It starts while Jonny's out with his concussion. It's not even a thing. It's just that Pat is in his stall trying not to look at the place where Jonny isn't, and they're getting ready to go on the road, and Pat snags Jonny's jersey and stuffs it into his bag. He doesn't even know what he's going to do with it. He just wants it with him.
He and Jonny hook up sometimes, sober on the road, drunk at home, but Pat isn't thinking about that, not when he takes Jonny's jersey and not later, when he's getting ready for bed in a room that's too empty with just him in it and he opens his bag to the bright red of a jersey. He just takes the jersey out of his bag and pulls it on over his t-shirt.
He wears it to bed every night on the road. When he gets home, he throws it in with his laundry. He thinks about returning it, but no one's going to notice, so he tosses it onto his bed instead, and pulls it on before he goes to sleep.
It becomes so much of Pat's routine that he doesn't think about it when he pulls Jonny's jersey over his head.
"Is that mine?" Jonny asks him.
Pat looks down, at Jonny's C on his chest, Jonny's number on his sleeves, looks over at Jonny. "Yeah."
"Trying to absorb some of my skills?"
Pat throws a pair of socks at him. "Not the way that works."
Jonny throws the socks back and watches with too much attention while Pat gets into bed.
"Come on. You're the one who always wants to go to sleep."
"I'm not playing," Jonny says, and Pat winces.
"You fucking showoff," Jonny says after Pat wins against Detroit. He's grinning like a fool when he says it.
"When you're this good," Pat says, "you can't help but show off."
Jonny rolls his eyes and shoves Pat away when he tries to hug him. "Don't get your sweat all over my suit."
"This," Pat says, "is the sweat of a winner. There are people who would pay to have this sweat all over them."
"They're crazy," Jonny says. He abandons Pat to talk to Shawsy, and only when Pat's showered and in his suit will he give Pat the hug he deserves.
Jonny sits next to him on the way home, but before he sits down, he takes something out of his bag and drops it in Pat's lap. Pat shakes it out to find that it's Jonny's jersey. Pat raises his eyebrows, but he slips out of his suit coat and pulls the jersey on over his dress shirt.
Most of the team wanders out of their seats to congratulate or chirp Pat for his goal, and the closest anyone gets to saying anything about it are the raised eyebrows he gets from Sharpy.
Pat's expecting Jonny to follow him home, so he sits in the car with his iPod still blasting through the speakers until Jonny taps on his window. They go up in the elevator together, and both of them drop their bags inside Pat's door.
"I can't believe you," Jonny says. "Wearing my jersey all that time and pulling off that kind of stunt."
Pat steps forward. "I wouldn't have to, but you're not back yet."
Jonny's face goes tight for a moment. "Kaner-"
"Shut up," Pat says. "I didn't mean it like that." He takes another step forward.
Jonny traces the C on his chest. "That's still mine."
Pat rolls his eyes. "Yeah, dumbass, I know that. I'm just borrowing it."
Jonny's eyes meet his, and Pat knows he's going to do it the moment before Jonny kisses him, even though they don't do this sober at home.
"My trick shots get you hot?"
Jonny laughs, and pulls Pat's shirt out of his pants so his hands can find skin. "Yeah."
"Man," Pat says, "All-Star Skills Competition must give you the mother of all boners."
Jonny laughs again. "Like you've never jerked off to highlights."
"All right," Pat agrees. "Right now, I'm replaying your first NHL goal." He bumps his hips into Jonny's so he can feel Pat getting hard.
"Our first goal," Jonny says, and fuck if that doesn't make Pat even harder.
"Fuck," Pat breathes.
The corners of Jonny's mouth turn up into a tiny little smile, and he unbuttons Pat's pants.
"You gonna jerk me off right here?"
"Yeah. Keep thinking about that goal."
Pat reaches for the hem of the jersey, but Jonny's hand covers his before he can pull it up. "Leave it on."
"Not really." Jonny unzips Pat's pants and pulls his underwear down with them.
"I think it kind of is," Pat says. "You're totally getting off on your own jersey here."
Jonny licks his hand and wraps it around Pat's cock. "You're getting off on it." He jerks Pat slow and steady. "Don't tell me you're not."
Pat bites his lip. "Maybe a little."
"Maybe a lot." Jonny thumbs the head of Pat's cock on an upstroke before he returns to his slow stroking.
"Hey, don't stop that." Pat tries to guide Jonny's hands where he wants them, but Jonny knocks his hands away. He speeds up, though, tightens his grip. "Yeah," Pat says, "like that."
"Shut up," Jonny says. He's smiling in that way that means he'd be laughing if he didn't think it was beneath him or whatever he thinks about when he doesn't laugh. "You're so stupid."
