Chapter Text
It was already a stressful day in the middle of a stressful week, and if Sam was honest with themselves, in the middle of a stressful year. So yeah, they had finally obtained the title they’d dreamed of since they were a kid. Doctor. Not the medical kind, they could not, for the love of whoever created the universe, handle the sight of blood. A doctorate in particle physics. And now what? Well, that’s the thing. The research funds around the world are getting cut and retiring professors aren’t being replaced. Sam’s life was now made of jumping from one post grad offer to another for years on end until maybe one university somewhere in the world offers them tenure. The perks of moving around were the people you met, the networking. It’s not easy being queer in this field of research, and being neurodivergent doesn’t help either. But Sam had managed to meet some great colleagues, friends even over the past years. The university they were currently working with was one of the more accommodating kind, which had helped a lot.
There was a conference held in Montreal about neurodivergence in academia and Sam had been kindly invited to talk about their most recent article on the subject. And so there they were, in a random hotel in the middle of a huge city in a country they’d only been a couple of times for internships before. The hotel room was nice, fancy. The talk was in a few hours and they were prepared. Masking while talking about being neurodivergent in science was ironic but it was the only way to get through the whole thing in front of a room full of researchers and professors. Luckily, a sign of the universe even, Sam’s favourite hockey team was playing a match tonight. Every time anxiety rose up they tried to remind themselves that in a couple hours they’d be at the stadium. The talk went as smoothly enough. They’d stumbled upon a few words at first but in the end people applauded. Sam even managed to have a couple of chats with other neurodivergent researchers.
Back in the hotel room, Sam was getting ready for the match. Being French meant they didn’t get to watch their favourite NHL team play live that often because of the time difference. So, this was quite the opportunity to decompress. Their favourite team were the Minnesota Wild, here on a road trip, on somewhat of a lose streak but Sam’s sure they’ll win this one, like they were sure they’d win the last 3. But hope keeps the dream alive. Jersey on, green, their favourite colour since before they even knew about hockey, and the number 43 on your back, they were ready to have a great night off.
The match didn’t go so well at first, the team was still not clicking for some reason. But Sam kept believing, yelling every time they managed to block or score. The score was tied and soon they’d be going in overtime, Sam could feel their voice straining, but they didn’t want to leave to get water, not now. Overtime was on and their favourite player was on the ice. Giving it his everything, as usual. And there it was, him breaking out, skating towards the enemy team’s goalie and shooting straight in. The rink erupted in screams and boos and Sam was so, so happy to have witnessed it firsthand this time. The lose streak was broken, Hughes had been the man of the match, and their eyes had been blessed to watch it all live.
Back at the hotel reality hit Sam quite hard. Their flight back was somewhat early the next morning, and they had papers to grade. The room had a desk, but nothing big enough to accommodate the space they needed to work. So, there they were, down at the bar with a young ish bartender. Matt, or Mark. He was nice enough to let Sam work here, still in their jersey, as long as they ordered one drink an hour. It was going to be pricey and Sam hoped that, as long as it wasn’t alcohol, the university would pay some of it back. So virgin cocktails it was. Sam was fully ready to get through all of the selection of mocktails while going through the pile of papers that had to be graded by the end of the week.
Head down and deep in thought, Sam didn’t see him approach the other side of the bar, asking something to Mark-Matt and pointing at them. Mark-Matt shrugged and Sam half heard “they’re a teacher of some kind, just grading papers.” Some random guy asking about them working wasn’t an issue, as long as it wasn’t to gently ask them to work somewhere else. Sam heard steps approaching and decided to go for the ignoring technique, hoping whoever it was would take the hint.
“Hey there”
He didn’t take the hint. Maybe if Sam just ignored him longer it would work.
“So… did you watch the match tonight?”
Okay, so ignoring him wouldn’t work.
“I’m sorry but I’m-“
The sheer surprise cut them off. Quinn Hughes was standing in front of Sam. Why the hell was Quinn Hughes standing there and how could they not have recognised his voice???
