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Patrick buried his face into his hands as he sat down in his locker. He was fresh out of the shower and did not want to do media, but he knew the entire communications team was expecting him to do media, so when Cydney came over, he sat up, sighed, and gave her a pleading look.
“Don’t look at me like that,” The communications director said, hands on her hips. “I know it was a tough loss, but c’mon, you’re who all the reporters really want.”
Patrick nodded. “I know,” He sighed, standing up. Cydney immediately cast an appraising look over him, prodding at his hair and smoothing down his shirt.
“Alright, you look good. Just the usual rules, y’know, don’t say anything stupid.” Patrick chuckled at her words and let himself be herded down the hall toward the media room. He leaned against the wall, fiddling with his watch and bracelets as he planned out some of his responses. He was praying for a conference full of softball questions.
That, of course, was not what he got. The reporters always came in praying for a slip, for him to dare imply he was unhappy about something, or that something was someone’s fault. As if. First of all, he was far too well-trained to make a slip like that. Second of all, Patrick knew all of his shortcomings and was very aware that he was usually at fault for their losses. Bad passes, bailing from the pocket too early, bailing too late, throwing picks… Aaron said he overthinks his part in the Chiefs' very few losses, but he’s pretty sure that’s just him trying to make him feel better.
Once he was released from the media, he paused to have a quick chat with Nick before Brad called the linebacker into the room and went to check on the rest of his teammates.
He definitely needed to talk to the rookies, all of whom looked miserable. Losing by one was never fun but during your first NFL game? Yeah, that was rough. Technically the Chiefs didn’t have Captains named yet, but Jerrick was already talking quietly with Rashee. Patrick, not for the first time this year, cursed Chris for not being here. With Chris still stubbornly in his holdout, Bolton was the only defensive captain left from last year, meaning Patrick had a hoard of defensive rookies looking at him. Justin, probably sensing his panic, elbowed Derek and the two came over to help him. Between the three of them, it was easy to chat with the three rookies, and eventually, Travis came in to help, Nick following after.
Soon Patrick was left in a mostly empty locker room, just him, Travis, Jerrick, the kicker duo, and their long snapper, James, plus Joe, and Justin.
“That was shit,” Harrison announced, flopping onto the floor. Everyone murmured their agreement before wincing as he landed with a thud and cursed, loudly.
“You’re dumb as fuck,” James said with the long-suffering sigh of someone who has spent too much time with someone. Harrison flipped him off.
“I’m leaving,” Patrick announced, grabbing his bag.
“Bye,” The rest of the room chorused, not even glancing at him. Jerrick was poking at Travis’s bad knee, and Travis was attempting to kick Harrison with his other foot. Tommy had joined Harrison on the ground and was clinging to Travis’s good leg in protection of his kicker. Joe was scrolling through his phone, James peering over his shoulder, and Justin was packing his shit to leave also.
“Bye, see y’all at the hell that practice is going to be,” The safety told them.
“We’ll be fine, Bieniemy isn’t here to make our lives hell,” Joe called, finally going to grab his bag. Travis snickered.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the rest of the coaches will come up with something just as bad.”
Jerrick groaned and grabbed his backpack. “Don’t even start, please, I’m begging y’all.”
Patrick laughed and checked his phone. “I’m gonna go and call Aaron before it gets too late.” Travis poked him in the ribs, laughing when Patrick jerked away.
“Please, you could call Aaron at two in the morning and he’d answer within three rings,” Travis teased. “That man is whipped .” Patrick flipped off his teammates as they all began teasing him and made his escape, but he was grinning. The mood had improved significantly, and that’s all he could ask for.
—--
Patrick arrived home and finally turned on his phone, wincing as a flood of notifications came in. Texts from friends, past teammates, family, and a few reporters… but most importantly, he had a missed call from Aaron and a text message from him.
Patrick quickly called him back, flopping down face-first onto his bed.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Aaron greeted, voice deep and fond. Tension leaked out of Patrick’s shoulders as he rolled over, settling into his pillows.
“Hi. I miss you,” Patrick greeted, closing his eyes. Silver and Steele were sitting on his bedside with identical pleading looks on their faces. Patrick rolled his eyes and invited them up.
“I miss you too,” Aaron responded, voice light. “How are you feeling?”
Patrick sighed and buried his face in his hand. “It was… so bad. I’m embarrassed,” He admitted. “That is not how I wanted our first game to go. And without Trav I just… he’s always there, it was weird without him. And Chris won't sign a damn contract.” Patrick sighed again. Silver sniffed at his fingers and licked him.
Aaron hummed, understanding in his voice. “I get what you mean. I remember my first game after Donald Driver retired. It felt so strange. And he was that stable veteran presence on the offense. Plus, he was always there. Losing him felt like I was missing a limb.”
