Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cole hates playing against Florida. Honestly, he isn’t sure why they had to play so physically in a regular-season game. The playoffs weren’t even close, so there was really no need for this. He’s aching and bruised from being hit around all first period, but he makes it down the tunnel again to start period two with the rest of his team. Morale’s low again, and everyone’s hurting. Yeah, he’s going straight to bed after this. 

Suzuki’s going around lightly banging a head on everyone’s helmet. He gets to Cole, at the start of the line, last. 

“All good, Cock?” he asks. 

Cole almost laughs at the old nickname, but holds it in. Instead, he takes a deep breath and nods. This is a little hard considering the proximity of their heads, but Nick gets the message. 

Nick lowers his voice and says, “Get me a goal and I will get the team a day off to golf tomorrow.” 

This time Cole does laugh. “You got a deal, Suzy. I’m holding you to that.”

Nick, seemingly happy with the life he’s put back into Cole, backs up and faces the rest of the team. “Let’s not lose to fucking Florida. We’ve got two periods to catch up. Let’s do the work.” 

He turns and jumps onto the ice, skating to the bench. The team follows him, heads high. Cole smiles as he sits down. Stuff like this is why Suzy was made captain when he was so young. He knows what each guy needs, and he makes sure they get it. 

Slafkovsky slaps Cole on the back. He wants to talk plays. Cole relents to do so while they watch the second line do the puck drop. And the second the puck hits the ice he’s swept up again. Watching his team play always spikes his adrenalin, so much so that he feels like he’s buzzing by the time the coach tells him to go on. He hops the boards and his feet hit the ice mid-stride and he’s skating toward the puck before he has a chance to think and he’s swept away by the game again. 

They play. He has a good chance that dings off the post. Then, their line is changing and he’s back on the bench trying to catch his breath. 

His coach bangs his helmet, “Get in the net next time, Caufield.”

“Yeah,” Cole replies, as if he wasn’t trying to get it in the net the first time. But he knows ‘get it in the net’ is his coach’s way of saying, “Nice shot, I know you’ve got the next one”. 

And again and again, they go. 

Halfway through the second period, Cole still hasn’t managed to get his goal. Golf is seeming farther and farther away as the minutes tick down. To make things worse, Reinhart has been riding his ass all period. Cole’s a small, fast player, but it’s hard to do that when Reinhart is laying him out every time he gets the puck. It’s gotten to the point where Nick is grabbing his shoulder and asking if he is okay after every shift. 

So maybe it should come as no surprise that the next time Slaf passes him the puck at centre ice and he rockets toward the net, Sam Reinhart is there. Cole can’t see him, but he surmises that he must be there because just as he crosses the blue line, there’s an explosion. 

A body hits him at full speed. Honestly, if all of him just exploded it might have feel better, but unfortunately his skin kept everything inside like a net. A shoulder hits his chin, something else (an elbow? He doesn’t know) in his gut, a stick whacks his knee. First, there’s the hit and he doesn’t even have time to think as his momentum whips him backward. There is this almost slow moment when he realizes, with dread, that he is about to hit the ground and it isn’t about to be pretty. He feels like he can hear the crowd gasp while he’s in the air. Then, as fast as he was hit, he is laid out on the ice, tumbling over himself. 

He’s sure the crowd is screaming, the refs whistling, but he hears nothing. He can’t breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, Cole watches as Reinhart drops down to one knee next to him, maybe to apologize; he doesn’t know. Everything is silent. Cole can’t breathe. Some hand rips Reinhart up and throws a punch. Cole doesn’t pay much attention to that though because he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t– 

All at once, air enters back into his lungs, and it’s almost worse. When the air comes, the sound filters back in, and he learns that the crowd is roaring . He finds himself lying partially curled on his side, his stick nowhere near him. 

“Fuck,” Cole says to himself. But that seems like the wrong move because the second he acknowledges the situation, everything rockets to him. Pain emanates from every single part of his body. He can’t tell if he’s hurt or where he might possibly have been injured because everything hurts. Oh, God. 

Suddenly, Suzuki is fully leaned over him, a hand on the front of his jersey. 

“Caulie! Cole! Caufield!”

Cole focuses his gaze on his captain. 

“Thank God. Your head slammed against the ice, bud. You okay?”

Hearing that gives him a headache worse than he’d ever felt before; worse than any concussion in the minor leagues. 

“Fuck,” Cole groans out. Maybe he isn’t capable of saying anything else. 

“Caulie, hey, look at me,” Suzuki pulls himself closer. “Do you need the trainer?”

Cole looks beyond Nick’s shoulder instead, distracted. Slaf has Reinhart by the jersey and is punching him with a viciousness that he had never seen from the Slovakian. The refs have their hands full trying to pull everyone apart. Whistles are piercing the air left and right, but no one is stopping. 

“Cole, hey. Talk to me.” Suzuki is still trying to get his attention. Cole attempts to apologize, but all that comes out is a strangled groan. Fuck. What is wrong with him? 

