Summary: only girlfriends and wives get WAG jackets and elise definitely, DEFINITELY wasn't john's girlfriend
content: situationship, miscommunication, tiny bit of angst, some fluff
wc: 2.3k
notes: this one is for the icon herself @johnnys-girl6 !! still trying to get back into writing like i used to! hope you enjoy!! requests are OPEN
The NHL playoffs always made everyone lose their minds.
Elise had figured that out sometime around nine-thirty that morning, when a customer she'd never seen before asked if they could split a six-dollar order into three separate transactions.
Since then, the café hadn't slowed down for more than five minutes at a time.
The line stretched to the door. The espresso machine was hissing nonstop, and someone had dropped an entire tray of iced drinks halfway through the lunch rush. Her manager was starting to look like she was considering a career change.
It was chaos.
By the time Elise finally got a chance to check her phone, she'd been on her feet for almost seven hours.
She leaned against the counter in the back room, taking advantage of the brief lull while another barista handled the register.
Three texts from her mom.
A notifcation from her bank.
An Instagram DM request.
She almost ignored it. The profile picture looked vaguely familiar, but not enough for her to immediately place it.
Curious, clicked on the notification.
A girl. Blonde. Pretty. Definitely hockey-adjacent.
Then it clicked. Elise had met her once... maybe. At one of the team events earlier in the season.
The message itself was friendly.
hey!!
can you fill this out when you get a chance? we're trying to get everything submitted by friday <3
Attached beneath it was a Google Sheets link.
Elise frowned.
What?
She tapped it anyway, and the spreadsheet opened.
At first, it looked nonsensical.
Rows, columns filled with names and numbers.
Then her eyes landed on a familiar one.
And her stomach dropped immediately.
WAG Name: Elise Norris
Player Name: John Marino
For a second, she genuinely thought she was reading it wrong.
She blinked, looked away, looked back. Nope. Still there.
Elise Norris and John Marino. Right beside each other, waiting to be filled out.
"What the fuck?"
The words slipped out.
A barista stalking syrups nearby glanced over.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Elise looked back down at her phone, her pulse picking up.
Why was she on this list?
Who had put her on this list?
Who knew her last name?
How many people had access to this spreadsheet?
How many people thought she was John's girlfriend?
Her thumb hovered uselessly over the screen.
The message had said nothing about confirming her eligibility. It was just a casual request to fill out her measurements.
As if this was completely normal, like everyone just expected her to, as if everyone thought she was part of the group.
A realization settled in her chest.
Oh my God.
Had they all been calling her John's girlfriend?
She wanted to throw her phone across the room. Because she wasn't sure which was worse.
That they weren't dating and everyone thought they were. Or that she apparently had no idea what her own relationship status was.
The problem was that from the outside...
Elise groaned softly, dragging a hand down her face.
From the outside, it definitely looked like they were together.
They spent most nights together. Not every night. But enough.
Three nights a week at minimum. Sometimes more.
She knew the code to his building. Had her own toothbrush in his bathroom.
She knew which cabinet held the plates. Which one had the bowls. Which drawer always got stuck when you tried to open it.
She knew what days he usually brought food home from the training facility and which meals he always traded away because he hated them.
She knew exactly where he'd leave his keys when he got home.
She knew wich side of the couch he always sat on.
And there was currently a gray hoodie of his living permanently in the backseat of her car because the air conditioning at the café was always freezing.
Then were the dinners... the family dinners.
Her parents had met him. His parents had met her.
There had been holidays, birthday dinners, team events, movie nights, road trip weekends. A hundred little things that looked suspiciously relationship-shaped when she lined them all up in a row.
"Oh my God."
The more she thought about it, the harder it was to argue against her name being on that spreadsheet.
Which was irritating because she wasn't upset that people thought she and John were dating.
She was upset that they weren't. "You've got to be kidding me," she mumbled.
The barista with the syrups looked over again. Elise waved her off.
She refused to unpack her relationship status with her co-worker in the middle of a shift.
She locked her phone and shoved it into the pocket of her apron.
Thirty seconds later, she pulled it back out. Opened her messages, and clicked on her pinned conversation with John at the top.
We need to talk
She typed.
His response came within seconds.
Okay
Are you okay?
Did something happen?
Elise just left him on read.
Good, let him panic for a little while.
She'd been panicking since she opened that DM.
The rest of her shift suddenly couldn't end fast enough.
~~
Gabi, her work bestie, arrived thirty minutes later and immediately knew something was wrong.
Not because Elise said anything. Because she'd been standing there in silence near the espresso machine since Gabi had walked in.
"Okay," Gabi said, tying her apron. "What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"Elise, you're such a shit liar."
Elise sighed, then pulled out her phone.
Two minutes later, Gabi was leaning against the counter reading through the spreadsheet while Elise chewed on her lip.
"...You guys aren't dating?"
Elise nearly dropped a carton of oat milk. "No."
Gabi blinked. "What do you mean no?"
"I mean no."
"Like... actually no?"
"Yes, actually no."
Gabi looked back down at the spreadsheet. "That's crazy."
"Thank you."
"No, I mean the fact that you're not dating is crazy."
Elise groaned. "Can you not?"
"I'm serious."
Gabi handed her phone back.
"I thought you were together."
"Apparently everyone does."
"Well..." Gabi shrugged. "Can you blame us?"
Elise hated that question, because she really couldn't.
A rush started to pick up again before she could answer, forcing them back to work. Unfortunately, Gabi wasn't finished. Not even close.
The second they found themselves alone again, she picked the conversation right back up.
"Wait."
Elise already didn't like that tone.
"Aren't you sitting in the family section for playoffs?"
"Yes."
Gabi stared at her. "And isn't that why we spent forty minutes looking for shoes after work the other day?"
Elise looked away. "... Yeah."
"The heels?"
