Chapter Text
Losing credit card roulette sucks.
It sucks more when the hot bartender's been flirting with him since he handed over his card. She's stupidly hot, the kind of girl who would be way out of Patrick's league if he wasn't famous. There's no way that the old Patrick wouldn't have taken her number just in case, because again, stupidly hot.
As it is, Patrick only wants to go home with his dumb captain. The one who has the sex drive of a rookie, not a thirty year old, and this morning gave Patrick a blow job that was so good that he actually passed out. While Patrick may be able to explain to the bartender that he's not interested, he isn't sure that the team would believe him. As far as most of the team are aware, Patrick's very single, and rejecting the stupidly hot bartender would invite more questions than he'd know how to answer without lying.
#firstworldproblems Patrick thinks, and then cringes. He clearly spent way too much time with his sisters this summer.
“Maybe I could make your night a little luckier,” the bartender says as she slides his card across the bar to him. Her smile is all teeth, her stare eerily reminiscent of Jonny's when he's focused on his goal, and Patrick drops his gaze to the receipt in front of him.
Except that isn't safe either, because she's purposefully bending over more than she needs to, and her shirt is unbuttoned just enough to give him a glance of red lace and creamy skin.
“Uh, maybe,” Patrick says, swallowing around the words. He picks up the pen, adding what he hopes is an appropriate tip before he scrawls his name across the bottom of the receipt. Her smile widens as he hands the paper back to her, and turns to leave before she can ask him for anything else.
“I think you forgot something,” she says, handing him the business card he'd left on the receipt folder. What he assumes is her number is scrawled the bottom of it, clearly meant for him to use later, and he pastes on his best smile as he takes it from her.
She gives him a mega-watt smile as she turns away from him to serve someone else, and jesus, is there any trick this girl doesn't know? The old Patrick absolutely would have called her, maybe waited around until the end of her shift, but now all he wants to do is escape from the bar without her seeing him.
He's still trying to figure out what to do with the card when someone behind him speaks.
“You should give me that.”
Patrick recognizes the voice—even after all this time, Breadman's accent is still distinctive—but it still makes him jump. He'd been expecting the team to be watching this from afar, not creeping up on him when he least expects it.
When Patrick turns around, Breadman's not grinning like Patrick thought he would be; instead, there's a crease across his forehead, his eyes narrowed. It doesn't look like jealousy, but maybe Breadman's really missing his Russian girl right now.
“You think she's too hot for me?” Patrick jokes, holding the card out of Breadman's reach.
“She too hot for most people, Kaner” Breadman says. “But also, Jonny kill you if he find out.”
“She's not Jonny's type,” Patrick says, except she's hot enough that everyone's type. And Jonny's never been exceptionally picky about the people he chose to sleep with in the past, even though he could have been. Patrick's pretty sure that the present company is very much included in that, because if Jonny wanted a Channing Tatum look alike to suck his dick, he could probably get it.
“Kaner, she everyone type,” Breadman says, grinning. “But you and Jonny together, like I tell you before. Very happy. So you not needing number from bartender.”
Patrick blinks, because this is a conversation he wasn't prepared for. Especially not in the middle of a bar, where people could hear, and—
Okay, so they're kind of alone in the middle of a bar since it's a Wednesday night, but the point still stands.
“You know?” Patrick asks quietly, and Breadman nods. “When—how—I mean—“
“I Russian, not stupid,” Breadman interrupts, and Patrick's thankful that at least one of them can still put a sentence together. He's not sure he can even have a coherent thought. “You and Jonny, is easy if you look. Most people, they not look. I know a while, but I not tell. Is like, pinky promise?”
Breadman makes a fist and wiggles his pinky finger at Patrick, and Patrick breathes a little easier.
“Jesus, what have you been watching?” Patrick asks, but he still links his pinky finger with Breadman's. “Shit, I wasn't really expecting this.”
“Is okay. But give me card, and pretend she want to sleep with me, da?”
Patrick nods, pushing the card into Breadman's hand as fast as he can.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, hip-checking Breadman towards the table. “I owe you one.”
Breadman's face lights up like a Christmas tree at that, and Patrick groans internally. He's almost certain it's going to involve the prank war that Breadman started with the rookies at the end of last season. And Breadman might look innocent, but he's just as bad as Sharpy was. Especially with the big blue eyes that Patrick's seen dupe three different hotel workers in three different hotels.
He almost wishes that Breadman hadn't saved him from having to make up the worst excuse in the world about why he isn't going home with the hot bartender. But all of that disappears the second he slides back into the booth next to Jonny, and Jonny gives him that soft, stupid smile that Patrick loves so much.
It hits him that he'd do almost anything to be able to see that smile every day, and that includes getting involved in a prank war he's kind of too old for. And when Jonny presses their knees together and hooks a foot around Patrick's ankle, he's glad there was never even a thought to make a different choice.
Because Jonny is never going to be a safe choice. Every day, there's the fear in the back of his mind that they're going to get outed. That, despite the best efforts of You Can Play, there are going to be people out them who hate them for what they're doing.
But it's been a long time since Patrick wanted to make a choice other than Jonathan Toews.
And he's going to keep on making that choice for as long as he can.