Archive of Our Own ^beta

David hiked his bag up over his shoulder and pulled on the door to the hostel. It didn’t budge. Goddammit. Rain pounded the surrounding concrete. If the rain ruined his Neil Barrett, he’d be so pissed.

Welcome to London.

He scanned the doorway and spotted an intercom, so he pressed the button. Long seconds passed where all he could hear was the rain, a low thumping bass from the nightclub at the corner, and cars passing.

“Victoria Street Hostel.”

Finally. “I’m here to check in.” David was practically one with the door, and he still felt rain hitting his back. What kind of lodging made him buzz to be let in? He knew if he were being rational, he’d appreciate the security, but not after the day he’d had.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, I’m David Rose.”

“Ah.” The person at the other end of the echoey voice sounded annoyed. “Take the stairs up a floor to the lobby.”

The door clicked, and David gratefully yanked it open. He ascended the stairs and pushed open a door to a brightly lit lobby. He squinted at the drastic change from the dark London night outside.

“Welcome,” a woman said with an accent he’d normally take more time to appreciate, but he was too fucking tired.

“Thanks.” David tried to smile, but it probably came out like a grimace. Most of his politeness fell out of the plane about halfway across the Atlantic, with the remaining having disappeared with his luggage. Stupid airline. How the hell was he supposed to start his European solo vacation with no damn luggage?!

“Passport and credit card, please.” The clerk held out her hand.

David rummaged through his borderline damp carry-on and retrieved them. His attention wandered to the wall of various Union Jack flags behind her, which ranged from cross stitched ones on hoops to faded framed prints to vibrant canvases. Too much. Way the fuck too much. 

He turned and took in the rest of his surroundings. David gaped at the London tube map painted on the wall in the hostel lobby. The vibrant colors were an assault on his senses and clashed with the historic building. It was a crime of interior design.

The clerk tapped on the keyboard, and he impatiently waited for her to finish the process. He knew he was checking in late and probably making her stay at work longer than she had planned to, but he just wanted a shower and a bed. 

“I have you booked for one night in an eight-person room.”

It took David three times to find his voice. “Yes, that’s correct.” Sharing a room with seven strangers was basically his seventh circle of hell, but between winning the airfare voucher from that Instagram contest he’d drunkenly entered a couple of months ago, and his windfall from the Blouse Barn debacle, he would keep his snark to a minimum. If a few nights at a hostel scattered strategically throughout his trip helped him afford the solo European trek he’d dreamed of for years but never had the nerve to do, so be it. 

It certainly wasn’t his first time in Europe, but it was the first time he appreciated it. It was the first time he’d traveled alone, and the first time he was willing to be alone. All of his previous travel experiences involved being around enough people that he didn’t have time to wallow in how lonely he was.

A lot had changed since his family had lost their money two years ago. 

“The common room is through there.” She pointed to a door on the left where some people were hollering. 

He’d be steering clear of that space. It was nearly eleven, and he’d been traveling for nearly twenty-four hours. He wanted to clean his stinky body and sleep his foul mood away. Thank god he’d packed an extra outfit in his carry-on just in case. That would make tomorrow survivable. If only he’d packed pajamas in his carry-on too. 

“There’s a phone number posted on the back of your room’s door to reach the on-call manager if there’s an emergency between now and five a.m. when the next staff member arrives. Also, the bar downstairs stays open until three and hostel guests get drink specials.” She handed him a piece of paper.

Great. Loud noise half the night and no one in the building to keep the drunks from burning the place down.

“Can I get extra towels?” He wanted one to stand on because there was no way he’d put his bare feet on the nasty hostel floor.

“I’m sorry, but we’re fresh out of towels. There are towels for each guest in the room, however. You should have one on your bed.”

“Only one?”

“That’s correct.” Her jaw clenched. “Typically, we have more available to rent, but we’ve got a full house tonight. You’re the last guest to check in.”

David could take a hint. “Mkay. Thanks so much.” He collected his passport, card, and key. “That way?”

“Yes. Two floors up. Look for the B-wing door. You’re room 13.”

“Elevator?”

“Stairs.”

“Right.” He gathered his remaining dignity and hauled his exhausted ass up the stairs. The only good thing about the airline having lost his luggage was it saved him from having to lug it up the steps in his exhausted state. He was really reaching for good news.

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As David trudged up the stairs, his surroundings grew louder somehow. Shouldn’t it be quiet in the sleeping area? God, it was going to be a long fucking night.

He pushed open the door showing the third floor of the B wing. As he stepped into the hallway, a vile bouquet of bleach, B.O., and bad weed hit him. It’s just for one night. I can make it through one night. If he wasn’t in desperate need of sleep, he’d set an alarm to get up extra early and grab breakfast somewhere before his train to Paris, just to get out of the place faster.

Why hadn’t he arranged to spend a couple of days in London before moving on to Paris? He missed having the money to hire someone to arrange everything for him. All he had been thinking were the free plane tickets were roundtrip to London. He needed to get to London and get over to Paris as fast as possible for most of his trip, then spend his last few days in London before flying home. It made sense back then. Now? Faced with the cold, hard, gloomy reality of his decisions? He wished he’d booked a private room so he could sleep his first two days away. 

