your tongues lazily dancing through each other’s mouths.

“Babe" he moans pulling away to catch his breath. Water is dripping from his hair through his long beard and onto his chest, before finding the curve of his abs and falling down his thighs. It’s a sight you don’t get to see much of with four kids, but one you never tire of.

He pushes you back against the cold tile wall, his hands gently resting on your hips as his tongue slides back in your mouth. Your hands tangle in his beard, gripping it to hold him against you.

“Jeg elsker dig så meget (I love you so much)” he mumbles against your lips. A smile spreads across yours as you whisper affirmations back to him.

Your arms fully around his neck, he spins you again to be back under the stream of the water “we need to shower so we can nap" he mumbles but makes no effort to pull away from you. His hands randomly slide down to your ass to give you a soft squeeze before it trails back up your spine into your hair.

Each soft squeeze causes you to pull away with laughter, something you have grown to love about your relationship. No moment is too serious for you both. After a few more minutes you reluctantly pull away only because your skin is beginning to wrinkle from the moisture and you have yet to begin showering.

Once showered he wraps a plush towel around you, watching in the mirror as him arms rub up and down the towel to dry your body. You watch as the droplets go down his chest, over the curves of his abs and down to his member.

“You’re unbelievable” he jokes kissing your cheek pulling your gaze up to his eyes.

He is smirking at you as you swallow dryly “you know it’s been six weeks…” You turn around and lean against the counter watching as he wraps a towel low on his waist.

“Mhm you told me that” he steps closer placing a hand on either side of you pinning you “many times last night.”

You feel your core heat up as he leans in, his lips millimetres from your ear. “Did I?” you ask not remembering.

“Mhm” he kisses your collarbone drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. “And I told you last night” he mumbles between pressing soft kisses on your skin. “I told you I wanted to wait until after your doctor appointment.”

He continues to pepper kisses on your neck and shoulder. “I’m on birth control” you say breathlessly causing him to pull his head up and look at you with a dark grin.

“Elskede, you know I don’t care about birth control, I love seeing you pregnant.” He falls into the crook of your neck; his breath is warm but still pulls goosebumps to the surface. “I love having babies with you, and watching this belly grow. I love feeling the little kicks against your stomach and seeing you as a mom. Fuck I get hard just thinking of it" he growls.

“If you came to me in a month, a year, or even five years and said you wanted another baby I’m all in 110%.”

“Fred" you groan pushing him up by the shoulder to look at him shaking your head. “With that being said I know you don’t want any more which is why I have zero doubt you’re on birth control.”

“You were a foot away as the doctor put my IUD in" you laugh.

“Sorry for being distracted by our newborn baby girl" he smiles briefly. “I’m not saying no because of birth control, I’m saying no because I want to make sure everything is all good down there first.”

“Fine” you huff. Your six week appointment was originally scheduled for the same day as game 4 but you decided to push it until after the playoffs would be over and things would calm down. Now you are really regretting that decision to wait.

“Now let’s nap.”

“Babe" you pout as he pulls his shirt over your head.

“We’ve gone six weeks what’s a few more days?" he kisses your cheek and pulls you by the hand to the bed. You crawl in beside him, rubbing your legs together for some relief, unsure if you can wait a few more days.

“You’ll be fine" he laughs pulling you into his chest, running his hands through your hair.

“I don’t understand how a few days makes a difference” you huff staring at the ceiling. “It’s been six weeks already.”

“Yeah you said that last night too" he laughs against your temple. “You were very insistent”

“I don’t remember that” you sigh.

“Mhm, another reason I forced you to sleep" he tilts your head to look at you. “You know I’ll take care of you, just have to make sure everything is good first.”

You smile and pull him down brushing your lips against him. “I love you for taking care of me” his lips press against your once more before he adjusts beside you.

You feel his breathing steady, his chest slowing as he begins to doze off, but you aren’t as fortunate. After waiting six weeks everything Fred does has you practically dripping and that shower did not relax you. Instead it had the opposite effect.

If it wasn’t the long make out session, the naked man with water dripping down his chiseled body certainly did it.

A loud exaggerated sigh leaves your lips. “What" he murmurs eyes not opening.

“I can’t sleep, you look too good naked” you groan rolling onto your side to brush some hair from his eyes.

“So do you babe" his eyes are still closed but he is grinning at you.

“Fredddd" you whine causing his eyes to open, his brown eyes are dark and heavy with sleep.

“What can I do babe?” he asks clearing his throat, running his index finger down your spine. “Want a tea? A massage? Just go home and try to nap in our bed?”

“No" you sigh. “Tell me a story. It always works for the boys.”

“Yeah and they are babies" he laughs as you shoot him a soft smile. “I can tell you one about a train, or about a lost baby bear.”

“No, tell me about how you knew I was the one.”

“That’s the story you want?”

“Yeah" you beam resting your head on his bicep to use as a pillow.

“When did you know I was it for you" you curl into his embrace. The bright afternoon sun still filtering through the cracked curtains.

“Long before you did" he laughs wrapping his arms around you as you roll on top of him, straddling one of his thighs.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you lift the oversized shirt above your hips, pressing your bare core against his thigh. Your grab a handful of your shirt holding it a few inches above your core to keep it out of the way.

“Babe” he groans as you roll your hips feeling the wetness on his leg. You are happy you didn’t put your underwear on after your shower, otherwise you’d have to wear them home drenched.

“Not every orgasm has to involve penetration” you bring your hand to push his boxers further up his thighs giving you more space.

“I know that” he laughs finding your waist with his hands. You expect him to push you off, telling you to wait, but to your surprise he pulls you down harder against his firm muscle.

“Well I need to cum” you roll your hips again. “This is the only way for me to get what I want and for you to be okay with it.”

He shakes his head, his hands grasping your bare skin. You release your shirt and it falls onto his wrists as you rock back and forth on him. One hand lands on his lower stomach for leverage while your head falls back.

“Now I believe you were telling me a story” you smirk “about how I’m the one for you.”

He pulls his chapped lower lip through his teeth shaking his head at you before giving in. “Honestly I saw glimpses of it long before I knew” his nails dig into your skin.

“So Denmark when you were pregnant with Ollie, he kicked for the first time" you both smile remembering the day. “Everything stopped when you kissed me and I remember thinking I would do anything for you and not because you’re Ollie’s mom.”

A light sigh falls from your lips before he continues. “Honestly it confused me, I had never had any feelings like that before towards you, or any I allowed myself to admit so it really threw me off.”

“That’s why when we got back to the hotel you made love to me” you moan. “Soft and slow.”

Instead of answering Fred just ignores your comment “then I guess that first all-star break, when we went away without Oliver.”

“Fuck" you grumble under your breath slowing your hips. That and everything that transpired over the next ten months you wish you could change.

“That whole day it was the best day, actually both days were amazing. That massage I gave you by the roaring fire…”

“I had the longest shower after that night” you mumble resuming your pace. You press your hips down further, coating him in some of your wetness.

“Same” he laughs. “But the second night…the wine, music just everything was perfect. Waking up beside you after that night I just couldn’t believe I had you. Like I saw the three of us could be a being a family. I was so happy…and then you broke my heart into a million pieces the next day.”

A frown comes over you stop rocking your hips. Fred laughs lightly before continuing “then you moved out and kissed some guy in a bar back in Toronto and I remember thinking she must not be the one for me, because if you were…”

“I wouldn’t have done that” your head turns away and you try to climb off but he continues to hold you on his thick thigh.

“Babe you know this story has a happy ending” he smirks rolling your hips. He grabs one of your hands and presses your index finger into your clit with some soft circles before you take over increasing the pace. Once you take over the pace he continues with his story.

“Anyways I kept telling myself if you were the girl for me you wouldn’t have done that. Everyone told me you weren’t the girl for me; you were the girl who would help me find the girl.”

“The one you’re with before you find your wife"

“Yeah but I didn’t fully believe them. I tried to distract myself, heading to Denmark for a week, dating Danielle" you’re nose scrunches up hearing her name.

“But it was hard. Every time I saw you I got these little butterflies and I wanted to kiss you so bad. I just kept telling myself not to fall into bed with you, that if I did, I’d end up back where I was only a few months before. And I did so good for two months…

Then my birthday came, and then Ollie’s. We just kept ending up in bed together and every time I said it was the last time. Then came your birthday and Thanksgiving and I knew I was falling and I started to think that you were too. I started to see something in you that made me think maybe it was more than just hookups.

