It turns out that buddyfucking your best friend without shit getting weird requires constant vigilance.

None of them have discussed the fact that Duncs is dating knock-off Seabses, because what can they really do about it?

“We should have sober sex,” Patrick says, rolling his neck until it pops loudly. He really should be thinking about getting up off of the floor. “Why would we do that?” Jonny asks, twisting to look down at Patrick like he just suggested that they throw puppies into traffic.

Taylor Hall doesn't think a destroyed slice of chocolate cake, a broken bed and his line-mates wearing his clothes necessarily means anything. The rest of the team don't agree.

Patrick writes his name on Jonny's to-send Christmas cards. It leads to feelings.

And of course, because Sharpy is the most ill-mannered Canadian ever, he opens up the newspaper like he doesn't have the most entertaining thing in Chicago across the table from him anyway. He's totally pretending to read it, just to make Patrick salty, but two can play at that game, so he snatches the Sunday inserts out of the folds, smirking at Sharpy. But he glances down and staring up at him, looking like, all of eighteen and strangely soft and sweet is Jonathan fucking Toews.

They've been hooking up for more than a year, undefined and mostly unspoken, when Johnny first speaks French in bed with Kaner.

sometimes you have to go down before you can go out.

I said, will you marry me?

"I bet you a hundred bucks," Sharpy says, gesturing with his drink to punctuate how very serious he is about this suggestion, "that I can pick up the next person who walks in that door before you can." Duncan Keith probably shouldn't have taken that bet.

Geno only lets Alex make him a Grindr profile that summer because Alex is still upset about Maria, because Alex's grin has a kind of manic, brittle quality that makes Geno sigh and hand over his cell phone with only a token protest.

They make a point of it, always, telling Zhenya how beautiful Sidney is.

Flower is looking out at the balcony, and he’s got a wrinkle of concern between his eyebrows. “Are you on your pills, Sid?” “Bud. I’ve been on the pills since I was twenty years old, of course I am. Also, still really, really single.” “Maybe,” Flower says slowly. “Maybe you should have been upping your doses.” “What—” Sid says, before following Flower’s gaze to the balcony. And his heart stops.

He hopes four sandwiches will be enough to get them both through this. Sid's angst makes Geno really hungry. or: 5 hockey players Sidney Crosby doesn't have a crush on. (+1 oblivious idiot he loves)

“How much is bail set for?” Jamie asks without hesitation and not even a hint of sleep in his voice. Fucker. “I’ll get Jordie to do a transfer. Whatever it is, we’ll get you out.” Tyler thinks it’s commendable that he doesn’t cut the call then and there. Then again, once word gets out that Sidney Crosby is possibly broken, Jamie and Jordie are the last chance he has of actually making it back across the Atlantic alive. Or alternatively, Tyler Seguin Worries That He Broke Sidney Crosby In Prague With Indelible Ink.

Nicky generally considers himself a fairly competent, attentive person, so the fact that it’s taken him years to figure out that Alex has been essentially dating him is...disappointing. And also exhilarating.

Alex twists the ring around his finger as he watches Nick pace. He consented, everyone did, but in the privacy of their room, he seems much more on edge now about it. “Nicky,” he finally whines, sick of watching. Despite all his pacing, Nicky’s face is blank and Alex has no idea what he’s thinking. Nicky spins to face him. “I don’t want this.”

There's a tumblr post that's literally all about 'things your OTP could do that make people think they're married if they aren't' and instead of writing one, I wrote them all. OR, Dad and Papa are a perfect, healthy, happy couple. But, they're not a couple at all.

Connor’s experienced some weird fan interactions since he’s joined the NHL, but nothing surprises him quite as much as when a little girl raises her hand during a fan Q&A and asks him if he’s married. Not because it’s a particularly outlandish or rude question, but because his first instinct is to say “Yes.”

“I need a favor,” Connor interrupts. That does not make Dylan feel any better. If Connor has to drive them halfway to Guelph to even ask, it must be big. “Of course,” says Dylan at once. Connor frowns at him, sidelong. “Don’t say that before I tell you what it is.” Well, that’s not ominous at all. “What did you do, murder someone and need help hiding the body?” Dylan tries to chirp. Connor’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

Jack has tried deflection, dismissal, and flat-out denial, but nothing seems to be able to dissuade the media from the McDavid-Eichel rivalry narrative, which is why he agrees when Connor suggests trying a new tactic: pretending to be friends.

Connor McDavid and Dylan Strome are going to the Toronto Maple Leafs together. Even if they have to get married about it.

Jack Eichel has 99 problems and Connor McDavid is... well. More of them than he thinks. In which Jack hates Connor McDavid, who he's never met, quietly pines after the cute girl he always sees in the gym, and has no idea that these two things are related.

It’s not - it’s not a thing. Really. Not a thing-thing, at the very least. He doesn't think it can be a thing if you only think about it and don't act on it, excepting that one time when Connor was straight up nailing him to the bed. He reasons that it certainly can't be a thing-thing if you've never even talked about it with your not-boyfriend. Dylan resolves to figure his shit out and have less hyphens involved in his life. (or: Connor McDaddy)

Either way, there was someone or something to blame for the fact that Jack ended up sending Connor Fucking McDavid a dick pic. Perhaps it was the universe as a whole.

“You kissed me the night before we got drafted,” Connor says, unbuckling Jack’s belt and making light work of yanking Jack’s jeans down to his knees. With Jack’s thighs and his penchant for tight fitting pants, it’s an impressive move. “Blew me in the men’s restroom right after dinner.” “Fuck you I did not,” Jack grunts as he lifts up his hips to help Connor strip off his boxers.

For the record: Travis does hook up. A completely normal amount, even.

The girl on Tinder is typing again. why don’t you show me how good you are with a cock Tyler coughs and drops his phone. That’s—wow. He did not expect her to go there.

Dylan snorts. “Nice game you have going on there,” he calls. Kaner looks up, startled. “Huh?” “The gay chicken.” Dylan raises his cup to them. “Nice effort.”

Leon can have little a maladaptive coping mechanism, as a treat.

"I kissed McDavid and then we won a game," Jack blurts out. He flexes his hand nervously. There's a suspicious silence on the other end of the phone line, but Noah is probably not laughing at him. Out loud.

Zach thinks about all the teasing Dylan’s been doing lately, all the ways he’s taunted Zach with his dick. If he wants to get into Zach’s pants, he’s going to have to be more forward than that. Or they can keep playing this long-winded game of gay chicken. So Zach stands up, sheds his gear, and when he’s sure Dylan is looking, he drops his pants.

“Did, uh,” Jamie asks, “did this ever happen when you played this game with Brownie?” “Nope,” Tyler says.

He doesn’t want a boyfriend, but he told Connor he’d find one, and he isn’t about to let Worries McHeadache have satisfaction at the hands of Dylan’s failure to find a significant other on Tinder.

Jamie’s not gonna lie, it throws him a little when he realizes Trevor is gay.