Who did he think he was, booking an eight-bed hostel room? Acting like he was a twenty-year-old instead of a thirty-mumble year old. Maybe he’d been too stingy with the Blouse Barn money. He should’ve let himself splurge a little more on lodging.

No. The entire goddamn trip was a splurge. A first hoorah after Eli, the prick, and a last hoorah before he opened his business and wouldn’t be able to afford the time or money to leave Schitt’s Creek for who knew how long. 

He passed two doors labeled as gender neutral bathrooms. He mourned the loss of the cheap flip-flops he’d specifically purchased for the hostel showers. 

B13. David stopped at the door and listened. At least it was quiet. Maybe his roommates would be out partying most of the night and he’d be so exhausted when they returned that he wouldn’t even hear them. That would be ideal.

It took three swipes of his plastic key to get the door to work. He fumbled at the wall for the overhead light and slid the key into his pocket. At least his room wasn’t the source of the skunky weed. 

The room was odd-shaped. There was one bunk bed immediately to his left, wedged between the wall next to the door and an odd chunk of wall jutting into the room. Two more bunk beds lined the wall to his right. The room narrowed as it continued, and the last bunk stood at the opposite end of the room from him. He saw belongings piled on each of the beds in the first three bunks. Towels hung over the red bars, teasing him. 

The far bunk was the only tidy spot in the room. Even the tiny four-seat table in the middle of the room was covered with empty beer bottles. His anonymous roommates made Alexis seem as tidy as Adelina had been.

There was a folded blue sweater on the bottom bed. Okay, that one was taken. With how late he’d arrived, he figured he’d get stuck with the top bunk, anyway. Hopefully, the other people in the room didn’t snore. 

The top bunk was empty except for a pillow and linens folded inside of a pillowcase. He looked around for the towel. Where was the goddamn towel?! Fucking mother fuck! 

He dropped his forehead against the offensive fire engine red bed frame and growled. Couldn’t one thing go right? Just one thing. He’d survive without his luggage for the night, assuming the airline wasn’t lying when they said they’d deliver it to his Paris accommodations tomorrow. But a shower? He just wanted a shower. 

David flung his carry-on onto the mattress and walked around the room to see if there was an obviously clean and folded towel lurking somewhere. He saw one tinged brown in a pile next to a table leg. David clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would crack. 

He stormed back to his bunk and unpacked his pillowcase of linens. Worst case, he could use the top sheet as a towel. Of course, the pillowcase held a thin blanket, that he might accuse of being threadbare, and a fitted sheet. The lap of luxury. Sure, it was only a forty-pound room, but shouldn’t that rate include enough bedding to keep from freezing? There was no way in hell he would risk stretching out his sweater by sleeping in it for warmth. 

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. What made him think he could cross an ocean on his own and have some sort of grand European adventure when he couldn’t even pack a toothbrush and toothpaste in his carry-on? He’d been kidding himself.

Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be an independent person. Maybe he was destined to have his ass saved forever, like his parents had done for years with his galleries. God, that still hurt so much. 

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling faster than the rain outside. Great. Puffy eyes when he didn’t have his skincare to do an emergency correction. Fan-fucking-tastic start to his holiday.

David wiped at the tears on his cheeks and pulled his phone from his pocket. Maybe bitching at Stevie would make him feel better.

David turned, leaned back against the bunk, and let his eyes drift closed. Somehow he had to muster the energy to track down food, make his bed, and shower. The hostel was such a terrible idea. When would he stop making bad decisions?

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David was startled out of his pity party when the door to the room opened. He hastily wiped underneath his eyes and sniffled. With his luck, he was probably too rough on the skin and he’d get a wrinkle he’d have to look at every day for the rest of his life as a reminder of the series of catastrophic events kicking off his trip.

“Um, hi.” David looked around the room like there was somewhere to escape, but there wasn’t because he was in a room with four bunk beds that was smaller than the motel room he shared with his sister. He felt like a cornered animal with no escape.

“Hi there,” the man said. North American accent, easy smile—which was suspicious as fuck—and would probably be cute if David wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack.

David must really be exhausted to find him cute. He looked like he belonged in a Gap ad. Jet lag. That’s the only logical reason he thought the man’s grey-blue polyester sweater looked good. On him, not in general. Obviously.

“Looks like we’re bunk mates.” The guy smiled with his eyes. How the fuck could someone smile with their eyes?

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” David turned and looked at the bunk like it was going to confirm that information. Couldn’t he have just, like, five minutes alone to have a breakdown before he curled up onto the probably shitty mattress on his shitty bunk in that shitty hostel and will the night to be over so he could muster any specs of optimism hiding in the cracks of his apathy to continue the trip.

David knew he was dramatic, it was basically the Rose family brand, but come on, universe. 

“I took the bottom bunk since no one else was here. Is that okay with you? If not, we could switch.” He did it without a hint of sarcasm. 

There was no way David would be able to manage a neutral expression, so he turned to face the bunk and fiddled with his fitted sheet. “Mm, yup.”

