Archive of Our Own

All Stars Weekend 2024

JT didn’t intend to befriend the older Tkachuk.

It’s just a thing that naturally happens.

Like the sun rising, or rain falling, once the universe (or in this case, Matthew) decided it was going to happen, JT had been powerless to stop it.

“Hey asshole,” Matthew says as he drops casually into the booth space next to JT, “how are Nat and the little ones?”

JT rolls his eyes. “You know how they are,” he replies, gently shoving the idiot away when Matthew tries to steal a sip of his drink, “you made us all FaceTime like two weeks ago.”

“I can’t help it,” Matthew grins cheekily at him and bats his eyelashes like he’s the heroine in some bad young adults romance novel, “Nat’s the love of my life and some dick married her before-”

JT gets his arm around his neck and brings his face into JT’s armpits, ignoring the way Matthew yelps and windmills his arms in protest.

Cheeky bastard.

If JT didn’t know Matthew was stupidly in love with one Leon Draisaitl, he’d really be offended by the constant jokes about Nat.

“Jesus Christ,” Matthew grunts as he finally gets away, “did you even shower you dick?”

“Yep,” JT pops the ‘p’ sound to be annoying, “that’s the smell of a real man my boy, take it in.”

Matthew shoves him.

JT is about to shove him back when he catches sight of Matthew’s on and off again, he pauses, boyfriend? Fuck buddy? 

Whatever.

Draisaitl is glaring at them.

“Don’t look,” Matthew hisses when he realises in which direction JT is looking.

“I wasn’t,” JT grumbles back, even as he raises a challenging eyebrow at the Oilers’ German forward.

What.

Sue him.

He’s not intimidated by Draisaitl’s pissy bitch attitude.

Besides, he’s unfortunately grown very fond of Matthew, charming fucker that he is, and he doesn’t like how Draisaitl treats him.

“Yes you are,” Matthew snipes tightly, reaching over and grabbing the drink away from JT’s slack hands, “and before you ask, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He chugs the remaining beer.

JT watches Draisaitl watch Matthew and thinks unkindly that they’re both idiots.

“You know he’s looking,” he says when Matthew wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh yeah?” Matthew acknowledges, then, deliberately, because he can be just as annoying off the ice as he is on the ice, licks the droplets from his hand provocatively.

JT is almost impressed by his audacity.

Especially because when he looks back, Draisaitl’s face has gone from pissy to hungry in the intervening seconds.

Then he must sense JT’s stare because his gaze flickers over briefly and he sends another scowl JT’s way.

“Of course I know he’s looking,” Matthew mutters crossly, then grins mischievously, “actually, why? You wanna help me put on a show?”

“Dream on kiddo,” he rolls his eyes, “don’t drag me into your high school drama.”

“Fuck you old man,” Matthew says with a fond grin, both of them easing into the conversation like a well worn shoe, “at least some of us still got moves.”

JT ignores the weak chirp.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” he offers quietly instead.

He knows for a fact that Matthew is only here this weekend because of Draisaitl, even if he’s claiming to be here for Brady for appearance’s sake.

Matthew’s face goes tight for a second before he forces himself to shrug casually. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” he murmurs, staring hard at the empty pint glass, “same old bullshit.”

He sounds, well, he sounds how he normally sounds when Draisaitl and he are on the outs. 

Tired and terribly young.

JT inwardly sighs.

He really didn’t think that he was going to have to give relationship advice until his children got to be old enough to date.

“You know you need to talk to him,” he says as gently as he can, because Matthew looks uncharacteristically despondent as it is and unlike Draisaitl, JT has a heart.

Matthew doesn’t reply.

After a bit, Hughesy stumbles over with Brady and offers to grab more drinks and the moment passes.

JT pretends not to notice when, by the end of the night, Matthew slips away with Draisaitl.

Honestly, he shakes his head, kids.

---

Round 1 of 2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs

“Mommy, why did Chucky look so sad?”

JT looks up from where he’s scrounging through the fridge for a post workout drink. He pops his head into the living room and makes a questioning face at Nat, who gives him a rather worried look back before she smoothes it out to reply to their eldest.

That’s concerning.

yo, he messages Matthew once he finds his phone a few minutes later, you good?

