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Can I see you before the game?

Summary:

Fix it one-shot rewriting Episode 7 where Hannah meets him beforehand and watches the whole game. Garrett doesn't spiral, play poorly, or fight with his team. He also doesn't beat up Delaney 'defending Hannah's honor.' He resists the urge to make her trauma all about himself and instead prioritizes taking care of her post-game. No third act break up, just more healthy coping mechanisms.

Notes:

Same trigger warnings that the show has. I really don't like the 'violent retribution on behalf of someone else who didn't ask for it' trope, so I fixed it.

Goes without saying that I don't own Off Campus characters or dialogue. Enjoy!

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Garrett: Can I see you before the game? It’s important.

 

Hannah had been spiraling all afternoon. Finding out that Aaron Delaney was the new starting center for St. A’s—she wasn’t prepared for the tidal wave that hit her. She was suddenly thrown back into the courtroom, where Delaney and his whole team leered at her from the gallery. Just as they would be doing from the rink tonight. How can I go? Sit there like everything is fine. But Garrett’s text loosened something tight in her chest. For the first time all afternoon, she managed a full breath. He said once that she had centered him, even before they really knew each other. It was the same for her. He was her safe place, and he would be there tonight, too. She wasn’t alone.

 

Wellsy: Give me an hour, I’ll be there

 

It would give her plenty of time to calm down as best she could and get to him well before the whistle blew. His reply came immediately.

 

Garrett: Thanks. I love you

 

She smiled shakily, taking a few more breaths. Several minutes passed and she was finally able to get up and moving. She barely registered her shower, getting dressed. Suddenly she was speeding down the road toward the stadium, only noticing the wind on her stinging cheeks. She hoped she looked presentable. Convincing. She couldn’t distract him, throw off his game. 

Garrett was waiting for her outside in his uniform and street shoes, leaning against a low wall, his eyes closed. The churning in her stomach slowed as she got closer. He opened his eyes well before she reached him, seeming to sense her approach. He released his breath, his shoulders dropping, and a crooked smile formed on his face.

“Wellsy.” 

The relief in his voice made her eyes burn and she blinked rapidly, looking down. He wrapped himself around her. He wasn’t trembling, so much as—humming. His limbs throbbed with a nervous energy that she could feel in her bones.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“I am now.” He rested his cheek on top of her head, idly curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. 

“You said it was important. Is something wrong?”

He pulled back to look down at her, his normally sparkling eyes troubled. “I just—didn’t feel like I could play without talking to you first.” His mouth opened again, but he didn’t seem to have the words. She reached up to stroke his cheek.

“Your dad’s here.”

His eyes widened minutely and he huffed in wonderment. “How do you always know?” He pulled her in again, nuzzling her hair. “Yea, he’s here. With Cindy.” His back tensed under her hands and she squeezed him a bit. “She’s wearing a lot of makeup.” 

The implications of that dropped like a stone in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s okay. I’m just so glad you’re here. You always help me get out of my head. I just really need a Coach Wellsy pep talk right now.” 

She smiled, knowing how much pressure he was under. Maybe I could use one of my own pep talks right now. He was looking at her so expectantly that she blanked for a moment. She thought of everything that terrified her, just inside that building. His expression changed, picking up on the flicker of something that crossed her face.

“Are you okay?” 

She froze, her smile pasted on. “Of—” She cleared her throat. “Of course. Now, focus up, Graham. What’s going on up there?” She playfully knocked on his head, then smoothed his curls to soften the gesture. He chuckled, but his eyes narrowed slightly. He could always tell when something was wrong. He took her hands, clearly noting the slight tremor.

“Everyone’s counting on me to be in control. I’m the captain.”

“Being Captain doesn’t mean you have to do it all yourself. The leader’s job is to support the team. You guys are all out there together, you’re not alone.”

His grip on her hands relaxed somewhat. “You’re right. My dad would say that I’m the star, I have to act like it.”

“Since when do you agree with anything he says? We can’t let him win. It gives him power. This is how we win. We just—we show up and live our lives.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Okay. We can do that.” 

“As for everything else, we just start with the small stuff and work our way up.”

