Hiiii, do you still write for mighty ducks? If you do would you mind writing some guy germaine fluff? It can be literally anything as long as it's fluff. Like there is hardly ANYTHING for him and I recently re-watched all 3 tmd movies so I've sparked my obsession again lol <33
Warmups and heartbeats - Guy Germaine
A/n: bro this pulled me out of a writing slump. Like, I’ve been so like busy I had like no motivation for anything
The ice in Eden Hall’s rink was freshly smoothed, the smell of cold and faint Zamboni exhaust hanging in the air. Most of the team had already finished practice, but Guy was still out there, skating lazy circles while you sat bundled in a blanket on the bench.
You weren’t sure if he was showing off or just procrastinating, but his easy smile and the way his hair curled out from under his helmet made you suspect it was a little of both.
“Practice ended fifteen minutes ago, Germaine,” you called, your voice echoing in the near-empty rink.
He slowed to a stop in front of you, leaning on his stick. “What, you in a rush?” His grin was warm enough to make you forget you were freezing.
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to keep me here, you could at least share your jacket,” you teased.
In one smooth motion, Guy skated to the bench, lifted the latch, and stepped off the ice. Without a word, he shrugged out of his team jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering just a second too long.
“Better?” he asked, his voice a little softer now.
You nodded, feeling the leftover warmth of him in the fabric. “Much.”
He sat down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. “Good. Now I have an excuse to stay here with you instead of heading to the locker room.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s your excuse?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning in just a little, eyes locked on yours. “Well… that, and I like watching you watch me skate.”
Your face heated, and you swore it had nothing to do with the rink’s temperature. Before you could come up with a reply, he reached over and gently adjusted the blanket around you, his fingers brushing your cheek.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you warmed up for real. Hot chocolate at the student lounge?”
You smiled, knowing you’d follow him anywhere — on or off the ice.