Matthew immediately replies with a string of emojis.

👍👌😘

uh huh, you wanna chat?

no siree, already spoke to the love of my life today, not interested in speaking to her husband thanks 

Asshole, JT thinks entirely too fondly, and FaceTimes him anyway.

“You know no means no right?” Matthew drawls once he picks up.

Whatever reply JT has on the tip of his tongue disappears when he notices the visible redness to Matthew’s eyes.

Christ, looks like he’s been crying for a while.

No wonder Nat was worried.

He sighs inwardly and begins walking to Nat’s and his bedroom.

“Chucky,” JT says once he’s in and the door is shut behind him.

Matthew frowns at him. “You’re not actually my dad,” he complains, “stop doing that fatherly bullshit, you’re like barely older than me.”

“I’m trying to be a good friend,” JT clarifies, then cringes, “and please don’t ever say that again, I can’t imagine the amount of white hair I’d have if I was your father.”

Because Matthew is incapable of not being a little shit, he latches immediately onto JT’s discomfort.

“You don’t wanna be my daddy?” he purrs with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

JT hangs up on him.

DICK, Matthew texts him seconds later, then, as JT watches, the typing bubble appears once more.

dont be afraid, you dont have to be shy daddy, id be good for you 😜 

JT sighs and hits FaceTime again.

“I really don’t need to know what Draisaitl and you get up to in the bedroom,” he says wearily once Matthew picks up.

There is a beat of silence where Matthew’s face goes from his usual teasing smile to a forced blankness.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Matthew reassures, his tone falsely light, “since we’re not going to be a-” He cuts himself off as his voice breaks unexpectedly.

Matthew swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing.

JT watches as a hint of wetness appears on Matthew’s lashes as he rapidly blinks and clears his throat.

Fuck.

“I’m here if you want to talk, take your time,” he says instead of forcibly prying and looks away from the phone to afford Matthew a bit of privacy to pull himself together.

“He said it’d be better if we stopped,” Matthew eventually croaks out, no longer looking at the camera as he lets out a bitter laugh, “said this was just a fun distraction, but not one either of us needs during the playoffs.”

JT clenches his free hand into a fist.

He aches with the need to punch Draisaitl in his stupid smug mouth.

“Ok, so he’s an asshole, we both knew that,” he says instead, as placidly as he can, “you by yourself?”

Matthew nods.

“Do you want to stay on the phone with me?” JT offers, because if their strange friendship has taught him anything, it’s that Matthew Tkachuk’s insouciant larger-than-life public persona covers up a surprisingly fragile interior.

Matthew laughs wetly, using a free hand to rub at his red eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” he then sucks in a deep breath, “did I scare Nat and the girls-” 

“No,” JT says firmly before that thought could spiral in Matthew’s mind, “you’re absolutely fine, I just checked in because it’s weird not to get a dumb meme from you by this time of the day. Had to make sure your idiotic ass was still alive and not, you know, eaten by a crocodile.”

“I keep telling you, it’s the gators that will get you in Florida,” Matthew replies automatically.

JT rolls his eyes.

Matthew manages a weak smile in return, but it quickly slides off his face like water off a duck’s back.

They sit on the call in silence as Matthew tries not to sniffle too loudly.

“Thanks,” Matthew eventually mutters, cheeks pink.

“Anytime.”

This time, Matthew’s smile is a bit more believable, tremulous, but real.

---

Round 2 of 2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs

JT has been good so far, he managed one whole game against the Oilers without picking at the obvious wound, and got to walk away with a win.

But game 2 has been scrappier and he can feel the tension build throughout the periods until it finally snaps.

“Fuck you,” he hisses at Draisaitl as he checks the man into the boards a bit harder than he really needs to in response to a borderline dirty hit he laid on Hughesy.

Draisaitl bares his teeth back, feral like a wounded stray.

“You got a problem Miller?” Draisaitl mocks, biting out the words with hard eyes, “what? Do your wife and you not like my sloppy seconds or something?”

Which.

What the absolute fuck.

JT has a temper, he knows he does, and he has fucking worked damn hard this year to master it better on the ice with help from the coaching team, a discreet therapist and Nat.

But fuck if this dick isn’t testing his resolve.

