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On again, off again - Nikolaj Ehlers

summary: Nikolaj and you have been on again off again for years at this point. Then his move to Raleigh was supposed to be the end of it, but a playoff jacket and a series of (bad) decisions lead you to the ultimate dream in the end.

pairing: Nikolaj Ehlers x female!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings/tropes: on again/off again relationship, sometimes friends with benefits, sometimes relationship, a little toxic relationship at some points, bad decisions

authors note: I had the idea for this when I wrote the other stuff for the stanley cup champions celebration series and it wouldn´t leave my head, so I brought it to life, hope you enjoy!

----

You had never really been able to explain what you and Nikolaj were to anyone else.

Not to your friends. Not to your families. Definitely not to his teammates´ wives and girlfriends whenever they occasionally crossed paths with you.

For three years, you had existed somewhere between relationship and habit.

Sometimes you spent months acting like a normal couple. You flew out to road trips with the other wags when your schedule allowed. He spent Christmas with your family one year. You left a toothbrush and some clothes at his condo in Winnipeg, and he kept buying the same shampoo you liked without ever mentioning it.

Then something would happen.

Never anything really dramatic.

Too many games. Too much travel. Once an argument about priorities. Once a missed call that ended up turning into four and suddenly you wouldn’t speak for weeks.

Then one of you would text.

Miss you or something equally as meaningful and everything started all over again.

Neither of you had ever promised the other forever and that was probably why the whole thing lasted so long.

----

When free agency opened in the summer of 2025, you sat beside him on the couch while he refreshed his phone ever thirty seconds.

He looked nervous. Actually nervous, not hockey nervous. Not game-seven nervous. Life nervous.

You handed him another coffee. “You´re going to wear your thumb out.”

“I´m already wearing my brain out.”

You smiled. “Same thing.”

He laughed and leaned against you for a second. For a moment, everything felt normal. Then his phone rang.

You watched him answer, watched him stand, and somehow, before he ever said the words, you knew.

The deal with Carolina was done.

He listened quietly, thanked whoever was on the other end, and hung up. Then he looked at you. “I´m going to sign with the Hurricanes.”

You smiled immediately, because that´s what you were supposed to do. “That´s amazing, Nik.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved, neither of you really celebrated, because both of you understood what the other was thinking.

Winnipeg had already been difficult, but Raleigh was an entirely different world.

----

Over the next week, after the deal was officially announced, people congratulated him constantly.

His parents. Winnipeg teammates. Fans. Reporters.

Everyone talked about opportunity and fresh starts. Nobody talked about the girl sitting beside him at dinner quietly wondering if she would fit into any of it.

Eventually, he brought it up to you.

You were lying in bed after midnight when he said it. “You know I could never ask you to move.”

You stared at the ceiling. “I know.”

“You have your life here.”

“I know.”

“Your job, your family, your friends.”

“I know, Nik.”

He turned toward you. “I mean it.”

“So do I.”

Silence.

Then you finally looked at him. “Would you even want me to come? Hypothetically of course.”

His eyes softened. “That´s not a fair question.”

“Answer it anyways.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

That hurt because it was honest.

You appreciated his honesty but it still hurt, because the truth was that you didn’t know either.

Three years of together and apart and together again.

Three years of never fully committing.

How could you suddenly ask the other person to change everything?

You reached for his hand. “I think we already know what to do.”

He squeezed your fingers. “Yeah.”

----

The last week before he left for Raleigh felt strange.

Not sad exactly, just a lot quieter than usually.

You still slept in the same bed, waking up tangled in each others arms, still ate dinner together, still watched movies, but there was a countdown hanging over everything.

Neither of you talked about it until the night before his flight.

You sat on his balcony overlooking Winnipeg. The sun had already disappeared.

“You know this is the end, right?” you finally asked.

He looked down. “Probably.”

“Not because we don’t care.”

“I know.”

“Just because…”

“We never figured out how to do this properly,” he finished.

You nodded.

He nodded.

And somehow that was supposed to be your final breakup.

No screaming, no tears, no accusations, just two people acknowledging what had been true for years.

You loved each other in ways that never seemed to fit.

----

When he drove you home later, neither of you said goodbye dramatically.

He carried your overnight bag to the door.

You stood there awkwardly for a second before he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too.”

He smiled sadly before he turned around and left.

----

The first month without him surprised you.

