Ooooh! I'm so excited. I'm posting my very first fanfic. No beta reader yet, sorry. The story will follow Fulton through the movies. Basically, it's just my take on who Fulton is and how the events in the movies affect him. I wasn't intending to post it chapter by chapter, but I got impatient, and I know I'm not likely to make big changes in chapters already written, so here is the first chapter.

Warning: I see Fulton as gay, so obviously this story will contain slash. No action in this particular chapter, but antiIRONY says Fulton comes out as a gay stalker. Which he is, so I thought I'd warn you:)

Disclaimer: Disney owns the Mighty Ducks movies. I don't.

Chapter one: Becoming a Duck

Fulton Reed was sitting in the stands, watching the District Five Pee-Wee hockey team being slammed into the ice again and again by the Hawks, and falling down on their own when they weren't. He could swear their helmets touched the ice more often then their skates. He wished he could be there with them. It made him so angry the way those Hawks treated them, he wished he could skate right up to them and beat the hell out of them, scare them so they never mess with his classmates again. "Yeah, you'll look real tough when you slip on your butt", he told himself bitterly, "They'll be so scared".

They had a new coach again, and he was just as bad as the rest of them. He wished he could beat up their coaches too. The last one managed to kill himself on his own. Which was good, because Fulton was really mad at him by then, and he was a little scared of what he might have tried if he had had the chance.

It wasn't as if Fulton liked fights. He usually liked ending them, and being the biggest kid on the block helped. But sometimes, he got really angry. Sometimes, he got carried away. Every time like that, when he punched out some bully, he felt bad. He never did it front of the smaller kids, though. He didn't want them to think he was a bully too. Not that it helped. "There." he told himself, "Even if you could skate, they wouldn't want you there. They think you're some big bully. Everyone does".

He knew about the rumors at school, about how he only played football. Where would he play football, anyway? There was nothing but hockey in this neighborhood. His dad said there wasn't even any decent hockey, but Fulton didn't care. He liked watching their games and practices. He wished he could have his own skates, but his dad said no. He said there was no future in hockey. He said there was no future for Fulton anyway, if he didn't start improving in school.

So Fulton practiced with what he had. He couldn't skate but he could practice shooting. In an alley not far from his house he kept his hockey stick and some pucks. On the stick the initials F.R. were engraved, but they weren't for Fulton Reed. They were for Franklin Reed. Fulton was glad he found the stick. He missed his brother, but Frankie was in Jail now, and his dad had forbidden him to write.

The pucks he got for helping in the hockey gear shop, which was owned by a Norwegian named Hans. He was nice enough, and he used to know Franklin .It was nice to see that not everyone acted as if he had never existed. Hans even mentioned his mother once, how she bought Franklin his first skates. Fulton didn't even remember his mother, but he was glad she hadn't minded Frankie playing hockey, because it meant she wouldn't have minded him either. Maybe she would have even been proud of him.

So he had found an old trunk to use for a goal, and practiced with all his might. His shots were all hard, but he never hit the trunk the first month he was practicing. Every time he missed he got angrier, and hit the puck harder, and was even less accurate. He wished Frankie were around to teach him. Fulton had gotten better since then, but he still didn't think he would do any good for the team.

"Why did the idiot have to go and get himself in jail, anyway?" He thought as he watched Charlie Conway skating with the puck towards the Hawks' goal.

Fulton craned his neck to watch, hoping to see the team's very first goal. He knew they called him Spazway, but maybe this time he could do it. There were no hawks in his way; all he needed to do was shoot. "C'mon, Charlie", Fulton whispered, and Charlie lifted his stick as if he was listening. Then he missed the puck, tripped and went flying across the ice. Fulton winced.

After the game he waited quietly until everyone left. The Hawks won, but that was to be expected. That's what Fulton thought after every game, but before the games he was always excited, thinking maybe this time something will happen. When the last of the Hawks fans disappeared, Fulton went down to the bench where the District Five team had been sitting during the game. He sat there for a while, imagining the team was there too, and a coach, who was just waiting for the right time to put him in the game. Then, tired of stupid make-believe, he got up and went outside.

