My first fic, woah. No cool header sorry.
Marc-André Fleury x OC (MLM)
OC is a shapeshifter in the fic, but it's only really important for the first part really. Wrote this in my notes app, sorry if that affects anything, shouldn't though.
Fluff
Fleury wasn't new to the whole shapeshifting thing. Andrew had shapeshifted around the team plenty of times, and various other players on the Penguins, other NHL teams, and the non-hockey world could shapeshift as well.
But Icarus hadn't really shifted in private around Fleury ever since they started dating. But, as they got more comfortable with eachother, Andrew had started shifting more.
Which led to tonight. After an OT win that had drained the whole team, Fleury had prepped himself for bed, he had his glasses on, TV playing something in the background, book in hand (it was something Sid had recommended, Fleury had borrowed it from him and he was thoroughly enjoying it), and was prepped for a nice, quiet night.
And then he heard something nudge the door open slightly. Andrew. But he heard no footsteps. Or well, he did hear some, but they were quiet. Very quiet.
And then he felt a little weight jump into the bed, and four paws stand on his legs as they walked in a circle on his thighs before curling up into a ball, head facing towards the TV.
Fleury kept his eyes on the book, but he was very much NOT reading. Considering that Andrew hadn't shifted much in private, and had decided he was comfortable enough to not only shift, but straight up curl up in Fleury's lap, this was pretty big.
Fleury didn't quite know what to do. He didn't want to put his book down or look at Andrew suddenly and spook him, this was big progress for them. But at the same point, he'd like to actually savor the moment, Andrew being a Shapeshifter wasn't something he should have to feel anxious about, and while he did it in front of the team plenty, it felt different in private, as Andrew had explained to him when they first moved in together.
So he settled for pretending to read for a good 10 minutes, that was how long he usually read before bed each night, before he slowly and quietly closed the book, and leaned over to set it on the nightstand, before taking his reading glasses off nice and slow-
Fuck, how the hell did he drop his glasses? Better yet, why did they have to clatter to the floor?
And of course, Andrew popped up like a gunshot went off, head snapping to look at Fleury like he'd purposely thrown them on the ground.
"Don't look at me like that, Petit chaton. You're fine, just a bit dramatic."
Fleury folded over to reach down and grab his glasses off the floor, setting them on top of his book, before leaning forward and scooping Andrew up into his arms and cradling him to his chest.
Alright, cat on the back, hand under the neck and arm under the butt to support their head- or was that babies? God I've been spending to much time with Nikita.
Though clearly Andrew minded none, arching his back slightly and stretching out like a fluffy little king perched upon a throne. Eh, cat, baby, they were basically the same when it came to Andrew, Fleury supposed.
For a while, Fleury just sat there, leaned back against his pillow, and just cradled and cuddled and pampered Andrew for a good while, alternating between scratching his head and his tummy, before Andrew finally escaped the cuddle torture, doing another big stretch, before walking over to his side of the bed.
And in a poof, where there once was a fuzzy little gray cat, was a big goalie that Fleury called his boyfriend.
"Bonjour, mon humain."
"Do you really need to refer to me as whatever I am in the moment?" Came the whine frome Andrew, even as he scooted off his side of the bed and took up more space on Fleury's then he really needed.
"I don't do that, I call you mon amour sometimes."
"Yeah, sometimes." He huffed, as if Fleury was simply the cruelest person ever.
"I think you'll be quite fine, mon humaine."
The glare Andrew sent his way reminded Fleury of how Andrew would look from the bench at the opposing team's players who got a little too close to Fleury in the crease.
Andrew had been doing that for a while, practically ever since he was traded from the Columbus Blue Jackets about 3 years ago. God, it felt like yesterday that Fleury had been spooked by those big brown eyes asking if the stall next to his was already taken.
Truth was, it had been...by Tanger. But Fleury called in a favor he'd been owed when Andrew wasn't around and Tanger relinquished his stall for Fleury's new "friend."
Was it part pity? Oh definitely. Fleury could still feel the almost pitiful look in Tanger's eye at just how desperate Fleury had been. Those big brown eyes, while yes had scared him, planted stupid little ideas of a life not so alone.
Fleury used to think he was crazy for thinking Andrew would ever look at him. Though, in all fairness, the entire team had been teasing him saying Andrew wanted him so fucking bad ever since...Fleury didn't know exactly when, but he knew he'd been on the receiving end of Andrew's unwavering stare from across the ice for plenty of time before the Blue Jackets traded him.
And everyone could admit the Blue Jackets made a bad, bad choice letting Andrew go, hell, their other goalie at the time, Sergei Bobrovsky, and close friend of Andrew, said in plenty of interviews that even now, he wasn't used to not being in the same lockeroom and not carpooling to and from the rink with Andrew.
Though, Fleury wasn't complaining. He had the love of his life in his bed right now because of it. There wasn't a single time Fleury would call it the worst goalie trade in the NHL, at least, not for him. It sucked a lot for just about anyone that was a Blue Jackets fan.
And Andrew was very possessive and had been since before they'd been together. Fleury still hadn't told Andrew that his stall was originally Tangers and that Tanger moved across the locker room just for Fleury to have a chance with the hot goalie. Hell, if Fleury were honest, he sometimes thought if he hadn't been interested in Andrew, Tanger would have asked him to move so Tanger could get in on having his stall next to Andrew.
And for that, Fleury knew he was deeply lucky that Tanger cared so much. Fleury had been expecting Tanger to say no, and never let him live it down, even if he hadn't really done anything to warrant that idea. But Tanger had kept so quiet that Andrew still didn't know years later, hell, even drunk Tanger didn't spill a word about it to anybody. Or at least, not in earshot of Fleury.
All Fleury did know was that said hot goalie, was his boyfriend and in his bed. His hot goalie. Just the thought of those three words made him all giddy inside. He'd seen plenty of people get all possessive over their significant others, though Fleury wasn't much like that. He'd had his moments, but generally, he was just happy Andrew chose him.
That and, Andrew sometimes joked that only Fleury would put up with his weird ass, so he'd stick it out till the very end. Fleury knew better though. Not that Andrew would ever leave him, but that only Fleury could put up with him. Andrew had plenty of puck bunnies all over him before they publicly got together. Fleury suspected Andrew was just too socially awkward to see any of it, let alone recognize it.
Either way, he never needed to be jealous because he knew Andrew wouldn't look at another like he looked at Fleury.
@creoleeggin know you wanted to see the fic
