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“I don’t understand why we’re here,” David complained to the back of Stevie’s head as they wove their way through the crowds of the Scotiabank center. He held his vodka soda close to his chest and occasionally lifting it over his head to avoid the peasants who lined the stairs and were moving around the stadium like a bunch of uncoordinated lemmings. David’s head kept swiveling, unable to find a place to focus in the chaos “Do you even like sports?”
“I once went to a Candy Crush themed party so you could fuck a random,” Stevie snapped back, her eyes-lazer focused ahead.
“Okay, in my defense, she was really cute and candy underwear is only mildly disgusting. Additionally, Kassondra wasn’t a random,” David corrected, stumbling over a step and managing not to soak his Versace sweater with his drink. “That relationship lasted for almost two months.”
“ Relationship ? Your problem is that you never know when to leave things at a one-night stand or a casual fuck buddy when there’s nothing more there,” Stevie shot back and David could hear the eyeroll in her voice. Meeting Stevie was the one bright spot of being forced to leave NYC and move into Alexis’s Toronto loft, the singular piece of real estate Eli hadn’t tainted. Her modeling career was the bane of David’s existence, forcing him to rescue her from more than one unsafe set over the years, and the people she had met while on shoots, but he was glad they didn’t find themselves homeless when his parents (and incidentally David’s) money had been confiscated. Stevie had fielded a million complaints from David in the early days of being their building manager, but somehow they had become friends and not let some brief benefits period ruin everything.
“And is this just casual ?”
Her head whipped around. The smile that played on Stevie’s face was small, almost non-existent and David knew this smile, even if it was one of the rarest ones to ever grace her face. Fuck, he was going to have to play nice. “I don’t know, David. She is really cute, and kind of sporty and no matter how it pans out with Rachel, this event is kinda a big deal.”
Someone had kidnapped his best friend and replaced her with a pod person, because Stevie was the last person who cared about what everyone else thought was cool. David stared at her like she had two heads, which she might have if someone had taken her actual head and put this one in its place. “I thought we didn’t care about big deals.”
“How long has it been since a Toronto team made the playoffs?” Stevie asked and he couldn’t tell if she was being ironic or not. God, he hoped she was being ironic.
“How the fuck would I know?” David couldn’t even name the teams in Toronto. They were here to watch the dinosaur ensemble play with some bridges according to people’s shirts.
Stevie’s eyes narrowed as she leaned into his body space, voice deadly and low, “David, do not fuck this up for me.”
“Okay!” David shot back. He took a sip of the “cocktail” in its flimsy plastic cup, and considering he had paid New York nightclub prices for it, it was mostly vodka. Some gods were kind.
He was going to need bottle service to get him through this monstrosity, which wasn’t an option. If he had his old money he probably could have paid enough to get one handed over with a straw. David wished he still had the means to seat them in a private box, full of booze and food and away from all these people.
“Stevie! Hey!”
David saw a pixie of a girl with a wide smile waving wildly at them. She looked sweet and earnest and David wasn’t entirely sure what this tiny ray of sunshine, red hair and golden freckled skin, wanted to do with the cynical black hole that was Stevie. She was cute. He could understand why Stevie didn’t want to fuck this up.
“Rachel. This is David . David , this is Rachel.” David heard every be good in her voice and he gave an overly enthusiastic wave. Rachel returned it, still beaming.
“I thought you had a friend?” David blurted out by way of a greeting.
Rachel threw a casual thumb over her shoulder to point at no one and had an easy grin on her face. “Oh, Patrick just ran to grab us beers. I see you already have drinks.”
“David likes his liquor,” Stevie told Rachel, not even looking back at him, “Had to get him down here somehow.”
David turned his head to roll his eyes where Rachel couldn’t see and start him off on the bad impression Stevie asked him not to make. Unfortunately as he turned away, a man in a blue button down and tight, cheap jeans with a discount rack braided leather belt came to stand beside him, beers carefully balanced in his hands.
“Sorry,” the stranger said, pointing by lifting a middle finger off a beer in a very casual, uninsulting move. “I’m in here.”
“Oh, I didn’t—I will—” David felt a bit like a giant as he tried to crunch his body back against the plastic seats, the bottom edge of his seat digging into his thigh. “Is this enough space?”
“It’s great. Thanks.” The man with a desperate lack of fashion sense slid past him and David had to admit that he smelled great, and his ass was too nice for the mediocre jeans they were clothed in. “Rach, your beer.”
“Thanks.”
The pair did a cutesy little cheers thing and grinned at each other. David wondered if maybe Rachel and her friend with the broad shoulders were a little unhinged. “Least I can do for the woman who got me tickets to Game One of the NBA finals.”
“You’ll pay me back in Jays tickets,” Rachel returned, her red hair flipping over her shoulder as she took the beer.
“Ahhh, but will we be in the playoffs?” The stranger asked, tilting his head and David’s eyes followed the very neat line of his haircut where the hairs abruptly stopped at his neck, “It’s doubtful.”
“One day, Brewer. One day.” Rachel took a sip off the top of her beer and David could see the wheels turning in her head through her brown eyes as she surveyed them all. “Let’s do a little rearranging. Patrick, switch seats with Stevie.”
Oh, no. Oh no . David sent Stevie a don’t you dare leave me look, but she just grinned, shrugged and swapped places with Patrick. The correct arrangement, if anyone else cared, would situate the happy couple in the middle with David and Patrick on either end like the third-wheel bookends they were. David’s plan had been to complain to Stevie all night. Instead, this man who smelled nice and managed to make David take a second look at lackluster clothing would be in between him and Stevie.
This was certainly not what he had agreed to.
Ideally, he wouldn’t even be here. There were ten million other things a person could be doing right now instead of being trapped in a sports dome with strangers excited about a bunch of men playing a grade school game. Getting a facial was on the top of the list of things David could be doing at this moment.
A small laugh that was poorly disguised as a cough startled David out of his thoughts and he found a hand extended out to him. Patrick’s hands were very sturdy but balanced, with long, squared off fingers. He probably shook hands the way David’s father had always tried to get him to shake, firm, strong.
