#i love doing bolts fluffdowns

[stevenstamkos]

We need fluff STAT!! Dealer's choice on pairings or lack thereof. Here are some prompts: a pet shelter volunteer notices they've got a repeat visitor - do they need help adopting a new doggie, or are they just there to look 👀? Or how about a ruined first date/somebody in the pairing doesn't even know it's a date. Or? Or. Somebody has a seeeecret admirer and gifts keep showing up in their locker. Said admirer knows *way* too much about them and their peculiar preferences/habits.

You get a THREE IN ONE DEAL bc I LOVE YOU (and Bolts tumblr)

1. Pet shelter volunteer, Brayden/Val

Volunteering at the pet shelter is easy, it’s fun, and it means that Val gets to be surrounded by cute faces all day. Like the Shetland mutt that he’s grooming right now in preparation for her new owners.

“Hey, your repeat’s back.”

Val continues to brush the Shetland’s coat, ignoring Braydon even as something inside him perks up at the news. The dog stands still and patient for him, licking her nose, tail swishing.

Braydon is still hovering in the doorway. “Val, your repeat visitor is back.” He gestures to the Shetland. “I’ll take her, you take him.”

“Fine,” Val says quietly. He hands Braydon the brush and heads to the front of the shelter, toward the guy awkwardly hanging out by the fake hydrangeas.

Brayden - E not O - jumps when Val materializes next to him. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly, but the smile he flashes Val is as sweet as it’s been every time he’s come around. “I was starting to think I got my days mixed up and you weren’t volunteering today,” he blurts out and then immediately blushes.

“Wednesday, I’m here.” Not that it wasn’t already obvious, him being here. Val gets a little stupid sometimes around particular shelter visitors, okay. It’s a fault he’s willing to live with.

“Yep. You are.” Brayden’s smile widens, sharp little teeth flashing, because the universe is a fucked up place that exists to torture Val.

“You ready to adopt today or still looking?”

“I’m still looking.”

That’s what Brayden has been saying twice a week since he showed up here a month ago. Val sort of wonders what he does, since he apparently has a ton of spare time to hang out at pet shelters cooing over dogs.

“Right. Follow me.”

Brayden would make a good pet owner, Val thinks, if he ever makes up his mind about adopting. The dogs love him, and his hands are gentle as he plays with them, eyes closed and smile infectious as he lets them lick his face. When he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle a little.

(Val is carefully not thinking about how much he might miss seeing Brayden twice a week, hovering over the hydrangeas.)

“The Shetland, did she…?”

“Adopted this morning, yeah.”

He wonders if he is imagining the look of relief on Brayden’s face. Probably too much to hope that this boy cares about the animals as much as Val does.

“That’s good,” Brayden says. “I’m happy.”

“Me too. Her new owners look like they’ll be good to her.”

The spotted dog in Brayden’s lap whines a little and licks his chin, startling a laugh out of him.

Val kneels so he can give his favorite German shepherd mix a good belly rub, watching as Brayden scratches under his spotted puppy’s chin, a thoughtful look on his face. Brayden’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “I just, you know, didn’t feel ready yet. Figured looking wouldn’t hurt though.”

“It doesn’t,” Val says quickly. “No rush, whenever you feel ready.”

“I think I might be now,” Brayden says.

Val stands, brushing off his knees and helping Brayden up. The puppy is still in Brayden’s arms, and he clutches her tightly as she squirms, tail wagging furiously.

“So um, I wasn’t sure if I felt prepared, and I kept coming up with reasons not to just come in here and you know. Cause like, I’m a little new to this, I’m new to Tampa, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. And I - I travel a lot. For my job. Sometimes a week or more at a time. So I might not be home a lot. And I thought, maybe it’s a little unfair - ”

Val nods along. “To leave your dog alone.”

“Yeah, exactly, and - Wait.” Brayden pauses. “Wait, not the dog.”

“Not the dog…?”

“I’m doing this all wrong.”

Brayden puts down the spotted dog, who immediately flops onto his feet and begins chewing the bottoms of his jeans. Brayden gently nudges her away. Val waits patiently.

