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Dog Days

dog dad!Nico Hischier x dog mom!reader

masterlist

summary: a dog park meet cute with the potential to change your life. or: months ago, @theemporium & i went down a spiral ab that picture of Nico & the dog with the devil horns. this fic is what came out of it. 10.1k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol, doodle slander (adopt don’t shop)

There’s a guy in the dog park who’s staring at you. Really, you should be more nervous about it, because he’s a large man, and you don’t know him, and he keeps looking at you. But his dog- Bernie, you think he called her- is cute, and she’s getting along great with your dog, so you’re a bit inclined to let it slide. Besides, he’s not being creepy. He’s probably just checking to make sure you’re okay with your dogs playing together. He’s here often- you recognize him well, but it’s the first time the dogs have taken interest in each other.

You watch another dog join the fray, some sort of hypoallergenic doodle, if you had to guess. The type that costs thousands of dollars for no apparent reason. It’s wearing a Patagonia puffy jacket, which makes you laugh. You hide it behind your hand. You watch as the dog bows low between your dog and Staring Guy’s dog, and then the doodle rolls over in the mud, and-

“Excuse me!” Someone yells. “Excuse me- hey, you! Is that your dog?”

You turn and blink, realizing the woman is talking to you. She’s storming your way in her matching Patagonia coat, face red with anger. You stare, eyes wide. Staring Guy is looking, too, not even trying to hide it now.

“Um. Which one?” You ask.

She gestures wildly. “The- that black mutt,” she hisses. You frown. “The one who was in the mud with my Bessie.”

Staring Guy snorts from his spot twenty feet away. Your eyes flicker to his, and he’s holding back laughter. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from doing the same.

“Yeah, that’s Moose,” you say, turning to look over your shoulder. Moose and Bernie have abandoned Bessie in the mud, more interested in sticks. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“Yes! My dog is covered in mud now!” The woman snaps, and you rear your head back. “I mean, honestly-“

“Oh, yeah, she really seemed to like that puddle,” you agree, nodding. “You know how dogs are.”

She shakes her head angrily. “Not my Bessie. She’d never do that. So.”

“So?”

“So are you going to pay for her grooming? And the dry cleaner for her coat, oh, that coat-“ the woman sighs. “She’d have never done this if she hadn’t been influenced-“

You turn to look over your shoulder, to where Bessie is still rolling in the mud. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to say my dog influenced yours to roll in the mud? And now you want me to pay for- you understand how ridiculous you sound, right?”

She huffs. “Bessie is a well behaved, purebred Bernedoodle. Yours is-“

She stammers, so you fill in the gap. “Moose is a rescue.”

“Right, so-“ she waves her hand. “You see what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” You say, incredulously.

The woman is so angry, now, that her whole face has gone beet red. She lurches towards you, and you take a couple steps back. Her hands are in fists at her sides. You’re not exactly afraid of her, but you hadn’t been planning on getting into a fistfight in the dog park, and she’s making you feel a little uneasy.

“Hey,” a deep voice says. You turn and find Staring Guy, walking up with his hands in his pockets, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You widen your eyes at him, praying he gets the message. He sends you a smile, turning up the corners of his mouth softly. He has a kind face, warm brown eyes, thick eyebrows that arch over them. The woman goes off on her tirade again, about her precious Bessie and your awful influence of a mutt, and how you hadn’t done anything to stop them from playing in the mud. Staring Guy’s dog comes trotting up as she goes on and on, and Moose isn’t far behind. He winds himself in front of your legs, and you reach down to fix one of his ears, the one that always gets flipped inside out. Bessie isn’t far behind. You chew on your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of her, soaked in mud.

“Oh, that’s probably Bernie’s fault, actually,” Staring Guy says, dark brows furrowed. “She really loves the mud. She’s the one who started it.”

The woman splutters. “Oh- but- well- I’m not sure-“

Staring Guy shakes his head. He takes a couple steps forward, effectively placing himself between you and her. Your heart melts just a little. Moose looks up at him, and his ear flips back inside out. You sigh at the sight of him- he is covered in mud, and it’s going to be a pain to get him cleaned up.

“I just think she should’ve tried to keep them out of the mud.” The woman says, though she’s calmed down a bit.

Staring Guy’s deep voice and large stature seem to have calmed her down a bit. If you’re being honest, he’s calmed you, too. He’d make a good mediator, you think. He’s soothing.

“It’s a dog park, not a doggy day care,” he says, voice a little bit more tense. “You’re responsible for your own dog. Says so on the sign.”

The woman huffs and looks between the two of you. She seems to realize she’s getting nowhere, and she marches off, leash in hand, headed for poor Bessie, who’s likely in for the bath of a lifetime. You and Staring Guy watch her go, staring as she stomps across the park, to the gate, and all the way out to her shiny car. She steps in a puddle on the way out and splatters mud up her jeans. You hunch over and start to giggle.

Staring Guy lets out a laugh, too. “That was fucking ridiculous,” he says.

You nod, unable to speak as the laughter takes over. Moose sits down on the grass and stares up at you. Bernie sits down next to him and does the same. They both look incredibly concerned. You wipe tears of laughter from your eyes and stand up.

“I mean, she’s probably right, Moose is definitely a bad influence,” you say, cooing down at your dog. “I mean, look at him.”

Staring Guy laughs and tilts his head. “His name’s Moose?”

“Basic, I know,” you shrug. “They were calling him that at the shelter. I felt bad changing it, so here we are.”

Staring Guy shakes his head. “No, I like it. It’s a good name. This is Bernie,” he says, nudging his dog with his knee. “And I’m Nico.”

He sticks out his hand to shake. You do so, and introduce yourself, too. He repeats your name back to you with a soft smile. Bernie seems to take this as a sign, and she walks up to you, sniffing the air, tail wagging wildly. You crouch down to pet her, running your hands through her thick, sandy fur. She pants happily.

