In which the gay bar is Stalberg's idea and Kaner doesn't notice Jon pretending to be his boyfriend.

Love advice with Canadians: the clueless leading the clueless who is in love with clueless.

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

“So, you Skype your boy a lot or something?” Kaner asks when he’s been there for a little while and heard Segs talk about Tyler enough to catch a clue. There’s something odd in his voice--a little plaintive, like he’s asking, so how do you deal with it? Segs hesitates, shrugs. Says, “Yeah, something like that.” Inside his head, Tyler laughs.

His mom had told him not to fall in love with houses; so had his dad, made some crack about them being worse than women, son, while his mom fake-punched him in the arm and then added, "and like people, it's what's underneath that matters, Johnny." But this is the first house he's looked at that he's liked, though he doesn't know why: it's got narrow, pointy windows with stone pieces on the tops like eyebrows, and it sits between its larger, tidier, neighbours like a poor cousin. Johnny thinks it maybe just needs someone to love it; and then he thinks: fuck.

They’ve had this connection for nearly as long as they’ve known each other; Patrick doesn’t know why it happened, what made it so that out of all the people in the world, it’s Johnny and only Johnny whose thoughts he can read, but there it is. One day it was just Patrick in his head, and the next, he’d woken up with the background awareness of Johnny in there too, and a panicked, thumping voice saying, Oh, shit. You too?

Kaner apparently starred in a porno at some point in his life. Jonny becomes very, very invested in watching it. Repeatedly.

"Yes, Kaner," Sharpy's saying as Jonny sits down next to them with a beer. "It would indeed be gay to measure your teammates' dicks to find out whose is biggest."

“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.

In which Sidney Crosby goes for a walk one day, and somehow most of the NHL ends up worshipping a defaced Winnipegian brick. It's all Jonny Toews' fault.

It's one thing to know that Kaner and Tazer are weird about each other, and another thing to actually see it. (or: several people who unfortunately had to interact with them, and one time they got to be alone).

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

AU. Jonny's a hockey player, Patrick's a figure skater, they meet in a book shop.

["Dude," Jonny says. "You don't need to tell my girlfriend about the like seven times total we hooked up."] Lindsey is mistaken, Jonny is confused, and Kaner is uninformed (but has talked all of this out with his girlfriend like sensible people do).

jonny washes patrick's hair; patrick doesn't hate it.

As road roommates and partners in crime, Burish and Sharpie consider it their god-given responsibility to torment the young stars on their team. One night, they get more then they bargained for.

It’s extra great—whenever Jo’s losing, she always makes like their running point tally competition isn’t real. Tonight’s true to form: when Trish holds up three fingers and points at herself, then two before pointing at Jo, Jo actually scoffs as she pokes at a couple chicken breasts with the tongs, trying to find the best one.

Contrary to popular belief, weres don't actually need alphas. Patrick never had one, since he's the only person in his family with the gene, and his parents didn't push him into finding one. Alphas make their betas better; they keep them calm and level, they support them, they guide them. Without an alpha, betas are perfectly fine. They're just better with one.

Stiles wants to win for America, okay? He wants to bone that constipated expression off of Derek Hale’s face on a bed strewn with American flags while Bruce Springsteen plays in the background and a bald eagle watches through the window with a single tear rolling down its cheek.

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.

Kane blows past Toews' D and circles around, looking for an opening... and he finds one, taking a hard slapper, and Toews gets a piece of that.

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

Kaner comes into his veela heritage on his 24th birthday. Shenanigans and surprise feelings ensue.