“Don’t you fucking talk about him like that,” he warns as officials and teammates skate close to try and separate them.

“You should be happy, he’s all yours now,” Draisaitl sneers, a mean smile on his lips that makes JT want to deck his teeth out, penalty be damned.

Honestly, he has no idea what Matthew sees in this asshole.

Jesus.

JT bites down hard on his mouth guard and tries to blink the red haze of rage out of his vision.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says instead, “he’s only ever wanted you.”

He doesn’t feel any satisfaction in seeing Draisaitl’s face blank into a cold nothingness.

This isn’t the time or place.

JT is very aware of the cameras, fans and mics around him.

“Later,” he promises as he’s separated from Draisaitl.

He doesn’t know if he means he’ll punch some sense into Draisaitl later or if they’ll pick up this very sensitive discussion later.

He’s not sure it matters.

Draisaitl likely won’t care enough to take him up on his offer anyway.

JT is still furious after the game, fuming at the overtime loss and is therefore viciously thrown for a loop when he sees Draisaitl outside of the Canucks’ locker room.

He flexes his hands in preparation.

Draisaitl’s face sours when he notices. “I’m not here to fight,” he grits out, “I just want to know what you meant out there.”

JT stares at him, and thinks he could probably get away with one punch if he’s fast enough.

Except, that won’t help in the long run, and short term satisfaction pales in comparison to long term accomplishments.

JT reminds himself of that as he glares back at Draisaitl.

When that doesn’t immediately quell the storm inside him, he breathes in, holds it for a few seconds longer than he needs to before he lets it go, and tries to push the anger simmering under his skin out along with the breath.

Just the way his therapist advised.

Do it for Chucky, he thinks.

The next breath comes easier.

JT jerks his head towards the hallway that leads to the parking lot.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he says as evenly as he can under the circumstances, “you got a curfew?”

Draisaitl scrutinises him, his face looking more constipated than usual. “We gonna need that long?”

JT rolls his eyes. “Whatever asshole,” he replies as he begins walking, “was trying to be conscientious but if you’re gonna be like that then I don’t give a fuck if you get in trouble for being late.”

Draisaitl grunts.

For a moment, JT thinks he isn’t going to follow and they are going to have to awkwardly hash it out in some random room in Rogers Arena but luckily, seconds later, he hears Draisaitl’s footsteps fall in line behind him.

The walk is short and awkward, as is the ride.

Neither of them make small talk and JT is glad once they get to the discreet sports bar his team always goes to after a game and orders a pint each.

“So,” he says once he takes a sip of his beer, “what did you want to talk about?”

“You’re the one who said ‘later’,” Draisaitl points out petulantly, then he grinds his teeth, “what did you mean by what you said?”

“Which part?” JT asks just to be difficult.

“You said he,” Draisaitl pauses when someone walks by their booth, “only ever wanted…”

He glares down at his beer but doesn’t finish.

“Yeah,” JT agrees, tapping a finger against the wooden table, “and which part of that did you not understand?”

Draisaitl snaps his head up and scowls at him.

JT isn’t cowed, he meets the dark look with one of his own.

“Ma-Tkachuk and I aren’t like that,” Draisaitl hisses out, eyes darting around the bar as if he thinks some intrepid NHL or SportsNet reporter is going to suddenly jump out with a mic.

“Oh yeah?” JT challenges, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, “you two actually talked it out like adults this time and confirm that?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Draisaitl mutters, his scowl deepening rather impressively, “it was just some stress relief.”

JT reminds himself to be patient.

“Did he say that,” he begins and holds a hand up when Draisaitl opens his mouth to argue, “or did you just assume that?”

Draisaitl closes his mouth with a click of his teeth.

JT takes another swig of his beer whilst he waits for Draisaitl to process what he said.

His phone buzzes on the table and he uses the momentary lull in their conversation to text Nat that he’s sorry he’ll be home a bit late.

He then peers at his private instagram and inwardly sighs when he sees Matthew’s messages.

sorry about the loss

that OT goal was bs

also wtf did you say to him

millsy

I know youre out of media scrum

call meeeeee

“We don’t talk.”

JT looks up and watches Draisaitl as the man shifts uncomfortably in the booth.

“We just fuck,” he continues bluntly, then sneers, “we don’t ever do anything else, not like, he’s not like that with me. How he is with you or others.”