“Okay, shit.” Nick leans all the way back and throws a hand in the air, beckoning the trainers. Almost instantly, he’s back in Cole’s space. He’s on his knees, Cole realizes. This is definitely not a normal injury response from another player. Usually, everyone shows that they care for you by fighting the other players and leaving you on the ground.

“Caulie, what hurts?”

Cole finds it in himself to reply, finally gaining his bearings a bit. “Fuck. I don’t– ugh.” Well, it isn’t very pretty, but at least he’s said something now. 

Suzuki pulls away to look for something behind him worriedly but comes right back. “Yeah, I know, bud. Hold on. The trainer’s on the way.”

Cole realizes then that his shoulder is not feeling good at all. Actually, it feels really wrong. And maybe his ribs, too. 

He tries to explain this to Nick, but his communicative abilities end at a lifeless: “Suzy.”

“Hey, I'm right here. You're okay. I've got you.”

“I just don't– ugh, Suze.” Cole doesn't even know what he’s trying to say at this point. Nick is looking at him with open concern which is not how his teammates usually looked at him. If he’s injured, it’s a pat on the back and a, “you'll be alright, bro”. But, no. Now, he’s in some sort of extremely dignity-compromising loop of saying nothing but his captain’s nickname. God, if he lives through this injury, he may never live that down. 

A hand on his back pulls him away from his self-pity. He tries to turn and see who touched him, but Nick holds him down by the shoulder. 

“No, stay down. It’s just the trainer,” Nick explains. 

The fighting has definitely stopped, and so has the roar of the crowd. It’s awfully quiet in the Panther’s home arena. Cole has a sickening feeling that the eyes of every fan are on him. Or maybe he’s sick from the pain; he has no idea. 

Suzuki looks away from Nick and at the trainer who’s started asking questions. 

“Has he been talking?”

Nick sucks in a tight breath. “Kind of. I don’t know. He’s not saying much. I think he’s confused.”

Cole ignores the rest of what Nick has to say in favour of watching Slafkovsky who is standing directly behind Nick, openly staring. He looks worried too. 

Suddenly, Nick is putting a gloved hand to the side of Cole’s head. “Caulie. You’re being asked a question.”

The trainer has one hand braced on his shoulder and is leaning over him from behind, speaking close to his ear. “Where’s it hurting, Cole?”

Cole realizes that he has to get his shit together and answer things coherently if he wants any chance of skating off the ice on his own. “I’m okay. My shoulder is just– ugh.”

“Okay,” the trainer says, watching him carefully, “Which one?”

“Left.”

“Wiggle your fingers for me.”

Cole tries. They move, thank God. The trainer starts feeling around the back of his neck, then his chest. He shivers. He doesn’t want to keep lying on the ice like this, watched by everybody. 

Nick touches his face again. “Caulie. You alright? Focus for me, please. We’re still asking you questions.”

“Sorry,” Cole replies. He hadn’t even noticed they’d still been talking. 

The trainer continues, “Head pain?”

“I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“And what about your neck, Cole? Your back?”

Slaf drops to a one-legged kneel beside Suzuki now.

Cole thinks about it for a moment. “No, no. Mostly my shoulder. It just– it– I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like the last time I hurt it.”

“Okay, I think we are going to try to get you to your back. Take a deep breath. Tell me when you’re ready, and we will go from there.”

Cole really doesn’t want to try and move. He knows that won’t feel good at all. 

His eyes find Nicks. “Suzy?”

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

He closes his eyes tightly, fighting off the pain or tears, he has no idea. “I don’t want to have another shoulder injury. I can’t do that again.”

He hears Nick sigh. “You’re gonna be okay, Caulie. Just relax.”

“Okay, okay. I’m ready.”

The trainer grasps him more firmly. “Relax your body, Cole. We are going to do everything for you. On three: one, two–”

Cole does his best not to scream, but it’s futile. He definitely, at the very least, yelps as soon as his shoulder shifts even slightly. He’s pretty sure it was more like a yell though. The pain lessens the second he’s on his back and doesn’t have his weight bearing down on his left side. 

Nick’s hands are on his jersey not a second later. “Jesus, Caulie! Are you okay?”

Cole makes sure to catch his eye. “Get me off this ice. I cannot do this in front of everyone” he demands through gritted teeth. 

Finally, he can see the trainer’s face, and he recognizes him as Jim, their head athletic trainer. 

“Yeah, I’ll get the stretcher out here and we’ll go to the hospital. Relax for a second, Cole,” Jim says, 

That statement, of course, immediately un-relaxes Cole. “No, no, no, no, no. No stretcher. No. I’m skating off on my own.”

Suzuki pipes in at that request. “Bull shit. You can’t even roll over. You are not about to skate.”

Cole feels his panic growing. “I’m not going off in a stretcher. I’m not.”

Slaf puts a hand on his leg. “It’s okay. No judgement from us. Get stretcher.”

“No. Suze help me. Just help me get up. It’s my shoulder. I can still skate. ” Cole makes to brace and push himself up. 

Jim stops him. “Alright, fine. We’ll try. Nick, grab his waist. Put one hand on his back and avoid the shoulder. Tell me when you’re ready, Cole.”

