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Jonny already regrets buying too much food and a drink for his two hands to carry when it becomes the third time someone has bumped into his back in the past thirty seconds. The United Center is buzzing around him, people hustling to their seats, parents following their excited children who are cladded head to toe in red and black.
Jonny almost doesn’t understand why it seems more packed than usual; the Hawks have already clinched a playoff spot and it’s only a game against the Buffalo Sabres, which Jonny would not even be at if it wasn’t for his coworker Sharpy, who had urgent plans last minute and practically threw the ticket into Jonny’s hand. Besides, it wasn’t like Jonny had anything better to do on a Thursday night. The daycare he worked at was closed the next day, which meant Jonny had the night to himself and a chance to sleep in the following morning.
He finds his section and row just as the voice announces the arrival of the visitors, a few people near him cheering, their Sabres jerseys worn with pride. He smirks to himself and spots his lonesome seat, shuffling through a whole family and an old man, who shoots him a dirty look—as though it’s Jonny’s fault that his seat was mid-row.
He plops down with a sigh and runs a hand through his hair, the length making it curl around his ears. His mother often bugs him about cutting it but Jonny likes how it looks and he “is a grown man, Maman. ” Although, Jonny can’t argue that he loves her and would probably cut it right now if he had the time and patience to.
Next to him, he hears someone snort.
Jonny twists to his left to spot a boy around his age, snickering to himself. He has blond, curly hair, which is just awful in Jonny’s opinion, though it’s a nice contrast to the blue eyes that look up at Jonny. The boy is sporting a toothy grin, his tongue peeking through in a gleeful manner.
“What?” Jonny doesn’t mean to sound so gruff, but this dude is laughing at him.
The blond stares at him for a second before shaking his head. “Nothing.” He doesn’t turn away from Jonny though.
Jonny notices the humorous look on his face and repeats. “What?” He can’t believe he has the bad luck of always being seated next to a cunning asshole.
This gets the other man laughing. “Just,” he starts, leaning his head in closer to Jonny to whisper, “that old man was a dick because he knew it’d be a hassle for you to squeeze by.”
Jonny’s eyebrows furrow. “And why is that?”
“Because,” there’s a pause in his voice to allow him to smirk. “Have you seen the size of your ass?”
And with that, he swiftly turns around towards the ice, where the Blackhawks have began making their way through the tunnel.
Jonny sits back, staring in shock at the bluntness of the statement. He huffs and leans back in his seat, focusing on the paths that the players are skating, quickly warming up before the start, and not the heat of a blush that takes over his neck.
--
The first period is pretty calm; the Hawks have not been able to capitalize on their shots despite leading in shots on goal, and the Sabres are pushing back with just the right amount of pressure to keep the score tied at 0-0.
Jonny gets distracted by the way people begin shoving each other to pass and arrive at the bathrooms first, even before the buzzer, and he begins snickering to himself. He turns his head to see if the guy from before has caught it as well, but Jonny spots him among the crowd of those trying to exit their seats.
Jonny’s face falls flat after that. He lies further down in his seat and whips out his phone. He doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t have to pee, and still has a couple chips and some soda to keep him going. His thumb swipes back and forth on his screen but it’s hopeless; there are no notifications or messages to deal with.
He sort of wishes the blond was back and seated next to Jonny just so he had something to do during the intermission. He blushes when he thinks about the other man’s comment about his ass, stuffing his face deeper into his chest, and picks up his phone again.
He’s absentmindedly scrolling through Facebook, when a small commotion tears his attention away from the screen and to his right. Jonny looks up and notices his blond seat neighbor shuffling to get to where Jonny still sits. He tries suppressing a small smile, refocusing on the videos of cats that litter his feed instead.
He hears a huff of relief to his left, and tells himself not to turn around. This plan only works for a couple seconds before Jonny feels a nudge on his left shoulder, and then he’s facing Blond Guy again.
“I’m Patrick,” he says, smiling widely and proudly at Jonny, who is not exactly sure what his face is doing right now.
Jonny freezes for a moment where he think the guy-- Patrick, might go for a handshake, already sensing how awkward that could end on his part. When Patrick makes no movement forward with his hands, Jonny breathes out, “Jonathan,” before pausing. “You can call me Jonny. Most people do,” he adds as an afterthought.
Patrick nods at that. “Feel free to call me Kaner then.”
Jonny’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks not gonna happen but he smiles nonetheless.
He supposes that’s the end of it, turning back to face the ice in front of him. The players have not come back yet but it’s still buzzing with workers setting up for the second period. Patrick turns as well, and whips out his phone before beginning to tap vigorously on the screen.