“She’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Nico. “Golden retriever?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I think. She’s a rescue. I thought about doing one of those dog DNA things, but…”

“It never feels important enough,” you fill in. He’s scratching Moose’s head, and he nods, grinning. “Moose is a rescue, too.”

“They’re the best kind of dogs,” he says, finding the spot behind Moose’s ear that makes his left leg thump against the ground. Nico laughs. “No Schnoodles or Whoodles for me.”

You laugh and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Moose looks between you and Nico, tail wagging happily. Not for the first time, you wonder what he’s thinking. You wish you could read his mind.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” Nico says, toying with the dog leash. “But it was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” you say, giving Bernie one last head pat. “Thanks for your help.”

He shrugs. “Not a problem.”

…..

Weeks slip by, and Nico stays a constant in them. Wednesdays and Fridays, you find him at the dog park in the mid afternoon, Bernie waiting eagerly for you to let moose off his leash. The two of you chat and watch your dogs play and then bid each other farewell to go back to your own lives. It’s nice. He’s nice.

“Are you busy?” Nico asks one afternoon, shoulder nearly touching yours.

Moose and Bernie are playing in a pile of leaves, a week post Bessie-mud incident. You watch as the wind picks one up, and Moose chases after it. Bernie chases after him. You turn to look at Nico, feeling slightly confused.

“Like, now?” You ask.

He nods. “Now, and for a little while? There’s this dog friendly coffee shop down the street. I was going to take Bernie there. Though maybe you’d want to come with me.”

Your heart jumps. He wants you to come with? He wants to see you outside of this dog park, outside of the primary meeting spot. He wants to see you.

You nod. “Yeah, sure, that sounds sweet. You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Has anyone ever said yes to that?”

“Nope,” you say. “And I’m still alive, so it’s working.”

The two of you gather up the dogs and head for the coffee shop. They walk together happily on their leashes- matching ones from the same brand. You and Nico chat about the leashes, and dog supplies in general, and your favorite pet stores. By the time you make it to the coffee shop, you’ve run out of dog topics and moved on to other ones. You talk about coffee and New Jersey and home- which is Switzerland, for Nico, which explains the accent. You order coffee and pastries and take a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The early afternoon sun is shining down. There’s an autumn chill in the air, but the sun takes the edge off.

Nico gets dodgy when you start talking about work. At first, you wonder if he’s some sort of politician- he has the face for it- or a business guy. He doesn’t seem like the type to work in the tall buildings in the city, crunching numbers and barking orders. You’re not sure what else would’ve brought him to the US from Switzerland, though.

“D’you watch hockey?” He asks, and you blink.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It was never my thing. A few of my friends are big fans, though.”

“Of the Devils?” He asks, nodding his head down the street, where, if you walked far enough, you’d find the Prudential Center, home of New Jersey hockey.

You nod and swallow a sip of your coffee. “Mhm. S’that what you do for work? You work for the Devils?”

He shrugs, then nods. “Basically.”

You let it go, then. Maybe he’s just trying to be careful- after all, he barely knows you. You’d done the same, been careful about not telling him where you work. He seems trustworthy enough, but you can never be too careful. The two of you move on to more important topics- which donuts are best, and what the best restaurants in town are. The afternoon slips away quickly and quietly, and you only realize you’re late when your friend calls you.

“Shit,” you mutter, standing up. “I know I said I wasn’t busy but- I have to meet my friends for drinks, and I’m probably going to be late-“

“It’s okay,” Nico says, softly. “I’ve gotta go too. But this was really nice.”

You smile softly. “It was. We should do it again sometime.”

You both wave goodbye and take off down the street in different directions- you, back towards your apartment to drop off Moose, and him towards his, you assume. You can’t wipe the smile off your face the whole way, and it’s still stuck there by the time you slip into the booth at the restaurant a half hour later.

“I’m so sorry,” you gush, as your friend Alyssa sends you a glare. “I was out at the dog park with Moose, and then I lost track of time, and-“

Your other friend Nora laughs. “Were you too busy staring at Dog Park Guy?”

Your face grows hot. “His name’s Nico.”

Both of them blink at you. “Did you actually talk to him?”

You let out a long sigh and launch into the story- Bessie and her bitchy owner, Nico’s rescue, the increased interactions, and the cafe today. Their eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Sounds like a meet cute,” Nora squeals.

“If he’s cute,” Alyssa adds.

You roll your eyes and ignore the looks they’re giving you. “We’re just friends. Because our dogs are friends.”

“Like I said,” Nora says. “Cute.”

Eventually they drop the subject. You have your drinks and catch up, and make plans to hang out again the next night. Alyssa wants to watch the hockey game. She’s the biggest Devils fan you know, could name every player and all of their stats. You and Nora agree to watch, as long as she provides the alcohol.

You show up just after the game starts the next afternoon, Moose in tow. You snag a plate and grab some snacks and join Alyssa on the couch.

“Can you grab me a beer?” You call out to Nora, who’s in the kitchen.

She returns with a bottle in hand, passing it off to you. You thank her and curl up further on the couch, turning to look at the TV. You wonder if Nico’s working, if he has to be at the games or if he does more of the behind the scenes stuff. Maybe he runs the charity branch. That would fit him. You take a sip of your beer, and then nearly spit it right back out.

You turn to Alyssa, who has the remote, and make a frantic gesture. “Rewind it.”

“What?” She asks, not looking away from the TV. “It’s a power play, I’m not gonna-“

“Rewind it,” you say again, reaching for the remote. “Lyss, just-“

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, frowning at you. “You don’t care about hockey.”

“No, I know, I just- I thought I saw someone,” you say, staring at the screen.

“In the crowd?” Nora asks. You don’t answer, so she says your name. “Babe, what is going on?”

