🤎 welcome! 🤎

Six months later, that little chunk you found after the shower spread all over. Your dark hair is still visible, but it sits under new layers of sleek silver.

While you considered dying it when it first spread, Sidney was quick to ask if you were dying it for you or for others.

“You really like it?” You asked him one night after most of your old color was under these new layers.

“Do you like it?” He asks, dish towel thrown over his shoulder as he leans against the kitchen counter.

You take a second to respond before you slowly nod.

“Yeah.” You say with a small shrug. “I really think I do.”

“Then you have your answer.” He says, walking over to where you were standing and kissing your forehead.

“But people-“

“There is nobody’s opinion that matters, except yours.” He states, his fingers going to a few of the strands that frame your face.

“And yours.” You say, but he laughs and shakes his head.

“I think you’re beautiful no matter what color your hair is.”

“Butttt.” You say, dragging it out because you can tell he’s got something else to say.

And he smirks, looking into your eyes as he says, “But, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you as beautiful as you are now.” He states, and you can see how honest he’s being, see how his eyes shine and spark as they take you in. And not that you’ve ever doubted it, but you’ve really won the jackpot.

You know Sidney was being true to his word, because while he’s always stared at you, it’s almost like he’s been in a trance as he’s getting used to it.

He watches with that soft loving expression as you do literally anything.

You’re standing in the cereal aisle trying to figure out what you want? Sidney is watching you play with the ends of the silver strands as you think.

You’re laying in bed? He’s tucking strands behind your ears as he stares softly at you.

You come back slightly drunk from a night out with Geno and his wife? Sidney is putting you on the bathroom counter as he takes off your makeup and brushes through your hair.

But his absolute favorite thing about your silver hair is how it looks at the rink. And tonight is no different. He sees the knit penguins sweater, sees the gold earrings he gave you a few years ago that became your favorite accessory, your lips that are dark and glossy but smiling. But right now, Sidney’s main focus isn’t on your silver hair. The way it shines under the lights and the way the strands come down around your face. It isn’t the claw clip you have in to keep everything together. Instead, it’s on your bare fingers. And he smirks as he thinks of another thing he can give you that he’s sure you’ll love.

Sidney’s heart skips a beat, because looking up at you in looking at his whole heart, and he knows with you he’s home.

—

The hallway is busy as you stand off to the side and wait for Sidney. Players all greet you, some of the older ones hug you, some of the younger ones give a polite wave to their captain’s girlfriend.

“He play good tonight.” The familiar voice sounds to your right, and you look up from your phone with a bright smile. Geno approaches you, hair damp and in comfy clothes after the game. His normal goofy smile on his face.

That was another thing Sidney adored about you, how much you loved the people he loved. And Geno was no exception.

“So did you, G.” You say, going up on your very tippy toes to hug the man.

When you pull away you notice him move his head towards something down the hallway. And as you turn to look you see Sidney. He too has damp hair, and you look him up and down in his penguins sweatshirt and shorts. Even though he looks comfy, he’s still in captain mode. The cameras aimed at him, the polite smile as the reporter introduces himself and starts asking him questions.

“Sidney Crosby. When did you become such amazing person?” Geno mimics softly, and you laugh and swat at the man as you both turn your attention back to Sid.

Sidney’s eyes keep flicking over to you, but you raise an eyebrow as if telling him he needs to focus.

They ask him about the game, which the Penguins won, but it was a tough fight. He answers with cool calm, but you can tell when it shifts, and you freeze slightly as you listen to the next words.

“Now Sid.” The reporter says, the man is dressed in a navy suit, his smile more smiley than kind. “I have to say you’ve probably been dealing with a lot of stress from these last few games.”

“Yeah.” Sidney says, rubbing slightly at his jaw. “We all want to make it to the playoffs obviously, and we want to do it as a strong team for our fans.” He answers with that honesty he always has.

“Now you have to know of the media storm you’ve gained recently, do you think that’s contributing to the stress at home?”

Both you and Geno furrow your brows, the question confusing you. The stress at home? You turn to Geno, and he only stands a bit straighter, eyes going from you to Sidney in a way of he doesn’t know whether to cut in and defend you two or pull you away because he knows how ugly reporters can get.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Sidney says, and you can see a bit of him switch. Like the comment hit a nerve within him.

But the reporter only laughs like Sidney is silly for not understanding.

“I mean, the internet is going wild about your girlfriend’s hair. Do you think the gray hair is connected to the fact that the Penguins are just on the cusp of a playoff spot this year?” He says, like he didn’t just insult you.

But you didn’t move, honestly you don’t even think you blinked. Because at this point, you are used to it. You’ve seen the comments online, seen the tweets and the replies from old men telling you that you’re destroying your youth by not dying your hair back to an ‘age appropriate color’.

You look down only for a moment, not because you’re embarrassed. But because in front of cameras, your boyfriend, the penguins captain, a player kids look up to all over the place was just asked if the stress of his life caused you to have silver hair.

You sigh, rubbing your lips together as you stare at the boots on your feet, but you can sense it before it happens, the hallway seeming to stop and go cold.

Geno steps a bit closer to you, not to step in front of you, not to shield you, but instead just as if he’s reminding you that he’s there.

But Sidney? Your Sidney, decides then and there that the question was the biggest load of shit he’s ever heard.

“Am I supposed to think that’s funny?” He asks, and the reporter freezes at the harshness of his tone.

“I only meant,” the reporter starts but it’s clear he doesn’t know what to say. “I didn’t mean anything rude by it, only that this has been a hard season.”

“Enough.” Sidney says, and you swear you could hear a pin drop in the hallway. “The color of my girlfriend’s hair has nothing-“ He starts, putting emphasis on the word. “To do with how this team is playing.”

The reporter lowers head, obviously embarrassed for being called out like that.

“She likes it, and I love it.” He confirms, raising his eyebrows like he’s daring the man to continue to ask stupid questions.

The reporter chuckles slightly, like he’s trying to make it seem like Sidney is unhinged, or snapped for no reason.

“What a stupid man with stupid question.” Geno mumbles, but you just keep looking at your boyfriend, because the reporter wasn’t done. He attempts again to act like it’s no big deal. And to you, it’s not really. You’ve already blocked out most of the comments, because why should you care what people think? But you watch Sidney, watch him as he once again steps up to bat for you, and you can’t help but feel guilty he has to as he continues to lecture the man.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about.” Sidney says, his words sharp but his eyes clear. “Who are you to make a comment on a woman’s appearance in the first place?” Sidney asks, and you see the general manager start to make his way to the captain, about to break up whatever was happening. “Actually, who are you?” Sidney asks, and the level of sass almost makes you laugh. “I’ve never seen you in this building before and I never want to again.”

Geno barks out a laugh, and you bite your lip as the reporters are ushered away from Sidney, and he catches your gaze.

He notes the smile on your face, the way Geno stands there by your side, knowing he won’t move until Sidney comes to you.

“Very bad question, should have answered meaner.” Geno says to his captain as Sidney finally gets in front of you. But he doesn’t acknowledge his friend, he only looks at you.

“Are you okay?” Sidney asks, his hand coming up to brush aside a bit of hair away from your face.

“I’m fine.” You say, but he can see the hesitation, only it’s not due to your feelings being hurt. Only for the sadness he once again had to come to your rescue.

“Baby.” He says, his brows pulling together.

“Sid.”

“I know.” He says quickly. “I know, I just…” He stops, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t like people talking about you like that.”

“I know.” You say, trying to prove that you understand and that you’re okay.

“It’s not a joke to me, you’re not some joke to me.”

“Sidney.” You say, planting a hand on his chest, his heart beating faster than normal. “I know that too.”

“You shouldn’t have had to stand here and hear that.”

“I would have heard it one way or another. I’m sure the media team is scrambling a bit from that one.” You try to joke, and he only gives you a half smile before it falls again. And the continued guilt eats you alive, so you say the words Sidney has been hoping he’d never hear.

“I’ll probably dye it a normal color soon.”

“This is a normal color.”

“I mean the color it used to be.”

“No.” He says softly to you. Geno reads the room and silently takes his leave with a quick look to you. But Sidney is so focused on you and on your words that you don’t think he even noticed.

“Sidney.” You say, cocking your head a bit. “I don’t want you constantly having to defend it, to defend me. It might just be easier to-“

“Do you like it?” He asks, cutting you off.

“What?” You ask him, wanting to laugh at the question.

“Do you like how it is now.” He asks again, and because you’d never lie to him, you nod your head yes.

“Then leave it.” He says, basically begging at this point. And it hits you then, in the penguins hallway that Sidney would take whatever media storm comes his way, just so you could be you.

“Sid.”

“You do not have to answer to anyone about it. If you like it, if you want to keep it silver, keep it. Don’t change it because you think it’s easier for me.” He says, taking another step closer to you. “You never have to change yourself because of what someone else thinks, baby.”

And because you’re so captivated by him, so lost in the reassurance of his words, you nod your head.

“Let’s go home.” You say, and Sidney kisses you with a smile on his face.

—

By the time you got home, the clip had spread like wild fire. You knew because your phone kept buzzing. You had tried to ignore it at first, ignored it as you change into pajama pants and one of Sidney’s old sweatshirts, ignored it as you washed your face. And you just give him a smile as you walk into the kitchen while Sidney reheats leftovers because neither of you have the energy to cook.

While the lemon pasta from the previous night heats up, you hop up on the counter top, your legs swinging lightly as you and Sidney talk about the game.

You laugh at the things he tells you about Geno, and you give him worried eyes as he tells you the Kindel was rubbing his shoulder in the locker room after the game.

“Keep an eye on him will you?” You ask, concern heavy in you.

“Always.” Sidney says, his eyes dancing at the sight of you.

Your hair is down now, the silver glowing in the kitchen light.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, and you give him a look.

“Who, Kinny?” You ask, and Sidney shakes his head like he’s snapped out of a fog.

“You, you dork.” Sidney jokes, and you laugh as he walks to you, fitting himself between your legs.

You hum, and slot your fingers through his hair. His eyes close at the feeling, and you smile at this version of Sid. The version that’s only for you, but the moment ends as your phones continue to light up.

“I’m going to plug this stupid thing in.” You say, jumping off the counter as Sidney watches you walk away.

He hesitates for a moment, before he decides to do something very unlike himself. Post on social media.

It’s easy to find his favorite photos of you two, he knows exactly where to scroll in his phone to find them.

One is of you on the couch, you’re smiling at the camera but trying to hide your face because you didn’t want him taking your picture. You said you didn’t look nice in your tank top and two miss matched fuzzy socks. But Sidney thought you looked the most like you. The second was you and him out one night with Team Canada. Nathan Mackinnon took a picture of you and Sidney, and on the captains worst days, he wishes he could go back to that night. To see again in person how beautiful you looked in your dress, the picture showcasing your side profile as you and Sid were wrapped up together in the booth. And he just smiles at both of them as his thumbs work so fast his brain couldn’t keep up.

But he posts the photos, posts the caption, and with a smile he turns his phone off. So when you come back out, asking him some question, you stop because of the look on his face.

“Sidney Crosby.” You say, eyes squinting slightly. “What did you do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says, pulling you into him. Your small squeak and smell of warm vanilla sugar cover his senses.

“I love you.” You whisper into his chest, and he only holds you tighter.

“I love you so much more.” He says, tilting your face up by your chin.

“My my Mr. Crosby, what would your teammates think of you being such a sap?” You tease him, your hand running light traces up and down his spine.

“They’d think I’m exactly where I want to be.” He answers, one hand slipping its way through silver locks, the other pulling your face to his.

And just like that, you’re lost in the moment. Lost in your boyfriend, lost in the life you and him have built around each other. And thank god his phone was now tucked away, because now you wouldn’t see the post until the morning.

The two pictures of you, your true smile on display in both, your silver hair on display in both. And the caption underneath that breaks the internet.

It’s the way he remembers every little thing you say, how he treats you, how after a horrible game or a long practice he comes over and plays with Boone for hours. It’s how when you dropped your favorite mug and broke the handle, he glued it back together. It’s the fact that you basically now live in Pittsburgh Penguins gear, and Sidney has absolutely no complaints about it.

But it’s also the awkward moment where your students decide to show you photos posted to some hockey blog of you and Sid.