Fulton was about to go back to his alley to practice, when he saw some Hawks harassing the District Five team. He recognized them; they were Banks, Larson and McGill, The star and the bullies. No, Hawks were all bullies. They threw Dave Karp into a trash pile. Fulton marched over there, stomping his feet hard on the ground so that they hear his heavy boots beating against the asphalt. It was a new trick he learned to scare bullies. He actually got the idea from a cartoon. He wished he knew how to make his shadow so damn scary too, but it's not as if he could control the sun, right? He picked the Hawks by their coats and threw them into the same pile of trash, making sure they didn't hit Karp, who was staring at him wide eyed. He grunted, and the Hawks scrambled away.

Fulton turned to the team, and they thanked him. He wanted to say it's alright and that he'd look out for them anytime, and he wanted to tell Charlie it was okay that he missed, and that it was still awesome how he stole the puck, but thought better of it. They'd think he was some weird stalker. So he just turned around and walked away silently.

The next game was horrible. It seemed like the new coach had taught them to cheat. Fulton was clenching his fists hard during the entire game. He often did so at games, but he was never this mad. "Because of coaches like him Dad won't let me play ", he thought. Only Charlie wasn't cheating. He saw the coach calling him up to the bench and giving him some instructions. "Just don't, Charlie" Fulton thought, and Charlie didn't. Boy, was the new coach mad. Fulton decided he'd seen enough and slipped out quickly.

Later that week he went up to Hans' to get some pucks and was surprised to see the entire team there with their coach. He went up to the counter where Hans greeted him.

"Hello Fulton. How are you doing today? Have you met Gordon yet?"

"Who?"

"Gordon Bombay, he's the new hockey coach. An old friend of mine."

Hans was about to call him over but Fulton stopped him. "Don't, Hans."

"And why not? Don't worry, Fulton, he's alright. He's buying equipment for the team now, he found them a sponsor." Fulton just grunted and nodded. He didn't like that Bombay guy, but this was Hans, and he was a wise man.

"Why don't you go help Charlie over there" said Hans, and Fulton forgot all about Bombay.

Charlie was trying to pull a stick out of a display. "Yeah, that I can do", thought Fulton to himself and pulled at the stick. It came out and he handed it to Charlie, wishing he had something other then strength to offer.

"Thanks, Fulton" Charlie said, smiling at him. His stomach made a funny flip and he quickly turned and walked out of the shop, forgetting the pucks he wanted to get.

The next day Fulton was shooting pucks again in his alley, after coming back to the shop and getting them. He was thinking about his mother again when one of his shots hit the window of a car. For a moment he thought the driver wouldn't come back for him, but he did. A man got out of the car and Fulton recognized him immediately. It was Bombay, the jerk. Then, he panicked. He bolted back into the alley and started climbing over the fence at the back when Bombay got him. "It was an accident, okay?" he yelled.

But apparently Bombay wasn't mad. He liked his inaccurate shot, and he wanted him to play. Fulton didn't like the man much, but he wanted to play, and if Bombay thought he could, then maybe he was right. A few hours later Fulton was skating down a staircase in the mall, screaming his lungs out and regretting ever learning to shoot. Bombay was giving him tips and directions. The rest of the players were there too, yelling loudly and wreaking havoc, and after a while, when he got a little more comfortable, Fulton decided it wasn't so bad after all. For the first time in his life he felt like part of a team, and he liked that.

And then came the game against The Cardinals. The team was sitting in the guest locker rooms, waiting for Bombay to bring them their new jerseys. Fulton was standing by the door, still keeping his distance from the team. He knew he couldn't really play yet, because his skating was still abysmal, regardless of the little training session in the mall. But coach had said he had plans for him, and at least he wasn't going to sit in the stands anymore. With that thought he almost let a smile escape his lips, but when the coach arrived he quickly stifled it. His place on the team was all about playing the tough guy. Bombay set down the box he was holding, and took out a jersey, holding it up for everyone to see. It had a picture of a duck on it.

The team started protesting, saying that ducks are wimpy, but Coach soon proved them wrong. He said they are noble, he said they stick together and protect each other. And Fulton thought about it and decided he was right. Sure, he didn't even know ducks flew in formation, but it didn't matter. If anyone was a duck, he was one. He's been protecting this flock for years. So when Bombay asked them who's a Duck, Fulton answered. "I'll be a Duck", he said. For a moment there was silence, and then Charlie said: "Yeah, me too", and that was it. They were The Ducks, and Fulton was one of them.

Well, this is it. I know there isn't anything very new in it( there will be, don't worry), but other then that, tell me what you think. Did Hans come out weird? I think he did, but I can't fix it. Does the lack of dialog bother anyone?