#but i have a soft spot for ottawa

[the-physicality]

3 stars of the game [New York at Ottawa, February 28]

[hockeyboysimagines]

omg I'm sorry!!! I should have looked at the list first sorry

can I switch brothers then? lmao. Matthew in Otta for Brady's game and meet the girl at the candy machine? I can cleary imagine him bragging about the hat trick and looking at her across the ice.

No worries Anon! And you never EVER have to ask me if you can request or talk about Matthew Tkachuk. The answer is always yes. This was so cute. Hope you enjoy it!!🤍

The absolute LAST thing Matthew wanted to be doing was sitting in a dimly lit roller skating rink, listening to bad 80’s music but because he was a good brother and future brother-in-law here he was.

His game in Ottawa had so happened to coincide with Emma’s nephews 6th birthday. While he liked Brady most days, he loved Emma so when she had asked him nicely with her best smile, he’d sighed and flatly agreed to come. Brady came over and kicked his foot.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah okay. If you didn’t wanna-“

“I’m here aren’t I? What am I going to do? Strap on a pair of skates and do laps?”

“If your planning to do that, let me get my phone out. Wanna document the moment.”

“Fuck off.” He stood and stretched “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He made his way through screaming kids, falling kids, and crying kids nursing injuries in various spots from falls and collisions. As he neared several candy and soda machines, a girl caught his eye. The lights from the large spinning disco ball were catching her long hair, as she reached a hand forward and shook the candy machine.

“I don’t know buddy I can’t get it.” She shook it again, and the little boy standing next to her sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“Excuse me? Do you need some help?”

She turned, and smiled. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. He was certain that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he wanted to clasp his hands and thank God that he’d decided to be a good sport and come to the party he didn’t want to come to. He also wanted to personally thank whatever moron had decided to put a candy machine from the 1930’s in a high traffic roller rink, because it’s malfunction had now given him the chance to come in like a knight in shining armor and offer her the assistance she needed.

“Yes please. It’s stuck I don’t know-“

Before she could continue, Matthew wound up a fist and punched the machine, not enough to break it but enough to make it teeter and knock the candy loose. The boy gave a cheer and reached down to pull it out, before turning and zooming away.

“Hey! What do you say!” She yelled after him.

“Thank you!” He called over his shoulder before disappearing back to his friends.

She turned back to Matthew and smiled “Thank you. You just saved me from hours of complaining.”

“My pleasure. I’m Matt.” He extended a hand.

“Y/N.” He hand was soft and warm, and fit perfectly inside his own. He realized as he shook it that he was holding it a little too tightly, and staring openly at her. He released her hand and cleared his throat, thankful for the bad lighting to hide the redness that was creeping up his neck.

“So is that your-“

“Brother. He’s here’s for a birthday party, and I’m lucky enough to get to take him.”

“Funny enough I’m also extremely lucky to be here at a birthday party.” He glanced around before his eyes landed back on her “Maybe in more ways then one.”

And that’s how it started. They talked, and talked and talked some more, talking so much in fact that Brady had wandered the rink twice looking for him, thinking he’d left. As parties began to wrap up, and kids filtered out, Matthew panicked knowing his time with her was coming to an end. He spotted her brother making his way over and as a last ditch effort to see her again he blurted out “Hey, crazy idea but would you want to come to my game tomorrow?”

“Game?”

“I uh-I play hockey. My brother Brady-“

“No way!” She turned to look at her brother who was staring at Matthew open mouthed revealing several missing teeth, and slid his glasses back up his nose “ Matthew Tkachuk!” She looked between them and pointed at him.

“You know how this is?”

“Of course I do. He’s only the best player ever and-“ he went on to list all his stats, which was actually pretty impressive if Matthew was being honest.

“I had no idea.” She said laughing.

“So? Wanna come?” He asked, nodding his head at her brother “Maybe bring my number 1 fan with you?”

“Oh we’ll be there.” He looked up at her and made a face “Well don’t look at me that way. You can stay home but I’m going.”

She glanced between them for a moment before she pursed her lips “Oh-okay. Sure.”

“Wait really? Awesome, and then maybe after we-“

“Slow down Casanova. Let’s start with a hockey game. And then maybe a date. We’ll see how you play.”

“Oh yeah? Okay I’ll make you a deal. I score a goal we go on a date. If I don’t, you can forget I ever even saved you from a day of complaining.” He held his hand out “Deal?”

“Okay. Your on.”

He did score. In fact he scored 3 times.

She chuckled, shaking her head as he scored his third goal and turned to point at her in the crowd. The stadium booed around her, as it was mostly Ottawa fans in attendance, but she couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. He made his way to the bench, various teammates giving him fist bumps as he went and sat down next to someone, turning to them as they spoke. She saw him shake his head and point across the ice at her. She felt her face get red, thankful he was so far away, and glanced at the scoreboard.

“He scored that hat trick for youuuuuuu.” Her brother teased, giggling and making kissy faces at her.

“Oh be quiet.” She gave him a nudge and rolled her eyes. She would never hear the end of this.

She watched as he celebrated with his team when the clock wound down, buzzer sounding to signal that Ottawa had lost. She watched as he made his way across the ice to the side gate and slowed down in front of where she was sitting. He knocked on the glass and grinned a mile wide.

“Guess this means I won!” He said gleefully, winking at her and pointing towards the score board. She felt a surge of excitement as she watched him skate to the side gate and exchange words briefly with an arena employee, pointing in her direction and waving before he disappeared down the tunnel.

She walked her brother out of the arena to where her parents were and made her way back inside, waiting quietly until she heard the doors bang open and turned to see Matthew standing in the doorway.

He smiled widely at her and for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, she was glad she’d lost a bet.

[tangerisms]

find a blorbo!: a tag game for the new NHL season

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

Yes, even the team you despise. Yes, even the team everyone despises. Yes, even the team who you dare not speak of.

I was tagged by the lovely @mikathemad !! thank u so much this was so fun <3

( yellow = teams i already root for)

Anaheim Ducks - Lukáš Dostál , Brian Dumoulin ,

Boston Bruins - Mason Lohrei , David Pastrnak , Jeremy Swayman

Buffalo Sabres - Bowen Byram , Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen

Calgary Flames - Tyson Barrie , Devin Cooley , Ryan Lomberg

Carolina Hurricanes - Seth Jarvis , Pyotr Kochetkov , Andrei Svechnikov

Chicago - Pat Maroon

Colorado Avalanche - my team in law that I've been indoctrinated into by the server , Alexandar Georgiev , Nathan MacKinnon , Cale Makar , Miles Wood

Columbus Blue Jackets - Elvis Merzlikins , Sean Monahan

Dallas Stars - Mason Marchment , Jason Robertson

Detroit Red Wings - J.T. Compher , Alex Lyon , Vladimir Tarasenko

Edmonton Oilers - Travis Dermott , Stuart Skinner

Florida Panthers - literally all of them . but mainly Matthew Tkachuk , Sasha Barkov , and Sergei Bobrovsky

Los Angeles Kings - Adrian Kempe , Anze Kopitar

Minnesota Wild - MY CRINGEFAIL WIVEESSSS all of them , but mostly Marc Andre Fleury , Brock Faber , Kirill Kaprizov , and Marat Khusnutdinov

Montreal Canadiens - Cole Caufield , Carey Price (he's still on the roster dont @ me ) , Sam Montembeault , Juraj Slafkovsky , Arber Xhekaj

Nashville Predators - Juuse Saros , Brady Skjei

New Jersey Devils - Timo Meier , Dawson Mercer

New York Islanders - Anthony Duclair , Ilya Sorokin

New York Rangers - Chris Krieder , Artemi Panarin , Igor Shesterkin , Mika Zibanejad

Ottawa Senators - Linus Ullmark

Philadelphia Flyers - Ivan Fedotov , Erik Johnson , Matvei Michkov

Pittsburgh Penguins - my day ones , the ones who have my heart . I love them all , and have especially soft spots for Kris Letang , Erik Karlsson , Alex Nedeljkovic , Tristan Jarry , Bryan Rust-

San Jose Sharks - Mackenzie Blackwood , Alexander Wennberg

Seattle Kraken - Joey Daccord , Philipp Grubauer , Josh Mahura , Brandon Montour , Brandon Tanev

St. Louis Blues - Mathieu Joseph , P.O. Joseph , Kasperi Kapanen , Nathan Walker

Tampa Bay Lightning - Victor Hedman , Andrei Vasilevskiy

Toronto Maple Leafs - Connor Dewar , Mitch Marner , Anthony Stolarz , John Tavares , Joseph Woll

Utah Hockey Club - Connor Ingram

Vancouver Canucks - Thatcher Demko , Conor Garland , Quinn Hughes , Dakota Joshua , Arturs Silovs

Vegas Golden Knights - Tomáš Hertl , Zack Whitecloud

Washington Capitals - Ethan Bear , Brandon Duhaime , Sonny Milanos

Winnipeg Jets - Connor Hellebuyck , Mason Shaw

tagging : @all-americanpartyboy @stillfertile @tkachuksoralfixation @graysonnightwing @tangerwoll and anyone else who wants to do this for funsies !!!

[crow-talks-hockey]

end of season opinionated rankings of nhl teams

so i'm now completely settled into being a fan, ofc there's still more to learn about all teams, but it's nearing the end of the season so i wanted to do this again for funsies and give explanations this time :3

colorado avalanche- my family team, overall i love them the most and i'm the most attached to them idk why necessarily

pittsburgh penguins- oh boy did this team grow on me, mostly because of my good friend @beagss , i've learned to love them very dearly but i also have no clue how it happened lol

carolina hurricanes- this team is just fun and generally good, i'd be okay if they didn't make it too far unlike with the pens or the avs but it's still great seeing them succeed cos i really like the team and j think they're super underrated

seattle kraken- my family's secondary team+ they have burky so i can't not like them, and their vibe is immaculate too. i also have grown to like many of their players such as matty or geekie or mccann

minnesota wild- i like their players and they have flower, which is nice to see him on a team i generally like. i don't like them when it comes to being division rivals with the avs, but out of all teams in our division i like them the most and can tolerate them cos they're cool

calgary flames- they have good vibes honestly, idk about most the players but they have naz now so i have a soft spot for them. they're chill with me i guess :)

edmonton oilers- this one's weird because they're a team i'd say i love to hate when it comes to playing them, but i also want them to succeed?? like, i like their players and mcdavid and drai deserve a cup at this point tbh. they seem alright, very middle of the road as far as how i feel about them because it tends to shift day to day for me.

vancouver canucks- some people i follow like them a lot and they seem pretty cool, i want them to do well. i also like their players and overall i feel like they deserve to be treated better lol, they really got to me after the horvat trade and the bruce situation.

new jersey devils- i love so many players on this team ngl. it's nice to see them doing well this season given their less than great past. also my good mutual @toothlessdudebros is a big fan, so how could i possibly hate them?

buffalo sabres- another team i just want to do well, especially with the players they have. another huge reason? josty. that's it. just jost lol. (miss you king)

toronto maple leafs- oh you guessed it. i want them to make it past the first round, i feel bad at this point. they have a great group of guys that i've come to like quite a lot. as much as i like to poke fun at leafs fans, it does have to suck and i know the feeling

ottawa senators- they have a bright future i think, i like brady tkachuk and a few other guys there so i'm rooting for them a bit.

tampa bay lightning- another team i love to hate. i like their players, but playing against them is the worsttttt and it makes me wish florida would sink into the ocean forever lmao. you have to respect the back to back runs thiugh, definitely what i've looked to as a hopeful avs fan. there's some things that really annoy me about them, but i'm more lenient to say i'm okay with them than not.

arizona coyotes- idk about y'all tbh, i am aware of your existence but like are you really there??? if ykwim. i had some guys i liked there but they all got traded lol. most mid team ever, also what on earth is that arena???

washington capitals- you guys have some players i like, especially in kuemper (miss you) so you're alright. idk about ovi, also the old pens vs caps rivalry has made me less than lenient to be alright with y'all' lol. still have a legend there tho, so i gotta respect it a little bit.

new york islanders- bad cos of the rivalry(?) with the pens, but i like barzal and now beau is there so it's alright. some people i follow like them, so they're just okay

florida panthers- matthew tkachuk. that's the reason i like you. and i guess barkov is ok too. but honestly who *really* likes florida anyway? bring my boy ratthew back to calgary. please.

winnipeg jets- morrissey is cool? also jesse from bardown likes you guys and he's cool so you're alright with me. other than that? not much to say lol

anaheim ducks- should have kept the purple and teal jerseys smh. bring them back. do it. i dare you. other than that there isn't much to say since they've just been bad lol. i like zegras tho :))

columbus blue jackets- who the hell places an nhl team in ohio? i always forget you exist i'm not gonna lie. i'd be okay if you guys got bedard i guess???

san jose sharks- why are there three californian teams, it's worse than florida lmao ':] karlsson is your only redeeming factor.

chicago blackhawks- i... don't like y'all? idk the vibe just isn't right. being bad also just doesn't help the situation of me not liking you, sorry blackhawks fans. the avs have the superior toews anyway.

detroit red wings- old avs rivalry instinct says not to like y'all. larkin is the one redeeming thing, but being located in detroit might as well cancel it out

montreal canadiens- i know lots of people sympathize with you but.. idk i can't. i like lots of the players but, the vibe is so meh that i can't really bring myself to care :/

la kings- again, why three californian teams??? doughty and fiala are alright, but in the end i think i'm still salty over some avs and pens and canes losses lol

new york rangers- your fanbase gives off the complete wrong vibes for a team that hasn't won a cup in a hot minute. i know there's some good rangers fans out there, but man the view i have is so skewed from seeing bad fans. please prove me wrong. i like some players tho, if that's anything :>

dallas stars- weird. goofy. but in a bad way? idk how to feel about you guys... but i don't get the best vibes, also the avs and stars are division rivals and that doesn't help it at all lol

nashville predators- playoff hatred leftover from last year+ the duchene betrayal and karma *reassuring thumbs up* :)

boston bruins- shared family dislike. how are y'all so good? criminal. terrifying. gotta respect it... but i simply don't wanna <333 if it's anything's, i hate you less than i did at the start of the season.

philadelphia flyers- pennsylvania rivalry=bad. also youre vibes are just so.... off. i also am not a john tortorella fan

saint louis blues- i could write an ESSAY on why i despise y'all. the fanbase vibes are all off and your only redeeming quality is in kyrou but that is way overshadowed by how much i hate b*nnington with a burning passion.

las vegas golden knights- tbh idk why i hate y'all so much, i just do. i simply loathe y'all. always have, probably always will. sorry but not sorry

[bethanyactually]

8, 16, and 48 :-)

8. Do you collect anything? If so, what?

I try not to collect things, because we move every couple years and it's easier if we don't have a ton of stuff. That said, I do more or less collect mugs, stationery, graphic t-shirts, and wall art. :P

16. Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

My favorite hoodie is probably my black hoodie with a gold foil design on the front that's kind of an abstract depiction of the James Webb Space Telescope.

I bought it almost five years ago and it's really soft and comfy from many rewashings, and has a small reddish spot on the pocket where something (bleach, maybe?) stained it. I was wearing it at a wine bar with @pepperf in Brighton, UK, last fall when a server noticed it and struck up a delightful conversation about astrophysics, of which I understood about half.

48. Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

I have a vintage jadeite Fire King mixing bowl that I picked up at a rummage sale in Ottawa, ON, Canada, years ago. It's really pretty and reminded me of bowls my grandma used to have.

Thanks, Corissa! <3

[bean2345]

Hometown Story

Nanaimo’s beaches on gray dark days are just as beautiful as when the sun is out and shining. Today was one of those days. The dark waves roar crashing on the shore. The ocean appears an endless gray abyss; dark, deep, and full of mysteries. Above, are seagulls soaring through the charcoal gray cloudy sky, occasionally swooping down, and snatching its prey. Their cries echo along the beach. My dog, a yellow ball of energy with her tongue out, is happily bounding along the shore. I can feel the faint mist hit my face followed by a frigid wind that sends a shiver down my back. I can taste the salt in the air and in the distance, I spot a group of friends surrounding a fire enthusiastically carefree. Their laughter resounded off the ocean and was carried by the wind to my ears. There was a soft warmth which radiated from the group, a familiar yet distant feeling. I feel tears in my eyes well and my chest tightens. I had hoped moving to Nanaimo would be a fresh start. I wanted to fit in and make friends at my school. Back in Ottawa, I didn't really have anyone; my presence simply didn't matter. Eventually, I found that warmth here in Nanaimo. I made many friendships in elementary school; however, they did not last into high school. The numbers of us dwindled like the flame of a candle diminishing slowly into nothing. We went from a group of 8, 4, 2, and when I blinked, it was just me. One minute I was surrounded by friends, engulfed by warmth and joy, to being surrounded by stillness and quiet. A tree in the dead of winter, the sky somber and dark. The tree is covered in snow and the only sound is the howling of the wind. I felt all the warmth and light leave my tiny body. A new feeling replaced the warmth. It was loneliness. It walked into my life without me ever letting it in. Around this time, I often found myself at the beach. It was my favorite part of Nanaimo, the only place where I can collect my thoughts and calm myself. The salty smell and sound of the ocean, the birds and seals calling, and the rocky beaches truly makes me feel at home. I turn away from the group and wipe my tears away, and journey down the rocky beach. My dog padded alongside me on the uneven terrain, her tail wagging enthusiastically and her tongue out of her mouth heaving heavy pants. I can’t help but smile, I kneel down and give her pats, “One day.” I sighed. One day I would find that warmth again somewhere else and wouldn’t be looking from the outside inwards. One day, I would be laughing and telling jokes like the people at the beach. It’s okay that I have to wait. As long as I have the beach in Nanaimo and my dog, everything will be alright. 

[nebulein]

Text transcript under the cut

The Freedom of Choice

Windy City Sports, August 2022

"I didn't pick the city, the city picked me," Toews says with a rueful smile. Hockey prospects have no input over who will own their rights for the first few years of their careers, their fates left up to the whims of a bunch of senior executives to decide. "All I ever wanted was to play hockey." Chicago picked Jonathan Toews third overall in the 2006 NHL entry draft and—after another year at college to develop—he's played here ever since. The 34-year-old captain of the Chicago Blackhawks has settled well into the city that picked him, embracing a town and a club that's been his home for over 15 years.

Now, though, he may soon get to pick his next destination. Toews is on his last contract year, and in a full teardown initiated by newly appointed Blackhawks GM Kyle Davidson it doesn't look like there's a roster spot for the veteran captain anymore. "It's hard to know where you're supposed to fit in," Toews says, taking a sip of his coffee.

He looks cozy in the hip but quiet upscale coffee place not too far from his home, dressed down in a lightweight cream hoodie, athletic shorts, and his trusty Birkenstocks. Off the ice, Toews is unassuming, a quiet guy with intense dark eyes that netted him a lot of nicknames early in his career. Age has mellowed the serious center, who was famously prone to outbursts on the bench, loudly arguing with referees over every call he didn't agree with. "Oh yeah, he's gotten soft in his old days," Patrick Sharp, former teammate and good friend of Toews jokes. But age hasn't taken the competitive drive from Toews. He still wants to win. "I don't think time is ever gonna change that," he admits with a laugh.

The Blackhawks are about as far from winning as you can get. With disappointing performances these past few seasons, barely dipping their toes into the playoffs, Davidson finally decided to burn it all to the ground, trading away the few hopeful young talents in Debrincat, Hagel and third overall pick in the 2019 draft Kirby Dach. Toews doesn't like to speak about Davidson's decision, but the stoic mask his face becomes as he politely "no comment"s does all the talking for him. He doesn't agree with the new management the Wirtz family brought in, publicly disagreed with other trades in the past. But the loss of a good teammate is easier to stomach if the return is more than a limp handshake and vague hopes of picking the right prospects years down the line. And Toews' time is running out. For him to still be a part of the rebuild, it would have needed to happen four years ago.

"It is what it is" seems to be the mantra echoed by the players in the locker room, at least the few that were there, that still know what it could've been—if only. Once upon a time Kane and Toews turned Chicago into the most successful hockey team of the last decade, bringing home three Stanley Cups in five years to a city whose streets were lined in red jerseys as far as the eye could see. Now they're the last stragglers of the old guard as one by one the rest of them retired, got traded away or decided to sign elsewhere. Dallas, Tampa Bay, Edmonton, Columbus, Montreal, Washington, Ottawa: the list of possible destinations for a former Blackhawk spans 31 cities and two whole continents overseas. What would it mean for Toews to play with an old teammate again? He shrugs, tracing the wood grain of the coffee table. "Sure, it'd be nice," he says, in the listless way I tell my wife that visiting her parents on the weekend is a great idea.

Jonathan Toews doesn't want to play anywhere else. Fifteen years ago Chicago picked him, and in return he gave everything he had to this city. It's certainly cost him: His health, weathering numerous concussions and most notably sitting out a whole season while his body slowly recovered from a condition that might best be described as physical burnout. His relationships, recently splitting from long term partner Lindsey Vecchione and watching even his retired friends move out of town, back to Canada or Europe. And ultimately, his career.

There's no question he's going be a hockey hall of famer, most likely a first ballot inductee, joining ex-teammates Marian Hossa, Brent Seabrook and Duncan Keith. But what seemed so certain before has now become doubtful under new GM Davidson, who doesn't appear to share Stan Bowman's deep appreciation for Toews and all he did for this city: whether he'll see his number 19 raised to the rafters of the United Center, or whether it'll be Patrick Kane's 88 alone that'll hang up there, next to Chicago greats Mikita, Hull, and Esposito.

The tides have turned in Chicago. Leaving town would mean giving up a dream that Toews still harbors in a tiny corner of his heart: to retire a Blackhawk, never having donned another jersey than the red and white, the C stitched on his chest a sight so familiar few can remember the single year it wasn't there.

But Toews doesn't sound ready to hang up his skates, even though he's got plenty of projects dear to his heart he could focus on, such as his Jonathan Toews Foundation that fosters kids' wellness and nutrition, planting gardens for schools in low income neighborhoods.

"It's a tough choice, but at least it's mine this time," Toews says, trying to make light of a situation that's clearly ripping him apart. It's a statement that's true only on paper. Sure, he'll have the freedom to sign wherever he wants to. But how many clubs can afford to pay the veteran a salary that he deems himself worthy of in a time where the salary cap is flatter than America's Midwest? There may be fewer choices here than Toews makes it out to be. And the one choice he really wants isn't even on the table: to win one last time with the Blackhawks, the team that drafted him.

Hockey life is tough on young players whose only choice is to sign with the club that owns their rights or forego the NHL, but it's even tougher on its veterans whose only choice is the way in which to break their own hearts when the only home they've ever known forsakes them.

[sorryjustafangirl]

what home is

a/n: this is my submission for @antoineroussel 's summer fic exchange 2k21! thank you for organizing this all demi. i recieved @timstuetzle and i am so excited to finally share this! im sorry it's so late but i had a lot of fun writing for Tim and i hope i did him justice! i made this a gender neutral reader again, so please enjoy my take on some friends to enemies to lovers :)

pairing: tim stützle x reader

word count: 18k+ (holey moley)

warnings: some angst, set in no covid-universe, a few swears, an odd timeline

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! the banner is made by me, with photos found from pinterest and the transparent made by @art-and-the-hockeys (thank you!!!)

The start of the season was your favourite. The chill of the rink, the sound of skate edges on the ice, the smell of skate sharpening- it was all so familiar. As an analyst, the start was the best. There were new lineups, new plays, and a chance to try new things. Considering this was your first year as a real analyst, not just checking over others' work, you were excited. You got to actually help to build a Stanley Cup winning team.

What you didn’t love was how everyone seemed to lose their heads and decide to run around the arena. You’d been looking for the coach of the Ottawa Senators for the past twenty minutes. You’d think the man would be in his office the first day back, but no. He decides to take a stroll to who-knows-where and leaves you to follow invisible breadcrumbs.

Eventually, you found yourself on one of the lower levels. You continued down the hallway, entering an open space with concrete floors. The bustle of the new season was in full swing as you swerved between various people working like gears in a machine. You tried to do your best to stay out of other people’s way but you still ended up walking into a hard surface.

“Oof!” Shit. Hard surfaces don’t usually talk. You looked up at what you ran into and saw two men staring at you. Both were wearing Senators hoodies but one was a taller blond and the other a slightly shorter brunet. The brunet has a backwards snapback on but that wasn't what made you stop in your tracks. It was his eyes. They were soft and welcoming, something like a home cooked meal, but they had a glint of adventure in them.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I wasn’t really looking where I was going. I am so sorry.” You apologized to the blond you ran into.

“Hey, all good. I’m-”

“Number 7.” You turned toward the brunet. “And...number 18, right?” When they both gave you a weird look, you shrugged. “I’m an analyst here so, uh, you’re just numbers to me.”

“Okay, ouch but you are the reason we’re going to be winning more games this season, so I'll give it to you. I’m Brady, and this is Jimmy.” The blond gestured to himself first, before gesturing beside him.

“It’s Tim, actually.”

You introduced yourself to the two players, before looking around the hallways. “Um, would either of you happen to know where the coach is? I can’t find him,” You held up the file folders in your hands. “I’ve got new numbers for him.”

“Oh yeah he’s probably close to the ice, we’ll show you.” Brady started down a hallway, both you and Tim falling in stride behind him. “So Numbers-”

“-Y/n-” You glared at Brady for the nickname, rolling your eyes as he continued on. From your peripheral vision, you saw the corners of Tim's mouth turn up.

“-If you don’t mind me saying….either you look really good for your age, or you aren’t old enough to be working here,” He continued, giving a glance your way.

You looked down at your shoes and gave a sigh. “I get that a lot, and I am young-er than my colleagues but I assure you, I am qualified to work for this organization.”

“Wasn’t doubting that, just seeing how much I get to tease ya. Jimmy’s the rookie,” He elbowed him and Tim tried to swerve around it, only to bump into a stack of pylons. Brady and you shared a grin at his expense. “So he gets all the teasing. Same for the numbers people. You’re the rookie.” He shrugged

“Well, I’m not actually a rookie anymore. This is my second year here,” You mentioned, looking towards the two guys. Brady looked impressed whereas Tim’s eyes went large and his jaw slack a little.

“How?” He asked, and you laughed. The three of you turned a corner, and you walked slightly faster to talk.

“I graduated high school pretty early. And then took my statistics undergrad at the University of Ottawa. I minored in sports studies and I met your GM at a conference for the department. When he found out I was in Ottawa alone, he kinda took me under his wing, checked in every now and again. When I graduated two years ago, he offered me an analyst position and I was lucky enough to land it. I love working here, even if I’m way younger than everyone else. Last year, I stayed in my office a lot, double checking people’s work but this year, they gave me more responsibility. I’m excited for the challenge.”

