Jonathan Toews One-Shots
Toews' First Cup
You were literally shaking: no longer out of nervousness, just out of excitement and even relief. Especially relief.
You watched from the tunnel, unable to hold back your grin, as you covered your mouth in a failed attempt to restrain your squeals. He did everything effortlessly – everything – including holding that thirty-or-so-pound cup over his head. You pulled your hands away and watched him skate around the ice, still holding that cup up high.
You brushed your fingers against your lips right when his lips met the silver surface. It was almost as if he was kissing you – and again, you covered your mouth to stop the giggles. While you stood there giddy, you began to wonder.
Who he was about to pass the Cup to?
Maybe it was going to be Kane? He did just score the overtime, Stanley-Cup-winning goal.
Then again, it might be –
Johnny passed the Stanley Cup along to Marian Hossa. He shared a few words with a matching wide grin across both of their faces. He pulled away and allowed Hossa to skate before he gave another round of hugs to his teammates and all the staff.
When he finally finished off with his third hug to Kane, that was when he finally acknowledged your presence. He might’ve shook the Cup in your direction, but you were too engulfed in all these emotions to notice it.
You dropped your hands again to reveal the grin to him.
“I love you,” Johnny mouthed and you didn’t hesitate in mouthing it back. He skated towards you, but was stopped halfway by a sports newscaster.
“You all can start entering the ice. I’d follow the red carpet to be safe.”
Without another second to waste, your feet started moving. You kept his eyes the entire time as he dealt with the interview and you dealt with coming closer.
“Y/N!”
Your eye contact broke as you were swept off your feet and spun around in rapid circles. Laughter escaped your lips as blonde curls met your vision. “Stop it, Kane. I’m gonna throw up,” you joked when he finally slowed and placed you back on your feet.
Your grin surprisingly grew wider in order to match his grin, but you just couldn’t beat it. “I can’t believe you just won the Stanley Cup,” you uttered.
Despite his grin, Kane was immediately humbled. “I mean, if it weren’t for the guys –”
“Nope. I don’t care. You won the Cup, because of that overtime goal. Who knows – if you didn’t, one of the Flyers players could’ve won the Cup.”
“Taser’s not gonna like you giving me all the credit,” Kane teased and you retorted, “Please. All he did was get an assist today. He doesn’t deserve my praise.”
It was deja vu: you being lifted into the air and twirled around until you were placed on the floor. But this time, when your feet hit the ground, you were pressed up against a chest and a pair of lips covered yours.
“Who doesn’t deserve your praise?” Johnny inquired, cocking an eyebrow, when he pulled away.
You smiled defiantly and draped your arms around his neck. “You.”
“Y/N thinks I won the Cup all by myself,” Kane explained before he was nudged and his face just somehow lit up even brighter. “I’ll be back.” And off he was skating with the Stanley Cup raised above his head.
“Ouch, Y/N. That hurts.”
“Should’ve done more.”
He scoffed, “I won the Conn Smythe Trophy. Don’t you tell me I did nothing –” You cut him off with a kiss.
“Oh, calm down, Captain Serious,” you hissed, playfully smacking his chest. “You won the Conn Smythe Trophy and the Stanley Cup.”
“That’s better,” Johnny said and captured another kiss from your lips. “Tonight’s celebration is going to be crazy. Are you ready?”
“Only if you’re ready for our celebration soon after.”
He groaned, throwing his head back. “Can I skip celebration with the guys?”
Laughing, you pulled away and smacked his chest playfully. “C’mon, Captain Serious. Your teammates seem to be in the mood for another round of hugs,” you said, pointing at a Cup-less Kane skating around to hug everyone. “I need to say congratulations to everyone else anyways.”
“I’ll come with you then,” Johnny replied and slipped his hand in yours. He slowly skated beside you while you walked on the red carpet, both with a wide grin across your faces. You barely caught his whisper to himself, “I can’t believe I finally won the Cup.”
You squeezed his hand and whispered, “Congrats.”