Before you can answer, Alyssa throws her hands up in the air and cheers. Goal. The puck is in the back of the net, and the camera zooms in on the player who scored- number 86, the name Hughes emblazoned on his back. One of his teammates comes skating towards him, nearly shoving him into the wall, and-

You gasp when the camera settles on his face. Number 13, Hischier. Nico Hischier, you would assume, unless Dog Park Nico has a doppleganger hanging around Newark. A doppleganger who also works for the Devils. You work for the Devils? Basically. Oh. Nora doesn’t seem to notice anything, but Alyssa turns to you slowly, eyes wide.

“Wait,” she says. “You wanted me to rewind it, to where?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter.

She’s staring at you, while you stare at the TV screen. “You said Dog Park Guy’s name was Nico,” she says, brows furrowed. “What’s his last name?”

You shrug. “Haven’t asked him yet.”

She blinks once, then twice, and when you see Nico on the screen again, you must react, because she leans over and grabs your face. She pulls you to look at her, then at the screen. She grabs the remote and pauses it, and Nico’s face fills up the whole picture. He’s grinning wide.

“What’s happening right now?” Nora asks. “Somebody fill me in.”

Alyssa points at the screen. “That man, right there, is the team captain. Hischier,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Nico Hischier.”

Nora gasps. You shrink down into yourself. You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the screen. It’s definitely him. You’d know that face anywhere. You can see the smile, can picture it in the dog park as he pets your dog.

“Is that Dog Park Guy?” Nora asks. You nod, figuring there’s no point in lying now. “Oh my god, you didn’t mention he was hot.”

Alyssa groans. “I’ve never been more jealous of you in my life.”

“You’re engaged,” Nora reminds her.

“I know,” Alyssa sighs. “But god, he’s dreamy.”

Nora nods. You curl further in on yourself and reach for the remote to hit play. The game starts back up again, and you try to pretend you’re not watching for his number. Nora and Alyssa don’t let it go for the rest of the night. You have a feeling they won’t be letting it go for a while.

When you see him next Wednesday at the dog park, you greet him with, “Hiya, Cap.”

You’ve walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Bernie and Moose are rolling around in fallen leaves. Nico smiles at you at first, and then, as if he’s realized what you said, he jolts. His brows furrow, and you grin.

“You work for the Devils, huh?” You tease, grinning widely.

His cheeks go red, and he laughs. “You said you didn’t care about hockey.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “But my friend Alyssa does, and she had the game on when I was at her place the other day, and imagine my surprise when I looked up at the screen and saw you on the ice.”

He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn’t tell you because I thought it’d come off as bragging.”

Moose barks, and you both turn to look, but he’s just playing with Bernie. The two of them have found a stick in the leaves, and they’re pulling back and forth. Bernie has a leaf stuck to her nose, and it makes you smile even more.

“It’s pretty cool, though, isn’t it?” You ask. “Lyss said you’re like. A rockstar. Team captain, first round draft pick-“

“Oh, she went way back,” he teases.

“She’s a Jersey girl,” you say with a shrug. “You’re lucky she’s already engaged or she’d be here, too.”

He laughs louder at that, and his shoulder bumps against yours. Across the grass, your dogs roll around on the ground, happy as can be. It makes you smile wider, makes your heart warm.

…..

Early fall turns into late fall, a change that brings with it colder weather, something you’re already regretting not noticing. Nico frowns when he sees you in the park. He makes his way over as Bernie runs to greet Moose, and he has his brows furrowed. He’s wearing a beanie and a thick hoodie, and you envy him.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, tugging at the hood of your thin sweatshirt, which you have pulled tightly over your head. “Where’s your coat? And a beanie, maybe?”

You shrug and bury your hands deeper in your pockets- you don’t want him to see you’re not wearing gloves either. “I live on the third floor. It looked warm out, and by the time I got outside, there was no way I was dragging him back upstairs.”

You shrink slightly under the disapproving look he gives you. He sighs heavily, and you smile at him, like that’ll make it better. You want nothing more than to bury your face in his chest, press yourself into his body and soak up some of the heat. You’re sure he’s warm. He just looks like he runs warm.

You don’t stay long at the park, because your hands are freezing and so is your face. Nico bids you farewell with a little wave, and you rush home to your warm apartment.

Two days later, when you show up to the dog park, Nico’s already there. Bernie’s running circles around him, barking happily. She skids to a stop when she spots Moose, and you let him off the leash to join her. Nico waves, a big grin on his face as the two dogs take off together.

“Still no beanie?” He teases, shaking his head.

“I thought the cold day was a fluke,” you mutter grumpily, hands shoved in your pockets. “I worked from home today. I didn’t know it was this cold.”

Nico continues to shake his head. His next move is so unexpected you don’t quite realize what he’s doing until it’s over- he pulls a beanie from his pocket and pulls it onto your head for you, adjusting it carefully with narrowed eyes. You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. Then he slips his jacket off his shoulders.

“Nico-“ you protest as he wraps it around you.

“I wore layers, and I’m warm,” he says, holding the jacket around your shoulders and waiting until you slip your arms through the sleeves reluctantly. “Better?”

His jacket is warm and cozy, and you smile and nod. “Much better.”

He grins back, eyes crinkling at the edges. His cheeks are flushed, and it makes your face feel warm, too. You shove your hands in your pockets- his pockets- and turn back to watch the dogs, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with him. The very first flakes of snow of the year begin to fall. Moose and Bernie don’t seem to notice. If Nico notices the way you lean close to him, trying to shelter yourself from the cold, he doesn’t say anything.

…..

The next time you see Nico, he’s stressed. He’s got his beanie off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Bernie, as if she senses his distress, is sitting at his feet patiently, even though her leash is off. You let Moose run over. He sniffs at Bernie, then at Nico’s knee, and whines.

“You’re really bringing down the mood,” you call out.

Nico’s head whips up, bottom lip still tugged between his teeth. Something twists in your chest. You don’t like to see him upset like this, you realize. You’re growing far too attached. And yet. Here you are.

