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quintinh43 · 2 months

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Simple Truths Pt. 1 | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinns got some feelings, and so does y/n.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, depictions of anxiety, food, sickeningly fluffy domesticity. Use of the name Olivia.

Wc: 7.2k

Notes at the end!!

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Quinn was the only other person who had a key to your apartment—given to him to use in case of emergency only. So when the front door burst open at 10 pm on a Tuesday, and Quinn barged in, suit askew and hair a mess, looking very frazzled, you dropped your bowl of ice cream and paused your movie as you approached him hurriedly.

"Y/n," he breaths, doubling over and panting with his hands resting on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. Your hands hovered around his face, unsure of what was wrong. Decidedly, you sit him down on the couch and hand him a bottle of water. Kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees.

He chugs the water like a man left out in the desert sun. "Quinn, what's wrong? Are you alright?" You question carefully as he caps the water bottle. "Did you run here?"

He nods, leaning forward, head in his hands, sighing. He looks down at you, cheeks flushed. Your apartment buildings aren't far from each other, but for him to run for three straight kilometres and practically break down your apartment door, something must be terribly wrong.

A knot of despair coils in your stomach. "Is it your family? The team? Gotta tell me what's wrong so I can help you Quinny."

"I just wanted to come over," he mumbles.

It takes a moment for his words to process, and then you are throwing his half-full water bottle at his head. He ducks, professional athlete reflexes apparent. You stand up, pushing his chest so he flops backward on your couch.

"Are you joking right now?" You say incredulously, arms crossed over your chest like a displeased coach, "You did not bust down my apartment door at 10 pm on a school night, acting like someone died cause you just wanted to come over."

"Ok I wasn't that dramatic," Quinn says, loosening his tie and dropping it on your floor.

You glare at him, as you reclaim your spot on the couch, pulling the blanket over your bare legs. "You ran here."

"Well, i-" Quinn's mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response.

"Close your mouth, Quinn, you'll catch flies" you snap, grabbing your bowl of ice cream from the coffee table.

"Ok, maybe I was being dramatic," he says with a sheepish smile.

"What happened to cell phones? Are we in the Stone Age? No text? No call? Just break down my apartment door?" You ask raising an eyebrow at him.

Quinn's cheeks flush, as he suddenly realizes how absurd the situation he painted was. "I was just bored" he shrugs sheepishly.

You look at him like he has grown two extra heads. "Quinn, I cannot believe you interrupted my night, acting like it was an emergency, because you were bored"

He gives you another sheepish smile. "Get comfy or get out" you instruct poking him in the ribs with your foot.

"My clothes still in the same place?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your ankle. You nod, un-pausing the movie as he drops your foot and, grabs his tie off the floor on his way to your bedroom.

You hear him shuffling around your bedroom, presumably hanging up his suit and grabbing a change of clothes before he turns on the shower. Within ten minutes, he's joined you on the couch, freshly showered and in a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt with his own little bowl of ice cream.

He sits across from you, and you toss the blanket over his lap and tuck your feet under his thighs. You pause the movie again and stare him down with a look that demands an explanation. Because no way, he broke into your apartment and practically gave you a heart attack cause he was bored.

Quinn sighs, promptly forgetting that his hair is wet as he runs a hand through it. He makes a face at the uncomfortable feeling and wipes it dry against his shirt. You can't help but laugh at him.

"I don't know" he sighs "I just started to feel super overwhelmed, and everything felt like it was closing in on me, and I just needed to get out."

"How are you feeling now?" you ask stealing his ice cream since he's not eating it.

"Like I overreacted, because now I feel perfectly fine. I'm sorry if I disturbed you." His voice goes quiet at the end, and your heart pangs for him.

"No sweat Quinny, I'm glad you're feeling better." you hum, licking ice cream off the spoon. Quinn watches you intently, not for the reason you think as you hold out a spoon of ice cream for him. He leans in, closing his lips around the spoon, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

Your stomach somersaults and you quickly look away, pulling the spoon back. After nearly six years of friendship, two of which were spent yearning for Quinn to love you as more than a friend and the other four spent accepting that he would never see you as anything more, he still sometimes stole your breath and made your heart flip when he looked at you a certain way.

