#omgficpls

[granteares]

Okay, I am in desperate need for some new Patater I have read a bagillion times. Prompt: A & B are watching TV and after a while A closes their eyes. Thinking they are asleep, B starts watching their favorite animated movie from when they were a kid, not knowing that A is wide awake and trying hard not to laugh at how adorable it is that B still like kiddie movies.

thank you so much for this prompt!!! i’m not sure i hit the mark 100% maybe? but i thought it could actually fit in perfectly to a headcanon i posted recently that i was really excited about? so i was so happy to get this and hopefully the tooth-rotting fluff makes up for the slight deviation. i hope that you like this!! ))))) i’m still taking prompts so feel free to send in more! xx

i’ve also added this to my ao3!!!

Most people would say that Kent Parson was shameless, unafraid to tell the world who he was.

But that wasn’t strictly true, because Kent did have his limits.

Most of them just revolved around not appearing like a loser in front of Alexei Mashkov, because he actually really liked him and didn’t want to weird him out only three months into their relationship. The Kent Parson that was displayed to the outside world, the one that Alexei knew best, was very different from the Kent Parson he was in private, and he was terrified by the idea that Alexei might not be interested in him for long. Alexei was leaps and bounds out of his league.

But, Alexei looked sound asleep– curled up a bit to fit his frame on the couch, and head in Kent’s lap– which Kent couldn’t really blame him for. He’d flown in from Providence only this afternoon, and he’d had a game against the Schooners go late, into a shootout, the night before. He looked peaceful and soft, and Kent’s heart hurt for a moment over the sheer amazement that he was the person who got to have these moments from the giant defenseman.

Kent brushed a soft hand through the other man’s hair and grabbed the remote off the side table with the other, looking through Netflix to try and find something new to watch.

They’d spent the evening just like this, watching movies and eating take-out from the new Indian place nearby and sitting close enough at all times to feel the other’s presence, because the last time they’d seen each other was when Kent had been able to sneak away to Phoenix to see the Falcs play the Coyotes a month ago and they’d only gotten two hours actually together, even though it’d been a nice change to watch Alexei skate, live, from the position of a spectator.

Presently, Kent wound up in the children’s movies section, because, without-a-doubt, they were his guilty pleasure. He’d never admit it, outside of not actually complaining when he was helping out with his teammates’ kids and they begged to watch their favorites with him, because otherwise he was sure he’d get chirped to hell and back for it.

He wasn’t sure if Alexei would care that much, but since he was asleep, Kent supposed it didn’t matter, waiting for something to catch his eye.

He found it in An American Tail, something that he’d definitely tortured his mother with as a kid with constant rental from the library and watching it every day they had it. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d seen it; not for years, probably– not since those days.

Kent turned the movie on, and settled more comfortably, absently stroking Alexei’s hair gently every so often, hoping not to wake him up until he was tired enough to go to bed himself, or until the movie was over.

Things were quiet for all of maybe twenty minutes, when a loud sneeze from below him made Kent jump. Kent looked down, and noticed that Alexei was definitely awake now. Well now this was embarrassing. He quickly grabbed for the remote; maybe Alexei was still too asleep to notice Kent was watching a fucking cartoon movie and he could change it to something a little… cooler.

But instead, Alexei put long fingers around Kent’s wrist, and mumbled: “Нет, котёнок, you enjoying, not turn off.”

He sounded oddly awake and Kent frowned. “You’ve been awake this whole damn time, haven’t you?”

Alexei let out laughter, not even having the decency to sound sheepish as he admitted with a “Да.”

“Fuck you,” Kent grumbled, still clutching the remote, still having half a mind to save his dignity a little if he could and change it to– maybe a horror movie, or something, even though he actually kind of hated those.

But Alexei took the remote from his hand, and put it on the coffee table in front of the couch, and his head still in Kent’s lap meant the blonde was pinned where he was and wouldn’t be able to reach it again without pushing Alexei off. And Alexei seemed content to stay where he was, twining his fingers through Kent’s now empty ones, stroking his thumb along the side of Kent’s hand. “What wrong, моя любовь? Not be embarrassed. Tell me about movie? What is? I’m not know this one. Мыши русские?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Kent pointed out. There were small handfuls of Russian Kent could pick out, from Russian teammates throughout his life, and now with the way that Alexei threw Russian into casual conversation– Kent wasn’t sure if it was to prod Kent into learning more or so he could say sappy things that he knew Kent couldn’t understand, because Kent had repeated some of the phrases Alexei muttered to him to the Russian on the Aces and they were usually sugary sweet ridiculous that made Kent want to cry.

“Sorry”– but Alexei didn’t sound very sorry at all– “I’m ask, mice are Russian?” Kent looked down, and saw Alexei’s head turned up to him, a small smile on his face.

“Oh, yeah, they are.” Kent used his free hand to poke Alexei in the ribs. “And they’re Jewish– did you catch that in the beginning? They’re celebrating Hannukah?”

At that, Alexei’s smile spread into a grin. “Нет, I’m not notice that! Movie is American? With Jewish Russian mice! What is this movie?”

“It’s called An American Tail, it’s from the 80s,” Kent explained, and suddenly didn’t feel too embarrassed about being caught watching it because Alexei seemed delighted over this new discovery. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”

Alexei sat up then, surprising Kent like usual with the gracefulness he could have off the ice, with that huge lanky frame, and leaned into Kent’s space. “Think is wonderful, not you should be embarrassed,” he assured. “It’s cute, you enjoy movies from childhood, is sweet. I’m love it. Not think anything about you stupid, котёнок.” Alexei pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Kent’s mouth.

