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Kickboard // PM!JFM

Pairing: Pat Murray x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.7K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Swearing (ofc), a little bit of sexual themes (nothing explicit) Summary: After having met because of bumping into each other after a game, Y/N learns that Pat does not possess a skill she does and is determined to teach him, no matter how much of a struggle it becomes. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: HUGE DISCLAIMER; I have read tons of Pat fics and seen clips from the movie, but I have not seen the movie in full. I wrote this with as little to do with the D-Backs being involved as possible, making the focus on Pat and Y/N. I’ve just had the idea for such a long time and want to get this out to the public, so I apologize in advance if this is, quite frankly, shitty.

Masterlist

~

You had just finished with swim practice and walked out to your car to drive home, except you could not do that. You tried to start your car about four times, and after realizing that it was futile and no one was around to jump your car, you called a mechanic. Then you heard even worse news – he would not be able to make it to your location for almost two hours, and all the other mechanics were busy, as well. You begrudgingly told him you understood and would find something to do to kill time. Your body was too tired to go back and swim more, considering you just finished a four-hour practice, and you were not feeling really hungry, so a restaurant was out, too. Then you heard the recognizable sound of another sport.

cliiiing!

You did not have to look long before you realized that there was a baseball game being played across the street from the building your pool was at. You figured as long as admission was not over the moon expensive, you could go and sit in on that game. You had played a little bit of softball growing up, but you enjoyed watching people play more, and you hardly remembered anything about it, now that you had been swimming most of your life. You walked over to the field, hoping that the game had just started to you could pass the time waiting for the mechanic in an enjoyable way.

~

Once you had safely crossed the street after having put your belongings in your car for the time being, you walked over to the shack in front of the gate to ask about admission prices.

“Hi there! Um, my car isn’t starting, and they told me it was going to be a while before they could get someone out here to fix it.” You started to pull your wallet out of your backpack to give the lady some money. “Could you tell me what the admission price is to sit in on the game to I can kill some time?”

“Honey, there isn’t any fee! Just come and enjoy the game!”

“Are you sure? Because, really I can pay—”

“I insist, deary. Go pop a squat wherever you’d like! Enjoy!”

“Oh, okay, um, thank you! I really appreciate it!”

She opened the gate for you, and you walked in, seeing a spot high up on the bleachers where no one was really sitting, so you decided to sit there. You plopped your backpack down to your side and situated yourself so you were seated comfortably. You looked and noticed that it was only the bottom of the second inning, so you did make it to the game relatively early on, which gave you hope that most of your time could be spent here while you waited. You were starting to gaze around, trying to get a feel for which team you wanted to root for. It was the D-Backs in red against the Blue Jays in… green? That felt odd. But you paid it no mind. You noticed that all the members of the Blue Jays all acted like the same person – stoic. It gave you no feeling of excitement for the game they were playing. So, by count of lack of enthusiasm and stupidly colored uniforms, you decided that you would root for the D-Backs. The remainder of the second, as well as the third and fourth innings, went without much ado about anything. Normal baseball playing, a couple of bad referee calls here and there, and one mishap with a flyaway bat. When the D-Back were up to bat at the top of the fifth, a player you had seen doing really well in the outfield was up to bat. His name, according to his jersey, was Murray. Kind of tall, not super built but good arms and a good back, from what you could tell through the jersey. He looked determined, and by the look on his teammates faces as he made his way up to home plate, you were in for a treat with this boy. First pitch: foul ball. Nothing wrong with that, you get four before a walk. Second pitch: strike one. You could see Murray tense up at the call, positive that it was another foul. Third pitch: strike two. Now there was an extremely audible groan to accompany the call, plus a dramatic arm gesture. You were starting to understand why his teammates were giving him that look, now. Fourth pi—

gasp!

“OW WHAT THE FUCK MAN? WHY’D YOU THROW THE BALL AT MY HEAD YOU ASSHAT?”

Simultaneously, the entire audience made a shocked noise at what clearly seemed to be a deliberate and fast throw at Murray’s head. His teammates all jumped out of their seats in the dugout at once, as if they were going to pounce on the Blue Jays pitcher, except the boy Murray had beaten them to it. Instead, they did everything in their power to hold their friend back from completely obliterating the nose off of his face.

