Hockey Imagines

Chaos | Quinn Hughes

Oh, and just to clarify for anyone who may not know, Quinn is the one on the right, just so y'all know. Enjoy!!

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#43, Defenseman for the Vancouver Canucks
Word Count: 2.0 K

"Oh, Quintin." I call and immediately hear my boyfriend's groan.

"You're not getting a response until you call me by my real name." He yells back.

I roll my eyes. "I could text Mama Hughes right now and ask her to send me a picture of your birth certificate, and you know what it would say on it? Quintin Hughes. Quin. Tin. Hughes." I appear in the doorway and give him a look that says, disagree with me, I dare you. He immediately shuts up and just nods.

He opens his arms. "I can tell something's bothering you. What's up, baby?"

I settle on his lap and let him wrap his arms around me, cuddling against his chest. Quinn's always been so patient and sweet with me, today being no exception. Even when I'm in a bad mood, he never blames me and always does his best not to get upset.

He cups the back of my head with one hand. "You gonna tell me what's wrong?"

I sigh against his neck. "Cramps." I mumble. I've always had heavy periods, with terrible cramps. Quinn, being my boyfriend of two years, is used to it and always does his best to make it easier for me.

"Oh, baby." He coos. He knows how bad my cramps can get, sometimes so painful that I'm in bed for days because it hurts to move. "Snuggles and chocolate?" He asks, rubbing my back.

I smile. "You know me too well. Are you sure? Don't you have practice today?"

"Yes, I do. But I can tell Coach I'm not feeling well. I gotta take care of my girl." He tells me seriously, pulling back so he can meet my eyes. "How about this? If you're feeling okay or you're asleep by the time practice rolls around, I'll go. If not, I stay. Deal?"

I nod. "Deal."

He leaves me for a minute to go grab some things. He comes back with a blanket, heating pad, a carton of chocolate moose tracks ice cream with two spoons, along with pain meds for me, which he makes me take immediately to relieve the cramps slightly.

Quinn turns on Below Deck, my secret guilty pleasure show, and I get so absorbed in the drama and Quinn's magical cuddles that I forget about all the pain. He just lays with me and runs his fingers soothingly through my hair, doing his best to make me feel better.

When the clock hits ten a.m., Quinn makes the call to Coach Boudreau to tell him he isn't feeling well and won't be able to make it to the twelve o'clock practice. Coach accepts his excuse, though it's lousy because Quinn is a horrible liar. I think he knows something is going on and just lets it slide. Quinn is a talented, hardworking player, and he doesn't miss practice unless he has to. It makes me feel incredibly special that he'll miss his practice to take care of me.

Quinn's phone buzzes and he ignores it, continuing to hold me and watch TV, but then mine starts ringing. I glance at the screen and see its Ellen, Quinn's mom, who's calling, and answer it quickly. I know she wouldn't be calling both of us unless something is important and she needs to get in contact with us.

"Hey."

She sighs. "Hey, sweetheart. I called the arena to talk to Quinn, but they said he's not in practice today. Is he there?"

"Yeah, he is. Here." I put her on speaker so Quinn can hear, muting the TV. "What's going on?"

"Well, we just got a call from Jack about what's happening with his injury. The tests came back and he has a low-grade MCL sprain, and he'll be out for the rest of the season."