You cock your head questioningly. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. Just- my usual dog sitter apparently moved and didn’t tell me until this morning, and I have to be out of town starting tomorrow, and so now I’m trying to find someone to watch her or somewhere to board her and-“

“I can take her,” you blurt out.

His rambling comes to a screeching halt, and he blinks at you. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, or…”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, shaking your head and smiling. “Her and Moose get along great, and I already know half of her routine. And I think she likes me alright, too. It wouldn’t be a hassle.”

Nico puffs out his cheeks, glancing up at the sky. “That would be… are you sure? Because. I mean-“

“Nico,” you say, softly. His gaze flickers back to yours. “I’d love to watch her. How long are you gonna be gone?”

He bites his lip again. “Friday through Sunday.”

You nod. “Easy peasy.”

You should probably be expecting it, just because it seems like something he would do, but you yelp a little when he hauls you against his chest. You hug him back, though, and laugh into his shoulder, and the dogs both bark at your feet. Then Bernie takes off running, as if she knows everything is fine now. Moose follows happily.

“Thank you,” he says, chest rumbling against you, and your breath catches.

“Anytime,” you respond. You mean it.

He drops Bernie off the next morning before you start work for the day. He texts you from the lobby of your apartment building to let you know they’re headed up, which is sweet. You hear Bernie before he knocks on the door, and when you open it, Moose perks up from his dog bed. He’s up within seconds, tail wagging, searching through his pile of toys for one to bring Bernie.

“Look at them,” you coo, watching the two dogs greet each other happily. “We’re gonna have such a fun weekend, aren’t we, Bernie?”

Nico’s smiling, too, when you look up and meet his gaze. He has a dog bed tucked under one arm, and a bag of other supplies in the other. You let the dogs play while he unpacks the stuff on your kitchen counter and tells you what little you don’t know about Bernie’s routine. When she eats, what toys are her favorites, and so on.

“Normally I tell people about the dog park,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “But you already know that.”

You nod eagerly. In the living room, Bernie is sniffing Moose’s dog bed.

“Oh, um. Sometimes for the first bit she won’t want to eat,” he says. “I got her when she was young, and it was during the lockdown, so. She wasn’t used to being away from me. She’s gotten better about it, but… if she goes too long, you can put a little cheese on her food and that usually helps.”

You nod in understanding. “Moose was the same the first time I left him. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

Nico laughs. “I think this is actually the least worried I’ve been about leaving her, ever.”

You set up Bernie’s dog bed in the living room, a little ways away from Moose’s to give them each their space. Nico lays out her favorite toys for her, and a threadbare red hoodie that you’d bet used to be his. He wavers in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, watching as Bernie inspects her stuff. It makes your chest ache a little bit. He seems reluctant to leave.

“D’you have time to sit for a little bit?” You ask. “I have plenty of coffee.”

He turns over his shoulder and grins. “Coffee would be great.”

It should probably feel strange, to have Dog Park Guy sitting at your kitchen table, sipping coffee out of a big mug that looks small in his hands, but it doesn’t. It feels almost natural. Like this was always how this was going to go. He tells you about the away game he’s going to play, about their odds and the other team and how he’s stuck sharing a hotel room with Jack, who he loves but who also talks in his sleep loudly and denies it. You laugh and commiserate & complain to him about your work day, which is full of meetings. By the time the coffee is gone, he doesn’t really seem to want to leave, but he tells you he has to finish packing and get to the rink, and you’ve got a meeting anyways, so. You walk him to the door. He crouches down to pet Bernie one more time, and lets out a big sigh.

“I’ll see you all soon,” he says, smiling. “Have a good weekend.”

Bernie sits down and stares at him. You see his smile waver, so you step forward and pat the top of her head gently, then scratch behind her ears the way you’ve seen Nico do so often.

“Be safe,” you tell him. “We’ll be here waiting.”

Bernie does get a little sad just after he leaves. You feel for her, because you’re strangely sad about him being gone, too. You take most of your work meetings from the couch so she can curl up with her head on your lap. Moose keeps bringing over his favorite toys and dropping them off for her, but she doesn’t take much interest. Nico texts around lunchtime, just before he’s getting on a plane, and asks how it’s going. You send back a picture of her head in your lap, your work meeting in the background.

she seems very interested in Carol’s progress report.

Nico sends back a little laughing emoji, and then She looks cozy. Thank you again!

After work, you leash up both dogs and walk down to the dog park. You want to keep Bernie’s routine as consistent as possible. The two of them do so well together, walking happily, never tugging on the leashes. You snap a pic of them, and send that to Nico, too. He probably won’t see it for a while.

Once you’re at the dog park, you let them off leash to run around. They take off together, barking happily, kicking up piles of dead leaves like the always do. You sit on a bench and fight the urge to text Nico.

It’s just that in the couple of months since you finally spoke to him, you’ve found yourself really looking forward to your dog park chats. Venting about your days or catching up or telling fun stories about your dogs. It’s not the first time he’s been gone, but it’s the first time it’s hit you like this. It’s odd.

You take them both home eventually, calling them over and clipping on the leashes. Back in your apartment, it’s dinnertime- you heat up leftovers for yourself and give the dogs their food. You try not to watch Bernie like a hawk. Nico had said she might not want to eat at first. But when you do sneak a peek, they’re both eating happily. You breathe a sigh of relief- she must feel comfortable enough.

They wander off into the living room before you do, and what you find makes you stop in your tracks. Bernie’s got her dog bed in her mouth, dragging it over next to Moose’s. He sits on his bed happily, wagging his tail at you. Bernie drops the bed and immediately curls up on it, letting out one of her signature big sighs, the ones that Nico always copies. You let out a matching sigh, and she wags her tail.

You snap a picture of the two of them curled up next to each other and send it off to Nico.

He replies just before you roll over to go to sleep. Did she move her bed??

Yup, you answer. Ate all her dinner, too

He takes a while to type his response.

Adorable. Thank you. Again.

…..