You had met the first time he came to Vancouver, scoping for apartments. You were nineteen, working part-time at a coffee shop not far from Rogers arena when a frazzled-looking Quinn and his parents walked in. They had ordered coffee and pastries, and while you were serving them, you couldn't help but hear Quinn's anxieties about how he would "never find a place to stay in time for the beginning of the season" and how he would end up sleeping out of a hotel.

Ellen had sighed, trying to reassure him for the millionth time that everything would be ok, while Jim had been in contact with the real estate agent.

As nineteen-year-old you placed a spinach quiche in front of Quinn, and you spoke up. Making a decision that would change your life for the better. Your roommate had recently moved out of the apartment, and you hadn't yet found a replacement.

Ellen's eyes lit up, and you wrote down your number for her. A month later, Quinn Hughes was your new roommate. The two of you quickly became good friends, and even though you only shared an apartment for a few months, your friendship only grew stronger with time.

The rest is history.

"I think... I'm missing Jack and Luke a lot these days." Quinn says with a sigh as he takes the bowl of ice cream from you. You cross your arms with a fake pout, and Quinn rolls his eyes, feeding you a spoon.

You don't say anything yet. He's not done talking, and you don't wanna scare him away by interrupting too soon, or saying the wrong thing before he's done talking.

"And I think, with this being the worst we've done all season, everything just feels like a jumbled foggy mess."

Quinn sighs for the millionth time. He places the empty bowl on the coffee table and wishes he could sink deeper into the couch. You yelp as he yanks your legs apart and crawls between them, laying his head on your chest. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to cuddle, but the manner in which he just did so has you turning red, you're glad he can't see your face right now.

One of your arms comes around his back, your fingers making patterns, while the other delves into his hair. "You can't make fun of me" he whispers.

"Never Quinny," you say resting your chin atop his head.

"I feel like I'm failing" he sighs, "I feel like I'm failing the team, and my brothers and my parents and you. And I just- it's hard. Its all so hard"

Your heart hurts for Quinn at his confession.

"Quinn you could never fail me. Or your parents or your brothers, or your team," you say softly, fingers scratching his scalp lightly. He hums, eyes fluttering closed. You can feel his eyelashes tickle your collarbones.

"I love you, your parents' love, and your brothers love you, and no matter what, we are here for you. Just because you are having a bad stint doesn't mean you are failing as a captain. You are a team. You win together, and you lose together, and it's not all on you."

Quinn sighs again, pulling away from you. He sits on his knees facing you, tongue darting against his lips in nervous habit. "But what if-"

"Hush, Quinny" you pull him back on top of you, wrapping him in the safe cocoon of your arms "There's no But what ifs. You are an amazing captain and brother and son and leader. Everyone in your life is so lucky to have you. You are doing so so brilliantly."

You lay in comfortable silence, stroking his hair softly. Holding him close and listened to his breathing. What you would give to keep him in the safety of your arms forever. To grind all his insecurities into dust, and show him what a brilliant human he is.

"Move in with me" he speaks so quietly, that you don't know if you heard him right. "It'll be just like old times."

"I'll think about it" you say softly. He breathes out a relieved sigh and plays the movie. The dull ache in your chest turns sharp. After four fucking years of getting over him, he comes to you with vulnerability stark in his baby blues, and that's all it takes to undo the last four years of work. Damn him. Damn it all.

The two of you fall asleep tangled on the couch, with the movie playing in the background. You wake with a crick in your neck and Quinn half underneath you, an arm around your waist holding you close to him. It isn't unusual, but after last night it fills you with such a feeling of uncertainty that it's borderline uncomfortable.

Your phone reads 5:00 am, and you huff, prying his arm off of you. He groans, arm tightening around your waist, so you can't escape his hold.

"Let me up Quinn," you say, tapping his cheek.

"Don' wanna," he grumbles, "so warm."

"I'll bite you," you warn.

"No, you won't," Quinn says against your hair, sounding slightly more awake. You smirk, turning your head and biting his Bicep.

"Ow! Y/n/n, what the hell!" He groans, shooting up into sitting position. His arm is still around you, and you bump your head against his with a laugh, "I warned you."

You get up from on top of him, grabbing the ice cream bowls from the coffee table and discarding them in the sink. "Get your ass up Quintin. We're going on a run."