But then that day at the tree farm, that day I knew you had feelings for me” he trails off and you smile remembering that day, the butterflies you felt but were too afraid to admit. That morning when you opened the door after his road trip you realized just how much you had missed him; something you hadn’t noticed before.

Fred grins up at you and begins to move your hips, pulling you down on his thigh. His hands dig deep into your flesh leaving crescent shaped marks as you press faster and harder circles into your clit.

“We fell in the snow, I was pinning you down" he laughs bucking his hips up as you gasp from the feeling. “Nose was red from the cold and you smiled up at me well I was going to do anything to get you. Just had to get rid of your boy toy Connor” he mocks his name.

“He wasn’t my boy toy” you groan unable to laugh as you feel your orgasm building deep in your stomach. Having gone so long without one you know it will engulf you when it finally comes.

“Anyways New Year’s Eve came around and he fucked up leaving you at my door looking absolutely phenomenal.” He groans feeling your wetness on his leg as your folds flutter against his muscle. He knows your climax is near when your nails dig into his hard chest.

“And you thought damn she’d make a hot wife” you joke and he just shakes his head laughing. Your other hand slides up his chest, finding a few beads of sweat.

“Actually the next morning was when I had the moment. I woke up before you. You were sleeping on the other side of the bed, in my t-shirt, snoring lightly"

“I do not snore" you groan feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Breathing deeply" he corrects. “Ollie was still asleep so I just lay there watching you sleep for a few minutes. You looked so prefect and peaceful. The sun was shining on your face and your hair was an absolute mess.

“Fred" you groan laughing as you bounce on his thigh.

“No babe, like you’re beautiful no matter what. But your hair, fuck it was a disaster” he explains with a laugh. “Between the curls and the hairspray it was everywhere. Like this morning” he smirks.

“You’re the worst" you laugh, your jaw falling open as a loud deep moan slips out.

“Well I reached over to brush some behind your ears and startled you. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled when you saw me, then your eyes closed and you cuddled up against me. You pulled my arm over your body and fell back asleep in my arms and that was it. I just knew I had to wake up beside you every morning after that.”

He continues to move your hips flexing his thigh as your moans before louder and erratic. He knows you are getting close and holds you down onto his firm thigh while you continue to rock above him. A choked groan leaves your lips and your coil snaps your warm release spilling onto his leg.

He mutters a few curse words below you watching the white coat his chiseled thigh. He continues to do the work for you as your body tenses under your long awaited release; rocking you as complete bliss fills your body. Finally you stop moving and fall onto his chest in a state of complete euphoria; his hand rests on the small of your back.

“So you waited over five months to make a move" you tease having recaptured your breath.

“Well I had to take it slow, you spook easy. Like a deer" he laughs.

You smile wide rolling your eyes slightly but don’t bother objecting. “It’s okay you’re my Bambi, I’d do anything for you.

Later that day you were in the shower Allie called and I answered. She basically told me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I gave her my number, and she added me to a group chat with Carlee.”

“Oh my god that must have been terrible for you" you smirk pushing onto your elbow to look at him.

“It is terrible” he corrects you pressing you back onto the mattress. “We still have it, but now it’s mostly random stuff. Sending them pictures of the kids, Carlee mostly just sends memes of goats for some reason” he laughs slightly. “But one time I was buying you a present and I had it narrowed down to two options, sent pictures to the chat and had about a million messages over the next 3 days” you laugh along with him.

“I never asked for their help again. But before we got together they helped me figure out what you meant and wanted. They made sure I didn’t do anything stupid or say something to scare you off again. When I had doubts because you were so closed off, or you would stay at your apartment alone instead of with Oliver and I they would reassure me. They would tell me things like keep doing what you’re doing or she really liked when you did blank. So without telling me how you felt or what you saying about me they helped.

I think we would have got here without them. But they helped, let me know I was on the right track.”

“I wasn’t that bad" you groan.

Fred laughs pressing his lips against yours. Your hand slides up his chest into his beard, gently running your hands through it while his tongue slides inside your mouth. You open your mouth to allow him further entrance but he pulls back slightly.

“When did you know?” he asks against your lips “that I was the one?”

“I knew that night in Toronto when I joined you on your road trip. Looking back it happened before that night, I mean you already had a key to my place. But when I called you my boyfriend at the bar…that was when it was real. I didn’t meant to call you my boyfriend, but it felt natural and right and that’s when I finally admitted it to myself.”

“Oh it took so much willpower to not tell you I loved you then" he brings a large smile to your lips. “But I knew you were already overthinking the fact you called me your boyfriend so I held back. Didn’t want to make it worse and send you running.”

“Well now you get to tell me all the time" you smile down at him.

“Mmmm and I plan on it every. Single. Day.” He presses his lips against yours in between each word, each kiss a little more firm.

“You feeling better?” he asks a few minutes later his eyes are heavy and barely open.

“Yeah” you brush your lips against his.

“All taken care of” he mumbles “satisfied?”

“Yeah babe” you smile wide though his eyes are closed and he can’t see.

“Night elskede” he mumbles through a raspy voice, barely getting the words out before he begins snoring beside you.

Next Chapter

#because two people got drunk fic #fredzilla #frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #Fred Andersen Fic #fred andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl smut

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 10

Word Count: 5,487

POV: Reader then changes to Sid

Warnings: Language

Notes: This is fluf again, but I think we’re getting a little closer to the smut...haha. Sorry this chapter is a little long. Happy Reading!!! As always feedback is welcome!

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

It felt like the last twenty-four hours hadn't really existed. One minute you were celebrating with the team that you were going to the Stanley Cup finals and the next, you were waking up laying on top of Sidney. As if that wasn't enough, you'd actually agreed to go out with him. What were you actually thinking? You shouldn't be mixing business and pleasure. There was part of you that was screaming that you were becoming everything that Christian had said that night in DC. Your rational side told you that things with Sid weren't like that, that he genuinely cared about you.

It was in the way he held you when the elevator stopped and the lights when out. The way he came running after you, after your encounter with Christian, and also the way he talked to you into staying and working for the team. All those things added up and showed you just how much he really cared for you. The problem was you didn't want to be a distraction right now for him. It was your job, to help these guys not make think about bringing you flowers and taking you on a date, especially not at a time when he needed to solely be focusing on hockey.

Though you couldn't help remembering the feel of his fingers as they ran up and down your arm this morning, or the way he smelled as your head lay on his chest. Just the thought of it all gave you butterflies. Butterflies that you shouldn't be having; you told yourself. You needed to focus on the team, just like Sid needed to focus on hockey. The only thing you could do was immerse yourself in work. Of course, you were at every practice, just like always, but you took extra time making sure the guys had everything they needed. When you weren't at the rink you were planning ahead for when you were in San Jose. Coach Sullivan had approached you that afternoon about doing an outdoor workout again. So, you were busy getting that set up for when you were in California.

You also took extra time making up care packages for all the teams' families that would be coming in for the game. They weren't staying at the same hotel as you guys, but you did know where the arrangements had been made and you wanted to make sure that they knew they could reach out to you as well. That was the whole point of this job.

The first home game against the Sharks, the Pens were on fire and while Sid didn't have a goal, he did have an assist. After the game, Sid did a bunch of interviews and was the last one to leave the locker room. You were finishing up a few things in your office when he stood in the doorway. "I thought you'd still be here."

"Oh, really, and what made you think that?"

"Because you take this job as seriously as I do." Well, maybe not quite that much. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car." You gathered up a few folders you needed to take home and your coat and headed out the door with Sid. The hallways were somewhat bare, as most of the players had already left. The garage was eerily quiet and you were glad Sid was with you. He walked you down to your car which was parked a lot further away than his, but then he was the star of the team.

"Nice game tonight." You told him when you finally got to the vehicle.

"Thanks, I could've been a little better, but at least we got the win." He rubbed the back of his neck and you couldn't tell if it was just sore from a hit that had happened in the second or if he was stalling for more time with you.

"Your neck ok? I saw that hit. It was kind of jarring."

"What? Oh…uh ya. It's a little sore." He brought his arm down then and put his hands in his pockets.