That question snapped the last thread of David’s fleeting patience. Cheap Sweater Guy put David in an impossible position. If he said yes, he was the jerk who made a guy swap beds like David’s comfort mattered more than his. If he said no, the other guy got to feel good about offering while David spent the entire night trying not to move too much and shift the bed, thinking about how he could’ve taken the bottom bed and never seen the guy again.

Wasn’t there some sort of unspoken code that the first person to the hostel bunk got to pick the bed and leave it at that?

David reached up and unfolded the fitted sheet. He didn’t hear the guy walk over to the bed. Maybe he was waiting for David to move so he could grab something before going back out. David hoped he was going back out so David could cry himself to sleep in peace.

The rustling of plastic caused David to turn around. Cheap Sweater Guy sat at the table and untied a white plastic bag. As soon as he caught the scent of aromatic spices, David’s stomach growled like a cat thinking it’s starving to death if dinner served was five minutes late. Curry maybe? 

The guy had the nerve to laugh. “Hungry?” And the nerve to call out David’s dire situation?!

“It’s very rude to bring smelly food into shared lodging. Couldn’t you have gotten a cold cut sandwich or something?”

His teasing smile widened like a sociopath. “Would you forgive me if I split it with you?”

David frowned. What kind of person responded to snark with an offer of food? He was highly suspicious of that guy.

His smile softened, like he was talking to a scared child. “There’s no good curry where I’m from, and I couldn’t decide, so I bought two kinds. Gotta splurge on vacation, right?” He shrugged, and now David couldn’t stop looking at his broad shoulders.

He added a teensy bit horny to the list of tired, cranky, stinky, and sweaty.

“Why would you share your food with me? You don’t know me.”

He pushed beer bottles to one side of the table and unpacked the bag. Two round tubs, two square containers, and a flat, thick chunk of foil. Naan sounded so good. 

“Do I need to know you to offer you food?” He peeled a lid off of one of the containers. “If you don’t want it, it’ll get thrown away. I can’t eat it all, and there’s no fridge.”

David’s stomach growled again, and he ignored the man’s smirk. “I suppose I shouldn’t let you be wasteful.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” He sat out two napkins and sets of plastic silverware. 

“Um, thank you.”

He shrugged again. “No problem.”

“I’m just going to shower first.” He needed to clean his body so he could enjoy the food. David turned back to the bed again and was faced with the harsh reality that he had literally nothing for shower supplies. “Fuck!” He gripped the top bunk railing until his knuckles turned white. 

“Are you okay? Do you need something?”

David spun around. “Do I need anything?” He barked out a hollow laugh. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday or this morning. I don’t even know what time means anymore. The airline lost my luggage, so I have no pajamas. I’m in desperate need for a shower, but this hellhole doesn’t have any extra towels and someone used my towel to mop up beer.” David gestured toward the offensive pile near the guy’s, god, hiking shoes. “Worst first day of vacation ever. This is even worse than the time Jason Biggs got food poisoning and we missed our flight and I had to spend the day in a Miami hotel room passing him Gatorade and saltines through a cracked bathroom door.”

“Jason Biggs, like the guy with the pie?”

“Yes! The guy with the pie.” David dropped on the bottom bed and buried his face in his hands. Then he sprung up. “Shit. Sorry. Not my bed.” He looked at the door, at the food, then back at the bed, unsure of what the hell to do.

His roommate stood and took a couple of steps toward David. He started to reach out, but held his hands back. “I can help with those. Well, all but the luggage thing.”

David rolled his eyes. “Are you hoarding a stack of fresh towels somewhere that you’re gonna charge me top dollar for in some black market hostel racket?”

“Not a bad idea.” He raised one of his eyebrows and smirked. How could someone be so fucking amiable when getting yelled at? He moved next to David and reached down to pull a bag from underneath the bunk. 

The guy smelled good. Sort of woodsy. David probably smelled terrible. He sniffed at his own shoulder and scowled. 

David stared longingly at the food as his bunkmate rummaged through his ridiculously gigantic backpack.

“Here you go. It’s not much, but it should get you through the night.”

David turned and saw a stack of things on his bunk. A microfiber towel, a blue t-shirt, gray joggers, and a toiletry bag on top. “That’s f-for me?” His mouth dropped open as he looked at the slightly shorter and really, really cute-up-close man.

He blinked at the guy, then threw his arms around his shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.” David kind of loved how comfortably his arms fit around him.

Instead of awkwardly patting David’s back, he rubbed softly between David’s shoulder blades. “Hey, it’s no problem. I’m glad I could help. The clothes are clean and towel hasn’t been used yet. I guess being in the Boy Scouts finally paid off. Always be prepared, you know?” He chuckled lightly, and David felt it in his own chest. 

He’d only been away from home, er, Schitt’s Creek, for a day, and he was acting like an affection-starved crone forced to live in her evil nephew’s attic.

David laughed despite himself, which broke him from his spell. He released the guy and stepped back. Not only had he violated a stranger’s personal space, he’d forced his stank upon him. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m emotional. Long day. Different country. You know.” He waved his hands.

He glanced at David’s lips, then reached out and squeezed David’s bicep for a quick moment. David missed the warmth as soon as he pulled his hand back. “Totally understand. Food will be waiting for you when you’re out of the shower.” The man patted David’s bed, then squeezed his hand into a fist. “I’ll leave you to it.”

David opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the words. He watched the guy sit down at the table and open one of the containers. David turned back to the stack of supplies and fought back a fresh batch of tears. Maybe he wasn’t completely unlucky. It had to take a little bit of luck to encounter such a generous traveler. What kind of person willingly let a stranger go through his toiletry bag and shared clothes with them? 

He plugged in his phone, then picked up the stack and clutched them to his chest. He stared at the guy’s shoulders as they shifted and flexed under the sweater that was becoming less offensive in each passing moment, while he readied his meal. “Are you sure about the clothes? I don’t have extra underwear to wear with them. Is it weird I’ll be commando in your pants?”

He looked over at David, and his gaze went right to David’s crotch. His cheeks turned a little pink as he quickly moved his attention to David’s face. “Probably not as weird at mentioning it instead of just doing it.” He smirked. What was with that guy? He was some terribly intriguing combination of generous and teasing. “But, uh, yeah.” He glanced at David’s groin again. “Definitely fine with that.”

Definitely fine with that. Could he be? Hmm. “Right. Well. Thanks.” He walked toward the door, and his stomach growled again as he got an even better sniff of dinner. He opened the door and paused. David looked over his shoulder. “I’m David.”

The guy looked up and smiled so wide and beautiful; it made David’s breath hitch. “Nice to meet you, David. I’m Patrick. It’s probably for the best you got my name before getting in my pants.”

David tugged his lips between his teeth to bite back his grin. Disappointingly, he couldn’t think of a comeback, so he turned and braced himself for whatever bathroom situation awaited him.

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David rummaged around in Patrick’s toiletry bag. He felt a little weird about it, but it wasn’t often he got permission to snoop on cute guys with boring clothes and kind smiles. There was a collection of travel-sized toiletries from any grocery store, a folding toothbrush, a tiny container of pain reliever, and, oh, oh, a mini bottle of lube. Hello.

Traveling with lube didn’t necessarily mean anything about Patrick’s interests or preferences, but it was certainly, well, interesting.

He squirted some toothpaste on his finger and did his best to brush thoroughly. God, he was slumming it. It took him a minute to figure out the electric shower box thing, but at least the water heated up quick. He carefully removed his clothes and stepped into the small shower stall. David pointedly didn’t think about what else had touched the tile floor before his bare feet. Instead, he focused on the hot water cascading over his body and washing away the bad day. 

As the grime from being crammed in a flying bus with strangers circled down the drain, his mood lifted. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible day. Sure, some shit things had happened, but he was in fucking London and less than a day away from going to Paris. Paris. Fucking France. 

He hated how much he’d taken travel for granted when his family had money. Private planes, posh suites, and extravagant food. Now he was bumming basic supplies and food from a generous stranger. But at least he was out of North America. 

David kept his grumbling to a minimum as he violated his body with drugstore body wash, and, god, a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. At least he’d be able to pick up some good products when he got to Paris tomorrow. Paris!

He couldn’t wait to go shopping. He’d kept his lodging costs as low as possible so he could justify buying a new designer piece of two. 

David’s stomach growled again, so he hurried his shower along. Cold curry was better than no curry, but not by much. He dried off with the slightly scratchy microfiber towel and slipped on the grey joggers. At least they were soft on the inside. As he slid the T-shirt over his head, he got a nose-full of something yummy. David inhaled deeply with the cotton pressed against his face. Patrick’s shirt smelled good. 

He bundled his dirty clothes and wrung out the towel as best as he could, then made his way back to the room. 

Patrick greeted him with a smile. How could one person smile so freely and openly? “Feel better?” There was a hint of teasing in his smirk, and David liked it.

“Like a brand new man. Thanks for saving my ass.” David walked to the bunk and spread the towel over the bar at the foot of his bed to dry. He placed the toiletry bag on Patrick’s bed and tucked his clothes into his bag, then turned so he could shamelessly eat an embarrassing amount of food in front of a cute guy.

Patrick’s wide eyes softened. “I’m glad. Clothes work okay?” Patrick looked down. “I guess I’m a bit shorter than you.” 

David looked down and shrugged. It was fine they hit a little high on his ankles. When he looked back up, he saw Patrick looking at him. No, at the sweatpants, a specific part of the sweatpants. David glanced down again. Oh. Okay. Without underwear he was, uh, hanging out a little more than usual. He looked up again and caught Patrick’s tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

Lube. All David could think about was that bottle of lube. He turned, squared his shoulders, and walked confidently over to the table. Patrick definitely glanced at David’s groin again. “How’s the curry?” He was probably swinging a bit more free without the underwear keeping things on lock.

Patrick cleared his throat. “Amazing. Plenty left for you.” 

David sat across from Patrick, and Patrick slid the containers over to him.

“I’m stuffed. The rest is yours,” Patrick said.

David picked up the extra fork and took off all the lids. He dumped some of the yellow curry onto the rice and had a bite in his mouth. He moaned at the incredible flavor. After several hefty bites, he mumbled with a mouthful of naan, “You sure?”

