#patrick kane

“The words spark and burn in the narrowing space between them. Patrick smiles, looking up at Jonny with his face clear and open, the whole world in his eyes. And – it’s a beautiful world, Jonny thinks suddenly, with all the vehemence of a prayer. He reaches out to mirror Patrick’s touch against his face. It’s miraculous, even, this world – this one – where the sun is shining on the still surface of the pond and the crickets are singing. Where Patrick is looking back at him and smiling.

This world, where Patrick is pulling his head down and kissing him, warm and open-mouthed.

Laughter is bubbling up inside him, something bright and fizzing. Springs of living water, he thinks. My cup runneth over. Jonny is laughing, then, and Patrick is too. He wants to capture the sound, the way their voices intertwine. He kisses Patrick again. Again, again. He never wants to stop.”

–Double Bind, by blue_spruce

“I think that none of us knew that you and Jonathan had the sort of relationship in which…”

“We don’t!” Patrick interrupts. “It’s not like that. It’s not.”

“Then what is it like?” Elgar asks, gentling his habitually crisp diction, and lowering his voice even more.

Patrick’s glad for the dim lighting on the plane. His ears still feel hot. “It’s just Jonny bogarting my daemon,” Patrick says. “And it’s Puck being all ‘I can’t be tamed!’ You know how he is. That’s all. It’s not…it’s not anything.”

–the walls kept tumbling down (in the city that we loved), by altri_uccelli

All those things he’s kept in, pushed aside for years—the inconvenient thoughts and desires and those stupid, ugly needs he repressed again and again—they want out. And he’s exhausted.

The one rising up his windpipe at this moment is harder to push out than it was to get on his knees and suck a dick in the Denny’s bathroom. But it wants out. It wants out now. It’s wrenched away from where it lay quiet all these years, and shoved into his throat. He could swallow it back down, could reach inside himself and press it back where it belongs. But he doesn’t. He stares at the ugly ceiling of this small motel room, and listens to the soft, familiar sound of Patrick in the next bed. Patrick, who had remembered exactly what they had done together that last night.
It’s too big. Too big to be crammed into the tight space of his windpipe. So tight, it can’t possibly pass through, can’t possibly fit, a square-peg-round-hole situation. It’s going to get stuck there at the back of his mouth, big and black and bitter like the shameful secret it is.

But Jonny blinks and spreads his hands on the comforter. He runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth like somehow he could catch the end of it and help it along. It knocks against his teeth on the way out and falls heavy, breaks the silence—the fifteen years-long silence between them:

“I wanted it,” he says, surprisingly even. “Back then. Us. Fucking. I wanted it all the time.”

–Tell the Stars I’m Coming Home, by allthebros

Their flight is called, and it’s not reserved seating, and they kind of hover for a moment, but, honestly, why not sit together? It’s not a long flight. And it’s not like there’s any ‘getting weird’ here. At worst, someone recognises Patrick, but sharing seats on a delayed flight is no one’s idea of incriminating.

So, in total, by the time they get to arrivals at O'Hare, Patrick’s spent twenty hours in Jonny’s company, never more than one room away, and that only briefly. And-

He doesn’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he says, urgently, as Jonny starts a hand movement that was probably going to be a vague wave of farewell. “Can I get your number?”

Jonny honest-to-God gapes at him. Then says, “Uh, I guess, but-”

“You free tomorrow night? I’ll get you a ticket,” says Patrick, scrambling for cover. Tickets. That’s normal. That’s not vulnerable. “Uh, what’s your last name?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but holds out his cell, open at contacts, and waits anxiously till Jonny saves his number. With massive, incredible uncool, Patrick then calls it, and listens in relief to the ringtone in Jonny’s pocket. “Cool. Now you have my number too.”

Patrick, it turns out, is capable of going through early puberty awkwardness twice in one lifetime. So fuck that noise.

Jonny’s kind of laughing at him. He says, “It’s pronounced Taves,” which Patrick won’t understand till he actually reads the contact entry. And then he follows through on that goodbye wave. “Have a good day, Patrick.”