He smirked. “The small stuff?”

“Yea, whatever that means for hockey. I guess the small stuff could be…don’t play like shit? Score more goals than the other team?” They both laughed, and he stared like he was memorizing her.

“Yea, okay. I can do that.” He looked a lot more settled than when she first arrived. Good. At least I can make one of us feel better. “That new center St A’s has—Delaney—he’s gonna try to kick my ass. I’ve heard he’s a monster.”

Suddenly she couldn’t feel her cheeks as the blood drained from them. He immediately looked concerned, his hands cupping her shoulders. 

“Wellsy? Are you sure you’re okay?”

She shook herself to remove the buzzing in her ears, coming back to him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m—” She picked up his hand and squeezed it once, their signal. She almost reflexively squeezed again but stopped herself. “I’m good. I promise.” 

He nodded, still not looking assured. “Okay.” 

She walked him down the tunnel towards the rink, waiting while he put on his skates. She stopped him just before they reached the edge of the camera’s view. They stared into each other’s eyes for a beat too long.

“I love you,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. 

He smiled warmly. The knot in her chest loosened. “I love you, too.” 

He wrapped her into a deep kiss. They stayed that way for as long as they dared. He grinned brightly before planting another one on her lips, leaving her flushed. He winked, released her, and skated off. She had to force herself to look away from his back. The rink blurred, flashes of movement cutting through the white haze. Then everything stopped—Delaney was in the center of the ice, already staring at her. She had to brace herself against the cold concrete wall. After what felt like an eternity, Allie’s voice pulled her out and she joined her and Bo in the stands. How am I going to do this?



~~~



God, this guy is ruthless. Garrett could see how Delaney had gotten his reputation. The shit eating grin on his face each time someone got hurt, especially if it was his doing. “It’s no fun if you don’t fight back.” He really was enjoying himself too much. It didn’t matter though. Garrett’s head was in the game. He was holding his own. No stupid mistakes yet. Even though Delaney had been his shadow this entire time. Even though he was worried about Wellsy, in the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford those feelings to be front and center but they were still there.

Something was off when she met him before the game. She was tense, pale. He didn’t want to say scared—but there had been a moment. Talking about the game, about Delaney. For a split second, fear flashed across her face, though she tried so hard to reign it in. Maybe it was thinking about Indiana, the guys mentioned that’s where he was from. 

Every so often his eyes drifted up into the stands to get a glimpse of her. Fighting to look like she was having fun. Visibly upset every time Delaney slammed him into the boards. Which was a lot. Sometimes he’d look up and she wasn’t there. His eyes would drift around, searching for her denim jacket. He locked eyes with Allie during one of these disappearances. She looked worried too. That’s a bad sign. Then he’d see Hannah coming back to her seat. She’d wave to him with a fake smile plastered on. It didn’t make him feel better. 

By the end of the first period, he’d missed a few shots distracted by looking for her and the guys were starting to notice. As they filed into the locker room, Logan nudged him. 

“Hey, come on, bro. Shake it off, you got this.” 

He nodded and they sat together to hear Coach’s thoughts.

“You guys are working okay out there, but that wasn’t the first period I was looking for. We’re down by two already and we’ve got to make it up. Graham, Delaney’s shadowing you. Move the puck, look at Birdie and Dean. We’ve got two periods left, and Delaney’s not going to leave you alone. Your turnovers are killing us. Let’s work as a team and try not to do it all ourselves.” 

“Got it, Coach.” 

Logan looked over as Jensen walked away. “Delaney’s trying to take you out of the game, so take their defenders out too. As soon as the puck comes in, just get rid of it.” 

Garrett nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. This guy’s on my ass.”

“We’ll get him together. I’m out there too, just keep looking for me.” 

They knocked fists, feeling good about their plan when they got back out. The team hit the ice with renewed energy. Garrett locked into the strategy quickly. Each time he saw Delaney hurtling at him, he ditched the puck. Someone was always there to catch it and they made up the score gap steadily. 