Patrick laughed. The way the skin at his eyes crinkled was so fucking cute. “I’m sure. The faster you eat it, the faster the smell goes away.” His pale eyebrow arched a little, but it didn’t hold a candle to a David Rose eyebrow arch.

David arched his eyebrow right back, and Patrick grinned. 

He shoveled more in his mouth. It was the best damn curry he’d ever had. “What brings you to London? The curry?”

Patrick looked down at his hands. He scratched the fingernail of his index finger against the palm of his other hand. “I guess you could call it a transition of sorts.”

David was too busy stuffing his face to ask for details, so he let his silence ask for more.

Patrick glanced up at David. His eyes looked guarded for a moment, then relaxed. “I’ve had some big changes in my life recently, and I realized life is too short to not do what you want. Before I find a new place to live and a new job, I thought I’d cross something off the bucket list.”

He glanced around their shitty hostel and surveyed the space like they were in a castle instead of a two-star shithole in a less-than-desirable part of the city. “I’ve always wanted to come here, so I made it happen.”

“You’re a vagrant then,” David said after swallowing a piece of naan dipped in the curry.

Patrick tipped his head back and laughed. David wanted to make the sound his text tone, which was creepy as fuck. The jet lag was definitely catching up to him.

“I should probably be offended, but it’s kind of nice not to know what’s coming next. My high school senior yearbook? It says most likely to be a millionaire by thirty next to it.” He flicked his finger at the handle of his used fork hanging out of one of the rice containers. “I turned thirty a couple of months ago. I’m jobless, homeless, and broke things off with my fiancée.”

Fiancé or fiancée? “Those high school things are bullshit, anyway. I was voted most likely to look the same in twenty years, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. My fashion sense is much better now without the pacifier necklaces.”

It was nice to know David wasn’t the only thirty-something in the hostel. He felt a bit old for it, but the price was right.

 “Pacifier necklaces?” Patrick leaned forward and rested his chin in his palm. “Got any photos of that?”

“Not that I’m showing you.”

“But I fed and clothed you.”

David bit his twitching lips. He would not give Patrick the satisfaction of laughing, but judging by the twinkle in Patrick’s eyes, he saw right through David. “I will not be blackmailed in my time of need.”

Patrick grinned and leaned back in his chair and hooked his elbow over the back. “What brings you to London?”

David took another bite and chewed a bit longer than necessary to collect his thoughts. “Sort of similar, actually. I went through a, um, big transition two years ago. I’ll be starting a business soon, and I thought this would be my last chance to travel. I don’t expect to have the time or money for a while.” That thought was sort of depressing, but David would rather enjoy what he did every day than pine for travel he may or may not be able to afford. 

“You can’t expect to turn a profit on a new business for at least a year. It was a good idea to take a trip now, I think.” Something shifted in Patrick’s demeanor. He sounded… more professional? Or something?

“A year, huh? How do you know that?” The bottomless pit of David’s stomach was beginning to fill with the delicious food.

Patrick smiled shyly. “When I’m not a vagrant, I’m a business consultant. My last job was working with a local organization to help small businesses get off the ground. I loved the work.”

“But you left the job?” The words were out of David’s mouth before he could catch them. It wasn’t his business, but something about watching Patrick open up had David addicted. He wanted to know everything Patrick would tell him. David’s gut told him Patrick was the kind of guy who was friendly to everyone and probably made people feel like they knew him by asking others lots of questions, but he didn’t truly open up to many. David wanted to be in that small circle. 

“I couldn’t stay there any longer because of the fiancée thing. It was time for a change.” He looked a little startled at his own words. “When I get back from this trip, I’ll stay with my parents for a bit while I figure out where to go next.”

“It sounds like we both have some big changes ahead.”

Patrick smiled. “It does.”

David pushed the food away from himself. He needed a break. “Where did you travel from?”

“Trying to find out where I live, David?” Patrick blinked at him with his owlish eyes.

“It’s clear with your accent that you’re from North America, but your vowel pronunciations tell me Canada specifically.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Is it really that obvious? I didn’t think Canadians sounded that different from Americans.”

“I was born and raised in Canada, but I had to train my accent out when my mom tried to get me jobs as a child actor,” David said.

“Pacifier necklaces and a child actor. You’re full of surprises.”

David grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Patrick shrugged. “I like surprises.”

He liked surprises. David repeated the words in his mind a few times until his brain caught up to theme. Was he flirting? That had to be flirting. Right? “Good,” David said as her pinched his smile to one side.

“I’m from a small town near Ottawa. What part of Canada are you from?”

“Toronto, but I lived in New York for quite a few years. A bit in L.A. too, but I’m back in Canada now.” David squirmed in his seat because he knew what was coming. 

“What part?”

David looked up at the ceiling. “A small town in Ontario called Schitt’s Creek.”

“No shit.”

David glared at him. “Was that a pun?”

“Depends. What are your thoughts on puns?”

“I loathe them.”

Patrick’s grin widened. “Then, yes, it was a pun.”

Why was this guy such a brat, and why did David like it so much?

