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hugshughes · 7 months ago

Text

betty C. Bedard

Connor Bedard x fem!reader

synopsis - senior year starts, and Connor tries to fix everything after you were left torn to shreds after rumors all summer spread through your small town that Connor had a fling with someone all summer. a fling that supposedly began not long after the messy and unclear "end" of your relationship with him.

wc - 5k

contains - based off of Betty so... <\3. but not that bad because it's less James (Connor) being a douche and more teenagers love to spread rumors and misinformation!!!! crying, sadness, anger, shouting :( but also!!!! touching, hugging, kissing, making out a little bit. reader is 17, and her birthday isn't exactly clear but it's in september. Connor is a jealous teenage boy, and reader is a jealous teenage girl <\3. OH also my high school was 4 periods with over 2000 students and home room was just first period??? i know others are obvi different but that's just what im going off of!

an - hai!!! me when i cut lyrics like this when they don't exactly match how im writing the fic >_< i missed u people. i'm very genuinely sorry i've been gone but i genuinely have had one of the best summers of my life. IM SORRY A CHORUS GOT CUT IT WAS GONNA MAKE THIS HAVE TOO MUCH FILLER OKAY I DID THIS FOR US.

betty, i won't make assumptions, about why you switched your homeroom. but, i think it's 'cause of me.

Second day of senior year, you prayed it would be better than the first.

Yesterday, August 27th, you'd walked into homeroom, and your heart had dropped. Connor sat at a table in the back, laughing at something with his friends. Your Connor. You couldn't even call him that anymore. He wasn't yours. Apparently, he was another girl's, now. A girl from your town's rival school, Augustine, or something.

You sat through first period financial literacy with a weight in your chest. You sat at the very front table with a few friends, trying to smile and converse with them. They could tell something was wrong, and when your teacher said Connor's name during attendance they'd realized what.

You went to second period, feeling a bit better. Then, during lunch, you sped to the guidance office, begging your counselor to change your schedule. She was skeptical, having a feeling it had to do with something social, which she didn't believe called for a change. But when she noticed the tears that welled up in your eyes, she just smiled and clicked her mouse a few times, handing you a brand new paper for the classes you'd start the next morning.

To say Connor Bedard noticed you when you came into homeroom yesterday was the understatement of the year. The boy's smile dropped, his eyes locked on your figure as you shrugged your backpack off, smiling at your friend you sat next to. Yes, this class would be his chance to reconnect with you, fix and explain everything.

He walked into day 2 with a plan, a plan to somehow talk to you in first. He sat in the same seat he had yesterday, talking with his friends while his eyes never left your chair. He waited, and waited, and waited for you to walk in. You never did, you were in another classroom, first period AP Spanish, laughing with your best friend as you did icebreakers.

When the bell rang, he stopped the girl you sat next to the day before, awkwardly calling her name. He asked her where you were, and your friend faked confusion while she fought off laughter.

"Oh, she had her schedule switched, she has like Spanish now I think."

He nodded, mumbling a thank you as he swiftly exited the classroom, his friends shouting at him from the doorway.

As the school day went on, your day got significantly better while Connor's did the opposite. He got in his car after the final bell had rung, sitting in silence for just a minute before his friends piled in. Of course they'd all lived in your neighborhood, it being the most common one for your high school.

betty, one time, i was ridin' on my skateboard. when i passed your house, it's like i couldn't breathe.

He dropped them off at their respective homes, turning down your street to exit the neighborhood. He slowed down as he passed your house, your car was already in the driveway, you must've just got home. Last year Connor drove you to and from school almost every day, he missed that.

You two had broken up, if you could even call it that, in late May. The two of you were arguing about something both of you would now call dumb and you'd stupidly blocked his number after an angry phone call. Connor took that as you ending it, you took it as you were sick of arguing and couldn't speak to him in the moment. You were an emotional wreck when Connor had started ignoring you, still believing it was just all stupid misplaced emotions that needed to be talked through. You let him give you the silent treatment, knowing you were both still very upset.

About two weeks later, still nothing was resolved. School had been over for about a week, but you were miserable. Everything went to shit when you were tapping through Snapchat stories one night. One of your mutuals from school had posted a photo of her and her boyfriend, Connor, and another girl sitting next to each other on a bed in the background. They weren't cuddling, but their thighs were touching while they both looked at something on Connor's phone so basically your life was ruined.

You had over a dozen girls send you the story, asking what the fuck had happened. You had to tell them and yourself that you were broken up.

you heard the rumors from inez, you can't believe a word she says most times. but this time it was true.

It was extremely embarrassing for you once people that you barely even knew were telling others your business.

Connor knew he was royally fucked whenever a random girl he knew you were friends with had come up to him at a party during the summer and asked him about Augustine.

"Is she your new girlfriend?"

"What? No. I don't have a girlfriend."

"That's not what she thinks."

He almost asked who, but he knew who she was talking about. You. Everything was you. He couldn't get you out of his mind no matter how hard he had tried.

the worst thing that i ever did, was what i did to you.

Augustine didn't mean anything to him. His friend had tried to set him up with her because of how sad he'd been. But, he didn't have eyes for anyone but you, so she was just a friend of his.

All summer, he'd tried to find ways that put you two in the same place at the same time. Your town's annual Fourth of July fireworks? You were at the beach with family. Your mutual friend's huge 17th birthday bash? You were at young life camp with friends. The one time it could've worked was when you hosted a party, it was an open invite, but of course, it was the weekend Connor had his biggest hockey camp of the summer. It's like the universe wanted him miserable.

but if i just showed up at your party, would you have me?

You tried to erase Connor from your mind, but it was too hard. Living in a town where everything reminded you of the blonde boy sucked. And even if you were gone, you couldn't get away from him online, either. He was the guy to be watching for next year's NHL Draft. He was amazing, but he was also a very young and socially dumb boy.

You and Connor had gotten together towards the end of freshman year. It'd been about a month since your two year anniversary when the whole miscommunication and breakup took place. He was your first boyfriend, and you were his first girlfriend. Everyone at school knew about you two, even the people who didn't know you at all. It wasn't because you two were grossly comfortable with PDA at 8 am on a Wednesday.

You two weren't at all comfortable with your relationship being too on display to anyone, but the small and subtle things that made people silently root for the two. People saw just how you looked at each other, and how your moods changed with and without each other. They watched you two together at every event. Saw you as the loudest girl in the student section at hockey games. It was just sweet.

would you want me?

Connor was fucked. Although he couldn't confirm it, he was convinced your disappearance from first period was due to his presence. You changed your schedule to get away from him, that's how much he'd hurt you.

would you tell me to go fuck myself?

He wondered what you'd do if he just showed up at your house, or came up and asked to talk to you at school. Would you tell him to fuck off? Would you agree to talk, and listen to his apologies?

or lead me to the garden? in the garden, would you trust me, if i told you it was just a summer fling?

Connor had to speak with you, he couldn't contain himself any longer. When the final bell rang he sat in his car and waited for his friends, driving them home, through your neighborhood once again. He passed your house, only your car was in the driveway. He parked on the street, closing his car door gently behind him as he trekked up your driveway and to the front door.

He knocked softly, stepping back a few feet to wait. After thirty seconds the door opened a third of the way, your body coming into view. You were already in comfy clothes, you hated when your outside clothes touched your bed, Connor remembered. Your eyes widened, your brain sending panic signals through your body, your limbs freezing up.

"Oh my God. Uh, hi?"

You had no clue why Connor would be standing awkwardly on your front porch at 2:38 pm on a Tuesday.

"Hey. You can tell me to fuck right off and I will but, can we like, talk?"

i'm only seventeen, i don't know anythin'. but, i know i miss you.

You blinked a few times, the words taking a moment to register. Connor wanted to talk to you? About what? Did he need real closure after all the dumb shit that happened between you?

"Oh, yeah, sure. Come in."

You led him to your room, you weren't sure why you didn't just go to the living room, silently cursing yourself halfway up the stairs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was it clean? Were there clothes on the floor? You were now mortified by the idea of Connor seeing a bra on your bedroom floor, something that wouldn't have crossed your mind five months ago.

Your room was fine, only some socks and a sweatshirt on the ground. You sat in the cushy chair in your corner, pulling your knees to your chest. Connor sat cautiously on the end of your bed, he was always the one person you'd let wear outside clothes on your bed because you didn't care as long as he was laying with you.

It was eerily silent for a few moments before Connor spoke up, your head snapping to him.

"Um, I've been wanting to talk for a really long time, seriously."

You nodded, your eyes leaving his, the air too tense.

"Me too."

Connor's eyes widened at that, seriously? You wanted to talk to him? That was what he'd been hoping for months.

"I can't really think of a better way to say this but, uh. I miss you, a fuckin' lot. And I know I royally fucked up but I really just want you in my life. I hate the tension and the fuckin' like, uncertainty between us."

What? You were so confused. He missed you? But you had people all damn summer nothing but happy to fill you in on all of the Connor and Augustine news. Connor took your silence as you expecting more from him, so he filled it.

"And I know that everything that happened was because I was being a jealous asshole. I'm really sorry and I will show you that."

betty, i know where it all went wrong. your favorite song was playing from, the far side of the gym.

Ah, yes, the fight that ruined it all. See, in May, Connor and the Regina Pats were fighting through the playoffs, and he had one of the biggest games of the season on the night of prom. It was your first prom, and you'd been so excited to go with your boyfriend, so you can imagine the disappointment when he told you he wasn't going to be able to make it. You were crushed, to say the least, and sulked the entire time.

i was nowhere to be found, i hate the crowds, you know that.

The only few minutes you had fun the whole night was when a group of your friends had gotten you to dance after hours of begging, and a photo was taken of you with an arm innocently and extremely appropriately around a guy friend of yours' shoulders. It was platonic, even another girl friend of yours was on the other side of him and had her arm over yours.

It was really not a big deal, but Connor had seen it and was extremely jealous, and felt guilty. He was envious but also beating himself up over not being there.

plus, i saw you dance with him.

"Connor, that wasn't all your fault. I was a crazy bitch and blocked you, even if it was for like forty minutes. I shouldn't have done that, it was stupid. All of it."

He nodded, both of you unsure of what to say next.

you heard the rumors from inez. you can't believe a word she says, most times. but this time, it was true.

"And, I don't know if you care or not. But, I know all sorts of people have been saying stuff about me and Augustine. I promise you that I hung out with her that one time with Adam and hated it. I told her that and we were just kind of friends I guess. I only saw her one other time all summer. I wasn't already moving on from you, 'm still not."

He'd be the death of you, you were sure of it. Did he know how badly you needed to hear that? Even if you were skeptical if it was true when it first came from his mouth, the moment of silent eye contact between you two spoke volumes. He wouldn't lie to you, he was the most honest person you ever knew.

"I think it's stupid for us not to be friends, Connor. We were best friends before and while we dated. I miss that with you."

the worst thing that i ever did, was what i did to you.

You also missed kissing him, and cuddling, and whispering sweet nothings, and holding hands under the table at dinner.

You might as well have dangled Connor's heart on a string in front of him then decided to stomp on it. Friends. That would have to be how it was, he knew he couldn't have none of you, and some of you would always be better than none of you.

"That'd be really good."

You both smiled, although in your minds you both wanted more, you were too scared to say it. You stood up, Connor right after. You just looked at him close up for the first time in a while and sighed happily. You hugged him without caution, arms around his waist and face in his chest. His came around your shoulders, squeezing tightly if only for a few seconds before you let go of what had to be a friendly hug.

You both walked downstairs, Connor opening the front door and stepping onto your porch.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Connie."

"Yeah, okay."

You shut the door with a smile, immediately freaking out as Connor did the same on the other side. You had no desire to be only friends with Connor, but it was the safest route to having him in your life without getting hurt.

i was walkin' home on broken cobblestones.

Connor sat in his car, staring through the windshield. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. He finally had his favorite girl back in his life, but not the way he wanted. That would have to be enough though, some of you would always be better than none of you.

He snapped back into it when he realized he'd been parked outside your house for multiple minutes and drove off. He went home and then later to hockey practice, and you never left his mind.

just thinkin' of you when she pulled up, like a figment of my worst intentions.

The next day at school you smiled at Connor in the hallway. He was teased for the rest of the day by his friends at the blush he possessed after it happened.

For the next month or so, you two danced around each other. You talked often and hung out together in group settings. At school, you'd talk and laugh, all of your friends demanding they could tell you were still in love. The both of you would insist that you were now just friends and happy about it, even though both of you were yearning to be so much more than that.

she said, "james get in, let's drive." those days turned into nights. slept next to her,

Your birthday was approaching, your 18th. You insisted you wanted something small, a dinner party with your favorite people. You'd invited over a dozen of your friends, receiving RSVPs of yes from all of them. There was still one more blonde boy you wanted to ask, though.

When the final bell rang, you ran out of school like every other teen with a car. Instead of going to yours, you found yourself walking up to Connor's black jeep, one you were oh so familiar with. He was on his phone but noticed you immediately as you were walking up.

He rolled his window down, a grin gracing his face.

"Hey, what's up?"

You lent your elbow against the window sill, resting your cheek against your hand.

"So, my birthday's on Saturday, and I'd really like if you came. It's just a small dinner party at my house, nothing crazy. You might be the only guy attending but I'd love if you could make it. I totally get if you can't though, it's a bit short notice."

Connor's eyebrows raised in shock. You wanted him at your birthday? This felt more intimate between the two of you than any other moment in the past couple weeks. Connor wasn't gonna let you down like he had at prom.

"I'll be there. Can't wait."

Connor wished he didn't love how your eyes instantly brightened, the corners crinkling to match the grin on your face.

"Great, awesome. I'll see you there Connie."

You brushed your hand over his shoulder as you said bye and turned to trek to your parking spot.

"Yeah, bye. I lo-"

I love you. Connor cut himself off before he could say he loved you. Holy shit, why did he almost say he loved you? He prayed you couldn't hear it, the way you kept walking didn't make it look like you did, but he couldn't see your face.

Your jaw dropped, hearing the first two syllables out of his mouth before he caught himself. Oh my God, Connor almost just told you he loved you. You kept on to your car, waiting until you were alone to freak out. Of course, you'd said it all the time while dating, but he hadn't told you that in months, you assumed he didn't feel that way about you anymore.

Connor had told you he couldn't wait for your party, and it was the truth. He had never been a patient boy, and waiting to see you all day on Saturday had him fidgety. He was wearing jeans and a navy Ralph Lauren quarter-zip, a white t-shirt peeking out from the unzipped section. He was wearing his cleanest sneakers and held a small gift bag in one hand, flowers in the other.

betty, i'm here on your doorstep. and, I planned it out for weeks.

He knocked on your door at 7:02, having been sitting in his car outside your house since 6:57, telling himself he could do this. You opened the door quickly, a gorgeous smile on your face. Your eyes widened when you saw what was in Connor's hands, wrapping your arms around his neck in what was too close to be a friendly hug. He wrapped his arms around you, careful to not dishevel the flowers.

"Hey, Connor. Thanks for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it. Happy birthday."

You pulled away after what felt like not long enough, leading Connor inside. He handed you the flowers, a moment of tension between you. Your mother greeted him, hugging him and taking the flowers from you to put in a vase.

Connor was first to arrive, followed shortly by your best friend, who silently made fun of you for how flustered you were. Everyone was in your house by 7:18, and you talked and mingled until around 8 when you decided it was time to eat. You sat next to Connor at your big dining table, earning a few teasing looks from your girl friends.

Dinner lasted a while, everyone talking and laughing. A little over an hour passed by before your mom came through the entrance of the room, holding a stand with a cake, 18 golden candles stuck in the pink and white frosting. Everyone sang as you awkwardly laughed. You closed your eyes and wished for Connor, he was all you could think of. You blew your candles out and everyone cheered, clapping and laughing.

You hung out for a while with everyone, another hour and a half passing before people's curfews started falling. Of course, Connor was the last person there, he'd always been the last one there when everyone else had gone.

but, it's finally sinkin' in.

You two sat on the couch, still awfully close even though everyone else was gone.

"You gonna open your gifts?"

You turned and looked at the small pile of boxes and bags, shrugging.

"My mom always said it was rude to open gifts in front of my guests."

"Am I just a guest to you?"

You laughed, shaking your head. You stood and grabbed all the gifts, laying them on your coffee table before you began opening things. Every gift was thoughtful and sweet, you left things in specific piles so you knew what to thank people for later. Connor's gift was last, and his stomach twisted when you grabbed the bag.

betty, right now is the last time, i can dream about what happens when, you see my face again.

Shit, this was when he was gonna tell you everything. You pulled at the neatly placed tissue paper, you could tell Mrs. Bedard had helped Connor out. The first piece came out and you saw the envelope sitting on the side of the bag. You grabbed it and Connor gently grabbed your wrist.

the only thing i wanna do,

"Can you read it after? I wanna see your reaction before."

"Okay."

Your eyebrows scrunched, but you didn't think too much of it. You pulled out the next piece of tissue paper and your jaw dropped. A small teal box sat wrapped in a bow. The color was unmistakable, the bow too. You looked up at Connor with wide eyes, already feeling tears prick your waterline.

"Connor you didn't."

is make it up to you.

"You don't even know what I did. Look at it."

You grabbed the box, pulling it out and gently untying the bow. You slip the lid off the box, your assumption proved correct, a beautiful white gold necklace lying pretty and perfect in the box. Two heart-shaped white gold pendants hung down, shiny and polished to perfection. Your eyes watered, no one had ever done something so kind for you.

"Connor, I can't even accept this. 'S too much."

"Well I'm not gonna wear it, and I'm not returning it either."

You lightly examined the necklace, light reflecting on the second heart causing something to catch your eye. You held the box closer to your face, squinting for just a second before your eyes widened. There was a small 98 engraved in the heart, your jaw dropping slightly.

so i showed up at your party. yeah, i showed up at your party.

"I've had it since June. I'd tried to order it for our two years but it took forever to ship."

You couldn't help but set the small box down and throw your arms around Connor, a huff of surprise leaving him at the impact. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing tightly.

"I love it, I love you."

You took a leap of faith as you pulled back just slightly and kissed your ex-boyfriend. His arms around you tightened, kissing back immediately. Your hands held his face as you kissed fervently. You were practically pulled into Connor's lap by the time you pulled away to catch your breath, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Connor grinned, extremely happy his girl was back in his arms.

yeah, i showed up at your party.

"I love you."

You giggled and leaned your forehead against his shoulder, still taking in what had just happened.

"Missed you so much."

You turned your head and left a kiss on his neck in response, your boy was back in your arms.

"Missed you more. You don't even know."

"I do know, all summer fuckin' sucked."

"Yeah! And your ass had dating rumors two weeks after we 'broke up'!"

"The key word there is rumors."

You both laughed, Connor kissing you again. You both smiled and giggled into the kiss, tingles running through your bodies.

"Hey, sweetheart! Did everyone leave?"

Your mom had gone upstairs to bed after cake, you thought she'd be asleep by now. You shushed Connor's giggling, pushing yourself off his lap and pulling him up with you.

will you have me?

"Almost mom! Connor's still here, he's leaving soon!"

"Alright, well goodnight you two!"

You both called goodnight to her, turning and smiling at each other.

"I guess that was you demanding I leave."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and pecking him a few times.

"Shut up! If I had only said that you were still here she'd probably be down here in her pajamas making sure we aren't getting at it on my couch."

Connor just laughed, kissing you again. You two sat back down and just sat together for a while. You both had missed just existing together so much. It was nearing midnight when Connor told you he had to go.

"I have practice at like 6 tomorrow."

"Connor! You're only gonna get like five hours of sleep. Go home."