"Your face is stupid." Pat doesn't mean it. Well, he kind of does, because Jonny's face is kind of stupid. But sometimes, like now when he's sort of smiling and looking not at Pat's dick but at the C on his chest, it's a good face.
"Just shut up," Jonny says. He shuffles forward and nudges Pat's chin up, and then they're kissing while Jonny jerks him off. It's pretty hot, and Jonny knows how to get him off. That's pretty hot, too, and it's a good thing they're standing so close because Pat almost falls over when he comes.
"Shut up," he says when Jonny laughs at him. "You want me to do you?"
"You'd better," Jonny says, so Pat gets into his pants and jerks him off.
"This is totally doing it for you," Pat says, because Jonny's not looking away from his chest. "You're such a narcissist."
"Shut up. You're making this worse."
Pat snickers and bites lightly at Jonny's jaw. "I'm so good at this. You don't even know what kind of practice I have jerking off."
Jonny starts laughing, and Pat twists his wrist in a way he knows will make it really great, and Jonny half laughs and half gasps into the C on Pat's chest as he comes.
Pat's careful not to let Jonny jizz on his jersey - he'd only get shit for it - but he does wipe his hand on Jonny's shirt.
"Dick." Jonny makes a face. "How am I supposed to explain that to the dry cleaner?"
"That's your problem, not mine." Pat steps out of his pants and goes to wash his hands. "Are you staying?"
Jonny joins him at the sink, still looking disgruntled, and dabs at his shirt. "Yeah, I guess."
"Awesome. You get to pay for dinner." Pat goes to his bedroom to change.
"You're just as rich as me," Jonny yells at him.
"But much hotter," Pat yells back, and there's enough space between them that he doesn't hear whatever Jonny says to that. Pat's sure it's nothing good, so when he changes into a t-shirt, he throws Jonny's jersey on over it. "Also," he says when Jonny's eyes widen at the sight of him in the jersey, "you might get a thank-you blowjob."
Pat's just about ready to leave for the post-season, pre-playoffs team dinner Sharpy and Abby are hosting when Jonny shows up.
"This isn't Sharpy's," Pat says.
"I know. I thought we could go together." Jonny tosses him something. "Put that on."
Pat shakes it out to find that it's one of Jonny's jerseys. "Really?"
"Really." Jonny's expression doesn't change, but if he brought it, it matters to him. Whatever, his problem if he spends the whole party with a boner.
Pat pulls it on over his shirt. It's not just a jersey. It's a jersey Jonny's worn. It smells like him. He emerges from the folds of cloth ready to give Jonny shit about it, but Jonny's holding Pat's coat out to him.
"We're going to be late."
"We're going to be twenty minutes early." Pat shrugs on his coat.
"Not if we hit traffic."
"Then everyone else will hit traffic." Pat takes his time locking up the door just to make Jonny huff at him.
They hit traffic, which earns Pat a glare he ignores.
Abby doesn't seem put out when she answers the door. She just grins and hugs both of them. She's wearing a Hawks jersey with an A on the chest. When she turns a little, Pat can see the number ten on her sleeve. It's too big to be something she picked up for herself, which means it's one of Sharpy's.
Pat turns to say something to Jonny, but the words die in his throat because Jonny's taking off his coat and under it he's wearing a jersey without a C, a pair of eights on his sleeve.
Pat raises his eyes from Jonny's sleeve to his face. Jonny looks mostly smug flavored with a tiny hint of embarrassment.
Abby's already walking away from them, saying something about food and drinks, but Pat keeps staring at Jonny wearing his name and number like it means something. He really wishes they weren't essentially in public.
Jonny knocks into his arm. "Go check on your rookies."
Pat knocks right back into him, but then he does go over to hang with Jimmy, Shawsy, and Dylan. They're good guys, and he's enjoyed hanging with them while Jonny's been gone. It's not like Jonny's going anywhere anyway. Every time Pat looks for him, Jonny's there, laughing with Sharpy or serious with Seabs or smiling politely at Kelly-Rae, all the while wearing Pat's number on his back and sleeves.
When people start leaving, Jonny does a loop of the room that ends with Pat and the rookies. He keeps his hand low on Pat's back the whole time he's chatting with the rookies.
It's a short chat, and Jonny doesn't move on to anyone else. He puts a little more pressure on Pat's back and says, "We're heading out. Get some rest the next couple of days. We all have to be at our best for playoffs."
The rookies all look at Pat, but he just shrugs. "He's right. Rest up, get pumped, come to practices ready to go." He high-fives, fist bumps, and hugs as appropriate and lets Jonny lead him over to say goodbye to Sharpy and Abby.