“Pat, relax!

“Get offa him, Murray!”

“NO I’M GONNA BASH HIS FUCKING FACE IN FOR WHACKING ME IN THE DAMN HEAD!”

Murray’s teammates managed to pull him away from the now terrified pitcher, who not moments before that pitch was snickering at the idea he had. Wrong player to mess with, apparently. Once the stadium had calmed down again, and Murray was taking a breather with an ice pack in the dugout, the game continued. Everyone else was completely paying attention to the game at hand, but you could not take your eyes off the D-Backs dugout. You were trying to get a better look at the man who’s name you now realize is Pat, but he was hidden in the corner underneath the shadows. You were genuinely concerned for him, it did not look like the softest pitch that guy had ever thrown. It was not like you could just go down to the dugout in the middle of the game, or even after the fact to check up on him. You had never met, and had no real reason to, either. You found yourself completely ignoring the game at this point, and Pat’s teammates had noticed this.

“See that girl?”

“What about her?”

“She hasn’t stopped staring at us since Murray got hit.”

“Clearly, she isn’t staring at us, then. She’s looking for Murray.”

“Maybe we should… arrange for them to meet up after the game, somehow?”

Pat’s teammates were barely speaking above a whisper, so as to not let Pat hear them gossip. A very, very small part of it was to be nice to him, since his head had to have been pounding. They kept an eye on you throughout the game, and were honestly super disappointed when they saw a man walk up to you from behind the fence, and you seemed to leave with him. They almost sent one of their benched players after you, but that is when they noticed something about the guy. He was older. And you did not look like the type to have a sugar daddy, frankly. He was also in some kind of jumpsuit, a dirty one at that. So, they held onto hope that maybe this guy just happened to know you from somewhere and that you would walk back onto the field at some point before the game was over. You had gone over to your car with the mechanic, hoping the same thing that Pat’s teammates were hoping for. You wanted him to fix it quickly, and let you go back to the game. It only took the mechanic about fifteen minutes to figure out and fix the problem, and nearly $200 later, you started walking back over to the shack where the nice lady was still seated.

“Did that nice man fix your car, sweetie?”

“Yes, thankfully. A little bit expensive, considering all that he did, but the important thing is that I have a ride home.”

“That’s true, dear. Now you only missed two innings, the eighth is just starting. I was hoping you would come back and watch. Go enjoy the rest of the game!”

You walked back through the fence and started to scoot your way around the people again. All of Pat’s teammates heads snapped in the direction of your movement, freshly back in the dugout now. They knew holding onto hope was a good idea. They all watched you, hoping you would not take notice of them because you would either be so wrapped up in the game or with Pat. It started with the prior, but quickly switched over to the latter. The entire reason you came back to watch the game now that your car was fixed was not to watch the game, but to check up on the guy who got hit. You sat through the rest of the game, focus flittering between Pat and the people on the field, until you heard the loud buzz indicating that the game was over, and that the D-Backs had won. You had completely forgotten about the fact that you were rooting for them to win, and instead, when the boys all lined up to shakes hands with each other, you made your way over to the side of the field where the D-Backs dugout was. You did not want to make it obvious that you came over for just Pat, but what other excuse did you have? You waited, now standing, pressed up against the fence, for the boys to finish shaking hands. When Pat had caught up to the Blue Jays pitcher, there was a little bit of tension in the shake that he saved up from earlier in the game. But otherwise, he seemed to have calmed down tremendously. Pat was toward the back of the line, so his teammates made their way over to you sooner than he did, and they started talking to you. You never saw the names on their jerseys, so you could not tell who was who.

“You’re a pretty face we’ve never seen before. Who might you be?”

“And why are you here staring at our dugout?”

So, they did see you after all this time. Shit. You were really hoping they were far enough away where it would not have been obvious. Clearly your concern had turned to panic, because one of the guys spoke up again before you said anything.

“Sweetheart, it isn’t a big deal. We’re used to new faces all the time, just not ones as pretty and clearly concerned about something as yours. You got that crinkly expression as soon as Pat got hit. Do you two know each other or something?”