Kent couldn’t hold back a small smile even as his cheeks flushed and he gently shoved at the Russian, muttering: “Stop, you big sap, you’re clearly the embarrassing one.”

But Alexei laughed that bright, deep laugh and just grabbed at Kent, pulling him close. “Not stop, know you love when I’m embarrass you,” he protested, placing more kisses all around the blonde’s face, seemingly anywhere he could reach as Kent squirmed in his grasp, trying to act annoyed despite giggles betraying him.

“No, no, stop! You’re missing the damn movie, you goon! He’s gonna meet Tiger!”

“Who is Tiger?” Alexei asked, settling in and turning back to the screen, throwing an arm around Kent’s shoulder. Kent settled in, too, leaning into Alexei’s side and curling up a bit.

“You’ll find out if you watch the movie,” Kent responded.

“Fair, okay, I’m watch movie now. Shh, no distract,” Alexei teased, placing a last kiss into Kent’s hair and squeezing him gently.

Things were silent between them until the credits were rolling, then Alexei, beaming, exclaimed: “Good movie, Kent! Can’t believe you hide this from me. New favorite, we watch again sometime?”

“Babe, we can watch the other three right now,” Kent explained, exiting from the play screen and back to the menu.

“Is more! Замечательно! Let’s watch, please.”

Kent laughed softly, nodding and clicking play on the next movie in the series.

russian translations:Нет = noкотёнок = kittenДа = yesмоя любовь = my loveМыши русские = are the mice russian? (which alexei translates… but hey)Замечательно = wonderful

[granteares]

parswoops prompt: swoops gets traded (possibly to the falcs?) so maybe just cute stuff him and kent do when they see each other... and i love your icons btw <3

3 months late is better than not at all, right…? i’m so sorry this took me so long((((( muse didn’t want to cooperate and i legit rewrote this like 5 million times until i was happy with it. i hope you see this, and that you like it!! i love these soft boys so much ;w;

and thank you so much i’m glad you enjoy the icons i’ve made so far!!))))))

i’ve also added this to my ao3!!!

When Jeff gets traded to the Falconers in the off-season, Kent truly isn’t sure for a good few weeks how he’s going to survive it.

It’s stupid, because he’s been through worse.

Like, a lot worse.

And Jeff assures him that they’ll make it work, promises him.

But it almost feels like a rotten cherry on top of a shit cake, like a kick in the balls, another big old fuck you from the universe, because the only person who’s ever made him feel like things could be okay is leaving– and not just anywhere. If he’d been traded to literally any other team, Kent would have been able to cope, would have been able to believe Jeff’s promises. The Falcs, though, they’re Jack’s team, and since he had signed with them two seasons ago, Kent has noticed a different kind of tension during their games. They know something, Kent doesn’t know how they couldn’t, and they hate him for it.

And his boyfriend is going right into it, and Kent is convinced that there’s a slim chance Jeff won’t come out of it hating him, too.

If Jeff comes to hate him, Kent doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

He takes advantage of how they can still be together for a month, before Jeff decides he should go to Providence and find a place to live and settle into his brand-spanking-new life while Kent tries not to panic.

_/ x \_

But Jeff’s promises are, actually, accurate. They’re halfway through the season on opposite sides of the country and they’re still together. They haven’t seen each other in months, but they talk on the phone– if not on Skype– every day, and every day, Jeff still says ‘I love you, Kenny’– and knowing Jeff was in close proximity to Jack, hearing that name had made him flinch the first few times– so Kent thinks Jeff was right. He thinks that, and hears Jeff’s voice inside his head, laughing and saying ‘I’m always right, baby.’

When the Aces get to their bye-week halfway through the season, Kent practically invites himself over to Jeff’s new apartment in Providence. The Falcs’ bye-week isn’t for a few months yet, but they got lucky enough that the games the Falcs are playing that week are all at home. Jeff will be busy, but they’ll get his free time to be together and Kent is practically buzzing with the excited energy he feels as he finally gets off the plane and is trying not to fucking sprint to baggage claim where Jeff said he’d be waiting for him.

The problem with that, though, is that when Jeff spots him in the airport and closes the distance between them, they can’t kiss, don’t feel comfortable doing more than that stupid bro-hug, and Kent needs more than that, and he knows Jeff does, too. As quickly as possible, they gather Kent’s suitcase, and head to the short-term parking lot; they walk close enough that they can accidentally brush arms or fingers, and it sends a jolt through Kent every time, and it’s a good interim until they get to Jeff’s place.

They’re in the car, and Jeff’s hand is on Kent’s thigh as he uses the other on the steering wheel. “The guys tend to pop in, sometimes, just… so you know,” Jeff warns, sounding hesitant. And Kent knows why: because he tenses at the idea of Falconers waltzing into Jeff’s place and seeing him there. They know Jeff is pansexual, know he has a boyfriend, but Kent wasn’t willing to let Jeff tell them who that boyfriend is. “You know they don’t hate you, right, babe?” Jeff squeezes his thigh, and Kent nods automatically. It isn’t the first time Jeff has told him that, or the fifth. Jeff has told him how there’s plenty of players on the Falconers who praise his skills and the ones who have had conversations with him say he’s a good guy– but he continues to avoid telling him anything about Jack, or Jack’s reaction toward anything Kent-related. “I really think they’d be more than okay about it, if I told them we’re together.” Because Jeff hates keeping secrets from his team– and it’s hard to think that his team isn’t Kent’s team anymore– and Kent does know that Jeff wants to tell them if Kent is ready to.