"Can I?" You'd been told you were pretty good at giving massages and you really just wanted to help him out. He turned around then. Thank god you were wearing your heels. You were still a couple inches shorter than Sid, but it made massaging his neck a little easier. You slid your fingers into the chords of his neck muscles and could feel the tension there. "Damn Sid, didn't you have Chris look at this before you left?"

He sighed as you hit a particular spot and the knot worked out. "I was too busy with interviews." You circled your thumbs down at the base and felt some of the tension leave him. His shoulders could use some work, but it was a little hard to get to them through this suit.

"Well make sure you get to the rink early tomorrow, so he can squeeze you in before practice."

He twisted around; your hand falling away as he turned. "If he can't, I'll just come over to your office." He said with a wink. You were starting to wonder how bad his neck actually hurt. Shaking your head, you opened your car door to leave.

"Thanks for walking me to the car. Now go get some rest."

"Trying to get me into bed, eh? And we haven't even had our first date." That damn crooked smile of his came out and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him until the sun came up.

Instead, you told him, "Oh you'll know when I'm trying to get you into bed." For added effect, you went up on your toes and whispered into his ear. "And you may not want to leave once I have you there." You pulled back to a see his jaw go slack. "Goodnight Sidney." With that, you ducked into the car and headed home.

The next two days were a whirlwind. You were getting everything ready for the game the next night while trying to prep everything for the away trip as well. Coach Sullivan had decided that it would be easier to just fly out to San Jose right after game two; so you also needed to pack as well. Suitcase packed, you threw it in the car and headed to the arena. The Pens fans came out in full support of their team, covering the seats in a sea of gold, towels waving nonstop. The guys played their hearts out and ended up coming away with a win in overtime. Everyone was exhausted as you headed on the plane, and while you normally sat with Beau; you decided to head to the back and get some sleep.

Horny had the very last seat behind you and was fast asleep before the plane even took off. Your nerves still got the best of you during takeoff, so you waited until the captain stated it was ok to turn on your devices before grabbing your travel blanket and pillow and curling up in the seat. You were just about to close your eyes when you heard. "Is this seat taken?"

You looked up to see Sid, already sitting down beside you. "No, but then I think you knew that." Sid just simply shrugged. "Why aren't you sitting up there with Flower?"

"He's sleeping." Funny, you'd plan on doing the same until a moment ago. "And he's not near as pretty to look at when he's asleep as you are."

"Shhh." You chided him as you looked to see who was seated in front of you. Thankfully it was just Dana Heinze and he was out like a light.

He leaned over then and whispered in your ear. "Why can't I say how pretty you are when you sleep? I love how your lashes lay against your cheek and you have the cutest little…"

"Sid," you said, a blush staining your cheeks. "You shouldn't be saying those things. Especially here." That crooked smirk came out again, and you just shook your head at him as he muttered fine. "Now is there something you need help with, or are you just tormenting me since everyone else is sleeping."

"Well, I wouldn't call it tormenting?" You giggled softly, you wouldn't necessarily call it that either, but you liked making him flustered. "Can you massage my neck again? We didn't really have time after the game." You looked across the aisle and saw a couple of the trainers chatting, and knew he could've asked one of them, but who were you to argue.

"Turn sideways." He had shed his jacket once you were on the plane, so it was a bit easier to rub his shoulders this time. His neck did feel tight, but not as bad as the other night, so you were pretty sure this was just his way of flirting with you. He slowly relaxed under your hands as you massaged him for a good ten to fifteen minutes. "Better?"

"Mmm," he hummed out, turning so he could recline in the seat beside you.

"Anything else you need?"

"Some of your blanket. It's freezing back here." It was always cold on the plane, so you learned early to bring a small throw.

"Don't you have a seat, that's missing you? Like I'm pretty sure I heard that you always sit in that seat for luck." It was just another one of his superstitions, but you actually thought they were kind of cute.

"I did sit in it, and now I'm sitting the rest of the way with you. Now fork over some blanket, so we can get some sleep." You just shook your head at him and spread the blanket between the two. "If you come over this way, we'd both have more." You scooted to his side instead of leaning against the window.

"There, now go to sleep." You shut your eyes when you felt his knuckles brush across the back of your hand. His fingers lightly caressed your skin, before lacing his hand with yours. It was so incredibly sweet, yet you found yourself asking. "This doesn't seem like business as usual?" referring to the fact that he was not supposed to be pursuing you until after the playoffs were over.

"Maybe it's going to be from now on. Now be quiet so I can go to sleep." He shut his eyes, but a huge grin was spread across his face. You closed yours as well and tried not to think about the man next to you. You weren't doing anything but holding his hand under a blanket, yet it felt so intimate, and you hoped no one would notice. It took a few minutes before the motion of the plane lulled you to slumber.

When you woke up, your head was resting on Sidney's shoulder and his was leaning down on yours. You could only imagine the picture that the two of you painted. The plane was still quiet, as it seemed most people were still asleep. His hand was still interlaced into yours and you took a moment to just breathe in his scent and cherish this moment. You knew you couldn't stay like that for fear of someone seeing the two of you. The small pillow you brought was on the other side of you, and you grabbed it to prop Sid's head on as you carefully extracted yourself. Luckily, he slept on.

A quick check of your phone showed you were only about thirty minutes from landing, so you expected everyone to be waking up soon. You tried to unlace your fingers from Sid's but even in sleep, he wasn't having it. As much as you were trying to keep it business, you couldn't help but smile sitting there holding his hand. You took a moment to just look at him as he slept, even though it was dark and hard to make out some of his features. He looked so peaceful and so carefree in sleep, and you wondered if he ever let go this much when he was awake.

You weren't sure how long you sat there gazing at Sid, thinking about what it would be like to wake up in his arms again, but all too soon the captain came on and told everyone to fasten their seatbelts as you would be landing shortly. Most of the guys woke up, but Sid just slept on. Gently, you rubbed his bicep, the one that was still holding your hand. "Sid, time to wake up."

His head tilted over to you, and he whispered low. "Mmm, I know. Just wanted to see if you'd kiss me awake." You shoved his shoulder then.

"How's that instead?" He just chuckled at you, and you had a feeling he'd been awake a lot longer than he was letting on. "You can go back to your seat anytime now." You teased.

"Nope. You're stuck with me until we land."

"Fine, but I'm stealing my blanket back."

Sid stopped you. "You might not want to do that, as I don't plan on letting go until we land." He squeezed your locked hands.

"Seriously, what am I going to do with you?"

"I have a few ideas," he muttered raising his eyebrows suggestively at you, to which you just rolled your eyes. Thankfully, the stewardess came by checking your seatbelts and effectively changing the subject.

The two of you made small talk the remainder for the flight. Sid did finally let your hand go before heading off the plane.

SID'S POV

The next couple of days were filled with practices and watching films. There was really wasn't any time that you got to spend with (Y/N) alone or even semi-alone for that matter. While the team was off watching endless hours of tapes, she would head over to the hotel where all the families were staying and make sure everyone there was fine. The only reason you knew this was because of your mom. She mentioned that she ran into (Y/N) in the lobby and how she was checking on everyone.

Your mom also mentioned how (Y/N) had done gift baskets for everyone and how that someone should snatch that girl up. Of course, she was insinuating that someone should be you, to which you simply told her you were trying. That comment led to a whole conversation about what you should be doing to win her over. You took in all her advice but thought you were pretty much on the right track at the moment. You just needed to win the cup and then (Y/N)'s heart. The fact that you lost game three, didn't help your endeavor in either case.

The following day, coach had you all train at the beach again. Which of course, (Y/N) had made all the arrangements for. It was again the pick me up the team needed and helped you to a game four win. As you headed back to Pittsburgh, you knew everyone had one thing on their mind and that was to win and to do it at home. Tensions were high, the entire flight home and all into game five. You felt the pressure pouring down on you, from everywhere; the team, the fans, the city, even your family, everyone but (Y/N). You'd pass her in the hall and she would always send you a reassuring smile. One time you waited to walk her to her car like you did before. She held your hand the entire time and refused to talk about hockey, trying to take your mind off of everything. Unfortunately, it didn't help and the team lost its chances of winning at home in game 5.

As you headed back to San Jose, (Y/N) took the seat way in the back again. She must have sensed you needed some time with her. It was a morning flight, so you couldn't really cuddle up with her as you had previously. "Are you doing ok?" She asked.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "It's a lot but I know we're going to get it this time."

