i know this has nothing to do with hockey and i'm sorry but guys i'm crying

a kane/toews fic rec list!

because these two idiots are in love and i can’t stop reading fic about these dumb hockey players

** = favorite, ~~ = trigger warnings under the summary, ♦♦ = bottom jonny

Keep reading

Continuation of these posts: x, ix


Bitty wakes up to his alarm.
As well as three more text messages from Kent Parson.
One seems to be a picture message, so he opens that one first.
It’s a picture of a rather large cat sitting in an open suitcase; it’s grooming itself. Bitty looks at it bewildered for a moment before scrolling down to see the caption.

“Look at this asshole, I love her so much.”

Huh. Kent has a cat.

Bitty scrolls to see the next messages.

“I just realized you may not even be Bittle. I could totally be texting a fake number rn. Awks.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. Like he would ever take a selfie for a fake contact. No matter how sub par that selfie may have been.
The next message fits everything he seems to know about Kent Parson.

“Enjoy the free picture of my INSANELY FAMOUS cat, possibly fake number.”

He even ended that one with various cat and dollar sign emojis.

Bitty opens up the notes on his phone (which is mostly half formed recipes) and types:
“Kent Parson: bad at following directions”

As he closes notes, he debates texting back. He ultimately decides not to, taking a bit of dark pleasure in making Kent think he has the wrong number, since he couldn’t be bothered to TEXT BITTY IN THE MORNING LIKE BITTY POLITELY ASKED HIM TO.
With a heaving sigh Bitty finally gets out of bed.

He pulls on some shorts and a Samwell hoodie before grabbing his headphones and heading downstairs.
It’s quiet in the Haus, the type of quiet only achieved by half of the occupants being hungover. Bitty sends a quick thankful prayer that he seems to be immune to hangovers, regardless of what he drinks. He opens up a playlist titled “Morning After” which was originally a cleaning playlist before he realized the utter devastation that epikegsters left behind. Plopping in his headphones, pushing up his hoodie sleeves, he gives a determined nod and gets to work.

He’s two trash bags of solo cups (and a truly questionable plastic bag of…something…that he picked up with a stray hockey stick before carefully scooping it into the trash bag) when his text notification interrupts the Avril song playing. He swipes his phone open without looking.

Oh.
It’s Kent.
Again.

“It occurred to me that you may be Bittle, random number, and you’re just hungover or like, sleeping”

Bittle rolls his eyes. Another text comes in.

“BUT IF UR NOT, I am totally not famous. Only my cat is.”

A string of the sunglasses emoji smirking follows.
Bittle is starting to regret every drunk choice he has ever made ever.

He goes to lock his phone back, continuing to passive aggressively ignore Kent Parson and his ridiculous emojis when another text comes in.

“U have ur read receipts on, random #”

A bunch of side eye emojis follow as Bitty’s stomach drops to his knees. He totally forgot he still had that on. He leans against the wall and takes a deep breath.
He’s debating if that makes ignoring Parson on purpose better or worse when another text comes in.

“starting to feel a bit ignored here”

He sent the fucking cat crying emoji.
Bitty quickly goes to reply.

“TRYING to clean here, Parson”

Send.

“Do you have no respect for after epikegster rituals?”

Send.

Bitty is in the middle of turning off his read receipts when he gets a reply.

“Since you know my name I’m guessing you’re Bittle. Sweet.”

Another text notification.

“I have respect for NOTHING. Gawd, it’s like u don’t even know me.”

Bittle rolls his eyes, makes it so his text notification won’t interrupt his playlist again, before hitting play and replying.

“I kinda don’t”

He manages to tie off the trash bags and start a third before a reply comes in.

“thats fair”

What is he supposed to say to that? Bitty ignores it and continues to clean. The kitchen is just starting to look habitable again when a text comes in.

“How are we gonna play this?”

Bitty pauses and sends a string of question marks. The reply is immediate.

“I mean, how do people become friends??”

Bitty smirks to himself as he sends an old school shrug emoji. He tucks his phone in his pocket as he starts a pancake batter. He’s halfway through a song and two pancakes in when he thinks to check his phone again.

“I feel like you’re chirping me.”

He makes up a tray of bacon, puts it in the oven and sets a timer. Two minutes later is another text.

“ur totally chirping me rn”

Bitty flips a pancake.

A minute after that a bunch of random emojis that makes Bitty get the feeling Kent is exasperated with him. He grins to himself as he types.

“Sorry making pancakes!”

Once again, the reply is immediate.

“yeah whatevs. Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Bitty makes a few more so that the stack looks suitably impressive before taking a picture and sending it. He gets a string of texts.

“bro.”

“I’m like, jealous rn”

“I gotta find a waffle house now.”

“NO WAIT”

“I NEED AN IHOP. STAT.”

Bitty flips a pancake and types out,

“You’re way weirder than I expected”

He sends it before he can over think it.

“Says the guy cleaning up after a KEGSTER and making motherfucking food channel level pancakes”

He rolls his eyes and purposely finishes off what’s left of the pancake batter before deigning that with a response.

“Go find an IHOP and leave me be, Parson”

Kent sends back a shocked emoji before another onslaught of texts roll in.

“THE NERVE.”

“I THINK I WILL JUST TO SPITE YOU”

“AND UR PANCAKES”

Bitty has the absurd urge to laugh, which he suppresses so he doesn’t burn himself taking the bacon out of Betsy as the timer beeps. He places the tray of enough bacon to feed a hungover hockey team on top of the stove then replies.

“enjoy your sub par pancakes”

He goes to sign it with a smiley face, then adds an angel for good measure.

“I will, thank you”

“#PANCAKESORBUST”

Bitty rolls his eyes, getting out some syrup and butter.

Kent Parson is not quite what he expected, but he finds that he no longer regrets his impulsive drunk decision to follow Parson out of the party last night. Even if it did lead to what has to be one of the weirdest text conversations he’s had.

He has just enough time to save Kent’s number as ‘KP *cat emoji*’ before Holster barrels into the kitchen.

He looks like he’s wearing one of the curtains Bitty got as a toga;Bitty wishes that this is the first time those poor curtains have been used as such. He takes his headphones out, because he’s polite thank you very much, as Holster looks like he’s going to string words together.

“BRO. Are those after-kegster pancakes??”

Bitty rolls his eyes but continues laying everything out. “Yes Holster, I made pancakes.”

Holster’s eyes get comically big before he turns his head and yells, “BITS MADE AFTER-KEGSTER PANCAKES!!”

Bitty hears a series of loud thumps that sound suspiciously like 200lb guys falling out of their beds before the responding call of Shitty echoes through the Haus.

“BITS YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHERFUCKER, I LOVE YOU!!”

Bitty locks his phone, and says goodbye to his peaceful morning with a fond smile.