He stood up, pulling you with him. You walked him out, very quietly opening the front door. Connor's arms wrapped around you again as you stood on the front porch of your home. You laid your head in the curve of his neck with your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You stood in silence for a few moments, before you interrupted the quiet.

"You know what I wished for?"

"No. What'd you wish for?"

"You."

will you kiss me on the porch, in front of all your stupid friends?

He grinned, kissing you sweetly. He held your face as your hands gripped at his quarter-zip. After a few moments, you pulled away, giggly and drunk in love. You didn't know but your Ring Doorbell was catching the whole thing on camera.

You two stood on your porch talking until ten after midnight when you cursed at yourself and insisted Connor needed to go get some rest.

"Walk me to my car?"

"Fine, princess."

if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it?

He failed to fight his laughter as he told you to shut up. You held hands as you walked down your driveway, Connor's jeep parked on the side of the road.

Connor leaned you back against the driver's door and kissed you real good. You almost forgot it was nearing 12:20 am and you were in the middle of your street making out with your technically still ex-boyfriend.

will it patch your broken wings? i'm only seventeen, i don't know anything. but i know i miss you.

You snapped back to reality and pulled away from Connor.

"You need to stop kissing me while I'm trying to get you to go home."

He climbed into his jeep, rolling down the window and leaning his arms against the window frame. As much as you wanted him to go home and get some sleep, you also loved and missed him too much to give up this moment.

"You love it, though."

standin' in your cardigan.

You rolled your eyes and sighed playfully, tilting your head and giving him a smile.

"Might be a crazy question but are we together now?"

"We were never broken up in my mind."

"Cut the poetic shit Bedard. Am I your girlfriend or not?"

He laughed, that was his girl.

"You wanna be?"

You gave him a legitimate eye roll that time, he just laughed again.

"Yes, you're my girlfriend and I'm your boyfriend."

"Perfect, awesome. Have an amazing night. I will text you tomorrow morning whenever I wake up. Which is not gonna be around 5:30 like you."

He groaned thinking of morning practice but was back to smiling at you in less than a moment. You leaned forward, kissing him one more time.

kissin' in my car again. stopped at a streetlight.

You pulled back with a sleepy smile, your whole heart content.

"I love you, Connor."

"I love you."

“Drive safe.”

Connor watched you all the way up the driveway and into your house, waiting a few extra seconds for you to lock the door before he sped home.

Once you closed and locked the door, you were smiling and giggling to yourself. You put on your new necklace and cleaned up from your party.

The two of you slept soundly, you knowing you finally had your person back, and wouldn't lose him again anytime soon. Connor would've been okay with 20 minutes of sleep if that's how long you kept him. His girl was finally his again, and he wasn't going to lose her again.

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hockeyboysiguess · 5 years ago

Text

peace | t. seguin

a/n: had this idea for a hot minute. finally felt like writing it out!

wine pairing: a port wine, pretty much as sweet as wine gets.

warnings: cavity causing sweetness. some swearing.

word count: 2.8K

Tyler Seguin had taken a while to grow up, longer than some people wanted, longer than even Tyler himself had wanted at some points. Some people had lost faith he ever would, even some of the people closest to him. It made him cautious and caused him to retreat further into his comfortable shell of youth and false innocence. It prevented him from becoming the person he was always meant to be. Youth and the mistakes that come along with it weren’t forever and he had always know that. But it was easy. Continuing down a straight, defined path was easier than taking one that branched off into the surrounding mist with no idea what the end would look like, even if the path he was on would end in a brick wall he’d seen coming since he’d started on it.

Until you.

Meeting you for the first time was one of Tyler’s foggiest memories. He had been absolutely trashed, falling all over himself at a bar. You had been there with a few friends, celebrating something that good that had happened at work, a good presentation, a new client, a promotion, Tyler couldn’t remember for the life of him. Tyler had tried to be smooth and offered to buy you a drink, but the interaction instead ended up with you flagging down a bartender to get him a glass of water and slyly confiscating the whiskey sour from him when he was too lost in the effort of trying to impress you to notice. You got two cups of water in him before he had even noticed. To be fair, Tyler hadn’t noticed much of anything that night, just that you were beautiful and that he had liked your smile from across the bar.

Somehow, someway, you had given him your number before he left under the guise of letting you know when he got home safely. It wasn’t a guise on your part, but Tyler had used it as an opportunity to ask you out to brunch, the most innocent sounding of dates, as a way to say thank you for taking care of him. By some grace from something Tyler wasn’t even sure he fully believed in, you had agreed to brunch. He was all but convinced you were going to stand him up, realizing that he was just the mess you’d seen that one night, and that you could definitely do better than him. But you were there when he arrived, put together and so good, so much better than him. You were still there really, since Tyler had shown up fifteen minutes late.

He didn’t know why, considering you were probably the most beautiful person he had ever been allowed in twenty feet of, but you laughed, you smiled, you enjoyed his company. You told him you did. You were blunt, strong in your beliefs in the face of any test. In all the time Tyler had known you, beginning with your choice to show up on the date even though he was certain everyone in your life who looked out for you told you not to go, you never wavered from your convictions, not even for a second. Your feet were firmly planted in your viewpoints, roots wrapping around each one to hold you in place, strong enough to weather any storm.

You showed up for a second date, then the third, then Jamie’s birthday party, then to dinner with his mom and sisters. You kept showing up, even as Tyler held his breath, waiting for you to realize that he was so flawed compared to you. You were a future masterpiece and Tyler was at best a work in progress, but it was already so obvious that while you deserved to be hung in a prominent spot in the Louvre when you were finished, Tyler’s top showing might be an abstract college art gallery in a hidden New York alley. But god, did he love getting to be the person who got to stand next to you, seeing each brush stroke of the life you were building in motion. You were the most impressive person he had ever met and you continued to be, every layer of paint containing something else that astounded him and made him feel inferior, like he was tarnishing, borderline ruining, the masterpiece that was you by putting his hands in the wet paint of your life. You swore to him he was only making you better.

He didn’t know how that was possible, but he trusted your words. Your integrity ran too deep in the foundations of who you were to lie to him. With every addition to your life, your integrity ran through it. You knew exactly the person you wanted to be and you would drag yourself there kicking and screaming if that’s what it took. The depth of your integrity was the thing that made Tyler most terrified, because he barely had any idea of who he was before he met you. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a hurricane that made up his life and he was a sapling among the winds, green and flexible, but with swallow roots, barely sunk in, constantly in danger of being lifted from the soil at the words of shitty friends and strangers on the internet. You were solid, firm, sunk deep into the soil next to him and thank god for that. Tyler wasn’t great at a lot of things when he met you, but he knew he had to hold onto you. If holding onto you was the only thing he ever did right, it would be more than enough.

Except Tyler felt guilty for doing it, because while Tyler matured with you, his roots growing deeper along with his convictions, he still felt small standing next to you. Sometimes when he got to do his childhood dream of a job, a grown man playing a little kid’s sport, talking shit on the ice, in interviews, in the locker room, he felt like he was wasting the good person you were, like he was wasting your integrity and honor with his own actions. He could give you adventures, fulfill your wildest dreams. He could give you the family you always wanted. He could hold your hand through the worst storms, help you fight off the potential robbers of your happiness. But the storm would always come and the robbers would always be on your doorstep because Tyler was the one pulling them in. His job brought attention, resulting in a chaotic version of your life that you never envisioned for yourself. He could never stop it, only stand next to you as you stood tall in the storm.

Standing there, with the sun slowly setting behind him, barring down on his neck, his suit felt heavy on his shoulders, but not as heavy as the velvet box in his hands. He’d had it for over a month now. Designing the contents had been easy, arguably fun even for Tyler who had thought it would be like a root canal, but the second the jeweler had handed him the finished product, the doubt started forming, dragging his mind down. Before he held the ring, he felt like he had been floating on the best memories of your relationship, giving him confidence that you would say yes. Those cherished memories kept his mind afloat, far enough away from potential pitfalls to move forward with creating this symbol of your relationship in his hands. But without warning, he was in mental quicksand made up of past fights, the negative outside opinions he has always pushed aside and hoped you did to, and past versions of himself he didn’t like as much, and he felt like he couldn’t get his head above water long enough to find any possible reason you might say yes instead of no.

But here he was, unable to handle the doubt anymore, velvet box in hand, ready to ask you to marry him because the only way he couldn’t doubt your answer was if he knew it. Tyler bounced on his heels, his new dress shoes creasing with his movements. Why had he gotten new shoes for this? Didn’t he have enough dress shoes? That’s what you asked him when he’d brought them home a week ago, after he finally realized he was going to feel like he was drowning until he asked you. He had waved you off, saying he didn’t have a pair this particular shade, which was a lie. They were black. Shades were a little irrelevant in the realm of black dress shoes. He didn’t know exactly why he had bought them, or why they helped bring him to this point, the park where you’d walked together after your second date, but they had and because of that, he didn’t regret buying yet another pair of black dress shoes.

He checked his watch again for easily the twentieth time in a tenth of those minutes. You would be walking down the path any moment and this would be real. This was the last moment that Tyler could live in limbo, the last moment of carrying the doubt that was hanging so heavy on his mind, but also the last moment he wouldn’t know if your answer was no. God, what would he do if you said no? He didn’t have a plan for that, for what it would feel like to watch his entire future go blank in one moment, for what it would feel like for his heart to come out of his chest through his throat only to have it tossed aside like yesterday’s newspaper. Tyler shook his head softly and turned the box over in his hands again.

He heard your laugh before you came around the bend and it made him smile. It made him remember exactly why he had started this horrible journey to this moment in the first place; he couldn’t imagine his life without that laugh, without your hair ties scattered across his house, without you standing at the front door every single time he came home from a road trip, no matter the time. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat when you came into view. You looked beautiful every day, but that was his favorite dress, the one from your fourth date, and you were wearing the heels he had bought you for the first birthday of yours he spent with you. As you came closer, he saw the earrings from Christmas this past year and the necklace that matched them that he followed up with for your anniversary a few months ago. There were touches of how he touched your life all over you and it made him feel, for a second, like maybe you might just say yes.

“Tyler,” you smiled at him softly and he had to let out a long, strained breath to try to get his head on straight, “what is all of this? Jamie didn’t tell me anything.”

“Yeah, I told him not to,” Tyler laughed a little, trying to expel some of his nerves in his laughter.

“What’s going on, Ty?” you pressed again, taking in the flowers, the candles, and Tyler’s suit, which at least made you feel less like the only person overdressed for a walk in the park.

Tyler didn’t answer with his words. He let his eyes find yours and he thought about how central the woman behind them had become to his entire life. He didn’t have a speech planned. He knew he would have forgotten it anyway. He slowly dropped down onto his right knee and just let the words tumble out of his mouth, just trying to keep the pace somewhere near where you could possibly understand.

“When I met you, I was someone else. I was a guy who never showed up anywhere on time. I hated mornings and responsibility. I didn’t know who I really wanted to be, let alone how to get there. I didn’t really believe in much of anything, least of all myself,” Tyler started, “but you changed all of that, just by being there. You showed up in my life and didn’t try and change a single thing about me. You showed up and I realized I wanted to be better. You were the catalyst. You started this chain reaction of change that made me realize the person I wanted to be was the person who deserved someone like you.”

Your hands were covering your mouth as the tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn’t speak so thank god you didn’t have to. You just needed to listen, so you did.

“I’m still not some perfect guy. I’m a work in progress and I know that. I’m not a hundred percent sure of who I’m going to be, but I know I’m ready to be the best husband to you. You’re the person that I tell everything to, my wildest dreams, my fears, my ups, my downs, my lefts, my rights, but you’re also the only person I can sit in silence with and feel comfortable doing it because I don’t feel alone in silence if you’re sitting next to me in it too,” Tyler continued.

“I see your brother as my brother, your family as my family. God, I want to create a new family with you so badly, give you that child I know you’ve wanted your entire life. I want to keep you warm during the cold nights. I want to make sure your head stays above water when the blues come in waves. I want to love you in a way that’s only meant for the two of us to ever understand. I want to be your husband. I want to be your husband more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Tyler cleared his throat. The tears falling down your face were mirrored in his eyes now, threatening to spill over. He couldn’t talk if he cried, so he looked up toward the sky, willing the tears to let him finish first.

“But baby, I can’t ever give you peace. I can give you all of me, my absolute best foot forward every single day, but I can’t give you peace. I can’t give you the quiet, calm life that you deserve.” His voice was cracking and breaking every other word, the pain he felt behind the words hanging onto each syllable unyieldingly. “There’s always going to be people talking shit, saying terrible things about you, about us. We’re always going to have to live behind high walls with narrow gates. The storm is always going to come for you if you’re standing with me and that kills me, because you deserve to feel safe and secure and at peace in your life.”

Tyler wiped his eyes with the back of his hand slowly, letting out a deep, shaky breath as he tried to pull himself back to a place where he could actually ask you what he came here to ask you. He didn’t think it would be this damn hard. He might have tried to practice otherwise.

“Is it enough?” Tyler asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would I be enough, even if I can never give you peace? Is my love good enough to overcome that for the rest of your life? I hope so, because I’m asking if it’s enough. I’m asking you, if everything I can offer you is enough to overcome all of that. If it can, let me be your coparent. Let me be your partner. Let me be your husband.”

Tyler opened the velvet box he swore weighed a ton right now and you gasped behind your closed mouth. His mind was too foggy and too anxious to try to figure out if your reaction was positive or negative at this point.

“Will you marry me?”

The words, the four words that had felt like a shackle on his mind for months now, finally came out of his mouth. The doubt was gone. There was no reason for it anymore. Your answer would be what it was and there was nothing Tyler could do or say to change your mind now. Nothing he said in this moment would. If you wanted to marry him, you would’ve decided you did long before you showed up here today. Your answer was fixed long before Tyler’s speech and he knew that now.

Tyler watched you with anxious eyes, taking in the tears sliding down your face, your hands shaking over your mouth. He watched as you slowly took your hands away from your mouth. Your lower lip was quivering not unlike your hands as you slowly fanned your face in an effort to calm your reddened checks and put a dam on the tears that were still flowing. Even if he hadn’t said a word other than those last four tonight, you already knew your answer.

“Yes, Tyler. Yes.”

You offered your hand out, watching as his shaking hands clumsily collided with your to slide the ring onto your left hand. Tyler’s arms around you and his mouth on yours happened in a blurb and you melted into his strong chest. Your fiancé. Your future husband.

Tyler was wrong though. He thought he would create endless noise in the background and foreground of your life, robbing you of the ability to live a good, quiet life. But Tyler gave you all of the peace you could ever want in moments like this, where the entire rest of the world drowned out by his warmth and his love, when you were pressed against his chest.

This was peace and it was more than good enough. It was everything you had ever hoped for.

#Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin fanfic #tyler seguin fanfiction #tyler seguin imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine #folklore writing series

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broadstbroskis · 4 years ago

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our love lasts so long | william nylander

a/n: oh hello!! am i here with yet another childhood friends to lovers fic?? why yes, yes i am. one (mildly) based on a taylor swift song, as the title would suggest (seven, a underrated folklore BOP)? yes again. the biggest of shoutouts to anyone who let me talk about this over the past few days but especially to @brockadoodles who listened to many many things and to @danglesnipecelly for reminding me about my childhood friends to lovers brand

word count: 7k

-----

The girls are being mean to her.

They’re older than her, a lot older than her, like already in grade school, and they all have friends here already, because they’ve all been here for a while. Noah frowns. It’s not her fault her daddy just got sent here. Florida’s too hot anyway; she still doesn’t understand how this ice rink even stays cold!

She shuffles her feet along. The Christmas songs are loud and there are a lot of people here but Daddy promised he’d take her around really fast after he finished working on shooting the puck with Jake. She just has to be super patient-she thinks that’s the thing Mommy always tells her to be-while she waits and then Daddy will play with her and those stupid girls won’t even matter.

(And yes she can use that word; she just can’t tell Mommy.)

The ice feels funny, not like she’s used to back at home in Canada, but before Noah can start to look for her Mommy to ask her, someone crashes into her and they both end up on the ice.

The boy who flew into her isn’t crying so Noah sucks her lip between her teeth and fights back her tears. “Hey!” He whines over to someone and then says something she can’t understand.

“Hey!” She whines and shoves him. “You’re s’pposed to say sorry when when you hit somebody!”

“I know!” His eyes widen. The blue is a pretty blue; it’s like the ice and Noah likes it. “My sister pushed me first though.”

“Oh.” Noah says. Jake is always pushing her around and he never gets in trouble for it. It’s not fair. “Well she should say sorry to you then.”

The boy nods in agreement, his blond hair flopping everywhere. “Yeah but she’s older so she thinks she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Noah scowls. “So does Jake.”

The boy’s face lights up. “Well then we should be friends and we could fight them together!”

Someone else who’s going to help stop Jake from shooting pucks at her? Deal. “Okay.” Noah grins. “I’m Noah.”

He smiles back. “William.”

-----

Willy’s at practice when he hears about the trade, the one that’s bringing Barrett Evans to the Blackhawks, and he hears it mostly because the boys think it means Jake Evans is going to join their team.

Willy’s playing a couple years up here, and there’s an argument going on during practice about if Jake’s doing the same; if he’ll join their team, how soon he’ll be able to get there if he is. That they’re more excited about the potential of Jake Evans joining this team than any discussion of his dad joining the actual Blackhawks is one of the reasons Willy likes this team so much. They’re all chill; no one cares what his dad does or where he plays.

He’s just another one of the boys.

In about a week they find out Jake is joining their team, his mom quickly setting up a carpool to the rink with Willy’s, who is more than eager to agree, with the new baby taking up (in Willy’s opinion) too much space and time.

(What’d they need another sister for? Wasn’t two enough?)

Jake comes with two sisters of his own, another baby just like Willy’s sister, and then, even better, a dark haired girl that Willy only remembers from pictures and dreams, but a face that he recognizes instantly.

“Hey.” He taps the glass in front of where she’s sitting at his practice, writing something- probably homework. He’s supposed to do his in the car on the way to practice, Mum says so, but he never does, because he hates doing it, and like really, what’s the point if he’s going to be a famous NHL player anyway?

Noah looks up, a little annoyed, but then her face breaks out into a smile when she sees it’s him. “William!”

“Willy.” He corrects.

She pulls a face. “Ew, like a wet willy?”

“No,” He laughs. “Like my name!”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” It’s what everyone calls him.

Noah’s still frowning at him. “Yes it is, Will.”

“No dumber than the ark you’re named after.” He counters. If she’s going to be like that, he can play too.

“At least I get cool animals on mine.” Noah huffs and then turns away from him, like she’s mad.

“No hockey on it though.” Willy says and she turns back to him just to roll her eyes at him. “Not really worth it then, yeah?”

“You’re the worst.” Noah says, but she’s back to facing him and smiling again, showing off a couple missing teeth. “Don’t you do anything else?” He shakes his head, grinning. “That’s gonna change because I’m not playing hockey with you all the time.”

“Well I’m not playing dolls with you all the time.” Will says quickly. He has to do that enough with his sisters; he’s not doing anymore of it.

She rolls her eyes. “Stupid boys.” She mutters and goes back to her work.

“What does that mean?” Willy demands but before he can get an answer, his coach is calling them all back to practice and his break is done. He’s just going to have to bug her at the game tonight.

(He does bug her at the game that night, but she annoys him right back, and by the second period, they’re laughing and grinning, friends once again).

-----

“Ok, but did you lose Alex or just like, misplace him?” Noah looks around her, searching for a head of blond hair in the crowd of people rushing around them in the mall.

“What’s the difference?” Will hisses, using her shoulder to stand on his toes, head turning as he searches for his brother.

