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David pulled on the lanyard around his neck as he passed through the tunnel, tracing the same exact steps Patrick had taken 15 minutes prior. He nodded at Jackson, who was pulling a toque down over his ears, and stepped out of his way as David walked through his security checkpoint.
“Enjoy the game, Mr. Rose,” Jackson closed the gate behind David.
“Thank you, Jackson,” David called out as he made his way into the stands, close to the bench.
He pulled his bag further up on his shoulder; the tote bag was heavy with snacks and bounced against his hip as he walked. Stevie and Twyla would be meeting him soon and it was his turn for snack duty. Their seats were blocked off, and when he sat down, he tossed the bag onto the floor, pulled out his phone and closed his eyes. The swish of the skates on the ice calmed him, settled over his mind like a weighted blanket and he opened his eyes to see Patrick skating up to him.
Patrick placed a large, gloved hand on the glass, just for a second, just long enough for David to notice him and blow a kiss in return, and then he was off, smacking at the pucks that had gathered behind the net, then rejoining the team in their warm up. Patrick was a blur of blue and white and David took a quick video of him for his insta story, making sure to tag Patrick and leave a few heart emojis on the boomerang. He closed the app before the reactions to the story started pouring in.
There were only five minutes left of their official warm up when David watched Patrick skate up to him again, a puck in hand. Patrick spit out his mouthguard into his glove and David fucking hated when Patrick did that.
“Catch!” Patrick called out and he threw the puck up and over the glass separating the two of them. With a year and a half of experience, David caught it effortlessly. He shook his head as Patrick skated away, but tucked it into his bag like always. Patrick threw another two pucks up and over the glass to a family with children who were cheering at him as he skated past.
*
“Has a hockey player ever died during a game?” Stevie asked. The game was in full swing, players were sliding back and forth, a stick had already snapped in half, one of the forwards of the Maple Leafs was playing without it, just slamming their shoulders into the players that got too close.
David snapped his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed in a murderous glare. He bared his teeth in a growl.
“For your sake, I hope that’s a no,” David turned back to the game in time to see one of Patrick’s teammates score a point. He clapped around the hot dog in his hand, Twyla jumped up and cheered on Stevie’s other side as Stevie looked around in confusion, her phone still unlocked.
“Did Patrick score?” Stevie asked.
“Patrick’s not on the ice right now,” David said before he took another bite. He swallowed quickly as he noticed the players move to switch shifts. “There he goes.”
The first period ended and David rolled his eyes at Stevie’s excitement over the zamboni.
“Do you think Patrick knows someone who will let me drive the zamboni?” Stevie asked in awe.
“You ask that every time you come to a game, but you’ve never asked him directly,” David said with a huff. “Ask Patrick.”
They sat in annoyed silence until Twyla got up and excused herself to go to the bathroom.
“Everything is confirmed for tomorrow?” David asked as he fiddled with his phone.
“Yes,” Stevie nodded. She pulled out her work phone and scrolled through. “Your calendar is updated. All the events have details on who you’re meeting with and how you’re getting to them. The magazine lady had to cancel your dinner meeting tomorrow night, but I rescheduled it for lunch the following day.”
David hummed along as she spoke, relieved that he had the night to himself for the first time since he started working on his summer collection. Patrick had to fly out to California for a game in the morning and David would miss him, but he had a nice bottle of red he wanted to crack open and multiple Real Housewive episodes to catch up on.
Through the entire game, Patrick had scored five goals. Twyla was screaming through the entire game, David was gobsmacked and had permanent hand prints from where he had held his cheeks throughout the entire game. Even Stevie was on her feet cheering—and she had never absorbed the rules like David had. Granted, she wasn’t in love with a hockey player.
After the game, David intercepted Patrick on Patrick’s way back to the locker room. Stevie snapped photos as Patrick pulled David into a kiss. He held onto his stick in one hand, the wood precariously close to knocking David in the head, and the other pulled David into him by the ass, the glove lost in the blue and white of the jersey David was wearing, the name “BREWER” stamped loud and proud on his back.