"Yes, Gabi."
"The ones that you said were definitely going to give you blisters?" Gabi's expression somehow became even more incredulous. "And you're going to one of the away games too, aren't you?"
"...Yes."
"Babe."
Elise dropped her forehead against the wall. "Oh my God."
"No, seriously," Gabi laughed. "What do you mean you aren't dating?"
"I don't know!"
The answer came out louder than she'd intended. A customer glanced over.
Elise immediately lowered her voice. "I don't know."
Gabi's face softened. "Have you asked him?"
"No."
"Has he asked you?"
"No."
"Then maybe that's the problem."
It was true. That was the problem.
Not the spreadsheet or the WAG jackets.
Not the wives and girlfriends. Not even the fact they thought she and John were already together.
It was the fact that John had never actually asked.
The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.
Because if they were dating...
She would've known, right?
There would've been a conversation. A moment. Something.
Maybe not flowers and a grand gesture. John wasn't really the type.
But surely there should've been something. Anything.
The rest of the shift dragged. Every time her phone buzzed, she checked to see if it was John.
Every time it wasn't, she got annoyed.
When closing finally rolled around, Elise practically threw her apron into her locker. Gabi watched from across the break room.
"You gonna talk to him?"
"Yes."
"Try not to kill him."
"No promises."
Gabi laughed.
Elise grabbed her keys.
The drive to John's usually took twenty minutes.
Today, she spent the entire time trying to figure out if she was about to accuse a man of making her his girlfriend without her permission.
~~
John opened the door before she had a chance to knock.
"Hey."
Elise brushed past him without answering.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Good talk."
She made a beeline for the living room.
John followed behind her, watching with increasing confusion as she pulled her phone from her pocket.
Without a word, she dropped it onto the couch, and he sat beside it.
"Why am I getting messages about playoff jackets?"
John looked at her.
Then at the phone.
Then back at her. "...What?"
"The jackets, John."
He picked up the phone, tapping in her passcode and scrolling to the message. He clicked on the spreadsheet and then looked back up at her.
"Oh."
Elise crossed her arms.
Waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally--
"Well?"
John frowned. "Did you fill it out?"
Elise stared at him. "I'm sorry?"
"The measurements." John handed the phone back. "They probably need them soon."
"That's your takeaway?"
Now he looked genuinely lost. "What?"
Elise made an incoherent noise. Then pointed dramatically at the spreadsheet.
"Why am I on that list?"
"Because you're getting a jacket."
"Why am I getting a jacket?"
John blinked. "Because of the playoffs?"
"John."
"What?"
"Why do they think I'm your girlfriend."
The question hung in the air.
John's confusion vanished instantly. "Oh."
Finally, some progress.
Then... "Because you are."
Elise's brain completely stopped working. "What?"
John looked at her like she'd asked him what colour the sky was.
"You're my girlfriend."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"Elise."
"John."
He set the phone down, and neither of them spoke for a second.
Then John laughed. Not a mean or amused laugh. The kind of laugh you let out when you think the other person is joking.
"Oh."
His smile faded when she didn't laugh with him.
"Wait."
Now he looked concerned. "You're serious?"
"Very."
John stared and Elise stared right back.
"What do you mean we're not dating?"
"What do you mean we are?"
"Elise." He sat forward slightly. "You practically live here."
"That doesn't mean we're dating."
"You have a key."
"And? You have one to mine too."
"You spent New Year's with my family."
"That also doesn't mean we're dating," she argued.
"You came to my cousin's wedding."
"Because you asked me to."
"Exactly."
Elise threw her hands up. "John!"
"What?"
"You can't just assume we're dating!"
"Why not?"
She actually hated him. Not really, but maybe a little. Because he sounded genuinely confused. Like this whole conversation made absolutely no sense to him.
John shook his head. "You come to all my home games."
"A lot of people go to games."
"You sit with my family when they're here."
"That's not--"
"My mom asks about you more than she asks about me."
Elise opened her mouth, then closed it. Unfortunately, he wasn't finished. "You know where everything in my apartment is."
"John."
"You helped me move."
"John."
"You were at my birthday dinner."
"John."
"You made me soup when I got the flu."
The worst part? None of that made it sound like it was unreasonable to assume they were together. Which just made her even more frustrated.
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
Elise swallowed, then said the one thing she'd been circling around for hours. "You never asked."
Silence.
John stared at her. The confusion finally disappearing, replaced by understanding.
"Oh."
Which made Elise want to crawl into a hole and die.
John leaned back against the couch. Thinking. Really thinking.
Elise had started to pick at her nails.
After a few seconds, he looked at her again. And said, very quietly, "I thought you knew."
It wasn't defensive or dismissive. Just 100% honest.
It was like the possibility had never occurred to him. Somewhere along the way, he'd decided she was his girlfriend. And had simply just continued living his life accordingly.
Neither of them spoke.
Elise stared at the floor because somehow she'd walked into John's apartment prepared to accuse him of misleading half the organization and discovered he'd considered her his girlfriend for months.
Slowly, she sat down beside him on the couch. The cushion dipped beneath her weight.
John immediately leaned into her side, like he always did.
"I can't believe I found out through a spreadsheet," Elise mumbled.
John laughed. "Yeah."
"That's insane."
"A little."
Elise shook her head. Then glanced over at him. "How long have I been your girlfriend?"
John actually thought about it. Which was not the response she was looking for.
"What?"
He frowned. "Probably December."
"Probably?"
"Definitely before New Year's."
Elise groaned. "John."
"What?"
"You can't just assign relationship statuses retroactively."
He shrugged. "Pretty sure I can."
She laughed despite herself and John smiled.
He reached for her phone again, opening the spreadsheet. "You still need to fill this out."
Of course.
Elise rolled her eyes but shifted closer anyway, looking over his shoulder at the form.
