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December 22, 1335
“Jonathan Gilbert Toews, as Knight proper of this great Kingdom, may you live by the sword, and be a man of your oath. As a token of our appreciation of the services you have rendered and will continue to render to us, we grant thee these lands and titles.”
The great hall though teeming with every man, woman and child of the castle was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. It was the most special occasion in living memory for those in attendance, their lord and master was being knighted by the King himself. No one present had ever seen a knighting in person. The king’s presence in their midst was an awe-inspiring moment. They had collectively held their breaths as the ceremony took place.
Once the King passed the sword symbolically over his kneeling subject’s shoulder’s and announced, “I now pronounce thee, Sir Jonathan of Sherwood.”
The crowd erupted in cheers. Sir Jonathan stood upon the King’s request and kissed his gloved hand. Afterwards, barely able to contain his joy he cheerfully grasped arms with his brother David and kissed his mother on the cheeks.
December 22, 2018
Patrick left the United Centre after the final game before the Hawks’ few days off for Christmas. He was looking forward to a few days of being at home alone, watching Christmas movies and eating junk food. He might even catch up on sleep and maybe give himself some self-love. He had finally pulled the trigger this year and told his family he wouldn’t be coming home to Buffalo for the usual two- or three-day Christmas break. His mom sounded hurt on the phone, but he had resisted feeling guilty and giving in. He didn’t give in when she’d put his dad on the phone to convince him to come or offer for them to join him in Chicago, if it was so important for you to stay there. The guilt had worn off once he got off the phone with them, and he knows he did the right thing. He loves his family and yeah it will be weird to spend the first Christmas of his life without them, but this is what adulthood was all about, right? Making the hard decisions. Prioritizing his own mental health and wellbeing, avoiding the burden being falsely cheerful just to prevent alarming his family.
So now he’s free to go to his own home, and officially kickstart his holiday. The Sharp’s are in town and will insist he come over for Christmas dinner at least, and he’s ok with that. It’ll be fun to open presents and drink hot chocolate with Maddie, but Sharpy won’t bug him about why he’s not drinking or why he hasn’t smiled in hours or why he’s spacing out and looking sad, because Sharpy knows. He knows about Patrick’s breakup with Mark, knows about the fallout of Patrick’s discovery, that his secret boyfriend of over a year had been cheating on him. Sharpy had been the only person to see him cry over it, the anger and betrayal choking him up. He’d been there silent and non-judgmental when Patrick had only been able to get out lumpy hiccups, his frustration and anger streaming scalding hot down his cheeks. Sharpy was also the only true friend brave enough to tell him, the guy he’d been in love with, the guy he’d been feeling guilty about hiding from the world because he wasn’t “out” to the public, was a famed puck buddy, screwing a significant number of the league's finest for money.
It was a cold and snowy night and Chicago was the picture of a festive American city. The streets crowded with folks running on adrenaline to finish their last-minute shopping and storefronts urging consumerism fervor with the use of excessive decor and lights.
Patrick’s drive home from the arena was uneventful and when he pulled into his building’s underground parking, his mind was entirely on his plans to binge Better Call Saul. He reversed his hummer into his parking spot, half distracted now by the sports news on the radio, the DJ spouting off Lebron’s stats from today’s game. He felt a bump and the scratch of metal on metal. He hit something! Oh, fuck he definitely hit something. He immediately stepped on the brake and put the car in park. Jolt of adrenaline hit him so hard his heart felt like it was about to thump out of his chest. He squinted through the rearview mirror to see what he could’ve possibly hit. It was not another car obviously. He wouldn’t have just backed into a car parked in his spot. Not a person. Please God no!
He breathed “fuck, fuck, fuck” to himself, opened the door and got out.
“Damned drone!” was the first thing he heard when he got to the back of the car to see what he could only assume was a crushed biker. Did he hit a drone? That was preferable to hitting someone. He could pay for a fucking drone, but if he hurt an actual person? He didn’t get the chance to take that thought further when a man in a metal suit, stood up from his knees and in one swift moment leveled his sword against Patrick’s throat.
Patrick was so startled he let out a quick yip and jumped three feet in the air. He had been expecting the worst, which is to say a bleeding and mangled bike messenger, or a homeless man, or best case scenario a construction pylon but being held at sword point by a guy in a metal suit, no, in a medieval knight’s costume had not been anywhere on his list.
“Woah. Easy man” Patrick put both hands up, palms facing the guy in a universal gesture of surrender. The nut job with the sword didn’t look familiar but Patrick had seen his share of strange fans to know this guy could have been a someone on the edge who's got it into his head to ambush Patrick Kane when he was alone by his car. How did he get in here? The gravity of the situation dawned on Patrick as he cast his eyes around the underground parking lot. There was no one else he could draw into de-escalating the situation. Shit.
The costumed man rubbed at his head with the hand that wasn’t holding his sword to Patrick’s throat.
“What is this beast that tried to crush my bones?” He asked in a deep voice. “What has the crone done?”
Yep, he was for sure on the disturbed side. Patrick had a split second’s thought that the man may be an actor, an extra on some scene being shot nearby. But who in their right mind would be in central Chicago on a freezing and snowy night wearing full metal whatever? Actor’s aren’t stupid. Even the ones that go full method like Christian Bale have more common sense than to try something like this.
“Um” Patrick didn’t know how to talk this guy off the ledge. And he totally had the wide eyes and bewildered look of someone who was on a mental ledge and about to jump off for sure. His eyes erratically scanned the parking lot as if he’d never seen a row of perfectly parked cars before. His hand rubbed his head harder than before. Shit! What if he just caused this random guy a serious head injury?
“Tell me where I am Sir, for this is certainly not my village!” he yelled at Patrick.
Patrick doesn’t what to think or say at this point.
He slowly lowers his hands and making sure he keeps his eyes on the guy, reaches his hand into his pocket. Fuck it! He left his phone in the car.
He decides the best thing to do, until at least the guy lets him go and he can get to his phone is to play along and answer his questions.
“You’re in Chicago. I, uh, didn’t see you there when I backed into my parking spot” he said, making sure to keep his eyes focused on the guy’s face. It was a nice face.
“I do not know this Chicago. Pray, how far is it from Greenwich?”
“I’m not sure.” Patrick told the truth. Greenwich might be a suburb he’s never heard of, or maybe an institution. Yeah, an institution was the most likely answer. This guy’s probably an escapee that just needs to return it.
“Is Greenwich your home?” he asked, hoping to get some answer at least.
“Yes indeed,” said the guy and drew back his sword fast. Patrick let go of a tension filled breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Sir Jonathan Gilbert Toews of Greenwich at your service.” He bowed to Patrick.
“Uhhh, Patrick Timothy Kane the second, of uh, Chicago.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance Sir Patrick. I am confused as you see, I have found myself in your neck of the woods without the wherewithal to know how I came to be here. The old crone was in the midst of informing me I had to perform a quest and suddenly there was light and I was knocked over by this hideous beast” he rapped the handle of his sword against the metal body of the hummer and jumped back at the noise the connection made. He sheathed his sword.
“Nice to meet you too” said Patrick, relieved at the sudden peaceful turn of this weird encounter. He didn’t understand much of what the guy was getting at, but him putting away his sword had to be a good thing. “Are you hurt?” He asked since he’d likely knocked the guy back with his car a bit.
