#jonny always needing his patrick's attention

[kanerboo]

the 1988 mating dance

(thanks for the vid @luxnowell!)

[rinkrats]

🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops. 

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid. 

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,”  says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.” 

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

[linskywords]

Hi Linsky! I love your work, it's what got me into 1988 initially. You have such an incredibly clear sense of character. I was wondering if you had a moment (no worries if not) would you be willing to talk a little bit about your characterizations of 1988 - what do you see as their internal driving motivation? I am struggling to define Patrick Kane's (and I can only watch so many cringe hockey interviews haha) but if I tried to describe Jonathan Toews it might be something like "Jonny just wants to be good." - which you might see differently of course, but that's the bit I'm interested in - how you see it! Sorry if that's not clear at all 😭 Hope you have a great day!

Ooh, what an intriguing question! Okay, so first of all I want to say that I'm talking about the fanon versions of these characters. Obviously fanon is based in something, but I'm not pretending to know who these men actually are (nor do I want to). Fanon is also not a monolith, and the versions I'm talking about are the ones that have coalesced in my mind based on many other people's stories and my own imaginings.

So, with that caveat in mind, I would say first that for me, the fundamental core of who they are isn't what they want, exactly. That changes from story to story. Patrick wants a soulmate, or he wants to keep people from finding out he's a wolf; Jonny wants to be a good Mormon, or he wants to avoid hurting people, or whatever the AU is that I've put them in. They always want hockey, of course, unless it's a non-hockey AU, and by the end of the story they always want each other. The pieces that make them feel like consistent characters for me are something else at the core of their personalities.

For Jonny, it's his intensity. He thinks he knows what's best for the world and for himself and is determined to make that happen. He gets grumpy when that can't happen. He exerts his will over his body; he has high standards for other people and even higher standards for himself. You characterized him as wanting to be good, and I think that's a key piece of it, but I'd personally rephrase that as wanting to be better.

Patrick, on the other hand, has a little more give in his personality. He's a little better at chilling, a little more prone to jokes, but, very importantly, he's still intense, and even more importantly, he likes Jonny's intensity. He's sometimes amused by it, sometimes annoyed by it, and, crucially, pushes back on it in a way that works for both of them. Jonny doesn't need someone who falls over and lets him have his way all the time -- he might think he wants that, but he'd be so bored by it. He needs someone who can stand up against him and make him fight a little bit, someone who's intense themselves but who welcomes Jonny's intensity rather than trying to overpower it or make it go away. Patrick loves being the focus of Jonny's attention. It energizes him, and it DOES make him better. Jonny loves that Patrick is excellent and cares about excellence and is willing to let Jonny engage with that excellence and improve it.

This dynamic plays out most clearly in a hockey context, of course. I think it's not an accident that one of the few times (the only time??) I wrote about them in a totally non-hockey context, I had them both be exceptional at fencing. I think what ties them together is that they both care about excellence in the same thing, and they admire each other's skill at it even while they're determined to assert their own opinions and give each other something to push back against.

It also means that even their friends-to-lovers stories (my favorite kind) often have a little bit of enemies to lovers in them. There's a constant push-pull to their relationship, a challenge to it, and that's where the chemistry comes from. It's why (imo) they fought so much rookie year on the bench: they hadn't figured out how to push against each other in a way that let them charge each other up instead exploding. Sometimes I play up this element in a story, sometimes I play it down, but either way, the core, I think, is the way they each engage with that intensity--with Jonny's intensity, primarily--and the way they find both comfort and energy in it.

...okay, that was fun. I kind of want to do it for all my favorite pairings now. 😄

[dixie12]

so i’m a little obsessed with this post of @tarcanza's. (i think somnophilia is super hot) and then it got even better, as an appropriate punishment was discussed, and now i can’t stop thinking about it.

so pat is obviously going to punish jonny, because it’s not like he wasn’t into it, once he knew what was going on, but jonny just took, without permission, and pat’s gonna make sure he thinks twice before doing that again.

he let jonny think he’d gotten away with it at first. jonny was so embarrassed, could barely even make eye contact with pat during the next few practices, and they almost lost a game to the coyotes for fuck’s sake, all due to jonny refusing to talk to him. pat finally followed him home one night, boxed him in against the wall of his foyer. he leaned in, whispering in jonny’s ear about how hot it was that jonny couldn’t resist him. “just saw my cock there and had to get your mouth on it, didn’t you, taze?” he asked, as jonny moaned in response, nodding his head frantically, hips jerking against pat as he was being pinned, trapped between pat and the wall behind him. 

it became a thing, after that. pat taunting jonny, mocking him sweetly about how desperate he was, how he just needed pat’s cock so badly he couldn’t even wait for him to wake up, couldn’t fight the temptation, just needed to get himself filled, no regard for pat at all. 

“i should have figured it out way earlier, jonny,” pat murmured one night. “you were always so sweet and relaxed in the morning, after. like all you needed was to take my load to start your day off right,” and the blush on jonny’s face rivaled the color he got during games, two goals down and double-shifting in the third period. 

it was a few months later that pat finally organized jonny’s punishment. it had taken a little bit of planning and a little bit of convincing the guys that yes, he was serious, and yes, jonny would be into it. once he had it set up, he had to put the plan in motion pretty much immediately, though, because the guys kept glancing at jonny and practically giggling before looking away, and jonny might be single-minded at practice, but even he would start to notice that his teammates were acting like morons at some point. 

it was a random tuesday, with two days off before their next game, when pat told jonny he’d invited the core over for a movie night. jonny agreed, barely paying attention as he put together a salad to go with their dinner, and pat smiled to himself. he’d be paying attention soon enough. 

pat was a little distracted during their meal, but managed to get through it without giving anything away. jonny cleared the dishes while pat grabbed some popcorn and other snacks and met him in the media room. he pushed jonny around a little, tugging him towards him before pushing him down on the couch, and the weight of patrick on top of him had jonny going hard in his sweats, just like pat expected. “fuck, pat, the guys…” jonny groaned out, but he had his hands groping pat’s ass, not exactly trying to push him away as he rocked his hips up. he was so fucking easy for it; pat loved it.

“yea babe, i know,” pat said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cock ring. before jonny had time to figure out what was going on, pat had slipped his hand into jonny’s sweats, stroked him a few times, and then slid the ring on, testing it for snugness. 

jonny stared up at him, pupils wide, breath coming heavy, and pat couldn’t help the wave of fondness that went through him. before jonny could complain, the doorbell rang and the guys started pouring into the condo. jonny stayed frozen on the couch, a few beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he visibly struggled to figure out what pat was playing at.

pat welcomed the guys in, got them settled on the couches and chairs and then passed out a round of shots, followed quickly by another. jonny was still just staring, eyes darting between pat and the guys, and pat couldn’t help the smug smile from breaking out.

“alright, gentlemen,” he said, clapping his hands once. “i think it’s time we let jonny in on the plan.” jonny started at that, and patrick walked over to him, fitting one hand on jonny’s neck to tug him close. “you remember how just seeing my cock made you so desperate that you started sucking me off while i was asleep?” he asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

jonny went absolutely scarlet, eyes wild as he looked around the room, but the guys were just sipping their drinks, no one reacting to the information. “it’s ok, baby,” he said, voice warm and sweet. “you don’t have to hide it, these are your boys; you can trust them,” and pat felt jonny’s heartbeat slow down under his hand. “but here’s the thing, babe. you took without asking, and that’s not ok. you know anyone would say yes to you- to your pretty pink mouth, or your gorgeous ass, but you still have to ask. so,” pat continued, “i’m going to turn on this movie that netflix assures me has an excellent…” pat paused, letting himself leer just a little, “plot. and whenever any of the guys looks like he’s appreciating that plot, you’re going to ask, very nicely, if you can get your mouth on him.”

jonny’s mouth had been dropping while pat spoke, and pat watched him run his tongue over lips, apparently unconsciously, nodding while pat finished giving the instructions. pat let out a deep breath. he’d been almost totally sure that jonny would be super into this, but it was nice to have his assumption confirmed before they got things started. 

pat tucked himself in next to jonny, running a light hand over his chest, playing with his hair, whispering in his ear about whose dick jonny was going to take first. “i don’t think any of them are going to last very long, babe,” pat said, smirking at the guys. “i mean, who wouldn’t want to put you on your knees. i told them how good you are, how you love getting your face fucked, how nothing gets you hotter than a big cock halfway down your throat,” and pat had to cut off as jonny whined, turning his head into pat’s shoulder and panting.

“i think we have your first taker, baby,” pat said, shaking jonny’s shoulder and pointing at seabs. sure enough, seabs was visibly hard in his sweats, one hand dragging low over his abs, just above his waist band. “seabs has always been so good to you, huh jonny,” pat said. “so why don’t you go make him feel good, too,” and jonny slid off the couch onto the carpeted floor.

he looked gorgeous, crawling on all fours over to where brent was sitting. brent was breathing hard, staring down at jonny in wonder as jonny got closer. “are.. are you sure, jon?” brent asked, and pat loved him for that.

“yea brent. fuck, i wanna. wanna make it good for you,” and jonny leaned down to fit his mouth over seabs, through his sweats, before pat interrupted him. “uh-uh, jonny. what do you say?” jonny moaned, letting his head fall forward before picking it up and looking seabs in the eye. “brent, can i suck you? please, i want it, want your cock in my mouth. let me get you off.” his words were slurred as he begged brent, looking so pretty on the floor in front of him, and there was no way brent would ever say no to that.

“fuck, of course you can, jonny. you can have whatever you want.” jonny took that as blanket permission, getting his hands under the waistband of brent’s sweatpants and pulling them down, exposing brent’s dick. he was already leaking precome, and jonny lapped it up, little kitten licks at the crown, closing his eyes as he savored the taste of it. jonny didn’t have any patience, though, and he moved from gentle licks to working brent’s cock down deeper.

he took one of brent’s hands and put it on his head. brent froze, but pat spoke up. “you can hold him down. he likes it.” jonny moaned louder at that, and brent started snapping his hips up, meeting jonny’s mouth with his thrusts. it wasn’t long before he gave a loud groan, emptying himself in jonny’s mouth. jonny’s eyes were already glazed, half-lidded in pleasure as he pulled off. pat dragged jonny towards him, kissing the taste of brent out of his mouth. “we’re just getting started, sweetheart.”

[19red]

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

+

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.  

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face.  It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy.  “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

[cometomore]

Jonny was obsessed with his teeth. A year of many ups and downs, mostly downs has brought him to this point. Obsessing over his best friend and team mate’s dental work. If someone, anyone had told him before he went on LTIR that he’d be coming out of it, recovered from his head injury but having picked up a weird fetish that involved Patrick Kane of all people, he would have called them crazy.

