It's a stupid thing to care about. But it seems like every time Dylan sees Alex with a teammate, he’s putting his hands on their back to dig the tension out of them. And for whatever reason, he never does that with Dylan.

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.”

“Shower again.” Alex says, popping the top off his bottle and taking a long pull. He stares Dylan down while he does it, and fuck. That's not playing fair. “Why?” Dylan asks, because fuck, they need to talk about whatever is happening here. “Because I told you to.”

“So, like, a couple of the guys here know, now,” Alex says. “About our whole --” he waves his hand absently. Our whole soulbonded thing. You know, casual, is what's not said, but Dylan can fill in the blanks pretty well.

Dylan and Alex agree to be in a promo video for the Winter Classic. There's... a lot of footage that had to be cut out.

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.

“I think it might be pretty romantic if you put your hand on my dick,” Alex says. Fuck, Dylan likes him. He loves him in a lot of ways and he likes him so much. “Oh yeah?” he asks. “Then why don't you make me?”