“Let’s– Can we not, right now?” Kent replies. “Not today?” He looks over at Jeff, who takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance back at Kent and give a little nod of assent. “I’m here for a week, we can talk about it later, I promise.”

“I’d rather just enjoy you today, too,” Jeff agrees, and Kent feels himself relax again. He takes his hand off Kent’s thigh for a moment to grab his phone from the center console, and hand it to Kent. “Chinese for dinner? My nutritionist will kill me, but I think you’re worth a cheat day,” Jeff explains. “There’s a great fucking place not far from the apartment, we can grab it on the way if you want to order it now.”

“Yeah,” Kent says, unlocking Jeff’s phone– because of course his passcode hasn’t changed, still 1490, the fucking sap– and finding the contact simply labeled ‘Chinese Food.’ Kent already knows their orders– except for when Jeff pokes him in the side and mutters ‘Get some crab rangoon, too, fucking divine here’– and goes through the process quickly enough.

When they get to the apartment, Jeff grabs Kent’s travel bags, because “You’ve got the important shit, bro, carry the food”– and proceeds to take it to where Kent is guessing the master bedroom is, while Kent is left to divvy out the Chinese food in the kitchen. He hasn’t seen Jeff’s place before, and that fact bites at him a little, but it feels comfortable the same way Jeff’s condo in Las Vegas had. It’s already decorated with most of the same things, although there’s a much more rustic feel– the building is obviously older, a converted house, the opposite of the sleek modernity to Vegas. It fits Jeff better, though, Kent thinks.

Kent forgets the food and his thoughts the second that he feels Jeff’s arms wrap around him, though, turning and allowing himself to be pinned against the edge of the counter.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Jeff murmurs.

Kent laughs. “Fucking dork. Just kiss me.”

Jeff rolls his eyes, but leans further into Kent’s space. The kiss they share is long and certainly verging on desperate, and if Kent ever doubted that Jeff truly did miss him, he told himself he never would again because of the way Jeff is holding onto him like he’s never going to let go again.

But eventually he does, and Kent is sucking in shaking breaths and he’s a little hard in his pants– and he can feel Jeff is too– but mostly he’s hungry and longing for the casual nights he hasn’t gotten in so long, where they would sit on the couch just being together: no pressures, no expectations, no overthinking. Those kind of stupid domestic nights Kent hadn’t even known he’d wanted and that had taken months of dating Jeff to achieve.

“C’mon, I’m fucking hungry,” Kent grumbles, prodding Jeff’s chest even as he’s stepping away and grabbing plates from a cabinet and utensils from a drawer.

They divvy out the food onto plates, then head back to the living room and settle on the couch. “All yours,” Jeff offers, pushing the remote to Kent on the coffee table to let Kent pick, like he always does, and Kent feels his chest tighten for a moment because even though everything is different on the surface, everything is ultimately the same, and the relief he feels is so immense he struggles not to show it in front of Jeff– who would certainly ask what was up, and then Kent would have to talk about his feelings. Which wasn’t bad, with Jeff, but the last thing he wanted to do tonight.

Kent spends some time going through Netflix, but ultimately settles onto something silly they’ve watched a dozen times before so that they can concentrate more on each other than a plotline of something on the television.

They eat in silence for a while, and it’s fine with Kent, because it’s the soft and comfortable silence that is one of Kent’s favorite things about being with Jeff. Kent gets his fill, puts his plate down on the coffee table, and then gets himself comfy by turning himself sideways on the couch and throwing his legs in Jeff’s lap after the man raises his plate up.

When Jeff finally puts his plate aside, Kent doesn’t even hesitate a second before crawling into Jeff’s lap and settling there. Jeff, almost like it’s instinctual, wraps his arms around him, one hand positioned so he can play with the hair against Kent’s neck, a little longer than usual because it’s that point in the season where he can’t be bothered to keep up with haircuts and shaving regularly. Kent nuzzles his face into Jeff’s neck, pressing kisses and soft nips to the skin. “You smell so good, shit,” Kent murmurs into skin, “I’ve missed you so much, Swoops.”

“Missed you, Parser,” Jeff answers back, shifting to draw Kent’s head away from his neck and meeting his lips instead.

Kent is happy to make-out lazily and slowly for a while, until Jeff complains his leg is falling asleep and they reposition themselves.

The couch in Jeff’s living room was brought from Las Vegas, and it’s comfortable and worn and just wide enough that Jeff can spoon him but they have to press close together– which is always perfectly fine by Kent. They lay like that for a while, watching more stupid movies, until Jeff is prodding at him, and saying: “Parse, wake up, if you’re gonna fall asleep we might as well go lay in bed.”

“M’not sleepin’,” Kent protests.

Jeff laughs quietly, Kent feels the rumble in his chest and the breath huff on his neck. “Sure, Kent, okay.” He pushes at Kent, gently, but enough that he rolls a bit closer to the edge of the couch. “Up you get. Bed’s comfier, anyway. You’ll bitch all day tomorrow about your neck if you sleep here.”