With the dam broken, they chatted about all sorts of things while David let dinner digest. He should’ve gone to bed an hour ago, but he didn’t want to sleep immediately after eating all of that, and maybe he kind of liked talking to Patrick. 

When he woke up tomorrow, he’d be scurrying to Paris and never seeing Patrick again. Anyway, each minute spent in Patrick’s company was helping to balance the damage from his stressful travel day. Just a little bit longer, then he’d go to sleep. 

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David propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand as he listened to Patrick talk about the double-decker bus ride he’d taken around London. He tried to respond in the appropriate spots as Patrick talked about his exploration of the Tower of London.

He startled at a gentle squeeze of his shoulders. “Where’s the bear?”

Someone chuckled softly next to him, and David sat up straight. He looked up and saw Patrick’s kind face.

“You fell asleep,” Patrick said.

“I didn’t fall asleep. I’m awake.”

“Okay, David.” Patrick had his toiletry bag, plaid pajamas and a T-shirt under his arm. He walked to the door. “I’ll try not to take it personally that you fell asleep when I was telling you about the gay club I learned about today.” He winked, almost a double-wink thing, then left the room.

David stared after him. Wait. Gay bar? What had he missed? Did- was- David shook his head. He couldn’t follow his thoughts. His body felt ten times heavier than usual, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Finally getting a belly full of food had pushed him into the final phase of exhaustion. 

David grabbed his key and their trash and followed the signs for a kitchenette where he could dump the dinner remnants. When he returned, Patrick was still in the bathroom. David finished setting up his bed and plugged in his cell phone. Thank goodness he’d packed the power converter in his carry-on. 

He ran his tongue across his teeth and flared his nostrils. He wanted to crawl into bed and pass out, but even more, he didn’t want to wake up with curry breath. He leaned against his bunk and tried to stay awake as he waited for Patrick to come back so he could ask to use his toothpaste again.

The door gently clicked open a few minutes later. “You’re still awake. I half expected to come back and find you face-first in the rice container.” Patrick’s plaid pajama pants in shades of blue were ugly as hell, but they hugged his thighs perfectly. The T-shirt pulled snugly across his broad shoulders and chest.

“Lucky for you I have more restraint.”

One side of Patrick’s mouth turned up. “I think lucky for me would be seeing a container indent on your cheek.”

“That’s very rude.” David bit back his grin. 

“Thanks for cleaning up,” Patrick said as he looked at the table.

“Thanks for dinner,” David said. “I’m eight-seven percent less hangry.”

“That bodes well for us both. I can tell.” Patrick approached his—their—bunk and shoved his sweater and jeans into his royal blue backpack. 

David looked up at the ceiling. He hated asking for help. “Um, can I steal a bit more of your toothpaste?”

“Of course, David.” He handed him the full toiletry bag. “Use anything you need.” Patrick’s cheeks reddened, and he looked away.

Lubelubelubelubelube. “Thanks,” David said on an exhale. The impact of Patrick’s big, brown eyes was a lot up close.

David hurried in the bathroom. With each second he wasn’t horizontal, the possibility of collapsing where he stood grew. After finger-brushing his teeth again like a heathen, he returned to their room. Thankfully, their roommates weren’t back yet.

Patrick laid in his bed reading a book. Who traveled with a real book when they could use the Kindle app and travel much lighter with unlimited books? Patrick was a weird guy. A charming kind of weird though. He probably picked up books at airports as he traveled as some sort of keepsake.

“I’ve got a book light. I don’t need the light if you don’t.”

A book light. Of course.

“Okay, I’ll turn it off.”

“Here.” Patrick fumbled for something, and a moment later, his cell phone added a beam of light to the room.

“Oh. Thanks.” David flipped off the overhead light and followed the path Patrick’s cell phone flashlight illuminated for him. Patrick turned his phone upside down, which caused the light to reach David’s bed. He placed the toiletry bag on top of Patrick’s backpack and hauled his tired body up the rickety bunk bed ladder. 

“All settled?”

“Yeah, thanks,” David said.

Patrick clicked off his flashlight, and all David could see was a soft halo of Patrick’s book light and a yellow glow through the curtains near another bunk. When David closed his eyes, he couldn’t see it at all. 

In the darkness and quiet, David felt more shy. The weight of parting ways with Patrick settled around him like a scratchy blanket. 

“Patrick?” David said quietly.

“Yeah?” Patrick replied just as quietly.

“Thanks for everything. I was in a really bad mood and was sort of regretting the idea of this vacation, but you helped. A lot.”

“You’re welcome, David. I’m glad I was here to help. And I’m glad- I- I really enjoyed hanging out with you tonight.”

David desperately wanted to know what Patrick stopped himself from saying. “Me too,” he said, smiling into the pillow that had probably seen a thousand other heads on it. “I’m tired enough that I shouldn’t move too much. I’m not a snorer, either, despite what my sister says.”

“Your sister?”

“Long story,” David said and sighed.

“I don’t snore either, but I’m guessing one of our roommates will. Statistically.”

“Nerd.” David chuckled, then rolled to his other side. The bed shifted.

“What were you saying about not moving too much?” Patrick’s tone was light and teasing, but David couldn’t enjoy it because something was wrong with his bed.