JT tries to make sense of that jumbled mess of words.

“What else did you want to do?” he prompts carefully.

Draisaitl looks like he’d rather eat a newly sharpened blade than answer, but he still replies. “Nothing. Just, I’m just saying, we don’t ever talk, or hang out,” he clarifies, “he doesn’t want-”

Once again, he can’t seem to say the words and stops himself just short of saying ‘me’.

JT considers this and concludes once again that they’re both moronic dicks.

“Have you ever asked?”

Draisaitl’s face answers that question readily enough.

JT sighs, “look, I’m not him. I can’t tell you what he thinks or feels.”

Draisaitl’s face sours some more. 

“But,” JT allows, “I can promise that there’s nothing between Matthew and I, or with Nat.”

“So you were just fucking with me on the ice,” Draisaitl bites out, looking like he’s about a second away from storming out of the bar.

“No, I wasn’t, I was making an educated guess,” JT corrects firmly, and when Draisaitl gives him a disbelieving look, he continues, “aside from hockey and his family, you’re the only other thing that consistently makes him happy or sad in turn, take that how you will.”

Draisaitl makes a face.

They finish their drinks in silence.

When they leave, Draisaitl gives him a terse nod and JT does the same.

He feels lighter as he walks back to his car, uncaring of how Draisaitl will get back to his hotel.

Hopefully, this will help the idiots sort out their shit.

---

2024 Stanley Cup Conference Finals

Losing to the Oilers is a bitter pill to swallow but Nat is there and so are his children, and JT knows he will move past it. 

But on principle, he’s still rooting for the Stars.

Or more honestly, their little family is now rooting for the Panthers. 

(Matthew had even sent through some of his jerseys which he insisted they wear and post on social media before JT put his foot down. 

His kids are not going to be fodder for social media clout, thank you very much.)

Besides, there’s still lots to do to wind down the season between media appearances, sponsorship meetings and discussions with his agent and team, so JT doesn’t do more than keep a cursory tab on the results.

He does his best to text Matthew when he manages to catch one of the Panthers’ games.

Since they’re still playing against the Rangers, Matthew doesn’t always reply but when he does, he seems more or less to be back to his normal self and not the sad shell of himself that he was during the previous series.

JT hasn’t had a chance to figure out if this is because Draisaitl and he made up after Draisaitl and JT’s awkward drink or if this is just a careful front Matthew is putting up.

He fervently hopes it’s the former but given it’s mid playoffs, he bets it’s the latter.

wtffff, help

he just messaged and says he wants to talk

wtf

what do I do

Speaking of the devil, JT looks down at his phone and quickly ducks into his home office.

I feel like the answer is obvious

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕, he gets back.

JT rolls his eyes.

Honestly, why does he like this little shit so much? 

Taryn’s obviously the Tkachuk he should have befriended.

JT is still pondering this when Matthew’s call comes through.

“I’m serious,” Matthew whines in lieu of hello, “we never talk. Fuck, the last time I tried, he broke up with me.”

There’s a quiver in his voice.

JT wants to smack the two idiots, because what a pair they make.

He restrains himself by reminding himself that it’s the playoffs, and as much as he wishes they would sort this out, he knows that in their shoes, he would also be too busy living and breathing hockey to prioritise anything else.

“So why don’t you suggest speaking after the playoffs?” 

Matthew’s silence is oddly subdued. “What if I don’t want to talk to him at all?” he eventually mutters.

JT refrains from calling him out on his bullshit, as if there’s a reality out there where Matthew does not want to bask in Draisaitl’s attention like the neediest flower seeking sunlight for sustenance.

“Then you don’t have to,” JT replies, he waits for a couple of seconds to let that sink in then asks the obvious question, “but would you regret it if you don’t?”

Matthew goes quiet again. “I just, I don’t want to get hurt and have him fuck me up before the Finals you know? Like, we're finally back here again, and I just, we need to win,” he admits in a hushed whisper, as if saying the words would make his feelings more real, “and I’m finally getting better at keeping it together and not thinking about him on the ice but I don’t think I can keep doing it if he says something else. Is that bad?”