"I don't have clothes" he tries as an excuse, flopping back down on the couch. You snort at the lamest excuse he has ever made. He has nearly everything at your apartment. It was basically as if he lived with you already.

Hell, there was even an extra pair of his skates in your coat closet. Honestly moving in wouldn't even be that hard. He'd probably just have to bring his hockey bag over. Except, he had the nicer apartment. So logically it would make more sense for you to move into his place.

"Nice try Quinn, get up and get changed or I'm coming back with a bucket of ice water," you say, going to your bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for your run. It takes you less than fifteen minutes to be fully dressed, and by the time you're done, Quinn is up and ready, tossing you a protein bar.

"I forgot my phone at home," he says sheepishly, taking a bite out of his own protein bar.

"You'll live," you say patting his chest as you pass him to put on your runners.

"I can't believe you want me to run without music, you heathen" he gasps offendedly, grabbing his pair of runners that he keeps at your house.

"We can share," you say, tossing him an air pod, a gift he had given you a while back. He catches it and tucks it into his ear without complaint. That is until you turn on the music.

"I'll never understand the music you run to" he grumbles, and you take the elevator down to the main floor.

"It's about the beat of the music" you sigh, probably for the millionth time. For all his complaining, he doesn't actually mind it. The elevator stops and the main floor, and you and Quinn both wave to the doorman as you head out.

As soon as you exit the building, you take off. Quinn is unprepared. "Hey! What- wait up!" He calls, taking off after you. You cackle as you run farther away from him. Albeit you only sprint away from him for less than a block, and then you are stopped by a red light. He is by your side before the light turns green and you grin at him, keeping your feet moving.

"Ready Freddy?" You grin, as the seconds count down before the light turn green.

"Yes, I am Sam," he responds with a dopey smile so blinding you feel your heart go faint.

The light turns green, and the two of you take off together this time. Although you technically have to run just a little faster, because Quinn's legs are longer. After two more stop lights, you cut into the park, and this is where the real view began. You run along the coastline, the fogginess of the morning clinging to the surface of the ocean. The mountains loom in the background, and you sigh. Vancouver's scenery couldn't be beat.

After 45 minutes and roughly seven-ish kilometres, you've both worked up a good sweat as you enter your apartment building. "What do you have today?" You ask Quinn, in between deep breaths as you being your heart rate back down.

"Practice at 8:00 and that's it for the day," he says, handing you back your air pod.

"I'll drive you back to yours, on my way to work?"

"Yeah that's good" he hums as you unlock your door.

"I'm gonna shower, and get dressed, do what you will," you say, toeing off your shoes and kicking them haphazardly into the closet. Quinn rolls his eyes as he straightens them out and puts his beside them.

You strip your sweaty clothes off and make sure your hair is out if the way, before hopping into the steamy shower. You're in there long enough to make sure you are clean, and then you're getting dressed. Brushing your hair into a neat bun, you pick out an easy outfit, that you know won't make you hate your life as the day drags on, and with that, you're back in the kitchen.

Quinn hums to himself as he flips eggs for breakfast. There's a glass waiting for you on the counter, with a pink straw sticking out of it. Quinn's own glass is sitting on the counter beside him half finished. He spots you coming out of your room and smiles, sliding the glass towards you. "Smoothie," he says.

"Oh, also, I didn't know what you wanted for lunch. You have some salmon and potatoes in the fridge, and some Thai chicken or I can make you something quick if you want?" He offers, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

There's a smiley face in your toast. The domesticity of it all makes your chest ache. He's in your kitchen, making you breakfast, and packing you lunch. "Oh!" His eyes light up as he slides onto the barstool beside you, "And I made your coffee" he points to your trusty travel mug that you never go to work without, that's filled to the brim with coffee.

"Thanks, Quinn" you mumble around your mouthful of eggs. The overwhelming feeling of if only this was real takes root in your chest, and you take a deep breath fighting off the urge to cry. It could be real, but not in the way you want it.

You eat your breakfast silently, completely forgetting that Quinn had asked you a question until he nudges your knee. "You're thinking loud," he says softly, "wanna get it off your mind?"

"Oh, it’s nothing" you smile, albeit unconvincingly, but Quinn doesn't push.