At the top were the jacket mockups.
"They're cute."
"Mhm," John handed her the phone.
She started filling everything in while he watched. Every so often he'd make an entirely unhelpful comment.
"No way that's your sleeve length."
"You don't know my sleeve length."
"I feel like I do."
"You absolutely do not."
When she finished, she stared at the screen for a second before hitting submit.
Done. Just like that.
WAG jacket ordered.
Relationship crisis resolved.
All in the same day.
"You know," she said, setting her phone down, "most people usually have this conversation before they start introducing each other as boyfriend and girlfriend."
John shrugged. "Just assumed you told people I was your boyfriend too."
Summary: will's back in boston for marmon. what was supposed to be a fun weekend, gettting drunk with his friends, turns into him realizing how much he misses his ex-girlfriend
content: angst, alcohol/drinking, being drunk, unresolved exes, jealousy, brief mention of flings/hookups, smoking/weed, being high
wc: 3.8k
notes: helloooo! hope you guys enjoy! idk what this is haha it just kinda came to me after seeing the video of macklin at marmon being an idiot lol requests are open!!
The backyard was already packed and the party had just started over an hour ago.
People were crowded shoulder-to-shoulder across the deck and grass with drinks in hand, empty cans scattered around the yard, and two kegs tucked in the corner. Someone had pulled out a folding table and set up a game of pong up against the fence.
"Jesus Christ," Gabe muttered beside him as they pushed through the side gate. "This feels illegal."
"It probably is," Ryan said easily.
A couple of people noticed them almost immediately. Well, noticed Will, at least.
"Smitty!"
He barely had time to even register what was happening before somebody was pulling him into a dap, another guy appearing behind him with a loud, "Ay! No fucking way, dude!"
Will laughed automatically, slipping into the atmosphere. It always happened when he came back to BC now. People recognized him more than they used to. Not in a crazy way, but enough that some interactions stretched on just a little longer than he would've liked.
"How's San Jose?"
"You back for Marmon?"
"Sharks are ass, huh?"
Will snorted at that, shoving lightly at the guy's shoulder while the conversation continued. Ryan disappeared almost immediately toward people he knew, Gabe getting caught by another group a few feet away.
Will nodded through another question, half-listening.
Then he looked up.
And completely forgot what he'd just been asked.
Cam stood near the far side of the yard with three girls from the women's hockey team, drink in hand, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Dark jeans, white sneakers, and an oversized BC rugby shirt tucked up loosely into one side of her bra just enough to show a strip of skin above her waistband.
His chest tightened before he could stop it.
It had been almost two years.
Not fully. One year and eleven months. But close enough to two years that he'd convinced himself the feeling would be different.
Apparently not.
She laughed at something one of the girls said, head tipping back, and Will felt the rest of the sound in the yard dull for a moment.
Still pretty.
That was his first coherent thought, which felt stupid considering she'd always been pretty. But there was something unfair about seeing it in person again after months of grainy memories and avoiding her private Instagram account because he was ninety-five percent sure she'd unfollowed him sometime before Christmas.
"Smitty?"
Will blinked.
"Hm?"
The guy talking to him laughed. "You good?"
"Yeah," he answered automatically, dragging his attention back into the conversation even though it was immediately pulled again.
Cam still hadn't looked over.
A group near the porch started yelling after spotting him, a couple of guys making their way over with drinks raised, and she didn't even glance up. Just kept talking to her friends like the noise meant nothing.
She probably thought it was frat guy getting hyped up over pong.
The realization made something twist in his chest.
Weird how quickly someone could stop expecting you somewhere.
"Are you listening to me at all?" Gabe asked, appearing next to him with a beer in hand.
When had he rejoined the circle?
Will took the drink from him automatically. "What?"
Gabe followed his line of sight once before smirking slightly. "Oh."
Will looked away. "Don't."
"Didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
Gabe laughed under his breath, taking a sip from his own can. "I mean... little hard to miss."
Will shoved at his shoulder without much force behind it.
Across the yard, one of Cam's friends leaned in to say something into her ear that made her grin. She adjusted her sunglasses on top of her head, finally scanning the yard for the first time since he'd gotten there.
Her eyes landed on him.
Will could see the exact moment that the recognition hit.
There wasn't any visible shock, but her expression had changed just slightly. The conversation with her friend cutting off as she looked at him across the crowded yard.
Neither of them moved.
Then one of the girls beside her said something, breaking the moment, and Cam looked away first.
Will exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Jesus," Gabe muttered. "You two really know how to act normally."
"Shut up."
"You haven't even spoken."
That was the problem.
Will dragged a hand over the back of his neck, trying to focus on literally anything else while another conversation started. Someone asked about the NHL. Someone else asked if Macklin was in town.
He just answered where he had to, laughed when expected, but his attention kept drifting.
Cam had moved slightly closer toward the deck now, still with the same group. One of the girls bumped their shoulder against hers, and she nearly spilled her drink laughing, steadying herself against the railing.
His stomach flipped a little at the sight.
It was fucked, honestly.
Because none of this should've felt the way it did.
Their breakup hadn't been explosive. Nobody cheated. Nobody screamed. There wasn't some crazy betrayal that made them hate each other. It was just distance, bad timing, and two lives pulling in opposite directions. And pretending it was otherwise started hurting more than ending it.
At least that's what they'd told each other.
They'd promised to stay friends too.
That had lasted maybe a month.
A couple of texts here and there. FaceTime calls that fell into silence. Then less. Then barely anything at all.
Then nothing.
Will hadn't realized how final it was until one night in San Jose when he'd gone to send her a post, some hockey account posting old clips, only to realize he couldn't send her anything.
He still remembered just staring at the phone, trying to figure out why her account wasn't showing up.
She'd blocked him on her public one.
Just... blocked.
No warning.