You’re not a hockey fan. You know this about yourself. You’ve watched games enough times to know this. But when Saturday rolls around, you turn on the game anyway. Bernie should watch the game, after all. She should watch her dad play.

You cuddle up on the couch with both dogs, who are definitely paying less attention to the screen than you are. They both fall asleep halfway through the first period, and you roll your eyes. You could turn it off, but you find that you don’t want to. It’s suddenly different when you have a reason to be invested. Nico’s on the ice, at least for some of the time.

When he scores, you cheer so loudly you startle both dogs awake. They look around, bewildered. You snap a pic of the two of them with the tv in the background and send it to him.

Bernie & Moose say good job!!

He doesn’t answer until you’re in bed for the night, again. Time differences and media responsibilities and all that. He heart reacts to the photo, and then you watch him type for a couple moments, the little dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen.

How’d you like the game? He asks.

You waffle a bit on what to say back. You wonder if he’s paying enough attention to notice you’re taking a while to answer, or if he’s moved on.

You settle for sending back, it’s a lot more fun to watch when i’m cheering for you

He’s typing back nearly immediately. My good luck charm!

You laugh and lock the phone, setting it down on the nightstand. Bernie and Moose are curled up in bed with you, snoring away. You’re not sure why you feel so happy, but you hope it brings you good dreams.

Nico gets back into town late Sunday afternoon.

There’s a knock on your apartment door. From the couch, you call out “Come in!”

You hear him kick off his shoes in the entryway as he calls out a greeting. He pads towards the living room, and you lean up slightly to see him as he walks in.

“You should really lock your door, you know,” he says. “I could’ve been anyone.”

“But you’re you,” you lilt as he rounds the corner of the couch. “Besides, I’ve got my guard dogs.”

He eyes you skeptically. The dogs are in their same spots as the picture you sent him yesterday. Moose is curled against your chest, while Bernie is laid out over your legs. You’re tucked under a blanket, smiling up at him. Neither of the dogs have moved a muscle, from the knock on the door until now.

“Great guard dogs,” Nico teases.

“Well, they know you. Bernie, look who’s here,” you say. His dog lifts her head, wagging her tail slightly. You shrug. “Guess she likes me more.”

“Can’t blame her,” Nico says, stretching his arms above his head. “You guys look cozy.”

“And you look tired.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but he does. There are purple shadows beneath his eyes, his hair is a mess. The scrubs along his jaw looks to be at least a day old, by your guess.

He snorts. “Thanks. I am.”

You pout. “You could join us, if you want.”

You shift your feet slightly to open up a space for him on the other end of the couch. He eyes the spot with a tired gaze, scrubbing his hand against his jaw. You’re trying to ask casually, to pretend like it won’t make a difference to you one way or the other if he stays or not, but you really do hope he sits down. You’ve missed him- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve missed him.

“If I do that I’m definitely gonna pass out,” he warns, voice quieter. “Probably for an extended period of time.”

You nod. “I’d expect nothing less.”

He huffs and drops his car keys on the coffee table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laugh when he climbs his way onto the couch. He sits down at the opposite end, his legs side by side with yours. The dogs move to accommodate him, though not without their own grumbling about it. Bernie finally gives in and gets excited to see him, fumbling her way onto his lap. He wraps his arms around his dog and snuggles in, all while you watch, unable to pull your gaze away, heart pounding in your chest. He’s here, in your apartment, on your couch. He looks so soft.

When he falls asleep in no more than ten minutes, it makes you feel even warmer. He trusts you enough to fall asleep here. Bernie is curled against his chest, also falling asleep, reunited at last. You find yourself dozing off, too, brought on by how comfortable it all feels.

You wake up to Bernie pacing back and forth on the living room floor, and Moose standing on the couch, his nose in Nico’s face. You scramble to push the dog away with muffled words and limited success. Nico sniffles and raises his head, scrunching his eyes shut in the face of the sun coming in through your window.

“Sorry,” you whisper, fighting the urge to brush strands of his hair from his eyes. “They're getting antsy.”

He’s adorable when he’s just woken up, eyes barely open, cheeks flushed. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and pets Moose with the other. You get up and start to gather the dogs’ things while he continues to wake up. By the time you’ve got them both leashed up, he’s sitting up on the couch, brighter eyes than before.

“Best nap of my life,” he says.

You think of how much you wanted to cuddle up on his chest, and you wonder if that would take the winning spot.

Nico puts on his jacket at the door, taps his foot impatiently until you roll your eyes and pull on a jacket of your own, and then the two of you head out, dogs in tow. You keep your hands shoved in your pockets, but when you get to the dog park he hands you a pair of gloves, glaring playfully at you. You put them on, feeling warm and fuzzy, and not just from the fabric around your hands. You let the dogs off the leashes in the fenced in area, and you watch them run off through the light snow.

You bump your elbow against his. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

He nods, leans towards you until you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah. M’good. Just tired.”

You nod in understanding. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

You head over to a nearby bench and sink down. He follows suit. And. It’s cold, so really, that’s probably why he sits so close, his thigh against yours, his side pressed to your side. But then he shifts slightly, and his arm falls to the top of the bench behind you. You try not to hold your breath. Across the park, Bernie and Moose bark happily. You lean your head against Nico’s shoulder, and he sighs happily, resting his head against yours.

He sighs. “Wake me up when they’ve worn themselves out.”

He’s joking- he doesn’t fall asleep, you’d be able to tell. You can feel his breaths, can feel him shift every so often, and he laughs when the dogs tackle each other in the snow. But he stays right there, curled against you, warmer than any jacket or pair of gloves could ever be.

…..

When people say it takes a village, you’re pretty sure it could be said about having dogs, too. You’re amazed at how much easier things are when you have Nico to help out. He’s insistent that he owes you one for watching Bernie, but it really turns into the two of you just trading dog duties.

