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David comes out of the bathroom with his hair damp and loose from the shower, a fluffy white robe tied tight just above his hips. He’s wearing a sheet mask with one tiny cherry blossom printed on each cheek.
“I am so ready to sleep,” he says, plopping himself onto the couch and resting his head in Patrick’s lap. “You almost ready for bed?”
“Yeah,” Patrick nods. “Soon.” He watches, amused, as David runs his fingers over the edge of the mask, pressing it down over the curve of his jaw.
“Hey Siri?” David says, his phone dinging where it lies on his stomach. “Set a timer for fifteen minutes.”
“Timer set for fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you?” Patrick asks. “That’s very polite.”
David huffs. “Yes, well. Stevie talked me into a Terminator marathon the other day, and now I’m being extra nice to any sort of technology that can speak.”
“I’m sorry, how did Stevie talk you into a Terminator marathon?”
“She promised me a very muscly, butch Linda Hamilton. And she delivered, but she didn’t mention the—” David waves a hand vaguely in the air. “All the rest.”
“You mean the entire plot? Okay, I see.” Patrick chuckles and runs his fingers gently through David’s hair, the soft, wet curls twisting around his fingers. There’s a baseball game on TV, but Patrick’s team isn’t playing. Now that David is in his lap, he’s much more interested in David than he is in the game. He smooths out a wrinkle in the sheet mask over David’s forehead.
“What’s this supposed to do again?” he asks.
“Mmm it has nutrients in it that are being absorbed into my skin. This particular mask is for deep hydration, because the air in your apartment is a little dry.”
“Ah.” Patrick smiles. He hadn’t noticed the air.
David turns his attention to the Pinterest app on his phone, where he’s been saving decorating ideas for Patrick’s new apartment. The boxes have all been unpacked by now, but it’s looking a little drab in terms of decor (Moira’s words, not his own). Patrick is more than happy to have his artistically-inclined boyfriend help out in that area.
Patrick turns off the game and shifts his focus to David. He loves David like this—soft and unguarded, completely himself. Seeing him in a face mask always makes Patrick feel good. In the early days of their relationship, David would do his entire skincare routine in Ray’s bathroom, not coming out until he had finished every step. As he became more comfortable, he stopped caring whether Patrick saw him with goop on his face, or dabbing cotton balls over his skin.
“What do you think about this?” David asks. His voice breaks Patrick out of his thoughts. David tilts his phone up to show Patrick an extravagant mantle display covered in houseplants.
“It’s pretty,” Patrick says. “But I do want to use this fireplace, and I don’t want to have to move the plants every time I do.”
“Hmm.” David makes the pursed lip expression that means he reluctantly agrees. Patrick smiles. He’s resting one hand on David’s chest, and dips beneath the bathrobe to rake slow, soothing circles against his skin.
When the timer rings, they’re both caught off guard. David startles a little, then turns off the alarm and sits up on the couch. He gives Patrick a very careful peck on the lips. The edges of the sheet mask leave a cool, wet gel against Patrick’s skin.
“Be right back,” David says.
Patrick wipes the gel away, then then turns off the TV and follows David into the bathroom. David removes his sheet mask and dabs it over his face a few times before tossing it out.
“Do you need the bathroom?” David asks, as Patrick lingers in the doorway.
Patrick shakes his head. “No, just watching you.”
David glances at him in the mirror, a pleased smile on his face. He fans at his skin, then takes a tiny glass jar out of his makeup bag.
“What’s that do?” Patrick asks.
“This? This is an under-eye serum.”
“Oh, we sell that one.”
“We sell an under-eye serum. Not this one.”
Patrick watches David touch his finger into the jar, then pat the serum into his skin. He closes the jar with a quick twist and reaches for the next product.
“What’s that?” Patrick asks.
“Moisturizer. You’re awfully curious today.”
“Sorry.” Patrick shifts awkwardly. “I just—I don’t know anything about this stuff. I mean—I know enough about moisturizer to talk someone into buying it, but I’ve never really gotten the whole....skincare routine thing.”
David looks at him in the mirror. Patrick flushes.
“Are you interested in starting?” David asks. He squirts a small amount of lotion into his palm and starts rubbing it into his cheeks with small, circular motions. Patrick shrugs.
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s not really—it’s not for me, I don’t think.”
“Why not?”
Patrick shrugs again. David rubs the remaining moisturizer into his hands.