“Ready. I’m ready. Fuck.”

“Okay, on three: one, two–”

Cole manages to hold the scream in this time, but just barely. A wave of nausea passes through him, and he grips Suzuki tightly. 

“Still alright, Cole?” Jim asks. 

“Give me a second.” He forces himself to take some deep breaths, fighting against waves of nauseating pain. 

Nick leans in. “Caulie, you don’t have to do this. We can still get a stretcher.”

Cole shakes his head. The trainer directs him to try to get his knees under him. He does this with immense difficulty. He is just starting to realize how long the game has been paused for him. His shoulder is killing him. He just wants to be out of the eyesight of the thousands of fans. He doesn’t want the Panthers to see him. He doesn’t want to fly home tomorrow. God. 

With Nick and Jim’s support, he’s able to get to his feet where he stands for another second. 

Reinhart approaches, “Hey, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to… to– you know. I’m sorry.”

Cole glances around. The rest of the Panthers are at their bench. Slaf is hovering beside him nervously. The other two Montreal defensemen are no better, only a few steps further away. The Canadiens bench is silent. 

Cole watches a guilty-looking Sam Reinhart for another second before he replies. “It’s alright. I know. It’s the game.”

Nick, apparently, doesn’t agree. “Fuck off, Reinhart.”

“Okay, let’s move,” Jim says. 

Cole skates off on his own, hunched over in pain, Nick Suzuki gripping the back of his jersey with an anxious, protective hand. His team bangs their sticks on the boards for him, but he hardly listens to it. He’s handed off to more of the medical staff waiting in the tunnel and then his teammates are gone. 

Chapter Text

He is almost immediately brought to a quiet room, but the head trainer follows him there. 

“Cole, we need to x-ray your shoulder,” he says. He starts bustling out of the room before turning around again. “And MRI. I think it’s dislocated, but I want to make sure you haven’t damaged anything surrounding it.” 

The concussion specialist, Jody, attempts to shoo him out of the room. “Give me fifteen minutes, Jim. The shoulder can wait.” Jim heads out. 

Cole’s heart sinks at the thought: no way he couldn’t get off the ice because of a dislocated shoulder. If there was ever a time to be called a weakling, now is it. Jody gets in his face and starts asking a series of questions, examining his eyes. 

Then, he’s left in silence. He’s alone in the quiet room. It’s by no means the first time he’s done this, but it honestly doesn’t get any easier. It’s so boring and all he ever does is replay the hit replay the hit replay the hit. Except this time, he can barely picture the hit. He thinks it was Reinhart who hit him because that’s who Suzuki was being so hostile toward, but he honestly isn’t sure. 

Finally, Jody comes back and completes her assessment and– surprise!-- he does have a concussion. This isn’t something he would even want to try to argue with considering how much his head has started pounding in the last fifteen minutes. Jim joins her at that point, though he is notably less loud now. 

“I’ve got good news, kid,” Jim says, taking a seat beside him, “Florida is giving us access to their on-site X-ray and MRI machines, so we don’t have to go far.”

Jody nods. “That’s good. Cole, we can’t tell how severe the brain trauma is at this point. I will come to you tonight and then you’ll have to come see me tomorrow morning and we can reassess at that point. Currently, I’m thinking it’s going to be at least a moderate-level one, but I’m just speculating at this point.”

Cole brings a hand to cover his face. “This fucking sucks.”

Jody continues without fanfare, “and I’m moving Nick Suzuki to your room to help monitor you. I want you to get lots of sleep tonight so I can accurately assess you tomorrow, okay?”

Cole’s kneejerk reaction is to deny Nick’s help. He’s done so much for him already. Cole doesn’t need to change his night on the ice as well as off it. But he already knows that if he says no to Nick, Jody will just pick another player. And honestly, the captain is the best one to help him in this sort of situation. 

He settles for an: “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

Then Jim is cutting his gear off of him and dragging him toward the med area. Cole’s glad he didn’t attempt to take the shirt off because he’s certain that would have been ridiculously painful. And honestly, now that everything was settling down, he was fully sure that he had a bad headache. Like bad . Ugh. He loved his sport, but he hated the injuries. 

The machinery is a blur, but the doctors must think that his shoulder is fine enough to be popped back in because the next thing he knows, he’s sitting in front of the Panther’s doctor counting down from three. And God , is it unpleasant. Well, that’s an understatement, but he doesn’t really want to dwell on the pain anymore. He’s feeling a little floaty, actually; having a hard time stitching moments together. That sort of thing. 

Anyway, in his next lucid moment, he’s sitting in the quiet room, and Jim is trying to wrestle a sweatshirt on him without moving his shoulder. 

Jim looks toward him as he succeeds at getting it over the bad arm. “You still doing okay Caufield?” 

Cole huffs in an almost-laugh. “This is not my best moment.”

“Yeah? You’ve been pretty quiet, kid. I’m worried we underestimated your head trauma.”

