Chapter Text
“I am still hungry, you know.”
David, sitting in Patrick’s lap now, dropped his head back with a laughing groan. He was still amazed that Patrick could provoke the shit out of him without killing the mood. Honestly, it was a skill. David squeezed his eyes tight when he felt Patrick’s lips brush against the corner of his chin. He had an arm wrapped around David’s middle, the other locked against his thigh, keeping him close. He’d had partners complain about his size before, tell him he was too big or too tall for them to indulge this way.
But David could only smirk when he tried to get up and Patrick’s grip on him noticeably tightened. David let himself relax back onto his lap and found himself in the midst of one of Patrick’s drugging kisses, which never failed to leave him dizzy. When he pulled back Patrick’s eyes were heavy and dark, his face lacking all the teasing from before.
“Can I tell you about Rachel?”
The corner of David’s mouth lifted involuntarily and he shrugged.
“You can tell me anything you’d like.” He pressed a kiss between his temple and his eye, reveling in how Patrick leaned into it. “But let me feed you first.”
“Not the cafe,” he agreed, “I don’t want to share you right now.”
David whined, “Have I mentioned that you’re perfect?”
“David--” He cut that bit of chastising off with a kiss and got to his feet. Patrick didn’t follow, but held onto his hand.
“We need to eat and then talk. I’m staying over. Clothes can...stay on,” he said with an eye roll, “or not. That’s up to you.” Patrick was doing that thing where he got that cute little smitten look which had earned him several gross nicknames from Alexis. David still wasn’t totally comfortable with that look? People didn’t look at him like that. Ever. David watched people looking at other people like that. Like Sebastian. Everyone looked at Sebastian like that. Not David. Except...his stomach flipped when a shiver went down his spine. Patrick’s eyes were locked on him just as intensely as if he were still dancing to Tina. For the first time in the relationship, David was gonna let himself get addicted to it.
He pulled his lips in and tugged at his hand, “C’mon.” His voice was so quiet, he almost thought he hadn’t said anything. But Patrick followed, still holding his hand. Luckily they only had to turn off the lights and lock the door behind them. Locking the door wasn’t so easy because Patrick was plastered to his side and wouldn’t give back his hand. David shook his head at him, but did his best.
Patrick drove them out to Elmdale because Alexis was a bitch and he had no idea where the car was at right now. He drove one-handed, keeping a hand on David’s thigh. And David couldn’t help but keep his body turned toward him, his own hand covering his, playing with his fingers. David had the brilliant idea to call in their order to their favorite restaurant so it would be ready, to go, when they got there. Patrick finally relinquished his grip on David long enough for him to pay for and retrieve their food, and then they were driving for a tiny park where they could leave the car and eat under a gazebo. It was a spot they used when they couldn’t get any privacy at home, and it was never very busy since it was old and the new park had much nicer places to sit and relax.
They sat on the bench with their legs tangled up, food on their laps. And without prompting, Patrick dove into the whole happy and sordid story of his relationship with Rachel. Eating kept David from commenting or asking too many questions. And he had a lot of questions. Mostly for Rachel, actually. Like, why try so hard for a guy who broke it off with you three times already? But while Patrick ranted about a particularly nasty fight in their college years, David’s eyes flicked over him. Like as a whole person. Maybe he understood Rachel better than he wanted to. There wasn’t much David Rose wasn’t willing to do to keep a guy like Patrick Brewer in his life. This whole night, for example. He was such a sweet, decent person. Look how hard he’d tried for someone he wasn’t even sexually attracted to! Patrick devoted himself to people and projects in a way that David had never really been capable of before Schitt’s Creek. He was so generous with himself. It made David want to do...very, very stupid things.
Like lip sync to Tina Turner in the middle of their store with big open windows on the busiest street in town.
They finished their food, but Patrick was only just coming up on his arrival in Schitt’s Creek. David got up to throw their trash away and turned back around to find Patrick already reaching for him. He sat down and let Patrick curl into him; wrapped his arm around Patrick’s shoulders and settled them back into a comfortable position.
“I knew if I stayed, we’d just fall back into it. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted something more. Better.”