“Like, are you actually asking because of a two language thing or are you just being a jerk because we lost your brother?”

Will glares over at him and drops down flat on his feet again, swearing as he does. “Mum’s doing to kill me.”

“Why?” Alex asks, reappearing suddenly with a soft pretzel in hand, and Noah screams, throwing her arms around him. “What happened?”

“We hate you.” Will says and Noah nods in agreement. “That’s what.”

“What’d I do?” Alex protests.

“Disappeared!” Noah cries. “With no warning.

“I told Will I was going to get a pretzel.” He defends. “He can’t listen and that’s my fault?”

Will reaches out like he’s going to pull his brother into a headlock-or worse, Noah’s not going to risk the two of them going at it like they do in their basement here in public-so she reaches out and grabs his hand, intercepting him before he can even make it to just ruffle his hair, or something. “Come on, Alex.” She teases, even as Will drops his jaw at her for stopping him. “We both know Will hears what he wants to hear.”

Alex laughs, looking as pleased as she knew he would, but Will’s jaw remains dropped. “Screw you” Will says, and because she’s still holding his one hand to keep it from going for his brother, she’s defenseless against the finger he pokes into her most ticklish spot.

“Stop!” She squirms away, or tries to- he won’t let go of her hand. “Will! Let go!”

He stops poking her side, but squeezes her hand and grins. “Nope, you chose this; now you’re stuck with me.”

“Your hand is sticky!” She whines.

“I was testing tape.” Will grins, swinging their hands widely. “Now yours can be sticky too.”

Noah looks down at their hands, joined and still swinging wherever Will moves them. She hopes that’s all that’s on them but you never know with the DC Metro.

-----

There’s a girl giggling behind him.

Willy turns and she stops, but as soon as he turns back, she’s giggling again and this time, so is her friend.

He tugs at the blazer of his uniform, looking down at his shirt. Is his tie done funny? He’d gotten called out for that last week. But it looks fine, just like everyone else’s did earlier. He pulls out his phone. Hurry up. He sends Noah, watching the dots appear on his screen, like she’s texting back, but then she appears, right in front of him. “Finally.” He grabs her and tugs her away from this school, those girls, even more of them giggling at him.

Willy wipes at his face. Maybe there’s something on it? But nothing comes off on his hand and he frowns harder.

Noah’s biting her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh, and it only works for so long. “She has a crush on you, dummy.”

“Oh.” Willy says blankly, trying to sneak a look back at the first girl.

“Oh,” Noah parrots. “Honest to god, Will, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” He forgets all about the girl, in favor of knocking his shoulders against hers-not hard enough to send her falling into the dirty snow of this New York suburb, but hard enough to make her laugh. “I’m athletic too!”

Noah bursts into laughter, this loud thing that’s bright and contagious and only serves to make Willy join in with her- not that he’s trying hard to stop himself. He’s always laughing when she is. “Sure bud,” She pats his arm. “You tell yourself that.”

-----

“Iced tea.” Noah hands a cup over to Will and then slides down so she’s sitting next to him, dangling her feet in the pool. It’s really too cold to go in, but that hasn’t stopped Will, who’s been swimming all afternoon on and off- and it hasn’t stopped him from pulling her in with him.

“How much sugar?” Will asks demandingly, as she rolls her eyes, like he’s not already taking a sip.

She’d normally answer with a snarky comment, just because he deserves it. But the nostalgia’s setting in; it’s been hitting her at random moments all week, and she’s inclined to just be nice to him, leaning against him as she says, “Come on, like I don’t know how you like your iced tea by now.”

Will sighs dramatically, taking her weight and pressing back against her. “Guess I’m going to have to make my own coffee now too, huh?”

“Two creams, one sugar.” Noah reminds him gently and he laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow, not at all like the honk that usually sends her into fits of giggles right along with him. It’s quiet after he stops, the only sound the pool filter a few feet away and the crickets just starting to chirp, and she hates the silence. In all their years of friendship, they’ve never been quiet people, never had to do an awkward dance while they figured out who they were each time they met. They fell right back into easy friendship, laughing and giggling, dragging each other into their favorite things and places, until one of them was leaving.

It feels different this time. “Are you really leaving?” There’d never been a doubt in her mind when her dad left DC that she’d see Will again. Maybe not for a few months, maybe not for a few years, but the day would come.

“For now.” Will shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“It’s Sweden.” Noah says quietly. She doesn’t have that same feeling this time. Sweden’s their home. Why would they leave?

“It’s hockey.” Will says, like hockey, Sweden, and home- they’re all interchangeable.

And maybe they are; hockey- the people Noah meets because of her dad’s team, the friends she’s made, Will, his family- hockey, as a concept, has been more of a home to her than any of the houses she’s known, than these temporary places she embraces every two years or so.

But she’s been around long enough to know what comes after hockey and it’s the only thing that changes home. The offseason home becomes the main home. Dads start picking up carpool duties and volunteer coaching positions. The spotlight shifts to the kids and their dreams.

It’s hockey and it’s Sweden and it’s home and whether they’re all different or the same, Noah knows this is the last time she’ll be seeing Will.

-----

Willy has minimal complaints about being a rookie, even if Reemer and Naz think he should have more.

He’s, like, the definition of living the dream. He’s got a sweet apartment that he shares with one of his best friends. He’s on a dream line with two more of his best friends and they’re absolutely tearing it up.

His team’s incredible, even if they’re a bunch of assholes sometimes (Willy is too sometimes, he admits), but they’re fun and they’re funny and they like to let loose and have a good time, for as often as they’re really fucking serious about the goal they’re all there for.

Like today. Practice had been brutal and then there’d been a lift before a video session, but there’s nothing on the schedule for tomorrow so there hadn’t even been a question of if they were going out that night. Suggestions for where had been tossed out the second practice ended.

It’s a good night, things are going well and drinks are flowing (as they should be) and then Matts rolls back to the table, weirdly dejected after coming back from the bar trying to talk up a pretty girl, and he takes his chirps with as much grace as the worst loser Willy’s ever met can, but Willy looks over and he knows that girl. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere, even if her hair is longer and maybe darker? So he gets up, even as Matts calls after him, “Fuck you Willy,” and the rest of the boys laugh.

He leans his weight against Noah, laughing at the look on her face when she realizes it’s him. The annoyance leaves her face pretty quickly and a smile slides right in its place, like she’s waiting for him. “Matts is pretty annoyed you turned him down.” He teases, bypassing hello altogether.

“Yeah well,” She huffs and it’s like she’s trying for annoyed but Willy can see the smile that she’s hiding. “Matts needs to learn that just because he’s a big shot hockey player doesn’t mean every girl is going to drop into bed with him at the sound of his name and a free drink.”

“He’s a lot nicer than that.” Willy defends. “Usually. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because, well, Matts can be an asshole, but it’s not about bringing a girl home.

Noah looks at him skeptically. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never led you astray before .”

She bursts into laughter. “Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, even through the laughter.

Willy pokes her but it only makes her laugh harder. “Name one time.”

“Sledding in DC, winter skate in New York, ditching school to go to the mall that one time in Westchester, taking the train into-“

He covers her mouth. “I said name one.”

When he removes his hand, Noah’s grinning up at him, and suddenly he realizes what’s different. It’s not her hair (which is darker, he’s sure now that he’s up close), or her smile (still bright and laughing), or her eyes (bright and green and unforgettable). It’s the oh fuck running through his brain, because he’d definitely take her home.

-----

Falling back into friendship with Will is easy; it’s pretending Noah doesn’t want more that’s hard.

It’s always been easy to be friends with Will. She can’t remember a time when they didn’t click, when things felt weird or uncomfortable between them.

But that was before he started dragging her everywhere around Toronto- to the greatest restaurants she’s ever eaten at, to the Christmas Market, to breakfast on Thursday’s every week he’s in town because he knows that she doesn’t have class until the afternoon.

The flutter in her stomach is so unfamiliar, something so unassociated with Will, that it takes her a while to place it. And of course he’s doing something so normal, so innocuous, so casual, it shouldn’t even register on her radar. He’s buying coffee, for Christ’s sake!

But he’s remembering that she likes oat milk in her iced coffee, even though she hasn’t really actually told him that; it’s just the order she always gives when they go for breakfast. And he’s ordered her a size up from what she usually gets, without her even asking, just because she’d mentioned being up late last night with homework.

“Here!” Will chirps happily, passing her the cup grinning, and there’s that flutter again, deep in her stomach, and it’s that, that small gesture that means so much, just knowing that he’s looking at her enough to know that she needs this extra large iced coffee with oat milk without even being told, that tells her what this feeling is.

This is a crush.

“Thanks.” She’s gonna tamp this baby down and fast. Why is she even crushing on Will at all? It must be, like, the years they’ve spent apart; she’s been desensitized to him or something. Suddenly, his hair’s all beautiful and his eyes are pretty and shit. Unreal.

“You’re welcome,” Will smiles. “But I didn’t just get this for you just because you look exhausted.”

“Is this a bribe?” She demands.

Will laughs. “Kind of.” She side-eyes him until he caves. “We’re all going out this weekend after the game and the team wants to meet you.”

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “That’s it?”

“You were expecting worse?”

She nods. “Much.”

“Well, nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “Just gotta come hang out with me.”

“Ugh.” She complains. “Maybe that is worse.”

“I bought you that coffee. I’ll take it right back.” Will threatens.

“Never.” Noah cradles it close to her chest. “Not allowed.”

Will’s watching her, smiling, like he already knows she’s going to say yes, but he says anyway. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course, I’ll come.” It really wasn’t even a question. She would have come even if he hadn’t bribed her with the most amazing coffee she’s ever had to drink, but he sweetened the deal with that, so that’s how she finds herself slipping into the VIP section of a club on a Saturday night, eyes scanning to find him.

It’s not too hard to spot him and she soon finds herself sliding into a group of teammates and significant others, fighting back a laugh at the look on Auston Matthews’ face. “Hi!” She drapes herself over Will’s back, actually laughing at the look on his face and clinging tightly to make him work at pulling her off.

“God, you’re a pain.” He announces, finally tugging her around.

“Always.” Noah laughs, because this is easy, this is normal. Teasing Will just like always. “It’s what I strive to be, a thorn in your side.”

“You don’t have to try.” She miscalculated this gravely. He’s in the perfect position to dance his fingers into her most ticklish spots. “You just are.”

“Are you going to introduce us, Willy?” Someone asks dryly, one of the guys across from them. “Or just stand there pretending the two of you are in your own little world?”

Will’s cheeks flush-something unusual for him, he’s never embarrassed- but he says, “This is Noah.” Simply; like everyone should know who she is to him just from that alone, and it kind of seems like they do. A bunch of their faces light up and a few of them lean into each other and start whispering together. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he has said about her, what kind of talk he’s been talking, before he’s listing names off of everyone around them, like she’s going to remember all these people.

There’s immediate chatter from almost everyone around her; it’s as if each one of them have been dying to meet her for a different reason. “Willy’s kept pretty tight-lipped about you.” Connor-James-Matt?-She’s already forgotten every name Will’s told her- says, almost too casually. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“Before or after you turned Matts down?” Someone else adds eagerly, even as Auston groans, a little embarrassed.

Will’s fighting back a laugh next to her and she wants to kill him, honestly, she really does. But she settles for the next best thing, plastering her hand over his bicep, playing up a part that she isn’t. “Oh, you know. Fifteen years, on and off, right, babe?”

“Fif-what?” That’s Naz that’s narrowing his eyes at them; she’s pretty sure.

And now Will loses it, at either that, or the faces the rest of his teammates are making, and she pulls her hand away, laughing right with him. “What the fuck?” Tyler says flatly. “You really are just friends.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Will insists.

“He’s a terrible liar.” Noah says. “You’d know right away. His face gets all-”

“Nope.” Will pulls her away. “Think it’s time for a drink, don’t you?”

“Gets all what?” Someone calls. “All what?”

She winks over her shoulder; she’ll get back to him later.

Noah doesn’t get around to him until much later, dragged to the bar with Will and then out dancing where they’re joined by a few of his fellow rookies. There might be times when they all go out looking to pick up, but this clearly isn’t one, every one of them out doing each other in the most ridiculous ways (Mitch wins; Mitch wins every time).

She gets back to the table a while later, when she’s dying of thirst and Will’s gone to the bar for refills, but it’s been long enough that she’s kind of forgotten she’s somewhat on the hot seat in this group. No one pounces immediately, but two of them- Morgan and Jake- move away from the team’s argument about a podcast they’ve been listening to and slide closer to her.

“So what’s the tell?” Morgan asks and Noah frowns for a second until she remembers earlier, laughing and declining. “Fine, sure. I admire the loyalty, I guess.”

“It’s too easy for him to return the favor.” Noah laughs.

“Ok, so you’ve known Willy,” Jake says slowly, like he’s trying to calculate in real time. “For 15 years now?”

Noah nods. “Since we were four. Our dads got traded to the same hockey team and,” She shrugs. “Then again, and again, and again.”

Morgan kind of lights up, like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “What exactly was Willy like as a kid? Like has he always slept this much on any flat surface available? Or is that a weird thing he picked up in Sweden?”

“Always.” She laughs and then shrugs again. “I don’t know, I think he’s a lot like he is now. I don’t-I don’t think much has changed.”

And before she can even say anything else, the man himself is slipping in beside her, carelessly throwing his arm over her shoulders and gluing himself to her side. “Don’t talk to them.” Will demands. “They won’t have anything nice to say about me.”

“Rude.” Jake throws a wrapper at him, and it tangles in his hair but Will just shakes it out.

“Actually they’re asking me about you.” She tells him and he gasps dramatically.

“Don’t talk to them.” He demands again and she laughs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you ruining my image.”

“What image, pretty boy?” Morgan drawls, and Noah just laughs as Will retaliates by throwing the straw wrapper back at him but he doesn’t leave her side after that, remaining a comfortable weight pressed against her for the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t hate it. Stupid crush.

-----

“Happy Birthday.” Willy slides the gift across the counter but Noah doesn’t even reach for it, still looking down at the textbook she’s highlighting. She’s new-semester stressed still, the kind of stressed where her hair is constantly up in that bun for a few weeks and the bags never seem to leave her eyes. He can’t wait for another week or so, when she’ll finally crash and sleep for like, two days, a break she’s in desperate need of.

“What is it?” She asks skeptically and like, sure, the wrap job’s a little sketch, but Willy did it himself, no help from Mum or sisters. She should be, like, proud of his job mediocrely done.

“Was I unclear?” He asks, and she gives him a look, reaching for it with an eye roll.

“My birthday was last month.” She reminds him. “You sent me flowers.”

Willy knows. The flowers had been a placeholder because he’d wanted to be with her when she opened her real gift, to see her reaction, watch the smile grow over her face when she sees what’s in the box. “That was never your whole gift.”

She smiles. “It could have been! It was just nice to know you were thinking of me.”

Willy stops just before he says something stupid, like that he’s always thinking of her. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they reunited last year and he probably won’t stop thinking about her, even after she finishes up with school and figures out her next step. It seems inevitable that fate will follow its same path they’ve travelled their entire lives, and they’ll end up crossing paths three times a year when Willy travels to whatever city she ends up in, knowing before they even meet for dinner that it’s not enough time, never enough time.

Instead he smiles and nods. “Come on, I’d never miss your birthday. Even if we have to celebrate late.”

Noah laughs. “Fair.” She says, finally reaching for the gift he’d laid out for her. And he knows what she’s going to find first, but that doesn’t change how nice it feels to know he nailed it when she opens the box of Swedish candies he’d brought back, a box of all her favorites. “Ohh!” She immediately pops one of her favorite chocolates into her mouth. “I don’t even care what the other thing is; this is amazing. Thank you!”

Willy laughs, kind of nervously. “At least look at it before you decide to stick it in a corner and never look at it again.”

She’s already pulling it out, peeling back the corners of the wrapping paper, and then looking up at him when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. He smiles encouragingly, feeling like he barely manages to get a full smile up before she’s opening, and then it stretches out fully in relief when she gasps. “Will.” She says finally, looking up at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

“Do you like it?” He asks hesitantly. He’d bought it on the spot the moment he saw it, the green of the peridot the exact shade of her eyes and her birthstone-or at least, it was, according to his sister. The necklace itself, a delicate chain dropping into a teardrop stone, this easy beauty that he couldn’t help associating with only her. It’d felt too perfect to pass up.

“I love it.” She says immediately. “This is-it’s-it’s perfect!” She gets out finally, and Willy breaks out into a smile, watching her lift the chain up to her neck. “Will you-” She breaks off, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Willy gets it now, stands up to step behind her and gently takes the ends of the necklace. “Yeah, of course.” Noah lifts her hair and for a moment all Willy can concentrate on is the whiff of peach he gets suddenly. He fumbles the clasp for a second before he finally gets his shit together. “Why does your shampoo smell so good?”

She laughs, letting her hair tumble down again- another burst of peach to his nose- and turns to face him. “I switched it this summer. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? Maybe it’s because he spends all his time in a locker room with 23 other dudes, but it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He feels weird, knows it’s so not friends to want to pull her into his arms, just so he can hold her close and breathe in that smell, so he just nods.

“Yeah.” Willy says and his eyes are immediately drawn to her smile, to her fingers dragging the teardrop along the chain, and he- he flickers his eyes back up before he can go any lower. “It’s nice.”

-----

“You ready yet?” Will picks up his wallet off his island, where Noah’s been sitting for the last hour trying to tweak her resume one last time before submitting it to another job interview. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“I’m going to kill you.” She says flatly. She’s only been calling that concern out to him since she walked in the door.

Will grins, throwing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close into his side. If they weren’t about to spend the entire summer apart, maybe she’d fight it more, afraid that she’s taking too much from him to satiate her more-than-just-a-crush. But Will’s pulling his stupid Sugo hat on his head with the hand that’s not squeezing her close, and he’s about to leave her for four months, fresh off the devastation of the Bruins loss, so she curls in, greedily taking anything she can from him. “Save some cap space,” He hums. “If you did.”

“Oh my god.” She shoves him away. She takes it back. She takes it all back. She feels absolutely nothing for him; he’s the worst human she’s ever met.

Will pulls her back in and his arm stays around her the entire walk down to his car, when he only removes it so they can pack his bags in and then slide in their seats. As soon as he starts it and gets on the road, he reaches over again, just resting his hand on her knee.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to let me drive your car all summer.” Noah says, so she doesn't say something she regrets instead, like I love you, or worse, something about his hands and where else he can put them.

Will glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road and Noah’s already grinning before he responds. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shifting in her seat to better face him seems like a good idea until she actually does it and it means that his hand just moves further up her leg. She has to stop herself from looking at it, his fingers on the skin of her thigh. “You’ll still have a car when you get back.”

“The same car?”

“Maybe with a dent or two in it.” Noah teases, mostly just to annoy him. It works; he flickers his eyes over toward her in a glare. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

“I’d totally get it fixed.” She continues, smiling when Will laughs. “Pristine condition. You’d never know.”

“Just how I want it.” He pulls up to departures and puts the car into park, so they can both step out; him to fly out and her to switch sides, meeting at the trunk. “Please don’t crash you or my car.” He says softly, pulling her into a hug.

“Please come back soon.” She counters, muttering the words into his chest.

It’s apparently not as quiet as she’d intended. “Wedding season.” He squeezes. “I’ll see you then.”

But that’s not what she meant at all. Noah doesn’t want him back for a weekend or two. She wants dry ink on a contract, locking him in to Toronto.

-----

When the start of the season comes around and Willy’s contract still hasn’t been signed, he can’t say he’s surprised to get a Snapchat from Noah, featuring her, Auston, and Mitch all pouting.