Oh? He’s sure they underestimated his concussion seeing as he hasn’t even remembered the last little while. Actually, he doesn’t even really remember the hit at all. Or even playing the game. But hockey players aren’t ones to complain, and he’s certainly not about to start that trend. 

“Sorry,” Cole replies, “I’m not in a good mood, and my shoulder’s hurting.”

“Still?” Jim pulls the sweater down the rest of the way. “The Tylonel hasn’t kicked in yet?”

Cole shrugs. 

Jim pats his good shoulder. “I’m sure it will slow down soon. Let me know if not, and we can figure something out, okay? And I think Jody will bring you something stronger once she checks you out tonight so you can sleep.”

And the next thing he knows he’s laying alone in the quiet room. There is a pair of sweatpants next to him on the table. Maybe he’s supposed to change? In any case, his gear is kind of uncomfortable, so he gets to work un-taping his socks. It’s not fun and he winces every time he moves too much. His head feels like it's going to explode. His skates are already off. He wonders who did that. 

Finally, he has his sweatpants on. He feels minutely more comfortable. 

There’s a knock on the door. Wow, guess someone was waiting for him. 

“Cole? You decent?” Oh, it’s Jim still. 

“Yeah.”

Jim pushes through the door. “I’m going to leave you in here for now, okay? Once Suzuki’s ready to leave, we’ll get you going too.”

Cole doesn’t have the energy to do anything but nod. Jim must think this is okay because he shuts the door. The room is silent. 

The next moment of lucidity is caused by an absolute ruckus outside the quiet room. Cole has enough awareness to realize that whatever is going on outside must be loud because this room is supposed to be soundproof . 

Suddenly the door swings open. The hallway light hurts Cole’s eyes, but standing in front of it is a fully geared-up Nick Suzuki. 

“Jesus, Suzuki. You couldn’t have waited until after you were changed? Get out of here.” That’s Jim trying to pull Nick out of the room.

Nick stalks toward him, eyes raking up and down his frame looking for injuries. 

Fortunately, Cole is lucid enough to chirp him. “What’s wrong with you, Suzy? No need to check me out, bro.” Well, it’s a terrible excuse for a chirp, but at least he sounds somewhat like himself. 

Nick ignores him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fuck, I was– that was– I mean, good.”

Cole rolls his eyes at his captain even though it worsens his headache. “Listen, you can take care of me tonight after you shower and don’t smell like shit.”

Nick’s face goes bright red. “And why would I want to take care of you? I thought you were fine.”

Jim sighs by the door. “Jody’s putting you in his room tonight to help with monitoring the concussion if you’re good with that.” He phrases the last part like a question and Cole’s heart squeezes for just a second. He probably shouldn’t have said anything. Now it’s going to be so awkward when Nick refuses.

The next moment he’s aware, he’s alone in the quiet room again. 

Wait, did Nick ever say yes? Did they forget about him here? Now, he’s kind of worried because as much as he was brushing the concussion off to everyone, he doesn’t fully believe that could make it back to the hotel on his own. Much less in Florida . And there’s probably a bunch of Panthers fans who would know his face and attack him. And did Nick really not want to take care of him? Who would do it at that point? But why not Nick? Cole was sure that–

His spiralling is interrupted by a knock on the door. Oh?

“Caulie?”

It’s Nick. Oh, good. Oh, good. No worries there. He’s here.

“Cole?” He knocks again. 

Cole kickstarts himself to reply. “Yeah, come in.”

Nick opens the door and steps through. His hair is wet from the shower and he looks comphy in a sweater and sweatpants. 

Cole almost laughs. “How are you about to leave the building without your formal wear?”

Nick throws him a smile. “Oh, we aren’t taking the bus. I’m sneaking us a taxi to avoid the trouble.”

“Wow, risk-taker,” Cole jokes. 

Nick grabs his good arm gently and pulls him off the table. Once Cole is on his feet, his vision whites out for a second. It feels like only a second anyway. But the next thing he knows, he is hunched over and Nick is kneeling on the ground in front of him trying to get his attention. 

“Cole, for real, if you don’t answer me, I’m calling–”

He definitely doesn’t want Nick calling anyone, so he better say something quickly. “I’m okay.” Well, that was a lie. 

“Okay, I don’t think so. Do you wanna sit down?”

Cole shakes his head, winces, and then replies: “No, no. I think standing up just gave me a head rush. I don’t wanna get down if it’s gonna do that again.”

There’s a hand grasping his arm tightly, he realizes. Nick is staring at him intensely from where he is on the ground. 

“Should I call Jody or someone? I didn’t like that.”

“No, I’m fine.” Cole shakes his arm a bit. “You’re hurting me, Suzy.”

Nick lets go and stands. “Sorry. I think I want to call someone. That was– I don’t know that didn’t seem right.”

“Please, no. Let’s just get back to hotel. My head is hurting, and I’m exhausted.”

Nick rights him, and Cole takes a shaky step forward. “Okay, I guess. If you say so.”

Nick supports him nervously all through the hallways until they get to the parking lot where a car is already waiting. If the world was providing Cole with one small mercy today it’s that they encountered no one on the way here. And in an effort to stay positive, Cole tries to be thankful for that at least.

