toews/kane, "all I need is"
Title: All I Need Is
Fandom: Hockey RPS
Pairing: Toews/Kane
Rating: PG
Words: 1800
Note: Written for a prompt on the kink meme - Anon thinks that seeing Patrick with someone else might just make Tazer see how much he is in live with his best friend, but Patrick is SO smitten with his girl he doesn't even notice, which just makes Tazer irrationally hate her. Doesn't follow it exactly, but kind of.
Summary: There’s a sheet of paper hidden - written on it, a list - where no one but you can find it. It’s not as if a parade of people are in your bedroom on a regular basis, but your paranoia is behind everything these days.
The list is titled simply, Why He Doesn’t Need To Know.
---
There’s a sheet of paper hidden - written on it, a list - where no one but you can find it. It’s not as if a parade of people are in your bedroom on a regular basis, but your paranoia is behind everything these days.
The list is titled simply, Why He Doesn’t Need To Know.
Barely four months old, and the pen is smudged, the creases worn. The last four months have been… difficult. The pie chart exists in your head, not on a spreadsheet, but still fresh and clear in your mind when called upon.
You take it out and read it when you need the reminder.
(Which is always.)
---
“Yo, Serious,” Sharpie calls out to him after practice, shouldering his way through the locker room of their teammates in various stages of undress so he can jostle Jon enough that Jon nearly drops his skate, startled.
“Yeah?” Jon’s voice is wary, tense and grudging. He loops his skates together and hangs them up, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. His hair immediately rebels, spiking in every direction, so he half-heartedly combs his fingers through it.
“Abby’s making lasagna for supper, I’ve been told to invite your skinny ass over. Show up before six, or she’ll bitch at me.”
He’s not really in the mood for it today, but the minute or two he takes to think it over before replying is enough for Sharpie to take his silence as agreement, and he’s clapped roughly on the shoulder and grinned at, smug, and Sharpie is heading back to his stall to grab his bag and head out.
Any other day, he’d turn to his left, elbow Kaner in the most obnoxious way he could think of and tell him he’s coming along. But Kaner’s on the other side of the room now, and Jon knows for a fact that he’s got plans. With his girlfriend.
---
1. Her.
Her name is Grace, and she’s a student. Brown hair, bright eyes, down to Earth; far from Patrick’s usual type of girl. She’s sweet and funny and attractive, and you hate that you like her, and yet don’t like her. You aren’t sure. You just miss Patrick.
---
On an off day, Patrick shows up at his apartment, grinning, with a handful of video games and movies. “You and me, all day,” he tells-not-asks Jon, and of course, Jon can’t bring himself to say no.
He thinks vaguely that this is becoming more often of an occurrence, but doesn’t dwell on it.
And so it is.
Patrick cajoles him into ordering pizza for supper, even drinking a beer or two, vegging on the couch and sitting too close, like always, and it’s comfortable. Familiar. All too easy for Jon to sink into the mood of it all, to not think about anything but the present.
Much later in the evening, Patrick’s stolen the remote from him and is flipping through the channels, lingering from anywhere from two to five minutes on the same show before he makes a comment and moves on. At the moment, it’s Gossip Girl - Jon only knows the name because of the ad in the bottom corner of the screen, advertising the newest episode airing Monday, 8pm what-the-fuck-ever time - and from what he can see, someone’s mad at someone else for something and their friendship is in jeopardy, typical, and Jon’s just about to grumble and demand why the hell they’re watching this crap when Patrick shifts and looks at him undeniably seriously.
In an instant, Jon’s body coils up, ready for fight or flight, and he’s bracing himself for the worst - paranoia - and Patrick says, “You’re never allowed not to be friends with me, you fucker, not for any of the stupid shit in the world, not any of it, even the not stupid shit, actually,” he amends quickly.
Then it’s as if he can sense that Jon’s about to open his mouth and say something objectionable, Patrick continues, “Even the serious shit, man, I’m not fucking kidding. I’ll be damned if all our years of being friends were to just get fucked over just because of some issues or shit or whatever you have. You are not fucking allowed to ditch me, dude.”
Jon laughs, because it’s either that or burst into hysterical tears (yeah, not a fucking chance), because it doesn’t even take him half a minute to sort through all the cursing to get to the grit of Patrick’s little speech, because Patrick doesn’t have one iota of a clue as to what’s been going through Jon’s head for the last few months, but maybe it doesn’t matter.
He says, “Uh huh, whatever you say, Kaner,” just to rile Patrick up again, and he gets a solid punch in the shoulder for it, but he nods, and Patrick nods back, and Jon’s body slowly begins to unwind again.
---
2. I don’t want to lose him.
You can’t. You can’t. The thought of it literally makes your entire body seize up with anxiety and fear, and your mood plummets.