Yet here he is now, his physically fine but emotionally impaired brain looping on thoughts of his unsuspecting friend. He knows the exact moment these intrusive thoughts started appearing. He remembers the calm season before the storm that rages inside him now kicked off in full force. He had been on LTIR, incapacitated and stuck at home for the first time since he was a pre-teen. Not allowed TV or the phone to distract him, he had for the first time in over a decade to face his own thoughts without any opportunity to get away from them through physical exertion or the distraction offered by entertainment. He always knew he relied on the highs of endorphins rush and lows of physical exhaustion offered by hockey for his mental stability but he never realized just how much thinking he avoided by having his entire life so absorbed in hockey.

Being immobile like that had forced him to pay attention to what was actually going on in his life. In the beginning it had been weird, Mel wasn’t used to having him around 24/7. Jonny tried to stay out of his way, not disturb “his process” too much. He knew that just because he was at home and bored, Mel couldn’t just drop what he was doing and be available to keep Jonny company.

Jon had tried to occupy his mind with reading, he went through all the books on leadership and self improvement he had had on his “to read” list for the past few years. Working towards two Stanley cups in three years had kept him well and busy and he hadn’t been able to read as much as he used to when he was younger and a newly appointed captain. So he made it through The Power of Habit, which was just a reaffirmation of everything he already knew and was practising, he was a professional athlete. Of course he knew the value of habits. Then he tackled The 4 Hour Body next, and when he didn’t find any mind-altering facts there his attention began to drift and he couldn't get back into reading again. Maybe he needs better recommendations, but he couldn’t very well get on the internet and look up reviews, yep being concussed really sucks.

[anotherashley]

Hello! I'm the one who sent the messages and I'm really sorry I sprung that on you during the holidays. It's okay if you want to share it with others. I'm really grateful you took the time to read all of it and I hope I was respectful of how I went about the fic. It's still one of the fics that touched me dearly with how raw it is (perhaps because of our similar experiences) and I will continue to support you and your writing. 💜

I apologize for the lateness of this response the holidays have been a busy time and I didn’t want to rush through my response to you and have it come off as careless in any way so I needed to take some time to think about how and what I wanted to say.

That being said for those of you who haven’t read the fic and are thinking about it please realize there are spoilers below and discussion of triggering/possibly triggering content within the fic.

Hi! I just wanted to say that I love love love your Ricochet fic although I have a little concern I wanted to bring up? I hope this does not offend you in any way but is it possible you could tag Blake the OFC (add it to the tags) and make sure everyone knows she has a pretty huge role in the fic? There are lots of things that triggered me reading it such as the abuse which is expected because it was mentioned in the notes but Jonny’s sickness, the vomiting, them being intimate while Blake is in the vicinity, substance use, substance abuse, juvenile/detention facility, domestic violence, dysfunctional familial relationships, etc.

 I know some writers choose not to tag these things to avoid spoilers and I still continued reading Ricochet because your writing is really exceptional but I’ve always trusted writers to tag potentially triggering issues within a fic and it was really difficult for me reading. It triggered me because Pat and I had similar situations with my father being abusive and my mother turning a blindeye despite it. I know it’s not much and I have no right to request any of this to you, but it would mean a lot if you could possibly ease us a little bit into the fic. I’m a strong person and despite expecting the abuse due to the notes, I wasn’t quite prepared for everything else and I had to stop for a little bit and take a breath before I can read again. Maybe not for me, but it would mean a lot if other readers who have similar experiences and triggers as I do and are not strong enough to withstand the surprise of these potentially triggering issues to have these things included in the additional tags. 

The Blake one (my sister and I are absolute fans of yours and have been reading the fic since it was first published!) was a trigger for my sister because she wasn’t expecting it and felt that the major inclusion of an OC to the narrative is a deciding factor of whether she reads a fic or not so I don’t know how to carefully bring it up without sounding like I’m demanding for you to change just because we’re sensitive of certain issues. I have so much respect for you and your writing and have been an avid reader so I have been contemplating whether to bring this up or not, but I really, really hope you don’t take this as offense and that your writing is ultimately yours to treat however you want. We will respect whatever you choose to do. I just thought that maybe there might be someone else out there who happen to be mentally, emotionally, and physically affected by the same triggers that I have but aren’t as strong as I am can be comforted and eased by the idea that they know what they’re in for when they read the fic through the additional tags. It would really, really be so much help if you can possibly consider this. I know you’re a wonderful person and would never put anyone in harm’s way so I’m respectfully bringing this to your attention.

Some things can hurt others in ways that may not be applicable to you and me unintentionally and maybe in little ways we can help change that experience. It’s also because not all of us have accounts outside of AO3 and I feel embarrassed to ask so much of your time to explain the issues revolving around the fic to us (I only figured out the ask tab on Tumblr a few weeks ago! I’m an old noodle.). Thank you so much for writing Ricochet and for continuously bestowing to us your talent for writing. I will continue to support you no matter what action you decide to take on this matter. Happy winter holidays! - Anonymous

First off I want to apologize for any distress my fic may have caused you and that I may have caused you by not tagging things. My initial thought on using the “creator chose not to use archive warnings” tag and not tagging more specific aspects of the fic was, as you mentioned, to not scare off potential readers. But I can see the error now in making that choice and for that I’m truly sorry. My intention is never to hurt anyone and I feel awful that I have.

I’m also sorry to hear your sister possibly isn’t enjoying Blake. To be honest when I first began writing her I wasn’t sure how big of a role she’d play in Patrick and Jonny’s story, but she grew on me and I became quite fond of her and her ability to relate to Patrick’s trauma while also being an objective character when at times Jonny and Patrick can’t be because they’re too tangled up in each other. I understand worrying that an OC may come between the main pairing but she’s just a friend and isn’t involved with them sexually or romantically. She does witness them being intimate once, but that’s more about these three teenagers having a lack of boundaries with each other because they feel safe together than it is implying she’s part of their romantic relationship. She’s not. So I’m not sure how to warn about her aside from just mentioning she exists and I would hope that them having a friend wouldn’t deter someone from reading or giving my fic a try.

I will be adding a spoilery end note to the fic with a link to this post and a more specific list of the triggering aspects of the fic. Here’s the list of things I’ve come up with so far and if you can think of anything else you’d like me to add please let me know.

abuse, discussions of physical abuse, discussions of sexual abuse, threats of sexual assault (although no sexual assault happens during the fic), discussions of prostitution, discussions of brain trauma, illness due to brain trauma (vomiting), discussions of abuse in relation to sexual relationships, drug use, drug abuse, rough consensual sex, discussions of sexual dynamics, juvenile/detention facility, domestic violence, dysfunctional familial relationships

Lastly I want to say thank you for your kind words and for supporting my writing. It means so much to me and I hope in the future you and anyone else feels like they can talk to me about these types of things. I promise I take it to heart and I value your thoughts and opinions. ❤️❤️❤️

[sorrylatenew]

some 1988 for your intermission reading

Wrote a thing, takes place in the very early hours of last night/this morning, enjoy!

The truth of things is that sometimes this is annoying: waking up with Jonny pressed damp and hot and full into Patrick’s side, face in his neck, hair a sweating, sticking mess anywhere it touches skin, but Patrick hasn’t been to sleep yet, and he’s not in the kind of mood to roll away.

He’s not in the mood to get up in a few hours. Not in the mood for skate. He’s not in the mood for questions, or the guys, or the game later.

He wants to lie here, and let Jonny cling, and listen to the slow ins and outs of his breathing. He’ll be thirty-one in twenty-six days.

Patrick doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel overwhelmed in such an understated seep, but he’s pretty certain that’s what this is. A tightness in his throat, a weird rush in his head, a slump where he’d expect a crash.

A year has never felt faster than it does right then, right that very second as he watches the clock on his wall tick from 4:26 to 27 to 28.

At 29, Jonny shifts in that sudden way he always has, astonished to find that anything has dared disturb him, then takes a fast breath in through the nose and heavily back out.

Patrick feels him blink, feels him adjust the angle of his chin, feels the movement of his mouth before he says, "'S'hot," and does nothing to detach himself.

It makes it worse somehow, to hear him. A slapshot to the quiet bubble Patrick hadn't realized he'd sunk into, and he needs a second to respond, a minute, so long that Jonny talks again before he can, says,

"Have you slept at all?"

Sometimes this is annoying, too: this person, this man in his bed who knows what's up in two seconds flat if he's paying attention.

The stupidest fucking thing is that Patrick has already made peace with the season ending on another bad note, already knew it games ago. It's not that, he guesses.

"You think we'll ever do it again?" he says, the lump in his throat still present, lodged up under his Adam's apple.

Jonny shifts a little more. Spreads his thigh out across Patrick's own. "You doubting it?"

"No," Patrick says, and he's not. He doesn't know what to call this thought. It's fuzzy and bright at the same time. It's something about hockey and about Jonny and about his own wounded pride, all twisted up in some unrecognizable shape.

Jonny smooths a hand up Patrick's chest, plucks at the pendant there until Patrick goes on, "I think about if we'll do it again for real. Or--I don't think about it, but I just did. I have tonight."

"What d'you mean 'for real'?"

"For real--you and me. Playing more than five fucking minutes a night, or--I don't know. Being the reason it happens. We're done again. It's over again. I swear to god the season just fucking started."

Jonny keeps on with the plucking, and shifts his mouth to Patrick's ear. "You want to be the big dick."

"Like you fucking don't," Patrick answers, and is not at all surprised when Jonny moves as suddenly as he woke up, swings a leg over and straddles Patrick's hips, takes his wrists and holds them firm into the pillow on either side of his head. It's cold fast with their blanket pooled around Jonny's waist, sweat exposed to the outside air, but it's still a furnace where they're pressed together, Jonny's warm, naked skin against Patrick's cock.

"Mmm, but we're not talking about me."

It's playful, and Patrick knows how this goes. Knows when he's being talked out of his own head, knows how stupid it is because Jonny feels the exact same way, went to bed without a word after they turned the game off and sat all stormy on his phone.

"I don't want to do it without you," Patrick says without really meaning to, and it's not central to the feeling inside, but somewhere in there it's part of it, and it feels abruptly bigger. He doesn't even know why or where it's coming from.

"I'm sure you'd somehow find it in your heart to go on," Jonny says with a stupid smile on his face. "And whatever, fuck you. Who said I'm going anywhere?"

Patrick rolls his eyes. "No one. It's just moving fast. All of this. It feels harder than I think we even knew."

