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the gift of obedience

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It isn’t his fault this time. Patrick maintains that, no matter how easy he might be when drunk, there was literally no way he would have agreed to something like this. Blame Lucinda.


It’s just Patrick’s luck really that the first time in months it seems like he’s finally going to pull a girl she ends up being a psycho lady who curses him and then dumps him on his ass in an alleyway outside whatever sketchy club he’d picked her up in. He shouldn’t have expected anything different really, after how terrible this year has been, losing Jonny’s concussion and subsequent withdrawal from society, getting constantly fucked around in the line-up, bombing out of the playoffs, and now this.


Pat was admittedly pretty fucking off his face by the time he met her. Like, maybe it was a bit of a reach to believe that a hot chick, who’d just spent twenty minutes listening to Patrick complain about how he just kept making goddamn stupid choices and fucking himself over without stopping any of his shit, would take that information on board and then go, ‘yeah I totally want to bang this guy’, but like Kaner never claimed to be a fucking scion of knowledge. Just cause he wasn’t playing his hottest shit didn’t mean the ladies didn’t want to get with him, except for how it did, actually.


The chick had dragged him outside to some dingy alleyway, all slimy and grotty. If it had been down to Pat they would totally have gone back to his condo, which had a roof, and a bed, and wasn’t dripping with weird sewer water. She still smelt fucking amazing out there though, not all boozy and awkward like Patrick totally knew he’d have been, but still really pure, honeysuckle sweet even after the mess of bodies and lights and sweat in the club.


So like, when she’d dragged her nails down his chest and purred, “I’ll help you out,” into his ear, what the hell was Patrick supposed to expect?


The glowing was unexpected sure, but Patrick had just assumed it was like, beer goggles or whatever. Those were totally a thing weren’t they? Pat was actually kind of sure she’d been 5’3 at the start of the night, not a levitating seven with glitter dripping from her wings. So he was definitely drunk then. Whatever, Pat could totally work it. “I’ll give it you—” She’d smirked at him. It felt like she was going to fucking eat him. Emphasis on the fucking. She would have been an awesome lay, not afraid to like scratch, fight back a little. Pat’s favourite type, “the best gift you’ve ever had.”


No way Patrick was going to say no to that, cheesy sex dialogue is so his jam. “Yeah babe, give it to me. I want it so bad, you know I do.” And like, she had totally green lighted, or at least Pat’d thought she had. When he leant forward to pull their hips together though he couldn’t even get a grip, even though her hands were pushing up through his hair and circling pulling slightly against his scalp as she did. Kind of, fluttering her wings at the same time.


Butterfly wings, pink and sparkling and on second thoughts Patrick was maybe way too drunk to get it up even for someone this hot. Last time he got so smashed he hallucinated he hadn’t even been able to get himself worked up over Jonny, which just, what the fuck. Not that he wanted to suck Jonny’s dick or rim him until he started crying and begging for Patrick or like hold his hand in public when they went out to dinner with the guys or anything. Just, it’d be nice. Hypothetically speaking. But whatever, there was a hot chick with her hands on him right now and he needed to stop thinking about Jonny and his perfect ass and start thinking about the tail he was totally going to try and pull, even with the wings. Worst case scenario he just ends up with a tongue awesomely tired from eating her out because of his a potentially massive case of whiskey dick, hardly a punishment.


Except instead of letting him take them home and get down to it, she just kind of wiggled her hands over her head, and said some shit about ‘duty’ and ‘compliance’ and ‘being his best self’ that Pat was way too drunk to follow. Not that he’d have listened anyways.


Next thing Pat knew he was just coated in this weird glowing sludge thanks to the unexpectedly magical hand motions, and now he probably had like fucking cancer, great. By the time he’d managed to swipe it out of his face she was gone. Disappeared. With an actual honest to god twinkle like something out of a shitty movie. So now Kaner was drunk and hard and alone in a dirty alley in what he was pretty sure was Chicago. Admittedly not the worst situation he’d found himself in after a bad playoffs run though. No one was dead yet this time at least.


In retrospect the glitter coating her skin was probably actually fairy dust, and it’s becoming increasingly likely that the slime was summoned magically as the manifestation of the spell she put on him. Kaner’s an idiot, and he does need some serious help sorting out his life or whatever, and now, thanks to her, he’s magically compelled to obey every instruction he’s given. Turns out what she was giving him was less a magical vagina experience and more “the gift of obedience” whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.





Patrick ends up getting a pretty intense crash course in the concept actually, having already spent half the morning with his fingers up his ass, Erica’s blithe, “Go fuck yourself,” as she hung up their Skype call that afternoon an unfortunate command. Apparently obedience meant obeying. Everything. The fuck. He hadn’t been able to get off either, the knowledge that he’d been fingering himself on the command of his little sister way too nauseating for him to even get properly hard, let alone come. Definitely a curse. And not just one that applied to awkward sexual acts suggested by his close family members.


Which like, Pat was totally content to just pass that all off as a weird fluke. Hoping that he was just drunk and only imagining that he couldn’t make his own choices. Except then the douchebag at the gas station happened. It totally wasn’t Kaner’s fault that they ended up in a shouting match about the last packet of Cheetos that doucheboy had totally stolen from him. It wasn’t his fault that’d he’d ended up magically assaulted by that fairy chick the night before either, so it was doubly not Pat’s fault that he ended up jerking the dude off in the shitty public bathroom. Totally not his fault. Not that he was complaining or anything, and the other guy sure as hell hadn’t been. Even if the biting thing was kind of weird, like, it turned out to be really fucking awesome too, but Patrick would at least have appreciated getting to decide whether he wanted to do it.


Sure, it was great sex. Pat was insanely into it, it’s not like he’s ever had a problem fucking random girls (or guys) in bathroom stalls. He’s never claimed not to be an easy lay; Patrick’s definitely banged way fuglier people. There were orgasms all round, so it’s not like he didn’t go home satisfied or anything. Pat definitely made a point of getting them both off properly. It was just, not at all what he’d gone to the gas station for. Patrick might give it up easy, but giving it up is different from having it taken from you. Probably. The guys would just call him a pussy for thinking that though, so he tries to avoid it afterwards.


