Chapter Text
Jack Hughes had always been a big brother first, even before he was a hockey player.
It was something that came naturally to him, the way his protective streak flared up whenever Luke looked the tiniest bit unsure. He’d been doing it since they were kids—tying Luke’s skates too tight because he didn’t trust his little brother to do it right, offering up his own stick when Luke’s broke, shielding him from chirps during games. And now, with both of them in the NHL, some things still hadn’t changed.
Luke wasn’t just his teammate. He was his kid brother.
What Jack hadn’t expected, though, was that sometimes Luke still slipped back into that little-kid space he’d carried with him forever. It wasn’t something they ever really talked about—Luke never said, “hey, I’m regressing now,” or gave him an instruction manual. Jack had just noticed the signs over the years: the way Luke’s voice softened, the way he’d fidget with his hoodie strings, the way he’d curl into Jack’s side without a word.
And Jack? Well, Jack just rolled with it.
—
The Devils had just wrapped a brutal three-game road trip. Luke was exhausted—Jack could see it in the way he leaned against the wall outside the locker room, bag hanging off his shoulder like it weighed a hundred pounds. He looked younger than usual, cheeks flushed from the game, eyes glassy with fatigue.
Jack slung an arm around his shoulders.
“C’mon, Lukey. Let’s get outta here.”
Luke hummed but didn’t answer. His free hand slipped into Jack’s hoodie pocket instead of his own, small fingers curling against his brother’s. That was the first sign.
Jack squeezed gently. “Long day, huh?”
Luke nodded against his chest, not even pretending to be the cool rookie anymore. Jack felt that old protective warmth rise in him. He didn’t care if anyone saw. Let the guys chirp—they all knew by now not to mess with his brother.
—
By the time they got back to the apartment, Luke was nearly sleepwalking. Jack guided him inside, kicked the door shut, and dropped both of their bags by the wall.
“You want food, buddy?” Jack asked softly, already moving toward the kitchen.
Luke just stood there, an oversized sweatshirt swallowing him up. His eyes darted around, uncertain, before finally settling on Jack again. He didn’t say anything, but Jack knew that look. It was the same one Luke had when he was five and didn’t know if it was okay to ask for a bedtime story.
Jack set down his keys and walked back over. He crouched slightly so they were eye level. “What do you need, Lukey?”
Luke chewed on his lip, then whispered, “Don’t wanna eat. Just… Can I stay with you?”
Jack’s chest tightened. He pulled him into a hug without hesitation. “Of course, baby bro. Always.”
—
They ended up on the couch, Luke tucked under a blanket that Jack had pulled over both of them. Jack clicked on the TV, not really caring what was playing—it was just background noise. Luke curled into his side, knees tucked up, head pressed against Jack’s ribs.
“Comfy?” Jack murmured, brushing a hand through Luke’s damp hair.
Luke gave a tiny nod. His hands were fidgeting with the blanket, twisting and untwisting the edge. Another sign. Jack gently caught his hands and let him hold onto his fingers instead.
“You did good out there today,” Jack said after a while, voice soft. “Really proud of you.”
Luke’s face scrunched, like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He just burrowed closer, hiding his red cheeks.
Jack chuckled. “What, you can score two points and still not take a compliment? Unreal.”
That earned him a small giggle, muffled against his hoodie.
Jack smiled, brushing his thumb over the back of Luke’s hand. There it is, he thought. That tiny, sweet laugh he hadn’t heard in a while.
—
The regression settled in fully over the next hour. Luke got quieter, more clingy, his words fewer and softer. When Jack offered to grab some water, Luke whined a little until Jack promised to be right back.
When he returned, Luke had pulled the blanket over his head like a turtle shell. Jack sat down beside him and tapped gently on the bump. “Hey, little dude. You hiding?”
A muffled, “Mmhm.”
Jack grinned. “Well, I’m really bad at hide-and-seek, ‘cause I think I just found you.” He peeled the blanket back slowly, revealing Luke’s flushed face and sleepy eyes.
Luke blinked up at him, then reached out wordlessly.
Jack melted. He set the water down and let Luke climb into his lap, blanket and all. His baby brother curled against his chest like he was eight years old again, thumb brushing near his mouth before he remembered not to.
Jack kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to fight it with me, you know. Just be little if you need to. I got you.”
Luke mumbled something that sounded like, “’kay, Jackie.”
Jack’s heart tugged. It wasn’t often Luke used that old nickname anymore. He wrapped his arms tighter, rocking slightly. “Good boy.”
—
Eventually, Jack coaxed him into changing into pajamas. It took a bit—Luke dragged his feet, whining softly when Jack nudged him off the couch—but Jack kept it gentle, helping him out of his hoodie and into a soft t-shirt.
“There we go,” Jack said, tugging the shirt down over his head. “Much better.”
Luke looked about ready to collapse into bed right there on the floor. Jack guided him toward his room, tucking him in with the same blanket Luke had dragged around all night.
“Story?” Luke whispered, surprising him.
Jack blinked. It had been years since Luke had asked that. But he only smiled and sat at the edge of the bed. “Yeah, buddy. I’ll give you one.”
He told him a silly story about two hockey brothers who had to team up against a team of giant penguins. Luke giggled sleepily at the idea of penguins trying to bodycheck them, his eyes fluttering closed.
By the end, his breathing had evened out, face soft and peaceful.
Jack brushed the hair from his forehead, leaning down to press a kiss there. “Night, little brother. Sweet dreams.”
He turned off the light, leaving the door cracked just enough.
—
Jack stayed up a little longer in the living room, scrolling through his phone. But when he finally went to bed, he found Luke had already wandered in, curled up on his side of the mattress with the blanket pulled to his chin.
Jack just smiled, slid in beside him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Always got you, Lukey,” he whispered into the dark.
Luke stirred just enough to mumble, “Love you, Jackie.”
Jack’s throat tightened. He pressed another kiss to his hair. “Love you too, baby brother.”
And for the first time in a while, both Hughes brothers slept soundly, safe in the warmth of each other’s presence.