“It could be, you know. I think it’s fun. I like having beautiful, healthy skin, obviously, but I also like the ritual of my skincare routine. It helps me unwind at the end of the day.” He puts the bottle back into his bag and examines himself closely in the mirror.
“I guess I never thought of it like that,” Patrick says. “I always thought of it as something social, you know? My cousins, growing up, would do stuff like this. We’d all get together for sleepovers and the girls would hang out in the kitchen and make masks with recipes they found in magazines.”
David laughs softly. “Alexis and I used to do that, because our mom wouldn’t let us use her products. We’d mix honey and oatmeal and avocado....”
“I distinctly remember eggs getting everywhere.”
“Adelina would buy ingredients just for mask masking.”
Patrick smiles. It’s not often that he and David have a childhood memory in common.
“Which one was your favorite?” David asks. “I used to love using coffee grounds because they smelled so good. And it always felt a little grown-up, because Adelina wouldn’t let me drink coffee until I was older.”
“Oh, I never—I didn’t do it with them.”
“What! Why not?”
“I was a boy, I wasn’t allowed.” David raises an eyebrow and Patrick feels the need to clarify—defend his family from David’s assumptions. “I mean—no one actually said I couldn’t do that stuff. It’s not like they were—I just knew. I knew boys weren’t supposed to.”
“Patrick—”
“I know it’s stupid—there’s nothing wrong with—”
“Did you want to?”
“Well it looked like fun. But none of the other boys were doing it. They would have made fun of me if I had—and I mean, I already felt different from everyone else, so I—”
David wraps his arms around Patrick before Patrick even realizes he’s crossed the room. His cheeks burn, and he grips the plush fabric of David’s robe.
“I’m sorry you felt that way,” David says.
“It’s fine, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“It’s not fine. You still remember it. You’re still carrying that with you.”
Patrick wants to protest, but he can’t think of a rebuttal. He rests his head against David’s shoulder. Maybe David is right.
“Sorry,” he says, quietly. “I didn’t mean to unload that on you.”
“It’s okay.” David rubs his hands over Patrick’s back and holds him in his warm, solid arms for a long moment. “Sometimes we internalize things without realizing it,” he says, finally. He cradles Patrick’s nape in his palm. “But you know what? We can work on unlearning it. Why don’t I give you a spa night?”
Patrick pulls back and grins. “Really?”
“Yeah! I have a thing or two I’ve been meaning to teach you, anyway.”
“Of course you do.” Patrick huffs out a laugh and presses a kiss to David’s mouth. David squeezes him tight, then turns around to dig through his bag.
“Okay, I don’t have many products that are geared specifically towards your skin type,” he says. “Your skin is dry, but mine’s combination. If I were shopping for you, I’d definitely get more products with moisturizing properties. Maybe formulated for sensitive skin, because you tend to redden easily.”
“Oh—okay....” Patrick feels himself reddening right now. David has launched right into the type of language he uses on customers at the store, and Patrick feels a little bit lost.
“But that’s alright,” David continues. “We’ll make do.” He starts pulling bottles and jars from his bag and sets them up around the edge of the sink. “Now you always want to start with a clean face, so wash first before we start layering on products.” He hands Patrick a rubbery bit of plastic and a light green bottle. “This is a silicone face scrubber and a water-based cleanser. Put a small amount of cleanser directly onto the scrubber and work it around your face so it creates a lather.”
Patrick runs the water until it’s warm and follows David’s instructions. He instantly loves the smell of the cleanser. It’s bright and fresh—familiar because he usually smells it on David. When they first started spending the night together, Patrick would step into Ray’s bathroom after David had gotten out and notice the scent of David’s cleanser still lingering in the air. He would breathe it in while he brushed his teeth, then go back to his room and notice it again when he pressed his lips to David’s cheek.
David runs a hand down Patrick’s back. “Perfect,” he murmurs. A shiver of pleasure rolls down Patrick’s spine. Once he’s worked up a decent lather, he rinses it away and turns off the water. David hands him a towel.
“Always pat your skin dry, never rub,” he says. Patrick dries his face off and tosses the towel aside.
“Alright,” he says. “What’s first?”
“Your favorite part.” David grins and takes Patrick’s hand, tugging him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. “We’re going to start by exfoliating to get rid of any dry or dead skin. Unfortunately I didn’t bring any scrubs with me, but we can make our own with stuff in the kitchen.”