And as the words were leaving his mouth, the significance of what it would mean if he was really hurt. The possible lawsuits and media circus of Patrick Kane hitting a pedestrian with his car flooded his head. Double fucking fuck! This was so not what he needed this Christmas of all Christmases!
At Patrick’s question, the guy - Jonathan’s hands went back his head, rubbing at his forehead. “I believe this metal box knocked me about, my head is throbbing with pain,” his statement was matter of fact, but Patrick couldn’t help but hear it as accusatory.
Patrick knows he needs to control the situation fast. Charming the guy with his local sports hero schtick was out of the question, since he didn't seem to have a clue who Patrick was. The best thing to do would be to offer help, be friendly and just generally discourage him from talking to people about what happened here. At least until he gets a chance to get ahead of the situation and talk to PR and his agent.
“Hey, I have some painkillers at my place. Why don’t we go up together? You can have some water too, I’m sure it’ll help” he said, hoping he won’t regret asking a stranger up to his place, even if he’s the one who’s trying to limit the damage by keeping the guy from running off to blab about his encounter with Patrick Kane.
Patrick’s relieved when Jonathan nods his head in agreement. He doesn't miss the wince that fleets across Jonathan’s face at the movement. Patrick quickly grabs his cell phone and keys from the car and lock it before leading the way to the elevators. Jonathan follows, unsteady and staggering on his feet. His metal suit makes the weirdest noise Patrick’s ever heard. Fitting soundtrack to a weird ass night.
They take the elevator up to his floor. Jonathan is evidently dizzy. He leans his head against one wall of the elevator, his hands plastered to the same wall behind him. He also blinks his eyes as if struggling to bear the light.
“What is this box? And how is it so bright in here?” he asks bewildered. Patrick doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stares intently at the digital display of the count up to his floor.
Once they arrive on his floor, Patrick lets them into this condo and tells Jonathan to make himself at home in the Kitchen and goes in search of extra strong Tylenol.
Twenty minutes later, after Patrick had convinced the guy to take the offered pills, having had to explain it was medicine and yes, made by doctors and approved of by the church. Yes, the Pope knew of Tylenol, and no, the pills he’d pulled out of a strange vial were not a result of witchcraft - he was ready to seriously consider Jonathan’s story that he was a Knight from 14th century England.
His reaction to looking out of the ceiling to floor windows of Patrick’s high rise building itself was enough to put the best actors in Hollywood to shame, if he was faking it.
“What do you mean we are 300 feet above ground!” he had shouted as Patrick struggled to explain what an elevator is and how they had taken one to get up to his floor.
“This is a sky house. We are in a house in the sky,” the guy had taken to muttering to himself as he stood staring out at the dark lake in the distance and the miniscule moving lights of cars on the road below, before demanding Patrick explain what they were.
Patrick could see the guy really believed what he was telling him about being a Knight. Though it seemed crazy to think, he didn’t really get an ‘off’ vibe from him like wasn’t in touch with reality or something. But Patrick had never been around people who suffered from illusions or delusions, as far as he knew. His only reference for people who were having a break from reality were TV Shows and movies. And Jonathan certainly didn’t act like the over the top characters he’d seen before.
He tried to think of historical questions to ask, to see if he was telling the truth. Who was he kidding? He barely scraped by to graduate high school. His entire focus had been on hockey back then, and as a rising star, no one had pressured him to learn more than what he needed to know to pass his exams. Hell, he hardly knew American history, let alone enough European history to quiz this guy.
“So, are you like a soldier?” he gestured up and down at Jonatha’s outfit “...the armour?”
“I am Knight, good Sir,” came the stiff response. Patrick sensed a bit of pride there. Suppose this would be like if someone asked him if he was a gym rat for being fit instead of recognizing him as a professional athlete. Knights might be like pro soldiers. He’s pretty sure he’s heard that before. What came out of his mouth was, “right. Knight. Like in chess.”
Jonathan’s baffled “pardon?” answered his question. Knight but not like in chess, like the real deal.
“Never mind,” Patrick asked himself why he’d even brought up chess. Just like history it was not a subject he knew much about.
“Is it heavy, this armour stuff? I have to wear something similar for my job, as protective gear. I’ll show it to you sometime.” Show him when? Why? Patrick wasn’t even sure what was going with him at this point. Total case of verbal diarrhea.
Almost killing a man in an iron suit who thinks he’s a time traveler from the middle ages can be as shocking an experience as any but Patrick’s reaction was a bit much even then. Ah yes, ever the sucker for a tall and sturdy man (at least from what he can infer with the armour still on), he was spewing random shit because he found the weirdo attractive. Patrick Kane, you horny son of a bitch. He was so judging himself.
“I’m accustomed to it, I’ve been wearing armour since my days as a squire. The chain mail’s the heaviest bit anyhow” Jonathan said indicating the balaclava-like covering made of metal links he wore over his head and down to his shoulders.
“You can take the armour off if you like,” said Patrick, “I mean, if it's like outerwear, you don’t need it in here.”
Getting Jonathan to relax was still Patrick’s secret agenda for inviting him up to his condo anyway. Until he can be truly sure of his origin and intentions, he needs to keep him away from leaking the incident in the parking lot to tabloids or social media. One of the worst things that could happen over this Christmas season would be headlines proclaiming Patrick Kane was at it again, out of control and running down poor innocent pedestrians with his hummer. So, until Patrick can figure out how to handle the Knight situation, distracting Jonathan into staying at this place was his best bet.
“I suppose if you’re not from here, you don’t have somewhere to stay?” he asked.
“No, I do not. I have not even considered where I would sleep the night, until I can find the crone and return home,”
“You can spend the night here if you like. I have no other plans tonight and it's late and very cold out there”
“Why thank you Sir”
“Patrick,” he reminded him of his name.
“I shall be happy to avail myself of your hospitality and rest my weary and rather confused bones. I am already in your debt for the medicine you provided, I believe my head pain has rather vanished”
“Ok, so you’ll need a change of clothes, and a shower I guess.”
Jonathan’s blank stare told Patrick he hadn’t understood much of what was being offered.
“Follow me,” he said as he made his way to the guest bedroom’s ensuite bathroom.
Jonathan followed quietly though he made sure to remove and place his sword by the shoe closet near the entrance of the condo.
“You can remove your armour here and take a shower, I mean wash up or like take a bath. I’ll be back with towels and change of clothes”. Patrick left Jonathan in the bathroom leaving the door half closed and walked back to his bedroom to get a t-shirt and sweats from his closet. He grabbed the biggest size he could find in both and grabbed some extra towels from the hall closet on his way back.
He knocked on the bathroom door to let Jonathan know he was back.
“Here we go!” He said placing the contents of his arms on the countertop. “You’ve got everything you need here” when he turned around to leave him to it, his eyes connected with Jonathan’s in the large vanity mirror above the hand sink. Shit.
He turned around to look at him face to face, without the mirror in the way. Jonathan had taken off his knightly armour and underneath wore a tunic over breeches. Real medieval shit.
