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December 2nd rolls around, the day that should be their fifth monthiversary. The morning passes, and Patrick doesn’t say or give David anything. The longer the day goes on, the more agitated he can feel David becoming, although he doesn’t know why. David probably isn’t even keeping track of these monthly anniversaries anymore, since the last one.
Patrick has a gift for him. He does. But he isn’t sure if today is the day to give it.
He isn’t sure if this is their monthiversary anymore at all, actually.
They were apart for a week. Were they broken up? It certainly felt like they weren’t together. Although, David did accept all those gifts from him, the wine and flowers and chocolate and bracelet. David had kept them apart for that whole week before coming in to offer Patrick his own olive branch.
And things are fine now, better than fine. Things are great. But suddenly Patrick isn’t sure if today or a week from today is their anniversary. He’s not sure if today is just any other day or if it’s a day worth celebrating. To be fair, every day he’s with David and being his true self is a day worth celebrating.
David certainly doesn’t seem to be in the mood to celebrate. He’s being snippier than usual, though he seemed okay that morning when he came into the store at 10. He had been very sweet, actually, bringing Patrick a tea like he normally did when he came in after open. Patrick isn’t sure what happened, but throughout the day, David’s mood got worse and worse.
“You okay?” Patrick finally asks, as David cashes out the register, balancing the till for the night. The sounds of flipping springs and swishing bills and clinking coins seem angry, somehow.
David looks up at him, a little pained but restrained in that way he still gets a lot, like he's built back up that wall that was, up until a month ago, coming down little by little. “I’m fine,” he answers, returning his gaze to the POS as he prints out their card payments receipt for the day.
Patrick accepts this answer, continuing to sweep the room. There are leaves and mud on the floor. It could really use a mop. Winter in Schitt’s Creek is somehow—magically, it sometimes seems—remarkably mild, but there’s still the leaves and slush that people track into the store with them. He should mop before they leave tonight.
But there's something more important than the cleanliness of the floor at the moment.
“Let’s go to dinner,” Patrick says, deciding that if nothing else, food will probably cheer David up. It’s the one constant he’s learned over the course of their five-month relationship. Or rather, their four-month and three-weeks relationship. He supposes that's more accurate.
David squinches up his face like he doesn’t want to, but then something changes in him and he gives a curt nod. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’m almost done.”
When they lock up and head over to the café, something fills the air that Patrick didn’t expect. There’s a symmetry to it, when they get seated in the same booth as they did on David’s birthday five months ago today. Twyla brings them some mozzarella sticks “on the house” for some reason Patrick doesn’t pay any attention to because he’s too caught up in the fact that this is, with the exception of Stevie showing up, pretty much a play by play of their first date. Patrick even feels nervous like he did that night, though admittedly for different reasons.
But still, there's something about the wobbly, ratty booth and the soggy, freezer-burnt mozzarella sticks that spurs a bit of courage in him.
Oh, what the hell, Patrick thinks. He pulls out a box from under his coat, sliding it across the table to David. He leaves his fingers on it, though, and when David tries to take it, Patrick meets his eyes.
“Happy Fifth Monthiversary, David,” he says, a little hesitation in his voice. But no matter what David thinks, in his mind, today is their anniversary. Not next week, not any other day except this one. Regardless of whether their little time away from each other was just a break or an actual break-up, Patrick’s always going to consider this day their anniversary.
David’s face softens, and he stops trying to pry the present from Patrick’s strong fingers. Instead, he covers Patrick’s paler hand with his own.
“I thought you forgot,” David says, looking at the wall to avoid meeting Patrick’s eyes.
Patrick realizes all of a sudden that David’s poor mood is probably, definitely because of this. He thought Patrick forgot their anniversary. Which means, he realizes, that David also considers today their anniversary. Not next week.
They were on a break, Patrick thinks, and to his dismay, Ross Gellar’s voice comes unbidden into his mind.
“I wasn’t sure,” Patrick says, waiting until David’s eyes meet his again, “If we were counting that week where we weren’t…” he stops. “I just wasn’t sure whether to give this to you today or next week.”
David takes this in, understanding where Patrick was coming from. Maybe he hadn’t been sure either. Maybe they were both just really bad at communicating with each other, especially when it came to their insecurities and vulnerabilities.
“I want it to be today,” David says, firmly plucking the gift from Patrick’s fingers. “I don’t want that time we spent – I spent – being stupid to change our anniversary. It doesn’t count. It’s not like we were broken up, or anything, we just… I was just taking time to process.” Patrick realizes, briefly, that this is the first monthiversary gift that David doesn't verbally protest. No warning about jinxing things, no feigned protests against accepting a present.
Patrick nods, gesturing to the gift in David’s hands, the rings on three of his fingers glinting on his right hand. David smiles and carefully picks at the paper, lifting the lid of the box to reveal the present inside.
It’s a framed picture of them, a candid that Stevie took one night when they were all laughing and drinking together, and when she sent it to him, he couldn’t believe a photograph could so perfectly capture their fondness for each other. To Patrick, it looks a lot like love, but he’s pretty sure they’re still far from exchanging those words aloud.
David looks at the picture, and it’s clearly the first time he’s seeing it. “Is this from that night at the Wobbly Elm with Stevie?” he asks, though Patrick is pretty sure David remembers exactly what he wears on any given day of his life and can recite the designer, collection, and price at a moment’s notice.
“Yeah. I hope it’s okay. I thought it would be good to have a picture of us.”
“It’s perfect,” David replies, running his fingers over the solid black frame. This night is more like their first date than Patrick had planned.
“You know, you once told me you’re a very generous person,” Patrick teases, trying to lighten the mood. “But here we are five months in and it seems like I’m the one always giving you anniversary gifts.” He hopes the jab won't sting too much, won't make David retreat back into his shell. Patrick thinks he knows David well enough by now to not poke too hard at his soft spots.
David squints at him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Is being around me not gift enough?” he jokes, but then reaches into his pocket. He's wearing one of those skirted pant situations today, which is confusing enough to Patrick without considering the placement and storage capacity of its pockets.
David slides the envelope across the table to Patrick, who grins like a kid in a candy store. It’s unexpected, and very much appreciated.
Patrick opens the envelope and takes out the paper inside. He reads it over in disbelief, looking up at David in shock. It’s paperwork that makes Patrick an official co-owner of Rose Apothecary, a 51/49% split. His name on everything, right alongside David’s.
He doesn’t know how David did this behind his back, completed all the necessary paperwork and got all the requisite signatures, and pushed it through city council without him hearing about it.
But he did. And it’s here, officially. Rose Apothecary, owned and operated by David Rose and Patrick Brewer.
It’s the kind of thing someone would only do if they were confident about long-term relationship feasibility– business or otherwise. Maybe they’re closer to I love you than he thought.
“Next month it’ll be six,” Patrick says, chancing more vulnerability now that he knows he and David are at least in the same chapter, if not on the same page. “Half a year. Can you believe it?”
David looks at him with that look he usually reserves for when they’re alone, that fondness reflected in both of their gifts to each other tonight, and simply says, “Yes.”