tale. 🔖

sunday.

tuesday.

wednesday.

thursday.

friday.

He unintentionally hears Cale talking to Scott about the possibility of him being picked up by Tracy at the airport as his shoulder is still hurting and Nathan instantly gets reminded that he left his car parked at his self-claimed parking spot at Ball Arena. 

He had to pick up a few stuffs from his locker before they flew out to Vegas few days ago so he decided to come to airport using team’s bus instead. Unfortunately, this means he need to go to the arena first, to pick up his car, before he can go home. But then, he doesn't feel like driving and he doesn’t think he has the mental capacity to put his focus onto doing said activity. 

Getting sweep is... painful. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Difficult to swallow, hard to accept. Especially since they won Presidents' Trophy this year, had a clean sweep against LA Kings and they even won Round 2 with 5 games alone. How do they managed to get eliminated from playoff with a clean sweep by Vegas? 

He ignores the occasional ache that he feels on his leg. 

Is it his fault? 

Nathan, it's not your fault. 

Once again, your voice from the phone call few days ago steadies him. 

Maybe he should get a taxi, let them drive him back to his place. He can always pick up his car later when they need to come in and clean up their locker, when they need to sit down in front of media for exit interview, unpacking what went wrong this round, what is their plan for off season, et cetera. 

But, what if the taxi driver is a fan? What if they ask about the game? What if they blame him for this humiliating result? Does he need to sit at the backseat and fake-smile and just accept whatever they said because what else can he do, what else can he say?

His phone vibrates once, twice against his thigh and he turn it over to see what notification just came through and the floating texts on his phone screen surprises him. 

He stares at your last reply and a flight attendant approaches him then, face apologetic as she says, "Hey, we're about to land real soon. Appreciate it if you can keep your phone on airplane mode for the time being." 

"Yes, sure," Nathan nods, putting his phone into airplane mode with brain still trying to process the texts.

You are here? You are in Denver Intl. Airport? You are picking him up? 

He notices Cale's curious look from the corner of his eyes and he ignores it, opt to close his eyes instead while trying to suppress the small smile that is threatening to appear at the thought of seeing you as soon as he lands. 

"Hey! How was the flight?" 

Your cheerful voice is the first thing that greets him when he gets into the passenger seat of your car, securely buckling his seatbelt first before he slightly turns to look at you. It feels so cliché to say that he instantly feels better at the sight of you so he wouldn't say that. Out loud at least. 

But, immediately, he can feel the stress and tiredness slowly leave his body.

He shrugs. "Same as usual." 

He watches you nod in response, setting up the navigation at the same time and he wonders if he should offer to drive.

It's late evening now, nearing sunset time and traffic is definitely going to be a pain. He remembers you mentioning, once, that you hate traffic. After that Round 2 Game 5 day. The one where you visited him in the locker room post game, sitting in front of his locker stall, wearing the jersey that he bought for you. The one with his name, his number at the back.

"Did you have a good inflight meal?" 

You drive out from the airport, already making small talk and Nathan realizes maybe it's too late for him to offer to drive then. He recognizes the car in front of yours as Tracy’s, seems like Cale indeed get picked up by his wife.  

"That is so random," he replies, amused smile on his face. "No one ever asked me that." 

“Sue me for being curious then,” you chuckle, fingers drumming against the steering wheel while driving. "I never get on a private plane and I’m a big fan of inflight meal, so." 

"Really?"

"I fly commercial, Nathan," you glance at him then and Nathan shakes his head. 

"No, I meant, you are a big fan of inflight meal? Really?" he asks, tone curious. 

You nod, excited grin on your face as you start to explain, "Really! I genuinely love inflight meal. Bread, butter, fruit. Love them!" 

He chuckles, feeling infected by your good mood. "Do you like the main meal as well?"

"Absolutely! Love it when they give out chicken. Or, fish. Once, I managed to get upgraded to first class and they gave me salmon. One of the best meals. Ever!" 

He smiles to himself as you talk and he could not help but notice how easy it is to talk with you. Your comforting presence and infectious good mood truly bring him out from the dread that he was feeling when they were flying back to Denver earlier. 

Nathan asks more about the inflight meals that you have eaten, considering you have flown all around the world, kind of. From Sweden, to Denver, to Edmonton, to Japan, back to Sweden, to Denver. You tell him all about it, complaining about the cold appetizer that you once had on Qatar Airways flight to Dubai and complimenting the dory fillet you had on your way back from Tokyo last year. 

"Wait," he interrupts once he notices that you take a left turn when it should have been right if you both are heading back home. 

The maps don’t reroute though, and he realizes that the destination is approaching near with the maps showing 0.7 miles left. Weird. He knows this area and his home is nowhere around here. Nor Ball Arena. The sight of a local deli greets him as you park your car right in front of the place. 