Kent sighs, because Jeff is always right, goddamn it. He pulls himself out of Jeff’s arms reluctantly, even though he knows he’ll be back in them shortly, and gets to his feet. He follows Jeff down the hallway to the master bedroom, which also has a large bathroom attached. Kent rushes through his bedtime rituals, looking forward to how great he knows Jeff’s bed is.

In just boxer shorts now, he crawls into the side he always slept on when the bed was in Jeff’s Vegas condo, and Jeff gets in on the other side. It’s only a short moment later that they’re tangled together in the middle of the bed, and Kent sighs contentedly, not having quite realized how off-kilter he truly felt without Jeff’s physical presence with him.

[granteares]

some extremely self-indulgent patater snow day fic bc of my snow day today and Why Not right. i hope it’s enjoyable!! ~3k words under the cut.

“Kent— Kenny— Wake up, котёнок.”

Kent moaned in protest, rolling onto his other side and away from the voice murmuring by his ear. “I dunno what time it is, but whatever it is, it’s too early,” Kent mumbled, hiding his face in the pillow.

Alexei’s laugh was familiar and warm and he felt the breath lightly against his hair. “Is ten, you are sleeping long enough, is time to be waking up now,” the Russian insisted. “Big snowstorm they are promising come. Очень красивый.”

“Baby, I’m not awake, don’t make me try to understand Russian right now,” Kent whined, because he had never had that kind of talent Alexei clearly did for another language— even if it was out of necessity; he had attempted to gain some grasp of Québécois in the Q and had never mastered more than introducing himself, really, and it was about the same for Russian.

“Very Beautiful,” Alexei translated, pressing a kiss to the shell of Kent’s ear. “Snow is very beautiful. You come look, котёнок.”

Kent reached up to pull the blanket further over him. “You remember I grew up in New York, right? I’ve seen snow before. I'd be fine without seeing any more of it.”

“Is too bad, because you are helping me to shovel,” Alexei replied, and Kent could hear the teasing lilt to his tone.

“Fuck you,” Kent muttered, groaning. “Fine.” He couldn’t exactly tell Alexei no, even though he doubted shoveling was too hard of a task for a 6’4” man with the build of a hockey defenseman. Then again, with the addition of a 5’10” man built like a hockey forward, maybe Kent could get them back inside far sooner, where he could sit under blankets on the couch, curled up with Alexei and the dog, and pretend there was no such thing as snow— which had lost its magic by the time Kent was twelve and realized he hated everything about being cold down to his bones and always having to shovel the stoop and sidewalk of the New York City brownstone apartment he lived in with his mom.

"Спасибо," he heard Alexei respond— and Kent could translate that, at least, as 'thank you', because he'd heard it umpteen thousand times.

However, Kent made no moves to change position or get out of bed, if anything just burrowing himself into bed further. Alexei seemed content with this for a few moments, just leaning over Kent and lazily mouthing at his jaw, until Kent finally blinked his eyes open because obviously he wasn’t actually getting back to sleep. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” he sighed.

Alexei pulled away as Kent sat up, rubbing his eyes, and when Kent looked over he saw the brunette was grinning. “Good! Is time to play in snow!” he exclaimed.

Kent rolled his eyes. “I don’t get how you’re so excited about it. Bet snowstorms are even worse where you grew up… I’d hate it.”

“Нет, Kent, I’m find very nice… very refreshing. Do not mind the winter.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

Alexei smirked, nodding. “But you are still loving me, baby.”

Kent laughed. “Yeah, uh-huh. C’mon, you goon, let’s get this over with.” He pushed himself from bed, simultaneously running his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb, then going through Alexei’s drawers to find some extra layers to put on top of his own clothing. Anything Alexei owned for himself was baggy on Kent, but not baggy enough that he drowned in it— just enough to be comfortable— and it certainly wasn’t a con that they also, of course, smelled like him. He pulled on his own clothes, threw what he’d borrowed from Alexei over top, stumbling a bit in his still-waking-up state. When he figured he was wearing enough to be fairly warm, he followed Alexei downstairs to the entryway of his house, where they had outerwear hanging.

Kent had had to buy new, real, winter outerwear when he’d started visiting Alexei more regularly. Even if the season was ongoing and he couldn’t get over much during the wintertime, he’d quickly realized that his Vegas-winter-wear wasn’t going to cut it whatsoever. It had been a while since he’d been out east any time but the off-season.

He pulled on boots, gloves, and his jacket, before tugging on his ridiculous Aces winter hat complete with a stupid pompom on the top. Alexei was similarly bundled up, but sporting a Falconers’ beanie, of course.

Kent followed Alexei outside and frowned at the cold breeze that blew flurries in his face. It was still coming down lightly, he realized, but it looked like at least a foot had collected on the ground already and Kent saw other neighbors had ventured out to clear what had settled on the ground before there was double the work to do later. He sighed, pouting at Alexei, who just gave him that loose and lopsided grin that always made Kent melt instantly, and rolled his eyes instead as his lips pulled up into their own smile.

There were two shovels set against the side of the house on the porch, so Kent grabbed one and Alexei grabbed the other, and after a quick debate over who would start shoveling what area, he got to work.

It had been years since Kent had had to shovel snow. He remembered a few occasions of helping his billet family shovel during snowstorms in juniors, but even that had been almost ten years ago. Then, of course, Kent had spent his winters in Las Vegas. Well, he could confirm he still hated shoveling as much as he ever had. He grumbled as he pushed snow off of the steps, clearing them and the walkway that led from Alexei’s house to the sidewalk.

“It’s cold as shit out here,” he complained when Alexei was within earshot.