Chapter Text

Cole is in and out of focus in the car, but Nick doesn’t seem to notice. He is quietly relaying all the parts of the game that Cole missed (including Slafkovsky having a fight with Reinhart in the third period, wow).  

When Nick stops telling his story, Cole asks: “Did we win though?”

Nick pauses. His gaze flicks from Cole’s head to his toes. “Caulie,” he begins slowly, “I already told you we won like twice. And Jim said he told you too.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Cole says a little blankly. He was trying hard to not let Nick know that he has not been following any conversation fully since the hit, and it seems he has just failed that. 

Nick unbuckles his seatbelt and moves so he is leaning all the way over, facing Cole. “Hey, look at me.”

“God, Suze. Please don’t make a big deal out of this.”

“No, stop. Just look at me for a second. Are you okay?”

Cole runs his hand over his face. “I feel gross because I haven’t showered, but other than that, yes.”

“Caulie, Jody said that I have to call her if you’re getting worse. You’re not remembering what we’re talking about. I think that’s worse.”

No, no more concussion testing. “No, no, no. I’m not worse, I promise.” 

“It’s not an issue. Just a quick precaution.” Nick pulls out his phone. 

Cole feels panic build in his stomach and climb towards his throat, choking him. He’s not going to bother Jody again after he just downplayed his concussion for the last hour. “I don’t want to go back to the rink. Please, no.”

Nick puts his phone down for a moment and watches Cole. “What’s going on right now? Why are you upset?”

“I just want to go to the hotel. Please.” His breathing starts to pick up.

“Caulie, I’m not gonna lie, you’re kind of scaring me. What’s wrong with the rink?”

 Cole doesn’t know why he’s upset or why it feels like there’s a weight on his chest but it does and he is and this sucks. There’s only one thing he can say that can get himself off the hook with Nick though: “I promise. I promise I’m okay.”

He tries to shake his head, but it causes him to wince, curling back into himself. 

Nick must see that something is going on because he grabs a hold of his good shoulder. “Whoa, Caulie. You’re alright. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

Cole is scaring himself now. He’s a laidback guy; that’s like his whole schtick. Why is he so panicked right now? That’s just so beyond normal for him. 

Cole blindly reaches his hand out until it connects with Nick’s arm, having trouble getting a hold of himself. 

“Suzy,” he calls out. 

“I’m right here, I’m right here. You’re okay. Just breathe.” Nick’s eyes are wide and concerned. He has one hand on Cole’s knee and another on his arm. Cole closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down. He’s being ridiculous right now. He’s making a fool out of himself in front of his captain. He needs to get a hold of himself right now . 

He must lose some time because the next moment he finds himself in, the car is stopped. Nick still has a hand on his leg, but the one on his arm is gone. 

“Cole? Did you hear me?” Nick asks. 

Cole cracks his eyes open. “Fuck,” he groans. 

His body feels like shit, and his head is hurting, and no, he definitely did not just hear what Nick said. 

“You seem a bit calmer now. How are you feeling?”

“What the fuck was that?” Cole asks. 

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“I’ve never felt like that before. It was like– I don’t know– I couldn’t stop it. It was like just panic pouring out of me for no reason.”

Nick watches him grimly for a moment. “Are you ready to go up to the room? Maybe you’ll feel better once we stop moving around so much.”

Cole groans again unhelpfully. Honestly, his head has been getting worse every time he’s been aware enough to hold a conversation. It’s pulsing behind his eyelids in his eardrums and his cheekbones and everywhere hurts.

“Okay,” he says. 

Nick gets out of the car and hurriedly makes it to Cole’s door in the time it takes him to undo his seatbelt. “Slowly, okay?” 

Cole uses Nick’s hand as leverage to pull himself out of the car. He feels a bit more stable this time but still hunches over when his weight is back on his feet. 

He can feel Nick squeezing his arm nervously. “Still with me, Caulie?”

He hums in agreement, unsure if he would be able to string a coherent sentence. 

“You okay?” Nick asks him.

“I don’t feel great, but…” Cole looks around and realizes that they are in the underground parking lot. The exit isn’t too far away at least. 

“We’re almost at the elevator. I can do most of the work to get us there. You just need to let me,” Nick coaxes. Cole doesn’t think he has the strength to do anything other than that anyway. 

And then he’s– where? Oh, a hotel room– sitting on the corner of the hotel bed. One of his shoes is off for some reason. Nick is kneeling between his legs looking up at him, phone in hand. 

“Eh, I’m about to call the ambulance,” Nick’s voice is shaking a bit, but Cole completely glosses over that. 

“So Canadian,” he mumbles. 

“What?”

“You said–” he swallows against the sudden dryness in his mouth, “you said ‘eh’. That’s so Canadian.”

“What, Cole? What are you talking about right now?”

Cole waves his hand between them to erase the last few moments. “Nothing. Stupid joke. Sorry.”