And you’ve never felt more watched than when you had 80 eyes on you at once, asking if it’s true, if their professor is dating Sidney Crosby.

Of course this also means being in a perpetual state of distraction. You’re standing over the stove, stirring pasta as he walks out from your shower, shirtless, and looking a little too delicious for his own good.

“You’re staring again.” He says with a smirk, but not moving as your eyes travel along the length of his chest.

“I’m observing.” You counter.

“Observing what exactly?” He says, cocking his head, trying to get you to say it.

“I’ll have you know that I am a professor, my observations are purely… professional.” You say, hiding your face by looking back towards the pasts because if there’s one thing Sidney could do it was read you like an open book.

Your breath hitches as he comes up behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head for a moment before leaning down to your ear.

“I have some other observations you could make, professor.” He says, and you turn around, smiling at him.

“Then dinner can wait.” You say, laughing as Sidney carries you to your bedroom.

—

Another part of being in Sidney’s life is hockey. Obviously. In fact it took a bit of convincing to get you on the ice. You had no problems coming to games, meeting the people in his life, but being on the ice? That took a while.

But after a successful hour of skating around, you hold onto his hand, laughing as you guys make your way off of the ice. The team had started to filter in, and that’s when you finally met Geno.

The man had towered over you, which would be rather intimidating, and you’re sure it is for some players, but it helped that Geno is.. Geno.

“So.” He had said, looking at you with delight. “This is famous professor.”

“G.” Sidney said with a groan.

“I’m famous?” You asked, turning to Sid.

“You teach Greek things?” Geno has asked, cutting off Sidney’s blush.

“Yes.” You said, smiling. “I love all Greek things.”

“Good, Sid needs smart girlfriend.” He said, and you let out a huge laugh. Loud enough that Geno had decided then and there that you fit into this life, because apparently being able to laugh at the expense of Sidney was a necessity.

You think about all of these things as you and Sidney take the morning route in the park. The sun was barely out, causing a chill to lay heavy through the air. But you laugh suddenly, and Sidney asks you what is so funny.

“I’m just thinking about that first game I went to.” You state, and Sidney groans with a chuckle.

“You know he was trying to get someone in management to bring you his jersey to replace mine.”

“What, you don’t think I’d look good in 71?” You question, and Sidney pulls you into his side.

“I love G, but so help him god if I ever see Malkin written across your back.”

You laugh, letting his kiss you quickly in the park. Your smile is big, like it normally is around him, but it drops suddenly as Boone completely ignores a bush. Said bush normally houses a squirrel, which he found out about a year ago and now has to viciously inspect every day.

“That was weird.” Sidney says, noting the way Boone seemed to have no interest.

“Yeah.” You say, worry evident in your tone.

And as you both keep walking, you focus even more on your dog. In fact, Boone in general just seems off. He’s not pulling, not racing to greet his normal people, he’s walking slowly, his tail dragging on the ground.

You stop walking him, saying his name and crouching down. But he just gives you a sad type of look, letting out one pathetic wag of his tail before sitting down.

“Boone, bud. What’s wrong?” You ask him, but then he lays down. Huffing slightly as he drops.

“Sid.” You say quietly, and he can hear the beginning of panic in your voice.

“Why don’t we get him home.” Sidney says, trying to say it as calmly as possible. But to be honest, Sid is worried too. But he doesn’t want to show it, if he does, he worries it will make you worse, and that could possibly in turn make Boone worse. So Sidney bottles his emotions, and turns to walk back to your house. But what normally would take about ten minutes takes thirty. Boone has to stop twice, for no other reason than wanting to lay down.

“Did he eat today?” Sidney asks you as Boone got enough energy to get back up and make his way back to the house.

“Breakfast yes, but only some dinner.” You answer, remembering that you saw left over food in the bowl. “I thought he was just being picky because I didn’t put anything on top of it.” You say, frowning down as you unclip his leash and he walks under the table and lays down.

You and Sidney both stand there, eyes running over the expanse of fluff now under the dining table. Boone never wants to be alone, in fact, he will lay directly against the bathroom door if you have it closed for more than a minute. So the fact that here he is, your normal goof ball, completely exhausted and wanting to be alone scares the hell out of you.

“I can stay tonight. Help you keep an eye on him.” Sidney says, but you know he has stuff to do before his early practice tomorrow. Plus all of his things are at his place.

“No, no. It’s okay.” You say, as much as you want him here you don’t want to add to his plate. “You have a busy day tomorrow.” You say, but you sound so quiet, nothing like your normal self. And Sidney is half tempted to tell you to hell with his day.

“Baby.” He says, and the nickname catches you off guard. He says it softly, but you see his tired eyes. You see how if you have the word he’d drop everything, how he wants to drop everything. You know how much Sidney loves Boone, how much sidney… cares for you. You don’t even want to tell yourself that he might love you. You won’t think it until he says the words himself.

But you’re strong, you’ve been on your own for a long time. You carried yourself up huge milestones, you’ve built your entire life by yourself. And so has Sid. He’s pushed himself, practiced, trained. So you tell yourself you’ve got this, that he probably just ate something funny in the yard and he’ll be back to his bouncing self by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

So you tell Sid to go, that you’ve got it. That you’ll call him in the morning on his way to practice.

“Promise.” He whispered, and you nod. He lays a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling you into his body as he rests his chin on your head. “Hang in there bud, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sidney says, and Boone only gives him one sad thwack of his tail before going back to half closed eyes.

The house feels even more empty as Sidney leaves. It took some convincing but you got Boone to the couch, and as you two sit there together, you can’t help but cry.

—

The morning sun wakes you up before anything, before your dog who normally jumps around begging for breakfast.

Boone.

The thought of him snaps you awake, sitting up quickly as you look for him. You find him in the same spot he fell asleep in, laying on the couch.

“Boone, buddy.” You say, and he just looks at you. No thump of his tail, no interest in food or water.

It takes no time to call the vet, which they tell you they have an opening at 4pm, you look to the clock and see 7:03am, and it seems impossible to wait so long. They tell you if he gets worse to take him straight to the emergency vet. You nod even though nobody can see you and hang up the phone.

“Do you want to go outside buddy?” You ask, but again, you were met with nothing. No ears peeking, no tag wag, no silly smile or even a sound.

Needless to say, you panic. You call the university, but you don’t even remember what you tell them. You email your students saying there’s no class today, and to read up on certain chapters to be ready to discuss. And then you call Sidney.

Your texts to him this morning were short, full of nerves.

“Honey, please.” You say, shoving the phone between your ear and shoulder, and try to get Boone to drink anything. But he wouldn’t. And that’s when the panting starts, tongue to the side, deep panting.

Sidney answers on the second ring, he says something but you don’t even hear it. Not as Boone pants loud enough for the block to hear, and not as you let out a whimpering noise.

“Y/N? What’s happening?” He says, and you just choke on a sob.

“He’s worse, Sid. Something’s really wrong and I don’t know how to fix it.” You sob, tears running from your eyes.

“I’m on my way, we’ll take him in, okay?” Sidney says, and you can hear voices in the background, the sounds of sharp movements and what’s inevitably hockey.

“Sidney.” You say again, because that’s all you can think of to say.

“He’s going to be okay, you both are. You hear me?” He says, and you nod even though he can’t see you.

“Call the emergency vet, tell them we’re bringing him in. Tell him to hold on.” Sidney says, and if you weren’t so emotional right now you would pick up on the fact that his voice cracked at the words.

“Hurry.” You whisper, and that’s all Sidney needed in order for him to drive faster than he’d ever before.

You lean your forehead against your dogs, against the puppy you’ve loved from the second you picked him up, even if he did eat three pairs of your shoes in the first week of having him.

“Sid’s on his way, buddy. We’re going to get you some help, okay?” You say, and Boone lets out the tiniest huff as you both wait.

—

Even though it’s only about ten minutes from the time you hang up with Sidney, call the emergency vet, and get your shoes on, it feels like hours.

But then the front door opens, and in he comes. His eyes narrow in on you, and then immediately to Boone. Who hasn’t moved in hours.

“Hey, hey Boone.” Sidney says, and your dog’s tail thumps once and then goes limp.

“They know we’re coming.” You whisper, and as much as you need to lean into him, as much as you want the comfort of Sidney, you have no time.

Sidney nods, telling you to get your things. He speaks softly to Boone, and you watch as Sidney picks your dog up, carrying him like he weighs nothing.

Boone’s head goes to rest on Sidney’s shoulder, and you watch wide eyed.

“It’s okay, I’ve got him.” Sidney says. “Baby, can you get the door?” He asks you, and Sid places Boone in the backseat of his car with all the gentleness in the world.

You both hop in immediately, Sidney taking it slow but still speeding to get to the vet.

At this point you can’t hold back your tears. Not as you stay twisted around so you’re facing him, not as you’re petting his fur.

And before you know it, Boone is back in Sidney’s arms, and you both are rushing for the front doors of the vet. Sidney talks, probably knowing if you tried to open your mouth nothing would come out. The receptionist nods, immediately signaling for people to come and take him. They bring a cart, which on any other day you’d tease Boone for being so huge. But now you just cry as they put him down, and you kiss his head.

“Be strong. I love you.” You say, as the vet techs apologize but insist they take him back now. You nod, and watch as they go, falling into Sidney’s chest with muffled sobs.

For the next few hours each time the door opens you perk up, everytime you hear talking you think someone is going to tell you some news. But finally, a vet comes out a satisfied yet gentle smile on her face as she tells you the news you’ve been dying to hear. He’s okay. He’s safe. He’s alive.

“Oh my god.” You say, Sidney gripping you tightly as you feel relief. You listen to her talk, listen to her tell you about an ulcer. Listen how much pain they cause, and you feel nauseous thinking about him in pain like that.

But you nod, listening as Sidney asks question after question. You’re so glad he is, because you are still frozen in shock and now relief that you couldn’t even think of one thing to say. But he asks, care and concern written in everything he’s doing.

“Boone.” You choke as your golden retriever makes his way around the corner. He’s wobbly, and has a shaved spot on his leg, but he’s breathing, he’s alive, and your world has never felt so bright.

—

Sidney lifts him into the backseat with so much care. And you watch as Boone licks a slow, and slightly disgusting, kiss across his cheek.

“I love you too buddy.” Sidney says, rubbing his ear gently before holding his hand out to you to let you sit in the back with him.

The car ride is slow, Sidney going under the speed limit as if he is driving with a baby in the car. But to him, he is. You and Boone sit together in the backseat. His eyes glancing to you both every chance he can.

His head rests on your leg, and you don’t dare stop petting him, reminding him again and again how good he is. You read the packet of care instructions from the vet, then kiss his wet nose, then read them again.

Once you finally return home, Boone perks up slightly, his tail hitting the seats softly in the back of the car as Sidney comes around to carry him out.

“He can use his legs you know.” You say fully joking, because seeing them together like this makes your heart sing.

“He shouldn’t have to. Not yet.” Sidney says, carrying the golden fur ball in and setting him on the couch.

“Do you think he’s comfy?” You ask, kneeling on the floor before the couch, watching as Boone fights to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, yeah baby I think so.” Sidney says, joining you on the floor.

You both sit in silence for a little bit, watching as Boone falls asleep, and loud snores come out of him.

“Oh he’s already feeling better.” Sidney says with a laugh, whispering so he doesn’t wake him. You bite back your chuckle, and watch the way Sidney smiles at the dog. The same dog who’s spent months so in love with Sidney that his first thought is to attack him on sight.

“Thank you.” You say, and your eyes water as they meet his.

“You never have to thank me for that.” Sidney says, pulling your body into his. You crave a shower, begging to wash this day off of you. But you lull yourself into sleep against Sidney’s chest, your hand gripping Boone’s paw, and your ear against Sid’s heart beat.

Like your dog, it did not take long for you to fall asleep.

So Sidney holds you both, you in his chest, and Boone curled slightly into his back. And Sidney smiles at the family he’s made.

You’re knee deep in papers by the time your doorbell rings.

“Come in!” You yell, and Boone makes a mad dash for the door, and from the sounds of it he’s definitely attacking Sidney with affection.

You can hear Sidney talking to him, but you can’t make out the words. Not until he starts talking to you, but the way he stops mid sentence grabs your attention.