Delaney was getting more pissed with every goal. Garrett had figured out his game and he was losing leverage. The more angry and unhinged Delaney got, the cooler Garrett felt. And the more upset Wellsy looked. She was wringing her hands, knuckles white, and flinched every time Delaney took someone out.

By the next break, they were tied and Delaney looked ready to commit murder. Right before the period ended, just as Birdie was coming around the goal, Delaney slammed him with all his momentum. He went down hard. Delaney just stared, looking bored. They got Birdie off the ice and Garrett looked for Wellsy again. She was gone. Again.

In the locker room, everyone gathered around Birdie, the trainer shining a flashlight in his eyes. “How you doing, Birdie?” Coach asked.

“Everything’s so fucking bright.”

“Okay, you’re not going back in.” Coach reshuffled the lineup, and then addressed the group. “Much better guys, that’s the kind of teamwork I’m talking about. A lot can happen in 20 minutes, but keep playing like that and we’ve got this. Graham, try not to get throttled out there, okay? Delaney’s out for blood.”

Garrett saluted his coach as he chugged water. The guys were standing around Birdie. Dean chimed in first. “Fuck Aaron Delaney, man.”

Tucker looked furious, an expression they didn’t see on him often. “There’s no way that was an accident. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“He keeps getting away with it, too,” Logan offered. “Not one call. Any other player would have been thrown out by now. He’s Teflon and he knows it.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, when you’re the mayor’s son…”

“What?” Garrett’s eyes snapped to Dean’s, just as Coach called them back. Last period. As they walked out onto the rink, his thoughts swirled. Indiana. Mayor’s son. Wellsy. Every expression, every time her eyes flicked to Delaney, each time she disappeared. It was always after he did something particularly nasty to one of them. 

Meeting Delaney in the faceoff, he searched his expression. It was cold, hard, and remorseless. Garrett won the puck and tore off, sending it to Logan, who scored handily. As soon as the puck hit the net, the crowd erupted—and so did Delaney. He smashed his stick against the boards, yelling loudly in frustration. Garrett’s gaze found Wellsy and she was…not okay. Each time his stick connected with the glass, her whole body flinched. She folded over, her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed tight. Allie put a hand on her back. It’s him. 

Garrett’s eyes burned as he thought of what it was costing her to sit in this stadium…for him. She wanted to be supportive, to not distract him. Oh god. All he wanted was to wring this guy’s neck. But that wouldn’t do anyone any good. Especially not her. He fought to get his head back in the game, trying to keep as much distance between himself and Delaney as possible. They returned for the last faceoff, the game back at a tie. Delaney worked a smug smile onto his face, though it was clearly forced.

“Hey man, everything they say is true. Playing against you has been really fun.”

“Yea, I’ll bet.” Garrett stared back coldly, his eyes like steel. 

“Graham, you know what’s going to be even better than beating you?”

His jaw clenched. “What’s that?”

Delaney’s eyes drifted over to the stands, locking onto Hannah briefly, and then back. “Beating you in front of that lying slut.” 

Garrett barely noticed the puck hit the ice, as he put all his effort into controlling himself. He looked over at Wellsy and knew she saw what happened. She didn’t need to hear Delaney to know what he said. She’d heard it all before. She’d told him how the town had turned on her. He knew what people said about girls who accused high profile guys (or any guy really). This was nothing new for her.

It hit him like a punch in the gut, though. For a split second, he couldn’t let it stand. He couldn’t let that animal just skate away, without doing anything. Then Wellsy shook her head. Tears splashed down her face and her mouth moved silently. “Please.”

That jolted him out of it. She didn’t want him to go all white knight, defending her honor. He realized several things at once. First and foremost, she needed him right now. She’d kept it together for hours for his sake. He could manage a few more minutes for hers. And no matter what happened on the ice, he wanted to be there for her after the game. Not waylaid by a misconduct charge. He also remembered how she flinched at Delaney’s violence. He would never want to be like him—to make her scared of him that way, no matter the reason.

Worst of all, Delaney wanted him to fly off the handle. Wanted him to ruin his own career, forfeit the game, and leave Wellsy all alone. He was worried about losing, and his best chance was to provoke Garrett into blowing up his spot. The best way to get back at him was to win cleanly. His dad would have loved for him to throw his stick and level this asshole. Which is exactly why he wouldn’t.

