Mighty ducks imagine/ preference

Loud Silence (D. Portman)

Dean Portman had a reputation.

Everyone knew it.

He was loud, cocky, always smirking like he knew something you didn't. On the ice, he hit hard. Off the ice, he flirted harder. Girls laughed at everything he said, leaned a little too close, touched his arm like it meant something.

And Dean? He let them.

Because that was easier.

Way easier than admitting the truth.

⸻

Her name was Riley Carter.

And she was the only person who could make Dean Portman nervous.

Not that anyone would ever know.

⸻

"Portman, you coming or are you busy charming the entire population?" Fulton called from across the locker room.

Dean shot him a look, shrugging on his jacket. "Jealous?"

"Of what? Your personality?" Fulton deadpanned.

The team laughed, but Dean barely heard it.

Because Riley had just walked in.

She wasn't trying to get attention like the other girls. No loud laugh, no dramatic entrance. Just quiet confidence, messy ponytail, and that same hoodie she always wore.

His hoodie.

"Hey," she said softly, leaning against the wall.

Dean didn't smile. Didn't move toward her. Didn't do anything he wanted to do.

"Hey," he replied, casual. Too casual.

A girl next to him giggled and nudged his arm. "Dean, you were gonna show me that move, remember?"

He smirked automatically. "Yeah, I got you."

Riley's expression didn't change.

But her fingers tightened around her sleeves.

⸻

Practice ended late.

The rink emptied out slowly, voices fading until it was quiet again. Dean stayed behind longer than usual, pretending to adjust his gear.

Waiting.

He heard her before he saw her.

"You're really good at that."

Dean didn't turn around. "At what?"

"Acting like I don't matter."

That made him freeze.

Slowly, he stood up and faced her. "Riley—"

"No, it's fine," she said quickly, though her voice wobbled. "I get it. You have your image or whatever."

"It's not like that."

She laughed, but it wasn't happy. "Then what is it like, Dean? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you flirt with every girl except the one you supposedly—"

She stopped herself.

Dean stepped closer. "Except the one I what?"

Riley shook her head. "Nothing."

"No. Say it."

Her eyes met his, and for once, Dean Portman didn't feel tough.

"I thought you loved me," she said quietly.

That hit harder than any check on the ice.

⸻

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of her again.

"I do."

She blinked. "What?"

"I do love you," he said, voice lower now. Real. "More than... more than I know what to do with, okay?"

Riley stared at him like she didn't believe him.

Which, honestly, made sense.

"Then why—" her voice broke, "why do you act like I'm nothing in front of everyone else?"

Dean exhaled slowly. "Because I'm an idiot."

She almost smiled at that.

"Because..." he continued, softer now, "if people know I care about you, they can mess with you. And I don't want that. I don't want anyone looking at you like they look at me or the girls I talk to."

Riley crossed her arms. "So your solution was to hurt me instead?"

He flinched.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Guess that backfired."

Silence settled between them.

Then, quietly, Riley said, "You flirt with them like it's nothing."

"It is nothing," Dean said immediately. "It's all fake. Every bit of it."

"Doesn't feel fake when I'm watching it."

That one stung.

Dean stepped closer again, slower this time. Careful.

"Riley," he said, softer than she'd ever heard him, "I don't even look at them the way I look at you."

She hesitated. "And how's that?"

He smiled a little, nervous for once. "Like you're the only person in the room."

Her breath caught.

⸻

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Riley shook her head slightly. "You're really bad at showing that."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I know."

Another pause.

"Say it again," she whispered.

Dean frowned. "Say what?"

Her voice was barely there. "What you said before."

He understood instantly.

And this time, he didn't hesitate.

"I love you, Riley."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled anyway.

"I love you too."

⸻

Dean pulled her into a hug, holding her tighter than he ever had before.

No audience. No act. No pretending.

Just them.

After a second, Riley mumbled into his chest, "You're still not allowed to flirt with other girls."

Dean huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that's fair."

"Like, at all."

"Okay, okay."

She pulled back just enough to look at him. "I'm serious."

"I know," he said, softer now. "I'm done with that."

"Good."

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, something he'd never dare do in public.

"Next time," she added, "maybe try loving me out loud."

Dean smiled—actually smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "I think I can do that."

And for once, Dean Portman didn't care who saw.