“Do we have what we need?”
David goes to the cupboard and pulls out a container of oatmeal and a jar of honey. “Luckily yes, because you have the breakfast food preferences of a 70-year old.”
Patrick gives an offended “tsk.” He watches David move fluidly around his kitchen, finding a small bowl, two spoons, and the coffee bean grinder that David bought him for Christmas, which really turned out to be for the both of them. David pours two heaping spoonfuls of oats into the grinder and runs them through. His brow is knit in concentration, and he’s biting his lower lip. He’s adorably focused, and Patrick can easily see a much younger David, sitting on a chair at the table, carefully measuring ingredients as a tiny Alexis hovers over his shoulder.
“Alright,” David says, the oats now ground into fine sand. “I think it’s like a 1:2 ratio of honey to oats. Would you like to do the honors? Mix in one spoonful of honey and stir it up.”
Patrick does as he’s instructed, slightly concerned that the goopy, sticky mixture in front of him will soon be slathered onto his face. The idea of that seemed a little more exciting when he was ten years old.
“Now, I want to get more moisture into your skin,” David says. “So we’re going to add some almond oil. I keep some in my bag for emergencies.” He goes to his overnight bag at the foot of the bed and pulls out a half-filled bottle. “Bring the mask back into the bathroom.”
Patrick likes when David is a little bossy. Especially when he knows what he’s talking about and has that air of confidence. Patrick follows him into the bathroom, giving David a glance-over, even though his robe obscures most of his figure. Patrick finds himself ogling David’s calves and the back of his neck.
“Don’t give me that look,” David says, catching him staring. “We have seven more steps to do.” He takes the bowl of oatmeal-honey mixture from Patrick’s hands and sets it on the sink, then pours in a small amount of almond oil.
“Mix that up again,” he says. “Once it’s all incorporated, you’re going to rub it into your face with your fingers and rinse it away. The oatmeal is a gentle exfoliant, the honey is good for acne—not that you have any, but just to be safe—and the almond oil will moisturize.”
Patrick gives the scrub a few strong stirs until it’s looking like a grey, oily mess. It feels thick and sticky when he puts it on his face. The oatmeal gives it a little bit of texture, but not as much as he expected. It does smell good, at least.
“How’s that feel?” David asks.
“Disgusting.”
“Okay, but not too abrasive?”
“No.” Patrick’s not sure if David is asking for his personal benefit or for the benefit of his skin. He takes his time washing away the scrub as thoroughly as he can. He can only imagine getting sticky residue all over the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets that David insisted he order. He turns the tap a little warmer to help dissolve the sugar.
“Not too hot,” David says. “Hot water dries out your skin.”
When Patrick is clean once again, he pats dry with a towel and turns to David. “How do I look?” he asks.
David gives him a smile, soft and fond. “Gorgeous, as always,” he says. “Now have a seat and I’ll do the rest for you.”
Patrick sits on top of the toilet, holding the towel in his lap and smiling up at his boyfriend. David is in his element—turning a thoughtful, critical eye to each product. He starts talking about toner—whatever that is—-clearly trying to decide between two different products. Patrick watches the flick of David’s wrists as he speaks, tuning out his words in favor of admiring the self-assured delicacy with which he moves. Before David, Patrick had never considered that men could be beautiful. Even in the privacy of his confused teenage mind, he always thought “handsome.” “Objectively attractive.” David is both of those, but he’s also beautiful in the way one would describe an expensive painting, or the colors of the sunrise.
“Helloo?” David asks, waving a hand in front of Patrick’s face. “Are you even listening? What are you staring at?”
Patrick chuckles. “Sorry, nothing. I’m just—I really love you, you know that?”
David purses his lips in that way that means he’s trying hard to hide a smile. “I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he says. He plucks a clear plastic bottle from the lineup around the sink. “Now pay attention, I’m trying to teach you something.”
Patrick nods, his chest filled with warmth. He watches as David takes out a cotton ball and wets it with clear liquid from the bottle.
“Now I know this looks like water, but it’s not water. Toner removes any traces of cleanser that didn’t wash away, and it also helps balance the pH of your skin.”
“I have no idea what that means, and it’s kind of sexy.”
“pH isn’t sexy, Patrick.”