You expected devastation. Instead, you mostly felt empty.

Which somehow felt worse.

You still reached for your phone before remembering. Still saved funny videos to send him. Still noticed things in stores that reminded you of him.

But you never texted and neither did he.

You followed his first few games with Carolina from a distance.

People online half loved him half already shat on him because he wasn’t producing from the get-go.

But he looked happy.

That should have made it easier but it didn’t.

----

By November, life had settled again.

You worked, saw your friends and pretended everything was normal.

Then the Hurricanes came into town to play the Jets.

You tried not to think about what that meant, you really tried. Until you opened Instagram and saw photos from morning skate.

Him.

Back in the city. Back where everything had happened.

You locked your phone and ignore it.

That evening, while highlights of the game played in the background of your apartment, your doorbell rang.

You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not at this time of the night.

When you opened, your entire body froze.

Nikolaj stood there. Baseball cap, grey hoodie. Hands shoved into his pockets, looking just a shocked as you felt.

For several seconds, neither if you spoke. Then he finally said a quiet “Hi.”

You blinked. “Hi.”

He smiled nervously. “I wasn’t sure if you would slam the door in my face.”

“I considered it.”

He laughed.

God.

You missed that laugh.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

He looked embarrassed. “To be completely honest with you, I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer, Nik.” The nickname slipped out without issue.

“I know.”

“Nik.” You repeated.

His shoulders dropped. “I missed you.”

The honestly knocked the breath out of you, because you had missed him too.

Terribly.

And apparently time hadn’t fixed any of that so, you stepped aside and invited him in.

----

The apartment suddenly felt too small.

He looked around like he hadn’t been there hundreds of times before.

“You moved the couch.”

You snorted. “That´s what you noticed?”

“It´s nice.”

You laughed quietly and just like that, some of the tension disappeared.

You talked for almost two hours after that.

About Carolina. About Winnipeg. About everything and nothing.

He told you about his new teammates. You told him about work.

Neither of you mentioned why he had really come, but you both already knew.

Eventually silence settled over the living room. Not the uncomfortable kind but the familiar kind that came with knowing someone for a long time.

He sat beside you almost still, close enough that your shoulders touched.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he admitted quietly.

“Probably.”

“But I still came.”

You looked over at him. “I still let you in.”

His eyes searched your face. “Tell me to leave.”

Both of you knew that you couldn’t.

Not after months of wondering if you would ever see him again. Not after three years of this impossible thing between you.

So, instead, you leaned forward and kissed him and for a few hours, everything complicated disappeared.

----

In the morning, reality returned quickly.

You woke up first, he was asleep beside you looking as peaceful as ever.

For one blissful second, you forgot, but then you remembered.

Carolina.

Distance.

History.

When he woke up a few minutes later, neither of you pretended.

He sat up and rubbed his face. “We really suck at this.”

You laughed softly. “The worst.”

He smiled, but it faded quickly. “Last night doesn’t fix anything.”

“I know.”

“I still live in Raleigh and you still live here.”

“I know, Nik.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You already have.”

His face fell.

“And I know I´ve hurt you too.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You reached for his hand. “But we knew what this was as soon as I opened the door.”

----

He left not soon after.

This goodbye hurt more than the summer one, because now you both knew that distance hadn’t solved anything.

At the door, he hugged you tightly and longer than usual.

“Take care of yourself,” he said again.

You almost laughed.

Same words. Same ending.

“You too.”

Then he walked away.

This time, neither of you looked back.

----

December passed.

Then January.

Then February.

No texts, not calls, no accidental likes on Instagram.

Nothing.

You told yourself it was for the best.

Maybe if enough time passed, the habit would finally break.

Maybe you could stop checking Canes scores. Maybe he would stop thinking about Winnipeg.

Maybe.

Then April arrived and with it came a package that you hadn’t ordered.

You frowned at the senders address. A place in Raleigh.

Confused, you carried in inside and opened it.

Inside was a leather jacket, when you turned it around you realized it was a Hurricanes playoff wag jacket.

Your size, the number 27 stitched on the side, Ehlers on the back.

You stared at it in disbelief for a second before you noticed the envelope that sat underneath.

Your name written in handwriting you recognized immediately.

Suddenly, your heart started racing, still, you opened it carefully.

The letter inside was short.

I know we are not together. I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But I miss you. Not just when I´m lonely and not just when I´m back in Winnipeg. All the time.