Jonny's quiet after that, just leans down and kisses Patrick softly on the mouth, lingers there. "Yeah," he agrees with his eyes closed, and Patrick worms his hands out of Jonny's grip, takes hold of his hips instead.

He doesn't. He really doesn't want to do anything without him.

"You want to have sex?" Patrick asks.

Jonny kisses him again, snorts a little. "That really revs my engine, Peeks."

"It's almost five in the morning, you sat on my dick and now I'm horny. We gotta hurry or you're gonna be such a bitch in a couple hours."

"Oh yeah, only me," Jonny says, already stretching himself up to crawl over and get the lube.

Patrick kisses his stomach as he goes, not entirely settled, but he won't be, doesn't know how to be. Can't be until they do it again.

Maybe not even after that.

[manadvantage]

It’s Patrick’s birthday and therefore an occasion for comfort porn with a side of cockwarming caregiving. Set after Saturday’s game.

-

Jonny’s still wired when the door closes behind them two hours after the game. He kind of wants to slam it, thirty be damned, but Pat shuffles up against his back and walks him forward, depriving him of that small satisfaction. Great, Jonny thinks meanly, now he has an excuse to be mad at Pat too.

Just when they started to get a grip, pull themselves out of the mud, losing to the fucking Kings. He can’t help thinking that they’ve already tanked their shot. And with this bolt from the blue, what little chance they had is gone. Maybe it’s not fair to Colliton, but Jonny doesn’t have many chances left to waste.

He throws his keys in the bowl so hard they clatter out to the floor. He swears.

“Careful,” Pat says mildly, skirting around him further into the apartment. Usually so easy to goad, but of course now he isn’t taking the bait when Jonny can feel a fight pulsing under his skin.

Pat sedately kicks off his shoes and lays his coat over the coach while Jonny stalks around the kitchen, opening and shutting cabinets like the antidote to their drought is hidden behind the canned corn. Pat goes for the fridge and Jonny purposely gets in his way, wanting to chip at his calm. He’s being an asshole, he knows it, but what’s he supposed to do? He can see it all falling apart. But Pat just grabs a gatorade and lets Jonny shoulder past him without pushing back. Irrationally, that only winds Jonny tighter. He hates this feeling, but it’s even worse to be alone in it.

Pat leans on the counter and takes a noisy pull from his drink, watching Jonny knock around in the pantry. “Having fun?”

“Fuck off,” Jonny snaps, but Pat just shakes his head and boxes him into the shelves.

“What’s going on in there, huh?” He taps Jonny’s temple and Jonny shoves his arm away, scowling.

“I’m not dealing with this right now.”

“I’m not something you have to deal with,” Pat says. He catches Jonny’s face in his hands. “Hey.”

Jonny stares over his shoulder, not meeting his eyes, petty. Pat sighs and slaps his face, not hard enough to do anything but piss him off. He used to do it all the time when they were coming up, once he figured out it’s the easiest way to get Jonny steamed, and it’s exactly the kind of teasing that Jonny can’t stand. He can’t remember the last time Pat did it. He’s got his excuse for a fight now and he grabs Pat’s wrists, ready to wrestle him down, but Pat slips away fast and hits him again. Jonny yells.

“Quit it!” He finally snatches Pat’s hands up tight against his own chest, shaking them a little. “What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you mad?”

“I’m mad,” Pat says. “Just not at you. Though I will be if you keep this up.”

“Ugh.” Jonny clenches his fingers on Pat’s wrists, feeling the shape of the bones there, and releases. He blows out a breath and drops his forehead to Pat’s. “I just—I can’t—”

Pat loops his arms under Jonny’s and presses them together. Jonny never saw coming how good Pat would be at making him feel held.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he finishes. “I know we have time. But...it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Hmm.” Pat rolls his chin on Jonny’s shoulder. His hair, damp from the shower, tickles Jonny’s ear. “Yeah.”

Jonny pulls back to look at him. “‘Yeah’?”

Pat rolls his eyes. “It sucks that Q’s gone, it sucks that the season’s starting rough, it sucks that we’re old. I’m angry, too. But you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

He sneaks a pinch to Jonny’s ribs and Jonny yelps, jumping away and definitely crushing a box of spaghetti. Pat laughs but pulls him back in close, hands sliding down to tug Jonny into him by his ass.

“We should go to bed,” he says, “before you do any more damage.”

Jonny frowns. “Your fault.”

Pat picks up his drink and grabs an extra for Jonny. Jonny lets Pat herd him down the hall, and Pat must really be zen because he doesn’t give Jonny any shit when he tosses the rest of his clothes straight to the floor and flops across the bed. Pat takes his time hanging up his suit, running water in the bathroom, and when he comes out Jonny’s still amped up, fidgeting under the covers to get comfortable.

Pat flicks off the bathroom light and slides in next to Jonny in his shirt and boxers. He turns on his side to face him. “Can’t settle?”

Jonny shrugs. “I feel better,” he says, meaning it. “Just.”

“Think you can get to sleep?”

“Probably not for a while,” he admits.

Pat’s eyebrows draw together. His face looks so dramatic, classical, in the lamplight. He’s a really beautiful man.

Fingers touch Jonny’s chest and trail down his stomach to his waistband. “I could get you off,” Pat suggests. He presses his palm right below Jonny’s navel, where the pressure makes him suck in his abs, heady.

But Jonny’s not that sort of keyed up. “I don’t know,” he says doubtfully.

“Can I try? I have it on good authority you’ll like it,” Pat says, all easy smile. He leans in for a kiss while his hand makes slow circles, not quite going for it. Jonny opens up for Pat’s tongue and the back of his neck prickles with heat, and yeah. Why not?

“Come on then,” he mumbles into Pat’s mouth, and Pat’s hand immediately slides that crucial last inch to stroke over the head of his dick through the cotton.

Jonny’s not hard yet but it feels good, not needing to do anything except lay there and act appreciative while Pat does all the work. The kissing takes most of his focus anyway, his attention caught up on Pat sucking his bottom lip, mouthing his jaw. Instead of revving him up, it makes him lazy, sleepier. It’s pretty sweet to be coddled. Nothing fancy, but nice.

Pat reaches into the slit of Jonny’s briefs to get a better grip on his cock. He’s still soft, which seems more urgent with Pat’s skin directly on his. Pat’s hand is dry but the pull isn’t bad, Jonny likes it that way often enough, but it’s not changing anything. Jonny breathes at the ceiling as Pat shifts to kiss his neck, but the relaxation of the moments before has disappeared and he’s suddenly uncomfortable, panting but limp in Pat’s grip. He gets his arm between them to pull Pat’s hand out of his underwear and rolls on his back with a groan.

He can feel Pat’s eyes on him, but he’s too raw to meet them. Pat nudges his side instead. “You okay?”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Jonny grits, not sure why he’s so embarrassed. He’s dealt with Pat’s whiskey dick enough times.

Pat shrugs, smoothing his hand over Jonny’s leg. “But it feels good, right?”

“Uh, I guess?” Clearly not as good as it should.

“You’re carrying too much tension,” Pat says.

Jonny snorts, moving away. “Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Again with the being a dick.”

He’s right, and it’s not his fault. At this point Pat can jerk Jonny off better than he can himself. It just sucks that with the disappointment coming from all angles, Jonny can’t even have this.

“You like it, right?” Pat waits for Jonny’s nod. “Well, it doesn’t make a difference to me if you don’t wanna jizz. Less mess that way.”

“Glad you’re so practical about our sex life.”

“One of us has to be.” Pat worms back up against Jonny’s side. “Let me make you feel good,” he says, touching light over his hip. “I want to.”

That��s dirty pool. Jonny has to nod.

He plants his feet and lifts up to help Pat get his briefs off. He’s not hard at all, which isn’t surprising, but it’s different than other times when they’re just starting to work each other up. He has no expectation that it will change, but he’s curious what Pat’s gameplan is here.

Apparently it’s to ignore Jonny’s dick and grope the rest of him. He always likes Pat’s hands on him, showing him what Pat likes in turn, reclaiming a little territory. Jonny closes his eyes and sinks into it. He’s nearly forgotten the goal when Pat’s hands drop away from his body. He grunts his displeasure and squints his eyes open, and sees Pat climbing between his legs. Pat grins when he notices Jonny looking and he flicks his tongue. Jonny laughs. Warmth sweeps through his stomach, makes him hopeful that maybe he can get caught up to the play here.

It still seems almost rude, sticking his soft dick in Pat’s face. Like that’s his fault instead of Jonny’s. But Pat just runs his nose along the crease of Jonny’s groin and pushes at his legs until he gets the hint and splays them out.

Pat leans back on his haunches. “Sit up. I want you to watch.”

Jonny snags Pat’s pillow and stuffs it behind his back so he can lean against the headboard and look down his body, see everything. Pat, hovering above his cock—usually that alone would be plenty to get him stiff. What’s wrong with him?

“Good.” Pat flattens himself on the bed. It’s too dark for Jonny to see if he’s chubbing up, but he can tell from the way Pat rolls his hips into the mattress, giving himself pressure, that if he isn’t already he’ll get there soon. That loosens Jonny’s nerves, lets him ease up for wherever Pat’s going with this.

Still, Jonny expects Pat to blow him like he normally would. Instead Pat bends Jonny’s knee up and out to make room for himself, lays his head on Jonny’s thigh, and gets the head of his dick in his mouth. His palms rub dry along Jonny’s knees to his hips and back. He doesn’t sneak any fingers past Jonny’s balls. He sucks softly, lips around the tip.

It’s hot and wet on Jonny’s cock so of course it’s not bad, but it’s…weird. It doesn’t feel like a warm up. Pat isn’t jerking him and he isn’t taking much in either. He lets Jonny slip out to smooth his foreskin down the shaft, makes Jonny think he’s gonna go for it, and goes right back to laving the flat of his tongue under the crown.

Jonny’s not following. He doesn’t want to hit Pat with the “I’m tired” excuse, but it’s just not gonna happen and he is actually pretty beat. He cups Pat’s shoulder. “Really, it’s okay. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“Give it a little longer,” Pat wheedles. It’s hard to say no when he’s staring up balefully, cradled in Jonny’s lap. He knows it, holds Jonny’s gaze as he ducks to pull him in his mouth.

“What are you even doing?”

Pat glances up and lets Jonny’s cock slip out, tacky thread of spit connecting it to his lip. That makes something thud in Jonny’s gut. “Sucking your dick.”

Jonny narrows his eyes, but whatever, he won’t object if Pat wants to string him along for a while.