“You are going to be great.” Tim said, meeting your eyes, his gaze showing that his comment was genuine. You ducked away from his gaze but muttered a ‘thanks’. The three of you rounded another corner, Brady ducking out to talk to a reporter, but Tim said he’d help you find the coach.

You settled into a comfortable silence as you walked beside each other through the chilled hallways. He abruptly took a left turn, cutting you off and causing you to bump into him. You immediately apologized, this being the second time today you’d run into a hockey player.

“‘S my fault, I’m still getting used to the new arena,” He said, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. He nodded his head down the hallway, as a silent ‘after you’ and you started walking. As you got further down, you realized Tim walked you out to the bench. The light became brighter, the air a little crisper, and the floor turned from a concrete grey to a bright red. Your eyes wandered up, admiring the view from down here. You’d be truthful earlier, you’d only ever visited your office. But from down here, you could see everything- the thousands of seats, the banners hanging from the ceiling, the crystal white ice. You stood close to the wall, as if to try to intimidate a fly on a wall, seeing everything as if you weren’t there. You could feel Tim could up from behind you, letting you take it all in for the first time.

“That’s Coach,” He leaned closer to you as he pointed across the ice towards someone in a tracksuit. You nodded and although Tim dropped his hand, he stayed close to you. The coach eventually noticed the two of you and started to skate over to the bench. Tim cleared his throat and you looked at him.

“I got to- I have to go now, but, um, I’ll see you around?” You nodded to his question, a soft smile on your lips. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if he knew he had to leave but he kept getting pulled towards you. “Good luck with the season.”

“Good luck with yours too.” At that he turned away from you, and you turned to the coach, pulling out your file folder to talk with him.

***

A week or two later and the start of the season was upon the Canadian Tire Centre. The home opener was in a few days and your week had been hectic, trying to get notes from practices and implement what you saw into your analysis. After a morning full of spreadsheets, you decided to take your lunch break in your sanctuary. Last year, the arena felt too big to stick around in on your lunch break. So you had headed outside, where you discovered a small hiking trail about a ten minute drive from work. It quickly became a place where you went whenever you needed to clear your head. And after the morning you had, it was the perfect place to go, so you hopped in your car and started towards it.

At the top of the hill, you put the car in park, grabbed your lunch bag and started towards your spot. It was past the picnic tables that had a nice view of the suburbs, but it wasn't secluded. Your spot was off the beaten path, but there was a small ledge with a perfect view of the arena, highway, and surrounding green spaces. You turn the corner, ducking under a tree branch, ready to exhale the heck of the morning you had.

But there was already someone sitting in your spot. Their head was down, but you recognized the logo and number 18 on their hoodie. Cautiously, you approached him.

“18...Is it okay if I sit here?” You asked, and his head shot up. He shot you a small smile and quick nod. You sat down, placing your bag in front of you, taking out a granola bar.

“You can call me Tim, you know. That is my name,” You gave him a shy smile and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his comment.

“I didn’t think anyone knew about this place, Tim,” You mentioned quietly. It felt weird, to be honest, to be sharing your spot with someone, but it didn’t feel like he was intruding.

“My city in Germany has a lot of parks. There’s a forest near my house where I’d go when I needed a break. This is the closest I could find near the rink. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Just don’t go telling the whole team about our place,” you winked at him and took a bite of your snack.

“I can keep a secret, don’t worry.” He laughed lightly and sent you a smile.

“I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“You’re the analyst, you graduated super early right? Y/n, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” You smiled at him. “So, how are you liking Ottawa?”

“It’s alright, I haven’t seen very much of it. The ice is very good. My house is nice.” He shrugged and you gaped at him.

“That’s all you’ve seen? So you haven’t been to Parliament Hill or ByWard market or…?” you trailed off when you saw him biting his bottom lip and slowly shaking his head. “Well, you are missing out, you should go see the city sometime.”

“Do you think you could show me around? You seem to know all the best places,” He offered. You met his eyes and nodded. He dug his phone out of his pocket, passing it over to you. You raised your eyebrows at the gesture but he just pushed his phone closer to you. Silently, you imputed your number, placing a small graph emoji beside your contact name. You handed it back to him and a small smirk graced his face when he saw the emoji, before he pursed his lips at the device. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Sorry, it’s all good. Thank you. It’s- I have to go back now, but I’ll text you, yeah?” You nodded as he handed back your phone. He walked towards the parking lot, but turned around to wave at you before he disappeared around the bend.

Later that day as you sat in the stands, a clipboard and pen in your hands, you got a text from an unknown number.

Hi

It's 18 :)

You chuckled at his use of his number and texted him back.

i thought you said i could call you tim? :(

also it’s practice?? how are you on your phone?

It starts in a couple minutes

your teammates are already on the ice

Spying on me already??

it’s literally my job to watch you practice

Guess I'll see you in the stands then :)

Oh and I'm free this weekend for that showing of the city, team bonding’s on friday

i’ll check my schedule and get back to you

now get out on the ice or you’re going to be late :)

***

You had checked your schedule, and agreed to meet that Saturday. You said you’d pick him up since you knew more of the city. You didn't want to be late so you arrived five minutes early in front of Tim's place. He walked out in his signature backwards snapback, some curls poking out the front, and a monochromatic beige outfit. Waving animatedly at you, he jogged to the car, his ever present smile on his face.

The twenty minutes ride into the city was quiet yet comfortable. A few words were exchanged about how each other’s day was so far but nothing groundbreaking. The low hum of the engine filled the silence as you drove into the city.

After parking in a Superstore (‘Free parking in downtown Ottawa is hard to come by, Tim. We’re parking in the grocery store parking lot’) and walking a few blocks, you come to the far end of the market. Lined with local businesses and brick streets, it felt homey. Tim smiled as it reminded him of back home.

“So, what are we going to see first? Your school?” He asked as the two of you walked along the streets. You laughed and shook your head.

“Pfft no. It isn’t all that interesting. I figured we’d see some of my favourite places, if that’s okay?” He assured you it was and the two of you continued through the streets, Tim with his head down as you passed people. He wasn't famous just yet, but in Canada you find hockey fans at every corner. Soon, you arrived in a small plaza with coloured picnic tables and muskoka chairs.

“Ta-da!” You gestured to the large block letters that spelled ‘Ottawa’ in the middle of the space. “It’s not much, but you’ve got to be a tourist in your own city at least once right?” He laughed along with you and you got out your phone, ready to take a picture of him so he could send it to his parents. You thought he would want a picture of him but he was quick to insist you had to be in the picture as well.

“I’m sorry, but would you mind taking a picture of us?” You asked one of the girls who were taking turns with the Ottawa sign.

“Oh sure!” You stood beside him, between the two ‘T’s in Ottawa, his arm slung over your shoulders. You smiled and looked up at Tim to see him smiling as well- and not one of those classic boy coy half smiles, a genuine one. She took a few landscape and a few portrait ones before handing your phone back. “You two are such a cute couple!”

Before you could correct the girl, Tim answered for you. “We’re just friends actually.” She apologized profusely before rejoining her group. You shuffled your feet as an awkward silence overcame you for the first time since you’d met. Your body shivered and you promptly changed the subject.

“Hey, you hungry?” He shrugged and nodded. You nodded and led him away from the sign, through a few back alleys lined with a few merchants, home artists and such. You entered a building, bustling with people. It was long and narrow, with brick flooring and merchants on either side of the middle. There were lots of people, ranging from people doing their weekly grocery shopping to tourists looking for souvenirs. You weaved between strollers and friend groups, Tim grabbing your hand to avoid getting lost. He kept his head low, hoping it would disguise him enough. This day was about you and him, not you, him and the hockey world. Eventually, the two of you exited the indoor market and came to a small opening. Instead of staying in the opening, you turned left, tugging Tim across the street to two small shacks, one red and one blue. The red one had a classic fairytale vibe to it, with beige wainscotting, red painted window frames, and topped with a white and light brown canopy over the window. Underneath the canopy, there was a string of small Canadian flags.

“Do you trust me?” He arched one of his eyebrows but nodded. “I’ll be right back.” Confused, Tim stood there as you walked up the window, spending no time looking at the menu as you ordered. He looked above the shack to see in fancy lettering the word BeaverTails. When you came back, you were holding two paper containers and had a smile on your face. He looked at the sign and then back to the bags in your hands.

“A beaver’s… tail?” You laughed at him and handed him his BeaverTail.

“It’s not actually a beaver’s tail. It’s just a fried pastry that looks like one. They come in lots of flavours but I got you the best one, cinnamon sugar.” You could tell he was hesitant but bit into his and you took a bite of your own.

Almost instantly, he groaned. “Do you take every guy here? Wow. Oh my god,” He got cinnamon smeared over his chin and you laughed as he tried to wipe it off while holding his pastry.

“Hilarious Tim, but I’ll have you know you’re like my only friend here. So… no I don’t take anyone here.” He scoffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You’re joking. How do you not have other friends? You’re great,”

“I started university as a 16 year math major. It’s not a surprise people didn’t want to talk to me. But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

“Don’t you have people from home come and visit?”

You scoffed. “I don’t really get along with my mum. We moved around a lot when I was younger and I always sorta resented her for not seeing how it affected me. And then, when I got accepted to school out here, she sold the house and started travelling. Last I talked to her, she was in Tahiti.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What about your dad? Or brothers or sisters?” You swallowed your piece of BeaverTail before answering him.

“I have an older sister, Dani. But she’s eight years older than me, so we're not the closest. She checks in every week or so because she knows my mum doesn't. She’s never come out to visit though, she runs her own business back in Seattle.”

“It must be nice to have someone though. Especially when you were growing up. What about your dad?”

“I don’t- I don’t talk about my dad.” You picked at the pastry before changing the topic. “C’mon, you have to see this place.” You gestured to a side street and the two of you made your way towards your favourite destination. You exited beside a taller building and you pressed the button to allow the two of you to cross the street. As you were waiting for the light to turn, you turned to Tim.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t have any siblings then?”

“No, but the guys at the rink were like my brothers so it wasn’t bad.” The light turned red, and the ‘walk’ light turned on. You made your way across, staying close to each other as people walked both ways.

“Hockey tends to do that,”

“Is that why you picked to work in hockey?”

You glared at him as you made it across the street. “That’s personal.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends share personal stuff.”

“That’s… it’s just different.” You shook your head and lowered the volume of your voice. “Besides, we’re here.” The two of you had stopped in front of some shallow steps that led to a tall archway, with black statues underneath and on top of the arch. It had some engravings on it, both small and large letters. From where they were standing, Tim could make out some numbers, but not well enough to understand the significance. Behind the monument and slightly to the right was the green tipped roof and gothic architecture of the Parliament building.

“What is this place?” He tilted his head as he looked at the arch in the middle of the square. To him, it wasn’t anything special, perhaps another statue of one of the colonizers of the country.

“It’s Canada’s war memorial.” You whispered, and he nodded, clasping his hands in front of his body and lowering his head. “When I was going to school, I’d come here at least once a week.”

His head stayed where it was but he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Why?”

“I know it’s not exactly everyone’s favourite place...because I know so many people died for the country, but for me, it’s a place of silence. Of reflection. It reminds me to be grateful for everything I have. Some days school would be really bad, so this place was perfect to sit and remember that life isn’t bad at all. Not when I was in a safe country, not when I had an education, not when I had a warm house to go back to.”

He nodded. “That seems...perfect. Some days are too loud, there’s too many people saying stuff. I get that.” His voice was quiet as well, as he lifted his head to focus on the stonework and engravings. The two of you stood in silence in front of the memorial for a few minutes more before you tugged on his arm.

“See that building?” You leaned in close to him, your finger extending to point at a building in the distance, a little taller than the ones around it. “That’s the university’s mathematics and physics department. I had most of my classes in that building.” He nodded, leaning in closer to you, your heads almost touching. You lowered your hand and nodded with your head towards the way you came.

“C’mon, we’re not done yet. You’ve got to see the Parliament building.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed left towards it. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him right. “I’m the tour guide, remember? Trust me, there’s a better view.” You dropped his hand as he started to walk in time with you but you had to shove it in your pocket to replace the heat his hands gave you.

A quick ten minutes walk later and you stood atop a hill overlooking the river. It was a large park with benches and an eccentric art installation in the corner. You walked close to the peak of the hill and stopped, breathing in the fresh air.

“There is Canada’s capital building. It’s nicer to see it from here than from the front where there’s a bunch of tourists. Besides, from here, you get to see more of the architecture.” The building was across the river, its massiveness more pronounced from your viewpoint. There was a dome nearest the river that was covered in flying buttresses, each support beam having intricate details that stood out. The clock tower and green tinted roof completed the gothic look.

“This view is better. Quieter. It reminds me more of home,” You bump your shoulder against his lightly.

“Glad you like it.” The two of you stood in silence until Tim shivered, at which case you decided you should start heading back. If the hockey player was cold, it was cold enough for you too.

The walk and drive back was uneventful, aside from the two of you passing jokes back and forth. When it came to drop him off, he unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t make an effort to leave the vehicle.

“How much for our snack? I’ll pay you back,”

You waved him off. “It was my treat, don’t worry about it.” He pursed his lips, then shook it. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later, your phone dinged. You glared at him as you opened the text to see an e-transfer. Before you could protest, he cut you off.

“You never said I couldn’t pay for your gas," He laughed, and despite your annoyance at the loophole, you found yourself laughing along with him. He had that effect on you; he seemed to be able to ease any tension you held. “I had a good time today. Maybe we could meet again sometime?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you at the rink?” He nodded before getting out of your car, waving like he did that morning as you drove off to your place. When you arrived home, you saw a new text from him.

Can you send those pictures you took today?

You tried to suppress a smile, sending them over to which he responded with a ‘Thank youuuu’. You set your phone on your nightstand and turned off the light. Despite your efforts, you fell asleep with a smile on your face from a perfect day with a great person.

***

“Hey, Numbers!” You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Brady sticking his head out of the dressing room. He had taken a liking to calling you that, especially as you had started hanging around the house more. It was nice, movie nights and sometimes you’d take a pre-game nap with Tim, you had even stayed for lunch at Tim’s request. At this point, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Brady to shout the nickname from anywhere. Practice had ended and you had given your notes to the coach about what to focus on for the Toronto game. “You didn’t happen to see Jimmy, did you?” When you shook your head, his face scrunched into a small frown.

“Where’d he go? Didn’t media like just end?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t even bother to change from media, he just stalked out. He didn’t say anything to any of the guys, so I thought you might’ve seen him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout for him,” You told Brady before he returned to finish dressing and you returned to your office. But even after you’d settled back into your work, there was a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place. Sending a quick text off to Tim, asking where he was, you dove back into work. But it only took five minutes before you were checking your phone, seeing if he’d read the text or responded. When neither happened, you gave him a call. It sent you straight to voicemail and you hung up before you could leave a message. The feeling in your stomach grew and you packed up your bag, knowing no more work would get done tonight. It wasn’t like Tim to sulk or get in his head; he was a generally happy guy. Something must have set him off for him to be acting this way -- even with you. And if it was something this big, there was only one spot he would’ve gone.

“Brady said you stalked out of media. Figured I’d find you here.” He turned around at the sound of your voice, his shoulders dropping a little. He shrugged, which you took as your cue to take a seat beside him at your lookout space. The sun was setting, the golden hour light reflecting on his stress lines, and the sky was littered with wispy clouds.

Your hands were in the pockets of your hoodie, your legs tucked together. Despite being here for close to six years, the Canadian chill always surprised you. You sat with your shoulder pressed to his, a silent symbol of you being there for him. With his head down, he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear, so you leaned your head down to hear him better. At your movement, he huffed and lifted his head.

“I’m supposed… They wanted me to come and make a difference and to help win games. But I’m not helping! I’m supposed to be putting up points and helping win games, but we’re still losing! Like, why do I suck?”

Your chest got tight at his words. “Tim…”

“You can’t deny it, the numbers say we’re losing.”

“Losing doesn’t mean you aren’t producing. This is your first year in the NHL, you wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you were worth it. Hockey is a team sport, it isn’t just your job to win the game.”

“But they wouldn’t have gotten me right out of the World Juniors if they didn’t need me to start making an impact right away! They were counting on me. And I’m not living up to it….”

“You are nineteen years old. Nineteen. The five other rookies ahead of you in points are all at least two years older than you. Let that sink in. You have so many years ahead of you. And secondly, no one here is expecting you to turn this team around. McDavid’s first year he didn’t turn the team around. And sure, yeah, the next year, the Oilers had more success but guess what? They missed the playoffs the next three years. Hockey is a team sport, one person, not even McDavid, can completely turn a team around. No one is expecting you to turn this team around in one season. This isn’t on you.”

“But the numbers…”

“Are you going to trust the analyst on the numbers or the assholes on Twitter?” He glared at you but let you continue on. “If you really want to talk numbers, we aren’t last in the league anymore. We’ve beat the top team in the division a couple times now. You’re putting up points, you’re helping us win. Cut yourself some slack. You’re nineteen and living in a new country. This team isn’t expecting you to be Ottawa’s saviour, okay?”

“There’s pressure to be better though! Everywhere I go, I just see how I should be doing more, how if I don’t produce more, I’m going to be a draft bust. I’m the young guy, I’m supposed to be the new blood and be able to make a difference. I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” His words lingered in the sunset glow, a contrast to the darkness he was feeling. You fell silent at his outburst, the air feeling too quiet, even with his heavy breathing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

You ignored his apology, knowing he would never intentionally hurt you. “I graduated with a 3.8 GPA. I didn’t have enough job experience but my grades were one of the only reasons I was able to get hired so young. My first year, all I did was double check other people’s stats and predictions, and it was okay. No one expected much out of me because I was young and they didn’t really give me any responsibilities. But this year… they’re looking to me more. Teams with more than two analysts are more likely to produce teams that make the playoffs. I’m number three; I should be helping make a better team. But I’m not. I’m not getting the numbers we need or the stats we need. I know more updated methods and technologies but...it’s just not working. I’m not finding solutions to problems that this team has had for years. And the board and my colleagues see that. I know I shouldn’t worry about them firing me, but I still do. I mean, I’m not producing, why would they keep me around? This wasn’t what they wanted when they gave me the job.”

“They won’t fire you, you’re doing your best. And you’re young, you graduated early. They have to give you a chance to prove yourself in the workplace before they fire you.”

“You wanna take your own advice?” He flushed at your words, but you smiled. “Thanks, though.” He nodded and looked out over the suburbs surrounding the arena.

“The pressure in this league sucks.” He said and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. It does. But we’ll get through it right?”

“We’ll figure something out. Together.” He placed his hand on your thigh and the two of you looked out at the sunset, his touch lingering on your body until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Silently, he helped you to your feet, and walked you to your car, making sure you got in okay, before he got into his car. On the drive home, your chest felt lighter from the conversation.

***

The final buzzer rang, signalling a 4-2 win for the Senators. You smiled at the scoreboard and gathered your papers. The game was nothing spectacular, but for you, it was a career defining game. Some of the lines you'd suggested were risky, but you had the numbers to back it up, and it worked. It worked. The conversation with Tim earlier last week helped with your confidence to take risks in terms of your analytic advice.

You went back to your office after the game, wanting to type up a report of how you impacted tonight's outcome. If it worked this time, who's to say it couldn't work again? But in a higher stakes game? You felt like you were finally contributing to the team, and damn, it felt good.

Your office was barely even that. It was small, but you had a desk, a window, and your name on the door. It was enough for your first major gig. You'd made it a little homey-er with a small succulent and some motivational quotes. You opened up your laptop and began to type up a document report. The words flowed from your fingers and you used the numbers you counted from the box to back up your findings. Time seemed to stand still as you typed, the document becoming longer and longer.

A knock broke your train of thought and you looked up to see Tim poking his head through your office door. He had a shy smile on your face and you shook the writing haze out of your eyes.

"Hey! Come on in," He nodded, closing the door behind him before leaning against the wall. "You played a good game." His cheeks flushed and he lifted his hat, running his fingers through his hair.

"Thanks, thank you. Anyway, did you eat yet?"

"I mean, I had an iced coffee before the game and a granola bar during the second period. So yeah?" Immediately he started shaking his head and he pushed himself away from the wall. You open your hands as if to say 'what’?" and he outstretched his hand to you.

"Coffee and a granola bar isn't a meal. Let's go get some real food, I'm hungry." He made a grabby hand with his outstretched hand and you sighed.

"I have to finish my report, I can't." He sighed, pushed your laptop shut, and grabbed your hand.

"That can wait. Besides, the boys went out and I need a ride home." He flashed you a shy smile and you rolled your eyes, before picking up your bag and leaving your office with him. You tried not to notice how Tim was still holding onto your hand, but as he tugged you along to a quiet area of the concourse, it was difficult to do. He stopped at a small table with two bar stools. He let go of your hand, cold enveloping you, and you hung your bag on the back of the chair. As you hopped onto the chair, he stayed standing, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

“What do you want to eat?" When you shook your head again, he pulled out his puppy dog eyes. "Tim, seriously, I'm fine."

"I'm getting some fries and you will eat some of them. Deal?" Your face pulled into a frown and he repeated himself. "Deal?"

"Yes, Mom, deal."

He gave himself a self assured smile. "Great. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later he came back with a container of fries and two small containers. He set them down in front of you before he got seated. A closer look at the container showed one was ketchup and the other was…

"Is this mayo?" He picked up a fry, dipped it in the white substance, and popped it into his mouth. With his mouth full, he nodded. "You eat your fries with mayonnaise?"

"You don't?"

"No!" You shook your head. He took another fry, dipped it again, and ate it.

"You have to try it, it's good!"

“No, no thank you. You can keep your weird German eating habits to yourself." You laughed, dipping a fry in ketchup before eating it.

"Nope, you've got to try one. Please?" You scrunched up your nose, and he held out a white coated french fry. You gave in, taking it from his hands and shoving it in your mouth. You chewed it slowly, contemplating the taste.

"It's...not horrible." He raised his eyebrows at you. "Fine, it's alright." He gave you another look, a small smile forming on his face despite his efforts to hide it. "Okay, okay, I like it. Happy?" He let out a loud laugh.

"Yes! I knew you'd like it!" You laughed a little with him, before dipping another fry in the mayo and popped it in your mouth. The two of you ate in silence, the sounds of the zamboni in the background.

"Why didn't you go out with the guys? You had a good game,"

He shrugged. "I wanted something quieter. Besides, I was hungry and the guys wanted to go out to a bar. Bar food isn't exactly a meal."

"Neither is french fries,"

"Well, maybe, you're just better company than the guys."

"Damn right, I am." You smiled, tapped his fry with yours in a makeshift sort of 'cheers' way. When the two of you had finished your snack, you picked up the container and threw it in the compost bin near the table. You grabbed your bag off the chair, holding up your car keys. He got up off the table, joining you in a slow walk towards the parking lot.

You wished the custodians a good night as the two of you left the arena, the street lights in the parking lot illuminating the way to your car. Silently, you unlocked the car and you both got in. You gave him your phone, telling him to pick any playlist he wanted while you started the car. He picked one of your favourite playlists, a mix of relaxing beats and soft music, which was perfect for late night drives.

"You should have some lo-fi on here, it's a lot like this. I think you'd like it," he said, after you had merged onto the highway.

"Yeah?" He only nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to come back to the car. The rest of the drive was easy, the road being mostly empty and the music filling the car. He gave you quiet directions to the house, more points and here's than actual directions but you were able to find it.

"Thank you for the ride," He said, once you’d put the car in park.

"Thanks for sharing your food with me,” He shook his head and smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I’ll always share with you.” You caught his gaze, his brown eyes filled with sincerity. You could feel your cheeks flush and you waved him out of your car.

“I gotta get home too, you know.” You joked and he got out, popping his head back into the doorway for a second.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” You murmured an ‘of course’ and he nodded, closing the car door and making his way to his front door. You waited until he entered the house before you drove away, turning on a lo-fi playlist from Spotify.

***

“Your turn to pick the movie, but no subtitles please, I’m too lazy to read today.” You handed Tim the remote for his TV while you pulled the blanket closer to your chin. The October chill had settled in his apartment and you hadn’t dressed for his room to feel like the arena.

“Jimmy!” Someone called from the kitchen and a loud clang dissolved any annoyance Tim had from his roommate interrupting his time with you. He rushed to the kitchen and you followed behind shyly. There were platters across the kitchen island, each with a different coloured dish. It looked like there was a salad, a couple casserole dishes, and some plates of desserts. A taller brunette was standing in the kitchen, frantically gesturing between Tim and a pot on the stove. There was a lid on the ground, a splatter of pinkish red liquid surrounding it. You entered the kitchen, picked up the lid before placing it in the sink. The other guy was still explaining to Tim what exactly he wanted to do, even though his head was tilted like a confused puppy. You brushing him aside llightly, grabbing the spoon Tim was holding to stir the pinkish red liquid on the stove. You sent him a small smile back over your shoulder and all you could see in his eyes was relief.

“Thank you!” The oven beeped and you noticed an embroidered #9 on the roommate's Senator sweats. You moved to the side to allow him to get another baking dish from the oven. He placed it on the stovetop and took off his oven mitts. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t think he’d be that helpless in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised anyone in this house can actually cook,” You laughed. The liquid that smelled of oranges and cranberries started to boil, so you reduced the heat and continued to stir it. You look at the baking dish that he brought out of the oven. “Are those brussel sprouts?”

“Yeah! My mom’s recipe; they’re delicious! Do you like them?”

“They’re one of my favourites! My recipe uses bacon though.”

“Oh nice! You’ll have to share it with me, I’d love to try it. And, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Josh,”

“I know.” He shot you a look and you backtracked. “I-Sorry, it’s just-I actually work with you? I’m in the analytics department, so I know your jersey number and I saw it on your sweats and put two and two together. I’m not being a creep, I’m sorry.” The sound of laughter behind you made you blush.

“Not being a creep my ass. They did the same thing when me and Jimmy ran into them for the first time!” Brady commented, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing a nice pair of dress pants and a button up shirt. You shook your head before nodding towards his attire.

“Going somewhere nice?” He looked down at his outfit and shook his head.

“It’s Thanksgiving? It’s why they gave us the day off?” That...that would explain the amount of food in the kitchen. No matter how many years you lived here, you’d always forgotten that Canadian Thanksgiving was a whole month earlier. You placed the stir spoon on a plate next to the pot and wiped your hands on your pants.