His shirt was unlaced almost to mid chest and Patrick’s eyes greedily swept over it, the thick neck and well-defined chest displayed between the folds of fabric too hard to resist looking at. But it was his face framed by tousled brown hair falling too long over his eyes that really sealed the deal. Jonathan was a hottie. He reminded Patrick of a brown-haired Cary Elwes, whom he’d crushed on hardcore when he and Erica used to watch The Princess Bride on a weekly rotation. As he stared longer, his mind started to remind him he was making a fool of himself openly gawking like that, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that wasn’t the right character to compare Jonathan to. Maybe he was like a more built Orlando Bloom - the man behind his teenage sexual awakening - sans the pirate makeup. Whatever or whoever he resembled; Jonathan was doing it for Patrick.
“Ehmm” he cleared his throat, pulling his gaze and attention away through sheer will power. “Take your time washing up. I’ll see about ordering some dinner for us” and just before he turned to make his escape he added “you have everything you need?”
“Yes indeed. You have provided a good bowl of water, and the temperature is quite mild for winter” he waved his hand at the toilet.
“Bowl. Temperature” A burst of sudden laughter escaped Patrick. “You think that’s the bath water?” He asked incredulously.
“I see there’s not a lot of water left in there, but I shall make do.” Patrick focused on the hand Jonathan had been gesturing with and sure enough it was wet. Either this guy was the best actor in the greater Chicago area, or he really was a medieval Knight, who just put his hand in the toilet to test the temperature of his bath water. What the actual fuck.
“That’s not the shower man,” said Patrick, closing the toilet lid. He’ll have to explain the purpose of a toilet bowl later. For now, he was going to have to blow this Knight’s mind with the luxuries of a modern shower, just the rainforest shower head alone should do the trick. Patrick walked into the shower stall and turned on the water and adjusted the hot and cold to a nice balance. He ducked out of there before the spray could get him, closing the glass door behind him.
Jonathan was staring at the shower in open mouthed fascination.
“You can go in there but keep the stall door closed while washing. The body wash is in a clearly labelled bottle” he said. And just to be on the safe side, he described how to turn off the tap, and when Jonathan curiously asked where the water goes, went into a half assed explanation about the plumbing system of a skyscraper that he himself didn’t know shit about. He finally left the guy to shower, with a promise to order up some dinner.
When Patrick was alone and reaching for his cellphone to order some food, his hands shook. He was very tired. It had been an unexpectedly eventful evening. He couldn't be bothered to make the healthy decision at this point of night, so he quickly put in his usual order for pizza. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before throwing himself on the couch for a few minutes to decompress before he had to face the Knight in his shower again.
Now was a good time to reach out to Brisson and ask what he should do about the potential PR nightmare he had on his hands. He unlocked his phone to text the guy, but it was a shitty thing to unload on Brisson so close to Christmas, even if he was his highly paid agent. His fingers hovered over the keyboard screen, as he debated with himself if this was the right thing to do. If Jonathan had been some local he hit with his car, then it definitely would be smart to get ahead of whatever PR or legal circus was about to be unleashed by talking to his agent about it, but Jonathan was really committed to his story of being a Knight. A time travelling Knight. So what exactly was Patrick going to say to his agent without sounding like he’d taken up a serious drug habit. And even if Jonathan was not a real Knight, he was likely to be someone suffering from a condition that would not make him an ideal source for a tabloid keen on reporting on the next Patrick Kane scandal. No, he can’t say anything to Brisson now, but he needs to talk to some about it.
Hey what do you know about time travel? He texts Sharpy. The only friend and teammate he’d be willing to hear from during Patrick Kane’s Solitary Christmas.
Patrick usually likes to watch his favourite NHL playoff series over the holidays, so he queued up the 1994 eastern conference finals game and let it play while waiting for dinner to arrive.
Jonathan joined him from the shower, smelling fresh, hair wet and curling above his brow and at his nape. He wore Patrick’s clothes, T-shirt too tight at the chest and sweatpants too high up above the ankles. The sight made Patrick’s mouth water.
“How was it?” he asked casually, though it was obvious from the dumb grin on Jonathan’s face that his mind had been blown by the wonders of the modern shower.
He motioned for Jonathan to join him on the couch and let his attention wander back to the old game on TV.
When he looked over again, Jonathan was leaning over intently staring at the screen. “And this must be the box that makes merry?” he muttered.
‘You like hockey?” Patrick asked. There was practically no chance a 14th century Knight knew or cared about men on knife shoes pummeling each other just to push a rubber disc into a net, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
“How are they able to move so fast? Is that ice? It looks like ice” was the response.
“Yeah it's pretty impressive huh?” said Patrick leaning back on the couch. It was nice to see he could impress even an old timey Knight with his bad-ass hockey skills. Just wait until he puts on a Hawks’ game and lets Jonathan get a hold of 88’s sick moves. Well, maybe not recent games. Cup year games. Yeah, those would really impress the guy. Except for the mullet. And the mutton chops. Jonny was clean shaven. Better find out his stance on facial hair before going there, then. No point cockblocking himself with past hair mistakes.
“Yes, Indeed! These men must be real warriors,” exclaimed Jonathan fully absorbed in the on-ice shenanigans of a couple of Rangers ganging up on a Devil. “Look there Sir Patrick, he pointed at the screen in disbelief, I think they’re all bleeding!”
“Yep!” he agreed. “Just wait till you see fights in HD” he continued only to be ignored by Jonathan who was entirely absorbed in the brutalities of a 90s Stanley Cup run.
The doorbell rang just then with their pizza delivery and Patrick was quick to go to the door, pay for it and return to the living room. Silently thanking the classy joint that included paper plates and napkins with delivery, he sat back in his spot and got ready to dig in.
He passed a couple of slices on a plate to Jonathan before he dug into his. His mom raised him to serve guests before himself, but he was not about to waste any more time. He was starving.
“Glad to see you like it. Maybe you could try it sometime. You’d have to learn to skate before though,” he said to Jonathan after a few minutes of silent chewing and staring at the tied game.
Jonathan looked at him, his face going through a few expressions before settling on an embarrassed blush, “it would seem an impossible feat to learn at this age.”
“It is worth trying,” said Patrick “there is nothing else in the world I can imagine doing for a living and still enjoying this much ten years later.”
“How so?”
“Believe it or not, I also play this game, hockey, like the men you are looking at on the screen?
“Truly? But they are so large and...” and the rest goes unsaid as Patrick whips his head to face him and their eyes catch.
“It is a skill-based game! I am fast and I have excellent hands.” he made his point emphatically around a mouth full of pizza.
“Of course, Sir Patrick. I am sure you are very skilled if it is the means by which you earn your living”
“Hey, you can cut out the sir stuff. I’m just Patrick. Pat or Kaner if you like,” he says waving at him to let go of the stiff title.
“Pardon me. Of course, you may call me Jonathan or Jonny, there is no need to stand on ceremony here. Not when we are peers in the defensive arts,” he says before going back to silently devouring his pizza. Though he doesn’t comment on it, Patrick can see from the speed with which the slices are disappearing, this is yet another modern invention that’s won the Knight’s approval.
Defensive arts, Patrick thinks later as he’s recycling paper plates and storing leftover pizza in the fridge. The hot Knight probably thinks hockey’s some type of ritual to prove a warrior’s worth. Hopefully he won’t be too disappointed when he finds out it's just a game played by large and often toothless men for an incredible amount of money, so that their corporate owners can sell their hypnotic images on the box that makes merry for even more incredible amounts of money.
Later when the game was over and it was time for bed, Patrick led Jonny to the guest room.
“A room and bed such as this just for a guest?!” Jonny was impressed.
