#i hope people enjoy the adventures of PM toews and the first gentleman as much as i do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kanerboo · 6 years

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basically @nuuclearshow showed me this and my first reaction was: “time to break out yet another first gentleman of canada ficlet!!”

so, here it goes~ also i feel like i have to thank justin trudeau for like, giving me so much material to work with for PM toews...

Whenever Christmas comes around, Patrick knows to expect that his adopted country’s going to come up with a slew of ridiculous merchandise featuring his husband. Two years ago, Hallmark debuted a range of Christmas cards with pictures of Jonny wearing Santa hats, riding moose (also equipped with Santa hats), and giving out presents. Last Christmas, some tech start-up started selling mugs that, on first glance, looked like plain white coffee mugs, but a picture of Jonny grinning and holding a miniature Christmas tree would appear once the mug was filled with a hot liquid. Both items sold out within days.

Basically, Patrick’s often thought that they ought to maybe trademark Jonny’s image and make a ton of money while they’re at it.

But this year - this year, Canada may just have outdone itself with regards to terrible Christmas-slash-Prime Minister merchandise.

---

Patrick thinks the Toewster may be a joke at first.

“You have got to be joking,” he sputters, looking up at Jonny. He’s trying so hard not to laugh that he’s crumpling the brochure he’s holding - the promotional brochure from Canadian Tire that Jonny had casually handed to him just as he’d stepped out of the bathroom after his shower.

“It’s for charity,” Jonny insists for the hundredth time. “It’s fine, it’s - “

“It’s your face toasted on a piece of bread,” Patrick says.

“It’s charitable!” Jonny says. “At least it’s better than - than all that stuff from Hallmark or whatever. At least proceeds from this toaster go towards making sports accessible for children who might not otherwise have the resources for it - “

“Oh my god, Jonny,” Patrick says - and he can’t help it, he’s starting to break into helpless, high-pitched giggles. “You just. Oh god. You’re so earnest about this. About this fucking toaster.”

“Charity, Pat,” Jonny repeats, and even through his tear-filled mirth, Patrick can see Jonny starting to grit his teeth, his face taking on that mulish look he gets when he thinks he’s absolutely in the right and Patrick’s being an asshole. “It’s for a good cause. It’s for kids.”

And yeah, maybe Patrick’s being a bit of a dick about this; when your husband’s the Prime Minister and patron of a dozen charities, he perhaps could find better things to laugh at. Like the damn butter sculpture, for one - he still hasn’t let Jonny live that one down.

“Okay, okay,” he says, tossing the brochure aside and going over to Jonny to wind his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just - I mean - couldn’t they have thought of something better than your face on toast?”

“Gretzky got a toaster too,” Jonny says stubbornly, his ears reddening.

“Oh, well, if Gretzky got one, I suppose it’s fine for the Prime Minister to get one too,” he says, and tiptoes to peck Jonny sweetly on the lips. “I’m sorry, babe. No more badmouthing your - your Toewster, I promise.”

“Don’t even, Pat,” Jonny warns; but he kisses Patrick back, so all in all, Patrick guesses his feelings aren’t too hurt after all.

---

Patrick secretly places an order for the Toewster the day it’s launched; he’s glad he did, because it sells out in hours.

And if he maybe intends to make Jonny breakfast in bed on Christmas morning, with the help of the toaster and Jonny’s favourite gluten-free bread - so he can have the singular pleasure of watching Jonny grumpily eat his own face - well, that’s his own business. It’s for charity, after all.

---

But then Patrick discovers the wall calendar. That’s being sold on Amazon. The calendar with twelve photographs of his husband (half of them topless), called the My Canadian Boyfriend Jonathan Toews Wall Calendar.

And that is it, Patrick is absolutely done. One moment he’s innocently scrolling through his Instagram feed, and the next moment he’s staring at a post from Buzzfeed plugging the calendar. The best part is the sheer number of likes (over eight thousand), and nearly four hundred comments, most of which seem to be from women discussing how hot and perfect Jonny is and how they’re so 100% definitely buying this calendar. Good lord.

Jonny finds him like that, curled into a ball on their bed and wheezing with laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks. “What’s the matter?” he asks, sounding slightly alarmed.

Patrick waves his iPad at him. “I can’t,” he chokes out.

Jonny takes the iPad from him and says almost immediately, “What the fuck is this shit.”

Amazon’s kindly provided several preview photos of the calendar, and August features a particularly steamy picture of Jonny wakeboarding in a skimpy, skintight pair of black trunks while they were at Lake of the Woods several summers ago. The picture was taken by Patrick himself and uploaded to his Instagram; apparently the calendar publishers had been thorough in going through his social media, tabloid long-lens photos, and official news pictures of Jonny at black tie events.

Patrick watches Jonny’s face darken as he swipes through all the photos, and he just can’t help it; he starts laughing again.

“What is - oh for god’s sake, people have too much time on their hands,” Jonny says, tossing the iPad onto the bed.

“I’m quite surprised they didn’t make it a full topless porn calendar, considering the number of times the paps have caught you sauntering around Lake of the Woods almost naked,” Patrick says, trying to get his laughter under control.

Jonny scowls; in his first couple of years as Prime Minister, before he’d really understood the depths to which tabloids would sink to get some scandalous pictures of him, he was constantly being papped at Lake of the Woods and out on his boat with Patrick. There are still some pretty NSFW photographs of them both making out with Jonny in next to nothing - exhibitionist that he is - floating around on the internet, despite Jonny’s best efforts and lawsuits.