David posted it to his instagram while he waited for Patrick to finish up whatever he was doing in the locker room. Patrick posted another photo Stevie had taken, one where David was holding Patrick’s helmet in one hand while he pressed a sloppy kiss to Patrick’s cheek.
We’re disgusting. Was the comment David left on Patrick’s post. There were hundreds of responses to his comment and even more likes and David skimmed through them briefly as Patrick slept next to him on the bed. He was about to put his phone down when he remembered the puck still in his bag.
David got up, leaving the warmth of Patrick in his bed. He retrieved the puck and the hockey tape and sharpie that he kept in his desk drawer. He cut the tape and wrapped it around the puck, wrote the date and Patrick scored 5 goals! He could hear Patrick stirring in the room next to him. David stood, silent, waiting for Patrick to start snoring again. When he did, he crept back into his bedroom and slid the puck into the box underneath his bed.
He settled back into bed, sighed as Patrick pulled him close and fell asleep quickly, his alarm set for way too early in the morning. When they woke up, they exchanged sleepy kisses and Patrick slowly made his way out of the bed with assurances that he’d text David when he landed and that he’d do his best to not get hurt.
*
David settled into his couch with the tv on, box of pepperoni and mushroom pizza open on the coffee table and his wine glass full. His phone was on loud and face down next to him on the sofa. It dinged every once in a while with updates on the game Patrick was playing. Last he checked, the teams were tied.
Early on in their relationship, David preened under the teasing and attention his lack of hockey knowledge got from Patrick. He went to a few games to say he watched Patrick, but he didn’t care about the rules, didn’t care who won. Well, he didn’t care in the grand scheme of things. He did appreciate when the Leafs won because Patrick would follow him home with that victory energy drumming a steady beat under his skin and the sex that night would be amazing.
When things started getting serious, David’s attitude towards the whole situation changed. Part of him wanted to stay oblivious to it all, to keep the hockey and sports out of their relationship. The other part wanted to support Patrick, show him that he cared, learn a few rules so that he didn’t seem difficult and demanding. If Patrick could differentiate the Julias and the Jennifers, then David could compromise and know a few hockey facts.
The first time David complained about a call a referee made about a player who definitely should’ve gone to the box of shame when they checked Patrick from behind, Patrick had gone wild. His pupils dilated, his fingers clenched David’s hips as he pushed and led him to the bed and then he proceeded to rim him until David cried and came hard onto the duvet underneath him. Each time David asked him serious questions about the rules, Patrick lost it as if it was the first time.
David learned to love hockey, because Patrick loved that David enjoyed it.
The first time Patrick threw him a warm up puck had been after David commented about how adorable it was when Patrick threw them to little children and how happy the little monsters seemed to receive them. The next time that David watched a game, Patrick slid up to the glass, spit his mouthguard out and yelled at David to catch. David caught it with a soft smile and held it throughout the entire game. That night, he placed it on his nightstand, with Patrick watching, naked in bed, and thus started the tradition of a puck each time David was in attendance.
His phone dinged and David ignored it to grab another slice of pizza. It was the NHL app and that could wait. He didn’t check his phone until he refilled his glass and he froze once he read the notification.
Toronto Maple Leafs: Patrick Brewer out of tonight’s game because of a shoulder injury 18 minutes into the second quarter.
The lock screen dimmed and David tapped it with his thumb, swiping up to unlock his phone. He typed out a frantic text.
Please let me know if you’re okay. I love you and your shoulder and would like you to come home in one piece.
He didn’t get a response for a while. He knew he wouldn’t. This wasn’t Patrick’s first injury, they had done this song and dance before. Patrick would get shuffled off the ice and into a room with a physician who would poke and prod and wrap Patrick up, give him some pain pills and water, schedule a check up, and then, Patrick would be banished to the locker room to watch the rest of the game.
David made it through two more episodes of Real Housewives and most of the pizza before his phone rang.
