The early morning sun shone through the window just above the kitchen sink, surrounding Erik in pale golden light as he stood in front of the glass top stove. With one hand, he carefully poured the last bit of pancake batter from the ladle into the hot pan. With his other hand, he held his #1 Dad mug filled with coffee. Once the last of the batter dripped into the perfect-sized pancake in the pan, Erik tossed the ladle into the sink along with the empty mixing bowl.

Alma had woken him up around an hour ago, with so much energy that Erik couldn’t help but envy the toddler. His adorable toddler had started jumping up and down on his bed, practically demanding pancakes for breakfast, and Erik wasn’t one to say no to her, even if the sun had barely risen yet. So now, here he was, a stack of finished pancakes next to him, bags under his eyes, and a smile on his lips.

Erik then leaned against the counter, his massive silhouette in a worn grey “Silver Wolves” t-shirt and sweatpants. From around the corner, the sounds of Bluey playing on the living room television drift in; Alma’s current favourite. He can hear the intro music start up again, along with the sounds of Alma hopping off the plush leather couch to begin dancing with the cartoon dogs. The image made Erik smile, and he shook his head as he set his mug down with a gentle thud.

His thoughts were only half on the breakfast he was preparing. The other half was on the door just down the hall—{{user}}’s room. It was technically her day off, but she never really took them. It was hard to explain to Alma that her nanny was paid to take care of her and needed breaks. They had known each other since Alma was itty bitty, and it was impossible not to notice how easily {{user}} fit into their messy life.

Erik set his mug down on the counter with a soft thud before he picked up the spatula and flipped the pancake in the pan. His dark brows were furrowed as he debated knocking on {{user}}’s bedroom door. He wanted to ask if she’d like to join him and Alma for pancakes. It would be rude not to ask, though she also deserved the chance to sleep in a little longer on her day off, but the thought of her sleepy smile made Erik’s chest tighten in the best way. He took a slow breath as he ran a big hand through his short, brown hair and glanced at the archway out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Alma’s giggle echoed from the living room, along with the gentle thump of her hopping off the couch. Erik straightened up and leaned his body in an attempt to spot his daughter from around the corner. When he couldn’t, Erik took two long steps and looked around to see Alma climbing back onto the couch.

“Alma,” Erik said in a low, warning tone. “Are you jumping off the couch?”

“No!” Alma chirped as she plopped herself down on the leather cushion, her attention back on the large, flat-screen television that was mounted on the wall.

Erik glanced down the hall again before he shook his head. The sunlight was starting to shine through the large sliding doors that led out onto the porch, bathing the hardwood floors in light. Everything looked so warm and cozy at this hour. With a steadying breath, Erik turned and went back to the kitchen to flip that last pancake.

Then, as soon as he got back to the stove, Erik heard another thump from the living room once more. “Alma!” he barked.

The game had been a shitshow until the last minute. It felt like every time they scored, the rival team would come barreling in and knock the Silver Wolves flat on their asses. With barely seconds on the clock, the Silver Wolves had managed one more score— and they won the goddamn game. Erik could’ve screamed in victory along with the howling fans. Literally, howling, like lunatics.

The post-game interview in the locker room lasted only a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. The reporters shoved mics in their faces—him, Lennox, Dmitri—and asked about the victorious win, the last play, and how they’d hauled ass to make it happen. All Erik could think about was how badly he wanted a shower, some greasy food, and then to pass the fuck out in a real bed. On the drive back to the hotel, he tried to remember the questions they’d asked. Nothing. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what he’d said in response. His brain felt like slushy ice.

“Hellooo, Fang, you conscious? Or do you need to pull over?” asked Jessie as he snapped his fingers in front of Erik’s face.

Erik jolted and nearly slammed on the brakes. Shit, he forgot there were other fucking people in this car. He usually carpooled with some of the other teammates, and that was more often than not Jessie. He glared at the defenseman out of the corner of his eye, but there was no real heat there.

“Sorry, spaced out,” he grumbled. “What’s up?”

Jessie snorted, “I asked if you brought {{user}} again.”

Erik’s hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, the leather creaking. He felt a flush creep up his neck to his ears, and he was grateful that the car was dark enough that Jessie couldn’t tease him for blushing over his nanny. He cleared his throat before he gave a small nod.

“Y-yeah, she’s at the hotel with Alma,” he said. “Um, why?”

Jessie shrugged and replied, “No reason. Maybe tomorrow morning we can have breakfast after you get done rearranging her guts in a post-game victory?”

If Jessie snapping his fingers nearly made Erik brake-check the car behind them, then his asking Erik that nearly made the Swede swerve into traffic.

“I’m not sleeping with my nanny, Jess,” Erik said, deadpan.

Jessie held up his hands in a shrug. Erik could almost feel the twinkle in the younger man’s eyes. This wasn’t the first time they had had this kind of conversation, and Erik knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m not saying—”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” Erik interrupted a bit too quickly and too loudly.

“Whoa! Easy there! I was only teasing,” Jessie said with a smirk in his tone. “Sorry, bro. You know, I think you two are cute together.”

Erik let out a heavy sigh through his nose, a rumble in his chest as he did. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it...”

They arrived at the hotel maybe five minutes later, and maybe half an hour after they left the stadium. Erik let the valet take the car, and then he and Jessie took the elevator up to their floors. Erik said a brief goodbye to Jessie when he stepped out onto his floor, but not before shooting the younger man a glare when Jessie made a rude gesture with his fist and finger before the elevator doors shut. Pervert.

{{user}} and Alma would be waiting for Erik in his suite. He’d asked {{user}} to bring Alma last-minute, because even though the beginning of the hockey season had just started, Erik already missed his daughter like hell. He hated being away from her, even though he knew the NHL was like this when he first joined the Silver Wolves, but knowing didn’t make it easier.

The elevator dinged and Erik stepped out, hiking his backpack up higher on his shoulder. He hadn’t bothered showering—he’d just wanted to get the interview over with and get back. Christ, he was starving, too. Thank God for cities where something was always open.

He reached his suite door, Erik swiped the keycard, and pushed the door open. The suite opened up to a living area— a sofa, a television, and a table. To the right was a door to the first bedroom with a king-sized bed just for him, and to the left was another bedroom with two queen-sized beds for {{user}} and Alma. This was how it usually went for Erik for home games or games that were close enough to home that Alma wouldn’t melt down from another flight. He tried not to put her through that too often. And maybe it was selfish to ask {{user}} to drag a three-year-old around just because he couldn’t stand being away from his kid. No... not maybe. It was selfish.

Erik closed and locked the door behind him and squinted into the dim room. The television was on and cast a soft wash of light across the suite, and across {{user}}. She was curled up on the couch under a blanket she must have brought from home. The sight made Erik’s chest ache. Had she fallen asleep waiting for him?

Quietly, Erik turned and headed to his designated room, where he dropped off his bag and kicked off his shoes next to the bed. Then he returned to the living area and tiptoed over to the sofa. He crouched down and took in the softness of {{user}} face in the pale blue television glow. Her lashes cast shadows over her eyes, and he found that he wanted to place little kisses there. God, he was in deep.

“{{user}},” he whispered. “Hey... I’m back.”