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Won't Give Up Easy

The Fight


They were so happy they almost made him puke. Callie fluttered around the kitchen being the perfect girlfriend. Every so often she would go and coddle Ryan, who had received his first couple stitches after a fight. Sure, fighting Mike Richards probably wasn’t a brilliant idea but you had to give the rookie fights. The black eye he wore earned him some points.

Jon was a mess. He worried about everything. Following Callie around like a hopeless puppy dog, every so often running back to the tree he set up in front of the magnificent view of the Chicago River, were he would look for his gift second doubting his choice before setting it down and proceeding to pace.

Patrick would have been amused if he weren’t so damn jealous. Callie and Jon practically could have anything together. They seemed to be made for each other. She had problems, he was there for her and supported her. He was stressed and overworked, she was his relief.

Hell, they were even perfect when they fought. Only once did he ever get to witness it. But he knew it happened. They would fight over something, he would go out to the rink, shoot a couple of pucks, and then come back and talk. He remembered the night they’d gotten so mad at each other they didn’t even bother to wait to go at it.


“Why are you such a goddamned baby?”

“Callie, shut up! It’s the goddamned Red Wings. We lost to the Red Wings!”

“You guys are nearly 6 points ahead of them. It’s not even close to playoff time! You’re walking around here kicking shit and acting like an asshole.”

“Well, I fucking lost. What do you want me to do about it, huh, Cal? Want me to walk on goddamned rainbows and be a fucking leprechaun?” At this point, Jon was in her face looking down at her.

“I’m not asking you to do anything except maybe not sulk like a baby and piss everyone off. You didn’t just lose, Jon. You’re entire team lost and instead of being their goddamned captain, you walk around all day not talking to anyone, and acting like it’s the end of the world. Why don’t you just grow the fuck up and get over it? It’s not the first time you’ve lost and it’s not going to be the last.” Jon eyes burned. For the first time ever, Patrick saw anger in Jon eyes towards Callie.

“You know, what Calle? Why are you saying something? Why not my teammates, huh?”

“Because you’re so fucking snippy that they’re afraid you’ll bit their heads off.” Patrick had to hand it to her, nearly everything she was saying was right. Jon had been a bit of a baby and no one wanted to deal with him.

“Fuck you, Callie.”

“Fuck you, Jon.”

That night, both of them left their separate ways. Pat knew because he went with Jon after practice to make sure he didn’t drink his life away. They basically duked in out in front of the entire team. It was pretty bad. Jon just sat in his own misery, not talking, just staring at the wall in front of him.

It was starting to get dark when they heard a knock on the front door. Patrick didn’t even have a chance to get up before Jon raced to the door. There was Callie. For just a moment, he saw them assess each other before they came together. Pat took it as his cue to leave.



He was entirely too nervous to give her a present. Maybe because it was an entire new step in their relationship. Asking her to move in would be one of the riskiest things he had ever done. Jon didn’t even know if she wanted it.

Sure, their relationship was still relatively new but they’d been through so much, it seemed like the three month they’d known each other and become a couple had been substantial enough. It not like she didn’t spend every night at his place anyways.

He watched her with probing eyes as she cleaned up after Patrick and Ryan left. He didn’t know what he would do if she said no. But right then wasn’t the right time to think about that. Just ask her Jon, he told himself. If he didn’t find the balls now, he never would.


emily roberts emily roberts