“Come on.” He frowns at her, when they’re facetiming later that day- well into the night for him, actually. “You know why I’m doing this.”

She pouts again, even though she’d been smiling only seconds before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t you be in a standoff with management from here?”

“Why can’t you come work from home from here?” Willy counters and she actually huffs at him, but changes the subject.

When his holdout continues to last though, she does, finally, agree to come work from home from his place in Sweden, at least for a little, and Willy has to physically stop himself from fistpumping in excitement. It’s been too many months of seeing just her pixelated face through facetime, of conversations broken up by timezones, and late night calls that make him want things he knows he can’t have.

It’s only a few days later but it feels like forever by the time that Noah is throwing herself into Willy’s arms the second that she exits the Stockholm Arlanda airport, and it’s only years of core stability training that don’t send them both flying to the ground.

“How’s my car?” He teases, because it’s been a lot longer than the four months he promised and he just wants to see her smile, in person, without a lag from their stupid iPhones.

It works. “1 door left.” She chirps easily. “Don’t worry, Auston’s helping me fix it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Willy says darkly, because it was really no secret Matts still thought she was gorgeous, even if Willy was sure he’d never actually do anything about it. Pretty sure. At least 50%.

Noah laughs. “You’re hilarious.” She pats his arm a few times and pulls away to get in the car, but he wants to know about what. About Matts? It’s a legit concern, he feels. Maybe he’ll just fire off a text to Matts, just to be sure. “Will?” Noah’s leaning out of the passenger side. “Are we leaving or are we going to spend my whole trip here at the airport?”

“What if we are?” Willy shoots back, but he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“If it meant that you were coming home?” Noah gives him a small smile. “I don’t think I’d even be mad.”

Willy gives her a tight smile. “Not yet.”

“Is it-” Noah makes a noise and then continues anyway. “Are you going to come home?”

“I want to.” She knows this; they don’t talk about his contract situation often, but they do, occasionally. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” She says softly. “I just-it’s getting close, yeah?”

Yeah, it was. The deadline was creeping closer and closer, with still no deal. He didn’t...love that, he’d say that for sure. He wanted to be back with the boys, playing; was ready to be back with Noah, for any time she’d give him. “Yeah.” He says, and then switches the topic completely, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to do if this is the only time he gets with her until next fall. “You want to go to dinner with my family tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Yeah, oh my god!”

Willy laughs and takes the next exit on the highway, instead of driving further into town to go to his own place. Dinners with his parents and sisters is usually a quick cure to any spiraling thoughts about the signing deadline, and having Noah there today is even better. She’s a comforting weight against his side; a laughing presence with his mum as they gang up against him; a friend to his sisters after dinner, as they sit curled together in a corner of the living room whispering secrets and waving him away when he gets too close.

It’s a lot of things Willy doesn’t let himself think about, doesn’t let himself want, because Noah’s never given any hints she wants the same. And she’ll always fit with his family, because she grew up with him, with them, but one day she’ll find another guy who she just seamlessly fits into the side of, whose family she can easily laugh and joke with, because she’s that charming and friendly and nice. How could anyone not love her?

“I remember your sisters begging me to braid their hair at games all the time.” Noah says fondly, once she leaves their circle of secrets to come back to him. “God, I can’t believe how old they all are now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Will says darkly. His youngest sister just announced she has a boyfriend, her first boyfriend; he hates it the most.

Noah cackles, as if she knows what he’s thinking about, which, well, maybe she does, after the last hour. He doesn’t even want to know what they said about him (except he does, he really, really does). “If you promise to be nice to him, maybe she’ll let us go one a double date with them before I leave.”

Willy about blacks out when he hears her mention the word date and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “Really?” It’s the only word he can get out. Everything is wonderful; thank God, thank Jesus, thank who-fucking ever. This is the greatest-

Noah laughs. “Well I don’t think she’s going to let you meet him by yourself!” She nudges him with her shoulder. “But we could all go to dinner together!”

He takes it back. Everything is terrible and this is not even close to the greatest day ever.

They end up going for dinner with his sister and her boyfriend anyway-whatever, it’s fine.

“He was more than fine.” Noah protests, when they’re walking back to his place from the restaurant. It’s her last day here and Willy’s trying to soak up every bit of her that he can, so if that means walking to a restaurant in the cold, then so be it. “He was really nice!”

“He was, like, moderately nice, at best.” Willy pulls a face.

“Don’t be that guy.” She shakes her head at him. “You know what guy I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He sighs.

She nudges him. “You know, if you came back to Toronto with me, you’d never have to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He wants to. He wants to so badly. He just...can’t. “You know I can’t.”

“But I don’t!” Noah says, frustratedly. “I don’t know why you can’t at all. You want to be there and they want you there. I don’t fucking get this!”

“Money. Terms.” He shrugs, sounding a lot more casual than he feels. “My agent’s taking care of things. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Well maybe it’s time to take care of things you want for yourself.” Noah mutters.

“What?” Will asks; he’s sure he heard her, but the bitterness is really unlike her.

“Nothing.” Noah curls into him and Willy wraps his arm around her shoulders without question. “Just cold. Left or right to get home?”

-----

Will’s text comes through in the middle of the afternoon, that they’re just ironing out the fine details and that he’ll be on a redeye that night.

You don’t even need to buy me a Christmas present this year. Noah sends in response. Best gift ever.

When he doesn’t respond, though, she gets a little concerned. He always sends something back, always, whether it’s just a little emoji or some kind of quip, and that was prime for the taking. Call me at the airport? She follows it up. Do you need a ride when you get here? I still have your car.

Matts is grabbing me, going right to practice and meeting w kyle. Catch up later.

She actually startles at the response. He’s never, never been so short with her. It’s not even that the response itself was rude; it just...didn’t even feel like him. It feels like he’s pushing her away and the only thing she can think of is that he is. That he’d realized how she’d clung to him in Sweden in departures, the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from running her hand down his back before pulling away, and he’d connected it to the fact that she’s definitely in love with him and was pulling away.

It’s the worst thought she’s had since she realized he was staying in Sweden for a while. She’d drunk a bottle of wine then to cope and she does the same now, but then she’s only more cranky the next morning when she’s still over thinking and she has a headache.

The knock on her door only makes her more annoyed, at least until she opens it and sees Will standing in the hallway. “Hi.” She breathes. She’d pictured him coming back to Toronto so many times, and look, she knows she doesn’t need to impress Will, who has seen her at her best and worst, but not once was she wearing sweats and the biggest sweatshirt that she owns.

“Hi.” Will grins and she’s about to tell him to come in, but then he’s cupping her cheek and ducking down and it’s like time stops as he kisses her.

Noah can’t quite believe she was ever scared that Will didn’t love her. She doesn’t need him to say it, but he’s the one to pull away first, resting his forehead on hers, and they’re the first words out of his mouth. “I love you.” He kisses her again and god, she could do this forever. “You told me if I want something, to just take care of it myself, and I’m doing it. I don’t want to sit back anymore and let someone else love you. I love you.”

Will brushes his thumb over her cheek and Noah tries to gather a thought, any thought after a kiss that turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know when I started loving you,” She says, smiling when she sees the grin grow across Will’s face. “But I think it was before I even know what love was, and I don’t ever want to stop.”

The next kiss is the worst one yet, the smile still on his face (and hers), but that’s okay, Noah muses. They have time.

#william nylander #william nylander fan fic #william nylander fanfiction #william nylander imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #my hockey fics

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blueskrugs · 5 years ago

Text

Some People Do, Part 2. | Nathan MacKinnon

the MacRedemption arc y’all didn’t need or ask for. this fic brought to you by taylor swift’s folklore

Part 1.

also huge shoutout to @burkymakar for beta-ing this monster of a sequel that turned out about three and a half times as long as the original.

length: 21.1k words

The Avalanche’s new season started. You didn’t watch the home opener. In fact, you weren’t even around to watch it. You left Denver. Took some leave from work, packed a couple bags, and went back to your hometown to be with your family for a while.

Or, to be somewhere where the ghosts of your relationship with Nate didn’t seem to follow you everywhere. You didn’t think Denver and the people in it would miss you that much anyway.

Mel called you one afternoon at the beginning of the Avs’ first road trip of the season. “Linnea misses you,” she said gently after you picked up the phone. “The boys are out of town, and I want all the girls to come over to watch the game tomorrow night. I’ll buy that wine you like, and we can order pizza.”

You sucked in a deep breath, your hand pausing where it was buried deep in your parents’ dog’s fur. Mel misinterpreted your silence and rushed to keep talking.

“We don’t have to talk about anything. We just want to see you. No one’s really heard from you since the season started.”

“Mel, I’m not in Denver. I left.” You heard Mel drop something on the other end of the line. Zoey started barking in the background.

“You left? What d’you mean you left? Without telling anyone? Y/N!” Mel’s voice rose as she spoke. You winced a little bit.

“I mean, I told my mom I was coming home…” Mel sighed at you. “Look, I’ll come back eventually, probably, I just couldn’t handle being there, seeing his face or hearing his name everywhere anymore.” Mel hummed, a sad sound. “Please don’t tell Gabe or any of the boys that I’m gone. I don’t need them worrying about me.”

“Oh, they already do, but I won’t say anything, I promise,” Mel said.

When your phone rang later that night and EJ’s name flashed across your screen, you groaned and cursed Mel under your breath. Of course she had told EJ anyway. You let it ring through to voicemail; he called again. He left a voicemail the second time, and then a minute later, your phone vibrated with a text, too. You didn’t really feel like listening to EJ scold you, so you ignored them both. EJ kept texting you through the night, all variations of “call me back.”

It wasn’t until you were curled up in your bed in the dark, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you leaned against your headboard, that you pressed play on EJ’s voicemail. He did indeed scold you for a moment before his voice softened. You could picture the worried look in his eyes clearly.

“Please call me back, Y/N. Gabe’s losing his mind, and I want to know that you’re okay. I will fucking fly to your hometown if you won’t talk to me,” he threatened.

The thing was, you really didn’t doubt that EJ would use their next off day to track you down. You bit your lip, thumb hovering over the call button. The phone had barely rung once before EJ was answering it.

“Thank fuck, Y/N.” He sounded a little out of breath, and a lot like he was trying to be casual about it, but failing terribly, which made you smile. “Mel said you left Denver? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Mel also said she wasn’t going to tell you boys. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t aware that I had to tell you everything, EJ. You’re not my brother.”

You could practically hear EJ rolling his eyes at you. “No, but I’m the closest thing you’ve got while you’re in Denver, and it would’ve been nice to know you’re safe or something.”

You scoffed. “Not like any of you have tried very hard to check on me before now. You could’ve called at any time, EJ.”

EJ sighed, “Okay, fair enough. Do you know when you’ll come home? Cox has been moping around the house since training camp started. We all know he misses you, but Nate doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t know if I will come back, E,” you said carefully. EJ made a sound like he wanted to argue with you but stayed quiet. “I love Denver, but so much of it is tied up with Nate, I don’t know if I can handle that.” “Okay, but consider this: someone’s gotta take care of Burky, because he’s still kind of an idiot.” That startled a laugh out of you, and when EJ spoke again, you could hear his grin. “I think he almost misses you more than Cox.” He paused. “We all miss you, Y/N.”

It was almost November before you made yourself get on a plane back to Denver. You went quietly, too afraid of how many Avs players would show up at your apartment door if they caught wind of you being back in town. You went back to work every day, and at night you would sit on the couch with a glass of wine and torture yourself by watching the Avalanche play. It turned out that not even a broken heart could keep you away from hockey for too long. You still had to catch yourself to keep from cheering every time Nate scored, though. Some habits were harder to break than others, apparently.

You still texted EJ every once in a while, carefully not mentioning that you were back in Denver. You wondered how long it would take him to figure out.

You watched the games from the safety of your apartment most nights, and you never texted any of the boys, though the temptation was there sometimes, after someone scored a particularly good goal, or took a spectacularly stupid penalty.

And then Nate took a dirty hit from a Stars player that threw him into the boards. It was his shoulder again, you knew, even before he got up slowly and made his way off the ice, even through the TV screen you were watching on. The camera panned over the bench once, showed you all the tense, worried faces of the players as they looked at each other, looked at the scoreboard—where they were losing with not enough time left—looked at where one of their best players had disappeared down the tunnel.

Your phone was in your hand before you realized what you were doing. You were pretty sure you still had one of the trainers’ numbers from one of Nate’s last injuries, but as you pulled open the text thread, you didn’t even know what to say.

No one knew where your relationship with Nate stood. Hell, you didn’t even know where your relationship with Nate stood anymore. No one even knew you’d come back to Denver.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched the clock wind down. Your phone stayed unlocked in your hand, but you hadn’t typed anything.

Instead, you backed out of the texts to the Avs’ trainer. You opened a text thread you hadn’t used much lately. Typed out a message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

“Can I come over?”

You were half-asleep on the couch when your phone vibrated again half an hour later, hockey highlights on mute on the TV. You jolted awake, reaching for it in the half-dark. You blinked against the brightness of your phone screen. On it were two words: “of course.”

You jumped up, tugging a hoodie on over your pajamas.

The roads to Nate’s house were familiar, even in the dark. Your hands shook on your steering wheel as you got closer. You weren’t really sure what you had been thinking when you had texted Nate, aside from some instinct to take care of him when he was injured.

You weren’t sure what Nate was thinking by telling you to come over, either.

The lights were on on the first floor when you pulled into the driveway. You sat in the car for a minute, steeling yourself, before making your way to the front door.

You no longer had a key. You could hear Cox barking inside, his nails scrabbling on the hardwood as he raced towards the front door, and Nate’s frustrated, “God, shut up!” before the door was being pulled open.

Cox barked one last time before he was barreling into your legs. You bent down to pet Cox, burying your face in his fur for a moment, choosing to ignore Nate standing in the doorway. If you were hiding a few tears, that was between you and Cox. Cox stopped deigning to stand still after a minute, wanting instead to lick your face, so you pulled back and stood up, meeting Nate’s eyes at last.

His arm was in a sling, and he looked tired, beyond the fact that he had just played a hard hockey game, and more like he wasn’t sleeping well. He shifted awkwardly on his socked feet; you tried not to notice the way he winced when his shoulder moved.

His voice was quiet, shy, when he spoke. “Hi.”

Cox was still wiggling happily at your feet, and you almost didn’t hear him. You stopped petting Cox to grin sheepishly up at Nate. “Hey.”

Nate shook himself a little, taking a step back and opening the front door a little wider. “Come on, it’s dark out.”

You followed him inside, noting the stiffness in his neck and shoulders as he walked. Cox nudged at your hands as you walked, clearly ecstatic that you’d come home. Nate went into the living room and settled on the couch, but you walked into the kitchen to pull an ice pack out of the freezer. Your hands were shaking a little again.

You slowly made your way back into the living room, trying very hard not to think about everything that had happened the last time you had been in there. Nate had turned the TV on, but you didn’t look at it as you threw the ice pack at him. Nate winced again as he caught it, but still mumbled a “Thanks.”

You stayed standing. Cox rolled over onto his back by your feet. Nate chuckled at him a little before an awkward silence fell over the room again.

“I didn’t know you were back in Denver,” Nate said finally. You had crouched down to rub Cox’s belly, but your head shot up to look at Nate. He hadn’t moved on the couch, and between the sling, the ice pack, and the tension in the room, he looked downright uncomfortable. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel particularly sorry for him.

“I didn’t know EJ had told you I left,” you replied, making a mental note to kill EJ the next time you saw him. Nate shrugged as best as he could with an injured shoulder. “I came back a couple of weeks ago, been keeping to myself mostly.” Nate made a face that you couldn’t read. That was new. You’d always been able to figure him out, even when he was trying to hide his emotions.

“Why are you here?” Nate asked quietly. Your hands paused in Cox’s fur again. You knew he wasn’t asking why you had come back to Denver, but why you were here in the house you used to share, getting him ice packs and petting Cox like nothing had ever changed.

“I don’t know, Nate,” you sighed. “Honestly. I was watching the game and saw you go down, and some terrible fucking instinct of mine wanted to make sure you were okay, and here I am.”

Nate grinned, but his eyes were sad. “You don’t have to take care of me anymore. I don’t deserve it.” It was your turn to shrug. Cox was now attempting to sit in your lap; you pushed your face into his fur again, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “He’s missed you a lot, y’know,” Nate added. Cox rested his chin on the top of your head. “I think he’s mad at me or something. Gives me the cold shoulder when I get home from roadies now. Won’t sleep on the bed with me anymore, either.”

You managed a laugh; you hoped Nate didn’t hear how watery it was. Cox snuffled in your hair, and you hugged him a little tighter. When you pulled back from him, Nate was smiling at both of you fondly, and a little wistfully.

You stood up, checking your watch. “I should- I better go. It’s getting kinda late, and I have to work in the morning.” Something flashed across Nate’s face again, but he stood up, letting the ice pack fall to the couch. He was clearly still in pain, but he was less stiff than he had been when you arrived. “Don’t leave that on the couch overnight,” you told him, looking over his shoulder at the melting ice pack. Nate rolled his eyes, but smiled softly at you.

“I won’t, I promise.” Nate followed you to the door. “Hey, can I drop Cox off at your place some days, and, like, for some of our road trips? I don’t know if he can handle you not being around much longer.” You both looked at Cox, who was also following you two to the door, suddenly looking dejected again. “Look, he knows you’re leaving again.” Nate bent down to squish Cox’s face as best as he could with only one hand, then settled for ruffling his ears. “He misses you.” You smiled in spite of yourself and bent to drop a kiss to the top of Cox’s head.

“I miss you, too, baby. My apartment is a lot smaller than you’re used to, but there’s a park we can go to a couple of blocks over.” Cox whined at you.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Nate said.

You looked closely at him before responding. His eyes were still tired, a little haggard and a little too old for his body, but they were brighter than they had been earlier.

“Of course,” you said.

You did text Nate as soon as your apartment door was locked behind you. It felt strange, something you had both always done in the early days of your relationship, but had stopped being necessary as time went on and you had moved in together. It hurt a little bit, knowing all the history and things you had shared with Nate, but feeling as if you barely knew each other after all this time. You had never imagined that you would have to start your relationship over with Nate. You weren’t sure you really wanted to.

Nate started texting you again after that, just random, unobtrusive messages: pictures and videos of Cox or stupid things one of his teammates had said during the day. You never replied, aside from occasionally reacting to some of the messages, but Nate didn’t seem to expect or need a response from you, because they just kept coming.

You started to look forward to seeing them everyday.

Cox did also start coming around to your apartment, though it was usually EJ or Burky bringing him over. The first time Nate had tried to drop him off, but Cox had gotten confused and wouldn’t let Nate leave. It had led to one very awkward walk to the park in silence.

The first road trip was the hardest. It was nice to have Cox around again, curled up behind your legs in your bed as you slept and demanding attention constantly, but you couldn’t help but think of the things you now knew. The things Nate got up to on road trips. Was it just like last year all over again? Were you home with the dog while Nate was off with some girl that wasn’t you? Was he with the same girl as last time, was he still flying her out to games? Or had he found someone else new to pass the time with?

The Avs swept the road trip, but you couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of the games.

It was the week before Christmas when you found yourself outside Nate’s front door again. He had tried to give you a key– your old key– since you were taking care of Cox all the time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it. Today you had been baking, and Sarah had asked for your snickerdoodles for when she came to town.

Cox didn’t bark when you came to the door anymore, but he did greet you with a toy in his mouth.

“You’re a terrible guard dog,” Nate scoffed. Cox wiggled excitedly. “He still knows the sound of your car,” he told you. “You can never get another one.”

