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“David, come on!” Alexis moans, rolling her eyes in Patrick’s direction. “God, he is so impossible sometimes.”
They’re all going out—Patrick, David, Alexis and Stevie—and everyone is ready except David, who ensconced himself in the motel room’s tiny bathroom over half an hour ago and has not been seen from since.
Patrick grins at Alexis. “Yeah, but he always makes it worth the wait,” he says, laughing when Alexis mimes gagging on her finger.
“Gross. That’s so...ugh.” She gives an exaggerated shudder. “Maybe I don’t want to go out with you guys if you’re going to be disgusting and gooey all night.”
Patrick holds up his hands in surrender. “If I promise not to be gooey, will you still come?”
“You can promise all you like,” Stevie chimes in from where she’s lounging on David’s bed, scrolling listlessly on her phone. “It won’t stop David from being gooey all over you.”
Patrick feels himself blushing. Are they really that bad? Does the way he and David interact in public make people uncomfortable? It had never been an issue before, with Rachel. She was never one for PDAs, and that had been perfectly fine with Patrick. It had been hard enough for him to be overtly affectionate with her in private, and he’d felt an enormous amount of relief not to have the added pressure of doing so in public.
But with David...Patrick wants to be touching him all the time. Wants to be touched by him all the time. But if it’s making people uncomfortable, maybe—
“Okay. I’m ready.” The bathroom door bursts open and David stands in the doorway, a cloud of steam and the aroma of his cologne wafting over Patrick. He blinks and takes a moment to focus his gaze on his boyfr—on David.
Patrick swallows hard. “Um, wow,” he manages to choke out. David is in head-to-toe black, which isn’t unusual for him. A pair of tight black pants that cling deliciously to the curves of his thighs, a black t-shirt that hugs his chest and abs, and—oh God—a leather jacket. Fuck. “You look...you look so—“
“Late,” Stevie mutters, sitting up and grabbing her messenger bag from the floor beside David’s bed. “Can we go now?”
David narrows his eyes at Stevie, but nods his head. “At least someone appreciates the time and energy I put into my appearance,” he says, eyes fixed on Patrick as he leans down and presses a kiss to Patrick’s upturned face. “You think looking this good just happens?” he snarks in Stevie’s direction.
“God, David. It’s the Wobbly Elm, not The Beatrice,” Alexis argues, grabbing her purse and tottering toward the door on a pair of stunningly high heels. “There’s no dress code.”
“Tell that to your vintage Stella McCartney ,” David shoots at his sister’s retreating back. “And are those shoes Miu Miu?”
"Ugh. Shut up, David!"
“Well, I mean they do have some standards,” Stevie grins as she holds open the door, ushering the group out to the parking lot and toward her car. “No shirt, no shoes, no service.” She winks at Patrick as both Alexis and David let out twin squawks of disgust. Patrick bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
***
The car ride is uneventful, except for David and Alexis trading monologues on the nightclubs they’d frequented in their New York days. Patrick is only half paying attention. The other half of him is still stuck on Stevie and Alexis’s comments from earlier.
Are he and David too much when it comes to PDAs? Seeing couples all over each other in public has always made him vaguely uncomfortable. Now he wonders if that had more to do with his relationship at the time. Because he’s found himself pressing kisses to David’s cheek in the grocery store, or feathering kisses to the back of his hand across the table in the cafe.
A handful of other moments over the past few weeks come to Patrick’s mind and he frowns thoughtfully, suddenly realizing how demonstrative they have become since that first night at Stevie’s just over a week ago.
There was the time it had been slow in the store and David had been wearing those white jeans of his with the black splatters all over them. Patrick hadn’t been able to help himself, pressing David up against the display of afghans and scarves and letting his hands roam over David’s ass, claiming his mouth with a possessive fervour. It's hardly his fault. David is a liability in those jeans.
Since then, they’ve resorted to stealing moments when and where they can. They make out in the stockroom when the store is empty, which—fortunately for their business—hasn’t been all that often. They vow to make out at Ray’s only if he isn’t home, so of course Ray has been home every night for the past week. And there is still no privacy at the motel.