He nodded at Wellsy and she relaxed marginally, her face still streaked with tears. Then it was time to channel all that rage and hatred into scoring one more point and breaking the tie. Which he did. He set Tucker up perfectly to bury the puck and it went in right before the buzzer sounded. His team whooped and rallied around them, and the St. A’s players started to skate morosely off the ice. Except Delaney. He threw his stick, just as Garrett had considered doing, and went after him. 

Garrett felt a tug on his jersey and soon he was down on the ice, his arms up protecting his face. Delaney was screaming, his gloves off. Luckily, Garrett kept his helmet on and Delaney was just cutting his knuckles up on the cage. He barely got a few punches in before the entire Hawks team fell on them. Logan ripped him off and threw him several feet onto the ice. Dean and Tucker got Garrett up. He pulled his helmet off, pretty much unharmed, and searched the crowd again. As soon as she saw he was back on his feet, she tore off down the aisle and out the tunnel. 

He called her name but she didn’t hear over the roar of the crowd and Delaney’s screams. The referee and his own coach were dragging him away. He was certainly facing misconduct and would be suspended for at least a few games. Coach Jensen clapped Garrett on the back as he left the rink.

“I’m proud of you, Graham. For not going after him. You did good.” 

Jensen had no idea what had happened between them but it still meant a lot. He nodded and turned his attention to Wellsy. He ran back to the locker room and changed as fast as he could. He was in street clothes and out the door again before the team even caught up. 

He ran deep into the tunnels, trying to think of a secluded place that she might go. He remembered the first time he watched her playing Elton John in the green room. He turned down the empty corridors. Last time he could hear her singing from several halls away. This time, as he got closer, a sound reached his ears that nearly stopped his heart. He could hear her again. But instead of her joyous singing, it was panicked wailing. Her sobs and gasps resonated off the concrete walls. 

He picked up the pace, desperate to get to her, until he was sprinting to the door. He looked through the window and saw her crumpled on the ground against the piano legs. Her face was in her knees and her choked sounds nearly broke him. He pushed the door open gently. She didn’t look up, too lost in her fear to hear him. He crouched down in front of her, reaching out slowly to run his finger over the toe of her shoe. He didn’t want to startle her, as much as he longed to scoop her up. She raised her head, her eyes still closed, breathing out of control. 

She reached blindly for him and he took the invitation. As he tucked her deep into his arms, her sobbing ratcheted up. Gripping his jacket, she pressed her forehead into his neck, gulping for air and not getting any. He whispered low in her ear as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. 

“I’m here, Wellsy. I’ve got you, you’re safe. Breathe with me, babe. One…two…three…four…that’s it.” She shook her head against his collar. “You can do it, Wellsy, I promise.”

It took a long time, but eventually his persistent voice overpowered the loud buzzing in her ears and she latched onto his rhythm. Her shaking settled and his arms tightened around her. She nuzzled deeper into his shoulder and took an unsteady breath that reached her diaphragm for the first time in hours. It was progress.

His own nervous system started to calm down as he felt her relax. He pushed her hair back, pressing kisses to her temple and forehead. “There you go, Wellsy. We’re gonna be okay.” 

She barked a wet sound that was half sob, half bitter laugh. “If you say so,” she whispered, her voice raw and hoarse. 

“I know it. You helped put me back together, now it’s my turn. I’m not going anywhere.”

She whimpered softly and leaned even more weight on him. “I’m sorry.”

He turned her slightly so he could see her face without pulling away. “Sorry for what?”

She shook her head helplessly, fiddling with his jacket buttons. “For—I don’t know, for not telling you about Delaney. For promising I was okay and then—I couldn’t keep it together.”

“Oh, Wellsy, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He stared into her wide eyes for a moment before pulling her tightly back in. “I know why you didn’t tell me. You didn’t want to distract me before the game. I’m the one who should apologize. You shouldn’t have even come tonight, that’s too much to put on you.”

She clung tighter. “I wanted to be here for you.” Her voice was so heartbreakingly small that a tear slipped down his cheek. 

“Now I get to be here for you. Okay?” 