Pat’s never blown him like this before. He’s so patient, like there’s no schedule here. Maybe there isn’t. He doesn’t bother wasting energy keeping his own head up. He looks so unnervingly calm and at ease like that, Jonny forgets which one of them’s meant to be doing the soothing.

Jonny melts back into the mattress and flexes his hands in the blanket. He could almost doze off if it weren’t for the lingering discomfort and his awareness of the weight of Pat’s head on his leg. His stomach’s shivery, but the pace is too sedate, the pressure too light. It isn’t going to make him come. But. Pat’s trying so hard...kind of. Jonny doesn’t want to disappoint him. He doesn’t know what Pat gets out of this.

When Jonny looks Pat seems checked out. Jonny could mistake him as asleep except for how his thumb kneads at the tender spot inside Jonny’s knee. He suckles steadily and yeah, it’s good, once Jonny can get over himself. If Pat’s chill with with it, he can be too.

He must drift eventually, feeling all swaddled in his perfect bed and Pat’s attention, because he’s snapped back when Pat mumbles, “Yeah, there you go.”

Jonny understands once Pat sucks again and then the urgency is right there, tight and thick, shocking him into twisting up and messing up Pat’s angle.

“Sorry, sorry, shit,” he gasps as Pat holds him down with a heavy arm on his waist. He’s reeling, he can’t get a handle on himself. He levers up on his elbows to blink openmouthed at Pat. He has no idea how long he was out and his thigh is numb under Pat’s head, but he can’t care about any of that when his whole body is tensed, fighting not to move as Pat keeps up his methodical pace. And he’s never been so relieved to have a boner.

“Better be,” Pat says, bottom lip pushing fat on the slit. His eyes are half closed and wet at the corners; he’s wearing that fucked-out look that reaches into Jonny and yanks every time. “Falling asleep while your dick’s in my mouth.”

“Oh god.” He covers his face in his hands and flops to the pillows. His legs are completely locked up as he works against the dizzy thought of fucking into Pat’s throat.

Pat digs his fingers into Jonny’s quads. “You’re doing so good. Stay still for me.”

“Yeah,” Jonny croaks. “Just—”

Pat opens up for his cock, all wet and smooth now with his spit, and he keeps with that same slow suction from the start. Jonny thinks hysterically that he can’t nut just from that, just Pat’s mouth working soft over and over the tip, but fuck, he‘s going to. He needs to.

He can’t even think to warn Pat when he comes, struggling so hard to lay there and be good that he can only gasp, staring unseeing at the ceiling, and then he’s spilling in Pat’s mouth. Pat chokes before he pulls off and lets the rest pool on Jonny’s stomach. Jonny pushes up to say sorry—nobody likes surprise jizz in their air—but he sees the shine of it coating Pat’s tongue for a second before he swallows and Jonny has to thunk his head down again, moaning as his dick twitches out the last of the mess on his abs.

Pat doesn’t spare him a second for the sweat to cool on his skin before he’s dragging his lips down Jonny’s dick again, gentler than earlier but insistent. Jonny’s breath rattles in his throat like he’s been punched. He curls up defensively. “Fuck.”

Pat pulls off, thank god, but he just stares at Jonny, a fucking picture of composure except for his red eyes and mouth, his hips rutting sporadic against the bed. “Take it, Jon.”

Jonny breathes hard out his nose, staring back. He could push Pat away and he’d probably drop it, turn out the light, and not bring it up in the morning. He would stop if Jonny told him to.

Jonny collapses to the pillow and loosens his fistfull of sheets, rolls his head on his neck. “Okay,” he says, feeling the flush thick on his face when right away Pat’s praising him, touching his thighs, getting his wide cut shoulders all up in Jonny’s space. Yeah. Whatever Pat wants to give it to him, he’ll take it.

[kanerboo]

But I love the idea of Jonny being Kaner's provider but being totally oblivious to it since they were rookies. Like always paying for Patrick when they go out to eat and even when they're out with friends, Jonny pulling out his card to pay for both him and Kaner, despite getting weird looks from their friends or if they're out grocery shopping and Pat can't decide between two strawberry desserts, Jonny would totally lecture him about the fat/sugar content but then also grab them both and buy it for him because it'll make Patrick happy.

But also small everyday things like Jonny keeping Pat's favourite granola bars in his bag and shoving them at him before he has to do media after games or Jonny keeping an extra scarf with him when they travel because baby Peeksy gets cold and Kaner just straight up.....let's him.

TL;DR Jonathan Toews is everyone's captain and straight up Patrick Kane's Husband.

(this may or may not be my secret plea to all 1988 writers that I want a Housewife Patrick Kane AU :p)

omg YES to all of this!!! you’ve totally read my mind anon lmao i absolutely LOVE the thought of jonny being patrick’s provider and protector!! and i mean honestly it isn’t that far from real life lol patrick himself said jonny always pays when they go out, and jonny does things like hold doors open for him, which is... a very husband-provider thing to do from a man’s pov i think lol.

i also think jonny can be very thoughtful (when he WANTS to be) so he definitely keeps stuff on hand for patrick like the extra scarf (which jonny himself doesn’t need, he hangs on to it only in case patrick needs it) and obviously patrick just... luxuriates in all of that attention being paid to his every need. does he realise jonny pays that much attention to him, or is he completely oblivious and just thinks that jonny just magically conjures these things he wants and needs out of nowhere? i’m inclined to think he is aware, but like you said, he just... lets jonny do it and is happy to bask in it without drawing extra attention to jonny doing all this for him.

tbh for the longest time i’ve had a housewife!patrick idea in my head (lol ask @anotherashley she knows), i just don’t have the time to write it, but boy, i would absolutely LOVE to. (of course, it’s mostly filthy sex and hardly any plot, but w/e lol.)

[smollandtoll]

HC: 5Hole

TW: this headcanon mentions other people in the NHL including certain Blackhawks and Capitals you might not want to read about. You can skip this one and won’t hurt our feelings OR just read until you get to the section divider that indicates the rest of our HC that doesn’t particularly involve just Sid/Geno.

Have you ever listened to Ariana Grande in the shower and immediately come out with an entire head canon about a Gay Hockey Bar called 5Hole? No? Just me?

So imagine Mario owns this establishment of course and Sid works there as a bartender. He’s perpetually single, mostly because he is super awkward, but also a little because his lower half is always behind the bar. There’s also the fact that he’s hopelessly in love with a regular named Geno and no one wants to get in the middle of whatever epic romance they’re figuring out together.

Geno’s story goes something like: he tried to work at 5hole, but was literally always late, and drank too much while on shift, and was generally the worst bartender because he'd get distracted flirting with patrons instead of y'know working. So he turned into a regular, and is ALWAYS dating someone new/constantly with a boyfriend. Cue Sid being like terribly in love with him from afar for 8 years.

We love a pining Sid - meanwhile Geno’s like, “Sid's good friend! Very cute boy. Weird little bit, but fun to chirp. Flirt with Sid all the time. He never show any interest.” See why no one wants to get in the middle of that? Besides you never know if Sid’s going to do something to one of Geno’s date’s drinks. Like he hasn’t so far, because he’s Sid, but sometimes he looks long and hard at the way they giggle up at Geno from under his arm and takes a really long time to set their drink down on the bar. Anyway Geno's busy having a great time and being young and a mess and missing his family so fiercely he doesn't even think his heart is capable of love any more it's so broken, y’know casual. So he's not looking, not even thinking to look back at Sid because sometimes someone just doesn’t register as a prospect.

Meanwhile Geno is like so scary to Sid, like he's so bright and bold and fearless and like he's got so much drama, with all the people in his life and like the on again off again friendship with Ovi and all the other shit, the Russian politics, the constant internal struggle against self-hatred. He’s always in and out of the bar, always laughing brightly at someone pretty or giving his friends shit and then turning his smile on Sid, and Sid just can’t help but be so drawn to him. Geno is so much, and Sid is so little, he doesn’t think he could compare at all, he doesn’t have deep thoughts or an interesting background, he’s not sexy or silly or fun or any of the other things Geno seems to look for in a date.  

He definitely wouldn't know what to do even if some miracle happened and he managed to capture Geno’s affection and attention. To always have the weight of Geno's gaze and possessiveness on him? Like it'd be so nice, but also when he flirts even just a little, Sid always FREEZES. It's been years and he still doesn't know how to handle it. So he’s writing himself off.

But other than the Geno drama, Sid actually really likes being a bartender. It suits him because he can’t flirt (that well) but he can quickly and efficiently prepare drinks when it’s busy af and it’s easy for him to stay low-key and focused. He’s actually the best, he's quick, his eyes never miss anything (he's definitely caught a few doctored drinks), he remembers an infinite amount of orders, he's clean, he's no nonsense, and he's pretty enough to make really decent tips when he smiles even if he can’t flirt worth a damn.

Mario is definitely grooming him to take the bar over - sending him to business school, letting him stay with him indefinitely (this is definitely one of those stories where Sid was like wayward, but not in a terrible way, just a little at loose ends and in need of a decent paying job and Mario swoops in with all the experience and convenient answers). (At this point we got deeply excited by possibilities of other people in this universe and our adorable Sid/Geno plot went off the rails. We just have so many faves, guys!)

Other things about the bar/patrons (stop reading here if you don’t want other people):

Mario is one of those old gays that realized late in life that they COULD be gay, like long after they had a wife and four kids and a career and things. Mario's “one that got away” was probably Gretzky (like, okay, in retrospect, I was in love with him and very in denial about it) and Jagr was probably a young coworker that got along well with him and occasionally experienced a tension-laden moment at a conference or two after a few drinks and was DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH HIM despite Mario explicitly saying "BACK OFF I'M VERY HETERO AND HAVE A WIFE AND BABIES I LOVE." But you know how it is when someone is in so much denial about who they actually are, and Jagr knew, he KNEW. But he also wasn’t self sacrificing enough to stick around waiting only to get burnt over and over while Mario always prioritised his wife.

Basically in this universe, NHL = gay(/bi/pan/poly/aro/ace/various other QUILTBAG abbreviations/occasionally straight because they can’t ALL be gay but like just most of them!). There are a lot of regulars at this bar, and they float in little interest groups and cliques depending on who is dating who and who has what in common - you know like real life. Here are some of the groups and what we think about them.

Jonathan Toews is the other bartender who works in tandem with Sid, because we just imagine this being a super Canadian bar. Jonny is hot and serious and deadpan and if Sid’s the shy (but incredibly competent) one with a great smile then Jonny is the intimidatingly tall and hot one. Regular bar patrons occasionally give guys the DL on the Sid <3 Geno situation - if someone is interested in wooing Geno feel free to hit on him, make out with him, but they usually get warned to grab their drinks from Tazer.  