The inability to be alone has made them a little less cautious than they would otherwise have been, Patrick realizes. He’d come to work one morning wearing a black button up, rather than his usual blue, and David had stared at him with wide, hungry eyes before gripping the front of his shirt and kissing and nipping his way down to Patrick’s collar bone. It probably would have gone further, but they were interrupted by Roland, of all people, who completely killed the mood. Then Ronnie had caught David massaging Body Milk into Patrick’s forearms while whispering filthy words in his ear. Patrick had been so turned on as David's long, lithe fingers pressed firmly into his skin, his attention fully focused on the possibility of making those filthy promises a reality sometime very, very soon. Ronnie had narrowed her eyes at the pair of them before grabbing a bottle of the Body Milk from the shelf and muttering something about unethical sales techniques.
Then there was the evening when he’d dropped David off at the motel and Alexis had found them fogging up the windows of Patrick’s car, Patrick straddling David's lap in the front passenger seat. And the time Stevie had walked in on them in the lobby of the motel while David was supposedly keeping an eye on the front desk for her, and had caught Patrick with his hand down David’s pants in the back office.
Fuck. So, yeah. Maybe...maybe they need to cool it a little bit tonight.
***
Patrick is being weird.
Stevie narrows her eyes at him from across the small, sticky table. He’d seemed fine back at the motel, but he’d gone quiet on the car ride to the bar, and now he’s being kind of…distant and sulky. Especially where David is concerned. Stevie looks over at David. He meets her gaze and shrugs his shoulders, glancing questioningly at Patrick out of the corner of his eye. Clearly he has no better idea of what’s going on with his...with Patrick than she does.
She’d noticed it first when they got to the bar. David had tried to take his hand as they crossed the parking lot, but Patrick shook him off with a tight smile and shoved his hands deep into his even tighter pockets, out of David's reach.
And now, after they’ve all ordered their first round of drinks, Patrick slides into the booth beside Alexis, leaving Stevie to sit beside David. She nudges him with her elbow, nodding toward Patrick, who is deeply engrossed in tearing the label from his beer bottle. David shakes his head, brows furrowed. She sees him begin to reach across the table, but stops himself. Patrick is giving off very strong don’t touch me vibes right now.
“Come dance with me,” Stevie announces, grabbing David’s arm and yanking him from the booth. He yelps, downing the dregs of his Martini and following her onto the dance floor. There is some upbeat, pop monstrosity playing in the background, but Stevie isn’t really listening. She pulls David closer, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck, and frowns up at him. “What the actual fuck, David?”
The look on his face makes her heart clench. He looks so bewildered as his eyes land on his partner across the bar. He shrugs again, worrying his bottom lip. “I don’t know,” he says finally, so softly. “I...do you think I did something? Is he mad at me?”
“You tell me,” Stevie says flatly.
“Well, clearly I don’t know!” David sounds exasperated. “I...he was fine, right? Before?” He bites his lip again. “Was I too much in the car? Is that it? Did I say something?”
Stevie rolls her eyes. “You said a lot of things David.” He closes his eyes and his head tilts backward. “Hey,” she gives his shoulder a little squeeze. “Not in a bad way. You didn’t say anything bad.”
“Then why is he—“ He gestures to where Patrick and Alexis are now talking and laughing comfortably, side by side in the booth. “Well. He seems fine now.”
Stevie hums, unconvinced.
The song ends and she and David return to the table. She stands beside Patrick and clears her throat. He glances up at her and smiles. “Hey, Stevie. Time for another round?”
“Yeah. You’re buying.”
“Sure. Yeah. I can get this round.” Patrick does that weird frowny-smile thing of his and stands, stepping around David and making a very obviously show of not touching him as he slips past. Stevie shakes her head as she slides into the booth across from Alexis. David sits down beside his sister, looking miserable.
“Oh my God, David. If you keep making that face you’re going to get wrinkles,” Alexis says, flapping a limp-wristed hand against his shoulder. “We’re supposed to be having fun tonight but you are like, totally killing the mood.”
“Go stick your tongue in a toaster, Alexis,” David snaps, crossing his arms over his chest, his frown deepening.
“Um, rude, David,” Alexis scoffs, flipping her hair in his face. “I don’t even know why Patrick is with you. You’re just like, the worst sometimes.”
David's face falls and Stevie just...God. This caring about other people's feelings nonsense is just the worst. “Okay. Enough,” she snaps, causing both David and Alexis to jump in their seats. She glares at Alexis. “We’re trying to figure out what’s up with Patrick tonight,” she explains.
“Um, nothing is wrong with Patrick,” Alexis says “He’s like, as adorable as ever. Why?” She turns to her brother. “What did you do, David?”
