Chapter Text
“Patrick, you need to calm down.” Justin was calm. Too calm. Patrick was both furious and grateful that someone was because he was freaking out. He rearranged the dishes on the table, again, and Justin sighed. Patrick huffed, now extra annoyed because he had Taylor stuck in his head.
“Baby-” He tried again, and Patrick straightened up, glaring at the other quarterback. The pet-name was going to send him off the edge. He might go to jail tonight.
Patrick took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t do a damn thing. He was still freaking out.
“Justin, I’m glad your family is most likely going to be chill about this, but trust me, mine will not,” He snapped, running a hand through his hair and wincing as he caught on a couple of knots. Curly hair was not for the weak. Maybe he needed a haircut. Yes, he was going to chop all his hair off. He was going to go bald. Forever.
They were coming out to his family. Since they were all still in Kansas City, Patrick had invited his mom, dad, brother, and sister over for dinner. He had told about wanting them to meet someone and then hinted about it being a guy and possibly another NFL player. There had been vague reactions in response, aside from Mia, who already knew about him having a boyfriend, and had texted him a string of crying emojis alongside a “lmao good luck bro”. So supportive, his sister was.
Justin set a hand on his arm, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll be alright,” He soothed. “Plus, if it gets too awkward, I think we killed it with dinner, so everyone can just be distracted by the food!”
Patrick scowled at his boyfriend, ignoring the way his smile widened at him. “I hate when you’re calm and rational.” “Yeah, well, someone needs to keep you from freaking out,” His boyfriend said in a sing-song tone, sliding toward the back door to let the dogs out, and conveniently moving out of range for Patrick to smack him with a towel. Patrick side-eyed him and let him make his escape, turning away with a sniff.
“I’ve never freaked out in my life.”
There was a long, suspicious pause.
“Of course, babe,” Justin said in the falsest tone he had ever heard. Patrick glared. Justin pressed a kiss to his cheek.
The next time the Chiefs and Chargers played, he was going to ask Chris to hit Justin as hard as possible.
He was distracted from his plans of bribing Chris into maiming his boyfriend when his phone dinged from the kitchen. Hurrying in, he snatched his phone off the island to see a series of texts from his siblings he was closest with.
Mia: we’re five minutes away
Mia: i hope ur not crashing out at ur boyfriend
Jackson: yea dad and i are probably right behind you.
Mia: it’s justin riight?
Jackson: ew Jefferson??
Mia: no you idiot
Mia: HERBERT
Jackson: THAT MIGHT BE WORSE
Pat: Well that’s my boyfriend so BE NICE!!!
Mia: never.
Jackson: you’ve got terrible taste but alright
Patrick pocketed his phone with a sigh, heading back to the dining room. Justin was polishing the already polished silverware. Patrick was aware that he was probably trying to look busy so he didn't get yelled at. He appreciated it.
“And you made fun of me for being nervous,” He grumbled, dropping into a chair. “They’re like three minutes out.”
Justin nodded, smiling with those perfect teeth of his and looking far too handsome. Patrick consciously tried to relax his jaw as he spoke, and resisted the urge to kiss his boyfriend senseless, reminding himself that he was pissed off. “It’ll be fine, Patrick.”
Patrick chewed on his lower lip, shifting in place. He sighed as Justin walked into his space, leaning forward in his seat and wrapping his arms around his torso. “I guess… Just don’t let them scare you off, please?” He asked, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes.
Justin tilted his head down slightly and kissed him, and Patrick felt some of his frustration melt away, leaning into it. “I promised I’d never leave again, right?” Justin reminded him softly as he pulled away, linking their fingers together. Patrick nodded.
Coherent thoughts, Patrick. Don’t let his handsomeness distract you. Eyes on the prize.
“We’ve got this, alright?”
“Right.” Patrick nodded in agreement, squaring his shoulders in resolve. They had this. It was going to be fine. He was going to be calm and confident, and no matter what happened he still had Justin. He had won Super Bowls, goddamnit, he could deal with his family.
The doorbell rang.
His mind went blank with terror and he shot to his feet, hands shaking. Justin grasped his hand again, squeezing tightly.