"You gonna go talk to her?" Gabe asked.
Will looked over. "Why do you care so much?"
"Because you look fucking miserable."
"I do not."
Gabe gave him a look.
Will took a long sip of beer instead of answering.
Across the yard, Cam said something to the girls beside her before starting toward the cooler near the deck stairs alone.
Will watched her weave through people. She always kept her head down when walking through crowds. She shifted her drink from one hand to the other before crouching near the cooler.
His body moved before his brain fully caught up.
"Where're you going?" Gabe asked.
Will glanced back once. "Getting another beer."
"Mhmm."
"Fuck off."
Gabe's laugh followed him across the yard.
The closer he got, the more unreal it felt.
Cam stood back up with a new drink in hand just as he reached the cooler. She turned slightly, nearly walking straight into him before stopping short.
Her expression shifted into something careful.
"Hi," Will said.
Up close was worse.
Her hair was longer than the last time he'd seen her. Straight dark brown falling over one shoulder, slightly windblown from being outside for hours. She still wore the same rings he remembered, silver catching briefly in the sunlight as she adjusted her grip on the can.
"Hi," she answered.
Her voice sounded exactly the same.
Will hated how much relief that gave him.
For a second, they just stood there, looking at each other.
The music from the speakers bumped behind them, and someone lightly pushed Cam out of their way so they could get a drink.
"You're back," Cam said, finally.
"Yeah. Marmon."
She nodded once. She already knew that.
"How's San Jose been?"
Good question... Loaded question.
Will shrugged instead. "Good. Different."
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That sounded like a media-trained answer."
He laughed before he could help it.
There she was.
Cam seemed to realize it, too, because her eyes dropped toward the drink in her hand for half a second before lifting back to him.
"You look good," he said before thinking too hard about whether he should or not.
Cam blinked once, caught slightly off guard.
Then she smiled a little.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "You too."
"Blake!" someone shouted.
"I, uh, I should probably go find my friends," Cam nodded, chewing at her bottom lip.
"Right. Yeah. Uh, nice seeing you."
Cam nodded again, then stepped around him before either of them could make it any worse.
Will stayed by the cooler for a second after she left.
Long enough that someone behind him cleared their throat and reached around him for a drink.
"Sorry," he muttered, scooting out of the way.
He turned back toward the yard just in time to see Cam slip into her group again. One of her teammates threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned in close, saying something that made Cam roll her eyes. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, head dipping slightly while she answered.
Normal. She looked completely normal.
Will hated that a little.
"You look sick," Ryan said when Will finally made it back over.
He blinked. "What?"
"Like physically ill."
Gabe snorted into his beer.
"I'm fine," Will said.
"Mhmm," Ryan answered. "That's why you're all pale."
"What'd you say to her?" Gabe asked.
"Just that it was... nice seeing her?"
"Jesus Christ," Ryan chuckled.
"Thought NHL media training was supposed to help you in high pressure situations," Gabe teased.
"Shut the fuck up," Will scoffed.
They both just laughed harder at that.
Will glanced away, looking for Cam unconsciously.
She was standing off in the grass now, her sunglasses over her eyes while one of the girls talked animatedly beside her. Some guy that Will vaguely recognized from one of the club teams had wandered into their circle at some point, making Cam smile at something he said.
It shouldn't have bothered him... really.
They'd been broken up for almost two years. She could smile at whoever she wanted.
Still, Will found himself tracking the conversation from thirty feet away like he had any business doing that.
"You know she's not going to vanish into thin air if you stop staring at her for five seconds," Gabe said.
Will crushed his can and tossed it at his chest.
Gabe caught it one-handed, grinning.
"Touchy."
Someone pulled Will into the next pong game before he could answer. He barely remembered agreeing to it.
The sun had started dropping lower by then. The group of people moving around him was ever-changing. Someone gave him a bro-hug, someone else handed him another beer he hadn't asked for.
He missed two shots in a row.
The guy playing on his team blinked. "Dude. Are you drunk already?"
"Maybe," Will muttered.
Across the table, Gabe glanced past Will's shoulder toward the other side of the yard before his expression shifted into something even more entertained.
"Oh," he said. "That's tough."
Will spun around at that.
Cam's group had moved again, the same guy from earlier beside her. Taller than her by enough that his arm rested easily across the tops of her shoulders while he talked to someone else in the circle. Cam didn't seem to think anything of it, one hand curled around a white claw while she laughed with her friends.
Then the guy leaned down, said something into her ear, and Cam handed him her drink without even looking.
He took a sip.
"Oof," Ryan muttered.
Will looked away, grabbing the pong ball off the table.
The guy standing next to him was still waiting. "Dude, you good now?" he laughed.
"Perfect," Will answered flatly.
He threw the ball too hard.
It smacked the edge of the cup and bounced straight back at him.
Ryan barked out a laugh loud enough that people nearby turned to look.
"Okay," Gabe said, grinning. "Maybe don't look over there anymore."
Will ignored him, grabbing the ball off the grass.
It was stupid. Objectively.
Cam had every right to stand there with some guy's arm around her shoulders. Every right to share drinks with whoever she wanted. They weren't together anymore. And they hadn't been for a long time.
Still, something sour settled low in his stomach.
Mostly because she looked so comfortable.
Comfortable enough to lean slightly into the guy beside her when someone bumped into them from behind. Comfortable enough that sharing a drink with him looked natural.
Like she'd done it before.
"Smith!" the guy next to him snapped. "You playing or what?"
"Yeah," Will mumbled, earning an eye roll.
He sank the next shot cleanly just to shut everyone up.
The game continued. Somebody started cheering no matter what team sunk a ball, and two girls nearly knocked into the table trying to squeeze through the crowd.
Will really focused on paying attention. Actually talked during the conversation instead of zoning out. Answered questions. Even laughed a little when Gabe nearly got trampled trying to pick up a stray ball.