- Same Time, Same Place by brutti_ma_buoni

““Is it Patrick?”

There’s no accusation in her voice, no pity, no inquiring tone, just a tenderly spoken question and maybe it’s because of that that Jonny freezes only for a second, before his eyes flicker back to Patrick again and he finds himself unable to lie.

“Yes.” Is all he says.

She is quiet for a moment, then: “Does he know?”

For the second time tonight Jonny answers with “Maybe.” It’s the only possible one. There’s nothing between him and Patrick –this Patrick- that he could tell her about, there’s nothing yet and even though Jonny does have feelings for Patrick and he’s pretty sure that at least a part of Patrick has caught up to that, he doesn’t actually know, they haven’t talked about it. There is a something, there is a maybe between Patrick and Jonny. But that’s all it is. All Jonny knows for certain.

Maybe.”

–Quantum Entanglement, by TheNorthRemembers

““I swear you spend more time on the ice falling than skating.” This is a longstanding joke, that Jonny’s clumsy on the ice, and it may be a little true. Pat thinks it’s more that he just throws himself into everything so completely he sometimes forgets that he has brakes, or he’s usually past the point of them helping.”

–catching feelings, by novajanna

“"I don’t care how much of a hard-on he has for me, Jonny. I am not making out with the puppet.“ And now he thinks he can hear Jonny smile, can feel the tip of his nose brushing his cheek.

"Of course not, Kaner. That would be silly.”

“Also—”

But with Jonny’s mouth on his, Pat decides that additional chirping is unnecessary. Jonny’s got to know how lame it is to try and seduce someone with a dog puppet. Or half-wolf puppet. Whatever. And the fact that they are kissing is absolutely not proof that it worked, but rather that Pat is a savvy, tolerant guy who understands that not everybody’s got game like the Don.”

–Wrong Cop, Right Man, by AnythingThrice

“He wishes he could explain that sometimes it seems like the feeling’s going to swallow him whole, like he’ll collapse under the weight of what’s at stake for him if Jon ever decides they’re done. Most people have choices, alternatives, life boats they’ll turn to when something else goes wrong. Patrick has his family, hockey and Jonny. His family can’t give him what hockey does. And hockey can’t give him what Jon does.”

–Us Two, by Ishybisy

“Hands on the hood,” Jonny mutters, his mouth against the small hollow behind Patrick’s ear. Close like this, he can smell the oil and the gasoline that clings to Patrick’s hair and it makes his spent cock give a twitch in his boxers.

Patrick leans forward, placing his palms on the hood of the car. Jonny stays close, his body tight against Patrick as he keeps jerking him off. He closes his other hand around Patrick’s hip, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

“Gonna make you come on the car,” he whispers against Patrick’s ear, listening closely to all the little moans and noises that escape Patrick’s lips, “And then we’ll drive to my place, with your come drying on the hood.”

–gasolina, by toewsin

““Scent me,” he says, eyebrows drawn together, legs locked up around Kaner’s thighs. “I’m almost—Patrick—”
But Kaner never stopped. He keeps on where he’s laid himself out over Jonny’s body, tongue in Jonny’s mouth and then face in his neck, picking up that close heat smell that won’t go away sometimes even after a shower. He gets a thigh between Jonny’s legs to scent him there too, careful of his knot in slotting them together, slow and smooth in the movement.

“You’re gonna cream up so good,” he says into Jonny’s ear, coating himself in Jonny’s slick, and the pained sincerity of it hits Jonny just right, digs nails into the meat of him and pulls close and close and close and there. God. There. That humid bloom of full heat. The lightheaded, lightning feeling of hot blood and liquid insides. The floating pleasure at being able to reach drop on his alpha.

He goes utterly loose to the bed, limp and blissed out, senseless except for the sensation of the switch, then, just as fast, the entirety of Kaner comes at him like an assault. The full smell of him, the full warmth of him, the full range of how out of his head he is on Jonny’s heat.”