“Hi Honey,” David breathed once he picked up, Patrick’s caller ID fading when David answered.
“Hi,” Patrick sounded sheepish. As he should. David did tell him not to get injured. “I dislocated my shoulder.”
“Oof,” David placed his cup of wine on the coffee table. “That sounds painful.”
“It really hurt,” Patrick responded. “I’m fine now. I have an appointment with the team’s doctor tomorrow once I get back to Toronto. I’ll probably have to sit out a game while it heals, but it depends on how it feels. But I’ll just take it easy during practice, do the rehab exercises so it doesn’t happen again.”
David picked at the fringe of the blanket on his lap.
“But you’re okay?” David asked, for clarification. Just to make sure. Because he had learned that hockey was a high-impact sport and after a long night of googling fairly early on in their relationship, David was constantly worried that Patrick would get legitimately injured and he wasn’t ready to deal with hospitals and nursing Patrick back to health just yet.
“I am,” Patrick was smiling, David could hear it. “Were you worried about me, David Rose?”
“I’m always worried,” David admitted. That’s where he was now in the relationship, comfortable with telling Patrick how he feels. He had grown so much since meeting Patrick. Almost two years into the relationship, David was much more mature, stable and nice than he was at the beginning of the relationship.
“I know,” Patrick responded. “Now, what are you doing? Tell me about your night.”
David got up as he told Patrick about his evening. Patrick asked the appropriate amount of questions about the pizza as David sat down on the floor of his bedroom, popping in his AirPods before he pulled the box out from underneath his bed.
He told Patrick about the prototypes of the few suits he designed as he sorted through the pucks. He found one from October 14, 2018 with the note ‘ I actually understood what was happening’. There was another from November 22 from the first time he watched alongside Marcy and Clint. There was one from February 2019, right before their 1 year anniversary, where Patrick got sent to hockey jail for the first time during their relationship.
David pulled out the puck from September 9, 2018. The day they said “ I love you!” He squeezed the rubber in his hands then traced “Official NHL Warm Up Puck” with a fingertip. He lay back on the plush carpet as Patrick told him about the game, who scored and where they went for their celebration dinner. They talked until Patrick was audibly yawning and David chastised him and sent him off to bed.
*
Apparently, shoulder dislocations were kind of bad and David was freaking out. Patrick came home with his arm in a sling and his shoulder taped and immobilized, needing more than the first initial round of pain meds. David grimaced at the strength of them.
“So when you told me that you were fine, you were lying to me,” David accused as he fluffed the pillows that Patrick was leaning back on.
“No, because I really am fine,” Patrick responded.
“You feel fine because of the strong drugs, doesn’t mean you’re actually fine,” David chided. Patrick smiled large and bright at him.
“I’m fine. It’s fine. This all is mostly just to prevent it from happening again,” Patrick explained. He caught David’s hand with his own and pulled David down onto the bed and into his good side. David moved easily, his body pliable to Patrick’s touch. “Really babe, I’m fine.”
David scoffed at ‘ babe’ as usual and Patrick pressed a kiss into the top of his head in response.
“The doctor earlier told me to take it easy, I have a modified practice schedule and a follow up appointment scheduled. I am fine,” Patrick squeezed David’s shoulders in reassurance. “The good thing about this is that I get to just sit back and watch a game. Enjoy it.”
He sighed at the contact, the motion of Patrick pulling him in closer soothed him.
“I need to stop by my office tomorrow morning and check out more fabric swatches,” David tilted his head up to look at Patrick. “Want to go with me?”
“Of course.”
David stayed curled into Patrick’s side as Patrick slowly drifted off to sleep. His boyfriend was home safe, in one, fragile but not broken piece, and he couldn’t be happier. Patrick was solid and warm underneath him, but not close enough. David slid his hand underneath the edge of Patrick’s sweater and swiped his hand along the solid muscle. Never in a million years did he think he would be with a sports player in a romantic setting. It was always models, musicians, artists, but never an athlete.
“Tickles,” Patrick murmured as he shifted to place a hand over David’s. Except of course it was his injured arm, and a beat too late Patrick groaned in pain.
