In which . . . Sweetheart gets hurt when skating with Matt.
Hockey!Matt X Ballerina!Reader
Warnings- nothing just fluff!
you’re standing by the boards in borrowed skates, gripping the edge so hard your fingers are probably going numb, while matt watches you from a few feet away like he already knows how this is going to go.
“you good?” he asks, one brow raised.
you look over at him, instantly defensive. “yes. stop looking at me like that.”
he lets out a quiet laugh. “you are gonna fall.”
you roll your eyes and push off anyway.
it takes all of two seconds for it to go wrong.
your foot slides out from under you, your balance completely gone, arms flailing in a way that is definitely not graceful—nothing like ballet, nothing like the way you’re used to moving.
not hard enough to seriously hurt, but enough that your knee stings and your palms scrape and your pride takes the biggest hit of all.
for a second, everything just… stops.
then you hear his skates cutting across the ice.
“hey—hey, look at me,” matt says as he drops down in front of you, already pulling his gloves off, his whole expression changed. softer. focused. worried. “you okay?”
you swallow, forcing a laugh that doesn’t come out right. “i’m fine, i just—”
“don’t,” he cuts in gently, hands finding your arms, steadying you before you can even try to move. “don’t get up yet.”
“i’m okay,” you insist, but your voice is quieter now. smaller.
your knee throbs when you shift, and it doesn’t help that there are a couple of his teammates nearby, glancing over, definitely watching.
heat rushes to your face.
“matt, i’m fine,” you say again, this time trying to push yourself up—
“…hey,” his voice drops, softer now, something almost like concern slipping into it. “easy.”
you blink fast, biting the inside of your cheek.
you wanted to try. you wanted to be good at it—even just a little—but instead you’re on the ice, shaky, embarrassed, and suddenly your eyes sting in a way you really don’t want him to notice.
“i said i’m fine,” you mumble, but it comes out weaker than you meant it to.
his hands tighten slightly on your arms, not rough—just grounding.
your gaze drops, shoulders pulling in just a little as you try to blink it away, but your eyes are already glassy.
“hey—no, no,” he murmurs immediately, shifting closer. one of his hands moves up, gently tipping your chin so you have to look at him. “don’t do that.”
“i’m not,” you whisper, even as your voice wobbles.
“it’s okay,” he says, quieter now, thumb brushing lightly under your eye before anything can actually fall. “it’s just the ice. nobody gets it right the first time.”
you let out a shaky breath, half laughing, half not. “i looked so dumb.”
“you didn’t,” he says right away.
he huffs, softer this time. “okay—you did a little.”
you groan, dropping your forehead forward like you want to disappear, but his hand is already there, catching you gently before you can.
“hey,” he says again, almost a coo now, voice low and warm in a way you’ve never heard from him. “don’t hide from me.”
“everyone saw,” you mumble.
“i don’t care about everyone.”
his thumb brushes your cheek again, slower this time.
“you think i haven’t wiped out on this ice?” he mutters. “first time i tried, i ate it way worse than that.”
you peek up at him. “you’re lying.”
you sniff a little, still embarrassed, but it eases something in your chest.
he nods once, then shifts, hands sliding down to your waist.
“c’mon,” he murmurs. “i got you.”
before you can protest, he lifts you—effortless, like you weigh nothing—bringing you off the ice and setting you carefully by the boards.
your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders for balance, and for a second you’re really close.
he doesn’t comment on it.
just steadies you, one hand still firm at your waist.
this time, you don’t argue.
he crouches in front of you, immediately going for your skates, fingers quick and practiced as he starts loosening them.
you watch him for a second, still a little quiet.
“…i wanted to be good at it,” you admit, voice small again.
he pauses, then glances up at you.
“i fell in like two seconds.”
“yeah,” he says, tugging one skate loose carefully. “and you still got back up.”
you huff softly, but there’s no real heat in it.
he pulls the skate off, way more gentle than you expected, setting it aside before moving to the other one.
his hand brushes your ankle, steady and warm.
“does your knee still hurt?” he asks.
his jaw tightens just slightly.
“okay,” he murmurs. “we’re icing it when we get home.”
he shrugs like it’s obvious. “yeah. i’m not letting you limp around.”
you try to hide the small smile that tugs at your lips.
he glances up at you again, unimpressed. “still counts.”
you don’t argue this time.
instead, you just watch him finish taking off your skate, careful, focused, like nothing else matters right now.
“…thanks,” you say quietly.
he doesn’t answer right away.
just stands up in front of you, then reaches out without thinking, brushing a piece of hair away from your face.
“next time,” he says, softer now, “i’ll stay closer.”
you tilt your head. “so i don’t fall?”
but his hand lingers just a second too long.
like he’s not just talking about the ice.
a/n- happy sturniolo saturday (2 more fics coming out hopefully!)