"You're going to break up the party," Abby says.
"Good thing," Sharpy says. "I don't want any of these assholes in my house." He's grinning as he says it, and he claps them both on the back.
Jonny just kind of nods at Abby, but Pat goes in for a real hug. "Thanks. You throw a good party."
Abby plucks at the sleeve of his jersey. "Yes, I do. Now get out of my house."
Pat grins at her, takes his coat from Jonny, and makes Jonny wait for him to button it all the way up before they leave. Jonny's coat is still open at the top, enough that Pat can see the red of his jersey under it.
"I want to blow you so much right now," Pat says as Jonny pulls out into the street.
Jonny's fingers tighten on the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles turn white. "You can wait."
"Can I?" Pat leans against the window so he's facing Jonny and palms his cock. He's not all the way hard yet, but watching Jonny wander around in Pat's jersey all night was pretty hot.
Jonny glances at him, flexes his fingers, and then smirks. "I'll make it worth your while."
Pat smirks right back at him. "You would have done that anyway." He manages to startle a laugh out of Jonny, which is enough to make him sit back and just watch Jonny drive.
They go to Jonny's place, and Pat resists the urge to grope Jonny in the elevator.
He becomes fair game once they're inside, though, and Pat follows Jonny through the door, kicks it shut behind him, and plasters himself to Jonny's back.
"You didn't even lock it." Jonny turns around, pushes Pat into the door, and reaches past him to click the lock shut.
"I was in too much of a hurry to blow you."
Jonny doesn't do something sensible, like let Pat get on his knees. He keeps Pat pressed into the door while he tugs his shoes off. "What are you waiting for?" he says as he walks away. "Get your shoes off and get into the bedroom."
"I don't know what was wrong with right here." Pat kicks his shoes into the baseboards, tugs his socks off as he goes, leaves his pants in the bedroom doorway and his underwear next to the bed. He keeps the jersey on.
Jonny's still wearing Pat's jersey, standing next to the bed with his arms folded over his chest.
Pat grins and yanks at the neck of the jersey to pull Jonny closer. "I'm starting to get why you like it so much when I wear yours." He kisses Jonny, and they make out for a bit, until Jonny turns them around and pushes Pat onto the bed.
"I thought I was going to blow you."
"You are." Jonny crawls up the bed, knees on either side of Pat's body.
Pat can get behind that. He tugs one of Jonny's pillows down to put under his head so he can watch. It makes for a good angle when Jonny's at his shoulders, one where he just has to open his mouth for Jonny's cock. It's hot, having Jonny over him like that, and Pat moans a little.
Jonny says, "Fuck," and puts his hands on Pat's head.
Pat sucks a little harder, does his best to make this a really fucking good blowjob, because every time Pat's eyes stray from Jonny's face to his chest, he's hit again by the lack of a C on his shoulder, the reminder that it's his jersey Jonny's wearing, his name on Jonny's back.
Jonny pulls out of his mouth just when Pat knows he's getting close. He starts to ask what Jonny's doing, but Jonny's looking down at him, hand wrapped around his cock, and he's jerking himself the way he does when he just wants Pat to get him off.
"Oh," Pat says. "Really?"
"Shut up, Kaner."
Pat grins, watches Jonny's gaze land on his lips, and shuts up. It's a good view, Jonny's stupid turned-on face and his hand around his dick. It's less than a minute before Jonny comes.
"You idiot," Jonny says while Pat's still licking his lips. "I could have come in your eyes."
Pat shrugs as well as he can lying down with Jonny kneeling over him. "I wanted to watch." He pushes at Jonny's hip. "Suck me off or move so I can jerk off."
Jonny takes the first option and slithers down the bed to get his mouth on Pat's cock. It's not that he's never done this for Pat before, but Pat's more likely to get his hand. With his head still propped up on a pillow, he gets a good view of Jonny's lips stretched around his dick.
"Fuck, Jonny. Fuck." Pat puts his hands in Jonny's hair and tries not to pull. He doesn't think he'd mind if Jonny pulled his, but it doesn't seem like the kind of thing Jonny would be into. It's still hot, watching Jonny suck his dick, and Jonny isn't trying to make him stop touching him.
Pat doesn't even know what he's saying, something about how hot Jonny is, probably, and how much he wants to come and then how close he is. Jonny doesn't pull away. He sucks Pat all the way through his orgasm and swallows after.
"That was hot," Pat says when he can catch his breath. Jonny's lying next to him by now, so he reaches over and pats Jonny's chest.
"Damn right it was."