“Uh.” The corner definitely dipped. His bed shouldn’t dip. It was a platform.

“Something wrong?”

David moved to the opposite side, and the corner dipped again and squeaked loudly. “No, it’s fine.”

“Is there something wrong with the bed?”

David was tilted to the side with the distinct lean of his bed. “Nope. It’s okay.”

“It doesn’t sound okay. If it breaks and you land on me and smother me in my sleep, I’m going to haunt you.”

“You’d hate it. I’m a lot to be around. There are much better choices you could make with your afterlife.”

“You can’t sleep up there on a broken bed.” Patrick sounded exasperated. 

“What do you expect me to do, Patrick? I just want to sleep.” His frustration was filtering back in.

“There’s no room for your mattress on the floor with the tabled bolted down in the middle. You probably wouldn’t want to be in firing range of the drunk guys when they come back, anyway.”

“Thanks for outlining my lack of options in this hostel that is completely full. No towels or beds.” David flopped onto his back and the corner of the bed dipped further. Fuck. He couldn’t stay up there. 

“You can share my bed.”

“I- what?”

“I’m a side sleeper, anyway. It’ll be like summer camp. Come on.”

David heard Patrick shifting. Maybe to the side of the bed against the wall?

“I’ve never been to summer camp.”

“Perfect. Cross another thing off your bucket list.”

David smiled a little. “Who said it’s on my bucket list?”

“Call it a hunch.” Patrick’s voice lured him like a siren’s call. “Seriously, though. You should get off of there before it collapses. I can see the corner hanging down.

“Fuck. Okay.” David carefully moved to the ladder, and the bed broke a little more. “What else can go wrong?”

“I guess it’s your lucky day.”

He didn’t hate the idea of sharing a bed with Patrick, but he’d prefer it to be in non-platonic circumstances and not with the threat of a half a dozen guys tumbling back in with no warning.

David climbed down the ladder. Once his feet had touched solid ground, he grabbed his blanket and pillow. “Are you sure about this?” He stood at the edge of Patrick’s bed like a little kid who’d had a nightmare and wanted to sleep with his parents.

“I’m sure. Come on.” Patrick shifted to his side so his back faced David, and he tucked his blanket around him. “Hopefully that’s enough room.”

“Mm, yup.” Barely, but he’d make due. “Hopefully this bed doesn’t break too.”

“Please don’t jinx us.”

David bit his lip. Fuck it. He placed his pillow and laid on the bed with his back to Patrick, then tucked his blanket around him.

“Cozy.”

“Cramped.” If David rolled the wrong way, he’d fall off the bed.

“If only we had s’mores, then it would really be like a summer camp experience. I could sing some camp songs to add to the ambiance if you’d like.”

“Mmkay, let’s not do that. Did you share your bed with boys often in summer camp?”

Patrick grew quiet for a moment. “Actually, now that I think about it, yeah. People got homesick sometimes.” He let out a sigh so deep David felt it through both of their backs. “That probably should have been a clue.”

“A clue?” David’s heart rate picked up.

“That I’m gay.” The room was quiet apart from their breathing. “It was a surprise to me and my ex fiancée.” Patrick’s laugh was hollow. “Guess it’s good I figured it out, eventually.”

David rolled over to face Patrick. “The big transition you were talking about?”

Patrick rolled over to face him. “Coming out. Yeah.” His warm, minty breath tickled David’s cheeks. 

“Oh. Well.” Faint streetlight shone through the ridiculous excuse for curtains. “Welcome to the queer side.”

“Are there cookies?”

“Huh?”

Patrick chuckled. “Nothing. Thanks. I suppose, better late than never.”

David settled deeper into the bed and shoved his hands under the thin pillow. “Exactly. Think of it this way. Realizing it later maybe means you’ll appreciate it more.”

Patrick tucked his hands between his cheek and the pillow. “That’s a good point.”

“Anyway, it’s not like you’re ninety. And even then, it wouldn’t be too late. We’re always evolving and getting to know ourselves.”

“Is that what you’re doing too?”

David’s first instinct was to say no, but that wasn’t exactly true. “I think so. A couple of years ago, I’d be staying in a posh suite instead of a sketchy hostel. I’d have the latest pieces instead of wearing clothes from two seasons ago. I’d be dining in the best restaurants.” He left the bumming off of the generosity of strangers unsaid.

Patrick frowned a little. “It sounds like a downgrade, not an evolution.”

David smiled. Now that he was so close to Patrick, he wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkle in his forehead. Patrick’s thick arms seemed perfect for cuddling. “Those things were nice, but I wasn’t happy, not like I am now. I’m more settled.”

“In your out-of-season clothes.”

“Excuse you. At least my clothes come from someone without Mart at the end of the name.”

“Some of my clothes are from L.L. Bean, thank you very much.” Patrick grinned. Even in the darkness, it lit up his face like a sunbeam.

“Mm. Impressive.”

They stared at each other for several long moments. David felt more comfortable in that tiny fucking bed with a guy he’d known a couple of hours than he did with the last few people he’d dated. Maybe anyone he’d dated. Because he was so stripped down after such a trying day, the usual defenses he used to keep people at a distance weren’t up. Patrick got through them, or he’d let Patrick through.

