Peter’s POV:

I felt her breathing even out; she fell asleep. I looked down to see her eyes closed. Careful as I could, I slid my arm under her knees and stood up, being gentle with her bum arm. Pushing the door open with my foot and closing it the same, I laid her under the covers. She never stirred.

Did she get any sleep at the hospital? I silently wondered. I tucked her in, kissing her forehead. I slipped silently out of the room. Stripping to my boxers, I stretched out on my bed. I started thinking about the girl across the hall.

She was like other fans…but she wasn’t. The first thing I heard her say was a chirp. She joked around with the guys, and seemed to fit right in. But then, I would catch her looking at one of us, like we just granted her wish. I guess we did. I could tell she was a huge fan, but she treated us like real people, not just players on t.v. She really liked us, not just the way we played. Sometimes, I would bring one or two of the guys, and she would always ask them how they thought they played. They learned to be brutally honest with Lizzie; she didn’t want to hear the interview answers. If they thought they played bad, she told them what she liked about their play. A lot of times, it was little things she noticed, like the way they defended the guys, or how they sacrificed their body for a play. After a bad loss, she would always say “You can only look forward.”

When I came alone, she asked me every question imaginable. She made me think. One day, she asked me if I was happy. I answered yes, of course, but she wasn’t done. Is this what you want with your life? What’s your next goal? She questioned. This was my dream, and I told her I didn’t know what my next goal was. I told her I felt like something, a piece of my life, was missing.

Well, I found that piece.

And I just tucked it in.

******************************************************

Lizzie’s POV:

I woke up the most comfortable I had been in almost a month. More like my whole life. Orphan beds sucked.

I really didn’t want to get up. I looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It read 10:08. I groaned. I heard the door open and peeked one eye to look at the Slovak, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He grinned.

“I don’t wanna get up.” I whined. “Aren’t you late?”

He slipped into the room. “Practice got moved to eleven, I found out this morning. Plus, you are coming with me.” He said with a cheeky grin. I burrowed deeper in the covers. I really didn’t want to get up.

“We gotta go soon.” I heard him say.

I threw the covers back. I still had on clothes from yesterday. I groaned again. I was going to have to change too? I was starting to wonder if it was even worth it.

Yes.

Yes it was.

I was attending the Montreal Canadien’s practice.

I hopped out of bed, as Peter closed the door behind him. I rummaged through the chest, and found acceptable clothes. I would have to put them away in my dresser and closet soon. Throwing them on and pushing the jacket up past my cast, I grabbed my shoes and padded out into the hall. I smelled hot chocolate.

“Is that for me?” I shouted down the stairs. There was a pause, then a loud slurping sound.

“Hey!” I shouted, hurrying down the stairs. I caught him sipping from the travel mug with laughter in his eyes. I reached to snatch it from him, but he held it above his head, smiling at me. I stuck my lower lip out, before attached myself to him like a leech.

“Augh.” My weight dragged his body down, but he kept himself vertical. Giving me a noogie, to which I violently protested, he gave me the hot chocolate.

“If we leave now you can meet everyone else before practice.” Peter said, grabbing his coat. I nodded, sipping the hot chocolate. It was heavenly. He ushered me out the door and locked it. We took the elevator down to his car. We sat in mostly comfortable silence to the Bell Centre. I occasionally asked him about buildings and other things.

He took my hand as we walked inside the doors. I felt like a little kid with him holding my hand. I didn’t mind. When we entered the Bell Centre, I went from just feeling like a kid to feeling like a kid in a candy store. I had never actually been inside the arena. We walked through, viewing the 24 miniature Stanley Cups and the massive posters of players. He took me around the entire place, before taking me down to the locker room. I started to hear music, and recognized it immediately.

“I love this song!” I said excitedly. Peter gave me a strange look.

“You recognized it that fast?” he asked. I nodded.

“I’m really good at that. Among other things.” I said grinning. He shook his head. We approached the double doors. He cracked the doors and shouted inside.

“Everyone better be decent!” he squeezed my hand reassuringly, sensing my nervousness. I had met most of them before, but now they were all there. In one room.