“Thought you growing up in New York, used to snow and cold?” Alexei chirped, and there was a look in his eyes that Kent recognized well by now as his fucking-with-you look.

So Kent rolled his eyes and huffed, exasperated. “Doesn’t mean I like it. I’m freezing, babe. I’m about to turn into a popsicle.”

Alexei laughed, because he was a merciless bastard. “Sooner you stop complaining, sooner we are finishing shoveling. Need to shovel Mrs. Everett’s house, too,” Alexei explained, gesturing over to the house across the street, where said Mrs. Everett lived alone. She was an elderly, spitfire of lady, but also the kind who brought over containers of homemade soup for Alexei, especially during the season, and made sure his fridge had something in it. Kent remembered the first time Alexei had excitedly explained Mrs. Everett, and how she had learned to cook a few Russian dishes for him— which were admittedly, and understandably, not as good as his mother’s, but the sentiment was all that mattered. In turn, Alexei was always willing to go over and help her with housework when hockey wasn’t in the way. In short: Kent wasn’t surprised that they were digging out her house, as well, and he only nodded his head with a small pout on his face as they finished up Alexei’s home.

After they had finished Mrs. Everett’s house, Kent was making his way back across the street, shovel dragging along behind him, when something thunked against the back of his head. The beanie stopped most of the cold, but he shivered at the small pieces of snow that fell against his neck.

He whipped around, eyes narrowed at Alexei, who was poorly feigning innocence, working too hard to suppress a smile.

“You really want to start a snowball fight with the best shot in the NHL?” Kent accused. If there was one thing he didn’t feel like doing, with the cold officially having seeped into what felt like every last centimeter of his being despite his effort to layer up, it was find himself sopping and covered with snow.

“Am not being such bad shot myself. I’m having many goals this season.”

Kent laughed at Alexei’s comeback, because he knew that. He obsessively kept himself up to date with Alexei’s stats. Besides, he’d always known Alexei was a good player, his goal scoring records impressive for a defenseman. “You’re not goading me into this. I want a hot chocolate and a fluffy blanket,” Kent replied instead.

“Such grumpy old man, Kent Parson. No fun.” Alexei’s stance took on one that Kent recognized from on-ice moments: a challenge, daring Kent to back out of the competition; it was the posture he took whenever he was lingering on the edge of a face-off, ready to jump into the melee and take the puck for the Falcs.

And damn, if being a competitive motherfucker wasn’t something Kent couldn’t seem to grow out of. “First off,” Kent said, and heard the glint of challenge in his own voice, “You are older than me, Mashkov. Second, I’m so much fun, it’s illegal. Third: you’re going down.” Kent let his shovel drop where he was standing. The street hadn’t been plowed yet, and Kent had the feeling it wouldn’t be any time soon, considering the other neighbors coming and going across it like automobiles were a forgotten thing of the past.

He leant over, picking up a handful of snow and forming it into the rough shape of a ball (when was the last time he’d had a snowball fight? Probably the Q, he thought, on the occasion a bunch of rowdy teenage hockey-playing boys had an off-day and the snow was the right consistency for it). As he concentrated on pressing the snow together in his hands, another thud of snow hit against his chest, and he tensed for a moment before chucking what he had formed right back at Alexei, nailing him in the chest as well.

They continued like that for a maybe ten minutes, until a few of the neighbor kids caught on to the snowball fight— and Alexei was the kind of guy that always joined in when he had spare time and they were out playing some sort of game in the street, of course; Kent had watched last summer from the porch as the kids had set up a game of street hockey and yelled to Tater to join them, and then Alexei had convinced Kent to join in as well, and they had been awestruck that they were playing hockey with Kent Parson, but they had treated Alexei like he was just another one of the kids (and Kent had forcefully pushed aside his feelings about watching Alexei with children to examine at a much, much later date)— and before Kent even realized it, they were pausing to develop strategies and build defenses, Alexei with a handful of children on one side of the street and Kent with his own handful on the other.

Things turned into a flurry of snow and shouts when one of the kids called to resume the war, and Kent forgot for a moment that he was uncomfortably cold and that his gloves were starting to soak through as the kids chirped his poor snowball-making skills and he was told he was only allowed to throw them because, yeah, he was Kent Parson.

And then suddenly, Alexei’s team plowed through their own defenses, charging at Kent and his kids, and Kent was trained to prepare himself for ambushes like this, body turning and tensing in a way that would make Alexei’s body slamming into his hurt a little less, throw him a little bit less off balance even though he wasn’t on skates, but it was instinct at this point in his life. And sure enough, Alexei’s body connected with his own, and he was so much bigger, so much heavier, that without any boards to catch the impact or the ability to skate away at a lightning speed, Kent fell into a drift of snow with a huff of breath as Alexei knelt over him and— motherfucker!— shoved some snow down his jacket.

Kent spluttered as the cold bit at his skin, trying to censor his curses in front of kids suddenly ten times more difficult. “I’m— I’m gonna— you are dead, Mashkov,” he finally stammered out, pushing at Alexei’s chest with all the strength he could muster, as the big Russian laughed and fell off to the side, lying beside Kent in the snow.

The blonde seized the moment before he even really thought about it, grabbing a handful of snow and sitting up to let it drop down onto Alexei’s face. It wasn’t compacted, wouldn’t hurt, just give Alexei the same cold sting of snowflakes on skin. The bigger man gasped in surprise, bolting back up into a sitting position, and pouting at Kent as he wiped the snow off his reddened cheeks.

