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"David?" Patrick is staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His mind is still rushing, reeling, trying to make sense of the day. "I really appreciate what you did for me today."
"Mm." David scoots towards him on the bed, propped on one elbow, and traces a finger slowly down Patrick's chest. "My absolute pleasure, trust me."
Patrick smacks David lightly on the wrist, then grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together to rest on his stomach. "That, too," he says lightly. "But I mean…I let you down, and you were really there for me anyway."
David scoffs. "You didn't let me down."
Patrick sighs and turns his head on the pillow; David is looking at their intertwined hands. "Okay," he says softly. He doesn't want to argue with David, to make him uncomfortable. Not after he gave him such a gift, was so fucking selfless. (On paper, David doesn't look selfless. Patrick realizes how much of his life he's wasted worrying about how things look on paper.) "It's okay if I did. If you're mad or upset."
David sighs and tips back his head so harshly his neck pops. "You didn't let me down," he says again. There's an upward note to his voice that says he's taking his time, thinking about how to say what he means. Patrick waits him out. "I'm not mad," David says finally. "Or upset. Especially that you didn't tell your parents." He looks at Patrick for a second. "That should have been your thing, and I am so sorry we took that from you."
Patrick nods, smiles a little. He doesn't need an apology. He waits some more.
"It is…your prerogative to stay in the closet as long as you want, to whomever you want, Patrick. But I wish you had told me that you were. Still." He glances sidelong at Patrick. "I don't love that you kept it from me."
Patrick waits another moment and scrapes his teeth over his lip. David flexes his finger where they're locked with Patrick's — not pulling away, but reminding Patrick that he's there, that they're together.
"I," he says, and then stops. "I didn't want you to judge me."
David's brows lift impossibly high. "I would never," he starts, and Patrick is quick to interrupt him.
"I know! It wasn't…It wasn't your fault, David, and I know that. I just felt so stupid and helpless, and your family is so…it's not a thing, for them? It was like this bubble, this world here where our relationship, my being gay, wasn't a thing. I didn't want to bring anyone else into it."
David shifts until he's leaning over Patrick, looking down at him. "I love you," he says.
"I love you too," Patrick says, and it's as easy as it's been every time. He's sure of David.
"Okay," David says. "So hold onto that, but…what you just said? Is almost exactly what you said about Rachel."
Fuck. Patrick closes his eyes; he wants to disappear. "You're right."
"I know," David says, a teasing lilt to his voice that disappears almost immediately. "It didn't feel great that you kept something that big from me again."
Patrick opens his eyes, and David's eyes are downcast, his mouth twisted in a miserable little frown. "David, I —" He falters. How does he even apologize? It hadn't felt like a breach of trust when he did it, but from David's side, he can see that it was.
"Really, honey, I'm not mad, and I am the last, like, the last person who should be psychoanalyzing anyone, but…do you have any idea where that's coming from?" There's no hint of judgement on his face. Ready to talk it out.
"I don't know," Patrick says, because he needs to say something. "I think…I'm not used to things being new to me, or difficult, or…not knowing the rules, you know? And I felt like it was so unfair to you to hide our relationship, and I thought I could come out to them quietly on my own and you would never even have to know that they didn't know."
"C'mere." David sits up against the headboard and tugs at Patrick until he leans back against him; he takes Patrick's other hand so that his arms are crossed across Patrick's chest, bracketing him in. "I don't like being lied to."
"David, I —"
"I'm talking now." David's voice is light, but firm in a way that David usually only gets about the store, or proper knitwear care, and Patrick lets his head fall back against David's chest. He's nervous, even though he knows he shouldn't be; he hates feeling out of control, hates having the serious conversations. "I don't expect your life story, but I need to know the things that pertain to me. Even if you think I won't like it."
Patrick bites his lip and nods, feeling small. David rocks him lightly back and forth, just once. "I'm not upset that you weren't out. Just that you didn't tell me. I mean, I'm not even upset at all because I understand, and I know you just wanted things to be okay." He sighs.
"I am sorry, David," Patrick says, hot guilt rising up on his cheeks.
"You don't have to be, honey, I promise." David squeezes one of Patrick's hands. "You know, you said that my family doesn't make a big deal out of us being together, but it's funny — my dad was actually real weird about my being pan for years. Like, until we moved here. And I think he thought he was doing a good job of hiding it, because he tried to act supportive, but my father is a terrible actor."
"Really?" Patrick cranes his neck to glance at David's face. He's got the hint of a smile going on, amused by this memory rather than perturbed by it. "What made him come around?"
David pushes his nose against the back of Patrick's head, huffing a laugh. "Me and Stevie."
"Stevie talked to him?"
"No, like, me and Stevie. The morning after we first…my dad caught her coming out of the room we did it in, and me still in there, and he was like…really happy that I had slept with a girl, like offensively happy about it. And then he and my mom got really high with Roland and Jocelyn, and he found me with Stevie again and told me that he endorsed all my sexual encounters." Patrick feels David shudder against his back. "And after that he was over it."
"…None of that makes any sense."
"Nothing my father does or says makes sense. And, for the record, it was kind of humiliating. But my point is, if you thought I was going to like, judge you for being worried about their reaction…"
Patrick twists a bit to rest his cheek against David's chest; he can feel his heartbeat, under the softest cotton he's ever felt. "It really isn't about you. I know I had no reason to feel insecure, but I did. It's like…no one gave me the handbook for being gay, y'know?"
"Mm." David squeezes him briefly. "Well, you're doing a great job, honey." He sits in the quiet for a moment, and then he says, "So…not that it matters, but that's the correct label, then? You're gay?"
