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Patrick’s eyes blink open slowly in the morning light, protesting against the early hour. He stretches his legs first, letting out a sigh as his muscles lengthen, then does the same with his arms. He spreads them above his head, then reaches over to the other side of the bed– a habit he’s formed over the past couple years with David beside him.
Except today David isn’t beside him, because today is their wedding, and he slept at the motel for the first time in months.
And just like that, Patrick is wide awake, like he had been most of the night before, unable to calm his restless heart. He’d spent hours with his hand pressed to his chest as he stared up at the ceiling, imagining all the ways it would go right, but even more all of the ways it wouldn’t .
They almost never do in the movies. There’s always some kind of issue, something that makes it less than perfect, which really doesn’t fit with Patrick’s unending need to take charge. He’s a lot more quiet in his controlling tendencies compared to David, who has been a very loud, demanding mess the past couple weeks. There was a problem with the florist, and then the caterers, and then the drama of the invitations not being sent to every single resident in town.
Their wedding has been the topic of the town since their engagement, and a small, dark part of Patrick just wants it to be over with, wants to disappear back into the shadows with David and be left alone for a while. The larger, more rational part of him is practically vibrating with excitement. He’d had the beginnings of savings leftover from his engagement to Rachel when he arrived in Schitt’s Creek, and he’d continued adding to it a month after him and David started dating.
There were a lot of things in his life he wasn’t sure of before, but David wasn’t one of them.
It was almost scary how quickly Patrick knew, how absolutely in he was. At first he’d told himself it was another spontaneous decision, some kind of existential crisis that was driving him to throw himself into the arms of this beautiful, dramatic man he’d just met, into his business , his family .
But then David had met his eyes that night in Patrick’s car, and his gaze had been so warm and inviting, so full of a possibility Patrick had never considered before. Then his hand was on Patrick’s cheek, curling around his ear, pressing rings into his skin, and there was no going back. There was no rewind, no repeat, no path to travel but the one that took them forward together.
And now here he is, the morning of his wedding, still walking that path.
Slowly but surely a smile spreads across his face, bright and uninhibited as sunshine begins to streak in through the blinds, and he rolls out of bed easily, ready to start the rest of his life.
“I’m so glad I finally get to see you in a tux,” Marcy says hours later, eyes teary as she straightens Patrick’s bowtie. Her fingers are shaking slightly, so Patrick reaches up, clasping her hands in his.
There’s nervous energy knotting in his stomach, twisting together so tightly he’s not sure he’ll be able to untangle it. He wonders if deep down this is his mom’s worst nightmare, if she had been so excited to see a white dress trail down the aisle, to have grandkids, to have a daughter-in-law.
He wonders if despite all of her reassurances, she’s disappointed.
“I’m sorry I dumped all of this on you at once,” Patrick says, unable to meet her eyes. “I know it must be hard to swallow.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, tone slightly admonishing. “You trusted us with your truth. There is nothing in this world that has made me prouder.”
Patrick’s throat tightens as she releases his hands and turns him to face the mirror. He stares at his reflection for a long time, documenting the nervous flush on his cheeks, the curl of his hair, the dark blue tuxedo that David helped him pick out.
“I met you in blue,” he’d said that day, chin hooked on Patrick’s shoulder as they looked in the dressing room mirror. “I want to marry you in blue, too.”
The thought makes him smile, washing away the insecurities of a few minutes before.
“You’ll be a wonderful husband,” Marcy says, squeezing his arms. “I always knew you would be.”
“I hope so,” he breathes out, meeting his own eyes in the mirror. He sees the honesty in them, feels his own drive to be better, to be everything David needs.
“You will.”
They’re silent for a few moments, breaths deep and calming, until Clint peeks his head into the room, grinning as he says, “It’s almost time.”
“God,” Patrick says under his breath, shaking his arms out with the hope he’ll stop fidgeting.
Marrying David is the least of his worries. He’s more afraid of Roland setting the venue on fire, or the birthday clown suddenly reappearing and interrupting their vows, or Moira having another breakdown and crawling under her chair due to the lack of closets.
“Ready?” Marcy asks, interrupting his spiraling thoughts.