The neighbor kids had already forgotten about them, continuing their snowball war with single-minded intensity, leaving Kent and Alexei in their own little world.

So Kent stood up, then offered out a hand of truce. “Ready to go inside?” he suggested.

Alexei sighed, but nodded, taking Kent’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up (not as much of an effort as it sounded, considering Kent could bench more than Alexei’s weight during his workout routine). “Cannot believe you put snow in my face.” Kent knew the anger was feigned. It wasn’t as if Alexei had never fallen face first onto solid ice before. A little snow in the heat of a moment of play was nothing.

“You shoved snow down my shirt, so, fuck off,” Kent chirped back easily. “It’s still down there.”

“Guess you are just going to have to be getting undressed when we are getting inside,” Alexei replied, all-too-giddy about the prospect.

Kent rolled his eyes. “Nope— No— You are not getting in my pants right now. I’m putting on the fluffiest, warmest clothes you have immediately and cuddling on the couch with Willow while you make me a giant mug of hot chocolate.”

Alexei laughed, but took Kent’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, котёнок, whatever you are wanting,” he conceded as they crossed the threshold back into the warmth of Alexei’s house.

They walked up to the master bedroom together, unlinking hands when they reached the bathroom— the safest place to strip off their wet clothes without getting snow all over the carpets and making a bigger mess. Kent felt goose bumps rise over his flesh when he was standing naked, and quickly walked back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of his own boxers before yanking open the drawer of Alexei’s dresser where he kept pajamas. He pulled on a pair of flannel pants, then found a worn and soft sweatshirt. When Kent was done getting dressed, he padded downstairs to the living room, settling on the couch where Willow was already napping. She repositioned herself against Kent when he sat down, and Kent threw a blanket over himself.

A moment later, Alexei walked in on his way to the kitchen. He paused to ruffle Kent’s hair from the back of the couch. “Making hot chocolate now. You are wanting marshmallows?” he asked.

Kent tilted his head back to smile upside down at his boyfriend. “Please, babe.

“Да, be back in few minutes.” And with that, Alexei was walking out of the room.

The warmth seeping back into Kent’s body as he waited had him half-asleep by the time Alexei came back, nudging him to alertness. He had placed the mugs on the end table, and when Kent was awake again, Alexei sat down and repositioned them so that Kent was in between the v-shape of Alexei’s legs, pressed close, and the blanket was over both of them. Willow shifted as well to get closer to the both of them, laying herself half across their legs.

Alexei pressed a light kiss to the back of Kent’s neck before twisting, and a few seconds later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with a ridiculous amount of marshmallows already melting into it just the way Kent liked them to, was in front of his face. He took the mug with both hands, enjoying the hotness against his semi-stiff fingers.

“Thanks, Tates, you’re the fuckin’ best,” Kent murmured, taking a cautious sip. Hot, but not enough to burn too much. He lowered it from his face and relaxed against Alexei’s chest.

“I’m know, am best,” Alexei replied teasingly, “But thank you. And thank you for helping with snow. Was being fun day. Not so bad, the snow, да?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kent agreed half-heartedly. “I guess it’s not terrible. I still like the desert better, though.”

“Will convince you eventually, Providence being much better than Las Vegas.”

Kent laughed sleepily. “Right, okay, Alyosha, if you say so.” He took another sip of the hot chocolate Alexei had made, feeling content.

[granteares]

Parswoops swoops meeting kit! Shenanigans of him bribing her to like him bc she's Kent's baby

slowly but surely i am working through the 3 parswoops prompts i got when i asked for them… here is the first one i wrote up! anon, i hope you enjoy; thank you for sending this to me!! (i rewrote it about 5 times before i settled on this version, r.i.p.)

The first time Jeff came over to Kent’s condo— alone, because team-bonding events didn’t count— they had been hooking up for five months and Kent hadn’t had a good excuse not to let Swoops over considering it was the first time he’d actually asked. Normally, they could get away with going to the small house that Jeff shared with Hale, and that had been fine with Kent. Letting Jeff over felt like a step toward changing hooking up into something more like a relationship.

Kent had just been about to hop in the shower when the doorbell rung an hour and a half earlier than the time Jeff had given him. With a curse, Kent had turned the water off, thrown his clothes back on, and wandered to the front door. Sure enough, it was Jeff standing in his doorway.

“Your shirt’s on backwards,” Jeff said in way of greeting.

“And you’re an insane amount of time early,” Kent pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Still gonna let me in, though, right?” Jeff raised his eyebrows, smiling lopsidedly.

“Is making you wait out here an hour and a half an option?” Kent smirked back.

“No! It’s hot as fuck out, c’mon.” Jeff nudged Kent aside— not that Kent really fought him on it— and into Kent’s condo.

Kent shut the door behind him, then pulled Swoops into a kiss: short and light. When he pulled away again, he said, “I’m going to shower now— and no, you’re not joining me. But make yourself at home, I guess.” When Jeff agreed, he went back upstairs to his shower.

In retrospect, he should have warned Jeff to watch out for Kit. She wasn’t really a social cat, and even Kent hadn’t been immune to her claws when he had adopted her; it had taken months of injuries until she had finally realized he was trustworthy. It was another reason he didn’t generally bring guys home with him— it was far more trouble than it was worth, and Kit was the most important being in Kent’s life, anyway; he’d pick her over a guy any day of the week. Normally, when he had teammates over, Kit would find a hiding place and refuse to come out until everyone had left and Kent was tidying up.