I tried not contacting you because I thought maybe that’s what we needed. Turns out I was wrong.

We´re in the playoffs now and I keep wishing you were here in the stands with the other wags.

No pressure and no expectations. If you say no, I´ll understand, but if you want to come I´d really like you on my side.

Nik

Underneath the letter was a plane ticket to Raleigh for a few days from now.

You read the letter three times. Then a fourth. And suddenly, after months of silence, your phone buzzed with one singular message.

Nikolaj: Did the package arrive?

You stared at the screen, then the jacket in your lap.

Three years, hundreds of almost, multiple breakups, countless second chances.

You should have known better, but your fingers moved anyway.

I Yes.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Nikolaj: Are you angry?

You smiled.

I Ask me again after I decide if I like the jacket or not.

Nikolaj: If you want to hate something, hate the name on the back not the nice jacket.

And just like that, after months apart…he was back.

----

For almost two days, the jacket sat untouched over the back of your chair while you had read the letter too many times.

You started packing twice but unpacked both times before calling your best friend. Then hung up before she could tell you that you were insane.

Because she would. Everyone in their right mind would.

Three years of almost relationships. Three years of loving someone who never fit neatly into your life and now he wanted you to fly across the continent and step right back into it.

Every practical thought told you no, every emotional thought told you yes.

So naturally, so did nothing.

----

Nikolaj texted occasionally.

Never pushing or asking for a decision directly, just normal things.

Nikolaj: Practice sucked today.

Nikolaj: Svech says the jacket is ugly.

Nikolaj: I think I managed to burn pasta

You answered sometimes but sometimes you just left him on read too.

He never complained.

The playoffs started in less than twenty-four hours when you finally made your decision.

Actually, decision was the wrong word.

You were sitting on your couch at midnight when you suddenly grabbed your suitcase again and packed it with everything you would need then you spent the next four hours wondering if you had completely lost your mind.

----

The flight landed in Raleigh shortly before noon.

You stepped off the plane feeling confident, then immediately realized you had absolutely no plan.

You hadn’t told him you were coming and he was probably assuming you wouldn’t given you never let him know your answer.

You didn’t know where he lived or where you would even find him right now and suddenly you felt ridiculous.

You sat on your suitcase at baggage claim for ten minutes, then twenty. Eventually, you took a picture of an airport sign and sent it to him with no caption.

Thirty seconds later your phone rang.

“Nik?” you laughed.

“You´re here?”

You laughed again, more nervous this time. “I might have made a mistake.”

“Are you serious?”

“Possibly.”

“Don’t move.”

“Nikol…”

“Don’t move.”

Then he hung up.

----

He arrived 45 minutes later.

No hat, no attempt to hide, looking slightly out of breath.

The second he spotted you, he stopped walking.

You stood up.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then he crossed the remaining distance and wrapped his arms around you so tightly your feet almost left the floor.

“Oh my God,” he breathed.

You laughed into his shoulders. “Hi.”

“You came.”

“I know.”

“You actually came.” He pulled back just enough to look at you. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure until it was almost too late.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You are unbelievable.”

“You broke several driving laws getting here, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

You smiled.

And then he kissed you, right there at arrivals, like he had been waiting months to do this again. Which, technically, he had.

----

The first round against Ottawa lasted four games.

Four wins.

Four increasingly loud celebrations.

The first game you sat awkwardly beside the other wives and girlfriend in matching jackets.

Everyone was friendly. Everyone assumed you belonged there because you had the jacket and the pass. Which somehow made you feel worse, because you didn’t know if you did.

After game one, Nikolaj found you outside the family room. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

Damn him for knowing you so well.

“I´m just trying to figure things out.”

He brushed hair away from your face. “So am I.”

By game four, Carolina completed the sweep.

The atmosphere in the arena was insane, and you found yourself screaming along with everyone else.

When Nikolaj skated over after the handshake line and pointed at you through the glass, you felt your heart do something dangerous.

----

Round two brought Philadelphia.

Another sweep.

Another four wins.

Another two weeks where you practically lived together.

At first, you intended to stay at a hotel. Instead, after your third night at his house, your suitcase never left.

His routines came back to you naturally.

Coffee in the morning, watching movies after games. Arguing over what to order for dinner.

It was frighteningly easy.

The evening after game two, you mentioned maybe heading home and he immediately looked alarmed. “Why?”