“Yes, my parents or sisters use it when they visit. They’re here a lot,” said Patrick, not even sure why he was defending having a second room. Medieval people must have had guests and rooms to put them in, why did Jonny sound surprised?
“I shall rest very well tonight. You have my gratitude for your hospitality Patrick. I would have been just fine to camp on the carpet before the talking box.”
“Hitting the booze already?” Sharpy’s response came when Patrick lay in bed, processing the bizarre events of the night and willing himself to sleep and maybe wake up to it all being a dream. Well that’s helpful Sharp. Not!
Just before he put the phone face down on the nightstand a follow up text came through.
“Don’t forget. Dinner at our place Christmas night. 6pm”
December 23
Early the next morning, Patrick showered and got ready to face his day. He was energized and in a great mood. He was expecting to be tired and cranky because of the late night and strange events but he wasn’t going to complain if his body decided it was going to tolerate the disruption to his routine.
He was making a large batch of scrambled eggs when Jonny joined him in the kitchen looking all sleepy and rumpled.
“Good morning! Sleep well?” he opened, hoping a good night’s sleep may have reset his guest’s brain so much that he’d drop the whole medieval knight storyline.
“Good morning to you Patrick. The enticing smell summoned me from bed,” he replied.
“Summoned eh?” not much chance of a storyline change then. “There’s some coffee in the pot, grab a mug and help yourself to some,” he said. Patrick had already had his first cup.
Jonny poured himself a cup and walked over to where Patrick stood stirring eggs on the stove. Patrick chuckled at the loud gurgle coming from Jonny’ stomach and was about to chirp him for it when Jonny lunged to the kitchen sink and spewed out the coffee, he’d taken a sip of.
“How vile!”.
When he turned around to face Patrick his face was red. Patrick burst out laughing at the betrayed look in Jonny’s eyes. It must have been Jonny’s first taste of coffee. It took Patrick a good two minutes to stop laughing and remember to get back to stirring the eggs, so they don’t burn. He turned off the element and went to grab a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. He filled a glass with the juice and said, “coffee’s an acquired taste, man. It took me a while to get used to it too and now I can’t live without the stuff. Try this big guy.” he handed the glass of orange juice to Jonny, his eyes on the small smile that curled up Jonny’s lips as he no doubt realized he had overreacted. After he accepted the glass and took a sip, the smile got bigger to light up his whole face. Patrick couldn’t help matching it.
Patrick started to dig into Jonny’s story a bit as they ate their breakfast of eggs and toast.
“So, how exactly did you get here? You said a lady sent you?”
Jonny nodded in affirmation. “Yes. An old crone sent me here. It was all very strange really. The King was in Sherwood, and he led the customary fox hunt. He had his men with him of course and I joined the hunting party as did I a few other Knights from the area.”
Patrick put down his fork and nodded for him to continue. He had a feeling he’d need his full attention for this.
“There was nothing out of the ordinary. Just as we gave chase once the hounds scented a fox, I became separated from the group. And that is out of the ordinary. I was calling out for the men when suddenly an old woman appeared in the middle of the forest.”
“Appeared?” Patrick knew this was going to be important but maybe not ghost-lady-in- the- woods important.
“Well...I did not see from whence she came, but she was there suddenly. I dismounted my horse and approached her. I intended to ask if she had seen the hunting party”
“Did she disappear? Was there a ‘woooo’ type of noise?”
“No Patrick” Jonny’s amused tone was not lost on Patrick.
“She approached me as if we were familiar. I remember her exact words, she said ‘There you are, this year’s Knight. The quest you have searched for long and hard, these many years, begins this day. You shall travel to faraway lands, see things undreamed of.Towers that reach the clouds with sky houses above a lake and magic boxes that make merry.’”
“That’s weird,” said Patrick.
“Then I asked her where this quest would lead, and she said it would lead me to my destiny. To fulfill my dream. Then she added if I fail to fulfill my quest before midnight on Christmas Eve, I shall suffer a fate worse than death.”
“No pressure, huh?” said Patrick as he refilled his own mug of coffee and poured more juice for Jonny, he’d really taken to the stuff.
Jonny’s story was fucking weird but also pretty simple and straight forward. Man lost in the woods, meets a strange lady that sends him to the future to fulfill a quest.
“So, what is your quest? Like some kind of journey? Do you have to rescue a princess? Slay a dragon?”
“Nothing so fantastical, I imagine. I have thought about it ever since I arrived here, but I have not been able to conclude what it could be. And yes, a quest often starts with a journey but I imagine coming to this modern age was the journey itself, but I am clueless as to what I’m meant to do now that I’m here,” he said looking puzzled and kind of sad.
Patrick couldn’t even begin to guess either but said, “maybe the quest will reveal itself to you, if you just hangout and like pay attention”
After spending the day at home watching old hockey games and eating an incredible amount of food, Patrick suggested he and Jonny go out for a bit and get some fresh air. They’d keep it simple but at least go look at the Christmas tree at Millennium Park. He never got to do typical Christmas things in Chicago, and this was his chance to do it with someone who would also be experiencing it for the first time. Back in July, when he thought ahead to the winter, he’d made all these romantic plans of how he and Mark would spend their first Christmas as a couple. Last Christmas had still been the early days of their relationship, while they were still trying to figure out what they meant to each other and how serious they were gonna be. At least Patrick had been thinking that way. In hindsight, Patrick now knows he was nothing more than another notch on Mark’s post. Just another name to add to his list of NHLers. Patrick had already been thinking of what he’d get Mark as a surprise present, maybe a nice car or something very special. He never hesitated to spend money or do things for his baby, because that was his love language. He showed he cared by sharing what he was blessed to have with those he loved. Still, if the worst thing about this Christmas was spending it with a hot Knight, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“You have my utmost gratitude, for lending me this fine coat,” said Jonny. Before they’d left the condo, Patrick had been in his walk-in closet trying to figure out which of his clothes would be warm enough and the right size for Jonny to wear outdoors. As he rummaged through the gazillion things in there, he found the recycling bag he’d stuffed with the clothes Mark had left behind at his place. Thank God, he’s a packrat and his mom hadn’t yet done her annual cull of his closet. Since Mark was about the same height and weight as Jonny, it was easy enough to give him jeans and a sweater from the recycling bag. The jerk hadn’t left behind a jacket though, so Patrick had ended up giving Jonny his own winter coat to wear. When Jonny had asked why these clothes fit him better than the ones Patrick gave him to wear around the house last night, Patrick had explained the clothes belonged to his ex. This of course had led to an explanation of what an ex was and Patrick had settled on framing it as “an estranged friend”, one who had betrayed his trust and left it at that. He doesn’t need to go into the details of his breakup with a guy he barely knows anyway.
Now as they walked through the cold park in the winter dark early evening, Patrick waved off the thanks. If Jonny was going to be staying with him until he figured out how to “complete his quest” and travel back in time to his own life, then Patrick was going to be letting him borrow more than just a toothbrush. They would probably have to go shopping later.
Changing subjects Patrick said, “how do you like being outside?”
“I like this park and it is nice to be the cheerful hustle and bustle of the townsfolk, though it is windier and colder than it looks from the comfort of your sky home”
“Ah yes, my sky home is very well insulated. I pay a lot to keep it warm through the winter”
“You must indeed. I did not feel a single draft of cold air in there!” Patrick chuckled at how easily impressed Jonny was. He liked that.