“We’re having a naked party!” I heard someone yell back. I burst out in laughter, holding my stomach. My laugh was soooo loud and obnoxious. I usually tried to hide my real laugh, but things as funny as this made it blossom out. It grew quiet in the locker room. Peter was chuckling as he made his way in.

I walked past the threshold to see a very embarrassed looking Max Pacioretty. His face was red and he was looking at me apologetically. I was still laughing. He opening his mouth to say something, but I waved him off. Then the guys stepped in.

“Nice first impression!”

“Who yells that?”

“Who thinks that?”

“She’s like thirteen dude!”

“Actually I’m sixteen thank you very much.” I sassed back. Group laugh. Liz – 1, Habs – 0.

“So this is who Buds is always talking about?” I heard from Travis Moen. I laughed.

“Was there anyone you haven’t told?” I asked Peter. He just shook his head again. Releasing my hand, he sat down in his stall. Gazing around the roomed, I locked eyes with Danny. We both smiled, and I jogged over – avoided the logo on the floor, obviously – and plopped down next to him. He threw an arm around my shoulder and gave me a hug. Murray took notice.

“You know her?” he questioned. I answered.

“Oh yea, we go way back.” I said, like it was completely obvious. He chuckled.

Most of the guys had their under armour on, and were slowly putting the rest of their gear on. There was a lot of joking and chirping. I sat in the middle of it, soaking it all in. It was awesome. Pretty soon, the guys started filling out towards the ice.

Slipping on his helmet, Dan asked “You gonna watch?” I nodded. He stood up, and I followed him out to the ice. He ruffled my hair before skating away. I fist-bumped the remaining guys as they skating out to warm up. Peter gave me a waffle face wash instead. I kicked him in the butt as he walked by. He laughed as he started warming up in the crease. I picked a spot three rows up from the glass to watch.

As soon as I sat down, I saw Coach Michel skate out on the ice. Peter talked to him for a bit before gesturing to me. I got up and made my way down to the ice again. I was kinda freaking out to be completely honest. I mean, I was about to meet the head coach of the Montreal Canadiens. As I nervously made my way down to the ice, I caught Peter beaming at me. I instantly felt better. I smiled at Michel.

“Bonjour! Je m’appelle Elizabeth. Comment ça va?” I dredged up my French lessons from orphan school. I knew enough to get by. Coach looked a little taken aback before replying.

“Je suis bien! Peter ne m'a pas dit que vous parliez français.” He replied.

It took me a minute to piece together what he said. I got the major words, and filled in the other stuff in my head. He waited patiently with a small smile. I grimaced regretfully.

“Je parliez petit Francais.” I said, using my fingers for emphasis. He laughed, gesturing to the rest of the team.

“Que plus que la plupart d'entre eux.” I giggled, switching back to English.

“I have a request for an easy practice by a certain bearded forward.” I said with a grin. It was his turn to laugh, looking at me thoughtfully.

“I just might do that.” He said with his heavy French accent. I spotted PK fist pumping behind him before skating away to spread the good news. Michel bid me goodbye and stopped to talk to the other coaches. Peter lifted his mask.

“I think the guys love you now.” He said with a smile.

“They should! I just did them a huge solid!” I replied with zest. I heard skates on ice behind me.

“I just need to borrow this real quick.” Was all I heard before I was no longer standing, along with Peter’s laugh. I was being carried bridal style to the group of guys at center ice. Once I got over the shock of being lifted, I looked to see who was holding me. PK Subban. Of course. He plopped me down at center ice, in the middle of a group of red, black, and white jerseys. I heard a voice.

“You look a little surprised.” I turned to the eldest Gally. I raised my eyebrow.

“I’m just shocked PK could pick me up, and I only weigh one-ten.” Cue the chorus of ‘Oooh’s. Liz – 2, Habs – 0.

“I might cry, Lizzie. That was mean.” PK said with a pouty face. I drew a single tear down my face. He cracked a grin.

“Sooo…why was I kidnapped and brought here?” I asked.

“Oh yea, after practice we are having a team lunch. To thank you for making this an easy practice, you are cordially invited.” PK replied formally. I beamed. Hell yea I would go.

“Sounds awesome, but I have to go shopping with Maggie at three though.” All the guys voiced their sympathies, even Josh.