“I´ve already been here for almost a month, Nik.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

He stared at you. “Overstay your welcome?”

You shrugged. “Nik…”

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

“Stay,” he was quiet for a second, then added “Please.”

You laughed softly. “You can’t just order me around.”

“I´m not.”

He moved closer. “I´m asking, very politely.”

“Nikolaj…”

“I´m serious.” His voice dropped. “Please stay.”

You froze, because you had never heard him sound like that. Almost desperate.

“I miss you every time you leave,” he admitted quietly.

Your chest tightened. “You do?”

He looked a little embarrassed after that. “Unfortunately.”

You laughed and two days later everything was unpacked again.

----

The other women noticed, because of course they did.

But by the conference finals, it felt like you had known them all for years.

You rode to games together, shared dinner, tailgated, celebrated wins, but eventually curiosity won and you couldn’t even blame them.

After game one against Montreal, one of them sat beside you with a glass of wine. “So,” she asked casually. “How long have you and Nikolaj been together?”

You nearly choked before hesitantly answering. “We´re…complicated.”

“Ah.”

Someone else laughed. “That explains why nobody can figure you two out.”

You groaned. “Do the guys talk about it too?”

“Oh, constantly.”

You covered your face. “That´s horrifying.”

“Well, no one has answers.”

You laughed but honestly? You didn’t have answers either.

----

The players were just as confused.

One afternoon after practice some of them gathered at Nikolajs house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen when you returned from lunch.

There were Frederik Andersen, Sebastian Aho and K´Andre Miller. And Nikolaj.

“Just ask her already,” Sebastian said.

“I´m not asking anything.”

“Bullshit.”

“You guys are obsessed.”

“We´re tired of trying to explain the situation to everyone.”

That’s when you walked in. “What situation?”

Three grown men immediately looked guilty and Nikolaj nearly dropped his coffee.

You burst out laughing at the scene. “Wow. You guys are terrible liars.”

Freddie grinned. “Can you explain to us what´s happening?”

“No.”

“Can he?” he asked, nodding toward his fellow Dane.

“Probably not.”

Everyone laughed. Except Nikolaj, who looked suspiciously red.

----

Carolina took the next four games after Montreal took game one and suddenly, they were Eastern Conference champions.

Four games to one.

Stanley Cup Final bound.

The celebration was chaos.

There was champagne everywhere, music blasting, players screaming and somehow Nikolaj still found you in the crowd.

He wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you into the picture with the rest of the families.

Someone yelled: “Awww Nik and his girlfriend.”

You and him both froze, but neither corrected it or confirmed it.

----

The Stanley Cup final against the Golden Knights began and every game at Lenovo Center felt unreal.

White towels. Deafening noise. The entire city was buzzing and through it all, you remained beside him.

Game one.

Game two.

Game three.

And at some point, you just stopped questioning why and stopped wondering if you belonged. You simply existed beside him, like you always had.

The Hurricanes went up three games to two by game five. One win away from making history.

Then management announced that families would be flown to Vegas for game six “just in case” but you immediately planned on staying behind.

You weren´t family after all.

At least until Nikolaj cornered you in the kitchen. “You´re coming to Vegas.” It wasn´t a question.

You sighed. “Nik…”

“No arguments.”

“This could be huge for you.”

“Exactly.”

“You should probably know what we are before I fly across the country and potentially celebrate one of the biggest moments of your life with you.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why aren’t we talking about it?”

He looked miserable after you asked that. “Because every time we talk about it, we end up ruining things.”

You hated that he had a point.

He stepped closer. “Please come.”

“Nik…”

“Please.”

You looked away, because deep down you knew he wasn’t just asking about Vegas. He was asking for you, the same way he had asked you to stay a few weeks ago.

Maybe neither if you knew how to define anything, but you knew this, if Carolina won without you there, you would regret it forever.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His entire face lit up immediately and just like that, you were going to Vegas.

----

Game six was madness.

The entire arena felt hostile.

Vegan fans desperate to keep their season and the hope for the cup alive. Carolina fans desperate for this to end today.

Everyone was standing, everyone was screaming.

Your hand shook the entire third period.

It was two nothing Canes but you had seen in these very playoffs that no lead was ever save.

Vegas pulled their goalie with a few minutes to go and suddenly the puck landed on Nikolaj´s stick.