Throughout their walk Patrick kept his hat pulled low on his face and his scarf over his nose, his anonymity secure, he could enjoy Jonny's uncontained enthusiasm for the sights.
“Your village must be very proud,” Jonny said “it is quite a feat to get a tree of this size and fill it with such incredible light. And look how happy it makes the villagers happy.” He was right of course. There was nothing quite like the peaceful cheer of families gathered to look in awe at Christmas lights, giving themselves over to the spirit and magic of the season.
Their walk ended up being long and frigid if enjoyable so a few hours later, they were back at the condo. After they got back, they stood at the kitchen island and Patrick poured them cups of eggnog, warmed over the stove and with a generous helping of rum. The Kanes aren’t eggnog drinkers and he doesn’t have any Christmas memories involving the stuff, but he’d picked up a carton of it on a whim when he’d been at the grocery store a few days ago. It was time to start trying new things and who knows, maybe he might like eggnog and wouldn’t find it as disgusting as he always assumed it would be. Now with Jonny shivering from the chill of their long walk outside, the quick Uber ride back not having done much to warm him back fully - Patrick had decided to break out the eggnog and serve it warmed up and with some rum to make it go down easier.
“Mmmm” Jonny hummed in satisfaction when he took his first sip. “What a delicious mead!” Patrick watched him amused at the greedy way he drank up the warm beverage, before taking a sip of his own. Not bad. He took a second sip and let the flavours linger in his mouth trying to see if he really did like it. God, was he going to be an eggnog lover now? He looked up to find Jonny staring at him.
“What?” Patrick asked confused what warranted the intense gaze.
“You have a cream moustache” Jonny said without breaking his stare.
“Huh?” Patrick was blushing before he could process the exact meaning of the words.
“Here,” Jonny reached over to wipe off the remnant of creamy eggnog coating Patrick’s upper lip.
“Woah!” said Patrick flustered at the unexpected touch. He had noticed Jonny wasn’t much for personal space, the concept probably didn’t exist in his days.
“All clean” said Jonny affectionately before returning his attention back to his own almost empty cup. “May I impose on you for more, Patrick? This mead is quite splendid.”
Patrick chuckled and reached for Jonny’s cup, taking it back to the stove to refill with ladleful of the stuff. “This mead has a name. It’s eggnog and it is a Christmastime drink around here. The best part of it is the rum,” he said as he poured a generous helping of the alcohol into the cup before stirring it in to mix and handing the mug back to Jonny.
“Eggnog” repeated Jonny. “And spirits of course. The best method known to man for warming up a chilled body”
“Not the best, maybe the easiest” said Patrick unthinkingly.
“What is the best method then pray tell. Have the people of your time discovered better ways?” Jonny’s question was genuine.
“Oh, you know, body heat,” said Patrick, already regretting the words as they left his mouth.
“But that’s nothing new, it has always been the best method to ward off a frigid night. Many an unbearable night was made easier through the companionship of a fellow Knight.”
“Oh. Right. Like military style, sleeping close to prevent freezing to death”
“Yes,” Jonny said and expanded “Almost five years prior on a winter campaign to the north our company encountered the most inclement weather. I was very glad for the presence of Jamie, we stayed close and helped each other through the horrible chill of our flimsy tent.”
Incredible! What are the chances the ridiculously hot Knight that time travelled to his underground parking lot was also gay? But that was totally the case. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle, like the universe had known how lonely he was after a shitty year and Mark’s betrayal and sent him a hot guy he could be himself with. Yeah right! Chances are he had taken a bad hit on the ice and was now in a coma, dreaming up a kitchen romance with a time travelling gay Knight. How do you know if you’re in a coma? He gave himself a quick pinch and yelped in surprise at the pain
He had no response to Jonny’s bewildered questioning, in polite English as to what the hell he was doing.
Patrick wakes up startled by the sound of rattling near his head. He shoots straight up, eyes frantically searching for the source of noise.
Jonny was bent over in half, trying to find something in Patrick’s half open bedside drawer. Patrick’s surprised “what the hell is going on?” shocks Jonny so much he jumps on the spot. It would be funny if his presence in Patrick’s room and his rummaging through his belongings wasn’t confusing and weird.
“Pray forgive me Patrick, but I am in desperate need of the white seeds you shared with me yesterday. My head is in awful pain.”
“My dude, maybe your quest is for a bottle of Tylenol,” Patrick replied stifling a yawn. “You seem to be suffering from a lot of headaches”
“I’m sorry for being so burdensome. My head has not been the same since I suffered a jousting accident some years ago”
Patrick nudges him out of the way so he could reach into the drawer and find the bottle of Tylenol. There were so many bottles in there, for so many types of aches and pains, he’s kinda glad he got woken up so he could give Jonny the right ones.
Jonny sits at the edge of the bed as Patrick fumbles with the large bottle. He works the childproof top open and taps out two pills into Jonny’s waiting palm. Jonny’s tightly knit brows and gruff appearance let him know he was dealing with significant pain.
“Here,” Patrick takes his glass of water from the nightstand and hands it to him. Jonny takes it and swallows the pill, emptying the glass.
They sit there in the dark for a while. Quiet. Jonny’s shoulders are stooped and his entire body hangs loose like a marionette with cut strings. It’s as if he’d been tense and battling the pain for so long and now that relief was on the way all the tension had run out of him at once.
Patrick gets the urge to run his fingers through Jonny’s tousled hair, to feel his forehead and comfort him. He moves his legs and shifts his body away little, to stop himself from doing something stupid and to give Jonny more room to sit on the bed. He is completely unprepared when Jonny pulls himself up onto the bed, slumping sideways, his head landing on Patrick’s recently vacated pillow. Jonny’s eyes are closed, his brow relaxed and his breathing even. Patrick moves further to the other side of the bed, and when a few minutes pass in silence and Jonny continues to lie there quietly, he too slides down to get horizontal and attempts to fall asleep next to him. Sleep does not come easy.
December 24
When Patrick wakes up the next morning, Jonny’s snoring softly, still curled on his side facing away from Patrick. He doesn’t want to wake him up, so he goes to the kitchen, makes coffee for himself and gets a glass of orange juice for Jonny and brings it back to bed. The smell of coffee must wake Jonny because he blinks his eyes open and stretches with a yawn.
“Good morning Patrick,” he says with a soft smile.
Patrick stands there staring at the sight of Jonny in his bed. It doesn’t even look like Jonny’s bothered by the fact he fell asleep in Patrick’s bed. Patrick’s frightened by how much he likes seeing him there.
He tells Jonny to take his time getting out of bed, and heads to the shower to get cleaned up before getting breakfast started. When he’s in the shower, he tries to keep his mind off of how sexy Jonny looked lying there in his bed and instead thinks about making French toast with Maple syrup for breakfast, and wonders if that would put a smile of surprised delight on Jonny’s face. Fantasizing about a hot guy in his bed is understandable but daydreaming about making him happy with breakfast? That’s dangerous territory.
When he gets out of the shower, he’s so confident Jonny would have left his bedroom and is taking a shower in the guest bathroom that he comes to a dead stop when he finds him still in the room, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor.
Patrick clutches at the towel wrapped around his waist, grateful he hadn’t decided to walk back out naked.
