what a troy

NHL!Bitty, Part V - Single

The first openly gay NHL player can’t be single in Seattle! 

Since Eric can’t risk telling anyone he has a boyfriend (especially a closeted NHL-er), his only option is to play along as the Schooners go out of their way to find Eric a boyfriend. This wouldn’t be a problem if his well-meaning teammates didn’t keep trying to introduce him to other closeted players, of which there are more than he would have guessed. Now Eric has to survive a night with Kent Parson.

Origin: From Samwell to Seattle | Part I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping |  Part III - Post-Season | Part IV - RPF 

As the first openly gay player in the NHL, Eric is used to being locker rooms filled with guys bundled up so tight a TSA scanner couldn’t find their genitals; but then there’s stuff like this. Brazen nudity of the ‘I recognize you’re attracted to men, look how cool I am with it’ variety. His new captain leans toward the latter in a way that would make Shitty proud.

“Bittle, we’re going out with a few Aces. You met Kent Parson?”

Mitchell ‘Cricket’ Crocker is pushing 30 and already going gray. He’s also standing in front of Eric’s stall, naked as the day he was born, unconcerned with the fact his junk is at Eric’s eye-level. 

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Troy:  Maybe it’s time for you to just go to sleep.

Dexter doesn’t argue.  He slowly walks to the tent that he and Troy will share. After he’s out of earshot…

Teresa:  And what about Dexter’s father?

Troy: Let’s just say that my mom didn’t have the best of luck when it comes to men. 

Teresa:  That’s too bad…

Troy gets up and walks over to sit beside Teresa.

Troy:  Sometimes I think it was my mom’s broken heart that caused her to get sick.  She caught Dexter’s dad cheating on her…and weeks later, she found out she was pregnant.   And…as if that wasn’t bad enough, she was diagnosed with cancer during the pregnancy.

The best thing in the world is when you find your platonic soulmate. There’s no hassle of the drama of romance. It’s just two people who are completely in synch. It’s the ultimate of all bromances. It’s JD and Turk, Abed and Troy, Shawn and Gus. Nothing is better than finding that person and holding on to them.

(the start of a kent/swoops fic… let me know if you’d read more?)

As far as roommates went, Swoops was pretty great.

He was quiet and he clean and he didn’t complain about how often Kent went out and got wasted after games, so yeah.

He was great.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that, after the Aces lost to the Habs in the first game Kent ever played against them and the Zimmermann’s didn’t bother to show up, Kent didn’t want to be around anybody at all because, really.

He wasn’t an idiot.

Obviously the Zimmermann’s cared about Jack more than him, and obviously this whole thing has been harder on them than it’s been on him, and obviously they didn’t actually owe Kent anything, but there’d also been a time when they were sort of like parents to him and it hadn’t really been all that long ago, so yeah.

Maybe Kent had been holding out a little bit of hope that Bob and Alicia would show up at the game and say they were proud of him, and tell him that they didn’t blame him for everything, and just let him know that Jack was doing alright, but that hadn’t happened and Kent was crushed.

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I promised @legojacques a ficlet about Kent and sticky notes. 

side note: is it possible to write fics about fics you haven’t published yet?

Things Kent knows about himself:

He’s petty.

He’s more intelligent than people give him credit for.

He forgets things really easily.

Super easily, actually. He remembers being in the Q and having the best memory out of anyone on the team. Nowadays, he’s lucky if he can remember something long enough to write it down. He read somewhere about trauma inducing memory loss. Kent doesn’t care to figure out if it’s from physical or emotional trauma since he’s no stranger to both, and they equally suck.

Which is why he’s taken to carrying around a pen and a pack of sticky notes wherever he goes. Kit hates it because sometimes she’ll go roaming around, and find them inexplicably stuck to her tail. The cleaning company also hates them because it’s against their policy to move personal items. Which means his kitchen cabinets haven’t been wiped down in a solid month. Jeff hates them the most because if Kent so much as tries to leave a message for him on the fridge, it gets lost under fifteen different notes about what they need to fix for next week’s drills.

For Kent, however, they’re a great way to keep track of his thoughts. Just last week, he’d woken up in the middle of the night, grabbed a glass of milk, wrote down exactly what they need to get an edge over Seattle, and fell back asleep. It took them twenty minutes to find it the next morning. But they did beat the Schooners.

Unfortunately, there were a few instances where sticky notes were more to his detriment than anything. Case in point, he woke up a few mornings ago to find a sticky note on his bathroom mirror. It had a doodle of a duck with a heart next to it. Underneath the words “rematch island” were scrawled in his signature drunk-cursive. Kent only writes cursive when he’s drunk.

Since then, he’s cycled through almost every possibility imaginable. But he still can’t figure out what rematch island means. They’re on a roadie through part of the Metropolitan division. He keeps thinking that something will come up; something will give him an inkling as to what he’s forgetting. A hand claps his shoulder, stirring him out of his thoughts.

Jeff is chatting with him amicably as their flight descends into New York. But it takes a few seconds for Kent’s mind to process his words.

“What?” Kent finally asks.

Troy sighs, “how much of that didja hear?”

Kent winces slowly. “Something about a party?”

Jeff looks at him neutrally. “Close enough,” he decides. “She said it doesn’t start until ten so we’ll have plenty of time to shower up.”

“Who did?”

“Jesus, Parse,” Troy berates. “Lardo? She called on Saturday. I thought you wrote it down somewhere?”

Kent’s eyes furrow. His mind clicks everything into place. They were playing the Islanders tonight. Lardo had made him promise a beer pong rematch after last month’s victory over her. The duck, the heart—of fucking course. He bites the inside of his cheek.

Jeff raises his eyebrows, frowning in confusion. “What?”

“I forgot what my note meant.” Kent blushes. He fishes it out of his back pocket, handing it to Jeff.

Jeff stares at it for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter.

“Quit it,” Kent grumbles.

“I’m sending this her, right now,” he chuckles. He pulls out his phone and opens snapchat.

“Babe,” Kent whines.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me,” Troy counters. “What’s the point of metamours if I can’t chirp you?”

Kent tries in vain to suppress a grin. He loves his boyfriend…and his girlfriend. They shutout the Islanders. A few hours later, they’re fashionably late showing up at Lardo and Camilla’s apartment. Jeff kisses him earnestly before dragging Carter, Goose, and Perry to kitchen for drinks. He finds Lardo out on the balcony, laughing with one of her friends from work. Kent hugs her from behind, causing Larissa to yelp in surprise.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she grunts.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

She turns to him, offering a sip of her mixed drink.

“I heard you spaced on me,” Lardo chirps, clearly amused.

“I wrote it down,” Kent swears.

“I saw.” She pulls out her phone to show him the screenshot she took. “You’re getting better at drawing ducks.”

He beams excitedly. “Yea? You liked it?”

Lardo smirks as she gets on her tip toes to kiss him. “I’d give it an A for effort. B for execution.”

Kent chuckles. “I’ll take it.”

“What about us? What about everything we’re been through?”