In football, anything could happen that one must prepare for. Whether you win it all, or miss the playoffs, you have to be ready to face that hurdle. Peyton Manning had thought he could handle everything thrown at him.
Until he lost the Super Bowl.
He’d lost in the playoffs before, and had learned how to soothe those internal wounds before picking himself up again for the next season. But this was different . The Colts were the favorite to win it all going into the game, after all.
But there Peyton was, hunched over on the sideline bench, confetti raining down onto the field. But he wouldn’t be the one holding the Lombardi this time.
Instead, his gaze stayed focused on his smiley, wide eyed opponent at the center of the field. One arm wrapped around a teammate, Drew Brees held the trophy in his free hand.
Losing a Super Bowl was already hard enough, but Peyton felt his body aching. He didn’t just lose. He lost to the Saints, his hometown team. He still remembers wearing those same jerseys as a little kid, wanting to be just like his dad when he grew up.
His dad. Peyton could feel his hands trembling. He didn’t know how to handle the thought, but he knew. Deep down, even though Peyton knows that his dad loves him and could never openly root against him, he’s still Archie Manning.
At the end of the day, Archie Manning bleeds black and gold.
Peyton could feel his halftime snack churning in his stomach, and his mind begged him to find the nearest trash can to puke in. Despite the pain, he could not move. Peyton furrowed his brow, the sounds of cheering and music blaring through the stadium becoming a blur in his mind. All he could focus on was the man standing ten yards away.
Cropped bangs stuck to Drew’s forehead as he clung onto his teammates. He smiled, small lines forming around his eyes and cheeks as he did so. Has Drew’s nose always crinkled like that when he smiles? He held the trophy close to his lips, pressing a kiss to the silver football on the top. Peyton couldn’t stop himself from staring. He couldn’t look away from that kiss. He’d never noticed how soft Drew’s skin looked, how strongly, yet gently his hands grasped around the Lombardi. The sight was nauseating, but Peyton couldn’t dare to move. His thoughts raced, thinking about those hands on his, how soft Drew’s hair would feel against his fingers, how fucking sweet he would taste—
Peyton swore he could feel himself throw up in his mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore. Despite his muscles aching, he pushed himself off the bench, gripping his helmet and letting it rest at his side, before limping towards the tunnel. He brushed past several teammates and staff, eyes fixed to the ground. Before reaching the doors out of the stadium, a hand gripped to Peyton’s shoulder.
“You doin’ alright, Pey?”
Peyton didn’t need to look to recognize Jeff Saturday’s voice. Hell, he could tell just by the grip alone. Yet, Peyton managed to force his gaze up to briefly meet eyes with Jeff, fighting the urge to leave and not look back.
“I think I’m sick, Jeff,” was all Peyton could say, before pulling away from his center’s grip. Without another word, Peyton turned and left through the doors, leaving his teammates behind.
He couldn’t stand to be in that stadium any longer.
—
If it were any other team, Peyton would be more than content with visiting his family, hiding from the world for a bit, and returning to training in a few months as good as new. But of course he had to lose to the fucking Saints.
For the next week, Peyton would be rattled awake every morning by loud jazz music blaring through the streets of New Orleans, as fans gathered to celebrate their first ever Super Bowl victory. The celebratory parade through the streets to commemorate the players surely didn’t help a ton either.
It had been a week at this point since the game, and Peyton had yet to leave the house once. Sure, Peyton admittedly could feel himself going insane being cooped up in his childhood bedroom, but it was still better than facing the outside world. His mood only worsened any time he could hear his family’s whispers about him through the house.
“I hate seeing him like this.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose a Super Bowl, Eli.”
“I’ve tried talking to him, he won’t speak a word to me.”
“Cooper, can’t you just talk to him?”
“He just needs to process this.”
Even the sound of their voices drove him crazy. He couldn’t even think about it without feeling his face go warm with frustration. But they’re his family, Peyton knew deep down that he could lean on them anytime. His dad was there to greet him when he got to the family home, he had already lost his throat crying while his momma consoled him, and he’d end every evening watching some low quality movie with Cooper and Eli.
