Jonathan Toews One-Shots
Golfing with the Hawks
You were clueless about the game of golf, because even though it looked like just hitting a small ball as far as you could, there was supposedly more into doing that.
Fortunately, for you, you weren’t teaching a class how to play golf.
All you were doing was following your designated people around and handing them whichever golf clubs they desired. It might’ve required some memorization before you stepped onto the golf course, but it was worth helping a friend – sick with the flu – out.
You walked back into the golf lodge, yawning and stretching your arms behind your head. Since your replacement was last minute, you were your friend’s uniform with Y/F/N pinned on your shirt.
“Hey, Y/N! Glad you’re back from lunch!”
You slowed into a stop in front of the front desk and perked an eyebrow at the manager standing behind the counter. “What?”
“We need another caddy for a party of seven.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” you said, slipping your hands into the back pockets of your long khakis. “Where should I go?”
“They should be waiting in the back in the lounging area. You should see Stewart over there; he’s one of their caddies.”
You nodded and headed towards the lounging area. As you walked, you could hear and see the excitement in some of the other employees and golfers. You were curious what they were excited about, but you would eventually find out.
You entered the lounge and the first person you saw was Stewart. You smiled at the man of his late twenties and greeted, “Hey, Stew. Joe sent me over here to join you guys.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow at you and slowly nodded. You were confused by his behavior, but had no time to question it when he said, “Okay. Well, our party was split since it took a little longer than expected to get another caddy. It’s just gonna be a party of three instead.”
Your eyebrows furrowed together. “Isn’t that not allowed?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know who the party is, do you?” he asked. He stepped to the side and there seated on one of the lounge’s couches were Jonathan Toews, Patrick Sharp, Patrick Kane… and the Stanley Cup.
Your lips formed an ‘O’ as the excitement before among the people you passed dawned upon you. The 2015 Stanley Cup winning Blackhawks were golfing today.
Who else was supposed to be in this party?
“Well, since I’m here, I guess we can get going,” you said to Stewart. “Who am I caddying for; the Cup?”
He smirked and shook his head. “Nah, he gets his own cart.” He leaned over and whispered, “You get the captain.” You opened your mouth to respond when Stewart turned towards the Blackhawks players and announced, “We can go now. We have another caddy.”
The players rose to their feet and your eyes met a warm pair of brown eyes that were easy to get lost in. You actually almost did, but Toews smirked and turned away to say something to Kane, breaking the eye contact.
“Aren’t we lucky?” Tara whispered excitedly, clutching your arms while pushing you out the doors. “We get to caddy the Blackhawks and even better I get to caddy for Kane. Who did you get?”
“The captain,” you murmured.
She released a squeal of excitement, slapping your arm. She hurried after Stewart while you forced out an awkward laugh, rubbing the pained spot on your arm.
You approached the carts and found the Stanley Cup and a well-dressed man with white gloves seated in the back. You caught the pair of keys Stewart threw at you and he said, “You’re the cart with two bags. My cart is kinda filled with some… company.”
“Watch what you say and don’t offend the company.”
He laughed and guided Sharp to their cart while Tara, smiling like an idiot, guided Kane to theirs.
“So, you’re my caddy,” Toews commented as you both headed to the golf cart. He held up his hands and you stared at him in confusion. “Gimme the keys. I wanna drive.”
“Uh, I’m not an actual employee here. I’m just a replacement, so I don’t really know the rules here…” You gulped when he stepped forwards and took your hand in his.
He smirked down at you, saying, “I’m not gonna crash.” He slipped the keys out of your hand with ease, stepped back, and waved the keys in the air before walking towards the cart. “So, you’re not an actual caddy?”
“Unfortunately, for you, no,” you said and walked to the cart without much argument of him driving. You were still shaking off the lack of distance between you two before. You slipped into the passenger’s side of the cart. “I won’t exactly be able to give you much advice, but Stewart or Tara won’t have any problems voicing advice and insight.”
“Nah. Today’s supposed to be a nice, fun day,” Toews said, intently following Stewart’s cart. “I’m decent enough to show off for a pretty Y/H/C.”
You opened your mouth to respond, only to pause and process his words. “Trust me, she’s already impressed by your third Stanley Cup win.”
“She actually watches hockey or just a bandwagon fan?”
“I didn’t know hockey players actually used the term ‘bandwagon,’” you commented, laughing.
He shrugged. “We don’t find it offensive though. They wanna root for a good team and they’re smart to realize that team’s us,” he responded.
“Well, I’m an Anaheim fan.”
You stared blankly at each other before Toews started swerving the cart and you burst into laughter.
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” you exclaimed. “I’m a Hawks fan!” When he slowed, you flipped your hair out of your eyes and said, “I’m not a huge hockey fan, but I know enough of the sport and team to be higher than a bandwagon fan. I’ve been to a number of games this season, because of my dad.”
“If I paid more attention to the crowd, I would’ve spotted a cute Toews’ fan?”
“Yeah, my dad’s adorable in his Toews jersey,” you said while he slowed into a stop. You both jumped out of the cart, and when you reached the back, you continued, “I’d be the cute fan in the Kane jersey.”
“If I do better than him, will you become a Toews fan?”
You just smirked and walked off. When he wasn’t in sight, a wide grin spread across your face and you silently squealed at the fact that you were flirting with Jonathan frickin’ Toews.
–––––––––––––––––A few hours later–––––––––––––––––
“Now I see why you’re a Kane fan,” Toews sighed, dropping into the passenger’s seat in a tired heap.
You laughed as you followed Stewart back to the golf lounge. “You at least did better than Sharp,” you chimed, trying to make him feel better. You’ve never had as much fun on an actual golf course as you did today. Toews was no longer Captain Serious as he didn’t take the game of golf seriously. He had moments of trying to impress you with actually putting effort into beating Kane on a hole, but every other moment was filled with you two just teasing each other and cracking jokes. A few times, you swore he was going to kiss you, but he moved away too soon for anything that serious to happen.
“Thanks.”
You smiled at his mock pouty face. You tried a second time to cheer him up and it seemed to do the trick. “You know second place in a lot of competitions gets at least a consolation prize.”
He immediately perked in his seat. He turned to you and asked, “And what is this consolation prize?”
“You pick.”
“Maybe a date with Ms. Y/F/N.”
“She’s actually not here right now. I mean, you can ask her out but that’s kinda unfair for our flirting tonight,” you responded playfully. You looked over and smiled at his confused face as you pulled over beside Stewart’s cart. “My name’s Y/N. I told you before I was a replacement for my friend.”
“Then I want a date with Y/N,” Toews responded, hopping out of the cart. You followed suit and walked towards the lounge, but extremely slow so his teammates would have to wait for him. “Your name’s way prettier than hers.”
You laughed. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I want to go on a date if I’m just your second pick…” He playfully bumped your shoulder and you grinned. “Fine. I guess I could go on a date with a Hawk – you know, as a Ducks fan, of course.”
You two burst into laughter, but it was quickly interrupted with a stolen kiss from your lips.
“I guess I’ll just have to make you a Hawks fan then,” he teased, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
You wouldn’t be shocked if your grin was as big and wide as his. “I guess you’ll just have to. Might take three overtimes, though.”
“I’ll win.”