“Oh! Um, right, well, uh in that case, I should be, I should get going. You guys must have plans. Nice to meet you Josh.” You made your way out of the kitchen to the foyer where your coat and shoes were without so much as a goodbye to the guys. You could hear Tim coming after you, his steps lighter and more graceful than Brady or Josh’s. But, he didn’t make a move to do anything except stare at you as you got ready to leave. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to put on your shoes that he spoke.

“You should just stay. We’ve got lots of food.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Brady’s bringing his girlfriend and a couple other of the guys are coming over. You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You should. Why won’t you stay?”

“I don’t know if you have this holiday in Germany, but Thanksgiving is a family thing, Tim.” You sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t I have brought something? Am I even dressed okay?” You looked down at your outfit - a simple pair of jeans and one of your comfiest graphic tees. He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about that. You look great, just enjoy the night with me. Stay? Please? C’mon schatz, you’re like my family to me.” The two of you maintained eye contact until you broke it and took off your coat. You could see Tim’s smile widen and when it came to walking back into the kitchen, he extended his arm. You took it and the two of you made your way back towards what would end up being a wonderful evening full of laughs and smiles shared between friends.

***

You had come over for a trashy reality TV binge after a particularly hard day at work. None of the numbers were adding up the way you needed them to and your laptop was having a hissy-fit all day. Soon enough, you called it a day and texted Tim, telling him you’d be over in twenty minutes. He greeted you at the door with your favourite chocolate treat, a box of Timbits, and “there’s popcorn in the microwave right now, it’s almost done”. You could’ve melted right on the spot. Instead, you made your way over to the couch where you collapsed and pulled the blanket he had already set out for you up to your chin. You breathed in the smells of pine and sock tape and felt your body relax. HGTV played in the background while you waited for him to bring the popcorn out when his phone dinged.

“Tim, your phone!” You yelled to him from across the living room.

“Who is it?” You sighed and moved from your comfortable spot on the couch to check his messages. You turned on the phone to see a message from Josh, saying he’s five minutes away. You went to lock the phone, seeing the unimportance of the message but something caught your eye. You swiped to clear the notification and his background came into focus. It was the two of you standing in front of the Ottawa sign at ByWard market, his arm around your shoulders and a grin on both your faces.

“Who was it?” He entered the room as he repeated his question.

“Just Josh,” you whispered, turning around to face him holding up his phone. “Am I your lock screen?” He blushes, opening his mouth stammering for words. “I am! I knew I was important to you.” You poked him a couple times for an extra tease when his face settled into a small pout and he retaliated by tickling you. You shrieked and hopped up from the couch, laughing as he chased you around the house.

“Stop doing that!” He laughed as you escaped his clutches once more. Your laugh echoed through the house as he tried again to try to tickle you, but you grabbed Josh and used him as a human shield.

“No fair schatz,” He relented his tickling and sat on the couch. You took a seat beside him, but kept your distance in case he decided to start his torture again.

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” You look over to him and he’s already scratching the back of his neck.

“What what means?”

“That thing you keep calling me. Like shats?”

Josh laughed and spoke up. “It means swe-”

“Friend! It means friend!” Tim interrupted loudly, his cheeks rosy. “It means friend.” You raised your eyebrows at his outburst and his explanation.

“You call your friends, ‘friend’?”

He scratched at his jaw and slowly nodded. “In my city, it’s common for friends to just call each other ‘friend’. It’s normal,” You managed out a ‘okay’ between breathy laughs, wondering why he was being so strange about it. It was just a nickname. But the blush in his cheeks didn’t diminish until well after Josh left the room, muttering under his breath about ‘idiots’, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe it meant more than Tim was letting on.

***

“Are you going to be at the gala on Saturday?” Tim asked you as the two of you ate (lunch for you, pre-practice snack for him) on the concourse. It was your first concourse snack since the All-Star break and you had missed him. WhatsApp messages and Instagram messages just weren’t the same as being in his presence. You finished your bite, and shook your head.

“It’s only for players isn’t it?”

“Would you want to come with me?”

“Like...as a date?” You looked up at him, your eyes wide. Maybe this was the clue you were waiting for.

“As friends?” Your eyes darted down onto the counter and Tim took that as a sign you didn’t want to go with him. “There’ll be puppies there.”

“Well,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “If there’s going to be puppies, I need no more convincing.” You forced a smile onto your face and he returned the sentiment, before finishing up the food. You wished him good luck before the game, and left to go the the box.

Soon enough, it was Saturday night and you found yourself in front of the Fairmont Château. You gazed up at the stone walls and admired how the orange glow from the lights gave it such a warm feeling, compared to the shivers that were going up and down your back. You had found time to go and get a fancy outfit for the night, its gold fabric being a perfect fit on your body. Tim had told you he’d meet you inside, so walked upt the steps alone, avoiding the other guests in fancy attire. They looked like they belonged here. You couldn't relate. The front entrance of the hotel was exactly as you expected -- it had marble floors, crown moldings, and a domed ceiling. You followed the chatter to one of the conference rooms, someone offering to check your coat. With just your clutch, you entered the ballroom with the sound of your shoes following you.

You looked around to try to find Tim among the executives, easily spotting him when you heard Brady’s booming laugh in the corner. You made your way over to the group, including Brady, Josh, Drake, Tim and some respective dates. Josh waved at you and Tim turned around to see you walking towards him.

Tim stood there, memorized by the way the Senators gold fabric hugged your figure and the way your eyes had lit up when you saw one of the puppies. You came over to him, brushing his arm before joining the group. Hellos were thrown your way and it wasn’t long before everyone went back to their conversations and you were able to speak with Tim.

“You look handsome." You handed him your clutch, which he held unashamedly, as you adjusted his gold bowtie, letting your hands linger on the front of his chest. You gulped before snapping out of your trance and took your clutch back from him.

“Um, uh, thanks. You look...good too,” His voice was breathy and his cheeks had flushed a little. You smiled at him, before noticing another golden retriever stumbling around next to its trainer and darting off to pet it. Tim watched you go and he stood back, blown away by the way his heart was beating faster and how he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

“You finally figured it out, huh?” He turned around at Drake’s voice. He had recognized the look on Tim’s face, it was the same one he had when he looked at his partner. Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“Figured what out?”

Drake scoffed and took a gulp of his drink. “God, you already know and you’re denying it. You’re in love with them.” Tim shook his head, waving off the thought. You were his best friend, nothing more. “C’mon man, you can keep lying to yourself but it’s obvious to everyone else.” He was then swept away by a reporter, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

He wasn’t in love with you. He was sure of it. You were his best friend, his safe spot. It’s not like when he sees you his heart beats faster or he notices how your eyes crinkle when you laugh or when the sun hits your skin just right, you look like an angel. It’s not like the more he looks at your lips the more he wants to know if they taste like your sweet honey lip chap. It’s not like your smile could cure his darkest days or that he could see himself introducing you to his family as his partner.

Except it was like that.

Tim saw all of that with you. He saw more galas, more late night drives, lazy Sunday mornings. He wanted to see you after his games, not in your office, but in the tunnel where you’d be wearing his jersey and a special jean jacket. He wanted to take you home to meet his family, his hometown friends. He wanted to show you all the places that were special to him, just as you showed his places special to you. He wanted to meet Dani and see if she thought he was good enough to be your partner. As he stared at you petting the small golden pup, he realized Drake was right. He was in love with you.

He was in love with his best friend.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do now?

You didn’t give him too much time to think about that as you came up behind him, telling him everything about the golden retriever you just met. He smiled at you, and motioned with his head to find your seats as dinner was going to be served soon. You sat next to him, your leg brushing against his under the table. Even from that, he got shocks-- tiny lightning bolts trailing up his body. It was like every sense was heightened after he came to the realization that he loved you. How am I supposed to even act around them? He thought.

The meal passed without issue and while Tim went about schmoozing all the executives and donors, you stick with the other halves. You had already met Emma, Brady’s partner, and she introduced you to Dakota, Briar, and Marissa (she had also told you who they came with but that information had not stuck with you).

“Sooo… Emma, how’s the wedding planning going?” Briar asked. She had gotten engaged over the holiday break. She laughed and waved off the question.

“Oh, not at all! We’re just enjoying being engaged, it’s like the honeymoon phase all over again,”

“Just like you and Tim,” Dakota nudged you and wiggled her eyebrows. You coughed on your drink at her statement.

“What?” You managed to sputter. Emma looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything. “What do you mean, like me and Tim?”

“Oh come on, it’s so obvious the two of you are in your honeymoon phase! Don’t be ashamed of it, you’re such a cute couple!”

“Ooh yes!! How his bowtie matched your outfit is like goals, I wish my boyfriend did that with me,” Marissa mentioned. Your voice felt caught in your throat and you were instantly aware of the breeze in the room and the sweat on the back of your neck.

“We’re just friends,” Your voice was small.

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly, babe. Oh, look, here comes your man.” Dakota winked at you before turning into her own date. You turn around quickly to see him walking over to you, laughing with Brady and Josh. Normally, the sight of him would calm you down. He was such a genuine person and you appreciated how you never had to shrink yourself to fit in with him. But with the girls’ comments, you suddenly couldn’t be around him. When his hand met the small of your back, you flinched before relaxing into his touch. It was just Tim, your Tim. It’s not a big deal unless you make it a big deal.

“Timmy, I was just telling Y/n what a cute couple you two are!”

“Well, what do they say? Oh right, they complete me,” He sent you a wink and pulled you closer to his side. You went stiff in his hold, and he noticed, instantly letting you out of his grip. You muttered out an excuse about work and said quick goodbyes to the group before you were out of the gala as fast as your shoes could allow. Your cheeks were hot with...embarrassment? No, that wasn’t quite it. But they were hot, and the room felt small with Dakota’s teasing so just needed to escape. You needed to have fresh air in your lungs, needed to feel the cool Ottawa air on your arms. Needed to be somewhere other than beside him and his light teasing that left your stomach in knots.

But you hadn't even reached the front door and grabbed your coat from the coat check when Tim caught up to you. He watched you try to put on your coat, as he rocked back and forth on his heels like that first day you met.

“Do you… do you actually have work in the morning or were you just saying that?” You looked up and met his eyes, the orbs holding a certain vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

“I got called at the last minute. I forgot to tell you, Jody’s kid got sick so I’m covering the game on Sunday but I haven’t prepared my notes or anything and you know me, I’ve got to be prepared or I won’t make a coherent analysis and then I’m really in trouble-” Tim cut your rambling off with a murmur of your name and you slowed your frantic movements to look at him.

“We’re okay, right?”

You smiled at him before you walked out the glass door. “Yeah, we’re alright.”

***

Last night was confusing to say the least. You could still feel the heat in your cheeks from...embarrassment? No, it wasn’t that. It was more like you couldn’t stand around to see what he meant by his comment. You couldn’t stand around why everyone else say you as a couple when you knew you weren’t. But you were okay with not being a couple weren’t you?

It’s like not you liked him that way. Yeah, a simple smile from him could turn your day around and your concourse snacks were the highlight of your week. But that’s because he was your best friend. It’s not like you wanted to spend every morning waking up to him or spend your afternoons running your fingers through his hair. It’s not like you wanted to take him back to Seattle to meet Dani or how you wanted to wear his jersey to call him yours. It’s not like you daydreamed about him gently holding your hand as you walked through ByWard market or how soft his lips would be as he leaned in to kiss you or what his abs felt like without a shirt separating your fingers from his skin.

Except it was like that.

And then came the comment at the gala. Did that mean he liked you too? But he said you were just going as friends. Did he mean it platonically? What if you read things wrong? Fuck, why were feelings so complicated?

Dani, you needed to call Dani. She’d know what to make of all this. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Thanks for calling Books By The Ocean, may you please hold?”

“Dani, it’s me.” Hold music filled your ear and you rolled your eyes. A few minutes later, there was almost certainly a hole in your rug from your pacing and she finally picked up.

“Why’d you resort to calling the store? I would’ve answered my phone eventually,”

“Yeah, eventually. I just really need to talk to you now,”

“Okay, so what’s up?”

“There’s this guy…”

“Is it Tim? Please tell me it’s Tim.” When you didn’t answer, she rejoined before reeling it in and telling you to continue.

“Anyways...we’re pretty good friends, I've known him since like the start of the season, and I don’t know, like I think he likes me? And I mean, I like him, he’s really great but, like, I just-”

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I want to take the next step with him. I want to be more than friends with him. I want all those things but… I just seem frozen. Like when I think about telling him, my body feels like it won’t move. It feels like I’m underwater. But I want to do more with him. I want that. Why won’t my brain get that and let me… I don’t know, let me act on my feelings?”

“You’re protecting yourself. You’ve never got hurt before,” You scoffed at her statement.

“What do you mean, of course I have,”

“Okay, sure, when you scraped your knee or when Nancy Peters called you dumb in second grade but you haven’t got hurt before. You haven’t opened yourself up to someone and let someone into your heart and let them see you for who you are.”

“Well, yeah, okay, but that’s because they might not like what they see,”

She sighed. “You can’t go through life with your walls up, kiddo. It’s hard, but you have to trust yourself. You have to let yourself feel. You have to let people in. When we were little and moved around a lot, maybe it was a survival tactic. But you’ve been in Ottawa for close to five years now and have unpacked all your boxes? Have you had any friends over? You’ve put down roots there but you’re still holding onto a survival tactic when you need to be living, not just surviving.

“I let people in--”

“No. You don’t. Has Tim ever been in your apartment? Has he seen that even though you resent Mom, you still have family photos of the four of us in your living room? Does he know about Dad? You might have told him stuff but you’re still living behind walls.” She sighed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be hard on you, but I want to see you thrive kiddo. I want you to experience life, and yeah, hurt is a part of life. You aren’t doing life right if you come out unscathed. And sure, maybe he’s a great friend. But in some instances, that romantic partner can fill a more emotionally secure place. People usually place more trust in their partner than just a friend. You’ve got to open up to him more than you already have if you want more from him.”

“How do I do that?”

“You’ve got to figure that out on your own kiddo, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Honestly; no hiding behind your friendship.” You nodded to her advice, before realizing she couldn’t see you, and thanked her for her help. She hung up with the promise to chat again on Wednesday like you normally did. You threw your phone beside the sink and leaned your head against the cool counter.

Be honest with him

Okay, you could do that. Easy enough right? You just had to make a plan to tell him. You could do that.

***

You were walking through the halls close to the bench to deliver your latest stats to the coach. It was your job after the other analysts determined you “had the youngest feet” and could go scouring around to find the coach. You didn’t mind. Besides… if you just happened to bump into Tim while you were down here, well then that was a completely unplanned coincidence. Since the gala and your chat with Dani afterwards, you were feeling good about where you stood with Tim. And you’d made your plan. After the game, you’d meet up for after-game snacks like most home games and you had told yourself you’d talk to him then.

You had given the latest report to the coach on the bench, walking past the locker room towards the box when you heard Tim's voice.

“...I don’t know man, I just need a break from Y/n.” You stopped in your tracks. It wasn’t that you meant to be nosy, but at the mention of your name… you wanted to see what else he had to say. You hadn’t meant to smother him but you guess he saw it differently. Your shoulders dropped and you bit your lip.

“I only have a problem around them!” You could feel the breakfast in your stomach start to turn, the feeling of bile starting to rise up. A ringing started to fill your ears, the white static noise only being pieced by his once comforting voice.

“It’s just… We work together, you know? It’s awkward,” Where was this attitude when you were hanging out at the start of the season? Last week? If this is how he felt, why didn’t… what did he mean by his comment to Dakota?

His voice shook you out of your trance. “Like at the end of the day, I’m me… they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re...them.” At that, you rushed away from earshot. If that was how he really felt, then screw him. If he was the hockey star and you were just the analyst, then that’s what role you’d play. Nothing more, nothing less. And he wasn’t brave enough to say that to your face, you’d say it first.

This is why you didn’t open yourself up. If you were going to get hurt either way, it might as well be the least damaging option.

Over the next few games and practices, you kept your distance from the players. You avoided the bench, sending Jody to give reports to the coach. You kept your office door closed, the blinds closed, and you made sure to time your exits of the arena to avoid Tim. If avoiding him meant you avoided the inevitable conversation where he would tell you your flaws and point out every way you misread things, then you would do that.

After you heard that, you stopped going out of your way to pass by the boys in the arena. You went into your office, closed the door, and didn’t leave until you went home. When you had to sit in the stands for practices, you sat higher than you used to and ignored the waves and stared you got from the team. He sent the occasional text but you replied with an im busy too many times that he stopped trying. It was odd to you how he kept reaching out when he was the one who said he needed a break but you ignored that voice in your head.

It was a Friday when he finally confronted you. You had been so close to leaving the arena, just one more hallway, and you would’ve been out the door and into the parking lot. He had called your name and you tried to turn the corner without him but he caught up easily, grabbing your wrist to get you to stay.

“What’s up? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” He let go of your wrist as you turned to face him.

“Well that’s what happens when you’re a bigshot NHL player and I’m a lowly analyst.” He squinted his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows at your statement.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t-- I don’t think we should be friends anymore,”

He slowly nodded, thinking your words over in his head. “Okay. Um...I think… yeah, that could be good. I don’t think we should be just friends either.” He shot you a shy smile with a spark of hope in his eyes but you frowned.

“Good. It’s settled then.” You turned on your heel and walked away from him, only wiping your teary eye once you had rounded the corner, refusing to let him see you cry. You missed the way he frowned as you retreated.

The weekend was spent in bed, repeat episodes of Loki playing in the background. Loki never hurt you the way Tim had, the way his words dug into your insecurities of being alone creating a wound like no other. You had turned your phone off earlier as it kept buzzing with messages from him. You didn’t want to hear his excuses of why and you didn’t want to explain that you’d overheard his conversation. But the season wasn’t over yet so you gave yourself two days to grieve. When Monday morning came, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Tim caught you in the main entrance way at the rink. It was close to 8am and you knew he didn’t have practice until 11, so it was obvious he was waiting for you. You walk right past him until he softly calls your name and you stop walking, but don’t turn around. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“You know why.” You whipped around and scoffed at him. “And you know what else? If you had a problem with me, you could’ve just said something. You didn’t have to keep hanging out with me.”

“What?”

“I think we should just keep this professional, 18. I’m nothing more than a background analyst to your hockey superstar, so let’s just stick to our jobs, yeah?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We work together, we shouldn’t be friends, you said it yourself. It’ll be better this way. Now, please, just leave me alone.” You brushed by him, bumping your shoulder with his, and you missed the way his jaw fell open at how quickly your relationship seemed to change.

He seemed to leave you alone after that. He didn’t check in and he didn’t send funny memes he found. He didn’t text you to tell you he landed safely on road trips and you didn’t congratulate him on a game well played. You could tell Brady and Josh thought it was weird but didn’t say anything, just gave you pitying looks when you passed by or caught their eye in the halls.

The Senators failed to clinch a playoff spot, thanks to an overtime loss to Winnipeg. The end of the season for you was nice. It meant a shift in your work to more prospects, and thankfully, a more flexible work schedule. You didn’t have to go into the arena and most of the players went back to their hometowns to visit. It was supposed to be a reprieve for you, knowing Tim wasn’t even in the country. It was supposed to be relaxing, going to all the places that had helped you in the past to regroup your thoughts.

But instead, it felt suffocating, strolling through the market. You’d been here thousands of times to clear your head, but this time the deeper you walked, the more the thoughts in your head swirled into a hurricane.

You’d never know what home felt like. You’d had friends tell you it’s having like extended family over around the holidays or it’s the peacefulness they felt at their lake house. You thought you had found it in Ottawa, its quaintness and history bringing you a sense of calm you hadn’t had before. But only with Tim did you feel that inner peace that home felt like. Only with Tim did you feel like you could take on the world. Only with Tim did you feel whole.

And that was scary.

Feeling like one person could complete you, like they had a piece of your heart you didn’t know you gave them, was scary. You were used to being on your own. You’d done it throughout your levels of schooling and throughout the beginnings of your career. And all it took for that strength to come crashing down was a bashfully confident German hockey player.

He couldn’t even tell you why. It would’ve hurt more to hear the exact reasons why you weren’t good enough for him, but it would have quelled your mind from picking on every single insecurity your mind could come up with.

Before you knew it, you were staring at the Ottawa sign. You glanced around to see couples waiting for their turn at the sign. Some of the guys had their arms around the shoulders’ of their girlfriends. Some of the girls had their hands clasped in their girlfriends’. Some people had their arms around the waist of their partner. But they all had a smile on their face, a fondness that was reserved for the love of their life.

Your eye caught the sight of a backwards Senators cap and your head whipped around. The person was tall and was wearing a grey hoodie. The man turned to the side and you caught a glance of the brown tufts of hair that stuck out of the cap. He threw his head back and the corners of your mouth turned up. Tim’s laugh was always infectious, even if you were upset with him.

But it wasn’t him.

He hadn’t reached out since the day in the hallway. As much as you knew you didn’t want to hear him say things more hurtful than what you overheard, you couldn’t help but wonder where you went wrong. The what-ifs tumbled around in your head, the possibilities of why suddenly your friendship was too much for him.

As you stood there in the market, the memories racing through your mind mixed with images of happy couples all around you, you knew you had to get out. You don’t really remember the rush of leaving, all you know is that the city that felt big for so many years now felt too small. You can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him, his smile, his laugh. How his eyes glimmer from the light of a movie. You drove yourself to the airport, knowing there wasn’t going to be a cab this early in the morning.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside of the familiar blue painted bookstore with your duffle bag in your hands. It was raining and overcast in Seattle, which wasn’t unusual, but even the fat teardrops felt melancholic. The sign in the window said closed, but you knew Dani would be in the back, organizing new stock. You knocked on the window, the sound rattling through the worn building. A few seconds later, her head of light pink hair came to the door, opening it. Before she could question your presence, you spoke.

“He didn’t want me,” you cried. “He didn’t even see all of me and he didn’t want me.” You dropped your bag as she pulled you into a hug. One hand cradled the back of your head as she pulled you out of the rain and into the store. You inhaled her scent, a mix of sea salt and the old bookstore, and squeezed her tightly. When she released you from the hug, she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing down your jaw. She gave you a soft smile, before walking to the back of the store, where her apartment was. Your shoes squeaked against the old hardwood floors as you followed her towards the kitchen, where you could smell a pot of tea brewing.

She was silent as she poured you a cup, kissed your head, before whispering everything was going to work out. She slipped out of the room, giving you your space.

You didn’t even have to ask. Dani let you stay with her for the summer, as long as you helped out around the store when you weren’t doing your own work. She didn’t push you for details about Tim, she just let you be. You tried your best to be cheery around the customers but that facade only lasted so long. When you were alone, you didn’t try to hide the emptiness you felt there.

***

Too soon did the days start to get shorter, the nights colder, the pitter-patter of raindrops became more constant which meant fall was coming. The season was starting up again, and you had to head back to Ottawa. This summer at home was a nice break but you knew that running away wasn’t going to solve all your problems. You were packing when a text from Josh came in.

So when are you getting in?

i land at 9pm on the 20th. Why?

Can’t I wonder when my friend gets into the city?

we’re friends?

Of course we are Numbers! I don’t share family recipes with just anyone :)

good to know thanks :)

You continued packing, thinking about what he said. You knew the two of you were friends, but he was Tim’s teammate. His roommate. To hear him say, regardless of where you and Tim stand, that you two were still good was a relief. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time away from the city, you missed work. You missed sitting in the arena, a brisk chill over your shoulder, the sounds of scraping ice and whistles. You missed the quaintness of Ottawa and, as much as he’d never let you forget it, you missed Josh’s cooking. Nights with Dani didn’t compare to nights with Brady (and sometimes Emma) and Josh.

Dani parked in the loading zone of the airport. She got out of the car to help with your bag, even though you had only brought one.

“Hey, listen, um. I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with Tim but… I think you need to talk to him.”

“Dani...”

“No, listen. I think you need some closure. You ran away from a city you haven’t left in five years, a city you so obviously love, because it hurt to think about him. Maybe closure means you talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t. But you’ve spent this whole summer looking lost, like you’re waiting for something to magically appear and make everything better. You look like you’ve lost a piece of yourself and you don’t know how to get it back. And that’s not you, kiddo. It’s never been you; you’ve always been so straightforward and sure of yourself. I want you to feel like yourself again, that’s all.”

“What if…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What if the piece of me that I lost isn’t something I can get back?”

“Then you fill it. It might not be perfect and maybe you need lots of tape, and maybe you accept that there will be small cracks in it, but those holes make your souls yours. It’s a part of life, and you can’t avoid it no matter how hard you try.” You pulled her in for a hug, some of the tears in your eyes dropping onto her shoulder.

“Thank you Dani. For everything.” She pulled back to wipe the tears from your face, a smile on her face.

“You know I’m always here for you, kiddo. Take care of yourself, okay?” You nodded, knowing if you spoke again, more tears would bubble over. You walked towards the departures gate, walking towards the reality you ran from.

Several hours later, you were happy to be back in Ottawa. You had missed it, as much as it pained you when you were here. Tim Hortons, bilingual signs, friendly smiles, and oh god you could have real poutine again. Yeah, it was nice to be back.

Dani’s words mulled over in your head throughout the flight, and continued to as you made your way through the airport. She was right, maybe you needed closure. Accept what happened and move on. You’d lost friends when you graduated early, you’d lost friends when you moved away. You’d lost friends before and this was no different.

Except you knew deep down it was different. It was Tim; it was always going to be different with him.

You shook your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the thought. If Tim didn’t want to be around you, then you weren’t going to waste your time waiting for him to show up. You’d suck it up everything you had to look at a stat, but other than that you’d focus on work, focus on proving yourself in the company. You started to walk towards where you’d parked your car (without wondering how much the parking was), ignoring the happy reunions of students and families. You had been perfectly fine being in Ottawa on your own until you realized how much better it could be when you had someone.

A hand grasped your wrist and instantly, you turned around and ripped your arm from the stranger. You looked up, first to see a bouquet of flowers made up of peach roses, white tulips, and hydrangeas. Behind the colours of the flowers, you see a familiar face, eyes full of sorrow and hope. Even when you were ignoring him, he was still so easy to read.

“Number 18.” You struggled to keep your voice even, but you lifted your head to appear as if he had no effect on him.

“Hi Y/n,” He met your eyes, which you quickly darted away. “These are for you.” He tried to hand the bouquet to you, but you shook your head.

“How did you know when I got in?” The coldness in your voice surprised Tim, but he didn’t show it, swallowing slowly before answering you.

“Josh told me." You folded your arms, your hands gripping your bag in case you needed to get away from this conversation.