Surprising sexual anecdotes aside, the curse thing has had a not so stellar affect on Kaner’s life. He’s been slowly working his way through the list of his boys who he’d trust with something like that, and all of his attempts so far have ended in tears. Of laughter. From everyone mocking him. Because Patrick’s life is just one giant practical joke orchestrated by the entire universe.


Sharpy had stared at him and laughed, and kept laughing. Pat had had to physically push him out of the way to get through the front door, and kind of tripped on the way in, which just set Sharpy off more. Whatever, Pat wasn’t weak, Sharpy was just stupidly fat and heavy from the insane amounts of Abby’s amazing food he got to eat. Something Patrick was totally going to take advantage of, since he was already here, and he could totally hear Maddy upstairs playing. Abby would be cool with Pat taking her so she could go do real adult things, and Kaner could stay with Maddy and draw, or play the train game or something. Win, win. Sharpy obviously wasn’t going to be any help with this after all. Whatever, Patrick has other friends.


Duncs had let Patrick in to sit on his couch when he came over, but he’d more stared disapprovingly at the drunk ass Patrick was making out of himself and asked Pat when exactly he’d started drinking than listened sympathetically at his plight. Eventually he sent Patrick out the door, and his command to go home and sober up was probably for the best, because it was only like, seven in the evening, and Pat had maybe had a few more shots than was strictly necessary. In the hopes that repeating the circumstances that led to the curse would make it go away. It hadn’t, unfortunately. But the bright side of Pat’s awesome plan was that he was too off his face to care.


Shawzy had only been interested in the magic mumbo-jumbo talk up until the point where Patrick started answering negative to his weird questions, like, why would a magical obedience curse give him the actually awesome power of voice projection anyways? When Andrew started hinting about a secret underground world of gnomes Patrick realised he wasn’t going to be much use. By the third time he Shawzy mentioned how totally rock solid Boller was Patrick was actually starting to get kind of uncomfortable for the dude, there are some things a guy should never have to know about his bros, so he started spouting some shit about how he was meant to go over to Jonny’s place for an Xbox showdown. Which wasn’t strictly true, but actually seemed like an awesome idea, Pat hadn’t seen Jonny in like, seven whole hours. Jonny would totally be down with it; he didn’t have anyone better to hang out with, after all, Jonny though Pat was great. When sloshed out of his mind admittedly, but Pat knew that all alcohol did was loosen Jonny up a little so that he stopped denying his ability to emote. It was lucky Shawzy didn’t take the obvious route and just yell at Patrick to stop as he made his escape, incoherent yelling wasn’t actually a command after all and Pat sure as fuck wasn’t sticking around for anymore of the ‘Shawzy’s Magical Creature Fantasy Storytelling Session’. All of Patrick’s friends are weirdos apparently.





So Patrick is officially out of options, and ideas, and friends that aren’t assholes. At practice the next day Sharpy interrupts the steady stream of chirping Patrick had been dishing out to everyone who came near enough to him to be heard with, “Bite me.” Which meant Patrick had to, so he played it cool, or as cool as it technically possible. Grinning up at Sharpy and exaggerating the action, grabbing Sharpy’s arm, pulling up his jersey to get to exposed skin and trying to cut into the guy with his teeth. The guys look at him weirdly for a while after that, but they don’t start actively ordering him around. It happened towards the end of skate anyway, so soon after the drills finished and Pat can sneak out of the locker room before anyone else.


It means he has to skip his shower, stinking his car up on the way home, but Pat totally knows how he got this magical curse now, and exactly what comfort movie he’s going to need to figure out how to fix everything. Sharpy’s shit stirring actually useful for the first time in the years Patrick’s known him. He totally recognised the scenario Sharpy just unwittingly re-enacted with him. Turns out Ella Enchanted totally was a valid and relevant topic for his main 11th Grade English essay, fuck the haters.


Pat devotes his evening to re-watching Ella Enchanted on the grounds of researching his affliction, not that he couldn’t already recite the dialogue from memory, but still, it probably helped, somehow. It was fun, and anyway the Mia Thermopolis chick was still way hot, even without her banging new haircut. It turns out that with age actually does follow wisdom or whatever, because Patrick is startling aware this time around at how objectively awful the movie is, a fact seemingly at odds with his affection for the movie since Patrick has such great taste. Awkward acting, the blonde stepsister is no way near as diabolic as he remembered, and Lucinda is really, really, really a jerk. God. Patrick wanted to sleep with that. He has like, the worst taste in the entire universe probably. Ugh.


Pat spends the whole movie taking down shitty notes on the back of a receipt from take out one time, which basically amount to saying everything as sarcastically as possible. Ella could totally have prevented like, 99% of her problems by just changing the tone of voice she spoke in. Pat isn’t going to fall into the same trap. He still cried a little when the evil uncle almost forced Ella to kill his own nephew. If the main message Patrick was taking form the film wasn’t ‘don’t let the crazy fairy curse you’ it would totally be ‘trust no bitch’. He’s kind of glad that his interactions with Jonny outside of the rink are more about competing and less communicating. Pat’s glad the obedience thing didn’t come up with Jonny at their Halo marathon, he’d have fucking gotten off on having that much power over Patrick, like, to make-Pat-wash-his-toilet-even-though-he-has-a-cleaner levels of abuse probably. He’d justify it as some kind of payback, the smug bastard, saying shit about how like, Jonny’s had to clean up enough of Pat’s shit in his life anyway. Which Pat guesses is true, not literally, but like. Madison, last season, the general clusterfuck that was his entire fucking life practically. Jonny’s got his back.


