#nyr

After the phone call Theo miraculously goes to bed without a fuss which you are grateful for, this was the last game Matt would be away for. You decided to just get ready for bed and hopefully once Matt is here tomorrow Theo will be a little bit better. Once morning arrives you could hear Theo crying through the baby monitor, so you get up and head over to his room and see he's standing in his crib clutching his puck jellycat. "Good morning baby," he reaches out towards you while sobbing. "Why are you crying?", your question has his lips trembling again, "Dada..." your heartaches knowing you couldn't do much but wait for tonight.

Once afternoon comes around, the apartment sounds like it came out of Jigsaw with Theo, screaming crying and banging his fists against every surface of the house he could find. You have tears running down your face as you try to get him to calm down. "Theo baby please mommy is tired, what do you want so that you can stop crying." At that his cries only got louder, you choke on a sob of your own and then remember that Matt had gotten him some teething pacifiers that you had in the freezer with different frozen fruits in. You place Theo down, which only leads him to cling to your leg, and head to the kitchen to get his teething pacifier. "Theo you want a snack?" you hoped that would diverge his attention for a second so that you could find the pacifier and it seemed to work. Once you got the pacifier and handed to Theo his wails slowly turned into sobs and then into whimpers. You finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Once you have Theo in his walker with his cold Paci you get a call from Matt, "Hello?" you answer, the exhaustion clear in your voice. "Hey just wanted to let you know we just landed I'll be home in half an hour," at that you almost felt like crying. "Oh that's so nice to hear," you reply to him. You guys talk a little more before you have to start getting dinner ready. While dinner is being made you could start to hear Theo get fussy again as you turn, to go see him, you could hear the lock being turned and the door opening to Matt. Once Theo sees his dad there is no stopping him, you could hear his little feet padding along with the walkers wheels. "Dadaaaaaaaa!!!!," you swear by now the neighbors probably are about to file a noise complaint. "There my little guys is," Matt exclaims and picks him up. Theo wraps his arms around Matt's neck and buries his face in his neck and squeals. You smile at the sight until Matt sees you and starts walking in your direction, "Sorry for leaving you with him during these times," he apologizes, "It's alright it isn't your fault your job requires you to," you reply. "Dada?" Theo lifts his head from Matt's shoulder to stare at him. "Yes buddy?', "Missed you," your heart practically melted at Theo's confession even though it just sounded like babbling. "I missed you to buddy, I heard you were giving mommy a hard time while I was away?" Matt teases him which leads to Theo hiding his face in Matt's neck again. You both laugh at that.

Once dinner is eaten and Theo is cleaned and ready for bed the tantrums ensue again, "NOOOOOOOOO," his screams bounced off the bedroom walls and you winced. "Theo sweetheart dada is not going anywhere he will be with mommy in the other room," you tried to gently explain to him but he was having none of it. "NO DADA STAY," he stubbornly refused and pulled Matt's hands to have him stay and you both knew that Matt could easily get him to release his grip but Theo's sobs were tugging on Matt's heart, "Buddy, do you want to sleep with mommy and dada today?" Matt asked him, to which the boys face light up, "YES" he nods vigorously. You sigh a decided that one night won't hurt. "Alright let's get you in your pjs".

Once you were done changing Theo into his pjs you took him to your and Matt's room and placed him on the bed with Matt while you went to go take a shower and do your night routine, when you were done Matt went to go take a shower and while waiting for him Theo climbed onto your chest and laid down. You stroked his hair while mindlessly scrolling through your phone. "Mama..." you heard Theo call out to you, "Yes my love" you respond to him, "Dada stay?" his question made your heart ache for him, he was so young to understand that when Matt leaves for away games it doesn't mean he is going away for forever. "Yes my love dada is going to stay," you respond hoping to ease his little minds worry.

Once Matt comes out of the bathroom with his joggers on he gets into bed and lays down and Theo Immediately climbs off oof you and onto Matt's bare chest. "Dada I wove you" he says to Matt in his sleepy tone which meant he was already drifting away to sleep, "I love you too buddy," Matt responds, "I'll always be there for you ok?" You smile at the interaction. Knowing that your it will take him a while to understand that Matt will never abandon him.

