Archive of Our Own

Patrick groans inwardly. The sweater David has been obsessively searching for online for weeks is displayed on the screen. Even though it’s heavily discounted from the original retail price (no one needs a $1,500 sweater in Schitt’s Creek, David. Least of all you! You already have seven of them!!), Patrick still blanches slightly at the thought of spending $500 on a single item of clothing.

He notices that David hasn’t bid on the item. In fact, the auction is about to expire. 

“Hey, David?” Patrick calls out, knowing that David is down the hall in their en-suite, in the middle of his morning skin care routine.

“What?” Comes David’s reply.

Patrick rolls his eyes and picks up the laptop, carrying it down the hall to their bedroom and peering around the edge of the bathroom door. David smiles at him in the mirror, his face coated in a thick layer of cream and his dark hair twisted up in a towel.

“Your auction is about to expire,” Patrick says, nodding down at the laptop.

“My what?” David asks, gently wiping the excess cream from his face with a soft cloth.

“The auction? For that sweater—“

“Oh, no. I’m not bidding on that,” David says dismissively, reaching out and exiting the tab on the internet browser.

Patrick’s brow creases in confusion. “But...you...I thought...“

His face now pink and fresh from his careful attention, David leans in and presses a kiss to Patrick’s lips.

“A very sexy numbers man once told me that there are better things we could be spending our money on than sweaters,” he says, pinching the shoulder seams of Patrick’s blue button up shirt between his thumbs and forefingers and smiling playfully. “So, while it pains me to see that beautiful Neil Barrett pass me by, into the clutches of some nameless, faceless person who will never appreciate its true beauty, I do see the value of saving that money for something we can both enjoy. So—“ David breaks off and shrugs his shoulders, leaning in for one final kiss before he goes back to step 8 of 9.

Patrick, meanwhile, is quietly falling more and more in love with his husband. “Okay, David,” he says, turning to head back to the office. He sits down at the desk and scrubs his hands over his face. He can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that David has just denied himself something he desperately wants—has been pining over for months—all because he wants to save that money. So they can spend it together. 

Staring at the screen in front of him, Patrick begins to type. He knows exactly what they should spend it on. Something they’ll both enjoy.

Two months later

“Happy birthday, babe,” Patrick says, handing over the carefully wrapped box, long and thin, shining silver paper topped with a black and white bow. 

David looks genuinely surprised. “Honey, you didn’t have to...we said no presents this year. We’re saving.”

“Yeah, well,” Patrick demurs. He can feel his cheeks flush at David’s genuine gratitude. His stomach twists into anxious knots, hoping that David won’t be upset. “Just open it.”

David does, inching the tape up off the edge of the paper, peeling back the paper at a glacial pace. Inside is a plain white box. Pulling off the lid, David peers beneath the tissue paper and gasps.

“Oh! Oh Patrick!” He holds up the sweater—the Neil Barrett—and looks up at Patrick, tears glistening at the edges of his lashes. “Honey, what...how...”

“So, I may have joined in on the auction at the last minute,” Patrick admits, and David’s face goes so, so soft.

“But...Patrick. We said we were going to spend that on something for both of us!”

Patrick reaches out and pulls his husband closer, closer, as close as he possibly can. He presses his lips to David’s lips, his jaw, nips at his earlobe. “This is for both of us,” he murmurs in David’s ear. “You get the sweater, and I get you —looking very, very sexy—in the sweater.”

David shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling, overwhelmed. He brings his gaze back to Patrick’s, his deep, dark eyes liquid with emotion. “I don’t deserve you,” he breathes.

“You deserve every good thing, David.”