Jonny eyes him for a second, watching his thumbs hit the small phone in quick speed while composing a text, before butting in, “Girlfriend troubles?”
He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for as an answer, but Patrick turning to him with a smirk on his face is not it.
“Is this your way of asking me if I’m single?” Patrick inquires, and Jonny huffs in protest as a response before Patrick continues, “Because if so, I happen to be very single.” His eyebrows begin wiggling suggestively and all Jonny can do is glare at his stupid face.
“You have a stupid face,” Jonny comments before he can stop himself. His eyes widen because word vomit much? “But no, I was curious as to why you are attacking your phone there.” He gets to the point before Patrick can point out his otherwise rude comment.
Patrick holds his smirk for a little longer, then answers, “Just my sister texting me; annoying me about who’s going to win the game. She thinks me cheering for the Hawks is a disgrace to my hometown ,” His tone wavers as he quotes her.
Jonny frowns, “You’re from Buffalo?” He fades out, waiting for Patrick’s answer.
“Mhm,” Patrick hums.
“You’re not a Sabres fan though?”
Patrick scoffs. “God, no. I live and breathe Chicago hockey.” He smiles proudly at that, wide and toothy.
Jonny would laugh and make fun of that statement, if he didn’t relate to it so much himself. He’s dreamed of NHL ice his entire life, but things happen and plans change, so he finds himself at a steady daycare job instead. And Jonny is not one to complain, being surrounded by the cutest kids all day, he loves his job. His coworkers aren’t so bad either; he would have to consider them his closest friends--even though Sharpy and Saader can be dicks sometimes.
He doesn’t have time to dwell on that though, because the horn is blaring to indicate the beginning of the second period. Patrick is facing the ice now and Jonny does the same, surrounding himself completely in hockey.
--
The Hawks have a good period, and even get on the board with one goal during the dying seconds. Jonny and Patrick cheer side by side as Chelsea Dagger rings out in the arena, and it takes everything in Jonny not to hug Patrick in celebration.
The players file off into their respective locker rooms and Jonny and Patrick fall silently into their seats. It only stays quiet for a few seconds before Patrick jumps into a play by play of the last twenty minutes. They converse and even bicker back and forth, not noticing the music that plays out then.
It’s the infamous Kiss Cam. Jonny’s never seen one happen live, and the whole idea seems fun to him. He watches as the camera points to the first couple in the stands. One is wearing a Hawks jersey while the other is cladded in Sabres colours. They laugh at themselves on the big screen, before leaning in to peck each other on the lips. Jonny smiles at that, as the crowd whistles and cheers, and he turns to Patrick to see him with a small grin as well.
Jonny doesn’t know how long he’s staring at Patrick for, watching him laugh and clap along with the crowd, but he’s not prepared for the way Patrick’s eyebrows shoot up as his mouth drops open. He’s still staring up at the big screen and Jonny furrows his eyebrows before reluctantly turning to see what’s going on.
His eyes snap up quickly, only to widen when he sees his own face reflected in front of him. Patrick is on the screen too, right beside Jonny and seemingly just as shocked. It’s decorative, with the words “KISS CAM” in big, bolded, pink lettering, and animated kisses floating around their heads. A heart circles around them, just like it had for the previous couples that were featured on the screen.
Couples , Jonny thinks. Totally not him and Patrick. Kaner? Jonny thinks back to when they introduced themselves. Patrick told him to call him by his nickname, one probably only used by friends. Because that’s what they are for tonight. Friends.
Jonny barely hears the crowd beginning to cheer and chant around him. He’s too focused on watching Patrick’s face through the screen, watching it go from shocked to thoughtful, and suddenly Jonny can’t see anymore. He closed his eyes.
“Jonny,” A voice whispers from his left, tone soft and soothing.
He peers one eye open, catching a glimpse of Patrick’s face, adorned by an unreadable expression.
There’s still the faint chant of voices yelling “KISS” at the two men, but Jonny can’t seem to focus on anything else but the way Patrick’s tongue pokes out to swipe across his lips.
Suddenly, everything happens too quickly, as if someone were pressing the fast forward button on a remote. Patrick’s hand reaches forward to latch onto Jonny’s arm. Jonny turns his body towards Patrick. And then Patrick is leaning in, and Jonny has no clue what he should do with his hands. They settle limply in his lap.
Patrick’s face is now mere centimetres from Jonny, and he doesn’t exactly know what comes over him because he’s suddenly surging forward, capturing Patrick’s lips in a forceful kiss. He’s nervous for a split second where he thinks Patrick might jump backwards, but the blond does nothing of the sort. Instead, he pushes Jonny right back, and Jonny can’t help but smirk as the crowd cheers loudly around them.