“So you moved to Schitt’s Creek?” David scoffed, commenting really for the first time. Patrick snorted, muffling his laughter with David’s shoulder.
“We had a teacher in high school who always said that if we didn’t do something productive with our lives, we were going to end up in Schitt’s Creek without a paddle.”
David dipped his head, “He was not wrong.” He turned when he felt Patrick’s eyes on him again and melted. Stupid smitten look getting the best of his cool outward image.
“I’m okay without one,” Patrick said softly. David could help the flush and twisted his lips to hide the all-out smile threatening to take over. Patrick leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek, butting his forehead against his temple. “Let’s go home.”
“Okay.”
By the time they got back to Patrick’s, there was only one thing still bothering David. He pinned it down once they were getting ready for bed. Patrick was already cuddled under the blankets and nagging David to hurry it up. It felt so painfully normal that David’s chest tightened. That’s when it hit him. Equity. Patrick was being clingy and needy because he was feeling vulnerable. Because he’d bared his past for David with a lense that he’d probably never vocalized to anyone other than himself in the bathroom mirror.
David watched him, hand on his hip and lips pulled in thoughtfully. Patrick tilted his head in response, brow furrowed. David just shook his head, held up a finger, and went to his bag. He found what he needed quickly, as it was always in the side pocket, a sharpened pencil and a fine tipped pen slotted against it. He held it against his chest momentarily before turning around and offering it to Patrick, who held it gingerly for a moment, eyes lingering on David, before looking down at it.
“I’ve seen this before.”
“Mhmm.”
“I thought it was your bullet journal for the store?”
David shook his head and crawled into bed, flopping onto the other side of Patrick while he flipped open what was actually David’s sketchbook. If it had been anyone else looking, David would have stared right at the ceiling, not wanting to watch the reaction to what was probably the most intimate of his possessions. Not with this person, though. He rolled onto his side and cataloged every minute tick and movement of Patrick’s expression.
Naturally, his insanely perfect boyfriend started at page one instead of opening to the middle as normal people were wont to do. He carefully examined every page, reading every note, fingers tracing along the edges of what David knew were probably doodles of his family, Stevie, the motel, ideas for the store. He wouldn’t find what David wanted him to see until he was three-quarters of the way through. Because it had taken that long for Patrick to show up in Schitt's Creek.
“I’m not ready to get into everything in my past yet,” David said with a quiet, and frustrated, sigh. “I appreciate you telling me about Rachel. But like...you loved her. And she loved you. And it was messy and hard, but…”
“Yeah,” Patrick croaked out, still looking at the book.
“So,” David said, clearing his throat, “think of this as part olive branch, part...promise. That I will tell you, in proportionate chunks, everything you need, or want, to know.” He pressed his lips shut tight when he heard Patrick’s sharp little inhalation.
“ David --”
“I got my MFA,” he confessed blandly. “My family doesn’t even know that really. They knew I was doing things with art, but not like...educating myself. And...well, Stevie might know because she’s a snoop and goes through my things to irritate me. So...you are the first person I’ve told. Officially.”
David had known he was attracted to Patrick from day one. But that was par for the course. He encountered stupidly attractive people all of the time without doing anything about it. His sketchbook was to get images out of his head, not to keep them there. So his first sketch of Patrick hadn’t happened until after the whole Lice Incident. That look of concern on his face, like he actually cared about David’s comfort and not the quality of the store’s stock, had been burned in his brain. So that was the first sketch.
The next dozen or so were just quick sketches, case studies of different angles of body parts; hands, eyes, arms, shoulders, profile. Some were drawn in multiples because David couldn’t quite get something right. The way Patrick’s fingers spread over the counter, the slope of his back when he spoke with a customer, the way his hands cradled certain items in the store when they stocked for the day. His expression when he was teasing David, his eyes rolling, the curve of his ear, a close-lipped smile or two. Even the way his chest filled out those stupid blue dress shirts he had a never-ending supply of.
Patrick’s fingers were reverent as they touched each page. But when he got to the end, he frowned.