For a while, it worked.
Until Will heard someone shout, "Blake!"
His head turned before he even thought about it.
Cam looked over at the exact same time.
The second their eyes met, she smiled.
Small, quick enough that maybe nobody else would've noticed. But Will did.
He forgot where he was. The whole world faded out the second Cam smiled at him. His lips twitched up into a smile too, holding their eye contact.
Then someone shoved into her accidentally and the moment was broken.
Cam laughed, steadying herself for disappearing into the crowd again.
"Will, it's--"
"I have to piss," Will cut off Ryan, grabbing his can off the table.
"Romantic."
"Fuck off."
Ryan was still laughing as Will walked away.
The line for the bathroom stretched halfway through the kitchen, people packed shoulder-to-shoulder inside the house. Absolutely not.
Will took one look at it before turning back around.
The side yard was darker than the rest of the yard, shaded by the roof.
He rounded the corner toward the fence, already reaching for his belt when he stopped short.
Cam leaned against the side of the house a few feet away, joint pinched between her fingers.
For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Then Cam glanced down briefly toward where his hands had frozen near his waistband.
She chewed on her bottom lip. "This seems promising."
Will let out a short laugh, dropping his hands. "This is not how I pictured running into you again."
"No?"
"Not with my dick basically out, no."
Cam laughed properly at that, smoke catching slightly in her throat.
Something eased. It wasn't fully, but it was enough for his shoulders to drop from his ears.
Will shook his head, still smiling despite himself. "Bathroom line's insane."
"Mhm. That's why I'm out here, while my friends are in there."
He nodded toward the joint in her hand. "Didn't know you started smoking."
"I didn't really." Cam lifted one shoulder. "Mia brought it."
"Makes sense."
"You want it?"
Will hesitated for maybe half a second before taking it from her.
Cam watched him take a hit, her head tilted slightly.
"You still cough?" she asked.
Will scoffed slightly. "No."
Two seconds later he coughed into his elbow hard enough that Cam started laughing again.
"Jesus Christ," she managed. "Some things never change."
Will shook his head. "That was a bad inhale."
"Sure."
"It was."
"Mhm."
He handed the joint back to her, still grinning a little.
Without everyone else around, it stopped feeling like they were performing normalcy for an audience. No teammates hovering nearby. No friends watching for their reactions. Just the two of them standing in the side yard of some shitty off-campus house while music shook the ground.
Cam took another hit before looking over at him. "How's the NHL?"
Will leaned back against the wall beside her. "Weird."
"That sounded honest this time."
He laughed quietly. "It is weird."
"You like it though?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "I mean... yeah. It's still hockey."
Cam smiled a little at that.
"But?"
"What makes you think there's a but?"
"There's always a but with you."
He shook his head once. "It's just different than I thought."
"How?"
"I don't know." He looked out toward the fence for a second. "Everything's hockey all the time now. Which sounds good until it actually is... just all hockey... all the time."
Cam nodded like she knew exactly what he meant.
Because she probably did.
"You miss BC?"
"Sometimes."
"Liar."
Will laughed softly. "Okay. A lot."
"I knew it."
"You still hate the coffee in Conte?" he asked.
"It tastes like battery acid."
"Still drank it every morning though."
"Because I'm committed to my routine."
"Orrrr because you're addicted to caffeine."
Cam pointed the joint at him. "You used to buy me the coffees. Fuelled my addiction."
"Yeah and you'd complain the whole time that it didn't taste good."
"Cause it didn't."
Will smiled from ear to ear.
God.
This was bad.
They were just talking.
But it felt easy. Too easy.
Like the last two years hadn't created any space between them at all.
Cam leaned her head back against the siding, exhaling smoke. "How's Gabe?"
"Still annoying."
"Makes sense."
"He said you guys ran into each other at Beanpot."
Cam nodded. "Briefly."
"He told me you yelled at him for wearing slides without socks."
"Because it was February. And nobody wants to see his nasty, ass feet."
Will laughed quietly. "You used to yell at me for that too."
"Because you're both fucking idiots."
"That's fair."
Will couldn't help but study her.
Her hair had fallen out of place from the wind, dark strands brushing her cheek as she talked. Her rings clicking rhythmically against the can in her hand. Even standing a couple feet away, she still smelled like the vanilla perfume she always used to wear.
He'd spent almost two years convincing himself he was over this.
Over her.
Standing there beside her now, listening to her laugh softly at something stupid he said, Will realized how badly he'd lied to himself.
Because missing Cam when he was in California was one thing.
But this was different.
For a while, neither of them said much.
Not because it was awkward. More because it wasn't.
Cam stood beside him passing the joint back and forth while music thumped faintly behind him. It should've felt strange after this long.
Instead, it just made Will's chest ache.
Cam took another hit before holding the joint out to him again. "Careful," she said. "You already looked concussed during pong."
"I was distracted."
"Mhm. By your devastating performance?"
Will chuckled, taking it from her. "Exactly."
Cam smiled into her drink.
Will looked at the fence again, smoke curling into the air as something crossed his mind.
And because he'd had enough beer and was a little high and standing next to her for the first time in almost two years, he said it out loud before thinking too hard about whether he should.
"You blocked me."
Cam went still beside him.
Will glanced over. "Sorry. That sounded accusatory."
"No, it didn't." She looked down at the can in her hand. "I just didn't realize you noticed."
Will let out a short laugh through his nose. "Hard not to."
Cam nodded once slowly, thumb tracing the rim of the can. "Yeah."
Then she sighed slightly. "I didn't do it to be mean."
"I know."
"I just..." She shook her head once, eyes fixed somewhere out toward the fence. "Every time I opened my public account, you were everywhere."
Will stayed quiet.