Patrick Kane is one of those self hating gay dudes who comes to the bar to pick up and fuck in the bathroom and then goes back to saying f slurs with his finance bros. He’s probably very angsty and Tazer probably serves him a lot of water and stern looks.

Jamie Benn is one of those gay boys that has no style and doesn't know how to be gay at all. Sid feels for him deeply when he first starts coming in with just the solidarity of his straight brother who kind of abandons him to hustle at pool and watch hockey (hockey is always playing at 5Hole). Tyler Seguin probably swoops in early, takes him for haircuts and makeovers and long late-night heart-to-hearts they pretend are just bro-chats but no one is surprised when it turns out they’re secretly in love with each other.

Flower and Tanger are in some kind of open or poly relationship. As far as Sid can tell, Flower is married to a woman, but a couple times a month he and Tanger come to 5Hole and Tanger goes off to pick up a third guy for Flower’s inspection while Flower shoots the shit with Sid at the bar.

Phil Kessel genuinely comes in for the beer and the hockey and to not hear gay slurs while enjoying them. At first Sid thought maybe he was in the wrong bar and tried to warn him they weren’t a normal hockey bar, but Phil didn’t even look up from the beer menu and scathingly told Sid that he didn’t have his rainbow ID card with him that day, his apologies. After a while they all got used to him being gruff at the bar, focused on the TV more than the company, but still getting hit on relentlessly by like Hags. Phil usually tells him "SURE KID WHATEVER. YOU'RE TOO PRETTY FOR THE LIKES OF ME, MOVE ON." But Hags likes him, and thinks he’s cute and is slowly eroding Phil’s disbelief. Phil deserves love too.

Whenever Hags feels like he’s starting to cross the border into being harassing however it’s okay, he pays for Phil’s drink and then retreats to the corner that is occupied by mostly blonde swedes. Taken into Horny’s open (usually bare and glistening) arms, hair ruffled by Erik Karlsson.

The rest of the Swedes are a small contingent and insanely hot. They usually all break into their individual cliques and return every so often to Nicklas Backstrom’s table where he watches over them all with a stony expression of love, and makes sure the babies don’t get drugged (looking at you Willy Nylander).

There is a similar table of Loud Hot Russians, that is mostly lead by Ovi, and, depending on where their on and off friendship is at, Geno. But obviously Ovi is always like "SID! NICKY HERE?" literally any time he comes in. Ovi is just SMITTEN from the beginning, loving that beautiful impassive man, seeing the WARMTH WITHIN NICKY knowing he NEEDS OVI'S JOVIAL NATURE IN HIS LIFE. Whenever he can say something that gets Nicky to smile it’s 100% worth all his scathing looks and comments and he drunkenly pledges that he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to make Nicky smile as much as possible. Nicky thinks he’s certifiably insane, but eventually caves and starts hesitantly dating him, and they are definitely instantly the new old married couple at the bar. And then all the Russians and Swedes get strangely intermixed a lot. Geno and Horny being brothers etc.

The Bi Guy club is mostly just Tyler Seguin, Paul Bissonnette talking shit and giggling in a corner and occasionally leaving 5Hole to pick up down the street at the straight club.

IF ANYONE was gonna be part of the drag act that comes in on the first Friday of the month it'd be PK and his Predators. Roman Josi in drag would be so beautiful. Baby gays Kevin and Juuse, longtime queens Pekka and Shea (#denial). Those Preds are so pretty.

Johnny Hockey would be that twinky kid who is like actually maybe too afraid to have sex yet but acting all mature and like he can handle it but he's sEEN SOME FUCKED UP PORN, HE KNOWS ASSHOLES CAN JUST RIP AND HE'S SMALL he's just ANXIOUS. It doesn’t help that he’s deeply hung up on Sean Monahan who runs in the Fuck Boy circle with Tyler Seguin, Tom Wilson, Michael Latta, and Brady Skjei. He is afeared. It’s okay though, Jeff Skinner, and Beau Bennet comfort him and take in Mitch Marner when he wanders in on his 18th birthday.

There’s definitely a kind of low self-esteem but thicc as hell club? President Tyson Barrie, VP Nate Mac, Treasurer Jamie Benn. THEY ARE ALL SO SHY AND WEIRD BUT SO JACKED AND FUNNY??? Gabe's gotta always be tagging along with them because he thinks he fits right in, not because he's ugly or they're ugly but because he thinks they are all smart and funny. And also Tyson is super cute and he is INTO IT. But it like PEEVES Tyson like no other because GABE DOES NOT BELONG.

Tyson: Why does he not spend all his time with the hot swedes, he gets to be hot AND FUNNY. RUDE. Gabe doesn't know how to stay in HIS LANE. THERE IS SUCH THING AS TOO PERFECT GABRIEL. LOOK GABE, GO BACK TO YOUR HOMELAND, LOOK, THAT ONE WHO LOOKS LIKE A PIRATE PROBABLY IS MISSING YOU. 

Gabe just exchanges looks with Nate and buys Tyson a very sugary drink (basically anything that ends in -tini) and smiles at him a lot to see him turn increasingly fluorescent shades of red.

Tom Wilson and Michael Latta despite their best intentions as part of the Fuck Boy clique are those guys who have been in a high school sweethearts level committed relationship for EVER AND EVER and everyone is like "maybe you should play the field" and they're like ....I don't think I need to. Because they have everything they need in their meathead bro! Solid sports understanding? Companionship? Twice the wardrobe? A+ blowies??? Done, done and done.

There is also the older distinguished extremely handsome gentleman's society aka Henrik Lundquist and Patrick Sharp. They’re biding their time, eyeing up future Gabe and Holtby. Ovi occasionally tries to set up shop with them and they're like "Good try, you might be silver but you're still like 28."

Thennn idk probably plot would happen like Geno would start dating someone and drama would occur and someone would have to force Sid to talk about his feelings and Geno would realise that he could have had Sid all along BECAUSE WE NEED LOVE. 

5HOLE!

[oflovesandlikes]

Could you write some jonny taking care of sick patrick?

Dear anon, the story kind of run away from me. I blame it partially on the fact that I have written a similar fic before & I was struggling to come up with something entirely new. The other part of the blame falls on this that has been stuck in my head for a few days.

So it became an almost 3500 words of Jonny and de-aged, sick Patrick -mess.

I’m not sure it’s what you were looking for but I hope you’ll still enjoy it and maybe I can make it up to you another time.

My askbox will be open for prompts for the foreseeable future. 

“God, youare such a baby, Kaner.”  The wordsstill echo in Jonny’s ears, his voice tired and resigned, as if he has spokenthem only a minute ago.

Logically he knows it’s not his fault. If itwas that easy, they would have won all the Stanley Cups and Patrick would wearthe Toews name next to his #88 and love Canada enough to retire there with himsomeday. Or loved Jonny. Period.

On the other hand, getting stuck taking care ofa not only de-aged but also sick Patrick can’t help but feel like karma to him.

After he gotten the C, he knew he had to‘babysit’ the rookies, he even learned to like it especially after Saad, whowas probably a better-behaved rookie than even Jonathan himself. Nowhere in hisCaptain duties did it mention raising regressed teammates though.

Then again, his team consists of a bunch ofmorons who thought it best to coo and coddle the toddler as if he was an actualkid. He was Kaner for fuck’s sake. The guy was a text book ‘Peter Pan syndrome’case on his best day.

The fact that Jonny is in love with him despiteall that, falls under the Stockholm syndrome. At least that’s what the internethas told him. What does Jonny know?

He knows even less about taking care of sicktoddlers and his A’s are suffering from what his trusted internet search calls‘hypengyophobia’ which means theyhave a fear of responsibility. In Jonny’s -self-made- lexicon, the synonym is “a bunch of lazy assholes”.

They do provide him with the name of theirpediatrician, which is at least something, and that’s how Jonny finds himselfin the waiting room with a bunch of suburban mom and a Patrick who fusses andtries to get out of his stroller.

Jonny can’t make eye-contact because he has putthe stroller to the side so that it doesn’t block the corridor but he can stillfeel the violent shakes the poor thing gives under Patrick’s tantrum.

“Pipe it down there, K-“he catches himselfquickly “Peeks.” He figures it’s the safer name choice; not like the moms paythem much attention.

Patrick, like always, challenges him even whenhe uses his captain voice so Jonny is not surprised when he immediately bumpsthe tray table with his fist.

Jonny lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Stopit.” He hisses quietly.

Instead of quieting down, Patrick starts cryingand shove harder at the tray.

Jonny stands from his seat, faces the strollerand crouching down he makes eye-contact with the little trouble maker. “Comeon, now,” he softens his tone but his gaze is intense and scolding “don’t cry;you’re better than that.”

“His fever has probably gone up,” a femalevoice says somewhere behind him. “making him fussy.”

Patrick’s eyes are indeed glassy and his cheeksa deep red but Jonny is pretty sure Kaner somehow willed himself into it justto spite him. “Taking him off the stroller might help.” She suggests.

Jonny mumbles a “Yeah, thanks” because he hasmanners and it’s not the woman’s fault that Patrick’s mission in life is toruin his.

Once he lifts the tray and unbuckles himPatrick quiets down, the little shit. Jonny glares harder at him while he’sstill out of sight and no one can judge him for it, picks him up and puts himon his feet.

Patrick wobbles and grabs Jonny’s hand tosteady himself.

“Can he walk, yet?” the same voice asks.

“Yeah, he’s 28, he’s just got a heightproblem.” Jonny deadpans without a moment of hesitation.

Patrick digs his tiny nails in Jonny’s skin andwails. Jonny would gloat to his asshole teammates for being right if Kanerwasn’t causing a scene.

“Oh, come on” he protests “it was a joke.” Hemutters.

More than a few pair of eyes are silentlyjudging him. Jonny takes a deep breath cursing the fact that no one seems tohave a decent sense of humor except him.

He quickly picks Patrick up and the toddlerburies his face in the crook of Jonny’s neck like he has done a hundred timesbefore as an adult; with such ease and comfort as if it’s his rightful place.

Now that he thinks he can get away with it,Jonny gently caresses his soft curls and scrapes his fingers down the tinyback. And if Patrick gives him shit for it later he can tell him it was justfor keeping up appearances.

 Acute otitis the pediatrician had said. “An earinfection, Kaner, come on.” He scolds, rolling his eyes before he can catchhimself. He had to make a few dozen calls before he was utterly convinced thateven though the real Patrick is indeed somewhere in there he doesn’t have fulladult mental capacity.

Jonny wanted to argue that the real Kanerdoesn’t either but it’d probably result in that drum-shuttering wail and thatwas the last thing he needed.

