Jamie Benn One-Shots

“Jamie.”
“Jamie.”
“Jamie.”
“Ja–” Tyler quieted when the bedroom door flung open and slammed against the wall, an irritated Jamie standing on the opposite side.
“I swear to God, if I hear you call my name one more time, I’m going to hurt your other knee,” Jamie sneered, chucking a bag of ice at Tyler’s chest.
The injured idiot just grinned, placed the bag of ice over his knee, and said sweetly, “Thank you. Now, where’s the grub?”
“The pizza should be here in, like, ten minutes.”
Tyler, like a child, pouted and threw his hands in the air. “Ten minutes? Jamie Ulysses Benn –”
“I don’t have a middle name,” Jamie interjected, but the pouty, injured child continued on.
“Why aren’t you making us food?”
“I don’t think the team wants you out for any longer than you already are.”
“I would like to have the Benn experience and taste your handmade work. So, why – why, Jamie Lesley Benn, are you not cooking for me?”
Jamie cocked an eyebrow at his on-ice partner and said, listing off on his fingers, “Firstly, quit adding middle names to my name. You’re trying to make it sound more patronizing, but…” He shook his head. “Secondly, like I said, I rather not be the reason you’re out any longer.”
“Care for your best –”
“Quit acting like a spoiled princess,” Jamie shot back right when the doorbell rang. He left and returned to a pouting Tyler. He paused at the doorway with the pizza box in hand. “You know, I could always just call up some of the guys and eat the pizza in your living room if you’re not gonna stop pouting like a five-year-old.”
“Feed –”
“No.”
“But I’m –”
“No.”
Tyler, still pouted, said, “At least put a swirly straw in my beer.”
Jamie opened his mouth to refuse when he closed it and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “You have swirly straws in your apartment? How old are you –” He shook his head, dropped the box of pizza off on the edge of Tyler’s bed, and walked out of the room, grumbling, “I give up.”
Tyler snickered, reaching over for the box and taking out two pepperoni slices. “I wonder who I should have over tomorrow,” he said. “Daddy would probably be a better babysitter than Jamie.”
“I strongly disagree with that,” Jamie chimed, walking back into the bedroom with two beer cans – both with swirly straws sticking out the top.
“Cheers?” Tyler asked, holding out his beer can, while Jamie grabbed a slice for himself.
The younger Benn brother glanced over at his partner-in-crime and smiled. “Cheers,” he said, clinking beer cans. Before he took a sip from the swirly straw, he commented, “You know, five-year-olds really shouldn’t drink alcohol.”
“I hope you get arrested for supplying minors,” Tyler shot back, happily slurping on his drink through the swirly straw and taking a big bite out of his sandwiched pizzas.

Notes

Request: How about Jamie comforting Tyler after his knee injury this past season? Go wild.