Work Text:
Patrick pushes hanger after hanger in his (eventually, their) small closet, trying to find his rain jacket. Weather is rarely this bad in Schitt’s Creek, so normally it would be collecting dust at the back. Instead of gore tex, his hands land on a very nice, not water resistant, very expensive looking, blue and black striped suit.
“Hey David?”, he calls.
David is sprawled out on the couch, having another go at The Aesthetics of Taste. (One day he will convince that man to come with him to the Elmdale Public Library).
“Mhm?” His boyfriend responds, without looking up.
Patrick pulls out the hanger, holding it in front of him. “What’s this number?”
This seems to have David’s attention, as he closes the books and places it in his lap.
“Okay, first of all, Acne Studios is not a number. Secondly, I couldn’t find a proper place for it amongst my storage at the motel. When you said I could start keeping some of my things here, I thought I could bring it.”
Patrick nods, a little perplexed. “Okay sure, yeah that’s fine” He’s not getting the answer he wants out of David, so he perches himself on the arm of the couch, fingers still gripping the clothes hanger. Maybe if he pokes and prods a little more...
“But how come I’ve never seen you wear it?”
David looks as though he’s sucking on a lemon. “Um… That would be because I haven’t worn it since the Blouse Barn case.”
“The Blouse Barn case??”
The Rose family eyebrows raise with discretion.
“I haven’t told you about the Blouse Barn case?”
“I mean I knew there was a store in Elmdale that was bought out. It came up at one of the Elm County business associates meeting”
David violently shakes his head back and forth, as he does often when trying to process new information. “The what??”
“Kidding. If there was a business association of the Elm County elites, you’d obviously be invited.”
“Obviously. Go on,” David encourages with the flick of his wrist. Patrick shrugs.
“Ray told me there was a store called the Blouse Barn that had to close, and he was sad about because he thought it would be a great opportunity for marketing closet organization. I didn’t know you were a part of it.” He honestly didn’t. Whenever David mentioned his skills and expertise in curation, it had always been in reference to his New York gallery. To see David working in a local establishment that wasn’t his own store… well that would certainly be interesting.
“Yes well it’s not my proudest moment as a creative director, but I will say it got me where I am today.”
As usual, it’s taking effort to draw something out of David that isn’t gossip, particularly when it’s details of his boyfriend’s life that he’s not necessarily proud of.
“Okay sure, but you’re kind of leaving out the details here David.”
David exhales through his nose, placing his book firmly on the coffee table. (One of the legs is already rickety. It's a coffee table that Patrick one day hopes to replace). He gently folds his hands in his lap, looking up at Patrick with a crooked smile that screams vulnerability. Patrick takes this as an invitation, gently draping the suit over the back of the couch, and coming to sit down next to him, now eye to eye.
“Remember when I was filing my incorporation papers, and you began to offer your help, and we had that conversation. About start up money?
Patrick nods, encouraging him to continue. You mean all those messages I still haven’t deleted on my answering machine? Of course I remember.
“So Wendy, the owner of the Blouse Barn, was offered a lump of money as a buy out from a company in Australia. They had the same name and made it complicated. Anyway, Wendy was ready to bend over and take the cheque, but they were clearly taking advantage of her so I did a bunch of research and came to the meeting pretending to be her lawyer. Well, actually Alexis and I pretended to be her legal team? So I wore one of my best suits and Alexis used her “undercover name” Angelica which she uses whenever she’s confronted by law enforcement and we asked for more money and then Wendy gave me portion of it and now we’re here so-“
David stops his run on sentence to finally allow air into his lungs. It’s unclear as to whether or not he’s beginning to spiral, but Patrick is listening intently. He places his hands over David's, just in case he needs to start talking him down. A smile flirts on the corners of his lips.
“So you’re telling me you did market research, offered support to your boss, demanded more money from a large-scale corporation, and won without any legal help?”
David shrugs and pulls a knee to his chest. His eyes are downcast, avoiding Patrick’s gaze.
“Well when you put it like that.”
Patrick scoots closer on the couch in attempt to encourage eye contact out of his partner.
“David, do you understand how impressive that is? I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this.”