“What?” You ask, turning your gaze to him as he’s staring at you. You look down, you’re dressed, you haven’t spilled anything on yourself, unless you’ve grown another nose you’re not sure why he’s looking at you like that.

“Nothing.” He says, shaking his head as you just snapped him out of whatever daze he was in.

“No, no. You can’t do that.” You say, pointing your red pen at him.

“You look good, professor.” He says, smirking as he says it.

You smirk too, standing up and giving him a slow 360. Your hair is up in a clip, your big glasses resting on your face. Your cable knit white sweater, and your pair of pajama shorts with Boone’s face on them that your parents got you last Christmas.

Sidney laughs and shakes his head slowly, biting his lip before dropping it. If you weren’t so familiar with the man you would have missed it.

“I have something for you.” He says, setting the black bag down on your table, and you take in the penguins logo on the side.

“My my, Captain. If this is a jersey of yours I hope you know I’ll never take it off. You’ll have to bury me in it actually.”

“Open it up.” He says, smiling at your teasing.

You smirk, sticking your hands in the bag and pulling out a Pittsburgh Penguins sweatshirt. It doesn’t belong to any one player, but the front proudly displays the logo, the look to it more vintage than brand new, even though you know it is.

“Thank you, Sid.” You say, hugging the man.

He laughs, but pulls you into him tighter. You break away, moving straight to your room so you could put it on. You walk back out, and Sid’s eyes snap to yours. He bites his lip yet again as he sees you making your way to him.

“I love it, truly.” You say, and Sidney Crosby has never seen anything as perfect as the sight in front of him.

“Good.” He says, more of a whisper than anything. And in that moment, in your house that he’s fallen in love with, with the golden retriever who’s claimed him as family, Sidney Crosby decides that this is where he wants to spend every single day.

—

Of course after that realization, the league must really hate him or something, because the Penguins are on a 6 day away streak.

Day one is fine, you both text the entire time. You send pictures of Boone, of the spider in the corner of your bathroom you refuse to kill because you’re convinced his friends will find out and come with a vengeance, your morning coffees on your desk at the university, the picture of your car tire with the text of, does this look a little flat to you? To which he responds yes, and he’ll take care of it when he comes home.

Day two is… day two. The penguins have a game against Utah, which was an easy shut out. You text him congratulations, and you talk on the phone for hours.

By day 5, Sidney wants nothing more than to be with you. It’s their final game before heading home tomorrow, and they are up against the Red Wings.

You: Good luck tonight Captain, someone is rooting for you

You text him, sending him a picture of Boone on the couch with a penguins hat you bought on a whim. You’re surprised when he responds a few minutes later, thinking by now they’d almost be ready to get on the ice.

Sid: Is there anyone else there rooting for me?

You: Maybe, what do you think?

You text back, sending him a picture of you in the sweatshirt he bought you, as you’re curled up on the couch.

Sid: Just for that, I’m winning this game

You: You weren’t planning on that before?

Sid: I was, but now I know my two biggest fans will be watching

You: Cocky much?

Sid: Correct much?

You chuckle, throwing your head back as you look to the tv, watching the reporters talk and the countdown clock tick down in the corner.

You: Go get ‘em, Captain 💛

Sidney smirks as he sets his phone down, catching eyes with Geno as he does.

“Your professor?” He asks, and Sidney doesn’t even try to correct his friend.

“Yeah.” Sidney says, standing up and preparing to get out on the ice.

—

You watch as the first period comes to a close, the penguins up by one. In the twenty minute break you have, you put your dinner away, starting the dishwasher and grabbing your clean clothes from the laundry machine. You sit back down just in time for period two, and they zoom in on his face as he skates around.

You find yourself smiling, your eyes completely glued to the screen. You also find yourself yelling as Detroit ties the game.

But then it happens. Sidney starts his shift, and he skates with a passion you have never seen. He avoids everyone, passing the puck back and forth with Geno as Sidney approaches the net.

“Go.” You say, and Boone perks up, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

Sidney scores, and you clap, laughing as he does. You sit back down, starting to fold the clothes, but your shirt drops from your gaze and Sidney gets the puck again, flying towards the net.

“No.” You say in shock, and watch as he sinks another one, two goals in under two minutes.

You immediately launch for your phone, grabbing it and texting him.

You: Two goals in under two minutes?

You: Crosby, if this is your way of getting my attention it worked

Of course he doesn’t respond, not until the Penguins win, and Sidney is done with the post game interviews.

He checks his phone once he’s out of the shower, and he chuckles, shaking his head as he responds, feeling a little bold.

Sid: I’ve had your attention long before that

—

By the time Sid returns to Pittsburgh, he’s more than relieved.

“Go tell professor I say hello!” Geno calls as Sidney makes his way a little faster than normal out to his car.

“Fuck off Geno!” Sid yells back, and his friend laughs loudly before shaking his head.

Sid: I’m on my way

You: Thank god, this smells so good I’m trying not to eat it right now

He laughs as he listens to music, his fingers anxiously tapping his steering wheel on his way to you.

Your doorbell rings, but the door opens a second later. You’ve told him for weeks he can just let himself in, and maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in a week, but he finally listens.

“The extraordinary captain returns!” You exclaim, and Sidney just takes a second to look at you.

You, who looks beautiful to him in what you think are your shitty comfy clothes.

A baggy t-shirt from an old metal band, a pair of flowy linen pants, and your hair which was definitely curled for work today, that’s now loose and wavy flowing down your shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything, not until he wraps his arms around you, hugging you and spinning you in a circle. You laugh out loud, hugging him back, and the smell of your warm vanilla perfume nearly makes him drop to his knees.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you missed me.” You say as he finally puts you back down on your feet.

“Really it’s Boone, actually.” Sidney jokes, and you bump your hip into his.

“Can’t say I blame you. I do have an exceptionally wonderful creature.” You state with a shrug.

“Yeah you do.” He says, coming up behind you and kissing your head.

You both freeze, but there’s no embarrassment from either of you as you look behind your shoulder, smiling at the man standing there.

“I missed you.” You say quietly, and his eyes soften at that.

“I missed you too.” He says, and for a split second you think he might lean down, think he might close this gap, but that’s when a wet nose sticks its way between you guys, and you’re snapped back to reality.

“So tell me everything.” You say, and Sidney does.

To no one’s surprise you find yourselves outside, you’ve been trying to enjoy the fall nights before it becomes too cold to be out here.

He stares at the plate of food in front of him, your rosemary lemon chicken, potatoes, vegetables, and he knows you made something for dessert because he caught a peak when he went to open the fridge and pour you the one Diet Coke you allow yourself to have everyday.

“Y/N.” He says, as he takes a bite.

“Is it bad?” You say, immediately panicking that you managed to undercook the chicken and how you’ve basically now poisoned this cities favorite hockey player.

“This is the bet thing I’ve ever had.”

“It’s just chicken.” You say with a shrug, trying not to let the compliment go to your head.

“Marry me.” He mumbles out, and you laugh loudly, and chuck a small potato at him that inevitably rolls off of him and Boone eats it from the ground.

“You’re ridiculous.” You say, still beaming. “But seriously, come on cough it up. How was the trip?” You say, taking a sip of your Diet Coke that Sidney put in your favorite glass.

He tells you about the games, even though you watched every one, he tells you about the hotels, the fans, then about Geno who kept chirping him for being on his phone too much.

“Well were you?”

“Maybe.” He says with a shrug.

“Who were you texting?”

He leans back, that cocky teasing look in his eyes as he says. “Some professor.”

“Sounds serious.” You tease, smirking as you continue to eat.

“It is, but she knows exactly what she wants, I just don’t think she’s telling me.”

That comment, causes you to suck in a breath as you meet his gaze.

“Maybe she’s waiting for you.” You say, unable to pull your eyes away. “Maybe she’s afraid you’ll reject her.” You say with a point of your fork.

“I’m not sure why she would.” He says, his voice causing your heart to thump madly against your chest. “She’s got to know that she’s the only thing I’ve thought about for the past few months.”

“Past few months?” You ask, and you know Sidney can see how fast your chest is moving.

“Well I saw her almost everyday for a long time. But I never had the courage to go up to her. But then a little while ago something happened.” He says, setting his silverware down as he talks. “And I helped her, being the kind person I am. And then I found myself thinking about her every single day since. Every time my phone lights up I hope it’s her, every time I think of something funny or something happens to me, she’s the first person I want to tell. But one of the best parts of all, is she’s got this dog. He’s huge, but somehow thinks he’s a lap dog.” Sidney says as you smile. “But there’s something about her, and I want her in my life everyday, everyday for the rest of it.”

“She sounds like a remarkable woman.” You say, voice thick and eyes a bit glossy.

“She is, and if she’s half as into me as I hope. She won’t mind that I’m about to kiss the hell out of her.”

“I happen to know she’s very into you, Captain.” You say, and Sidney smirks as he steps out of his chair, and you do to yours.

He rounds the small table, and he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t have an ounce of doubt in his mind. Not as he whispers, “I hope she knows, I’ve been wanting to do this since the day her dog dragged her across the park.”

And he kisses you. His lips cover yours, one hand on your jaw and neck, the other on your back. And you don’t hesitate either, not as you grip his hoodie and kiss him back.

Sidney laughs though, not bothered at all about it. In fact he’s kind of encouraging it. He pats his lap when Boone drops it in the grass, trying to get him to move it closer.

“You really don’t have to do that.” You say, genuine guilt crawling over you because of how much he’s already done for you tonight.

“How many times will it take before you realize I want to?” Sidney teasingly asks, taking the ball and throwing it, Boone tearing down the grass to try to catch it.

“Roughly 50 more.” You joke, smiling because he genuinely seems like he cares. And you know he does. It was evident by the fact he drove you here, patched you up, paid for dinner, and is now in a constant cycle of throwing a slobbery ball.

“Well alright then buddy.” Sid says as Boone returns with the tennis ball. “We’ve got 51 more throws left.”

—

By the time Boone was finally tired, which is evident by the way he’s snoring away on the stones of the patio, you’ve lost all sense of time. What feels like an hour, has apparently been way more than that.

You check your phone, shocked to see it was close to midnight. You and Sidney have talked for hours.

“Oh my god.” You say, showing him the time.

“I should let you get some sleep.” He says with a small smile that you swear almost looks a bit disappointed.

“If anything I think the hockey player is the one who needs rest.” You say, feeling warm as he laughs at your words. It doesn’t take long for you guys to clean up, and before you know it Sidney is standing in front of your door. You have half the heart to beg him not to go.

“Give me your phone, I want to be able to check in on you tomorrow.” He says, and you roll your eyes but hand it over to him.

You thank him again for everything, and he turns around before saying softly, “Goodnight, Professor.”

You bid him a goodnight, and lean against the closed door. Boone stares at you, and you shake your head and close your eyes.

“Don’t even get me started, buddy.” You say, limping to your room and falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

—

Luckily the dramatic fall occurred on a Friday night, so today you’re able to relax as much as possible to get your ankle back to normal.

But it is before you manage a few sips of coffee that your phone lights up.

Sidney Crosby: How’s the ankle this morning?

You: Still attached

But then you send him an actual answer.

You: A lot less swollen, but still annoying. Going to take Boone for a short walk this evening, I’ll let you know if I die during it

Sidney Crosby: What time are you attempting that horrible idea?

You: Wow, I love feeling the unwavering support! But after dinner if I had a guess, why?

Sidney Crosby: I’ll see you around then

You: What?

But he doesn’t respond, and your gut tells you he really is going to show up tonight.

—

Your doorbell rings at 5pm, and you scoff and shake your head as you slowly make it to the door.

Sidney stands there, a hoodie on to fight the cold of the October evening, and he holds two bags in his hands.

“Hungry?” Sidney asks with a chuckle, holding up the two bags of food.

You want to tell him he’s doing to much, but in the best possible way of course, you want to tell him you’re going to feel guilty, or that you’re sure he’s got better things to do on a Saturday night then sit here with you. But you don’t say any of that, you just smile at him, the feeling of being cared about washing over you.

“I’m starving.” You say, and his eyes light up as you invite him in.

Boone of course, is over the moon with joy.

He barks and spins in circles as Sidney kicks his shoes off and sets them by the bench on your entryway. He tries to make it to the island to set the bags down, but you know your dog better than that. So you take them swiftly from his hands and let Sidney crouch down to pet Boone.