"Highlights. Sharks stuff. Interviews. Reels on the official NHL account. Friends reposting you." A tiny smile pulled briefly at her lips. "Your face kept showing up against my will."
That got a laugh out of him.
Cam smiled a little too, but it faded quickly.
"It was easier not to see it," she said. "That's all."
She didn't sound angry or bitter. Just... honest.
"I thought maybe you hated me for a while," he admitted.
Cam's head turned immediately. "What?"
"The blocking thing."
"No." She frowned slightly. "Will."
"I'm kidding... mostly."
"You're an idiot."
"Yeah, little bit," he chuckled breathlessly.
Cam shook her head again, but she was fully smiling now.
God.
He really had missed her.
Not just the idea of her.
Not nostalgia or memories.
This.
Talking to her. Standing beside her. The way conversations with Cam always felt easy no matter how much time passed in between.
Before he could stop himself, his mouth moved again.
"The guy you were with earlier."
Cam blinked. "What guy?"
Will gave her a look.
"The one with his arm around you."
Realization crossed her face. "Josh?"
"If that's this name, then yeah. I guess."
Cam let out a quiet laugh under her breath, looking down for a second before glancing back at him. "Oh. We're not dating."
Will nodded once too quickly. "Right."
"He just--"
"Maybe I don't wanna know," Will cut in lightly.
Cam went quiet for a second after that.
Not offended. Just analyzing him.
"You asked," she pointed out eventually.
"Yeah. Regretted it immediately."
Will smiled despite himself. Despite the gross feeling growing at the pit of this stomach.
Which was unfair, honestly.
California hadn't exactly turned him into a monk.
There had been girls. A few almost-things. Nights he barely remembered and mornings that never turned into anything meaningful.
Still, hearing there might've been somebody here with Cam felt entirely different.
Maybe because he didn't want to picture it.
Or maybe because standing there beside her now made every month they'd spent apart suddenly feel a lot more real.
Cam watched him for a second before nudging her shoulder lightly against his.
"You're weird tonight," she said.
Will looked over at her. "Tonight?"
"Good point."
He laughed quietly. And somehow, despite his awkward question, the tension eased again.
Will watched as Cam tipped her head back against the wall, eyes a little glassy from the weed and alcohol, mouth still tipped into a smile.
God, he'd missed her.
"I--"
"Cam!"
One of her friends yelled her name from somewhere near the front of the house.
Cam glanced toward the sound.
"There you are!" another voice called. "We're leaving!"
Cam laughed, shaking her head once before looking back at him. "They're going to another party."
"Mm."
"I should probably go."
The words landed heavy.
"Yeah," Will nodded.
Neither of them moved right away.
Cam looked down at the drink still in her hand before holding it out toward him. "Here."
Will took it automatically.
Their fingers brushed and stayed there for a second longer than necessary.
She looked up at him, something new passing over her face as she stepped back. "You here for long?" she asked.
Will shrugged. "Week or so, probably."
She nodded, lip caught between her teeth. "I'll probably see you around."
Probably. What a dangerous word.
"Probably," he echoed.
Cam held his gaze for one more second before turning toward the front yard.
Will watched her go until she disappeared back into the noise of the party.
Then he looked down at the half-empty drink still in his hand and laughed softly to himself.
Summary: Watching her husband play for Team Finland was already emotional. But adding her twins into the mix was enough to make Sienna cry in public
content: fluff, toddlers, the olympics (but none of the stuff abt team usa), crying
wc: 2.5k
notes: isi means dad! i think! hopefully that's right haha thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy it! i don't really know much abt him so i tried my best! have a couple more requests to finish but feel free to send some in! thank you for reading!!
Sienna would be lying if she said she wasn't exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhausted.
The kind that came from spending the last week in Italy with her husband and their twin boys while the Olympics happened around them. Between the travel, the time difference, and two hockey-obsessed toddlers who apparently no longer believed in sleep, she'd been survivng almost entirely on caffeine and adrenaline.
Still, none of it mattered the second she looked around and remembered where they were.
The Olympics.
Teuvo was about to play for Finland, and somehow she and the boys were there to watch it happen.
By the time Sienna got the twins through security and into the arena, she was already exhausted.
Again.
"Niko, wait."
He did not wait.
The second the doors opened up toward the concourse, Niko took off in his tiny winter boots like he'd just been called to play on the ice himself, little Team Finland beanie sliding halfway down his forehead as he sprinted toward the sound of the crowd.
"Niko!" she called louder this time.
People turned to look, though thankfully most of them just laughed knowingly. Olympic crowds apparently had a soft spot for stray toddlers.
Especially toddlers currently trying to bodycheck a railing.
Sienna caught up to him quickly, grabbing the hood of his oversized Finland jacket before he could disappear completely into the sea of blue and white around them.
"You cannot run away from Mommy in another country," she told him breathlessly.
Niko looked entirely unapologetic.
"Hockey," he explained, like that was the answer to everything.
Honestly, to him, it probably was.
Balanced on her hip, Leo immediately began whining the second they stopped moving. "Mamaaa."
"I know, baby."
"Want isi."
Her heart softened despite the exhaustion clawing at her. Leo had been emotional all morning, overwhelmed by the noise and the crowds and the fact that Teuvo had disappeared hours ago for team meetings.
"We'll see him during warmups," she promised gently, adjusting the Finland beanie back over his messy blond curls. "But you have to keep this on, okay? It's cold."
Leo frowned dramatically but allowed it for approximately three seconds before tugging it halfway back off again.
Sienna sighed.
Beside her, Niko was practically shaking with excitement, mini mittens slapping against the glass barriers lining the concourse every time he spotted another jersey.
"Isi team!" he yelled
A group of Finnish fans walking past broke into smiled immediately.
One older man crouched slightly to Niko's height, saying something warm and animated in Finnish that Sienna only half caught through the noise around them.
Something about little lions maybe?