–Between the Pipes, by sorrylatenew

“it’s really hard to sit in the presence of God and let yourself keep believing a lie.”  

–God Only Knows, by Linsky

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He opens his eyes to find Jonny smiling at him. And his best smile, too. Crooked and red, almost too boyish for a man his age. That’s it. There it is. The smile that got Patrick wondering if Heaven was a feeling, not a place.

–running across the meadow, by ishybishy

He absolutely does not have it in him yet to put this ring on in front of Patrick, but he slips it on for a second right then like he’s sneaking something he’s not supposed to, snug over his middle finger, glinting and nondescript in a way that probably killed Patrick to choose.

–untitled established relationship ficlet, by sorrylatenew

“Hey Pat!” Jonny’s voice echoes across the house. “Can I borrow your laptop? Mine’s being slow.”

“Yeah, help yourself!” Patrick replies. He’s sitting by the front door untying his running shoes when Jonny pipes up again, sounding confused.

“Hey Pat?” a pause, “What’s scrabblefinder dot com?”

Every muscle in Patrick’s body stills. Then they come back online in an instant to start tying his shoelaces back up.

“Pat?”

He stands, grabs the keys, grabs the phone, and grabs the door handle.

“Pat?”

He makes sure the front door clicks shut nice and quiet. And then he sprints.

“PAT!”

–Call me Royal Blue, by cupstealer

“This isn’t about hockey,” Patrick says for the first time in his life. “This is about you and me. Me, for my part? I don’t care about the distance or any of that. I—” Patrick’s mouth has gone dry; his lungs constrict painfully. Has speaking ever been so hard? “I wanna be the person. Your person. Not because it’s convenient, not because I’ll be any good at it, but because I feel like… I already am? I’m asking you, what do you want?” He’s breathless and a little queasy. Say yes. Say. Yes.

–Contact High, by cupstealer

It’s that feeling he’s gotten a lot around Jonny this spring, but even stronger. That feeling you get when school is out for the summer and you can just let your brain float free, flush all the excess concentration and trivia out. That sudden high when you don’t have to think so damn hard, when you can just be. And he gets an inkling that that feeling might not actually be his, or not his alone. Patrick doesn’t know if the feeling is his or Jonny’s, but he’s pretty sure that he’d feel this way without any guide shit involved whatsoever. He inhales slowly. Happily. Even breathing feels good.

“You’re like the last day of school,” Patrick slurs sleepily.

“Go to sleep,” Jonny condescends with gentle laughter in his voice. He combs a fond hand through Patrick’s hair.

–Contact High, by cupstealer

“Pat?”

“Mh?”

“Are you starting to like me back?” Jonny asks quietly, fiddling with the hem of Patrick’s hoodie. “You know… present you?”

Patrick pulls back a little, expression thoughtful. “Do you think I am?”

“I think,” Jonny pauses, “I think if I kissed you… you might kiss me back.”

Patrick licks his lips, tilting his head. “So, are you going to kiss me?”

Jonny cups his jaw and kisses him. Patrick indulges him for a second smiling into the kiss then as they part he rolls his eyes fondly. “Dork. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I also know you already know anyway. If I’m going to do it,” Jonny replies, “Even if I don’t know it myself yet. So why ask?”

And that’s the thing. Patrick knows. He knows if his younger self likes Jonny back, knows what he would do if Jonny leaned in for a kiss next time they are sprawled across Jonny’s couch, playing xbox. He knows what’s going on in present Patrick’s head when he looks at Jonny in that way, that makes Jonny feel strangely fuzzy inside. He knows and Jonny doesn’t. It’s been almost seven years since Jonny has been in this position, thinking about kissing his crush, unsure of his reaction. Future Patrick is a safe harbor, Jonny can trust in him and his love for Jonny. Present Patrick is more… fickle, less predictable. Still. Jonny thinks he might.

–Quantum Entanglement, by TheNorthRemembers