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The lightness Patrice felt in his chest when he saw the plane get closer to the ground was unmatched. It definitely wasn’t something he was expecting, that was for certain. He’d received Brad back home from road trips before. They’d been separated before- he knew that.
But he wasn’t naive enough to pretend that this time was no different. He’d been waiting in the airfield for a little over thirty minutes before he finally caught sight of the plane. He knew where to park to be close to the runway and still safe, so he did. He kept his eyes trained on the plane, the anticipation of seeing his husband again making him the most antsy he’d felt in a while.
The moment he saw the wheels touch the ground was the moment he got out, shutting the driver’s door and leaning up against the front of the car.
It was a few minutes in the cold- a few minutes that he regretted getting out of the car for- before airstairs were wheeled to the plane and the door was opened. He watched the door of the plane open from afar, the beacon of light streaming out from the door into the surrounding relative darkness.
A smile formed on his face as he watched people begin to exit. The first of which being Freddy, the Matts, and the Charlies. Linus and Jeremy followed, followed by some of the support staff- hell- even Monty’d come out. But no Brad.
He furrowed his brows, walking closer to the plane to greet the guys he did see, but his mind remained fully on his husband.
“Bergy!”
He looked up to see a few of the guys jogging towards him to say hi, their luggage abandoned behind them.
“Hey boys!” He yelled, a smile on his face. “Hell of a job-”
He received a few of the guys in hugs, grateful for the reception, but unable to fully concentrate on anything but the airplane door.
They all made their small talk and went on their way, but there was still no Brad.
The steady stream of people coming out of the plane had since stopped, which confused him even more. He furrowed his brows, considering asking one of the guys, but ultimately decided to just go up to the airstairs.
When he’d gotten to the base of the stairs, he saw an impending shadow cast out from inside the plane.
Looch.
“Looch!” Patrice said with a smile, meeting Looch’s eyes as he hauled his carry-on out of the plane.
“Bergy!”
He lifted his luggage off the ground with ease and practically dashed down the stairs to engulf Patrice in a hug.
“How’ve you been?”
“Ah,” Patrice sighed. “Same as a week ago.”
Yeah, he’d gone a little stir-crazy, but it wasn’t that much of a lie.
“Brad’s just gonna be a minute- he fell pretty deep asleep. I got him up.”
“Thank you,” Patrice sighed. “He's okay? He’s not sick or anything, right?”
“Ah, Berg,” Looch said, shooting him a knowing look. “He’s alright. Just tired.”
Patrice nodded, grateful that Milan decided not to comment on his First (real) Roadie Away Syndrome.
“You better head home,” Patrice said, patting Looch’s shoulder.
“I better head home,” Looch repeated, clapping Patrice hard on the arm as he stepped off the last step of the airstairs. “Have a good night man.”
“Night Looch.”
It was less than a moment before he saw Brad’s head peak out of the plane door.
“Brad!” Patrice exclaimed, unsure whether to step aside or go up the stairs to help with Brad’s luggage.
Before he had the time to really think about it, Brad had hauled his bags up and ran down the stairs himself.
Tossing his bags to the side, Brad threw himself into his arms and held Patrice like he hadn’t seen him in years.
“Pat-” Brad gasped, his voice slightly muffled by Patrice’s coat. “Oh my god-”
Patrice grinned brightly as he enveloped Brad tighter in the hug. “Welcome back ange.”
“God, Pat.” Brad said, his voice quiet, not fully letting the hug die at any moment. “Missed you.”
Brad’s face was cold and a bit wet when he kissed it- he must have just splashed some water on, Patrice thought.
“Clearly not too much.” Patrice joked, pulling away to look at Brad’s face under the bright lights.
Brad furrowed his brows, looking up at him. “What’dya mean?"
“What the hell were you saying about your point production again?” Patrice laughed softly, moving to accommodate Brad burying his face in his shoulder. “How many hugs is it that you owe me as cellies? Four?”
“Oh, god.” Brad said, rolling his eyes at Patrice’s choice of words and burying himself back in his embrace.
“You’re getting a hell of a lot more than four.” Brad said, his voice continuing to be soft and muffled.
“I told you I was holding you back.” Patrice laughed, his hand on the small of Brad’s back.
“And I told you you were wrong.” Brad said stubbornly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Mr. Hollywood.” Patrice grinned, planting another kiss on the top of Brad’s head.
“Hm?” Brad asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Patrice laughed, planting a quick kiss on his forehead. “I know you’ve been sleeping but how’d you manage to forget that you’re the biggest thing to hit the silver screen in a while?”