Patrick nodded before realizing Aaron couldn't see him. He tried to put his feelings into words. “Yeah, exactly. I would immediately go to the spots he’s always at. Every play I know where he would be and then… he's not there. And I love Noah and Blake, of course, but Trav…” His voice trailed off as he tried to think about what he wanted to say. “Trav just knows what I think. Kadarius, Rashee, Blake, all of them… It's not like that. It was like that with Tyreek, even Sammy sometimes. Occasionally Mecole and even Demarcus and I clicked like that.”
Aaron snorted. “It’s not fair to compare all of your little rookies to Tyreek Hill and Travis Kelce. They’re just on another planet. And you’re right there with them. Plus, you spent a lot of time with Watkins, Hardman, and Robinson. You have to give all these other guys time to get there. But with Travis and Tyreek… You three… You had it naturally. They aren't quite like that.”
Patrick huffed before yelping as Steele tried to lick him in the face. He shoved his dog’s giant head away as he sat up, trying to breathe through the rush of emotions he was feeling.
“I just… how are we supposed to get over this when we started off so poorly?” He asked, rubbing at his right temple.
Aaron laughed. “The same way you’ve gotten over every other loss. Show up to practice, work your ass off, and come back better. Plus, the Lions are a pretty good team. They’ve learned a lot. It always sucks to lose the first game, but don't let that decide your season. It’ll be alright.”
Patrick felt a rush of fondness for his boyfriend. Cool, brilliant Aaron who always could pull him out of his own head.
Thankfully, before Patrick could blurt out something stupid and completely overly heartfelt for the moment, something like I don’t know where I’d be without you and I’m so grateful you’re at my side , Silver stuck her face into Patrick’s and licked him across the cheek. He pushed her away, grinning.
“Thanks, Aaron. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Aaron responded.
“See you in three weeks?” Patrick said hopefully. He was looking forward to finally playing his husband in a real football game. Of course, unless, heaven forbid, something came up. But the chances of that were low. They were both healthy and happy this year. The offseason had been kind to them both.
——-
Every head in Travis’s house swiveled toward Patrick the moment Aaron went down and didn't get up.
“God fucking damnit, MetLife and it’s stupid fucking shitty ass turf!” Patrick swore, standing up from the spot next to Harrison and Austin that he had claimed on the couch because 2017 buddies! Joe, Chris (Chris was invited to team bonding events now that he had finally started pulling his head out of his ass), Deon, and Danny were on each side of them as the 2016 draftees.
Travis winced, standing up from his spot on the couch designated “the old fucks couch” (courtesy of Pacheco, who had been banished to the kitchen for his words). “Maybe it's not that bad,” He said. “It didn't look that bad-”
The camera showed another angle and everyone winced.
“R-I-P Aaron Rodgers’s achilles,” L’Jarius said gravely, wincing at the glare everyone shot him.
“Not in front of his husband!” Leo, who was convinced that Patrick and Aaron were married and wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise, hissed.
Before Patrick could say some cutting words to him, Skyy, thankfully, threw an empty plastic cup at him, snickering when it pinged off his head. Isaiah smacked him, and within moments all the second-year players were yelling. Patrick buried his face in his hands, and no one was sure he wasn't going to yell— or cry.
“Alright everyone, settle down, and let's all take some deep breaths. He's only listed as questionable,” James soothed.
The younger players quieted down, watching Patrick anxiously. When he didn't move, Travis came over and shoved Joe out of the way, bending down and murmuring quietly in Patrick’s ear. Harrison cast a glare over the rest of the team, and catching the hint, they all turned back to the TV. Jerrick cracked a joke about the Bills’ defensive line and everyone leaped at the distraction, focusing back on the game.
Then Patrick’s phone started ringing. Every gaze whipped back around towards him. Patrick scrambled for his phone, standing up and stepping around the mass of teammates sprawled across the floor. Travis patted Harrison on the shoulder and went after him.
“Hey, babe,” Patrick greeted Aaron quietly, his anxiety multiplying. Being allowed a phone call… meant it was probably bad.
“Hey, Patrick,” Aaron greeted, sounding exhausted and absolutely devastated . Patrick swallowed.
“Are you alright?” Patrick asked, worried. He paced the edge of the dining room.
Aaron took a deep breath on the other side of the phone. “I think my season is over,” The older man said quietly. “We’re waiting on an x-ray… there’s no point in one, I know it's not a bone. I’m done for the year. Maybe forever.”
Patrick inhaled. “Do you—” He paused. “Do you want me to fly up there?” He asked carefully.
Aaron hesitated. “No, I’ll be alright.” Which was Aaron Rodgers for “I’m about to have a mental breakdown and would love for you to be here but I feel guilty about it”. A few years ago, him saying no would’ve been enough for Patrick to drop it, but they’d been together long enough that Patrick knew when to push.
“Aaron, I want to be able to support you. Whether it's good news or bad news, I want to be at your side,” Patrick said gently.
“You have practice tomorrow,” Aaron argued. Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Tomorrow is a recovery day, trust me, Coach won't care,” He countered.