“N-No. It’s kind of a funny story, though. But I won’t bore you with it.”

“Bore them with what?”

The infamous man that had been mentioned not ten seconds prior walked up behind the other guys and inserted himself into the conversation. Your heartrate sped up, because you had not been able to get a good look at his face from where you were seated, but you could clearly see now that he was really cute, and somehow handsome at the same time.

“The story of how this cutie ended up at the game.”

“Would you stop calling her cute? Your desperation is disgusting.”

“Um, you’re disgusting.” Two of the teammates were bickering, but it was clear that it was not malicious in any way.

“I’ll ask again – bore them with what?” The auburn-haired man spoke while mindlessly rubbing the spot on the back of his head.

“The story of why I am here. They saw me staring at your dugout after you got hit, and I came over here because I wanted to check up on you.”

All the boys were looking at you with either lovey-dovey eyes, or confusion. Pat was the only one who remained practically expressionless. You could understand where that expression came from. The two of you had never seen each other a day in your lives, yet here you are, extremely concerned for him. You did not have an explanation, either, so you made no attempt to even make one up. Then one of his teammates spoke up again.

“You still haven’t explained why you’re even at this game. Is there anyone here you know?”

“No. I swim competitively at the pool across the street, and we had practice this morning. I went outside to leave and my car wouldn’t start, so I came over here to kill the two hours they said it would take for the guy to get here to fix my car. You had gotten hit right before the guy came over to get me, and the game wasn’t over when he finished, so I wanted to come back and check on you. I know we don’t… know each other, but I just felt really concerned for you. Is that… wrong?”

Pat was looking at you with a little bit more expression on his face than before. He was not used to people caring about him. His teammates were practically his family, but they treated him with tough love, not actual affection. Hell, after he got hit, they pulled him off the pitcher instead of helping him beat the guy to shit. But you, someone he had never met, genuinely seemed concerned about him. It was a new sensation. He was about to tell you how his head felt, when you spoke up and started to leave.

“I’m sorry, I guess… it was wrong to be concerned. Maybe I’ll come to another game guys, I’ll get out of your—”

“Wait, you don’t need to leave!” Pat hurriedly spoke at you, and his teammates, as well as you, looked at him with shocked eyes, a few of his teammates adding some knowing smirks to the mix. “I… shit, um… my head? It’s okay. Shit hurts a little bit, but I can handle it.”

“I’m glad.” You smiled warmly in his direction, making his heart skip a beat like yours did when you first saw his face. “But I really should get going, I have a meet tomorrow and I want to make sure I rest my body properly so I can do my best.”

“This might be really forward of me, but, could I come to your meet tomorrow?”

A cacophony of wolf whistles, regular whistles, and generic cheering filled the air, followed by Pat telling everyone to promptly shut the fuck up. You felt your face heat up, wondering why he would even want to do that. You did not have to think long about why.

“Fuck, that’s a weird thing to just ask, isn’t it? Shit… I mean, you sat through the entire game waiting to ask if a stupid bump on my head still hurts, the least I could do would be to return the favor and sit through your game.”

“It’s called a meet, and I expect you there right at 10:30am, Pat, if you’re serious. You lot can come too, if you want.”

“…I’ll be there at 10:30, ma’am.”

“It’s just Y/N, sailor-mouth.”

For once, Pat had been shut up. And not by one of his teammates, or his father. A very unusual occurrence if you were to judge based on the faces his teammates were making. You smiled sweetly at all of them, and flashed an even toothier grin right at Pat before offering a small wave and walking away. Clearly, you had made some kind of impression on them, and you were excited to see if your newly formed support squad actually showed up at the meet. They watched to make sure you crossed the street safely, and watched as you pulled away. Then Pat and his teammates shot each other looks, before retreating to the shower. Pat remained on the field just a little bit longer, wondering just what the hell he had agreed to.

~

“So, we are all in agreement that we tell Pat something came up with the team’s finances and they need us down at the office but he should stay so Y/N doesn’t think we abandoned her, right?”

“Yep. And Pat doesn’t seem like he’ll have any issue spending some time with her.”