Niko's eyes widened instantly.
"Kyllä!" he shouted proudly.
The group laughed warmly.
Leo perked up from her shoulder enough to join the conversation too, answering the woman beside the man in rapid toddler Finnish that Sienna absolutely did not understand beyond hearing "isi" and "hockey" repeated several times.
She caught maybe every third word these days. Enough to get by. Enough to survive dinners with Teuvo's relatives without panicking. But listening to toddlers speak Finnish at full speed felt impossible.
The woman smiled kindly at Sienna. "They speak very well."
Sienna laughed softly. "Better than me, that's for sure."
That got another round of laughter before the fans waved goodbye, disappearing into the growing crowd.
Niko watched them leave before grabbing onto Sienna's sleeve.
"See isi now?"
"Soon."
"Now," he insisted.
Meanwhile Leo's mood had already started tipping dangerously toward meltdown territory, his face scrunching as he looked around the packed arena.
"Too loud," he mumbled sadly.
Sienna immediately rubbed a hand up and down his back. "I know, sweetheart."
The atmosphere inside the arena was overwhelming even for her. Thousands of people packed into blue seats, giant flags drapped over the railings, music echoing through the building while fans chanted loudly somewhere deeper in the crowd.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, she still felt a little breathless every time she remembered why they were there.
Teuvo was about to play Olympic hockey.
Her husband.
The thought still didn't feel real.
Eventually, after stopping twice so Niko could stare through openings in the concourse toward the ice below, Sienna managed to wrestle both boys down to their seats near the glass.
The second Niko spotted the players warming up, he lost his mind completely.
"ISI!"
Several people nearby laughed as Niko jumped excitedly against the glass, tiny mittens pressed flat against it while he searched the ice frantically.
"There!" he gasped suddenly.
And then Sienna saw him too.
Teuvo glided effortlessly across the ice, helmet unstrapped as he listened to a teammate beside him. Even from this far away, she recognized the familiar calmness in him. While the arena was buzzing with energy, he looked composed. Focused.
At home, Teuvo rarely talked about nerves before games. But this was different. This was Olympic hockey for his country.
Something tightened quietly in Sienna's chest as she watched him skate beneath the bright arena lights with SUOMI stretched across his chest.
Niko was practically trying to climb the glass beside her.
"ISI LOOK!"
Leo perked up, too, finally wriggling down from her arms so he could stand beside his brother.
For a second, both boys just stared out at the ice completely mesmerized.
Then Leo's face fell.
"Why isi there?"
Sienna crouched down beside him, pulling her jacket tighter around herself against the cold of the rink. "Because he's playing hockey, baby."
Leo frowned harder. "No. Sit with us."
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
"I don't think Finland would like that very much."
Leo clearly disagreed.
Out on the ice, Teuvo circled closer to the glass during a passing drill, and even through the distance and the gear, Sienna recognized the exact moment he spotted them.
His entire face softened.
It wasn't dramatic and most people probably wouldn't even have noticed it.
But she did.
Teuvo tapped his stick once lightly against the glass as he skated past. And both boys absolutely lost their minds.
He disappeared back to the bench for a second, before circling back to the glass.
Niko started bouncing so hard against the boards that Sienna had to grab the back of his jacket to keep him upright.
"Isi! Isi!"
Leo's upset was quickly forgotten, his mitten clad hands pressing against the glass.
Teuvo slowed in front of them, visor pushed up slightly while a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
There it was again.
The softening she only ever saw around the boys.
Even surrounded by the chaos of the Olympics, cameras flashing, people screaming, Teuvo looked at them like they were the only things in the room.
Niko immediately started talking at full speed, words tumbling over each other in a mix of English and Finnish while he pointed excitedly at the ice, one hand nearly taking out Leo in the process.
Leo just stared up at his dad with wide eyes.
"Isi hockey," he whispered softly, like he didn't fully believe it.
Teuvo laughed quietly at something Niko yelled through the glass before leaning down and picking up something. Both boys froze.
"Oh no," Sienna mumbled under her breath.
A puck.
The second Teuvo held it up, the twins lost it.
Niko started jumping.
Leo gasped dramatically.
Then Teuvo tossed it lightly over the glass toward them.
Sienna's fingers barely brushed it as it bounced off the seat.
Instant disaster.
"Mine!" Niko shouted immediately.
"No, mine!" Leo yelled back, grabbing for it with both hands.
"You share," Sienna tried.
Suddenly, neither toddler believed in sharing.
Niko attempted to yank the puck away while Leo's face scrunched awfully close to tears.
Teuvo, still standing at the glass, looked entirely unsurprised.
Honestly, Sienna had a feeling this exact fight would've happened even if he'd thrown them a napkin.
"It's going in Mama's purse until after the game," she informed them firmly, slipping the puck quickly into her bag before World War III could officially break out.
Both boys stared at her in betrayal.
Teuvo covered a laugh with his glove.
A fan a few rows behind them leaned forward with a smile. "Do you want me to take a picture for you guys?"
Sienna blinked. "Oh--yes, please. Thank you."
She hurriedly fixed Leo's beanie while the woman took her phone, then pulled both boys close against her sides.
Niko was trying to wave frantically at Teuvo through the glass while Leo clung to her arm sleepily, one little hand rubbing at his eyes.
Teuvo crouched slightly near the boards, one glove resting against the glass as he smiled.
"Okay, one more," the woman said.
Sienna looked up just in time to catch Tuevo already looking at her.
And for a second, everything around them faded into the background. Just her little family split by a pane of glass.
"Perfect," the fan said softly.
By puck drop, the arena had managed to grow even louder.
The entire building vibrated with energy, chants echoing through the crowd while blue-and-white flags waved from nearly every section around them. Niko had abandoned any attempt at sitting normally within the first five minutes of the game, alternating between climbing into Sienna's lap, standing on his seat, and pressing himself dramatically against the glass every time Teuvo touched the puck.