“Patrick Brewer.”
David stared at the hand with surprisingly nice cuticles, nails kept desperately short, and what looked like little calluses at the tips. A large vein ran down the back of Patrick’s hand and David wanted to trace it.
Amusement filled Patrick's voice as he said, “I am going to start making up names.”
Fuck. How long had he been staring at this man’s hands. David slid his hand out to shake Patrick’s. “I—I am David,” he stumbled like an idiot, mentally and, probably, physically cringing because he couldn't control his damn face. “David Rose.”
Patrick smiled, his hand warm and firm clapped around David’s. “Nice to meet you, David Rose.”
“You look awfully familiar.”
The cringe on his face grew more pronounced as he reluctantly removed his hand from Patrick’s grip and waved it dismissively, “I have one of those faces.”
TMZ hadn’t followed him in years, not since he’d retreated with Alexis and the money disappeared, and it might have been awhile since he graced the pages of a supermarket tabloid, but most people noticed the name right away. David hoped that Patrick’s memory remained utterly blank of any association.
Patrick’s smile was amiable and open and none of the things that usually tinged people’s smiles when they smiled at him. David didn’t know what to do with it. He waited, and it never shifted, Patrick just nodded and tilted his head. “Alright, then.”
David turned away from the man with kind eyes and stewed in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, David watched Patrick take a sip of his beer and lean over to talk to Stevie and Rachel. Stevie snarked at Patrick and sent him raised eyes. Patrick seemed to give it right back and David looked away from Stevie making weird looks at him and slouched further in his chair. He waited until Patrick had turned away from the date they were supposed to be ignoring. Patrick clearly had no sense of etiquette on these things.
“Do they hand out playbills so you at least know who the members of each troupe are?”
“Programs,” Patrick corrected, and David narrowed his eyes at the laugh he felt in Patrick’s voice. “And yes, but the ones with the player names and information you have to pay for.”
“Why the fuck would they make you pay for information when they invited you here to see their performance?” David snapped. “I already paid to get in.”
“I mean, technically, Rachel got you comped tickets, same as the rest of us, David.”
David waved off Patrick’s technicality with his hand. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“Ah, always good to have a principle.”
“Exactly.” David decided to ignore that jab since technically Patrick was agreeing with him., He watched out of the corner of his eye as Patrick lifted his beer, a small smile playing around his button lips. David forced his own lips to remain neutral because they wanted to creep up into a soft smile despite all of his better judgment.
Patrick found himself stealing glances at his seatmate throughout the start of the game. David Rose was something. Patrick couldn’t put his finger on what that something was, but it had him captivated. It was in the way that David managed to sit in the stadium seat by touching as little of it as possible. Or in the way he kept making the most incredible faces as he scrolled through his phone. Or the way he carefully sipped at his drink, lips puckering in a way that made Patrick shift in his seat.
“Ahh. Are you David Rose as in the Rose’s who owned Rose Video? Because, then I remember where I’ve seen you before,” Patrick blurted out as the revelation came to him in a flash. David stilled and Patrick knew he was on the right track. “You were in the training video titled ‘Ratings, Customer Safety and You. ’ You tried to sneak behind the curtain and Vivian Blake shouted ‘Halt, young man! I must see an ID before you can enter the Porn Corner.’ We, the employees of Rose Video store 758, called the adult movie room the porn corner just from that training video.”
David slid his eyes over to Patrick’s face, and looks could kill Patrick would have probably expired instantly. As it was, he was amused beyond all reason. “You know that Vivian Blake is a character and not a real person.”
“Yeah,” Patrick told him, grin wide enough that a dimple poked out at the corner, the one that had always worked to get him out of trouble with his mother, his aunts, Rachel. “But she was my mom’s favorite character on Sunrise Bay.”
David didn’t respond, but somehow those expressive eyes narrowed even further, and the daggers coming from them were tipped with poison. Patrick paused for a minute before affecting a thoughtful pose, tapping at his chin. His voice was slow and deliberate as he thought aloud. “Although yes, I believe the actress's name is Moira Rose .”
David pursed his lips rather than responding to Patrick’s teasing, and those lips were already too much. Patrick felt like he knew almost every thought that passed through this man’s head, as much as David tried to keep them in, they flooded out of him. Patrick found it endearing. He couldn’t help needling at him more to see what came out.
“Would that make her your mom ?” He added emphasising how embarrassing that was. If Marcy Brewer had ever found any of his porn, Patrick would have died. “Real awkward, David, getting busted trying to sneak into the Porn Corner by your mom.”
“Mkay,” David’s lips popped as he said the word and Patrick enjoyed the look on David’s face. He looked at him like Patrick was a particularly sour lemon David had bitten into.Patrick wondered what David Rose looked like when he enjoyed something.
“Here’s the thing, we were frequently conscripted into service for my dad. I am certain there is a plethora of humiliating broadsides and films. Thankfully, I’ve never associated with Rose Video employees and been forced reminisce about it.”
Patrick grinned widely at David, glad to have him playing right back. “Weren’t you also busted with a fake school ID trying to get a R-Rated movie, in that one? How does one tell if a school ID is faked? We never got a clear answer.”
David rolled his mouth around a smile, not letting it out fully. Patrick was delighted. He wanted to see if he could pull a full-bloomed smile from David.
“Is there supposed to be a hologram on the school ID that your forger missed? Was it made on special paper?”
“Mmm,” David’s head tilted and his expressive brows furrowed further, “how did you manage to pull this out of your brain now?”
Patrick allowed the diversion and countered with the truth, “I think it’s the eyebrows, David. They’re very distinct.”
“They’re a statement feature,” David snuffed, dismissive and proud all at the same time. “Unlike yours that are disappearing into your face as we speak.”
“True. Very true.” Patrick liked this man, wearing a sweater that looked entirely out of place at this event, and who Patrick was pretty sure held a multitude of secrets despite his face that hid so little. He couldn’t leave their conversation at that careful barb.