Aaron sighed. Patrick relaxed, knowing that meant he had won. “Alright, okay,” Aaron agreed. “I’ll see you in a bit?”
Patrick was already pulling up flights on his phone. The soonest one was in just over an hour. “See you in a couple of hours,” He confirmed.
When he hung up, he glanced up to see Travis looking at him, worry clear in the tight end’s gaze. “What’s wrong?” Patrick asked, walking towards him.
The moment he was close enough, Travis yanked him into a hug. Patrick tensed, startled, before relaxing into it. “Be careful,” Travis murmured. “Aaron’s going to be hurting. He’s an asshole, but he’ll never try and hurt you on purpose, but even then he might lash out. His career is on the line right now.” Travis stepped back, and grinned to try and lighten the mood. “But if he’s too much of a dick, call me and I’ll come up and kick his ass.”
Patrick laughed. “I think we’ll be okay,” He responded. “Now, I need to go pack a bag and call my dog sitter.”
——-
Patrick let himself into Aaron’s new house. He had only been twice before, and that was before training camp and Aaron hadn't quite been settled in at that time. Aaron’s cat, Anakin, blinked with large amber eyes at Patrick from his spot on the console table by the door.
“Hello, Anakin,” Patrick cooed, letting the cat sniff his hand. When Anakin didn't hiss at him, he scratched under the black cat’s chin before moving further into the house. Aaron obviously wasn't home yet, and probably wouldn't be for another hour, and the house was completely dark so Patrick flipped on a few lights and dropped onto the couch.
Anakin followed him, hopping up beside him and purring loudly, pushing his head against Patrick’s hand for more pets. Patrick grinned. Anakin hated almost everyone but Aaron, and eventually he had started liking Patrick.
Patrick settled in, checking his emails and petting Anakin to amuse himself until the door opened.
“Aaron! Be careful!”
Patrick heard the distinct sound of Aaron sighing.
“I’ve been injured before, I know what I’m doing,” Aaron’s dry voice floated down the hall. Anakin perked up and jumped down from the couch, trotting down the hall towards Aaron.
“Alright, Aaron! Remember, you have an MRI tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks, Rob, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was the sound of the door closing and then Aaron limped in, cradling his cat to his chest. Anakin was purring loud enough Patrick could hear him from across the room.
Aaron stopped short when he saw Patrick sitting there.
“You’re here,” The older quarterback said, looking shocked. Patrick frowned.
“Of course I am,” He responded, standing. “I told you I was going to fly up, and I did.”
Aaron stepped forward, still looking slightly stunned. “But… you have practice tomorrow.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and closed the gap between the two of them, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s cheek, rubbing his thumb carefully over the spot as he pulled away. “Don’t be dumb. I want to be here with you so I came up here. You would do the same if I got injured.”
Aaron let Anakin twist out of his arms and pulled Patrick close. “I don't know what to do,” Aaron admitted quietly. “People think my career is over now… and it might be.”
Patrick took his hand, lacing their fingers tightly together. “We’ll see what the MRI says and figure it out then.” Aaron nodded, curling a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and drawing him in for a kiss.
Patrick herded Aaron toward the bedroom, pausing only to swipe a sweatshirt from his closet before climbing into bed after him. Aaron pulled him close, so he carefully wrapped himself around the older man, making sure to be careful with his injured leg.
——-
The Jets staff didn't even blink when Aaron arrived for his MRI with Patrick at his side. The results only confirmed what everyone had feared.
Torn Achilles. Aaron was out for the year. Surgery was scheduled.
Patrick drove them home, cursing the chaotic traffic that was in the New York metro area. He let the drive be quiet, allowing Aaron time to sit and think.
“C’mon, let’s order food,” He said gently once they were home.
Aaron ordered from a local Indian place that he liked. For Patrick, something is carefully chosen that follows every step of his diet plan. For Aaron, it’s whatever the fuck he wants.
“So, what are you thinking?” Patrick asked once the food had arrived and they had started eating. Aaron sighed.
“Do you think this is it for me?” He asked quietly. Patrick was startled. It wasn't like Aaron to sound so unsure. He shook his head, vehement.
“Not unless you want it to be,” He said, always honest. “If you don't want to play anymore, I’ll support you, of course. But I don't think this is how you want to go out,” He said sincerely.
Aaron scrubbed his face with a hand, taking a bite of his chicken tikka masala. Patrick waited patiently, letting him think and process.
“I don’t want to go out like this,” He admitted. “But I’m old. I’m not going to bounce back from an injury like this like I used to be able to.”
Patrick reached across the table to take his hand and smiled at him. “You’re Aaron Rodgers. You can do whatever you put your mind to. I believe in you.”
Aaron nearly knocked over his rice as he leaned across to kiss him. “You’re sweet,” Aaron told him. Patrick flushed.
“I’m just saying it how I see it,” He said, looking down. “But you have time to think about it and choose. And no matter what, I’m at your side.”