She smiled over at you, totally agreeing with your statement. "You will." She stated simply. "So, let's focus on something else. I think you have enough hockey on your mind for three seasons at the moment."

"True. How about we talk about where you want to go on our date?"

While she shook her head at you, a becoming blush started to creep onto her cheeks. "Sid, we're not supposed to be talking about that until after this is all over."

"I thought you were going to take my mind off of hockey?" It was a cheap tactic, but one you used to your advantage.

She side-eyed you before giving her reply. "Point taken. Where would you like to go?"

"Well, I have a few thoughts." You said with a suggestive raise of your brow.

"Sid," she whisper yelled at you.

"What? I was thinking of that cute little restaurant on Mount Washington and then maybe ice cream afterward." You didn't point out that you wanted to lick the ice cream off of her body.

"Yeah, sure you did." The rest of the way you talked about anything and everything, well except hockey. By the time the plane landed, you were feeling good about the game and your upcoming date. Which hopefully would be taking place soon.

Game six was intense. Halfway into the first Dumo put you on the board, and you could almost taste the champagne coming out of the cup. The Sharks rallied though in the second as Couture, put one in the back of the net. Not a minute later, you got the puck on a pass from Shears. You weighed your options as you dangled the puck back and forth, finally flipping it over to Tanger who slapped into the net for you guys to take the lead. The rush was amazing, and you couldn't help but wonder if (Y/N) saw that; knowing, of course, she probably did.

Minutes ticked by and it seemed like the slowest third period you'd ever played in your life, but with every passing one, it put your closer to winning. Finally, you were down to a little over a minute in the third, you were able to steal the puck away from the Sharks and pass it on to Horny who threw it into the empty net, sealing your fate as the new Stanley Cup Champs. The bench erupted and it took everything in Coach Sullivan's power to settle everyone down for the few seconds. You stayed out on the ice and when the buzzer sounded gloves and sticks were thrown in the air. The crowd was somber, nothing like if you'd had been in Pittsburgh, but it didn't matter. Everyone piled on top of each other to celebrate and as you emerged from the pile your eyes scanned the bench looking for (Y/N), yet she wasn't there.

Handshakes commenced; a tradition long upheld at the end of a playoff series. It was only after, as you still celebrated with your teammates that you saw her, standing in the back, waiting with some of the other staff members to watch you receive the Stanley Cup. Her smile was brighter than the sun and while you knew you had a perma-grin plastered on, yours grew wider just looking at her. You were awarded the Conn-Smythe trophy and you were able to hear her say congratulations when you skated it back for someone to take back to the locker room for you. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do for now.

The Stanley Cup presentation took place next, and you raised it above your head, cheering and skating around the ice. You passed the trophy off and quickly had microphones shoved in your face, giving a few quick interviews as it was passed from player to player. Finally, it was time for the team photo and you saw Mario drag her out on the ice. You knew she didn't feel as though she should be there, but you were glad she was. As soon as the was over, everyone's families crowd out to congratulate them. Your parents and sister were right there in the front and after a few pictures with the cup and them, you skated around joining in the celebration. Over to your left, Anna had her legs wrapped around Geno, the two sharing a passionate kiss, and to your right, you saw Vero and Flower doing the same. It was then you realized how incomplete the cup win actually was. Oh, you were still thrilled that you'd won your second championship; it just finally hit you that it would've been so much better to celebrate it with (Y/N). You wanted her legs wrapped around you, kissing you senseless, and pictures with just the two of you and the cup. You vowed right then and there that you'd win another one, just so that you could have a moment like that with her.

You spotted her then. She was standing off to the side with Tanger's son Alex, crouched down low talking to him about everything that was going on. You skated over to him, lowering yourself to his level as well. "Hey bud, are you excited?"

He shook his little head. "Uncle Sid, Nous avons gagne la coupe!"

"Yes we did, win the cup, Alex."

"He was teaching me how to say it in French, weren't you Alex?"

"Oui." You scooped him up in your arms then, for even as excited as he was, you could see that the late-night was taking a toll on him.

"I was just watching him for a minute, while Kris and Catherine had an interview or something." Alex rested his little hard on your shoulder and (Y/N) moved closer to the two of you to brush his hair out of his face. "Are you sleepy buddy?" He reached out his hand for (Y/N) to take him.

"What, Uncle Sid is no good now or what?" You teased the toddler.

"She sings better than you, Uncle Sid."

You handed the boy over, and he wiggled around in (Y/N)'s arms trying to get comfortable. The problem was you were all still on the ice, only (Y/N) was still in heels. You reached around to support her more until Alex finally determine what obviously was the place he wanted to rest his little head, her breasts.

Things winded down on the ice and everyone moved back to the locker room. You waited until almost everyone was back there, then brought the cup in. Everyone was cheering, champagne was flowing everywhere, in the air, in the cup; it was complete chaos in the best sense. You were soaked head to toe in some form of alcohol. After pouring several bottles into Lord Stanley's Cup, you took a drink then held it up for your teammates, coaches, and staff. Eventually, Tanger and Flower coax (Y/N) over to partake as well. You tried to pour as little as possible but of course, it ended up all over her just like it was everyone else. She was just as soaked as everyone else.

The team partied in the locker room for a couple hours, then headed back to the hotel. As the captain, you were entitled to keep the cup for the night, so you carried it into your room and set down next to all the things (Y/N) had put in your room for this trip. You still really hadn't gotten to celebrate with just her, you'd only had that brief moment with her and Alex. Pulling out your phone, you shot her a quick text. If you have a sec, can you come down here? You didn't have to tell her where for you knew she'd assigned the rooms and would know where you were staying. Be down in a minute. She sent back.

About five minutes later there was a knock on your door. "Everything ok?"

You opened the door for her to come in, then shut it behind her. Her hair was slightly damp, probably after the shower she'd just taken to get the alcohol off, and she had an oversized Pens Championship t-shirt, the same as you, and a pair of leggings on. She looked adorable and sexy at the same time, a combination that wreaked havoc on your senses. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"When you text me, I thought something happened with the cup and you needed me to find fairies with little metal hammers to take the dents out."

That caused both of you to laugh. "Fairies, really (Y/N)?"

She simply lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "With a trophy this old, you never know. Anyway, what did you need?"

"Oh, well I just realized something."

When you paused a second, she asked. "What's that?"

"Just that I haven't got to celebrate the win with you at all tonight." A sweet little smile graced her face.

"We celebrated in the locker room." She countered.

"Yeah, that wasn't what I meant." You took a step closer to her, now only inches separating the two of you. "There's been something I've wanted to do all night."

"And what's that?"

"This," you stated as you closed the gap between you, capturing her chin between your thumb and index finger, before closing your lips over hers. She was taken back for only a second, and then her hands slid up around your neck and she pressed her body to yours. You took possession of her mouth then, your tongue sweeping in and swirling with hers. Kissing (Y/N) was everything you had dreamed; your only regret was that you hadn't done it sooner. She was soft and pliant under your hands, as you skated them down her back. Her mouth molded to yours, as she returned the kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. You rested your forehead on hers, cherishing the moment for a minute longer. "That was…" she sighed out, eyes still closed.

"Perfect," you told her and hoped she felt the same way.

"Yeah."

"So…I was thinking?" You pulled back to look at her.

"Then we must not have been doing it right." A light laugh escaped your lips.

"I was thinking of this before we did that." She raised her eyebrows at you. "Stay with me tonight?"

"Uh…um…" she sputtered out.

"Hear me out, before you answer." You quickly continued before she could protest. "Tonight has been perfect; everything about it. There's only one thing that could make it better and that's spending it with you in my arms." You felt her sigh before you actually heard it, and you weren't sure if it was one of acquiescence or rejection. "I just want to hold you, like I did that night at my house. Nothing more…not yet at least." She blushed then and you may have as well.

"But Sid, what if someone sees us?"

"No one will care (Y/N). Besides, they'll eventually find out, once I officially get to take you on a date."

She closed her eyes again, shielding you from her thoughts. Your hand rubbed circles on her hip, coaxing her to say yes. "Ok," she softly whispered.