“Ah, shh.” Brad chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “And babe. And it’s not a silver screen if it’s not a movie.”
“Who says?” Patrice said, carding a hand through the hair on the back of Brad’s head.
“I think the whole world except you.” Brad laughed, melting into the touch and leaning in.
“So I’m hearing the entire world is wrong? Bit outlandish, no?”
“You’re incorrigible.” Brad smiled, closing the small gap between them. “I missed you. So much.”
“I missed you too ange.” Patrice smiled back, his eyes darting to Brad’s bags. “Go ahead, I’ll grab those.”
“Oh, I got them-”
“Brad, baby, do me a favor?”
“Mm?”
“Just sit.”
Brad smiled with resignation, shooting small glances at Patrice as they walked back to the car. When they got there, they split, Brad walking around the car to the passenger side and Patrice to the trunk to place Brad's luggage in. Throwing the trunk down, he walked back to the driver’s side and sat down.
He jammed his keys into the ignition and started the car, a chill overtaking him again. “Sorry, it’s a little cold. Been here a while and I didn’t want to idle.”
“Got all the warmth I need right here baby,” Brad smirked, gesturing between himself and Patrice as he leaned back into the seat.
“Dork,” Patrice said, placing his hand on the back of Brad’s neck.
“You missed me.”
“Undeniably. Doesn’t do anything to counter the fact you’re a dork.”
Brad only grinned into the darkness, reaching for Patrice’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I love you.”
“Je t’aime aussi,” Patrice said quickly, moving his hand up Brad’s neck and pulling his head in for a quick kiss.
The ride home was mostly silent, save for the sound of the car itself and some quiet, sporadic conversations.
Patrice could tell Brad was still drowsy, so he decided to ask.
“Are you tired?”
“Hm?”
Patrice let the car come to a standstill at the red light and looked over.
“You tired tonight? Or are you running on California time?”
“Who’s asking?” Brad said, the smirk audible in his voice.
Patrice did nothing to dignify the response but gave him a slight look out of the corner of his eye.
“Fine, fine,” Brad said, a smile still on his face as he rolled his eyes. “Entirely on California time. Took a nap on the plane on top of that. Won’t get to bed for a while tonight, I think.”
“That’s okay. That’s time for us to catch up ange.” Patrice said as he switched on his blinker, making a left turn at the intersection.
“Don’t wanna keep you up though.” Brad sighed, running his thumb over Patrice’s knuckles.
“Bold assumption that I’m not on California time as well,” Patrice said, moving their interlaced hands onto Brad’s thigh. “Or something close enough, at least. I’ve been up for every game, cheri.”
“That makes me want to get you in bed even more,” Brad groaned, looking over at Patrice who was extremely surprised he said that without a hint of lewdness. “You’ve been sleeping in at least?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good.”
The feeling of Patrice pulling into their driveway made Brad’s chest feel lighter. The familiar feel of home made his heart happy. Patrice was the only home he needed, sure, but hell if it didn’t feel amazing to be within a hundred feet of their bed again.
Brad furrowed his brows when Patrice didn’t press the clicker to open the garage and park inside.
“Oh,” Patrice smiled. “Sorry ange. I’ve been messing around in the garage a little. Have to move some stuff out of the way to park.”
“Oh,” Brad said, nodding.
Both their cars were in the garage when he left.
“Go ahead, I’ve got your stuff,” Patrice said, turning the car off and popping the trunk. He dangled the keys over the roof of the car as Brad got out of the passenger side. “You remember our code or do you need the keys?”
Patrice asked mostly in jest, but the look in Brad’s eyes made him reconsider the joke.
“I remember,” Brad said with a quick-draw smile that hid his moment of doubt.
Brad walked around the front, punching in the code as Patrice followed with his bags. Placing his bags down, Patrice locked the door behind him and walked him to the kitchen, where several takeout bags rested.
“I thought about cooking- but I wanted to give you a proper welcome home,” Patrice said, leaning back on the kitchen island.
“God,” Brad sighed walking to Patrice and resting his head on his chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too ange.”
Dinner wasn’t a grand ordeal, not at all. Brad was so grateful for it.
He missed it- just the two of them, quiet random conversations over something- anything. Something he’d made- something they’d ordered- maybe something they’d gone out for, whatever- all he cared about was being with Patrice.
He knew it hadn’t been that long since they’d sat down and done this, but it really was difficult to fully estimate the impact that the distance was gonna have on him. How much he was going to miss the little things- no matter how short the duration of their separation was.