“Someone has been pitiful all day.” You say, and Boone huffs like he can’t imagine who you’re talking about. But Sidney isn’t looking at Boone anymore, his eyes are stuck on your bruised ankle. The swelling is better, but the purple color is alarming.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been walking around on it all day.” Sidney says, eyeing you standing in the kitchen on your tip toes reaching for plates.

“I have been appropriately taking care of it.” You say, a little harmless sass in your response.

“Which means you should sit down and let me do this.” He says, and you laugh.

“Which means I’ve been resting up and are more than capable of serving the food you got.”

Sidney licks his bottom lip, the challenge sitting in his eyes. Before you could start unpacking whatever smelled so delicious, he holds the two bags of food up in the air, completely out of your reach.

“Go sit down, professor.” He says, and you swear his eyes spark at the control slipping on your face. But you can’t help it, the nickname sparks something in you.

“And if I don’t?” You challenge, not sure where the sass is really coming from, because truthfully this act he’s got going on is making you shake at the knees.

“Then I’m going to do this.” He says, swooping down so fast. You let out a surprised yelp as Sid manages to throw your body over his shoulder, one hand holding the bags, the other placed on the back of your calf to make sure your injured foot doesn’t get thrown around to bad.

“Sidney Crosby!” You yell through your laugh, and you watch the ground helplessly as he carries you outside. But you honestly can’t complain, not when you’re getting an eyeful of his ass in his black shorts.

He sets you down, deciding to ignore how flustered you are. He only smirks, setting down the bags and going in to grab plates and silverware.

Boone gives you a side glance, and you tell your dog to be quiet.

—

Dinner was the same tonight as it was last night. Constant talking, learning more about each other, and the same slobbery ball being thrown. And you start to feel guilty for staring at the muscles in his arms each time he chucks it down the yard. This goes on for three hours, which Sidney says he’s more than happy to do since you’re not able to walk him. You try to say you are, but Sidney threatens to throw you back over his shoulder if you even think about grabbing the leash.

You think about doing it just to see if he will, and because as much as you hate to admit it… you can’t help but stare at that man’s ass.

But as the sun sets again, and he starts to clean up, you take it as your opportunity. You limp past the kitchen, Sidney asking what you’re doing.

“Can I not exist in my own home, Captain?”

“You look suspicious.” He says, the water from the sink hitting the plate he is washing.

“I’m just grabbing something, cool your jets.” You say with a laugh.

Boone thankfully stays by Sidney, watching him wash dishes like he’s the most important person in the world, but you’ll deal with that betrayal later.

You grab for your wallet, making sure not to make any noise as you slip $40 out of your wallet and slip it into Sidney’s. Paying for one dinner can be negotiated, but two? Unacceptable. You smirk as you limp back to the kitchen, and he’s still eyeing you like you just committed a crime.

But the fact that you could have been caught isn’t why your heart is racing so fast.

—

Sidney Crosby: Checking in for the daily ankle update

You snort into your coffee as you read the text, your eyes rolling as the birds chirp outside. You’re sitting in the backyard, a blanket laid out in the grass that’s getting a little too tall. For early October the week has been exceptionally warm, and you’re soaking it up as much as possible before the winter. Setting your book down on the blanket, you take your phone, rolling down the sock on your foot to send him a picture of your ankle.

You: Good morning Dr. Crosby

You type, attaching the picture of your ankle. It’s no longer swollen, but the bruising still remains and probably will for a while. You’re opting for flats at work this coming week.

You: Better, still a limp but barely

Sidney Crosby: Good. Take it easy today, yeah?

You: Aye aye, captain. Good luck at practice today

Sidney loves the message, and you lay back on the blanket, the sun shining down on you, and Boone lays happily in his kingdom, trying to catch bugs out of mid air.

You don’t mean to fall asleep like that, truly. But to wake up to the sound of a motor was also not what you were expecting.

You wince, realizing you fell asleep in the sun. Next, you shoot up realizing the sound of the motor is close. But not coming from your neighbors backyard. No, it sounds like it’s coming from the front of the house.

“What the hell.” You mumble, rubbing your eyes, grabbing your book and your empty mug and walking slowly into the house.

You look out the window in the kitchen that gives you a view of your entire front yard. And you freeze at the sight. It’s Sidney, Sidney who’s cutting your grass.

“What the fuck.” You now say, and glance towards the clock. Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been sleeping for hours, long enough for it to be past his practice.

You scroll on your phone seeing two missed texts from him.

11:13am

Sidney Crosby: Coaches are letting us out of practice a bit early, what do you say to watching that movie you were talking about last night?

11:14am

Sidney Crosby: Also, is that your grass? It looks like you’re in a corn field

But you never answered, never answered because you fell asleep with your dog on a lazy Sunday. A lazy Sunday, which Sidney apparently has no interest in having.

You walk to the front door, making sure Boone stays in the house as you shut it behind you. It takes you a second to form words, but once you do you shout them.

“Sidney Crosby!” You exclaim, hoping he can hear you over the sound of the mower. He does, because he stops when he sees you standing there. “What on earth are you doing?” You ask with a little laugh, the neighbor quieting as the sound stops.

“Your grass is long, and I don’t want you doing it on that ankle.” He says, giving you a shrug like this is a completely normal thing.

“Sid.” You say, and he smiles as you say it.

“I want to. Go back inside, it looks like you’ve been out for a little too long.” He says, raising an eyebrow. It’s then that you can feel your skin tingle, sighing as you walk inside and look at yourself in the mirror.

He’s right. You’re not horribly sunburned by any means, but your daily moisturizer only has enough sunscreen to save you for a little while. Not a three hour nap. Your nose and cheeks are a bit pink, along with your chest and shoulders, you’ll definitely have a tank top tan.

“I’m a mess.” You say to Boone, and he just whines at the door like he knows who’s out there. “You are the biggest traitor I’ve ever met.” But Boone just smiles at you, his tongue sticking out of the left side of his mouth. You chuckle at him, before hearing Sidney make his way to your backyard.

You shake your head in disbelief, filling up two glasses with ice water, and making your way to the backyard. You clip Boone to his tie out so he won’t get in Sidney’s way. And you watch him as he finishes the yard. Once the mower cuts off he makes his way to you.

Your eyes graze over his tan arms, the tight penguins workout top showing every ridge of his muscles. But it’s the backwards baseball cap and the hair that curls around his neck that makes you unable to speak.

He catches you staring, and to be completely transparent, you aren’t trying to hide it.

“I don’t know if I have the words for how insane you are.” You joke, shoving the glass of water towards him.

His eyes travel along your face, noting your smirk, your sunburn, until they travel down to your ankle.

“You need to have that up, and ice-“

“Sidney Crosby sit your ass down.” You say, your professor voice coming out and he almost looks taken back for a moment. But he knows you’re not being mean, he can tell by the look in your eyes, by the curve of his lips.

“Yes ma’am.” He says in a joking manner, and Boone continues to have the best time of his life once he realizes Sidney can now give him attention.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“It was long, practice got done early.”

“Yeah, but Sid-“

“I want to help.” He says, cutting you off before you can tell him not to.

“This is labor.” You say, motioning to the grass lines you now see in the yard.

“I’m not doing it because I pity you, or because I feel like I have to.” He says, and for a second he drops the teasing banter you guys normally have. “I’m doing it because I like spending time with you, and I don’t want you to have to focus on silly stuff like this.”

You look him up and down, squinting your eyes slightly.

“Plus, I wouldn’t want Boone to be upset that he’s not seeing me.” Sidney says, joking after the confession.

At the sound of his name, Boone jumps on his lap, his two front paws pressing into Sidney as his back ones stay on the patio.

“Boone!” You say, leaning forward to pull him off. “My lord, where are your manners.”

Sidney laughs, and you smile at the sound.

“Well, Captain.” You say, finishing your water before grabbing his empty glass, going to refill it in the house. Sidney follows you, which means so does Boone. “What do you say to dinner and a movie?”

“I’d say that sounds amazing, plus I have something for you.” He says, and you scrunch your eyebrows in question as you refill the cups.

Sidney comes beside you, grabbing your hand so your palm is facing up. And you watch as he sets $40 in your palm.

“I-“

“Nice try.” Sidney says with a wink, and you scoff with a smile at his arrogance.

And as you both settle in the couch, throwing on a movie that you inevitably talk through, you realize just how much you enjoy having the hockey player around. So when he leaves that night, giving back the money you tried once again to slip to him, this time in his pocket, he reaches up and slips a chunk of hair behind your ear.

“I expect another ankle report in the morning.”

You look down because of the blush on your cheeks, but you nod. Your skin feeling hot from where his fingers just touched.

Sidney just laughs and asks questions.

You guys talk about your family, your house, your life, your hobbies. Each time you answer a question he’s asking another. And the thing is, you realize it’s not out of pity. He’s not asking because he feels bad, instead he seems genuinely curious about your life. And before you know it you’re having a serious debate on whether or not you could be trusted on skates.

“I am very agile!” You exclaim, and you watch as Sidney raises his eyebrows as if saying… do you see the predicament you’re in?

“I think the pavement in the park begs to differ, professor.” He states, and you gasp.

“You just caught me on an off day.” You say, trying to kick off your heels. “Plus it may not have been my smartest decision to wear heels on a walk.” You say, as Sidney bandages your knees up before putting the bloody paper towel down.

He holds out his hand, waiting for a moment. But you’re staring, wondering what he is doing. His eyes train up to yours as he’s still kneeling before you as you sit on a dining room chair.

“What-“

“Give me your foot, I’ll take them off.”

And every moment you’ve had up until now has not held a candle to the blush spreading over your skin at his words.

“Sid-“ You say, and his lips turn up only slightly at the nickname you didn’t realize you used. But he continues to hold out his hand, palm up, and waiting. His eyebrows shoot up, and you note how expressive his face is. Because his look easily portrays that he’ll wait all night.

With a sigh, you place your good ankle in his hand, and he slowly undoes the shiny black buckle of your heels. The other ankle he does even more carefully, because the size of this ankle is a bit different compared to your non injured one.

But you can’t peel your eyes away as he does this, the need to joke, scream, panic or puke all hitting you at once. Because who does this? More importantly, who does this for someone they barely know?

He moves onto your palms next, the conversation flows easily, a little too easily, between you guys.

“So.” He says, dabbing carefully at your palm. “Professor. What made you pick Greek mythology?”

You breathe through the sting of the alcohol before saying. “My grandmother, actually. She had this copy of the Odyssey with all these beautiful illustrations. I just couldn’t peel myself away from it. She’d read it to me everytime I was over there.”

“That makes sense.” He says with a smile as he wraps gauze around your palm with careful fingers. He tells you about the little knowledge he has on greek mythology while he starts on your other hand.

As he dabs the wound with alcohol, carefully removing bits of debris you hiss. Sidney freezes, eyes immediately jumping to you and an apology leaving his lips at the exact same time. But Boone lets out a loud whine, drowning out everything else. His wet nose connects with your leg, and his worried eyes flash between you and Sidney.

“Your supervisor’s pretty intense.” Sidney says as you give him a small nod to continue.

“You should see him if you’re ten minutes late for dinner.” You say with a small chuckle.

Another small piece of grav gets removed, and the small scrape of it coming out, on top of the currently bleeding wound, causes you to curse.

“Alright Mr. Hockey Player.” You say, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Tell me about you.”

“I thought you already looked me up?” Sidney says with a smirk.

“I know the public stuff, but I don’t know you.” You state, and you both let the words settle between you. And for the first time since he ran over to help you, Sidney looks a little caught off guard.

“Okay,” He says, expression soft. “What do you want to know?”

“What do you do when you’re not scoring a million goals or intensely jogging in the park?”

His eyes brighten at your joke, and he says, “I’m pretty boring. It’s just practice, games, training, food, sleep, and repeat.”

“Oh come on, there’s way more to one of the best hockey players than that.” You say, and you don’t mean it to sound as flirty as it comes out.

“I like quiet.” He says after he laughs. “I like my routine. I like being outside when I can. I like dogs.” He states, and like he can sense it Boone’s tail starts thumping hard. “I like when my team or I score goals .” He finally adds.

“There it is.” You joke, watching as he starts to finish up on your palm.

“What?” He asks you, eyebrows lifting.