Even being around Stevie was different. Stevie understood him on a level where he could relax his darkest and bitchiest self. She accepted his sharp edges, and they fit around her sharp edges, which was the groundwork for their friendship. A friendship he was still shocked he was fortunate enough to find. 

For as much as he got from his friendship with Stevie, there was a part of him that yearned for something else. Yearned. Gross. That’s the exact issue. There was the part of David that wanted love. The minimum wage allowance of it he’d gotten through most of his life had created a black hole he didn’t dare to hope to fill, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

He was aloof and bitchy and standoffish, but he had so many goddamn feelings. Feelings he couldn’t show to Stevie or Alexis because they wouldn’t understand or they’d tease him or be so afraid of their own they couldn’t deal with his. And he understood that, god he really did, but he still wanted it. Part of his evolution was realizing he needed that emotional connection with someone.

Someone like Patrick, who was generous by default, instinctively caring, and seemed like a person who wouldn’t run from a hint of emotions. 

Maybe the universe threw Patrick in his path to show David that there were people like that in the world. People like that in small town Canada, specifically. He hoped he’d meet a Patrick when he got home. 

“What are you thinking?”

Patrick’s question caught David off guard. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, which would be the most embarrassing part of his day. Even more than having to free-ball it in a stranger’s sweatpants. 

David couldn’t remember being asked that before. He’d been asked why he thought things or been accused of thinking things, but no one had ever thrown out an idle curiosity about what went on behind his eyes. People usually didn’t care about his interior beyond the packaging.

“Thinking about what life will be like when I get back home.”

“What a coincidence. Me too,” Patrick whispered. 

They held each other’s gaze.

“I don’t think I asked about the rest of your trip. Are you heading back to Canada after this?” David asked. The thought of parting from Patrick tomorrow left his stomach souring, which was a waste of some damn good curry.

It was ridiculous to think someone could walk into his life and somehow seem important to him immediately. Like, really important. Meaningful.

Though, as he thought about it, it was sort of the same with Stevie. The stress of landing in Schitt’s Creek clouded that gut instinct for a while, but the pull he’d felt toward Stevie immediately did mean something. It just took him a bit to decipher what the pull was.

“No. I’ve been here for a few days and heading to Paris next for nearly a week. Then a couple more days back in London before heading home to figure out my next move.”

David sat up, or tried to, anyway, but his head slammed into the base of the top bunk. “Fuck. Ow.” His hand flew up to cup his head as he dropped back down onto the pillow.

“You okay?” Patrick laughed lightly.

“Yeah, fine. Um, I’m heading to Paris tomorrow.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Me too!”

David released his head and clutched his hand to his chest. “Tomorrow? Small world.”

“How are you getting to Paris?” Patrick sounded almost breathless.

“I’ve got a ticket on the train at noon. You?”

Patrick scooted a little closer which was hard to do when they were already so close together. “Noon.”

“Really?” David grinned, with teeth and everything.

“David.” Patrick’s voice had dropped a bit. 

“Yeah?” David’s knees pressed into Patrick’s, and their forearms brushed. Forearm brushing shouldn’t excite him that much.

“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow? In Paris?”

David dug his teeth into his bottom lip and closed his eyes. Patrick sounded so… hopeful. A little bit smitten, too. Exactly how David felt.

“I’d love that.” Despite the way their bodies gravitated toward each other in the twin-sized bed, David couldn’t shake the doubt monster in his mind. “Like, as two Canadian guys who happen to be traveling in the same direction or?”

“A date, David.”

David let out a sharp breath.

“I mean, the other thing is fine too. If you’re not- if you—”

David cut Patrick off with a kiss. As their lips touched, and Patrick’s bottom lip fit between David’s, he couldn’t think of a reason why he hadn’t done that earlier. Aside from the whole they just met thing, but he’d done much more, much faster, before. He pulled back before he was too tempted to climb on top of Patrick to test how he felt underneath him. 

“Wow.” Patrick kept his eyes closed another moment.

Exactly what David was thinking. He smiled and licked his lips. He wished the lights were on in the room so he could see Patrick’s just-been-kissed face in full detail.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

“It’s a hell yes,” David said.

Patrick wrapped his hand around the back of David’s head and pulled him in for another kiss. David lost himself to the feeling of Patrick, and his strong arms, warm body, exploring tongue, sweetly snarky words, and soft lips. 

A click of the door startled them apart minutes later.

“Yeah, she was all over you, man. You shoulda asked for her number,” one guy said.

“Nah, I’m not looking for anything serious on vacation.”

David couldn’t hold back the giggle, so he buried his face in Patrick’s neck. David wasn’t looking for anything serious either, but if the universe deemed him worthy to throw an interesting person in his path, who was he to tell the universe to piss off?

“Shh, don’t be rude. Be quiet so the other people can sleep,” one of the guys slurred to the group.

Patrick kissed the top of David’s head. “Can I get your phone number, David?” He whispered. 

David’s heart melted into a puddle on the floor. “I’m too comfortable to move, so you’ll have to remind me in the morning.”

“I can do that.” Another kiss on his head.

Best vacation ever.