"So...Lunch?" He asks, taking both your empty plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Oh, actually I was thinking why don't you spin by for lunch? The kids haven't seen you in a while, and if practice is at 8 then you'll get off at the perfect time to come have lunch with me and spend the rest of your day pestering me at work?" You say, all trace of your anxious stupor gone.

Quinn lights up at the idea. "Yeah, of course, that sounds like fun."

Visiting you at work is one of his favourite things, especially when he gets to have lunch with you and hang around afterwards. And as an elementary school teacher, whenever Superstar Canuck Captain Quinn Hughes is in your classroom, it becomes the most popular room in the building. With students and staff.

"That still doesn't answer what you want for lunch," he says poking you with his foot.

"Surprise me" you shrug. You finish off your smoothie with a slurp and put it in the dishwasher before gathering your things.

Quinn is still doddling around your kitchen, "Alright, let's go, I don't wanna make you late for practice" you say slipping on your shoes.

"I'm coming, I'm coming" he slips on his shoes, and tucks a bag of snacks into your school bag, grinning at you knowingly. You roll your eyes at him, locking your apartment door behind you. The drive to his place is less than five minutes, and Quinn spends the whole drive criticizing your music.

By the time you stop in front of his building, you're ready to smite him. "Get out of my car Hughes or I'll throw you out." He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes, unlocking it for him to get out. Sometimes you think the only reason your friendship has lasted so long is because you are good at dealing with children, and sometimes Quinn acts just like a child.

"See you later Y/n/n" he grins.

"Text me when you get in!" You say, before he shuts the door.

He salutes you with two fingers and jogs into his building. You wait until you receive a text from him before pulling out of the parking spot and heading to school.

The hours leading to lunch are excruciatingly long. The temptation to spill the surprise that Quinn is coming to visit today is nearly worth the excitement the kids will have. But you know the looks on their faces will be so much more worth it when he shows up unannounced.

As you mark assignments, and the kids silently read, your phone buzzes with a text from him. It's as if he can sense when you're thinking about him.

Q: I'm out front when you're ready.

You glance at the clock: two minutes until the bell rings, and then you're free.

You: Be out in 5

You stand up, addressing your class "Everyone can put their books away, and go get your jackets and outdoor shoes on, and as soon as the bell rings, you may go."

The scramble to the cubbies is immediate, as kids kick off their shoes and yank on their jackets. They line up at the door, bouncing on their toes. You pull on your own light jacket and wait at the front of your class with them, chatting to the talkative ones. The bell rings and they run from the classroom like it's on fire.

Rolling your eyes at their enthusiasm, you grab the sign that says "Ms. Y/l/n has left the building" so that your kids know to ask Mr. Farmer if they need anything from the classroom and lock the doors. You let the office know that you'll be gone for the duration of lunch and with that, you escape the building.

Quinn is waiting out front in his car. The one he drives when he wants to look less suspicious. You snort to yourself, as you open the door and slide into the passenger seat.

"What's funny?" Quinn asks immediately, raising an eyebrow at you as you do your seat belt.

"I was just thinking that it's funny you have two cars, one that you bought to drive specifically when you don't wanna be easily recognizable"

"Oh I'm sorry," Quinn teases, pulling out of his parking spot carefully "Have I offended the lady by not picking you up in my Porsche?"

Something about watching him drive makes your stomach flutter. The slope of his neck as he looks over his shoulder, the prominence of the veins in his hands as he grips the steering wheel. Your throat goes dry, and you look away quickly as the thoughts spiral darker, into thoughts you should not be having, about your best friend and his car. Especially not while sitting beside him, in said car.

"Earth to Y/n?" Quinn says, poking you in the cheek, you turn your head, instinctively biting his finger. He hisses and yanks it away. "You've been spacey since this morning, what's up?"

"Nothing," you sigh, "just thinking."

"Well don't think too hard, I wouldn't wanna strain your limited brain cells" he teases, flicking you on the forehead. You glare at him, crossing your arms like a child. His demeanour from last night has done a complete 180°. You know he feels bad for telling you all his feelings, but you also know that he'll bring it up again when he's ready.