Pat’s teammates had started making their way to the pool, Pat having told them that they would meet them there. Pat had gotten there right after you had made your way into the locker room, so he did not get a chance to see you before the meet started. He found a largely empty spot on the bleachers the poolside had, making room for his teammates, who followed in shortly after. They all greeted each other, and mindlessly chatted until the swimmers all made their way to the pool. They saw you finally walk out from the back, Pat still thinking you looked good despite the head cap you had to wear. You had not told the boys which events you would be swimming in, so they just waited to see you step up on the block. When it was finally your turn to race, as soon as your second foot planted on the diving block, you hear a set of loud hollers from a group of men, which stopped you in your tracks. You were about to pull your goggles down when your head snapped in that direction, as did practically everyone’s in the pool room. Then you saw them.

“They really came…” You whispered quietly to yourself, not really believing they would show up.

You sent them a small wave before placing your goggles over your eyes and getting ready to dive in the pool.

bang!

Enough races had gone by, and each one you were in you won. By landslides. You could hear the cheering of Pat and his teammates, which made you race faster with every race you swam. But the boys wanted to get operation ‘get Pat alone with the pretty girl’ into action. They explained to Pat the ‘financial problem’ and told him to send you their condolences. Pat cursed under his breath a little bit at the fact that he was being left alone, but he was enjoying watching the swimming more than he thought he would. He was enjoying it almost as much as he loved playing baseball. Eventually, the meet came to an end, and you had only lost one of the seven races you were in, and it was not by much. You were in the last race, and as soon as your hand hit the wall, your body relaxed and your hand came up to swiftly yank the cap off of your head to relieve some of the pressure on your head. You calmed your breathing, but it was futile because you turned to look at the boys and only saw Pat. But you did not care. Because the smile adorning Pat’s face made up for the lack of noise coming from the corner of the room. He genuinely looked happy to be there, which made your heart swell, seeing him feel happy about another sport. Pat noticed that families and friends watching in the stands had started to make their way down to the swimmers, so he took that as his cue to go see you, where you still happened to be in the pool, talking to one of your competitors. He slowly made his way through the crowd of bodies, some dripping in the smell of chlorine, others as dry as a bone. Eventually though, he made his way to you. And you looked up at him with the biggest and sweetest smile, and he could have passed out into the pool in that moment.

“I’m really happy you came, Pat! You seemed to be enjoying yourself!”

“It was… a lot more fun than I thought it would be, actually. I first I couldn’t stand the smell of the damn chlorine, but you get used to it. Kind of like the smell now.” He would not tell you directly, but now he would associate the smell of chlorine with you, and it made him feel fuzzy.

“Well, I’m really glad you came.” Pat had squatted down to sit in front of you over the ledge, and as you spoke, you reached your hand up to hold onto his wrist. “I liked seeing you happy and not practically murdering anyone or getting hurt.”

“Y-yeah.”

“But I’m starving, so let me get out of the pool and then I can treat you to lunch if you’d like, unless you have something to do. You never said why the boys left, do you have to go do something with the team?”

He debated telling you yes because he genuinely believed that they had to go do something with the finance team. But he decided to say fuck them and agree to go to lunch with you. He wanted to spend more time with you, but would not admit to himself why. Pat Murray was not the type to catch feelings, that was his teammates, and they all knew this information. That was probably why they made all those whistles yesterday when he asked to go to the meet. He helped you climb out of the pool, shocked at how well your smaller, soft from the water hand fit perfectly into his calloused one. You showed him where he could wait for you while you changed, opting to just shower later to get to lunch faster. Once you walked out to Pat, he stood up nervously and the two of you drove your separate cars to the nearest Panera Bread. Once inside with your food, the two of you struck up conversation, when Pat dropped a bombshell to you.

“I can’t fucking swim.”

You practically choked on your sandwich.

“I’m sorry?”

“My parents are baseball coaches. Through and through. Growing up, anytime I mentioned a sport that wasn’t baseball they would fucking scream at me and tell me it was just another shitty sport. They never once took me to a pool. The closest I ever got to swimming was taking a bath when I was like, five.”