David huffs and tightens his arms across his chest. “Nothing!” Alexis raises a dubious eyebrow at him and he throws his hands in the air in frustration. “Seriously, Alexis! Nothing!”
“Oh my God! You don’t have to be like, so dramatic all the time, David,” Alexis snaps, flailing her own hands dramatically in response.
Pot, meet kettle, Stevie can’t help but think.
“Think, you guys,” she urges. “He was fine at the motel, but he got quiet in the car. Did he get a text? Maybe bad news from home?”
“Maybe one of his little spreadsheets isn’t working,” Alexis suggests, “And all his little numbers are like, misbehaving.” She dances her fingers up and down David’s arm until he swats her away, rolling his eyes.
“That’s not how spreadsheets work.”
“Oh really? How do they work then, David? If you’re such an expert,” Alexis volleys back.
Stevie heaves a sigh. Getting the Rose siblings to stay on topic is like herding cats.
“Well I don’t—” David breaks off with a shake of his head. “Y-you put the little numbers in the boxes and they do stuff!”
“Um, no, David,” Alexis says, a condescending note to her voice. Then she cocks her head to the side and squints at him. “I mean, like, kind of? But also, like, not at all.”
“Come on you two,” Stevie says, rolling her eyes at the pair of them. “So we’ve narrowed it down to it’s not a family emergency and it’s not spreadsheets. Great. So what is it?”
“I’m telling you, he’s fine,” Alexis insists. “We were just having like, the cutest little convo about movies. Did you know he’s never seen Bridget Jones’s Diary, David? How have you not made him watch that with you yet? Or are you saving it for when he breaks up with you?”
“Um, excuse you? Who says he's going to break up with me?" David hisses at his sister. Before she can open her mouth to retort, he flaps a silencing hand in her face. "And for your information, Bridget Jones is a triumph, not only in the genre of romantic comedies, but also as an example of a near-perfect retelling of a timeless classic, and can be watched at any time, by anyone, for any occasion.”
“Well, this has been helpful,” Stevie mutters to herself. She looks up just in time to see Patrick gathering an armful of drinks at the bar. “David, quick. Switch spots with me.”
“What?”
“Just...move!” Stevie gets up from her seat and grabs David’s arm, hauling him out of the booth and shoving him over to the empty bench across the table. “Sit.”
David sits.
“Here we go,” Patrick says, carefully setting the various drinks on the table without spilling a drop, which Stevie has to admit is very impressive. “A Keystone Light for Stevie, cranberry and vodka for Alexis, and a martini for David.” He slides the drinks to their respective recipients and then sits down beside David with his own Sleeman’s Honey Brown in hand. It's not lost on Stevie that he leaves a sizeable gap between himself and David. “Cheers!” He holds out his beer bottle and waits. Stevie raises her own beer and Alexis gives a happy little wiggle beside her as she raises her glass. They all turned to look at David, who reluctantly picks up his martini and clinks his glass with the rest of them.
The table is quiet as they all take their first sips. Stevie’s beer is just how she likes it. Cold and cheap. She glances across the table. Patrick is smiling at something David had said, which is good. David reaches out and puts a tentative hand on Patrick’s shoulder, rubbing it gently, and Stevie’s heart sinks when Patrick nearly flinches out of his skin at the touch. David’s reaction is instant, retracting his hand and dropping it to his lap. He twists his mouth off to the side, but not before Stevie sees it, the tiniest quiver of his lower lip, there and gone in an instant. He flicks a pair of dark, shining eyes over to her, then back down to his lap. He looks absolutely crushed. Beside him, Patrick stares at his beer and starts peeling at the label again.
***
Things don’t get any better as the night wears on. Alexis wants to dance, so they all troop onto the dance floor as a group and move to the thudding bass beat playing over the bar’s slightly staticy speakers. Stevie has had enough to drink that she doesn’t feel self conscious about her abysmal lack of dancing skills. It makes her feel better that Patrick is faring just about as well as her. It’s like his hips don’t bend at all, she thinks as she watches him move around on the dance floor all stiff and awkward. Alexis shimmies and wiggles to the beat, a bright smile on her face. And David...well. David is shockingly graceful on the dance floor. It isn’t so much a surprise to Stevie that he can dance. She knew he could. She’d danced with him several times at various parties, most of which took place in Mutt’s barn. It’s just seeing him move his shoulders and hips to the music in a way that is so fluid is always a bit of a mindfuck. It’s so different from how he moves in his everyday life, where he tends to stomp and flail his way from place to place.
Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie sees Patrick watching David with a look of...is that longing in his eyes? Probably. Definitely some fondness there. So maybe he isn’t mad at David. Maybe it’s something else. David glances at Patrick and shimmies his shoulders, sending a wink in his direction. Patrick instantly looks away, turning his attention to Alexis. He holds out his hand to her and spins her, causing both of them to giggle like lunatics. David excuses himself to go to the bar and order another round of drinks.
A little later, the pool table opens up and Stevie suggests that they play. She knows from experience that David is a terrible player. She has her suspicions about Alexis and Patrick’s respective abilities. She imagines Alexis honing her skills in some seedy pool hall on the other side of the world, a line of debonair men of questionable morals lined up around the block to show her how to play, only to be wholly and completely schooled by their quarry. Patrick, meanwhile, is logical. Methodical. He’s a math nerd. There is no way he isn’t good at pool.
“Boys against girls,” Alexis says as Patrick begins racking the balls. He looks over at David who shrugs his shoulders in response.
“Sure. Sounds fun,” Patrick replies, jostling the balls around and exchanging a few here and there to set them in the right order.
“You just don’t want to be on a team with me,” David accuses, looking pointedly at his sister.
“Um, duh. Of course I don’t,” she replies. “You’re terrible.”
“Wha—I am not!”
“No, you really are,” Stevie agrees. She pats Patrick on the shoulder and gives him a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.” Sympathetic like a fox, she thinks to herself as she high-fives Alexis.
They flip a coin to see who breaks—Stevie wins the coin toss, so the honour falls to Patrick and David—and things pretty much go downhill from there.
“So, Patrick is like, hyper competitive,” Alexis whispers in Stevie’s ear when it’s David’s turn. They’re both watching Patrick as he hovers behind David with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face, snapping instructions at David who is clearly getting very flustered as he bends over the pool table to make his shot.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think that’s a fair assessment,” Stevie concurs, taking a pull of her beer and making a face. Ew. It’s warm.
“I feel a little bad for saddling David with him,” Alexis admits.
“I know,” Stevie agrees.
“It’s just...I thought it would be cute, you know? I pictured Patrick doing that thing you see in movies? Where he’d like, get all flirty and handsy with him.”
“Right? That’s what I thought too!”
“Not that, like, I want to see that?” Alexis continues. “But even that is better than all this.” She waves a hand at the two men, their respective body language tense and uncomfortable, and so very different from what Stevie is used to seeing between them. Because sure. They’re revoltingly sappy together, and it's...well, it's weird seeing David be so comfortable letting Patrick shower him with affection in a way that he never was with her. Not that they’d ever gotten to a place where they were intimate in anything other than a completely private setting. But it is nice to see David opening up, letting someone in for once. Letting himself accept that he deserves to feel wanted. And boy, does Patrick want him. And not in like, a creepy, stalker-y way. But in a googly-eyed, head-over-heels kind of way. Which is equal parts adorable and vomit-inducing.
They turned their attention back to the two men. David is red in the face and is trying to line up what looks to be an impossible shot while Patrick clenches his jaw and drums his fingers on the dark wood frame of the pool table.
“No, David. You’ll never—”
“Can you just give me some space please? And let me try?” David snaps, his tone defensive and his shoulders tight, hackles raised.
Patrick just scoffs and rolls his eyes heavenward, and apparently that’s about all David can take.
“Okay, you know what?” he straightens up and spins around to face Patrick. As he does so, he knocks the cue ball with the tip of his cue, sending it careening into one of their few remaining striped balls on the table. “Whatever is going on with you tonight, I’m done with it, okay? Here.” He shoves his cue into Patrick’s hand and stalks off toward the doors leading out to the back patio.
“David!” Patrick calls after him. He looks down at the cue in his hand, then at the table. Stevie sees the corner of his mouth twitch and she follows his gaze to the table where she watches as the ball David had inadvertently knocked during his outburst rolls into the corner pocket. David had made his impossible shot.
***
Patrick zips his fly and flushes the urinal, turning to the row of sinks to wash his hands. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and sighs as he turns on the tap and pumps a dollop of soap into his palm. He looks miserable. Which tracks. Because he feels miserable. Tonight has been a total bust. He has really, epicly, fucked things up. He rinses off his hands and reaches for a paper towel from the dispenser, vaguely registering the sound of the bathroom door opening behind him. Tossing the soggy wad of towels into the garbage can, he turns and startles.
