Chapter Text
Leon Draisaitl pushed open the locker room door, expecting the usual quiet that followed the end of practice. Instead, he froze mid-step, his eyes landing on a familiar tuft of red fur poking out of his locker.
His heart skipped a beat, and a strange sense of relief washed over him. “Hey,” he murmured softly, stepping closer.
The fox was curled up inside his hoodie, its large ears twitching at the sound of his voice. Its eyes were half-closed, giving it a relaxed, almost sleepy appearance. For a moment, Leon just stood there, taking in the sight.
“You’re back,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure why the sight of the fox made him feel so oddly comforted, but it did.
Slowly, Leon crouched down in front of the locker, trying not to startle the small creature. “You know, I thought you ran off for good. Guess you couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”
The fox opened one eye, blinking lazily at him. Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too, or whatever.”
Reaching out carefully, he let his hand hover near the fox, giving it a chance to sniff him. The fox hesitated, its ears flicking back briefly before leaning forward to investigate. Its cold nose brushed his fingers, and Leon couldn’t help but grin.
“There we go,” he said softly. “Not so bad, right?”
Encouraged, Leon moved to pet it. But the moment his fingers touched its fur, the fox’s demeanor changed. Its body tensed, and it lashed out, teeth sinking into the side of his hand.
Leon yelped, jerking back. “Ow! What the hell?”
The fox retreated into the hoodie, its wide eyes filled with fear. Leon cradled his hand, his initial shock giving way to a mix of hurt and confusion. “Hey, I wasn’t going to hurt you!”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden rush of irritation. The fox’s reaction wasn’t malicious—it was scared. Still, the sting in his hand and the lingering shock made him snap, “Fine. If you don’t want my help, you can go find somewhere else to hide.”
Leon reached for the hoodie, but the fox clung to it, its claws snagging the fabric. “Seriously?” Leon muttered. He gave the hoodie a shake, and the fox tumbled out, landing on the floor in an awkward heap.
The fox quickly scrambled to its feet, its tail puffed up in alarm. For a moment, it looked up at Leon, its ears pinned back as if it regretted biting him.
Leon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re lucky I’m not kicking you out for good. Just… stay out of my locker, alright?”
The fox didn’t move, watching him with those sharp, intelligent eyes. Leon grabbed his bag, slung the hoodie over his shoulder, and walked out of the locker room, muttering under his breath.
As the door swung shut behind him, the fox stayed where it was, its tail flicking in quiet agitation. Despite Leon’s exit, it didn’t seem ready to leave. Not yet.
Matthew, now back in human form and doing his best to keep his head down around the team, can’t help but let his fox form slip through the cracks. Whether it’s from stress or habit, the fox starts showing up at the rink—slinking near the benches during practice or curled up in a shadowy corner of the locker room.
One afternoon, Leon is gathering his gear when he notices the fox poking its head out from behind a row of lockers. Its sharp, alert eyes are trained on him, watching his every move. For a moment, Leon pauses, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.
“Not you again,” Leon mutters, throwing his hoodie into his bag with a little more force than necessary. The fox flinches but doesn’t retreat. Instead, it tilts its head, those big ears twitching as if trying to understand him.
“Shoo!” Leon says, gesturing with his hand. But the fox doesn’t budge. It just sits there, its tail curling neatly around its paws, giving him a look that feels far too knowing.
Leon shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Weird little pest.” He turns back to his bag, deliberately ignoring the creature. But deep down, he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something off about it—something too… human.
A few days later, Leon spots the fox again—this time in the lounge area of the training facility. It’s perched on the arm of a couch, tail swishing lazily as it watches a group of players chatting across the room. Leon stops in his tracks, narrowing his eyes.
“How the hell does it keep getting in here?” he grumbles.
As if sensing his irritation, the fox turns its head toward him, locking eyes with Leon. For a brief moment, Leon feels a jolt of unease. There’s something about the way the fox looks at him—intense, curious, and strangely familiar. It’s not like looking at a normal animal.
Leon shakes his head, trying to brush off the thought. “Nah,” he mutters, walking past the fox. “Just a dumb animal.”
But as the day goes on, he finds himself replaying the encounter in his head. The way the fox had watched him—it wasn’t just curiosity. It was like it knew him.