“Well, Murray, listen to me. If you and I are gonna be friends, you should know that I played softball growing up, so I know your side of things. But you need to meet me halfway – let me teach you to swim.”

“No fucking way.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s scary.”

“It is not!”

“Easy for you to fucking say!”

“Your new name is Sailor, by the way—”

“You’ve been swimming probably your whole damn life, so to you it comes second nature! I hear the sound of sloshing water, and it just makes me panic. I’d rather stay on the ground than feel like I’m floating in the abyss of hell.”

You looked at him with sad eyes. Not ones of disappointment, but the lack of trust the boy had in you broke you for some reason. He must know that you were not going to let him drown or anything, right?

“So, it isn’t me that you don’t trust, right?”

“…I trust you.”

“Then let me teach you. Tonight. We can cross this bridge together, Pat. No one ever books the pool out on meet nights, people are too tired. I can call my coach and tell him to put us down for the night blocks.”

“…”

“Okay?”

“…okay.”

“Good. I will meet you at 7:00pm, and I’ll bring you some trunks.”

~

To say Pat was freaking out was an understatement. He really did trust you, it was just a really scary thing to think that he was actually doing this. With someone he had met not 48 hours prior. When he pulled into the parking lot, he saw a small handful of cars, which he assumed most of were janitors. And your car. He could feel his hands shaking and sweating. He was really getting freaked out. He walked inside and followed the signs that you had told him to follow to make his way to the pool. It was pretty straightforward, and before he knew it, he was face to face with thousands of gallons of water. He did not see you, so he called out to make sure he was in the right place. He saw your head bob out from behind the girl’s locker room.

“Pat! You found the pool!”

“Yeah, yeah, where are these damn trunks?”

“Eager now?”

“Not at all.”

“Uh-huh. Let me grab them.” You retracted your head behind the door and then reappeared with a pair of trunks in hand. He took note of the fact that you were not in your one piece from the meet, but in a modest bikini. Sports bra-like on the top, and regular bikini style bottoms, both mustard in color with pearl white trim. It took all the strength in his body to not let his jaw drop to the floor.

“Here you go! There are two here because I wasn’t sure which size would fit you better, but both have a drawstring so you can tighten them if the smaller one is too loose. The guy’s locker room is right over there. You can leave all your other stuff out here, just go change back there. I’ll get a couple things set up for us while I wait for you, okay?”

“Okay…”

Once Pat was in the back, you made sure the lanes had been removed from half of the pool, and grabbed two things that you knew he would need at some point. Then you sat on the edge of the pool, letting your feet dangle in the water. You lifted them out one at a time and listened to the noise of the water droplets, the sound calming you down. If you were being honest with yourself, you were starting to feel a little nervous, too. Not because you were not confident in your ability to teach Pat to swim, but because of something deep in the pit of your stomach. You had trouble admitting it to yourself because you had only known him a day and a half, but you were pretty sure you were starting to feel something for the sailor-mouthed boy. But you would never let him know that.

“Alright, they fit.”

You turned your head around, the skylight above the pool reflecting the glow of the water onto your face. It was the first time Pat felt something other than disgust when looking at a pool.

“Lovely! Come sit next to me, won’t you?” You patted the space lightly next to you, quite literally wanting him to just dip his feet into the water.

He sat down next to you, but far enough back where his feet were planted on the edge of the pool instead of dangling into the water.

“Put your feet in the pool, silly. You’re not gonna fall in, I promise. I just want you to get small parts of your body used to the feeling of the water. It should take away the fear of the feeling and the sound before we actually try swimming.”

Reluctantly and quietly for once, Pat lowered his feet and lower legs into the pool, letting the chlorine and other mix of chemicals force his legs to float. He pushed them down so they cut through the water and landed on the wall of the pool. This was not so bad, he thought to himself, but his calm demeanor was cut short when he heard a splash next to him. You had shoved yourself into the pool so you were ready for him when he finally climbed off the ledge.

“Now look, I am clearly shorter than you, and I can stand here with half of my torso still out of the water, okay? Whenever you’re ready, and as slowly as you feel the need to, I want you to slowly lower your body into the water. I will be standing right in front of you, ready to hold your waist to keep you steady in case you get nervous, okay?”