Her agreement was like winning the Stanley Cup all over again, and you dropped a swift peck to her lips. "By the way, this looks good on you." You tugged at her shirt pulling her towards the bed before she changed her mind.

"It's a bit big."

"I have some pants that would go with it." You told her referring to the ones she wore when she was at your house.

"Oh my god, I still have them." Her face turned a delicious shade of red.

"Keep them. I have a feeling I might need them for when I stay over at your place."

"You seem pretty confident, about that happening, Mr. Crosby." She playfully swatted at your chest, before spinning around to turn down the bed, shimming out of her leggings before climbing in.

"I'd say hopefully optimistic." She crawled into the bed, scooting over to the other side, while you shucked off your identical t-shirt and shed your sweats so that you were only clad in a pair of boxers. You were under the covers before she even knew you had discarded the clothing.

"Hmm, maybe I should sleep on top of the covers." You gave her a questioning look. "Can't have you getting overconfident." All you could do was shake your head and pull her close; her head resting on your chest, just as it had days ago. She still fit perfectly in your arms, and you took a moment to appreciate everything you had at that moment. "This is nice, just you, me, and that big silver trophy. You played a hell of a game Sid."

"Thanks, but it wasn't just me."

She propped her chin up on her hand to look at you. "There are no cameras at the moment, take the compliment."

"Only if it comes with a kiss." She leaned over then, her lips hovering above yours for the briefest moment before they gently caressed yours. She sucked on your bottom lip, before sweeping her tongue in and stealing your breath away. You moved your bodies so that you were both laying on your sides, as your hands roamed over her hips and back. You deepened the kiss even more, and she moaned into your mouth, the sound causing your cock to stiffen. It would be so easy to just slide her onto her back, coax her out of her shirt and make love to her. However, you'd all but promised her you wouldn't go that far; so you found yourself pulling away from the kiss earlier than either of you liked. You rolled onto your back, pulling her so that half her body was on top of you. "We should sleep before this goes any further."

She planted a kiss on your chest and you returned it with one to the top of her head. It wasn't long before both of you were fast asleep. Sunlight stole through the curtains causing you to wake up. (Y/N) still lay sleeping on your chest. It was around eight in the morning and you knew everyone would be getting up soon and meeting for breakfast, before heading back to Pittsburgh. You hated that you had to wake her, yet it couldn't be helped. "(Y/N)," you whispered lightly shaking her, then rubbing your hands across her back. "Baby, it's time to get up."

She moaned slightly, still in a sleep fog. "Mmm, did you just call me baby?"

"Um…maybe?" You hadn't realized you'd let the term of endearment fall from your lips. "Is that ok?"

"Mmm…" Every time the light hum slipped out of her lips it elicited wicked thoughts from you. "Yeah…I kind of like it."

You kissed her nose then. "Good, because I have a feeling, I'm going to use it more often." Your lips dropped down to hers then, stealing a kiss.

She pulled back too quickly for your liking. "I should go."

"I can't wait until you don't have to." She giggled then, before squirming out of your arms and out of bed. "I'll meet you down at breakfast then?"

"Yeah, I'll be down as soon as I pack." She tossed her leggings back on, before throwing her hair in some type of messy bun. You got up and reached for her, pressing her close to you.

"Let me make sure no one is in the hall first." You didn't release her though, instead, you kissed her again, letting your mouth worship hers one last time before having to pretend there was nothing going on between you. "You know next season; you're going to have to make our rooms next to each other."

"Oh really?"

"Mmmhmm, better yet they should be adjoining. I'll be sure to put it on my paper so you remember." She just laughed and shook her head at you. "Wait, I have an even better idea." She pulled back, to get a better look at your face. "We can just share a room; it would save the team money."

"You'd be sick of me."

"Never," you answered before kissing her again.

"I better go." You released her, before opening the door to check and see if anyone was in the hall.

"All clear. I'll see you in a bit." She went to leave, and you pulled her back one last time for a quick kiss before she headed down the hall and back to her room. The last twenty-four hour had been the best of your life and you had a feeling they were only going to get better from here on out.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #Sidney Crosby #sidney crosby imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins imagine #Pittsburgh Penguins imagines #pittsburgh penguins

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puckngrind · 4 years

Text

Skating Lessons: part 30 - J. Anderson

Summary: Josh’s birthday in the middle of a pandemic.

Warning: language, smut, quarantine, smut

Word count: 2,957

Series Masterlist

“Momma, why doesn’t Josh get a birthday party?” Mason adds the candles to the pancakes and you hand him the sprinkles. His eyes go wide.

“Remember the germs that made hockey stop? Well Josh cannot go home to his family.” You grab the shaker realizing there were plenty of blue sprinkles.

“Aren’t we kinda like his family too?” Mason questions. You go to answer when Josh appears from the hall. His hair sticking straight up as he pulled his shirt down.

“Yup Mace. I wouldn’t want to spend my birthday with anyone else.” Josh kisses your forehead and fist bumps Mason. “You two didn’t have to make me birthday pancakes, you know.”

“Yes we did it’s your... your... Momma, what’s it called when we do something every year?”

“Tradition. Speaking of...” Your fingers scroll and click and Josh looks at you with one eyebrow up as the distinct sound of FaceTime buzzes. “Everyone ready there?” You move the phone to Josh’s view from where he sat in front of the pancakes.

“Hi Mom! And Dad, and Jess, Jordan, Jake.” Josh looks up at you with a smile as you light the candles.

“Ready?” Mason climbs into Josh’s lap and starts singing. You see Josh’s eyes water as his family joins Mason and yourself. Mason helps him blow out the candles and you hear the cheers from the Anderson family. They chat a little as Josh and Mason share his sprinkle filled pancakes.

You retreat to your bedroom to change your batter covered clothes. Mason might be an adorable sous chef but he was definitely a messy one. You see the shirt you want and reach for the top shelf in your closest when Josh’s arms wrap just under your chest and his lips ghost your ear. “You didn’t have to orchestrate that (y/n) but thank you.” You turn and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You deserve it. I was hoping to make your birthday a little better than last year.” Josh winces and you know it just brought back the memory. “Sorry. I am clearly sucking at making it better.”

“Oh Baby. Just me getting to do this makes my birthday better than last year.” Josh kisses your lips softly and you hum in approval.

“Just wait until this evening.” You pull away from him and see the confusion in his eyes. “My parents are taking Mace for the evening.”

“So I have you all to myself?” Josh pulls your body into him and you nod while sucking your lip into your teeth. “26 is looking up already.” He kisses your lips again and a slight moan slips out. “Hmm, well that can wait.” He chuckles and breaks your embrace. By the time you changed and found Josh and Mason they were outside playing on the swing set in the back yard. Neither one seems to notice that you stepped out to the patio.

“So Josh, why can you go to work but some of your other teammates can’t?” Mason asks while Josh pushes him on the swing.

“Well, remember when I didn’t play?” Josh rubs his shoulder absentmindedly. Mason nods. “Well, that’s why. The doctors and trainers can still work on me and Seth since we were hurt when the season stopped.”

“But I cannot go skating?” Mason asks and Josh laughs a little.

“No Bud, but Cam said we can go to his rink soon, kay?” Josh looks up finally and sees your smile. “Look, Momma came out. Now we can order lunch!” Both of your boys cheer.

The three of you load up in your car and head to pick up lunch from one of Josh’s favorite restaurants. Since March, getting out of the house for simple tasks was exciting. The early May weather was nice and Josh suggested you eat down by the river. The three of you found a spot in the grass by the bike path. Mason downed his lunch and got up quickly to start running around and skipping rocks in the river.

“Do you miss living downtown J?” You break the comfortable silence taking in your surroundings and Josh’s hand finds yours as you leaned back watching Mason.

“Nope. Living alone in the city isn’t the life I want anymore, (y/n).” Josh leans over and kisses your lips. “Nothing compares to what I have now.” You feel the heat flood your face.

“I was thinking, if you liked living closer... we could...” Josh’s lips stop your stammering.

“Nope. Suburban living with great schools is exactly where we should be.” Josh kisses you again. “Now we could go to my condo tonight for a change of pace.” You almost forgot Josh still had his condo. He let a few of the call ups stay in it since he moved in with you and Mason. “It hasn’t been used in months.” Josh winks at you.

“I do miss my old bed.” You laugh out.