“You’ve got this,” He repeated, lifting his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers before letting him go. “Bring them in and we’ll reintroduce ourselves and eat a good meal, right?”
Patrick nodded wildly. “Right!” He agreed, taking a deep breath. He curled his hands into fists, fingernails biting into the skin of his palms, and hurried for the front door. He paused in the entryway, straightening the vase of flowers. He glanced in the mirror, attempting to prod an errant curl back into place before giving up.
“Open the door, Patrick! …And stay calm!” His boyfriend called from the other room, and Patrick scowled, tilting his chin stubbornly and swinging open the front door. He was so chill, so calm.
His family stood on the porch, suspiciously quiet. His mother’s facial expression was tight, eyes narrow as she glared at his dad. Patrick smiled, ignoring how fake it felt.
“Hey guys, come in and get out of the cold,” He greeted, swinging the door open wider and stepping to the side. His family entered single file, and he paused for a moment. “Justin is in the dining room, please be nice to him.” He glanced around, grimacing slightly. “Just… be open-minded, aright.”
His dad slapped him on the back. “So long as he’s good to you, he and I will be alright,” He promised gruffly. Mia was smirking at him from behind their mom. Brat.
His mom sighed and nodded, and so Patrick led them into the dining room where Justin stood, fidgeting nervously. His parents both stopped, and his mother cast him an exhausted look.
“Seriously, Justin Herbert?” She asked, and Patrick smiled nervously.
“Yes, he’s great!” He said, wincing as he sounded almost too cheery.
“The Chargers’ quarterback?” His dad said, and when Patrick rolled his eyes, laughed at him. “Damn boy, you’re gonna give the NFL a heart attack.” Patrick Mahomes Sr strode forward, sticking out a hand. Patrick knew his dad, however, and could see the tension in his body.
Justin took it with a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet you sir. I’ve heard much about you and I’m glad to get to know you.”
“Oh, and he’s polite,” The elder Mahomes said, smiling. “Alright boy, so long as you treat my son alright, we’ll get along.”
Patrick looked at his mother hopefully, and his eyelid twitched when she didn’t move. He clasped his hands together. “Alright! Let’s eat!” He said. He glanced at Justin. “Come help me get the food from the stove and serve it,” He told more than asked, and grabbing Justin by the hand, dragged him to the kitchen.
“It’ll be fine,” Justin whispered as he grabbed two of the serving bowls. “Baby, you’re freaking out for no reason. I think your dad likes me.”
Patrick sighed and whispered back. “My dad’s tolerating you, and pretending he likes you because I begged him to be nice. But he’ll warm up to you eventually, it’s not him I worried about.”
Justin leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. “Be careful with that plate, honey, it’s still pretty hot,” He warned as Patrick grabbed the entreé platter. “I promise, I’m not going to goad your mom into a fight-”
“I know you won’t, but she-”
Just whispered even louder, trying to speak over him. “-and I won’t let her goad me into a fight. We’ll have a good time, I promise. Now, we can’t keep hiding in here pretending to get the food forever, let’s go. We just sit there, smile, and let your siblings fill the gaps if it gets awkward.”
Patrick huffed. “Goddamnit, I hate it when you’re calm while I’m freaking out,” He muttered, stalking toward the dining room. Justin swung a foot at him, kicking him lightly in the back of the calf. For a brief moment, Patrick considered throwing the plate in his face, but reminded himself that he was being overdramatic. It was fine.
“No you don’t. Plus, you do it to me even worse. When I’m freaking out, you’re normally being super confident and cheerful.”
“Well, that’s like my whole thing, so it’s allowed- Mia! Fuck-” His mom shot him a look, which he ignored. “-Don’t give them treats, they’re fat already!” Patrick hurried to set the dishes he was holding down, placing them in the middle of the table for easy access before turning and glaring at his teenage sister, who shamelessly tossed Silver and Steel more treats. “Mia!”