“Josh mentioned it or you asked Josh?” When he didn’t answer, you knew it was the latter and scoffed at his sneaky actions. You quickly turned away from him and moved faster towards the exit. You heard him sigh from behind you and before you could make a sly comment about it beneath your breath, he was ahead of you, blocking your way. You tried to side-step him, but hockey reflexes prevailed. You glared his way and tried again, silently begging him to move.

“C’mon, you have to talk to me sometime, we work together,” He commented.

“That’s exactly it. We work together. You’re the high and mighty NHL superstar and I’m the nerdy analyst. We have our places. They don’t mix, so really I don’t have to work with you at all. So, please, if you could just move, I have nothing else to say to you.” You tried once more to step around him, but he lightly grabbed your forearm to stop you.

“But I have stuff to say to you.”

“You had months to say it, so I’ll say it again, please let me by.” Suddenly, he was on his knees in the airport, the flowers still outstretched in his hands.

“Y/n,”

“What are you doing?” You hiss to him, your face darting around to see people starting to stare at Tim’s grand gesture.

“I need you to talk to me, and you won’t, so I’ll beg until you agree to hear me out,” You could feel more people staring, the shutter of camera phones, the eyes of everyone in the Ottawa airport (or what felt like it) easily making up your mind. There was a reason you were an analyst, away from the spotlight, doing your work behind the scenes.

“Get up,” you started to pull on his arm, but he just stayed anchored to the ground.

“You’ll talk to me?”

“18, I will do anything as long as you stop making a scene,” At this point, your cheeks felt as if you’d stood under the beating sun for an hour. He got up from his knees, the flowers still outstretched in his hands, and you let go of his arm. You grabbed the flowers from his arms, dropping them in a garbage bin as you stalked out of the airport. Tim caught up to you and walked by your side.

You said nothing as you reached your car, unlocking the doors. You didn’t even wait for him to have his seatbelt on before you were backing out of the stall and driving away. Thoughts were running wild in your head; you were angry and embarrassed at the stunt he pulled at the airport, appalled at the audacity he had to show up after what he said, and last of all you were reluctantly happy to be back in his presence again. So you went to the one place you knew you could think.

You put the car in park overlooking the suburbs. You turned it off and rested your arms on the steering wheel. You couldn’t make the effort to get out and walk to the lookout spot, the car creating a safe bubble for your thoughts.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” His soft voice broke the tense silence in the car and you scoffed.

“We’re not friends anymore. You’re the Senators star player and I’m just the nerdy analyst. There’s no reason for me to need to talk to you.”

“See, you keep saying that but I-I don’t get it! What does that even mean?” You furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him, his own face scrunched up and his eyes hard.

“What do you mean you don’t get it? You said that! The last game against Montréal? I was walking past the locker room and… I overheard you talking with the guys.” You looked down to your lap, findling with your hands. You briefly saw Tim’s hand start to move towards you, but you shook your head and it stayed in his lap. “You said you needed a break from me. You said that ‘at the end of the day they pay me a lot to play my game and they’re.. them’. You said you had a problem with me. What was I supposed to take from that except that you didn’t want me to be in your life?”

He stammered for words but you cut him off. “No, I don’t think you understand how much it hurt. Hurt to have the one person who I thought understood me to talk behind my back about how I wasn’t enough for them. It hurt to know that the one person who I always wanted to talk to, didn’t want to talk to me. Hurt to think that you’ve only ever seen me as just some nerdy analyst who has no place in your life. I had been fine before, without you in my life, but then you came in and knocked down every barrier I ever had. And then left as if you didn’t just break my life into pieces!

“I left Ottawa because it hurt too much to go to all my favourite places, because I went there with you. I let you into my safe spaces, and when you left, you shattered that security. You tainted all the good I had there. I thought that Ottawa was home before I met you,” you scoffed. “Not even close. You feel like home to me. And for you to say that I was a problem in your life?” You shook your head at him and looked down at your hands. “I tried to get over it, believe me I did. But every single place I went I was reminded of you… and how everything we had didn’t feel like a big deal to you.”

“I never meant for that to happen.” His voice was quiet and strained, as if he was trying to keep his emotions within him.

“You know the hardest part? I didn’t just have to get over losing my best friend. I had to get over someone I fell in love with! I lost the single most important relationship with one tiny little passing conversation. And you acted like nothing happened! Like we were still friends, like you still cared for me-”

“Ich liebe dich du trottel!” His outburst caught you off guard and you gulped. His heavy breathing was the only sound in the car as you whispered.

“You know I don’t speak German…”

“You don’t need to know German to know what I said,” His eyes were hard, a look you had only seen during games.

“Oh.” You shook your head and looked at him. “Wait what?”

“I didn’t say those things you think I did! You didn’t listen to the whole thing! Brady was teasing me about me saying I don’t have a problem talking to people I like and I don’t normally but you’re the exception! I needed a break from you because everytime I see you, my heart starts beating faster and my hands get sweaty and I don’t know how to act! And the guys said that sounds like I’m in love with you-- and I am! I am! But when I finally started to do something about it, you ran away from me! I didn’t know what to do. Besides, if I fell in love with you...it could mess with our jobs. Because if for any reason, something happens, they’d fire you before they’d ever trade me. And you’ve worked too hard to have an opportunity like this be taken away from you because of me. So... I didn’t know what to do. And then you just kept ignoring me and saying those things about how you’re just a nerdy analyst…. It felt like we weren’t on the same page anymore and I didn’t know where it came from or what to do either so I tried to give you space. But then you shut me out. And you said we shouldn’t be friends. So I thought that meant.... you wanted to be more than friends? And the boys were saying that you being mean to me was just you having a hard time having feelings for me but then you… uh, yelled at me so I left you alone. But that doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you.” He placed one of his hands on top of your tentatively, giving you the option to shoo his hand away. When you didn’t, he rubbed the skin on top of your hand. “It never meant I stopped caring about you.”

He sighed. “I guess I see now that I should not have given you space. I should’ve been better for you because that’s what you deserve.”

“I could’ve been better too, this isn’t all your fault. I said some mean things.”

“I promise you, that when we’re together I’m not a NHL player. I’m just me… just Tim from Germany who likes hockey. You have always seen me for who I am, and that’s...that’s something I love about you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Love… was a big word. Love was for confident people. Love was for those who didn’t understand the weight of that four letter word. Love wasn’t a word you threw around. Love was scary. It asked you to place your bandaged heart in someone else’s hands and hope they didn’t drop it, shattering the pieces into smithereens. Love meant letting down those walls that time and time again had proved that needed to stay up. To protect you. To avoid the heartache of broken trust.

And here he was, throwing that word around as if the implications didn’t matter. As if he didn’t leave. As if he didn’t call you a problem. As if he didn’t know the months you spent trying to forget him and the fragments he left behind.

As if he still wasn’t understanding.

“I… I can’t do this.” You go to open the car door only for it to lock. You gasp, and you whip your head around, your eyes sharp. “This is my car, you can’t do that!” His eyes went wide and you tried again, only for it to be locked again. You gritted your teeth and he spoke before you could reprimand him again.

“Don’t shut me out again! You say you can’t do this, okay, but tell me why. We’re supposed to-to talk to each other! We would’ve had no mess if you had just talked to me after you heard what I said! So.. talk to me,” You met his soft eyes, your resolve breaking with just one look. “Please, schatz.”

You slowly pulled your hand off the handle, letting it fall into your lap. You picked at your fingernails while trying to compose your thoughts, Tim’s concerned eyes never leaving you. He murmured your name and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m sorry I just- I don’t know if I can jump back into where we were. I know that… it’s different than I thought but I can’t-” you cut yourself off before you said something you regret and a cold chill ran through you. “It still hurts. I can’t just unhear those things you said. Especially when they came from you. So, I’m going to need time to process everything.”

He placed one of his hands over your fidgeting fingers and you lifted your head to meet his soft eyes. “I’ll give you some space. Just let me know when you know, yeah?” Before you could nod your head, he had opened his door and got out of your vehicle. You quickly got out to question him.

“What are you doing?” He turns around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m… I’m giving you space?”

“How are you planning to get home? Uber?” He shrugged before nodding, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Uh, no. No. Get in.” He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “It’s almost 11pm, we’re in a dark forestry area, and you are the least threatening person I know. I’m not going to let you get stabbed by some murder psycho; you still mean something to me, you know.”

At that he came over to the car, and the two of you got settled back into your seats. After you buckled up and started the engine, Tim broke his silence.

“Did you mean that? That I still mean something to you?”

You swallowed slowly and took a while to answer his question, your hand resting on the gear shift. You put the car in reverse, and looked over at him. “You’re always going to mean something to me. Just what exactly you are changes.” You backed out of the parking lot and started the drive to his place. He was quiet for a few minutes, pondering your answer, but when he spoke his voice had the quiet confidence he always carried around with him.

“Can I ask what I am right now?” Streetlights illuminated his face and out of the corner of your eye you see him slightly turned towards you, his face unsure.

“No. I’ll keep you updated?”

“Good enough.”

The rest of the drive back to his house was quiet, aside from the lo-fi beats you had playing in the background. Despite the tension, the drive felt comfortable. When you parked in front of his house, he cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you for the ride. I’ll see you around I guess,” He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his hand on the handle.

“Goodnight Tim.” Despite your smile, Tim really hoped your goodnight didn’t also mean goodbye. He got out of your car, walked up the steps to his door, unlocked it and gave you a small wave before he went inside.

Tim was true to his word. He gave you space. He didn’t go back to the lookout spot or the war memorial, knowing those were your sanctuaries before they were his. He didn’t ask for updates, he didn’t stop by your office, he didn’t ask Josh how you were doing.

And you appreciated it. The time and space left you alone with your thoughts and you often visited the lookout spot or the war memorial, trying to find some peace, but those spots were now shared with Tim. So, for the first time in a long time, you spent time in your apartment.

When you moved in, you hadn’t done anything to the place. Spaces were temporary in your experience. It was more hassle than it was worth to try to make the space your own if, in a year everything was a clean slate. But Dani was right. It had been close to six years now since you moved in. Six years. You had a stable job, you had friends here, it was time to accept that maybe this was more than temporary.

You started by unpacking the last few boxes that were stacked in the hallway. You replaced the command hooks hanging your picture frames with nails. You got new paint to liven up the living room from the basic beige it was before. You put the work into making your apartment really yours. You had to stop living behind walls and this was a first step.

The next step was to really open up.

***

You were waiting outside the dressing room for Tim to get out. You came down as soon as practice finished so you knew you wouldn’t miss him. You leaned against the cool concrete, trying to control your bouncing leg. He was one of the last out of the dressing room and you shyly smiled at the other players who left. When he came out, you popped off from the wall and stood in front of him.

“Do you still want to know why I picked hockey?” You could tell your question caught him off guard but he nodded nonetheless. “You had asked and I brushed it off...because it hurt to think about. Because it was my dad...He loved hockey. Everywhere we went, there was a team he could cheer for, but he always wished that his hometown team would win, no matter how bad they were. He took me to a game once. I had asked why he liked it so much, it was cold and loud and people were drunk and I’m pretty sure our team was losing. We were down in the crowd and he said to me, ‘Hockey is this great sport. It connects people. It creates families right before your eyes. Enemies can become teammates. This...this sport can be a family for you, anywhere you go. I hope one day you can find something that does the same thing for you.’ Two weeks later, he had a heart attack. So, I held onto the one thing that he found belonging in. I liked my math, it made sense, and I’m good at it. But when it came to doing something with my life, I just- I wanted something to make my dad proud of me, you know? I wanted to feel connected to him.”

Tim was silent but he pulled you into a hug, your head going into the crook of his neck. His arms went around your waist and he held you for a minute. “Your dad would be proud of you. I know he would. Why’d you tell me now though?”

“Well, friends share personal stuff, right?” You pulled away from the hug just enough to catch his eyes. You looked up at him hopefully, and he smiled.

“Yeah, they do.” He broke the hug, but kept an arm slung over your shoulder. “C’mon, friends also eat brussel sprouts for each other.” You laughed at his distaste for them and the two of you walked out the parking lot together, his arm still slung around your shoulders.

***

You looked up at the ceiling, your bedsheets twisted beside you. It had been about two weeks since you told Tim about your dad, and since then, the two of you had been exchanging texts daily. It felt familiar, even though both of you knew it was different. Not a bad different, just… different. You’d been over to his place a couple times and he came over for your place for a ‘welcome back’ dinner.

You were nervous to show him your apartment, but you knew you had grown into the space. It was no longer generic beige walls and command strips. The living room had an accent wall and you put nails in the wall to hang your family photos in the hallway. Tim took his time looking around your space, spending extra time in the hallway. He stopped in front of the picture of your family, all four of you, and smiled.

“My parents are coming into town when we play the Caps in December, if you want to meet them?” He had said when you sat down to eat. You sputtered your drink a little and set down the glass.

“Only if...you meet Dani when we go to Seattle in January?” His face broke into a grin and he nodded.

“I’d love that.” The rest of the dinner had no issues, just two friends catching up and getting familiar with each other again.

But he wanted you to meet his parents. He wanted you to meet the people who raised him, his family. And you didn’t have any hesitations. You wanted to meet the people who made Tim who he is.

This past week solidified that you knew what you wanted. You wanted to meet Tim’s family, you wanted to show him around Seattle, you wanted to be with him. If he still wanted to be with you.

If.

He had been pretty clear where he stood on his feelings, but the voice in the back of your mind taunted you with that one tiny two letter word. He might have seen how you reacted, how unstable you were, and how you weren’t ready to jump into things as a sign you didn’t want this. He could’ve taken your steps to being friends again as being just friends again. He could’ve-

You weren’t going to wait around to let what-if’s and might of’s and could’ve’s waft around in your head. You needed to talk to him, needed to see him. So in your pajama pants and a hoodie, you braved the Canadian night and drive to his house. You parked the car, rather haphazardly, but it could wait. You skipped a step walking up to his door and quickly phoned him.

You paced back and forth on the small porch as the phone rang three times before he picked up.

“Hallo?” His accent was thicker in his native language, the harsh constants sounding so soft from his lips.

“Can you come open the door?”

“What?”

“I’m outside. Can you open the door?”

“What? It’s like...early,”

A sigh escapes you. “Tim. I know. I know now.”

“Well if you looked at a clock before you left your place, you would’ve known earlier. That would’ve-”

“Tim.” You gulped and your voice trembled slightly. “I’m ready. I know what I want.” The tone of your voice dropped its lightheartedness and that alone was enough to shake the sleep from his mind. But your words? More than enough to get him out of bed and racing (as quietly as he could in the dark) towards you.

He opened the front door in his sleep joggers to see you pacing and shaking your arms. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to admire you. The way your hair fell, your Senator pajama pants that Brady gave you as a gag gift, the way you bit your lip between your teeth.

“Hey.” His voice broke you out of your trance, your head whipping around to see him standing in the doorframe.

“Hi.” Your voice was quiet, the nerves getting the best of you. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His hair was a mess and he was wearing the grey hoodie you knew for a fact was his favourite. “Oh, right, I have to go first. Um...Are- are you still sure about your feelings for me?” He nodded. “And-and they’re for sure, good feelings?”

“… They’re such good feelings.” You nodded and gave your body another shake through, as if to dissipate the nerves racing throughout your veins.

“I know it’s taken me a while to kinda sort everything out but… I like you too. That’s why hearing those things hurt so much. That’s why I had to take some time. I've been alone for most of my life and it was scary to let someone in so easily, unknowingly. You just waltzed in and made yourself at home in my heart and it felt like you belonged so I… I didn’t even realize you could hurt me. And when I heard those things, it hurt more. It just solidified that I should’ve stayed alone. You can’t get hurt if there’s no one to hurt you right? But every talk, every late night drive, everything we had...it was worth all the hurt. So I’m ready. I want to do this with you, even if it hurts. I don’t know if I can do life without you.” He pushed himself off of the doorframe and came to stand in front of you, his hand cupping your cheeks, soothing the skin under your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and I don’t plan on doing it ever again, Y/n, you have to know that.” You nodded against his hands and you could feel some of his tension fade from his body. “Does this mean… we could be more than friends?”

“I want to be much more than friends with you, Tim.” You bit your lip to try to stop your smile from growing so wide, but it broke through when you saw how wide his smile was and how his eyes crinkled with joy.

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?” He asked softly, already leaning in. He left space between the two of you so you could decide but you easily leaned into him, your lips meeting. It was gentle but it was loving. You moved in sync, Tim’s hand moving to the back of your head to push you closer to him. Eventually, you pulled away for air.

“Schatz…” He breathed and you laughed lightly.

“You know, I don't think you've told me what that really means,” You said with a cheeky smile.

“Would you like me to say it in English, sweetheart?” He brushed his nose with yours.

“Hmm, German is fine,” You tilted your head upwards, almost brushing your lips with his. With your teasing, he let out a groan, bringing you in for another kiss. This time he broke for air, his eyes still slightly closed.

“You know, you cured my homesickness. I never felt like I missed home because I found home in you,” He whispered. Your heart melted and you brought your lips together with a passion he hadn’t seen from you before. Your hands tangled in his hair and he chased your lips as if it was a breakaway. When you broke for air, the two of you were breathless.

“As much as I want to keep doing that, it’s also very early and I am tired. Can we go back to bed please?” His arms were still around your waist, but he leaned back enough that you could see his face, puppy dog eyes and all. You nodded to his request with a soft smile, and went to remove yourself from his arms and go back to your car, but he tightened his grip.

“I got you now, so I’m not letting you go.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck and slowly the two of you made your way into the warm house. He led you through the dark hallways to his bedroom, giggling and sneaking kisses where you could.

You fell asleep so easily, the quickest you have the entire time you had lived in Ottawa. And it wasn’t only Tim’s warmth, or the way his sheets smell like hockey tape and his peppermint shampoo. You had finally opened yourself up. You had found that belonging your dad always wanted you to. And you found that in Tim; whether he knew it or not, he was home.

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why, if not for nothing?

This one’s dedicated to drew ( @sunriseabram-death or @drewdrop , take your pick) bc of their tags on this post and bc she was a big part of the reason I read aftg in the first place // Neil Josten & David Wymack // minor Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard // Hurt - Comfort // paranoia // post canon, though the first scene is pre canon // 6.6k

ao3

—————

In Ottawa, Neil slept with his shoes on. It wasn’t uncommon—in fact it had been usual—but they had lived in a proper apartment for nearly nine months and he was particularly thankful to return to the habit that night. The empty apartment they found on the ground floor of the half-abandoned complex was freezing, and even with two shirts, a flannel, and his sweatshirt on, he couldn’t get warm. They were on their way out of Montreal. Mary wouldn’t tell him why besides that ‘it was time’ as she traded the student IDs in his wallet. David, it said his name was, and he had scrunched up his nose. Definitely not his favorite.

They were curled up on the only piece of furniture in the place—an abandoned couch that made his mother wrap her hair in her scarf and pull his hood over his head; they couldn't afford to get lice. She held him against her even in her sleep, deceptively strong arms wrapped around his back, fingers bruising and digging into a groove between his ribs where a knife had caught him nearly a year ago. It wasn’t the knife that sent them back to the Americas, but at the time he thought it should have been. In her hold he worked on getting cold air into his lungs, wiggling his toes in his boots to keep them warm, and waiting for sleep to wash over him so he wouldn’t have to think about either thing much longer.

He caught the movement in the window.

At first it was hard to tell. If it were outside, well, it’d be something to think about but not necessarily something to worry about. The complex was only half abandoned. Several other homeless people—no matter that his mother refused to call themselves homeless—were in units down the line, and the ones closest to the street were properly and legally rented, the best he could tell. From the ground floor window seeing someone walking outside wouldn’t be unreasonable. There was an itch on the back of his neck that traveled up to his brain, though, and he looked harder.

It was a man in the doorway—later Neil would have to think about the silence, how quiet he had been, how far he had gotten—tall and shadowy, a beanie making his head misshapen in the silhouetted reflection of the window. Neil forced his eyes half lidded and squirmed as if he were asleep, shifting his hand to his mother’s side and grabbing his knife before digging his fingers into her coat, hopefully hard enough to make it to her flesh. A second later he was being yanked away.

The feeling of being grabbed by the neck is incomparable. There are too many ways to feel it, too many ways for it to go about, too many reasons and too many outcomes. Neil has them catalogued, orderly, in the vault of his brain—sense memories he’s locked behind doors and into safes.

His mother always caught him on the junction between his shoulder and neck, a rough grasp that brought him into her. His father would pick him up by the scruff, finding where his neck met his back, where pinching the already tight skin could send currents of pain up and down his spine. Lola grabbed him by his throat, securing her hand under his not-fully-formed jaw and pulling him forward. Andrew pulls him in by the soft spot that leaves his spinal cord vulnerable, all carefully measured pressure and callused fingers.

The thing that’s always the same, no matter who, no matter why, no matter where, is the drop. Anxiety, terror, fear, thrill. There’s always a drop, something that falls from the base of his skull and into his stomach. Antacid, stones, butterflies; everything drops.

The man grabbed Neil by the neck of his sweatshirt and Neil’s body reacted instantly, pushing through fear to deposit a coin of confidence into his gut, knowing his mother was already on her feet, gun out. The man took a staggering step back, not expecting Neil to be as heavy as he was, not smart enough to know Neil had been properly housed and fed for the past nine months. Neil used the momentum to let himself swing back in the man's grip, knife meeting thigh and tearing a fault line into flesh before breaking away. There were two shots, then, one at the man and one at the window, and then he was jumping through it, after his mother, duffles clutched to their chests and into the night, broken glass falling into his hood and digging at his shoulders.

The looks of his teammates after practice feel something like that glass. Prickling cuts, weeping blood. Sadder, but just as inevitable. They see, he’s sure; the way he’s turning, always trying to catch the movement in the corner of his eye, the reflections in the plexiglass, the footsteps that are too careful. The only thing he doesn’t know is if his team can sense them too.

Andrew walks up to him, taking his time but with a little more power behind his step than is perhaps normal, and they enter the foyer together, shoulders knocking. Neil flinches. Andrew notices, he’s Andrew, he can’t not notice, and once they’re through the doorway he takes two, very discrete and simultaneously very noticeable, steps to the side, otherwise keeping Neil’s pace. To the other’s, Neil’s sure, it looks like Andrew is wearing the same apathetic look as always, but he angles his chin slightly to the left when he looks at Neil, asking, Are you okay?

There are several responses to this, of course. I’m fine, is the first response that comes to mind, like a reflex, but he dismisses it quickly on account that Andrew would likely punch him clear across the face. No, is probably the most accurate, but Neil doesn’t know why he isn’t fine, besides the likelihood of people trailing him, and he isn’t in much of a mood to test his honesty like that. There are words in his throat too, but they’re questions—about the people he can feel all around, about the things he’s almost seeing—and if he asks he’s going to look weird in front of the freshmen, and worse, he’ll make everyone concerned. But he doesn’t want to lie, especially to Andrew, so he opts for not responding and simply holds eye contact until they reach the locker room and then goes to change out.

In the shower stall, he can lock it out. The water drowns everything except his thoughts, giving him a breath to analyze the situation.

He almost regrets his habit of running back to Fox Tower each night, then. Everyone will know, without a doubt, that something is wrong if he asks for a ride back. Without asking, they’ll drive back without him. He’s made it clear that’s how he likes things, and he’ll be left to run in the dark.

For all that he has done it before, it’s still an uncomfortable thought. Having somewhere to run to makes the prospect more promising, but Fox Tower is no fortress or safe house. He hadn’t trusted the tower when he arrived in Palmetto, and now it feels impossible. The safety he’s carved out for himself in his dorm, in his room, by Andrew’s side—it’s decimated by the hundreds of lost student IDs strewn about campus, the knowledge that all it takes is someone with a lockpick and a YouTube video, the possibility that someone with his own skills could scale the brick and hoist themself through Matt’s perpetually unlocked window. He’ll run all night, if he has to, to make sure no one is behind him. He can’t go back to the dorms.

With that decided, he shuts the water off.

By the time he’s dressed and back in the locker room everyone has cleared out. He’s familiar with the bright overheads that tear all shadows from the room, but he feels one anyways as he bends over to tie his shoes. Cold and heavy, it buzzes like a drill bit on the back of his neck, and he whirls around, shoes half on, to face the intruder.

The corner is empty, no looming figure.

“You can stay at mine tonight,” Wymack says from his position hanging onto the doorframe, causing Neil to swivel again—he has no idea when Wymack got there. It’s not a question, not a command, but Wymack’s raised eyebrow makes it feel like a challenge, like he knows that all Neil wants to do is say no and run. Before he can, Wymack says, “Let’s go.”

It’s odd, Neil thinks, doing this again. He had spent the month of his summer break bouncing between weekends in Columbia and weeks on Wymack’s couch after a painful conversation—if he could even call it that—with Kevin, where he admitted he didn’t want to spend the summer awkwardly around his dad’s apartment. Even before summer practices began, Neil had tagged along to the court a few times a week, and Wymack keeps the same closing procedures now as he did then, keeping Neil in front of him as he goes about turning the lights off, refusing to leave Neil in the dark. Neil had always found the gesture kind, but in a way that made him unreasonably uncomfortable, like a cougar was going to maul him from behind at any second. Tonight, his trepidation comes not from kindness, but from a growing suspicion.

Wymack finally lets him drop behind when they reach the parking lot, where Neil alternates between staring intensely at the shadows for any sign of movement and the reflective piping on Wymack’s windbreaker. The breeze ruffles the fabric of the jacket, swishing along in the night and covering any footsteps Neil hoped to hear by masking his own. Why anyone, the Moriyamas or his father’s residual men, would bother being this discreet now that everything between them and Neil is out in the proverbial open, Neil doesn’t know, but it rankles him.

The safety lock of Wymack’s car comes undone with a cheerful chirp, cut off almost immediately by the closing of Neil’s door. He pushes the child lock back down manually, before Wymack can press the button, and stares tentatively out the window. The lights of the parking lot are just bright enough to almost completely dampen Neil’s reflection in the window, leaving him with an unobscured view of the lot. Nothing is standing under the nearest lamp posts, no one is toying with a knife between their fingers. Neil fastens his seatbelt blindly and doesn’t stop looking until they’re on the road.

Wymack is taking the back streets to his apartment, a track that Neil is more familiar with than anyone ought to know. He doesn’t know what Wymack thinks is going on, but they’re more likely to lose a tail here regardless, which Neil appreciates. The glow from the dashboard is enough to throw light into the backseat and Neil shifts to catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror, making sure no one is back there and cursing himself for not checking before getting in.