“Who said we were using the bed?” Josh retorts with his tongue sticking out between his teeth. You immediately feel the heat in your cheeks and between your legs.

You dropped Mason off at your parents after lunch and went back home to pack a bag. Josh got a few calls and texts from his hockey family wishing they could celebrate with him while you scurried around him.

“It feels like a pretend get away you know.” You joke as Josh slides into the driver seat after putting your bag in the back.

“It does and as soon as this Covid shit is done I’m taking you wherever you want to go.” Josh’s fingers interlace yours. “Vacation sounds amazing.”

“Agreed.” You breathe out. “But being here has been okay, yes? Normally now you are in some warm climate or home, right?” Josh’s eyes look over at you with that look.

“Well, ideally we would be playing hockey until June, but yeah.” Josh squeezes your hand. “I have enjoyed spring with you through. Next year it won’t be this way. Kinda nice since this is our first year together that we have this extra time. You know?”

“Not sharing you with hockey...” you stop yourself realizing that hockey was in fact his job and now how he was supporting not only you but Mason since quitting your job officially last month.

“Not sharing me is nice? Is that what you were going to say?” Josh pulls into the curbside pick up. You nod. “I understand. Most of the guys have said their families are loving this time and with talks of coming back in August, well it will make for a weird playoff and off season.”

“I don’t understand.” You pull your eyebrows together.

“Well if this whole bubble thing happens I’ll leave for at least a few weeks, and then we don’t start the next season until Christmas.” Josh calls the restaurant to tell them he was there.

“So you will have more time off in October and November?” You ask after he’s off the phone.

“From the sounds of it. David is representing us in all the talks. Seth is his back up.”

“Oh! And trades happen?” You whisper.

“Anytime after we are eliminated, potentially. But we are celebrating and not talking about that shit right now. Hear me, (y/n)?” Josh rolls the window and grabs your food, thanking the server. “Yeah, Baby?” He leans to place the food behind you and pulls your face to his kissing you lightly.

“We will talk about it, eventually?” You try not to sound panicked.

“Yeah for sure, when I have more answers. Now off to the condo!” Josh starts driving and instantly hums to the song on the radio. He pulls into his parking spot and sighs.

“You okay Josh?” Your hand rubs his cheek.

“Yeah, just lots of memories. It seems like a lifetime ago when you left me in my boxers in this garage. A life time.” Josh tries to pull a smile.

“That was before my accident, when I still wasn’t sure why...” you trail off. Josh’s lips find yours.

“I’m glad you trust me now.” He jokes. “Now let’s get out of the car and enjoy our evening.” The smirk you loved crosses over his lips and he lets go of you to retrieve the bags. Some how holding your overnight bag and dinner in one hand and your hand with his other you make your way to his condo. Closing the door you hear Josh’s breath hitch.

“Welcome home.” You joke.

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem very homey anymore but I’m glad the guys didn’t destroy it.” He chuckles dropping dinner on the table and your bag on the floor by the hall. “Let’s eat first.” His lips find yours and his arms wrap around you.

“Your actions and words don’t match J.” You inhale to catch your breath.

“I know. But if we let dinner get cold it’s not as good.” He breaks from you and pulls out the seat. The two of you enjoy dinner talking about normal life things and your foot finds his leg rubbing it ever so lightly as dinner was almost finished your foot found it’s way between Josh’s leg making him drop his fork. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, did I go too far?” You move your foot and Josh’s hand catches your ankle.

“No. That wasn’t a turned on fuck not an annoyed fuck.” You chuckle as Josh stands. His erection pulling his shorts tight. Holding his hand out for you to stand with him. He pulls your body flush to his and the feeling of him on you makes your body weak. His tongue quickly swiping through your mouth wanting to be closer to you. He steps into you until your back hits the glass wall. Pulling your leg up over his hip. Josh only releasing your lips to kiss down your neck then back up to your lips. You moan in his mouth and feel his grunt rumble throughout your body. Your core throbbing for him as he pulls at your top. “Off.” He orders.

“Can anyone see us?” Your hand covers his.

“No. Tinted at night.” Josh bites at your collarbone and then pulls your shirt off. “I could fuck your right here and no one would see us.”

“Josh!” You aren’t sure if it was out of protest or turned on. “It is your birthday.” He nods and reaches up to pull of his shirt.

“So maybe we should be in our birthday suits then?” Josh goes to take off your leggings.

“Wow! 26 has brought the corny jokes, eh?” You bite the inside of your cheek and look up at Josh. His blue eyes full of desire.

“Hush. Just get naked.” He starts at your leggings again when there is a knock at the door. “Who the fuck is that?” He doesn’t move.

“Oh! It’s cake!” You almost forgot that you ordered a small cake from the bakery down the street. You slink out from between Josh and the window.

“Babe! You are just in your bra!” Josh turns on his heels.

“They are leaving it at your door. No contact whatever.” You open the door slightly making sure no one was there and grab the box sitting on the door mat. Shutting the door you jump not realizing Josh had followed you. “I forgot candles but happy birthday.” You slowly open the box to reveal the tiny frosted cake. Without saying anything Josh pulls you up into his arms and you yelp. “Want to eat the cake first?” You look at Josh thankful you had two hands on the box.

“We are bringing it with us.” Josh’s animalistic tone made your panties wet. He slowly dropped you to your feet, takes the cake from your hold and places it on the night stand. “Now where was I?” Josh reaches around and flicks off your bra with ease and starts to ease you out of your leggings and panties. You easily release his shorts and drop to your knees as you pull down his boxers and spring his cock free. Josh grunts from above you and sits slightly on the side of the bed. Your hand slides down his length then your tongue licks at his tip. His thighs tighten and his fists ball up the sheets. You start to wrap your lips around him and stop.

“Can you lay on the bed instead?” You look up at Josh who’s eyes are screwed shut and he nods shifting up into the bed and you follow. Placing your body between his legs you drop your mouth down around him. Josh’s hips shift as he hits the back of your throat. You slide up and down his length slowly eliciting barbaric sounds from his lips. Your hands press into his thighs as you hollow out your cheeks for him.

“(Y/n). Slow. Down.” Josh’s voice is strained and you giggle with him still in your mouth. “Fuck.” You slowly pull off of him. You see your man completely unglued above you. You eye the cake and snake your body up his kissing his lips.

“I’ll slow down.” You smirk and flip open the box. Swiping your finger in the icing and placing your finger in Josh’s mouth. He sucks it off and his eyes go wide.

“That’s delicious.” He says. “You should try it.” Before his fingers can get to the box your finger swipes more frosting off the top and swipe it down the hard line between his pecks and abs. “Fuuuuccck.” The sound of pure pleasure escapes his lips.

“Oops. Let me get that.” Your mischievous smile is noticed as you shift your weight. Licking from his navel to his chest. Josh’s muscles contract in your path. You lick his nipples and then move up to his lips. His hands find your hips and flip both of you over.

“My turn.” Josh’s eyes are dark and his lips press to yours with a sense of need. He swipes at the cake and pulls up on his arm to rub frosting on your nipple. He immediately pulls it in between his teeth and sucks hard. You moan loudly and out of habit cover your mouth. “We are alone. Remember?” He removes your hand. “I wanna hear you.” He let’s go and your hand finds his hair. Josh’s fingers dance at your entrance. “Fuck you are soaked.” Josh kisses your lips and brings his hand back up to suck off his fingers.

“I know it’s your birthday but I need you.” You pull at his neck in desperation. And Josh only answers by pressing deep inside of you. You let out a sound of relief as he bottoms out and you feel him deep inside. He wastes no time finding a rhythm that makes you both moan out in pleasure. “Josh.” You pant out feeling your orgasm build. Josh’s lips find yours again.

“Come with me.” He grunts out as he picks up his pace causing both of you to hit your highs. Josh doesn’t let up as you come down from your orgasm. He presses his body up so his torso is hovering over yours. He kisses your lips again and then your heaving chest. He pulls out of you as his mouth leaves open mouth kisses down your body.

“What.” you try to catch your breath as his lips find your thighs. “Are you doing?”

“I’m not done but I need a break.” He looks at you with a glimmer in his eye then proceeds to lick through your fold causing your entire body to jolt.

