Je t'aime, tu sais?

Patrice sighed, stiffly making his way through his bedroom door and tossing his gym bag into the closet. He could hear the shower running and see the steam seeping out the bottom of his bathroom door.
He lazily smiled, happy Jamie had decided to temporarily move in with him while Emily lived at her place, waiting to sign a lease.
Quietly bumping his knuckles against the bathroom door, he announced to Jamie that he was home.
"Mon amour!" She purred from the shower, her voice bouncing happily around the glass shower. "Be right out!"
"Take your time," he called back over the rush of the water. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it on the foot of his bed where Jamie had made herself at home all day with her laptop and many notebooks, and made his way back out into the living room, both hands scratching the back of his head as he yawned, deeply. He brought his heavy fingers around the top of his head and rested them on his cheeks, rubbing his eyes as he yawned again, falling backwards onto his luscious white couch.
He heard the water turn off and lay his head back against the cushions of the couch, his chin high in the air and his throat completely exposed.
He closed his eyes, frustrated with himself.
Two games in a row and he had done nothing but come up one game with a minus one. Who does that? He didn't even block shots and he turned over a puck in the neutral zone during a shitty shift in the second.
He was better than that.
To help overcome his two game slump, he stayed late after the game and lifted with Seids, who contended that his after-game lifting routine wasn't for self-punishment, but more for stress relief. Seids had had great games though, and this one even featured a kick save. Patrice sighed, admitting to himself that there was a little bit of self-punishment in his decision to stay, but he figured that the stress relief would help knock him out for the night.
Jamie would be worried and upset if she knew he couldn't sleep.
He folded his tired arms across his chest decked in a white button down with a black skinny tie. His legs, bent at the knee, were sporting the light grey bottoms to his two piece suit, and pointed black dress shoes covered his black and white striped dress socks.
He was exhausted.
Far away, somewhere deep in the tissue wrapped around his bicep, his muscle twitched, tired.
Yesterday was their Sunday matinee that both Jamie and Emily came to, only to be disappointed--even though they promised they weren't--with his shitty play. He even blew a tire and fell in the middle of the game, unprovoked.
Even though his eyes were closed, he rolled them in self-disgust.
Today, they had played the Sharks and Joe Thornton, who had always been a close friend, just beat the pants off him. He was just filthy. Patrice got dangled and deked throughout the game, both in the third period, uncharacteristically failing defensively and giving up the game winning goal. Tuukks said he wasn't mad but, Patrice was.

Jamie unwrapped the towel around her head and hung it on the door. She brushed the wet mop around her head with her fingers, untangling some of the bigger knots in her kinky hair, all the while beaming, knowing Patrice was just around the corner.
Donning Patrice's massive navy blue robe, she made her way out of his room and into the living room, approaching her sleeping prince from behind, his head laid back on the couch, his mouth slightly open, completely asleep.
She delicately held the back of his head, rubbing her thumb gently in his hair, lovingly rousing him from his sleep without startling him as she made her way around the sofa.
"Sorry," he mumbled, lifting his head so he sat upright and stifling a yawn.
"Don't be," she smiled, straddling him and gently sitting on his bent knees.
He lazily pulled his lips into a half smile and blinked slowly at her. She giggled and gave him a big kiss on his cheek, then pulled back to continue gazing at him, smiling too.
"We lost," he huffed, eventually, looking down in dissapointment.
"I know, my love," she quietly said. The kitchen light behind them was on, showcasing a big bowl of Pyrex holding the Tandoori chicken and rice Jamie and Emily had made earlier, at Jamie's place for dinner.
"It's ok though, it's just one game of many," she tried, giving him a warm smile as she lifted his chin and they made eye contact again.
"No, I know," he said, reasonably. "I know you can't win every game, but, I just played shitty." He sighed and his eyes dropped to where their hips met. His hands gently held her waist and he stroked the soft robe covering her hips.
"Did you watch?" He asked her, raising his eyes to meet her face again.
"A little, with Em," she began.
"I was complete shit," he said, shaking his head.
"Oh Patrice," Jamie cooed, wrapping his face up in her arms and hugging him into her chest like she knew he liked. He welcomed the gesture and wrapped his arms around her warm back, snuggling into her breast and heaving another sigh.
"I dunno what's wrong," he mumbled, turning his head and pressing his ear into her chest as she ran her fingers adoringly through his hair.
"Nothing's wrong, mon cherie," she laughed, shaking her head. "You're just a man," she reasoned.
He thought, unmoving. She watched his jaw unclench from her view of the top of his head. The rim of his ear moved as he did so.
She leaned forward and kissed his hair, and when he finally pulled away from her hug, he did so with his lazy half smile and eyes thankful for her.
"Emily and I made Tandoori chicken," Jamie said, massaging his temples as he slowly closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open.
"I adore you," he breathed, almost half asleep, his lower jaw jutting out.
"Good," Jamie laughed, gently closing his mouth with a finger to the bottom of his chin. He blinked his eyes and looked up at her with a goofy smile.
"Sorry, mon amoureaux," he groaned, stretching and running his hands up and down her robed arms. "I'm so tired," he squeaked, raising his arms above his head in the greatest stretch thus far, yawning. Jamie ran her hand up and down his exposed throat as he tilted his head back.
"Don't be sorry," she persisted, smiling and unfixing his tie, pulling it from his collar. She undid a couple of the top buttons, slipping her hand underneath his shirt and running her fingers alongside his collar bone.
He smiled up at her and slid further down the couch, until his but neared the edge of the seat cushion. He leaned his head back into the cushions.
He raised his left hand, separating the robe crossed in the middle of her chest and tied off to the side with his skilled fingers, and slipped his hand between the navy material and her skin.
She sighed as he cupped her breast, running his hard, tired thumb as gently as he could over her hard nipple. He lightly skimmed his fingertips alongside her collarbone and down her ribs as she giggled and leaned forward, biting her lip as she came down to meet his hungry ones.
As she leaned into him, he pulled on the robe's tie cinched at her waist with his other hand, and upon releasing it the fabric loosened and folded open, exposing to him the freshest, prettiest, sweetest Jamie.
She hooked her arms loosely around his neck as they deeply kissed, scooting her hips further up his thighs until their bodies met as Patrice traced her sides with his wondering hands, smoothing them over her belly and breasts and shoulders.
He giggled into their kiss, and she was warmed knowing she could make him happy again.
She gave him a little moan as he squeezed her breast, egging him on, letting him know she was definitely in the mood.
She moved her hands into his hair and let one drop all the way down over his ear, down his neck and the front of his chest and to his belt, loosening it.