You laughed, handing the Tupperware of cookies off to Nate so you could bend down and throw the toy for Cox. “He’s a good guard dog when it counts,” you said. “Remember when he barked at EJ because he had his teeth in?”

Nate laughed as you followed him into the kitchen. “I think he growled at Burky for like two months, but only if he was wearing a hat.” He tilted the Tupperware of cookies up to the light. “Jesus, how many cookies did you fucking bake? You know I can’t eat any of these, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, whatever, don’t front. You and Tyson used to eat all sorts of shit I would bake during the season. And your sister asked for snickerdoodles, and I wanted to try a new recipe for gingerbread, so y’all get to be the guinea pigs for it, too.”

Nate’s eyes widened, and he tore the lid off the container and dug through it until he came up with a gingerbread cookie. “Fuck, Y/N, I love you,” he groaned, mouth full of cookie, before he froze. “I didn’t- I’m sorry. These are really good, though.”

All you said was, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, MacKinnon,” just to see Nate’s blush. His words, however accidental, however impulsive, were still ringing in your ears, and you were trying not to think about them.

Nate finished his cookie in silence. Cox had come back and was nudging your hand so you would throw his toy again. Outside the kitchen window, it had started to snow, fat white flakes floating by. You threw Cox’s toy a couple more times, watching as he skittered off down the hall.

“Big, scary German shepherd, my ass,” you muttered as Cox slid and wiped out on the hardwood. His tail was still wagging.

The snow was falling harder already. “I should get home before I get snowed in here,” you said, reaching for your keys.

Nate looked out the window, alarmed. “Like hell you are. It’s dark and already snowing hard. I don’t want you driving home in this.”

“Nate,” you sighed.

“I know, I know. But it’s too fucking dangerous for you to drive, and you can have the guest room and Cox, and I’ll stay out of your way. I meant what I said about leaving you alone when you closed the door. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You sighed, looking over Nate’s shoulder at the snow falling outside the window. It really was falling fast already, quickly becoming a blizzard. You shivered in spite of yourself.

“Fine, but I’m taking you up on sharing a bed with Cox.”

Nate grinned, and it hit you that you could never make yourself hate that smile.

Cox trailed after you to the living room, but Nate lingered in the kitchen. You could hear him banging through cabinets and drawers. At one point, he called out, “Where’s the- never mind!” You and Cox just shared a look.

Eventually Nate came into the living room, balancing two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate full of gingerbread cookies. You raised an eyebrow, but Nate just shrugged.

“It’s cold outside. By the way, you might need to make more gingerbread before Sarah comes.”

“I thought cookies weren’t on the diet,” you teased. Nate’s ears turned red, and you laughed.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, taking a bite to punctuate his sentence.

A quiet fell again, and outside the window, so did the snow. You ran your fingers through Cox’s fur absentmindedly as you sipped your hot chocolate.

“Is that really what you want, Nate? Someone who doesn’t even like hockey?” you blurted. You didn’t regret shattering the careful atmosphere of the house.

Nate grimaced, and he rushed to set his mug down, nearly spilling hot chocolate on the rug. He turned to look at you. “Fuck, no, Y/N, I- I have never regretted anything more in my life. And regrets do fuck-all to fix things, I know that, but I want you to know that, given the opportunity, I would go back to the beginning of last season and change it all. I could still play the worst hockey of my career, and I wouldn’t care as long as I got to keep you at the end of it all.”

“Nate, some of the things you said...I spent so many nights awake last summer, thinking about them, wondering what I could’ve done better or differently, wondering if it was all my fault,” you said. You didn’t wipe away the tear that slid down your cheek.

Nate looked like he wanted to reach out to touch you. “I believed what I said at the time, fuck, I was so stupid. One of the things I’ve always loved most about you is that you loved hockey before you met me. You understood hockey. And suddenly I had someone in my life who loved the sport I loved, but also loved me. You knew when to talk about the game with me, and you knew when to distract me. You would have loved me even without the hockey, and I was so fucking destructive, so fucking stupid that I threw it all away.” Nate’s blue eyes were clouded with tears now, too.

“Where did I go wrong, Nate? Where did we go wrong?”

This time Nate did reach out for you, lunging across the couch to grab your hands, sliding down to his knees next to you. “No, no, fuck no. None of this is on you; it never was. I thought then that what I needed was the anonymity to ground me, but what I’ve always needed was you.”

You let out a sob, wrenched one of your hands away from Nate’s to cover your mouth. Nate grabbed your wrist and tugged your hand back down, brushing a tear away with his thumb as he did.

“You’re the one who’s always kept me grounded, got me out of my head when I would start to freak out. You never gave a fuck about who I was. I could just be Nate with you.”

You sat still for a moment, trying to process Nate’s words. “I left Denver because I couldn’t handle seeing your fucking face everywhere. Because no matter what you did, you would always be Nathan MacKinnon, face of the Colorado Avalanche. But you fucking destroyed me, Nate. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to trust myself or anyone else again. I didn’t know if I’d ever want to come back to Denver again. I hated myself for still loving someone who had proved that he could forget about me so easily.” You broke off with another sob; Nate rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand absently. “I meant what I said about not being able to do this again. I can’t just jump headfirst into the deep end. I can’t go back to the way things were, no matter how much I want to. I just can’t.”

Nate smiled, but it was small. “I don’t think I could ask you to go back to the way things were. I don’t wanna ask you to start over and forget everything, either. I don’t deserve that. But you’re here. And I wanna know if you’re willing to try, let me prove that I can do this right this time.”

You sighed and looked away. Nate’s eyes, intense and cautiously hopeful, were too much to look at. “I don’t know, Nate.” Nate visibly deflated. “It’s not a no,” you added. “Just… I don’t know.” You were still gazing around the living room. It was the week before Christmas, but there weren’t any decorations anywhere, not even a tree. “Hey, where are all of our Christmas decorations?” you asked.

Nate shrugged and stood up. “Didn’t feel right, without you, I guess. Just never really seemed like Christmas,” he admitted. You pouted a little at him, but he just rolled his eyes.

Christmas had always been your favorite holiday, and, over the years, you had brought Nate around to loving it just as much as you did.

You and Nate had only been dating a couple of weeks by the time the holiday season rolled around. Nate didn’t seem nearly as enthusiastic about Christmas as you were, even though this would be your first Christmas in Denver, away from your family.

“Nate, where are your Christmas decorations?” you called, standing in the entryway and looking at Nate’s barren house at the beginning of December.

He poked his head out of a doorway. “I have a tree?” he said. You must’ve looked appalled, because he added, “I don’t really need that much. We’re gone so much, it doesn’t feel like it’s worth the effort.”

“Okay, change of plans!” you said, already slipping your boots back on. Nate groaned, but he came into the hallway, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at you. “I wanted to get some new decorations for my apartment, and now you’re coming, too, so we can decorate this wasteland you call a house.”

“Hey! My mom did a lot of the decorating in here!”

“Yes, and it still looks exactly like the house of a twenty-something professional athlete who doesn’t give a fuck aboout aesthetic or interior design. Now, come on, put your shoes on, let’s go!”

Nate groaned again, but he grabbed his keys and put on shoes. “Fine, but I’m driving,” he said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. You grinned at him.

You already had most of the decorations you needed for your small apartment, but Nate’s house had pretty much nothing, and Nate had absolutely no idea how much time you could spend shopping, especially when it came to Christmas decorations.

You ended up dragging him to four stores over the course of a couple hours, with the promise of “I swear it won’t take long in there” every time. It never was true. By the end, the trunk of Nate’s car was filled with bags of decorations, including some cute wrapping paper and bows you had insisted he buy.

“You know I can’t wrap a present, right?” he had asked when you put the wrapping paper in the cart. You had let out a frustrated groan, poking him between the ribs.

“Well, guess you’re gonna have to learn, MacKinnon, because I am not wrapping your presents for you.”

It took the two of you nearly ten minutes to haul all the bags back into the house, with Cox excitedly running back and forth with you on each trip. Nate collapsed on the couch.

“Babe, I’m tired,” he said. Cox, still excited, leaped onto his stomach. “Oof, bud, rude.”

“Did you still want to cook, or do you want to order something?” you asked, digging through a bag for the wreath you wanted to hang on the front door.

Nate checked his watch. “What about that one bar we went to last week? They had good food.”

You nodded, now looking for the stocking you had insisted Nate buy for Cox.

After a couple more hours, Nate’s house had been decorated to your satisfaction, with lights, candles and garland. You had made Nate turn on Christmas music while you worked, and more than once you caught him smiling at you as you sang along. Nate was now slumped on the couch again. You threw a throw pillow at him.

“See, I told you it would feel more like a home if you decorated.” Nate sighed and hugged the pillow to his chest without opening his eyes, which you knew meant that you were right but he didn't want to admit to it. “Do you want to go to bed?” you asked. Nate nodded silently. The Avs didn’t have an early practice in the morning, and as the hours had ticked on while you decorated, Nate had told you to stay the night instead of driving home.

“Hey, wait,” Nate said suddenly as you walked through the doorway, tugging your wrist and spinning you around into his chest. “Isn’t there some tradition to do with kissing?”

“I didn’t buy mistletoe, Nate,” you teased, but you let Nate lean down to kiss you anyway, slow and deep, with one hand on the small of your back and the other cupping your cheek.

You got ready for bed in a comfortable silence. You were still humming the words to a Christmas song. Cox was waiting on the bed for you when you left the bathroom. Nate made him move over so you could have room on the bed, but he did so begrudgingly. You hadn’t been planning on staying, so you were drowning in one of Nate’s T-shirts.

You curled into his chest, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled beneath your ear. “You should come to the Christmas family skate with me,” he said casually, but you could feel his tenseness where your hand was resting on his hip.

You pulled back to look at him. “You know I can’t skate, right?” And other than seeing Tyson Barrie a handful of times, mostly in passing, you hadn’t met any of Nate’s teammates, and you weren’t going to lie and say you weren’t a little nervous about the idea.

“You’ll be surrounded by hockey players, babe. I’ll make sure you don’t fall, don’t worry.”

Nate broke you out of your reverie. “Would you- did you want to decorate? I can get everything out.” He sounded unsure. Decorating for Christmas had become an all-day affair over the years, complete with baking cookies and watching holiday movies.

You thought about it for a second. Nate had been right, something about Christmas felt off this year, like something– or someone, you supposed wryly– was missing.

“You go get the boxes, I’ll make more hot chocolate, and I get to pick the music.”

“Always,” Nate smiled, bright and wide and real, almost relieved that you’d been willing.

Something told you that no one had seen a lot of that smile recently.

While you waited for Nate to dig out the boxes of Christmas decorations, you stole his Bluetooth speaker to connect your Christmas playlist, and turned on the gas fireplace. Instantly, the room felt warmer and more welcoming.

Almost like home.

Nate set one of the boxes down with a thud, startling you. “Alright, here’s the tree, and we’ve still got like four more boxes, because someone has no self control when it comes to buying Christmas decorations.”

You blushed a little, but looked straight at Nate when you said, “Well, let’s get started then.”

You moved easily around each other, falling into a rhythm. You were mostly quiet, aside from Nate asking you where things went, and both of you singing along to songs, but it wasn’t awkward or tense like most of your silences had been of late. Nate didn’t even complain when you threw a throw pillow at him.

“Where Are You Christmas” began playing, Faith Hill’s voice filling the living room, and you smiled as Nate stretched to put the star on top of the tree. He turned and saw you looking at him; he walked over to you, slipping one arm around your waist.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked quietly.

“Feels like Christmas again,” you murmured.

Nate wrapped his other arm around you and tugged you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, solid and strong like he’d always been, and let yourself lean into it. You stayed like that for several minutes, long enough for the song to end and another one to start. The living room had been mostly decorated, and behind Nate, the tree filled the room with a warm light. You could see the two salt dough ornaments you had made for your second Christmas together, when Nate gave you a key to his house and asked if you would move in, and when you had wrangled Cox into making one with his pawprint.

The song changed again. You smiled against Nate’s shirt. They’re singing ‘Deck the Halls’ but it’s not like Christmas at all, ‘cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year. Nate rested his chin on the top of your head; he was warm, chasing away the chill you still felt from the snow outside.

Cox nudged his way in between you, never wanting to miss anything, effectively ruining the moment. He jumped up, placing his paws gently on Nate’s chest.

“Oh, do you wanna be in on the hug too, buddy?” Nate asked, ruffling Cox’s ears. You smiled at them as Cox wagged his tail, trying to fight back a yawn, but Nate noticed anyway. “It’s getting pretty late, isn’t it? Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?”

You had spent the day baking, so you weren’t dressed nicely, but it would be nice to wear something else to sleep in. Nate left you in the guest bathroom with an extra toothbrush, and an old, well-worn Avalanche T-shirt. Cox was laying on the floor, waiting for you.

It felt strange, wearing one of Nate’s oversized T-shirts, in the house you once called home, sleeping in the guest room like a stranger. Everything was so familiar, but you no longer felt like you belonged. You were on your phone under the blankets when Cox jumped off the bed and whined at the closed door.

“What is it, baby?” you asked, peering through the dark. You could just barely make out Cox’s dark eyes staring back at you. He whined again, this time pawing at the bottom of the door. “You wanna go sleep with Nate? C’mon.”

You pushed the blankets back and climbed out of the bed. Sleep didn’t seem to be coming any time soon, anyway. Cox whined again as you walked across the room and opened the door. He took a step out into the hall before turning back to look at you again.

You groaned. “Cox, I know you know where the bedroom is. Go find Nate.” Cox took a couple steps, but stopped when he saw you weren’t following him. “Stupid dog, let’s go.”

Cox ran ahead as you made your way to the closed bedroom door. He sat next to you, looked up at you with his tongue hanging out, and you knocked quietly on the door.

“Yeah?” Nate didn’t sound like he’d been asleep, either.

“Cox wants to sleep with you, apparently.” Nate chuckled, and you heard his footsteps on the other side of the door.

You took a step back as he pulled it open. “I thought you didn’t like me anymore?” he asked. Cox ignored him and leaped onto the bed. You both laughed as he settled in, looking very pleased with himself. You were on your way back to the guest room when you heard Nate speak softly again. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Ten minutes later, you were still scrolling aimlessly through your phone when it vibrated with a text. “he won’t stop whining at the door.” You frowned before replying.

“that’s what he was doing in here. I thought he just wanted to be with you.”

There was a longer pause before Nate replied again; you were about to set your phone down and try to sleep. “I think he wants both of us” Then: “come to bed?”

You stared at that text until your screen went dark. You could go to sleep and pretend that it never happened, but something was stopping you. Something about the night you and Nate had shared gave you the distinct sensation that your relationship had shifted again. You still weren’t sure where you stood, not really, but thinking about your relationship no longer came with the sharp edge of heartbreak it had held for so long.

You crept out into the hallway again. Down the stairs, the soft glow of all of the Christmas lights you had put up still lit up the house. The door to your old bedroom was still solidly closed. You could picture Nate tangled up in the sheets, like he always used to be, with Cox stretched out near his feet. You paused with your hand on the doorknob.

You could turn back now, and no one would know. You wondered vaguely, what kind of woman it made you, to even consider fixing a relationship with the man who cheated on you. Did it make you weak? Were you a fool? What did it mean that Nate had destroyed your trust, and you were willing to give it back to him, however broken?

You twisted the doorknob. As light from the hall flooded into the room, you could see Cox sitting up on the bed, staring at the door, and Nate was leaned up against the headboard. When he smiled at you, his teeth flashed white in the dimness.

Cox was thumping his tail against the bed. “Seriously, do you guard against anything?” you whispered as he licked your hand.

Nate was quiet as you set your phone down on the bedside table and settled into bed. “He’s pretty good at guarding my heart,” he whispered. There was an infinity of space between the two of you on the bed, but Cox was warm against your feet.

“I think it took him three months before he stopped watching my every move when I was over,” you said back. “Too bad he couldn’t protect me against a broken heart.” Nate sucked in a sharp breath. You rolled over before he could respond.

The two of you laid in the dark and silence for a while; you couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but eventually you fell asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you found yourself tangled with Nate. His bare feet were cold against your legs, but his hand was warm where it had slipped under your– his, really– T-shirt. Your face was tucked into his chest, and you could feel his slow, gentle breaths stirring your hair.

Outside, the sun glinted off the snow, bitterly cold, but inside, in this bed, you were warm and cozy, Nate’s arm across your hip a comforting weight. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off to sleep again.

When you awoke again, Nate was awake, but he had pulled you closer. You tilted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for anymore.

You laid like that for a few minutes more before Cox stuck his nose under the sheets and whined. You laughed as Nate squirmed away from the cold.

“I think someone wants breakfast,” you said, stretching. Cox’s ears perked up.

“C’mon, buddy,” Nate sighed.

When you wandered downstairs a few minutes later, Nate was standing in the kitchen, making breakfast. He had turned on Christmas music again and was singing along with Mariah Carey. You only barely resisted the urge to sneak your phone out and record him. As it was, you stood and watched him for a moment, leaning against the island with a small smile on your face. Eventually, Nate felt your eyes on his back and turned around.

“Still like your eggs the same way?” he asked. You had never changed the way you took your eggs in all the years you had known Nate, so you nodded. Nate had already turned back to the stove.

Things were awkward again in the daylight, the rawness of all the talking done the night before too much for the sunshine. You watched and waited as Nate put eggs on two plates, pulled some fruit out of the fridge, and slid you a mug of coffee. It was still hot, and made just the way you liked it.

“They should have the roads cleared soon, and you can get home,” Nate said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him, startled, but his eyes were focused on his plate. Right. Time to break the spell and return to the real world. Christmas music was still playing quietly, but now it felt wrong.

“Oh, shit, I’m gonna have to clean off my car,” you groaned.

“I’ll help you,” Nate said easily, and maybe things didn’t quite have to go back to the way things were.

Christmas passed without further incident, although André did text you and ask for more gingerbread cookies. Nate continued texting you, but now you started responding every once in a while, even sending him something first a couple of times. When Nate dropped Cox off the night before a road trip, he came with takeout from your favorite restaurant. EJ started texting you more, too, asking pointed questions about when you would come to a game or hang out with the guys.

You had been avoiding them, it was true, and you missed them, but you weren’t entirely sure that you could handle all of them. It turned out that you couldn’t avoid them any longer when Mel and Aleks invited– insisted, more like– you to come to a game with them just after the new year.

You told them that you would think about it and took a full two days to respond. You said yes; you always knew you would say yes. You decided not to tell any of the boys that you’d be going, but you got a text from every other wife and girlfriend, all telling you how excited they were to see you again.

You found yourself getting excited, too, despite the lingering anxiousness of seeing Nate around all of his teammates. You’d always loved the energy of hockey games, and the Pepsi Center was no exception. It was thrilling, in a way, and it always seemed more energizing when you were dating one of the players down on the ice, listening to thousands of fans scream his name, knowing that you were the one who got to hold him after a game.

Now, though, you knew that you hadn’t been the only one who got to see Nate, to kiss him, after a game.

You drove to the Can with Mel and Linnea. You weren’t wearing your MacKinnon jersey, just a sweater and jeans; you had seen the jersey shoved in the back of your closet when you were getting ready, and paused, but you didn’t think you were ready for that, not yet. To her credit, Mel hadn’t commented on it when you climbed into her car.

The Pepsi Center was as frenzied and intoxicating as you remembered it. The Avs’ last season had turned out to be a fluke, and the team was tearing up the Western Conference. Ashley Kadri laughed at you when she saw you simply staring around the arena like a child at their first hockey game, a giant grin on your face, but she draped her arm across your shoulders, pulling you in and saying, “Welcome back, girl.”

