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They woke around 3am, the bustling noise of the city and the chaotic energy of a season about to end too soon, keeping them from a full night’s rest. They had media later that day, a scram of reporters wanting to know about their failed season, why they’d fallen short again, and how they felt about the impending rebuild, but that was a problem for future Jonny. Laying in bed, watching rays of city light streaking across Patrick’s face as he twitched in a restless slumber, Jonny couldn’t think about what the people of Chicago thought of them, needed from them. He couldn’t think about trades or rebuilds or the impending separation of the summer. He could only think about the pounding in his chest, the almost yearning ache for Patrick that had, somewhere along the way, replaced his desperate need for just another Cup.
Patrick’s nose scrunched up just moments before he woke, in the way it often did but Jonny usually slept through. It brought a hint of a smile to his face, soft like the like, as he watched Patrick blink awake at him.
“Can’t sleep?” His voice was rough as he continued to blink at Jonny, a matching softness echoing back.
Jonny shook his head, “Head’s too busy with everything I guess.”
He stayed quiet, not wanting to break the spell as Patrick continued to gaze at him, happy and warm in the low light, like the rest of the world didn’t even exist, let alone matter; let alone have the right to an opinion about them and their measly performance throughout the year.
“Walk me home?” Patrick asked, still gentle and soft like he didn’t want to risk waking the city. “We’ll stop for coffee.”
Jonny pressed a kiss to Patrick’s forehead in answer before standing, a chill sweeping through the apartment and deep into his skin as he rushed to dress. He could hear Patrick mumbling behind him about the low heat as they worked together in silence to gather Patrick’s things.
It had only been one night, one night out of a thousand admittedly, but one night all the same, and Patrick had managed to litter his things across Jonny’s apartment. His coat, his stupid hat that he likes to wear backwards to hide his curls, the scarf he’d worn to the game yesterday, and the key Jonny had made for him last Summer.
It hadn’t been for any particular occasion, there was no special date to commemorate or event to celebrate. Jonny had just wanted to. He’d walked in the door one day, alone, and realised with a clarity that almost hurt, that his apartment didn’t feel like home anymore if Patrick wasn’t around. Pat had chirped him something chronic afterwards, calling Jonny a sap, but he’d also kissed him gentle and held him extra tight that night, neither of them unwinding until the next morning.
They wandered down to the street together, Jonny earning an almost-secret smile from Pat as he held the door open for him. It wasn’t much, and Pat would never admit it out loud, but he knew Pat liked it, Jonny treating him like he was something special, like he deserved everything Jonny had the power to give. Pat shivered as he stepped out into the cold, his body trying to fight back against the winter that wouldn’t shift even though they were already well into April. Jonny didn’t mind the cold, he was used to Manitoba winters, but he knew Patrick hated it. Even coming from Buffalo, the Chicago chill still hit him in a way he’d never quite gotten used to, and so Jonny pulled him close as they wandered through the empty streets.
Patrick took Jonny’s hand into his own, and Jonny felt breathless, from the cold or from Patrick he wasn’t sure, but he simply stared as Patrick dragged their gloveless hands into a single pocket of his coat, trapping the warmth between skin and skin. Patrick pinched the collar of his coat tight with his other hand, a fruitless fight against the Chicago chill that Jonny couldn’t even feel for the warmth that was radiating from his right hand.
Snow felt impossible at this stage, like the world couldn’t produce something so cold when Pat was such a burning source of heat, but the sudden slip of Pat on the ice, Jonny's autonomous actions to keep him upright, reminded him that they were wandering through pre-dawn Chicago and Patrick had promised him coffee.
They made their way through Near North Side, their feet leading them towards Griddle 24 without even having to discuss it. It was their favourite haunt for a late cup o’ joe or post-game feast that was so far out of their meal plan that Jonny almost didn’t try to undo it with an extra two sessions at the gym the next day.
The pungent smell of old, reheated coffee attacked Jonny’s senses as they wandered in, the scent as welcoming as the sudden burst of warmth. Patrick didn’t let go as they entered, wandering past the ‘seat yourself’ sign, and beelining toward the booths at the back of the diner. Jonny scoffed, an almost inaudible sound that made Patrick chuckle.
“We are a party.” His grin was almost brighter than the lonely light that flickered above their heads.
Of course he would choose the biggest table in the whole damn diner and still choose to sit so close to Jonny he was practically in his lap.
As the waitress approached, Patrick still didn’t let go of his hand, instead grinning widely at the woman with dark rings around her eyes.
“Coffee?” She asked on a tired sigh.
“Please.” Patrick laughed again at how desperate Jonny sounded.
“Anything else?” She attempted a weak smile this time and Jonny appreciated the effort that took at the ungodly hour.
“Berry pancakes for this one,” Jonny gestured his head towards Patrick without even looking at him, “with a side of bacon. And I’m fine with just the coffee, thanks.”
The waitress scribbled the order onto her notepad, nodded at them, and left. It felt like such an inconsequential moment in time until Patrick tugged on his hand and huddled even closer.
“Remember this.” Patrick whispered, close enough that his breath tickled over Jonny’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Remember this moment.”
Jonny had no idea why he’d said it, what made Patrick choose that particular moment as something special, as something that needed to be remembered, but Jonny believed he had a reason for it.
*
Jonny thinks back on that moment now, as he stands in their new kitchen, rays of sun lighting up the space as he grinds coffee for their first cup of the morning. He thinks about those few hours where the city had felt like theirs and theirs alone, and it had nothing to do with hockey. It had just been him and Pat, quiet, soft, and warm with each other as they wandered to a diner in downtown Chicago in the early morning as the city slept. He thinks back to that moment, the one Patrick had asked him to remember. The one Jonny didn’t understand at the time, and still doesn’t completely, but he’s grateful for it.
It feels both like a lifetime ago, and like it had only been yesterday. Much has changed since then, of course. New contracts, a new home, no new Cup but memories of the last three still as strong as ever. He thinks of Patrick still curled up, warm in their bed, Jonny once again awake before him even though it’s usually the other way around, and he’s thankful. The matching contracts, another promise to themselves and the city of Chicago that they’re not going anywhere, help the bubble of contentment swell in his chest, but he knows it’s Patrick himself that Jonny is glad to stand beside. Another Cup, his name and number raised into the rafters… it wouldn’t mean anything without Patrick beside him.
He pours their coffees, minute smile curving the corners of his mouth, and turns back down the hallway to wake up Pat, ready to continue the rest of their lives.