“Holy shit!” You scream out as his tongue fucks into you and his thumb finds your clit. You move your feet to his back and feel his skin in your toes as they curl into his back. He’s relentless and knows exactly where to move to make you yell out his name. When you are sure he will let up his body moves quickly up your and he presses into you again. A slew of curse words leaves Josh’s mouth as he holds his hips tight to yours. He drops to his forearms so his lips ghost yours.

“You feel so fucking good, Baby.” Josh whispers into your ear and you feel yourself melt under him. “Hold on just a moment longer. Can ya?” He pleads and you nod. He thrusts in and out knowing giving you exactly what you need. Feeling him twitch deep inside you again sends your third maybe forth orgasm crashing over you. Josh’s solid body landing on you. Feeling his sweat drip from his body mixing with yours.

After a few moments of just laying there like that completely blissed out Josh whispers as he rolls off you. “That was...”

“Amazing.” You finish his sentence. His body curled around yours. “Is it this bed, your birthday, or being alone?” You look up and back at Josh.

“Combination maybe. This bed is definitely coming back to our place when I get rid of this condo.” Josh presses his lips to your temple. “And definitely the best birthday I’ve had ever.”

“Really? I’m sure there have been other pretty amazing ones.” You turn and run your hand down his face.

“Nope. Spending the day with the love of my life. I’m not sure anything could top this one.” Josh’s lips find yours.

“Love of your life, huh?” You joke.

“Oh, (y/n), if you don’t know you are the love of my life I’m doing somethin’ wrong.” Josh pulls back to look at you.

“I know, J. I just like hearing it.” He pulls your body on top of his.

“Trust me. I’ll tell you forever how much I love you.” He pulls you into him.

“Forever.” You whisper.

#skating lessons fic #my andy man 77 #long time coming #birthday boy needs some lovin'#j anderson fic

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everwitch-magiks · 3 years

Text

dance with somebody (ch. 25)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 24

"Oh lord," Bitty whispers to himself. "Oh my goodness."

How long has it been, since the first time he stood in front of the Samwell hockey Haus with a pie in hand, just like this? Four and a half years? No, even longer. Goodness gracious.

He's been able to visit from time to time, since graduation. Providence is close, after all, and the Samwell team will always hold such a dear place in Bitty's heart. It's just, usually, he's come down to watch a game, and always together with Jack. They've stopped by the Haus, of course, have made their rounds and tried to catch up with everyone. Besides, it's not like they don't see many SMH members, former and current, at various other social occasions every so often.

But it's just… Bitty loves coming back to Samwell with Jack, loves reconnecting with their important people and places together. Yet even so, Bitty's relationship with his former teammates isn't quite the same, with Jack added to the equation. Not that going back to the Haus with Jack is bad, or uncomfortable, or anything in between. Not at all. It's just…

Senior year, Bitty became captain. The boys all chose him. Stepping into that role, and leading them through that grueling season, through those excruciating, exhilarating, endless playoffs all the way to actual championship victory, is something that still means more than Bitty can put into words. It was everything. And Jack was there for all of it, yes, he supported Bitty through all of it – without Jack, Bitty isn't sure if he would've held himself together until the end. But while Jack was there, he wasn't there. It wasn't his team.

It was Bitty's.

It's not something that Bitty thinks of as a good thing or a bad thing. It's just the truth. And it probably says something that, when Bitty had hesitantly told Jack that he'd been thinking about making a visit to Samwell on his own, Jack had been completely unsurprised. In fact, Jack's smile had been so knowing, he'd almost looked a little bit smug.

"Of course, Bits. You tell your boys hello from me. Don't spoil them with too much pie, eh?"

Bitty adjusts his bowtie, a little wearily. Gosh. He's actually nervous, isn't he? He has literally no reason to be. It's just the boys, his boys. His home away from home. They'll be happy to see him. Won't they?

Maybe turning up unannounced was a bad plan.

"Bits?"

Bitty almost jumps, he's so startled.

Thankfully, it's just Dex.

"Morning!" Bitty tries for cheerful. It almost works. "I was in the neighbourhood, so. Thought I'd pop by for a bit."

"It's so good to see you, man." Dex is grinning widely as he goes in for a hug. Bitty somehow manages to balance his pie and wrap one arm around Dex, simultaneously. "How long can you stay?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose too much, I'm sure y'all are swamped with homework and practice and-"

"Don't be an idiot. Everyone's gonna be so psyched to see you." Dex's grin softens. "Actually, today, we're-"

"Bitty!"

"Holy shit, Bits!"

"Pie!"

Bitty can't help his smile as Nursey, Tango and Hops tumble out of the Haus. It's debatable, whether or not Nursey has actually managed to put shoes on.

"Careful," Dex mutters as he swiftly takes the pie out of Bitty's hands. "Got your back, there you go."

It's just in time before Bitty is engulfed in something that feels so much like a celly, his heart actually aches.

"Goodness, I've missed y'all." Bitty smiles helplessly. "My, Hops, were you always this tall?"

"Probably," Hops says. He grins widely. "Maybe you just got tinier? Even more itty-bitty."

"Hey, now!" Bitty exclaims. He's grinning, too. Somehow, he has a feeling he'll be doing little else, today. "I'll have you know I'm a perfectly respectable height, Jonathan."

"Come on!" Tango is literally tugging at Bitty's arm in excitement. "This is such perfect timing, we were just-"

"Holy shit. Isn't that Bitty? Hey, everyone, Bitty's here!"

There's the unmistakable sound of a hoard of hockey players sprinting down several flights of stairs, and that's only the calm before the storm.

It takes well over half an hour before Bitty actually makes it inside the Haus.

His heart feels pleasantly warm as he steps into the familiar kitchen. Dex has set his pie to the side of a counter, his aunt’s old curtains are still hanging in the window and someone has managed to keep those plants on the windowsill alive. There's even a couple of succulents that Bitty doesn't quite recognise. Evidently, Bitty's housekeeping ambitions are actually being honored.

Most importantly, though, the kitchen is absolutely bustling with activity.

"We're having a deluxe team breakfast," Chowder is telling him enthusiastically. "Or, well, sort of a team brunch. Except, it's more brunch and lunch, really-"

"And snacks!" someone chimes in. It takes Bitty a second to remember his name – Joseph Lyons, one of the so-called Scones. Bitty has met all of the freshmen before, and he's tried his best to be his usual, charming self and make an approachable impression, but there's certainly something of an endearing flush on the boy's cheeks as he speaks directly to Bitty. "We're actually making baked potato bites, soon as Whiskey's done with the oven. I hope you'll like them!"

"Oh, that's exciting! I'm sure they'll be delicious."

Bitty offers Joseph a somewhat distracted smile. Whiskey? The oven?

He looks further into the kitchen, and… Yes. There's Whiskey. He's mixing something in a bowl, and listening to a boy next to him. A boy who is prattling on about something as he chops vegetables, his brown eyes bright with excitement.

A decidedly unfamiliar boy.

"Hey, Ocean," Nursey says – the boy looks up. "Can I borrow that knife, when you're done?"

"Do we want Derek Nurse with a sharp object in hand?" Ocean asks, just a bit too loudly. He grins as the kitchen at large provides a good round of chirps in agreement. "How about you hand me those tomatoes, Nursey, and I'll take care of them for you."

Bitty watches the boy for a moment longer, his brows slightly furrowed. Ocean seems to fit in quite seamlessly. Did he recently transfer from another school? Or did Bitty somehow actually manage to forget a Scone?

"Hey. Bits."

Whiskey has looked up. For some reason, he's watching Bitty with a certain level of apprehension. Bitty quickly offers him a bright smile.

"It's good to see you," he offers, because it truthfully is. "Jack says hello, by the way."

Whiskey smiles, too.

"Tell him I said hi. I hope you're finding the Haus in a decent enough state?"

"Oh, you best be taking special care of my old room, too," Bitty chirps good-naturedly. "I hope it's to your liking, and all?"

"For sure. You can head up and take a look, if you'd like that trip down memory lane." Whiskey's suggestion sounds surprisingly sincere. "You know the way. Door's unlocked."

"Oh," Bitty says. It hasn't been on his list, exactly, but now that it's being offered… "You know, I'll actually take you up on that."

Whiskey nods towards him, once, before returning his attention to his bowl.