“oh no. I’m so sorry I didn’t. I mean why. I mean how. Fuck okay, get your shit together dude.”
He laughed. It was sweet and Sam sighed and smiled a little.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. The boys and I wanted to celebrate the win and I was sent to scout the bar, see if there were any problematic fans around or anything.”
“oh”
He looked down at your jersey. Sam looked down at their jersey too.
“Oh shit, I forgot I had this on sorry, let me just take it off and you guys can ignore me while I work and I can ignore you while you, I don’t know, drink?”
As they took the jersey off, keeping their hoodie underneath in place, Sam realised they now had Quinn Hughes’ jersey in their hands, a pen on the table and Quinn Hughes in front of them. Sam stopped and looked at the jersey, and the pen and then Quinn.
“I know this is maybe awkward but uh, I mean, could you...?”
“Of course.”
He smiled again. That damn smile. Sam watched him sign their jersey and then put it away in their bag, out of sight.
“So…” Quinn started.
“Don’t worry, I won’t make a noise. I need to get those paper graded and if I want to talk, I can always attempt to have small talk with Matt”
“Pretty sure it’s Mark”
“Right, whatever, for all the drinks I’m ordering I’m sure he wont mind.” Sam looked away for a second, and then back at Quinn. “Okay so, sorry if that was awkward and uh, congrats for the win.”
Sam smiled politely as he nodded and walked back out of the bar, to grab the rest of the team probably. What a day. They sighed and pinched their nose. What a weird day. They would probably spend some time overthinking this very interaction but for now, the papers wouldn’t grade themselves.
The team was loud but not in an annoying way. They were cheery, at a huge table on the other side of the bar. Sam had managed to go through a good third of the papers before the headache kicked in. They packed up silently before heading towards Mark to pay for the evening of overpriced mixed juice.
“It’s already been paid” he said without looking up.
“What, by who?”
Mark turned towards the packed table.
“The one who came in alone before, Hughes I think?”
Sam looked over at the table and there he was, laughing at some joke one of the teammates made.
“Right, well, can you thank him for me? I really need to go to sleep”
“It’s not my job.” He said as he barely looked up.
“Please?”
“Ugh, sure, whatever”
Sam was almost sure he would never thank Quinn. But they’d promised to not disturb the team, and the hotel room’s bed was calling their name, so Sam just left.
The next morning was a rush of packing and getting ready for the flight. Their alarm had rung but, as usual, Sam had snoozed it one to many times and now they were late. Running through the corridors of the hotel to get to their taxi, Sam bumped into someone and went flying, as all of the papers they had in their hands did. On the floor, looking up at the ceiling Sam was very close to cursing the entire universe – but mostly themselves – for snoozing that damn alarm.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”
Sam stood up and started gathering all the papers on the floor.
“No no no. It’s me. I shouldn’t be running. I’m sorry, hope I didn’t hurt you?”
The man laughed. “It would take more than that to hurt me I’m afraid”.
Sam finally looked at him. It was Quinn’s teammate, Brock Faber.
“Oh of course.” They started laughing nervously.
He looked very confused, probably not used to this kind of reaction.
“Yo Fabes, what’s taking so long? We need to finish packing”
And of course, there he was, Quinn, again. Sam couldn’t quite stop laughing, still gathering papers. This morning was too much to process.
“Oh, it’s you” Quinn stopped to look at Sam.
“Yeah, I’m sorry…” They managed to calm down a bit. “it’s my fault, I’m late for my flight and I was running and I didn’t see him and now” Sam nodded towards the papers, now in a neat pile on the floor. “Anyways uh, I really need to go.”
The both of them just starred at each other for a bit.
“Right, I almost forgot. Thank you for yesterday, in case Mark didn’t pass my thanks along”
Quinn smiled. “Surprisingly enough he did. You’re welcome.”
You smiled back. A couple of seconds passed.
“Fuck. My flight. I really need to go. Bye”
And just like than Sam was back to running towards the elevators, not looking back. Missing an international flight was not their biggest fear but it was up there.