He takes another deep breath, steadying himself before replying, “Yes.”
Marcy takes his arm and leads him out into the hallway, and with every step his breaths come easier.
The moment he sees David, hair coiffed to perfection and black tux fitted beautifully across his chest, Patrick decides to look away as little as possible the rest of the day. David’s eyes are already filled with tears, beautiful brown swimming in a sea of emotion, and it takes all of Patrick’s abundant self control to stop himself from immediately kissing him breathless. His own vision is a little blurry as he reaches the altar and positions himself across from his fiancé, hands folded in front of his body.
“Hi,” he says softly, offering David a bright grin as he tries to subtly wipe his tears away.
“Hi,” David whispers back, lips twisted to the side, his usual habit.
And suddenly Patrick is sure he won’t care if their cake topples over, or the DJ sucks, or the birthday clown turns out to be It. Because no matter what, they’re about to be married. He is about to be a husband, committed to the love of his life forever.
The entire town could be wiped out in a tornado right this second and he’s sure his feet will stay firmly planted on this altar, ready to follow through.
The ceremony starts, and Patrick doesn’t look away from David’s eyes once.
“Everyone is staring at us,” David whispers, the skin around his eyes crinkled with joy, the way it has been since they said I do .
Patrick feels the same, his cheeks protesting the strain, but he has no complaints. He pulls David closer, brushing at the hair curling at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah,” he replies, smiling widening. “Best night of your life, huh? All this attention on you.”
“Mhm,” David agrees with an eyeroll. “Yeah, there’s really nothing else to celebrate...unless I’m forgetting something, Mr. Rose?”
The name sends a thrill through Patrick’s entire body. He’s said it over and over in his head a million times, but it’s so much sweeter coming from David’s lips, their own, quiet melody.
He’ll never get tired of it.
“I’ll have to ask my husband,” Patrick says, tilting his head to the side and looking out at the guests in a faux search. “Have you seen him? Tall, black tux, big eyebrows.”
“Mmm, he sounds cute. Maybe you should introduce us.”
Patrick breaks, letting out a soft laugh as he leans in for what is probably the hundredth kiss of the night. This banter reminds him of their first date, how conversation had been so easy, so right.
“You do know what’s going on, right? You didn’t just accidentally stumble into marrying me?” he teases, earning a glare.
“Oh my god, it was years ago,” David complains, throwing his head back dramatically. “Can we just forget about it?”
“Oh no,” Patrick says, voice serious. “The memory of Stevie crashing our first date is a fond one that I keep close to my heart.”
“You should be grateful,” Stevie says, suddenly appearing beside them. Patrick realizes their first dance is over now, and people are filing onto the dance floor. “If it weren’t for me, it would’ve taken him at least another month to realize you were into him.”
They share a smirk as David yells out a dramatic, “Okay, that’s enough! I thought we agreed I wouldn’t be attacked on my wedding day.”
Stevie rolls her eyes and reluctantly moves off to dance with Alexis, who had to bribe her with at least three beers to even consider it. For just another moment they’re alone in their little bubble, free of expectation, and just before they’re pulled away by their mothers, Patrick leans in, pressing their foreheads together.
“I love you,” he says seriously, a small smile still curled on his lips.
David’s eyes shine in the dimmed light, more radiant that Patrick has ever seen them.
“I love you.”
“I have something for you,” Patrick says when the reception has ended and they’ve finally made it back home.
The apartment feels different tonight, bigger, like he can see open doors that weren’t there before he left. David is digging around in one of his drawers, searching for something, and lets out a victorious noise when he finds it. His jacket has been shed, now neatly hung in the closet, and his bowtie hangs loose at his neck.
It’s the perfect mix of suave and disheveled, and Patrick doesn’t even try to hide his appreciative stare when he turns around.
“What did you say?” David asks, amusement tinting his words.
“I have something for you,” Patrick repeats, raising his eyebrows shamelessly.
“Oh?” David says, eyes trailing down Patrick’s body as he steps closer.
“Not that,” Patrick replies with a laugh. “Yet.”
His gaze drops to the arm that David has folded behind his back, an unusual position for him. He’s always swinging his arms around while he talks.