They lie there for a while longer, until Pat feels like he can move again. Then he leans over Jonny. "And don't think I didn't notice."
"I came on your face," Jonny says. "I think you noticed."
"Not that." Pat flicks his tongue out, tasting what's still near his mouth, just to see the way Jonny's eyes follow the motion. He leans closer. "The only other people there wearing jerseys that didn't belong to them were the wives." He gets up and goes into the bathroom to clean up before Jonny can do anything more than just look at him.
"You're staying?" Jonny says when Pat pulls on his underwear, shucks his t-shirt but puts Jonny's jersey back on, and climbs into bed.
"You live two blocks away."
"It's cold." Pat has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning.
"It's not that cold."
Pat elbows Jonny. "Go brush your teeth. Sleep is very important."
Jonny rolls his eyes, but gets out of bed. When he gets in it again, he's wearing Pat's jersey.
The day Shawsy's suspension comes down, Pat goes straight from practice to Shawsy's place. He's been there for maybe ten minutes when Jonny shows up. Shawsy stands, and everyone else makes a little room for him and Jonny.
"It's fucking bullshit and we all know it," Jonny says.
"It is what it is," Shawsy says. "They thought-"
"Fuck what they thought. Shanahan's an asshole. We win one, and you're back with us for the rest of the season. Or we don't and you're back with us next season."
Shawsy's shoulders relax, but he says, "And what if they decide I'm too much trouble and trade me?"
"Then you play the best fucking hockey you can for whoever gets you." Jonny looks around the room, eyes landing on everyone but Pat. "That goes for all of you. It'll suck if it happens, but we've put too much work into you - Kaner's put too much work into you - for you to do anything else."
That's Pat's cue, and he says, "Yeah. If we're going to kick your asses, you'd better be playing your best."
It cuts the tension, enough for Jimmy to say, "Yeah, right. We could take you any day," and then the rest of them join in.
When it dies down again, Jonny squeezes Shawsy's shoulder. "There's nothing you can do about this now. Call your girl. Ask her about her day."
"Jerk off to the sound of her voice," Pat says.
Jonny ignores him but for a twitch to the corner of his mouth. "Get some sleep. You'll be back with us soon."
Shawsy squeezes Jonny's arm. "Thanks."
Jonny nods at him, and at the rest of the room. "Game day. Rest up and be ready to play tonight."
Pat pulls Shawsy in for a hug after Jonny leaves. "Three games will be over in no time."
Shawsy makes a face at him. "That's what I'm worried about."
Pat cuffs him across the back of the head. "Shut the fuck up. We can win a couple of games, even without you."
Shawsy smirks and says, "You so sure about that?"
Pat takes off feeling like he's done some good. He drives straight to Jonny's and lets himself in.
"What the fuck?" Jonny yells. "Three games? This is goddamned fucking bullshit!"
"No fucking shit." Pat toes out of his shoes and grabs a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge. "Fuck. Shawsy's been good this series. We could use him."
Jonny takes the bottle from him and they stand side by side in the kitchen passing it back and forth until Pat empties it and tosses it into Jonny's recycling bin.
"Fuck," Jonny says again. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard Pat starts to worry about his vision and pulls them down. Jonny looks at him, but it's more like he's looking through him until Pat snaps his fingers and Jonny focuses.
"I meant it," Jonny says. "They're good kids, and that's because you put a lot of work into them."
Pat shrugs. "We all put work into them."
"No," Jonny says. "You put a lot of work into them. Good work, too."
"Yeah?" Pat grins. "Good enough to get me a C?"
Jonny bumps their shoulders together. "Not as long as I'm playing." So never, then. "Might get you an A, though." He puts his hand on Pat's chest, right where the A would go.
Pat shivers under the touch. "Come on. I'll blow you, and we can take a nap."
"You should go home," Jonny says, "so you can get some sleep and have time to change."
Pat rolls his eyes. "I live two blocks away, and this is getting downgraded to a handjob if you keep arguing with me."
Jonny takes the blowjob Pat kneels down to give him, and jerks Pat off after. They have to hang onto each other after that, to get to the bedroom. Pat feels a little like he just finished a thirty-minute ice time game on the last leg of a road trip.
"You want me to put on one of your jerseys?" He knows there are a couple in Jonny's closet, and he'll put Jonny's number on if it'll make him feel better.
Jonny sighs and drops his shirt onto the floor. "Just get into bed."
"You too." Pat pushes the covers back and climbs in on his side. It takes a minute of Jonny staring at him before Jonny gets in too.
"Fuck," Jonny says.
Pat throws an arm around him. "I guess I wouldn't want a C anyway. You're doing a pretty good job with it."