He just didn’t know how to handle facing Drew once again.
He couldn’t just ignore Drew, of course. They’d known each other for twelve years at this point. Drew had pretty much been taking under his dad’s wing ever since he came to New Orleans. Peyton would watch as his dad would be at the sidelines of every Saints game, molding Drew into the perfect quarterback for the team.
Worst of all? Peyton couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at Drew.
How could he, after all? Drew had been nothing but kind to him. He was honest, caring, hard working, Peyton couldn’t have wanted a better quarterback to represent his hometown. But that didn’t make the pain hurt any less.
With no noise in his room other than the ceiling fan slowly whirring above him, Peyton could hear every movement in the house. He didn’t think much of it when the silence was broken up by a knock at the front door, nor when he heard the door creak open. He could make out the sound of Eli’s voice, but the words were useless to him. After a moment, with the sound of the door shutting, the sounds of footsteps slowly trailed up the stairs. The noise stopped, and the door to his bedroom slowly creaked open.
Peyton couldn’t fight back a small groan of annoyance as the hallway light flooded the dark room. He shifted over to his side, facing away from the door.
“Pey,” Eli whispered into the darkness, before switching on the light switch. Peyton grimaced, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness in the room.
“Someone here wants to see you.”
Peyton sighed, sitting upright in his bed. Sure, he looked like shit, with his hair frizzy and fluffed up along with his worn down Colts hoodie and sweats, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
That was, until, a familiar face in the doorway made his heart drop.
Peyton watched as Drew closed the bedroom door behind him, before making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. The two sat in silence, Peyton shifting his body to sit next to Drew.
“Hey,” Drew was the first to break the silence.
As much as Peyton tried, his mind’s racing thoughts couldn’t form a sentence.
“I hope you’re feeling better from…” Drew spoke again, awkwardly wringing his hands. “Well, you know.”
Finally, Peyton responded.
“I know. I’m feeling alright…It’s good to see you, again.”
Peyton glanced over to Drew for a brief moment, long enough to see a small smile forming on his face. Drew looked over as well, his gaze meeting Peyton’s for just a moment. They both looked back forward without another word, and Peyton could feel his heart pounding against his chest.
“...You were good out there,” he said, mentally stumbling through his own words. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, you were great too,” Drew slightly tilted his head away. Yet, Peyton could still see the soft pink hue on his cheeks.
“Why did you want to see me?”
Drew looked back, face still flushed. His shoulders relaxed, and a small sigh escaped him. After a moment of pondering his words, he answered.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I can’t imagine what it feels like…and, and I hope this doesn’t make anything, well, awkward, you know? I still want to be your friend.”
Peyton cocked his head.
“Drew, a game isn’t going to make me hate you, I promise that.”
“I know, I know. It’s just…well,” Drew paused, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “I really like you, Pey. I do. You’re a good friend.”
Friend. Peyton could feel his throat tighten at the word. Despite the sensation, he forced out a response.
“Of course, man. I like you a lot too…”
Silence fell between the two, slightly shifting their gazes to meet each other. Drew couldn’t hold back the smile on his face. His nose crinkled again, that same crinkle that drove Peyton crazy the week prior. Peyton’s focus drifted from his face to his mouth, before jumping back up to Drew’s eyes again.
Before Peyton could think it through, he cocked his head and slowly leaned in.
“Peyton?”
Drew’s eyes widened, his voice snapping Peyton from his own trance. Peyton pulled back, feeling his own gut tighten.
“Were you going to kiss me?”
“Oh my god,” Peyton mumbled, turning his focus away from Drew once more. “Fuck, man, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. Shit, I’m so sorry—”
“Hey, hey,” Drew stammered, reaching out to put his hand on top of Peyton’s. “I’m not mad—”
“I don’t know why I did that,” Peyton couldn’t stop his shaky breaths through his words. “Fuck, man, I’m so sorry—”
“What if I want you to kiss me?”
Peyton stopped, glancing down at his hand. His face grew warm as he finally noticed Drew’s hand touching his. He focused his gaze back up to Drew, their eyes meeting once more.