There's silence between you two, accompanied by the base of a pop song that plays low through his speakers. It's uncomfortable. And that's scary because silence with Quinn isn't supposed to be uncomfortable. He's supposed to be the one constant in your life. Solid, sturdy and unchanging in the face of the unknown. And somehow, in the course of one night and weighty conversation, he has become the unknown. Why did he have to come into your life and unearth all these feelings?

His hand is reaching for yours, and he laces your fingers together, stopping the nervous twitch of your fingers, and your heart stutters even more.

"If it's about moving in with me, don't overthink it," he says with all the simplicity in the world "I'll understand if you don't wanna do it. I mean, we aren't nineteen anymore, you are your own person."

And before you really know you are saying,"I'll do it!" Comes spilling from your lips. Quinn looks at you, eyes hopefully like you've never seen before, and he squeezes your hand.

"You will?"

You nod, and he squeezes your hand again, the grin on his face so bright it could light up the darkest of nights. And at that moment, the only thing you know is that Quinn was derived from whatever Divine power there was because no smile should be able to chase away all premonitions of darkness like his does.

Lunch is burgers and fries, at some high-end restaurant that Quinn likes. You talk about everything, and nothing all at once, and once more comfort settles in your bones like an old friend.

"Did you tell the kids I'm coming?" Quinn asks, stealing a fry off your plate. You smack his hand with a glare and he simply steals another one.

"No, I was thinking you could pop out from behind my desk or something."

Quinn rolls his eyes with a smile. "Sure, that'll be fun" he'd be lying if he said the way you talked about the kids didn't stir something funny in his chest. "Is Olivia there today?" He asks casually.

Something not akin to jealousy sparks under your skin. Olivia Daunt. A teacher down the hall who enjoyed making underhanded comments about you to anyone who would listen. And Somehow she was always needing to borrow stuff from your room, whenever Quinn was around.

"Unfortunately" you grumble, pushing away your clean plate. Quinn finishes a second after you, and he's signalling the Waiter for the cheque. You slap your card on the table, and Quinn shoots you a look so disbelieving someone would think you just plucked a live fish out of the tank and ate it like candy.

He snatches your card off the table and shoves it in his pocket.

"Quinn," it sounds like you're scolding a child.

"Y/n," he parrots.

"Seriously, let me get it this time."

He snorts like you've made a particularly funny joke. "Not a chance, sweetheart"

"Quinn, please."

"Y/n, I was the one who took you out legally that means I have to pay."

"Legally?" You scoff as he puts his card on the table.

"Mhm," you steal his move, snatching his card off the table and sticking it in your pocket.

"Y/n" he warns, hand inching towards you across the table.

"I was the one who asked you to get lunch with me, so I think that means, legally, I have to pay. Now put my card on the table Quinn"

"Don't play with me, Y/n" he says, voice low, eyes demanding. A shiver runs down your spine, and the yearning that floods you is overwhelming. Oh, how you wish he was looking at you like that in a different scenario. Without a table separating you. Maybe with less clothing, too.

Your cheeks turn red as you realize that for the second time today, your thoughts towards Quinn have taken an unholy route. Unintelligible grumbles fall from your lips as you put his card on the table, hoping he stops looking at you like that right now.

The smile that lights his face is worth losing the battle. He doesn't give you back your card until he's paid, and the two of you are walking out of the restaurant side by side. You make it back to the school just before lunch is over, with just enough time to hide Quinn under your desk to surprise the kids.

As the kids settle in before the last bell rings, your eyes flick to Quinn, crouched under your desk. He looks up at you from where he's sitting between your legs under your desk. Hands braced on your knees.

The sight of him kneeling under your desk, has you thinking downright sinful things. You look away quickly. He squeezes your knee, and you stand up, unable to deal with the burn of his palm through your pants any longer without combusting.

"Alright, kids," you clap, "before we bring out our science books, I have a surprise for y'all." the room immediately explodes in excitement.

"Is it donuts?" One kid screams, sending the other kids into a frenzy.

You laugh as they scream their theories at you, and let them get it out of their system.

"Alright!" You yell over their voices with a smile, "drumroll, please," you say, walking to the light switch animatedly as the kids tap their hands on their desks rapidly. The plan was you would flip off the light dramatically, pretend your surprise hadn't worked when you turned the lights back on, get everyone to take out their science books and then Quinn would jump out before you started teaching.