“What the ffff...Stevie!” he gasps. “This is the men’s room!” He looks at his surroundings. The urinals. The condom dispenser with the broken knob dangling crookedly on the wall. The scent of urinal cakes and cheap cologne hanging heavy in the air. He’s pretty sure this is the men’s room.
“What is your deal?” Stevie asks, apparently deciding to just totally side-step the fact that she has him cornered in the filthy bathroom of a dingy dive bar.
“W-what do you mean?” Patrick asks, although he knows. He knows. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s been bracing himself for something like this all night. There is no way Stevie was ever going to let him get away with behaving the way he’s behaved all night without calling him out. She is nothing if not David’s protector, as much as David is hers.
Stevie narrows her eyes at him. “Are you ashamed of him?” she asks, arms crossed tightly. He’s so shocked by her words that he doesn’t know how to respond, and silence hangs heavy in the air between them for what feels like eons, the only sound the faint creak of Stevie’s leather jacket as her arms shift and tighten across her chest.
“What?” he finally asks, because he honestly cannot think of anything else to say.
“David. Are you ashamed of him? Of being with him?” Her voice is low and dangerous and it sends a chill skittering up Patrick’s spine.
“I...what? No!” He shakes his head adamantly. “No, I’m not ashamed to be with him! I...I…” He can feel his face getting hot, because he’s not used to feeling this way, flustered and out of sorts and so wildly, insanely head-over-heels for another person. It’s a lot to process, and he’s still working out how to categorize these feelings he has for David. How to name them. Because they feel a lot like love, but even he knows it’s way too soon for that particular label. He’s not ready to say that word just yet, even to himself. And he’s definitely not ready to say it to Stevie. “I am so far from ashamed, Stevie.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels, chuckling nervously. “Pretty much the opposite, in fact.” He hazards a glance at her, and yeah, she’s still scowling at him, but he’s pretty sure the corner of her mouth twitches just a little. Although that could just be a trick of the flickering overhead fluorescent light.
“Okay, so then do you want to explain to me what the fuck is going on with you? Because whatever is happening with you and David right now is very much not okay in my book,” she snaps, her dark eyes sparking with protective anger. “And don’t even think about telling me that this is none of my business. Because he is my business. And if you hurt him, I hurt you. That’s how this goes. In case you were wondering.”
Something painful twists in Patrick’s stomach. Somehow, right up until this moment, he’d managed to convince himself that the only person he was hurting tonight was himself. He hangs his head and scuffs the toe of his shoe against the disgusting tile floor. “It’s stupid,” he finally manages to say.
Stevie barks out a laugh, one single, “Ha!” that echoes coldly off the walls. “Um, yeah. It probably is. But I’m willing to withhold my final judgement until you’ve actually told me what is going on in that nerdy little brain of yours.”
Patrick rubs at the back of his neck, kneading his knuckles into the tense muscles there. “It’s um, it’s...well, I got it in my head that maybe David and I were too much? PDA-wise? And that maybe the way we...the way we are with each other makes people feel uncomfortable.”
Stevie scoffs. “And where did you get that ridiculous idea?”
Patrick frowns and shakes his head. “Uh, from you.”
Stevie’s eyebrows climb up her forehead, nearly disappearing into her hairline. “Excuse me?” she sputters. “No, that’s not...No. What? When?”
“At the motel,” Patrick explains, recounting her words back to her, and summarizing the anxiety spiral they had sent him down on the car ride over. “And so I’ve just been trying to keep my distance from him all night because I didn’t want to make you and Alexis—or anyone else—feel gross or uncomfortable or...or whatever.”
Stevie is looking at him like she’s not sure whether to hug him or knock some sense into him. Really, it could go either way. Finally she shakes her head, reaching out to give his shoulder a shove. “You’re such an idiot,” she says, but the anger is gone from her voice, replaced by exasperated fondness. “That’s not what I meant. I was just...I was trying to wind you up.”
“Well, you succeeded.”
She runs her fingers through her long, dark hair and groans. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think...I mean, you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would give a shit about what anyone thinks about your relationship with David.”
Patrick shrugs. “Normally, I don’t.” He fixes Stevie with a pointed look. “But you’re not just anyone.”