Wymack glances over to him when he settles back down, finally on a longer stretch of road that lets him shift his attention. Still, he barely holds eye contact before turning back to the windshield. “At the stadium, what was wrong?” he asks, not without his gruff tone but sounding suspiciously careful. Neil focuses on the smooth roll of wheels on asphalt, distributed evenly under his feet.

“Nothing.”

Wymack makes a sound like a buzzer and side eyes Neil. “Try again.”

This is monumentally stupid, Neil thinks to himself. His mother would kick his ass into the next state for telling anybody, spreading his own mess around and making it uncontainable and impossible to deal with. But Wymack knows about everything else, the important parts at least, so Neil turns to the passenger window to hide how hard he’s biting the inside of his cheek and forces out, “I think someone found me.”

Wymack keeps his gaze on the road ahead, but Neil knows that if he weren’t driving he would be looking Neil in the eye, brows pressed up in the way that means he wants to raise an eyebrow but purposely isn’t. “Okay,” he says slowly, as if absorbing Neil’s confession.

“I felt someone, in the stands.”

“Felt or saw?”

Another bite. “Felt.”

Wymack sits on that one for a moment, tilting his head from side to side like he’s trying to remember more clearly. “I could see the stands from where I was watching, the only people in the stadium were the team and the cleaning crew.”

“Like nothing has ever escaped your attention.”

“Campus cops were outside and they didn’t report everything.”

“I’m supposed to trust cops now?”

“I’m trying to help you, kid.”

“Sorry.”

Wymack sighs, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologize,” he says, and then lowers his hand to activate his turn signal. “What do you feel right now?”

Neil searches for a second, then shrugs. If they had a tail, they lost it. Anyone watching him will know he and Wymack are heading to Wymack’s apartment, but before then there’s not much to worry about. “They can’t catch me when we’re driving.”

“Right.”

The rest of the drive passes relatively quietly. Wymack tries turning the radio on, but even at the low volume it echoes in Neil’s ears and scrapes down his neck, making it impossible for him to listen for warnings of anything happening outside the car, and before he can control himself, he shuts it off. Wymack doesn’t comment. He turns the air down too, like he can follow Neil’s train of thought, like he’s done this for Neil dozens of times, each of his decisions measured like Neil’s always are, as if him doing it means Neil won’t have to. That’s not how it works, Neil wants to snap. Wymack doesn’t know an ounce of what it took for Neil to keep himself alive this long. But Wymack is already aware of that, isn’t he? That’s why he’s the type of coach he is. That’s why he follows the Foxes’ lead.

The walk from the curb to Wymack’s apartment marks the return of the pre-mauling feeling, a billion flies buzzing behind his head, just out of sight. He repeatedly gets in Wymack’s way, scouting ahead and then doubling back to check the locks on everything as discreetly as possible. He’s using his peripherals more than he has since his last game. Wymack says nothing, merely quirking an eyebrow as Neil breaks one of his biggest rules and purposefully locks himself in with a man his father’s age, sliding the chain lock closed for the first time.

Wymack doesn’t say anything as Neil scopes the rest of the apartment, either. Instead he comes to a natural stop outside his living room and waits for Neil to come back to him. It’s a tad infuriating, but Neil returns anyway.

“You left sweats in the bookcase,” Wymack says when they enter the room together, gesturing to the cubby Neil had kept extra clothes in over summer break. He has no idea how he left them there, he’s never left clothes anywhere by accident. “I’ll get water.”

Neil doesn’t take his sneakers off as he changes pants, folding up his running shorts into a tight ball and passing them between his hands several times before he relents and puts them back in the cubby. He sits in the center of the couch, surveying the room before resting his gaze on the window.

Wymack comes back into the room a minute later, clearly not missing the way Neil’s gaze jumps to him but acting nonchalant nonetheless, and sets a glass of water on the coffee table in front of Neil before settling into his own chair. Neil stares at the water.

It takes Wymack exactly three minutes—Neil wonders if he was counting the seconds as well—to speak again. “You gonna drink that?” Neil shrugs.

He’s thirsty, hadn’t realized until Wymack had brought out the water, but now it feels like the second he takes a sip it will be choked out of him. The glass is tinted pale blue and it makes the liquid inside look more like a child’s drawing of water than anything else. “Do you need to get it yourself?” Wymack asks after a few more seconds, voice just a touch softer in a way that makes Neil’s spine prickle.

“No.” There’s nothing in this water, nothing hiding behind the tinted glass. He reaches out a hand to grab it.

Neil keeps his posture, alert but designed to look relaxed, and Wymack keeps leaning back in his chair, casually watching Neil. A stalemate, then. Neil returns his focus to the glass.

Turning it nonchalantly in the low light, he examines it for anything matte or opaque. A swipe of his finger ensures that nothing is lingering around the lip. He brings it up like he’s about to take a sip in order to smell it. Nothing. He lowers it and switches to holding it with both hands, like one might hold a warm beverage. The water is cold through the glass, soothing the itchy-hot feeling that’s been coating his palms all day, but it’s almost too cold, like it’s from the fridge. Lots of things are kept in fridges. Water, chemical solutions, limbs. His hands begin to shake.

“Neil?” Wymack asks, concerned again, and Neil flinches. Wymack doesn’t surprise him, he can’t when Neil’s counting every second that passes in the back of his head and when he can tell by the position of Wymack’s hands, the direction his feet point, exactly where and how he will move, but Neil flinches anyway.

“Sorry.” His voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady on principle, but something about it scrapes through his throat. “I have to get it myself,” he says, it feels like a confession, and then sets the glass back on the table before he can drop it, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stands so no one watching can tell what type of energy is coursing through his veins.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t want Wymack to come with him. But there’s a hope, that flighty creature that he can only grasp when his hands shake until he thinks that his torn skin will fall off in carefully cut pieces, that if it’s Wymack in his peripherals then he won’t have to worry about anyone else.

“Not too close.”

It takes more effort than Neil cares to admit to keep himself from scrubbing over every inch of the kitchen with his eyes. Wymack steps away from him when they enter the room, leaning against the wall closest to the door with his arms crossed. He’s in the room, but it doesn’t feel like it, and he becomes another one of the odd art pieces tacked to the wall as he watches Neil move about the kitchen. Neil goes through the entire shelf of glasses, working to the back until he finds a perfectly clear one, and then with a touch light enough to prevent leaving prints he puts the rest back, in order, with the gap for his hidden.

Washing his glass is another procedure, involving finding a clean sponge—impossible, he ends up with a washcloth—and checking the faucet’s aerator. Wymack’s changed his dish soap since Neil last used his kitchen, the floral scent that made him nauseous is gone, and he wonders if Wymack switched because the new stuff is cheaper before pushing the thought aside. He rinses his cup out to a countdown of ten, flips the tap to cool, and then fills it up.

Something behind him shifts, and he remembers everything he hates about the feeling of somebody watching him.

For someone so flighty, Andrew had taunted once, shortly after a rendezvous with a reporter, you pick fights a lot.

Under this panic, there’s no fight or flight. There’s just the movements of his body turning mechanically smooth, the careful detachment of his brain, connected by a thin wire reserved for emergency action, the rest left to cataloguing his surroundings. Everything comes into such a sharp focus that it makes Neil’s eyes hurt.

The kitchen is a mess, he doesn’t think it’s ever not, but it’s familiar uncleanliness now feels like a high stakes spot-the-difference. The coffee cup resting on top of the fridge, a minor earthquake from crashing to the floor, is the same one Wymack left there four months ago when Neil came back from a run. The wooden spoon resting on the edge of the sink is the one Neil found on the ground outside of Fox Tower that Aaron said was too good to go to waste. The ‘kiss the coach’ apron slung over the handles of the cabinet by Neil’s knees was a gift from Abby. Wymack’s kitchen is so naturally unorganized, and it makes looking for something wrong take ten times longer.

Neil knows this kitchen, he knows the grease on the backsplash and the stain on the floor and the chipped paint of the windowsill and he knows how Wymack thinks—most of the time, at least, he’s relatively predictable—and it’s the only reason that finding something off is even theoretically possible. He’ll have to trace everything back to it’s beginning.

The grease is a mottled, solid layer, evenly spread across the wall behind the stove and built over time, no splash pattern to suggest it being weaponized and flung, just caused by enough heat to sear flesh. The stain is worn, some of it scraped off, meaning it’s actually residue; dark red and old, it’s turned from its liquid state to something stickier and more viscous under time and pressure, like blood. The glare coming from his left means that the window is closed but the blinds are open, the overhead light reflecting off the glass and copying the kitchen in reverse. A mass adjusts behind Neil’s back, reaching out for him, his neck prickles, the wire courses with electricity.

He flings the glass.

It shatters in an explosion of shards and water against the far wall, falling to the linoleum with a wet crunch. Around it, time has frozen.

Wymack’s hand is resting on a chair back, a good several feet behind and to the right of Neil, still like a statue when their eyes meet. He was pulling a chair back, Neil thinks, the rest of his body finally shaking like his hands as he stumbles a step away from Wymack, to the door. His hamstrings have snapped like rubber bands and it’s all he can do to keep from collapsing against the table or in a chair. Don’t sit, his brain screams, don’t sit because it says he isn’t strong enough to stand and don’t sit because it means he isn’t smart enough to know what’s good for him.

Wymack never looks back to the glass. “I’m sitting down,” he says carefully—seconds minutes hours later, Neil’s finally lost track—and then pulls his seat back the rest of the way, lifting it slightly so it doesn’t screech against the floor. Wymack’s chosen the chair farthest from the door, leaving the exit unattended, and under Neil’s watchful eyes he leans back in his seat—not arrogantly relaxed but not tense—and rests his hands visibly on his thighs. The glass is too far away for him to be able to reach back and grab smoothly, there are no mugs on the table for him to bash over Neil’s head, there are no knives for him to throw, and then, feeling hollow, Neil forces himself to remember that Wymack doesn’t do that. It doesn’t fit in his brain, he can find the spot where this knowledge used to click but it’s been replaced by another thought: yet. He hasn’t done those things yet.

There’s a voice, though,—a carbon fucking copy of Andrew that Neil didn’t know was there—goading, a man can only have so many issues. He can’t handle this type of anxiety and his issues with his father at the same time, he’s never had to, he doesn’t know how, so he pushes the latter away. Neil shoves yet into a lockbox and turns away from the vast vault that stretches into the recesses of his mind.

Wymack tilts his head in silent question—Neil’s been standing by the table for at least three minutes, that’s when his internal stopwatch picked back up—and Neil takes his first breath in just as long, realizing his hours of breath training had kicked in and left him completely inert, like a corpse post rigor-mortis. His head pounds and his throat aches and he gives in, turning the sink back on and checking the aerator again before drinking straight from the faucet.

“Sorry,” he says when he’s finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You can clean it up tomorrow. Sit down. Tell me what happened.”

Wymack’s directions are clear, he leaves Neil no out, no it’s alright, no I’m fine. Part of him hates it, wants to brush it off and run, wants to clean his mess up now and not say a word for the rest of the night. Wymack is watching him carefully, though, in a way that reminds him of yet, so he goes about picking a seat, taking his time and trying not to look like he’s calculating every angle and obstacle. He ends up in the chair farthest from Wymack on the same side of the table, nudging it back as far as it will go so he can see all of the room, Wymack, and the door. He checks the lock on the window—that and the fridge being the only things out of his immediate view—before he sits.

There’s a tense eighteen seconds after he takes his seat, Wymack keeping his hands visible on his lap but clearly itching to rest them on the table. Neil can see Wymack staring at him in his peripherals, counts down from ten in German, and then turns to meet his gaze.

“Talk me through it,” Wymack says, leaning further back. Neil takes a breath.

“There was— I thought there was someone behind me, trying to grab me.”

“Why’d you think that?”

“It’s happened a lot.”

“No that’s—” Wymack looks lost for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek before releasing a breath. “I mean just now. What happened that made you think that?”

“The reflection in the window. I couldn’t tell what or who it was and it looked like—yeah.” Neil turns to the window again, staring at the dark outlines he and Wymack make against the brightness reflected by the rest of the room. They look like voids. Nothing. Any trace of the person he is, the man he knows, lost in the night. It’s easy to forget Wymack exists in the reflection. It’s easy to forget Neil’s anyone at all.

“Neil—” Wymack says, but the next thing feels hastily tacked on and out of place, like he was going to say something else. He speaks like someone who has come to a painful realization a second too late. Neil wonders what the realization is. He wonders if he sounded like this in Luther’s guest bedroom. “Hey, stop it. Neil, look at me. Not through the window, look at me.”

There’s movement in the window, the man behind him—or in front of him, maybe, hidden by the illusion of glass—is looming closer. There’s a snap behind his head, close. He tears his gaze from the window, a painful and wrenching feeling like ripping open the upholstery of a chair. He doesn’t want to face this man and he doesn’t want to sacrifice the sight the window grants him. Panic swells over his shoulders and promptly comes crashing down. Wymack is staring at him, fingers in the air.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he orders, typical gruffness embroidered with something deeper.

“There’s someone behind me.” Neil knows, tries to say it in an even tone—for all their unfairness, truths are even things, and should always be delivered as such—but his voice betrays him, his fear, when it cuts out the last word with a jagged edged knife.

“No one is behind you,” Wymack says, he stares over Neil’s head. “I am looking behind you and no one is there.”

“They could have hidden outside the window.”

“There’s no fire escape out there, Neil. Who could be there?” He takes one look at Neil’s face and sighs. “Right, people like you. I’ll look out the window and check the lock if you can keep yourself from looking at it every other minute, deal?” Neil nods and keeps his eyes looking forward as Wymack disappears behind him. He hears the click of the window unlocking, the swish of the pane being raised and lowered, and then the lock clicking closed again. There’s another sound, some sort of whoosh, and then Wymack is back before him, sitting in his chair and scooting closer to Neil, abandoning the five feet of distance.

Neil counts, as high as he can before he feels the blade of the guillotine a millisecond away, and then he rips around to face the window. The blinds are closed.

“Neil,” Wymack sighs, “We had a deal, come on, let it go.”

“I can’t,” Neil snaps, and whips back to face Wymack, the white blinds imprinted on his vision. “I can’t,” he repeats, and it’s less of a shout now, more like acid eating through the tissue of his throat. There is enough of this awful feeling in him to submerge the western seaboard, to start ‘The Big One’ Andrew mentions and fold all of the earth into its fault line. He can’t let it go. “I can’t,” he says again, everything choked away.

He wants—he doesn’t know; his mom, his duffle bag, to run away, to be right. It would be so much easier if he were right.

“Scared?” Wymack asks after a still moment. How long is a moment? Five seconds, ten, fifteen? Neil’s clock says it’s been twenty four.

“Anxious,” he responds.

“What’s the difference?”

He pauses. “There isn’t any.”

Wymack nods, like that makes sense, bent forward in his seat in order to keep eye level with Neil even though Neil is staring at his shoes, flexing his toes to make sure the laces are tight. He feels awful, and he can’t tell if it’s just everything he’s been thinking about all day finally surfacing or if it’s how hard Wymack is trying to help him, and the fact that he can’t take it.

“Look at me?” Wymack says, too soft. Soft like all of the animals Neil has dismembered, piece by piece, limb by limb. Soft in the way he hates even when he loves. It tugs at him, the way he responds instantly, meeting Wymack’s eyes. Wymack puts his hands before him in plain sight, like he knows. “It’s alright, Neil. I think you’re a bit paranoid right now, but it’s alright.”

“I’m not paranoid,” he says.

“Okay,” Wymack responds, nodding, but Neil can tell he doesn’t believe him.

“I’m not paranoid,” he insists, louder. “This shit saved my life. It’s not—It’s not paranoia if I’m right, okay. I can’t even tell you how many times this— Watching windows, checking water, sleeping with my shoes on, it’s not wrong. When there were people out there, looking for me, chasing me, waiting to capture and torture and kill me, I had to do it. It’s not wrong. I needed it.”

Wymack purses his lips, brows furrowed, but Neil sees more sadness in the expression than anything else. Why, he wants to shout, the taste of desperation tangible on his tongue, why are you sad? What is there to be sad about?

“I understand,” he says, and Neil can hear something in those words, the faintest grasp of the situation, fingers brushing against netting. He doesn’t understand like Renee, like Andrew, especially not like Mary, he doesn’t comprehend, but he knows. “But you said it yourself, Neil: you needed it. Past tense.”

This is vertigo. This is whiplash. This is suffocation. This is beheading. This is his world tumbling out beneath his feet, his memory failing, his vision decimated, his hearing gone, senses destroyed. He thinks, as he’s falling, that it left a long time ago, and that he just didn’t notice until now. It makes him feel sick to his stomach, nerveless fingers scrabbling for rock he can’t feel. “They—” he says, feeling like his dinner will come out with his next word.

“Those people are gone now, Neil. You know that, the rest of your body just hasn’t caught up yet. It’s okay. Here—” Wymack’s hands, which he had been holding loosely in front of him, he now turns, palms up, towards Neil. It only takes a second-long look for Neil to grab on, desperate to recognize ground. “I’ve got you. No one else is here. The only people that can get in are Abby and Kevin. It’s alright.”

“Okay,” Neil responds, like a promise. His jaw trembles, threatening, making him feel out of control, but he grips Wymack’s hands harder, focusing on the calluses as rough as his own and warmth and strength far greater. He understands, now, why last winter he didn’t wake up as Wymack carried him from the car to the couch. Neil locks his jaw and looks Wymack in the eye. “Okay.”

The corner of Wymack’s mouth twitches, almost like a smile, but also not. He hauls Neil to his feet before letting go. “Sleep,” he commands, and then frowns at Neil. “Not feeling great?”

Neil nods, faintly, piecing the linoleum beneath his feet into the ground of his mind. His eyes hurt, shutting them still feels risky, but keeping as aware as he had been is making his head pound. Exhaustion. He hasn’t felt it like this in a while.

“You’re lucky I went to the store yesterday, “ Wymack says, pushing them out of the kitchen and back to the living room with a hand lightly placed on Neil’s back. He pushes Neil into the living room where he sinks onto the couch, tracking Wymack’s movements via sound; the bathroom door opening, the cabinet opening, the shake of a bottle, the cabinet closing, the door closing. When he comes back it’s with a bottle of off brand Advil, which he tosses onto the cushion next to Neil.

Neil adjusts his posture, taking the bottle in his hands and twisting the top off. He’s surprised, though pleasantly so, to be met with a seal. It settles something in his stomach he couldn’t tell apart from everything else, but the rest seems to be following suit, now. He peels the seal off and swallows two dry. “Thanks.”

Wymack merely nods in response, relaxing into the chair across from the couch. Neil fiddles with the bottle, taking his time putting the cap back on and playing with the seal in his hands, bending it, folding it, flattening it. He hesitates. “Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Wymack returns, then groans, “God, I’ve been spending too much time with Aaron.” Neil snorts. Wymack twirls his hand, motioning for Neil to get on with it.

“Stuff like this,” he says, “I thought it was above your paygrade.”

There a question in there, somewhere? he expects Wymack to respond, but Wymack furrows his eyebrows instead, dropping his hands into his lap and giving a long, considering, look. “This isn’t interpersonal,” he says eventually, picking his words deliberately. “It’s you.”

“I’d argue that I have enough issues for them to be their own person.”

Wymack huffs something like a laugh, far more bitter than anything Neil has when he considers his own life, and then says as a whisper, more to himself than to Neil, “Jesus, I don’t know how to say this.” He hunkers down, elbows on his knees, and stares at the floor so long Neil thinks that the conversation will be forgotten. When he looks up though, he’s eyelevel with Neil.

“Your health is as important to me as your playing, Neil,” he says, “If not more so. That’s physical and mental, by the way. Last year, Dan said we would deal with everything as a team. Nicky said as a family. I’m doing this”—he swirls a finger through the air— “because I’m your coach, and I’m doing this because I care about you, as a person, not a player, and I’m doing this because there’s no way you would be able to fall asleep at the tower tonight, and that matters to me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Does that answer your question?”

Neil thinks for a moment. He hadn’t known exactly what he was asking, what he wanted or needed to know, but some of the buzzing at the back of his head, the itch crawling up from between his shoulder blades, has faded. Family. The team is as close to that as he’s ever gotten, but the only people who had ever noticeably reciprocated, verbally or not, were Nicky and Andrew.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. Stop making that face.”

“What face?”

“The one that looks like no one has ever told you they care about you. I’ve seen it enough tonight.”

Neil laughs, a choked and hurting sort of thing, tight in his throat and a pain to get out, but it feels better than keeping it in. “I thought Nicky was joking about that.”

“He’s not,” Wymack says, traced with something sad even as he offers Neil a tight smile.

“Good to know,” is the only thing Neil can manage to respond.

“Get some sleep,” Wymack says, settling back in his chair once again. “I’ll keep watch.”

Neil’s protests are drowned out by the heavy blanket and pillow Wymack throws at him and a stern glare, daring him to talk back. For once, Neil decides to keep his mouth shut. He lies back on the couch, propping the pillow behind his head and tugging the blanket half across himself before staring at the ceiling and beginning to count himself to sleep.

“You can take your shoes off,” Wymack says when he’s moved through Spanish and onto French, eyes beginning to blur.  

It takes Neil a minute to realize what Wymack means, but when he looks down at his feet he realizes that he still has his sneakers on. The laces are tight and double knotted, cut as short as possible while still capable of being tied, the fraying ends taped together so they can’t unravel and trip him. He digs his nails into his laces and pries the knots loose, lining his shoes at the bottom of the couch. Wymack gives him a final nod, and Neil falls back against the cushions.

It’s not the best sleep he’s ever gotten. He loses track of his internal clock during the first bout, and wakes up repeatedly, always flying up to sit and look around. The third time he wakes up, when Wymack tells him that no one has entered the apartment, that all of the doors and windows are still locked, Neil realizes Wymack was right: he never would have been able to sleep at Fox Tower.

He doesn’t know if that makes being here worth it, but Wymack clearly does, and maybe that’s enough.

[ryttu3k]

I love the fact there's an official Ventrue/Brujah romance in Parliament of Knives. I wonder how Arundel and Robert would've though about Jan/Theo if they found out about it.

Yes, they're so good! Robert does kinda give me Theo vibes, too - Brujah who got thoroughly sick of the Camarilla and defected to the Anarchs. He does seem to be a bit less thoughtful than Theo, though. And Arundel isn't very much like Jan at all, other than both being blonde Ventrue. He's much more a Mithras figure.

Robert may feel a little conflicted about Theo. On the one hand, he did follow his lead and leave the Camarilla after Prague. On the other hand, he was clearly conflicted about it, with his primary loyalty being to Arundel, and without his presence, Arundel... slipped a bit. I feel if he knew Theo was helping Jan escape his sire, he'd approve and be supportive.

Arundel... much harder to get a read on, honestly, he's a bit inscrutable. I feel he'd be amused at Jan's defiance, though! Honestly, he'd not exactly mainline Camarilla and seems to have a soft spot for outcasts, so I could see him offering sanctuary to Jan and Theo, should they come to Ottawa.

[davidpastrsnack]

three times brady stayed quiet, one time he didn’t - brady tkachuk

a/n: i have such a soft spot for brady and this is the result. some really soft friends to lovers, but i also left the possibility for a smuttier part 2 if you guys are interested. i hope you enjoy (especially my fellow brady girls) and please let me know what you think!

word count: 5618

one 

After just barely getting through your final assignments of the last grueling week of school, it was finally time for the best part of the year: summer with the Tkachuks. Your dad grew up with Keith outside of Boston, the two maintaining a close relationship despite the distance that kept them apart for so long. For as long as you could remember, you and your siblings had spent the majority of the summer months with them, either on the lakes of Missouri or the oceans of Cape Cod. 

The busy hum of voices and speakers was all you heard, your tired body dragging through the airport, iced coffee in hand hoping it would give you even just another ounce of energy. You finally reached your gate, sitting down on the cool leather seat to wait for your boarding call. 

Your siblings were already in St. Louis, having finished school before you, and you were the last one to arrive before the commencing weekend of the summer. You knew you were in for a wild ride if the Snapchat stories of your older brother and Matthew getting up to no good were any indication.  

Just as you adjusted your headphones and felt your eyelids flutter shut, your phone buzzed, pulling you from your daze. 

Brady: I got held up here for another day, but should be there tomorrow

Brady: Don’t miss me too much 

You rolled your eyes at the screen, laughing as you saw his words and your brain automatically translated them into his voice. You considered all of the Tkachuks to be like family,  but Brady was different, he always had been. Since day one he was constantly looking out for you, even more so than Matthew and your brother. He always had an eye on you, that eye becoming more and more threatening to everyone else as he grew into his now 6’4”, 200lbs frame. 

Don’t worry, I’ll have Matthew to keep me company :)

You smiled as you typed out your response, throwing back exactly what he had dished out. You couldn’t deny that your relationship had become more flirtatious over the recent years, but you always assumed it was just the teasing nature of the Tkachuk household. If he was going to chirp you, you were going to chirp right back. But the banter had always flowed seamlessly, both of you knowing the other so well. You weren’t always clear on the motivation behind some of his comments, but it didn’t hurt to have a little fun with him. 

You finally boarded the plane, your flight not taking long before you were stepping out in the thick Missouri air. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, your eyes barely staying open as you searched for the black Audi you knew would be arriving any minutes. Just a few moments later you saw the luxury sedan turn the corner, a brown mop of curls sitting behind the wheel. 

“There she is,” Matthew yelled, pulling you in for a hug after stepping out of the front seat. 

“Hi Matthew,” you hummed, “Thanks for getting me.”

“Of course, Y/N, anything for my future sister-in-law,” he teased, that cocky smirk on full display while he grabbed your suitcase. 

You didn’t even acknowledge his comment, moving right along to get in the car and ask him how his season was. You were far from a stranger to his jokes, but you were not in the mood today and he seemed to pick up on it. So he gave it up for the ride, instead catching up on how you were doing otherwise since he had last seen you. All jokes aside, Matthew truly cared for you like family, especially considering he was dead serious about you eventually being his sister-in-law. 

After stopping for food on the way, you finally arrived at the house, Matthew pulling into the lit driveway as you took off your seatbelt. Chantal was waiting by the front door, immediately giving you a tight hug when you walked in. She was basically your second mother, always taking care of you as if you were one of her own. 

“Y/N! How are you, sweetie?” she exclaimed, urging you to follow her into the kitchen. 

“I’m good,” you responded while sitting down at the counter next to Matthew. 

“She’s exhausted mom,” Matthew deadpanned before you could continue. 

You rolled your eyes at his words, a smile growing on your lips as you quickly fell back into the comfort of this home. 