He takes a sudden interest in his nail beds, voice lowering to explain, “Yeah well I kind of drove her into the ground before that. Like the store started off really skanky and off-putting. And I tried to fix it. But I feel like no one in town really understood my vision.”
“You didn’t explain the benefits of a sand and stone colour palette?”
David huffs in response. “I mean I did make some good choices for that store, but I also purchased a lot of things up front, kind of drained her expenses. You know how I am with money.”
Patrick sighs, closing the distance between them by putting his arm around David’s shoulders.
“And? David that is fine. It’s perfectly understandable when you’ve spent most of your life not having to budget. And I’m sure having other people run your finances for you was a nice luxury to have.”
“Yeah until they run off to Barbados with all your money.”
“I thought it was the Caymans?”
“Honestly, as long it’s more tasteful than Cancun. Ew.”
“Uh huh. Listen, David. I’m so proud of your for doing all that work. It gave you the ability to start the apothecary, and without it… we probably wouldn’t be here.”
“Mmm. Well that’s a nice thought,” he says, more apt to leaning into Patrick’s shoulder.
“But about that suit-“
“Ugh. What about it? It’s was the closest I could achieve to Alan Cumming on short notice. You know my stance on his performance lexicon.”
“Effervescent, was the word you used?”
“No, that’s Billy Porter.”
“Right,” he agrees, but now the wheels are turning. “So what are the possibilities… Nay. Occasion,”
Patrick adjusts himself so he’s sitting up, opposite David, their faces a few mere inches from each other. He lowers his voice for good measure.
“When would I get to see you in this Acne Studios number?”
David seems to pass by Patrick’s peaked interest, again stuck on the vocabulary.
“It’s not a number, it’s a piece. And I don’t know, I’m not really in the mood to wear things with blue accents these days, that’s much more your territory. I'd either have to reenact my walk-on role in Ugly Betty, or do some sort of fancy business thing for the store.”
Patrick laughs and leans in closer, strong hands coming up to hold David along his jawline.
"Humor me?”
David rolls his eyes in good nature, moving in to kiss him. Maybe.
***
A couple weeks later, Patrick is just getting out of the tax seminar at the Elm County Business Resource Centre. It may not be the elite group of David’s imaginations, but it’s a great resource to have with how new Rose Apothecary is. He’s spent the day up to his nose in spreadsheets and powerpoint presentations, and was accosted by Melanie from the falafel place during the coffee break. He hasn’t had the time to check on his phone. It’s not that he’s worried about David and Stevie at the flea market. They’ve talked since the whole robbery incident, and he’s apologized. He’s just accustomed to spending the work day with David.
Patrick finally gets some space to breathe on the drive home, playing his messages on speaker.
You’ve reached Patrick Brewer. For business inquiries, you can find more info on the Rose Apothecary website. Thanks, and have a great day.
A beep, followed by the first of no less than four new messages.
The first:
“Hey it’s me. I’m just heading to the cafe for a coffee. Can you do me a favour and google Wendy’s Marketplace for me if you get the chance? Mkay love you bye.”
Huh. Maybe David had found a new vendor at the flea market they could partner with.
The second message:
“Hey man, it’s Ted. Just wanted to say I’m really sorry about today. Next round at the Wobbly Elm is definitely on me. Call me when you have a sec? Thanks bud. Talk to ya later.”
What happened? Did Ted really feel that bad about missing their Saturday morning run? Patrick briefly mulled over what could be bothering him, but couldn’t seem to land on anything.
A third:
“Patrick, your boyfriend called about me coming in tomorrow. I’m warning you this better be good because I am not about to cancel brunch plans for no reason. Oh and in case you don’t have caller-id, this is Ronnie. Buh bye.”
Shit. What would be so bad that they would need Ronnie to come in tomorrow? What could have possibly happened???
And the final message:
“Hey honey, it’s me. I hope you don’t mind but I ordered pizza to your place. I’ll see you when you get home. I love you. Oh! I gave Ronnie your number by the way. I know you prefer when she calls the store but it seemed… necessary. Anyway, we’ll talk when you get home.”