He wasn’t an idiot- he could acknowledge that they’d been separated before too. But- there was always a sense of transience. There was an injury- illness, surgery- that Brad knew they’d recover from. Knew they’d be reunited after.
But this?
This hurt. It was going to take some getting used to. It’d get easier, he knew that. It was the only way he could get through this.
They finished their dinner faster than anticipated, Patrice immediately getting up to pick up Brad’s plate and gesturing him up the stairs by jutting out his chin.
“I’ll help you clean up-” Brad said quickly, trying to dive for the dishes.
“Mm-mmm.” Patrice shook his head, holding the plates out of Brad’s reach.
“Baby-”
Fondly exasperated, Patrice threw his head back, setting the plates down on the breakfast bar and walking toward Brad.
“Go shower, freshen up,” Patrice said, his hand on the small of Brad’s back as he planted a quick kiss on his head. “If you’re still feeling up to it, I’ve got a surprise when you get back.”
“Oh?” Brad gave him a shitfaced smirk, to which Patrice rolled his eyes at.
“Don’t make me regret it,” Patrice laughed, eyeing the remote on the coffee table.
“No promises,” Brad winked, walking backward toward the stairs as he continued to watch Patrice fondly.
Patrice only smiled, making his way back to the kitchen to clear off the plates and stow and throw the takeout containers away.
Now that Brad was away, he could set his plan in motion.
He’d been meaning to do something special to celebrate his husband’s return, but also to make up for the absolutely monumental thing they didn’t get to celebrate together because of the roadie.
Brad’s Disney Channel debut.
Patrice smiled about the sheer silliness of what he had planned, but he’d had it planned for days now- and hell if he was backing down.
He went to the pantry and grabbed the Target bag he’d bought two days ago, a tray, and some bowls.
Walking to the island, he set the bowls down, ripped the bags open, and poured their respective contents out. Little treat. His husband more than deserved it.
He’d gotten several blue snacks, as dorky as he thought the idea might have been. He poured them all into separate bowls and set them on the tray, admiring both his idea and execution as he stepped back.
The small white porcelain bowls were a nice contrast against the coincidentally light blue tray, which Patrice appreciated.
Letting it rest on the island, he walked over to the living room and turned the TV on. Going to YouTube, he searched for the title of Brad’s episode that he’d already ascertained. He set the TV to play it, paused it, and then left it idle so that the screen would go dark and not give anything away.
Quickly, he dashed up to their room and changed into some sweats and a new hoodie. He tossed the one he'd been wearing for the past few nights in the hamper.
Then, all he could do was wait. He listened to the sound of Brad’s voice and the muffled sound of water get quieter as he walked from their room.
He'd been downstairs for a few minutes before he heard the water stop, but he perked up immediately. The creaks of the floorboard could be heard from the kitchen, allowing Patrice to mentally track Brad across the upper level and down the stairs.
Placing the tray out of sight on the back counter, Patrice waited, a smile on his face as he did.
“Hey baby,” Brad started to say before he was even fully down the stairs. “Hi.”
“Hey… ange,” Patrice said, pausing as he outstretched his arm and received Brad at the bottom of the stairs. “How do you feel?”
“Hm?” Brad asked, his brows furrowed as he looked up.
“How do you feel?” Patrice repeated, wrapping his arms around Brad and resting his chin on his partially dried hair. The warmth from his skin radiated, and Patrice was damn near sure he’d never let go if he had the option.
“Good?” Brad laughed quizzically resting his head on his chest. “Good Pat, why?”
“Good cheri, I’m glad,” Patrice said, kissing a spot above his eyebrow softly. “You still feel like you’re going to be up a while?”
“Ugh, god yeah.” Brad scoffed. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” Patrice said, hiding a smile from Brad. “Why don’t you go have a seat on the couch- I’ll be right there.”
“Oh?” Brad looked at him quizzically, lingering in Patrice’s arms for a moment longer before walking to the couch. “You wanna watch something?”
Patrice could sense him eyeing the remote, which elicited a yell from him. “No!”
Brad turned around at the loud noise and furrowed his brows. “Okay… Yeah, we don’t have to…”
“No, I mean-” Patrice said, struggling for words. “Just sit. You know what? Close your eyes.”
Brad squinted, his eyes trained on Patrice’s movement through the kitchen. Despite that, he obliged wordlessly.
Taking a deep breath, Patrice grabbed the trays and began to walk to their living room. “Keep them closed until I say, alright ange?”
“Okay…”
“Until I say.” He reiterated softly, knowing his husband far too well.