So, he leaned over and gave David a conspiratorial stage whisper, “Here’s the thing, David, I think my prior knowledge puts you at somewhat of a disadvantage. I know about your parents, your illustrious career in training videos and you know practically nothing about me. So, I figured I would give you carte blanche to ask me some questions about my life.”
Curiosity flickered in David’s eyes before the disdainful look came back, this time with a hint of suspicion. “Aren’t you here to watch the game? Why are you focusing on me?”
“The fact that you doubt my ability to do both, David, wounds me.”
David’s frown deepened and his head took an exaggerated swan dive to the right as, “Does it?”
“Yes. Okay, I will give you this one for free, David. Ready?” Patrick asked, in his best, I’m giving you a deal voice. He wondered if he was imagining the curiosity in David’s eyes. Patrick hoped not.
He dropped his voice closer to a true whisper and said, “Basketball isn’t my favorite sport. It’s not even in the top three.”
Patrick found himself rewarded with a baffled recoil from David that seemed to be in slow motion for how long it took, but definitely wasn’t as David’s face flitted through at least ten expressions. “Then why are you here?”
It was Patrick’s turn to recoil in horror. “Why —why am I here ? David, the Toronto Raptors have home court advantage in the NBA finals! Win or lose this is going to go down in Toronto history. I had to be here!”
David Rose looked at him with narrowed eyes, lips pursed, clearly skeptical. “That’s not a real reason.”
“Of course it is! It’s part of Toronto sports history. The last championship title for the city was in 1993. The last team to make the playoffs was the Jays in 2015. That was a good year.”
David’s face flinched a little and Patrick wasn’t sure what about his last statement hit David hard, but he had caught it. The only thing to do was to barrel on, Patrick decided. He didn’t love the little furrow that had happened between David’s eyebrows.
“Besides, the joy of basketball,” Patrick explained, “is if something exciting happens the crowd tells you-“
A roar went up and Patrick turned to follow the Raptors stripping the ball from a Warriors player and driving down the court towards the basket that was theirs for the quarter.
“See, I didn’t miss anything. And then, the key part of any basketball game is the last five minutes—really the final minute. At that point I will lose my ability to multitask if it’s close.”
David’s mouth shook, moving between a purse and a smirk before he turned his head away. Patrick could have sworn there was a little laughter in those deep brown eyes. “Mmmm. Mmhmm. Got it.”
The loss of David’s warm gaze left Patrick feeling like he did every time he lost a puck in a face off, desperate to get it back. So, he continued on with the one sided game as if David was playing along. “And what are my top three sports? Well, David, I am so glad you asked.”
David turned back to Patrick, looking like he was eating his lips to keep from giving anything away but the warm spark danced in David’s eyes. Patrick felt buoyed by it and continued babbling at this man hoping to continue capturing his attention.
“The top is baseball. Nothing like playing the game, being out under the summer sun with a bag of sunflower seeds and a bunch of friends swinging away. Watching is also a great way to spend the afternoon. Some food, a beer and you can watch a good organized game, from little league to the pros.”
“Mmm,” David nodded, lips still carefully held between his teeth.
“Second is hockey,” Patrick added, confidentially, “I’ve played since I was a kid. Love being out on the ice, but also inline in the street works. And, also fun to watch, high speed and high stakes.”
David’s face contorted and his voice dripped with sarcasm as he said, “A very original favorite here.”
“Well, if you liked that one, David, the third one is really going to knock you right out of the park.”
“I don’t know what that means?” David stated dryly, but his mouth started doing that quiver thing that Patrick had decided was amusement.
Patrick couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Curling.”
That earned him a full groan. David Rose, the seat companion whom Patrick couldn’t seem to stop pestering, threw his head back. A little laugh that sounded as amused as it did exasperated escaped David’s lips. The sound settled somewhere in Patrick’s chest. Patrick received the smile he had been waiting for, and it was well worth his time.
“You’re just making this up now,” David insisted, his voice warm.
“I am not,” Patrick told him, his own laugh bubbling out of him. “I love curling. I am part of a local league.”
David made a tsking noise and rolled his eyes. “It’s people throwing stones on ice with brooms. Would we call that a sport?”
Patrick took a turn to roll his eyes and leaned in closer. David smelled as expensive as his skirted pants made him look. “It is a carefully coordinated game of precision, angles, physics and a general understanding of matter. As someone who loves math, it works on so many levels.”
David’s whole face crumpled as if he smelled something hideous. “What kind of childhood did you have if you loved math? Does anyone actually love math ?”
“People who grow up to become accountants actually love math, mostly. I mean, if they don’t love math, they’d be really unhappy every day.”
David’s mouth worked as he considered, and Patrick was pretty sure he was chewing the inside of his cheek. “Do your parents love math? Are you a family of weird math people?”
“Thank you for asking about my parents, David,” Patrick pivoted, for some reason, unable to stop in the face of this man’s disdain. “Clint and Marcy Brewer are your average, wonderful, loving parents who raised an amazing son. They are not particularly into math, but are definitely into sports and cooking, which I learned from them. They encouraged me in sports and in my education and made sure I had all the things I needed to be successful. They also didn’t hate me when I broke off my engagement five months before my wedding.”
Patrick wasn’t sure why he was telling so much of his life story to this man sitting next to him, why he wanted David to know things about him.
“Did your fiance mind?” David asked, taking a careful sip of his beverage.
“Oh, Rachel understood.”
He almost felt bad for the way David sputtered as Patrick lifted his own drink to his lips. “I’m sorry?”
“Yeah, I mean, to be honest, we came to the decision together,” Patrick said, lowering his beer. Patrick began peeling at the label.
“Rachel,” David hissed pointing around Patrick. Patrick glanced back to see the way Rachel leaned into Stevie and they giggled. “The Rachel that got us the tickets and is currently on a date with my best friend?”
“Yup.”
David seemed to silently consider, his eyes flitting from Patrick to the two women on his other side.
