Dylan wants both of them to shut up and Connor to just put his dick in him already, but he knows this is crossing a lot of boundaries for the both of them and communication is important.

“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.

Connor McDavid comes out on a Saturday. It is raining. He tangles his hand in Aaron Ekblad’s and says, “Does anybody have any questions?”

Society is weird in that there’s not a lot of words for someone who you love and do a lot of dating-things with and are committed to but you’re not actually dating. OR: Five times people misunderstood Connor and Dylan's friendship, and one time someone didn't.

"So you're gonna take me to prom, huh," Dylan says, testing the words out in his mouth. "Which one?" "Not McDowell's," Connor says, like he's given it a lot of thought. He probably has. Jesus. "Ideally we'll still be in the playoffs, so we won't have time." "Ideally," Dylan echoes, and takes another bite of burrito to calm himself. Whatever, it's not like prom's a huge deal to either of them. They could go as buddies. People do that. "What should I wear?" If anything, Connor just grins wider.