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“Has anyone seen Patrick?”
The guests milling near the bar shake their heads and David huffs, bobbing and weaving his way through the dance floor, barely avoiding getting press-ganged by Jocelyn into dancing to a song that was definitely not on the pre-approved list.
“Have you seen Patrick?” he calls over the music, but Jocelyn shakes her head, yelling something in return that may be “Try by the bar.”
“I just came from the bar,” he mutters, turning to head towards the front door of the hall when Alexis bounces past him, Ted hot on her very high heels.
“Hey, have you seen my fiance?”
She gasps and swats him on the arm, sloshing the champagne in her flute. “Husband, David! Forgotten already? Aw, poor Patrick,” she pouts, but he only rolls his eyes, lacking patience for her shit-stirring. She reaches out and straightens his bow tie, and he’s so tired and missing Patrick so much that he lets her. “Last I saw, that sweet lil button was talking to Stevie,” she says, in the first and only piece of valuable information she’s imparted today.
“And where is Stevie?” he snaps, taking her champagne and tossing back a gulp. No one tells you you’ll barely have time to eat or drink anything you’ve paid for.
“She’s by the french doors,” Ted offers with a knowing look, pointing towards the back of the hall where Stevie stands off to the side, nursing a drink. A quick, cursory glance tells him that Patrick is nowhere to be found.
“Thanks,” he murmurs and Ted claps him on the back as he makes his way over to his best friend, who’s looking at him with an expression that seems to say, What took you so long?
“Have you seen my husband?” he asks and it’s like there’s a switch. The word just lights him up from the inside, all frustration and stress and exhaustion just… melting away.
She smiles the smile he rarely gets to see - the one that anyone rarely gets to see. It’s soft and secret and completely genuine.
“He needed a moment,” she murmurs, nodding towards the french doors, through which David can finally see Patrick, leaning his elbows on the railing overlooking the gardens.
“Like - a good moment or a bad moment?” he asks, suddenly wishing he hadn’t gone on this chase. Is Patrick having regrets? Is he wishing they’d gone with a band instead of a DJ? Does he not want any of this?
“Easy, tiger,” Stevie soothes in a surprisingly soft voice, already talking him down from the ledge he so readily hopped up on, snagging a champagne flute off a passing tray, and shoving it into his hand. “You already know the answer to that question.”
He downs half the drink with a gasp and stares at her for a moment, wincing as he asks, “Good moment?”
“Go find out,” she nudges, taking the glass from his hand and living him a literal shove out the door.
Patrick looks up as the music filters from the venue, smiling slowly, but oh-so-brightly as David carefully steps onto the brick veranda. The door shuts behind him with a snick and he watches as Stevie winks at him through the window before turning back and standing guard.
God, she’s a great friend.
Light from the disco ball Roland somehow snuck in and hung reflects off Patrick’s hand, sending a bright pop of color up in front of his eyes.
Between the two of them, David is the one with the penchant for jewelry. Between the two of them, David is the one with velvet-lined box filled with rings and a necklace and a very particular bracelet.
“Hi, husband,” Patrick murmurs, holding out his hand for David to take.
And it’s not the title he keeps forgetting to say or the certificate they signed or even the vows they spoke just a couple of hours ago that drives the point home, that finally makes David believe, yes this is mine -
It’s the ring on Patrick’s finger.
Left hand.
Second one in.
Oh.
He reaches out, knowing that his eyes are tearing and not caring as Patrick tugs him in, left hand within left hand even though the angle is slightly awkward, letting their rings kiss in the night as their lips do the same.
“What are you doing out here?” he manages after a moment.
Patrick breathes deep and rests his forehead against David’s. “I just - needed a moment.”
“That’s what Stevie said.” He hates that his voice wobbles and he tries to cover it up by clearing his throat, but Patrick just leans back and stares at him knowingly, having witnessed far too many of David’s stress spirals over the past few months (years).
He carefully takes David’s face in his hands, thumbs gently brushing his lobes, eyes intense as if saying, listen to me, this is important. “David, this is the best day of my life. I’ve never been as happy as I am, right here, right now. And,” he laughs as his eyes tear, “it’s like my body doesn’t know how to process all of this joy. So yeah,” he laughs again, eyes so bright, and the tears fall. “I needed a moment.”
David gasps and swallows hard, because, yes, that’s what he’s been feeling: so much happiness, possibly too much happiness (is that a thing?) and he tried to fight it, but he knows now that it’s best to just give in.
And that’s what he does, sagging in Patrick’s arms, knowing his husband will hold him up, closing his eyes and burying his face in his neck.
“I think I needed one, too.”
Patrick presses a kiss to his neck and rubs his hand up and down his back. “Luckily this is our party and we can do what we want to.”
“Except eat,” David grumbles.
“True,” Patrick laughs. “Except eat. It’s okay, my parents are dropping pizza off at the hotel later.”
David groans. “Best in-laws ever.”
A song with a very familiar bass beat kicks in and, despite the fact that their eyes are closed, David can feel both of them smile.
“I call you when I need you, my heart’s on fire,” Patrick murmurs, not singing, just speaking.
“You come to me, come to me wild and wired,” David quietly replies.
They feel like vows in and of themselves.
Stevie cracks the door, allowing Tina’s voice to filter more clearly over the veranda and they gently sway, not quite dancing, but perhaps something better.
David reaches his right hand behind his back and finds Patrick’s left, threading their fingers together and pulling it up to rest on his chest, thumb brushing over the ring he put on his finger. The ring that took him entirely too long to pick out, until one day, it was just there. Simple and sturdy and perfectly Patrick.
Yes, this is mine.
“I like this look for you.”
“What, married?” Patrick asks, teasing.
David presses a kiss to the ring. “Happy.”
Yes, this is mine.
“I like this look for you, too,” Patrick whispers.
Yes, this is mine.
And perhaps, more importantly, David is his.
And there is no safer place for him to be.