When Kent got out of the shower, had toweled off and thrown a change of clothes on, he went back downstairs and found Jeff sitting in his living room: him cross-legged on one end of the couch, facing Kit who sat warily on the other end, ears pointed back.

“Tempting fate, huh?” Kent posed, standing in the threshold to the living room, smiling.

Jeff jumped, then looked over and Kent and nodded. “Guess so, yeah.”

“I’m amazed she hasn’t killed you yet.”

“She did scratch up my hand,” Jeff admitted.

Kent frowned, and walked to where Jeff was sitting. “She did? Lemme see— is it bad?” he started, reaching out for Jeff’s hands to examine the damage.

“Dude, it’s just a cat scratch, it’s fine. I cleaned it already.” Jeff held out his left hand anyway, as if to appease Kent, and Kent took it, looking it over. “No need to panic.” Kent frowned again, then let the hand go. He wasn’t wrong: it didn’t look bad. “C’mon, let’s order Chinese and watch a movie?” Jeff offered. Kent nodded, because that sounded like a great idea, even if their nutritionist would hate them for it.

_/ x \_

The second time Swoops came over, Kent had been half-asleep on his couch. It was an off-day for the Aces and he had taken the opportunity to tidy up his condo because it had been a while. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so when the doorbell rang, he jumped enough that it made Kit— curled up by his side— jump as well, then get off the couch and patter away somewhere. He pushed himself from the couch and to the front door.

“What the fuck, Swoops,” he muttered when he swung the door open. “You gonna keep showing up at my house unannounced?”

Jeff was smiling that lopsided smirk he used when he knew he was being an asshole. “You want me to leave?” As if he would, he took a step back.

Kent rolled his eyes. “No. You’re here— come on in, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the doorway, locking the door behind Swoops when he’d stepped inside.

“What’re you up to?”

“I was sleeping… I don’t even know what time it is, honestly.” He rubbed at his eyes, trying to feel more awake than he was, now that he had company— especially since said company was Jeff.

“It’s like, dinner time.”

“I see a theme here,” Kent teased, and watched Jeff shrug his shoulders. “Well, I actually have food in the fridge today. I’ll whip something up.”

“I’ll help,” Swoops offered.

Which found them in the kitchen not long afterward, various pots and pans and ingredients set out on the counters and stove top. Kent had had no idea that Jeff knew how to cook, but once everything was set out, he looked like a natural, multi-tasking prepping vegetables with talking Kent’s ear off as per usual and gently hip-checking him any time he walked by. It felt good to be in the kitchen with him, Kent thought, then immediately tried to dismiss that thought, because what.

After they had gotten everything cooking, and just had to wait, Kent noticed that Kit was peering around the entryway to the kitchen— still wary of Swoops, probably, but also fighting against the smell of chicken and knowing it was dinner time. Kent walked over to where he had Kit’s food and water dishes set out, and grabbed the empty food dish. The water bowl looked like it could use freshening up, as well, so as he straightened up and walked over to the cabinet where Kit’s food was kept, he glanced at Jeff. “Would you mind refilling Kit’s water bowl?” he asked. “Just— empty what’s in there and put new water in.”

“Oh, yeah— sure,” Jeff agreed, and a moment later Kent heard his sink running. Meanwhile, Kent had grabbed a can of cat food from Kit’s cabinet and was emptying it into her dish. Kit had walked into the kitchen at this point— she always did as soon as she heard the tell-tale sign of a can being tabbed open, or anything that sounded like kibble chunks rustling in a bag. She was standing by her placemat on the floor, mewling impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kent argued with her, “I’m working on it, see?” He glanced up at Jeff. “You can go ahead and just put that down,” he instructed, realizing he was standing a little ways of with the full water dish in his hands. With a nod, he approached, and bent over to put the bowl down. Kit mewled at him, nudging his hand a moment, then turned around back to Kent when she realized that it was not actually the food.

“Wow, rejected,” Jeff said with a laugh.

Kent rolled his eyes, and handed the food bowl to Jeff. “There, go ahead. Win my cat over.” It was ridiculous the way that Swoops’ face lit up at that, and he took the bowl from Kent’s hand and then placed it down in front of Kit on the placement after she continued her demanding mewls. Her tail swished happily as she immediately dug in, and Kent walked off to wash his hands.

There was still some time to wait on the food to cook, so he proposed they might as well go through the process of deciding what on earth to watch already, so they wouldn’t have to debate over dinner.

So they found themselves in the living room, sat next to each other on the couch with Jeff’s arm hooked around Kent’s shoulder. Kit padded in not long after, apparently satisfied with her dinner, and Kent watched her hop onto the back of the couch, walking over until she was curled behind Kent’s head. Jeff tensed for a moment as Kit laid a paw on his arm, but when she made no other moves, he relaxed again. Kent raised an eyebrow, then mentally shrugged it off. At least Kit wasn’t attacking him. It felt almost more like an ‘I’m still not sure I like you, but you fed me, so I’m giving you a chance, don’t fuck it up.’

_/ x \_

The third time, Swoops had actually warned Kent he was coming over and he’d bought groceries to cook Kent dinner. It was Saturday, and they had played an early-afternoon home game against the Aeros, so Kent really had no reason to protest since the game and following obligations— press time, mostly— had ended and he had been home vegging on his couch and going through his social media for an hour already. Besides, they had lost, and Kent certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea of a homemade meal and some feel-better cuddles after.

