Author: FlairforDrama PM
In which Averman is dubbed a genius, and Fulton is cold. [Oneshot] Rated for mild swearing. Slight Bash Slash implied.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Words: 657 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Published: 12-08-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2693838
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to, pertaining to, or regarding Mighty Ducks. Tough break.
Summary: In which Averman is dubbed a genius, and Fulton is freezing.
Genre: Fluff…total, pure, 100 fluff.
Rating: T for mild swearing.
Fulton Reed hated to be cold. He hated how his toes would go numb, and refuse to warm. He hated how he could see his breath in the darkness, when on the other side of the thin canvas tent flap was warmth. But, Portman was here, and the Bashes simply don't fly solo. Never had. Never would.
Fulton shut his eyes tight, goosebumps crawling over his skin. Whose shitty idea had this been, anyway? Oh, of course. Averman. It had been the last Friday before winter break. No one had had any plans for that week. Averman had suggested a camping trip. The Ducks had warmed eagerly to the idea. Charlie had called the local state park, only to learn that the price for the only available campsite was preposterously high. It was definitely out of the range of the Duck's budget. But, luckily for the team, Averman had had another brilliant idea.
"We'll camp out in Banksies back yard!" he had crowed triumphantly to the team.
Adam had been hesitant at first. But, realizing the team had a point (that his house was the biggest, and his yard was indeed the size of a small strip mall), he had succumbed. Although, the fact that Charlie had pouted might have also swayed him.
The team had all packed their things, and by late afternoon they were scattered across Adam's backyard. Hours flew by. Stories were shared, laughs echoed around the huge space, and even a song or two was struck up.
When it was finally too dark to see each other, the Ducks had, one by one, retired to their separate tents. Naturally, the Bash Brothers had claimed the best tent, and no one had thought it wise to challenge them. However, as the temperature dropped, it became apparent that Bank's house would be a much more welcome sleeping area.
Soon, all of the Ducks had scurried inside. All, save two. The Bashes had insisted that they would last until morning, cold or no. Charlie had merely shrugged in a "suit-yourself" manner, and went inside. If the two enforcers were frozen solid by morning, he could at least say that they brought it upon themselves.
For a while, the Bash Brothers had talked, joked, and laughed. But, when all topics (namely hockey and music) had been thoroughly exhausted, they had decided to hit the sack. Portman had instantly fallen asleep. He was curled up on his side, mouth slightly parted, breathing slow and even. Fulton, the slightly unluckier of the two, had been kept awake by the stinging cold.
Teeth chattering, Fulton clenched and unclenched his hand, keeping his circulation going. Shit, he couldn't keep this up for much longer. Warmth was so close, but at the same time, it was so painstakingly far away. Besides, if he left, Portman would never let him live it down. God, that guy could – Whoa. Hold on a second. Portman.
Fulton, struck with a sudden brilliant idea, rolled over and looked at the sleeping boy next to him. Then, making as little noise as possible, Fulton shifted closer to Portman. Fulton sighed when he snuggled up against the bigger boy. The kid was a big heater. Soon, Fulton could feel the evidence that he indeed still had toes. Slowly, but steadily, his body warmed. Then, suddenly sleepy, Fulton rested his head on Portman's shoulder. God, but it was wonderful how well his head fit Portman's broad shoulder. He could lie like this forever.
Fulton grinned to himself, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He'd have to remember to thank Averman later for being a genius.