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﹌﹌﹌

He’s not sure what to call it. Burnt toast theory? No, that’s only if life saves you from something, not pushes you towards it. 

But he feels maybe too embarrassed by himself to even think of it as fate.  Maybe he’s just a bit too excited to get back out on the ice after his thumb injury. Maybe he forgot a step in his usual routine, having been off of the ice for so long. But for some reason, whether it be destiny or clumsy mistake, he’s the first out of the locker room, and way too early at that.

So early that the rink isn’t even free, and he almost considers apologizing for waltzing in on the last few minutes of a booked out slot if it weren’t for the fact that his mouth is suddenly and painstakingly dry.

Because right there in the center of the ice, you’re in the middle of practicing some twist or turn that he couldn’t tell you the name of, but it might be damn near the most graceful thing he thinks he’s ever seen, and he is just utterly mesmerized.

So yeah, maybe he feels like a bumbling idiot when it hits him that you’ve stopped your program, and the music is paused, and you’ve definitely said something to him that completely went through one ear and out the other because you’re now just a foot closer to the tunnel, looking at him inquisitively. 

Hell, maybe even concerningly.

He shakes his head lightly, snapping himself out of whatever haze he’s been sucked into and clears his throat, “sorry, what?”

And you tilt your head a little bit, maybe in humor, before speaking again, “I asked if I’m running into your rink time,” and there’s a tightness in your lips, almost like you’re fighting off a smile. 

“Oh, uh. Yeah- or, no, you’re not. I just…” 

Okay, now he just looks fucking stupid.

And your brows furrow a little deeper out of.. Confusion? Or maybe you’re trying not to laugh. But you do giggle when you respond, “okay?”

“Yeah, I.. sorry,” and then he turns, because there is no way he could possibly salvage any part of this interaction, heading back to the locker room where he’ll pretend like he fucked up the tape on his stick, and he’ll let the guys chirp him for it because the coverup makes him feel less dumb than the reality.

Nice one, Matt.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A couple of days later the team has practice again, and this time he catches you leaving as he exits the locker room and moves down the hall towards the rink, and you smile faintly to him in polite greeting as you pass, and that’s when he starts to gather the ways in which your schedules streamline - not in a conscious, stalker-esque way, but in the way your paths cross every time. The way he never consciously anticipates seeing you, but can’t help but notice the jitters he starts to get when he drives to the practice facility each day.

So maybe a week later there’s an optional skate, and he not only opts to go in, but he shows up early, yet again. And yeah, he does go down the tunnel far before he needs to be, maybe passing it off as a new pre-practice routine or superstition, and he watches you practice your current program from the sidelines. And this time when you cross paths, you speak again, a kind smile, two words but a warm feeling.

“All yours,” playfully spoken but still sweet, warm. 

And it goes the same way the next few practices after that. So what if he starts stretching the minutes outside of the locker room before practice? And yeah, maybe he even starts to even beat you to it. 

Simple compliments. Just a casual ‘looks great’, or ‘nailed that one’. And each time you blush, or you giggle, a soft ‘thanks’ before it turns into a bashful ‘stop’, like it could be banter between close friends, but really it encourages him to keep going.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Things take a turn when the Rangers host one of their many Junior Rangers clinics at the Tarrytown facility, shifting around practice slots and rink time. It’s by no means his fault or responsibility, but Matt can’t help but feel bad, maybe even a little sad, as if there was anything he could even do. 

So he tells himself to keep on keeping on, because such is life and this is just a silly middle school-esque crush, and he pops in for the sessions that he had been volun-told to assist in leading. 

And then the universe pays it forward.

He’s helping run some drills with the kids when he feels a light jab to his side, turning to see Gabe poking him with the curved end of his stick with a shit-eating-grin on his face.

“You’ve got a guest,” he says with a smirk, gesturing over towards the tunnel with a light jerk of his head. 

Low and behold, you’re sitting in a bleacher seat right near the exit, visibly entertained by the shenanigans taking place on the rink that afternoon. He doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s you, and he doesn’t need Gabe’s observational comment to infer that you’re sitting there and watching because of him.

And, fuck, he can’t fight back the smile that blooms on his face, sending a small wave in your direction as he feels a blush creep onto his cheeks.