“Why did you two end things?” David asked finally, his voice carefully lacking inflection. “You seem really close.”
They were, somehow, and wasn’t that a miracle? The way he and Rachel had come to the conclusion that getting married wasn’t something they wanted, the way they had done damage to each other over a variety of years and somehow found it within themselves to become friends. That story was not really one for the chaos of Scotiabank during a championship run. Or for someone he’d known less than a twelfth of a day.
So instead of launching into his awakening and the many painful conversations, Patrick shrugged and gave David a smile. “We weren’t happy. Sometimes you can really love someone and it’s not like that. High school, business school, her becoming an accountant for the Raptors and me becoming an accountant for the Blue Jays, and on paper it all should have worked but it didn’t.” Patrick shrugged. “Also, I am quite gay.”
David’s face ran through a gamut of emotions Patrick hadn’t gotten a chance to catalogue and settled on a strangely muted face. Patrick shifted in his seat, feeling suddenly very exposed and somehow like they were in their own world. David’s lips parted and a smile twitched on his lips. “I see.”
Four letters, two tiny words, and somehow David had spoken volumes. Patrick worried he had revealed too much of himself. His first instinct was to retreat and run. Even with the nerves churning in his belly, his second, stronger instinct was to spend more time talking with the man sitting next to him.
Leaning into that want, Patrick kept up his easy smile and said, “So David, what else do you want to know?”
To his great relief, David leaned in as well, that gorgeous smile curling onto his lips. “How does one justify the hideous pants that come with curling?”
Usually, a sporting event would be his worst nightmare, but the man next to him had made it bearable. Patrick Brewer was incredibly annoying but also surprisingly funny. Normally, a stranger talking at him would have had David running for the hills. Instead, he was pleasantly amused as Patrick told him different stories, pointed out things happening in the game, let David ask questions about the understudies who filled in from the wings regularly with only a gentle amount of teasing.
David has sensed a shift the moment Patrick had put his hand on the arm rest, on top of David’s arm, and held on during a particularly exciting movement in the game. David had enjoyed the way Patrick’s hand was warm and solid over his own, like the handshake earlier. David had a list of lovers a mile long, with more people than he could even remember, but something about Patrick sent tingles through him. They were unusual but not unwanted. Patrick had blushed, the color creeping up his neck and blooming on his cheeks as he had realized his error and retreated. David had felt the cool air move in to replace Patrick’s touch. Missing the contact, David wondered how frequent that blush was, how far it dipped below the collar of his shirt, and how to bring it out. Patrick had stammered through an apology and David had waved him off.
Since then, they hadn't been able to stop, getting each others attention, jostling on the armrest. Patrick had bought him a program from a vendor, which David had refused but Patrick had insisted with a quiet, “I want to,” and had let his hand linger against David’s when passing it over. David couldn’t stop turning it over, opening the pages and asking Patrick random questions about performers in the booklet. Patrick had rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal surprisingly lovely forearms and David’s fingers had betrayed him by skirting too close on the armrest a time or two.
David slid another glance at Patrick, trying to keep his troublesome fingers at bay, and was about to say something when Patrick jumped from his seat with a shout, arms raised in the air. At the same moment, a flood of liquid spilled over him, starting at his neck and seeping down over his back. It was room temperature and smelled horrifyingly yeasty. David let out a full squeal and stood, causing further disturbance of the unknown substance to continue to make a path down his body.
David was vaguely aware of Patrick having turned from the game to focus on him. David couldn’t hear the question that came out of Patrick’s mouth and barely felt Patrick’s hand through the sleeve of his sweater.
“What the ever loving fuck!?” David spun and looked up at the man, who looked like a brick wall in a suit, just continued to cheer, entirely mindless of the fact that he had just spilled an entire beer on the person in front of him. David reached out with the program to swipe at the man’s legs. “Excuse you, what the hell?”
The asshole had the audacity to look down at him and shrug. “What man?”
“What man?! What man?!” David’s voice repeated, raising an octave as he went. “You just spilled your entire fucking beer on me!”
“Woah, dude,” The asshole raised his hands in universal dudebro no harm hands “it was just a beer.”
“Just-just a beer?!” David’s voice was now at nearly sonic levels. “This is vintage Versace! It’s almost p-priceless.”
“Look, I am just trying to enjoy the game and you are fucking ruining it. Get out of my face.”
“Hey there,” One of Patrick’s hands came down on David’s arm, strong and soothing, but the other was out in front, between David and the angry man behind them. More interesting was the way that Patrick put his other arm in between David and the asshole. “Let’s just calm down.”
Now brick-wall-in-a-suit turned on Patrick. “Get your friend the fuck out of my face.”
Patrick was calm, but firm as he said, “You spilled an entire beer down his back. At the very least you owe him an apology and money for dry cleaning. Let’s say $50 for good measure.”
“Look, dickheads. I don’t have to do anything.”
Patrick’s lips disappeared entirely into a pursed face. “I would really consider not making a scene.”
The man leaned forward and David wanted to pull both himself and Patrick back at the way his hands had fisted menacingly. “Worried that you can't take me?”
“More worried that you won’t handle it well when you’re banned from every sporting arena in Toronto.” Somehow, in the face of all that rage from someone who was clearly wrong, Patrick didn’t take his eyes off the other man as he said calmly, “Rachel?”
David peered to see Rachel, phone in hand. “Already texting Jack.”
He supposed having one of the team accountants sitting with him made for an impressive and important person to have with him. Although, she was an accountant, and couldn’t get a ticket in a fancier part of the stadium.
SuitDouche looked around, bewildered as the wet continued to seep into David’s back. “Who the fuck is Jack?”
“Head of security for the Scotiabank Arena,” Patrick said in that scary calm voice that David had only ever related to movies. No one in his family ever spoke in such calm voices. “I’ll make sure I get in touch with the head of security at the Rogers Centre as well. Or, you can apologize to David, give him the money for his sweater and we can forget the whole incident.”