“I’m okay, really,” you assured Chantal. 

“Oh honey, come on,” she grabbed your backpack and gestured for you to follow her upstairs. “All of the guestrooms are full right now with Matthew’s friends but they’re leaving tonight. Just go ahead into Brady’s room, I’m sure he told you he’s still in Ottawa until tomorrow.”

You nodded, “Yeah, he did.”

She led you down the hall, as if you didn’t know exactly where you were going, and opened the door to his room. The same hockey memorabilia was scattered across the walls and the closet was slightly open, the clothes he left here during the season poking out. 

“Just relax in here, sweetie. The sheets are clean and there are towels in the bathroom. I’ll check in with you in a little bit, okay?”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, pulling her in for another hug before she headed back downstairs.  

No matter how much time you had spent in this room, something about being in there without Brady felt wrong. But the exhaustion of the travel day and the past week didn’t let you think about it too much, instead telling you to go take a shower and change into fresh clothes. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but the second you laid across the bed you were down for the count. 

-----

When Brady opened his door after arriving home the next morning, his jaw nearly hit the floor. Chantal told him that you were in there, but there was no preparing himself for the sight in front of him. You were still fast asleep, but the covers were mostly thrown off your body. He smiled to himself as he remembered that you always get too hot while you sleep. The oversized t-shirt you were wearing was bunched at your waist, your tiny sleep shorts riding up your hips giving him the perfect view of your ass. Your head was nuzzled into his pillow, your hands resting in front of you as if you should be holding someone and your lips pouted as you slept. He had seen you asleep countless times before, but something about you being in his bed waiting for him like this was taking his breath away today. He thought about what it would be like if things were different. He could slide under the covers behind you, slip his rough hands around the soft skin of your waist, kiss your collarbone and neck as you giggled in his grasp, moving one of his hands lower and lower until-

“Fuck,” he mumbled, losing grip of his phone as he was distracted by his awe of you, the metal slipping out of his hand and falling against the hardwood floor. He scrambled to grab it without dropping his bags or waking you up. But it was too late, your sleeping frame stirred at the sudden noise, lifting your head to see what it was. 

“Brady?” you questioned, your voice laced with sleep and your eyes squinting as they adjusted to the morning light pouring through the windows. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I just- mom told me you were in here,” he spoke, afraid it looked like he had just been staring at you, which of course he had been. 

“Don’t be sorry Brades, it’s your room,” you laughed as you sat up, adjusting your shirt when you realized how exposed you were. 

He laughed too, trying to shake off whatever awkwardness had infected him this morning and not let his eyes trail down your frame. 

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come give me a hug?” you grinned. 

Brady shook his head smiling as he made his way towards you, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulling you in. His body relaxed as you wrapped yourself around him, your touch and scent overwhelming his senses. 

You could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as your hands traced the curls at the base of his neck, “You okay?” you whispered. 

He pulled back at your words, piercing blue eyes meeting yours. “I’m fine,” he paused, wondering if he should come clean about everything right now. But he decided it wasn’t worth freaking you out on day one of the summer, “I just missed you, that’s all.”

A soft smile crept on your lips, hearing him say that he missed you as much as you missed him warming your heart. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” you said as you grabbed his hand, a playful scoff leaving his mouth as he trailed behind you towards the stairs, the energy between the two of you starting to return to normal. 

two

After everyone had finally arrived and settled in, it was time for the first house party of the season. The mere thought of this moment had given you the motivation to finish your exams, so it went without saying that you could not be more excited. Keith and Chantal were out of town for the weekend, putting Matthew in charge of making sure everyone stayed safe. You were finishing getting ready in one of the guest rooms, which you had almost moved into for the summer after the one night in Brady’s. You went for a simple outfit, a white top with jeans and sneakers before heading downstairs to join the growing crowd. 

You were surrounded by faces as soon as you made your way down, some familiar and some not. Your eyes scanned the room for your friends, knowing your close friend Emily had already arrived. You finally found her standing in one of the corners and you turned to go meet them. 

“Long time no see,” you beamed when you arrived at their circle, the girls jumping to hug you as they saw you for the first time since last August. It was great to catch up with everyone, but you quickly realized that you forgot to get a drink. 

“Em, I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you spoke to which she nodded. 

“I’ll come with,” she urged, reaching for your hand as you both walked towards the kitchen. 

“So you look hot tonight,” she grinned, speaking in your ear so you could hear over the music. “I bet he finally makes his move later.”

“Who?” you challenged, but she didn’t need to say another word for you to know who she was talking about. 

“Y/N, please just save it,” Emily rolled her eyes, “Look, he’s already drooling over you,” she gestured towards where Brady was sitting around a table with Matthew and some of their old friends from hockey. She was right, he was looking right at you, waving when you made eye contact. You gave a small wave back before quickly turning your body away from him to face Emily. 

“He always watches me at parties,” you reasoned. 

“Yeah, because he’s in love with you,” she scoffed, pouring two drinks into red solo cups. 

“Because he’s a good guy, Emily,” you rebutted before taking a far too large sip of whatever she made. 

Meanwhile, across the room, Brady was facing the same kind of comments from his friends. As soon as he saw you cross the room with Emily he couldn’t peel his eyes away. You were practically glowing, your smile wide as the stress from the school year finally seemed to disappear from your mind. 

“Really Tkachuk?” he heard from next to him, his head snapping away from you to look at the voice. 

“What?” he questioned, his challenge laced with attitude. 

“Y/N? Still?” his friend Jack responded. 

Brady just shook his head in annoyance. He didn’t have the energy for this conversation tonight. 

“As long as the sky is blue, Brady will be falling at the feet of Y/N,” Matthew chimed in, a smirk gracing his lips as he hid behind his solo cup. 

Brady maintained his silence, hoping they would get bored and move on, but not so fast. 

“So you aren’t hitting it?”

He thought he was mad before, but nothing compared to the pure anger Brady felt at this comment. It was Nick, a kid he had never liked through all the years they played together in St. Louis. He was fuming, Matthew swore he could see smoke coming out of his ears as he waited for his brother's response, getting ready to step in if necessary. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Nick?” Brady started, turning his body towards him and sitting up straight. “Am I hitting it? You’re talking about my childhood best friend, show some fucking respect.”

Nick looked stunned, his eyes wide as Brady glared at him. “Dude, I-,”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, moving to stand up so he towered over him. “You wanna know why no girl will ever come within ten feet of you? It’s because of shit like this, Nick. You’re a complete asshole and you don’t deserve a thing from any woman,” he scolded. 

By this point, Brady had drawn the attention of many, nearly all of the guests staring at the commotion, including you. 

Your face dropped as you saw him yelling, concern written all over your face as your brows furrowed in his direction. He finally seemed to calm down, his eyes looking defeated as they locked with yours. With one more look at Nick, he shook his head in disgust before walking towards the back of the house, the door slamming shut behind him. 

The room was nearly silent, everyone looking at each other to see if they knew what just happened. 

“Everything’s fine guys,” Matthew urged, the party resuming at his words. Your eyes met his and before you could even make it over to ask what that was he was gesturing towards the door for you to follow Brady. 

You nodded, discarding your drink on the counter and rushing to him. You slowly opened the backdoor, searching for his blond curls. You quickly found him alone on the patio, sitting on the outdoor couch with his head thrown back against the cushion, and his eyes closed. 

“Brady?” you whispered.

His eyes shot open at your voice, “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. Even though he knew it was impossible, part of him was hoping you didn’t see that. 

You didn’t say anything but rather moved towards him, stepping over his legs so you could sit next to him. He stayed silent, just swinging his arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his frame. You sighed as your head rested against his chest, waiting for him to talk when he was ready. 

After almost ten minutes, Brady finally spoke, “Nick is an asshole,” he muttered. 

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at his words, lifting your head to look at him, but he was still staring straight ahead. He didn’t know if he could keep it together if his eyes met yours. 

“Brady,” you muttered, “What happened?”

“He just said something I didn’t like.”

“Come on, Brades,” you pleaded, hoping he would finally give in and tell you what happened. 

But instead, he shook his head, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” he snapped, instantly regretting his reaction when he felt your body flinch at his tone. He sighed, letting out a breath it felt like he had been holding for hours, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just-”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. You had no idea what was going on with him, but regardless, it was clear that he needed you. You laid your head back down on his shoulder, smiling to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the top of your hair. 

three 

It had felt like forever since you had been on a proper date, the college lifestyle not always being conducive to it. But now here you were, getting ready to go out to dinner with the guy next door, Tommy. The two of you had been friendly for years, getting to know him more and more with each summer you spent with the Tkachuks. You definitely were surprised when he asked you out, but you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on his offer. 

And to be completely honest, part of you was getting frustrated at your situation with Brady. It was a cycle that started over each summer. You entered June denying that there was even a hint of anything more than friendship, but by July you were sucked right back under his spell, until August came and you were ripped apart from each other yet again. Clearly nothing was different about this year, so it was time you tried to move on and enjoy your summer in, well, other ways. 

You slipped into a dress, casual but still cute, and tied your white sneakers. You walked over to your window to see both Matthew and Brady’s cars sitting in the driveway. Great, you thought. This would be much more painless if they weren’t home, but of course, the world was not on your side. You did one last hair and makeup check before grabbing your bag and heading down the stairs, feigning total confidence as you grew closer to the boys. 

They were laying across the couch playing video games, both of their eyes darting straight to you as you tried to sneak out the front door. 

“It’s rude not to say goodbye,” you heard Matthew yell from behind you. 

“Fuck,” you silently mouthed, turning to move into the living room where they sat. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you guys there!” you lied through your teeth. 

Matthew’s face scrunched up at your excuse, knowing there was no possible way you didn’t see them. 

“Where are you going?” Brady asked, his voice much softer than his brothers, almost like he knew what he was about to hear. 

“Um, I’m going to dinner with Tommy,” you said, trailing off at the end as the awkwardness set in the room. 

No matter how much you tried to deny it, you saw the way Brady’s face fell at your words. The guilt suddenly hit you like a truck, but then again it wasn’t like he was doing anything to change the status of your relationship. 

“Tommy?” Matthew questioned, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah,” you stalled, “I don’t know, he asked me and I said yes.”

“Interesting,” he muttered, looking at his younger brother who was pretending to be enthralled in the game. 

“Alright well, I’ll see you guys later,” you said, standing as you waited for Brady’s response, but it never came. 

Matthew sensed the obvious tension, doing whatever he could to break it, “Have fun Y/N, but not too much,” he teased. 

You rolled your eyes, finally moving to open the door, not at all minding that it slammed behind you. 

As soon as you were out the door, Matthew pulled the controller out of Brady’s hand. He couldn’t watch this anymore. 

“What the fuck, Matt?” he shouted, his emotions high after watching you leave. 

“No, I should be asking you that,” he threw back. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Brady sighed, running his hands over his face before holding his heavy head in his palms. He didn’t know what he was doing. For so many years he was terrified of telling you how he felt. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, he didn’t know if your friendship could ever recover and he was not taking that risk. But this year it was all too much, you were perfect for each other and everyone around you knew it too. How could he blame you for trying to find someone else when he couldn’t even muster up the courage to tell you the truth?

“I don’t know, Matt,” he started, his words muffled by his hands, tears prickling the back of his eyes. 

Despite teasing him about you for so long, Matthew’s heart broke as he saw his brother in so much distress over this. 

“Just tell her. I promise you it will work out,” he encouraged, placing a comforting hand on Brady’s shoulder. “Anyone with eyes can tell that you two are made for each other. It’s gross, actually.”

Brady let out a laugh at Matthew’s chirp, finally picking his head up, “But now I have Tommy to worry about.”

Matthew scoffed, laughing as he spoke, “Yeah, because Y/N really seems like the type to throw away her entire relationship with you over one date with Tommy, of all people.”

-----

Your night was going well, but you just couldn’t shake the look on Brady’s face from your mind; he was hurt. 

Tommy was sweet, making you laugh throughout dinner, but you knew you had no intention of seeing him, like this, again. After leaving the restaurant, he suggested you got ice cream and walked around the city, to which you agreed. You felt bad for leading him on, but part of you was dreading arriving back to the house. You were sitting on a bench taking in the view of the city and talking about plans for the year when you felt him shift his body closer to yours. His intentions were clear, and your heart dropped at the realization that you were going to have to let him down much earlier than anticipated. 

Just as you were trying to find the right words to tell him, he placed his hand high on your thigh and he leaned in to kiss you. You immediately flinched, pulling your face far away from his.

“Tommy, I- I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

A dark chuckle came out of his mouth and you could feel the energy change, the air growing thick with tension. 

“Seriously?”

His much larger frame than yours suddenly became quite intimidating as he leaned over you, clearly not taking the rejection well. 

“I’m sorry,” you continued, “I just don’t think this is going to happen.”

“Unbelievable,” he shook his head at you, your body pushing back into the bench in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. “This is about Tkachuk, isn’t it? I should have known you would only be interested in the fame and money,” he mumbled with another laugh. 

His words slapped you across the face, your eyes burning as you felt the tears try to push their way out. In all the years you had known him, you never had the slightest idea that Tommy had such a cruel side to him. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you rebutted, “Get away from me, Tommy.”

“No problem, darling,” he smiled, standing up and walking away, leaving you stranded on the street downtown. 

Your head fell into your hands, the cold evening breeze riding under your dress. Your mind instantly started listing all the reasons why this was your fault, but deep down you knew it wasn’t. After sitting there in defeat for a few moments, you finally pulled out your phone, dialing the only number that ever mattered. 

It seemed like hours later when you finally saw the black SUV pull up on the street in front of you. Before you could even stand up, Brady was running out of the car towards you. Your emotions got the best of you once he was by your side, your body collapsing into his as the tears fell. 

“What the hell did he do?” he questioned while rocking you back and forth in his arms. 

You couldn’t find the words to answer. 

“Y/N, you’re freezing,” he spoke as he felt your cool skin against his, “Come on,” he urged, grasping your hand to guide you to the car. 

Once you were inside the warm car, he reached into the back seat to find a sweatshirt, handing you the soft material. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, scared your voice would betray you as you slipped the fabric over your head, the scent of his cologne comforting you right away. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Brady hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“No, you’re not Brady,” you warned, “I had a good night until I didn’t. We just had different ideas of how it was going to end,” you scoffed, a sarcastic laugh slipping through your lips. 

Brady shook his head, pausing to glance over at you while he was stopped at a light. You were resting against the cool glass, his sweatshirt pooling around your hips, the fabric of your dress peeking from beneath it. The light finally turned, your face now illuminated in green and he only had one thought. 

He would never treat you like that. 

plus one

Despite his conversation with Matthew, Brady still had yet to say anything to you. You assured him time after time that you were okay after Tommy, but he didn’t want his confession to seem reactionary. You deserved more than that. 

The plan tonight was for everyone to go out to one of the hotspots in town, but you weren’t feeling it. Everything that happened the night before had you even more consumed with your thoughts about Brady, and you needed a night of just nothing. The voices from downstairs carried while the boys were getting ready to leave, their laughter making you smile as you walked into the kitchen. They were so wound up all year long and it was refreshing to see them truly relaxing. 

You drew their attention right away as you entered the room, their brows furrowed in confusion as they took in the sweats you were wearing. 

“Y/N!” one of them howled, “We’re going soon, hurry up!”

You laughed as you turned to face him, the voice belonging to Jack. 

“I’m not going Jack,” you explained, opening the fridge to look for something to satisfy your late-night craving. 

“But you have to come, you’re so fun,” he whined. 

“I promise I won’t be that fun tonight. Just go enjoy yourselves, I’ll be here waiting to make sure you all get back in the house alive,” you jested. 

“I’ll stay,” you heard from behind you. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. 

You finally rotated your body, meeting his gaze right away. He looked good. His black jeans hugged his thighs perfect, the matching black t-shirt fitting around his biceps like a glove. He towered over your, those bright blue eyes piercing into yours. He was close enough for you to take in his cologne, the scent immediately clouding your senses. 

“I’m fine, Brady,” you reasoned, shaking yourself out of your daze, “Seriously, go.”

He didn’t speak right away, instead he gave you a knowing look. You gave him the same look right back, challenging him to go against you. 

“Matt,” he called, not breaking eye contact, “I’m gonna stay.”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness but you were just thankful that you had a reason to look away, praying that the heat you were feeling hadn’t made its way onto your cheeks. 

“Alright,” Matthew responded, not even bothering to question the two of you at this point. 

The boys flooded the front door, all yelling goodbye before they piled into the Ubers waiting outside. A heavy silence fell over the house, your body leaning against the kitchen counter as you waited for Brady to say something. 

“I’m just gonna change,” he spoke, gesturing to the staircase. “Put a movie on, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Just a few minutes later he returned, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were laying across the couch, the movie already playing as he sat down next to you. 

“Cold?” he asked, already knowing that you were by the way you wrapped your arms around your middle. 

“A little,” you mumbled, smiling as he covered the two of you in a blanket, squeezing your frame as he pulled it closer to his own. 

You stayed like that for a while, your body resting nearly completely on top of his, your leg swung over his lap and your head nuzzled into his chest. Any tension that was there before seemed to have disappeared, both of you returning to your normal states. 

But just seconds later, the screen flashed to a bedroom, the two main characters in the middle of what could be referred to only as a passionate, graphic sex scene. You immediately felt Brady tense beneath you, your cheeks flushing bright red at his response. It took everything within you not to react in any other way, but it felt like your entire body was on fire, begging to be touched. The sounds of the woman’s moans echoed off the walls, her face contorting in pleasure as the man continued. There was no denying that the image triggered a throbbing pressure between your legs, your brain fighting your body’s instinct to grind against his thigh. 

Brady’s stomach dropped when he processed what was happening, the woman undressing on the screen making his mind wander to doing the same thing with you. He wanted to touch you like that, he wanted to make you scream his name like that, make you fall apart like that because no one knew you as well as he did. But his imagination was far too vivid, and he internally cursed himself as he felt his pants become tighter and tighter. 

This has to be the longest sex scene in the history of all film, you thought to yourself as it continued, seemingly never-ending. Your hand was growing sore from its position under your head, so you gently shifted your body in hopes of getting more comfortable, but what you got was something else entirely. 

Your breath hitched when you felt it, unable to disguise your reaction. You were situated over his lap, your lower thigh brushing against his crotch and you could feel just how hard he had become beneath you. You froze, not knowing what to do or say, if anything at all. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, preparing to apologize, afraid he had made you so uncomfortable that he couldn’t recover. 

You knew he was beyond embarrassed, but something inside you had been ignited and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you swung your hips over his, moving to straddle him while you grabbed his face, pulling it to yours. He tensed again in pure shock, but it didn’t take long for him to relax against you, his hands circling your waist as he pushed you back down into his lap. Your lips moved together in perfect synchrony, a small whimper slipping out from your mouth as he bit your bottom lip between his teeth. He groaned into you at the sound, his hands sliding lower so he could grind you into his length, in desperate need of hearing you more. You had one hand tugging at the nape of his neck, the blond curls feeling like silk between your fingers, while the other slipped underneath his shirt, running your cool fingertips across his flexing abs. 

You were both so lost in the moment, ready to rip each other's clothes off at any second when Brady finally pulled back. 

“Wait,” he gasped, running his large hands across your thighs as he gathered his thoughts. 

Your breathing was labored, trying to catch your breath as you took in the sight below you. His lips were pink and swollen, his cheeks had a bright red tinge, and his blues eyes were staring at you in awe. 

“What?” you questioned, insecurity suddenly flooding your mind, your body separating from his as you leaned away. 

“No no no,” he cooed, urging you to come back close to him. You obliged, your eyes scanning his face in hopes of deciphering what he was thinking. 

“I just- if we’re going to do this,” he gestured between your bodies, “We have to do... this,” he whispered as he looked up at you, what he meant perfectly clear to you. “I want you, but I want all of you.” 

You smiled at his words, the anxiety washing off his face as he saw your reaction. 

“Brady, I have wanted this for longer than I can even remember,” you beamed, your hands cupping his cheeks, thumbing running over the soft skin. “I want all of you, too.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Yeah,” you laughed. 

He pulled you back down to meet his lips, your teeth clashing as you both smiled into the kiss. 

“Well then,” he smirked, “If you don’t mind, I’m taking you upstairs.”

He wrapped his palms around your thighs, holding you as he stood up. You shrieked at the sudden movement, laughing as your legs circled his waist. He held you impossibly close to his body, terrified to let you go now that he had you.

“Please, Brady,” you whined against his skin, “Take me upstairs.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed out. 

That was all he needed to hear to rush up to his room, more than ready to show you exactly how much he had loved you since day one. 

part two here

[hockeyboysiguess]

Lines and Sunshine

a/n: this is based on a tiktok i saw and it immediately gave me matty vibes! also shoutout to @nolypats​ for getting me through this one when i had one scene and nothing else in mind to write. 

warnings: swearing

word count: 4K

You sighed as you let yourself fall down onto the couch. Your drink sloshed a little in your cup, splashing onto the back of your hand with a few drops landing on the arm of the curly-haired boy next to you. Matthew groaned and shook his arm with a disgusted look on his face.

“You’re the worst,” he lamented. “How dare you?”

“I dared. I did. I delivered,” you countered smoothly. “Nice to know your carefully curated appearance of four t-shirts, three pairs of gym shorts, and a cut-off sleeve Nike jacket will fall apart if two drops of beer fall on your bare arm that you can easily wipe off.”

“I carefully picked this particular shirt and shorts combination today and did not plan for wet spots on my arm and an overwhelming odor of beer to be part of the ensemble. You’re ruining me here, honey,” Matthew joked back, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he spoke to you.

You rolled your eyes at him and took a sip of your drink with a smile against the edge of the cup. Matthew gave you a soft nudge with his shoulder in response to your eye roll, which you shook off. The couch next to you shifted suddenly, causing you to break eye contact as the movement rocked you away from Matthew. You turned your head to find that Brady’s sudden weight as he plopped next to you on the couch was the culprit for tipping you almost sideways on the couch.

“Hey, Brads,” you said with a bright smile to him, giving his cup a tap with yours as a greeting.

“Hey, hey,” he replied. “Enjoying the party?”

Matthew and Brady were throwing this joint party together before they left St. Louis to return to Calgary and Ottawa respectively for training camp next week. You’d tried to argue they should call the party “Yoo-hoo, Big Summer Blowout” like from Frozen, yours and Brady’s favorite, and Matthew’s absolute least favorite, Disney princess movie. Matthew had axed the suggestion, something you’d tried incredibly hard to get him to budge on. You’d almost succeeded too when you brought out your best puppy dog eyes, but Matthew had found some extra resolve from somewhere inside and pushed you off, insisting the party remain nameless, which was cooler apparently. You thought it was bull and told him so. 

“You’re thinking that I should’ve let you name this after Frozen, aren't you?” Matthew called you out instead of letting you answer Brady’s question. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” you finished for him with a sharp nod of your head, your ponytail swinging with your sudden movement.

Matthew shook his head, but didn’t disagree, as he turned his attention toward the party. You sighed and let you head fall onto Matthew’s shoulder. He didn’t look at you, but he shifted and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind you to make himself into a more comfortable head rest for you. You sighed in appreciation.

“You haven’t had enough alcohol to get over the hump,” Matthew informed you. “You’re in your ‘I’ve had two drinks and now I’m a sleepy ho’ zone.”

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” you mumbled to him, making him chuckle and give you a small squeeze around your shoulders in reply.

“It’s my job as your friend to call you out on your bullshit,” he laughed as he spoke. “If I stopped, you’d need to demote me to friendly acquaintance and we all know it’s a slippery slope from there to casual acquaintance to that guy you know that plays hockey right into that guy you used to know that plays hockey. I don’t like that career path for myself, personally, so I’m going to keep doing what I was hired to do and call you out on your shit.”

You’d met Matthew and Brady a few years ago at house party of a mutual friend’s not entirely unlike this one, sending the boys off before their hockey season kicked into full gear back then. You’d met Brady first and hit it off instantly, finding kinship in being taller than your older siblings after the constant verbal and physical abuse you suffered at their hands growing up. He’d still introduced you to Matthew that night though, something he swore to this day was his biggest mistake because Matthew had immediately stolen you right from Brady and declared you were his friend first, before Brady’s. You’d tried to fight, but Matthew was persistent and you had the same sense of humor as him. 

Plus, the dimples, the curls, and the coy smile drew you in. You remembered thinking he was cute when you first met him, but also that nothing could ever come of it, so you had forced yourself past that initial feeling and had been his friend ever since with no regrets. Despite the distance, you two had remained close since that day. The two of you made a pretty formidable team when you were on the same wavelength about something. You were pretty sure it might be better for everyone in your potentially shared warpaths that you weren’t around each other as much as you would be if you lived in the same city. 

As the night dragged on, the party shrank in size, but the group of people relaxing in the couch area on the patio grew with Matthew and Brady’s closest friends. You’d been up and down a few times to fill your drink, but Matthew always saved you the seat right next to him. He never forgot about you, not even for a second, something you always appreciated. 

You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You sighed as you lifted your hips and grab it from your back pocket and sighed again when you saw who texted. Aaron. You read the text quickly. He was asking you if you wanted to come over after you were done with the party. Aaron was... fine. That was the best word you had for Aaron. He was nice, polite, decent in bed, and completely unextraordinary in every single way possible. You weren’t seeing anyone else and neither was he, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. Neither one of you really wanted that. Aaron was fine for now, hence why he’d stuck around for six months. He hadn’t done anything to earn you wanting to promote him from casual fling and hadn’t done anything to make you want to get rid of him either. He met your few needs, you met his, and that’s all that mattered to either of you.

“Oh, is that Aaron?”

Matthew’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into the moment. You shrugged instead of actually answered. You didn’t really want to get into what he thought of Aaron right now. He’d told you that he thought Aaron was basically the human equivalent of beige wallpaper and he couldn’t understand why you talked to him the first and only time you’d let them interact. You’d kept them apart ever since.

“So it was Aaron.” Matthew answered his own question in a curious tone. “Thinking of ditching me and Brads here for him?”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you keep making comments like that,” you sang softly with a layer of caution for Matthew coating your voice as you brought your cup to your lips for another sip.

Matthew chuffed a little under your admonishment of him, but he pressed on.

“Okay, so how long have you been talking to this guy again?”

Matthew leaned forward as he asked you the question, his hands lacing together as he braced his weight onto his forearms pressed against his thighs. He raised an eyebrow at you as he waited for you to answer.

“Six months,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink to cover a sly smile that tried to rise as you continued by asking, “why?”