Patrick’s lips are soft and damp, from where his tongue had slid across from them seconds ago. One of his hands was still clinging to Jonny’s arm, while the other made its way up to place itself around the nape of Jonny’s neck. Jonny is well aware of the feeling of Patrick’s fingers on his neck, and it inspires him to lift his own hands and fit them around Patrick’s head, the other man’s hair curling around his fingers.
The crowd’s claps had begun quieting down as Jonny pulls away. He doesn’t move too far away though, staying close enough to feel Patrick’s hard breath against his lips. They tingle a little, and his hands are still tangled into Patrick’s hair, but he’s only able to focus on the shade of Patrick’s pink lips, which the other man runs his tongue over once more.
It spites something in Jonny, and he wants nothing more than to pull Patrick’s face in once more, but he contains himself, for the sake of the fans and children around him.
He smiles at Patrick instead, and the crowd moves on to cheer for the next couples that appear in the neon pick heart. They seem less nervous than Jonny felt, but then again, none of them were kissing someone as attractive as Patrick.
Patrick is smirking at Jonny as if he were able to hear Jonny’s thoughts.
“So,” Patrick begins, “Was I satisfying enough?”
“Enough,” Jonny shoots back. It earns him a slap on the arm from Patrick, but the two laugh it off, and Jonny is thankful it’s not awkward between them.
They turn to ice then, discussing potential game plays. Jonny is surprised to find that Patrick spits out hockey statistics like it were his job, and actually has an endearing voice when he does it. It makes the waiting for the rest of the game fun, and Jonny almost wants to kiss Sharpy for throwing the ticket to tonight’s game in his hand. Almost.
--
The Hawks pull out with a win; 2-1 in overtime. Patrick enjoys it, because he can yell at the players when they do something stupid, and Jonny enjoys that he can hang out with Patrick for longer.
They rise from their seats and merge into the line that leads outside. Jonny feels shoving from both sides of him and he worries about losing sight of Patrick, so he clings onto the left arm of his jacket. Patrick glances back at the sudden pull, but relaxes when he realizes it’s just Jonny.
They reach the exit, and Jonny reluctantly releases his hold on Patrick’s arm.
“So,” Patrick starts, turning to face Jonny after they manage to escape the hundreds of fans squeezing out the UC doors, “Wanna get out of here?”
Jonny is right behind him and almost hits into Patrick’s frontside from the sudden movement. He stares up at Patrick’s face with a look of incredulity, and snorts. “Does that line usually work for you?”
Patrick seems unfazed by the comment, shrugging his shoulders while continuing to walk. Jonny picks up his pace also, coming to join Patrick on the left side, just as he answers.
“Usually I’m not forced to make out with some stranger first but under these circumstances,” He looks Jonny up and down, “I’m not complaining.”
Jonny is thankful that they reach his car then, so he can duck his head down to hide the blush that’s taking over his ears. He pats down his pockets to locate his keys before realizing that he has no idea how Patrick even made it to the UC tonight.
“How did you get here?” He asks Patrick, who seems to be conjuring up some other phrase to woo Jonny with.
“Uh,” Patrick starts. And then bluntly: “Taxi.”
Jonny peers around Patrick and spots the herd of those waiting for cabs, all huddled up and numbered in the hundreds, before giving Patrick a pointed look.
“I can drive you home,” He tells him, and nods towards the passenger door. “Come on.”
Jonny walks to the driver side, watching from the corner of his eye as Patrick lingers a little before making his way to his own side. He unlocks and gets inside, twisting his key in the ignition and waits for Patrick to get settled in beside him.
When they’re both inside and secured with seatbelts, Patrick mutters his address for Jonny to type into his GPS. It’s not too long of a ride, which bums Jonny out a little, but he switches into gear and begins driving nevertheless.
At some point during their ride, Patrick leans over to fiddle with the radio, and it takes everything in Jonny for him to bite down on his tongue when Patrick chooses a station playing the Top 10 hits. It’s playing that catchy Justin Timberlake song, which Jonny is not opposed to; it’s just not what he would have chosen.
And anyway, Patrick is singing and bopping his head along to the music, so Jonny kindly waits until after the song ends to turn the volume to the lowest.
“Hey,” Patrick protests, sitting up to stare at Jonny’s face.
Jonny wills his eyes to stay on the road ahead, even though they are stationed at a red stoplight. “That music was shit.”
