anyways. needing a blurb abt just being w nate after the game tn and yn actually liking that stupid little plush ferret thing they got and him being like âi hate that thing get it away from meâ and yn âthis is the cutest thing ive ever seenâ then nate âim going to flush him down the toilet or throw him awayâ âNOâ and playful wrestling to get control of him
Y'all have been BEGGING me to write for nate so here u go nate looks wrecked when you finally get him alone, medal still hanging against his chest like it burns, shoulders locked the way they always are when heâs trying not to let disappointment swallow him whole. you donât say anything at firstâyou just follow him into the quiet corner of the athletesâ lounge, watching the way he rips the lanyard off and tosses it onto the couch, the silver disc clattering against the cushion. he mutters something under his breath, pacing like heâs still on the ice, jaw tight, cheeks ruddy from frustration, and you let him because you know he needs a second to be mad. itâs only when he grabs the plush ferret mascot from the table with two fingers, like it personally offended him, that you step forward, biting back a smile. he holds it out like itâs radioactive, eyes flat and annoyed in a way that somehow makes your chest warm.
âi hate that thing. get it away from me,â he says, voice low and deeply unimpressed, shaking the poor stuffed animal a little for emphasis. you reach for it immediately, hands cupped like youâre receiving treasure, and he just blinks at you when you hug the dumb little ferret to your chest.
âno way,â you say, already smoothing down its felt ears, âthis is the cutest thing iâve ever seen in my life, nate.â he stares at you like youâve betrayed canada itself, mouth parted, hair damp at his temples from the game and stress.
âiâm going to flush him down the toilet or throw him away,â he threatens, and you gasp so dramatically he actually huffs a laugh he tries to hide.
âNO,â you declare, spinning away from him and shielding the ferret like a newborn, and that sparks something in himâsomething competitive, relieved, finally lighterâbecause suddenly heâs lunging for it. you yelp and scramble across the couch, but heâs faster even in his sulky post-loss fatigue, hands wrapping around your waist as he tries to pry the stuffed animal free. youâre laughing so hard youâre almost crying, twisting and rolling while he cages you in without even meaning to, his body warm and solid as he reaches over your shoulder. âgive me the rodent,â he grumbles, but thereâs a smile buried in it now, one heâs fighting and losing against.
you fall backward with him following, his weight settling beside you, one arm hooked around your middle as he tries to worm his hand under yours. you clutch the ferret tighter, breathless with laughter, and he dips his head into your neck to distract you, nosing at your skin until you squeal. âyouâre evil,â you accuse, twisting as his fingers brush your ribs, and he groans like heâs the one suffering. âiâm not letting a stuffed ferret live in our house,â he insists, even though heâs already softened, his voice quieter now, his grip gentle as the adrenaline drains.
you end up sprawled across his chest, his heartbeat finally slowing, the ferret perched triumphantly on your sternum like it won the gold he couldnât. nate looks at it, then at you, then sighs like heâs accepting some grim fate. âfine. he can stay,â he mutters, brushing your hair out of your face, eyes still tired but softer than they were an hour ago.
you smile, kissing the sharp line of his cheek. âsee? youâre warming up to him already,â you tease, and he groans, dragging a hand over his face. âi just lost the olympic final. and this is what iâm stuck dealing with,â he says, but he pulls you closer, nuzzles your temple, and doesnât try to take the ferret away again.