The Avalanche won in a wild battle against the Blues that saw Nate with two goals. You couldn’t help but think that you didn’t have a hat to throw if he had scored a third goal.

The girls roped you into coming down to the family room to wait for your boys after the game. The adrenaline high of the game was wearing off, and you were nervous all over again about seeing Nate. Maybe you should’ve told him you were coming, you thought, as you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. You didn’t think he’d get upset that you were at a game, he used to love it when you came to games, but things were so different now.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by a half-dressed, curly head of hair barrelling into you. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for balance as he clutched onto your waist.

“Christ, Burky, I saw you, like, last week.”

André squeezed you tighter. “Yeah, but now you’re at a game! You haven’t come to a game in ages!”

“Let her breathe, Burk,” Gabe said from somewhere behind you. André let go, but didn’t move far away from you. “He’s right, though. You’ve been avoiding us.”

“God, you sound like EJ. Can you blame me for not wanting to see you guys?” You heard the defensiveness creep into your tone. Gabe just shrugged.

“Leave her alone, both of you.” It was Nate’s voice this time. You spun around to face him, and Burky took a half step in front of you.

Nate didn’t seem to notice, though, because his eyes were on you. You knew he saw that you weren’t wearing his jersey, but his eyes lingered on the necklace that hung around your throat, the same one he had given you three years ago.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he said. You bit your lip again. EJ appeared over Nate’s shoulder, like he could sense the tension, and was ready for a fight. “Shit, I mean, come here, yeah?”

You dashed around Burky and into Nate’s arms. He had already showered, and you buried your face in his chest, breathed in the familiar smell of his soap and deodorant, as he held you. Distantly, you heard some of the other boys cheering, and Gabe shushing them. Nate pulled away from you and walked you over to a quieter hallway around the corner.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Nate repeated once the din of the rest of his team faded away.

You shrugged. “It was kinda an impulsive decision,” you lied, but Nate smirked at you.

“You never do anything impulsive. Besides, your hair and makeup are done, and it’s a Saturday night.” You stuck your tongue out at him instead of responding. Nate’s eyes softened as they caught the necklace you were wearing again. “I thought you would’ve gotten rid of that by now,” he said.

Instinctively, your hand went up to fidget with the pendant. “I hadn’t been wearing it, but I thought I could tonight.”

Nate smiled sadly at you. “That was a nice night, wasn’t it?”

Your smile matched Nate’s. “Everything was nice back then.”

Your first anniversary with Nate actually fell in the middle of a road trip. Nate had called you to apologize when the schedule first came out, but you had just laughed and told him it wasn’t his fault.

He apologized again when you were sitting on his bed while he packed for the road trip. This time you stood up and wrapped your arms around Nate’s neck, going up on your toes to peck his lips.

“Babe, it’s fine, I get it,” you told him. “Cox and I will still be here when you get back.” Nate finally smiled at that.

“We’ll go out and celebrate properly then, I promise,” he said, tossing a pair of socks behind you at his suitcase. He missed. “By the way, can I have that hoodie back?”

You pulled the sleeves of his way-too-big hoodie over your hands. “What hoodie?” you asked innocently.

Nate laughed before wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He tossed you easily onto the bed, and you shrieked as you bounced. And then Nate was on top of you, propped up on his forearms. He kissed you once, twice, and then a third time, deeper than the other two. You reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair.

Nate pulled back just enough to murmur “I love you” against your lips before he was kissing you again.

Downstairs, Nate’s doorbell rang, and Cox started barking. Nate buried his face in your neck and groaned. You scratched your nails down Nate’s neck; he melted into you.

“Tyson’s early,” you said. Nate groaned again. Cox was still barking at the door. “You should get off of me and finish packing.”

“Maybe if we ignore him he’ll just go away,” Nate said, voice still muffled into your shoulder.

“Have you even met your best friend?” you asked, poking Nate in the ribs. He just rested his weight more solidly on top of you. As if to further prove your point, the doorbell rang again.

Nate heaved a sigh and rolled off of you.

Nate ended up kicking you out of the bedroom while he finished packing, calling you a “distraction” and a “sweatshirt thief.” You settled for sitting on the couch with your feet on Tyson’s lap, Cox happily between the two of you, his head resting on your outstretched legs.

“So, what are you two doing for your anniversary?” Tyson asked, nosy as ever.

“Fuck if I know,” you said. “Nate gave me his credit card one day last week to buy a dress, but he won’t tell me anything else about what we’re doing.”

Tyson laughed, and you kicked him. “Ow, rude!” Nate came down the stairs with his suitcase then. “Nathan, your girlfriend is being mean to me.”

“You probably deserved it,” Nate said flatly. Tyson looked absolutely affronted. Nate cut him off before he could say something indignant. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for the plane.” He shot you a grin and dropped a kiss on your head as he headed for the front door.

Tyson grumbled as he shoved your feet off his lap and stood up, following Nate.

“Text me when you land!” you called after them. Nate made a noise that might have been a “duh” at you before closing the front door. “Well, I guess it’s just us again, bud,” you said, looking at Cox, who decided he no longer wanted to be on the couch with you and flopped onto the floor.

When Nate Skyped you for your virtual date on your anniversary, you were surprised that he was in a button-down instead of his usual sweatshirt. You, on the other hand, were in an old Mooseheads sweatshirt that you had commandeered from Nate’s closet.

“Shit,” you said, “I didn’t know I was supposed to dress up for this.”

Nate laughed; that was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. “I’m still wearing sweatpants, don’t worry.”

You were in the kitchen this time, instead of curled up on Nate’s bed, as Nate had insisted that you eat dinner together, even going as far to order you a pizza from your favorite pizza place and have it delivered to you. Nate let you talk about your day at work while you ate, and then he told you about the practice they’d had that morning, and how the rookies were goofing off and got everyone in trouble.

You talked for hours, you sitting at his kitchen table, Nate at the desk in his hotel room. It was getting late, and you stretched, Nate’s sweatshirt riding up your stomach.

“Hang on, what the hell did you do to my sweatshirt?” Nate asked, cutting himself off in the middle of a story.

You tugged the sweatshirt back down. You had gotten bored and cropped it, and you didn’t think Nate would ever notice. “I cropped it?” you said, more of a question.

“Babe, that could’ve been a collectible someday! And you destroyed it!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve never even seen you wear it, and I can promise you no one is going to think this will be a collectible one day. Besides, I can still wear it just fine.” You stood up, ready to go to bed, and your stomach flashed a little again.

Nate shrugged. “Okay, maybe I don’t mind it being cropped.”

Nate came home late a couple of days later. He was trying to be quiet as he came into the bedroom, but he tripped over Cox, who was sprawled out on the floor. He stripped out of his suit quickly, leaving it in a pile on the floor to deal with in the morning, before crawling into bed and laying half on top of you. The Avs had lost two out of three games on the trip, and you had winced more than once as you watched one of the guys take a rough hit.

“Happy anniversary, babe,” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

“That was a couple of days ago, baby,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. Nate hugged you tighter, but didn’t justify you with a response.

When you woke up in the morning, Nate was still clinging to you, an overgrown, hockey-player-sized koala. The sun was streaming into the bedroom, which told you you’d both slept in much later than usual. Nate snuffled a little in his sleep, and you smiled down at him.

You were still gazing at him when he started to wake up, snuggling in closer for a moment before rolling onto his back and stretching.

“Morning,” he yawned, before tugging you until you were on top of him this time, cuddling to his satisfaction. “We could stay like this all day, y’know,” he mumbled.

“I believe I was promised pancakes,” you said back. Nate sighed.

The two of you laid there for a while, just content to be close, until your stomach started growling. Nate laughed before pushing you off of him and getting up. You followed him down into the kitchen and watched as he pulled out all the things to make pancakes, including mix for some stupidly healthy kind that he insisted that he still had to eat.

The sounds of the coffee maker and Nate humming along to the radio filled the kitchen while you cut up some fruit. Nate only burnt a couple of the pancakes.

You both laid around for most of the day, since you had the day off, and Nate skipped his optional skate. Cox seemed very happy to have both of his people around for the whole day. It wasn’t until late afternoon that Nate stood up, stretched and told you he was going to go shower. You lazed around on your phone for a while longer, until you heard Nate come out of the bathroom.

“My turn,” you said, coming into the bedroom. Nate shot you a look. “No coming into the bathroom until I come out.”

“But I haven’t seen your dress yet!” he protested.

“Tell me where we’re going for dinner, and you can see the dress before I put it on,” you told him.

Nate stuck his tongue out at you.

You emerged forty-five minutes later, makeup done and hair in place; you weren’t going to admit to how long it took you to get your eyeliner even. Nate wasn’t in the bedroom when you stepped out to grab your shoes and purse, so you snuck down the stairs barefoot.

Nate startled when you put your hand on his shoulder, but when he turned around and saw you, he was struck speechless.

Your new dress was blush-pink velvet, long-sleeved, but with a short enough skirt to show off your legs in your heels. You twirled, albeit slightly self-consciously, for him.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“I love it,” Nate said, catching you around the waist and pulling you in for a kiss. “I love you,” he added, resting his forehead against yours. “Now get your shoes on, we’re gonna be late for our reservation.

Nate drove, like he always did. It wasn’t until you actually pulled up to the restaurant that you realized where you were going. It was the same restaurant Nate had taken you to for your first date, one of the nicest in Denver; you had scolded him for the extravagance of it then, and you opened your mouth to do it now, but Nate cupped your jaw and gave you a quick kiss before you could.

“Hush, I’m allowed to spoil my girl every once in a while,” he said before opening his door and climbing out of his car.

You were still fumbling with your seatbelt when Nate came around to your side of the car to help you out. He didn’t move his hand from the small of your back until you were seated, and he settled across the table from you.

You let Nate order the wine, the appetizer, even your meal, because sometimes it seemed like he knew you better than you knew yourself. You kept up conversation throughout dinner, easy talk about anything and everything. You loved that you and Nate could still find things to talk about, even after spending an entire day with each other.

You were almost through the dessert you were sharing when Nate started getting fidgety. You waited him out until the last plate was cleared, until he swallowed the last of his wine, still didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. You kicked him gently under the table.

“Don’t tell me you brought me here for a nice dinner just to break up with me,” you teased.

Nate forced a laugh, but he looked less nervous. “On our anniversary? I would wait at least a week before I do that, but also I would never actually do that.” You laughed. “No, I got you something, but I just really want you to like it, and I-”

“Nate,” you said gently, nudging him gently with your foot again as you cut him off.

“Right,” Nate said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a jewelry box. He opened it to reveal a dark red garnet pendant, glowing in the dim restaurant lighting.

“Oh, Nate, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Did your mom help you pick this out?” you teased.

“No, but Sarah did,” Nate mumbled, fumbling with the clasp as he tried to take it out of the box. “Turn around, I wanna put it on you.”

You rolled your eyes but turned and pulled your hair to the side so Nate could fasten the clasp around your neck. It hung perfectly just below your collarbones, and when you turned to kiss Nate again, it flashed and sparkled in the lights.

“I love it,” you murmured. In your heels, you didn’t have to stretch so much to kiss Nate. “I love you.”

“Hey,” Nate said, startling you out of your thoughts, “do you still have that Mooseheads sweatshirt you stole that week?”

You blushed, knowing exactly which sweatshirt he was talking about; you had been wearing it just the other day, but Nate didn’t need to know that.

“I thought you forgot about that,” you said.

“How could I forget about that? You cut off half of my sweatshirt!”

Your loud laugh caught the attention of EJ, who came over to throw an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Alright, you two,” he said, dragging you back towards the rest of the team, “no more secret conversations. If Y/N is yelling at Nate for something, we all wanna hear it.”

Nate ended up insisting that he drive you home, and you found that you didn’t want to fight it. EJ pulled you aside just before you followed Nate out to his car, though, and asked if you were okay with it. The concern in his eyes was endearing, if unnecessary. You assured him that you would be fine, but you could feel him watching you as you walked back to Nate, who was trying very hard to pretend to be interested in something on his phone, and followed him to his car.

Nate connected his phone to the car’s speakers, but he turned on the playlist you used when you were driving. You looked over at him, surprised, but he was resolutely focused on backing out of his parking spot.

“I didn’t think you still followed this playlist,” you said a few minutes later, after you had listened to Nate sing along to a Bastille song, the lights of Denver flashing by the windows.

He shrugged, still not looking at you, but he turned up the volume. “I still listen to it sometimes when we go on road trips,” was all he said.

Nate started FaceTiming you from the road again. At first, he claimed it was so he could check in on Cox, but eventually he stopped asking to talk to the dog and just sat with you for hours. More than once you woke up with your phone still in your hand, having fallen asleep while talking to Nate.

Nate came to pick up Cox one morning in February with a Starbucks in hand for you. It was exactly your order, which made you a little suspicious.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you said as you took a drink of your coffee, “but what’s wrong with the coffee I make here?”

Nate shrugged. He always seemed too large for your small apartment kitchen, but now, with his hands in his pockets and avoiding your gaze, he looked like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Cox was sitting at his feet.

“Nate, what’s up?” you asked, taking a step across the floor to Nate. You set your coffee cup down on the counter, which made Nate look up at you.

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” he blurted out. His eyes went wide, like he had surprised himself. “I mean, do you- can we try this all again? I want to do it properly, so, like, will you go out with me?”

You grinned. “Is that why you brought me a Starbucks?” you asked. “Because we met in Starbucks when you took my coffee?”

Nate groaned, but all of the tension dropped out of his shoulders. “That was an accident, and you know it!”

“Mmhmm, you definitely weren’t just looking for an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.” Nate blushed, and you gasped. “You thought I was pretty!”

Nate’s face turned even redder. “Of course I did, how could I not?” Then he added, “I’ve always thought you were pretty.”

You stepped closer to Nate again and stood up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, Nate, I’ll go out with you,” you said.

Nate grinned, wide enough that his dimple appeared, and it hit you just how much you still loved his smile. You stopped yourself from just kissing Nate right there in the middle of your kitchen, but only barely.

Nate texted you a couple days later to tell you what time he would pick you up. When you asked what you would be doing, all he sent back was “dress warm.” You bugged him about it for a while, but you knew you would never get it out of him.

True to his word, Nate showed up at your door just as the sun was about to set. He smiled shyly at you as you opened the door. He hovered awkwardly in the doorway as you put on your boots and grabbed your coat.

“Are you ever gonna actually tell me what we’re doing?” you asked as you locked the door.

Nate pretended to think. “Nah.” He punched the elevator button, and your hands brushed together as he brought his back to his side. Nate clenched and unclenched his fingers as the elevator door opened.

As you stepped in and turned around, you took Nate’s hand, twining your fingers together. Nate relaxed and squeezed your hand once. He held your hand all the way out to his car, and then picked it back up once he started driving.

You couldn’t count the number of times the two of you had sat just like this, Nate driving one-handed, his other hand clutching yours across the console. Nate drove into the sunset, out of the city, the only sound in the car the radio and Nate’s occasional curse at another driver. It was a calm, comfortable silence, different than it had been recently with Nate. More like how it had been before.

Nate drove you all the way out to a field somewhere in the middle of who-knows-where, Colorado. He told you not to move before he climbed out of the car and started pulling things out of the backseat. You couldn’t tell what he was doing out in front of the car in the twilight.

When Nate finally came to open your door and help you out of the car, you smirked at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you drove me all the way out here just to kill me,” you said.

Nate rolled his eyes and tugged your hand harder than necessary, causing you to stumble forward into his chest. He wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you; he was warm against the late winter air. When he looked down at you, his breath came out in a faint cloud. It seemed like any retort he had died on his lips.

Nate stared down at you for a moment, still holding you to his chest. Then he seemed to shake himself, taking a half step back and taking your hand in his again. He didn’t say anything as he led you over to a blanket he’d spread out on the ground. Nate sat and pulled you down between his legs to lean against his chest.

When he spoke, you could feel his chest vibrating underneath your back. “It’s not much, but we’ve done all the typical dates already. I thought we could just watch the stars for a while.”

You twisted around to press a kiss to Nate’s jaw. “It’s a perfect idea, Nate.” Even in the dark, you could see Nate’s cheeks turn pink.

“I brought hot chocolate, too,” he said. You hummed and snuggled in against Nate’s chest more.

He draped another blanket over you before wrapping his arms around you. It wasn’t quite dark enough to see stars yet, so you closed your eyes and just reveled in the fact that you were there, with Nate, and for a moment, you could let yourself forget that everything had changed. You could smell Nate’s cologne, familiar and comforting, and his heartbeat was a steady rhythm beneath you. Nate tucked his nose against your neck, and that’s how the two of you sat for a long time, letting the darkness grow around you.

You shivered; the temperature had dropped with the sun, and even Nate, a walking furnace, could only do so much.

“Here,” he said, shifting you a little bit so he could reach for the Thermos of hot chocolate. He unscrewed the cap before handing it to you.

You took a long drink, letting the warmth flow through you before handing it back to Nate. You blinked, trying to focus on the stars; you weren’t the greatest with constellations, but you had learned some of them when you were younger.

Nate followed your gaze and pointed. “That one’s Orion, isn’t it?” You followed Nate’s finger to the three stars that made up Orion’s Belt and nodded. “That and the Big Dipper are the only ones I know,” he said.

“The Big Dipper is actually part of Ursa Major, which is a bear,” you said, tracing out the rest of it with your finger. Nate made an interested noise behind you. You looked back at Orion, following it towards Sirius and Canis Major. “That really bright one is Sirius, the Dog Star.” Nate pressed a kiss to your temple, and you smiled. You paused before pointing at another constellation. “I think that’s Pegasus, with the square, and above it is Cassiopeia.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Nate murmured, “I can’t really tell what you’re looking at, but the stars are pretty, and I could listen to you talk forever.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t really know that many more constellations,” you admitted, but you suddenly remembered an old folk myth you had been told every summer as a kid at summer camp about how the stars were created. You started telling it to Nate, carefully so you didn’t leave anything out; you could never tell the story the same way you had grown up hearing it, but Nate seemed invested, anyway.

You spoke quietly in the dark field, the whole world seeming hushed and far away. Nate’s arms tightened around you once you had finished the story. He kissed your temple again, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence again, until Nate gasped and poked you in the side repeatedly.

“A shooting star!” he said, still poking you. A star had, in fact, streaked across the sky above you.

“Yes, Nathan, I saw it, now stop poking me!”

“You’re supposed to make a wish, babe,” he said.

You sighed and closed your eyes. There, sitting on the cold ground in a field, wrapped up in Nate and his warmth, you couldn’t imagine ever wishing for anything else. You would give anything for this moment to last forever, for moments like this to become commonplace in your life again.

You sat out under the stars for a little while longer before you started shivering again. Nate laughed at you when he helped you up.

“Shut up, not all of us can be a walking heater,” you said.

“Go sit in the car, I’ll clean everything up, “ he told you, kissing your forehead.

The drive back into Denver was nothing like the drive out of the city. You took Nate’s phone and opened his Spotify, searching for your own playlist. Nate groaned when he saw what you were doing, but let you turn up the volume. You both spent the entire car ride singing along to the songs that came on at the top of your lungs.

Nate didn’t kiss you when he left you at your apartment door, but he did duck his head and shoot you a shy smile when you told him you’d like to do that again, and it was a start for both of you.

More dates kept getting scheduled, hikes on days off, takeout and a movie on nights in, impromptu ones where Nate showed up at your work with lunch. Nate would ask you about work, or your family, and it really was just like you were getting to know each other all over again. You convinced Nate to start a new show one night, and you ended up binging a whole season, even though he had morning skate and a game the next day. You watched it together again over FaceTime the next weekend, and then it became a standing date. You argued more than once when Nate watched an episode or two without you, but it always ended with smiles and a promise that he wouldn’t do it again. Cox seemed overjoyed that his people were back together, and he always met you at Nate’s front door, his whole body wagging with excitement.

