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Clyde went and dropped down next to Travis. Patrick and the other quarterbacks were off in a meeting with the offensive coaches which meant they could finally gossip. “So what is this with Patrick’s boyfriend trying to debate you about COVID?”
Immediately everyone in the locker room turned around to look at Travis. Travis scowled, clenching his hands and crushing the plastic water bottle in his right hand. Water spurted everywhere, causing Clyde to yelp. Blake, who was on Travis’s left side, laughed at him.
“I hate him. So much.” Travis practically growled. “But I have to be nice to the media about him so I will be. But the second they finally break up? Mark my words-“
“Oh, hi, Patrick!” Tommy called loudly, cutting Travis off. Everyone began going back to what they had been doing before Travis had started his bitching session but they clearly underestimated how much Travis didn't give a fuck about Patrick knowing how much he hated his boyfriend.
“The moment they break up! I am kicking his ass! And then I am throwing a party! There will be champagne!” Travis called.
Patrick didn't even glance at him as he walked in, Blaine shot him an amused grin and Chris just looked a little confused. All the younger players were still figuring out if the beef between Travis and Aaron was real. The offensive coaching staff just ignored them, used to the antics, and split off to go talk quietly with the rest of the coaches in the corner of the locker room they had sequestered.
Patrick sighed, setting down his tablet. “Are you talking about how much you will enjoy Aaron and I’s inevitable breakup?” He asked. “Which isn't happening.” He said when Travis perked up.
Clyde gaped at him. “You aren't mad at Travis for actively rooting against your boyfriend?” He asked, shocked. Patrick rolled his eyes and straightened up.
“I’m pretty sure everyone is well aware they hate each other. Travis tells me how much he hates him every day. The media asks me about it almost every week,” Patrick said dryly. “Even Reid commented on it.”
Every head swung towards the coaching staff. Andy glanced up, smiled at them, and went back to his conversation with Spags.
“Hold the fucking phone-”
“Jerrik,” Both of the running backs coaches sighed. Jerrik ignored them.
“Do the execs know more than us about all this drama!?” He demanded.
Spags smirked. “Probably.”
The locker room erupted, everyone crowding the coaches for more information. Patrick stood back, happy the attention was on someone other than him, and went digging for a protein bar.
——-
The next day at practice, Patrick was busy stretching when Rashee dropped down next to him.
“So, how’s your boyfriend?” Rashee asked abruptly. A few of the guys glanced over but most of the team that was waiting for their turns in drills continued their stretching.
Patrick shrugged in response. “I don't know,” He said, leaning forward to stretch his left leg.
Rashee blinked at him suspiciously. “You don't know?” He repeated. “You don't know how your boyfriend, the love of your life, the man you constantly say you’re going to marry, is?”
Patrick sighed and shrugged again. When did rookies get this bold? (He asked as if he wasn't a pain in Alex’s ass his rookie year). “We haven't spoken in, like, a week.” That had heads whipping around. A few of the guys even moved closer, curious. Patrick ignored them and tried to change the subject. “Shouldn't you be running catching drills?”
Clyde shook his head. “Nope, the tight ends are running them right now. Anyway, more importantly, why aren't you and Mr. Rodgers speaking?”
Patrick huffed out a laugh. “We’re… we’re taking a little bit of time away from each other.”
“ What!? ” More than a few of the guys shouted at once.
Travis, who was in the middle of catching balls from the jug machine, turned to face him. “You guys broke up!?” He asked, sounding delighted.
Patrick shook his head fervently. “ No . That is not what I said. We’re just…” He paused. “We’re taking a break.”
“Taking a break,” Clyde repeated, dumbstruck.
The defense, stretching on the complete other side of the practice field and smelling the drama, began yelling across the field to ask what was going on.
Patrick prayed the media couldn’t hear what was going on.
“You guys broke up,” Travis repeated with a wide grin on his face. “And you didn't tell me-” A ball flew from the jug machine and slammed into the side of Travis’s face, knocking him to the ground. Travis landed flat on his ass, ignoring Coach Melvin’s shouting, but stayed looking at Patrick.
Patrick hoped at least one of the media members in the stands had gotten that on video.
“We’re not broken up,” He said hotly. “We just need some space from each other.”
“Oh my god,” Travis said, still on the ground. “This is the greatest day of my life. I'm throwing a party. Where’s my phone, I need to call Taylor.”
Creed walked over and patted Patrick sympathetically on the shoulder. “I’m sorry that things didn't work out between the two of you. I know you loved him. But you can do better! Plus now you can be bejeweled.”