The entire arena seemed to pause, you stood up alongside everyone else. He shot. The puck slid perfectly into the empty net.

Three-goal lead.

Game basically over.

Stanley Cup Champions.

You started crying immediately. Not pretty crying either, actually sobbing.

Beside you, the other wives and girlfriends screamed. People hugged and Champagne already appeared from somewhere.

But all you could see was number twenty-seven raising both arms.

Stanley Cup Champion Nikolaj Ehlers.

----

The moment families were allowed onto the ice, everything became blurry.

You nearly slipped twice. Someone shoved a championship hat onto your head.

Players screamed around you. Children ran everywhere.

And then you found him.

Or rather…he found you.

He dropped everything he was carrying and wrapped you in his arms before either if you said a word.

You were crying, he was laughing and then suddenly he had tears in his eyes too.

“We did it,” he whispered.

You laughed through tears. “You did it.”

“We did it,” he corrected immediately. “We.”

Neither of you questioned it. Not tonight. Tonight, didn’t belong to complicated conversations. Tonight belonged to the joy of finally reaching a livelong dream.

Photographers snapped pictures while he held you against him. exactly like they did for every other couple.

At one point he kissed you while teammates whistled and cheered. You buried your face in his shoulder from embarrassment.

“Ignore them,” he laughed.

“Impossible.”

A few minutes later he handed the cup to another player, then immediately came back to you.

His arm went around your waist. Both of you laughing, neither if you pretending.

For one night, you stopped caring about the unanswered questions. About labels. About the history. About the fact that eventually reality would return.

Because tonight he was a Stanley Cup champion and for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.

----

The celebration somehow became even louder after the ice.

Buses took everyone back to the hotel long enough to shower and change before the entire organization moved to one of the clubs in Vegas.

By the time you arrived, half the team already looked exhausted and completely wired at the same time.

Nikolaj looked like the happiest person in the world. You had never seen him smile this much.

He introduced you to people you had already met a dozen times as if he couldn’t remember who knew you and who didn’t.

“This is her,” he kept saying proudly, like that would explain anything.

Champagne flowed endlessly. Veterans became emotional while younger guys became louder and eventually everyone became very, very drunk.

Including Nikolaj.

Around two in the morning he stood on a couch with several of his teammates singing something that barely resembled a song.

At three-thirty, he spent ten minutes explaining how much he loved hockey to a security guard.

By four, you decided that your Stanley Cup champion needed to go to bed.

“Come on,” you said, appearing beside him.

He looked up immediately. “There you are.”

“I´ve been here all night.”

He smiled lazily. “Pretty.”

You laughed. “You´re drunk.”

“Very.”

“Time to go, champ.”

He frowned dramatically. “But the party…”

“The party will continue tomorrow.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He nodded seriously. “Okay.” then he pointed toward the cup. “But I need to say bye first.”

You burst out laughing. “To the cup?”

“Isn’t it beautiful.”

You shook your head but still, you let him spend another thirty seconds staring lovingly at hockey´s most famous trophy before finally getting him back to the hotel.

----

The elevator ride was quiet. Mostly because Nikolaj looked dangerously close to falling asleep standing up.

When you finally reached the suite, he immediately kicked off his shoes and collapsed face-first onto the bed.

You smiled. “At least take off your jeans.”

“No.”

“Nik,” you laughed.

“No energy.”

You sat beside him and laughed softly. “Stanley Cup champions are surprisingly lazy.”

He rolled onto his back. “I´m not lazy.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“You can´t even move.”

“I´m celebrating.”

“By becoming part of the furniture?”

He grinned, but then suddenly his expression changed.

Not to sad exactly but something very emotional before he sat up.

“Nik?” you asked softly.

“I forgot something.”

“You forgot a lot of things.”

“No.”

He stood unsteadily and disappeared into the bathroom. You followed him cautiously. “What are you doing?”

He was already kneeling beside his suitcase as you stared. “Nikolaj?”

He pulled the zipper open with all the concentration of someone trying to solve world peace. Then he reached inside and your entire body froze.

Because there was a ring box.

“Nik,” you breathed.

He turned around with the most serios expression you had seen all night. “I love you.”

Your eyes widened.

He nodded emphatically. “So much.”

“Nik…”

“And I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Everything.”

He waved vaguely.

“The breaking up, the distance, the not talking. All the stupid stuff.”

He opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring. Your heart stopped. “Nikolaj…”

“Marry me.”

You stared at him, because this man was swaying. His hair was a mess and his shirt was half untucked. He had champagne stains on his sleeve but somehow he looked completely sincere.

“I love you,” he repeated. “You make me the happiest man alive.” Then he frowned. “I had a speech.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” He looked almost offended. “I forgot it though.”

You almost laughed. “Nik, you´re drunk.”

“No.”

“You absolutely are.”

“Maybe a little.”

“You won the Stanley Cup six hours ago.”

“Best day ever but you could make it even better.” He smiled. “Marry me?”

Your chest tightened, because underneath all the alcohol and exhaustion, you knew he meant it. But you also knew this wasn’t how either if you deserved this moment to happen.

You crouched in front of him. “Come here.”

He looked confused when you gently too the box from his hand and closed it.

“You don’t mean no?”

“No.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then why…”

“Because you´re drunk.”

He looked deeply offended again.

“I know you are.”

“I love you,” he repeated.

“I know.”

“And I want to marry you.”

Tears unexpectedly filled your eyes.

“I know that too.”

You kissed his forehead. “If you still want to do this when you´re sober ask me again tomorrow.”

He blinked slowly. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Then he finally nodded. “Okay.”

Five seconds later he asked: “Do you think I´ll remember this?”

You smiled. “Probably not.”

“I hope I do.”

He barely made it back to the bed before he collapsed and fell asleep immediately.

----

The next morning, sunlight poured through the curtains after way too little sleep.

You woke up first.

For several seconds, you forgot where you were. Then everything came rushing back.

The cup.

The celebration.

The club.

The proposal.

You looked over to the other side of the bed. Nikolaj was still asleep beside you.

Part of you hoped he wouldn’t remember. Not because you didn’t want him, but because you wanted him sober and certain.

You wanted him to choose this without being high off adrenaline and champagne and the biggest night of his career clouding everything.

He shifted beside you, then opened his eyes and immediately groaned. “My head hurts.”

“Good morning,” you chuckled.

He buried his face in the pillow. “Never let me drink again.”

“Noted.”

He sat up slowly and froze immediately. “Oh no.”

Your heart skipped but you didn’t want to assume for now. “What?”

He stared at you in horror. “Oh no.”

“You´re scaring me a little.”

“I remember.”

You blinked. “What?”

“The ring.” He covered his face. “Oh my God.”

You couldn’t help bust start laughing while he looked mortified.

“I proposed to you while I was drunk out of my mind.”

“You did and yes, you were very drunk.”

“I had a whole speech.”

“You mentioned that.”

“I forgot the whole thing.”

“You mentioned that too.”

He groaned again. “I´m never drinking again.”

You reached for his hand still laughing. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, not with me.”

He lowered his hands slowly. “I should be.”

“You won the Cup.”

“And then proposed like an idiot.”

“You proposed like a drunk Stanley Cup champion.”

He sighed. “That somehow makes it worse.”

Then he looked at you carefully. “You didn’t say no.”

“No.”

“You really didn’t?”

“No.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly before he stood up. “Wait here.”

You laughed. “Where am I supposed to go?”

He disappeared into the bathroom without a reply.

This time, when he returned, he looked nervous. Even more nervous than you had seen him on free agency day.

He sat beside you.

“No alcohol?”

“Well, much less than last night.”

“No championship delirium?”

“Also, not as much as last night.”

You smiled softly, then he reached for your hands and suddenly all the joking disappeared.

“I don’t know why it took me this long,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know why we spent three years making everything so difficult.”

You listened silently.

“I think we both got comfortable with almost.” He smiled sadly. “Almost together, almost committed, almost happy. But every time something happened, every good thing, ever bad thing…” he squeezed your fingers. “You were the person I wanted.”

He took a deep breath. “When I left Winnipeg, I wanted you to come with me. When I came back to Winnipeg that first time in November, I wanted you. When we won the conference final, I looked for you first. And when we won the cup…” his voice cracked slightly. “You were the first person I wanted to hold.”

Tears filled your eyes.

“I don’t want almost anymore.” He swallowed. “I want all of it. The boring days, the difficult days. The moving, the arguing, the making up. A future.” A pause. “A future with you.”

He laughed softly. “And now I actually remembered my speech.”

You laughed through tears. “Much better than the first one.”