Patrick knows how to fix the curse now at least, all he has to do is track down the magical fairy Lucinda from wherever she is in the entire world or possibly universe, and convince her to stop it. Because Pat does not have time for some country-spanning coming of age adventure right now thanks. He has hockey to play. If they don’t beat the Rangers this time Pat knows Jonny will end up going all rage-turtle and he won’t be willing to hang after the game. Which is definitely number one on Patrick's list of things to avoid. For, like, reasons. Which totally make Patrick seem like an adult and not some awkward co-dependent teenager with a crush on his best friend.


The point is that Patrick didn’t tell Jonny first thing after he figured it out, and he isn’t going to. Jonny isn’t even going to know. Patrick is an independent adult who can take care of himself. He doesn’t need Jonny’s help. The loser would just mock him about it. Pat’s fine without Jonny, really. All Patrick has to do is track down Lucinda and get her to break the spell. He doesn’t even have to liberate an oppressed magical species or find true love along the way. Totally doable.


Patrick has Google on his side after all, and if Lucinda’s going around “blessing” every random dude who cries on her shoulder at a bar there’s no way Pat’s going to be the only person who turned to yahoo answers for help. On the other hand Pat doesn’t have a sentient book to guide him on his journey, or a helpful house fairy. Which sucks, because Patrick hasn’t been able to get the stains out of the wall from the last time he let a caffeinated Shawzy into his house. He’s too afraid to ask mom, cause she’ll just look all disappointed at him and he won’t even be able to follow her instructions properly. Whatever. Patrick’s totally got this.





Which of course means everything goes just about as off plan as is possible considering like, the laws of physics or whatever. Not they've have played a big part in the whole magical fairy scenario anyway.





In the end Patrick decided that the best method of dealing with the obedience curse would just to go about his daily life with the volume on his headphones turned to max, so that any and all commands his douchebag friends made got drowned out by the sweet soothing sounds of classical music. Pat can’t even listen to Yeezy anymore, since instructions given by celebrities to a worldwide audience through mechanical proxies are apparently enough to invoke the curse. So he’s stuck with like, Beethoven and shit. At least it wasn’t enforced listening to the shitty country ballads Jonny liked.


His plan worked so well in the beginning Patrick was impressed with himself Jonny ends up being the fatal flaw, of course, because if Pat isn’t the one fucking up his own life then Jonny’s always next in line.


The headphones were partially a problem too admittedly, because they meant that Pat didn’t notice Jonny waltzing into his condo until it was too late to lock the door and pretend he wasn’t home. So now Patrick’s sitting on the couch, pushing himself further and further into Jonny’s personal space because it’s hilarious when he gets all twitchy and forget how to double jump in Smash Brothers. Pat’s headphones are out, unfortunately, but Jonny’s trash talk is only distinguishable from bird squawking when he’s winning, and he isn’t, so it’s just Pat talking shit to the air as he smashes the shit out of Samus and Jonny glares back in displeasure. Everything was going surprisingly well.


Then Jonny shifts slightly against Pats leg, not in a sexual way or anything, Jonny’s incapable of multitasking off the ice. No way would he be able to keep up even this shitty quality of play while pulling the moves on someone. No way he’d bother for Patrick. Not that he’d need to. When Jonny says jump, Patrick jumps, he isn’t always happy about it, but he knows Jonny only asks for the shit he thinks is actually important. Jonny’s just … distracting. He makes Pat want to do what he asks, makes Patrick want him to approve of his life choices or whatever, to be proud. Pat wants Jonny to always be staring manically at him and smiling like he’s going to break, same as he’d been that first week after the cup, when they were both drunk on champagne and disbelief and each-other’s presence. Or Patrick was anyway. Jonny’s buzz definitely had a lot more to do with his shitty Canadian beer than any real alcohol by the end of the summer, that’s for sure.


Patrick just wants Jonny to always be like that, open and smiling down at Patrick with like he's something important, happy. Pat tends to spend slightly too much of his time just kind of staring at Jonny for it to be really healthy. He hasn’t gotten any complaints about the staring yet today though so, whatever. Jonny's cool with it, or hasn’t noticed, which is basically the same thing.


So anyway, what that ends up meaning is that Pat is waiting on baited breath for Jonny to move, watching in his lips pulling tight around the words “Grab us another beer Kaner.” As part of some stupid chirp or something, but Kaner fucking has to. The pain building up in himself over just the few seconds it took him to try to pause the game, so by the time Pat gives in his fingers are so shaky it takes three tries before he can get eh screen to pause.


Jonny’s still sitting exactly where he was before when Kaner makes it back, two cold ones in hand. Eyebrows quirked questioningly. Patrick can tell he’s fucked that up, now Jonny’s going to try and spend the rest of the night figuring out what’s up with Pat, the determinations brewing in his eyes already. Not good.


“Whatever dude,” Kaner says, trying to pass for someone with control of their bodily functions, “I’m an awesome host.”


“Sure Kaner.” Jonny replies sceptically. He turns back to the screen, and now that Jonny’s broken the eye contact Kaner can finally look away. Any second now. He could totally look away if he wanted to. He just, doesn’t want to. If Jonny didn’t want to get looked at he wouldn’t go around in public, looking like that.


“Hurry up and press start so I can beat you again.”


Kaner does.





Pat’s coping mechanism has always been alcohol. He isn’t proud of it, but it helps him handle the meaninglessness of existence or some shit like that. Life probably. Everything is just so much easier when Patrick doesn’t have to actually deal with it. Like now, when his vision is fuzzy and he’s lying flat out along Jonny’s back. The two of them pressed together after the wrestling match they’d gotten into about who had to take the dinner dishes to the sink. Pat had won, probably, even though Jonny claimed that he was using his Captainly powers to delegate the job to Pat. It hadn’t actually been a command though, so they were both still lying there. Patrick too comfortable to be bothered moving, and Jonny too busy dwelling in his shame at being beaten Pat to be bothered pushing him off.


He takes offence to it eventually though. “Get off me.” And Pat does, immediately, not drawing it out, teasing at Jonny to revel in the victory like he usually would. Not able to.


Jonny notices.




