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After the baseball game, and the barbeque, and listening to his dad wax poetic about every scene in the game at least twice, David finally convinces Patrick that the baseball day is over, and they retreat to Patrick’s apartment.
David goes into the bathroom to shower first. He's joined by Patrick a few minutes later, who slides under the spray to wash away the dirt and sweat before the hot water runs out. They don’t have time to do anything sexy, not unless they want to freeze off certain sensitive body parts, so Patrick scoots back out of the bathroom while David does his hair.
“How’s your back feeling?” Patrick asks when David emerges. Patrick’s wearing a soft white t-shirt and gray joggers, and David wants to wrap him up and cuddle him until he squirms, and then peel off his clothes until he’s as naked as David is under his towel.
But Patrick has dimmed the lights, lit a scented candle, and set a bottle of massage oil on the bedside table. It seems like Patrick has a plan, and it’s always best to go along. Patrick makes excellent plans, and he gets grumpy if he’s interrupted.
“I don’t know, will telling you it’s aching get me a back rub?”
“You don’t have to convince me to give you a back rub, David,” Patrick says, holding out a hand. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Mmm, you don’t need to keep apologizing,” David says. He knows Patrick feels badly – between Patrick’s competitive side making a rather pointed appearance, and David getting whacked with a ball thrown by his father, it was kind of a rocky day. At least their team won. “Although a selection of handcrafted chocolates wouldn’t go amiss.”
“We’ve been over this, David. Those chocolates are for the store. Come over here.”
“Want me to - ” David waves his hand at himself, thinking perhaps he should put some clothes on, at least some briefs, but Patrick shakes his head.
“No sense getting massage oil on your clothes.” Patrick points to the bed, where he has covered the duvet with a large, soft beach towel. “Lie down.”
David stretches out, balling a pillow under his arms, and tilts his head to the side so he can keep watching Patrick, who is biting his lip in concentration as he kneels on the bed next to David. He’s incredibly cute. “Which massage oil is that?”
“Lavender almond,” Patrick says. “With jojoba.”
“All of our massage oils have jojoba, you don’t have to mention it every time.”
“But I like saying jojoba.”
David laughs, and then groans in appreciation as Patrick drizzles some of the oil on his back and spreads it across his shoulders, his palms moving in warm, firm strokes.
“Ugh, that feels really good.” David closes his eyes and lets himself drift, relishing the feeling of his boyfriend’s hands on his skin. Patrick works his fingers up David’s neck, just into his hairline, massaging at the base of his skull. It feels so good, David doesn’t even warn him not to get oil in his hair.
Patrick moves his hands down, his thumbs working the trapezius muscle and pressing at the top of David’s spine. It’s heavenly, and David lets out a low moan. There was a time when he would have been embarrassed with this type of intimacy, but with Patrick, he loves it. He feels wonderfully safe.
Patrick lightens the pressure when he gets to the center of David’s back, where the baseball struck him. “This okay? Not too hard?”
“Mmm, yes, it’s good.”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
“Does it matter? You said you’d give me a back rub anyway.”
Patrick snorts a little and leans down to press a kiss between David’s shoulder bones, his lips warm and damp against his skin. “I will. I am. But I still don’t want to hurt you.”
David twists to look up at Patrick. “You never hurt me.” His words come out more laden with meaning than he intended, and he sees Patrick absorb it.
“I love you, David.” Patrick leans down again and kisses David on the lips this time, tasting of massage oil.
David returns the kiss, lazy and sweet. “Mmm, me too. But keep going.”
Patrick pours some more of the fragrant oil onto his hands and works down each side of David’s body, his thumbs pressing and releasing, working the muscles along David’s spine. His touch is sure, Patrick’s confidence extending easily to David’s body. Patrick finds a knot and focuses on it, fingertips making circles on David’s skin, then moves on to another tight spot when the knot loosens. The aroma of the body oil surrounds them, and David breathes it in, feeling blissed out and boneless.
Patrick glides his hands further down, teasing at the edge of the towel on David’s hips, hinting, perhaps, at what’s to come later. David is feeling so floaty he just files it away, and sinks deeper into the mattress.
A sweep up and over the spot where the baseball hit pulls David out of his dreamlike state. It does ache, a little. But it’s nothing like when he was a kid, his one attempt at baseball – his dad’s absolute favorite sport – ruined when the rest of the boys decided David wasn’t one of them, and did what little boys everywhere do when they sense weakness.
“You didn’t mind me being on your team,” David says, the contrast between today’s events and his memories turning into words he forgets to hold back.
“What? Of course not. I asked you to play with us, remember?”
“Yeah, but… some people wouldn’t have even asked me. Even if they were desperate.”
“Do you mean Ronnie and Roland? They were just talking shit, they would have done that to anyone.”
David shifts, lifting up on one elbow and looking at Patrick, because patronizing him is incorrect. “You know that’s not true.”
Patrick gives David’s shoulder a squeeze, and then runs his hands down David’s arm, massaging his palm and his fingers as if that was part of his plan, and not just a way to hold David’s hand as their conversation gets weightier.
“Everyone assumed I was a liability,” David says slowly. “When Ronnie and Roland found out I’d be playing, they were thrilled. They thought I’d be terrible, and they let everyone know, in no uncertain terms.”
“David,” Patrick says softly. “I didn’t realize it would be that bad. I’m sorry I asked you. I should have listened when you said no.”
“No, no – that’s not what I’m saying. I know what people say about me. I don’t care, much. I’m used to it.”
Patrick’s brow is creased, and he looks upset. “Then what are you saying?”
David sits up and puts his hands on Patrick’s face, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m saying that I’m glad you asked me. Thank you for trusting me with the fate of your finale.”
“Championship,” Patrick murmurs, leaning in to kiss David.
“I know,” David says softly against Patrick’s lips, both of them smiling into the kiss.
“I know you do,” Patrick agrees, his hand cupping David’s cheek.
David turns over and pulls Patrick into his arms, holding him tight. David never would have thought that a baseball game would bring them closer together, but then again he never thought he’d be the VIP, either. David’s starting to believe that with Patrick at his side, anything is possible.