August Combo Challenge
So we're at that point in the offseason when things are slowly but surely starting to pick up speed again with camps and crazy player training combos, there seems to have been a pretty substantial rise in the number of people in and around hockey rpf fandom, and it's been a minute since we've seen a friending post. Thus;
A Friending Meme & Ficlet/ ( Read more... )
A Friending Meme & Ficlet/ ( Read more... )
Jonny should have known better than to give Patrick ideas.
They’ve been friends for years now, and Jonny is tempted to say he knows Patrick in ways that are somehow even more than that; he knows Patrick better than he’s ever known another person.
There’s really no excuse for it.
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“But are you one hundred percent certain that you’re good to go? Like the doctors said so, right? Did you get a second opinion? When was the last time you experienced a symptom? Did you just squint? Oh fuck, are you sensitive to light still? Jonny that’s not good, you need to--”
“No you need to shut the fuck up, Kaner. I’m good. Totally concussion free, and I’m not talking about this again until I’ve got another microphone shoved in my face, so unless you made a career change while I was out, you can walk away now.”
Jonny is ruthlessly indulgent with Patrick in the privacy of their own homes, but he tries to keep a lid on it at the rink and arena. Out loud and in terms of demonstration, at least. Jonny’s soft spot for Patrick is pretty much his entire body, so it’s not always easy to find ways to treat and speak to him that don’t amount to ‘incredulously fond.’
Patrick himself is sometimes Jonny’s closest ally in this struggle, although he’ll never know this.
On days like today, Patrick being Patrick is what makes it easy for Jonny to pretend he’s really not fond of him at all.
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“Today we join the Chicago Blackhawks, quite possibly and in fact probably the greatest team in the history of all sports ever. We’ll start this inside look at what goes on behind closed doors with an exclusive one on one interview with the team’s distinctly average captain, Jonathan Toes. Tell us, Jonathan, what is that shower gel you use and what fucking possessed you?”
Patrick holds an empty fist out to Jonny, and Jonny is tempted to bite it.
“Fuck off, Kaner. Go bother the rookies, the grown ups are trying to work.”
“Is that a ‘no comment’ on the issue of allegations that you received your ‘c’ in exchange for copious and depraved sexual favours, Mister Toes?”
“What the fuck, who would I even have -- No. No, Kaner. No.”
Jonny grabs him by the shoulders, turns him around, and shoves at him until he walks away. Patrick cackles wildly and so loudly that Jonny can audibly track his progress all the way out to the tunnel, but he walks away and that’s what matters.
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“Absolutely,” Jonny says, leaning in to address Patrick’s still-empty fist. “Every single day I cry about having to spend time with Patrick Kane.”
“There you go. Atta boy,” Patrick says, grinning so wide that Jonny can see his back teeth, “I’m sure you feel a lot better having gotten that off your chest. There’s no shame in admitting your shortcomings.”
“I’ll show you shortcomings,” Jonny promises, chasing Patrick out of the showers. Or walking after him, really. Jonny is going to catch up with Patrick and then he’s going to make him sorry he was ever born, but he doesn’t need to run to reach him. Patrick never strays too far.
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“And now we join our sob story of the day, Chicago’s under performing, facially deformed captain Jonathan Toes. Currently, listeners, we find our sad case mulling over the difficult choice between pasta and pasta. More as the story unfolds.”
Jonny doesn’t even look up.
“Listeners? What happened to your viewers? Did your bosses realize you have a face for radio on your very first day, Kaner? I’m surprised it took them that long.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Patrick says, falling into line behind Jonny and reaching over him to grab a bread roll off his plate and take a bite out of it. He puts it back when he’s torn a chunk off with his teeth, and Jonny doesn’t even bother to berate him for it, because it’s not like they’re not going to sit down together and eat off each other’s plates like they do every single day anyway. “I’m going to be the most popular sports analyst on television when we get bored of kicking ass.”
Jonny snorts, but doesn’t say anything, focuses on loading up their plates instead.