“Hey what’s…” he doesn’t get to finish the sentence before his eyes land on what Jonny has in his hand. He feels dizzy with the sudden rush of blood to his face and he’s sure he must be glowing red.
“Tis a strange time you live in, Patrick. I don’t know the purpose of half your belongings. Take this strange cylinder for example. What on earth is it for and why does it wiggle so in my hands?” He holds up the wiggly and transparent “cylinder” for Patrick to explain.
Now how the hell is Patrick supposed to explain his quickshot fleshlight?
He launches himself forward to grab the freaking thing out of Jonny’s grasp with a shout of “give me that!”
His body is still overheated with intense shame as he hustles back to the bathroom to put away the sex toy. He shoots back “stay out my things and go take a shower!”
He’ll have to get Jonny his own painkillers, so he doesn’t go digging through his stuff again. Thank fucking God his dildo’s locked in a box and stored in the closet or he would have melted into a puddle of embarrassment right there in from of Jonny if he’d had to explain the anatomically correct sex toy.
Later that morning Patrick’s on his laptop to get his usual errand guy from TaskRabbit to pick up extra strength Tylenol for Jonny and a few stock items for the bathroom from his local pharmacy. He looks over to where Jonny’s reclined on the couch, attention fixed on the Hawks’ 2013 playoff winning game. Patrick had caved in when Jonny asked more questions about the hockey and Patricks’ role, and had decided to let him see it for himself. Patrick had watched that tape so many times he could recite all the major events by heart. There were times when Jonny would gasp at a penalty or a missed shot on goal, and Patrick would just look up from his laptop and chuckle at Jonny’s genuine reaction. If he sticks around long enough, if his quest thing takes long enough, maybe Patrick could get him a ticket to watch him live at the UC. He won’t be able to witness Jonny’s priceless reactions in person but at least he’d get to show Jonny what he does best.
Patrick finished putting in his task order for pharmacy items to be delivered to the condo and was idly browsing the internet when it hit him that Jonny would be spending Christmas with him. It’s strange but he’s not even longing for the alone time he’d been planning before Jonny suddenly appeared in his life. Of course, if they’re going to spend the day together, Patrick should get him a bit more than just a box of painkillers. He turns his attention back to the laptop ignoring Jonny’s shout of “horseshit!” as Shawsy gets a roughing penalty on screen.
“It’s the first time I’m staying in town for Christmas. I usually spend it with my family in Buffalo,” said Patrick in answer to Jonny’s question of why he was spending the holiday season alone.
At Jonny’s blank look he added, “it’s another city. Far from here.”
Jonny’s eyes softened with empathy, “I too have had to spend many a yuletide season away from my family. That was one of the reasons this particular Christmas was special. I had my brother and mother with me for a change until I was swept away. What must they think of my disappearance, on the day of my Knighting no less....” he trails off with a sigh.
“You teleported, I mean you time travelled here on the day of your Knighting? For some reason I thought you’d been a Knight for a while,” said Patrick.
“Yes. The King’s fox hunt, where the old crone found me was right after the Knighting ceremony. Though I had been a page from a young age and later a squire, I had a series of misfortunes that hindered my qualifications for Knighthood.”
“What kind of misfortunes?”
“I was injured in a jousting tournament. The friend I mentioned to you, Jamie, was my unfortunate foe. He did not mean to injure me so much as to win as honour demands, but alas, a lance to the head did throw me from my horse.”
“Oh man, that sounds horrible,” said Patrick “how long did it take you to recover?”
Jonny told Patrick everything that had happened following his fall. About how Jamie had felt terrible for what he had done to his friend. How their friendship suffered despite Jonny’s reassurances until they were barely on speaking terms. How this was not Jonny’s first injury as a squire. That he’d had other incidents and particularly bad one where he’d taken a sword handle to the back of the head that had left him with recurring headaches.
After the incident with Jamie, Jonny was plagued by dizziness, and couldn’t see very well. Once when he thought he’d recovered and tried to take up Lord Conroy’s banner again in he’d fallen off his horse multiple times and spent months just sleeping and suffering from blinding headaches. His Knighthood had been delayed because of it all. He was not fit to be anyone’s gallant protector. In the end it had taken years before he was able to return to his old self, able to ride and wield a sword and return to his duties as a squire and finally earn the right to be a Knight.
“That’s a really sad story man,” said Patrick, overwhelmed with the familiar fears Jonny’s story stirred up and tried to distract them both with the easiest thing he could think of.
“How about some lunch? I’ll make us sandwiches!”
Jonny smiled and nodded his agreement, clearly recognizing the change of subject for what it is and followed him to the kitchen.
Patrick took out whole wheat bread and turkey breast from the fridge and started to put together their sandwiches. Meal plan approved dijon mustard for spread and one slice each of provolone cheese. His deft hands were flying over the mini assembly line he created for himself. He could feel Jonny watching him. Now was a good time as any to ask the question that had been bugging him.
“So, like when you were huddling with Jamie in the cold tent for warmth, who was the little spoon?”
“The little spoon?” it was clear Jonny had no idea what Patrick was talking about.
Since they’re in the kitchen, it's easier to demonstrate. Patrick grabs two spoons and stack them one on top of the other, then turns them sideways. Pointing to them he says, “which one were you?”
Jonny laughs, a bit startled when he looks at the stacked spoons and Patrick’s point sinks in.
“I see what you mean,” he says, “Jamie is the taller of the two of us, so I was often this one,” he points to the little spoon.
“Oh cool, just wondered.” Patrick tries to make his response as non-committal as possible though he knows he must be blushing. Meanwhile his inner self does victory laps around the rink. How lucky is he? Hot gay Knight lands on his lap for Christmas and says he’s the little spoon, increasing his chance of being open to a little top action from his gracious host. Suddenly Patrick’s Christmas is looking very promising.
They finish eating their sandwiches and Patrick’s stacking the dishes in the dishwasher when Jonny says, “may I ask you a question too Patrick?”
“Yeah of course, anything you want” replies Patrick automatically. He doesn’t really have to keep secrets from a man from the past, he can be as honest as he wants.
“Are you upset about the item I found in your bedside chest? Truly I did not mean to offend,” he says his wide brown eyes fixed on Patrick’s imploring him to understand he’s telling the truth.
“Uhh no. I’m not upset at all. Just a bit embarrassed. It's kind of a private device”
“Why should you be embarrassed? I am the one who has been rummaging through your things searching for medicine without your leave. I should never do so again. I believe I have behaved in the most ungallant manner,” he said, shame written clearly on his face.
Patrick could let it go, but he doesn’t want Jonny to feel bad about something so trivial.
“Listen, I ordered you your own set of meds to be delivered later today. You won’t have to go searching through my things anymore,” and when that still didn’t clear Jonny’s face, he decided to tell him the truth, what the hell. “The item or cylinder as you called it, is used for self-pleasure. I keep it in that drawer since it's closer to the bed.”
Jonny’s eyebrows shot up so high they almost touched his hairline, “self-pleasure?” he whispered to Patrick, disbelieving eyes darting around the room as if they were being overheard.
“Yeah dude. I just, you know how it is, single and just not up to working for a hookup these days, so it's just easier this way.”
Patrick was no stranger to discussing his sex life with other dudes. The locker room was practically a 24/7 rundown of who fucked whom and how. Lots of jerking off details thrown in for good measure.