The man looming over them seemed to sag backward and relief flooded David. He wanted to say thank you, to express his appreciation for Patrick keeping them from getting punched by the drunken brute. What came out was, “This sweater is nearly priceless and you think fifty bucks is going to take care of it?” Because if they thought that would be enough they were idiots.
Patrick’s hand slid up his arm, from his forearm to cup the back of his arm just above the elbow. Patrick’s eyes were earnest and his voice quiet when he said, “For dry cleaning, David.”
He wanted to cry. It might be a piece of clothing, but it was one of the last lines Gianni Versace had overseen before he died, and one of David’s prized possessions. “It’s going to be at least $100.”
“That’s extortion.”
“Rachel?” Patrick asked, still eerily calm. The man growled but still took out his wallet, took out money and threw it at them. Patrick managed to make a grab for the flying bills without them falling all over. “Thank you.”
His whole face seemed to soften as Patrick turned fully on David. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Patrick’s hand stayed on his arm, above his elbow, the heat a pleasant contrast to the sticky cold that was coming from the beer that had entirely soaked through to his undershirt. It stayed until they made it to the end of the aisle, stepping into the stairs, when Patrick’s hand slid down to find David’s and entangle their fingers. David should have taken his hand back and told Patrick he doesn’t let his friends touch him let alone strangers. What he did instead was let this capable man lead him through the crowds that were taking time to get beer or pee because “basketball doesn’t count until the last five minutes,” and not have to worry about what was happening or where he is going.
Patrick pulled him through the hallway that circled the center and suddenly his grip tightened. “Bob!”
“Other people do not have to be involved,” David hissed furiously.
“Bob!” Patrick waved again, trying to get the attention of a stadium attendant with very high waisted belted pants.
“Hey, Mr. Brewer.”
Patrick pulled David along behind him to meet the man standing by his cart. David wasn’t entirely sure how Patrick knew people, other than he worked in sports ball as well. “Bob, we talked about this, when you defected to the place that shall remain nameless—“
“Scoitabank, the building you’re standing in,” Bob interrupted.
“—that we would go by first names,” Patrick continued right over Bob. “Anyway, I could use a favor. My friend here needs access to one of the keyed restrooms and…” Patrick paused to look at David, his golden brown eyes shone with compassion and David didn’t like how it made him feel. “What do you need to clean that?”
“A dry-cleaner,” he snapped, “Any spot cleaning I do could completely ruin the fibers.”
David knew he was being rude to this man who, for inexplicable reasons, knew that David wouldn’t change in a public restroom and was pulling strings to make things okay for him. But, standing in the harsh glare of the concourse lights feeling colder and sticker by the moment, David couldn’t find any kindness to spare.
“Gotcha. I can manage that,” Patrick said, remaining unflaggingly kind in the wake of David’s pissy behavior. Who was this man? David wondered, not for the first time this evening, who could be snapped at and just roll with it. “We could also use some nice towels. He got soaked by a beer.”
Bob passed over a giant circle of keys, holding one carefully pinched “Here’s the key. I can get you a towel or two.”
David tuned out as they went though directions, wondering what people were thinking about him standing here in the hallway, talking to this man with his bright vest and his cart. He did like the idea of a private bathroom though. David eyed the line of jock types that were jostling and pointing at screens and fucking around in the line for the men’s room. No thank you. He supposed it wasn’t the worst thing if Patrick thought to involve other people.
Bob jogged off, in a run that was even more embarrassing than David’s, and David hadn’t let anyone see him run since he had paid his pediatrician to get him out of running in the eighth grade. Bob didn’t seem to care as he wove his way through the crowd.
David couldn’t wait to get out of this sweater and into—“Fuck. I have a change of clothes in my car. Do you think they’ll let me back in?”
An hour ago he would have loved a reason to go home and not be forced to be Stevie’s training wheel on this date. Now, however, he kind of wanted to stay. Yes, it was loud, and the people were rude, and he didn’t understand the game.
Patrick didn’t seem to be bothered. He just waved a hand as he tapped out a text. “I’ve got it handled, David.”
“Who are you texting?”
“A friend. He’ll take care of things.”
“What things ?” David asked, “What friend ? Who are you?”
“An accountant for the Toronto Blue Jays, but I have friends everywhere. Bob used to work at the Rogers Centre.” Patrick just looked up from his phone. “David, trust me. I won’t steer you wrong.”
Patrick just looked at him with wide honey eyes and a serious face that David hadn’t ever seen on people before. Disappointment he was used to. Disdain and discomfort and derision. But this was something else.
“Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
When they got to the private bathroom, a smiling man stood in front, his mustache almost twitching with excitement. “Patrick! Are you enjoying the game? It’s been quite good.”
“Yeah, Ray. Thanks. I see you’ve got the bag.”
“What the fuck?” David whispered quietly and neither Patrick nor Ray seemed to pay him any mind.
“Yes.” The effusive man in a bad polo shirt tucked into his slacks began gesticulating with the dry cleaning bag in hand. “He already ruined two shirts. The last one was nacho cheese. Big spill, all could have been avoided. If I were him I would stop ordering messy things. You caught me right in time. I was just about to head out.”
“Alright, Ray. Thanks.” Patrick turned from this baffling conversation to catch David’s eye. “David, I need your keys and where you parked your car.”
David blinked at Patrick, trying to sort out what was happening. “What? Why?”
Patrick just gave him a soft smile. Patrick’s hand came back to rest on David’s arm and somehow it helped “You said you had a change of clothes in your car. Ray’s going to get them and we are going to put your sweater in with Roland’s dry cleaning.”
“What?”
“David, Ray is Roland’s personal assistant.” David just started at Patrick blankly, because if he was supposed to know some random dude named Roland who apparently had a personal assistant. David missed having a personal assistant. “Roland Schitt? Relief Knuckleballer for the Toronto Blue Jays?”
“I have no idea what the fuck that means?”
“Roland’s a hometown guy,” Patrick told him, frowning a little, “old for a professional baseball player, but then relief knuckleballers can hang on forever. They don’t rely on armspeed.”