“The cocky part.”

Sidney only laughs, taping down the last of the bandage and going to collect all of the garbage. “I don’t think it’s broken.” He says motioning to your ankle. “But you should ice it and elevate it. If it gets worse, we get it looked at.”

“Yes, Captain.” You say with mock salute. He gives you a look, and you give him a smile. But he looks far too pleased with himself as he walks over to the kitchen sink and washes his hands.

By the time he’s done, the adrenaline’s fully worn off. You are tired, sore, and still in your work clothes.

“I’m going to change.” You announce after a second, and you push yourself up and hobble a few steps towards your bedroom which you’ve never been as happy as you are right now to have on the first floor.

“Do you-“ Sidney starts, eyes widening as he watches you put minimal pressure on it.

“I’ve got it.” You assure him, and as you make it to your bedroom you can’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror. Because Sidney Crosby, the hot jogger, has just patched you up while you flirted with him… and you think he flirted back.

—

It doesn’t take too long for you to slip out of your work clothes and into an oversized sweater and a pair of shorts. But as you limp back towards the living room, you stop near the doorway. Sidney is kneeling on your living room rug, both hands buried in Boone’s fur.

“You know he’s going to be more obsessed with you now, right?” You joke, but you take in the way Sidney looks at you. His eyes flick briefly over your sweater, your bare legs, your bandaged knees.

“I think I can manage that.” He says, eyes still on yours as Boone flops dramatically onto his side, demanding more.

You take that time to limp to the couch and lower yourself down with a wince.

“Still really bad?” He asks, removing his hands from Boone and standing.

“Only when I move, or breathe, or exist.” You say with a groan, but you watch as his concern grows, and he brings you a bag of frozen peas he must have found deep in your freezer. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just don’t like seeing you like this.” He says like it’s normal to see you in any capacity. The words feel soft between the two of you.

“Are you always this caring, captain?” You joke, watching a flicker of something light in his eyes.

“Just for professors who like to take mile long walks in heels.” He says, smirking at you.

You both exist for a few seconds in the comfortable silence. Normally, you feel the need to talk, to fill it with anything. But there’s something about him that makes it comfortable just to … exist. And that’s then the thought hits you, and you don’t dwell on it because if you do there’s a chance you’ll chicken out.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You ask, deep down hoping he’ll say yes. “As a repayment of course.”

“Just for repayment?” Sidney asks, and all of a sudden you’re not sure where that calm and collected captain went.

“Repayment.” You say again, turning a bit red. “But also because I think Boone has grown an emotional connection.” You say, fully blaming your dog.

Sidney turns his head to the floor and chuckles, but he looks at you and nods.

“What’s on the menu, professor?”

“Oh I’ve got a whole meal planned. Totally gourmet too.” You joke before pulling up the Chinese take out menu on your phone.

“Gourmet?” He laughs as you pass him your phone, “I don’t think I can turn that down.” He states, and together you guys pick items off the menu.

As you call, listing off the obnoxiously long list you freeze, realizing your credit card is in your purse still by the door.

“Sid?” You ask, covering the bottom of the phone.

His eyebrows raise, eyes scanning you.

“Do you mind grabbing my card out of my wallet? It’s in my purse by the door.” You say with a wince, and Sidney just smirks again. You watch him stand, and look away as the woman on the other end repeats the list of food.

You look up as Sidney makes his way next to you, and he extends a black card out to you. You don’t notice until you grab it, but the card doesn’t belong to you.

In fact, SIDNEY CROSBY is printed at the bottom, and the heavy black card glistens in the light of the living room. You go still, and your eyes shoot to his. He nods his head, like he’s saying to go ahead.

“I’m sorry can you give me one second to grab my card?” You say into the phone, and the woman agrees kindly, telling you to take your time. You smile your thanks before pulling the phone away from your ear.

“No.” You say with a laugh, extending the card back to him. But he makes no move to take it back, no move to grab yours from your wallet. “Sidney.” You say, cocking your head a bit. “Please, I want to pay for it.”

“That card works.” He says with a shrug, his kind smile widening as you playfully roll your eyes.

“I’m serious, Crosby.”

“So am I.” He says, sitting back on the couch, looking a little too comfortable with one hand on Boone and the other resting behind his head.

You’re still frozen, still in awe of how blunt he’s being. But you laugh, laugh because how the hell is this your life?

“I don’t know if they’re prepared for this stand off.” He says, motioning to your phone which still has the kind restaurant owner waiting on the other end.

“I’m paying you back.” You say, trying to give him your most serious look. And even though you have every intention of paying him back, you can’t help but feel light at the look he gives you.

Sidney can’t look away either. Can’t look away from the joy that fills your eyes and how amazing it is versus the pain and embarrassment that clouded them before. Can’t look away from how comfy you look, how your soft skin glows in the warm lighting of your cozy house.

“I’m ordering a lot.” You say, like that is going to deter him.

“Good.” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

“And I’m tipping very generously.”

“As you should.” He responds, and you scoff trying to hide your smile. “Order your crab rangoon too, go nuts.” He says, his Canadian accent coming out a bit more than before.

You want to continue to defy him, to get the strength to get up and limp to your wallet. But like he knows, like he can read your thoughts he just shrugs and says very softly, “Please.” You have to turn away before unmuting and reading the man’s credit card number off like it is nothing, and Sidney sits there, looking all too pleased with himself.

—

It doesn’t take long for food to arrive, and when it does you shift to stand up. But Sidney beats you to it, giving you a look before telling you he’s got it. Boone runs in between you and Sidney with wide eyes, he knows what dinner means. It means you eat it on the back porch while chucking a tennis ball.

You sigh, scratching behind his ear. “Alright, you want to go out back?” You ask, and Boone immediately starts sprinting around in excitement.

You gently pull the pack of peas off your foot, making a face at the swelling and bruising.

“Where do you-“ Sidney starts to ask, both hands carrying very large bags of food, but he stops when he sees you.

“Woah, woah. Let me help.” He says, setting the bags down immediately and making his way over to you.

“I can make it to the patio just fine.” You say, but you watch as Sidney comes over to you anyway, hands out to help you stand.

“I’m not sure you’ve proven that you’re very stable on your feet.” He says, his joke causing you to gasp.

“You see me, on occasion, walking totally fine, but witnessing one fall makes you determine I’m a klutz?”

“Every day.” He says in correction. “I notice you everyday.” His confession causes you to stop.

“No you do not.” You say, looking away so he can’t see the blush in your cheeks.

“You’re very hard not to notice, professor.”

“You’re impossible to miss as well, Captain.”

He smiles, his eyes sparkling as he holds his hand out to you.

“Come on, I think someone’s waiting.” He says, head motioning towards your dog who is very patiently waiting by the patio doors.

So you rest your hand in his, lean into him just a bit as you both make your way to the table in your backyard. Sidney helps you sit down, pulling another chair close to you so you can prop your leg up.

“I can help.” You say, hating that you’re feeling so useless in your own house, hating that Sidney is doing everything.

“I know.” He says, and you’re surprised that he doesn’t brush it off. “But I want to do this.” He says. So you just nod, watching as he brings out the food, follows your directions to find plates and forks, and brings out a new pack of frozen vegetables for your ankle.

You noticed him the first time you were walking the route that you now take twice a day. You were walking Boone early, the sun shining brightly through the trees in Pittsburgh. You were watching as Boone stiffed a bush for the better part of a minute, and then the sound of footsteps jogging got louder and louder.

Even though it was early, you are used to looking up and smiling at the person passing. Usually you have to because Boone believes anyone in the park is there for him, and while Boone has become a staple with children and an older couple who come to watch the birds, he has never seen this man. And neither have you, even though you swear he looks familiar.

Then, before you knew what was happening, Boone pulls, and you, who normally has full control of your dog, went wide eyed as Boone lunges for the man.

“Boone!” You gasp, trying to pull back 80 pounds of fluff. You watch as the man comes to a screeching halt to avoid tripping over your dog. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.” You exclaim, pulling Boone so he’s by your side, but his tail moves a mile a minute, his goofy smile aimed at the man.

The man, to your surprise, just lets out a laugh and crouches down slightly before speaking. “Is he friendly?” He asks, popping an earbud out as you nod. The man sticks his hand out, and Boone takes that as permission to barrel himself at the man. You pull him back before he can, apologizing again as you release Boone just enough to be able to sniff the man instead of attack him.

“He’s not normally like this. I mean, he is, but the attempted murder is a new one for me.” You joke, and as you watch the man who is now petting your dog, and your skin feels warmer than it did a minute ago.

“Just keeps me on my toes.” He jokes back, standing up and Boone lets out a little whine at the loss of pets.

“Sidney.” He says, sticking his hand out to you.

“Y/N.” You say, taking his hand and shaking it. You can’t help but notice how his hand basically swallows yours, and you pull back with what you’re sure is a noticeable blush on your cheeks. You can’t pretend not to notice how handsome he is, sharp jaw, kind eyes, hair curling slightly under the baseball cap. “And Boone, of course.” You say, motioning down to the golden retriever who’s acting like he hasn’t ever got attention. “But we’ll let you get back to your run with your life still intact.” You joke, and Sidney lets out a warm laugh.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

—

Months have passed since then, and each day you have to drag Boone to the side of the path to let Sidney pass. And each time, he stops, pets Boone, and has a quick conversation with you. You notice times when Sidney is gone for days at a time, and you feel like an idiot when you figure out why.

Sidney.

Sidney Crosby.

You speak to the famous hockey player everyday, and you live in Pittsburgh. But you don’t connect the dots until one of your students is talking about the goals he scored during a game.

You almost laugh when you look him up, and sure enough. The man who stops to pet Boone, who asks you how you’re doing is arguably one of the most famous hockey players in history.

—

Today however, is no laughing matter. You’re late, but not just a little behind late, so late that you call your neighbor to ask if she can stop by your house twice to let Boone outside. It starts with leaving at 5:30am, then it’s lectures that run too long because your students were having debates, then a few stragglers who needed advice on their papers, then a chairman of the university who wanted to pick your brain, then your inbox which is normally manageable, but has become a complete mess.

Ten hours later, you’re sitting in your car. Your sweater starting to get uncomfortable, your skirt feeling like it’s part of your skin at this point, and your elegant heels that are making you feel like you’re losing your grip on reality.

But you pull up to your stone house, all but running to the front door to greet your dog who is bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“Yes, yes, hey bud.” You say, crouching down and tossing all of your things in the corner of the entryway. You run your hands over his head and scratch his ears. “I’m sorry, I’m a horrible person.” You say, guilt creeping in about how long you’ve left him today. But you can see the note that’s resting on the kitchen island, probably your neighbor telling you how he was during the day. You remind yourself to bake her something tomorrow as a thank you.

Boone skitters away from you, and stands in front of the closet that has his leash. Excited taps with his feet sounding against the wooden floor.

“I have to at least change.” You say, standing up. But your dog doesn’t let up. He blocks your path, trying to nudge you towards the leash. He lets out a loud whine, and his ears drop slightly. “Okay, you win.” You say, reaching for the leash and hooking it on. You’ve already been in your stuffy clothing, and your borderline torturous shoes for over ten hours. What’s one more?

—

It was a bit later than your normal walking time by the time you get to the park. And your feet ache, but Boone is excited. He greets everyone he can, sniffs every tree and barks at every squirrel he sets his sights on. But it wasn’t until a door closing from the parking lot for some reason grabs your attention. And call it fate, but Sidney Crosby exits a black SUV. His normal black shirt, black shorts, and black sneakers on. You can’t help but stare, and as your eyes finally cast away, Sidney’s latch onto you.

He notes the outfit. Your normal walking attire gone, replaced with what he images is your business attire. He takes in the black sweater, the grey skirt falling above your knees, and the heels. The heels on a gravel path while walking Boone, who from Sidney’s prior experience, is a strong dog. Worry flashes hot throughout his body, and he finds himself jogging over to you, but then it happens. Faster than Sidney can run. Usually when a person falls they have that second before they do in which they accept their fate. This time however, was not the case.

One minute you’re standing, watching Boone sniff through patches of grass. The next, you’re on your hands and knees, your ankle throbbing as Boone is trying to pull towards somebody. That somebody being Sidney Crosby.

