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everything we have is all we need

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It’s quiet on the plane.

It’s not really surprising. The game against Arizona had been brutal, the last minute goal even worse, and Jonny wants nothing more than to climb into his own bed and sleep for days.

Instead he’s curled into the window seat, shifting to try and find a position that doesn’t jolt his bruised shoulder. He’s almost certain it’s a losing battle, even with the ice pack that’s strapped to it. The hit from Chychrun had been nasty, and that coupled with their four game losing streak and, well. Jonny’s pretty sure he isn’t going to get any sleep until they get to Dallas.

He’s too restless to watch a movie, too tired to read, and Jonny eventually settles on the highlights of Dallas’s game from tonight. If they’re going to win a game any time soon, they’re going to need all the help they can get.

He’s about a minute into them when a text message flashes at the top of this screen: when we get home im gonna break up with amanda, and Jonny’s eyes flick to the man sitting across the aisle from him.

Patrick’s got his feet tucked under him, a blanket pulled up to his chin and his earbuds in. His eyes are closed, and if Jonny didn’t know better, Jonny would say he was asleep. But even if Jonny couldn’t see his hand hovering over the lit up screen of his phone, Jonny knows enough Patrick Kane tells that everything to him screams faking.

why Jonny replies, trying to extinguish the flicker of hope coursing through his veins.

because you were right is the reply, and then we’re not just hooking up.

Jonny can’t help the smile spreading across his face because they’re Jonny’s words. They’re the words he told Patrick right after he broke up with Lindsey, after he spent a week back in Chicago and realized he wanted nothing more than Patrick’s tongue in his mouth and Patrick’s hand on his dick.

But a month ago Patrick had looked at him wide eyed and terrified, and Jonny had bitten down on the words because I’m in love with you, asshole.

When Jonny looks up at Patrick now, Patrick looks soft and sleepy and hopeful, like he’s worried that he’s missed his chance. The light from his phone screen is throwing harsh shadows over his features, but his eyes are still startlingly blue and his hair’s still a disaster and well, Jonny still fucking loves him.

Patrick’s tapping his phone screen like he’s waiting for Jonny to say no, chewing on his bottom lip the way he always does when he’s thinking too hard. But Jonny’s not so great at words, and after he checks that no one else is paying them any attention, he crosses the aisle and slides into the empty seat next to Patrick.

It’s easy enough to tug at the corner of Patrick’s blanket until it’s covering them both. Patrick’s knees are pressed against Jonny’s thighs, and normally he’d be chirping Patrick about his ability to take up more space than his tiny frame needs. But tonight doesn’t feel like the time for that, not when Patrick slumps against his side and tentatively slides a hand across Jonny’s thigh.

Jonny wants to kiss him stupid, wants to wipe the hesitant smile off Patrick’s face and replace it with the one where his whole face lights up. But there’s too much risk here, and he settles for covering Patrick’s hand with his own and squeezing gently.

“Okay?” Jonny asks softly, his mouth as close to Patrick’s ear as he dares.

When Patrick nods, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Yeah,” Patrick confirms, his voice cracking on the word. Jonny squeezes his hand again, not letting go until Patrick squeezes right back, his mouth curving softly at the reassurance. “You wanna watch some highlights?”

Jonny nods, and it doesn’t take long for Patrick to find the same highlights that he’d interrupted less than ten minutes earlier. It’s something they’ve done a million times together, Patrick mumbling about corsi and zone entry and stats that have always been more his strong point than Jonny’s.

Normally Jonny would be listening, trying to pick up anything he can from Patrick’s ridiculous mind, but right now all he’s focused on is their hands linked together. Patrick’s warm against his side, pressed as close as he can get beneath their shared blanket, and Jonny feels his eyes drift closed for the first time all night.