David fluttered his hands in Patrick’s general direction. “You’re saying words but they’re meaningless.”
Patrick gave a little laugh and shrugged. “Roland’s famous in the sports world of Toronto and attends whatever games he can get away with. Ray can come and go from this building because they’re used to it. He’s already going to get Roland’s things and taking these clothes to one of the best dry cleaners in the city.”
David just stared at Patrick blankly before giving him a slow blink. “Oh David, I understand this must be a difficult time, but really this will be so easy. I will just nip out to your car, grab your things and nip right back in.”
David looked from the very excited man, Ray, back to Patrick. Patrick gave him a tight smile. “I promise Ray won’t steal your car.”
“Could you imagine?” Ray asked, as if delighted by the idea. “ Me ? Stealing a car.”
Ray laughed like a lunatic and David almost didn’t want to give over his keys. However, he wanted fresh clothes sooner rather than later. He handed over his keys and gave Ray a rough description of where he parked.
“Be right back! You just get cleaned up. You’re probably starting to feel very sticky and uncomfortable. Tootles.”
Tootles. That grown man just said tootles to him.
Ray scampered off, leaving Patrick holding the bag of clothing and smiling at David. Patrick slid the key in the bathroom door, opening smoothly. “After you.”
“Mmkay, no.” David felt completely out of his element and this was a step too far. The only correct reasons to be seen undressed were tailoring, sex, massages and tasteful nudes with appropriate lighting. This would be none of those things. “I will not be needing assistance. This you don’t need to see.”
He waited for the needling quip from Patrick who seemed to have a million of them. His eyes held no teasing light, just a soft smile that David felt was too much. “Understood, David. I just figured I would hold things for you while you clean up. It may be a private bathroom but it’s still a public bathroom.”
How Patrick managed to see right through him and understand that he didn’t want to put anything down in a public restroom was frustrating. No one else ever seemed to pick up on his need for things to be clean or orderly or his ultimate hatred of the amount of germs that existed amongst the dirty people of the world.
“I guess I could stand on the outside and you could pass me stuff.” Patrick rocked back on his heels, still holding the door open. “You would have to touch the handle.”
Ugh. Eww. Ugh. David held a very stern finger at Patrick’s face. “Fine. But you will be a gentleman.”
Patrick’s grin blossomed, and he gave David a quick wink. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, David.”
By the third quarter, David had his keys, a change of clothes and his sweater was off to the dry cleaners. Patrick had been trapped in a small room with shirtless David Rose and was intimately aware of the way his body hair swirled over his torso, highlighting his physique. Patrick was ridiculously attracted to this man who was now sitting next to him in a very cozy looking sweatshirt and drop crotch pants.
It was rare that Patrick found himself this attracted to people. For a long time Patrick had thought he just didn’t experience desire and love the way other people did. People had picked up on his closeness with Rachel and had assumed they were in love and Patrick had believed them. It wasn’t until Ken a few years ago that he had even suspected. After he and Rachel had split up, Patrick had never been this interested in another person. Ken and a variety of men had been more intriguing than Rachel, but none held a candle to this man who had managed to gain his attention in the face of one of the most exciting sporting events of his lifetime.
David had been pensive while taking off his sweater and carefully inspecting it, his frown deepening with every shift of the black and white fabric. He had ignored cleaning himself in favor of worrying over his clothing, which had been fascinating to Patrick. Eventually, Patrick had cleared his throat and held out the bag to David and hadn’t been able to ignore the furrow of David’s brow or how long it had taken him to place it in with a stranger's clothes, long fingers slowly releasing it into the bag.
Patrick had glanced away when David had used the locker room towels that Bob had brought him, feeling the whole thing was too intimate. Then David had given a pitiful noise and asked for Patrick’s help getting the part of his back David couldn’t reach. Patrick had helped and it had nearly stolen his breath away. He had been almost grateful for Ray’s cheerful knock and arrival with David’s clothes. Patrick had excused himself but couldn’t quite get the sight out of his mind.
Patrick dipped his hands deeper into his pockets, a talent he had when he was seated. His left hand ran into stiff bills. Patrick pulled out the wad of cash he had taken from the man behind them earlier. Patrick passed David the $100 from the asshole behind them, and told him not to worry about the dry cleaning. Roland would never notice the extra money off his bill and technically he still owed Patrick for catching errors in his paycheck.
David’s eyes settled in the money and Patrick watched his fingers tentatively close over the money. “Thank you.”
Patrick felt the quiet words deep in his soul, and it made him want to squirm. He gave an affected laugh that sounded stilted to his ears and waved a hand. “David, it was nothing.”
David’s hand came to rest on top of Patrick’s, after pocketing the money and the heat of the contact branded Patrick. “This was not nothing.”
“You’re welcome,” Patrick returned, voice just as soft as David’s. As if they were alone here, instead of in a roaring crowd.
“I didn’t realize you sports types were so well connected.”
“Man of many talents.”
“Mmm.” David blinked slowly at him, lips pursing a little before turning into a smile. “Curling, mysterious connections with low ranked employees, an incredibly mediocre sense of fashion.”
“Hey now,” Patrick shot back, affecting offense, “my mom bought these pants and you left off my two favorite sports from that list.”
“Oh. Mmmm. Mmhmm.” David held his mouth tightly but Patrick could swear he saw a smile hiding in it. “I thought I let my mom spend too long dressing me and I made her stop in high school.”
Patrick was charmed by David. Between his warm, dark eyes and his expressive face and his ability to withstand Patrick’s particular brand of banter, how could Patrick be anything but half gone on this man? Patrick could barely tell anyone what had happened in the game and would probably have to rewatch the recorded version at home to maintain a conversation at work tomorrow. Patrick wouldn’t regret it.
David’s face lost the amused look and softened as David picked at non-existent lint on the sleeve of his sweater. “So, what can I do for you? Because you did save my night.”
“David,” Patrick began.
David’s eyes closed tight and he shook his head vehemently. “I don’t like being in debt to anyone.”