“Okay, let go of me. Your drug addled brain may think it’s bedtime, but it’s too early for me.” David said. He shimmied out from Patrick’s hold. “I need to finish a few things. Gotta look over some sketches so I can submit the final ones to Greta.”
“Don’t leave me,” Patrick whined. David rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and left anyway.
“I’ll be right back!”
*
When setting up his office space, David had spent time finding each piece of furniture. He poured through magazines, visited every site he could, talked to all the interior designers he knew in order to find the correct pieces. Pieces he knew would inspire him with his designs, that would lend a classic backbone to his collections. His women’s spring 2016 collection was influenced by a baby blue vase he had on a side table and it had elevated his reputation, taken him up a notch and separated his name from his father’s.
But the real statement piece was the huge mirror he had propped against the wall, adjacent to his desk. It was large, kind of imposing and shiny. It demanded everyone’s attention. Everyone who walked into the room ended up in front of it, fixing a part of themselves before they walked out. He made models stand in front of it while he examined every inch of the clothes they wore, checking for imperfections and fit.
And now, Patrick was standing in front of it, his eyes raked over his body as he tugged at his tawny jacket, the one with the white fleece lining. He pulled at the fabric that was pinched under his sling. David watched him fiddle with the fabric, the casting pictures in front of him forgotten as he stood up and moved to stand behind Patrick.
“We look good together,” Patrick said.
David hummed as he draped his left arm over Patrick’s left shoulder, bending his elbow so he held Patrick close. He moved his hand so his fingertips were underneath the edge of Patrick’s collar. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket with his free hand and snapped a picture of them, a mirror selfie of the two of them, serious and long, the angle flattering emphasizing the thickness of Patrick’s thighs.
Patrick turned his head to press a kiss to David’s cheek and David snapped another photo.
“Air drop those to me,” Patrick murmured, his lips moving against David’s cheek.
“Okay.”
Patrick turned back to the mirror.
“Do you think you’re ready to move in together?” Patrick asked. David raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “Last time you said to give you another two months.”
David had said that. Had asked for more time, just to make sure he was actually ready, and not just ready because his boyfriend wanted him in that way, there, all the time, just an arms reach away. David loved feeling wanted and needed to make sure that it wasn’t just the infatuation with the question that got him to agree.
“Only if we find at least a two-bedroom apartment with enough closets for my clothes and your hockey equipment,” David said. He pressed a kiss to Patrick’s temple. “With a good view. And a nice kitchen for you to cook in. Something with a garage-type space so I don’t have to listen to you complain about parking. Oh, and the elevator needs to be fast and have keycard access.”
Patrick laughed. He turned in David’s arms and wrapped his arm around David’s waist.
“Baby,” Patrick murmured.
“Yeah?” David not so secretly loved when Patrick did that, swooped into his space and whispered something sweet between them.
“Between both of our incomes, we’re not going to have any issue finding that,” Patrick teased.
“Okay, great,” David bit back a smile. “Because I actually started looking last week and I found a couple of places that might work and I’m kind of terrified to tell you how much they cost. I do think they’re appropriate investments.”
Patrick just narrowed his eyes in response.
“Are you excited to play tonight?” David changed the subject because he knew Patrick was just about to ask for the prices.
“So excited. I can’t wait to be out of this sling. Don’t even know why I have to keep wearing it,” Patrick lifted his arm, all signs of discomfort gone out of his face. “At least I don’t have to put it back on after the game.”
David nodded. “Just, try not to get hurt again. I can’t stand another few weeks of having to take it easy during sex.”
Patrick dipped his head down as he laughed.
“You’re insufferable,” Patrick whispered before he trapped David’s lips with a kiss.
That night, David sat down before the warm ups started and just like every other time, halfway through the warm up, Patrick skated up, spit out his mouthguard, told David to catch and threw the puck up and over the glass and just like every other time, David caught it and put it in his bag. After Patrick fell asleep that night, completely worn out from the game and their wild round of victory sex, David taped the edge of the puck and wrote ‘ October 30, 2019 I said yes to moving in together.’