“I hope so.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled the ring box out again. this time his hands shook. “I love you. No conditions, no breaks, no disappearing. No more almost.”

He opened the box and looked directly at you. “Marry me?”

You started crying immediately, which made him panic.

“Oh god. Are those bad tears?”

You laughed. “No.”

“Good tears?”

“Very good.”

He visibly relaxed. “Okay.”

You shook your head, smiling through tears before rushing out a soft “Yes.”

His eyes widened. “Yes?”

“Yes, Nikolaj.”

He laughed in relief, then he pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it onto your finger. Before he could say anything else, you kissed him.

Long and slow and certain.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “So…”

You smiled. “So?”

“I guess people will finally have an answer now.”

You burst out laughing. “Sebastian will be unbearable.”

Nikolaj groaned. “Freddie too.”

“And all the wives.”

“And all the wives,” he repeated.

You admired the ring on your hand for a second, still unable to believe it.

Three years.

Three years of almost.

And someone, after all of it, he chose you and this time you officially chose him right back.

----

A week later, life was slowly returning to normal.

Celebrations were over, the parade happened, the days with the cup would not start for another few weeks.

The two of you were at his house in Raleigh and for the first time you weren’t there for anything other than to spend time with him.

Not for hockey.

Not for celebrations.

Just for life.

Normal life.

Which somehow felt stranger than the Stanley Cup.

You stood in his kitchen one morning making coffee. Still wearing one of his shirts. Still half asleep.

And suddenly it hit you. This wasn't temporary anymore.

You lived here now if you ignored the millions of things you had to figure out.

Not officially.

Not permanently yet.

But you stayed.

And nobody questioned it.

Not him. Not you.

He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck. "Morning."

"Morning."

He rested his chin on your shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

"Us."

He smiled against your neck. "Dangerous subject."

"Very." You turned around inside his arms. "Are you scared?"

He considered the question honestly. "A little."

"Me too."

He nodded. "Good."

"Good?"

"If you weren't scared, I'd think something was wrong with you."

You laughed. "Fair."

He kissed you softly. Then looked at the ring again. Still like he couldn't believe it.

"Best decision I ever made."

"The proposal?"

He grinned. "Actually, winning the Stanley Cup was nice."

You shoved his shoulder. "Nikolaj!"

"I'm kidding!"

He laughed and pulled you back. "Mostly."

You rolled your eyes. "Unbelievable."

"You're marrying me."

"Unfortunately."

He gasped dramatically. "Rude."

You smiled.

Then his expression softened. "You know what my favorite part of all this is?"

"What?"

"We don't have to say goodbye anymore."

And suddenly you realized he was right.

No airports. No distance. No wondering when you'd see each other again. No pretending you didn't miss each other. No more almost.

Just this.

The two of you. Messy. Imperfect. Completely ridiculous.

But finally…Finally…Together.

----

Late that night, after dinner and a movie neither of you had actually paid attention to, you found him standing alone on the back patio.

The Stanley Cup ring ceremony wasn't for months.

Training camp wasn't for months.

For the first time in forever, there was nowhere he had to be.

You stepped outside. "What are you doing?"

He looked up at the stars. "Thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiled. "Exactly."

You moved beside him.

After a moment he said quietly: "I almost lost you."

Your smile faded. "Nik…"

"No, really." He looked at you. "When I left Winnipeg. When we stopped talking. When I got on that plane after November. I thought that was it."

You reached for his hand. "So did I."

He nodded. "And if that package had been too much…"

"It wasn't."

"But it could have been."

You squeezed his fingers. "But it wasn't."

Silence settled between you.

Comfortable.

Easy.

Then he smiled slightly. "Do you know what my drunk self got right?"

"What?"

"I really don't want to spend another second without you."

Your eyes filled unexpectedly. "Good."

"Good?"

"Because you're stuck with me now."

He laughed. "That's my line."

"Too bad."

Then he kissed you. Slowly. Softly.

And then somewhere inside the house, both of your phones buzzed at the exact same moment.

You pulled apart.

Nikolaj checked his phone first. Then immediately groaned.

"What?"

"It's Seth."

"What did he do?"

He held up the screen.

A group chat with half the team.

Seth had sent one message.

Since you're finally engaged, can we stop referring to her as "the situation"?

You burst out laughing so hard you nearly cried.

Nikolaj sighed dramatically. "I hate them."

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