“You promise you won’t go far?”

“I promise, Patty.”

He swallowed hard at the nickname, his mind flashing to other times you could use that name. Other times when you two were one-on-one. But that was a fantasy, and this is reality. A scary one. He inched forward a little bit, closer to the edge, and he saw you inch toward him simultaneously, keeping up on your end of the deal. You could see the muscles in his arms tense tremendously at the fact that he was holding up his entire body weight at the edge of the pool, ever so slowly inching himself down into the water. You were right there, arms outstretched to grab a hold of his waist if he needed you. Eventually, his feet planted on the bottom of the pool, and your arms were on his waist. He looked stunned.

“You okay?”

“I…I fucking think so! I’m in a pool, Y/N! I’m fucking swimming!”

“Not quite, Patty, but you’re getting there.” You laughed through your words, absolutely loving how excited he was getting and hearing his booming voice echo through the pool.

“Now, what I want you to do, is walk over to the lane divider, and then back to this wall. Think you can do it without me?”

“I feel like I could do anything right now.” And with that, Pat slowly trudged his way to the lane divider and back to you, holding back on engulfing you in a hug. You looked so happy that he was doing this with you, and it made his heart swell.

“Great job! Now. You and your body know what the pool feels like against you, so now we are going to start actually teaching you to swim. What I need you to do is walk with me toward the deep end, but stop when you see me start to tread the water, okay? You should still be able to stand at that point.”

Pat looked like he would have followed you to the end of the Earth in that moment, but you realized that it was because his nerves had picked up again, realizing that he had not even gotten to the hard part yet. You swam backwards while he walked toward you, and then he saw the point where you could no longer stand, and he froze.

“Pat, I’m not gonna make you do this alone, I promise. Let me hop up on the ledge here. What we are going to do is simple. You are going to take my hands while I sit on the ledge, and slowly you are going to move to your left, and I am going to talk you through how to tread water without actually having to do it on your own yet. You can only tread water where you can no longer stand, so we have to get you to that point. When you get there, just start kicking your feet.”

“It’s… that easy?”

“It’s that easy.”

“Okay… I think I can, I can do that…”

“I know you can. C’mon, start scooching.”

He was doing it. He was treading water. And he had been doing so good that he did not even realize right away that you had let go of his hands. He was treading on water, which meant that he practically knew how to swim. He did not need to know strokes to say he could swim, he just had to stay afloat and be able to get from one side of the pool to the other without assistance.

“Pat! You’re treading water!”

“I’m… I’m doing it! Shit, I’m doing it!”

“You’re swimming a little!”

“You bet your ass I am!”

You were smiling from ear to ear hearing his enthusiasm, and you could not be prouder of him in that moment. The next thing he knew was that you were back in the water with him, treading right next to him, and explaining the next step in the process.

“I’m not so much concerned with teaching you any strokes, so much as I am getting you from one end of the pool to the other. Think you can get back to the top of the shallow end without my help?”

“I think so. Just… stay by my side, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dare leave.”

Once the two of you had made it back to the shallow end, Pat watched as you swam over to the ledge where there were two navy blue half-oval shaped things that Pat had no idea of what they were. He saw you slap them down onto the pool with force, which made him jump lightly.

“Sorry. Kind of did that on purpose, though. We are going to use these together. They are called kickboards, and they will not sink. Here’s what we are going to do with them. Basically, lay your body across the not rounded part, hands on either side, so your body lays flat. Use the same motion you used to tread water, but now at the surface. This is kicking, and it will propel you forward.”

“So. Swimming.”

“Yes. Swimming!” You shot him a smile. “Think you can do it if I do it alongside you?”

“I think so.”

You handed Pat his board, and showed him how to lay on it. You were determined to get him to the one side of the pool and back, and that would be all you would torture him with tonight. If he wanted more lessons, you would gladly give them to him. You helped him get situated on the kickboard, and waited for him to start moving forward so you could watch his movements. When you immediately did not start kicking with him, he got paranoid, but you calmed him down saying that you just needed to be able to see his body, make sure he was okay. Before he knew it, his hand was holding onto the edge of the deep end of the pool, the other gripping the kickboard so tightly that you thought he might snap it in half. Eventually, you got him to relax and you both made your way back to the shallow end of the pool.