“No it’s not bad, everything you said makes sense,” JT allows agreeably, “and ultimately, it’s your choice Chucky, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. And if you do, it’s still entirely valid to say you want to focus on the playoffs first and foremost.”

Matthew breaks the ensuing silence when he lets out a nervous snicker. “You know you’d make a great therapist?”

JT snorts. “Thanks asshole, I’ll take that under advisement if I ever plan to change careers. Now go win this game so you can get some rest before the Finals. Don’t think I haven’t seen how you’re favouring your right leg.”

“Aye aye, captain my captain,” Matthew retorts cheekily, then softens, “thanks Millsy.”

JT waits him out.

“For you know,” he clears his throat, “listening and being there.”

“You’re welcome you sap,” JT chirps.

He laughs when Matthew hangs up and seconds later, he receives a photo of Matthew’s middle finger.

---

2024 Stanley Cup Finals

The son of bitch did it.

JT is beaming at the TV screen. They’d been watching game 7 with a few of the other Canucks players, WAGs and friends, some of them are cheering now as the Panthers celebrate their first franchise win, united as they are against the Oilers.

congrats Chucky, proud of and happy for you, he sends Matthew, aware that the man won’t be seeing it for a long while.

He’s chatting with Boes and Hughesy when the camera cuts to a different angle and he sees it.

It’s just a split second but JT watches the handshake between Matthew and Draisaitl and suddenly, his happiness is dampened.

He doesn’t know how this will affect their relationship but he can’t imagine that it’ll be good, the two of them have enough difficulty conversing like adults as is without the added bitterness of a Cup loss between them.

But it is what it is.

Matthew and Draisaitl either need to learn to work through these tough moments or need to learn to move on from each other.

JT doesn’t allow himself to think too hard on this in the days following, it’s not really his business after all, even if he sometimes feels like he has a horse in this race (or well, he has a Matthew in this relationship).

Regardless, Matthew has been celebrating it up on his various social media accounts so JT isn’t worried that he hasn’t heard much from the man directly.

So it’s a surprise when he gets an unexpected message two weeks after the Finals from Draisaitl of all people.

this is Leon

I know we’re not anything to each other but can I give you a call

its about matthew 

JT has no idea how Draisaitl got a hold of his number or when he became the patron saint of their turbulent relationship but he relents and texts a reply back with his availability.

He thinks about letting Matthew know once they confirm on a time but ultimately decides against it, he’s pretty sure Matthew won’t like that he’s meddling as much as he has already.

“He flew out to Alberta,” is the first thing Draisaitl says once the call connects, then he clears his throat, “sorry it’s Leon.”

JT rolls his eyes, he’s continuously reminded that these two idiots are made for each other.

“Hey. And ok?” he says, “he’s out there for the Stampede isn’t he?”

Only, even as he says it, something is clicking in his mind and a different conclusion is coming to light. “Oh,” he remarks with a small snort, “he’s really out there to see you isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” Draisaitl, well, it’s probably Leon now, mutters.

There is a pause where JT pulls his phone away to give it a sceptical look because he has no idea how Leon is this dense before he puts the phone back to his ear and tries to figure out why Leon even asked to have a call.

“Why did he fly out?” Leon eventually blurts out, sounding completely bewildered, “I told him I wasn’t even sure we should still talk and maybe it’s best that we just forget about the whole thing because I-”

He swallows thickly, “shit, he makes me feel so fucked up all the time.”

JT hums encouragingly.

“I just,” Leon continues, the words coming out in a torrent now that he’s opened the flood gates, “he’s on my mind constantly. And I can’t figure out what I feel for him but he drives me up the fucking wall all the time so I should probably hate him. Except I don’t, and I must be stupid or masochistic, because even when I was furious about game 7, I still wanted him beside me in my bed. Not because I wanted to fuck him, or well I did, but, even if we didn’t fuck I would still want him there because I just want him beside me.”

He’s breathing harshly. 

“I want him all the time,” Leon confesses in a rush, sounding oddly guilty, “and it fucks me up inside because I can’t have him.”

“Why not?” JT asks slowly, genuinely curious.

Leon growls. “Did you not hear me? I said he drives me crazy, and I’m still furious we lost.”

“Ok,” JT says readily, “so tell him you don’t want to talk anymore and that he should go home.”