He placed the tray down on the table quietly and reached over Brad to grab the remote.
“Alright. In 3… 2… 1…” Patrice counted off, a smile in his voice.
He clicked the play button once to turn the screen back on, but not twice to actually play the show.
“Open.”
Brad opened his eyes, the quizzical expression on his face remaining until he processed what was going on.
“Oh Patrice-” Brad said, his eyes wide and darting between the spread on the table, the show he recognized on the TV, and his husband. “Baby.”
Blue Sour Patch Kids, a few blue raspberry Dum-Dums in a cup, blue-foil Hershey’s kisses, and jelly sharks.
“They’re all blue- like Mikey-” Patrice said quickly, his eyes slightly wide and anticipatory. “I haven’t seen it yet, but I saw a picture online, and so-”
“Oh my god,” Brad said in disbelief, his eyes just a little teary.
“You like it?”
“God, baby- I love it.” Brad laughed, popping a jelly shark in his mouth. “You should know though Pat, I’m barely even in it-”
“But you are in it- and I know you did stellar ange, and I want to watch it with you."
“God, you… what the fuck did I do to deserve you?” Brad said, his eyes locked on Patrice’s. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too ange.” Patrice said, kissing Brad’s head softly and sitting down next to him with the remote. “You ready?”
Brad nodded eagerly, grabbing the bowl of Sour Patch Kids and placing it in his lap.
It was more than a few minutes before Brad’s character came in, and Patrice could hardly wait. He watched Brad’s face get redder and redder from right next to him and smiled.
Finally, it was time.
I cannot WAIT to get back out there and just rip somebody’s head off, eh?!
The first thing he heard from him was entirely unexpected. He definitely wasn’t expecting Brad to do that voice- and while it certainly caught him off guard, it was goddamn perfect.
“They had you lay that Canadian on thick, huh cheri?”
Now just wait a second. What’s wrong with bloodlust, eh?
Soon enough, Patrice found himself laughing uncontrollably at his husband’s character- the similarities they shared- the fact Brad was actually- very good at voice acting.
“Baby, how did you-” Patrice was overtaken by laughter with every word he tried to utter, which only made Brad turn more and more red. “I’m-”
“Pat, c’mon, it teaches kids a valuable lesson about nonviolence and working things out verbally!”
“And who was that I saw cheesing on the bench when Freddy was going at it?”
Brad smiled sheepishly, letting his forehead rest on Patrice’s shoulder. “I withdraw.”
Instead of engaging in violence, you could talk about your feelins’! THAT is the real power play!
“Oh cher, I wish this episode came out when I was still playing- maybe Pitlick’s pride would still be intact from last season.” Patrice snorted, throwing an arm around Brad.
But I like punching-
“Oh, we know.” Patrice snorted again, popping a Sour Patch Kid in his mouth.
“Shut up!” Brad said, his face red enough for Patrice to notice in the barely lit room. Hiding the smile on his face, he dove forward to grab a Dum-Dum. “God-”
“Holy fuck-” Patrice laughed, taking a beat to plant a kiss on Brad’s lips.
But do you like getting punched?
I… I don’t! Okay! We’re in!
“Baise-moi March- what the fuck!” Patrice gasped, finding himself breathless with laughter once again. “God- I’m-”
“Berg, c’mon- it is not that funny!”
“If only it were that easy to convince the real one-” Patrice snorted.
“Pat!”
Patrice then decided to give Brad a break for a little bit. A very short-lived little bit.
Now who wants to try some role-playing exercises?
Me, me, me, me!
“Awfully eager for those, huh March?” Patrice laughed, it being one of the rarer times he got to wear Brad’s practically patented shitfaced smirk.
“God, you suck!” Brad hit his arm softly, only to subsequently bury his face in Patrice’s shoulder.
Patrice brought a hand up to his head and carded through his hair softly, keeping his eyes trained on the TV.
“Dieu, Brad they couldn’t have found a more perfect show for you- this is fucking wild-” Patrice laughed, observing the chaos ensuing in front of him.
“Oh, you look so worried!” Patrice said, trying to get Brad to look at the screen.
Wait, put me in Coach- I’d like to try out what you’ve taught me, eh.
Patrice looked over at Brad, who had pulled away and was seemingly bracing for ridicule.
It never came.
Patrice smiled, having nothing to say for the first time in the past nine minutes. Nothing more than this.
“That’s my boy.” Patrice said, pulling Brad in by the shoulder and kissing his head.
Brad leaned in, quietly relishing the embrace. “I love you.”
You’re ready.
Aye-aye.