“It’s nothing.” Patrick insists, overly defensive, considering Jonny hasn’t even accused him of anything yet, but try telling that to Pat’s buzz.


Patrick.” Jonathan insists. “C’mon, man. You know you can tell me anything right? Like, whatever. I am totally cool with it. Who—whatever you’re doing.” He cuts himself off there, visibly frustrated with his inability to make any sense to Pat. “I’m here for you, you know?”


The two of them are spread out across the floor now, touching ankle to knee, Kaner’s arm kind of flopped over Jonny’s elbow. It’s nice. Kaner think’s he’d like to stay here like this forever maybe. Him and Jonny against the world. He knows Jonny has his back, and in this space, the room lit only by the flickering TV and the weird lamp over in the corner Jessica bought for him as a dare, with Jonny by his side where he’s meant to be, Kaner feels more than a little bit invincible.


The tequila’s blocking out all the stupid embarrassment and logic and whatever that had kept Pat from telling Jonny about everything that’d happened earlier. He and Jonny don’t usually talk about their hook-ups to each other, not like Pat does with his other bros, but Lucinda wasn’t really a hook-up, and Kaner just can’t think of any reason not to tell Jonny everything when they’re so close together like this.


“Dude, you know when I— last week? When I went out?”


“Yeah Kaner, what about it?” Jonny's voice is quiet, falling softly from his mouth like they’re still teenagers, sharing secrets in the dark.


“I didn’t even, like, dude. I was so drunk you couldn’t even— and then there was this— Out the back of the club I guess? This fairy, right? And we were like, so fucking smashed, she had me up against the wall. In some fucking dirty alley. I was off my face dude but it still like. There was so much glitter, or fairy dust or like, whatever. I’m pretty sure it was the fairy you know? And we were all— Jonny? What’s wrong?”


The faint smile that had been sitting on Jonny’s face since Patrick broke out the second case of beer is fading quickly. Making his face look sort of, soft and like, squishable and stuff. Like, Pat could just lean over him and— and kiss him maybe. Looking like he’d like it if Kaner did. But also sad and stuff which, Jonny does get kind of drunk-sad sometimes sure. Not even Jonny can be as awesome as Kaner all the time.


“You shouldn’t say it like that man, I mean, you aren’t. We’re— It’s okay to be you, you know? So you shouldn’t. Call yourself that or anyone else, I mean.” Jonny says and the effort it’s taking him to not slur his words is practically written on his face with the level of scowl his eyebrows have going.


“Call myself what?”


“Fairy. It’s like. A derogatory word man, but like, it’s cool and you should be cool about it. I mean. It’s okay.” Holy shit that’s Jonny’s Captain Voice, capital letters and all. Jonny is giving Pat the acceptance speech. Jonny thinks Patrick is fucking gay. Which he is admittedly, at least kind of? Pat’s definitely down for dudes at least. But, Jonny thinks that was Patrick coming out to him. Jonny thinks Patrick’s gay. Jonny think’s Patrick’s gay and he got Pat drunk to talk about it and Jesus fucking Christ. Jonny apparently hasn’t picked up on the mental freak-out that Pat’s having literally a foot from his face, because he’s still hasn’t stopped talking.


“—And I know, I mean at least. I’m pretty sure I know, you know? That you are because I mean I know that I am and like it’s kind of, you’re kind of obvious about it I guess? Not in like, a noticeable way though. I’m mostly sure the guy’s haven’t figured out. Except Sharp maybe, he keeps grinning at me. But like— I’m—we’re,” Jonny cleared his throat, “the whole teams here for you dude I swear. I definitely am, because I know you are—would be, here for me. And we’ll all support each other, yeah?” With a hopeful look in his eye, and fuck Patrick was not expecting this. So he maybe panics a little.


“Tazer man, that was not me coming out to you, that was not the point of this talk.” Patrick says, pushing himself up into Jonny’s face, trying to get him to just stop talking about this because Pat cannot deal with it right now, especially if Jonny just kind of admitted was Patrick’s pretty sure he did.


Jonny is less than pleased with that tactic, surprising absolutely no one. His words meld together as his determination to get finished with his speech gets overtaken by confusion.  “What the fuck are you on about Kaner? Its— I know you’re— because I am too, I mean. We’re both like … that. Right?” Patrick is way too drunk to be having this conversation. Or not drunk enough. Whatever, that’s not the real issue here.


“Jonny. No. You’re not listening to me dude. There was an actual fairy. With wings and weird slime and shit.” Kaner can totally tell he isn’t getting through to Jonny though, the guys pulling himself away from Jonny, sliding his arm out from underneath Kaner’s. “Wait man it’s not— stop being mad at me about this okay? You’re shit just like, came out of nowhere, I’m not fucking you round I swear.”


“Oh.” Jonny has finally stopped retreating into, Pat can tell. He might actually listen to what Patrick is actually saying now. “You, you mean, for real?”


“Yeah Jonny, yeah I told you. She like, put a magical curse on me, and now I have to do everything I’m told.”


Except no wait, it turns out Jonny hasn’t suddenly started listening to what Patrick is telling him. That would be way too easy. “You always fucking do this shit Patrick.” Jonny snarls. “You don’t need to lie to me about this, or deflect, or anything just. It’s okay! And it’s okay that I think it’s okay and that’s like, it isn’t a big deal and you don’t have to act like it’s this big thing we’re just keep talking around forever. I know that I— but that doesn’t mean you have to I guess.”


The thing Patrick hates the most about drunken Jonny is he’s a complete fucking idiot. It’s literally the only explanation that Pat can think of for Jonny’s attitude right now. He looks fucking sad for Christ's sake. Like Jonny’s heart was porcelain cup and Patrick just cupped it between his hands and then smashed it to bits it, and now Jonny just needs to cry it all out for a month.


If Jonny was going to be angry with him, then god dammit Patrick's going to get angry back. “She cursed me Jonny! She said some magic words and cursed me and then disappeared like an evil crazy witch lady. I have an actual tangible problem here and you’re not even listening to me.”