You get held over at the office on one of the rare days you have to be in person, and he picks up Moose and takes him along to the park with Bernie. Nico gets stuck in traffic on the way home from a game in New York City, and you do the same, leaving a container of leftovers in the fridge for him, too. The dog park meetups and coffee shop hangouts keep happening, much to your benefit. You like spending time with him. Probably a bit more than is healthy, really, but you can’t exactly help it. He’s sweet, and funny, and handsome, too, to top it all off.

When you call him early on a Tuesday evening, you know he’ll pick up, because he’s done with practice for the day. He probably assumes you’re checking what time he’s going to be at the dog park, or letting him know you and Moose won’t be there. He gets nervous, now, if you don’t show up. Texts to make sure you’re alright. It’s endearing.

“Hello,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break Bernie’s heart and miss out on the dog park tonight.”

“Hi, no- my… my power’s out,” you say, sounding as frantic as you feel. “And like. It’s fine, I’ll survive, but it’s already cold in here, and Moose is giving me evil eyes. But I can’t find any dog friendly hotels, so I was wondering if maybe you could take him for the night-“

Nico laughs on the other end. “Come stay with us. Both of you.”

You pause your digging through the cupboards. “Oh, you don’t have to- that’s okay, Nico-“

“I mean it,” he says, firmly. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. And I just ordered way too much pizza, actually. Come over, bring Moose. Bernie’s bored, anyways.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you tell him.

“You could never,” he says. “If you’re not here within a half hour, I’m driving over there to pick you up.”

He hangs up before you can protest again, and you turn to Moose with a sigh. Then you start packing for both of you. 20 minutes later, you’re in the elevator up to Nico’s place, trying not to freak out about all of it.

He lets you in before you even have a chance to knock. Maybe it’s just the fact that your place was cold, but when he ushers you inside, it feels like he’s cranked the heat up a few degrees. Bernie comes racing to the entryway, whining excitedly at the sight of Moose, and you grin down at the two dogs. Then you look up at Nico and find him smiling, too.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” he offers, nodding his head towards the rest of the apartment. “Pizza should be here any minute.”

It all feels oddly domestic, staying with him. You eat dinner together and watch the news- a habit he picked up from a roommate back in his days playing hockey in Canada, he tells you. Moose and Bernie cuddle up in the middle between the two of you, which you sort of hate. You want an excuse to lean into his side.

You get one when you get up to go to the bathroom. You come back, and both dogs have moved into your spot. Nico smiles up at you and shrugs, patting the spot right next to him. You take a seat without protesting, settling into the soft sofa. He moves the blanket he’s been using so it falls over your lap and rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your head. It probably means nothing, but being so close to him feels nice. Comforting.

When you start to doze off, he nudges you awake and towards the guest room. You fight the urge to lean up and kiss his cheek when he says goodnight. Moose follows you into the room, and you shut the door behind you.

You want to kiss Nico. This is becoming a problem.

It’s just. He’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s a good friend, he helps you take care of your dog, he’s letting you stay with him. But he’s an athlete, and they usually date other famous people, not their dog park friends. You’ve got no chance, probably.

You would roll over and scream into the pillow, but you’re afraid he’d hear it anyways.

…..

You’re standing in his kitchen early the next morning when the front door creaks open. You freeze in surprise- you’d assumed from the fan running in Nico’s bedroom, and the quiet of the apartment, that he’d still been asleep. Maybe he’d gone out for a run already, or had gone to take Bernie for a walk. Footsteps echo in the entryway, and you hear someone trip over a pair of shoes. The muttered swear word is definitely not said in Nico’s voice, and panic bites at your chest. You reach for one of the knives on the counter and hold it at your side. Moose, seeming to sense your anxiety, steps in front of your legs. Your phone sits too far away on the counter, and you swallow. You could yell for Nico, but then whoever is in his apartment would hear you, too.

The footsteps fall closer. The man appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and he jumps nearly a foot in the air at the sight of you, hand pressed to his chest. He looks familiar, with his almost shoulder length hair tucked behind his ears- one of Nico’s teammates. There’s a photo of the two of them hanging on the wall in the living room. You drop the knife on the counter discreetly when he isn’t looking.

“You’re not Nico,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“Neither are you,” you state, heart still racing.

He laughs at that and eyes the dog in front of you. “And that’s not Bernie, huh?”

He leans towards the dog, and Moose presses against your legs and growls. You gasp. Apparently, he hasn’t quite gotten the memo that whoever this guy is, he isn’t a threat. You reach for his collar.

“Moose,” you say in a scolding tone.

“Oh,” the man says, drawing out the noise, a look of understanding washing over his face. “Cool wolf. Is he gonna bite me? I have hockey practice later.”

There’s a flurry of noise before you can respond, and Bernie comes loping into the kitchen. She beelines for the guy, and at that, Moose lets his guard down, his tail wagging happily again. You roll your eyes. A great guard dog until his friend likes the guy, then all bets are off. Nico appears in the kitchen, scratching his head, and his eyes go wide when he spots his teammate.

“Jack,” he says, and the man turns to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

The man rubs his face sheepishly. Your dog scurries over to Nico, sniffing at his ankles excitedly. Your gaze bounces back and forth between the two men.

“You’re Jack,” you say, looking at the early morning intruder.

He nods.

You laugh. “I hear you talk in your sleep.”

Nico sighs while Jack tries desperately to deny it.

Ten minutes later, once Nico’s explained the whole situation, they head off on a run. They take Bernie and Moose with them, on Nico’s suggestion, because both dogs could use a bit of exercise, and, in his words, Jack could use a bit of motivation. While they’re out, you take a moment to tidy up your stuff, and you do the dishes from the night before. Nico had insisted you were welcome to any of the food in the house, so you whip up a light breakfast of cut fruit and yogurt, making sure to save some for him.

He returns a while later, both dogs in tow, minus Jack. He gives you a sheepish smile, sweaty locks of hair falling over his forehead. His t-shirt is clinging to his skin, damp with sweat despite the chill outside. You chew on a piece of strawberry and try not to stare at him.