Mia tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder, and Patrick blamed the six times they had watched Wicked together for the attitude. Glinda in the flesh. “Look at their sad little faces! I can’t just let them starve!” She said, grabbing Steel by the face and pressing a kiss to his forehead, causing his tail to go wild. Justin grinned. Patrick felt a muscle in his face spasm.
“Don’t worry, he’s always getting on me for spoiling them,” Justin told his sister shamelessly before yelping as Patrick smacked him.
“I’m putting them back outside,” Patrick announced through gritted teeth, grasping them each by the collar and steering them toward the backdoor. The dogs went out willingly, especially when Silver caught a glimpse of a squirrel and took off in a blur, barking loudly.
Patrick let the sliding door slam shut behind them, shaking his head. Justin grasped him by the wrist and pulled him down into the chair next to him.
“Be calm,” Justin whispered, lips brushing his ear. Patrick clamped his jaw shut, trying his best not to glare at his boyfriend in front of his family who he really wanted to like him. Justin’s touch did calm him down, however, and he exhaled, relaxing into his grip. What did not calm him down was seeing his mother’s grimace, and his father’s attempt at a supportive smile.
He was going to throw up. Justin slid his hand from Patrick’s wrist to his palm, interlacing their fingers and squeezing his hand tightly, blue-green eyes calming. Patrick took a deep breath, picking up his drink and taking a sip. He gave Justin a grateful look for having filled his glass. He needed some alcohol to get through this.
Justin squeezed his hand one more time in response. The Chargers quarterback squared his shoulders, having the look of someone making a game-winning drive, a death march down the field. “Patrick has told me a lot about you guys,” He said cheerily, plastering on his most charming, press-pleasing smile. “Mia, I’ve seen a lot of your softball highlights, you’ll have to let me pitch for you,” He offered, awkward charm smoothing over some of the tension.
Mia lit up, thrilled to talk about softball and her teammates. “Heck yeah! I’m too used to Patrick’s style, he doesn’t even pitch me anything exciting anymore!”
Patrick tugged one of her braids in response, ducking away before she could smack his hand. Justin laughed, blue eyes warm and making Patrick relax. “All you have to do is throw a football with him. He still manages to catch me by surprise, even when we’re just tossing it around,” Justin advised, casting a teasing grin at him.
Patrick flushed, knowing Justin meant it as a compliment. Touchdown, Los Angeles, he thought as his dad’s gaze turned a fraction warmer. Despite all his father’s flaws, and yes, there were many, Pat Mahomes loved his children and wanted them happy.
“Justin has his own tricks,” He told his sister, making Jackson look at them curiously.
“Are you sure?” The twenty-four-year-old asked, gaze slightly judging. Patrick rolled his eyes. He and Jackson had their own issues. “He doesn't seem like anything special when y’all play.”
“Hey!” Justin practically squawked in offense, but was laughing as he wrangled both of Patrick’s siblings into a conversation. Patrick was so grateful for him. Justin was naturally quiet and on the shy side, so it was sweet of him to step up like this.
Mom was looking at Justin, a slight frown on her face. Patrick reached across the table and touched her arm. He opened his mouth, and started with a simple question.
“Is the food okay?” He asked, a little nervous. Randi sighed, looking at him carefully.
“It’s very good, Patrick,” She said after a long pause, smiling tightly. “So, how long have you and Justin been… seeing each other?”
Patrick resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. He had stared down the Kansas City media. This was a conversation with his mom. Simple.
“Since last summer,” He said carefully, ignoring the part where Justin ghosted him and he nearly murdered him in response. He was sane and normal.
“Oh, wow, that’s quite a while for you to go without saying anything,” His dad tuned in, brows furrowing slightly. “Anything that spurred this on?”
“Well,” Patrick said carefully, choosing his words now. “We thought it was best to introduce each other to our families before we come out to the organizations… and then, hopefully, the world.”
His parents looked at him in silence. Jackson, helpfully, avoided his gaze, and Mia started chugging her water. Fucking traitors.
Justin grabbed his hand and Patrick clutched it tightly, trying to smile as his heart raced.
His dad sighed. “Goddamnit, Patrick, you never make anything easy.”
His mom set down her fork. “You plan to go public. Soon.”