“Are you about to pull a knife on me? Is this some kind of Ella Enchanted situation?” Patrick asks, eyeing him warily.
“So you’re the charming prince in that scenario, then.”
“How about we don’t go down that road, and instead you tell me what you’re hiding behind your back.”
“I will when you tell me what that is,” David says, nodding down at the present in Patrick’s hands.
Patrick shakes his head, smiling softly, and leads David over to the bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle. He pats the spot across from him and David wastes no time mirroring him, still making sure to hide the mysterious object behind his back.
“So, uh,” Patrick stutters slightly, cheeks heating up, “I may or may not have bribed your mom to help me out with something.”
“Um, should I be afraid?” David asks, eyebrows raised in consternation.
“No, no,” Patrick reassures, letting out a quiet laugh. “I just knew I couldn’t ask Ronnie, given our...rocky history, so I had to ask your mom to ask her to do something for me without her catching onto the fact that I was actually the one requesting it.”
“And what exactly did you do that made my mom willing to help you with this secret mission?”
“Not important. I just figured this would need a little bit of context.”
He holds out the gift, biting his lip on a grin as David takes it with a grimace, handling it suspiciously.
“This better not be something kinky. I will never forgive you if you let my mother in on my kinks.”
“David,” Patrick sighs, shaking his head and gesturing for him to open it.
He tears at the wrapping slowly, fingers sliding precisely down the folded seam, and Patrick wiggles his foot anxiously. He’s not really sure why this feels so important, why he feels like he’s seconds away from crumpling.
“Oh,” David whispers when the wrapping paper is finally thrown to the side. He runs his fingers over the frame, taking in the design in complete awe.
Inside is their marriage license, fresh and shiny.
“I got it fast-tracked,” Patrick says softly, attempting to memorize every emotion that crosses David’s face. “Figured I’d keep up the tradition.”
He spent hours searching for the right frame, one that could match both the store and the apartment, whichever David chose to hang it in. It’s a sharp contrast to his first gift to David, a business license wrapped in “corporate dullness,” as David once described it.
And now David is looking up at him just like he did that night, features soft and appreciative, and Patrick can hardly breathe under the intensity of it all. He knows that David is insecure about himself, about his worth, and he wishes he could transfer this feeling to him, wishes he could make him see how absolutely enthralled he is with even the slightest grin.
David laughs tearily and leans forward, ringed fingers cupping his jaw as he kisses him soft and slow, the way he always does when he’s caught off guard. He keeps laughing when he pulls back, too, wiping at his eyes.
“I don’t know why I didn’t expect this,” he says, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself.
“Well, there’s no way you could’ve predicted me picking out a decent frame,” Patrick replies jokingly, earning a fond head shake from his husband.
“You learned.” Disbelief curls around the edges of David’s voice, and Patrick wants to wrap him in his arms and never let go.
Before he can do that, though, David reaches behind him and brings his own gift forward, holding it out to Patrick. He isn’t expecting it, if he’s being honest. He figured the tuxedo was David’s big gift for their wedding, his main focus.
Patrick opens it without dropping David’s gaze, watching the nervous twist of his lips before he looks down. It takes a moment for him to register what’s in front of him, and when it does, he can’t help but pull in a sharp breath.
Because side by side, in an unmistakably corporate frame, are the invitations to Patrick’s surprise party and their wedding.
“You told me the party was one of the best nights of your life,” David says softly, “so I was hoping our wedding would be in the same category.”
“David,” Patrick whispers, shaking his head.
He can’t look away, can’t even begin to express how perfect this is.
The night of his party he remembers pulling David close, pressing his face into his shoulder, and thinking, “I’m going to marry him.” It wasn’t a question, or even something to consider. It was a fact based on months of evidence, based on laughter, on respect, on trust, on fights, on breakups and makeups.
It was based on love.
“Our wedding is in its own category,” he says finally, looking back up at his husband. “But this is the best gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.”
David smiles brightly. “Well, fortunately, I’m a very generous pers-”
Patrick kisses him, letting his laughter sink so deep into his skin, he’s sure he’ll never be cold again.