You flick off the lights, and the drumming gets louder. Then the lights turn on, and the noise ceases abruptly while the kids look around.

"Oh man!" You sigh dramatically, "it didn't work," you pout, walking to the front of the class.

There's a mixture of sighs and groans as everyone gets out their science books. Your back is to the class, as you write the beginning of today's science lesson on the board. You crook your fingers at your side, signalling for Quinn to show himself.

He jumps out from under your desk with a "boo!" And chaos unfolds. You grin as the kids scream, some of them launching out of their chairs to attack Quinn with hugs. "MR. HUGHES!!" They yell as they crowd around him, jumping up and down.

The first time he'd come to the classroom, they were mostly starstruck and too nervous to talk to him very much. Now, whenever you brought him in, they had the biggest smiles and were armed with non-stop stories to bombard him with.

Quinn looks at you, mouthing, "Can I do it?"

You nod, and he grins as brightly as the Kids. He claps his hands three times. "One two three, eyes on me!"

The kids respond in kind, with two claps, saying, "One, two, eyes on you."

"Alright, everyone, listen to Ms. Y/l/n," he grins, hands on his hips.

The kids all turn to you for instruction. "Ok, everyone, please take your seat. Mr. Hughes will be here for the rest of the day, so you all will have plenty of time to bug him."

The kids take their seats happily, unwilling to lose their Mr. Hughes privileges. At that moment, Olivia chooses to appear at your classroom door, a scowl on her lips. "Some of us are trying to teach, so if you keep it down, that would be-"

She stops mid-sentence as she notices Quinn. Her voice turned sickly sweet. "Oh! Quinn! I didn't know you were dropping by today. How have you been?"

Quinn gives her a polite smile. "I'm alright," he says curtly. You can't help but smirk as Olivia's jaw clenches.

"Did you leave your class alone?" You ask, brows raised. She huffs as if remembering she has a job to do and all but storms out of your room without finishing what she came to say in the first place.

The remainder of the day goes by smoothly; your class is on extra good behaviour, because Quinn is there. As predicted, Olivia has all of a sudden forgotten all of her teaching supplies and, over the course of the next hour, comes into your room to borrow a white board marker, a stapler, post-it notes, a pen and a couple of other things you know she has.

Olivia also definitely opened her big mouth because a few other teachers dropped by under the guise of needing to borrow something or other lame excuses. They say hi to Quinn, like they didn't know he was there, and linger a little too long.

When the bell rings for third recess, you cherish your time alone with Quinn before all the teachers who don't have hall patrol have somehow found themselves in your classroom.

"Do you ever wear my jerseys to school?" Quinn asks, offering you slices of the tangerine he just peeled as he sits on your desk while you lesson plan.

"Usually if I'm coming to a game after, or if your games are on Fridays," you say, absent-mindedly opening your mouth for him to feed you. He pops the orange slice in, not even questioning it.

"Why Fridays?" He asks, placing another orange slice in your mouth.

"Cause Friday is the last day of the week, so it deserves some celebration."

Quinn's smile is shy. He doesn't understand why you would associate him with celebration, but warmth floods his chest, and he basks in it.

As if Olivia can sense that you are enjoying your peaceful moment with Quinn, she walks in, hips swishing and voice dripping with false sweetness. "Y/nnn," she whines, drawing out the last syllable of your name, "Hi Quinny," she giggles.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Quinn looks uncomfortable. "Ok, firstly, his name is not Quinny, so don't call him that." You say, crossing your arms over your chest, but before you can get to your second point, she cuts you off.

"Fiesty!" She mocks, and your cheeks burn. At that moment, three more teachers enter, and you sigh, knowing they are all here to ogle and flirt with Quinn. Unfortunately for them, you do not have the patience to deal with this right now.

"Alright, everyone out. I'm busy."

Olivia is the first to protest, "But I need-"

"Get out." You grind, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes and hurried out with the other teachers close behind. Quinn sighs a breath of relief as the door shuts behind them. Sometimes, you forget that he isn't a people person, and the way he is around you is reserved for you and you only.

"Sorry," you mumble out, tucking your lesson plan into your binder.