Mel finally convinced you to come over for a girls night while the Avs were on their California trip. You had been lied to a little bit, as you had been under the impression that all of the girls would be over, but when you showed up at the Landeskog’s house, it was just Mel and Linnea, a box of pizza, and a bottle of your favorite wine.

“I was led here under false pretenses,” you griped, but you gave Linnea a kiss and swiped a piece of pizza, anyway.

“Is this a good idea? What we’re doing?” you asked Mel during the second intermission. Mel took a drink of her wine instead of answering. “Mel, answer me, please,” you begged, poking her with your foot.

Mel pursed her lips, eyes carefully focused on the TV. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s good for either of you,” she said. “But I do know that you’ve both been happier since Christmas. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I were you. But Nate seems like he’s trying so hard, and he’s been asking Gabe for advice all the time. If anything, I think he’s proved that he’s willing to try to change, and I think he’s done a pretty good job at it, too.”

You rubbed Zoey’s ears thoughtfully. “The longer we try to fix this, the more normal it seems. It’s not stilted or awkward anymore. I’m just afraid I’m going to get comfortable again, and I won’t be able to come back from all of this a second time.”

“For what it’s worth,” Mel said, finishing her wine. “Gabe and EJ tell me that he won’t ever go out with the team after games on the road, anymore. Some shit about wanting to set a good example for the younger guys, but even Cale goes out every once in a while.”

You thought about the last time you had seen Cale drunk, all rosy cheeks and awkward limbs, and giggled; Nate had been responsible for getting him home, and he’d ended up crashing in your guest room, and then he laid around all day nursing a hangover. Then you thought about how Nate had started FaceTiming you from hotel rooms again, always at the exact same time, without fail. Maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised that Nate had sworn off the dive bars they went to in every city.

The game started back up, and you and Mel refocused, letting the conversation die in favor of yelling at the TV.

You started going to games more often again, not every game, but as many as you could handle. You were no longer anxious every time you stood waiting for Nate in the hallway after a game, and he still shot you one of those small, shy smiles every time he saw you. You always told him when you’d be at games now, but he seemed to be surprised every time he saw you outside the locker room, like you would decide you’d had enough, would give up on him. You went out with the boys a couple of times, too, after some particularly fun wins. Nate stuck close to you the entire night those times, plastered to your side, keeping an eye on you when you went to dance or get another drink.

You heard the boys chirping him about it when they thought you weren’t listening. It was all gentle really, teasing him for guarding you, the old comments about how gone he was for you. You liked the way he blushed all the way up to his ears when they teased him.

Every time you got ready for your game, the jersey in the back of your closet seemed to be taunting you. The girls were getting less subtle about the looks they gave you when you showed up to games without it. At least you had dug your Avs baseball cap out.

It was nearing the end of the season, and the Avs were still sitting comfortably at the top of the Conference, just cruising into the playoffs. It was the middle of March before you looked at that jersey with the A on the front and MacKinnon sprawled across the back and tugged it off the hanger and over your head.

Mel didn’t say anything when you climbed into her car, but you saw the small smile before she turned and started driving again.

The Avs ended up losing. Nate looked dejected when he came out of the locker room, but then he glanced up and saw you standing there in his jersey; he did a double take before you were being swept up in his arms.

Nate hugged you tightly, pressing his face into your hair. You could hear the rest of the boys coming out of the locker room, but the world condensed until it was just you and Nate, wrapped up in each other, warm and safe. You didn’t want to pull away.

Eventually, EJ yelled something about sharing your attention, and you broke apart. Nate had knocked your hat off in his haste, and you quickly dried the few tears that had slipped out as he bent to pick it up. Nate placed it backwards on your head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I was afraid I’d never get to see you wearing my number again,” he whispered before EJ was on you.

This year, when April rolled around, the Avalanche didn’t go home quietly to lick their wounds and recover. No, they were back in the playoffs, and they were back with a vengeance.

“Hey, you’ll- will you come to the playoff games?” Nate asked one afternoon just before Round One started.

You were lying on his couch with Cox on your chest. You both looked up at Nate’s words, and you craned your neck around to see Nate better where he was standing behind you.

“Do you want me to come to the games?” you asked, a little confused. Nate shuffled his feet and shoved his hands deeper into his sweatpant pockets.

“Only if you want to,” he muttered.

You turned fully then, causing Cox to jump off and pout at you. You reached out and grabbed one of Nate’s wrists and pulled him closer to you. He towered over you from your spot on the couch.

“I will be at every single game, and I will be cheering for you while wearing your name across my back,” you told him. Nate blinked down at you. You squeezed his hand and stood up. Nate was still staring after you as you walked out of the living room.

If someone had asked you in August or even October where you’d be if the Avs made it to the playoffs, you could’ve never told them the right answer. You could have never imagined that you would be walking into Pepsi Center for Game 1 against the Oilers, much less that you had been looking forward to this night for days. Your coworkers had all made fun of you that morning because you hadn’t been able to focus at all. They even caught you smiling at your phone when Nate had texted you around lunchtime, telling you how excited he was to see you after the game.

You weren’t going to live that down any time soon.

You changed into your jersey before leaving work, drove straight to the Pepsi Center, and made it just in time to catch some of warm-ups. Mel pulled you aside as soon as you had said your hellos to everyone and thrust a denim playoff jacket with MacKinnon on the back at you.

“Mel,” you warned.

“Shut up,” she said, shaking the jacket at you. “I know you two still have some issues, but you are dating again, so you’re wearing the fucking jacket.”

You stuck your tongue out at Mel, but took the jacket. It was cute, you thought, looking closer at it. And it was true, you were still moving slowly, but you were technically dating Nate. Mel was still looking pointedly at you with her arms crossed, so you sighed and tugged the jacket on over your jersey.

The other girls all squealed when you rejoined them, and you lost track of the number of pictures that were taken. You didn’t hesitate to edit your favorites and post them to your Instagram, MacKinnon proudly spread across your shoulders.

They won, but it was close, and chippy and chirpy as playoff games always were. The boys on the ice were feeding off the energy of the crowd, and the crowd was feeding off the energy of the boys. It was a fight, but the Avalanche left the ice with a win at the end of the night.

The energy was still high, but carefully controlled, by the time all the families made it down to the locker room. One of the double doors stood ajar, and through it you could see the boys bouncing around, all in various states of undress, blasting music and yelling.

Nate was still grinning when he finally made his way out to you. He wrapped you up in a hug without taking a good look at you, but when he let you go, he caught sight of the jacket you were still wearing. He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around once before twisting you to face him again.

“Jesus, Mack, you’re making me dizzy, babe,” you laughed.

Nate just hugged you again, this time tighter than the last.

The series with the Oilers went to seven games, because of course it did. You were starting to suspect that at least three different Avalanche players were secretly nursing injuries, but ignoring them, because of course they were.

Nate asked you to come over the night before Game 7. He was quiet while he cooked dinner, and even your forced attempts at conversation while you ate fell flat. When Nate stood up and dropped his plate into the sink with a clatter, you jumped up and grabbed his arm, made him face you.

“Nate, I’m not doing this again. You asked me to come over, I’m here, and you’re all shut down like you were all last year.” Something like pain and sadness flashed across Nate’s face. “So you’re either going to talk to me, or I’m going home,” you said.

Nate rubbed a hand across his face, and he suddenly looked very tired. “I know, I’m sorry, fuck, I’m just worried.”

You wrapped your arms around Nate’s waist and felt him lean into you. “Do you wanna watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”

Nate nodded and let you lead him into the living room, but pulled his phone out as soon as he sat down. You had a feeling he was rereading scouting reports again.

“Nope,” you said, plucking his phone out of his hands and locking it. Nate gaped at you for a second before he lunged. You held the phone behind your back, but Nate grabbed you around the waist and threw you onto the couch. He grinned down at you for a moment before he was tickling you, making you giggle and squirm.

“Nate, stop!” you gasped. “You’re not gonna get your phone back.”

Nate paused, his eyes looking deep into yours. He was still leaning over you, your legs twisted together, and you could feel his breath against your cheeks. He pressed a kiss to your nose.

You found yourself wanting to close the distance between you, kiss Nate for real, but you weren’t sure if you were there yet.

He hovered over you for a minute more in silence; you hardly dared to breathe. And then Cox barked at something outside, and the moment was over. Nate rolled off of you, but he tugged you up until you were cuddled into his side.

It was another close game the next night, but the team always seemed to play better at home, when the screaming crowd was screaming for them, not against. You watched anxiously as Nate stood on the blue line during the anthems, shuffling his skates back and forth, but he seemed calm, focused.

When the final buzzer sounded, and the Avs won, you were already on your feet with the rest of Pepsi Center; you weren’t sure you had sat down the entire game.

You jumped into Nate’s arms outside of the locker room, his teammates’ shouts echoing off of the walls around you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered.

The Avs went down 2-0 to start the second round. You hadn’t been able to make it to the second game because you got stuck at work late, but you had watched from home; you wore your MacKinnon jersey, even though no one was around to see you. It wasn’t a pretty game, either. The Avs had been sloppy and took a lot of penalties, and you could see Nate’s frustration through your TV.

You weren’t surprised, then, when Nate showed up at your apartment door, still in his game-day suit, but looking rumpled and more than a little upset. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, because you just turned and let him follow you into your apartment.

“Do you want food?” you asked. “I doubt I have anything diet approved, but there’s ice cream and popcorn.”

But Nate shook his head, kicking off his dress shoes and stripping his suit jacket. “Can I change?” he asked instead, holding up a small bag you hadn’t even noticed at first.

You just nodded and settled on the couch to wait while Nate made his way to your bathroom. When he came back in a hoodie and sweatpants, he looked distinctly less stiff, but there was still something like pain in his eyes.

“C’mere,” you said softly, tugging him onto the couch with you. You let Nate maneuver the two of you until you were on your back with Nate squarely on your chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Only then could you feel some of the tension in his back and shoulders start to disappear.

The minutes passed in silence for a while before Nate spoke. “Did you watch?”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, idly rubbing Nate’s back in circles.

“Was it as bad as it seemed on the ice?”

You paused. “Worse. You guys were a mess,” you said honestly. Nate sighed and pressed his face deeper into your chest. “What happened? We all know you guys are better than that.”

Nate shrugged as best as he could from his position on top of you. Honestly, he made for a great weighted blanket, but he was starting to crush you a little. “Would you come to the games this weekend? If I got you a plane ticket?” he asked suddenly. “I know you have to work on Friday, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but-”

You moved your hand into Nate’s hair, and he stopped talking. When he lifted his head and rested his chin on your collarbone, he looked nervous. You carded your fingers through his hair, once, twice, watching Nate’s eyes close before you answered with a question of your own. “Do you want me there?” you asked. It wasn’t the first time you had asked Nate this question since the playoffs had started, but you needed to hear the words straight from his mouth. Needed to hear him say he wanted you, needed you, that whatever was happening between you wasn’t one-sided.

This time, Nate didn’t look away from your eyes when he answered you. “Yes.”

You insisted that Nate stay the night, although he didn’t put up much of a fight. You had eventually turned on a movie, and he had started smiling more, but you could still see the desolate look in his eyes. You had seen a lot of that look last season.

You were laying in the dark, both of you on your sides facing each other. Nate’s eyes were closed, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep yet. You were busy tracing the lines in his forehead, his jawline hidden beneath the playoff beard, wondering what he would do if you reached out for real and touched his face, when he asked you a question.

“Do you think we can do this?” His eyes were open now, that blue you loved so much clouded with doubt.

You did reach out and touch Nate’s face then, brushing your thumb across the creases in his forehead and then his cheek. “I know you can do this,” you said confidently. That confidence must have shown through in your voice, because Nate lifted his hand to yours and smiled at you.

You fell asleep holding hands.

St. Louis was hot. It was still only late spring, but it was humid as hell as soon as you stepped off the plane. You had managed to take Friday off, and Nate had pulled some strings to get you a room in the team hotel on short notice, but you still had to fly in and Uber to the hotel on your own.

Nate hugged you hello, but it was Burky who dragged you off to take a pregame nap with him. You grinned at Nate over your shoulder, and you were pleased that he looked distinctly disgruntled.

Enterprise Center was just as loud as the Pepsi Center had been during Round 1. You stood out in your burgundy jersey in a mass of blue. You got some looks as you made your way through the concourse towards your seat. You wondered vaguely if Nate had to call in any favors with Brayden or Ryan to get you tickets to the games. You weren’t sure when you had last been to a hockey game without the rest of the Avs’ WAGs by your side; it felt strange to be alone.

Nate’s eyes searched the crowd during warm-ups. He finally found you and smiled stupidly at you, until Burky went flying into him, and they both went sprawling.

The Avalanche won, 3-0 in a game that silenced the crowd at Enterprise.

Nate hadn’t been able to get you a VIP pass, so you made your way out onto the street with the rest of the fans, except you were the only one excited that the Blues had lost. Nate texted you while you waited for an Uber: “wait up for me at the hotel?”

You smiled down at your phone. “of course.”

You were still in the hotel lobby when the team poured off the bus. They were loud still, and you could tell that they were lighter than they had been earlier that night. EJ beat everyone else over to you.

“Y/N, you’re officially our good luck charm, and you’re never allowed to miss another game,” he told you.

You laughed and leaned into EJ’s side. “I’ll be sure to tell my work that,” you said.

EJ rested his chin on the top of your head as you both watched several of his teammates play-fight near the doors. “Who knows, maybe they’ll thank you for it.”

Nate made his way over to the two of you. He was laughing at something Gravy was saying, and you took a moment to look at how his eyes crinkled when he laughed like that.

“Trying to steal my girl, Eej?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You tried not to think about how pleased it made you feel to hear Nate call you his girl again.

“Always,” EJ replied easily, but let you go to follow Nate to the elevators.

As the doors closed behind you, Nate pulled you close. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he mumbled.

You tilted your head up to look at him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else right now,” you told him, and you meant it.

You dragged a bunch of the boys to the zoo the next morning. JT sat on a bench in the butterfly house long enough that a butterfly landed on his hat. Josty, on the other hand, was weirdly fascinated by all of the insects, and you had to tell him more than once not to run inside. EJ and Cale complained until you went into the penguin house. You had to tell Z that he was almost certainly too big to fit on the train, but you couldn’t convince any of them that they couldn’t go on the carousel; they insisted you go on it with them. You took a great video of a highly-amused Burky playing with the seals at the glass.

Nate held your hand the entire time you walked. When you pulled your phone out to take the video of Burky, you found that you had several texts from the boys, all pictures of you and Nate. Nate tugging your hand to go look at the elephants. Nate smiling at you while you laughed at Tyson. Nate reaching for you while you sat next to him on the carousel.

You saved all of them to your camera roll.

The Avs won the next night, too, and suddenly the series was tied. Nate asked you to come to his hotel room after the game, and you both fell asleep while watching a movie.

The Pepsi Center was deafening on the night of Game 5, and soon the Avs were up 3-2 in the series, instead of being on the verge of elimination. The team was playing with a new energy, too, and you thought they may have been yelling louder than the crowd when Mikko scored to end it in overtime.

They went back to St. Louis, and Nate FaceTimed you from his hotel room. You could hear EJ and Gabe arguing over what to order from room service in the background.

“I miss you,” Nate said when you answered the call.

“We miss you, too!” Gabe yelled from somewhere on the other side of the room. Nate rolled his eyes.

When EJ flopped down on the bed next to Nate, he groaned, but let him rest his head on his shoulder to talk to you too.

You watched alone from your couch as they fought through Game 6. You stopped breathing for a while when Cale took a bad hit and disappeared off the bench for part of the second period, but he came back and scored a goal during his first shift. Burky scored a goal, too, and you thought for a minute he was going to fight Brayden Schenn until Nate stepped in. The game was still tied going into the third, and then it was halfway through the third, and then suddenly the puck was flying off Naz’s stick and landing neatly in the net behind Binnington.

Your scream might have woken a few neighbors.

Nate FaceTimed you from the locker room, and soon your screen was filled with the sweaty, but happy, faces of the boys, all clamoring to say hi to you. Nate eventually fought them off, and it was just him and his broad shoulders on your phone, and you wished you were there to hug him.

You all watched from Gabe’s house as San Jose beat the Flames in 7, and the Conference Finals became a rematch of the 2019 playoffs.

André got injured in Game 1, some lower body thing that had probably been bothering him for weeks, but eventually his leg gave out on the ice. He showed up at your apartment door the way Nate had in the second round.

“Nate said something about comfort cuddles?” was what he said when you pulled open your door and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come in here, you idiot,” you said.

You tried not to notice how he limped through your doorway and into your living room. He flopped gracelessly onto your couch, curls peeking out from underneath his baseball hat.

“Do you want junk food?” you asked as he pouted at you. He nodded, still shooting you sad looks as he clutched a pillow to his chest. You sighed at him, shaking your head fondly, and went to retrieve a tub of cookie dough ice cream from the fridge and a couple spoons from the drawer.

You threw the spoon at Burky, and he caught it, a small smirk on his face now. “You eat ice cream out of the tub often?” he asked.

“How do you think I got through breaking up with Nate?” you replied, peeling off the lid and digging out a chunk of cookie dough with your spoon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see André’s face fall, and he winced; you didn’t think it was because of the injury. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured, reaching across you to get his own spoonful of ice cream. He dropped his head to rest on your shoulder. “He talks about you all the time, y’know. He always used to, but it stopped last season, and we never knew why. Then all of a sudden after Christmas, it started again.” You ate your ice cream thoughtfully. “He’s so much happier now. We could have the worst fucking game ever, but he knows he has you again, so it’s okay.”

You rested your head on top of Burky’s. “I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. But, fuck, it feels good, it feels right, Bura.”

Burky hummed; his spoon scraped the bottom of the cardboard carton. “You’re out of ice cream,” he said. You flicked his nose. “I’m glad you’re back. We missed you,” he added softly.

You knocked his hat off so you could play with his curls. They were grown out, and honestly you would take any excuse to play with them. He melted into you as you carded your fingers through his hair. He looked young sitting there on your couch, and you had to remind yourself that he was older than Nate, that he’d already won a Cup with the Caps.

André came over again to watch Game 2 with you, instead of watching alone from the press box. You sat curled into his chest on the couch, until Gabe scored a goal and he jumped up, knocking you off his lap and onto the floor. You had pouted at him as he helped you up, laughing his ass off, but from then on you just stretched your feet into his lap.

The Avs had won Games 1 and 2, and you could all feel the tension and frustration that San Jose was facing– you had all felt it yourselves just a couple of weeks before. Ashley’s nails dug into your arm as you watched Naz mouthing off to a Sharks player, his old beef with Joe Thornton spilling over, about to drop the gloves, but the refs stepped in– a couple of you booed a little, but Ashley’s grip just tightened– and it was over. Except it wasn’t, because then Naz got hit behind the play, and you were starting to think Ashley was drawing blood, even as Naz got up, albeit a little slowly, a little dazed. It wasn’t until he came back onto the ice for his next shift that she let go, but she did also sigh and say, “I need a stronger drink,” before swallowing the last of her wine in one big gulp.

They split the road games. The team plane landed in Denver in the late afternoon, and Nate came straight to your apartment to pick up Cox. He ended up coming inside and accidentally took a nap with you on the couch. He stayed for dinner, too, and only left reluctantly at the end of the night.