Like every cliche in the book, you’d rather keep it to yourself for the rest of your life than risk it.
---
Seabs is blushing. Dunc coughs and bites at his lip, hands fidgeting restlessly.
Sharpie drawls, “Oh, get a room. Go back to that condo of yours.” Jon lets himself be steered in the opposite direction, where there are definitely none of his teammates making out.
“Were they just-”
Sharpie barks out a laugh. “You didn’t know?” He releases Jon’s arm to ruffle his hair affectionately, a fond expression on his face. “They’ve had their shit going on since we won the Cup, man, anyone with eyes could see it.”
Jon tries not to be offended. “So, last year-”
“I don’t know details,” Sharpie shrugs, grimacing enough that Jon can see he’s actively trying not to think about it. “All I can do is guess, but it looks like they’ve worked things out.”
“Jesus,” Jon murmurs. “Two years?” It’s a long time. He’s not entirely oblivious, he knows that something happened to the chemistry that Dunc and Seabs had on the ice back 2010, that in the last year they’ve barely been on the ice at the same time. On most levels, it wasn’t any of his business why, or what Q’s decisions were regarding defensive pairs, so he hadn’t thought much about it. They’d both still been productive as players, so who was he to poke his nose where it didn’t belong?
“They look happy,” Sharpie muses as they walk, and Jon has to agree, thinking back on how they’ve looked in recent months.
He also thinks about the other side. He knows how Dunc and Seabs get when they’re fighting, tense, awkward silence. It doesn’t happen often, they’re unusually close and amusingly codependent at the best of times, but it’s enough to make Jon worry.
“You look far too deep in thought,” is Sharpie’s next comment, and he nudges Jon’s side. “Chill out and quit thinking so much. Trust them to know how to handle it.”
Jon nods. Unsurprisingly, Sharpie’s right.
---
3. Don’t want it to mess with the team dynamics.
Having teammates openly joke about how intense you and Patrick can get during games, yelling at each other one minute and cheering the next, how it amuses them that the two of you go through mood swings not unlike teenage girls, but you always manage to come out on top, grinning and holding no grudges, makes you think about how much worse it could be if your relationship went deeper than friendship.
---
They’re hanging out at Patrick’s apartment, finished dinner and fucking around on the Wii, and Jon says, “Did you know? About Dunc and Seabs?”
“Only for like, a year and a half,” Patrick scoffs. “They’re about as subtle as flashing neon signs, honestly. What, didn’t you?”
“So you’re okay with it?” Jon dodges the question, but Patrick doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, I mean. Whatever.” Bowling, his third strike in a row, and he grins and whoops around the living room, proclaiming, “Fifth time in a row I beat your ass, Tazer. Sure you don’t wanna pick another game?”
Jon goes with tennis, because that’s what he’s good at.
“Sharpie and I walked in on them the other day,” he says.
Patrick snickers. “Aren’t you lucky. It’s none of my business, I really don’t care if they’re fucking off the ice. Jesus. Ew. Not my thing, I like boobs too much,” he says, making a ridiculous gesture and Jon’s stomach tightens uncomfortably. “But hey, if they’re happy, they can do whatever the hell they want to. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then again,” he adds after a pause, “I’ve heard crazy shit about prostate stimulation. Maybe Grace and I can look into a threesome.”
Then he beats Jon at three games of tennis.
---
4. Patrick isn’t gay.
He’s never so much as hinted to you about being interested in anyone who wasn’t female. Asking him directly..... You’re afraid of how that would go.
---
Winning isn’t necessarily winning. Jon knows this from experience, and this year is no different. He knows there are games they’ve won that they haven’t deserved to win, and it’s got him in a slump for almost a week, frustrated at their powerplay and numerous other things.
He’s grumpy and irritable when Patrick cancels on him in favour of dinner with Grace, but Patrick makes it up to him a few days later when he shows up with takeout from the Thai place Jon loves.
They hang out and it’s normal, but Patrick bumps him gently. “Hey. Wanna talk about it?”
And Jon doesn’t. He lies. He says, “Nah, I’m good, just tired. Long week.” He smiles and elbows Patrick back, pretends everything is fine, and only relaxes when Patrick finally looks convinced, settling back into the couch.
The next afternoon Sharpie catches him on the sidelines at practice, smiling, but his eyes are serious as he gazes at Jon. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I know it’s bullshit. I’m not going to lecture you, you’re a big boy.”
Jon hears what he’s not saying.
---
5. It doesn’t matter.
There are more important things for you to be thinking about, like winning hockey games.
---
It's the most terrifying thing he's ever done in his life, but Jon knocks on the door, and when Patrick opens it, instantly smiling at him, Jon says,
"I love you."
---
On the other side of the paper, one line is scribbled down. Near the bottom, in the corner, every indication that you were terrified to write it down. (It’s true.)