He had unlocked the door ahead of time, and shot Jeff a text to let him know he could let himself in. So he wasn’t surprised when he heard his front door opening and the rustling of plastic bags, and a familiar voice shouting “Yo, dude!” in greeting. Kent uncurled himself from the couch, and wandered into the entry hallway with a grin.

“Hey— Holy shit, what did you buy?” Jeff was laden with five or six grocery bags.

“Enough food to feed two hockey players who just burnt off a shit-ton of calories,” Swoops replied easily. “Fish sound good?” He looked sheepish for a moment, until he saw Kent was nodding.

“Fish sounds amazing,” he confirmed. “C’mon, I’ll help out.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Just remind me where stuff is and relax, Cap.”

Kent raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “If you’re sure— okay.” He led him to the kitchen, helped him in gathering what he asked for— pots and pans, cutting boards, measuring equipment, mostly— then sat one of the bar stools at the island and watched Swoops work.

After a while, Kit wandered in, and hopped up on the island. Kent was too busy focusing on watching Jeff move to protest like he normally would have, instead running his hands through Kit’s thick fur absently as she nuzzled his hand and purred.

When the fish was done cooking, Jeff gave the pair a look, then tore off a few small pieces from one of the filets. “Is it okay?” he asked Kent, glancing at Kit.

“Oh— sure, yeah. I do all the time. Go ahead, I’m sure if anything will make her appreciate you, it’ll be fish.” He laughed quietly, then watched as Jeff walked closer. He held a piece out in his hand toward Kit, looking somewhat nervous, like maybe he wasn’t sure if Kit would bite his hand off instead (as if Jeff’s hand wasn’t two times bigger than her head). She barely even hesitated before nibbling at the proffered piece of salmon. He offered her the couple other small chunks he’d brought over, and started petting her as she finished the last one.

“Well, she probably officially loves you now,” Kent assured with a laugh. “Congratulations, you bribed my cat into liking you.”

“Success!” Jeff cheered gleefully. “I think that means I am approved to date you, now.”

Kent would have choked, if he had been eating or drinking anything— thankfully, he wasn’t. “Excuse me?” he sputtered.

Jeff looked at him with eyebrows raised. “Uh… date you? Like, officially? If… you want to… We’ve been doing this for months… I just thought…”

“You’ve been making my cat like you so that you could date me?”

“Yes?” Jeff looked so meek, so nervous— smaller, somehow, like he was trying to make himself shrink into the floorboards— and Kent felt a pang of guilt overwhelm the panic. Jeff wanted to date him. After five months of fucking him and two years of playing on the same hockey team as him… Jeff had seen just how much of a pain in the ass and how much of a mess Kent really was and he still wanted to date him? He wanted to date him bad enough that he had decided the best way to do that— and he wasn’t wrong— was to make Kent’s cat like having him around first.

“I— uh— okay.” Because no one should let the tabloids fool them into thinking that Kent ‘the V stands for Victory’ Parson was smooth, clearly.

“Okay…” Jeff echoed, then smiled, and let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” Kent said back.

“Great.” Jeff smiled wider, then closed the distance between himself and Kent. He leaned in, and Kent, still sitting on the bar stool, tilted his face up so that their lips met. The kiss was soft, and felt different somehow than the kisses they had shared previously. Kent only pulled back when Jeff did, who said, “Dinner’s done, so, uh, we should probably eat that… Like, before it gets cold. Or before Kit does.”

“Right, yeah,” Kent agreed, laughing himself now.

He pushed himself from the bar stool and got out silverware as Jeff dished dinner out onto two plates, throwing a couple more scraps onto the floor for Kit, who weaved around his feet and mewled excitedly each time he did.

[granteares]

what it means to crush

patater • the expanded fic of “perfect illusion” now posted on ao3!!

summary: The only reason Kent agreed to this ridiculous scheme is because he's been in love with Alexei for a good year and can never say "no" to him. Not when he looks at him like Kent is actually a good person who makes him happy.

tags: fake/pretend relationship, coming out fic, implied/referenced homophobia words: ~3k

read it here!

[granteares]

it’s hit or miss

parswoops • first kiss fic, references to real hockey words: ~3.2k

Kent can't help but be a sore loser sometimes, especially after a bad game. Jeff always has his back, though-- and his heart, maybe.

read it here!

[granteares]

the winning side

Patater Week Day 7: Adopting a Pet Together

dlafdslfkd;asdfds one of my greatest Weaknesses.

Alexei wants to adopt a dog with Kent, and it's the first real thing they've gotten together in their three-year relationship. Kent also isn't sure how Kit is going to react to having a dog in her apartment. They adopt Willow anyway.

warnings: mention of tater having a dog that passed away from old age in case that upsets anyone but that’s about it it’s just cute cute cute cute words: ~2.5k

read it here!

[granteares]

perfect illusion

Patater Week Day 3: Fake Dating/Secret Relationship

holy shit i’m always a slut for the fake dating trope. and kent is a hot mess. but we all knew that.

The only reason Kent agreed to this ridiculous scheme is because he's been in love with Alexei for a good year and can never say "no" to him. Not when he looks at him like Kent is actually a good person who makes him happy.

warnings: recreational alcohol use, implied/referenced homophobia, me being vaguely Bitter about the arizona coyotes, angsty kent parson being a dramatic ho words: ~2.7k

read it here!