“Sorry about him,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I forgot he was coming over. He called, but I had my phone turned down and I slept through it.”

You shrug. “Nico, it’s fine, it’s your apartment,” you say. “Though I did have a knife ready, so he’s lucky he didn’t get stabbed.”

Nico laughs and takes a couple steps into the kitchen, leaning on his hands on the counter. “The Devils hockey organization thanks you for your hesitation.”

You laugh and nod. “I have breakfast, if you want some.”

When he squeezes your shoulder as he walks by, you try not to let it show how nice it feels.

“Thanks, schatz,” he says.

You don’t know much German, but you’re pretty sure that doesn’t mean friend.

…..

Nico goes to practice a bit later and then comes back. The power at your place stays out for the rest of the day. You keep checking, trying to make sure. Realistically, now, you could call Alyssa or Nora and ask to stay with them, instead, but when you offer, Nico looks offended at the suggestion.

He’s laying on the floor with Bernie and Moose both sprawled over him. “I mean. If you want to go, you can, obviously.”

“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” you tell him.

He shakes his head and lets it drop back to the floor. Moose shoves his nose under Nico’s chin. “You’re not.”

That’s pretty much the end of the discussion. The two of you take the dogs out to a nearby cafe for a late lunch, a place Nico tells you is dog friendly. He makes sure you’re both bundled up adequately for the chilly walk there and back. In the afternoon, you get some work done on your laptop, Bernie’s head on your lap, while Nico scrolls aimlessly on his phone and plays tug of war with Moose. The routine feels scarily easy to settle into. You make dinner together, pasta and chicken and broccoli. You move around one another with ease, like moons in each other’s orbits. The dogs wait patiently in the living room while you cook. Nico gives them pieces of chicken for their good behavior, and then you dish out dog food while he refills their water bowls. It’s nice. It’s so nice. You’re trying desperately not to get attached to this, to him.

You wake up the next morning to Moose and Bernie in your bed, a text from Nico saying he took them on their morning walk before he left for morning skate, and an alert from your apartment complex that the power is back on. You sigh, kiss the top of Bernie’s head, and roll back over in bed.

He’s gone for most of the day, today, between practices and media requirements and meetings with the team that he’d complained about to you the night before. You could pack up and leave before he gets back, but then you’d be leaving Bernie alone, and it feels weird to not say goodbye to Nico after he let you stay here. So you spend the day how you were planning to, and gather up your things bit by bit.

Nico comes home in the afternoon when you’re halfway packed, and he stands in the doorway of the guest room, seemingly hesitant. He’s frowning. Your heart lurches.

“My power’s back on,” you say quietly.

“Oh,” he responds. “Right. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

You nod. “Just realized I’ll probably have to clean out my fridge, and get new groceries, but yeah. I’ll be out of your hair.”

He frowns, nose wrinkling. “You weren’t in my hair.”

You blink at him. “I just meant… you can have your own space back. You must be sick of us by now.”

Nico wavers, shifting back and forth on his feet. You’re holding one of your t-shirts, and you pull it close to your chest. There’s something hanging in the air.

“I don’t think I’d ever get sick of you,” he says. A spark runs down your spine. “I liked having you here.”

You blink, unsure what to do with yourself suddenly. “I, uh, liked being here. You’re a great host, you know.”

He shrugs, then nods. He opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the motion. Then he releases his grip on the doorframe and takes a couple steps into the room. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and you try to keep your breathing steady as he walks towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” He asks, looking hopeful.

You blink up at him, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. “Guess it depends on what we’re having.”

You’re trying to be brave about this. Trying to go with the flow, be casual. Maybe he’s just got a meal planned for two, maybe he needs your help to make it. You don’t want to read into it, even as he comes so close that you could reach out and touch him, that you can smell his shampoo and cologne. One of the dogs barks in the living room. You both ignore it, unable to tear your eyes away from each other. The air feels electric.

His hand comes up to touch your cheek, fingertips featherlight. You swallow. Your heart is pounding in your chest. He’s grinning, like he knows it. So sure of whatever he’s about to say.

“I thought maybe we could go out,” he says, casually. “Just me and you, somewhere nice. Let the dogs hang out here and keep each other company.”

You blink, take a breath, nod. “Okay. I can stay for dinner.”

“Cool,” he says, trying to be nonchalant about it. His wide grin gives him away. “Then it’s a date.”

Your breath catches in your chest, but you nod. “It’s a date.”

When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you swear the world stops spinning. When he pulls away it spins faster than it ever has before. You watch him walk away, dumbfounded, heart racing, skin burning.

All that worrying about it all, and it was that easy?

…..

At dinner, you both come to terms with the fact that you can’t really call this your first date. The two of you are too comfortable already, too at ease with each other. Nico claims the real first date was the coffee shop, months ago. You claim it was the day he came to pick up Bernie and took a nap on your couch.

“So I was asleep for half of our first date?” He says, nose wrinkled. “No thank you.”

“Well if it was the coffee shop, then I didn’t get your number for weeks after,” you retort. “So that would be weird.”

Eventually the two of you decide to agree to disagree. Maybe it happened somewhere in the middle without you even realizing. But now it feels official and real, over seafood and wine and warm bread. Nico’s face is lit by the candles on the table, and he holds your hand half the night.

Hours later, you stumble out of the restaurant, wine tipsy and giggling as you lean against his arm. He’s laughing, too, until he’s not, until he’s holding you by your hips on an empty sidewalk, waiting for a cab to roll by. You stare up at him, the dark night sky and city lights behind his head.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, quietly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you reply.

Nico kisses exactly the way you’d imagined- soft and sweet, at first, in a way that makes you feel everything. And then his tongue slips past your lips and his grip on your hips tightens and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. It’s a bit all consuming, threatens to leave you breathless, sends shocks across your skin.

He gets you into a cab and gives his address, and then he leans against you, his lips against your temple, his hand intertwined with yours. He speaks quietly against your skin.