But he’s in the middle of leading a junior clinic, so naturally, the children surrounding him catch on like the ever-observant monsters they are, erupting into a chorus of ewws and a few shouts of Rempe has cooties, and he has to work double time to shut them up and keep them on task, trying and failing to not look so bashful.

Inevitably, the kids have to waddle past you to exit the ice at the end of the session, and with you having moved to prepare yourself to step onto the ice for your own practice, you wind up facing one another, pressed against opposite walls as he attempts to corral the children down the hall between you. 

He’s certain that you can tell he’s trying so hard not to do that stupid, Hallmark-movie try not to laugh or look silly or awkward in front of each other grin smirk abomination, and if he had enough courage to actually maintain eye contact with you, he would notice you were a thousand percent doing the same. 

There’s no use, though, because one of his pupils stops in his steps and turns to you, surprising the both of you when he completely unexpectedly goes, “I think he’s in love with you.”

You burst out into a fit of giggles, and Matt’s brows furrow as lightly throws his hands out in disbelief, “you little weasel,” lightly pushing him in the direction of the locker room.

And you laugh harder, and he’s so red in the face and just absolutely cannot look at you, unsure what he could even possibly say before you step away from the wall, picking up your practice bag while still giggling when you reassure him with “it’s fine.”

He presses his knuckles against his eyelids, shaking his head lightly before dropping his hands by his sides, a smile still on his face.

“Have a good practice,” he manages to get out with no stutters or stumbled over words.

“Thanks, Matt,” you smile back in return before pivoting on your foot and making your way towards the bench.

You saying his name? Yeah, that gets him good.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

They’ve got a free skate the morning of a home game, and of course he’s at the facility. Because now? These optional skates are no longer optional. And like clockwork, you’re there, and you greet him as always when he makes his way towards the ice. 

What he doesn’t expect, however, is to leave the ice utterly devastated. 

Rather than leaving promptly like you almost always do after your practices, he catches you loitering near the benches by the rink. 

Maybe he gets the courage to consider that it might be for him, but it isn’t long before that comes crashing down on him and his heart is practically obliterated.

Because just a few minutes in, he looks back over to the benches and catches you chatting it up with one of the equipment managers. Some young guy that they’d brought on in the past month or so, probably around his own age and definitely not hard on the eyes. 

He can’t help but keep looking at you through the exchange, forcing himself to take in all of the smiles and giggles coming from your direction. Forces himself to look away when the guy pulls out a pink sticky note pad and you gladly write something down, because now he just feels stupid. 

At the end of the day, they’re just smiles passed in the facility hallways. Doesn’t even know your name. Nothing more than the greetings he shares with old ladies, so why the fuck would he expect this to have been anything special? For these stupid feelings to have without a doubt been reciprocated when there was genuinely nothing to work with?

He shoves those feelings down and compels himself to swallow his pride, pushing through the rest of the skate for the sake of not letting this ruin the game. 

If he excuses himself from the rink before the end of the skate, then so be it. 

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Maybe, just maybe, he’s man enough to admit that he’s still ruminating when he gets to the Garden later that day, at least to himself or in the mirror.

He maintains his routine, parking his car in the reserved spot and popping his headphones on to walk through the press hall and down to the locker room. 

He makes no stops for small talk and pleasantries on his way, just going through the motions so he can be done with the day, but then things take a 180.

He drops his bag from his shoulders to the seat of his stall, lifting his water bottle to place it in the cubby when a small pop of color catches his eye against the familiar wood. 

His hand moves towards it without thinking, and his chest gets a little tight when he processes what it is that he’s looking at.

Right there, in his cubby, is a sticky note, a strikingly familiar shade of pink, with unique yet tidy handwriting scrawled out in black ink. 

Good luck - Y/N :-)

He lets out an involuntary huff through his nose, almost laugh-adjacent, with an upward tilt of his lips to match as he holds the note between his forefinger and thumb so gently as if it could shatter to pieces.

He’s interrupted by a shout from the other end of the room, Cuylle catching on with a smile on his face, “you getting love letters or something?”

And to his right, Gabe can’t help but jump in with a chirp not of his own, “oh, you didn’t hear? Rempe’s got cooties.”