“I might tag along, I really need clothes.” Larry said.

“If you go, we might need the fashion masters to come with.” I said, grinning.

“And who might that be?” Bourquey asked with sass. I pointed to Prusty and PK. Prusty looked innocent and pointed a gloved hand to his chest.

“Me?” he started. “Well yea, I am kinda a fashion master.” He said with a smirk. PK just laughed.

“This will be fun if you guys are there.” I said beaming. I heard more skates on ice.

“Practice time.” It was Coach. I turned to PK, raising my arms. He turned around. I jumped up and leaped onto his back. He winced, looking back at me.

“Are you sure you’re one ten?” he asked. I flicked his ear. With a laugh, he skating me to the blue paint before I could protest.

“This is not where you got me!” I shouted after him.

“I’m just returning to sender!” he threw over his shoulder as he skated back to his team. I crossed my legs and waited for a knight in shining armour to rescue me.

I got a Slovak in white pads.

He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the door, with my legs still crossed. I stood up and dusted myself off. He gave me a fist-bump and a smile before returning to his crease. I returned to my seat.

*************************************************

There was more joking than usual at practice, but the guys still worked on drills and such. I moved seats a lot, from way up in the nosebleed sections to right up against the glass. Practice ended, and a lot of the guys stayed on the ice to mess around. I made a bunch of them laugh when I pressed my face against the glass. I watched them attack each other and fake fight. Eventually, they started making their way back to the locker room, and I followed. I was met with half-naked men and the smell of sweat. I heard my name called from the other side of the room.

“Lizzie! Your first test. Peter tells me you know music. You get to guess what I’m playing.” Whitey said with an evil grin. I matched it. I was definitely not the typical 16-year old girl, as far as music was concerned.

“We’ll start with the oldies.” He said. Most of the guys were watching as they stripped their gear off. I sat myself down on the floor, in front of the logo.


“Bohemian Rhapsody.” I replied instantly. “Queen.” Ole Freddie didn’t even get past the third word before I knew it. Whitey looked surprised. I gave him a withering look. Queen was my ultimate jam. I knew ever word of that song before I was three. Courtesy of Mat.

“That’s an easy one.” He started playing another one. I shook my head. If he kept to Queen, I had this in the bag.

“I Want to Break Free, Queen again.” This time, the song didn’t even get to the first lyric.

“How do you know these so fast?” he asked. I shrugged, while singing along and doing my best Freddie Mercury impression. His acting the music video was gold. He changed it, and I pouted.

“More Queen. Don’t Stop Me Now.” I said again. I sung to this one too.

“Fine. Different oldies, no more Queen.”

“Joan Jett. I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll. Your Love, The Outfield. T.N.T, AC/DC. Rocket Man, Elton John. Livin’ On A Prayer, Bon Jovi.”

I fired the first few off and fast as he could play them. He got to one that I knew, but I couldn’t name. I sung the chorus instead. That seemed to satisfy him. Eventually, he paused it.

“Did I pass?” I asked Whitey. He nodded eagerly. “Definitely. She’s a winner Buds!” he shouted. Peter laughed and glanced at me.

“I know.” He said honestly. I smiled and blushed.

He switched it to a playlist. I returned to my spot next to Danny B around the same time the media filed in. I glanced at them nervously. I didn’t want them to ask me anything, because I was afraid I would say the wrong thing. Dan nudged me.

“They won’t talk to you.” He said, pointing at Peter. I looked to find him saying something to a reporter, pointing to me, before he stood up and started to answer their questions.

From all around the locker room, I heard questions that were about me. I frowned.

“Shouldn’t they ask you about, y’know, hockey?” I asked. Danny shrugged.

“That’s the media; they’ll beat this to death until something else exciting comes along.” He replied. “It’s always been like this. I’ve seen it so many times.”

Pretty soon they started to file out, leaving me with the guys and music.

“So where are we going?” I asked no one in particular.

“This really good sandwich place. You’ll like it.” Brendan said with his signature smile.

Most of the guys had gone to the showers, or were heading that way. I left so they could get changed. I made my out to the arena again. I leaned against the glass, taking in the cold and the stillness of the ice. I peered around the empty seats, imagining them filled with screaming fans. Looking at the logos in the middle of the ice, I recalled the almost endless history of the Montreal Canadiens.