"Isi!" he screamed proudly whenever Teuvo started a shift.
Several nearby Finnish fans had fully adopted the twins at this point, laughing every time Niko shouted something unintelligible toward the ice.
Leo lasted almost halfway through the first period before curling into Sienna's side with a tired sigh.
"No more loud," he mumbled.
Sienna pulled him closer, rubbing her hand gently over the back of his Finland jacket while he rested his head on her shoulder.
"You wanna go back to the hotel?" she asked quietly.
"With isi," Leo nodded sadly.
Her chest tightened a little.
That was the thing. The boys loved hockey because they loved their dad. Niko loved the noise, speed, and excitement of it all. But Leo mostly just wanted Teuvo with them instead of down on the ice where he couldn't reach him.
The crowd erupted suddenly as Finland nearly scored, dragging Sienna's attention back toward the game.
Her eyes caught on him.
Teuvo skating hard through centre ice, over the Olympic rings painted on the white.
Her husband. At the Olympics. The event she'd been watching since she was a little girl in Raleigh, sitting on the couch sandwiched between her dad and her brothers.
Something emotional lodged unexpectedly in her throat.
Maybe it was the tiredness. Maybe it was the atmosphere, thousands of people chanting around them with her boys at her side. Maybe it was seeing Teuvo out there representing the country he'd grown up in, the same country their sons now proudly called half theirs too.
Whatever it was, Sienna suddenly felt a little overwhelmed by it.
Because years ago, Teuvo had just been the quiet Finnish hockey player she'd fallen hopelessly in love with.
And now she was in Italy with their children watching him play on one of the biggest stages in the world.
Niko jumped excitedly as Finland pushed offensively again.
"Isi score! Isi score!"
Sienna laughed despite the tears burning behind her eyes.
"Maybe, baby."
~~
By the end of the game, the boys were completely exhausted.
Not sleepy in the normal toddler way either. Fully drained.
Niko, who'd spent most of the game bouncing between seats and yelling every time Teuvo touched the puck, had finally crashed sometime during the third period. Now he rested limply against one of the younger girlfriends from the team, his beanie crooked over his eyes while she carried him carefully through the crowded hallway beneath the arena.
Leo wasn't doing much better.
He was half-asleep against Sienna's shoulder, warm and heavy in her arms, while his little fingers weakly curled into the front of her jacket. Every few minutes he'd mumble something incoherent about wanting the hotel before immediately dozing off again.
Finland had won.
The entire arena was still buzzing because of it. Fans packed the hallways waving flags, chanting loudly somewhere in the distance. The energy should've felt overwhelming after such a long day.
But instead, Sienna just felt strangely emotional.
Maybe because everything had happened so fast.
One minute she'd been trying to stop Niko from climbing the glass during warmups, and now she was standing in hall surrounded by celebrating Fins while waiting for her husband.
The door near the locker rooms finally opened, and several players spilled out into the hallway, smiles on their faces.
Niko stirred at the familiar voices, blinking sleepily.
Then Teuvo appeared.
The second the boys heard his voice, they both woke up just enough to make soft, tired noises of recognition.
"Isi," Leo mumbled, reaching toward him without hesitation.
Teuvo cooed.
Gone was the focused, composed player she'd watched on the ice for the last couple of hours. The second he got close to them, he was just dad again.
He stepped over first toward Niko, brushing the beanie gently back from his forehead before leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
"Pikku leijona," he murmured softly.
Little lion.
Niko smiled sleepily.
Then Teuvo moved toward Sienna, one hand automatically settling against Leo's back while Leo buried his face into his father's neck with a tired sigh.
"There he is," Sienna whispered softly.
Teuvo laughed quietly as Leo clung to him. "Too tired now?"
Leo nodded against his shoulder dramatically.
"Yeah, you had a long day."
The younger girlfriend beside them smiled as she carefully handed Niko over, too. Teuvo somehow managed to balance both boys at once despite having just played a game, one sleepy twin hanging off each shoulder.
And just like that, their little family bubble settled around them.
The Olympic frenzy surrounding them seemed distant for a second while Teuvo murmured softly to the boys in Finnish, pressing absentminded kisses into their hair between sentences.
Niko was already half asleep again, cheek smushed against Teuvo's shoulder while he quietly rambled about hockey.
Leo just wanted to be held.
Sienna stood there watching them for a moment, her chest suddenly tightening painfully.
Because Finland had just won an Olympic game.
And Teuvo was still standing there holding their boys like nothing in the world mattered more.
Before she could stop herself, tears finally spilled over.
Teuvo noticed immediately.
His eyes flicked toward her face, and then he laughed softly the second he realized she was crying.
"Oh no," he teased gently. "Why are you crying?"
Sienna let out a watery laugh, quickly wiping beneath her eyes. "Are you serious?"
"A little."
She shook her head. "You just won a hockey game at the Olympics," she said emotionally. "For Finland. And they're wearing their little jackets and speaking Finnish and--"
Her voice cracked embarrassingly.
"And I just..." She laughed again through the tears. "I don't know. I'm really proud of you."
For once, he didn't tease her.
He just looked at her quietly for a second before shifting Leo higher against his shoulder and leaning forward enough to press a quick kiss to her forehead.
"Come here," he murmured softly.
Sienna stepped closer, one hand resting on Niko's back while the arena continued to celebrate around them.
But tucked into Teuvo's side with both boys sleepy and warm against them, Sienna thought this was the moment she'd remember forever.
when i was back at my parents for a bit, my bf and dad put on the habs game. and my mom was shocked by how young lane looks 😭😭
like every time he was on the screen “are you sure he’s as old as you? he looks 16” but now she knows his name, just calls him “hutson” with the thickest québécois accent ever