“Yeah sure Kaner. A witches curse?” Jonny snorted, continuing his trend of being a bitter fuck because they weren’t talking about shit that wasn’t even relevant. “Blow me.”


And fuck Jonny. Fuck fucking Jonny to fucking hell and back, because this is definitely not the time for that shit. When Jonny kind of maybe just came out to Kaner, and maybe said some vague shit hinting at the possibility of a them, and maybe Kaner definitely likes him back to like sort of actual love levels. Jonny still doesn’t know anything, because he’s refusing to listen to Patrick when he should be, wouldn’t even take Patrick seriously about the curse. Which, double fuck Jonny. Because now Pat can’t stop himself, and Jonny doesn’t know that either.


The longer he stares at Jonny without moving, the louder the ringing in his ears gets. Pressure building up inside Pat’s skull and around his bones. Pulling him toward Jonny now like magic, prickles of pain running up his spine. Which makes sense, because it’s definitely the magic that’s doing it, since goddamn Jonny apparently decided to take Pat’s insistence that he was magically compelled to do anything everyone told him too as an invitation to tell Patrick to do things. Which it wasn’t.


Patrick isn’t Ella, he doesn’t have a kingdom to save. It isn’t going to kill anyone if he lets himself go down on Jonny like the magic is so egregiously pushing him to. Pat doesn’t even want to be holding out against the compulsion to go straight for Jonny’s dick, the fact that he’s managed it for such a long time is probably more attributable to the frequency of the desire before he lost control of his body. That’s what it comes down to for Patrick in the end. He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to. And based on the conversation he and Jonny have been talking around all night. Jonny wants him to do everything he just unwittingly brought down on them both too.


Jonny told Patrick to do it, so he does. It’s simple as that.


It doesn’t take much effort to get Jonny on board with the program, by which Patrick means that by the time his hand touches Jonny’s zipper he’s already bucking up into Pat’s grip. Throwing himself down on Patrick, who’s still mostly laid out on the floor from back before their tense heart-to-heart. The times when Pat had spent his nights imagining sucking Jonny off even fantasy-Jonny needed some convincing, Patrick whining and wheedling him into doing to the deed with him, a little alcohol wasn’t enough to make Jonny like Patrick back even in Pat’s imagination. His fantasies are definitely going to be changing to reflect this awesome new reality. The look of desire on Jonny’s face for instance? Totally in.


“God Pat, yes.” Patrick could fucking live in the way Jonny’s moaning his name right now. But he cuts himself off, unfortunately, before he can start actively begging for Pat. It does mean he’s kissing Pat now, tongue fucking up into Pat’s mouth, biting lightly on his bottom lip. Like a challenge. Pat’s always been up for whatever Jonny’s throwing down, and if the shudder Jonny makes when Pat bites back harder is any indicator, the fight is definitely something Jonny appreciates in a lay.


Then Jonny slides a hand up the front of Patrick’s shirt to tweak his nipple and motherfucker this is officially the second best thing that’s ever happened to Pat.


It doesn’t last though, it can’t. Even with Jonny pulling Patrick’s against him with his arm, radiating insane heat through Patrick’s rucked up shirt, he can’t keep it going. Pat’s been working Jonny’s dick the whole time, running his hand up and down it through his briefs, feeling the curve of it with his hand. But it isn’t enough to bring down the ringing feeling in his skull. Pat’s stomach is starting to feel like it’s on fire, and not in a good way.


It would have been nice maybe, to have their first time like that. Slow and soft, Jonny’s needy breath blowing softly into Patrick’s mouth, or along his neck. Working themselves up so much for it that they can’t move afterward, boneless and twined together on Jonny’s bed, or his maybe. Definitely a bed would have been nice. The floor is awesome too though in all honesty. Pat’s always held by the general rule that anywhere Jonny is that Pat gets to be as well is awesome. Pat had been maybe saving the making-love fantasies up for when he’d done something really amazing. When he got the game six overtime goal for the cup, he’d let himself come thinking about Jonny holding him after the fucking and telling Pat that he loved him.


Patrick can hardly think over the pressure in his head, the physical sensation of disobeying weighing down his limbs.  So that’s not going to be an option for tonight. Next time maybe, if Jonny hasn’t come to his senses before then. Pat’s vision starts fading out, yellow stars appearing in the corners of his eyes, and that is officially more of this freaky curse punishment than Pat can take, so he breaks his mouth off from Jonny’s and goes straight for the main event. Not even stopping to let Jonny get anymore undressed. He ghosts his mouth over Jonny for a moment, before glancing up at him. He looks fucking wrecked. Mouth swollen and hanging open, his eyes tracking the movement of Kaner’s tongue as it drags across his bottom lip.


“God. Just fucking suck me off already Pat.” Trust Jonny to be angry at the guy who’s about the give him a blowie. Still, his wish is Pat’s command. Literally, and Patrick can’t stop himself from mouthing at the head of Jonny’s dick. Is barely even aware of his actions through the overwhelming joy at doing what Jonny told him. The rush of adrenalin that comes after the pain is the almost as good as the noise Jonny makes when Patrick twists his fingers around the base of Jonny’s cock.


Even that isn’t enough for Jonny though, he’s just as mouthy as Patrick had imagined after all. Except that when it’s happening now, in real life, Pat can’t make him work for it. When Jonny pants out, “Faster” as Pat’s mouth slides along the length of his dick he doesn’t get to look up and Jonny and do exactly the opposite of what he wants. Doesn’t tease it out for even longer just to mess Jonny up a little. He just bobs his head again, Jonny’s voice guiding him through.


“You like that don’t you Pat? Like me forcing my dick down your throat don’t you? I bet you wish I’d fucking choke you on it don’t you. Jesus, I would. You’re fucking made for this Kaner, made to take it from me. Your fucking mouth.”


Oh fuck yeah, Pat wants to deep throat him. Probably. He’s definitely going to do it, that’s for sure.


“That’s right Kaner,” Jonny tugs his hair, close to the roots, and the pull against his skull goes straight to Pat’s dick.


