The Sailor and the Hawk

Early morning practices were something I grew to dislike intensely. Waking up so early just to sit around the PT room was not exactly exciting. I would sometimes sit on the bench and watch practice or occasionally, make sure somebody didn't get a boo boo. But today, I sat my happy ass in the room. Actually, I sort of laid on the beds, and fell asleep. I was having one of my war dreams again when some grabbed me and I screamed, flailing and swinging my fists. I made contact with something and heard a loud curse. I looked over and my eyes widened.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! Patrick!” I said in my panic, leaping down to where he was crumpled over, holding his stomach.

“Damn, second time you've punched me.” he wheezed out, laughing with the little air he had in his lungs still, considering I knocked it out of him.

“I'm so so so sorry!” I said, helping him to sit on the bed. He laughed and shook his head, massaging his abs.

“Nah, its okay. I'll bruise, if anything.” he said, waving me off. “Why are you sleeping on the job?” he teased, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I'm tired, shut up. Why did you come in here?” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest and returning the look.

“I sort of did the splits....and now my left inner thigh is tight.” he said, scratching the back of his neck like boys do.

“Seriously, Patrick?” I asked, rolling my eyes slightly.

“I swear, it wasn't on purpose!” he whined. I shook my head at him and pushed on his shoulder, making him lay down. I went over, turning on my music and then asking him to point to exactly where it hurt.

“Okay, don't move. If it hurts too much, let me know.” I said, looking at him. His eyes were closed and his arm over his face, his lips in a tight line. I shook my head again and pressed my finger tips into the spot, making him hiss out in pain.

I went about to doing my job, making sure to work the muscles out of their tension. Every now and then, Patrick would make a noise or a grunt and squeeze his hands into fists or his right leg would twitch. My co-workers came and went, working on other guys from the team. Seabrook and Keith came in to get their shoulders and legs taken care of. They shot little comments at Patrick, to which he replied with a simple hand gesture. Eventually, I felt something snap and then the muscle released completely. Patrick let out a deep sigh when I stopped, resting my palms flat against the muscles, feeling them still twitch slightly. He peaked at me with one eye and smiled a little bit, making me return the smile.

“Feel better?” I asked, slowly moving my hands away and standing up straight now. He sat up and rolled his leg on the table for a moment before carefully standing up and nodding to himself.

“Yeah, I'm good. Thanks...” he said, rubbing his neck again. “Uh....please don't punch me again.....but....would you like to go out to dinner tonight....like on a date?” he asked, not looking up at me. I nearly fainted at those words coming from him. Patrick Kane, the playboy, was asking me on a dinner date.

“Wow.....uh yeah! Okay, that sounds good.” I replied quickly, then mentally slapping myself for almost sounding desperate. But oh, that smile that he gave me when I said yes.

“Great...I'll pick you up at seven?” he asked, looking up at me now and smiling even more.

“Yeah, okay.” I said, smiling back. We both laughed at how awkward we were acting and he carefully squeezed my arm, sliding his hand down to mine and lacing out fingers together.

“Get dressed up, okay?” he said, squeezing out hands together and then slowly letting go as he started to walk out.

“Bye Patrick....” I said, waving a little at him. He smiled shyly and waved back, going out and around the corner. I practically swooned as soon as he was out the door. What was the first thing I did? I texted Kylee, of course.

“I need your help with a date tonight, can I come over?”