Patrick grins. David tilts his face up and wipes the cotton across his forehead and down his cheeks. It feels cool, and has a light fragrance that’s similar to the cleanser.
“How’s that feel?” David asks.
“Nice. Everything smells good.”
“There’s tea tree in the toner.” David tilts Patrick’s chin up a little higher. “Back in the 90’s they used to put lots of alcohol in toner, to help get rid of acne. It was actually really harsh on your skin and super bad for you. This one uses tea tree oil to do the same thing.”
David’s fingers slow as he speaks. Patrick closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the drag of David’s fingertips as they trace his nose and arch over his cheekbones. When he opens his eyes again, David is the one staring.
“Just let that dry for a bit,” he says, quietly. He tosses the cotton ball into the trash.
Patrick takes David’s hand and squeezes it. “Thank you for doing this.”
David squeezes back. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry you never felt like you could.”
Patrick feels himself blushing again. He’s not used to talking about this sort of thing.
“Honestly though—” David continues. “You might not need any of this. Your skin is so naturally flawless.”
“It is?”
“Patrick. Of course! Your skin was one of the first things I noticed about you.”
“Mmm....alright, that sounds a little creepy.”
“It’s not creepy!”
Patrick laughs, breaking a bit of the tension he’d been feeling inside. David shakes his head and turns back to the products lined up along the sink.
“Alright, you should be ready for the next step. What I’d really like to use on you is a nice hydrating serum, but I only brought one serum with me and it’s vitamin C, so we’ll have to use that.”
“Couldn’t you just rub an orange on my face? It’d be cheaper.”
“Very funny. Tilt your head back so I can see you.”
Patrick tilts back, his laughing eyes meeting David’s only mildly amused ones. David uses an eyedropper to place a tiny amount of serum on his fingertip, then leans in close and presses his finger in little taps over Patrick’s cheeks. His face is so close that Patrick can see every glossy strand of honey in David’s eyes.
“You get dry right here,” David says. He wets his finger with more serum and makes another trail of tiny pats on the opposite cheek. He doesn’t pull back when he’s done. Patrick leans up and kisses him.
“You’re distracting me,” David says.
“Okay.” Patrick kisses him again.
They lose a few minutes to this—the calm layering of close-lipped kisses. David rests his hands on Patrick’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing against his t-shirt. Patrick focuses on the plush press of David’s mouth. There’s no hint of a smile this time—no quirk at the corner or stretch of a grin. Just sincerity. Adoration.
“Time for the sheet mask,” David murmurs, before Patrick kisses him again. He straightens back up, his eyes flickering down to Patrick’s lips. He turns back to his bag.
“Okay,” David says, slightly flustered. “Um—I have three different masks with me. Any one of them would be good for you. Do you have a preference between aloe, rose, and lavender?”
“Oh, I’m partial to rose.”
David rolls his eyes, hiding his smile with a quick turn of the head. He picks the rose-scented mask from his lineup and tears open the package.
“Tilt back again,” he says. He drapes the mask over Patrick’s face.
“Hey—it’s cold!”
“Yes, I know. Be brave for me.” David presses the mask into place, curving it over Patrick’s cheeks and around his chin. He smooths out the wrinkles with the first two fingers of each hand, his pinkies and ring fingers extended. The chill goes away almost immediately, and Patrick is left with the cool moisture of the mask.
“So this hydrates?” he asks.
“Yes, very good.” David squeezes extra liquid from the foil envelope into one cupped hand. “This is called essence,” he says. “It’s the stuff the mask was soaking in. It’s basically a whole bunch of nutrients, so we never let it go to waste. I’m going to put some on your neck.”
Patrick relaxes his shoulders, stretching out his neck for David’s hands. David spreads the essence over Patrick’s skin. His gentle fingers and soft palms make Patrick’s heart beat a little faster. David dips down below Patrick’s collarbone and gives him a wink, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He reaches for the envelope and squeezes out the last of the liquid.
“Give me your arms,” David says. Patrick stretches them out and David rubs the essence into each elbow. He takes Patrick’s hand and kisses it, then pulls him up. “Okay, you have to let that sit for 15-20 minutes. Come out to the sofa with me.”
They lounge in the reverse of their positions earlier: David sitting up, Patrick lying with his head in David’s lap. He stares up at David, admiring his dark eyes and the natural curl of his hair, post-shower. David rests a hand on Patrick’s chest, and Patrick closes his eyes.