He tilted her chin and looked directly in her eyes, to make sure she understood. She nodded, her lip quivering. He kissed her gently. There was no pressure in that kiss, no expectation. She could be anything she needed to be. Tonight and any night. It was safety and warmth and protection from her waking nightmare. She leaned in and lost herself in it for a moment. He pulled back, not wanting to overwhelm her. They stayed on the floor and cuddled together quietly for a while longer. 

Eventually, he asked if she wanted to get up. She let him help her to stand on wobbly legs and he took her weight as they moved to the door. His phone pinged in his pocket and he scrolled through the texts from his teammates. They were asking if he was okay, where he went. He quickly typed off a message to Logan explaining that Wellsy was sick and he was taking her back to the house and going to bed. Then he froze at the text from his father.

 

Phil Graham: I’m disappointed. You looked weak out there, should have taken that guy out. Fucking pussy, you’ll never measure up.

 

Garrett almost laughed and showed Wellsy the text. She stopped and read it quickly, looking up to gauge his reaction. A weight lifted off his chest for the first time in years. His smile told her everything she needed to know. She pulled him down for a quiet kiss. 

“I’m proud of you, you know. It takes a lot of strength to stay in control like that. I was worried you would go after him.”

He smiled warmly. “It was hard. I wanted to. A lot. But I realized that it wouldn’t help anything. It was what he wanted. And—I saw how scared you were when he—I didn’t want to be like that. To scare you, too.”

She gripped his jacket collar firmly, forcing him to look at her. “I could never be scared of you. Even if you had beaten him up, I wouldn’t have been happy but it’s impossible for me to be scared of you. You make me feel safer than anyone ever has.” 

He wrapped her into his arms again for a long hug. “Thank you, Wellsy. You make me want to be better. To do better. And I’m going to.”

“You already did.” 

She sagged against him and he could feel her exhaustion. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I told the boys you were sick and we were going straight to bed.”

She sighed at not having to socialize or explain. “Thank you.”

They took the back way out of the stadium to where his car was waiting. He opened her door and handed her inside. He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek and left her there to fetch his bag from the locker room and her bike. By the time he jumped into the driver’s seat, she had fallen asleep. His throat constricted looking at her. What she had been through tonight, just to support him. Hockey had not only taken over his life, but hers as well. It wasn’t fair. 

They reached home and he climbed out. She didn’t stir as he shut the door. He opened it on her side and scooped her up. She nestled into his shoulder, humming softly. That she trusted him to handle her like this, totally vulnerable—it lit a cozy fire behind his breastbone. He carried her into the empty house and up to his room. Stroking her cheek, he roused her just enough to ask if he could undress her into one of his shirts. She nodded, still half asleep. Soon he was wrapped around her back protectively, his own adrenaline fading and leaving him groggy and slow. He nuzzled the hair at the base of her neck.

“I love you,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear. She didn’t wake, but instinctively settled in closer. 

They were still spooned in the same position, the morning sun spilling through the windows, when she tensed against him. He could hear her breathing was fast again and he ran his hand up and down her arm.

“Wellsy? You okay?” Some tension released at the sound of his voice. She reached for his hand, bringing it over her waist, and squeezed it—twice. He turned her fully around. Her eyes were wide, tears trembling on the edges. His face crumpled slightly and he gathered her close.

“Just—” she gasped quietly against his neck. “Forgot where I was for a second. I had a dream that—” She burrowed deeper into his arms and sighed haltingly. “But it’s okay now.” 

He pressed a kiss to her hair and held her until the vibrating in her limbs calmed. They spent the rest of the morning in bed, talking about nothing. Then it was time to face the day. Luckily, the boys were downstairs making breakfast. They hailed him as a hero and doted on her, offering to make her whatever she wanted. There was no pressure to talk, and she simply basked in the playful energy surrounding them. Garrett stayed close all day, already at her side before she even knew she was reaching for him. She felt so at home there and was so glad it was the weekend so she didn’t have to leave.