#also it's past 4am so mea culpa for any typos I'm too tired to read it again 🙊

[nebulein]

I love your writing.

Maybe Pat doing yoga for the first time and Jonny is his instructor. Jonny has to correct pats stances.

"And now you touch your right hand to your left ankle."

"You're kidding."

Jonny blinks, taken aback. "I-- uh. No?"

Patrick stares at him, sweat dripping into his eyes. He'd wipe it away if it wouldn't mean risking his precarious balance and likely falling on his ass. "I'm an athlete, not a fucking contortionist, Jonny!"

"It's easy, look." Jonny slides into stance next to him, legs spread wide, smoothly moving through the poses. Of course when Jonny does it it looks fucking easy. Asshole.

"Do that again," Pat demands.

Jonny rolls his eyes but does it, twisting in a way that Pat is sure will land him on his butt and then he'll never hear the end of it. He tries anyways, after a deep breath, but his arm is too short and he's supposed to keep the other one straight and--

"Whoa, steady there."

Yeah, yep, nope. Not happening. "It's fucking impossible!"

Jonny huffs. "It's not impossible," he says, putting emphasis on the word like Patrick doesn't know what it means, "I just did it."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a freak," Pat mutters, frustration bubbling over.

In a testament to their long friendship, Jonny ignores him. "Look, it's all in the hips. You just gotta be loose, go with the flow."

"I loosen my hips I die." For real. Pat is gonna brain himself and then Jonny is gonna cry and then where will they be.

Scratch that, Pat is gonna die anyways. 'Cause Jonny, once again, decided to ignore all personal boundaries Patrick keeps so carefully erected for his own sanity and well-being and put his hands on Pat's hips. Pat breathes in through his nose. Jonny's hands are broad, and possessive, and sitting entirely too low. All he'd need to do is shift an inch and he'd be grazing Patrick's dick. Pat breathes out through his mouth.

"Jesus, you're tight. No wonder you can't. Here, c'mon."

Pat grits his teeth and briefly contemplates murder. Or maybe running away screaming. But Jonny's standing right behind him, close enough that Pat can almost feel his body heat, feels Jonny brushing against Pat's shirt. He's holding Pat's hips in what feels like an iron vice, trying to get Pat to twist them. Pat resists Jonny's efforts, digs his heels into the floor and counts to ten.

He's not going to think about Jonny's hands on his hips, or Jonny behind him, or what else he'd like Jonny to do. All he'd have to do is shift his ass back a notch and. Well. That way madness lies.

"Your mom's tigh--"

"Kaner."

Jonny doesn't shout. Patrick shuts up anyway.

"Breathe with me."

Patrick hates his life. He hates the moment he stepped foot inside the gym this morning. He should've backed right out when he saw Jonny. Made up some excuse about a sick aunt or a broken skate lace or whatever. Instead he'd stupidly stuck around, and when Jonny had said 'wanna join me for some yoga?' Patrick's mouth had moved and formed the word 'sure' before his brain had had a chance to kick in.

This is why he doesn't go into the gym before his first coffee.

In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

"There we go." Jonny's voice is low and kind of soothing, or it would be, anyways, if Patrick didn't feel like a live wire right now, as tense as he's ever been in his life.

"You can trust me, I won't let you fall."

Fuck Jonny and his stupid fucking psychological warfare. Pat breathes and tries to relax. Jonny's behind him, strong and solid. If Pat falls the only thing he's gonna injure is his pride.

In. Out.

"Yeah, there we go. Ground yourself in the moment, feel the floor beneath your feet." Jonny and his fucking hippie mumbo jumbo. "Find your core, your balance." If Pat knew where his fucking balance was Jonny wouldn't have to publicly grope him right now. "Now focus on your left leg, open up your flexors."

Jonny pushes again and this time Pat allows it, follows Jonny's guidance, hips twisting. He wobbles for a sec but Jonny immediately tightens his hands, pressing all up against Patrick and Pat leans back on instinct.

"I got you," Jonny murmurs, low and right in Patrick's ear, and the shudder running through Pat has nothing to do at all with his balance. "Think you can manage?"

"Yeah," Pat croaks, mouth drier than the Sahara. Fucking hell. He swallows, tries again. "I'm good."

"I know you are." Maybe it's the praise mixed into the gentle joke, or the way Jonny's voice goes all warm when he says it, but Pat finds himself smiling as he bends forward, touching his right hand to his ankle. Jonny's right, once you got the right stance it's fucking easy.

There's a noise behind him, choked and kind of muffled but almost distressed, and Kaner turns around on instinct, but his nose is currently touching his knee, and his hand is glued to his ankle, all of which means he doesn't have the counterweight for the sudden movement to keep himself from doing exactly what he's been trying to avoid all morning. He hits the ground with an 'oomph'.

"Shit, are you alright?" Jonny's looking genuinely concerned.

Pat's elbow hurts where he banged it on the floor, but the thing smarting the most is his pride. "What happened to 'don't you trust me? I got you'?"

Jonny has the decency to look sheepish. "I got, uh--" His eyes dart away before fixing back on Patrick's face again. "Got a little sidetracked."

"Fucking hell, Jonny," Pat spits, massaging his funny bone.

"You alright?"

Pat had forgotten how annoying Jonny gets in mother-hen mode. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

He lets Jonny haul him up, except Jonny's meant it a little too well, hauling Pat right into his chest.

It's a good chest.

Pat would know, seeing as he's currently groping Jonny's tits.

For one excruciating, soul-killing moment, neither of them moves.

And then Jonny clears his throat and Pat jumps back like he's burned himself. "I, uh--."

"Yeah, no. It's. Uh. Fine. We're fine. Right?"

"Yeah. Fine. Totally fine."

Someone have mercy and kill Pat right now.

"Good, good." Jonny nods. If Patrick didn't know any better, he'd say Jonny's blushing. Jonny turns away for a moment and Patrick uses the chance to discreetly readjust himself.

"So. Next up is downward dog," Jonny drones on in his monotone, apparently determined to power through any awkwardness by shoving his ass in Patrick's face. Like. This cannot be real. Jonny's on all fours again, nearly folded in half in the middle, head down, ass up. Full on power bottom stance. Patrick would know, since he-- Uh, anyways. That's not important right now.

Patrick takes one second to consider the possibility of Jonny helping him adjust his posture in this position or--God forbid--try and help Kaner bend over and makes the only sane choice of this whole morning.

"Yeah, you know what, I think I'm good. I actually just remembered I got some skate issue I need checked out so uh, I'll go do that I guess. Right now. You have fun with your, uh, yoga or whatever. So, uh. See ya."

He hightails it outta there.

#ahahah I'm so sorry this mostly ended up as UST nonnie 😅 #also it's past 4am so mea culpa for any typos I'm too tired to read it again 🙊 #but thank you so much for your kind words and the prompt 🥺🙏 #(if i didn't do it justice feel free to send in another one 😆) #1988 #neb writes #nonnie asks #anyone else got prompts I'm around this weekend to fill them #these are fun #but also now i have to go into hiding (by which i totally mean bed & not just incognito modus so my timezone aware friends won't shoot me) #😇 #hockey baby