Still, having to describe the purposes of your fleshlight to a guy you may or may not be lusting after, and whose interest you were in no way sure of, was a whole other ball game. He was fucking burning up with shame and judging from Jonny’s blotchy face, so was he. The two of them could start a salsa company with how tomato red their faces were.
“How..” Jonny was struggling to get the words out.
Patrick felt compelled to fill in the gaps for Jonny, “well you pretty much put your junk in there and move it up and down” he mimed the action with his hand.
“Dear Lord!” gasped Jonny, “I was asking how you could do such a thing?”
“Well it works pretty great, better than just hands. Feels great!”
“And you would do this until….until you release?”
“Yeah of course! What else? I mean, I like to edge myself sometimes, y’know, just keep myself going for a good while but then it’s like woah, at the end”
“I do not believe. To intentionally have a device for such a thing, without the purposes of siring a child in matrimony, it is a grave sin.”
“Oh” Patrick came down hard from whatever fantasy had been amping him up to keep going. To keep telling Jonny the details of his jerking off habits. Shit! What was he thinking? Even he, knew people in the 1300s had major hang-ups about sex. Fuck, he’d been an idiot. Offending Jonny instead of like turning him on. But what about the whole cuddling with Jamie, little spooning thing.
“So like, you never…” Patrick trailed off.
“Not intentionally! Certainly, it's happened here and there over the years and I’ve always gone to confession afterwards.”
“I’m sorry dude. I had no idea. I just thought when you said you and Jamie shared a bed and cuddled, you did more than just share a bed”
“What?” now Jonny’s tone was completely different. Gone flat and cold.
“Oh. I just thought maybe you guys were like taking advantage of the situation and doing more”
Jonny was hanging on to the edge of the counter tight. He looked like he might pass out actually. He just steadied himself and lurched to sit on a bar stool.
“What made you think that?” his voice was almost a whisper.
Patrick really didn’t know what was up now. He’d completely lost the plot. He doesn’t want to offend Jonny any more than he has so he says, “Um, nothing really. Just that I pictured myself in that situation and what I would’ve done,” there, put the whole thing on himself so Jonny doesn’t think he’s being accused of anything he’s bound to find a sin.”
“You?”
“Yeah like back in the day, being bunkmates at summer camp is how I knew I liked my bro Tyler as more than just a friend.”
“There has never been anything untoward between me and Jamie” said Jonny emphatically.
“Oh cool. That’s fine. I mean lots of people share beds with their friends out of necessity. I didn’t mean any offence.”
Jonny looked momentarily placated, the haunted look leaving his face.
“What did you mean about your friend Tyler?”
“Oh, he was just my first crush. First kiss too after he kinda got the message about my interest in him.” Jonny was staring at him now with mouth wide open halfway between astonished and horrified. “Nothing much happened. We were too young and scared I think. I didn’t really face the music and date guys until last year with Mark.”
“Mark?”
“The ex whose clothes you borrowed yesterday?” Patrick was sure he’d told Jon as much.
“You and he…”
“He was my boyfriend, or so I thought until I found out he was everyone else’s boyfriend too”
Jonny didn't say anything else for a while after that. Just ran his eyes all over Patrick’s face as if he was searching for something. In the end he just said, “I think I feel another headache coming on”
“Sheesh! Again?”
“I think I shall take more medicine and lie down for a bit. I do not feel well at all.”
‘Yeah sure go ahead,” said Patrick watched him walk out of the kitchen.
It felt like something major had happened, but he didn’t know what.
The gift he ordered for Jonny is delivered while Jonny’s sleeping his headache off. It was too last minute to get anything fancy, but Patrick already knew something he could get on short notice from the front office, and had it delivered ASAP. Hawks’ red jersey in 88, baby! He can’t wait to see Jonny wearing it. Since he doesn’t have wrapping paper, he leaves it in the box it came in, and just places it by the electrical fireplace. In the Kane household gifts get opened on Christmas day. Sir Jonathan’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow to see his gift.
Jonny had been sleeping for a few hours when Patrick decided to check on him. He’s a bit worried the headaches may have gotten worse. When he enters the guest room, the curtains are drawn, and the room is in shadows. He listens for Jonny’s breathing to clue him in if he’s still sleeping but can’t hear much so he goes in further, closer to the bed.
He stands over Jonny, who’s laying on his back and breathing evenly. Asleep.
He stands there debating whether he should wake him up. It’s almost time to figure out what do for dinner.
He doesn’t notice Jonny’s hand until it tightens on his left wrist. Shock at the contact forces his eyes to his wrist then back up from his wrist to Jonny’s eyes frantic to connect, not sure what he expects to find there.
Jonny’s staring up at him, intense but intention concealed.
What do you want? Patrick wants to ask but doesn’t. Just feels his mouth go dry and his heart beating faster. Jonny must feel his pulse racing over the tight grip he has over his wrist.
“Do you, have you, thought about sharing a bed with me?,” Jonny asks. His voice is gravelly and deep, sends a shiver down Patrick’s spine.
The game’s up. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since you took off your armour to shower,” he answers with the honest truth.
“Then why didn’t you act on it the other night, when I slept in your bed?”
“I wasn’t sure that’s what you wanted,” he replies, hopeless and unmoving, still caught by Jonny’s hand and his soft, soft brown eyes. I’m still not sure. He doesn’t add.
There’s a sudden tug on his wrist and he finds himself falling right onto Jonny. He’s caught by strong hands, lifted and shifted to his back. Jonny’s leaning over him then, his lips descending to connect with Patrick’s. The shocked gasp Patrick makes is swallowed by Jonny’s hungry mouth. They kiss as if they had been starving for it, wet and gasping into each other’s mouths. Patrick’s hands roam all over Jonny’s torso, touching everything he’d been looking at and yearning to put his hands and mouth on.
When they pull apart for air, Patrick says, “I thought, when you said nothing happened between you and Jamie - like you weren’t into this.”
Jonny’s shy when he says, “nothing did happen. I wanted it to, but nothing happened. I carry that want hidden within me always. And now I find I want the same things with you, Patrick.”
Patrick smiles at Jonny, who’s already trying to hide his face in the crook of Patrick’s neck after his confession, dropping little kisses there.
He shudders from the pleasure of Jonny’s hot breath on his neck and as he tells him “I want those things with you too Jonny.”
Joining their fingers, Patrick pushes Jonny onto his back and climbs over him. He takes off his own shirt quickly flinging it across the room and does the same to Jonny’s.
Jonny’s lying back and watching as Patrick trails his open mouth down his uncovered chest, pausing to kiss and nibble at his nipples, lick at his ribs and down the narrow tapering of his waist into the beautiful V that leads to the low slung waistband of his sweatpants.
He continues to trail his mouth down to the soundtrack of Jonny’s moans, getting louder and more intense as Patrick pulls down his sweats in one strong slide and follows every inch of skin he uncovers with his mouth.
Patrick’s worked up himself, with the taste and sound of Jonny, and now at last face to face with the evidence of Jonny’s desire, his hot and leaking wet cock, he can’t resist putting his mouth right against the head.
“Patrick, what are you,” Jonny’s sitting up, his hands tangled in Patrick’s hair and torn between pushing him away or pulling him towards his pulsating cock.