He takes a deep calming breath and tries again.“Look, I even got you the cherry flavored one,” he says gesturing at the syrupbottle, “you like cherry, don’t you?”

Patrick neither moves nor speaks. Jonny knowshe can. According to the doctor, other than the ear infection he is a perfectlyhealthy three-year-old so he could answer him with at least a yes or a no. Atthis point, Jonny would just take a nod.

He squints his eyes at Pat, “Are you giving methe silent treatment?”

Still nothing comes his way. Patrick just sitsthere, in the couch corner, tiny fists clenched on his lap.

Jonny sits close beside him and he swears ifthat pink shit stains his couch he’s gonna make Pat pay for a new one. Screwdry cleaning.

“Come on, Pat, please,” he’s got to the pointwhere he’s not above begging “you heard the doctor. It will make you feel somuch better and then we can do a lot of fun sh- stuff” apparently, he’s notabove bribing either.

It, at least, earns him Patrick’s attention,those clear blue eyes searching his face. Jonny’s not sure for what. Probablytrying to access the honesty of his words.

Jonny gets lost at the colour for a fewseconds. It’s a bit lighter than usual, almost like a soft grey. He kind oflikes it but it also kind of bothers him because it’s Patrick’s, yet it isn’t.Not exactly.

He almost misses how Patrick inches his facejust a tad closer but he definitely catches the moment he parts his lipssilently.

Jonny tentatively gets the spoon closer to hismouth, not wanting to push further. Patrick almost buries his nose in the spoonand takes a sniff. Almost as suddenly, he grabs the spoon and shoves it in hismouth.

Jonny lets out a relieved sigh while Patrickkeeps licking it even after the syrup is all gone. Jonny chuckles. “Come on,”he says trying to extract the spoon from Pat’s slightly chubby hand “you canhave more later, I promise.”

Patrick, somewhat reluctantly, finally gives itup and proceeds to violently lick his lips. He keeps at it, with the additionof his fingers, even when Jonny gets back from the kitchen having puteverything back in place.

It’s such a Kaner thing, too so Jonny can’treally explain the clench in his heart. He brushes it off and grabs a baby wipeto clean both Pat’s mouth and hands.

Patrick allows it without fuss, he even puckershis lips so Jonny can do a thorough job. “Such a good boy.” He coos,unintentionally.

Patrick’s eyes grow huge for a brief second andthen blink close, head lolling at the side until it rests against Jonny’s arm.

It’s not that comfortable so Jonny pushes himoff gently and proceeds to wrap it around Patrick’s shoulder, cocooning him,but not before grabbing a soft fleece blanket that uses to wrap the both underit.

Patrick burrows further into his side with acontent sigh and Jonny can’t control the fond smile that appears on his facethat turns rueful the moment his brain registers that he has been imaginingsomething similar at least a billion times over the year. Obviously never quitelike this.

Lazy off days with an obviously a lot much older and bulkier Patrick, a heavy butwelcoming presence on his side, occasionally tilting his head up seeking a softpeck on the lips if Jonny hadn’t beaten him to it.

This particular fantasy of him is neverexplicitly detailed; the house they’re in doesn’t matter except that it’stheirs, what the TV plays makes no difference as long as they’re together. It’sthe feeling that he enjoys the most: soft and close, settled, together andcontent.

Patrick tugs at his sleeve and that gets Jonnyout of his haze. He lowers his head to find tiny Kaner glaring at him thenturning his eyes pointedly at the still shut TV screen.

Jonny chuckles and immediately grabs theremote, going through the channels. Most of them have nothing suitable for akid and he can feel Patrick getting impatient. “Uh, Sport channel.” It’s moreof a safe bet than a suggestion but Pat shakes his head vigorously and makesgrabby hands at the remote.

For once Jonny gives it up without a fight.Patrick fumbles with the buttons for a bit but quickly gets the hang of it andchannel surfs for a while until he settles on one with an approving hum.

Jonny quirks his eye brow. “Tangled, really?”

Patrick narrows his tiny eyes at him thenraises a brow of his own. Jonny knows he’s beaten. He should have said ‘acartoon?’. When you know the film name, you don’t have a lot of room to judgehe supposes.

They watch in comfortable silence for a whileuntil it’s broken by Patrick’s loud giggles right before the frying pan scene.Jonny files it as chirping material for later use but laughs along because tinyblue eyes look up at him expectantly.

“Awesome,eh?” he says and Patrick beams at him.

Seeing him in a much-improved mood, Jonnyhazards a question.  “Hey, you thinkyou’d wanna talk to me at some point?”

Sure, adult Jonny knows his harsh wordscouldn’t have been the ones to turn Patrick into a baby (well, toddler) butmaybe Kaner’s tiny little self holds him responsible on some level.

Patrick bites his bottom lip and shrugs,returning his attention to the screen.

“Are you mad at me?” Jonny finds the courage toask directly.

It gets him no answer, just Pat slightly shyingaway from him and his heart sinks. Apologies go a long way though, especiallyheartfelt ones, so Jonny sincerely offers his.

“I’m sorry. You just –“ he catches himselfbecause sharing some of the blame with toddler Patrick is unfair. “Sorry,” herepeats but Patrick blatantly ignores him.

Jonny sighs, defeated. He can try again later,perhaps. “How about I make some lunch,” he changes the subject “minestronesoup, I know you like that.”

Patrick at least shakes his head at that.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “at least some crackers. Idon’t know if you even had breakfast today.”

Patrick seems to consider it and finally nods.

Jonny stands up hastily and rashes towards thekitchen. He stops mid-way there “Want some juice, too?”

Patrick’s nod is more eager this time and Jonnysilently curses himself. Hydration is so important, he’s a hockey player, heknows that. How could he have been so stupid.

He vows to himself to do better from now on.

He returns to his sit, unwraps the crackerpacket and offers it to Patrick.

Patrick on his end, stares at it intensely,then up at Jonny with eyes wide and then down at his lap. It takes a moment forJonny to catch on.

“Go ahead,” he says, offering the crackers toPatrick once more “take it. It’s OK.”

Patrick is still hesitant. “It’s fine, Pat,really.” He assures “Don’t worry about the crumbs.”

Patrick snatches it, not giving him anotherchance to change him mind. He inhales the first two and that guilty feelingre-envelops Jonny.

Patrick wipes tiny crumbs from the corner ofhis mouth with the back of his one hand, while the other is digging in for thethird one. Before that ends up in his mouth as well he pauses and glances onceup at Jonny and then down at the cracker, then right back at Jonny.

Maintaining eye contact, he closes the tinyfist holding the cracker, crumbling it in the process.

Jonny sees it like the challenge it is. Patrickdares him to break his promise. He doesn’t bite. He just shrugs.

Patrick shoves the crumbs in his mouth and withthe same hand reaches for the juice, making a mess as he goes. It gets evenworse when he squeezes the box in the middle and both he and the blanket getcovered by the sticky liquid.

Jonny still doesn’t say a thing. He letsPatrick have the remaining of the juice and yet another cracker. This time,Patrick lifts his other palm and let the few crumbs fall in there. Then he getsthem back inside the packet.

Jonny ruffles his hair as soon as he swallows.“Come on, little piggy,” he teases “bath time.”

He must have feel incredibly sticky and grossbecause Patrick jumps off the couch and runs towards the bathroom shedding hisclothes on the way.

Jonny picks them up one by one on his waythere. A stark-naked Patrick dutifully waits for him beside the tab. He doesn’tmove until the water is high enough. He climbs in and sits down, splashingwater with his hands until Jonny hands him a sponge and drips some shower gelon it.

Patrick holds it but does nothing other thansearch around. Jonny thinks he might can’t do it himself so he tries to helpbut Patrick hides it on his other side.

“What are you waiting for?” Jonny asks.

“Quack!” he croaks, voice unused for so long.

“A duck?” Jonny asks incredulously, “who do youtake me for? Seguin?”

At Tyler’s name, Pat’s eyes light up withmischievous glee and Jonny scoffs to fight the hurt.

He’s one second away from snapping a “then whydon’t you go to him to give you one?’ but catches himself. They’d have to pryhim over Jonny’s dead body because he’d never give him up willingly to anyone,in whatever shape or form he may be.

So he patiently cleans Patrick and suffersthrough the wet mess he makes and he’s not even mad that his bathroom floor nowhas more water than the tab because Patrick giggles happily and it’s the bestsound Jonny has heard in a while.

He dries him off with his most soft and fluffytowel and dresses him in a worn off t-shirt before he tucks him in on his bed.He turns the TV on and hands him the remote.

When he comes back from cleaning up the mess,because the last thing he wants is for Patrick to prattle on the wet bathroomand break a bone, he finds Pat rubbing violently at his ear.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

Patrick nods with a sniff. When Jonny takes acloser look, his eyes are misty and a little red. Instinctively, he lowers hishead. When his cold lips make contact with Patrick’s forehead, it elicits apleased hum. Jonny does find him to be a bit warmer but it’s still too soon foranother round of medicine.

Jonny half picks him up, enough to put himunder the covers and Patrick fusses a bit trying to get out until Jonny walksround and settles on the other end of the bed.

“Nap time,” Jonny explains, laying his head onthe pillow and turning Patrick’s way.

Patrick lets out a soft yawn, nods and closeshis eyelids without protest.

Jonny sits there watching him- for how long hecan’t tell. When he thinks his breath has evened out he caresses his hairsoftly.

As if he had taken that as his que, Patrickinches closer just a tiny bit. His eyes are still shut but Jonny knows themotion was timid. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

He doesn’t pause to think about it, he justtakes him in his arm and lets Patrick head rest on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I know I can be suchan assho- asshat,” he censors himself “sometimes. But just this once can youmaybe do me a favour? Can you talk to me? Just a little? Just tell me thatyou’re mad if you want to. I just want to hear your voice.”

Patrick doesn’t speak but Jonny knows he isn’tasleep because he rubs his tiny nose on Jonny’s shirt.

Jonny lets out a heavy sigh. “Can you at leastchange back?”

After a beat, he can feel Patrick move hishead, he’s just not sure if it’s a shake or a nod. “Can you?” he asks again andthis time he can definitely feel the nod.

That at least unties a huge part of the knotJonny carries inside. “Will you? Now?”

Patrick shakes his head and tries to pull away.Jonny doesn’t let him go far. “Why?” he asks “It’d be better for you.Especially now that you’re sick.”

At that Patrick pushes that much harder to freehimself and Jonny rashes to clarify. “Not that I mind. – Taking care of you, Imean. Not that you’re sick. I mind that. I mean…” he takes a deep breath andtries to remember how to word “I just want to know you’re OK, ok? That’s all.”

