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

Kaner wakes up soulbonded to Tazer. Then gay shit happens.

“Write what you know” was good enough advice for Jo March, so it’s good enough for Patrick Kane.

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

“Write what you know” was good enough advice for Jo March, so it’s good enough for Patrick Kane.

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

“I kind of proved a lot of people wrong and proved to myself I can play this game in this body.” - Pat Kane Genderqueer AU.

“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.

Patrick answers his phone by reflex, but he can't pry open his eyes, so he has no idea who he's talking to. Or not talking, exactly, because all he can manage is a sort of groan. OR: the one where Tazer and Kaner have a baby via Stanley Cup

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.

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard

"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."

It takes 140 characters or less and one absolute fucking moron to change Jon's entire life forever. He should have known all along it would be Kaner. It always is.

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

Kaner wakes up soulbonded to Tazer. Then gay shit happens.

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.

"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."

It takes 140 characters or less and one absolute fucking moron to change Jon's entire life forever. He should have known all along it would be Kaner. It always is.

A story about not!Russians, the Atlantis Hockey League, accidental offworld marriages (of course) and the intergalactic sex appeal of the mullet.

“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).

Sidney Crosby has known a few things for most of his life: he knows that he loves hockey more than anything, he knows that 87 is his lucky number, and he knows that he’s gay.

Kaner's looking down at the kid, though, frowning. He crouches down. "Hey, kid, where are your parents?" The kid's bottom lip juts out and starts wobbling. Fuck, that means he's going to start crying, right? "Oh shi—oot, kid, don't cry," Kaner says. "I mean, if you don't know where they are, we can find 'em?" "Kaner," Sharpy presses. "That's Saad."

“So you were already with the boy you saved when the fire started?” Patrick pauses, but shakes his head. “No, there was an explosion—I don’t really know what it was, but then it was just me and Tigre, and it’s like, in a situation like that, you don’t really think? You just do. So I grabbed the kid and went through the fire escape. It’s not like I decided I wanted to save anybody, it was just the only option.”

It's just a little frustrating, that Patricia can be so good at their sport, and then still look the way she does.

Patrick had a letter written on his wrist when he was born, small and even in black pen-print. Well, technically it started to show up a day after he was born, like a bruise that takes time to settle in. Patrick doesn’t remember, obviously, but his parents will tell him whenever he asks, how small it was and how it just... faded in, a little ‘J’.

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).

A genderswapped/girls in the NHL series. Possibly circling around an enormous fic about Sidney Crosby's adventures in being the first female drafted no. 1 in the NHL and also to play in a non-exhibition game, starting at about age 13 and moving to the present. Maybe I'll write it this summer, because it needs a lot of research. While that's on hold, this is mostly just girl!kaner/Tazer porn and, apparently, character stamps about playoff beards or the lack thereof.

AKA the one with the phone sex. In which Kaner finds out Jonny wants to fuck him and is pretty okay with that turn of events. Phone sex, picnic baskets, crazy eyes, hockey and insanity ensue.

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

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

When NHL star Patrick Kane's off-ice antics finally get him into trouble for the last time, captain and best friend Jonathan Toews has one final trump card to keep him from being traded: marriage...to each other. But between being the first openly gay hockey players, facing down a lockout, and the fact that Patrick has been in love with Jonny for years, will these two ever be able to work past their miscommunication to realize that their marriage may not be as much of a sham as they think it is? Written for the Harlequin Big Bang 2013.

Kaner tries to fuck his way out of love. That goes as well as you might imagine. That's my summary. But liketheroad's summary is also applicable: In which THERE IS A BACHELOR AUCTION TO SAVE ALL THE PUPPIES OF CHICAGO AND TAZER IS THE ONE WHO HAS TO SAVE THOSE PUPPIES AND KANER TRIES TO FUCK HIS WAY OUT OF LOVE BUT OH TOO BAD FOR YOU KANER, YOU HAVE TOO MANY FEELINGS FOR THAT.

It starts like this: Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so: America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesn’t have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. There’s no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800’s, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably can’t control your powers, sport.

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

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.

Patrick is actually rooting against the Blackhawks the day he wins the contest, which makes it kind of embarrassing when the jumbotron shows him going nuts about it in his Sabres jersey. (AU in which Kaner is a Blackhawks fan who wins a contest to spend a week with the team.)

In which Patrick Kane gets a little hysterically obsessed with Jonathan Toews' sexual prowess.

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

They're in their hotel room after the Oilers game when Kaner asks, "Why does this whole meditation thing matter so much to you, anyway?" "It helps me focus and relax," Johnny says, hoping that'll satisfy him. But Kaner's eyes widen. "You mean you'd act even weirder if you didn't meditate? Shit, dude – now I kind of want to see what you'd be like without it." "You really, really don't," Johnny says.

For the longest time this fic was unofficially titled 'Kaner's not a hooker but Tazer probably wants him to be', and I really can't think of a better way to summarise it than that. Many words of Tazer fantasising, pining, jerking off, and paying for sex, because that's apparently how he rolls.

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.

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.