Matthew skipped over your question with a wave of a hand as he shifted back onto the couch, his large frame pressing into the cushions of the back of the couch. He nodded softly, one of his hands moving to his chin, scratching at the stubble there as he thought.

“And you’re not talking to anyone else?” he asked you, his pitch raising higher than normal at the end of his question.

“No,” you said firmly, pressing the red cup between your palms as you watched Matthew react to your answer.

“And he’s not talking to anyone else?” Matthew followed up after a moment of thought.

“Uh, no,” you laughed with a soft shake of your head, thinking that one-sided exclusivity didn’t do anyone any good. Kind of ruined the whole exclusivity concept if only half of the team was playing the same game.

Matthew nodded in fake understanding. You knew him well enough to know he was playing some long game you didn’t know anything about. He carded a hand through his curls, shaking them out a little with a sigh.

“So he’s your boyfriend then, right? He has to be by now and you just forgot to tell me,” Matthew continued.

You shook your head softly, “No, he’s not.”

Matthew groaned and let his head fall back, hovering over the back edge of the couch. He drummed his fingers on the exposed skin of this thigh just south of the edge of his shorts. He nodded softly and tightened his lips before lifting his head. You could’ve sworn you heard him whisper a soft, “Fuck it,” to himself, but you weren’t sure if you’d heard it or imagined it. Matthew sighed as he sat up, the words starting to flow out of his mouth as he turned towards you and locked his baby blue eyes with yours.

“So like, I’m confused here. Six months being exclusive with this dude and he’s not your boyfriend. Is he confused? Like, does he want you or not? Because he’s holding up the fucking line here!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came as Matthew’s blue eyes looked deep into yours, deep into you, and as your friends circled around you started hollering and clapping. Brady next to you was particularly loud, but it was all relative. Everything else was muffled compared to how loud the silence between you and Matthew was in that moment. His eyes were tracking across your face, from the wideness of your eyes, to the wrinkles in your forehead from your surprised expression, to the tight, firm line of your lips you’d closed as you tried to figure out what to do, what to say. Matthew telling you he had been waiting the whole time you’d been seeing Aaron at the very least had beyond blindsided you.

Matthew closed his eyes softly and began to nod in understanding, curls bouncing with the movement. His tongue poked out between his teeth as a sad, forced smile pulled at his mouth. He sighed as his smile widened, but it wasn’t the smile you’d grown to know from him. It was something entirely new. He stood up without another word and headed into the house. You let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding when the patio door shut behind him.

“He’s planned how he wanted to tell you like, six-hundred ways, but that was definitely not one of them,” Brady laughed next to you. You turned your head toward Brady, your surprised look somehow impossibly intensifying, making Brady laugh harder. “Oh yeah, he’s liked you for years now. You’ve just never lined up. You had that boyfriend, then he was sort of seeing that girl, now there’s Aaron, who is super boring by the way. He’s been trying, but the timing has never worked out for him. Got to give the guy some credit for finally growing a pair and telling you though, even if that wasn’t exactly pretty.”

“How long?” you asked, choking on the word.

You cleared your throat and repeated the question again. Brady shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, probably since that first party honestly. He made me introduce you to him when he saw us talking. Guess he thought you were cute.”

Brady said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was simply ordering orange juice with brunch at a diner on Sunday morning. For you, it made your world tilt violently on its axis. Matthew was always never an option. He was so not an option you had all but deleted every memory of every thought of finding him attractive. Apparently, completely unknown to you, he’d been an option the entire time.

You stood up quickly from the couch, your fingers already pulling up Aaron’s contact information even though you didn’t have a plan on what to say to him. You knew you needed to see the sun in your life again and you knew Aaron wasn’t it. Aaron wasn’t the sun; he was a gray cloud. He was kind enough and unproblematic enough to never rain on your life. He protected you from some UV exposure, meaning bad one night stands and societally named walks of shame, but he was keeping you cool and complacent with you life. You never felt warmth on your skin from him. There was no heat, no love, no passion. A cloudy day was fine for a while. Aaron was fine for a while. You wanted the sun and you knew who it was. 

Your mom had said it the first time you’d invited Matthew over to watch a movie with you a couple of week after that party where you met. While he could be your resident pain in the ass, he charmed your mother instantly, a fact he rubbed in every now an again because your mom, like everyone, was fine, but not thrilled, with Aaron’s existence. 

“That boy is like sunshine, I swear,” she told you. “You light up when he walks in the room.”

Matthew was the sun. You wanted, needed, to feel the sun on your skin. You’d been standing near it for so long. You needed to know what it felt like to actually stand in the light. 

You walked into the house, turning the opposite direction of where you’d seen Matthew turn when he walked in. You shut the door of the front office behind you to try to give you some privacy for this. You were completely unprepared and there was a serious risk you might try and compare Aaron to a raincloud at this point if you talked to him, but there wasn’t ever going to be a better time for this. Aaron answered on the third ring, like clockwork, like he knew you too well in the worst, most superficial ways.

“Hey,” he spoke softly and steadily, as always. “Is something wrong? Need me to come pick you up?”

“Uh, no, I’m good,” you mumbled out before hastily adding a quick, “thanks.”

You cleared your throat before you tried to continue.

“Hey, Aaron.” You cleared your throat again, trying in vain to bring the pitch of your voice down. “This might be out of left field here, but what are we doing here?”

“What do you mean?” he replied after a slightly too long pause. “Are you not okay with this anymore?”

You sighed and tucked some errant strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail behind your ear as you tried to collect your thoughts.

“That’s the thing Aaron,” you breathed out. “I’m tired of things being okay. This has always just been okay and you know it. This has never been a heart-stopping, Earth-shattering, scream-how-you-feel-in-front-of-a-room-full-of-people kind of thing. And I want that, Aaron. I want passion and I want things this doesn’t have, has never had, and won’t have because that’s not us. This is just, it’s fine, Aaron. But I’m sick of fine.”

You heard Aaron breathe out harshly, not unlike how you had before you’d let all of those feelings come out. You hadn’t realized exactly where you’d been going when you opened your mouth, but you knew you’d arrived at the right thing by the end.

“Honestly, so am I.”

You almost dropped the phone at his words. You had been expecting every reaction ranging from tears to screaming to silence. Agreement wasn’t a response you’d planned for. You’d thrown it out instantly, like you do with Jokers when you open a new deck of cards because they can’t possibly be in play. There aren’t any games that actually utilize them. There wasn’t a scenario you were prepared for where Aaron agreed with you.

“What?” you managed to get out. “You agree with me?”

Aaron laughed softly before saying, “Honestly, yeah. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude when I say this. You’re a great person, but this was just something casual for both of us and I think it’s just gone on longer than we planned since we both got into it thinking it would go bad before we were two months in. It never went bad, so we kept doing it. You and I are kind of alike in that way. Unless something makes us go off the rails, as long as the train has three out of five stars, we’ll stay on it forever basically.” 

“That’s not rude. It’s exactly how I feel,” you told him, making him laugh again. You scrunched your nose up before adding, “Sorry, that probably sounded a little too relieved, huh?” 

“No, no,” Aaron chuckled. “It’s real and fine and I feel it too.”

You sighed and leaned back against the nearby desk, trying to will your nervous heartbeat to slow down for a second. You nodded softly, trying to come up with words to say. 

“What are you still doing on the phone? Go get him. Go get your real guy.” 

You paused. You weren’t sure if you’d heard Aaron right. You racked your brain, trying to remember if you’d let anything slip out that could have pointed you ending things toward Matthew. Aaron might have not been your guy, but he was still a good guy and deserved better than thinking you’d dumped him for someone else. 

“Matthew,” Aaron added before you could speak. “He finally plucked up the courage and said something, huh? About fucking time, Chucky.” 

“You knew?” you asked breathlessly. “Did everyone know but me?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” Aaron informed you, laughter edging at his voice again. “So, go get him. Hang up already! No hard feelings. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

Aaron hung up for you. You slowly slid your phone into your back pocket, trying to collect your thoughts. Was what you were doing sort of sudden and crazy? Probably. It didn’t feel that way though. It felt like this was exactly what you should be doing.

Your feet carried you toward the kitchen where you assumed Matthew still was, most likely freaking out about ruining your friendship. You found him with his head hung low, one of his hands supporting him by gripping the edge of the counter behind him and the other feverishly raking through his curls. He was mumbling to himself, trying to gather his thoughts like you just had been. 

“You want to finish having this conversation with yourself or can I interrupt?” 

Matthew’s head snapped up and over toward you. His eyes soften when they connected with yours, before that same sad smile from outside came back onto his face. You knew what it was now, the unidentifiable emotion on his face. Pain. Looking at you, looking at what he thought was your rejection hurt him. He was trying to deal with it as best he could, but he was barely holding himself together. 

“Well, you’ve already interrupted, so I feel like the least you could do is come into the kitchen,” Matthew replied, waving you in with his free hand. 

“Matthew-”

“No, let me,” he cut you off as you started stepping toward him. “I’m sorry. I totally threw that at you in front of everyone. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t cool. And you have Aaron, I guess, so you’re not even really single, so it was really stupid to say. I’m really sorry and I hope-”

“Matthew Tkachuk, shut up for once in your life,” you said exasperatedly as you reached him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then your hands grabbed his and he couldn’t focus on anything other than how it felt. His eyes were locked on your hands as you let your fingers intertwine with his. 

“I ended it,” you told him.

“You what?” Matthew choked out as his eyes snapped up to yours. “With Aaron? Just now?” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “He actually took it really well. Turns out he’d been feeling a little stuck too, I guess.”

“Mm, solid,” was all Matthew had to say in reply as his attention turned back to your hands wrapped around his larger one. He wouldn’t let himself get his hopes up about what they meant for him right now. Just because you were getting rid of Aaron, didn’t mean that was permanent or that you were picking him instead. 

He started to gently squeeze your hand with his, letting his large hand dwarf both of yours and he softly moved his thumb in smooth circle over the back of your hand. The small act, the smallest of possible movements, still was far more intimate than anything you’d felt in six months with Aaron. This was what it was supposed to feel like. 

“There’s no line, Matthew.” You spoke softly and steadily, willing your words to wrap around him and take away any temporary pain your hesitation caused him. “There’s only you. You’re the one I want.”

Matthew didn’t need to double check. He knew you were sure from your tone. In the blink of an eye, his hands were on your waist, hoisting you up onto the kitchen counter as his lips crashed to yours for the first time. One of your hands tangled itself into his curls and the other rested on his broad chest, anchoring you to him.

He felt like sunshine on the first warm spring day of the year. Your skin soaked up that first light willingly, relishing in what it had missed as his warmth thawed the permafrost from your bones.

“Jesus,” you breathed out when he finally pulled back. “You’ve know how to kiss like that the whole time and you didn’t just try and do that to get my attention? Damn, Tkachuk.” 

Matthew blushed softly, a new reaction to your words you immediately threw into your favorite column of reactions to pull out of him, noting you needed to make it happen more often. He smiled softly at first, but as he looked at you, his smile wouldn’t stop growing until it was spread wide across his face. 

“I’ll make a note of it.” He paused to slide his hands under your thighs and lift you off the counter in one smooth motion. He guided your legs around his waist as your hands braced the back of his neck for support. “You know, for the next time I try to confess my feelings for a girl in front of all of my friends .” 

“Mm, hope you don’t have any plans to try and use that advice anytime soon,” you teased him back as he carried you out of the kitchen and towards his room.

“Honestly, I already threw that note away. What did it say again?” he asked you jokingly, giving you a quick peck on the lips as he walked.

“It was just a little notice letting you know I’ve moved you to boyfriend status,” you replied with a shrug, but your smile betrayed you. 

“Before I even show you all the tricks up my sleeve? Damn, mind if I show you anyway? I’ve got some pretty good ones that just might blow your mind.” 

Matthew threw you a quick wink as he pushed his bedroom door open with his back just to make sure you knew exactly what he was referring to, leaving nothing open to misinterpretation. 

“Oh really now? Try me, sunshine. I’ve got all night.” 

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Along For The Ride: How it Started

Word Count: 2.4k

October 12th, 2016

"Carse?"

Although Carson was aware someone was talking to her, she didn't respond since she was a little distracted by the direct message she had just received on Instagram.

She was in her seat on the VIA Rail train she and her friend Stephanie were taking from Toronto to Ottawa. It was the first Maple Leafs game of the season, so they were making the commute to watch since it also happened to be Mitchell Marner's, Carson's cousin and Steph's boyfriend's very first NHL game ever.

"Carson?"

"Yeah?" She asked, jumping slightly as she was suddenly brought back to reality.

"I was asking how your class was this morning," Steph chuckled while shaking her head.

"Oh, uh, it was fine," Carson tried to play off her distracted state. "Lexie and I did our law presentation. I think it went alright."

"Law? Aren't you in journalism?"

"Yeah, we took intro law as an elective," she explained before looking down at her phone screen again and biting down on her bottom lip.

Steph observed as she did this and knew well enough that Carson would not mention whatever was happening on her phone unless it was brought up. "What's got you so flustered?"

"Nothing!" Carson insisted but only received a pointed glance in return from the girl sitting across from her. Thanks to Steph's relationship with Mitch and just how close Carson was with her cousin, the two girls formed a great friendship which led to them being able to read each other like books. It tended to be a blessing and a curse. "Ok fine, maybe not nothing."

"Explain, please."

Carson sighed.

"Well, you know Auston, right? Like, Matthews?"

"I've heard of him," Steph teased, knowing that Auston started following Carson on Instagram entirely out of the blue a little over a month prior. "Kidding. Yes, of course, I do. He and Mitch have gotten pretty close since he moved to Toronto."

"Right, 'cause he's not from here, is he?" Carson asked, genuinely curious.

"No, Scottsdale, I think. Why?"

"Uh, no reason," she replied. "It's not that important, I guess. He just messaged me on Instagram, though."

"Did he!? Let me see," Steph gasped before snatching the phone right out of her friend's hand.

Carson watched as Steph effortlessly typed in the passcode and opened Instagram. She was still kind of surprised that she'd gotten a message from Auston at all, but it did make sense.

When the two girls first got on the train, Carson took a selfie of her and Steph in their Maple Leafs gear with a Go Leafs Go hashtag. They were sporting matching Marner jerseys and had received a few compliments from other fans getting on the same train.

The brunette thought nothing of the post she made, so when she received a DM from Auston replying to her story and saying "wish us luck," she was very caught off guard.

"Well, are you going to reply?" Steph asked while handing the phone back.

"I guess," Carson told her and looked back to the screen. "It's just a little weird that he messaged me, don't you think?"

"Not really. People message people on Instagram all the time."

"Yeah, but like, he's this huge hockey prospect, is he not? So why message me, of all people? Let alone follow me in the first place..."

"Ok, I will admit that Mitch and I have hyped you up a bit," Steph said while sinking back into her seat.

"Why?"

"He's new to the city," she explained with a shrug. "When he first got here, he didn't really know anyone other than the guys on the team and some of their girlfriends. So we were telling him about people he'd probably meet eventually, and you were one of them."

"I see," Carson responded and looked back down at the cellphone screen. She typed back a quick response to Auston's message saying "good luck" before tucking the device back into her bag and glancing up at her friend again. "I guess it's not that weird; I have made friends with a few of the guys on the team."

"Yeah, I know. Mitch told me how you ran into Willy and Kappy a couple of weeks ago while you were out."

"Mhmm, what started as a date night with myself ended up being a night of hanging out with those two... Oh, shit, we're like 20 minutes away from the station. Any word from the fam in Ottawa yet?"

"Your aunt texted me saying that she, Paul and Chris were almost there. Is anyone else coming?"

"No, just me," she said. "Dad and Nate are watching from home, but they'll be at the game in Toronto on Saturday. Mya said she'd watch the game as soon as she was done class too. She wasn't sure what channel the game would be on in Vancouver."

"Is it not the same there as it would be here?"

"That's what I said!"

"Fair," Steph replied with a smile. "Anyways, guess we better make sure we have all our things. It's going to be a long night."

And it was a long night... but it was also insanely fun.

The two girls were picked up by Carson's aunt Bonnie, uncle Paul and cousin Chris at the VIA station in Ottawa before going with them to grab something to eat and eventually making way to the Canadian Tire Centre to watch the game against the Senators. They definitely weren't the only Leafs fans in the building, but the Ottawa fans kind of outnumbered them. However, that didn't dampen their mood, and they were more than ready for the game to start.

It was the most surreal feeling for Carson to not only witness her cousin and lifelong best friend skate out onto the ice wearing the jersey of their home team but also just to see that he was finally living out his dream. She couldn't have been more proud and was convinced that she and Steph alone were two of the loudest cheerers in the entire arena as they began yelling along with the crowd.

Not only did she think it was cool seeing Mitch out there, but she also loved seeing all the other players that she'd gotten to know over the past couple of months. Carson quickly spotted Willy and Marty. She then chuckled when Steph sent a zoomed-in Snapchat video of number 17 skating around to his girlfriend, Sydney. However, it didn't take long for Carson's gaze to fall on number 34.

Leading up to the beginning of the season, all Carson heard about how good this Auston Matthews guy was; she would've been lying if she said she wasn't a little excited to see him in action. And boy did he put on a show.

With less than 12 minutes left of the first period, Auston scored the first goal of the game and the first goal of his NHL career. The Leafs fans went wild, as did Carson and her family while they watched the other guys skate up to congratulate their teammate. That was pretty cool to see, but Carson was not prepared for what the rest of the game held.

The Senators pulled ahead by scoring two goals, but that didn't last too long because Auston scored another goal before the period was even over.

"Oh my god," Carson said aloud as everyone went nuts again. "He's really good."

"I know," Steph replied, looking just as shocked as Carson felt. "I mean, Mitch said he was good but... wow."

A couple of minutes into the second period, he scored again, and Carson was speechless. It took her a second to register that this kid had just gotten a hat-trick in his first NHL game, but she was quickly brought back to reality when a ton of ballcaps started flying past her as they were thrown onto the ice. She looked down at where Mitch was on the bench and smiled as she observed him cheering along with his teammates about what had just happened. The energy in the arena was just insane.

After watching her cousin for a few seconds, Carson moved her gaze to the people in her section and saw a couple cheering so loudly a few rows behind them. The woman then started crying and was pulled into the embrace of the man next to her.

"That's Auston's parents," Steph explained, and Carson could basically feel herself melt after witnessing the genuine reaction of two very proud parents, sending Auston's mom a soft smile when they briefly made eye contact before looking back to the ice.

Then, just before the second period ended, he scored a fourth goal, and none of it seemed real anymore.

The Leafs ended up losing 5-4 in overtime, but that still didn't prevent a buzz in the crowd after everything that happened in that game. Once everyone began clearing out of the area, Carson and her family made their way down to the wings, so they could congratulate Mitchell on his first game as a Maple Leaf before eventually having to head back to Toronto.

The five of them knew they'd have to wait for a little bit, seeing as Mitch would have to change out of his equipment and possibly do a post-game interview. Still, soon enough, the NHLer made his way to his family and Carson couldn't help but laugh when she heard her cousin approaching before actually seeing him.

She stood to the side as she let her aunt, uncle and cousin greet their superstar, but as soon as Mitch was done talking with them briefly, he looked in Carson's direction, shaking his head before taking a few short strides and engulfing her in a hug.

"Congratulations! You killed it out there."

"Thanks, Carse," Mitch replied before moving away. "It would've been nice to score a goal, but it still feels amazing regardless. Thanks for being here."

"You know I wouldn't miss it," she told him with a smile. "And it looks like you'll just have to score in Toronto on Saturday to redeem yourself."

"I'll try," he told her with a pointed gaze before moving on to Steph and pulling her into a tight hug next.

Carson watched with a grin as the two lovebirds interacted for a second before going to step away and stand with her family. However, when she went to step back, she came in contact with what felt like a brick wall and completely lost her balance.

"Oh, shit," she muttered as she blindly reached out to grab onto something so she could steady herself, all while bracing herself for impact. However, the impact never came. Instead, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and was able to prevent her from falling on her ass. With a sigh of relief and embarrassment, she straightened herself out and stood back up straight before finally turning around to look up at the person she had just collided with. "I'm so sorry..."

Before she could say anything else, Carson felt her breath hitch as she realized she was face to face with none other than Auston Matthews.

"It's alright," he told her with a slight smile, giving a look as if to say that he definitely recognized her. "I wasn't watching where I was going either."

"I-." Before she could say anything else, an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Mitch's voice sounded from beside her.

"Auston, I see you've officially met my baby cousin Carson."

"Baby?" Carson scoffed and looked up at her cousin with a mortified expression. "Mitch, you're literally 12 days older than I am."

"Older and wiser."

"I don't think so," she told him before elbowing him in the gut so that he'd take his arm off her.

He groaned and hunched over in pain, making sure to send her a death glare as he tried to recollect himself.

"Uh oh, the twins are at it again," a voice spoke as someone else approached from down the hallway, and Carson looked up to see William Nylander approaching.

"Twins?" Auston asked and looked between Mitch and Carson with an amused expression.

"The more you see them together, the more you'll see how true that statement is," Steph said as she wedged herself between the two cousins to keep them from annoying each other any further. She then looked at Carson and nodded. "We have to get back to the station real soon if we want to catch our train back to Toronto."

"Right," Carson responded. "I'm good to go whenever you are."

"Ok, cool, let's just say our goodbyes, and then we can split on a cab there? Deal?"

"Deal."

The small group that had formed dispersed as new conversations formed, and Steph started saying bye to everyone seeing as Mitch was driving back to Toronto with some teammates, he was going to visit with his family. They were in no hurry to leave. 

Unfortunately, though, Carson had class at noon the next day, and Steph had to return to London for her classes as well, so they really did need to get going.

Before moving to say goodbye to Mitch and the rest of her family, Carson looked back to Auston once more to see him still smiling at her.

"You played a really great game tonight," she complimented and smiled back. "Congrats."

"Thanks," he chuckled. "It's all pretty crazy to let sink in. I definitely think your good luck message helped, though."

"Oh, I'm sure it did."

The two laughed before becoming quiet again. Unsure of what else to say, Carson, glanced at her family and figured she should start making her escape. She looked back to Auston, and surprisingly enough, he was the first to speak up again.

"I, uh, I guess I won't keep you from catching your train back to Toronto," he started and looked away slightly. "It was nice... officially meeting you, Carson."

"Yeah, I should probably get going before Steph comes back over here and starts dragging me out," she replied, causing him to laugh. "It was nice meeting you too, Auston. Congrats again, maybe I'll see you around."

"I'd like that. Get home safe."

"You too, well, to wherever you're going," she mumbled and sent him one last smile before walking away, trying to keep a straight face at the look Steph was giving her as she approached everyone else and said her goodbyes.

What she didn't notice, though, was how Auston watched her for a second as she walked away, intrigued by the entire interaction he just had with her and couldn't help smiling to himself as he shook his head and went his own way.

[broadstbroskis]

four times you wore matthew tkachuk’s name on accident + one time on purpose | matthew tkachuk

the first

It’s a Friday night and you’re at Matty Tkachuk’s apartment solely at the request of your best friend, Sasha, who’s a little more than friends with Noah Hanifin (and refusing to believe that she’s actually more than a little more than friends but that’s neither here nor there). The party’s raging and you’re killing some bro’s on the pong table with some pretty Swedish boy who you’re almost certain plays on the Flames with Noah. And then, suddenly, there’s a ruckus behind you, like more than the general party-ruckus, and you’re covered in beer.

And when you say soaked, you mean like, absolutely drenched.

The dudes who are the entire reason you’re now the winner of the impromptu wet t-shirt contest can’t even make it through the apology they start before their eyes go to your chest and they actually stop speaking, so you very quickly ditch the pretty Swede in favor of looking for Sasha.

Unsurprisingly, she’s making out with Noah in the corner and neither of them look amused when you interrupt. “Well sorry.” You snap, glaring at yet another guy who stops to stare at you.

“Get moving, buddy!” Noah waves him away.

“Now do you see why I want to leave?” You look at them flatly. 

Sasha giggles. “Just go topless for the rest of the night!”

You give her a look “You’ve seen me topless before. That’s certainly not going to help the staring.”

Sasha is still giggling as a group of guys in the corner start to point and Noah gives his best glare (which is frankly, like 0% terrifying, but the gesture is much appreciated). “Come on,” He pulls the two of you away.

“Oh yeah,” You snark at him, as he leads you down the hall. “This is helping my case. Heading down the hall with the two of you in my wet t-shirt. This is just the thing I need!”

“Well?” Noah grins not even five minutes later, from where he’s lounging on Matty’s bed, watching as you attempt to tuck the Tkachuk Flames shirt into your short, bodycon skirt. The endeavor is useless, which from her laughter, Sasha figured out ages ago, and has been waiting for you to do the same.

“There’s nothing smaller?” You ask desperately. The shirt is genuinely huge. It fits you like a dress.

“I mean, Chucky’s just a tad bigger than you so…” Noah trails off, fighting his own laughter.

“That is a lewk!” Sasha is still giggling from the ground as she adds, “I’m sure we could look around and find something smaller that’s been left behind.”

That thought brings an immediate look of disgust to your face. At least Matty’s shirt is clean. “Fuck no, I don’t want anything that belongs to any girl that he might have brought back here!”

They’re both laughing, as you awkwardly tuck one edge of the t-shirt into your skirt and let the rest of it fall. “Alright.” You say. “Noah, let me pound your beer and I might not hate myself enough to be able to go back out there.”

Noah’s beer is not quite enough, but it’s enough to get you back out to the party, where you can all three get fresh drinks to go along with the shots you insist on (needed if you’ll be wearing this shirt for the rest of the evening).

And then, they quickly ditch you for their corner again, so you make your way back to the pong game, only to find out the you and the pretty Swede have been chased off the table.

The Swede is in the kitchen, holding court with a few other teammates, and you start to make your way over to them, hoping to convince him to take back your rightful spot at the table (or if not, just to join their circle), when the host of the party steps up to you.

“Babe!” Matt grins, and you stop to wait for what’s to come, because you’ve seen a lot of him recently since Noah and Sasha have been spending more and more time together, so you’re sure he’s not finished. “Never would have thought I’d be happy to see you change out of that wet t-shirt, but I guess that’s when happens when you look so hot in my clothes!”

“Babe!” You mimic, grinning, ready to dish it back. “Never would have thought I’d actually consider changing into the clothes that last week’s rando left behind, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a dick!”

Matty just laughs, accepting the chirp as you move past him to the kitchen, and that’s that. The shirt comes home with you that night, gets shoved into the back of your closet, and forgotten about entirely.

the second

“Thank god you’re here!” The woman grabbing your arm on the way out of the bathroom at Saddledome looks extremely familiar, but you couldn’t put a name to her face if your life depended on it. 