Blaine, who was on the opposite side of Patrick from Clyde and now Creed, slammed his face into his hands, tired of the Swift references.
“Aaron and I are not broken up!” Patrick yelled. The coaching staff turned towards him from their little huddle in the middle of the field, looking startled. He scrambled to his feet, frustrated with his teammates and slightly mortified because by now he was sure that the media had heard at least some of it.
“Damn, touchy,” Skyy muttered. Blake, thinking quickly, grabbed the second-year player and made sure he was out of punching range.
“I hate you all,” He grumbled, turning and stalking away towards the defense, who crowded around him, wanting to know what was going on.
The offense watched him go before turning to Blaine and Chris. The two quarterbacks shrugged and Blaine started off after Patrick, Chris quickly scrambling after him.
Kadarius quietly whispered, “He’s in the getaway car.”
It was silent for a moment. Marquez snorted. Everyone lost it laughing, the runningbacks launching into a rendition of Getaway Car , much to Travis’ horror.
The coaching staff, still standing quietly in the middle of the field, were doing rock, paper, scissors to decide who had to go talk to Patrick. Spags lost in the end. He immediately turned to Nagy. “I’ll give you two grand if you go do it. I’m the defensive coordinator, he might kill me.”
Nagy shook his head. “Hell no!”
Andy put his hands on his hips. “Well… Spags makes a good point.”
“Then you go do it!”
“I’m technically your boss.”
Matt swore and headed toward the crowd of defensive players, muttering about how he didn't get paid enough for this.
——-
Patrick was pretty moody for the next two days of the week but perked up after they beat the Broncos on Thursday night.
Beating the Broncos always made him feel better, even if it wasn't exactly the best game ever, they were carrying on the streak. Everyone mostly left him alone about Aaron after the game anyway, still wary. Travis, of course, still had no qualms about bullying him, but he was distracted by Taylor being there, so Patrick made a quick escape once he was done with the media.
When he got in the car and turned his phone on, he was busy looking through the influx of notifications he always got after a game when his phone started ringing.
He nearly dropped his phone in his lap.
Declining the call, he sent off a text letting Aaron know that he was about to start driving home and that he’d text him when he got there. Aaron sent back a thumbs-up emoji.
Ominous.
Patrick slowed his panicking train of thought, reminding himself that it could just be Aaron texting like an old man. He cringed thinking about how Aaron put that stupid fucking hashtag at the end of almost every tweet because he still didn't know how to use Twitter. Or X. Or whatever.
He drove home quickly, trying to focus on anything other than the fact Aaron had reached out for the first time in a few days. He got home, let the dogs outside, and called Aaron back.
“Hey, Pat. How are you?”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed. That was an awfully casual greeting from someone who hadn't wanted to talk to him two days beforehand.
“Hey, Aaron. I’m alright. How are you?” He asked carefully, trying to decide whether he was still mad at Aaron or not.
“I’m good. I’ve missed you.”
Aww, maybe he wasn’t mad.
“I’ve missed you too,” He admitted, sitting down at his kitchen table. The team chefs had sent home food for him, which was great. Their cooking was delicious, always on his diet plan, and he didn’t have to attempt to cook. He tilted his head, trapping his phone between his shoulder and ear so he could use both hands to dig out the food containers and crack it open. “What have you been up to? How’s PT going?” He asked, standing up to go grab some silverware.
“PT’s going good! Cobbo told me it’d be stupid to try and come back before the end of the season but I told him to fuck off.” Aaron sounded pleased by the idea of going back to work. Patrick didn’t even bother to try and convince him to do otherwise.
“Make sure to listen to the docs. The last thing you need is Saleh murdering someone because you came back too early and made things worse,” He warned, stabbing a meatball a little more aggressively than he had to.
Aaron laughed, sounding fond. “I will, don’t you worry your pretty little head about me,” He assured. Patrick rolled his eyes even as his cheeks warmed. “I saw your win against the Broncos, congratulations.”
Patrick grinned at that. “It’s a tradition started by Alex Smith that I will gladly carry on.”
“Oh my god, pretend I never said anything. You and the Broncos.”
Patrick’s smile widened. “Broncos? I hate the Broncos,” He said, knowing that the Kelce reference would piss Aaron off.
“I’m hanging up on you. Actually, wait, before I do, why does your team think we’ve broken up and why is the press talking about them thinking we’ve broken up?”
Patrick stabbed a second meatball aggressively, sighing as it split in two.