"Dinner?" he asks, unbuckling his seatbelt although you didn't turn off the engine. 

You nod, imitating his action and he looks at you as you left the engine on, hand reaching out to backseat to get your purse out from your bag. 

You glance at him and says, tone understanding, "You don’t have to go out. I’ll be quick.” 

Nathan rests back against the seat, appreciative smile on his face and you return it. You step out from the car and he watch you walk into the deli and the clear window store allow him to see you perusing the menu at the counter.

He drums his fingers against his thigh as he waits, enjoying the song that you put on as you left your phone behind, music connecting via Bluetooth probably. It's not the kind of song that he typically listens to but the song sound comforting and relaxing and it calms him. 

Inside the store, you pick up your order from the designated spot and he watches you walk out with two paper bags. He reaches out to the driver side, helping you to open the door and your grateful face greets him. 

"Thank you."

"No problem. What did you get?" 

"Chicken sandwich for me, sweet potato for you. You eat that, right?"

Curious, he raises an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"A handsome bird told me," you grin, buckling your seatbelt and resume driving without turning the maps back on. 

This bird must be a certain Swedish man: Gabriel Landeskog. 

“Nathan,” you call his name whilst navigating the road expertly without guidance now that you both are back at the city center.

"Yes?"

You stop at a traffic light and turn to look at him, asking, “Would you like to watch sunset with me?" 

He could go to Ball Arena and pick up his car. He could choose to go home, stare at the wall and think about everything, anything, something, nothing.

Or, he could stay here, be with you, enjoy your presence and look at the sky. 

"I would love to." 

It has been a while since he looks at the sky, at the vast openness and he wonders if it is as mesmerizing as your smile. 

The sky slowly turns from blue to blue-pink pastel in front of you both and it's truly a mesmerizing sight to witness. Although, when he compares this view to your smile, the sunset does come in second.

There are quite good number of people at Sloan's Lake when you both arrived here half an hour ago so he  asked if it was alright if you both just chill in the car since the sky is pretty visible from where the car is parked and you easily agree with him. 

To fill in the silence as you both eat your respective food, you suggested for the continuation of getting-to-know-each-other session and he agrees instantly. 

He asks more about your content creator gig and you ask more about hockey, although it's clear how you purposely avoid asking or even mentioning anything related to the Conference Final games. 

"Hmm— your favorite goal from this season?" 

Nathan takes a sip of his non-alcoholic beer and thinks of an answer. He has scored so many goals this year. Leading the league, winning Rocket Richard Trophy. Although, there is one goal that make him so satisfied, so euphoric, so relieved, after he scored them. 

That goal that tie the game. The one that he scored from Marty's assist. The one that he scored a minute before end of regulation buzzer went off. 

“The one from Round 2, Game 5." 

"Oh!" You look at him, proud visible on your face as you nod excitedly. "That one was such a beauty! Have you watched the series rewind for Round 2?"

Nathan shakes his head and your exaggerate gasp elicits a chuckle out of him. You take your phone off the car Bluetooth, song abruptly stopping midway as you click on your YouTube app and together, you two hunches forward to get a better look at your screen. 

He hasn't had the chance to watch any video, any highlight, anything at all except the rewind of their past regulation games with Vegas and compilation of Vegas playoff games that Coach Bednar put together as they strategized, brainstorming game plan for the Conference Final.

It feels bittersweet to watch the series rewind now, seeing how everyone were so hyped up and excited once Kulak scored the overtime goal. It would be a while for him to get over this bitterness, he is sure. 

"You are so insane. Goal in six straight games!" you exclaim, pride evident in your tone when you put your phone back down. 

Nathan smiles sheepishly, leaning back to his seat as he murmurs, "I have a great team. Amazing teammates." 

You roll your eyes, playfully elbowing his side. "Just accept the compliment." 

"Thank you." 

For the compliments. For being kind. For sharing your enthusiasm throughout the playoff run. For being around. For keeping him steady when he was kicking himself down. For this escapism. 

You hum in response and that relays more than just a you're welcome or no problem so Nathan lets the comfortable silence lingers.

The sky has turned completely dark by the time you finish your sandwich and while you gather the trash and wipe your hands clean, Nathan quietly thinks of a way to keep on spending time with you. 

This impromptu sunset watching truly help him to feel lighter and freer from the weight of the season that has been resting on his shoulders since September and he craves for more of it. More of the time spending together where he is not expected to be The Nathan Mackinnon. With you, he can simply be Nathan. 

You excuse yourself, stepping out from the car to throw out the trash and once you get back inside, you look at him and ask, "Ready to go home?"

"Sure. Should we watch The Office once we are home?" he suggests.