"Yeah?" Jonny asks, and then he glares at Pat. "Pretty good?"
Pat grins at him. "Well, I put in a lot of the work on the rookies."
Jonny stares at him, and then he snorts, and then they're both laughing.
"You're such a dick," Jonny says. He wraps his hand around Pat's arm while he says it, so he probably doesn't really mean it.
Losing never gets easier. Losing in the playoffs never gets easier.
Pat trails out of the UC when the media's done with him. Jonny's still in there somewhere, but Pat just wants out of there. The rookies are already gone; no one blames them for losing, so they got off easy.
Pat goes home. There isn't anything else to do. Not now. He takes off his suit, looks at Jonny's jersey tossed across his bed from where he took it off after his nap, puts on a plain t-shirt instead.
He answers the knock at his door because Jonny's the only one who would be coming by now.
Jonny takes off his shoes, tosses his suit coat over the back of a chair and sinks down on Pat's couch. "Fuck."
"Yeah." Pat stands in the middle of the room and looks at him for a minute. Jonny on his couch, both arms stretched out along the back of it, looking tired. Then he says, "You should fuck me," and Jonny's eyes flash to his face.
"I'll put on your jersey," Pat says over him. "I'll put it on and you can fuck me in it."
He can see Jonny's chest shake with the breath he takes. He gets up, crowds so close to Pat that Pat has to look up those few inches Jonny has on him to see his face.
"Have you ever done that?"
"No." Pat grabs Jonny's wrist before he can step away. "I want you to. You can leave marks on me." He huffs out a laugh he doesn't feel. "There's probably a Sharpie around here if you want to put your name on me."
Jonny puts his hand on the back of Pat's neck and squeezes. "No," he says, "putting my dick in you will be enough."
Jonny kisses him, softer than Pat would have thought, before he uses the hand still on Pat's neck to steer him to the bedroom.
Pat strips, pulls Jonny's jersey on over his head, and gets on his hands and knees on the bed, cock hanging heavy and already hard below him.
Jonny gets lube and condoms out of Pat's nightstand, stops to put his hand on Pat's back, right over the number nineteen between his shoulder blades. "You look so hot in this," Jonny leans over him to murmur. He puts weight into his hand on Pat's back when he says it.
Pat twists his head to look at him as best he can with Jonny still behind him. "You sure you don't want that Sharpie?"
"Maybe later." Jonny bites down on the curve of Pat's neck. His hand gets lighter on Pat's back, lighter still until it isn't there anymore and instead there's the snap of a cap.
Jonny works him open just carefully enough. He won't do damage, but it's not too easy, and it's rough when he fucks into Pat. His hands hold too tight to Pat's hips, leaving marks. He says Pat's name.
"Fuck," Pat says. He rocks back into every one of Jonny's thrusts until they're working together, fucking hard and furious, and Pat closes his eyes and lets tears leak out of the corners of them.
"You're going to fucking come," Jonny growls at him.
Pat gets a hand on his cock and growls back, "You too."
"You first." Jonny's fingers twist, a sharper bite at his hips, hard enough that Pat will bruise. Hard enough that next week when they've left Chicago and each other, Pat will still have Jonny's bruises on him.
Pat comes first, shouting with it, slamming himself onto Jonny's cock.
Jonny says Pat's name before he comes, before he collapses onto Pat, shoving him down into the bed.
Pat lets him, and it's Jonny who moves away, with a brush of his hand over the back of Pat's neck.
Pat turns his head to look at him. "Want a Sharpie? You can leave your name all over me."
"You're already wearing my name." Jonny traces the letters on Pat's back.
"This is yours," Pat says, "and it comes off. Permanent marker. Or you could put a ring on it."
"Not in this state." Jonny's fingers trace over the numbers, one-nine, go back to the letters.
"I haven't forgotten. That party." Pat bends one arm up to pluck at the sleeve of Jonny's jersey covering his shoulder. "Marker then."
"It's not really permanent," Jonny says. He slides down so he's lying next to Pat, on his back, face turned to Pat. "You were-" His fingers trace the tear tracks on Pat's face.
"You know me," Pat says with a smile he doesn't feel.
"I do," Jonny says. "And I'm not tattooing my name on your ass like you're my property."
Pat leans in close, so he's whispering in Jonny's ear. "But I do belong to you."
Jonny puts his hand on Pat's back, like he did when they came in here. "Is that why you took this?"
"I didn't know I meant it," Pat says, and, "It was only the wives at the party, and you were wearing mine."
Jonny presses down harder. "If I get a Sharpie," he says, "are you going to put your name all over me?"
Pat smiles at him, the first real smile he's given since they lost. "Go get one and find out."