Patrick looks up at him with hooded eyes.Jonny’s guessing he was probably trying to narrow them at him but he’s fever ismost likely coming back and it’s the only thing he can master.

“Ok,” herelents “ok, you win. I’m also a selfish jerk who wants to make himself feel alot less guilty, alright? There. I said it.”

“You’re mean.” Patrick accuses and theunexpected reply catches Jonny off guard.

“Uh- no, I- yeah I can be I suppose.” Headmits. “Is that why you don’t want to change back? Because I can try to bebetter and I am sorry-“

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but he seemsto regret it and closes his lips shut.

Jonny tugs him closer again. “It’s OK. Let’sjust nap. Whenever you’re ready, alright?”

Jonny is half-way asleep the next time Patrickspeaks. “Will you make me go away when I’m big?” comes a lisp-y whisper.

That’s enough to wake Jonny up. “What?” hesquawks.

He can feel Patrick slipping away and this timehe lets him enough to face him. “Patrick, never, ok? I never want –“ he can’tdo it. Not now. Not like this.

“Patrick, you have to listen to me carefully.”He stresses. “Are you listening?”

Patrick finally looks at him, reluctantly, yethe does and nods. Jonny gives a nod of his own. “Good, because this isimportant.” He takes a deep breath. “We need to talk.” He pauses because theinternet tells him that’s never good. “I-I need to tell you a lot of things but you’re 3 now and it’s creepy andwrong and all kinds of weird, ok? So, I’ll wait. Again.” He can’t help but addbecause he feels like he has been waiting for Patrick half his life “But I willnever, ever send you away, ok? The next time you leave is because you chose it,alright?”

Patrick just stares at him open-mouthed. Jonnyrubs at his forehead with sweaty palms. “Do you even get what I’m saying?” Hesays when his frustration takes over him.

Patrick glares at him. “’M not stupid.”

That makes Jonny smile. “I know.”

Patrick eyes him warily. “Even when I’m big?”he questions.

Jonny doesn’t hesitate. “Even then.”

Little blue eyes assess him. “OK.” Patrickfinally decides and then proceeds to tuck Jonny down to resume their previouscomfortable position.

“Jonny?” Patrick says, from inside Jonny’sarms.

“Hmm”

“’M not stupid,” he repeats “you are.”

Jonny huffs a laugh and leaves a quick kiss onthe top of Patrick’s head. “I know, Pat.” He agrees. “I know.”

[live-in-fury]

for the prompt thingy! Vinnie and Hartzy babysit 1988's baby for a weekend and decide they want a baby of their own?

can kind of be read in this 1988 kid fic au

“It’s not too late to take him with us,” Patrick says, on the verge of tears.

“We can’t, Pat,” Jonny says, pulling his husband towards the door. “We already said goodbye three times. C’mon, we’re going to miss our flight.”

“But, Jonny,” Patrick says softly, lips trembling.

“Oh my god, dude,” Ryan says from where he’s watching from their couch. “It’s just a baby. Chill.”

The sad look on Patrick's face is instantly washed away, quickly replaced by rage. “Chill? Just a baby? Just a-just,” Patrick growls. “Hold me back, Jon or I’m gonna punch him.”

“Shhh,” Vinnie hisses, stomping into the living room from the nursery. “He’s asleep, let’s keep it that way. Why are you two still here? You said bye like twenty minutes ago.”

“Look, it’s the first time we’ll be away from him for longer than a few hours. It’s a pretty big deal,” Jonny explains.

Ryan quirks an eyebrow. “You’re so overdramatic. How can you be this attached to a tiny human that poops and cries every five seconds?”

This time, Jonny holds Patrick back without being told to. “He doesn’t mean it,” Jonny whispers in his ear.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “You’ll be gone for three days. That’s shorter than most of our road trips.”

“Oh god, road trips,” Patrick says, as if he’s suddenly remembering that he plays professional hockey for a living and that he’ll have to be away from his newborn for long periods of time come October.

“Should have thought of that before having a baby,” Ryan mutters.

“Ryan!” Vinnie scolds him.

It’s not that Ryan hates babies or something. They’re fine, cute even. He just doesn’t understand why people always make such a big fuss over them. If he was Patrick or Jonny right now he would have been at the airport hours ago.

“I’m relieving you of your duties,” Patrick says to Ryan and Vinnie. “You are not allowed to bring your negative energy into my house or near my baby.”

“Patrick,” Jonny groans. “They’ll be fine. Come on.”

Patrick shakes his head. “No way, Jon. I’m not leaving Mason alone with these idiots.”

Jonny wraps his arms around Patrick from behind and whispers something in his ear that causes him to blush.

Ryan exchanges a look with Vinnie.

Patrick looks torn before he finally huffs and pushes away from Jonny. “Fine, fine. But you play dirty, Jonathan.”

Jonny looks pleased. “If we leave right this second, I’ll show you exactly how dirty I play once we land in Buffalo.”

Patrick smirks. “Why wait till Buffalo when you can just do me on the plane?”

Vinnie screams in horror just as Ryan rushes over to cover his ears.

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Oh please, like you guys don’t have sex on the regular.”

“Yeah, but this is like hearing your parents talk about sex,” Ryan says, palms resting flat against Vinnie’s ears.

“Alright, let’s go,” Patrick relents. He looks sad again until Jonny takes his hand and squeezes it.

“He’ll be here when we get back,” Jonny reassures him. “Just a few days.”

“Erica just had to get married,” Patrick mutters as they head out.

Jonny pokes his head back in before the door closes. “Call Seabs if you need anything, or me. Do not call Patrick. He’ll just freak out and want to come home.”

“We got it,” Ryan says, removing his hands from Vinnie’s ears. “Go.”

Jonny rolls his eyes and finally closes the door behind him.

Ryan goes to lock it and turns slowly back to Vinnie. “Alone at last!” He doesn’t even make it a foot before Mason starts crying.

Vinnie sighs and heads to the nursery. Ryan reluctantly trails after him. He did not sign up for this shit.

*

“I can still smell it,” Ryan says, sniffing his own shirt and checking for any poop.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Vinnie says, laughing. He’s on the couch with Mason lying on his chest. Ryan’s heart tugs at the sight.

“No, I’m not. That baby has powerful shits, okay?”

“Okay, bud.”

They had spent the day alternating baby duties. Ryan changed his diaper, Vinnie had just fed him and now he was taking his turn as a human mattress. Ryan’s a little jealous, Vinnie as a human mattress sounds hot.

“Alright, your turn,” Vinnie says, slowly turning to face Ryan with Mason still cuddled up to his chest.

“No way,” Ryan says, putting his hands up in resistance. “Little dude practically just pooped on me. He’s not forgiven.”

Vinnie sighs. “Ry, you can’t hold a grudge against a baby.”

“Watch me,” Ryan huffs.

Vinnie leans closer and places a light kiss on Ryan’s cheek. “Please, babe,” he says, softly. “I’m so tired.”

Soft Vinnie is Ryan’s weakness. Fuck.

“Fine,” Ryan relents. Vinnie grins and passes Mason to him. Once he’s settled against Ryan’s chest, Vinnie leans back into his spot and Ryan turns his attention back to the TV.

Every so often, Mason makes a small noise, and smacks his lips together. The sound melts Ryan. He keeps glancing down at him, making sure he’s all tucked in and comfortable. He adjusts Mason’s cap so that it fully covers his little ears and Mason flails an arm out and catches Ryan’s thumb in his fist.

Vinnie looks at him knowingly.

“What?” Ryan asks.

“Nothing,” Vinnie says, fondly.

“He’s cute when he isn’t crying or producing any bodily fluids,” Ryan admits.

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, glancing back down at Mason. “Are we sure Kaner’s the father? They look nothing alike.”

Vinnie laughs. “Did you expect him to be born with a receding hairline and muscles?”

Ryan rolls his eyes just as Mason starts blinking awake. “Your father’s nowhere near as cute as you, huh? Isn’t that right?” Ryan coos.

Vinnie scoots closer to Ryan and rests his chin on his shoulder. “He’s so precious,” Vinnie whispers in amazement.

Ryan scoffs. “The baby’s got nothing on you, Vin,” he says, turning his head for a kiss.

Vinnie rolls his eyes but kisses him anyway.

*

Ryan jolts awake to a shrieking sound. “I got him last time,” he groans.

“I got him two times before that, you lazy piece of shit,” Vinnie grumbles, getting out of bed. “I don’t even know why I’m with you sometimes. You never do anything, never carry your own weight. I swear you just-” he continues to mutter as he crosses the room to pick Mason up out of his crib.

After what seems like hours but probably just minutes, Mason calms down a little. Ryan lies in bed watching Vinnie bounce Mason in his arms. “Be a good boy, Mase,” he coos. “Please don’t cry again if you care about your uncles’ sanity.”

Ryan smiles. Soft Vinnie is on another level when he’s with Mason. Ryan can’t resist it. He gets out of bed and makes his way over to them.

“I got him,” Vinnie says as Ryan approaches. “You good for nothing asshole.”

Ryan wraps his arms around Vinnie’s waist from behind and rests his cheek against Vinnie’s. “I love you,” he whispers in the silence.

Vinnie pulls Mason closer and drops a kiss on his forehead. “I love you, too,” he says before placing Mason back into his crib.

“I was talking to you,” Ryan says.

Vinnie turns in his arms to face him and wraps his arms around Ryan’s chest. “I was too,” he mumbles into his neck.

Ryan kisses Vinnie’s cheek again. “I want one. Can we have one?”

Vinnie pulls away. “A baby?”

Ryan nods as Vinnie searches his face for any signs that he’s joking.

“We aren’t even married,” Vinnie says, smiling and shaking his head.

“Okay. Let’s do that then,” Ryan says, leaning closer for a kiss.

“What the fuck kind of a proposal?” Vinnie mutters, pulling completely away from Ryan. “You’re just sleep deprived.”

Ryan shakes his head. “No I’m not. I want you and I want to raise a family with you. I’ll want the same in the morning too. Seeing you with Mase, I know you're going to be an amazing dad, Vin.”

Vinnie doesn’t say anything. He turns and gets back into bed.

Ryan feels a stab of rejection before he follows. He curls up behind Vinnie, hesitantly puts his arms around him.

Ryan feels a stab of rejection before he follows. He curls up behind Vinnie, hesitantly puts his arms around him.

“Just so you know,” Vinnie says into the quiet darkness. “You're going to be an amazing dad too. Also, I expect a ring and an actual proposal.”

Ryan sighs in relief and tightens his hold on him. “You got it.”