The guys laugh and joke on him, but truly he couldn’t give a fuck.

He plays one of his best games that night, and can’t help but feel like it’s gotta have at least a little to do with a certain figure skater somewhere in this city. 

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

At the next free skate, he’s there as always, this time with the knowledge whatever this is, it isn’t nothing. 

And this is only confirmed when he sees you in the hallways for what now feels like the hundredth time, a newfound confidence when you skip over practice well wishes and opt for a question.

“MSG tonight?”

He’s looking at you a little dumfounded, feeling a little stunned before he responds, “yeah, another home game,” and you smile at him excitedly.

“Awesome,” just a single word, but you don’t leave yet, still looking at him when you speak again, “maybe you’ll see me there.”

And, yeah. He wasn’t expecting that, isn’t really sure what to say without sounding careless, overexcited, or weird, so he leans into his disbelief, “really?”

And you give him a playful shrug before walking away, leaving nothing but a sweet good luck called over your shoulder as you part ways towards your locker room, and he’s left standing in the hall with a flutter in his stomach and hearts in his eyes.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The game… Well, it’s definitely not his best, he can promise you that much.

He doesn’t have your number, socials, anything to contact you and ask or even just sleuth around to guess where you might be in the arena, or if you really even did come to begin with. 

But he goes about the game with no choice but to linger on the fact that there’s a maybe an 80 or so percent chance that you’re somewhere in the house tonight, and it makes everything feel so different. 

At the end of the day, though, the boy is utterly stupid for you. So he can’t help it when he’s in the middle of a play and he just feels it, just knows that you’re there like some sort of spidey sense. So he really isn’t all that surprised when he looks up from the puck he’s got in his possession against the boards, and you’re right there, hunch confirmed as he locks eyes with you through the glass. 

The puck at this point has been completely disregarded, him looking at you with this stupid boyish smile because you actually came, and you’re wearing his jersey, and it’s you from the rink. 

The next sequence of events is no surprise because, yeah, he’s in the middle of the play. And you’re just about to yell at him when he takes a particularly nasty hit because he’s the only person in this building that seems to have forgotten about the puck despite it being his job and also right in front of him, and his head slams forward right into the glass before he just topples over, body hitting the ground before his head bounces off of the ice. 

Whistles are blown and a trainer runs over, and everything else becomes a blur. He stays conscious but maybe a bit.. fuzzy? He feels very out of it, but he’s vaguely aware as the team circles around him while medics slip a c-collar around him and a back brace beneath him. He’d worry but he knows he can feel all of his extremities, which gives him enough space in his rattle brain to remain pre-occupied with other things while they roll him on a stretcher off of the ice. 

The building erupts in cheers despite the pure idiocracy of the injury, and it might be the concussion he most definitely has when he convinces himself that he can hear your voice amidst the screams and clapping.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Both teams take a penalty after they get him to the medical staff - the Rangers for a delay of game after Matt decided to do absolutely nothing with the puck, which naturally had to be served by another teammate, and the away team for the hit itself. 

The loss that the Rangers take is particularly brutal, but you don’t have to sit around and watch it play out because a security guard is coming to you before the third period fizzles out, and within just a few minutes you’re being led down a quiet hallway on the lower level of the arena where the staff keeps first aid set up. 

Beneath the fluorescent lighting, Matt is laid out on a table, half undressed from his gear while a trainer types information into a computer. The sunglasses now propped on his nose confirm everything that everyone already knew - concussion. 

Any concern written across your face is immediately gone when you round the corner into the room, and his face immediately breaks out into a smile when he yells your name.

The trainer immediately glares from over her shoulder, scolding him with a sharp and whispered command of quiet, sending you an apologetic smile that immediately tell you that he’s been a handful. 

“Hi,” you speak softly, moving closer to where he’s lying down.

“You see what I did out there?” he asks, like it might’ve been some cup winning goal and not the absolute corniest thing a person has ever done. 

“It was a little embarrassing,” you joke quietly, giggling softly under your breath.

HIs head rolls back and forth in a gentle shake to disagree before rolling towards you, “didn’t think so. Will you give me your number?”

And you laugh, loudly. Then immediately whisper sorry! before you laugh again, quietly, incredulously. 