Patrick moved the words around in his head, trying to explain how it wasn’t a debt, at least not in his eyes. His whole life, Patrick always enjoyed feeling useful, like the things he did made a difference to others. Patrick really liked the idea that he had been able to help David out tonight. Patrick wanted to be a person that David Rose trusted more than he had wanted anything in awhile. Saying that out loud felt like a lot.
“How about once the sweater comes back from the cleaners we can decide if I saved anything?” Patrick decided to be brave and reached out to cover David’s hand with his own. “I know it means a lot to you.”
“So did today,” David whispered.
Patrick absorbed David’s soft pronouncement, which left him feeling overly warm in skin that suddenly felt too tight. David’s hand underneath his was burning through his palm and spreading the heat through his body.
“And to think, you didn’t even want to be here,” Patrick observed, looking for any sense of levity.
“Look, I don’t know what person wants to be a third wheel to anything, even a supposed, mmm,” David closed his eyes and hummed, “ historical event of a sport.”
“Technically, you and Stevie are crashing my good time with my best friend,” Patrick told David, swiveling his head back to look at the game, and the way the Warriors and the Raptors flew up and down the floor.
“They’re on a date .”
“Yes, and Rachel and I had agreed to attend Game One together if they made it this far. But she likes Stevie a lot and didn’t want to miss a date opportunity.”
“You’re a good friend. I wouldn’t be so kind.”
Patrick pumped his fist and grinned as the Raptors hit a three pointer. The action began to drive back down to the other side of the court as he replied, “Rachel swears, if I were a better friend, I would have let her have my seat and not forced her to find extra comped tickets for her date and her date’s friend, just so having her ex-fiancé along isn’t too awkward.”
“Well, when you put it that way you are a terrible friend. I also doubt she led with that detail to Stevie.”
“Probably not. Don’t—” Patrick turned to look at David, realizing that he’d given away a part of Rachel’s story as well as his own. “I don’t want to ruin anything for Rachel.”
David’s face was surprisingly serious as he nodded in agreement. “Only if asked. Stevie has no room to judge, though.”
Patrick laughed, “You also happen to be Stevie’s ex fiancé?”
“Uhhh, no. Nope. We were,” David trailed off, his mouth working though silent thoughts, “ almost something. Like you said, better as friends. Now we’re just each other’s person, helping the other person pick up whomever they’re interested in, providing moral support and sarcasm.”
“That’s really nice.”
“Would we use the word nice?” David asked, his nose pulling up in a full wrinkle as a sneer spred across his face.
“What would you call it?”
“A mutually beneficial agreement,” David insisted. “Is it an act of kindness if we both get something out of it?”
Patrick couldn’t help himself, and nodded seriously at David. “Ahh, thank you for the correction. I didn’t realize that being nice had to be a burden.”
“That’s not—that’s not what I said,” David returned, shaking his head.
“That’s kind of what it sounded like, David,” Patrick insisted, tilting his head slightly, amusement and affection warming him from the inside.
David blinked, pursing his lips tightly, before blinking and primly stating, “Well, you misheard.”
“Noted.”
Suddenly a commotion erupted around Patrick, wolf whistles and applause and he heard a muttered Oh shit and a gasp from his left. Patrick looked to the forgotten game, but both teams were locked in a relatively boring exchange of stolen dribbles and intercepted passes. Continuing to scan, he caught sight of the kiss cam frame up on the monitors. It took Patrick a second to realize that it was his own face staring back at him from the middle of the frame, but David was still staring at Patrick in the scene caught on camera. David was staring at him like—
Oh shit.
Patrick turned back to face David and those deep, dark brown eyes. His mind floated out of his body as someone raised his hand to slide along David’s neck, brushing against the stubble before cupping the back of David’s head. Patrick leaned fully over, lifting out of his seat a little and he watched as David’s lips went slack.
The next thing he knew, David’s hand was on his arm and their lips met, David’s warm and soft against his own. Warmth spread through his body and this kiss felt more right than any one Patrick had before. Cheers went up again and Patrick felt that this kiss was entirely worthy of every moment of celebration that was happening around them. For someone who never believed in fate or love at first sight, the sense of certainty that washed over Patrick when he put his lips to David’s should have sent alarms blaring.
Eventually, the armrest digging into his side overrode the feeling of kissing David and Patrick pulled away, settling back into his seat. David cleared his throat and a smile twitched at his lips as he looked down and away and then let his head fall back against the seat.
“Well,” David tried.
“Yeah.”
David’s face contorted, his lips creeping up the left side of his face in a half smile. “Thank you.”
Before Patrick could ask why David was thianking him, Stevie jumped in. “Umm, I didn’t realize this was a double date.”
David’s face went flat before Patrick turned to look at Stevie and Rachel. Both of them were grinning like maniacs. “Shut up,” David hissed.
“I mean, what happened when you went to get cleaned up?” Stevie asked, leaning closer between your “Did things get a little hot ?”
David let out a growl that Patrick wanted to hear in an entirely different context. His face lit up with fury as he lunged past Patrick towards Stevie, who just laughed. “You—”
“You know what,” Patrick said to no one in particular, “I think we need some more drinks.”
“You just bought us drinks,” Rachel pointed out, grinning at him like a madwoman.
His voice was too high and Patrick was certain his eyes were too wild as he turned to look at David. “David? Another drink?”
David stood, threw back the rest of his drink in one huge swallow, which was surprisingly hot. “Yes. Yup. Another drink would be perfect .”
“Did you keep the keys to the private bathroom?” Stevie called as Patrick stood to join him.
David turned to yell at Stevie, but Patrick grabbed his shoulders and spun David to face the other direction. “Let’s go, David.”
Patrick took David’s hand, and this time David’s fingers twined with his easily. David moved with more sure steps behind him as Patrick led the way up to the concourse. He wove his way through people until he found a small alcove and tugged David in with him.
“Hi,” David whispered, pressing his body against Patrick’s.
“Hi.”