“We’re not telling anyone Tazer and Kaner’s baby is the reason why you proposed,” Vinnie mutters. “We’d never live it down.”

Ryan cringes at the thought. “Yeah, no one can know,” he agrees.

Vinnie turns in his arms and captures his lips in a kiss. Ryan threads his fingers through his soft curls and opens up for him. It’s passionate, hungry, and a promise of a lifetime of more.

*

“Where is he?” Patrick shouts, frantic as he rushes into the house.

“In the nursery with Vin,” Ryan says from his spot on the couch. “Calm down.”

Patrick runs to the nursery just as Jonny trudges into the house with their bags. Patrick reemerges with Mason in his arms and a wide smile on his face. Jonny walks over to them and bends down to kiss Mason on the forehead. “Hi, baby.”

Vinnie joins them in the living room and starts collecting their things. They already packed up their clothes that morning, they just have to grab the smaller things like chargers and laptops.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Jonny asks.

“No more than any other baby would,” Vinnie replies.

“Thank you,” Patrick says, not looking away from Mason. “Mase, say bye-bye to your uncles.”

Ryan hears someone squeak in protest. Oh, it was him. He squeaked in protest.

“Got attached, eh?” Jonny asks, smirking.

“Maybe,” Ryan mumbles.

Vinnie scoffs. “A little more than attached. He proposed to me because of Mason.”

“No!” Ryan screams in agony. "Why did you say that?"

“Shit,” Vinnie says, realizing what he just did. “Fuck.”

Patrick laughs. “Oh man. Mason, who’s the best baby ever? You are. Yes, you are.”

Jonny grins at them, looking proud. “Be sure to thank our child in your vows.”

Ryan gives him the middle finger before going over to Mason. He tugs the cap securely over Mason's little ear and runs his finger over his soft cheek. “Bye, little buddy.”

Vinnie comes up and tucks a finger inside Mason’s hand for him to grip. “Bye, Mason. Please poop all day.”

Ryan chuckles as he grabs their bags and takes Vinnie’s hand. “You’ll throw up a bit too if you love your uncles.”

Mason coos and drools out some vomit on cue.

[aion-rsa]

Strike Recap: Cormoran, Robin and the Story So Far

https://ift.tt/32pbEL7

Warning: contains major spoilers for The Cuckoo’s Calling, The Silkworm and Career of Evil

To a childhood friend, he’s Bunsen. To his sister, he’s Dick. To the colleague whose life he saved, he’s Bob, and to his ex-fiancee, he’s Bluey. In the US, they know him as C.B. Strike, but in the UK, he’s Cormoran Strike, a Cornish PI operating out of Soho’s Denmark Street. He’s the star of four – soon to be five – detective novels by Robert Galbraith (an alias of J.K. Rowling), and he’ll soon be back on BBC One starring in his fourth miniseries Strike: Lethal White.

As it’s been two years since we last saw Cormoran and his agency partner Robin Ellacott in the Strike: Career of Evil finale, here’s a refresher on everything you need to remember from last time around.

How did Strike and Robin meet?

By chance. Robin was assigned to Strike’s Denmark Street office for a week of agency temping as his assistant, but soon found a taste and a talent for the work of a private investigator. In the first series, she successfully interviewed for a much higher-paying HR job in a bland city firm, but chose not to take them up on their offer, finding more satisfaction in Strike’s world, despite the disapproval of her accountant fiancé Matthew. 

How did Strike become a private investigator?

After his mother’s death, he dropped out of Oxford university, where he started dating his former fiancée Charlotte Chapman, and joined the army. After losing his lower leg in an explosion in Afghanistan, he transferred to SIB (Special Investigation Branch) and worked as a military police officer, before using those skills to set up his Soho detective agency. 

Why did Robin drop out of university?

Mid-way through a degree in psychology, Robin was the victim of an assault on campus by a serial perpetrator wearing a gorilla mask. She gave evidence that led to his conviction for rape and attempted murder, and the trauma led to her dropping out of university and moving back home with her parents. 

What happened between Strike and Charlotte?

Only fragments are known in the TV series. Before the series began, Cormoran was engaged to socialite Charlotte Chapman (Natasha O’Keeffe). When he first met Robin, he was mid-argument with Charlotte, who stormed out of his office promising that, like always, he would come crawling back to her. Cormoran moved out of their place and started sleeping in his Denmark Street office, where Charlotte sent his possessions in a box marked ‘Arsehole’. 

In flashbacks, we learn that Charlotte was pregnant at one point, and that Cormoran doubted he was the father. She self-harmed, possibly a suicide attempt, and he comforted her. Later, she announced her engagement to fellow socialite Jago Ross, and posted Cormoran her wedding photos. 

Who are Cormoran Strike’s parents?

Rock star Jonny Rokeby, whom we’ve never met in the series, and model/ ‘groupie’ Leda Strike. Rokeby is a famed womaniser who fathered several children and is largely absent in their lives (‘As far as Johnny Rokeby was concerned, I was just a shuddering of loins’), giving Cormoran multiple half-siblings. Leda was a supermodel who died of a heroin overdose that Strike has always suspected was administered deliberately by her second husband, musician Jeff Whittaker (Matt King). 

How many brothers and sisters does Cormoran have?

There are seven in total in the books, but we’ve only met two on screen – Lucy on his mother’s side and Al on his father’s, but the ‘Rokeby diaspora’ as Al wryly describes them, are scattered all over. 

Read more

TV

Cormoran Strike: Why Now is the Right Time for the TV Detective’s Return

By Louisa Mellor

TV

New British TV Series for 2020: BBC, ITV, Channel 4, Sky Dramas and More

By Louisa Mellor

How did Strike lose his leg?

Serving in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. His convoy drove into an ambush in which an IED explosion killed several of his colleagues and lost Strike the lower half of one leg. He wears a prosthetic, but the injury means he’s unable to drive and generally less able to pursue suspects on foot than Robin. 

Did Robin marry Matthew?

Yes. In the final moments of Career of Evil, Robin said ‘I do’ to her long-time boyfriend Matthew, despite having learned that he’d cheated on her with a colleague – Sarah – years earlier when she was suffering from the aftermath of her university attack. After firing Robin for endangering the case by pursuing a lead solo, Strike raced to her Yorkshire wedding and made it just before the couple exchanged vows. Seeing Strike at the back of the church, Robin smiled and married Matthew.

Who murdered Lula Landry in The Cuckoo’s Calling?

Her adoptive brother Johnny Bristow (Leo Bill). Johnny hired Strike to investigate Lula’s apparent suicide in an attempt to frame Lula’s biological half-brother Jonah, whom she’d recently tracked down and to whom she’d planned to leave all her money. Johnny pushed Lula to her death and then tried to have Jonah arrested for the murder to make him ineligible to inherit, making Lula’s share of the family estate after their mother’s death come to Johnny. He also murdered Lula’s friend Rochelle, who was blackmailing him over the secret of Lula’s changed will, and as a child, Johnny also killed another of his adopted siblings – a childhood friend of Strike’s named Charlie – by pushing him into a quarry. 

Who killed novelist Owen Quine in The Silkworm?

His agent Liz Tassel (Lia Williams). Decades earlier, Liz was in love with fellow writer Andrew Fancourt (Peter Sullivan) and wrote a hurtful parody, which was published anonymously, of his wife’s novel. She spread rumours that Fancourt had written the parody himself, and his wife killed herself over it. Liz’s client Owen learned that she was behind the parody, and blackmailed her about it for years, forcing her to keep him on as a client over the much more successful and celebrated Andrew Fancourt. When Owen submitted a manuscript to Liz that was intended to spill the dirty secrets of the publishing world under a fantasy allegory (including her humiliating attempt to seduce Fancourt), she edited the manuscript to keep her secrets and sent it out to everybody it was based on. She told Owen to stage a public fight with her about it, then hide out in an old house to generate publicity for the sale of the book. In hiding, she murdered him in the same manner that the hero dies in his manuscript, stopping the blackmail once and for all.

Who killed teenager Kelsey Platt in Career of Evil?

Donald Laing (Neil Maskell), who bore a deadly grudge against Strike after he put him away years ago for the murder of his wife. After serving his sentence, Laing stole from and killed a neighbour, then stole the identity of Ray Williams, an ex-firefighter who’d emigrated, and ingratiated himself into the family of teenager Kelsey Platt, who harboured a crush on Cormoran Strike. To get revenge on Strike, Laing lured Kelsey to a London location where he killed and dismembered her, posing as a new client to make Strike visit the same location and frame him for the murder. Laing posted one of Kelsey’s legs to Robin at Strike’s office, along with lyrics from Strike’s mother’s favourite song by Blue Oyster Cult, in order to goad him. Strike realised that Ray Williams and Donald Laing – who pretended to suffer from debilitating arthritis, and was therefore ruled out as a suspect in Kelsey’s murder – were one and the same, under a wig, false beard and coloured contact lenses. 

What else have Tom Burke and Holliday Grainger been in?

Tom Burke has appeared in a long list of television series and films over the past twenty years, with key TV roles in The Musketeers, War & Peace, Utopia, The Hour and recently, Responsible Child. Film-wise, he won acclaim for the part of Anthony in Joanna Hogg’s 2019 film The Souvenir and appeared opposite Ryan Gosling in Nicholas Winding Refn’s 2013 film Only God Forgives.

Holliday Grainger has been acting since the age of six, and appeared in a range of children’s television as a child. Her film career has included period roles in Jane Eyre, Great Expectations, Anna Karenina and Cinderella, as well as modern parts in The Riot Club and Bel Ami. TV-wise, she’s recently appeared in BBC thriller The Capture and Sky hit Patrick Melrose after making a name in The Borgias.

When is the next Strike book coming out?

It’s called Troubled Blood and is published by Sphere on the 15th of September 2020. Here’s the official synopsis (which contains a spoiler for Lethal White so beware):

Private Detective Cormoran Strike is visiting his family in Cornwall when he is approached by a woman asking for help finding her mother, Margot Bamborough – who went missing in mysterious circumstances in 1974. Strike has never tackled a cold case before, let alone one forty years old. But despite the slim chance of success, he is intrigued and takes it on; adding to the long list of cases that he and his partner in the agency, Robin Ellacott, are currently working on. And Robin herself is also juggling a messy divorce and unwanted male attention, as well as battling her own feelings about Strike. As Strike and Robin investigate Margot’s disappearance, they come up against a fiendishly complex case with leads that include tarot cards, a psychopathic serial killer and witnesses who cannot all be trusted. And they learn that even cases decades old can prove to be deadly . . .

Strike: Lethal White starts on BBC One on Sunday the 30th of August at 9pm.

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