He deserves to know.
-
--
Fandom: Hockey RPS
Pairing: Toews/Kane
Rating: PG
Words: 1800
Note: Written for a prompt on the kink meme - Anon thinks that seeing Patrick with someone else might just make Tazer see how much he is in live with his best friend, but Patrick is SO smitten with his girl he doesn't even notice, which just makes Tazer irrationally hate her. Doesn't follow it exactly, but kind of.
Summary: There’s a sheet of paper hidden - written on it, a list - where no one but you can find it. It’s not as if a parade of people are in your bedroom on a regular basis, but your paranoia is behind everything these days.
The list is titled simply, Why He Doesn’t Need To Know.
---
There’s a sheet of paper hidden - written on it, a list - where no one but you can find it. It’s not as if a parade of people are in your bedroom on a regular basis, but your paranoia is behind everything these days.
The list is titled simply, Why He Doesn’t Need To Know.
Barely four months old, and the pen is smudged, the creases worn. The last four months have been… difficult. The pie chart exists in your head, not on a spreadsheet, but still fresh and clear in your mind when called upon.
You take it out and read it when you need the reminder.
(Which is always.)
---
“Yo, Serious,” Sharpie calls out to him after practice, shouldering his way through the locker room of their teammates in various stages of undress so he can jostle Jon enough that Jon nearly drops his skate, startled.
“Yeah?” Jon’s voice is wary, tense and grudging. He loops his skates together and hangs them up, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. His hair immediately rebels, spiking in every direction, so he half-heartedly combs his fingers through it.
“Abby’s making lasagna for supper, I’ve been told to invite your skinny ass over. Show up before six, or she’ll bitch at me.”
He’s not really in the mood for it today, but the minute or two he takes to think it over before replying is enough for Sharpie to take his silence as agreement, and he’s clapped roughly on the shoulder and grinned at, smug, and Sharpie is heading back to his stall to grab his bag and head out.
Any other day, he’d turn to his left, elbow Kaner in the most obnoxious way he could think of and tell him he’s coming along. But Kaner’s on the other side of the room now, and Jon knows for a fact that he’s got plans. With his girlfriend.
---
1. Her.
Her name is Grace, and she’s a student. Brown hair, bright eyes, down to Earth; far from Patrick’s usual type of girl. She’s sweet and funny and attractive, and you hate that you like her, and yet don’t like her. You aren’t sure. You just miss Patrick.
---
On an off day, Patrick shows up at his apartment, grinning, with a handful of video games and movies. “You and me, all day,” he tells-not-asks Jon, and of course, Jon can’t bring himself to say no.
He thinks vaguely that this is becoming more often of an occurrence, but doesn’t dwell on it.
And so it is.
Patrick cajoles him into ordering pizza for supper, even drinking a beer or two, vegging on the couch and sitting too close, like always, and it’s comfortable. Familiar. All too easy for Jon to sink into the mood of it all, to not think about anything but the present.
Much later in the evening, Patrick’s stolen the remote from him and is flipping through the channels, lingering from anywhere from two to five minutes on the same show before he makes a comment and moves on. At the moment, it’s Gossip Girl - Jon only knows the name because of the ad in the bottom corner of the screen, advertising the newest episode airing Monday, 8pm what-the-fuck-ever time - and from what he can see, someone’s mad at someone else for something and their friendship is in jeopardy, typical, and Jon’s just about to grumble and demand why the hell they’re watching this crap when Patrick shifts and looks at him undeniably seriously.
In an instant, Jon’s body coils up, ready for fight or flight, and he’s bracing himself for the worst - paranoia - and Patrick says, “You’re never allowed not to be friends with me, you fucker, not for any of the stupid shit in the world, not any of it, even the not stupid shit, actually,” he amends quickly.
Then it’s as if he can sense that Jon’s about to open his mouth and say something objectionable, Patrick continues, “Even the serious shit, man, I’m not fucking kidding. I’ll be damned if all our years of being friends were to just get fucked over just because of some issues or shit or whatever you have. You are not fucking allowed to ditch me, dude.”
Jon laughs, because it’s either that or burst into hysterical tears (yeah, not a fucking chance), because it doesn’t even take him half a minute to sort through all the cursing to get to the grit of Patrick’s little speech, because Patrick doesn’t have one iota of a clue as to what’s been going through Jon’s head for the last few months, but maybe it doesn’t matter.
He says, “Uh huh, whatever you say, Kaner,” just to rile Patrick up again, and he gets a solid punch in the shoulder for it, but he nods, and Patrick nods back, and Jon’s body slowly begins to unwind again.
---
2. I don’t want to lose him.
You can’t. You can’t. The thought of it literally makes your entire body seize up with anxiety and fear, and your mood plummets.
Like every cliche in the book, you’d rather keep it to yourself for the rest of your life than risk it.