Jonny reads. Jonny reads plenty. Jonny is college educated (sort of) and Sharpy can suck his dick, because he reads all the fucking time, okay. Except, see, he sort of doesn’t, and then Sharpy challenged him to a book club, and how do you even do that, book clubs aren’t supposed to have winners, but apparently the Blackhawks Book Club will, and PR is trying to make a thing out of it to encourage literacy and promote the library system in the city or something, so the whole team and a lot of the staff have to go find and read this book, and basically what all this means is that it’s a week before Christmas and Jonathan Toews is grumbling to himself and scowling at a shelf in the library like he wants it to be set on fire, because the shelf is missing the book he’s supposed to be reading for this stupid club that he is going to win. “Can I help you find something?” someone asks, and Jonny jumps.

Oshie really wants Kaner to measure Jonny's dick.

I said, will you marry me?

The one where Jonny plays for the Blues, Patrick plays for the Hawks, and they soulbond.

"Looks like you boys had a very affectionate celebration this year, eh?" Wiedeman says as the video ends. Jonathan lifts his head from its protective refuge, spreads his arms out wide. This, at least, he can deal with. "What can I say? I love my team."

Jonathan finds the boy along the outskirts of a town market, chained to a post. There's a bronze armband clasped tightly on his forearm, winding around it like a snake, and he stares sullenly at the ground, heedless of Jonathan's gaze, while his toe traces patterns in the dust. "I want him," Jonathan says to the vendor, pointing. That's a lie.

Honestly, Pat isn't sure how they got here. He's had a lot to drink, and they've been engaged in about four hours of what was Mario Kart war but turned into an epic Smash Bros. tournament, and somewhere along the way bets that required badges of honour were made, except instead of badges of honour somebody—okay, probably Pat—decided they were to be badges of shame, and somebody—again, probably Pat—decided the winner got to mark the loser so everybody could heckle him until it faded.

"Thirteen year old Pat Kane has short hair and a shorter temper, stands at five foot nothing and wants you to know about it. He plays hockey like he'll die if he can't, and if you have a problem with him, you have a problem with his whole team. That's the way he's always wanted it."

Five Times Jonny Noticed Kaner and One Time Kaner Noticed Her Back “I mean it, Tazer baby. We’re gonna show those boys how it’s done.” And Jonny looked her up and down one more time, before reaching out to tug a few curls into place, flicking her on the nose once for good measure. “We always do,” she said, and her gaze was locked on Kaner’s and Kaner felt like she could take over the entire world.

Emotionally constipated dudes expressing love through making out and deciding to have a kid. In front of the Stanley Cup. #thatsit #thatsthefic

Patrick is a priest of Aphrodite and Jonathan has a debt to pay.

2014: Ice Bucket Challenge. 2015: Wax Off Heart Disease. 2016: mass hysteria.

Patrick loses his voice for a few weeks in the summer.

Jonny pretty much knows when he’s playing well. Pat likes to tell him anyways. (In which Kaner needs to chill.)

Jonny shows Patrick how it works. And by "it", I mean his dick. Jonny's, but temporarily Patrick's.

That's the end of the talking for a while, but it's only the beginning of Patrick thinking about it. He does some research, but it turns out that googling "what does it mean that I like getting held down during sex" doesn't provide much helpful information, and he can't bring it up with anyone, so he just – thinks about it, instead. It's probably more thought than he's put into anything before in his life other than hockey, but it leads him to some pretty interesting conclusions.

Patrick is in heat.

Jonny’s never spent a heat with another guy, alpha or no. Never had an honest-to-god-dick-attached-knot inside him. Never been with someone he used to daydream about lifting his ass up for, even on suppressants.

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.”

Patrick doesn’t think before he takes the screenshot.

“Wait, so you’ve all tried it?” Jonny asks.

Officially, there are no subs in the NHL. Officially.

D/s sex-mentor AU. Working title: "All They Do Is Cuddle"

Marcus’s replacement comes with a mess of blonde curls, big baby blues, soft pink lips, and a spot of acne. He also looks like he’s two years shy from graduating high school. Sharpy says, “He’s eighteen.” Jonny gives him a look. “I checked his birth certificate myself.” Jonny rolls his eyes. “He wrote ‘aggressively bisexual’ in the preferences section of his application.”