*
Their things blended together seamlessly, which David did not think was possible. He was fully prepared to pick to pick and choose his battles and that battle was the aesthetic of their shared space. But Patrick nodded along when David showed him his moodboard, hadn’t even batted an eye when David started showing him links to new pieces of furniture.
“I like the nice, clean look,” Patrick said when David waltzed into his bedroom, where Patrick was sitting on the floor, organizing a suitcase full of clothes. Patrick stood out in his sea of blue against the black and white of David’s bedroom. David raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you feeling okay? You usually protest more when I make ‘unnecessary financial decisions’ ,” David teased. He sat on his bed, close enough to Patrick that Patrick knocked his head against David’s knee in retaliation.
“I’ve decided that battle isn’t worth it right now. I know you would just switch out all the furniture while I’m at away games anyways,” Patrick huffed. He rolled his eyes and David bent down, picked up a balled-up pair of socks and tossed it against Patrick’s head.
Patrick laughed when it bounced off his temple and bent to grab it from where it rolled underneath the bed. David felt his eyes widen once he realized where Patrick was and then he was blushing at Patrick’s confused hum because he found them.
“Didn’t take you as a box underneath the bed kind of guy,” Patrick teased with gentle eyes. “Do you keep letters from past lovers in there? Can I read them?”
David shuddered as he heard the heavy box slide against the hardwood. Of course Patrick was going to find out about it. David couldn’t hide anything from Patrick. With the move, there was no way he was going to keep a heavy as fuck box full of pucks from Patrick. Patrick could sniff anything hockey from a mile away. It wasn’t going to remain a secret for much longer.
“I mean,” David stuttered. “I guess you can look inside.”
He shut his laptop and put it down on the bed next to him. He watched and waited as Patrick raised an eyebrow at him. He shifted back to have more room and be able to open the box without hitting the underside of the bed. David bent down to help him because he might as well facilitate the thing that was about to embarrass him and out him as being soft and tender.
“David?” Patrick asked as he ran his hands over the edges of the neatly stacked pucks. “What is this?”
Patrick picked up the recent addition.
November 3, 2019. Patrick didn’t lose any teeth tonight!
He put it down but picked up the one from the night they decided to move in together. Then he picked up a pre-season 2019 puck labeled Patrick aided Seth in Seth’s first NHL goal.
“David, what are these?” Patrick’s voice was high and thin as he traced a finger over Official NHL Warm Up Puck, just like David did each time he put them in the box.
“I think you know, so I would greatly appreciate if you didn’t make me say it,” David whispered between them. Patrick blinked back tears as he began to furiously dig through the box.
Patrick’s 500th game!
They won the Eastern Conference!
Patrick broke two sticks. How and why?!
Patrick punched a homophobic player.
They beat the Bruins! FINALLY!
First game with You Make My Dreams as the new goal song!
Patrick scored two goals within 5 minutes.
“David,” Patrick’s voice was reverent. He held a puck from the bottom of the box. It was from the first game of the 2018/19 season, from before they said they voiced their love for each other out loud. The puck simply said: ‘I’m in love with Patrick Brewer.’
“What, did you think I was throwing them all away?” David teased with a watery laugh.
“God, I love you,” Patrick whispered, but then he was moving, grabbing onto David and pulling him off the bed and into his lap on the floor.
David laughed as he shuffled around, trying to avoid falling on all the pucks. Patrick’s hands were insistent on him as he maneuvered David.
Before he could say anything, Patrick was kissing David senseless, his fingers tight on David’s body. Patrick pulled away with a pant, his chest rising and lowering way too quickly.
“We need to finish moving now,” Patrick said. “I don’t care about the furniture. I don’t need it to be perfect before we move in, officially. I just can’t stand not living with you anymore.”
David bit back the smile threatening to break across his face. He tucked the joy right into his left cheek, where it couldn’t escape.