The words rang truer than Patrice expected from a kids' show. He couldn’t count the times he’d told Brad that over the past few months. How much he’d worked to convince him that he was indeed ready. To go on without him, to take the reins- everything.
“Je t’aime aussi,” Patrice whispered back, squeezing his hand.
The sweet moment was short-lived though, somewhat of a snort escaping Patrice when Mikey spoke again.
Oh hey there, eh- I’m Icicles team captain, Mikey LeBoeuf. And today, I learned an important lesson. Instead of hitting one another, why don’t you try expressing your feelings? You can use this as a ‘talking stick’.
“Oh my god-” Patrice said his hand brought up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Ange- talking stick-”
“It’s a good way to regulate the conversation!” Brad said with a pout.
“You would know,” Patrice snorted, recalling the stories Brad had told him about his mandated anger management classes from when he was younger.
“You’re such an ass!” Brad laughed, throwing his head back and ultimately resting it on Patrice’s shoulder.
They stayed like that for a while- watching the chaos of the episode unfold on the screen.
“That was my last line. I just get yelled at by the kid and then it’s over.” Brad laughed as Patrice’s attention shifted back onto him.
Patrice continued to laugh quietly at some of the things but now was mainly focused on the way Brad had laid himself down on his lap.
The bowl of blue Sour Patches that he’d been holding now sat by Patrice’s side while Brad ate the lollipop.
The part he was in had well-passed, and the episode that was conjoined to it had started to play too. The TV was practically running on mute by that point though. All Brad was focused on was Patrice, and Patrice Brad.
“God, ange you did so good.” Patrice said, gathering his thoughts as he finally reached over and paused it. “What did I say? You’re a star.”
“Oh, stop,” Brad replied sheepishly, his face still pink from Patrice’s ridicule returning to red because of his praise.
“Mon étoile,” Patrice repeated, planting soft kisses on his jawline. “You never cease to amaze me March, you know that?”
“Says you,” Brad said as he looked down.
“I mean it.” Patrice with a smile. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Mm, nice try.” Brad grinned, reaching up from his position on Patrice’s lap.
“I can proudly say that title…” He paused, pantomiming removing something from Patrice’s hand. “Belongs to me."
Patrice smiled, taking the opportunity to interlace their hands and rest it over Brad’s left chest.
“Try again, because I’m married to the captain of the Boston Bruins.”
“I was married to him first.”
Brad melted into the touch and smiled up at Patrice. The words meant the world to him. No matter how many times he heard it from anyone- no matter how much he himself deflected it- hearing it from Patrice would always be surreal.
“You ever want that C back, it’s yours,” Brad said in jest, removing the lollipop stick from his mouth and placing it on the edge of the tray.
“Never,” Patrice said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You earned that a thousand times over cheri.”
“Thousand might be a stretch.” Brad furrowed his brows, laughing as he sat up.
“Nope. You were made for that C, ange. Won’t negotiate on that.” Patrice said, observing his face in the dim light.
Brad had nothing to say to that. If he tried, he certainly wouldn't be able to come up with the words. It'd been a tough transition, and it still continued to be- but one thing was for certain. He'd always have Patrice. And for that, he couldn't ever have been more grateful.
“Your lips are very blue,” Patrice said suddenly, observing the pronounced smile on Brad's face when he changed the topic.
“And you have Sour Patch cocaine on yours,” Brad hit back, a smile on his face as he looked Patrice in the eyes. “What are we gonna do about it?”
Before he could even act, Brad dove in for a kiss, finally leading it for the first time tonight. It was somewhere perfectly between desperate and at ease, and Patrice received it all with a smile on his face.
“All better.” Brad smiled, pulling away for air and then licking his lips for effect.
Patrice placed his hand on Brad’s neck, working down to the small of his back and he pulled him in closer.
“Missed you so bad.” Patrice reiterated, burying his face in Brad’s shoulder for the first time tonight.
“What if you stowed away in my luggage next time?”
Patrice pulled away at that to furrow his brows. “I think they’d let me on the plane if I asked, ange.”
“Mm, maybe, maybe not. Bear Force One? Kinda exclusive.” Brad pursed his lips in mock thought as he watched Patrice roll his eyes.
“Maybe so. I’ve got an in with the Captain if that changes anything?”
“Really now?” Brad cocked his head, raising his eyebrow.
“We’re kinda close.” Patrice shrugged, doing his best to hold back a smile.
“Is that right?”
“I’d sure hope so.”
“I’m sure he can pull some strings then.” Brad grinned, kissing Patrice’s nose.
“He always does.”