“What the fuck? I was about to call an ambulance for you. Why are making jokes right now?” Cole notices that Nick is breathing heavily. He is looking from Cole to his phone wildly, confusedly. 

“Why would you call the ambulance?”
“Because you’re not responding to me, bud.”

Cole takes a deep breath, clearing some of the fog in his brain. “I’m responding to you now. Sorry, I must have zoned out.”

Nick rests his forehead on Cole’s knees. He’s still breathing heavily. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. Fuck, my heart is pounding.”

“Sorry,” Cole says because he can’t think of anything else. 

“No, it’s okay. I think your brain’s having a hard time catching up. I’m overreacting. This happens with concussions. This happens. I, of all people, would know. And Jody’s coming in a few hours. We’ll be okay.”

“Are you talking to me or yourself?” 

Nick looks back up at him. “Mostly me. Sorry, I’m like freaking out for some reason.”

“It’s okay. Jody already checked me out and so did Jim and they both said I’m fine.”

Nick scoffs. “You’re not fine –”

“I’m fine enough to be here with you.”

Nick stands, nodding to himself. “Okay, yeah. You wanted to shower?”

“Yes, please.” He watches as Nick disappears into the bathroom, his head throbbing. 

Suddenly, Cole startles. There’s water pouring over his face. He can’t breathe. He’s soaked. Why is he wet? He needs help. He needs–

“Suzy! Suze, help!”

Nick wrenches open the shower curtain not a half-second later. He must have been sitting nearby on the toilet seat. Oh, shower curtain. He’s in the shower. That makes sense. 

“What? What’s going on?” Nick’s reaching out to grab him, soaking his sweatshirt sleeves. 

“Sorry, no, I’m alright,” Cole sputters, “I just panicked for a second.” How can Cole possibly explain this without Nick freaking out?

They each stand frozen for a minute. Then, Nick, pointedly not looking downwards– because, yes , even if they all change in the locker room, it’s still weird to see each other naked in the shower– slinks out and closes the curtain behind him. And Cole is naked, he realizes. God, he didn’t even know how he got his clothes off over that hurt shoulder. 

“Okay. Any reason why you panicked? Last I checked you weren’t afraid of water.”

Think of something reasonable, Cole. Think of something reasonable. 

“I thought I was gonna fall over. I’m just so tired,” Cole lets his voice adopt a whiny tone, “I want to lay down.”

“You’re not dizzy, Caulie?”

That is maybe the one thing Cole isn’t. “No, but my head is pounding.”

“We can let Jody know when she stops by. Maybe she will have something she can give you,” Nick suggests. 

“That would be good.”

Cole finishes scrubbing himself down and– oh, Nick brought him his shampoo and conditioner from his duffel bag. He washes his hair too, happy for the familiar scent. 

Nick must sense that he is getting close to being done because he calls out: “Caulie, I left sweats on the counter. Let me know if you need help or anything.” The door clicks behind him. 

Cole is grateful that he stays present for the whole time it takes him to exit the shower. He gets the sweatpants on okay, but he can’t even lift his arms over his head, so he knows Nick is going to have to help him with the top. 

Nick is sitting on the bed staring down at his phone, but he startles and looks up when Cole comes out. 

He stares at Cole for maybe a second too long before dropping his phone on the bed behind him and standing. “Oh my God. Your hair is dripping wet. And where is your shirt?”

“Suze,” Cole sputters, self-conscious of seeming helpless now, “I can’t really lift my arm over my head.”

Nick’s eyes widen. “Of course, of course. I’m so sorry. You hurt your shoulder. How could I forget that?”

Cole laughs lightly. “It’s chill. Don’t sweat it. But would you mind…?” He trails off, stubbornly not asking for help getting dressed.

Nick hastily moves to the side. “Yes, yes. Sorry. You sit. Hold on.” 

Cole sits on the corner of the bed again and waits as Nick heads back into the bathroom. Cole has his Canadiens sweatshirt in his lap, so he’s unsure why Nick would be going that way until he exits the washroom looking bashful with a towel in hand. 

Cole feels himself skip a breath at the sight. “Are you blushing?”

“Stop,” Nick says sharply, but of course, Cole isn’t afraid of his little captain’s strict voice. 

“Suzy,” he drawls teasingly. 

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve dried someone else’s hair, okay?”

Cole goes to tease him again, but his chirp instantly dies down when Nick starts massaging the soft towel into his head. That feels so good, like lessens the incessant pounding in his head so good. 

“Still with me, Caulie?” Nick asks after a few minutes. 

“Yes. I think you’re healing my concussion right now.”

Nick actually laughs at this but stops drying Cole’s hair. 

Cole can’t stop himself from whining: “No, no, no, no. I want my concussion healed. Why are you stopping?”

Nick’s in front of him now, smiling. “I think Jody will be here soon. You should probably at least be dressed for that visit.”

Nick throws the towel on the floor and takes Cole’s sweatshirt from his lap. 

“Okay, how are we gonna do this, Caulie?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even really remember Jim putting it on me.”

“That’s concerning, but okay. Why don’t we start with the bad arm and then figure it out from there?”