Stepping into his old room feels more than a little bit surreal. It's familiar, of course, but also very different. Whiskey clearly keeps it quite neat – the bed's been made, and it's not too cluttered, overall. There's a Samwell banner pinned to the wall and two eye-catchingly colorful yet discreetly minimalist posters above the desk. It all fits in well with how Bitty remembers Whiskey, on and off the ice – here lives someone with a good amount of discipline, and a simultaneous desire to stand out, and fit in.

On the desk, there's a framed picture of the team from last year's championship victory that Bitty can't look at without getting a lil’ teary eyed. He directs his attention out the window, instead. Unsurprisingly, the view is just the same as ever.

"Changed the decor a bit."

Bitty looks over his shoulder. Whiskey is leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets. There's a bit of flour dusted over his sweater in a way that Bitty has no idea how to chirp him for. His expression is almost entirely unreadable.

"It's nice," Bitty tells him carefully. Gosh. This shouldn't be so frightfully awkward. "You look well, Whiskey."

"I'm doing alright." Whiskey steps a bit further inside the room. "Actually, I'm doing better."

"Oh." Bitty tries to smile. Is he supposed to offer a follow-up question? Is this a heart to heart, or small talk? "That's… That's nice to hear."

"Excuse me, sorry." Suddenly, unexpectedly, that boy from before pops in. Ocean. He goes straight for a backpack that's sitting on the chair by the desk. "Just need my charger. I'll get out of your way."

"No, wait," Whiskey says quickly.

The boy stills. There's a moment of eye contact between the two of them that Bitty can't seem to interpret.

"You two should meet."

Whiskey turns back towards Bitty. Slowly, and very deliberately, he places an arm around the other boy's waist.

"Bitty, this is Miguel."

Oh, sweet Mary.

Bitty looks between the two boys, blinking slowly. Of course. Of course.

"Hello." Evidently, Miguel has taken it upon himself to fill out the silence. His smile is, quite frankly, lovely. "Eric Bittle, right? I've heard so much about you."

"Oh, sugar, it's wonderful to meet you." Bitty has recovered enough to extend a hand. He's beaming, and it's probably ridiculous, but he can't quite bring himself to care. "My goodness. Hi. Are you a junior?"

"That's right." Miguel seems to take his enthusiasm in stride. He gamely shakes Bitty's hand. "Me and Whiskey had a class together, this fall."

"And now I can barely get you alone for a minute, given how the whole Haus has collectively adopted you." Whiskey doesn't sound at all bothered by this turn of events. He's got his hands back in his pockets, and he looks quite a bit more relaxed than before Miguel came in. "The Waffles are literally going to all of your games."

"Well, so are you," Miguel says, with a fond smile towards Whiskey. He quickly turns back to Bitty, though. "I'm on the water polo team."

"Isn't that something," Bitty says. And then it clicks. "Oh. Ocean, right?"

"Right." Miguel grins. "We don't really do nicknames in water polo, at least not the same way you lot insist upon, but it's actually-"

"Hey, Ocean!"

There's someone in the doorway. It's… A Scone. One of the Scones. Bitty really must try to visit more often. The Scone looks between the three of them, his expression mildly confused, before he states his business.

"Joyo and Jader need your advice on their potato-ricotta experiment."

"I'll be right there."

Miguel glances at Whiskey for a second, and there's another moment of silent communication. Then Whiskey nods.

Miguel offers Bitty another smile.

"I'm sure we'll have the chance to talk some more, but I believe I really must see to those potatoes.”

His hand touches Whiskey's briefly on his way out. Bitty would never have noticed, unless he'd known to look for it.

Unexpectedly, Whiskey closes the door behind Miguel. He turns back towards Bitty.

For a second, they just look at one another.

"He, uh." Suddenly, Whiskey seems flustered. "He's great. So great."

"I'm glad." Bitty has rarely meant something so much in his entire life. "Am I right to assume that the team doesn't know?"

"That's right." Whiskey actually looks a bit apprehensive. "We don't… I'm not out to my family. Or to many of my friends."

"I'm just so happy that you're happy." Bitty smiles. "And, can I… He's kind of unfairly pretty, isn't he?"

Bitty would never have guessed that Whiskey could smile so gently.

"Yeah. Honestly, he's kind of everything."

"Oh, Connor." Bitty wants to hug him. That would probably be a little much. "Aren't y'all just too sweet."

"I would, um." Whiskey hesitates. He starts over. "Could you not tell Jack?"

Oh.

Bitty feels surprised. And, surprisingly, just a little bit pleased. It's been somewhat unsettling, figuring out bits and pieces of Whiskey's current life through Jack, watching the two of them connect in a way that Bitty was never able to no matter how hard he tried. Still, he's grateful to Jack for trying to help Whiskey, and even more grateful to him for succeeding. Really, he is.

But it's honestly nice to know that Whiskey trusts him with this. To know that, when it comes to this, Whiskey actually trusts him more. Maybe it shouldn't matter, but if Bitty is completely honest with himself, it does.

"Of course." Bitty smiles. "Honestly, I'm so happy you even wanted me to know."

"I did. I really did." Whiskey runs a hand through his hair. "Bits, you… You must know that I have a lot of respect for you."

Bitty stares at Whiskey. He looks so earnest, and there's a depth to his words that Bitty already knows he will always remember. It's one of those moments in life.

"Thank you," Bitty says warmly. "You know, I've never wanted to make you feel like you need to make choices that aren’t right for you. That you’re not comfortable with."

"No, I know." Whiskey shakes his head. "You haven't made me feel that way. I've struggled with this for a lot of other reasons, I guess. The narrative is always about coming out."

"It is. And that's something I've certainly contributed to."

Whiskey actually smiles.

"Sure. But more than that, you've… I've been in this sport for years. And with everything that's happened with you, and with Jack, it's… There's a before and an after. Things are better."

"Oh. That's… Oh." Gosh, Bitty might actually be tearing up a little. When, exactly, did Whiskey grow up so much? "I'm so glad you think so."

"I believe it goes a little beyond my personal opinion," Whiskey says plainly. He's still smiling. It is, quite frankly, unsettling. "Should we, um. I think the Scones might die a little if you helped them with those potatoes. In a good way."

"Oh, I'd love to cook with those sweet boys." Bitty manages a slight grin. "You know… I almost thought Miguel was a Scone, too. Your boy's not really built for hockey, but he just fits in so well, I didn't know what to make of him."

"You sure you wanna talk about being built for hockey?" Whiskey chirps. He sounds almost playful. "I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Hey, now," Bitty admonishes cheerfully. "What happened to having lots of respect for me? Let's go back to that."

"Why don't we go back to the kitchen, instead?" Whiskey suggests. "I kind of need to check on the oven."

"Of course," Bitty agrees quickly. Obviously, the oven needs to take priority. "Is there, um, any chance you could remind me which Scone is Jader? I think I know, but…"

"Jaden Brant," Whiskey supplies readily. "Tall one. In your defense, he's pretty much joined at the hip with Joyo."

"He is, isn't he? Those two…?"

Whiskey smiles.

"Yeah. Those two." He looks away for a moment. "And that's… They're coming in as freshmen, immediately knowing they'll be accepted. No hesitation."

"That's so wonderful."

Whiskey looks at Bitty again.

"You did that," he says simply. "You know that, right?"

"No, I'm…" Dear lord, he's going to cry again. "Their decision to be open can't be only because of little ol' me. It can’t.”

"Maybe not only," Whiskey concedes. "But they chose Samwell for a reason. They knew they'd be safe here."

"Well. That is nice." Bitty wipes at his eyes. "Dear me, I'm… We should… Oven?"

Whiskey nods. His expression is soft in a way that Bitty can't quite put into words.

"Come on. There are literal and figurative scones to attend to."

As they're leaving the room, Bitty feels brave enough for one final, careful question.

"You actually bake?"

"I know," Whiskey says. He sounds… Relaxed. Content, even. "It's not bad. Feels like I'm doing something nice for everyone. You know?"

"Yes," Bitty agrees eagerly. This day is already turning into so much more than he could ever have hoped for. "Believe me, Whiskey. I know."

ch. 26

#check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #eric bittle #connor whisk #OC: Miguel #all of the scones #literal and figurative #we're really really really nearing the end #there's only one update left #I've been writing this since March it is now December I have a lot of feelings about this #I hope you'll enjoy this and the next part ♡#dance with somebody #evie writes #fanfiction

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