For a moment, they’re quiet together. David toys with Patrick’s hair, and Patrick feels cared for and loved. He can understand why David likes this so much—it’s calming, all the products smell amazing, and there’s a fifteen-minute period where he just has to lie there and do nothing. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“So tell me,” David says. “Have you ever allowed yourself to indulge your femininity?”
Patrick snorts. “I uh—I’m not sure what that means. I don’t really think of myself as feminine.”
“Well, gender’s all made up, we know that. But have you ever done something that people said was just for girls? Because you liked it, or because it made you feel pretty or soft?”
Patrick shakes his head. “No, I—I don’t think so.”
“Baby Patrick never tried on his mom’s dresses and heels?”
Patrick smiles and looks up at the ceiling. “Dressing up never really appealed to me. But I um—I did have this weird obsession with those pre-teen magazines for a little while.”
The grin on David’s face is both wicked and delighted. “Oh my god, like Cosmo Girl, or like—”
Patrick shakes his head. “No, younger. More like Tiger Beat and J-14.”
“Oh my god.” David tips his head back, squeezing his eyes closed in one of his many “overwhelmed” facial expressions. “The ones with the tear-out posters in them?”
Patrick feels himself blushing beneath the sheet mask. “Yeah. Yup.”
“Did you actually—please tell me you had posters of boy bands on your bedroom walls.”
“I thought I was just really into music.”
David lets out a high-pitched moan like he’s dying. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking cute I don’t know what to do.”
Patrick feels embarrassed. “I was so dumb.”
“You weren’t dumb!”
“I should have figured this out—”
“There’s no ‘should have!’ Sexuality is complicated, and we live in a world that doesn’t make it easy for us.”
“Was it easy for you?”
“Well—sexuality, yes. But gender was harder. Identity and expression.” David rubs Patrick’s shoulder. “I’ve been a little....feminine my whole life. There were people who tried to ‘correct’ me. Not for long, though. My mom actually fired one nanny for it.”
Patrick takes David’s hand and squeezes it. “I like your mom,” he says.
David smirks. “Mmm. She’s alright.” Patrick laughs, and David’s expression softens. “Honestly, though. There’s a lot to unlearn when it comes to gender, and there’s no time limit on experimentation.”
Patrick nods. He rubs his thumb over David’s hand and thinks.
“Ok, I guess....I guess there is something I’d like to try. Maybe just with you, though.”
“Of course, honey. What is it?”
Patrick’s insides twist with nervousness. He feels a memory float up to the surface. “One time, uh—with Rachel. We were drunk, and she decided to paint her nails. She wasn’t half bad, but I still teased her about them being messy. She bet me that she could do mine perfectly.” Patrick glances up at David’s face, realizing that he’d been avoiding it. “She um—she painted them this pale pink. We laughed about it and went to bed and when I woke up the next morning, my nails were still pink.”
David smiles and nods, encouraging.
“I just—I remember waking up while she was in the shower. I liked the way my nails looked. I don’t really like my hands, so to see them decorated was....nice.”
“Okay, well your hands are beautiful and we’ll get into that later, but finish your story first, please.”
Patrick shrugs. “That’s it, really. She tossed me a bottle of nail polish remover when she came out of the bathroom. She wasn’t mean about it. She didn’t say anything awful. She just assumed I would want to take it off.”
“You didn’t tell her you liked it?”
“God, no. We barely talked about it. It didn’t mean anything to her, it was just something stupid we did while we were drunk. It wasn’t anything worth talking about.”
The alarm on David’s phone rings, and Patrick sits up on the sofa. David peels the mask off his face and tosses it onto a dirty plate that was left on the coffee table. There’s a thin layer of essence left on Patrick’s skin, but he resists the urge to touch it. They sit cross-legged, facing each other.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wouldn’t mind doing that again?” Patrick gives a tentative smile. “I mean, I don’t know if I want to wear it out in public. But maybe next time we have a weekend at home?”
David nods, unmistakable pride in his expression. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll paint mine too. We can try it together.”
“You’ve never painted your nails before?”
David grimaces. “Oh, there was a whole two-year period where I painted them black once a week, but I prefer not to remember those times.”
Patrick chuckles. “Okay. Well we can avoid black, if you want.”
