Call Fraser | Fraser Minten
request: hi! could you write about being with fraser in Boston and being connor’s sister? you guys are secretly dating and connor only finds out because over summer youre insanely sick when they are together and you beg for fraser
pairing: fraser mintent x bedard f!reader
content: food poisoning, body sensations of being sick, confused/annoyed/concerned Connor, fluff, hidden relationship, cursing, use of y/n
wc: 1.5k
a/n: hi!!! thank you for this request! i love minty fluff. i hope you love it!
Boston summers were known to be beautiful, and this might have been your favorite summer yet. Since moving to the historic city, you’d made hundreds of memories, friendships that would last lifetimes, and got together with your boyfriend.
Growing up, you were always aware of the boy who played hockey with your twin brother. You had to be.
Connor was a star player from a young age, so the other players that could match his level? They were memorable.
Fraser was one of them.
When Connor and Fraser began playing together, you started seeing him around a lot more often.
But Connor had always made one thing very clear. He didn’t want his teammates and you mixing.
“I know what they’re like,” he would say. “You should hear them in the locker rooms.”
This was hard enough, because–being twins–your friends were Connor’s friends, and Connor’s friends were yours. It was almost impossible to not be around the hockey boys Connor played with. Especially when you spent a good chunk of your time traveling for his games. .
Now years later, Connor had been drafted to Chicago, and this was still a principle he lived by.
But, what Connor didn’t know didn’t hurt him.
In your defense, you hadn’t planned on falling in love with Fraser Minten. In fact, you hadn’t planned on falling in love with anyone when you first moved to Boston. Because the move was supposed to be temporary. You were there for a year, maybe two, for a big time internship. You hadn’t expected it to lead to a job offer that cemented you as a permanent resident of Boston.
And you certainly hadn’t expected Fraser to reach out to you once he’d heard you had moved to town.
But he did. He’d messaged you on instagram, offering to show you around Boston as a mutual acquaintance since you didn't know anyone in the city.
And it was true. You knew absolutely no one, so you took him up on his offer.
Now, over a year later, you were completely in love with him.
And—perhaps unfortunately?—Connor was visiting for a week.
You were excited to see your twin, especially after only getting to see him briefly the last time he was in town to play the Bruins. But it also meant a week of no Fraser.
The week had been going well. You’d been having a blast taking him around Boston. He even trained a bit with Fraser, getting to see your boyfriend even though you didn’t.
But then, disaster struck.
The two of you had gone out to try a new restaurant. Your meal had tasted a little funny, but Connor seemed to be enjoying his, so you didn’t question it.
Until that night, when you were bent over the toilet, heaving up your dinner.
“What the fuck?” Connor asked, shoving the door open. You turned your head slightly from where you were collapsed in front of the toilet bowl, hair in your eyes. “Are you sick?”
“No, Connor,” you said dryly despite the burning in your throat and the tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m peachy.”
You were sweating despite shivering, your teeth nearly chattering together.
“I think–” you gagged. “I think I have food poisoning.”
Connor made a face, jumping back as your bent over the toilet once again.
When you straightened, chest heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks, he took a tentative step forward. “Do you need anything?”
Yes.
I need Fraser.
But could you really just tell your twin brother that you went against all his wishes and started dating one of the guys he’d always warned you about when you were teenagers?
“Uh,” you sucked in a breath. You had never felt so ill in your life. This? This fucking sucked.
You couldn’t even get your next words out before another round was hitting.
“Hair tie,” you managed, gesturing over your shoulder to the bathroom counter.
“On it,” Connor nodded, beginning to rummage through your drawers until finding a pink, fuzzy scrunchy. “Do you want me to do it or–”
“Yes.” You wanted to kill him.
With rough fingers, he scraped your hair back into probably the messiest, loosest bun to ever exist at the nape of your neck.
“There.” He said, pulling back when he was finished.
By now, your shivers had turned to full body trembles, your sweat drenching every inch of you. Connor was treating you like a hazardous chemical, and all you wanted was your boyfriend who always knew just what to do.