Patrick nodded. This was not something he’d back down about. “Yes. Sooner rather than later. Maybe even before training camp. We’ll see what our agents say.
His dad just set his face into his hands. Randi, however, had plenty to say, ignoring her daughter trying to shush her.
“At this stage in your careers? I’m sorry, Patrick, Justin, but that’s just… you need to wait,” Randi said, sounding almost incredulous.
Patrick was suddenly very, very angry. Not throwing things angry, at least not yet, but angry enough to stand up and ignore how his chair clattered to the floor. Justin grasped his hand tighter, trying to tug him close.
“Patrick, baby, maybe we-“ He began, but Patrick spoke over him.
Or, well, maybe shouted.
“Mom!” The dogs stopped barking at the birds outside. “I’m not asking for your opinion, I’m asking for your support!” His voice wobbled slightly as he yelled.
Mia, wisely, grabbed Jackson and the two quietly disappeared from the room. Justin and his dad glanced nervously between Patrick and his mom.
“I do support you!” His mom said back, standing up too. “I just worry about your career!”
Patrick threw his hands up, interrupting her. “What about my career? I’ve won three fucking Super Bowls! The coaches will support me! My teammates care for me! The organization doesn’t care so long as I don’t embarrass them! The fans will get the fuck over it so long as I win!”
He quit yelling, inhaling deeply. “What’s the point of it all?” He asked his mom softly, glancing at his dad. “All this success, yet I come home to this big, empty house. No husband or wife, no kids. Just me.” He reached back for Justin’s hand. “When we lost the Super Bowl vs the Buccaneers, I came home and was nothing but miserable and lonely. I got home from New Orleans, and Justin was here. It was so much better. He makes me better. He makes me happier,” He said softly, his voice trembling.
Justin stood up and pulled him close, solid and comforting. Patrick leaned against him, avoiding his mom’s shocked, sad gaze and his dad’s suddenly soft eyes.
“I don’t just want to win. I want to share it with someone,” Patrick said, although he had said it once before, long before Justin, in high school, in college, when he got drafted, when the answer had always been wait, or, worse, well, maybe you’ll find a nice girl and not a guy, and we’ll never need to have that conversation.
Even if it had been a girl, Patrick was not ashamed of his sexuality. He would’ve come out eventually either way.
Justin suddenly spoke up, voice colder and firmer than Patrick had ever heard it before. “I love your son,” He said, looking at Patrick’s parents carefully. “I want to be public with him. I want to go to each other’s games and support each other. I want us to live together in the offseason. More than anything, I want to marry him. I want your approval to marry him, but I’ll marry him either way.”
Patrick’s heart was fluttering. He thanked god that Mia wasn’t down here, or else she’d be laughing at how hard he was blushing. After the ups and downs they had had, hearing those words, strong and certain, was more than reassuring.
He turned back to his parents and spoke quietly. “Maybe you should leave,” He suggested, ignoring how his voice wobbled and he wanted to cry. “And we can talk when you’ve had a little bit more time to process.”
His mom just looked at him, and to Patrick’s complete and utter horror, started to cry.
“Patrick, son,” His dad tried, reaching out and clasping him by the shoulder. Patrick couldn’t help but stiffen under the touch. “C’mon, let’s just finish dinner and calm down… and spend some time together.”
Patrick looked at his dad, and then his mom, and then Justin. Justin tilted his head close. “It’s up to you,” He whispered quietly. “I don't mind either way.”
Patrick thought about how long they had spent on this fucking dinner. Goddamnit.
He exhaled. “Okay,” He agreed. Justin ran his fingers down his spine and Patrick relaxed into the touch. “Yes, let’s eat and just… discuss other things than how I’m destroying my career by finally being happy.”
“There’s no need to be petty, Patrick,” His dad sighed. Patrick turned away and dropped back into his chair, rolling his eyes. Justin grinned at him as Mia and Jackson crept their way back into the room.
“I need a drink,” He muttered, and Justin shot to his feet, patting him on the shoulder as he passed.
“Yep, I’ll get the wine!”
“Also get the fucking whiskey, Justin.”