“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You try to keep your voice as polite as possible as you attempt to shake her off.

She shakes her head. “Sasha said she tracked you here on your phone.”

That traitor. And also, still, who the fuck is this lady? “Umm.”

“Britt and Morgan are both stuck at home with sick kids, and Jess was supposed to be able to fly in in time for the game tonight but her flight got delayed so she’s stuck in Ottawa or something, so we are super shorthanded and Sasha said you were here with some friends tonight and wouldn’t mind filling in.”

Say what now? “Sorry, filling in for what?”

“Toy collection!” She’s actively leading you away from your other friends and from your seat towards an employee only area. “Come on; let’s get you a jersey and get you set up!”

And well, you’re not so heartless that you’re not going to help them collect toys for kids for the holidays! Even when she shoves a Tkachuk jersey at you, practically yanks it over your head, and then fluffs your hair before leading you out to the first floor concourse and over to a toy collection station with Johnny Gaudreau’s girlfriend, you paste a smile on your face, vowing to get back at Sasha for this later.

It isn’t long before the smile is real, laughing along with Ali as the two of you collect toys and donations. You’re actually having such a good time you don’t even notice that lady taking your picture until the next morning, when you’re scrolling through Instagram and it pops up on your feed via the Flames official account, on a post thanking their fans for making the toy drive such a success.

And right below it, a comment from Matt: 👀👀

the third

It’s too fucking light out, there’s a very loud banging, and your head will not stop pounding.

And somehow, none of these things are going away? Like they’re actually all getting worse and that’s when you realize your hangover isn’t going to go away on its own. So with one last groan into the pillow, you open your eyes, hoping to take care of all of these things.

And that’s when you realize this isn’t your bed. Or your room. And you aren’t wearing any clothes?

What the fuck happened last night?

Once that moment of immediate panic fades, you realize that even though this isn’t your room, it is a familiar one. It’s not the first time you’ve spent the night in Matty’s guest room after a party, but it is the first time you’ve woken up in it without clothes.

Further inspection of the room leads to open blinds and no clothing, which is not entirely helpful in solving the problems of your nakedness or the knocking at the door...which you can only assume means Matt has left for practice or something because god, if he was somehow managing to sleep through this, you were going to kill him.

The knocking at the door will not fucking stop and so you angrily stand, searching for some clothing item in the room to cover yourself up with to go take care of it. You’re just contemplating wrapping yourself in the blanket before you stumble upon an old Knights t-shirt. It’s still huge on you, but it’s clean and probably better than going out to answer the door wrapped in just a blanket.

No, definitely better than going out in just a blanket.

The shirt is soft and worn as you pull it over your head, like a favorite old t-shirt should be, and you really contemplate stealing it as you bitterly make your way to the door, throwing it open with a scowl on your face. “What?”

“Uh.” There’s a delivery man outside the door, holding a package. “Sign for delivery?”

Is he fucking serious? This is the ruckus? If looks could kill, he’d be a puddle on the floor, but you sign for the package and turn back into the apartment.

And apparently, Matt is home, and furthermore, alive, since when you do turn, he’s standing in the living room. For once, he’s not even running his fucking mouth, standing there with his jaw slightly dropped as he stares at you.

“Here!” You throw the package to him as you start to walk closer.

Matt doesn’t even react and the box falls to the ground in front of him. “Where’d you find that shirt?”

Your fingers drop to the hem of the tee, starting to recognize the look in his eyes for what it is. “Your guest room.”

He swallows. Visibly. Audibly. “Why’d you put that on?”

You grin, beginning to lift the hem up. “Why don’t you come find out?”

the fourth

Stuck in an endless loop of last times, it’s becoming less and less shocking to find yourself in Matt’s bed at various hours of the day. Sneaking out of his place in the morning. Popping over in the afternoon between classes. Sending your uber at the end of the night to his place instead of your own.

So it’s not really alarming anymore to find yourself waking up on a Sunday morning in Matt’s bed, to roll over and see only the ends of his curly hair poking out from under the covers or maybe a bare chest from where he’s pushed off all the blankets, consistently a later riser than you unless he absolutely has to be up.

Someone might think it’s alarming from the way you jump out of bed this particular Sunday, but that actually has more to with the time on the clock than the man’s bed you're in.

There’s no way you’ll make it back to your apartment to change and to brunch with your parents in time. Panic mode induced.

But the ruckus of trying to gather your shit and get dressed at the same time does wake Matt up (you suppose, in hindsight, that attempting to yank jeans up with one hand and buckle your bra with the other was not your best idea, but only because you hit your hip into the side of the dresser) and you fondly watch him rub his eyes sleepily before remembering that you need to go and resume working on fixing your jeans and bra.

“Where are you going?” Matt still sounds tired, but he’s sitting up, watching you rush around the room.

“Brunch with my parents have you seen my shirt?” The whole thing’s said as one sentence, one word maybe. Who’s got time to breathe right now?

“I just woke up.” He frowns. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t!” It was white, you were pretty sure. Or maybe black? 

“This is not how I planned to send my Sunday.” Matt frowns.

Success, there’s something black in the corner. You go to grab it as you address that comment. “You should know by now that you win some, you lose some.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to use sports cliches in bed, then you’re not allowed to use them out of it!”

“Matthew!” You cry, turning toward him, shirt in hand.

“That seems like a very reasonable compromise to me!”

You are ten thoughts ahead of sports cliches by now and hold last night’s sweater up for him to see. Or, what used to be your sweater. There’s a rip down the center; it was a v-neck to begin with and was now only being held together by threads. “This isn’t!”

He hesitates, but doesn’t look sorry at all. “It was a thin sweater?”

You level him with a look. “Let me tell that to my dad today at brunch.”

“You know what, I’ll just give you something.” Matt stands, and walks toward his closet. A second later, there’s a shirt flying at you and once again, you find yourself pulling a huge Flames t-shirt over your head, this time with Matt’s number on the top left and both sleeves, and trying to make it work as an outfit. 

Matt’s got a huge grin on his face as you continue to just tug at the shirt, but finally you just give him a look. “Nothing else?”

“A dress shirt?” He offers, still grinning, unable to take his eyes off of you.

You actually contemplate it for a second-if you would be able to make it work as a dress, certain that he’s got a belt you could also snag to cinch the waist- before deciding against it. “I really have to go.”

Matt loops his arms around your waist, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. “Do you?”

It is...so easy to tilt your head to the side and just let Matt work, his hand travelling up his shirt. You can feel him smirk against your neck and you can’t even be mad about how smug he is about winning because it feels so good.

And then your phone buzzes and the moment is broken. 

The clock says it’s already past time for you to meet your parents and when you look at the text, it’s from your mom, letting you know they have a table. You let her know you’re on your way, but running late, and then slip the phone in your pocket.

“Fine.” Matt says, kissing you softly; a real, proper one, on the lips that sort of takes your breath away. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks.” You laugh, a little surprised about the kiss, which just...wasn’t something you guys did outside of bed.

And with one last brush down your arms, a tiny little pause over his number on your shoulders, he steps away, letting you go. But it’s just enough that you think you know what’s going on.

plus one

The long road trip out east gives you enough time to put your plan in action.

Unfortunately, you’re such a terrible liar, that you’re sure Matt knows something is up when he returns.

He sounds definitely hurt when you tell him that you can’t come over the night he comes home, but you’re sure that he’ll get over it pretty quickly when he sees what you’ve got planned for tomorrow’s game.

Your plan formed quickly, coming together in your mind easily. Meeting up with Sasha for lunch one day, you’d told her exactly what you wanted to do, requesting her help in getting you what you need.

She’d laughed hysterically, paused for a moment, and then laughed again. “I feel like I should be saying I told you so here. Somehow, someway, this feels like the moment for that.”

“People who lived in glass houses for over a year shouldn’t throw stones like that.”

That sobers her up, but only enough to stop laughing uncontrollably. She’s still giggling when she speaks. “Fair enough.”

“So can you get it for me?”

“What, he won’t give it to you?” She asks.

“I’m trying to do a thing here.” You tell her.

“Ah.” She says. “Alright, let me see what I can do.”

And so the day after their two week road trip, you found yourself standing in the hallway outside the locker room with Sasha and Ali, waiting for Matt to come out, the Tkachuk jersey feeling heavier than any other time you’ve worn his name before, and knowing that it has everything to do with the gesture you’re hoping it to be.

It seems like the entire organization comes out of the locker room before Matt does, so you endure knowing grins from both Johnny and Noah, as well as multiple other teammates you’re starting to recognize more and more, before Matt finally steps out.

He’s texting as he walks toward you, looking fine as hell in his suit and a little soft from his shower. You can feel the smile grow on your face as your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have to pull it out to know who the text is from.

“Hey.”

Matt stops walking and looks up, shock clear in his face. His eyes flutter to his phone quickly and then back to you, like he’s wondering how you got there so quickly, but it only takes a minute before his eyes find the “A” on the corner of your jersey and the “19” on the sleeves. “Hi.”

You’re a little surprised he doesn’t have more to say than that, considering he never stops talking, but he seems content to let his eyes wander over his jersey on you. “Sorry I couldn’t come over last night.” You say, filling the quiet between you and tugging on the hem of the jersey to illustrate your point. “But I really did have some errands to run.”

Matt starts to grin. “You could have come over and saved yourself a few bucks.”

“You think I paid for this garbage?” You scoff and he’s crossing the hall to you in three steps to pull you into his arms.

“I hope you didn’t.” He says, holding you close to him and it takes everything in you not to just press up onto your tippy toes and kiss him, but you shake your head to clear it so you can finish your bit, making a mental note to thank Sasha for coming in clutch and managing to get the jersey for you without Matt knowing. “Would sure be a waste for my girlfriend to spend money on something I’d just give her anyway.”

“Awfully presumptuous.” 

“So tell me I’m wrong.” He grins cockily.

“You know what a shitty liar I am.” You start to return the smile but Matt’s kissing the grin off your face the second you finish speaking.

[ljstlr]

Distance.

bae jacob x reader

genre: fluff !

words: 956

- this was a requested scenario that i got from curiouscat, i hope the person who req’d sees this and enjoys!! <3

——————————————————————————-

A few years back, when your parents told you that the whole family was moving to Toronto, you couldn’t help but feel anxious – considering the fact that you grew up your whole life in Ottawa. All your friends, acquaintances, and close neighbors were there, but you had to leave them behind.

Despite all your worries, it’s not like you had a choice. And before you knew it, you were sitting at the desk at the further back of your new classroom. All the faces were unfamiliar, and everyone seemed to have their own group of friends, you felt really left out.

But that quickly changed when a friendly boy sat next to you and introduced himself. He had the sweetest smile and voice, so you instantly became best friends. Jacob helped you adjust in Toronto really fast.

He’d always take you to famous restaurants, parks, and malls after school, so you’d grow familiar with the city. He introduced you to his friends, but none of them grew as close to you like Jacob. And on top of all that, he only lives a couple of blocks away so you two become inseparable.

Your family loved everything about your new friend. How couldn’t they? They saw the way he brought you so much happiness, care, and love. So, when your best friend asked permission to court you, your parents didn’t even have to think twice before allowing him to do so.

Falling in love with Bae Jacob was such an ease. Everything felt natural and you felt at home with his presence. He taught you how to love and he never made that difficult. He treated you very well to the point that arguments or misunderstandings was a rare case – even after four years in the relationship.

So, when your parents broke the bad news that you guys had to move back home to Ottawa to take care of your grandparents, you didn’t know how to tell him. Because even yourself couldn’t handle thinking being away from Jacob for so long.

It was three months away from high school graduation and you were moving back the day after the graduation ceremony. You felt sadder since you had plans with your boyfriend to work part time at a café before the both of you enters university.

He knew you like the back of his hand, so he could tell something was up. He wanted you to open up because he doesn’t like it when you bottle up your feelings, so he took you to your comfort place – the lakeside.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Jacob spoke softly as he wrapped his fingers around yours. He caressed the back of your hand with his thumb and gave you a sweet smile.

You hated to break his heart.

“We’re moving back to Ottawa after graduation, Jacob.” You plainly spoke trying to fight back the tears but failed when you saw Jacob’s smile drop as well.

Even when he was sad himself, Jacob put you first. He wrapped you in a tight hug and slowly rubbed his hands at your back to comfort you. He was shushing you while you loudly sob. He gave you time to cry it all out before he made you face him once again.

He wiped the remaining tears in your cheeks and looked you straight in the eye before speaking, “Hey, our love is greater than distance, my (y/n).”

You smiled at his words and he was relieved to see your face brighten up a little.

“As long as we trust each other enough, I know we’ll make it through this.” Jacob held on to your hands again as he spoke.

“When college is over, I know we can find a way to live in the same city again. Just consider this a small hurdle to achieve all of the dreams that we planned for our future.” Jacob said with a smile.

“A small house by the lake with two daughters and our own coffee machine?” You replied which caused the both of you to giggle.

“Yes, my love. We’ll get there. And besides, who said we can’t visit each other’s cities in our free times?” Jacob rose an eyebrow which made you laugh again.

“I don’t know, Jacob. Isn’t a four-hour car or train ride kind of far?” You genuinely asked.

He chuckled, “A four-hour trip is a very small sacrifice to see the woman I’d like to spend forever with.”

You felt your heart flatter at his words. He saw that and took the opportunity to give your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips a kiss.

“Long distance is just a small hurdle, love. We’re professional athletes.” You give a soft punch in the arm because you two were nothing close to being athletics.

“It’s just a metaphor!” Jacob whined and you laugh once again.

The both of you stayed in the lake side until the moon came out and it shined so brightly. It was beautiful and mesmerizing, the both of you can’t take your eyes off of it.

“When you ever miss me in Ottawa, just look at the sky and always remember that as long as we’re both under the same moon and sun, my love for you will never fade.” You nod as his words slowly wrapped around your mind and heart.

“Promise?” You asked, waving out your pinky finger in front of his face.

“Promise.” He responded as the two of you made a pinky promise.

You both laid in silence once again as you two enjoyed the moon, the lake, and the silence.

Not knowing that six years later, in this very spot, you vowed to love each other for life.

[hockeylvr59]

Knight in Shining Armor || Seth Jones

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So I had this concept in my drafts to write for like a year for another player (coughcoughSeguin) but since he’s not on my good list right now and I’ve been wanting to write about Seth for a while, I decided that the concept would work great for him. This is mostly platonic but there’s kind of an underlying current of more so let me know what you think of it. 

Warnings: shitty ex-friends, lingering grief 

Word Count: 2,868

______

Most days you were in love with your job. Being one of the few female television broadcasters for a professional sports team was a major accomplishment and you tried to never take a day of it for granted. You were setting the stage for women in the future and that was a source of tremendous pride for you. You got to watch a sport you loved and see players that would someday be in the hall of fame take the ice. You got to travel to places that you’d probably never visit otherwise.

While the perks were numerous, there were also things that sucked. 

Though most of the time the travel didn’t bother you, sometimes you found yourself sick of climbing on planes, sleeping in hotel rooms, and living out of a suitcase. Then there were the emotionally draining things like constantly being criticized by male fans because of course, a woman couldn’t possibly be competent enough to do color commentary for a major sport. Finally, there were the late nights. 

Tonight was one of those days where you weren’t quite so in love with your job. You were two cities into a six-city road trip and it was that time of the month. In your haste of packing, you’d forgotten to replenish your supply of feminine products and so you’d had to rush to a drug store while praying that you didn’t bleed through your pants. After putting out that fire, you’d gotten yourself ready for the game before heading over to the arena with your co-anchor. Running behind had meant that you’d missed dinner, however, and press box food wasn’t your favorite. Setting into your seat after touching up your hair and makeup you waited for the puck to drop between the Jackets and the Sabres. 

By the first intermission, the lack of food and mother nature’s wrath had left you with a burgeoning migraine. You’d searched your bag for a bottle of Advil, only to find it empty. A quick inquiry with the rest of the media during a commercial break also turned up empty. While the roller of peppermint essential oil you did have took a little bit of the edge off, no matter how many times you had reapplied it you wanted nothing more than to go lay down by the time the final horn sounded. 

Usually, you stopped down at the locker room to congratulate the team, however, tonight you just needed to get back to the hotel while you still had the faculties to do so. 

Once back at the hotel you changed and crawled into bed, laying in the dark in hopes that a lack of visual stimuli and quiet would make the pain lessen. You’d been laying there for roughly half an hour when there was a knock on your door that caused you to groan. When the knock sounded once more, you pried yourself out of bed and padded over to the door, peering through the peephole. Standing on the other side was Seth Jones. Curious as to why the Blue Jackets defenseman was there you flipped open the security latch before opening the door. 

“Hey,” Seth whispered and your eyes furrowed both from confusion and pain. With the latter suppressing your filter words filtered out of your mouth. 

“What are you doing here?” You inquired, running the hand not holding the door through your hair. 

“Missed you in the locker room after the game. Saw the second intermission report and thought you could use these.” He mused, his eyes taking in your appearance more fully. It was only then that you glanced down to see the pill bottle in his hands. “Snatched these from the training room.” He admitted with a smile. 

“You’re a saint Jonesy.” You admitted, your body language softening at the prospect of actually getting enough relief to sleep. Taking the bottle from his outstretched hand you sent him as much of a smile as you could muster. 

“Anything for my favorite broadcaster.” He responded shrugging. “Need you back in top form for the next game.” He teased. “And migraines aren’t any fun and you look like you’re suffering pretty bad.” He added, his hands now drifting to the pockets of his suit. “Anyway...take those and get some sleep huh?” He instructed and when you nodded he turned to walk away. 

“Hey, Seth…” You started. “Thank you.” 

~~~~~~

After leaving Buffalo, the team had dipped up to Ottawa before flying down to Boston for a game against the Bruins. The team had a day off between the two games however and had decided to go out for the night, have a few drinks, and just relax before a tough game the following day. You’d been invited by a bunch of the younger guys and though the club scene really wasn’t your thing you’d agreed. 

Dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans and a flirty blouse you made your way through the crowd to the bar for a bottle of water. You’d been dancing with Pierre but you’d sent him to chase after a woman who had caught his eye and now you were parched. It wasn’t until you were leaning against the bar trying to flag down the bartender that you noticed that someone you really didn’t want to see was just a few spots down. 

Ducking your head you prayed that he didn’t notice you, but of course, despite being short, he was suddenly at your side, calling out your name over the crowd. 

You’d known Jake in high school, had been close friends and something else that you could only describe as awkward. You hadn’t dated, he’d had other girlfriends at the time but you’d definitely toed the line of appropriateness regarding your conversations. He’d hurt you badly a few years ago and you hadn’t spoken since. Honestly, talking to him now was the last thing you were interested in. You’d known he was living in Boston but what were the odds he’d be at this club the one night you were in town. 

As he stood beside you, his hand fell to your arm that was resting on the bar and he was asking if he could buy you a drink. You wanted to tell him to go away, you wanted to shove his hand off of you, you wanted to insist that you were good and to go shove the drink but suddenly you couldn’t speak and you couldn’t move. In that moment you felt beyond vulnerable. 

And then suddenly a warm arm draped itself around your waist and you were tugged into the side of a firm body. The second the scent of his cologne filled your nose, you relaxed against him and glanced up to see Seth’s figure hovering over you. 

“Hey sweetheart, I have a bottle of water for you at the table.” He declared, tone soft as he directed the words at you but with enough volume that your unwelcome company was certain to hear it. “Josh has a story he refuses to tell until you’re there.” He added, giving you every excuse to step away from the bar. 

“Uh...yeah...coming.” You agreed, turning back toward your former friend for just a second. “Sorry gotta go...the gang beckons.” Not giving him a chance to respond, you let Seth lead you across the club to the table that your group had claimed as its own. Cam Atkinson was the only one present at the table, nursing a beer as he typed furiously on his phone. 

Pulled in beside Seth, you found that there was indeed a sealed water bottle waiting for you and you sighed feeling your body relax now that there was some distance between you and Jake. 

“Thank you.” You murmured. It was the second time on this trip that you’d spoken the words to Seth after he’d saved you. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Seth insisted. “You looked uncomfortable and no one deserves that. Do I need to go back up there and kick his ass?” He inquired and though you were certain Seth could indeed kick Jake’s ass there wasn’t any need for that. 

“No, it’s okay.” You assured him, relaxing against his body as his arm settled around your shoulders. “Just a former friend that I didn’t expect to see...nor do I ever want to see again.” You sighed. Seth didn’t pry into that statement, but his fingers tracing patterns over your arm expressed that he was willing to listen if you did want to talk about it. 

For the rest of the night, Seth didn’t leave your side, going as far as walking you up to your hotel room. Having Seth by your side made you feel safe and as you opened your hotel room door, you once again expressed your thanks. 

~~~~~~~

The last stop on your long road trip was Winnipeg. You’d arrived around 2 in the morning and had fallen into bed almost immediately upon reaching your hotel room. 

Around 4 in the morning you were jolted awake by a shrill piercing sound. Checking your phone you saw group messages from the boys saying that you all needed to evacuate the hotel immediately. With the timestamps being nearly four minutes earlier, your heart raced and you threw on the nearest clothing items you could find before sliding on your slippers. 

Of course, a Jackets hoodie, thin tights, and indoor slippers were no match for the Winnipeg winter. But you didn’t realize that in your panicked state until the harsh wind whipped right through them as you made your way across the sidewalk to where the rest of the team was standing. Tucking your arms around yourself tightly, you stopped by Torts to see if he knew what was going on and how long you’d have to be outside in the middle of the night. He didn’t have any answers to give you and you sighed nodding, a yawn slipping from your throat. 

Around you, all of the guys were grumbling, but you quickly noticed that they’d all had at least enough foresight to throw on more substantial clothing. And those who hadn’t...well they were Canadian and probably didn’t feel the cold anyway. 

Shivering, you tried pacing around to keep the blood flowing so that maybe you wouldn’t feel the cold but it wasn’t working well. Passing a group of the guys you felt an arm reach out and tug you closer and when you looked up, Seth was gazing down at you. 

“C’mere.” He mumbled, his voice showing that he wasn’t exactly happy to be woken from sleep either. “Someone forgot Winnipeg was cold.” He teased and a slight blush covered your cheeks. You could play it off as the cold though if anyone noticed, thankfully. Now stopped in front of Seth, you watched as he unzipped his coat and pulled your body against his before rezipping it as much as he could around two bodies. 

With your chest pressed to his and his arms wrapped around you along with the coat, you were suddenly filled with a comfortable warmth and you burrowed yourself into his body as much as you could. 

“Better?” He asked and feeling you nod he chuckled softly. “Good. Can’t have you freeze now can we?” 

Thankfully all of his teammates were too sleepy to even really notice your intimate position because if they had they certainly would have chirped both of you to no end. Standing wrapped in Seth’s jacket until the all-clear was given and you were permitted to return to your rooms you couldn’t help but notice the rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his heart beating, and the way your body fit against his in spite of the height difference. 

As the two of you parted, you moved to thank him but Seth just pulled you into a quick hug before retreating down the hall. It was evident that you were both too tired to say the words but that he knew you meant them all the same. 

~~~~~~

Arriving home from the road trip was such a relief. You were ready to sleep in your own bed, ready for a day off. Still, as the boys chatted about what they were going to do with said day off as a group of you walked across the tarmac to your respective cars, the significance of tomorrow’s date flooded into your head and you froze. 

“Y/N…” Boone stated, trying to snap you out of your haze. 

“Huh?” You responded. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked. 

“Um...probably just running some errands…” You said, your voice cracking as you spoke. “And a stop at the cemetery.” None of the boys knew much about your personal life, certainly not nearly as much as you knew about theirs. At your admission, no one knew what to say and you said goodbye to them as you tossed your bag into your car. 

By the time you’d gotten up the next morning, had cleaned yourself up and gotten dressed, had started a load of laundry, and placed a grocery order for pickup it was almost 11am. Since the forecast showed rain in the afternoon you knew that if you were going to stop at the cemetery that you needed to go now. 

Heading down to your car, you paused seeing someone leaning against the hood. Anxiously stepping closer, you let out a soft breath recognizing Seth’s frame and mannerisms. Beside him was a drink holder with two cups inside and you adjusted your purse on your shoulder as you approached him. 

“What are you doing here?” You questioned. Seth shrugged for a moment before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Thought you could use some company…” He expressed, reaching to grab a cup, handing it to you. “It’s hot chocolate.” He explained and though you weren’t sure why he wanted to tag along, how long he’d been standing there or a multitude of other questions, you took the cup from him, taking a sip and letting the warmth of the drink flood through you. 

Unlocking your car, you watched as Seth folded himself into the passenger seat. The drive across town was quiet, only the radio playing softly providing background noise. As you pulled your car into the cemetery, already you could feel your throat getting tight and you forced yourself to breathe, using the mental task of navigating to the right part of the cemetery to distract yourself. 

With the car in park, you opened your door, turning back to reach into the center console for a stray hockey puck. Though Seth climbed out of the car as well, he just stood leaning against it as you made your way down the hillside. 

It took a minute for you to find the appropriate plot, but once you had you knelt down on the cold ground, your fingers brushing over the lettering of the marker partially buried in the ground. No matter how many times you were here, this never got easier and tears quickly started streaming down your cheeks. With the ground solid beneath you, you settled to sit by the grave, your hands laying the puck down on it gently. 

For the next few minutes, you talked about work, the games on this latest road trip, how you’d gotten the puck you’d brought, and what you were looking forward to with the rest of the season. At some point, you started whispering about Seth and how he was slowly invading your life, questioning whether any of your family up in heaven had thoughts on that they’d like to share. 

Though you didn’t want to leave, you knew you needed to and so you said your goodbye, your until next times, and a soft ‘happy birthday’ before picking up the puck and pushing yourself to your feet. As you made your way up the hill, sobs racked your body and tears flooded your cheeks. Reaching the car, you barely even noticed Seth’s open arms as you stepped into them, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you close. His other hand gently rubbed your back until your breathing steadied again and when you pulled back, he was offering you a handkerchief to wipe your tears. 

“Do you need me to drive?” He whispered softly, not trying to push you into it but needing to ensure that you were truly alright. 

“Can you?” You requested and after handing over the keys, you traded spots, sliding into the passenger seat. Seth had barely left the cemetery gates when his hand drifted down to wrap around yours and you couldn’t help but watch him as he drove. You’d never met someone who was so silently supportive, who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, and who made your heart skip a beat when he looked at you. 

He was your knight in shining armor and an angel in disguise, making all of the hard things a little easier and the good things even better. The future was unclear but you were quickly learning that you wanted to face all of it with him by your side.