“Fucking take it from me Pat.” So Kaner does, fucking his mouth down onto Jonny’s dick. Pushing past the burn in his throat and actively choking on it. Spit starts leaking out of his mouth along the sides of Jonny’s shaft. Patrick has to coordinate each breath to keep the air going with Jonny shoving himself down Pat’s throat, and he’s pretty sure he’s crying now, real tears rolling down his face. Jonny’s cock fucking twitches in Kaner’s mouth whenever he hits the base of his dick, and Pat makes use of his tongue to drag patterns against the length of Jonny each time he pulls himself off.


Jonny looks down at him then, pushing himself up with his elbows and staring right at Patrick. His fucking fringe stuck against his forehead with sweat. Patrick wants to like, push it back out off of his face, treasure him or whatever. Kaner’s dick twitches in his pants and he reaches a hand down to rearrange himself, still palming at Jonny’s balls with the other. Then Pat shoves himself down onto Jonny a little too far, Jonny’s dick filling his throat past comfortable, forcing Pat to whimper around him and screw up his forehead. It shifts Pat’s face into the light enough that Jonny must be able to make out the tear tracks on the sides of Patrick’s face. Pat’s maybe been crying like, a whole lot. It’s hard not to though, Jonny’s moaning pushing him down further and harder and faster.


Turns out Jonny isn’t actually the kind of guy who gets off on choking those gracious enough to go down on him. Patrick was apparently a special case, despite the stream of absolute filth he’d been muttering the whole way through. Because once he realizes what the tear track are he pulls himself out of Patricks mouth as fast as he can, trying to get away. Except Pat actually physically can’t make himself stop this blowjob now that he’s started it.


“Pat, stop!” Great, Jonny’s gone back to freaked out again. “The fuck are you doing? Why are you crying? Holy shit man, why didn’t you fucking do something? Why would you let me— if you were— if you hated it so much you fucking cried?” Jonny's almost crying now even, his dick’s gone from hard to soft faster than Pat had even thought was possible.


“Because you told me to.” Pat replies, because the truth is the only answer you should be giving in negotiations about this stuff.


“That’s it? You’re fucking insane Patrick. If it wasn’t okay you need to tell me, why did you even fucking— We should have talked about this beforehand. Look Pat,” Jonny stops the hand he’d had reaching towards Pat’s cheek a second before it could touch him. His movements more cautious than Pat can remember ever seeing him before, there are probably babies Jonny’s been less kind to than the way he’s looking at Patrick right now. “You don’t have to do everything I tell you to okay? It’s definitely not okay that you thought you did.”


“But I do. I told you—”


“No you don’t Kaner okay, its not like you were actually—” Jonny’s eyes bulged out in terror, “Oh fuck Pat. Kaner— Pat, Patrick, tell me that you didn’t just go down on me because of a witches curse.”


“I didn’t just go down on you because of a witches curse,” Patrick lies.


The relief on Jonny’s face only lasts a second before the emotions start sliding off his face like ice down a window. Till all Patrick can see on him is an overwhelming horror.


“Fuck Kaner,” Jonny’s eyes are screwed shut, like he can’t even bare to look at Patrick anymore. Pat knows his eyes must be puffy and bloodshot from crying. Bruised red lips, hair sticking out ridiculously. He can see the realisation dawning on Jonny, could pinpoint the exact second when he realised that Patrick hadn’t even touched him in the beginning until Jonny told him to, “Tell me that you just went down on me because of a witches curse.”


Patrick looks up at Jonny, cheeks starting to itch where the tear trails on his cheeks are drying out. His voice is shaky when as he mimics the words back, there’s no way this can will end well. “I just went down on you because of a witches curse.”


Jonny flinches, and Pat can see there are specks of blood welling in his palms where he’s pushing his fingernails in too hard. This whole encounter is officially going on top of Kaner’s Worst Mid-Blowjob Conversations Ever list. Right above the time during summer break when he was sixteen, where he had to talk Jackie out of accidentally burning down the house down with her cooking over the phone as a guy went down at him. He really just wants to go back to having sex with Jonny right now, and the jumping right into it strategy had totally prevented any more soul-searching talks last time, even if that had technically been against Kaner’s will. Jonny was drooping now from the lack of Pat’s mouth on his balls, but Patrick could totally fix that.


He’d barely gotten his hands on Jonny’s dick again though before Jonny’s spoke again. “No Pat. You don’t have to okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I.” God Jonny was almost crying, Kaner could fucking hear the tremor in his voice. Jonny was not okay, and blowjobs were apparently not going to be enough to fix this problem. “You don’t have to— Don’t touch me.”


“The fuck dude, you totally want me to blow you. This is a great idea.”


“No Kaner, it’s not you— God I told you to. I told you to and you couldn’t even say no.” Jonny’s being insane again, not even making sense, like of course Pat wants him, how could he not, has he not been paying attention for the past like, forever?


“I want to—“


“No Pat, no you don’t. I know you don’t. I knew that anyway, and I didn’t fucking stop to question it. I mean, just because I wanted it doesn’t mean you do. Just— Fuck Pat I’m fucking sorry.” Then Jonny fucking flees, not letting Pat say anything again, not even stopping to grab his coat on the way out like the fucking idiot he is.


Patrick throws himself onto the couch and groans into the cushion. Fucking Jonny.





Pat isn’t any more ready to deal with that clusterfuck by two in the morning, our three. He passes out for a couple of minutes at some point, not entirely sure when, or for how long. But by seven his burgeoning sobriety is officially being overtaken by sleep deprivation based insanity and all Patrick can think about is stupid fucking Jonny and his perfect fucking dick and how goddamn stupid he is.


There’s no doubt that Jonny is the most emotionally stunted out of the two of them. Which means that Patrick is going to have to be the guy who mans up and forces them to deal with this shit. Jonny definitely isn’t going to want to after all.