“...You’re being serious?”
Drew let out a shaky breath.
“I am,” he finally managed to mumble out. “I panicked at the moment, but…I think I want you to kiss me.”
Peyton glanced down at Drew’s mouth, before shakily closing his eyes. Once again, this time with more intent, Peyton tilted his head and leaned in.
In an instant, it felt like the world melted away as his lips met Drew’s. Drew tasted almost sweet, the skin so warm and soft and so fucking enticing . Peyton couldn’t help but lean into the kiss more, reaching his arm around to grab the small of Drew’s back. Drew gasped as he was pulled closer, the two falling back onto the bed.
For just a moment, Drew pulled away, earning a desperate whine from Peyton. Shifting his weight over, Drew straddled Peyton, and their lips crashed against each other once more.
Peyton couldn’t help but wrap his arms around the man kissing him, pulling him close. Their chests pressed up against each other, and Peyton swore he could feel the soft tickle of Drew’s breath against his lips. His hands slid down Drew’s back, before grabbing at his ass through his jeans.
“P-Peyton…!” Drew gasped under his breath, earning a teasing chuckle in response.
“Sorry, I couldn't help myself,” Peyton smiled. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”
“Fuck…” Drew couldn’t find back his whines as he melted into another kiss. He placed a hand on Peyton’s cheek, holding him closer. Heavy breaths combined with wet sounds filled the air as their kisses grew desperate. Each small movement, each time one of their hands moved to grab some part of the other’s body, it was almost too much for both of them to handle.
Drew’s free hand trailed down Peyton’s side, before gently grabbing at his waist. Peyton moaned at the sensation, his voice high and whiny in a way that made Drew’s head spin. He needed to hear those noises over and over again. The sounds, the shaky breath against his lips, the feeling of Peyton’s warm tongue against his as they breathed each other in, it was so fucking nauseating. Drew loved every goddamn second of it.
With a few more desperate kisses, the pair finally pulled away, yet keeping their faces close as they both panted for air. Drew couldn’t help but rest his forehead against Peyton’s, his mind spinning.
“...Wow,” Peyton finally spoke, his face still flushed with a pink hue. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”
Drew couldn’t help but laugh, burying his face in the crook of Peyton’s shoulder. After a moment, he shifted his weight off of Peyton, collapsing at his side. Both men laid there in silence, looking up at the ceiling.
While they laid there, Peyton slowly reached out and rested his hand on top of Drew’s. The two share another glance, along with soft smiles.
“This was worth losing a Super Bowl for,” Peyton said.
“You’re such a dork.”
“I guess I’m your dork, then.”
Drew blushed, leaning in to press one more kiss to Peyton’s lips. Once he pulled away, Drew rested his head against Peyton’s chest. A small grin emerged as he took in the sound of Peyton’s heartbeat. Peyton slowly wrapped his arm around Drew, holding him even closer.
“Thanks, Drew,” Peyton said, tightening his embrace.
“Of course.”
—
The sudden knocking at the door broke the two from their embrace.
“Dad’s called your name five times already, man!” Eli called out from the other side of the door. “Are you coming down for dinner or not?”
Peyton felt himself flush, as he and Drew quickly out of each other’s arms. Before long, Peyton pulled the bedroom door open, forcing an awkward grin.
“Y-Yeah, sorry…we were just talkin’..”
Eli leaned over to look behind Peyton, his gaze quickly meeting Drew’s.
“Dad made a plate for you, if you want to stay for dinner.”
Drew sat upright from the bed, awkwardly adjusting his clothes.
“Yeah, that works with me.”
Without another word, Eli turned to head back down the hallway and down the stairs, leaving Peyton and Drew to follow. After quickly dusting himself off, Drew met Peyton in the doorway, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“You think he knows?”
Peyton shrugged. “I don’t know what Eli knows. But I don’t care. Consider this our first date.”
Drew grinned, standing on his toes to meet Peyton in one more kiss. Sharing one more small grin, the two made their way to join Peyton’s family downstairs.
If this was the prize for losing, then Peyton never wanted to win again.