Patrick is confused. David sounds tired over the phone, but he doesn’t seem to be in any kind of distress. Does it have anything to do with Ted’s message? He leaves Schitt’s for one day and suddenly he’s missed all the small town drama. (He wouldn’t have it any other way.)
When he pushes open the door to his apartment, he smells greasy take-out pizza wafting from the kitchen counter. David has opted for cozy mood lighting, having turned the main lights off and switched to lamps and the fireplace candles.
And there at the bar cart is the only person he wants to see at the end of a long day. David is pouring two generous glasses of red wine, hair a little tousled, dressed head to toe in the suit from Acne fucking Studios.
Patrick feels his arms go limp, dropping his messenger bag by the coat rack. (Unpacking can wait.)
“What’s all this?”, he somehow manages to ask.
David finally looks up to greet him, making his way over with the glasses.
“Why hello to you to,” he says softly, kissing Patrick on the cheek. He offers Patrick his wine, an easy yet confident smirk resting on his face. David looks good, and he knows it. That, and he’s very happy to have Patrick back to himself.
David takes his hand and guides him over to the couch. While he can’t seem to take his eyes of him, Patrick notices a few plants have been scattered around the apartment. David must have gotten them at the flea market today. They settle into the couch, putting their feet up on the coffee table. (It’s just so ugly, Patrick can’t wait to find a local craftsman to replace it.)
Patrick takes a sip of wine and starts with, “So how was the flea market?”
David’s eyes light up. He folds his legs back and places his wine on the table. Patrick senses a story coming on. And it must be a good one, because he doesn’t see a hint of a grimace.
“Okay, so.” David starts, slapping his hands down on his thighs for emphasis.
“When Stevie and I started setting up, we noticed this other booth Wendy’s Marketplace across the room from us.”
“Right, that’s what you called me about.”
“Mhm that’s right, but Stevie actually did most of the Nancy Drew work.”
“Great because I haven’t been on my phone all day.”
“My diligent student,” David waggles his eyebrows and squeezes Patrick’s knee. He chuckles, giving David room to go on.
“Anyways, so it turns out Wendy, you know my old boss, was trying out a new business venture that’s basically the apothecary but in a pastel colour palette.”
Patrick is confused. “Okay, but how is that a good thing David? I don’t know if we’re capable of taking on competitors right now.”
“Hold on I’m getting there. So then I realize that the reason the products are selling so much better than ours-“ Patrick tries to open his mouth, but David effectively shushes him. “Don’t worry, we still reached our sales goals today- but the reason her sales were peaking was because Antonio her extremely rude and standoffish business partner, had put their labels on gel time moist liquid- ew.”
If he didn’t have Patrick’s full attention before, David certainly has it now. He leans forward, wine still in hand, positively enraptured by David Rose.
“So I called him out on his bullshit, and maybe saved Wendy from marrying his “roommate” Brad.”
“Roommate?”
“Yeah,” David says with exasperation and judgement. (Ah. Antonio and Brad were roommates.) This Wendy sounded like a handful. Patrick’s brain moves through all the puzzle pieces of the story, latching onto a minor detail.
“Wait do you think this has anything to do with that guy who was in the store a couple weeks ago taking notes?”
“Probably!”
Patrick is very glad that David from three minutes ago put his wine down, because he certainly would’ve spilled something on the couch by now.
“Moral of the story, is that I stopped a dirty con artist from a hostile market takeover, made killer sales, and proved Alexis wrong so-“
“So you found an occasion to wear the suit?” Patrick guesses, his eyes raking up from David’s ankle to his jawline. Damn, he looks good.
“So, at least for today, I’ve won.” David’s face is shining with pride. Of course. He feels accomplished. He made good choices. He is a highly capable business owner. David Rose has indeed, won.
Patrick sets his wine down and reaches out to pinch the striped lapel of David’s jacket. He tugs, gently.
“C’mere,” Is all Patrick needs for David to place his mouth on him.
He pulls away, suddenly distracted. David huffs, unimpressed.
“Hold on, what did you prove to Alexis?”
David’s trademark grimace returns as he goes to reach for his wine glass.
“Sooo… funny story about the store’s sink…”