Cole hums out his agreeance again, and Nick kneels down close beside him. It feels a little too intimate when he gently grabs Cole’s hand and guides it into the sleeve. They are able to get the shirt on without much fanfare after that, and Cole’s shoulders sag in relief. 

Suzuki watches him. “Jody said you could sleep for a bit before she comes if you want.”

“Honestly, my head is hurting so much, I don’t know if I could.”

Nick climbs up onto the bed and sits against the pillows. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here. I’ll help you.”

Cole reluctantly pulls himself up beside Nick. “Isn’t this a bit–?”

“Don’t overthink it.” Nick pulls him down against his chest and this is definitely something that needs to be overthought. But Nick gently moves his fingers through Cole’s hair, softly massaging the scalp. And, yeah, there are no thoughts that could come when Nick is doing that anyway. Cole closes his eyes, head pain receding, and is finally able to fall asleep. 

Chapter Text

Cole is woken up by a sharp knock on the door. Nick, who had still been gently massaging Cole’s scalp, begins to extract himself from underneath him.

“Coming,” he calls out. 

Nick must manage to get out of bed because suddenly, his touch is gone, and that was the only thing keeping the pain at bay. 

Cole groans, and Nick lowers his voice. “Sorry, sorry, I know. I think that’s Jody. We gotta get up, Caulie.”

Cole chooses to ignore that comment, keeping his eyes closed and curling into himself, careful of his hurt shoulder. 

He still hears Nick open the door and greet Jody as she steps into the room. 

“How is he doing?” Jody asks. 

“Not great. He’s been in a lot of pain, and he’s pretty tired.” 

Part of Cole feels embarrassed by being spoken about like this, but a bigger part of him is focused on how much his shoulder has started aching and how much his head is throbbing and how much his stomach is rolling and how much he really just wants to sleep. 

He hears them shuffling through the room, and eventually, he feels a hand rub up and down his good arm for a moment.

“Jody’s here, Cole. You gonna get up?”

He forces himself to crack his eyes open. Nick has left the room dim, thankfully, so it doesn’t bother his head as much as he’d feared it would. 

“Hi, Jody,” he mumbles. 

“Hey, Cole. Just one more assessment, some painkillers, and then you can sleep for the night. Are you okay with that?”

Cole attempts to shrug but winces as he almost moves his injured shoulder. 

Nick moves beside him then, berating: “Caulie, be careful.”

Nick helps him sit up, and then Jody starts asking him questions. “Okay, what we’re looking for here, Cole, is that nothing’s gotten worse since your immediate post-injury assessment. It’s really important you answer me honestly, okay?”

Cole nods slowly, the thought of speaking feeling a bit far away in the moment. He is so tired. Why did sleeping make him so much more tired?

Jody pulls out a tablet, typing into it rapidly for a moment before speaking. “Rate your level of headache from one to six, please.”

Was there a seven? “Four,” Cole states. 

Nick immediately interjects. “Definitely not a four. That’s the main symptom he’s been complaining about.” Jody looks to him. 

“Fine. Five,” Cole huffs. 

Jody continues to question him on a multitude of physical questions, and Nick continues to helpfully raise the number Cole says every time. By the time she’s finished, his head is throbbing even worse. He didn’t even know that was possible. 

Jody backs away for a moment, looking at her tablet thoughtfully. “Hmm, you seem a bit better oriented now than a few hours ago, and some of your numbers are down. I think you’ll be safe to sleep here tonight, and I’ll stop by again in the morning.” She turns to Nick. “If he starts convulsing, vomiting, or seems increasingly confused, call the ambulance immediately and then call me, okay? Do you have any other questions for me for now?”

“Yeah,” Nick begins, “he’s been pretty spacey, and it’s kind of worrying me. Is that normal?”

“Nick,” Cole groans, “I’m fine. Come on.”

Jody ignores his whining. “It’s not great, but it should be alright. You just need to let me know if anything gets worse. The way everything is now, we’re just looking for the brain to start healing. To do that, he needs sleep and rest. In any case, if you’re unsure about something, you can text me. My phone will be on all night, alright?”

Nick nods. “Okay, thank you.”

Jody puts her tablet into her bag and switches it out with a small pill bottle. “He should be okay to take these before sleeping. It would be better if you eat something first, Cole.” She turns to regard him pointedly for a moment as she says this last part. 

Nick takes the pills and begins walking toward the door, discussing something quietly with Jody. The pain in Cole’s head is increasing and increasing and increasing and how could anyone even think about anything like this? How can anyone live like this?

Suddenly, Cole’s vision clears. He hadn’t even noticed that it’d been whited-out again. 

Nick is sitting on the bed in front of him, leaning all the way into his space. “Caulie, did you hear me? You alright?”

“Fuck, my head hurts,” Cole groans, attempting to pull himself back up from where he’s curled inward. It was disorienting being in one position and then blinking and being in another. Definitely not normal. 

Nick manhandles him into a comphier position without fanfare. “Jesus Christ. Jody said it's normal, but I really don’t like that you're spacing out like that. It’s terrifying.”