“Matt, you have a concussion,” you remind him, so.. bewildered? Stunned? Confused by what’s happening.

He bites his lip, smiling harder as he waves his finger at you, “I have a concussion. But you’re really pretty. And I really like you. Can I have your number?”

And you’re laughing, a whispered oh my god under your breath as you press the heels of your hands to your eyes, because what the fuck is actually happening.

You take a deep breath in, considering your feelings and composing yourself before you speak again, “if it’ll stop you from doing something stupid like that again… I will give you my number.”

And he lifts his pinky finger. Lifts his fucking pinky for a promise, and it’s so stupid and so is everything else that is happening in this very moment but, fuck, it’s working on you, so with a shake of your head and another giggle, you wrap your pinky around his, and he squeezes.  And the cheesy fucking grin that breaks out on his face after the fact fills you with butterflies, and you know that you’ve probably just opened a can of worms on yourself by saying yes, but god if there isn’t another place you’d rather be.

﹌﹌﹌

Matt invited you to go with him to Shoulder Check. You didn’t really know what it was, but you said yes because it’s a free vacation. 

So you spent countless hours at the event watching Matt meet fans and letting him be the shining star he’s meant to be, while you hung back to admire him, his ass, cheering him on during the games, maybe watch the " Lean on Me " video on repeat.

Matt was feeling guilty that he hadn’t gotten to spend time with you during Shoulder Check. You sat next to him at his autograph booth, his giant hands on your thighs, giving them a light squeeze when he needed a reminder that his girl was right there next to him.

When he was waiting for the next person, he leaned into your ear, “I’m taking you out tonight.” Matt’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, you and Matt quickly changed outfits. You were reapplying your lip gloss when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your abdomen, pressing feather-light kisses onto your shoulder. You felt butterflies fluttering. You twist your gloss closed before turning to face him. “Clingy much?” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Felt like I haven’t seen you all day. I miss my girl,” Matt mumbled, pressing his forehead against yours. You placed a loving peck on his lips. Matt chased your lips, but you placed your fingers on his lips. “You’re such an idiot.” You giggled, Matt grinned, “But I’m your idiot.” Matt stole a kiss from your lips and ran out of the bathroom before you could slap his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matt pulled out your chair, “Ma’lady.” You rolled your eyes with a smile on your lips. You sat down and allowed Matt to push you in before getting himself settled into his chair. He handed a menu to you.

After Matt ordered for both of you, he silently gazed at you, “What?” feeling your cheeks heat up, “I can’t admire my girlfriend?” Matt chuckled, taking a sip of his water. You leaned back in your chair “stoooooop” You whined using your hand to cover your face, Matt leaned over the table and pulled your hands away “Thank you for coming with me” Matt pressed a loving kiss on both hands “Matty you know I wound’t miss it, especially the video” You teased, Matt internally groaned ever since the video of him and his fellow players sing Learn On Me it’s became one of your voice stims. 

Lean on me

“Stop”

When you're not strong

“Babe”

And I’ll be your friend 

“Sweetheart, please.”

He knew you were going to keep going, but luckily, the champagne arrived. “You still never told me the occasion?” You gave your boyfriend a suspicious look. Matt’s eyes widened. “I need a reason? There needs to be- I can’t…I’m appalled.” Matt clutched his imaginary pearls. You shook your head, “So dramatic”. 

Matt raised his glass, “To my amazing girlfriend whose always supportive and understanding when it comes to my job. When I first met you, I knew you were the person I wanted to be with forever. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.” Matt clinked his glass against yours. When you took a sip, you felt something sharp touch your lip. Matt tried to hide his gleeful grin behind his hand. 

You studied your glass to find a ring, a diamond ring to be specific. You stumbled over your words, Matt took the glass out of your hand, fished out the ring with your fork, and got down on one knee. The whole restaurant died down to stare at the young couple, “Marry me?” Matt smiled, your heart exploded with joy, “Yes!” You screamed, smashing your lips against his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, you and Matt went to an ice cream shop. Matt laced your fingers together and twirled you around before pulling you into his chest. “I love you,” you mumbled, cupping your fiancé’s cheeks. “I love you more.” Matt pulled you into a loving kiss so you couldn’t argue.