“Holy fuck.” You whisper, the pain now settling into your skin. And the pain roars loud enough in your ears that you don’t hear your name being yelled. You don’t hear the familiar footsteps running to you. You don’t hear anything until he’s kneeling next to you.

“Hey, hey. Fuck, Y/N, are you okay?” Sidney asks, his normally calm eyes wide.

“Yeah. I think-“ You start to answer, and as you lean back so you’re only resting on your knees you hiss. You turn your palms up so you can see them. There are little stones buried in your skin, and there are patches of skin that are rubbed raw from the fall. Blood comes to the surface, and it only hits you how hurt you actually are when you try to stand. Your knees scream in protest, and your ankle feels thick and heavy. “Fuck.” You whisper, trying to hold it together.

“Here, let me help.” Sidney says, carefully grabbing Boone’s leash out of your grasp and looping it around his wrist. Then he goes to reach for your elbows, hauling you up slowly. You feel something warm drip down your shins, and you can’t help but to look at Sidney a little wide eyed. “Let’s get you over to the bench, okay? You’re going to be okay.” He comforts you, and as you go to take one step forward your ankle screams at you to stop.

You let out a large hiss, embarrassment flooding you. Of course this happens in front of Sidney, of course it happens when you’re wearing heels on a walk, what did you expect?

“I’m fine.” You say weakly.

“Y/N.” His voice steady. “Let me help you.” He says, his hands still on your elbows. Boone’s eyes are trained on you, and he lets out a little whine as he sniffs at you.

“I’ll be okay once I sit for a second.” You say as you try to muster whatever strength and dignity you still have. You square your shoulders, and try to limp towards the bench. Biting back a yelp as you move your ankle again.

“You must have hit your head if you think I’m letting you walk on that.” Sidney says, his body close enough that you could smell something woody and smoky. You don’t respond, instead you just blink wishing that you’d blink fast enough that you’ll wake up and find this whole embarrassing mess is just a dream.

But it’s real, the pain makes that pretty obvious. But then you hear his voice again.

“Lean into me.” You hesitate, but you do as he shifts even closer to you, a hand looping around your waist and your arm going up by his shoulders. You keep your palm facing away trying to spare him from your bloody palms.

What feels like forever passes, and finally you sit on the bench. Sidney crouched down immediately, and Boone shifts his head so it rests on your thigh.

“Alright, let me see those hands.” Sidney says, and he exhales deeply as he sees how beat up they look.

“Personally I think I could have done worse.” You say with a slight shrug, and Sidney tries to conceal his smile.

“It was a surprisingly graceful fall, I’ve definitely seen worse.” Sidney says, looking around for a second as his eyes lock onto his car.

“Maybe on the ice.” You say, snorting a bit. “I tripped over a crack in the ground because of my golden retriever.” Boone cocks his head at that, and you roll your eyes. Sidney chuckles slightly, his eyes running over the multiple wounds from your fall.

“Alright.” Sidney says, standing up and reaching in his pocket for his keys. “I’m getting my car.” He states, and you snap up instantly.

“Sidney, no.” You say, but the man is determined.

“Do you live close?” He asks.

“Yes, I can make it there on my own, I just need to sit for a minute.” You say, trying not to let him see the truth. But he sees, and he shakes his head and ignores your statement. “I don’t want to bleed in your car.”

“I have towels.”

“Boone sheds, he’ll get dog hair all over the place.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I love dogs.”

“I can call an Uber.”

“You are not getting in an Uber.” Sidney says finally. “Stay here, and I’ll be right back.”

You watch Sidney run to his car, pulling it up as close as he possibly could to where you’re sitting. He leads you to his passenger seat as carefully as he led you to the bench. And it doesn’t take long before you’re settled in and watching as Boone is delighted to jump into the back seats.

“Manners.” You whisper to him as Sidney runs around to the drivers door and settles in.

“Take a left out of here.” You say, pressing the towel Sidney handed you tightly against your knees as Boone pants happily in the back seat, occasionally leaning forward so he can breathe directly into Sidney’s ear.

“Boone.” You scold but there’s a laugh behind it. “Personal space.”

“He’s fine.” Sidney says with a laugh, following your next direction.

“He has no boundaries.” You state, but Boone just counties smiling.

“I play hockey for a living, trust me I’m used to that.”

And you don’t know what possessed you to say it, but you do. “It took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out who you are.”

“Not a big hockey fan I take it?” He asks with a chuckle, and you expect him to judge you for that. But he doesn’t, not as he takes the next turn that you direct him to.

“I like watching it, I just find myself out of time by the end of the day. Plus it doesn’t help that it’s not in my summer break.”

“Teacher?”

“Yeah.” You say, hissing as you wipe again at your beat up knees. Blood still pooling without the towel. “Take the next right.”

Sidney nods, eyes occasionally glancing down to your knees. Your black tights are ripped, but you’re lucky your skirt ends just above your knees, otherwise you would have ruined it.

“What do you teach?” He asks, eyes staying on you for a moment.

“History.” You say. “Greek Mythology if you want to get specific.”

Sidney’s eyes light up a bit, and before you know it he’s asking a million different questions about your job. How you got into it, your students. The time flies by, and you welcome the distraction as he finally pulls into your driveway.

“Wow.” Sidney says, taking in the old house nestled at the end of a dead end road.

“I know.” You say, looking at your home. It’s gorgeous, and part of you thinks you would never leave it. The stone archways, the vines on one side, the stained glass window by the door. All of it was perfect, and Boone thinks so too as he starts barking.

You start to move, opening the door and swinging your legs to step out.

“Hold on, professor.” Sidney jokes, turning the car off and jogging around to your side. He grabs Boone first, throwing his loop around his wrist as he helps to slowly lift you out of his car.

It takes a minute for you both to manage to get to the door, Boone very impatient because this two favorite people are going into his house. Your hand grips the doorknob, and you turn, bracing your back against the stone wall.

“Thanks for getting us home.” You start to say, but Sidney just chuckles.

“You must know nothing about me if you think I’m going to let you hobble around on that ankle without at least helping you clean yourself up.”

His honesty shocks you, and you turn away so he can’t see the blush on your cheeks as you unlock your house. The familiar smell of vanilla and wood hit you, and a bit of tension falls.

Sidney looks around, before helping you to a dining room chair. “First aid?” He asks, rolling up his sleeves.

“Under the bathroom sink. It’s just right down the hall.” You say, pointing. Sidney nods and leaves you. You unclip Boone’s leash from his collar and your dog looks at you only for a second before turning his attention back towards Sidney who’s walking out of the bathroom with a first aid kit.

“You really don’t have to do this.” You say, but Sidney doesn’t even acknowledge the words.

“You guys are sure you’re okay?” Mack asks, his overnight bag thrown over his shoulder, keys in his hand. His green eyes glance from you to your boyfriend, and you know he won’t leave until you both confirm.

“We’re okay, we promise.” Will says, lightly shoving Mack’s shoulder in that brotherly gesture.

“Okay, dinner tomorrow?” He asks, and you smile, knowing Mack wants you to cook one of his favorite meals that you make once a week.

“Of course.” You say, and he nods once more.

“Love you guys.” He says, hugging you both at the same time. And you and Will return the sentiment, knowing Mack needs this. The constant reassurance, the verbal and physical confirmation that you guys are okay.

So you both give it, and you both watch, like concerned parents who are leaving their child at college, as Macklin drives out of the driveway.

“I love you, baby.” Will says, pulling you into his arms and planting a few kisses to your cheeks.

“I love you too.” You whisper, staring into the set of eyes you could get lost in. And for the first time in a long time, there’s no bad feeling, no stress, it’s just you and Will. And you soak it up as much as you can, because with you, this calm feeling never lasts.

—

Even though you’ve been home for some time, you haven’t really had the feeling of being at home. So as Will orders take out, you start your house reset. Cleaning counter tops, washing clothes, fresh sheets, clean bathroom.

And once the last load of clean clothes comes out of the dryer and Will helps you carry over the obnoxiously full two baskets to fold, the doorbell rings.

He smirks, just because this gets him out of folding clothes right now, and goes to grab dinner.

You guys throw on a silly show, eating dinner, your legs thrown over his lap, and both of you leaning forward every once in a while to steal something out of the other persons bowl.

The evening was perfect, and as much as you adore Macklin, there’s times with Will like this that you’d sell your soul for.

“I’ve got it.” You say as you start folding clothes and Will leans forward to help.

“There’s two baskets, and two people.” Will says, and you just shrug.

“Relax, I don’t mind.” You say, and he argues it for a few more minutes before moving and sitting behind you. You smirk, but you keep folding, it’s honestly relaxing for you to do this, so you don’t mind as you half watch the tv and half fold.

Then, you feel his fingers trace lightly on your back. The Boston college shirt you have on is so worn that you’re surprised the fabric is still in tact. You’ve had it since meeting Will in both of your freshman year. So you feel everything has he moves slowly up and down your spine, and he huffs a laugh as you shiver, goosebumps traveling along your skin.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers, and you turn over your shoulder, looking at him.

His hair gleams in the soft lighting of the house, his eyes slightly lidded, but not in a tired way. Just in a soft and comfortable way. And he’s got that lazy smirk on his lips, the one you swear he was born with.

“Will.” You say, emotion caught in your throat.

“Don’t do that.” He says, his eyes roaming over your face.

“Do what?”

“Act like you aren’t.” He says, causing you to huff, because he knows you well enough to know you’ll deflect. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, baby.”

“What on earth has gotten into you?” You say, cheeks turning red. He sees that, because of course he does. And he rubs his thumb over one of them.

“Nothing. I’m just in love.” He says, and you lean backwards into him. Pulling his face down, and kissing him on the lips.

“I love you too.” You say, and he kisses you again. He grabs the blue blanket that’s folded over the side of the couch, pulling it over you both as he adjusts you to lay comfortably between him and the couch.

But you both freeze, not because anything is wrong, but because a familiar smell hits you both. You both look to each other, and then look to the blanket. The blanket Mack was definitely using while crashing on this couch, because the smell of his cologne and body wash hits you both.

“Even when he’s gone he’s not really gone.” Will jokes, and you laugh into his chest, too tired to move as you fall asleep against him.

—

Your eyes open wide as you shoot off of Will’s chest and sit up. All sense of sleep draining from you as your heart rate rises.

Something’s wrong.

It’s the same, cold and creepy feeling. And your eyes travel around the house. Will is behind you, blinking softly because you must have woken him up by launching off of him. No one else is here, there’s no sounds or movements besides you two.

“Baby?” He asks, sitting up slightly and rubbing an eye. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t respond, you just wait. Wait for the answer from whatever feeling this is. And then it hits you, it hits you so hard you almost see stars.

Macklin.

“Oh my god.” You choke, tears already springing to your eyes as you reach for your phone that is on the coffee table. There’s no missed calls from him, no new messages. But with trembling fingers you click his contact, praying he’s going to pick up.

“Y/N.” Will says behind you, now fully awake from adrenaline or fear, you’re not sure.

But you don’t respond, not until you let out a little cry as your call goes to voicemail.

“Y/N, hey. You need to tell me what it is.” Will says, his voice sounding strained.

“Mack.” You say, and Will’s eyes go a bit wide in fear.

“What’s-“

“I don’t know.” You whisper, cursing loudly as another call goes unanswered.

“I’ll try.” He says, quickly unlocking his phone and trying.

But it’s the same thing, the same voicemail, the same voice of the person who started out as just Will’s pain in the ass best friend, but who quickly became your pain in the ass best friend as well.

You both lock eyes for one second, before knowing what you need to do.

You both launch off the couch, phones in hand, and Will grabs his keys and wallet from the table by the front door. You guys don’t even put on shoes, not caring about things as meaningless as that when you know something is wrong.

Will flies out of the driveway, gunning it to the house of Macklin Celebrini.

“Will he’s not answering.” You say, tears pricking and falling down your cheeks.

“We’re on our way. You always know beforehand, right? So we’re going to make it in time.” Will says, comforting both of you at this point.

But the icy feeling stays, deepening every minute that ticks by.

“Go faster.” You say, and Will doesn’t hesitate as he steps down on the pedal harder. And you’re relieved that it’s in the middle of the night and the road is empty besides your boyfriend’s Bronco, breaking every law to get to your guy’s bestfriend.