Cole waves a hand dismissively through the air. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just a headache.”

“Let me get you something to eat.”

“I’m not the least bit hungry, Suzy. Let’s not.”

“Come on, don’t be difficult. Jody said–”

“Please stop talking,” Cole gasps out, the pain in his head flaring anew. He thinks Suzuki’s saying something, but he can’t tell over the roaring in his ears. “I think I’m gonna throw up. Fuck.”

“What?” Nick scrambles off the bed to grab the garbage bin by the desk. For a long moment, all Cole can feel is the unbearable pressure in his head and the emptiness where his friend used to be. In pain and alone and where is Nick? Where is he? 

Cole becomes lucid all at once. Nick is sitting beside him again, a hand is digging protectively into the back of Cole’s neck. A quick glance down shows that Suzuki is frantically scrolling his contact list. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Cole says, attempting to put a stop to whoever Nick is trying to contact. 

Nick's voice is audibly shaking. “No, you’re not, but it’s alright. Just stay still.”

Cole brings a hand up to swipe over his mouth. “What?” Wasn’t he just about to throw up? He blinks a few times, trying to orient himself. 

Nick looks up at him sharply. “It’s okay, Caulie. I’m right here. Just chill for a second.”

Cole glances down where Nick is clicking someone’s contact. “No. Who the fuck are you calling?” 

Nick seems taken aback by his anger for a moment. “Jody. I don’t know if what just happened was normal. In any case, I think you need medical attention. I’m not cut out for this.”

Cole feels the now-familiar prickle of panic climb up his throat. He shakes his head rapidly, but it only serves to worsen his headache again. Embarassingly, he cries out in pain. 

Nick drops his phone for a moment to grasp Cole’s cheek. He has one hand squeezing the back of his neck still and another holding his head steady for the front. 

“Breathe,” he demands.  

“Please don’t call anyone. Please. I’m okay.” 

Nick pauses for a moment and then reaches down to turn his phone off. “Okay, okay.” He seems to realize that calming Cole down first would be better than letting him panic any longer. “I’ve got you, okay. Just breathe. We’re alright.”

Cole can hardly think over the pounding in his head and the rushing in his ears. “I don’t know why I feel like this.”

“Caulie, it’s okay. Your brain’s a little scrambled right now. That’s all. I’m sorry. I’ve been over-reacting.”

Cole watches Nick intently, trying to steady his breathing. 

Then, all at once, Nick is gone. Cole wrenches his eyes open. “Suzy?”

Nick calls out from the other side of the hotel room. “Right here.” 

Cole watches him for a moment. “What–?” he asks, confusedly. 

“I’m just making you something to eat. I feel like the best thing to do is take these meds so you’re not in so much pain. I think you need to sleep or something– just to, like, stabilize everything.” 

Nick brings over a plate of cut bananas and bread. “These should be easy on your stomach.”

Cole’s stomach rolls at the sight of them. He smacks his lips lightly. “Did I throw up?”

Nick watches him with concern. “No, otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now. We’d be at the hospital. I’m concerned you don’t remember that, though.”

Cole ignores that hospital comment and turns away from he food with distaste. “I don’t think I want to eat that.”

“Fuck that. Jody said you should eat, so you’re going to eat. You’ve been freaking me out.” Nick shoves the plate on his lap. “At least if you throw up, I’ll have a reason to take you to the hospital.”

Cole wisely decides to stay quiet while he begins to peck at his food. Nick climbs into the bed behind him with what looks like an ice pack in his hands. He begins cracking it to activate the cold. 

“Jim stopped by with this pack and said you should ice your shoulder a bit before sleeping,” Nick answers before Cole even has a chance to ask. 

At this rate, his shoulder pain has nothing on his head pain, but he doesn’t have the energy to argue with Nick anymore. He feels Nick gently place the ice pack on his bad shoulder and hold it there. 

“You don’t have to–” Cole starts. 

“Focus on eating. I’ll do the icing. Then we’ll sleep.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I’m going to massage you again, Caulie. You’ll sleep.”

Cole blushes and puts a piece of banana in his mouth in lieu of answering. They sit in silence, Nick holding the ice pack and Cole gently chewing his nausea-inducing food until the plate is empty. He sighs, leaning further into Nick. 

“Just a minute,” Nick says softly. He slides out of bed, leaving Cole to prop himself up for a moment. He stows the ice pack away and puts the empty plate on the desk. Then, he grabs the pill bottle– thank God finally, the pill bottle– and shakes some out into his palm. He hands them to Cole with some water and sets himself back up in bed. 

This time, Nick pulls Cole into him without any fanfare. His fingers are quick to find Cole’s scalp, and he starts gently massaging the area. Cole hardly has time to process what’s happening, much less to complain about it. 

“Doing okay?” Nick asks him.

“I feel like shit,” Cole states, melting into the pain-reducing sensation. 

Nick hums. “Are you still in a lot of pain? Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

Cole doesn’t even have the chance to answer, mind and body falling to rest under the captain's watchful gaze.