"S' not your fault," he smiles

"Wanna help me set up for the last activity for today?" you ask, holding out a stack of papers in a sort of peace offering.

"Sure," Quinn smiles, taking the stack of papers. He places one on each desk, inspecting it as he goes, "What's this for?"

"It's part one of our compassion project," you say, pulling the example paper out of your binder. It was a piece of paper titled 'Who I admire' The assignment was for each student to pick someone they admired, and write down a little bit about what they mean to you and why they inspire you. Part two of the project would be to make a little photo collage of their inspirational person.

"Can I see your example?" Quinn asks curiously, joining you back at your desk; you hand it over to him, the tips of your ears going red with embarrassment. Your paper reads:

'Who I admire'

One of the people I admire most is Quinn Hughes. He is my best friend and the person I love to spend time with the most. I admire Quinn because he is a hard worker and a natural leader who cares about everyone before himself. Quinn inspires me because he is a kind and caring person who always tries his hardest and can get back up no matter how hard he falls.

"You...admire me?"

"Of course, I do," You answer softly, "I don't think there's anyone I admire more."

Quinn's breath is caught in his throat. The sentences are worded for elementary schoolers, yet the weight they hold is unmatched to him. Sometimes, simplicity meant the most. Just as Quinn is about to say more, the bell rings, signaling the end of recess.

While you wait at the door to greet your class as they file in, you don't notice that Quinn is scribbling furiously on one of the many extra sheets you printed for the inevitable mistakes and overthinkers. After the class is settled and you explain the assignment, they get to work.

A low buzz of chatter fills the room as the kids work, asking each other who they will write about. Quinn took your chair while you were explaining the assignment, so you sat on your desk in front of him.

"Here's another example sheet," He says, handing you the sheet he was working on. You glance over it quickly, your smile growing softer as you read what he wrote.

One of the people I admire most is Y/n Y/l/n. She is my best friend and one of my favourite people. I admire her because she is kind and funny and always believes in me. She inspires me because knows what she wants, and she isn't afraid to put in work to get what she wants.

The irony of the last sentence is not lost on you. Years of wanting Quinn, and you never put in the work to get him. You buried your feelings in hopes that they would go away. The fear of losing Quinn all too prominent to risk the friendship over some silly little feelings.

"I love it," you smile, pinning it on the board next to yours so the kids have another example to look at. You and Quinn sit together at your desk, chatting about mundane things here and there while kids come up to ask questions. On more than one occasion, you got asked if they could use Quinn as their person, to which your answer was no because he was your example. Quinn laughed about it every time.

"What do you want for dinner?" Quinn asks, absent-mindedly scrolling through recipes on his phone.

"I've got leftovers in my fridge. I'll eat those."

Quinn looks at you, face scrunched in displeasure. "Don't be silly, we are having dinner together. What do you want? And don't say surprise me."

Well damn. He took the words right out of your mouth. You tap your fingers in thought. "Steak," you grin.

"Steak?"

"Steak." You nod. If there's one thing Quinn can cook absolutely magnificently, it's steak.

"OK, what should we do on the side?" He hums, presumably checking his grocery list.

"Let's do that spinach fruit salad and roasted potatoes and asparagus?"

"Sounds peachy. I'll stop and get groceries when we leave. My place or yours?"

Soon, you will be able to say Our place you sigh. Being with him, but not with him is eating you from the inside out. Six years of friendship be damned. Living like this was killing you.

"Mine," you glance at the clock, ready to get this day over with and get home. You stand up, putting in your teacher's voice, "Alright, class, we have fifteen minutes till home time. Five to clean, five to get ready, and the last five to talk to Mr. Hughes!"

The kids cheer, and you dismiss them to clean. Within ten minutes, everyone is sitting in a circle on the carpet around you and Quinn, asking him questions.

"Mr. Hughes?" A little girl named Meredith raises her hand.

"yeah?"

"When are you gonna Marry Ms. Y/l/n?"

Your face turns red faster than you thought possible. Quinn looks at you with a glimmer in his eyes, a dusting of pink on the tips of his ears. Before Quinn can answer, you cut in, "Oh honey, we're just best friends." You say softly. It's physically painful for the words to come out of your mouth, but unfortunately, it's the truth.