Patrick scoffs. “You were literally dancing along to it a minute ago.”
And so what if Jonny’s body couldn’t keep still during the chorus. It’s catchy.
“Yeah, well,” Jonny stops. “Still.”
Patrick laughs and shakes his head. He sits quietly for a bit, before pointing out that his street is the next one up the road. Jonny ignores the pit in his stomach and turns where Patrick directed him to. He squints his eyes to glance at the numbers on the houses and comes to a stop in front of Patrick’s.
It’s a small, yet, welcoming house. It’s white with brown trimming along the door and windows. There are trees hanging low against the left side of the house, and Jonny thinks about pointing out that Patrick should consider trimming the bushes on his front lawn.
He turns around and before he can mutter a word, Patrick grabs him by the side of his face and reels him in to kiss him. His tongue finds its way into Jonny’s mouth quickly and Jonny can’t help but moan at the feeling of them exploring each other’s mouths. He places his hand on Patrick’s thigh, smirking when he feels the other man freeze.
Jonny’s smugness doesn’t last long though, because soon Patrick is trailing his lips across Jonny’s jaw line and he instantly groans.
“Patrick,” He moans out. “Fuck.”
He tries to keep himself as quiet as possible, but then Patrick bites down on several parts of his neck and he whines. Patrick shrugs with laughter, before licking down the side of his throat to his collarbone.
Jonny picks up his hands and pushes Patrick’s hair back, smiling when he hears a low moan from the blond. He’s still learning Patrick’s preferences, so he lodges his hands in his hair before pulling him upwards. It seems like a good idea, and it is. Patrick’s eyes are closed in pleasure when Jonny gets a glimpse at his face again, and Jonny could probably come in his pants right now from the sight of it.
He settles for kissing him again, and then pushes Patrick’s head back to get access to his jaw. Jonny marks him, hard, and God—hearing Patrick breathe out his name is so fucking hot. They’re both breathing hard when Patrick reattaches their lips together, and Jonny isn’t even close to complaining.
Patrick pulls away a little while after, breathless, and Jonny immediately misses the feeling of his lips on his own. Patrick’s hair is disheveled from where Jonny was running his hands through it, and there’s a faint mark at the bottom of his jaw that’s beginning to turn a dark red, and Jonny can’t help but smirk.
Patrick follows his gaze and rolls his eyes. “You proud about that, asshole?”
Jonny hums and shrugs, but doesn’t elaborate. He glances at the driveway that leads to Patrick’s house and the sinking feeling returns to his stomach. He hears Patrick rustling in his seat, and turns to see him pulling a phone out of his back pocket.
Jonny says nothing as Patrick thrusts it out to him, wiggling it until Jonny grabs it out of his hand.
“Add your number. I’ll call you,” Patrick assures. His voice is raw and his breathing is still heavy. Fuck.
Jonny just nods and does as he’s told.
He doesn’t want to say goodbye; wants to keep sitting in his old beat-up car, making out with Patrick like a bunch of teenagers. He wants to trail more kisses down his jaw and bite deeper into his neck, hearing Patrick moan, deep and slow.
“I would invite you in, but I have work early tomorrow and my boss would kill me if I were late. And you,” Patrick’s voice gets low and husky before he continues, “are going to keep me up all night.” He adds a wink.
Jonny groans. “You’re a dick, Patrick.”
Patrick smiles slyly, quiet for a few beats, and then says, “Pat.”
“Hm?” Jonny questions.
“You can call me Pat.” He repeats.
The thought kaleidoscopes in his mind. Pat. It’s much better than Kaner, that’s for sure. It sits nicely with Jonny and he supposes he can get used to it.
(Later, when he’s jerking off to the feel of Pat’s teeth biting down his neck, he pants the nickname into his arm, and bites down on the array of skin there, and that settles that self-discussion).
“Have a good night, Pat,” Jonny says, as Patrick begins to unbuckle his seatbelt.
Patrick turns to Jonny and leans in to kiss him sweetly. He pulls away, just enough that when he whispers, “Good night, Jonny,” Jonny can feel it against his mouth.
He goes after that, letting himself out of the car, then shutting the door swiftly. He walks the way to his front door, then faces Jonny once more to give a small wave.
Jonny waves back and watches Patrick disappear behind the dark, mahogany doors. He starts up the engine of his car again, and drives himself home, the volume of the radio still at the minimum setting.
--
He falls asleep that night with faint marks on his neck, and fresh ones on his arms—his own fault. There’s come on his sheets, and Patrick’s curls on his mind, and a small smile on his face as he drifts into a long, overdue sleep.