“It’s full.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So--”
“It’s my bag book. I also have the same one at the store and another one at the motel? I draw when I’m thinking or I can’t sleep,” he confessed, biting his lip. His two-day panic attack being the one exception to that rule. Patrick looked at him sharply, finally tearing his eyes away from David’s drawings. David used that opportunity to take it back and set it aside. That was enough exposure for one night. He shrugged, settling back into Patrick’s waiting arms. “It got filled up pretty quickly, so I bought two more just in case.” He felt Patrick’s mouth pressed to his temple and he shut his eyes against it. “There’s a lot more of you in the other ones. I just--I’m really attached to those first ones. Like to look at them.”
“I’d like to see more if you’re okay with that.”
“I am.” Patrick hummed, thumb rubbing along David’s skin by his hip. David just smiled and turned to peck his lips. “Just ask already.”
“Did you draw everyone you were with?”
David lifted his eyebrows. “Most. I didn’t have full books of them, but I drew whoever was available, even just to practice.” He licked his lips, noticing the way Patrick’s eyes zeroed in on them. As always. “But no one’s gotten to see them...except you.”
He felt rather than heard Patrick’s heavy sigh. “I’ll take it,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss him. David felt Patrick’s hand on his cheek and thought he’d cry. There were a few days there when he’d honestly believed that this was gone for good. Not just Patrick’s kisses and sex, but the feeling of wholeness and safety that came with it. The ineffable calm that came with it. Ineffable being a word Alexis supplied when David couldn’t figure out how to explain why Patrick was just so different than every other person he’d been with. And while they both agreed they were spending way too much time with their mother, ineffable was, in fact, the perfect word for it.
“Let’s open the store late tomorrow,” Patrick said against his lips. David nodded eagerly, going back in for deeper, dirtier kisses, loving Patrick’s low chuckle rumbling against his chest. Patrick offering to open late was the equivalent of David offering blow jobs while Patrick watched baseball games. It was a treat , an exception to the rule, not the norm.
“And I want one.”
David reared back, blinking rapidly through his confusion. “Want one what? A blow job?”
“Huh?” Right, he’d just been thinking about blow jobs, not talking about them. Patrick shook his head. “I want a drawing. One of your drawings? Obviously, you can pick which ones I can choose from, but I want one. To have. Here.”
“Uhm.” David coughed, face pinching up. “Why?” Even to him it sounded self-deprecating and pathetic. Patrick pulled his lips in and David rolled his eyes, knowing just from his expression what was coming next.
“Because I hate them so much.”
“Okay.”
“And I want to burn one. Just to emphasize how much I hate that my gorgeous and talented boyfriend sneaks around and creepily draws me in horrible detail. I just...hate it so much that he draws me to help him go to sleep.”
“Mmmkay.”
“Because why else would I ask for one?”
“You finished, or..?”
The smug face melted into a real smile then, and David’s pathetic little heart couldn’t take that big sparkle in Patrick’s eye.
“I want to put one on a canvas. If you’ll let me. Be able to put it up. Look at it when I miss you.”
“Just one?”
“Obviously I’m going to take pictures of the others when you’re not paying attention, but I figured you’d be more comfortable with just one for now.”
“Obviously.”
“Mmm,” Patrick agreed. “Wait til I tell you we should use your sketches for decoration in the store.” David’s eyes widened in a panic. “The ones of the store . The displays? Your diagrams?”
He relaxed. “Oh. Right. That might…” he licked his lips, “I could be amenable to....negotiating that?”
Patrick wrapped his arms more tightly around him, and David couldn’t help but sink into his embrace, couldn’t help but lay his head on Patrick’s chest, his ear over his heartbeat.
“Thank you for showing me.”
“You’re welcome.” David sniffed. “Do not tell Stevie.”
“Sure.”
“Or my sister.”
“I understand, David.”
“Like, you can tell your mom or whatever, just no one who lives in this town.”
“Whatever you say, David.”
“It’s just I’ve had people ask me to draw them before, and it feels very attack-y.”
He heard Patrick’s exasperated sigh. “Go to sleep, David.”