Quinn looks at you, eyes swimming with emotions you can't discern. The bell finally rings, signalling the day is over. Usually, you would hang around for another hour, preparing for the next day, but with the promise of Quinn making dinner, you want to get home as soon as possible.

After making sure there are no more stragglers, you practically drag Quinn out of the building before anyone can stop him from flirting. "I'll meet you back at your place in a little." He says, walking you to your car.

"Yeah, I'll see you in a bit." You watch as he walks to his car and gets in before pulling out of the parking lot and heading home.

Less than an hour later, Quinn is opening your apartment door with a few grocery bags in hand. He places them on the counter, hands you the latte he brought you, and changes into a more comfortable set of clothes before starting dinner.

"Take a break and come give me a hand?" Quinn suggests, from where you've been marking and planning since you got home.

"I'm almost done," you grumble, wanting to finish so you don't have to think about work for the rest of the night. Quinn glances at the clock, "You're getting huffy," he says fondly.

"I'll be done in ten," you sigh.

"Alright," Quinn hums, "I'm physically removing your work from in front of you in ten minutes."

You glare at him, knowing he will make good on his threat and get back to work, doing only the stuff that needs to be done for tomorrow. As promised, you put everything away in ten minutes, and wash your hands to help Quinn in the kitchen.

"Where do you want me, Chef?" You ask, drying your hands on the kitchen towel.

"Salad," he grins, nodding his head towards the salad stuff on the counter. Grabbing a knife and a cutting board, you stand beside him and prep the stuff. Your hips bump and your arms brush as you work in the comfort of each other's space, chatting about whatever comes to mind.

And when dinner is ready, and Quinn pours the wine, your heart aches. The steak tastes like ash on your tongue, and you feel the tears welling behind your eyes.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

You sigh out a deep breath, and six years of friendship be damned because you just can't do this anymore. Your fork clangs against your plate, and you look at Quinn with a gut-wrenching sadness in your eyes.

"I can't do this anymore," you say softly, eyes downcast. You can't look at him. You can't. Your heart would break, and you know it.

"Do what? What's wrong? I don't understand." his voice is desperate, pleading, worried. Then he's abandoning his plate and kneeling by your chair, a comforting hand on your knee. "Please," he whispers, squeezing your knee, "let me help you. Tell me what's wrong."

The outline of his palm burns against your leg. You stand quickly, the chair sliding backwards. Your head swims, and you don't know what to do next. You want to tell him he can't help because it's his damn fault. You want to say you can't do this. You want to scream.

"What can't you do Y/n? Let me in. Let me help." He says, standing, stepping into your space. For all the times it felt comforting to have him in your space now it feels like misery.

"Quinn," you sigh, "I can't do this," you motion between you at the dinner. "I can't do it anymore. I just can't. It's killing me from the inside out."

Quinn is in utter disbelief. He looks so so hurt. You can't believe you caused him to look like that. A bitter laugh bubbles in your throat because fuck. His voice sounds foreign and far away. "I- what? Did I do something wrong?"

You sigh, running a hand down your face. "You know," you start knowing you'll regret it, that this will be the end of your friendship. Six wonderful, glorious, beautiful years. The memories would be there, but the bitterness of an ended friendship would taint them.

"I have loved you for six years." It comes out quiet. So utterly quiet, like raising your voice any louder, will shatter both of you into a million irreparable pieces. Quinn stares. The silence is worse than anything he could've said. It's all-consuming, crawling under your skin with whispers of it over. It's done. You've lost him.

Something snaps, and you can't take it anymore. You run to the front door, slip on a pair of shoes and run down the hall, down the stairs and out of the building. Away from Quinn and his suffocating silence.

---

Hello hello my loves. I hope yall are doing good on this Saturday night. So, as you can tell, this is a very long one. A whopping 7.2 k words! I definitely didn't mean for it to get this long. And you know what's funny?? I cut soooo much out. Originally, this fic was supposed to be completely different lmao. Not sure what happened but here we are! I'm probably gonna make this an Au, cause the amount of stuff I thought up while I was writing Quinn x Elementary school teacher, is unhinged. Anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Love Soph.

Find Pt.2 Here

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hughes brothers #domesticity #angst #fluff #vancover canucks #captain quinn #loving you is as easy as abc 123

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