Hughes brothers imagines

a little fan

"Y/n! Let's go!" I hear my baby niece, Harley,  whine from downstairs.

I let out a laugh at her excitement, reassuring her, "Ok! I'll be down in one minute". Finishing up getting ready, I grab my things before bounding down the stairs at a quick pace that Harley's impatience would approve of.

I'm greeted by a bubbling little girl sitting on the couch, her short legs swinging as she waits for me. She looks up at the sound of me, and I meet her eyes with a grin, revealing a jersey I had hidden behind my back. Harley squeals and her face immediately breaks out in a wide smile, running to me with grabbing hand motions.

"Thank you!" She exclaims as I help her get into it. The number 43 adorns the white jersey, the Canucks captain being her favourite player- and admittedly mine too, although maybe for additional different reasons to hers. I smile at the sight, and grab her hand to finally lead her outside and take her to the game.

To Harley's joy, and insistent nagging, we arrive at the arena early. I allow her to drag me all the way to the glass separating us and her favourite hockey team, enjoying how she admires them with a star struck awe.

Tapping her on the shoulder, I hand her the homemade poster she had made asking for a puck. I help her unfurl the paper, and take a picture of her as she sets it up for the players to see. Flashes of blue and white fly past us but it's not long until one of the players notice Harley's excited waves. I watch beside her as her favourite player makes his way towards us, my mouth slightly open.

Harley barely contains her excitement, jumping up and down, and my mouth turns up with a grin to match hers. When I look back to the ice, I find myself locking gazes with the Canucks captain standing right in front of us.

A little breathlessly, my eyes roam his face, taking in how attractive he really is, this close up. My heart races at the close distance, even though we were separated by the glass. I become captivated by his green eyes, which are staring right back at me. I barely register Harley tugging on the sleeve of my shirt, but Quinn seems to snap out of our staring contest, turning his attention to the little girl.

He gives her a toothy smile- which melts my heart right then and there- and gently chucks her a puck. Harley gives him her own toothy smile, enthusiastically thanking him, to which he mouths 'you're welcome'. He glances my way one last time before skating away, and despite being across the ice, my heart is still hammering in my chest.

***

Harley gasps dramatically, reaching for me, and I give her a comforting squeeze in return. Quinn just took a high stick to the face and was on his knees, bleeding, as a result. He looks pissed as hell- and I couldn't help but think he also looked attractive as hell. But the thought leaves as quickly as it came, instead being replaced as he gets ushered to the tunnels.

Harley gives me a frown and my expression mirrors her concern. We both turn our attention back to the game, getting immersed in the tense atmosphere. Soon enough the Canucks captain returns, with a fishbowl helmet and an angry look in his eyes.

He sits impatiently on the bench for a few minutes for line change. A team mate beside him engages him in conversation and I take the opportunity to admire the captain, the drumming in my heart picking up pace yet again. His green eyes find mine and his gaze softens slightly. I swallow down the nervousness that has risen in my throat, turning away to catch my breath.

To all the Canucks fans excitement, as soon as Quinn hits the ice, the energy skyrockets. Within minutes of skating on, he rears back his stick to shoot a beauty of a goal, bringing the team up to lead the game.

***

The rest game was a rollercoaster of emotions, which luckily left Harley and I happy with a win. She eagerly drags me to the stairs near the tunnel, desperately trying to drink in the sight of these players for as long as she could. The guys started to filter out of the bench and through to their locker rooms, taking time to take some gifts, and give some gifts, as well as fist bumps, on the way in.

I couldn't help but notice a certain player hanging back. Curiously, I look on as he speaks to an equipment manager who replies and hands him something that I can't quite see. I'm broken out of my shameless staring yet again by Harley's insistent tugging in excitement.

Eventually, her favourite player- and mine- makes his way towards the tunnel with the rest of his team mates. He seems to search for something before settling his gaze on Harley and I, a small smile transforming his face. I barely register Harley's surprised gasp beside me, looking to Quinn as he points to the handle of his hockey stick and raises it to be in reach of us.

Holding my arm out, I grab the top of the stick and pull it up, putting it in Harley's excited hands. As I do, I notice black writing scrawled on the tape of the handle. Glancing back at Quinn, he gives me a smile before disappearing, leaving me only with a permanent blush and what seems to be his phone number.