Leon makes an outraged noise.

JT resists the urge to sigh. “You don’t like that idea?”

Leon is stubbornly silent.

“Look,” JT says once the silence drags on, “you two have always had a complicated relationship and, let’s not kid ourselves, you’ll continue to have a complicated relationship.”

Leon grunts.

“The thing you need to figure out is,” JT continues, ignoring the noise, “would you rather have Matthew in your life even if he makes you crazy, or have a peaceful life without him? Because this yes no thing is not healthy for either of you.”

Leon sighs. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he explains bitterly in a low voice, “because he doesn’t want what I want.”

“Hey idiot,” JT says as clearly as he can into his phone, “your idiot other half flew thousands of miles on the off chance that you might want to talk about your relationship despite you blowing him off at the start of playoffs. Which part of this screams he doesn’t want what you want?”

A beat passes, then Leon says, wonderingly, “oh shit, I need to go.”

JT rolls his eyes at the dial tone.

They better name him their best man at their fucking wedding.

He doesn’t hear anything the rest of the day and goes to bed with a question on his mind, but he’s done what he can, he just needs to give them time to sort themselves out.

Belatedly, he realises he’s handling the two of them the same way he does his children.

Which, actually, sounds about right.

They’re both about the same emotional maturity as his kids anyway.

Still, JT smiles when, the next morning, he wakes up to a series of messages from Matthew.

wtf 

what does he mean you spoke to him

you said what?!

you fucking traitor 🤬

There are a few hours in between those and the next set of messages.

omg were together 

holy fucking shit

THANK YOU DADDY 😘

JT sighs at the last text. He has a feeling Matthew is going to keep saying it to bug him and can only hope no one else catches on.

I told you to keep your kinks between the two of you, JT texts back. 

He thinks about congratulating the two of them for finally pulling their heads out of their asses, and he’s still debating if it’d be too sappy for him to do so when he gets a message back.

It’s a photo of Matthew’s beaming face, alongside a decidedly naked and grumpy looking Leon, both of them giving him the middle finger.

but daddy, you dont know what youre missing out on 😜🥵

JT shakes his head in exasperation and sends a bunch of middle fingers back.

Annoying assholes.

But he’s still smiling as he locks his phone.

+1

(“Did Draisaitl call you ‘daddy’ when we were on the ice earlier?” Hoggy asks the next time they play against the Oilers, his face is a beautiful mixture of horror and intrigue.

JT gnaws on his mouth guard and thinks about punching Leon again.

Honestly.

You help a dude out once with his relationship and suddenly he thinks he has the right to chirp you the way his boyfriend does.

Leon chooses that moment to look over at the Canucks bench and smirks when he catches JT’s eyes. He mouthes ‘daddy’ again because he is a fucking asshole.

JT gives him a middle finger in reply, trying not to growl when Leon just tosses his head back and laughs in response.

“Do I even want to know,” Boes asks in a long-suffering voice from beside him.

JT grunts in lieu of replying.

He has no intention of clueing in his team, he’d like his nickname to remain Millsy please and thank you.

He doesn’t punch Leon that game.

He refrains from the urge still when he’s pulled for media duty and has to sidestep multiple questions about why he gave Leon Draisaitl a middle finger in the second period. 

He then has to maintain a straight face when one brave reporter asks him what it is that Draisaitl said and JT has to lie as convincingly as he can that ‘he has no idea, he wasn’t listening’.

Only, apparently he wasn’t that convincing or online fans are scarily good at reading lips because a few days later, he gets a text from Matthew that’s just a string of laughing emojis and a link.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

youre both famous

should I be jealous

https://archiveofourown.org/series/…

JT quirks an eyebrow and clicks on the link.

It sends him a link to something called Archive of Our Own and a quick scan of the page reveals it’s a series of stories about JT and Leon’s supposedly sordid affair.

Apparently, fans realised Leon was calling him ‘daddy’ and took JT’s reaction as indication that there was something there between the two of them.

JT does not Google himself or Leon, fearing that way might lay madness.

Instead, he calls Matthew so he can swear at him.

Matthew spends the call laughing too hard to even form words and his persistent chortling mocks JT relentlessly until he hangs up on the idiot.

Seriously.

He really should’ve befriended Taryn instead.)