Nate scored a hat trick in Game 5. You flung your hat down onto the ice with the rest of Pepsi Center, screaming with Mel as Gabe and Mikko tackled him to the ice. There was still time left on the clock, but it didn’t matter, because the game was as good as won.

The Colorado Avalanche were going to the Stanley Cup Finals.

Nate swept you up in a giant hug outside the locker room, spinning you around and squeezing you until you couldn’t breathe, but you never wanted to let go.

You reached up to cup his cheek– and that playoff beard that was still going very strong– and beamed at him. “I told you you could do this,” you told him, just see his grin turn shy. “And you owe me a new hat.”

“I will buy you any hat you want,” Nate promised, but then Josty swept past you and jammed a hat on your head. You took it off to look at it: Western Conference Champions. “But I kinda like the way that one looks on you.

Nate asked you to come over the next night to watch the Eastern Conference Finals, Pens against the Flyers. He paced around the house through the entire pregame show, and you and Cox watched him, bemused, from the couch.

“You good over there, babe?” you asked as Nate stood next to you and looked anywhere but the TV.

“What if I don’t want the Pens to win this?” he blurted. You raised an eyebrow at him. “You know I love Sid, but I don’t know if I could handle facing him in the Finals.”

You laughed a little and made him sit down on the couch next to you. “I’m sure Sid will forgive you,” you told him.

He may not have wanted to face off against his best friend and childhood hero in the Cup Finals, but that didn’t stop him from cheering when Sid scored a goal, or cussing out Konecny for a dirty hit. It didn’t matter, though, because no matter how fast or angry the Pens were, the Flyers were faster and angrier. The Pens weren’t about to go down without a fight, but an empty net goal from Giroux with less than a minute left sealed their fate. Nate texted Sid an apology while you watched the teams shake hands on the ice, and you knew he meant it, but you could also see how he relaxed for the first time all night.

Sid showed up in Denver with Nate’s family just before the Cup Finals started.

“Didn’t feel like going home yet,” was the only excuse he offered, but you both knew how much it meant to Nate that he was there.

Nate’s family stayed in a hotel, but Sid moved into the guest bedroom. A bunch of your things had started to migrate from your apartment and into that guest room, so you carried them into Nate’s bedroom. Nate watched with his arms crossed from the doorway, pretending to be stoic, but his cheeks were pink.

You were in the kitchen later, making lunch, when Nate came in and hovered near you. You bumped him out of the way with your hip.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“Do you wanna just stay over here during the Finals?” he mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring on his hoodie. “It’ll be easier, since you’re going to all the games and stuff, to just come over here at the end of the night.”

You looked up at him; he looked back at you from underneath his eyelashes. “Sure,” you replied, going back to making your lunch. You already had a toothbrush at Nate’s, anyway. “I’ll have to go get some clothes later, though.”

Nate mumbled a “Cool,” before kissing the top of your head and leaving.

Sid came in a minute later and raised his eyebrows at you. You just pointed your knife threateningly at him.

You had never seen the Pepsi Center so loud. The noise had been deafening throughout the playoffs, but it had reached a fever pitch for the Cup Finals. Even when it was quiet, it wasn’t silent, a constant buzz of excited voices filling the arena.

You stood with the rest of the WAGs, in your jersey and denim jacket, Nate’s family and Sid by your side, and you caught yourself thinking that this was somewhere you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

They lost Game 1, but Nate still smiled when you met him outside the locker room. He and EJ were both moving gingerly after a weird three-way collision with a Flyers player in the second. EJ still wrapped you in a hug, though, even if he groaned when Sammy plastered himself across his back.

“You’re supposed to be our good luck charm, Y/N, what the fuck?” he teased. You dug your elbow into his bruised ribs in response. “Geez, I forgot how mean you are to all of us,” he said, rubbing his side.

Nate laughed, settled his hands on your hips. You stuck your tongue out at EJ.

“Wanna head home?” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Want me to drive?” you asked. Josty, who was walking past, stopped and raised his eyebrows, but JT dragged him away. Nate just pressed his keys into your hand.

Nate wasn’t quiet on the drive home like you’d expected. He didn’t stop talking from the time the car door closed behind him until you pulled into his driveway. He complained about the Flyers, the refs, his own playing. It had been a while since Nate just let himself complain about hockey to you. It was nice to hear it again.

Nate pulled you close in the dark that night, and you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, wearing one of his T-shirts.

When they won Game 2, you thought the Can was going to explode.

The team plane left the next morning for Philadelphia. All of the wives and girlfriends piled onto a plane of your own and followed them. You took a nap in Nate’s hotel room in a pile with Cale and Burky while Nate watched film.

The Flyers seemed more powerful in front of their own crowd. They hit harder and chirped meaner, and all of their fans in orange yelled for them. Nate left after a slash to the wrist in Game 3, and the Flyers used that to their advantage. He was back the next night, but the Flyers still took both home games.

Nate was tense when you made it home to Denver. You and Sid shared looks behind his back when he came home late from skate, or sat down immediately after dinner to watch game film again. He was still icing his wrist.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sid whispered to you as you both stood in the hallway and looked in on Nate. He had the TV on and his iPad in his lap and gave absolutely no indication that he knew you were watching him.

“I had to do this all last season,” you hissed back. “It’s your turn, Crosby!”

“You’re his girlfriend!”

“You’re his best friend!”

“I can hear you two,” Nate called, his eyes still not leaving the video in front of him. Okay, maybe your whispered argument with Sid wasn’t as quiet as you’d thought it was. “What time is it?”

Sid said, “Late,” at the same time you said, “Bedtime.” You looked at each other and tried not to burst out giggling. Nate sighed, but he turned off the TV and tossed his iPad onto the couch cushions.

“I’ll meet you upstairs, yeah?” he said, kissing your forehead and holding up the now-melted ice pack he’d been using. You must’ve given him a skeptical look, because he chuckled and added, “I promise. And I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

You used Nate’s shoulder for balance as you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. As much as you loved the beard and the playoffs, you couldn’t wait for him to shave; you were getting tired of kissing that.

If the Flyers thought they would have it easy coming back to Denver, that the Avalanche would go down without a fight, they were very much mistaken. In fact, there was an actual fight early in Game 5, between Farabee and Calvert, over who knows what, but it was enough to energize the Avs straight to 6 goals. They took the next game in Philly, too, though the score was a lot closer.

Soon, you were back in Denver, and it was the day before Game 7. Nate was quiet all day, and you and Sid mostly left him to himself. He went to practice, and you went to lunch with Sarah. You came home, and Nate was heading out for a run.

You were taking your laundry out of the dryer and resigning yourself to going to bed alone when Nate came and found you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing himself along your back and burying his face in your neck. You rested your hands on his and leaned back into him

When he spoke, his beard tickled your neck. “I’m sorry I’ve been shitty, I’m just- what if we can’t win this?”

You turned in Nate’s arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You were still holding one of his socks. “No matter what happens tomorrow night, your family will still love you. Your team will still love you. Denver will still love you. I will still love you.” You pressed a kiss to Nate’s temple.

You stood there, in the middle of the laundry room, for several more minutes. When Nate pulled back, his eyes were shining, but neither of you said anything more.

Later that night, you pulled Nate into your chest in bed, letting him be the little spoon. He sighed contentedly and relaxed into you. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

As you were drifting off to sleep, you heard Nate whisper, “I love you, too.”

When Nate left for the game the next afternoon, he didn’t kiss you, but it was a near thing. You weren’t sure what was holding you back anymore. You liked that Nate seemed to be waiting for you to decide.

Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final was the most stressed you’d ever felt. You wanted to live in the moment forever.

Sid sat next to you and let you squeeze his arm when you got nervous. Mel was on your other side, and she smacked you every time Nate or Gabe touched the puck, which was often, as if your eyes weren’t glued to the ice every second. Someone brought you a beer during the first intermission, but it went mostly untouched.

The game was a tame one, or about as tame as a Game 7 in the Stanley Cup Finals could be. Penalties went uncalled, and tempers were flaring. It was tied going into the second, and then again going into the third, even though both teams scored two more goals in the second period. Your hand was beginning to cramp from where you held onto Sid’s forearm, but all he did was take your hand in his after a while; you kept squeezing until you were sure even his fingers were numb.

And then Giroux high-sticked Gabe and made him bleed. There was no looking the other way from that, Giroux was sent to the box with a double minor, and suddenly the Avs were on a power play halfway through the third period. They didn’t need the full four minutes, though. They didn’t even need a full minute before Nate was on a breakaway, and the puck was up above Hart’s shoulder and safely in the net between one breath and the next.

You screamed with the rest of Pepsi Center, but yours were mixed with a few tears, too.

You still didn’t relax, felt like you couldn’t breathe, because it wasn’t over until that final buzzer.

You watched the clock tick down above center ice. Twenty seconds; you were on the edge of your seat. Ten seconds; you were on your feet. Five seconds; you were screaming. Zero seconds; you were hugging Mel and Sid and anyone else you could get your arms around.

You weren’t sure if you were screaming or crying, anymore. Nate looked up to where you were sitting, and you were sure you’d never seen him smile that big before.

The Flyers filed off the ice, and you spared a half second to feel bad, because they had wanted this just as badly, but then you saw Nate and André hugging and yelling in each other’s faces. You thought about everything you’d gone through the last two seasons, and you thought that, just maybe, the Avalanche deserved this.

A hush fell over the arena as Gabe skated over to pick up the Cup, but it exploded again as he lifted it over his head for the first time. When he handed it off to Nate next, and Nate kissed it before lifting it over his head, you were definitely crying, but you also couldn’t stop smiling.

Everyone insisted that you come down to the ice, though a part of you wondered if you still counted, if you deserved to be there, too. Nate was hanging off of EJ when you stepped onto the ice with his parents, but he looked up and saw you. His face split into an even bigger grin than before. Without thinking, really, you launched yourself at Nate, and then you were both tumbling to the ice.

Nate was sweaty and still entirely in all of his pads, but his arms were wrapped around you and that was all that mattered. You thought he was going to kiss you lying there on the ice, but he didn’t, just helped you up and let you latch onto him again.

“I am so fucking proud of you, Nathan MacKinnon,” you yelled in his ear, standing at center ice.

Nate went home to Cole Harbour, and you stayed in Denver. Except this summer, he texted you every day and called you most nights. From his couch with Cox by his side, from the dock under the stars, from Sid’s deck with a couple of beers. Not a day went by where you didn’t talk to Nate.

You missed him, and you loved him, but this summer it was different. You wished you’d told him before he left, but there had been parties, and a parade, and a lot of alcohol, and it had never seemed like the right time. So you’d stayed quiet, resisted the urge to kiss Nate in front of all of Denver, to tell the world that he was yours, that your heart was his.

You missed him, and you loved him, and you had to hold yourself back from ending every phone call with those three words, because he was in another country halfway across the continent, and it wouldn’t feel right to say it unless you were in his arms.

You wondered if he knew, when you fell silent on FaceTime and just watched him talk with a smile on your face. You wondered if he could see the love in your eyes again, if it had ever really gone away.

You wondered if, somehow, you’d missed your chance.

Nate’s day with the Cup came in the beginning of August. He asked if you would come. You told him you couldn’t get off work.

You booked a plane ticket to Halifax.

You made Sid come pick you up from the airport. He didn’t love that he was being forced to keep a secret from Nate, but he gave you a warm hug when he saw you anyway.

“Do you know what you’re gonna say?” he asked after you’d climbed into his truck and were making your way towards Nate’s house.

You laughed. Sid had rolled the windows down, and your hair blew out the window and into the August air. “Nope. I’ve been thinking about this all summer, I flew all the way out here, and I have no clue what I’m going to say to Nate. ‘Surprise? I love you!’ What if he doesn’t even want me here?”

Sid scoffed. You turned to glare at him. “I have had to listen to Nate complain every single day that you’re not here. It got worse after you lied and told him that you weren’t coming for tomorrow. At one point, he even pretended to be offended that you wouldn’t even come for my birthday.” He took his eyes off the road to look at you. “Nate wants you here, Y/N. Hell, I think you’re the only person he wants here.”

You played with your necklace; it was the necklace Nate had given you a lifetime ago. Sid’s gaze followed your fingers. “I just wasn’t sure for so long, Sid. What if I made him wait too long? What if he moved on?”

“I promise you, he hasn’t. I don’t think he ever would.”

Sid pulled up in front of Nate’s house then, put his truck in park, turned to look at you. You didn’t move. The sun was just starting to set over the lake, turning the sky gold and pink.

“Get out of my car, Y/N,” Sid said softly. “He’s probably around back.”

You sighed one last time and unbuckled your seatbelt, closing the car door softly behind you. You made your way quietly around the house, hoping Cox wouldn’t bark at you. You found Nate sitting in an adirondack chair near the water and started to head towards him when you had an idea.

You pulled your phone out and opened Nate’s contact. You didn’t hesitate before pressing the call button. You heard his FaceTime ring once, twice before the call connected and his face filled your phone screen.

“Hey, Y/N! I was just about to call you actually,” Nate said, grinning at you.

You suddenly hoped that you didn’t look like too much of a mess after your five hour flight.

Nate squinted at his phone, at you. “Where are you? The sun shouldn’t be setting in Denver yet.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m, uh, not in Denver,” you said. Nate looked confused; you had started walking towards him again, were nearly right behind him.

You would make fun of him for not realizing you were standing right behind him later.

“Then where-” Nate cut himself off. He jumped up from his chair and spun around, finally saw you standing there. There, in Cole Harbour.

You barely had time to hang up the call before Nate was tackling you to the grass in a hug.

“Oof, Nate, babe, you’re crushing me a little.”

“Don’t care. You’re here!” Nate said back. Then he pushed himself up a little, rested his weight on his hands. “You’re here. What’re you doing here? I thought you said-“

You laughed, and it echoed off the quiet lake. “I decided to surprise you.”

Nate brushed your hair out of your face and rested his hand on your cheek before dipping back down and pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re really here.”

You turned your head to kiss his palm. “Yeah, Nate. I’m here.”

Nate smiled dumbly down at you for a few more minutes. If you didn’t look a mess before, you certainly did now, sprawled out on the ground in sweatpants and a T-shirt, grass in your hair. You raised your own hand to cup Nate’s cheek. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, rested it against your palm.

The sun was still setting, and you could see the sky turning colors over his head. Nate rolled off of you and settled in the grass next to you. You reached over and grabbed his hand, twining your fingers together. Above you, the sky was all kinds of pinks and purples and blues.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said. Nate stiffened next to you. “I asked you to be patient with me. I said I couldn’t jump in headfirst. And you’ve been so good, so sweet. You’ve let me make all the decisions this time around. And you’ve waited on me for so long.”

“I would wait forever,” Nate breathed. You huffed out a laugh.

“Well, here’s the thing.” Nate looked away from the sky for the first time since you started talking and looked over at you. You rolled, pushing yourself up to straddle Nate’s hips. He propped himself up on his elbows, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, looking into Nate’s eyes. He looked apprehensive, but quietly hopeful. “I’m done waiting. I love you, Nate. I’m not sure I ever stopped. I needed you to prove that I could believe in you again. And, God, that’s all you’ve done since Christmas. From Cox, to the FaceTimes, to all of our little dates. Through the playoffs. I spent all summer wishing I’d said something before you left, stopping myself from saying something every time we talked on the phone.”

Nate’s hands had come up to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin underneath your T-shirt. He still was looking at you like everything you were saying was too good to be true.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

You had enough time to nod and laugh before Nate was leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. It was familiar and new and exhilarating all at once. It felt like coming home.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed Nate, or how long you’d been wanting, dreaming, wishing for it again. It didn’t matter anymore, though, because Nate was squeezing your hips and kissing you slowly, deeply. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he never wanted to be doing anything else.

He eventually pulled away for air, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing in the small space between you.

“I love you so much, Y/N. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do that again.” He kissed you again, just a quick peck. “And now I’m never, ever gonna stop.” He started pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, before coming back and kissing your lips again.

The sun had set fully by now, and you shivered. Nate was still radiating heat, and he rubbed his hands over your bare arms.

“Do you wanna go inside?” he asked. You shook your head, tilting your head back to look up at the stars as they appeared. “Okay, well let me go get you a sweatshirt or a blanket or something.” He tapped your thigh, and you climbed off his lap and stretched.

Nate made his way back up to the house, and you wandered out to the end of the dock. The water was warm when you dipped your feet in.

It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before you heard Nate’s footsteps in the grass again. You turned and saw him carrying a familiar sweatshirt from your college.

“Hey, wait that’s mine!” you said.

Nate blushed. “I, uh, found it last summer, and never really gave it back.”

You grinned at Nate as you pulled the sweatshirt over your head. It smelled like him. “I just thought I left it at your house, and you got rid of it or something. But apparently you’ve been wearing it,” you teased.

Nate blushed darker. “I sleep with it, sometimes,” he admitted. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore, but I still like it.”

You laughed. “Aw, you really are going soft, Mack.”

Nate just grabbed your hand and tugged you closer so he could kiss you again.

“I really believed you when you said you weren’t coming for tomorrow, y’know,” Nate said quietly. “I was trying to figure out how I’d fucked up, what I’d done to make you pull away.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and played with his hand in your lap. “I always wanted to be here for your day with the Cup. I need you to know, to understand, how proud of you I am, how proud of you I’ve always been. At first, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to come-” Nate scoffed; you elbowed him. “But then I started figuring out how I could surprise you. Besides, I missed this place.” You waved your hand vaguely towards Nate’s house and the lake. “And you, I guess,” you added.

Nate bumped your head with his shoulder. “How did you get here, anyway?” he asked.

“Sid,” you said simply.

Nate groaned. “I hate him. He told me he couldn’t golf today because he got guilted into spending time with Taylor!”

You both fell silent, just watching the stars and listening to the cicadas and frogs.

“Hey, what did you wish for on that shooting star we saw?” you asked suddenly, your head still resting on Nate’s shoulder.

Nate looked confused for a moment before he softened. “This,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I wanted exactly this, for you to be happy, for us to be together.” You looked up at him, and he kissed you softly again. “Winning the Cup was a nice bonus,” he added, grinning at you.

You shoved at Nate, but it didn’t really do much. “You’re an idiot,” you said, but you were smiling fondly at him, so it kind of ruined the effect.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he responded, pulling you into a sideways hug.

“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

You fell asleep next to Nate, which wasn’t new, but the kiss he gave you before you closed your eyes was.

You spent the next day with Nate, his family, and the Cup. Sid took every opportunity to talk about how good Nate is, how proud he was. You were pretty sure it was mostly just to see how flustered Nate got every single time. How he’d splutter and blush and struggle to change the subject, but someone always brought it back to hockey, because how could you not, when you were standing next to the Stanley Cup? Whenever Nate wasn’t holding the Cup with both hands, his hand was in yours, or on your hip, or at the small of your back. He would never admit it, but you could tell he was absolutely having the time of his life, basking in the glory and the attention. No longer just the second best thing to come out of Cole Harbour, if even for a moment. For the first time, Nate was in the spotlight.

And you were right by his side the whole time, in every picture, in every memory.

That night, after everyone had gone home and the Cup had moved on, you sat next to Nate on the couch with Cox as he went through pictures that had been taken that day. Ten minutes later, your phone lit up with an Instagram notification: @mackinnnon29 tagged you in a post. You looked sideways at Nate, but his phone was down and his eyes were on the TV. You unlocked your phone.

There were two pictures on the post. Both were of you and Nate, the Cup hoisted high over his head, glinting in the sun. In the first you were just gazing up at Nate while he grinned down at you, a loving smile of your own on your face; in the second, you were kissing, your hand on his shoulder.

His caption was simple: I’ve got everything I could ever need right here next to me.

#cait writes things #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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