Brayden takes a deep breath, hands disappearing deep into his pockets. He gives Val a nervous smile. “Look, d’you wanna go for coffee for something?”

What? That’s…not really what Val expected him to ask. “What?”

“I just um, I was wondering if you wanted to go out…with me.”

Like, a date? Val blinks a few times. His mouth moves on automatic. “I get off at four.”

“Great!” The look of relief that breaks out over Brayden’s face is very nice, even as a part of Val is still processing what just happened. “It’s 3:30, I can stick around until you get off. There’s a nice coffee shop nearby, we can grab a snack or something.”

Oh god, this is like a date. Val mindlessly bends down and scoops up the nearest dog, mostly so he can hold onto something while his mind tries to put together the fact that Brayden - cute, young, energetic, earnest Brayden - just asked him out. As a prelude to…what? He doesn’t want to hope. “That sounds good.”

They smile at each other stupidly for a while, Val still clutching one of the dogs, until one of the other pups rolls into his ankles and reminds him of where he is.

“Right. Are you actually going to adopt one of our dogs though?”

The blush lingering on Brayden’s face deepens as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I uh, wasn’t really looking at the dogs when I came in the past couple of weeks. I mean, they’re cute dogs! But um, I was sort of not really paying attention to them. So I might need to come back and look some more.”

Which, you know. Is totally fine by Val.

2. First date, TyJo/Kuch, TyJo/Pally/Kuch

As far as first dates go, Kuch considers this one a probable-success, even though they’ve just sat down. The wine is poured, the waiter is politely attentive - “We’re just waiting for one more.” - and Tyler is looking flushed and interested and very pretty. He is nibbling happily at the chocolates Kuch got him, making pleased little sounds and all sorts of amazing faces. Things are going well, mostly, until Tyler brings up their missing companion.

“Wonder what’s tied Pally up tonight.”

“Prep for tomorrow’s game.” Kuch smiles as he thinks. “I was late for our first time. Guess it’s Pally’s turn to be late first date.”

He doesn’t notice when Tyler stills. “Late first date?”

“Yeah, you know. But he gets better, promise! He will be on time for the second date.”

Tyler’s jaw drops a little. “This is a date?” He looks completely bewildered, his voice shooting up a few decibels. A couple heads turn in their direction.

Kuch feels his smile drop off his face, replaced by the deep frown he gives the beat reporters when they ask him stupid questions after a loss. “You didn’t know?”

“That this is a date? I didn’t think…”

“Дерьмо́ [shit].” He didn’t know. Kuch covers his eyes with his free hand. He can feel the tips of his ears burning, the blood rushing hot to this cheeks. Okay, probable-success was maybe too early, too optimistic.

“Nik, are you okay? I’m confused, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kuch says roughly. “This is fine. Um.” He stands up, blindly putting his napkin on the table. “Be right back.”

He walks very quickly to the bathroom, carefully not looking over his shoulder at where Tyler is probably still trying to figure things out. The men’s room is nicely decorated, all polished chrome and marble with elegant touches. It’s exactly suited to Kuch’s tastes, but he barely looks around as he locks himself into a stall to hyperventilate a little.

Tyler didn’t know this is a date. Tyler probably thought - what? That this is just a very nice, black-tie, high-end Triplets dinner? Bring your linemate to dinner night?

He hears the door open, tentative footsteps on the tiled floor. “Kuch? Nik, are you in here?”

For a wild second, Kuch considers hiding out in the stall for the entire night. But he’s not a coward at heart, and that would be stupid anyway. These dinner reservations don’t come easy. He reluctantly unlocks the door and steps out.

Tyler’s face is apologetic when he looks up at him. “Were you freaking out in there? I was afraid you ran out of the restaurant.”

“And left you alone? No.”

“Yeah, I was hoping you didn’t do that. It would’ve been embarrassing, getting dumped at the altar on the first date.”

Kuch isn’t sure what “dumped at the altar” means, but he can guess what Tyler is saying. “Sorry. Need to think.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I yelled.” He steps closer, smoothing down Kuch’s tie where it had gotten rumpled in his distress and fixing the lapels of his suit jacket. “I was just surprised about it being a date, that’s all.”