Her shoulders slump and she toys with the zipper of her jacket, giving him a wary look. “I’m really sorry, Patrick.”
He shakes his head. “I mean, it’s only, like...75% your fault,” he says. “I blame the other 25% on a bunch of issues I never even really knew I had.”
“And save at least 10% for the fact that you could have—at any time tonight—just talked to David instead of making him miserable,” Stevie says, and Patrick isn’t sure if she’s joking or if she’s actually that bad at math. He hopes for the sake of the motel that she’s joking. At least about the math. Not about the talking to David part. Because yeah, he should definitely have done that sooner. Or at all. But the night is still young enough that maybe he can still salvage it.
“Yeah, so I’m gonna go do that now,” he says, edging past Stevie toward the door. “Wish me luck.”
He makes his way down the narrow little hallway, past the old payphone that still hangs on the wall, despite the fact that cellphones are a thing, and out into the main room of the bar. Across the dance floor, he can see David and Alexis sitting in their booth, Alexis talking animatedly while her brother sits across from her looking so forlorn. Patrick’s chest constricts and his stomach twists unpleasantly. He did that. Well, him and Stevie. But mostly him. He took what was meant to be a flippant, teasing comment way too seriously and hurt the person he already knows he’s falling for far more quickly than may be wise or cautious. But he’s been wise and cautious his whole life, and all he has to show for it is a broken engagement, bewildered parents who he has barely spoken to in months, and a brand new start. And David.
God, and David. He really hopes he hasn’t messed things up too badly.
“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice soft, a little contrite, but mostly soothing as he approaches the table. Alexis looks up at him and smiles, blinking her eyes at him in what he’s come to realize is her version of a wink. David seems to shrink in on himself, looking small and sad and anxious, his beautiful leather jacket like a protective shell that almost seems to swallow him whole. “You guys want another round?”
Alexis opens her mouth to speak, but it’s David’s voice that catches Patrick’s attention.
“I want to go home,” he says, tugging at the overly long sleeves of his jacket and avoiding Patrick’s attempts to catch his eye. “I’m tired and I just...I want to go home.”
Alexis, bless her, shimmies her way out of the booth and pets at Patrick’s shoulder, giving her brother a meaningful look which he pointedly ignores. “I’m just going to…” she trails off, pointing at some unseen person place or thing behind Patrick before she gives his bicep a squeeze, and then she’s gone, the clickity-clack of her heels against the sticky, stained wood-laminate flooring and the faint hint of her perfume fading away as Patrick’s attention narrows in on one person. His person.
He slides into the booth, taking Alexis’ spot across from David, not wanting to make him feel cornered by taking the seat right beside him and hemming him in when he’s already feeling vulnerable.
“David,” Patrick begins, but David shakes his head.
“Can we please go?” he asks again, and Patrick’s throat constricts at the way David’s voice catches. He reaches across the table, pausing with his fingers hovering over David’s hand. When he doesn’t pull away, Patrick lets his fingers close around David’s, squeezing gently.
“David, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I was...I was so far out of line tonight.”
David’s mouth works to keep itself immobile and he shakes his head and gives his shoulders a shrug. “It’s fine,” he says quietly. He looks up at Patrick, his dark eyes doing an almost convincing job of hiding the pain Patrick knows is there. That he put there. They still haven’t talked much about their pasts (that box is still locked up good and tight) but from the little hints and offhand comments David and his family make, Patrick knows that his history is...well, it isn’t good. David himself has confirmed that the majority of the people he’s been with haven’t been nice, and Patrick just knows that not a single one of them was worthy of all that David has to offer. And it makes him feel a little bit sick to his stomach, that maybe David is lumping him together with all those other people. It’s such a low bar to clear, if all David is asking for is for Patrick to be nice to him. And he hasn’t even been able to do that tonight.
“It’s—” Patrick has to pause to clear his throat, because something large and uncomfortable has lodged itself right there behind his Adam’s apple and it feels a lot like guilt. “It’s not fine,” he says, giving David’s hand another squeeze.
“Whatever. I’m used to it,” David says, tugging his fingers out from Patrick’s grasp. His voice is flat and there’s a flinty coldness to it that Patrick has never heard before, least of all directed at him. “People...people can only take so much, you know? It’s not...I’m not surprised. It was bound to happen eventually. I’m just glad it happened now, before either of us got too attached.”