—

You don’t fully wait for Will to park the car as you swing your door open. Bare feet running up to the front door. The house is dark, but his car is parked in its normal spot in the driveway. You knock on the door, yelling his name. Will runs up behind you, doing the same.

“Will.” You say, and you see him just shake his head.

“Fuck this.” He says, pulling his keys out, searching for the spare key to Mack’s door. As soon as he turns the key in the lock, and he opens the front door, you and Will both immediately gag.

The air smells purely of gas, the smell thick and you tear up as it shoves its way through your nose and into your body.

“Fuck!” Will exclaims, and you can tell for a split second he wants to tell you to stay here. To stay outside while he goes in, but he knows you won’t. He knows in these years that you’ve been with him, that Mack is your brother, is one of your best friends. And asking you to stay behind while you watch your two favorite people go on without you is something you’d never do.

“Keep your nose covered, call 911.” He says, and you nod, covering your nose and pressing your phone to your ear as you both head into the house.

You stay on the line long enough to give an address and tell them about a gas leak, and you know it’s horrible, but you hang up after that.

“Don’t touch anything.” Will says, and you nod as you both use flashlights to search the living room, and then his bedroom.

You both find Mack there, asleep in bed. And you’re so relieved when you see his chest move up and down that your knees could give out.

“Mack!” Will yells, but he hardly stirs. There’s a twitch to his fingers, like he knows you guys are there, like he’s fighting to do something, say something, but he stays limp.

You both stand there, shirts over your noses like that is going to do a thing against how bad the house is full of gas.

“Grab his shoulders.” Will says, and you nod. Following how Will is going to grab Mack. You guys get him sitting up, but his head slumps forward.

“Will.” You say, nervousness swimming in your voice.

“It’s okay baby, just follow what I’m doing.” He says, and you both manage to haul Mack up, his arms slung limply around both of your shoulders. And together, you drag him from the bed. Mack’s feet stumble uselessly beneath him, and his head tips toward you.

“Mack.” You keep saying, because you need him to hear you. “Mack, stay with us.“ You beg, but your lungs feel like they are burning.

“Come on, man. Help us out a little.” Will says, but now he is coughing hard, and during it Mack makes another weak sound. But it’s his fingers twitching against your shoulder that sparks hope in you.

“You’re almost out.” You cry, the light of the street lights getting brighter and brighter the closer you hauled Mack to the door.

But the hallway blurs in your vision, your throat burns and every breath feels choking. But Mack is between you two, and you cannot stop.

“Baby?” Will asks, and you just nod. But you can tell he’s slipping, tell that Will is starting to lose his grasp. A surge of panic rolls through your bones, because you can’t carry them both, if Will falls you can’t even carry one of them by yourself. But you would. You would haul yourself through hell to get them safe.

So as the detector keeps screaming within the house, you fight. You try to shoulder more of Mack’s weight as Will nearly slips near the living room, catching himself against the wall with his free hand.

“Will.” You cry out, but he just shakes his head, because fresh air is only ten more steps. Then five, then three. And as you stumble over the threshold and out into the dark, you gasp so hard it hurts.

Will and you manage to drag Mack another few feet before your legs give out, and all three of you collapse onto the cold cement of the driveway. You’re on your knees as you hold Mack’s face in your hands. His skin is hot and cold at the same time.

“Macklin.” You croak, your voice so unlike its normal sound.

“Mackie.” Will says, his voice tearing in emotion, as he stares wide eyed at his best friend. The nickname stabs at your heart, because this is his best friend. His best friend that stood in front of him and his girlfriend, ready to take whatever was happening head on to spare you two. And if Will fails in saving Macklin now? Will would never be the same.

“Mack, if you can hear us, you’re safe.” You whimper, and your head is swimming so bad that you can feel yourself sway. Will gets behind you immediately in case you fall, but yet you hold onto his best friend… hell.. you hold onto your best friend.

And finally, Mack’s eyelids flutter.

“There you go.” Will says, and you don’t say a word about his tears, because you feel yours falling as well.

You and Will both look in the distance as you can hear sirens, but the feeling of a grip on the old Boston t-shirt has your attention back to Macklin.

“Breathe, breathe. You’re okay.” You say, and as Mack’s eyes open weakly, he coughs with all of the power he has left in his body.

“I should have never left.” Mack says, his voice sounding like he hasn’t drank water in weeks.

Will laughs quietly, still wiping away tears as they fall down his red cheeks.

“No buddy you shouldn’t have, and you’re coming straight back after this.” He says, and you just nod. But Mack’s gaze moves to you, and his eyes look so tired.

But he mumbles something that breaks you, his green eyes catching yours as he whispers, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You and Will both say back, but he shakes his head like you’re not understanding. He grips your shirt tighter, and he looks at you, and repeats himself.

“No. Thank you.” And you know in that moment that he’s thanking you for knowing, for being able to tell that he was in danger. That he wasn’t safe.

And then multiple things happen at the same time. You sling yourself around Mack, hugging him tightly into you as Will, from behind you both, pulls the two of you into him. And like that hotel room, the three of you are tight against each other. Almost like together you guys are all safe, together the three of you are a family, and you cry into Mack’s messy hair as you swear to yourself that you will always listen to whatever this thing is that tells you something is happening. Because every time it’s been correct, and you’ll be damned if you ever let either of these two face something without you.

You’re completely passed out now, not even the buzzing of your phone or the chattering of your teeth able to wake you.

Fraser:

Hey sleepy head, you awake yet?

Fraser:

Practice got moved up, so I’ll be done earlier, I’ll still plan on picking you up for lunch ❤️

Fraser:

Everything okay?

Fraser:

You’re starting to freak me out a bit

Fraser:

Baby, can you answer the phone?

Fraser:

I’m on my way

Fraser:

Y/N?

You miss all of these, completely dead to the world until knocking finally wakes you. At first you don’t think it’s real, and you try ignoring it as you cuddle back into your pillow.

Then you hear the muffled sound of someone calling your name, but that voice. You know that voice. Even in whatever sickness fogged evil you’re in, that voice wakes something in you.

“Y/N?” You hear your name again, and you walk to the door. You run into one of your walls, barely able to pick up your feet and it feels like it takes you five minutes to get to the door. As you finally unlock it, your knees buckle, and Fraser catches you before you can hit the ground.

“Holy shit.” He says, pulling you into him as you cry out. Your skin is on fire as Fraser holds you, noting how it’s also sickeningly warm. “Jesus baby, you’re burning up.”

“I don’t feel good.” You say with a whisper as that’s all you could muster.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you now.” He says, and he doesn’t even give you the option of walking back to your bed. Instead he picks you up swiftly, trying not to move you fast just in case you’re nauseous.

As he gets you back to your bedroom, he sits you on the big chair in the corner of your room. Your sheets are crumbled and sweat soaked, and he refuses to put you back in them.

“Do you have a thermometer?” Fraser asks, tucking a sweaty strand of your hair back behind your ear.

“Bathroom. Second drawer.” You mumble out, and he watches as your head rests against the chair like you couldn’t even hold it up on your own.

He hurries to your bathroom, grabbing fresh sheets out of the hallway closet on his way back.

“Open up, baby.” He says as he returns, and you open your mouth weakly, waiting for the beeping to come.

When it does, and Fraser checks it, the look on his face goes from worried to slightly horrified.

104.1

“Fraser.” You groan, your face immediately crumpling.

“Hey, hey.” Fraser says, setting the thermometer down and gets both hands on your face. “Look at me. I’m here, I’ve got you.” He comforts you, rubbing away tears that are leaking from your eyes.

“I feel weird.”

“I know. But first we’re getting you out of these clothes, then clean sheets, and then medicine.” He says, and you give him the tiniest nod as he goes to grab a new t-shirt. “Arms up baby.” He says, and he helps take off your damp shirt and put on a fresh one. Then he moves fast, stripping off the old sheets and replacing them with fresh ones as he helps you into them. You whimper softly, overwhelmed by the relief of it.

“Better?” He asks, moving your hair out of your face. You mumble a ‘mhm’, and nod slowly. Your eyes close as he whips out his phone and orders everything he thinks you could possibly need. Medicine, electrolytes, crackers. He clicks on rush delivery, and moves his gaze back to you as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. He smiles, telling you to sleep, that he’s going to be right here for you when you wake up.

True to his word, Fraser stays by your side. You wake a few times, once to take medication, once to shove the sheet and light blanket off of your body, and once more because you were shivering so bad.

But the next time you wake, that’s when you see it. A black figure, a tall and horrifying black figure lurking behind Fraser.

You gasp, your eyes going wide and your weak hand trying to point behind him. Fraser is asking you what’s wrong immediately, and you whisper a few words that have him whipping around so fast.

“Who’s that?”

Fraser checks, before returning his gaze back to you.

“There’s no one here, baby. It’s just you and me.”

But you don’t listen, you can’t listen. Because you see it, the thing is right there, and you’re too weak to protect him from it.

“Make it go away.” You sob, voice cracking and breaking. And Fraser could feel his stomach twisting from how terrified you look.

“Hey, hey baby look at me.” He says, gently grabbing your face. “Just at me, there you go, good job.” He says as your eyes stay on his. “I promise there’s no one there, it’s your fever, baby. It’s messing with you. You’re safe, I promise.”

“But you-“ You croak. And Fraser understands then, it’s not that you’re terrified that someone is there, it’s that you’re terrified because you cannot protect him.

“I’m safe. I’m real, whatever you’re seeing isn’t.” He says, taking your shaking hand and pressing it to his heart. “Feel that?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “I’m alive, I’m here with you. And we’re both safe. I won’t let anything or anybody hurt you, ever. Okay?”

“Okay.” You say, calming down just a bit as your eyes droop shut once again.

“Sleep baby, I’m right here.” He says, and you drift off once again.

—

This time when you wake up, your head is in Fraser’s lap. His hands running through your hair, which makes you cringe at the thought of how disgusting it must be.

But that’s before your stomach rolls, you sit up, your face must be conveying how you’re feeling because Fraser helps you to the bathroom immediately.

You almost don’t make it, but at the last second you’re leaning over the open toilet, emptying the little contents in your stomach into it.

“Shhh, breathe baby.” Fraser says, kneeling next to you as one hand is pulling back your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You sob between heaves, embarrassed and miserable, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t make a face, he just stays there. And when it finally stops, you slump against him.

“I hate this.” You whisper.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” He says, flushing the toilet and letting you fully lean into him. “I love you, this isn’t going to scare me away.” He says, your head going against his neck, and he purses his lips feeling how hot your forehead still is.

“How about a shower? It could help bring the fever down.” He says, and you both crave and despise the thought of one.

“I don’t think I can stand.” You say, and he nods, like he’s already thought of this.

“I’ll get in with you. I’ll do it all, if it’s willing to help you I’ll do it.” He says, and hot tears leak down your red cheeks.

Fraser gets up, grabbing clean clothes for you and throwing a towel down on the bathroom counter top.

The water is cool when he helps you step in, not freezing, but not hot either. The instant it hits you, you let out an embarrassing whine. Fraser’s chest vibrates with a small chuckle he holds in, and as you lean against him fully and close your eyes, Fraser gets to work.

He washes your hair first, scrubbing the shampoo into your scalp deeply, the familiar salon smell clouding all of your senses. He’s careful when rinsing it out, making sure to keep any water or suds out of your face, making sure to cover your ears as he rinses with the handheld shower head. Then he moves for the washcloth, your body wash cool as he helps wipe off hours of sweat.

Every few minutes he mumbles, “Are you okay?” Or “Is the water too warm?”

You respond only with small yes or nos. And as Fraser turns the water off, immediately grabbing your towel to wrap you in, you just lean fully into him. The smell of your body wash on his chest, and through hooded eyes you watch as droplets of water cascade down it as well.

“I got lucky.” You mumble, but your voice is so quiet Fraser misses it.

“What’s that, baby?” He asks, pulling you off his chest but still holding you up.

“I got lucky.” You say again.

“I wouldn’t exactly call getting sick lucky.” He says, helping you out of the shower and sitting you down on the closed lid of the toilet. He grabs another towel, wrapping it around his waist before coming to help dry you off.

“You.” You say, wishing he could get it without you having to explain yourself right now. And he looks at you in confusion for only a moment before it clicks. His eyes soften, so do the rest of his features.