Later that evening, Leon vents his frustration to Connor McDavid while they’re heading out to their cars.
“That damn fox,” Leon says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s always hanging around. It’s like it’s stalking me or something.”
Connor chuckles, clearly unconcerned. “Maybe it’s your spirit animal.”
Leon scowls. “More like a pain in the ass.”
Despite his irritation, the idea that the fox might not be just a fox starts to creep into Leon’s mind. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wonders if the fox could be a shifter—but he quickly pushes the thought away.
“No way,” he tells himself firmly. “That’s ridiculous.”
Still, the next time he sees the fox, he can’t help but stare a little longer, searching its eyes for answers he doesn’t really want to find.
Leon could feel the tension simmering as practice wore on. Every pass Matthew made seemed a little too deliberate, every check a little too forceful. It wasn’t long before the two collided at center ice, tempers boiling over.
“Watch where you’re going, Tkachuk!” Leon snapped, slamming his stick into the ice.
Matthew, clearly fed up, skated up to him, his jaw tight. “Maybe if you paid attention instead of running your mouth, this wouldn’t happen.”
Leon stepped closer, his voice rising. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy nobody even wanted here!”
The words hit their mark, and Matthew bristled, his hands tightening on his stick. “You think I wanted this? Trust me, Draisaitl, I’d rather be anywhere else but here.”
The shouting match escalated, drawing the attention of their teammates. Connor McDavid skated over, frowning. “Alright, enough! Both of you, cool it.”
Matthew opened his mouth to retort but winced instead, his hand twitching toward his side. Leon noticed immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing.
“What’s that?” Leon demanded, pointing to the hand Matthew had been favoring.
“Nothing,” Matthew muttered, trying to hide it.
But Leon was already pulling off his gloves. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
Connor stepped in again. “Matthew, off the ice. Get that checked.”
Reluctantly, Matthew skated toward the bench, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Leon followed shortly after, grumbling under his breath.
In the locker room, Leon tossed his gear down, pulling his jersey and pads off in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “We don’t need this drama right now.”
Matthew stayed silent, grabbing his bag and shoving his skates inside. The cut on his hand throbbed painfully, but he ignored it, focusing instead on his plan.
Once Leon left for the trainer, Matthew glanced around the empty room. He dragged his bag to a nearby storage closet, hiding it behind a stack of spare equipment. Taking a deep breath, he shifted into his fox form, his small body trembling slightly from the effort.
The fox padded quietly toward Leon’s locker, drawn instinctively to the familiar scent of his hoodie. Burrowing into the fabric, he curled up tightly in the corner, his large ears flicking nervously at every sound.
When Leon returned from the trainer, his hand freshly taped, he opened his locker and froze.
“What the…” he muttered, staring at the small bundle of red fur nestled in his hoodie.
The fox looked up at him with wide, guilty eyes. For a moment, Leon’s irritation melted away, replaced by quiet amusement.
“You again,” he said softly, sitting down on the bench in front of his locker.
The fox didn’t move, watching him warily. Leon reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against the fox’s oversized ears. It flinched at first but relaxed when Leon began to scratch gently behind them.
“Guess you’ve decided I’m not so bad, huh?” Leon murmured, his tone unusually tender.
The fox made a soft chirping noise, its eyes half-closing as Leon continued to pet it. For the first time in weeks, Leon felt a strange sense of calm, like the tension from practice and his argument with Matthew had been temporarily lifted.
He stayed like that for a while, absently stroking the fox’s fur as the sounds of practice filtered in from the rink.
When practice finally ended, the fox darted out of the locker room, disappearing before anyone else arrived. Leon didn’t mention it, but the moment didn’t go unnoticed for long.
“Hey, Leon,” one of the guys teased the next day. “You and that fox getting cozy or what?”
Leon rolled his eyes, shoving his gear into his bag. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously,” another teammate chimed in. “It’s like it’s attached to you or something. You’ve got yourself a little sidekick.”
The jokes continued, but Leon brushed them off. Deep down, he couldn’t shake the odd sense of connection he felt to the fox. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t entirely hate the company.
Still, something about the whole situation felt off, and he had no idea how to explain it.