“No, I wouldn’t go that far. Although I was thinking maybe grey with a matte topcoat. I could wear the Rick Owens draped hoodie to match.”
Patrick smiles, overcome with affection. “You know, I’ve never had anyone to talk to about this stuff.” He looks David in the eye, holding his gaze with all the honesty in his heart. “Thank you, David.”
David’s expression becomes achingly fond in the way that he rarely allows anyone to see—even Patrick. Patrick kisses him, trying to pour the depth of his feeling against David’s lips, to show him how grateful he is for David’s patience, for everything he’s taught Patrick about love and sex and identity and becoming the fullest version of himself he can be.
David laughs, the pleased little giggle he lets out when he’s surprised by his own happiness. He wraps both arms around Patrick’s neck as they kiss again.
“Mmph,” David moans. “Okay, okay—” Patrick kisses him a third time. “Your skin! You have a skincare routine to finish!”
Patrick gives David one more quick smooch before standing up. “Alright,” he says with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste.”
They go back into the bathroom, where three plastic tubes are left standing around the edge of the sink.
“Okay,” David says, plucking one up. “This’ll be real quick, and then we can get in bed and—you know, do whatever we feel like doing.” He gives a very Alexis-style wink. “Tilt your face up for me.”
Patrick looks up and David drags a soft stick of product beneath each eye, leaving behind a cool residue that tingles pleasantly. He sets the stick back down and reaches for the bottle of facial moisturizer that he keeps at Patrick’s apartment. He dabs it onto Patrick’s face in spots—each cheek, his chin, and either side of his forehead. He rubs it into Patrick’s skin with small, circular sweeps of his fingers. Patrick savors David’s gentle touch.
“Now for your lips.” David plucks the last two tubes from the sink. “Keep your mouth closed and stretch your lips over your teeth a little.”
Patrick does as he’s told. David rubs a grainy scrub against Patrick’s lips. It’s messy and abrasive, and a little bit gets into his mouth, but it tastes like sugar. David wipes away the excess and applies the chapstick that Patrick keeps in the medicine cabinet.
“There,” David says. “You’re done.” He smiles at Patrick in a half-fond, half-satisfied way. “How do you feel?”
“Mmm....refreshed? Clean? A little turned on because my boyfriend has been standing very close and touching my face for the past half hour?”
David smirks. “Okay, okay. But did you like it?”
Patrick thinks for a moment, then nods. “I mean, I don’t know if I have the patience to do this every day, but maybe as like—a treat now and then? It felt nice. Everything smells good. And I can see what you mean about it being calming.”
David holds out a hand and Patrick takes it, standing up and immediately enfolding David in his arms.
“When do you want to do our nails?” David asks. He presses his face to Patrick’s neck and gives him a kiss.
Patrick sighs. “Mmm. How about Saturday, after closing?”
“Saturday works. I’ll ask Alexis where she buys her nail polish. There’s a shop in Elmdale she likes.”
“Alright.”
“Do you know what color you want?”
“Think I’m gonna stick to light pink. It’s nice and subtle.”
“Champagne pink, baby pink, cotton candy....?”
“Uh....yes.”
“Okay that was three different colors though.”
Patrick laughs. He pulls out of David’s embrace just enough to look him in the eyes, then cups David’s face in his palms and gives him a slow, lingering kiss.
“You have so much to teach me, huh?” he murmurs.
“About color theory? I’ll say.”
They laugh together, and Patrick feels warm and comfortable in a way he’s never felt with anyone else. Being with David makes him feel safe. Safe to be himself, safe to try new things and explore new parts of himself. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to thank David properly.
“Now that we’re done,” David says, a mischievous grin growing on his face. “Let me just put away all my stuff, and then we can get into bed.”
“Mmm? Are we going to sleep?”
“Well you see....I seem to recall someone saying he doesn’t like his hands? And I’d really like to show that person how much I like his hands, and all the wonderful things those hands can do.”
Patrick grins. “Yeah? I’d really like to learn more. Maybe you can show me a Powerpoint presentation.”
David rolls his eyes with a dramatic “ugh.” He pushes Patrick away and starts cleaning up, his pursed smile clearly visible in the mirror.
“I’ll meet you in the bedroom,” Patrick says, over David’s shoulder. “I’ll bring a notepad and highlighter.”
David snorts, swatting Patrick away with one hand. “Get out.” Patrick leaves the bathroom with a laugh.
---