Or at least, that’s the thought process a Pat uses to justify himself when he sneaks into Jonny’s house and passes out on his couch while the dude’s out for a run. “It’s a familiar scenario at least, something Patrick had thought would maybe comfort Jonny, get them mirroring the hundred other times this must have happened before they let shit get weird. His awkward, deer in the headlights response lets Pat know that he’s managed just about the opposite. Whatever, Jonny can deal.


“Pat. Why the hell are you in my house?”


“Because,” Patrick drawls “I know you wouldn’t have let me in if I’d have just come round while you were home and knocked on the door.”


Jonny shuffles a little, not bothering with a rebuttal. They both know it’s the truth. That’s how Jonny deals with people and feelings and shit. Avoidance, if he can’t manage not to get involved at all. So Kaner’s aware of how much of himself Jonny must have been putting on the line to even mention anything at all last night. It makes him wince a little to think of how terribly it must have gone from Jonny’s point of view. But that’s why Pats here now, to make everything okay again. Better even, if all goes to plan.


Kaner’s the one who breaks the silence in the end. “So … Last night … happened.”


Jonny flinches, the shadows on his face darken as he tips his gaze off of Patrick and down onto the floor. Not exactly the response Pat was aiming for there. In fact it’s possible he was looking for Jonny to smile at him in that really dumbstruck way he had last night and then like, throw Patrick down on the nearest flat surface and ravish him. He should be so lucky.


What he gets instead is Jonny hesitantly asking, “Do we really have to talk about this.”


“Yeah Tazer.” Pat gestures to the rest of the sofa, inviting Jonny to sit down, not that he should have to. It ishis house after all. “We probably do, I’d say.”


“Right.” Jonny sits, his movements tense and calculated. He’s obviously trying as hard as he can not to make any sudden movements, which Pat would probably appreciate if last night had actually been as awful for him as Jonny’s assuming it was, but in reality it’s just kind of annoying. Jonny bracing him for the blow that Pat isn’t going to hit him with just makes Patrick feel awful.


“I don’t think you really get what happened last night dude. Like, I know you think—” Patrick starts, but Jonny interrupts before he can even really gets going talking in a way that has Patrick feeling bad about how messed up this whole thing has made him. Patrick wants to just shake him and yell at him that it totally isn’t either of their faults, it’s Lucinda’s. Instead he sits there and lets Jonny runs himself out of steam, not even butting in to tell Jonny why his opinions are so shit like he would in less delicate circumstances. Emotional maturity is hard.


“Dude, I’m so fucking sorry, I mean. That was, I did a shitty thing okay, and I’m so sorry for it and it’s— I’m cool with you doing, whatever, anything you need to. And like, I’m totally willing to help. So that you can like, be okay again.”


“Dude. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Kaner explains, “It’s cool. I mean, true, you did like— I couldn’t not you know?” Jonny’s pathetic expression tells Pat that he most definitely does know. “But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to yeah?”


“It what?”


Jonny’s confused face is adorable really. Pat wishes he could just lean over and lick away the lines that appear on his forehead, or not, if that would be weird or whatever. Patrick’s still working to make that an option in the long run though, so he keeps talking.


“Like, I really—” Patricks definitely sure he’s blushing right now, which isn’t that embarrassing, because he knows Jonny totally wants some of his jelly. Thinking that just makes his face cheeks hotter though, so he resolves not to notice it anymore, and just hopes that it’ll go away and he’ll stop looking like a tomato.


“I really do actually like you even without the—” Patrick makes a couple of vague hand gestures, which probably don’t do much to communicate the idea of the magic spell that Pat was trying to communicate. So he tries words again, like his mom’s always telling him to. “The curse, that is. I’m actually kind of. A little bit, in love with you? I guess. So that’s, that’s totally cool. And like, with the blowjob and all?” Kaner reaches up the back of his neck with his hand, watching the clock tick a reminder to not stare at Jonny’s face like a lunatic. “That was definitely not something that I didn’t want, I mean. I’d— I’d definitely have done that without the spell. Pretty much any time after rookie year? Technically. I guess.”


Pat’s aware that his voice keeps lifting to make perfectly normal sentences into questions, but, it’s not as though this isn’t all some huge love confession designed for Jonny’s approval, so Patrick’s magnanimous enough to ignore it.


“You, you really, yeah?” Jonny’s actually started to look hopeful again, it’s a fucking mirror of how this whole mess had begun last night. Good. Pat is definitely looking for a repeat of the first event, that’s for sure. “You’re okay then, with what happened?”


“Yeah” Patrick breathes, sliding an arm up the back of the couch so he can lean forward and kiss Jonny again. It’s just as perfect as it has been every other time. Jonny reacts slowly, pulling Patrick towards him at the same time he leans back, manoeuvring the two of them so that Jonny has Pat spread out on top of him. While Patrick just grabs onto as much of Jonny as he can, trying to meld them together with the force of his hands alone.


“God Pat, I want— I want you to, please.” Patrick could get used to the way Jonny saying his name, like it’s a prayer, something special he holds inside himself.


So he slides his body down Jonny’s slightly to mouth at Jonny’s neck. Patrick’s maybe watched him make out with girls in clubs enough in a totally non-creepy fashion that he can tell exactly what Jonny likes in a make out session.  


It takes a moment for Pat to realize that Jonny’s stopped grinding half-heartedly against him though, and when Patrick tilts his head up to catch his eye Jonny has the same expression on his face as he had the last time he’d stopped them.


“Jonny?” Patrick asks, because Jesus if they’re going to have to have the feelings talk again Pat’s going to need shots. Lots of them. Jonny’s buying, Pat decides. The emotional awareness is totally his fault, and it isn’t as though he can’t afford it. “What’s wrong?”


“I almost did it again. Fuck Pat,” Jonny starts, looking pained, which he wouldn’t have to if he’d just let Patrick go down on him. “I, I won’t. I’m not having sex with you like this okay?”


“The fuck Jonny? C’mon.” Patrick whines. This is totally not the moment for Jonny’s straight dude crisis to come up or whatever. He’s already gotten half a blowjob. Pat totally deserves something for managing to get them both this far. “We both want this dude. Don’t pussy out now.”


