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“What the hell was that, Kaner?"
Patrick jumped, caught by surprise while look at the stream of texts from, well, everyone after their press conference.
“Huh?”
Jonny rolled his eyes, conveying perfectly his frustration with Kaner not keeping up.
“What was that bullshit you were just talking about - just now, in the press conference?”
“Jonny, man, you are seriously going to have to pretend I have no clue-”
Jonny scoffed loudly, “Like that’s hard to do.”
“- shut up - no clue about what you mean.”
Jonny stared at him, personifying his nickname perfectly. “You seriously… I can’t…. Dude. What the hell. What was all of that bullshit back there? You know, the whole, ‘I’m maturing slowly, blah blah blah, still working on it, blah blah blah’ bit. What the ever loving hell was that??”
Pat’s brow wrinkled as he stared at Jonny, trying to figure out why exactly he was reacting the way he was. “Jon, I don’t understand. I know that’s what you are thinking, like, all the time. For god’s sake, you had to hold back your laughter when I was saying it.”
Jonny had never had a stronger urge to grab Pat by the throat and shake him, and there had been many, many opportunities. “Pat. Patrick. Do you seriously not understand? The only reason I was laughing was because I thought at first you were totally bullshitting them. But, well, then I looked at you and you were serious. Patrick - what even?”
Patrick began to feel worried. Did Jonny think he wasn’t trying? He had been working so so hard to be better. He had focused on his game all season, but just couldn’t seem to break through that last level of effort. And then, since the season ended (effing Kings. Meh.), he hadn’t gone out and partied, he didn’t travel to, oh, say THAILAND. He had gone home, watched failed game after failed game, and figured out what he needed to work on next.
At that moment Coach Q opened the door to the back room that Jonny had yanked Patrick into right after the press conference.
“Guys, you get that you aren’t done yet, right? Get your asses out here and earn those shiny new millions that we…..” He trailed off, finally noticing that neither Pat nor Jonny were looking at him. They were, in fact, staring at each other intently.
Jonathan suddenly turned his gaze on the Coach, looking at him intently. “Coach, he has no idea. He seriously believes that bullshit he was spouting at the press conference. You need to fix this. He isn’t listening to me, and I don’t know what to do, and if he keeps being like this, this, I don’t know, self-suffering pansy, I have no idea what I’m going to do to him. You have to fix it!”
Q listened while Jonathan increasingly worked himself up more and more, glancing over a few times at Patrick’s obviously confused and worried face.
“Jon. Jonny. JONATHAN STOP.”
Jonny gulped in a breath with obvious effort, stopping himself from continuing to babble, and looked at the coach, waiting to hear what he would say next.
“The two of you, seriously. I don’t get paid to deal with this crap. Patrick - you are fine. You are more than fine. You are doing great. Give yourself a damn break - everyone screws up, you just got caught on fucking twitter when you screwed up. Time to move on, kid, and deal with the fact that you are no longer that person and you no longer have to prove yourself to anyone who matters in your life.”
“But, Q, they keep bringing it up, so it obviously isn’t over. And I can’t go down that road again, I can’t disappoint you and Jonny and my family and the guys and the fans again, and this season, I just I didn’t do as good as I could, I HAVE to do better-”
“PATRICK stop. Seriously, all that crap you just said is bull. The reporters keep bringing it up because they are dumb asses who don’t have enough stupid basketball players screwing up right now to distract them. I know you are good. Your family, the guys, and the true fans know you are good. Jonny sure as HELL knows you are good. And that brings me to my next point. Jonathan.”
Jonny turned away from looking at Patrick, afraid he had been caught making googly eyes at him (yes, googly eyes, dammit, he knows and owns his own ridiculousness.) “Huh? What did I do? I’m just trying to make him see that-”
“Jon, that’s not it at all. Well, I take that back, it sort of is it. I only have one thing to say to you.”
“Yeah Q?”
“Pull your head out of your damn ass and tell Patrick that you love him. Enough already. Time to move forward, and you two dancing around each other like a pair of preening peacocks is annoying, and it’s distracting my players from focusing on their game. Seriously. Time to move forward boys.”
Jonathan was suddenly looking everywhere but at Patrick, who was staring with incredulity between their coach and Jonny.
“Jonny, what? Wait, Coach, what do you mean? Jonny, do you… are you… I don’t…”
It was Patrick’s turn to gulp in his breath, stopping himself from continuing to babble aimlessly. He stared hard at Jonathan, waiting for him to look up.
“Jonathan, is he right? Dude, look at me. Come on.”
“Pat, it’s nothing. Like, I mean, it-it is, but it doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to change anything, I-I can, like, get over it.” Jonathan continued to look at the floor as Pat stared in awe at him during his mumbling response, missing the grin that was slowly growing on Pat’s face.
Missing the moment when Patrick lunged forward.
Being shocked when he grabbed Jonny with one hand around his waist while the other hand buried itself in the hair at the back of his neck, gently massaging the nape of his neck.
He must have been in shock, because he was also surprised when Patrick, after staring into his eyes with a Tazer-worthy gaze, casually pulled Jonny’s head down and began kissing him.
Neither of them noticed when Coach backed out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
Neither of them heard when Pat Brisson saw the coach in the hall.
“Joel, did you find them? Seriously, where the hell are they, there are like 100 reporters out here with questions. Wait. Why are you grinning? What is going on?”
“Well, Pat, I hate to break it to you, but you’ve got a big problem.”
“Seriously? What happened? Please tell me they aren’t fighting again - I swear, those two have more sexual tension than anyone I’ve ever seen. I don’t think they are EVER getting together, and that sucks because I would really like to win at least ONE bet with you at some point.”
“Yeah, well, Pat. See, that’s the problem. No fighting with those two - at least not right now. And, well, you owe me $100.”