“Pally said ‘Come to dinner at the fancy restaurant with us and then we will go home together.’ What did you think it was?”

“I thought it was like, teammate bonding! Dinner and videogames! You two are dating already, what was I supposed to think?”

“Pally likes you.” Kuch watches as Tyler’s eyes go wide with interest. “I like you,” he adds slowly.

“Really?”

“You are pretty.” He shrugs, trying for nonchalant and probably missing by a kilometer. Thankfully, he has a pretty good poker face, though linemates - you never know, they can probably read him better than the reporters. “Pretty face. Pretty hockey.”

“Oh,” Tyler says, and then he’s dragging Kuch in by his tie and messing up his suit jacket all over again.

When they stumble out of the bathroom back to their table, Pally is sitting there fiddling with his cutlery and looking over the menu. He looks up as they approach, and his eyes light up when he takes in their disheveled appearances.

“Did you get started without me?”

“Little bit,” Kuch mutters. He is fairly certain that he missed a button, and one of his cufflinks is missing. Those were expensive.

Tyler points an accusatory finger at Pally. “You’re trying to date me too!”

“We both are,” Pally tells him patiently.

The wine glass closest to Tyler gets emptied before he takes his seat. When he does though, his face is pink and a little sheepish. He waits for Kuch to settle into his own seat before he speaks. “Again, sorry about freaking out.” His words are directed at Kuch. “I was just surprised.”

“Good surprised or bad surprised?” Pally asks.

Kuch smooths his napkin over his lap and tries not to let his eyes linger on Tyler’s flushed neck. It would probably torture him all night, wondering if the pinkness is from blushing or from beard burn.

“Good surprised. Mostly. Didn’t think I had a shot, since you two are,” Tyler flaps his hands at the two of them, which Kuch thinks is supposed to mean “together” but could really mean anything. “But I mean, I’m interested.” His eyes are bright and excited.

“Good,” Pally says, and then he reaches across the table and finishes buttoning up Kuch’s shirt.

3. Secret admirer, Heddy/Stammer

The first gift is a membership card to an exclusive golf club near Steven’s home, addressed to him: Steven Stamkos. It’s nice, because Steven hasn’t gone golfing in a month, and - well it’s not like he can’t afford to, but this is a nice reminder, and the membership card in general is nice. He wonders who left it in his stall.

It could be a once-off, except two days later after a routine off-day practice, he finds a Lightning-themed pizza cutter still in its box, resting on top of his shinguards.

Steven has a lot of Lightning stuff, accumulated throughout nine years with the team. He doesn’t have a Lightning pizza cutter though, and he takes a moment to marvel at the tiny perfect logo stenciled on the handle. The end of it has a hilarious mold of his face.

“Pizza at my place tonight?” he asks the room at large.

Most of the boys have their own plans, though Victor and Jo are both free for the night. As Steven is confirming the time, Stralsy sends Jo a strange look, and then Jo is suddenly tripping over his words.

“Actually you know what, never mind. I have to Skype Nate tonight.”

“The Avs are playing tonight though,” Steven says, but Jo is beating a hasty retreat, so it ends up being just Steven and Victor. Which is just fine in Steven’s opinion. They eat and chat and play some videogames, and then Victor sleeps over on the couch even though Steven told him that it would throw out his back.

A week later, he gets a Star Trek-themed ornament for his rearview mirror. It’s perfectly lovely, because he secretly loves Star Trek, and he openly loves his car. He hangs it up immediately and Victor makes a nice comment about how well it goes with his car.

Then his favorite cheat food that he doesn’t let himself eat. Mini Donuts from the Mini Donut Factory aren’t part of his diet plan, but he loves them so much.

“I shouldn’t be eating so many,” he tells Victor guiltily between bites as he offers the box to the rest of the boys.

“Cheat food,” Victor says simply and helps himself to one.

So far, all of the gifts have shown up at his stall in Amalie, so Steven figures the gifter must be someone who works in the building. But three days into their West Coast road trip, he walks into the Ducks’ away locker room to find a blue bundle wrapped in plastic underneath the S. Stamkos 91 plaque.