“If anything, it’s me who’s lucky.” He says, kneeling down so you guys are almost eye level. He’s still got some height on you, and you’d make a comment about it any other day. But now you’re still so tired, still so weak.

But you don’t miss how your words have broken some anxious layer in him. And before you know it you’re dressed in a big t-shirt, Fraser braiding your hair so the wet strands don’t stick to your neck, and helping you back to bed.

He helps you down slowly, a shiver going through you at the coolness of the sheets. Your fingers squeeze your pillow, and you let Fraser adjust your blankets, then grab the thermometer and take your temperature again.

102.3

“It’s going down, baby.” Fraser says, and he’s so relieved that he lets out a small laugh with it.

“Good.” You say, your eyes already closed as your head rests on your pillow. His hands come to your face, feeling your forehead again, and humming contentedly at what he feels. “Thank you.” You say, sleep taking you before you could hear his response.

“You know, this is a disgusting abuse of your power.” You say, setting your elbow down on the coffee table and holding your hand out to him.

“You made the bet!” Connor exclaims, even though he egged you on until you made it.

“You said I didn’t stand a chance against you!” You exclaim back, laughing as you see the smile on his face.

“Because you don’t, but I’m happy to indulge you.” He says, and you throw a pillow from the couch at him.

“Connor Bedard you are so full of yourself.”

“Come on, stop stalling.” He says, his elbow resting on the table, his face stuck in that grin that makes you feel sparks. Your eyes drift to his forearm, the muscles in it flex, and your eyes travel along the pronounced veins.

“I hate you.” You say, finally putting your hand into his. Putting your left hand behind your back.

“Ready?”

“No.”

“Do you want to quit?” He asks smugly, but you shake your head.

“I know I can’t beat you-“ You start to say as Connor makes an amused laugh. “BUT!” You exclaim, digging your nails just slightly into the back of his hand to get him to pay attention. “I can withstand eight seconds.” You say boldy, and Connor’s eye brows raise.

“Eight seconds?” He says, and you nod like you’re trying to convince yourself of this. “And what do I get when I win?” He asks you, and his cockiness is really starting to make you want to prove yourself.

“IF, you win. You get to pick.”

“When I win, you have to come work out with me.” He says, and he laughs as your face drops.

“Connor.” You whine, hoping he’ll change his mind. “Your arms are fucking huge. I’ll never beat you!” And you look down trying to hide your blush at your words.

“If you don’t like my terms, then you better be sure to last against me for those eight seconds.”

“Start the timer, Bedard.” You say, scoffing and leaning forward just a bit.

He counts you down, and when he starts the timer, you pour every ounce of strength into it that you have. For one glorious second, you think you actually stand a chance, but you watch him, and realize he isn’t even trying. And after that one second is up, Connor applies pressure. He doesn’t slam your hand down, but he lowers it without breaking a sweat, and as the back of your hand touches the table, he pauses the timer.

He looks from the timer, to you, and he doesn’t even have to tell you the time for you to know you’ve lost.

“Three seconds.” Connor says, turning his phone and showing you the proof.

You groan, setting your head down on the coffee table as Connor bites back a laugh.

“Do I have to?” You groan out with a laugh, plopping down on the couch.

“Yep.” Connor says, clearly trying not to gloat. “I’ll bring you on a quiet day though, it’s just going to be you and I there.”

And like he knows that calms you, you smile. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

—

By the time you make it to the Blackhawks facility you almost call Connor to cancel twice. But if you cancel, you know he’ll make you reschedule. After all, when you win a bet you never let him back out of it.

You step out of your car, suddenly feeling a little self conscious in your outfit. Your t-shirt is tight, and so are your shorts, but you decide to hell with it. If he’s going to torture you, he can do it with you looking hot.

“Woah.” Connor says as he holds the door open for you. His eyes raking up and down your figure. You instantly feel warm, but you can’t also act like you’re not doing the exact same thing to him.

Connor stands in front of you, black shorts and a black top that is basically a second skin due to how much it hugs him.

“Let’s get this over with.” You say, and he laughs as he leads you in.

Connor starts the workout with having you do mobility, which sounds innocent enough until you are five minutes in and already questioning the choices that brought you here.

But true to his word, Connor talks you through everything. He does not rush you, does not laugh when you lose your balance, does not make you feel stupid when he has to show you the same movement twice.

Instead, he stands near you, calmly demonstrating each exercise with the kind of control that reminds you exactly why you lasted three seconds in that arm wrestle.

“Keep your chest up.” Connor says, demonstrating the correct stance for you.

“Like this?” You say, straining slightly but trying again.

“That’s perfect.” He says, and that proud little gleam in his eyes makes you keep going. It pushes you to fight through the rest of the warm up, and by the time you’re done, you’re already a bit out of breath.

“That was just the warm up?” You say, watching as Connor’s shoulders shake with a laugh and a nod. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He says, telling you to drink some water. And he watches you as you listen, lips going around the top of your water bottle, and he bites his lip for a second before looking away.

The next was working on your lower body, step ups to be exact. You watch Connor do a few, before he switches to the next foot and repeats himself.

He watches you as you start to do them, and he keeps a hand out behind you, just in case. You scoff at that in the beginning, but by the third round you’re grateful for it.

“Plant your foot, otherwise you’re going to-“ He says, but he’s cut off by you tripping, doing the exact thing he was trying to prevent. “Fall.” He says, one of his hands catching your elbow, the other going to your waist. He steadies you immediately, and your breath catches as you feel how close to him you are. His body is warm, and so are his two hands placed against your skin.

“Plant.” You say with a little out of breath pant you’re totally going to blame on the work out and not on him. “Got it.” You say with a chuckle as Connor lets go, and you continue going.

The weight lifting is worse. Not because it’s harder, on the contrary it’s actually nice to sit down. But you’re distracted. While you were supposed to be listening to Connor explaining the correct way to lift a weight, instead you were watching the flex of his muscles through his tight shirt.

You watch him flex, relax, then flex again. And your heart skips as he lets out a little groan, and you can’t help but imagine him making that sound because of a different reason.

“Y/N-“ he says, snapping you out of your daze. “You okay?” He asks, and you wipe your forehead with your arm, nodding silently.

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” You say.

However it’s evident that you don’t have it. Not as you start lifting and you’re so distracted you doubt you’d notice if you grew another head. And especially not as Connor stops you, smirking slightly.

“Wait a second.” He says gently, setting his own weights down as he turns to you.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’re sitting.

“You’re pulling back too far.” He states, and he reaches out but before actually touching you he says, “Can I?”

You nod, swallowing thickly as Connor moves semi behind yet still semi beside you.

“If you keep doing it this way your shoulders are going to hate you tomorrow.” He states, and he guides you through just how far back you’re supposed to go.

“I think my whole body will hate me regardless.” You state, and he chuckles slightly.

“Try again.” He says, and his hands hover just a few inches away, ready to stop you if you brought them back too far. But you do it perfectly, and the praise Connor gives you is enough to make your eyes close.

It was during the cool downs as Connor liked to call them that you completely lost your control.

Connor was walking you through lunges and planks and whatever form of torture he deemed fit for the day. Sweat was dripping down your spine, and you could feel a few pieces of your hair become stuck to your neck with sweat.

You were shaking during the side plank, your arms feeling like they are losing all ounce of strength.

“How much longer?” You groan out, the shakes starting to go down your entire body. Connor noticed that, and he remembers how miserable these were when he started, so he opts for taking your mind off of it completely.

“Look at me.” He says, and his heart jolts when he realizes how commanding he sounds. But your eyes meet his immediately, and he has to fight back a smile at how well you listen to him, at how well you take direction from him.

“Con.” You say, gritting your teeth slightly.

“Be done if you want to be done sweetheart.” He says, and your body physically jolts at the name. But he’s not teasing you, not trying to get a rise out of you. After all, even though he loves the push back, Connor would never force you past your limits.

“How much longer?” You ask, your voice strained.

Connor looks to the clock, and lets out a laugh, the irony not lost on him.

“Eight seconds.” He says, and you watches the way your eyes light.

Determination floods your bones, and you lock your eyes onto his. They stay there for a few seconds, before they travel to a bit of sweat that is on Connor’s neck. You almost make a joke. Almost say something about how he’s no longer cool and collected. But Connor grips the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to wipe the sweat off of his neck.

You don’t mean to, really you should look away. But the sight of his abs makes your breath hitch. Your eyes catching on the trail of hair leading down into his shorts.

Your eyes shoot away as he drops his shirt back down, and you scan the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. By whatever guardian angel you’ve managed to keep, he doesn’t notice your gaze.

“Done.” Connor says, and you drop onto your back. The mat under you cool against your sweating skin. You raise one of your hands to brush the hair out from your eyes, and the shaking of your hand makes you groan.

You close your eyes, breathing heavily. You hear shuffling to your side, and you can tell that Connor stands up and walks over to you. As you peak up at him with one eye open, the other still squinting shut, you click the smirk on his face.

“You’re a sociopath.” You state, trying to catch your breath so you don’t embarrass yourself.

“What did you say the other day? Oh yea, this is just a disgusting abuse of my power.” He joked with a shoulder shrug, and as you look up to him you get annoyed.

Connor Bedard looks… normal. Sure, he’s a bit flushed, but he’s not panting, he’s no longer sweating, and he’s definitely not falling apart on the floor like you are.

“You look way too good after what we just did.”

“Uh oh, you’re complimenting me?” He asks. “I didn’t kill you did I?”

“You damn near did.” You joke, and he smiles as he offers you his hand.

You take it, and as soon as you’re right side up your legs shake and nearly give out. You make a little shocked noise as you register that you’re about to fall over, but Connor grabs you before you can.

His arms wrap around you quickly, pulling your shaking and almost limp body into his. One of your hands comes up to press on his chest, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart.

“Careful.” Connor whispers, his heart speeding up even faster as he realizes how close you guys are.

Fully blaming your next move on the workout, you rest your forehead against his collar bone, your hands and body staying pressed against his.

“I feel like a wet noodle.” You mumble, and Connor laughs, the sound warming you. The breaths from his laugh scatter across your skin, and goosebumps rise from it.

Then you realize just how close you are. Just how close you are after working out.

“Oh my god.” You say, pulling away slightly as Connor looks at you questioning what’s wrong. “Gross. I’m so sweaty and you’re touching me.” You say, fully expecting him to realize this fact and help sit you down somewhere.

But he just rolls his eyes, his arm staying planted on you, still holding you up as he slowly makes his way to the door.

“I’m surrounded by sweaty hockey players every single day.” Connor says, slowly leading you down the hallway. “Trust me, this is nothing.”

“How romantic.” You chide, and Connor quirks an eyebrow at you, but he stays silent. He helps get you into your car, after spending five minutes trying to convince you to let him drive you back to your apartment.

“You couldn’t even walk properly, and I’m supposed to trust you can move between the brake and the gas?”

“You are such a worrier, Bedard.”

“When it involves you, yeah.” He says, and you realize he’s not trying to joke, he’s genuinely concerned.

You sigh, looking towards your passenger seat.

“Fine, but I’ll making you carry me to the other seat.” You say, eyebrows raised.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, carrying you from the drivers seat to your passenger seat. He sets you down with ease, grabbing the seat belt and buckling you in. He jogs around to the drivers side, and leaves the parking lot in the direction of your apartment.

Your music plays softly in the speakers, and with the slightly open windows the breeze hits your face as Connor drives through Chicago. Your eyes slowly close, the full exhaustion of the day taking over.

“You’re not going to fall asleep out here just so I’ll carry you to your apartment, are you?” Connor jokes, and it takes you a second to answer as you’re just about to fall asleep.

“I think you just want an excuse to carry me.”

He snorts, and he goes to lightly flick your thigh. But even with your eyes closed you can sense his hand coming near you. And instead of moving it away or going to flick him back, you simply grab his hand and pull it into your lap. Your fingers slot perfectly with his, and you can feel him tense before relaxing.

“Wake me up when we get home.” You say, and Connor’s heart stops at the way you phrased it. But he doesn’t want to keep teasing, he doesn’t want to keep doing this round about flirting or whatever the hell is going on between you two.

So instead, he lifts your hand that’s fully in his, and kisses the back of your hand. You hum softly, your eyes still closed, but a little smile appears on your lips.