Drabble: Home (Chris POV)

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The Boston Brute Series Drabble: Home (Chris POV)

Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)

Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the 'No Fraternization' clause in your employee contract, you're drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Warnings: Language, I think. Some fluff. Nothing too crazy!

W/C: 892

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players. Additionally, I talk about Chris's family in this fic. Again, work of fiction and is no reflection of his parents or grandparents in real life.

Chris stepped through the front door, smiling as he slid the shoes you'd haphazardly kicked off, to the side

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Chris stepped through the front door, smiling as he slid the shoes you'd haphazardly kicked off, to the side. The two of you were very different beings in more than one way. You tend to look on the brighter side of things while Chris tends to mope and dwell over the things he can't control. He tends to be very neat and organized. You tend to be... not that.

You lean towards something you'd self-titled as 'messy organized'. Because if it were 'messy and unorganized' how else would you be able to tell Chris that the tube of mascara you desperately need was under the left side of your bed?

Messy. Organized.

It was a hill you were going to die on and one Chris didn't feel the need to argue about.

But the more time you spent together, the less and less he minded. He almost welcomed the 'mess'.

Walking into his once empty apartment to 4 pairs of your shoes kicked around just waiting to be tripped over was something that brought a smile to his face because it meant that you were here. That he wasn't walking into an empty apartment that just reminded him of the emptiness in his life. Being with you made him happy to come home.

The first thing he noticed when he shut the door behind him was the bowl on the entry table.

8 hours ago when he left his apartment, the bowl he tossed his keys into was white. But now, your keys sat inside a green bowl shaped like a plant leaf you had sitting on your windowsill. Chris thought you'd called it a monster? Something like that. He didn't pay attention.

He eyed it curiously, setting his keys down next to yours, then noticed the picture.

A smile warmed his face as he picked up the framed picture of the two of you. Chris's arm was draped around your shoulder as you snuggled into his side. You had a huge grin on your face while Chris looked down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. He was so in love with you.

He placed the picture back down on the table, then rounded to corner to the living room, his smile growing wider.

On his couch, there were 4 new throw pillows along with a small blanket draped over the arm. A candle sat on top of a new stack of books on his coffee table, the scent of magnolias and jasmine wafting through the air.

Chris walked through the living room, glancing at several new picture frames on the end tables and leaning against the walls, each one housing a picture of you and Chris or Chris with his family or team.

He wandered into the kitchen, taking note of the new decorative hand towels hanging from the oven door and he could all but hear you nagging at him when he'd eventually use one to dry his hands.

Chris smiled, resting his hip against the fridge while you rummaged through his pantry. "Y/N..." He said your name softly, knowing that whether he whispered or screamed it, you were still going to jump.

"Jesus!" You shot up, clutching your hands over your heart. "You scared the shit out of me!"

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you do some shopping today?"

Your eyebrows shot up, a worried look passing over your expression. "Okay, I know that I probably shouldn't have but I knew that if I asked you, you would've told me no, but–"

"Baby, wait." He held up a hand, pushing himself away from the fridge and closing the distance between you. Chris reached up, cupping your cheeks with his hands. "I'm not upset." He smiled again as your features softened. "But you're right. I would've told you no."

You rolled your eyes. "I know, that's why I had Connor get you out of the house."

His mouth dropped open. "You're kidding me? You had Connor involved with this?"

"Well, yeah. He's the only one besides me who can get you to leave this place. And I needed you gone. Didn't want you to foil my plans."

Chris smiled again, his arms dropping to his sides. "I only would've told you not to use your own money, princess. This place needed a little... Y/N thrown into it."

You rewarded him with a grin, your eyes lighting up when you realized that he liked the changes you made. "Really? You mean it?"

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you to his chest. "I've lived here for a while and it wasn't until today that it's felt like home. Thank you."

Your arms flew around his neck, your lips crashing onto Chris's as his arms tightened around you.

In reality, Chris knew that it wasn't the framed pictures or the decorative hand towel that made this place feel like home.

It was the shoes by the door and the dirty dish left in the sink instead of placed in the dishwasher. It was the pile of clothes left in the bathroom right next to the hamper and the entire makeup collection from Sephora strewn about the bathroom counter.

It was every little unintentional reminder that you left for him, letting him know that he wasn't alone.

It wasn't the throw pillows and a pink candle.

It was you.

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