Patrick is so surprised by the question, he laughs, and David makes a little offended sound. "Sorry," he says, "Just, is that a surprise to you?"
"Not really, but I didn't want to make assumptions." David pauses. "Everyone assumes that I'm a full Kinsey six, and it doesn't matter until it does, you know? And then today your mom said it, and it didn't seem like a good idea to bring up like, self-determination, but I wanted you to know that you don't have to be gay just because you're dating me."
"Well, I'm gay, David. Fully, whatever a Kinsey six is, that's me. Not just because I'm in love with you, although I'd say you've been a pretty big help to me figuring it out. That…doesn't bother you, does it?"
"Of course not." David frees one hand to run it over Patrick's hair. "I'm really proud of you."
"I didn't do anything," Patrick protests, and David pets him some more and shushes him, which should maybe be annoying — Patrick thinks if anyone else had ever done that, he would have been annoyed — but it feels nice, like David is caring for him.
"You took a big step today, baby," David says quietly. "Coming out is scary, even when your family is wonderful. I know it was hard. It's always hard."
"I didn't expect it to be," Patrick whispers. "I thought the words would roll out and I'd feel like I'd been freed, or something, but I just said it and it didn't feel like much."
"That's okay," David says. "It doesn't have to be — you don't have to be gay before you're anything else. It doesn't have to be like that."
"Are you?" Patrick tilts his head; the landscape of David's chest shifts beneath him. "Are you pansexual before anything else?"
"Mm." David shifts; Patrick thinks he's shrugging. "Kind of? If I had to like, list objective qualities about myself, it would be one of the top ones. somewhere around being Jewish. But that doesn't mean I consider being pan more important, does that make sense?"
"Kind of," Patrick echoes. "You're so…"
"Flaming?"
"I was going to say confident."
"Same thing." David rests his chin atop Patrick's head, which he isn't near tall enough to do standing up. "I mean, you don't do this whole accountant thing intentionally, right? The way you dress, the inflection of your voice, that's just your comfort zone."
"So this is your comfort zone?" Patrick feels weird asking. Feels weird, point blank. In all the time they've been together — enough to build their lives around one another quite a bit, enough that David becomes a more solid part of Patrick's future every day, they've never spoken quite this frankly about identity. Probably because Patrick is great at pushing right past things that make him feel out of control, and David tends to let him.
"I've dressed like this since college," David says, rocking again. Patrick is growing to love this cuddling position, and he's savoring it while he can — David always wants to be the little spoon, the one on Patrick's lap. "I developed limp wrists in high school, and my voice just never went through puberty."
Patrick laughs.
"Everyone chooses how we present, you know? But most of us are trying to present in a way that matches who we are inside." David sighs. "And yes, in the past, people have assumed I was gay-gay. Stevie thought I was until we slept together."
Patrick can admit, privately to himself, that he used to be jealous of Stevie. Not that he didn't trust her or David, but that she was so close to David, and she'd slept with him, and David was so comfortable with her, so unlikely to shy away from her when shit inevitably hit the fan.
Then, at Stevie's apartment before they slept together for the first time, David had spelled out his history with her — that she'd really liked him and he had been scared by that, had quite literally run away because he couldn't handle someone knowing him and wanting him, both at the same time.
So there was a time when David casually dropping his sexual history with Stevie into conversation would have made Patrick spiral a bit, but now he recognizes that it's just part of David's past.
"I can attest firsthand to the fact that you can sleep with a woman and still be very, very gay," Patrick feels obliged to point out anyway.
"True." David huffs a little laugh. "I don't mind people assuming, really. I don't know if you've noticed this, but I'm very fem."
"Really." Patrick smiles, twisting his neck so David can see. "I love that about you, you know."
"Well, thank you."
Patrick tucks his chin. "My parents really like you," he tells David softly.
"Really?" David digs his chin into Patrick's skull for just a second. "What did they say?"
"That they like you," Patrick says, and bites his lip at David's telltale huff. "But my parents aren't people who placate. If they had a problem, they would have said so. My mom said you seem like a really good partner, and my dad said that your clothes confuse him."
"My clothes confuse everyone, he's not special."
"Not me," Patrick protests easily, no bite at all. He gets David's clothes — they're bold enough to announce to the world that he knows who he is, and comfortable enough to retreat into — soft and warm.
"I like them, too," David says, and Patrick has to backtrack a second in their conversation. "They really, really love you. I can't not like people who care for you like that."
"I just can't believe…that they know," Patrick murmurs. He's getting closer to sleep; David has been doing so much rocking and hair-petting and other little things that Patrick doesn't have names for but feel so good, light spots of pressure and soft touches. "And that you know that they didn't know. All of it. No more secrets."
"No more secrets," David echoes, his voice laced with fondness. "No more secrets or surprises between us, I think. I don't think either of us can take it." His chuckle is barely a breeze of warm breath across Patrick's hair.
"I promise," Patrick says, and he's surprised to realize that he means it. No more secrets from David, about his family or his past. He's a little bit staggered, still, by how entirely he trusts David, but he's never regretted it. "I love you." He shifts a little and closes his eyes, feeling warm from the inside out — like there's a ball of sunshine spreading from his belly — and safe in the firm cage of David's arms.
"I love you," David replies. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."
Patrick doesn't fall asleep until David gently shoves him down the bed and cuddles up behind him, curving strong arms around his waist and pulling him close, but he's content to lie half-sitting with David and close his eyes and wait for sleep to come.