Patrick is perplexed now. And maybe a little bit panicked. Because it sounds...well. It sounds like David is breaking up with him? And that’s…that’s not…
“Wh-what was bound to happen?”
David looks at him then, confusion flickering in the furrowed space between his eyebrows. “Um, that you would get bored of me? Or, like, overwhelmed?”
Patrick knows he shouldn’t—it is absolutely the wrong move—but he can’t help it. He laughs, and David’s face quickly moves from confused to indignant.
“Okay, wow. Thanks. Yeah, no. I love being laughed at when someone is breaking up with me. Go on and rub that salt in my wounds, Patrick.”
“David, I’m not...you’re breaking up with me!” Patrick counters, and David’s eyes widen.
“Well...only to save you the trouble!”
They stare at one another for a long moment until Patrick can’t help himself and he reaches over the tabletop again to grab David’s hand. “David. I’m not bored of you. And you don’t overwhelm me,” he says, then he amends his statement. “Well, there are some things about being with you that can be overwhelming, but only in the best way. I’m overwhelmed by how much I want to be around you. All the time. By how much I want to touch you and how much I love it when you touch me.”
David’s eyebrows come together in the most adorable (and sexy) little frown and Patrick can see he’s trying to make sense of the disparity between Patrick’s words with his behaviour tonight. So Patrick explains. He tells David about what Stevie said, and how that little thought parasite wormed and burrowed its way into the deepest, darkest part of his mind.
“Wh-why didn’t you just say something?” David asks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And looking back, yeah. It probably is. But Patrick has a lifetime’s worth of bad habits around not talking about things that bother him to undo, and it’s not like it’s going to happen all in one night.
“I’m sorry, David,” he repeats, because it’s all he can think to do. That and vow to do better next time. He naively hopes there won’t be a next time. “Can we...if you still want to go home, I’ll take you home. But I’d really like to dance with you, if you want that?”
“So just to be clear, you are not breaking up with me?” David asks. Patrick shakes his head vehemently. “Mkay. And I’m not breaking up with you.” Patrick is relieved to hear that David poses it like a fact and not a question. “So it sounds like we are staying...not-broken-up.”
A smile twitches at the corners of Patrick’s lips. “I’d really like it if we could stay not-broken-up, David.”
David makes a real show of pretending to be stoic, but his face is just too expressive, and Patrick knows it so well. The dimple carving into his cheek gives him away. “Well. Then I would very much like to dance with you, Patrick,” he says, eyes filled with warmth and hope and relief as he lets his shoulders descend from up around his ears and his spine straighten. Patrick gets up from the table and pulls David up and out of the booth and into his arms, wrapping him up tight and burying his face in his neck. David’s arms slide into place around his shoulders and Patrick just takes a moment to appreciate this feeling, of holding and being held by this man who he likes a totally reasonable amount, and in whose arms he has never felt safer or more at peace. He can’t believe he spent the entire night running away from this feeling. Patrick presses a kiss to the hinge of David’s jaw, the stubbled point of his chin, and then his lips.
“Come on. They’re playing our song,” he says, keeping his arms tight around David and awkwardly shuffle-dragging him onto the dance floor.
David groans. “No. Absolutely fucking not. Mambo No. 5 is not our song, Patrick. I refuse to accept this!”
“But David,” Patrick teases, swaying David wildly off-beat to the music, “Don’t you need a little bit of Monica in your life? A little bit of Erica by your side?”
“No. I changed my mind. Dancing with you is the worst idea I’ve ever had and I would like to be un-not-broken-up now please,” David whines, but the grin on his face says he feels strongly otherwise.
Patrick smiles into a kiss that is probably a little filthier than either he or David would normally allow in so public a place. But in this moment, Patrick doesn’t care. Because David is laughing against his lips and his body is so close and warm and solid. And maybe it’s only been a few hours, but Patrick has missed him, the feel of him and the taste of him. So maybe he’s a little braver than usual, and if he slides his hands down David’s back and into his back pockets, there’s really only Stevie and Alexis who notice, and when he opens his eyes to look at David’s smiling face, he sees the two women over David’s shoulder. They’re watching, looking equal parts enamoured and disgusted. Alexis winks and gives Patrick an A-OK with her fingers and Stevie scrunches up her nose and makes a gagging face. But then her expression morphs into a small, knowing smile and she flashes him a thumbs up then gives him the finger.
Patrick laughs and pulls David impossibly closer.