You rested your head on the rim of the toilet, letting the cold sensation seep into your skin. A choked sob escaped you.
“Y/n?” Connor asked gently. At least he was trying to be a good brother.
“I need–” you swallowed, your throat burning. “Call Fraser.”
Silence.
Your shoulders hunched, your muscles spasming.
“Uh, are you dying or something?” Connor asked, his voice low. “Because I think you just told me to call Fraser Minten.”
You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“Why the fuck would I–”
“Connor, fuck, just call him!” You were openly sobbing now, your body seizing with nausea. Your stomach twisted and then you were leaning over the toilet again.
“Fuck, fine.” Connor huffed, stepping out while raising his phone to his ear.
You heard him mumble something and then he stepped back in, a funny look on his face.
“He says he’s on his way?”
Thank god.
Your eyes squeezed shut in relief.
“What is going on here?” Connor asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did I call Fraser?”
You shook your head as best you could. “Not now.”
Because your body was tense and shaking, your head was pounding. You were collapsed on the bathroom floor, your hair sticking to your skin, and all you wanted was your boyfriend. You slumped into the wall, bringing up a shaking hand to scrub the tears from your face. The small movements caused your head to spin.
Nearly fifteen minutes later, you heard the front door of your apartment click open.
“Baby?” Fraser’s voice cut through the haze, your eyes opening slowly.
Connor straightened, eyes bouncing between the two of you.
“Baby?” He asked slowly. “What the fuck is happening?”
That was then Fraser rounded the corner, appearing in the bathroom doorway. His eyes immediately went to you, ignoring Connor.
“Hey,” Fraser moved towards you, crouching in front of you and bringing a hand up to your forehead. “Hi, baby.” His hands were warm, strong, familiar.
Everything.
You groaned, leaning into his touch.
Fraser’s brows were pinched in concern as he felt your temperature.
“You’re burning up,” Fraser’s voice was soft as he tilted your head so that he could look into your eyes. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
You tried to shrug. “An hour?”
Your boyfriend pushed the hair off your face that Connor had missed, smoothing it behind your ear.
“Why does Fraser know where you keep the spare key?” Connor’s voice cut in, sounding terrified.
“Shut up, Connor,” both you and Fraser muttered at the same time. You sounded exhausted while Fraser just sounded irritated.
Before you could answer, another wave of nausea hit and Fraser's hand was immediately on your back.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, his hand warm against you. “Let it all out.”
When you pulled back once more, the tears were back in full force. Your throat burned, the tip of your nose feeling funny like you hadn’t gotten enough air.
The next hour passed in a miserable blur. Fraser sat beside you, never once leaving your side. Connor bounced in and out, bringing water and crackers, but your stomach refused to keep down either. You were so tired you couldn't even keep your eyes open.
“I’m dying,” you muttered, your body completely drained. For the most part, you had stopped shaking. Now, your body just jerked every once in a while, as if your muscles were complaining. Fraser had shifted so that you could rest your head in his lap. Your body felt wrung out, every muscle aching as you slumped against Fraser.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Fraser asked softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek.
You nodded, your cheek pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants. Fraser did some maneuvering so that he could stand and then lifted you into his arms. The movement caused your head to spin and you groaned.
“You alright?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, squeezing your eyes shut.
Moments later, Fraser was laying you on the mattress in your bedroom, climbing in next to you and pulling the blankets up to your chin.
“Don’t leave,” you begged, looking up at him from where your head rested on the pillows.
“I promise.” Fraser's voice felt like a drink of fresh water in a desert. He was everything you needed.
The bedroom door pushed open and Connor peeked in.
“Is he good to you?” Your twin asked you, jaw clenched.
“The best,” you whispered, saying everything with your eyes that you couldn’t say outloud.
Connor seemed to understand, nodding once before backing out again.
“Does that mean I passed the test?” Fraser asked, chucking softly. It was the first time all evening that you cracked a smile.
“Yeah, I’d say he approves.”
“That’s a relief,” Fraser said.
From somewhere in the apartment, Connor shouted, “I didn’t say that!”