“Hey,” Patrick adds when they’re headed to their table in the corner, “You wanna be my co-host?”
“Sure. Assuming we ever get bored of kicking ass.” Jonny spears a slice of chicken on Patrick’s plate, and smiles at him as he chews.
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“We’re joined now by Patrick Sharp, resident pretty boy, although if you ask this anchor he’s far too old to be considered attractive by anyone outside of retirement homes. Tell us, has-been, just how are you keeping your spot on this stacked, competitive roster? Who are you paying for the privilege of playing with superstars like Kane and Toews, and what form of currency does those payments take?”
“Well, Pat, I paid my way onto this team the same way everyone else did. With good old fashioned hard work and talent. And sexual favours.”
Patrick laughs, delighted, and Sharpy waggles his eyebrows, making the dumbest face Jonny has seen from in a while, which is saying something.
Jonny doesn’t have the energy or patience to point out that they’re both the same breed of crass, classless dumbass.
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He’s in high spirits when they get out onto the ice, scores two goals and sets Jonny up for one, points at him across the ice when he scores like he’s Keanu Reeves in The Replacements.
He’s a pain in Jonny’s ass, is what he is, but every small annoyance is outweighed a hundred times over by the smile on his face when he scores, and how he shares it with Jonny first.
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They win, because they’re awesome, and Jonny doesn’t mind when Patrick follows him home. He wouldn’t have minded if they’d lost.
“We join you now live from Jonathan Toews’ inner sanctum. This is where the magic happens, eh Toews?”
“Fuck off, eh, Kane?”
Patrick is lying on Jonny’s bed with his hands folded behind his head, and Jonny’s eyeroll is lost on him when he turns away to strip off his suit.
“Ooh, we have an exclusive for you now. I can report that Toews is currently getting undressed for the cameras. It seems our subject has a bit of an exhibitionist streak, although I don’t mind telling you viewers that I can see why.”
Jonny pauses, his hands falling still around his tie. But Patrick doesn’t say anything else, so Jonny quickly unbuttons and strips off his shirt, starts in on his belt thinking he’s hearing things, or that Patrick has gotten especially strange and cruel about his chirping.
“Ladies and gentleman, we’re getting close to the big finale. As we speak, Toews is unbuckling his belt. Now he’s unbuttoning his pants and … oh yes, slipping them down over that ass. For those of you listening in, Toews is wearing black briefs as usual, although these seem to be slightly fancier than his normal brand. It seems our hero has been shopping without his best friend, because our hero is a total asshole, lest we forget. He’s bending over to pull off his socks, now, and he’s not as graceful in the bedroom as he is on ice, I’m sad to report, but the view certainly makes up for it.”
Jonny sighs and scoops the pile of clothes off the floor, tossing them in a heap into his laundry basket before he pads back over to the bed. Patrick is sitting up now, his knees pulled up and his arms folded over them. He’s blushing, but only if you’re looking for it.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Patrick?”
Patrick rolls his eyes, but he shifts in place slightly and his knuckles are white around his elbows.
“I think I just did. So what are you going to do about it, Jonathan?”
It’s dirty pool for him to use Jonny’s full name like that, and Patrick should know so. Then again, that’s probably exactly why he did it.
“Why don’t you turn off these cameras, and I’ll show you,” Jonny says, teasing, but he puts Patrick’s nerves to bed by straddling him on top of it.
“And that’s all from us tonight. Wishing you a good evening from Jonathan Toews’ bedroom here in Chicago, I’ve been Patrick Kane, and I’m about to shoot some outtakes. Join us tomorrow for the reviews.”
“I think it's time for early retirement,” Jonny says, pulling Patrick’s shirt out of the waistband of his pants and getting his hands up underneath. "Your stint as a tv personality has been entertaining, for you, I'm sure, but I can think of much better uses for your hands and face. Your mouth in particular.
“Okay,” Patrick agrees, and when he leans up in search of Jonny’s mouth, Jonny meets him half way.
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as did the little sharpy/kaner interaction.
awesome awesome, thanks for the fill :D
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