Pat can’t actually get himself any closer to Jonny than they are right now without a dick going up someone’s ass. But if he could make that happen, he totally would.


“I’m not going to fuck you Pat,”


Patrick thinks he might actually cry. His life is so unfair.


“—Until we get that fucking curse off you okay.”


“Dude, c’mon, I totally want this. You totally want this too” Jonny was trying to talk his way out of Pat’s pants. The loser really didn’t have any game to speak of. “We both know that, so it’s okay.”


“No.” Jonny wraps a hand around Patrick’s chin, forcing him to keep eye contact, but not able (or willing) to stop how Pat’s grinding against his leg. “I’m not going to fuck you unless I can know that you want it okay? If I can’t be absolutely sure you want this then no way. I’m not willing to risk it— risk you like that.”


It’s totally unfair that Jonny gets to be the ridiculously attractive and chivalrous dude in Patrick’s fantasies and reality. Pat’s way to used to listening to Jonny to even think about not agreeing when he says it with that tone. It makes sense admittedly, but Pat doesn’t really think there’s anything Jonny wants that Pat wouldn’t be able to like just because of how into it Jonny got.


Besides, he has no idea how to break the spell anyway, it might take months, it might never happen. Jonny totally shuts Pat down when he tries to explain that though.


“Don’t worry” Jonny says, all confident, like he wasn’t up against some unknowable powerful magical fairy with a vindictive streak. “I’ll fix it.”


“Oh yeah, Jonny?” Pat replies. “If the whole Internet couldn’t figure out how to fix it, why are you assuming you’ll be able to?”


Jonny smirks. “I’m highly motivated.” His hand ghosts down Pat’s arm, pulling against his hair but not close enough to actually touch skin. Then Jonny grabs Patrick’s wrist, rolling them over carefully so that he’s pressing Patrick down into the sectional. He can probably fucking feel the goose bumps that have come up on Patrick’s skin. Jonny never fucking plays fair.


“Seriously Pat, I’ve got you.”


After Jonny gets off Patrick doesn’t manage to pull himself up from the couch until he hears the shower start up. Fucking Jonny.





Apparently when Patrick heard, “No fucking,” what Jonny actually meant was “I refuse to even let you make out with me shirtless,” which sucks, and is totally ridiculous besides. He and Pat haven’t even gotten any further than first base in days. It’s hard to focus on being grateful that Jonny’s been running interference between him and everyone else to stop this obedience shit from getting out. Jonny ends up going to the coaches with some shit about how Pat needed rest or whatever to prevent a recurrence of the wrist injury, so they’ve said to just focus on recovery. Pat isn’t thanking Jonny for any of that though, on the grounds that there could totally be orgasms all the time if it weren’t for his informed consent shtick. At least when Erica or Jackie next calls him to complain about their annoying significant others he can feel superior in his knowledge that Jonny is the most polite, conscientious boyfriend ever, even to the detriment of his own (but more importantly Pat’s) libido. Because they’re totally boyfriends. Jonny made that abundantly clear the first time Pat had joked about going to a bar to get some without him.


At least Jonny’s given Patrick the go ahead to throw away all the shitty yellow Gatorade in the fridge while he’s gone. Or, well. What Jonny had said was “Do you mind not fucking any of my shit up while I’m gone for once?” as he walked out of the door to practice, but Patrick knows how to read between the lines.





Jonny does actually manage to get the spell unstuck from Patrick, in under a week. Way sooner than Pat had thought would be possible. He was in the middle of a leisurely jerk off session in Jonny’s bed when the green slime comes back. The resultant stains serve Jonny right for not just screwing Pat, both the slime and … not slime ones. Whatever, Pat never claimed to have any shame.


Jonny starts ordering him around the moment he gets through the door that day. Telling Kaner to fetch this and sing that. The longer Patrick stands unmoving in front of him, the wider Jonny’s smile gets.


“Dance, Patty.” Jonny orders.


“Fuck you dude, I do what I want.” Kaner shoots back, mentally going over all the shit he and Jonny are going to get to do now that Jonny’s got no excuse to hold them back. It Turns out Jonny’s stare is dead-eyed enough that even the “Great Fairy Lucinda” quails before it’s might. Patricks so proud of his boyfriend that he definitely isn’t going to complain about how creepy Jonny is for at least a day in exchange. And that’s on top of all the hot monkey sex Jonny’s going to be getting.


It does mean that when Patrick finally gets slammed down onto Jonny’s bed to have his dick sucked the mattress’ stitching is itching against his back. Kaner’s willing to take one for the team and ignore that for the sake of blowjobs though.


The moment when Pat finally gets Jonny’s dick inside of his mouth is pretty great too. Not that he thought Jonny would let it be bad or anything. But as a concept it was the kind of shit Patrick’s spent hours lamenting over with his sisters, since none of them believed real life could be as good as some of Jackie’s harlequin romance novels. Real people shouldn’t be allowed to make Patrick love them when he’s got his finger up their asshole. Whatever, Patrick guesses Jonny has always been a little special.





“I like you, dude.” Jonny admits. One arm curled around Pat’s naked ass, and the other clutching at his curls.


“Yeah man? Me too.”


“Good.” Jonny says, like he thinks Patrick needed his validation or whatever. He doesn’t, Pat knows he’s way too awesome for Jonny to resist. “Now go get me a fucking washcloth.”


“We’re in your apartment, loser.” Pat argues, words falling way short of his desired level of intimidation. Not even getting a blink out of Jonny, who just stays lying there. Patrick can see that he's succumbing to drowsiness though. So Kaner stretches himself out along Jonny's bed, rolls his head to try and work the kink out of his neck. There's come drying in streak across both of them, and if Pat's cleaning up for himself anyway boyfriend etiguette stipulates that he do it for Jonny too.

So Patrick picks himself up off the bed, brushing a kiss against Jonny’s half open mouth, and does as he’s told.