TMD; The Mighty Ducks; Preferences and Imagines

The clock struck twelve, its chime echoing through the quiet apartment. I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone absentmindedly, waiting for a message from Fulton. He had gone out with his friends Dean and Ken, promising to be back before midnight. But as the minutes ticked by, there was no sign of him.

I sighed and tossed my phone onto the coffee table. The anxiety in my chest began to build, a familiar knot tightening with each passing moment. Fulton was a wonderful boyfriend, but he had a habit of losing track of time when he was out with his friends. I tried to push away the negative thoughts, reminding myself that he deserved to have fun. But as the hours crept by, my patience wore thin.

By the time the clock read 2 AM, worry had turned into anger. I heard the front door creak open, followed by the unmistakable sound of Fulton's unsteady footsteps. The smell of alcohol hit me before I saw him, and I clenched my fists, trying to steady my emotions.

"Fulton!" I snapped, standing up as he stumbled into the living room. His eyes were glassy, his movements slow and disoriented. "Where have you been? It's two in the morning!"

"Heyyy, babe," Fulton slurred, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "Sorry I'm late. Lost track of time."

"Lost track of time?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You promised you'd be back by midnight. I was worried sick!"

"Don't be such a buzzkill," he mumbled, collapsing onto the couch. "I was just having fun with Dean and Ken."

"Having fun? Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is? You didn't even text me!"

Fulton waved a dismissive hand, his eyes half-closed. "You're overreacting. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" I felt my blood boil, the anger bubbling over. "It is a big deal, Fulton. You can't just disappear and come back drunk in the middle of the night!"

He let out a frustrated sigh, his expression turning defensive. "I'm not a child, okay? I can take care of myself."

I crossed my arms, my voice shaking with emotion. "That's not the point. The point is you didn't think about how your actions affect me. You didn't consider how worried I'd be."

Fulton rolled his eyes, his patience clearly waning. "You're always so uptight. Maybe you should loosen up a bit."

His words stung, cutting deeper than I cared to admit. I felt a lump form in my throat, the anger giving way to hurt. "Maybe if you were more considerate, I wouldn't have to be."

"Considerate?" he scoffed. "You knew I was going out. You should've just gone to bed."

"I couldn't sleep, knowing you were out there who knows where!" I shot back, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," he muttered, sinking further into the couch cushions.

I stared at him, my heart aching. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't just about tonight. It's about trust. It's about knowing I can rely on you."

Fulton looked away, the tension hanging heavy in the air. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Well, you did," I whispered, the tears finally spilling over. "You really did."

I turned away, retreating to the bedroom and leaving Fulton alone on the couch. The weight of our argument settled over me like a suffocating blanket, making it hard to breathe. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. How had we gotten to this point? When had things become so complicated?

Sleep eluded me, my mind replaying our fight over and over. The look in Fulton's eyes, the sound of his voice, the sting of his words—they all haunted me, refusing to let me rest.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. The sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across the room. I felt a sense of heaviness in my chest, a reminder of the unresolved tension from the night before.

I got up slowly, my body aching from the restless night. As I walked into the kitchen, I found Fulton already there, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He looked tired, the usual sparkle in his eyes dulled by the events of the previous night.

"Morning," I said softly, unsure of how to start the conversation.

"Morning," he replied, his voice equally tentative.

There was an awkward silence, both of us unsure of what to say. I poured myself a cup of coffee, the aroma filling the room as I took a seat across from him. The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable.

"About last night," Fulton finally said, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stayed out so late, and I definitely shouldn't have come back drunk."

I looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "I was really worried, Fulton. I know you want to have fun, but you need to keep me in the loop. It's not fair to leave me hanging like that."

He nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. "I know, and I'm sorry. I just got caught up in the moment. But that's no excuse. I should have been more responsible."

"I appreciate you saying that," I said, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I just want to know that I can trust you. That you'll be there when you say you will."

"You can trust me," he said, reaching out to take my hand. "I promise I'll do better. I don't want to hurt you like that again."

I squeezed his hand, the tension in my chest beginning to ease. "And I'll try to be more understanding. I know you need time with your friends. I just need you to be honest with me."

"Deal," he said with a small smile. "We're a team, right? We can get through this together."

"Right," I agreed, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine. "Together."

The rest of the day passed in a much lighter atmosphere. We spent time talking, reconnecting, and making plans for the future. The fight from the night before seemed like a distant memory, a bump in the road that we had navigated together.

That evening, as we sat on the couch watching a movie, I leaned my head on Fulton's shoulder, feeling a sense of peace that had been missing the night before.

"Thank you for apologizing," I said softly.

"Thank you for listening," he replied, wrapping his arm around me.

We sat in comfortable silence, the glow of the television casting a soft light over the room. Despite the fight, despite the hurt and the anger, we had come out stronger on the other side. We had faced our issues head-on and found a way to move forward, together.

And in that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them as a team. Because that's what love was about—understanding, forgiving, and always finding a way to move forward, together.