“I’ll follow your lead here,” he says, quietly. “If you wanna take Moose and head home, I completely understand.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Okay,” you say, deciding to leave him hanging. He laughs against your skin like he knows what you’re doing.

When the car pulls up in front of Nico’s apartment building, you step outside while he pays the fare. He grabs your hand again to lead you inside, through the lobby, and towards the elevator. He’s watching your every move, you can feel it- he’s trying to read you. You think he probably sees right through your little game, but that’s okay.

When the elevator doors slide closed, you turn to him, threading your hand through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“You should ask me to stay over,” you whisper, leaning up to brush your lips against his ear.

He groans softly, his hand falling to rest on your hip. “Yeah?”

You nod.

He swallows. “You want to stay over?” He asks, voice breathy. His stubble scrapes against your cheek as he brushes a kiss there.

You lean in to kiss him again. You think that’s answer enough.

The two of you tumble into his apartment a few minutes later, hands wrapped tightly in each other’s. You muffle your giggles with your other hand, and Nico does the same with his own. The dogs are curled up on their dog beds in the living room, snoring away. You take off your shoes carefully, and the two of you tiptoe through the apartment. If you wake Moose, he’ll be needy, begging for attention. Bernie will be the same with Nico.

You make it to the bedroom, and within seconds, Nico’s on you, pressed up against the closed bedroom door. He latches his lips onto your neck, and you sigh happily. His hands are already roaming everywhere, and your whole body is on fire.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, between kisses, and you melt.

“Positive,” you say, already gasping for air. “Please, Nico.”

He groans into your skin, and you both start to fall apart.

Later, you lay in bed, your cheek against his bare chest. His hand sweeps up and down your back smoothly. You can hear his heart beating, feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths. There’s a lot of things you want to say, but they all feel far too intimate for a first time on a maybe third date, so you keep your mouth shut. You settle for drawing shapes on his skin until he shivers and laughs.

Seconds later, there’s a dog scratching at the door. Moose whines. Then, so does Bernie. You groan into Nico’s chest.

“They’re so needy,” you grumble.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” he responds.

He pulls away before you can retaliate, reaching for his t-shirt and tossing it to you. You pull it on as he tugs on a pair of shorts. Then he opens the door. Two fur covered, heat seeking missiles come shooting onto the bed, barreling into you, making themselves comfortable atop the covers. Nico crawls back into bed before he loses his spot, nudging Bernie out of the way so he can pull you back into his arms.

Moose rests his head against your side. You rub behind his ears as Nico does the same with Bernie. Something about this moment just feels right. The way the four of you all curl up together, around each other, held tight and warm and safe.

Nico kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You kiss his shoulder. “G’night, Nico.”

In the dark, Bernie whines.

“And goodnight to you too, Berns,” you laugh, reaching over to pat her head.

…..

Nico stops in the parking lot, his arm around the back of your seat. You continue staring out the windshield. In the backseat, Bernie and Moose wag their tails happily. You hope he can’t see where you’re holding onto the seat tightly with your right hand.

“Hey,” he says. His hand brushes against your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if they all hate me?” You ask.

Nico scoffs. “Then they’re all stupid.”

“Nico…”

“Baby,” he murmurs, leaning over, pressing his lips to your temple. “You met Jack, scared the shit out of him, and he still asks about you all the time. And you’ll have the dogs. That’ll win them over immediately.”

You sigh and wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. “You’re their captain. What if I don’t live up to the… I don’t know, Nico-“

He cups your face in his hand and turns your head towards his. There’s a soft, kind smile on his face. You bite your lip.

“You don’t need to live up to anything,” he says, firmly. “I want you there, that’s enough. And if you want to leave, you just tell me. We’ve got the dogs as an excuse.”

You nod. He pinches your cheek lightly, and you laugh. When he climbs out of the car, you follow suit. Moose and Bernie are itching to get out of the backseat- you each unbuckle one dog and get them ready to go inside.

In the stadium, he stops and helps you get the dogs ready- winter coats for them to wear, little shoes to protect their feet that you’ve been getting them used to for months now. Moose still glares at you a bit when you first put them on, but he gets over it quickly.

Nico laces up his own skates and helps you, too, and then it’s out onto the rink, under the lights, staring up at the big empty stadium. The dogs stay close at first, getting used to the slippery surface.

Everyone is here- his teammates, their families, their friends. When he’d invited you, you’d nearly broken down into tears- you know how much it means to him, how much he loves this team and this sport. You’re honored he wants to share it with you. You were the one who suggested bringing the dogs, too. Now, out on the ice, you’re thrilled it all ended up like this.

“Cool wolf,” Jack says, as he skates by. “Hey, Luke- you know what his name is?”

Luke shakes his head.

“Moose,” Jack says, and Luke sighs. “Which one of you is the cuter one, huh?”

“Definitely the dog,” Nico says, squeezing your hand.

“You all suck,” Luke says. He turns to you and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Not you. You seem great.”

Nico hooks his elbow in yours and nudges you gently. “Wanna do a lap?”

You smile and nod, and he starts to pull you around on the ice. The dogs follow happily, having found their footing. Across the ice, some of the kids point at them excitedly. You think back to the dog park, so long ago, now, and the lady and her dog Bessie. If she’d never gotten angry with you, would you and Nico have ever spoken? Or would you have just stared at each other from across the park forever? You’re not sure you want to know. You’re just happy it ended up the way it did.

“I love you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He blushes and grins, dimple popping up on his face. “I love you too, schatz.”

He kisses you on the lips, then, a quick peck that still somehow makes your heart skip a beat. At your feet, Moose whines, and Bernie follows suit. You and Nico sigh.

“And we love you two, too,” you say, shaking your head at the dogs.

“So needy,” Nico says.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you tease, elbowing him.

He grins impossibly wider. You feel warm enough to melt the ice beneath your feet. He tends to have that affect on you, and you don’t think it’ll ever grow old.

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