“Here let me,” says Patrick before taking him into his sloppy mouth and sucking him hard. He makes it wet and tight, taking him as deep as he can. Jonny almost convulses, his upper body dropping back on the bed. His moans now stifled by the hand that’s not still tangled in Patrick’s hair.
Patrick can’t stop himself. He’s so turned on; he’s leaking into his own boxers. He’s dying to put his hand on himself, but he wants to give this moment to Jonny, wants to blow his mind in a way he’ll never forget. He pulls off with a pop and looks up at Jonny. He’s got his wide eyes fully trained on Patrick.
“Come in my mouth,” he says before dropping back and taking Jonny’s cock as deep and tight as he can, it doesn’t take more than a minute before Jonny’s moans turn into gasps and on long guttural cry before he loses it all in Patrick’s mouth.
Patrick sits back up, eyes greedily roaming over Jonny’s spent form, his glistening wet cock and sweat shiny chest. He yanks his boxers down and off, grabs his own cock and knee walks up Jonny’s body to lean over him. He starts jerking off - here’s enough precum to make it good, eyes glazed over as he pulls on himself, the solitary sound amplified only by Jonny’s still heaving breath. Jonny’s hands run up his thighs then, all the way up to grab hard at his ass and it feels like he’s being electrified. He won’t last much longer, he leans over on one elbow at Jonny’s side covering that gorgeous body with his own, and shudders to a sudden climax when Jonny pulls him in for a deep and soul melting kiss.
Later when they’re sweat sticky and spread out on the bed with just their feet touching until they cool down enough to cuddle, Patrick whispers “ever thought about doing something other than being a Knight? If you take another lance to the head, you might get serious brain injury. Lifelong damage.” It’s a heavy subject much for pillow talk but Patrick’s feeling good and loose from the endorphins.
Jonny sighs, “I am touched by your concern Patrick, but my duties as a Knight include participating in jousting tournaments and honour demands I continue to get back on the horse.”
Patrick turns on his side and leans on one elbow so he can see Jonny’s face.
“But you were severely injured doing it. And from what you said, you lost years of your life suffering the after-effects.”
“Yes, but the consequences have eased now and I am hardly plagued with dizziness anymore. I have overcome my weakness and earned the right to officially call myself a Knight,” he paused a bit before looking at Patrick again “though it appears my travel to this time may have caused the headaches to start again”
Patrick didn’t hold back his frustration. Jonny clearly didn’t know the godawful long-term effect of repeated head injury.
“So now you’ve been officially Knighted, you have no choice but to go back to that life?”
“There is no other life for one such as me Patrick. I was born to a common family with no land or wealth to recommend them. They were diligent enough to have me taken in as a page for Lord Conroy, and owing to that, I am now able to call myself a Knight, I hold a title and a sword and I have my own lands. There is no better life for a man in Greenwich”
“Jonny, I have seen many men injured doing their job. All those fights you saw on the merry box have their consequences too. I’ve seen many guys hurt this way, head smacked, and brain shook. We call it a concussion. It can do serious damage to a person, change their entire life - cause pain that never goes away”
“Hockey?”
“Yeah”
“Have you…”
“Luckily no. There are no guarantees though. Could happen to me tomorrow, or the game after that. I’ll tell you one thing though, I've learned my lesson from seeing what happened to others. I will not stick around out of some loyalty to my team or hockey if it's bad enough. I’ve had my glory days and I’ve done enough to be proud of, and I’m prepared to walk away if I need to. I will not put my brain on the line.”
“You would walk away from all you’ve worked so hard for, so easily?”
“It wouldn’t be easy but yeah. I think I would.”
Jonny didn’t say anything after that, just leaned over and kissed Patrick, until he got him all worked up and roaring to go for a second round.
December 25
Patrick slowly drifted awake, when the weak winter light coming through the window was fully on his face. He must have slept in late. He stretched, feeling the delicious ache and strain of his muscles. Jonny had been insatiable last night, practically begging for more and more of what Patrick was more than happy to give him. Patrick reached out, wanting to get a nice squeeze of that delicious peach ass before he opened his eyes. His hands kept moving but found nothing. The bed was empty, the sheets cold where Jonny had been Patrick’s little spoon before they both fell into an exhausted sleep.
“Jonny!” he shouted, hearing his own hoarse voice echo in the room. He pulled on his boxers grabbing them from the pile of clothes discarded at the foot of the bed. He walked through the apartment calling for Jonny. It was pointless though. His gut was already telling him Jonny was gone. He hadn’t been out of sight since he’d suddenly appeared in Patrick’s life except to sleep and now, he was nowhere to be seen. Jonny did say his quest had to be completed by midnight Christmas eve. They were so wrapped up in each other last night, it hadn’t even occurred to Patrick to ask about it.
Patrick drops down on to the couch. Jonny’s present sits unopened by the fireplace where Patrick had placed it. He was gone. He was there, loud, vivid and sexy as hell and then gone as if he’d never been there at all. Patrick wrapped his arms around his bare chest, feeling raw and fragile, wanting to cry but then feeling silly too. How could he feel this devastated at the absence of someone he’d only known for three days?
He turns the TV on after a long time of sitting on the couch and staring into space. He mindlessly skips between channels playing Christmas shows, movies and concerts and finally stops on a stage production of The Nutcracker, a childhood constant at Christmas in a house with four women. He’ll just sit here and watch Christmas shows all day, get drunk on leftover eggnog and rum and try to forget the most memorable few days he’s had in recent years. He whispers, “Merry Christmas to you Patrick Kane.”
He’s kind of zoned out for a while and it must have been a couple of hours later because a different movie’s on TV, when he hears a noise in the condo. He listens in for a bit cause he’s pretty sure the noise can’t be coming from inside his unit, and he didn’t leave the TV on in the bedroom, but a few seconds later he’s up and bursts into the guest bedroom. Jonny’s there. He’s there in bed, shirtless and the rest of him concealed under the covers, as if he’d never left.
“You came back?” Patrick whispers or yells, he’s not sure.
Jonny looks at him, eyes soft. “Yes Patrick. When I realized what my quest was, I chose to come back.”
“What was it?” Patrick creeps closer to the bed, still not believing the true Christmas miracle before his eyes.
“I think it was to realize the fate worse than death is a life with the terrible consequences of head injury,” he reaches for a hand out to Patrick as he continues, “ My journey here has shown me the life of Knighthood for which I gave everything is no longer for me. And if I can no longer be a Knight, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you.”
“You wanna stay here? with me?” Patrick’s sure he’s choked up. The thing he was afraid to even hope for a few hours ago, to get a chance to have a real thing with someone he could be himself with and maybe even come out to the world with, it was right here in front of him. He crawls up the bed and right into Jonny’s arms.
Jonny’s laughs. “If you’ll have me. I confess I look forward to seeing all the wonders of the modern world with you.”
Just then, Patrick’s cell phone alarm goes off. It’s the reminder he’d set the Sharps’ Christmas dinner.
“Well if you’re gonna stay here, first you’ll have to pass the Sharpy test,” he tells Jonny, as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to turn off the alarm.
“What’s a Sharpy?” asks Jonny, running his hand through Patrick’s hair to grasp the back of his head and pull him closer.
“You’ll see,” says Patrick as he leans over to connect their lips and put all his hopes and dreams of loving a time travelling Knight into the kiss.
He can’t wait for Jonny to meet Sharpy. He’s sure Jonny’s going to love Sharpy’s pranks.