This time, David’s tongue slid between Patrick’s lips and Patrick felt the bones in his body dissolve under David’s ministrations. He was grateful for the wall behind him and David’s arms wrapped around his neck. His own hands found their way to David’s waist, digging in against the soft sweatshirt. His breath escaped from Patrick’s lungs in rough breaths and they couldn’t seem to get their fill.
When the kiss broke, David pressed his forehead to Patrick’s and they stood together breathing in the same air.
“Sorry, Stevie is a troll.”
Patrick thumbbed over the stubble at David’s throat and loved the way his pulse jumped underneath the movement. “I’m not sorry about any of it.”
He wasn’t sorry. Patrick would be forever glad that Rachel had come to him all apologies and asked him if he minded if their friend time was crashed by this really hot girl she liked. Through Stevie, Patrick had found this captivating man with his expressive face and his passion. Everything about this felt right.
Patrick leaned in and pressed an experimental kiss to the spot his thumb had been worrying and was delighted by the slight whimper he received in return. Patrick moved up, nibbling little, soft kisses up David’s neck until Patrick’s lips were just under his ear. “So I was thinking about what you could do for me. For the sweater?”
“Oh,” David answered, his voice high and breathy in Patrick’s ear.
Patrick leaned back, wanting to look at David’s face as he asked the next question. He used both of his hands to frame the handsome face that was currently naked with want. Patrick felt his mouth twitch in little flutters before settling in a tiny smile. “David, would you go out to dinner with me?”
“That’s—” David blinked and his head shook in the confines of Patrick’s hands. “I’m not—That’s not me doing something for you. That’s you doing something for me.”
Patrick leaned up, pressing himself closer to David and enjoying the way his chest rubbing against David’s. His lips captured David’s in a languid kiss. His thumbs rubbed against the stubble on David’s jaw and Patrick felt his heart pounding in his chest. When he pulled back, David looked as dazed as Patrick felt inside.
Forcing himself to recover, Patrick’s tongue darted out over his lips. “I mean, if you insist on paying, I suppose I can be gracious.”
David blinked, once, twice, like he was coming to after a particularly hard blow. “That’s not how dates work. You-you can't just ask a person out and then insist they pay for it.”
“I thought you were insisting, but if not, I’ll take care of the date and you can still owe me,” Patrick offered.
“O-okay,” David stuttered.
“Okay?”
David’s eyes sparkled as his mouth twisted in a soft smile. Then, before David could stop it, a full grin broke out across his face. “Yes. Yes, I will go out on a date with you.”
Patrick grinned back, feeling like his face was ready to split in two. Tonight had felt like the precipice of something amazing, if for nothing else than the first potential basketball championship for the city of Toronto. Instead, win or lose, Patrick took his own step into the unknown with David Rose.
Patrick wasn’t wrong. His ability to multitask between the game and David had deteriorated sharply in the fourth quarter. The flirty man who had been highly attentive, never seeming to be bothered by the lack of David’s knowledge or the need to head up to the concourse level for snacks or other things like an entire change of clothes in the bathroom, slid slowly into a man completely focused on the game in front of him. There was a lot of shouting and swearing and fist pumps and general jumping around. David occasionally found his arm or hand gripped very tightly while Patrick became utterly motionless, breath held, before Patrick released him and became animated again.
It was a lot.
As someone who was used to being a lot for other people to handle, David found this new, extra side of Patrick Brewer (or as new as you could count a side for someone you’d met a few hours before) entirely fascinating.
Your new boyfriend is really into sports.
David sent Stevie back a quick middle finger emoji. It was too soon to be using words like boyfriend for the man who was whooping , literally whooping , next to him like a frat boy. The noise in the arena was reaching a level that hurt and could be physically felt throughout David’s body. He just wanted to be done. And then the motion on the floor seemed to slow to a standstill and the players were casually walking away from the basket as the roar became deafening. The calm from the players seemed incongruent with the excitement raging around them. A whistle went off and Patrick’s hands fell on David’s shoulders.
“We won!”
David nodded mutely.
Patrick’s lips pressed against David’s, hot and warm and buzzing with joy. David surged to his feet, wrapping his arms around Patrick, who laughed into the kiss. It was hard not to absorb some of Patrick’s excitement.
“We won!” Patrick said again, before spinning away from David to look at Rachel.
The little pixie of sunshine was bouncing in place. “Oh, my God!’
Rachel came across Stevie to bounce up and down in Patrick’s arms and the two friends cackled like maniacs. Stevie rolled her eyes at David as he rolled them right back, but neither of them could keep the grins from their faces. Stevie glanced down at her phone and typed out a quick message.
You’re welcome
i never said thank you so
I like this for you
you barely paid attention to this
I sat right next to him. I saw everything.
stay on your own fucking date
Stevie just sent him a wolfish grin as the two friends in between them babbled away about history and legacies and victory. Then, Patrick and Rachel seem to remember where they are and who they’re with and turn back to include David and Stevie in a conversation David knew he could not hold on to for very long. Mostly he just grinned and nodded along to the fevered conversation that is meaningless in his ears, enjoying the flush that has crept up Patrick’s face and the bead of sweat that has emerged on his hairline in the wake of celebrating. David wanted to catalogue all of the way Patrick’s skin flushes and how to make them appear.
Patrick turned to David fully, eyes wild and grin so wide that Patrick’s dimples popped. The fire that had been building in his belly since Patrick’s arm had first fell on his burned even hotter. David reached out and tugged Patrick close until his body came flush with David’s, a warm press of firm muscle against his own. Ignoring Stevie’s smirks and the amount of people, David brushed his lips over Patrick’s, teasing with feather-light kisses. Patrick pressed closer and he smelled better than anyone who probably used basic bar soap should.
“You know a place to disappear for awhile?” David asked, his voice light and airy. “With all those talented sports connections?”
“Come on,” Patrick said in a gravelly voice. David allowed Patrick to press against him, bodily moving him down the aisle, and David loved being moved by this man. “I know just the place.”