---
Seabs is blushing. Dunc coughs and bites at his lip, hands fidgeting restlessly.
Sharpie drawls, “Oh, get a room. Go back to that condo of yours.” Jon lets himself be steered in the opposite direction, where there are definitely none of his teammates making out.
“Were they just-”
Sharpie barks out a laugh. “You didn’t know?” He releases Jon’s arm to ruffle his hair affectionately, a fond expression on his face. “They’ve had their shit going on since we won the Cup, man, anyone with eyes could see it.”
Jon tries not to be offended. “So, last year-”
“I don’t know details,” Sharpie shrugs, grimacing enough that Jon can see he’s actively trying not to think about it. “All I can do is guess, but it looks like they’ve worked things out.”
“Jesus,” Jon murmurs. “Two years?” It’s a long time. He’s not entirely oblivious, he knows that something happened to the chemistry that Dunc and Seabs had on the ice back 2010, that in the last year they’ve barely been on the ice at the same time. On most levels, it wasn’t any of his business why, or what Q’s decisions were regarding defensive pairs, so he hadn’t thought much about it. They’d both still been productive as players, so who was he to poke his nose where it didn’t belong?
“They look happy,” Sharpie muses as they walk, and Jon has to agree, thinking back on how they’ve looked in recent months.
He also thinks about the other side. He knows how Dunc and Seabs get when they’re fighting, tense, awkward silence. It doesn’t happen often, they’re unusually close and amusingly codependent at the best of times, but it’s enough to make Jon worry.
“You look far too deep in thought,” is Sharpie’s next comment, and he nudges Jon’s side. “Chill out and quit thinking so much. Trust them to know how to handle it.”
Jon nods. Unsurprisingly, Sharpie’s right.
---
3. Don’t want it to mess with the team dynamics.
Having teammates openly joke about how intense you and Patrick can get during games, yelling at each other one minute and cheering the next, how it amuses them that the two of you go through mood swings not unlike teenage girls, but you always manage to come out on top, grinning and holding no grudges, makes you think about how much worse it could be if your relationship went deeper than friendship.
---
They’re hanging out at Patrick’s apartment, finished dinner and fucking around on the Wii, and Jon says, “Did you know? About Dunc and Seabs?”
“Only for like, a year and a half,” Patrick scoffs. “They’re about as subtle as flashing neon signs, honestly. What, didn’t you?”
“So you’re okay with it?” Jon dodges the question, but Patrick doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, I mean. Whatever.” Bowling, his third strike in a row, and he grins and whoops around the living room, proclaiming, “Fifth time in a row I beat your ass, Tazer. Sure you don’t wanna pick another game?”
Jon goes with tennis, because that’s what he’s good at.
“Sharpie and I walked in on them the other day,” he says.
Patrick snickers. “Aren’t you lucky. It’s none of my business, I really don’t care if they’re fucking off the ice. Jesus. Ew. Not my thing, I like boobs too much,” he says, making a ridiculous gesture and Jon’s stomach tightens uncomfortably. “But hey, if they’re happy, they can do whatever the hell they want to. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then again,” he adds after a pause, “I’ve heard crazy shit about prostate stimulation. Maybe Grace and I can look into a threesome.”
Then he beats Jon at three games of tennis.
---
4. Patrick isn’t gay.
He’s never so much as hinted to you about being interested in anyone who wasn’t female. Asking him directly..... You’re afraid of how that would go.
---
Winning isn’t necessarily winning. Jon knows this from experience, and this year is no different. He knows there are games they’ve won that they haven’t deserved to win, and it’s got him in a slump for almost a week, frustrated at their powerplay and numerous other things.
He’s grumpy and irritable when Patrick cancels on him in favour of dinner with Grace, but Patrick makes it up to him a few days later when he shows up with takeout from the Thai place Jon loves.
They hang out and it’s normal, but Patrick bumps him gently. “Hey. Wanna talk about it?”
And Jon doesn’t. He lies. He says, “Nah, I’m good, just tired. Long week.” He smiles and elbows Patrick back, pretends everything is fine, and only relaxes when Patrick finally looks convinced, settling back into the couch.
The next afternoon Sharpie catches him on the sidelines at practice, smiling, but his eyes are serious as he gazes at Jon. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I know it’s bullshit. I’m not going to lecture you, you’re a big boy.”
Jon hears what he’s not saying.
---
5. It doesn’t matter.
There are more important things for you to be thinking about, like winning hockey games.
---
It's the most terrifying thing he's ever done in his life, but Jon knocks on the door, and when Patrick opens it, instantly smiling at him, Jon says,
"I love you."
---
On the other side of the paper, one line is scribbled down. Near the bottom, in the corner, every indication that you were terrified to write it down. (It’s true.)
He deserves to know.
-
--