God, I love hockey. I thought to myself.

I heard footsteps, and turned to see the youngest player on the Habs.

“You ready?” Chuckie asked, somewhat nervously. He led the way back through the locker room towards the exit. I took his hand. He looked down at me with a small smile, opening the door to the parking lot. We were greeted by very impatient looking group of hockey players. As soon as they saw us, many started to, very literally, leapt into their cars.

“Whoever gets there last has to pay, we’re carpooling!” I heard a shout. With a glance of amused shock, Alex and I released hands to sprint to a car. I ended up in car with Josh as the driver, Brendan in the passenger seat, Larry and PK in the back. I claimed the last seat, and we were the first to leave. At a red light, Josh looked back.

“How did I get stuck with all the young people?” Chuckles spread around the car. The ride continued in silence until a question was fired at me.

“Who’s your favorite in the car right now?” Gally asked, eyeing me through the mirror. Why must they always know who’s my favorite?

“Larry.” I answered immediately. Everyone in the car protested except the Dane himself. He just sat quiet with a smirk. The resounding question seemed to be ‘why?’

“His flow is the best out of all of you.” It was true. Two out of the three were pretty much bald, and the third just had normal hair, in my opinion. I knew I couldn’t just go with the “I love you all the same” thing; they would demand an answer. Grumbling their disagreement, we pulled into the parking lot. We weren’t first, but we weren’t last, thanks to some shortcuts courtesy of the alternate captain. We decided to wait for the rest of the guys, and see who would be paying for our lunch. After waiting for a little bit, PK looking at me, shaking his head.

“Larry…best flow…unbelievable. How you could not go for the sizzle?” he said, pointed to himself with a little grin.

“Believe it bud.” I heard as an arm loosely wrapped around my neck from behind. I smiled at PK. He shook his head again as the losers pulled up.

“I blame Pleky’s bad driving!” George said, pointing to the driver.

“Fuck off my driving Mr. three-accidents-in-one-month!” Tomas argued back. I laughed.

“That was in high school! And none of those were my fault! Why did I tell you about that?” Parros said ruefully.

“What did you think of my driving?” Tomas asked Pricer. He put his hands up and chuckled.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this old man fight.” He replied cheekily. They both punched him on the arm. Michael Bournival and Buds got out of the car after them. Peter took my hand again, and pulled me inside.

“Come on, before they decide to ask someone else’s opinion.” He said with a grin. I followed him inside, and watched the patrons stare at our group as we waited for the staff to put together a big enough table. I felt a tug on my ponytail and turned around. Carey was looking at me with a half smile. I smiled back. He took my other casted hand.

I looked at both goalies, beaming like an idiot. I took in the rest of the group; Chuckie and Gally messing with each other, PK and Larry laughing about something, Danny B and Davey D talking French to each other. It was amazing how quickly they took me in without question. Not that I’m complaining.

It was nice.

Really nice.

Notes

THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG SORRY i shoulda probably broken it up but oh well i kinda like long chapters on this site

I know the Habs usually practice in Brossard, but not today :D

when i write i always say "me" instead of "my", and then i change it. I know im Irish but really. It comes out like "I grabbed me coat" and im like CLOSE THE IRISH FLOWER JEEZ

Watch this and skip to 1:03. This shit is where i get my adorable Buds inspiration https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Jk_i7-4Jwk#t=69

I LITERALLY LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE'S SUCH A GOOFBALL AND THAT LITTLE LAUGH OMG WHY WAS HE ROTATING LIKE THAT I DON'T CARE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH
also Moe was pretty awesome too
and Diaz: "So do howhow we do?" Yes.
His hair at the end was wow

I'm sorry I just love them all too much. I miss Diaz

No idea if a restaurant like that actually exists. bear with me people.

I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS

sometimes i reread my chapters and get fuzzy feels then i literally say to myself out loud "Ahhhhh i wrote that shit!!!!"

sorry i use a lot of caps and cuss too much. very sorry.

did you check out 19 to 87??? if you havent do that its really good written by my BFF go and comment on how awesome she is