“You kept them, David,” Patrick cried. He reached in and grabbed a puck, holding it between them, in the space between their chests, where their breath circulated with David still straddling Patrick’s lap.
December 7, 2018. Patrick got hurt and I felt so sad that I couldn’t help.
“David,” Patrick had tears cutting through the splotchy red on his cheeks.
“I know, honey,” David pressed his fingertips into Patrick’s cheeks. He swiped at the tears and pressed kisses against Patrick’s heated skin.
Patrick’s lips stopped wavering and a look of determination morphed over his skin. His eyes fluttered around David’s face, filling David with nerves. But then Patrick was smiling softly and moving David so he slid off of Patrick’s lap and onto the floor. Patrick stood up, held out a hand and pulled David up and onto the bed once David accepted the assistance.
“If I ask really nicely, will you read me what all the pucks say?” Patrick asked as he settled over David, pressing kisses into David’s exposed skin.
“Oh my god,” David huffed. He shifted and Patrick gripped the bottom of David’s sweater, their movements practiced and in-sync. “No.”
Patrick pulled at the drawstring on David’s pants. An involuntary gasp pushed itself out of David’s lungs at the action. David marveled at how it felt as Patrick pulled at David’s pants, taking his briefs and socks with it. It always felt brand new, just a hint of too much, like a brand on David’s skin that burned an imprint of Patrick’s fingers and mouth.
There was a chuckle against David’s skin and when he looked down and blinked the fog out of his eyes, Patrick was looking up at him, his lips against David’s navel.
“David Rose, you never cease to amaze me,” Patrick shifted lower and nuzzled against David’s hip. “I love you.”
David grinned and looked up at the ceiling. He blinked back the tears that had quickly gathered and when he looked back down, Patrick was fiddling with David’s left ring finger. David let himself live in the hope and longing that was pounding through his veins. For the first time, he could visualize his future, what it would look like with Patrick there, through thick and thin and everything in between. It was heavenly.
“I love you too,” David responded.
Patrick fingered him gently, taking his time to prep David, get him nice and wet and dripping lube. Then he fucked him slow and deep, taking David apart piece by piece until he was crying out, eyes screwed shut and hands gripping at Patrick.
After he came, Patrick peppered soft kisses along every inch of David’s skin, as David read each puck to him, stacking them all orderly and tall on the bed next to them. When he read the last one, they were both crying, overwhelmed by what they had built together. David lost track of time, unable to focus on anything other than the man he loved.
*
David was back in his usual seat, close enough to the bench so he could make faces at Patrick, but far away enough that he didn’t have to hear the players and coaches chatter. He watched the players zip back and forth, their skates scratching against the ice. The arena was full of the sound, the white noise broken up with the sounds of the sticks hitting the ground, pucks and each other. The leafs were doing their usual dance, players skating in circles, passing the pucks to each other and then into the net as their goalies stretched on the ice.
There were ten minutes left until the face-off, and Stevie, Twyla, Marcy and Clint were all seated around him. Even his family was here, he could hear them walking to the seats, their voices just barely breaching the hockey sounds happening.
They sat down and right on cue, Patrick skated up, spit out his mouthguard and used his teeth to grip his glove by the tip of his middle finger. He pulled the glove off and David watched in confusion as Patrick reached into the folds of his uniform. He pulled out a puck, rimmed in white tape and David felt his heart stop and the breath escape from his lungs.
“Catch!” Patrick called out. He threw the puck up and over the glass and David caught it, of course he did. He always did.
He held eye contact with Patrick while he squeezed the puck and finally looked down. He let out a sob and then an uneasy ‘are you sure?’
“Easiest decision of my life!” Patrick responded.
David shot out of his seat and ran to the bench. Patrick skated to meet him.
“Yes! It’s a yes!” David gasped out and then Patrick was kissing him, his bare hand wrapped around the back of David’s neck.
In David’s hand was a puck, rimmed in hockey tape and black sharpie.
February 26, 2020. Will you marry me? xo Patrick