He’d found it a complete invasion of privacy and an utter outrage - which, yeah, it is, but Patrick personally has zero issues with showing his super hot husband off to the world - and quite literally laid down the law. A comprehensive overhaul of privacy laws later, they’re finally left in peace on their yearly visits to the lake, and at least Jonny gets to walk around completely naked now like he likes, no shorts or fabric in the way, and that is something Patrick appreciates immensely.

“Don’t be mad,” he tells Jonny, picking the iPad up and swiping to the photo where he’s kayaking, his back to Patrick’s camera, although he’s looking back over his shoulder and smiling at something Patrick’s saying. Patrick can’t even remember what that was about, but he can’t be blamed; he’s pretty distracted by the array of muscles rippling across Jonny’s back, even now. “Look - hotness like this totally should be on wall calendars. Pinned up on walls of teenage girls and gay men across the country, et cetera.”

Jonny’s still frowning, but a corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Oh, you think I’m hot,” he drawls.

“There’s a reason I married you, and it’s not because you were going to be a politician,” Patrick says, grinning.

Jonny yanks the iPad out of his hands and puts it on the bedside table before he climbs over Patrick’s body, pressing him into the bed with his body weight. “Oh I see, you just want me for my body,” he says; and he’s starting to actually look smug, the asshole.

“I mean, there may be a couple of other things,” Patrick says consideringly.

Jonny snorts. “Yeah, sure,” he says, and then he’s tangling his fingers in Patrick’s curls, tilting his head and leaning down to kiss him, nice and slow and deep.

(If Patrick hadn’t been in such a teasing mood, he may have added that there’s, in fact, too many other things; way too many to list. Things like: the way Jonny looks at his desk with his glasses on, as he puzzles over yet another piece of urgent legislature; or making a televised speech on Canada Day, all seriousness and efficiency; or when he goes down on one knee to speak to a shy child at eye level, resting a big hand gently on the child’s back.

There are so many reasons he wants and loves Jonny; and sometimes, it’s easier to just laugh and tease him about his ridiculous country and the ridiculous things they do for him, or his heart might just explode a little.)

---

Patrick greets Jonny on Christmas morning with a smile, a kiss, and a (literal, actual) silver platter of food. He’d insisted on preparing everything on the tray himself, down to the small vase with a sprig of holly placed nicely beside the enormous plate. There are gluten-free pancakes with a little dispenser of maple syrup, baked beans (opened from a can - Patrick has absolutely no idea how to make baked beans from scratch), eggs, maple bacon, sausage, sauteed mushrooms, and of course, in pride of place, two slices of toast with Jonny’s face seared into them, alongside a pat of butter in a little dish.

All in all, Patrick’s pretty proud of his handiwork.

“What the hell is this,” Jonny says, voice hoarse with sleep, struggling upright.

“Happy Christmas, love you too,” Patrick says brightly. Jonny blinks down at the tray on his lap.

“You made me breakfast?”

“Yep.”

“You - you bought the toaster?”

“The Toewster. Yep.”

“Patrick, oh my god, why would you - “

“It’s for charity,” Patrick reminds him, and grins when he sees Jonny visibly swallowing.

“Pat,” Jonny says, “please tell me you didn’t buy the other - thing. The calendar.”

“Yep,” Patrick repeats cheerfully, and pulls it out - rolled into a tube and tied with a giant red bow.

Jonny puts his face in his hands. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” Patrick says, and tugs Jonny’s hands down. Jonny’s absolutely red, from his forehead down to his neck, and god, Patrick loves him, even if he spends half his time trying to annoy him.

“You’re not getting your Christmas gift,” Jonny says.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I know exactly what I’m getting - a hand-knitted Christmas sweater from Andree, a vacation when you can get the time off, something nice I can use that’s monogrammed with my initials, and some awesome sex.”

Jonny’s eyes start bulging. “How - who told you what you’d get?” he sputters.

“No one,” Patrick sighs. “No one has to. I get the same things from you every year, babe. Not that I mind,” he adds quickly as Jonny’s flush grows deeper. “But this is why you love me. Because I’m the one who brings all the fun and surprise in this relationship.”

“Sure, fun,” Jonny grumbles, staring down at his toast. His face on his toast.

Patrick kisses him again. “Stop being a Christmas scrooge and wipe that frown off your face and eat. I slaved two hours in the kitchen for this. And maybe after this, you can get your real present.”

“I better get a proper one,” Jonny says, but he brightens visibly, and picks up his cutlery.

Patrick makes sure to get a photo of him sinking his teeth into the buttered toast, looking extremely long-suffering and put-upon, but the tweet he posts with it becomes his most-favourited tweet of the entire year.

He also makes sure to reward Jonny’s long-sufferingness by riding him later until his thighs are sore, and then presenting him with a Vacheron Constantin watch engraved with their initials and a maple leaf on the back, which Jonny declares to be the best gift ever, so basically Patrick’s secure in the knowledge that he gives Jonny the best Christmases, all of Jonny’s bitching notwithstanding.

#hockey rpf #my fic #first gentleman of canada #i'm ngl i am quite in love with this 'verse #1988 #i hope people enjoy the adventures of PM toews and the first gentleman as much as i do

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