The material is soft against his fingers as he rips open the package. At first he thinks it’s a blanket, but as he unfolds it, he discovers that it is a onesie. A Lightning onesie, with a zip that goes all the way up to the hood and the team logo on the chest.

It fits him perfectly, of course.

“Why are you wearing a onesie?” JT asks when he comes into the room.

Steven spreads his arms. “You like it?”

“Yeah dude, I totally need to get one like that. Looks comfortable.”

Steven spends the rest of the road trip wearing the onesie in his hotel room, claiming jealousy every time one of the boys tries to chirp him about it. And almost all of them do except the Russians, who don’t speak much anyway.

Victor never does either. He looks Steven up and down the first time Steven answers his hotel door in it, but he doesn’t say anything, wordlessly offering a box of takeout with a smile.

“It’s comfortable,” Steven says, which is kind of unnecessary because Victor isn’t judging him.

Victor nods. “You like it.” It’s not a question. This is why Victor is Steven’s favorite.

They watch a few episodes of House Hunters together, and then Steven tells Victor about a wedding he’s been invited to a month from now. “Better dig up one of my nicer suits,” he jokes. He has a lot of nice suits. Steven likes to think he’s a stylish guy.

When they return to Tampa, there is nothing in his stall from his secret admirer for the next two home games. He tries not to feel disappointed about it.

They’re hosting St. Louis for their third home game in a row, a back-to-back, and Steven is a little more tired and a little more sore than usual. He arrives early and dresses blindly for the game, pulling on his shoulder pads and taping his socks. It’s only when he’s reaching for his helmet that his knuckles bump against a small black box.

It looks like a jewelry box, one that would house a ring or something. His heart thumps unsteadily. The mystery gifts are nice, and he’s been poking around trying to find out who they’re from, but he hasn’t figured it out yet. And he doesn’t think he’s ready for that kind of commitment.

Inside the box are a lovely set of cufflinks engraved with his initials. The cufflinks aren’t outrageously expensive, but they are very nice, so they couldn’t have been cheap. Steven stares down at them, mind blank.

“Something wrong?” Victor asks. He finishes taping his stick and picks up his gloves.

“I just…the gifts. You know I’ve been getting gifts over the past weeks, right? The onesie and the mini donuts and the golfing membership. And these.” He shows Victor the cufflinks. “I don’t know who it is, and I don’t know what to do.”

Victor’s eyes are clear and blue when he looks at Steven. “Maybe they’re shy. Let them come to you. Don’t rush it.”

But Steven can’t stop thinking about it. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern to the series of gifts he’s received over the past few weeks. Some are silly and fairly cheap like the pizza cutter, some almost too nice for a mystery gifter. The one common factor is that every one of them is thoughtful and was chosen specifically with his tastes in mind. Whoever is sending them must know him, and well.

He plays like crap that night, but Kuch turns it on like crazy and Vasy is playing his heart out, so they scrape by with a 5-3 win over the Blues.

There’s nothing in his stall for another two weeks, despite Steven camping out in the locker room for hours at a time, trying to do a little bit of spying. He begins to let his guard down, and then he finds the Rays tickets. There are two.

The room is empty, the boys having cleared out quickly after practice for their pre-game naps. Steven carefully picks the tickets up, heart thumping.

“You don’t have to use both, if you don’t want to,” comes a soft voice behind him.

It’s Victor, hovering awkwardly by the door, his Tampa Bay Rays hat pulled over his eyes. Steven swallows.

“That was you. All the gifts.” Victor nods, a slow confirmation, and god, Steven has been so blind this whole time. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Victor is keeping a healthy distance between them, giving Steven space to bolt. Because that’s classic Victor, thoughtful and patient and understanding, and at the heart of it, Steven’s best friend for years.

He looks at the two tickets in his hands, thinks for a long moment about the parade of gifts that showed up in his stall, each one picked with utmost care for him. It’s obvious what the answer is.

“You’re coming with me, right?” he asks, gesturing with the tickets.

Victor smiles and walks closer, closing all that distance between them until they’re standing chest to chest. “Only if you want me to.”

“Yes,” Steven says, easy as anything. “Of course.”