these poems, she said

A tiny birthday gift for roga (who has always given *me* the nicest compliments, and made my little corner of hockey/junior league fandom brighter).

"This stupid show,” Patrick groans, tipping over sideways and burying his face in the couch cushions. “Ugh, do we have to meet Sharpy for supper? I’d rather just watch the next episode.”

Jonny snorts. “Here,” he says, digging his phone out of his pocket and tossing it at Patrick’s head. “You wanna call him?”

Patrick sighs. “No, he gave me grief for like a month the last time I cancelled on him.”

Jonny stands up and steps closer, holding out a hand to pull Patrick upright. “We can watch one more later tonight, if you want.”

“Good,” Patrick says, taking Jonny’s hand and letting himself be pulled up, into Jonny’s chest. “I need to know what happens with Sasha. Just – what was Makeyev thinking, oh my god, there is no one else on that whole team that deserves to take Yegor’s spot more.” He rubs his face against Jonny’s sweatshirt.

Jonny huffs out a breath and slides one hand over Patrick’s back. “No, come on,” he says. “That isn’t what it’s about, really.”

Patrick hums under his breath. “Hmm?”

“Deserving it or not,” Jonny says. “It’s about, I don’t know – getting in Kislyak’s head, right? Building trust. Asking your players for more.”

Patrick hums again. “I still like Sasha the best,” he says. “And he did deserve it more, no matter what you say.”

Jonny shrugs. “Maybe.”

The phone beeps. “That’ll be Sharpy,” Patrick says, pulling back. “You ready to head out?”

“Yeah,” Jonny says. He ducks forward and presses his lips to Patrick’s for a brief instant before dropping his arms. “Let’s go. Sooner we leave the sooner we can come back, right?”

Patrick laughs. “Yep,” he says. “Exactly.”