It only took a solid minute or two of Jamie gripping the back of the couch and rocking against his hips for Patrice's sigh to hitch in the back of his throat in a flash of pure pleasure as he seized her hips, shuddering and finishing.
His chest heaved, his shirt hitched up around his ribs, as his head leaned back against the tops of the couch cushions. He closed his eyes, and Jamie could feel him pulse inside her, absolutely relieved.
She gave him a sultry smile, even though he couldn't see her, and bent forward to kiss underneath his chin.
He groaned as her lips met his stubble, and he picked his head up to meet her for another kiss. As they broke his lips finally parted for a smile.
"There," Jamie said, satisfied.
"There what?" Patrice asked, tilting his head in question.
"There," she announced again, placing her hands back on the back of the couch and lifting herself off of him, despite his protests and sharp inhale.
"Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, in French.
"Wh--yeah. Just sensitive after," he laughed, slightly embarrassed as he reached for his suit pants that had fallen from around his knees during their act of love.
She waited for him to lift his hips from the couch and pull them up around his waist before bending forward and giving him yet another kiss.
"But wait," he called, reaching after her as she disappeared behind the couch and into the kitchen.
" 'But wait' what?" She asked, opening the Pyrex containers and popping the Tandoori chicken in the microwave.
"Well, what about you? Let's go again," he said, making his way into the kitchen. His pants were zipped but unbuttoned and his belt hung loose. He pulled his undershirt and dress shirt down over his lower stomach.
"What about me?" Jamie asked, raising her eyebrows at him as she stirred a light orange mixture in a tall glass cup. She seductively took a sip.
"I've gotta get you off," he said, making his way over to her with his hands at his sides, smirking.
"Oh, you 'gotta', huh?" She asked, returning the smirk. "You love me one day and now I'm a chore?" She joked.
"Noooo," he laughed, wrapping her in his strong arms and kissing her temple. "Why'd you leave so fast?" He asked, quietly, his lips to the side of her head. "Why didn't you let me?" It was almost as if he were insecure.
Jamie set her cup on the granite countertop and looped her arms around his neck, giving him a big kiss on his cheek as they hugged tightly.
"You don't always get to be the one that sweeps me off my feet, Patrice," she laughed, meaning every word. Being in a relationship meant being there for one another, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Her goal wasn't to get laid tonight. Her goal was to make his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day end on the best possible note it could. And she told him that.
He chuckled appreciatively and buried his face into her neck, planting a kiss on her soft skin as the microwaved beeped.
"Go get in comfy clothes and I'll make you a plate, k?" She asked, pulling away from him.
"Yeah," he answered, smiling crookedly.
"And then we'll watch something un-hockey related, k?" She checked, cupping his cheek, unable to let go of him.
He nodded, his lips giving her a half smile before forming an excited "O."
"OH! Johnny's been talking about this sick show called Game of Thrones. Season 1 is on HBO on Demand he said; wanna watch that?"
"Sure hun," she said, having no idea what he was talking about but being completely incapable of turning down his excited face. Plus, chances were he was just going to fall asleep within the first ten minutes, so if it was really horrible, she could just turn it off.
"Got get dressed," she giggled, pushing him away to attend to the microwave that beeped at her again, reminding her of her hot food. "And bring me something, too," she called after him.
"Eh, I like what you're wearing now," he called back, referencing the robe. "I think it stays."