“Well, you did it. You just swam. You’re a swimmer, Patty!”

“I really swam!” You could see his eyes go wide and a huge smile overtake his face.

“I’m really proud of you for taking this step with me. Maybe one day we can have batting practice together, I can get my swing back in shape.”

“I’m not really sure I’m the player to help you with that. Maybe Mazz, though.”

You chuckled at the exchange, the air in the room changing now that there was a silence overtaking it. Pat broke it.

“You said that these things won’t sink, right?”

“Nope. Unless you put like, one thousand pounds on them or something. Why?”

“Sit on it. I want to see you float.”

You attempted to sit cross-legged on the board, and it worked for a few seconds, both of you looking surprised at how well it worked. Then you fell completely backward, the board shooting straight up into the air. As if for comic effect, it even landed on your head when it popped back out of the water. You had never seen Pat laugh that hard, and the sound was adorable. He had the absolute cutest laugh to have ever crossed your ears. You started laughing with him, and leaned back down on your kickboard properly, letting the board do all the work. The front end of your board was open, and Pat saw the sleepy eyes you were looking at him with. But it was the small smile you had plastered onto your face that inspired the confidence he had to do the next thing he did. He walked over to you, and placed his upper body on the other half of your kickboard, so that your faces were now a mere few inches apart. The two of you, floating with each other in the glow of the moon the skylight allowed in.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Teaching you how to swim?”

“Teaching me how to leave my comfort zone in more ways than one.”

You were confused. You could tell from the conversation earlier in the day that obviously one of those ways was actually setting foot in a pool, but you had no idea what the others could be.

“What ways? Besides swimming, of course.”

“Honestly?”

“No Pat, I never want you to speak the truth ever again. Of course, silly.”

“Love the sarcasm, Michael Phelps.” He shot you a smirk before it faded away back to his prior, nervous expression, face still a few inches from yours. “I’m not sure if you got this vibe from the guys, but I’m… not really good with people. But especially women. I mean, like shit, you guys are enigmas.”

“Is that a compliment, Sailor?”

“Shut up, I mean it. I have never understood women, but for some reason, I just feel like I get you. You had no reason to be concerned about me yesterday, we’d never fucking met.” The sound of Pat’s voice as calm as it was accompanied by the quiet sloshes of the water made you feel fuzzy all over, like you were in a dream. “Why? Why did you care so much?”

“I… really don’t have an answer for you, Pat. I just did. And do.”

“Well, listen, sweetheart, I’m not about to let my little mermaid get away from me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me, you hear that?”

“Prove it.”

“Wha—”

“I said prove it.”

Pat was not used to being met with intensity like his own. It made him feel… really damn good. He still was not sure where this level of confidence was coming from, but he leaned in close and kissed you with such a fervor that he caused a small wave to ripple the two of you up and down in the pool. You turned your head to let him deepen it when you felt him lightly run his tongue along the widest part of your lower lip, and then graze it with his teeth, just enough to make you feel it. His mouth opened a little wider to fully engulf your lips in his, making sure you knew who was in charge of this moment. He even managed to pull a small moan from you, and he felt even more proud then than when he realized he had swam for the first time in his life. The room was filled with soft, erratic breathing and the gentle sloshing of the water when the two of you finally pulled away to breath. You swam competitively, and Pat had taken your breath away more than when you swim thirty laps in a row.

“Does… that… prove it?”

“I think… I need a little bit more convincing than that, Murray.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

Pat stood up again, and yanked the kickboard from your hands, pushing you against the wall of the pool. Normally, any other man in this instance would have probably lifted you up onto the edge of the pool to he could wedge himself between your legs. Not your Pat. He kept you in the water, so he could press his entire body up against you. The sound of the water droplets making this all the more exciting for him.

“Well, we have this entire pool to ourselves, maybe we can start here and then I’ll take you to my dugout, where I can teach you a baseball lesson or two. You said we have to meet halfway, right, beautiful?”

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