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Just a little while after David asks Patrick if he has regrets (and doesn’t that make Patrick’s heart skip a beat and file away the need to make sure that David understands how absolutely non-regretful Patrick feels about their kiss the night before), the Greater Elm Valley Fire Department comes into the store and tells them that they have to close for the day. Apparently, there is a problem with the electrical system in the area, and everything in Schitt’s Creek has to shut down for at least twenty-four hours.
While David gripes about the change in plans, Patrick’s mind starts buzzing with all the things he and David can do with their day off. Patrick is considering the various places in which they might engage in a repeat of last night’s toe-curling kiss when David’s hands flutter to his shoulders, and he is faced with David’s big eyes just inches away.
“Patrick? Did you hear anything I just said?” David’s lips are pursed and twitching with suppressed laughter, and Patrick struggles to come up with a witty response.
“Um, you were criticizing the firefighter’s inappropriate footwear?”
David runs his hands down Patrick’s arms, and then, apparently enjoying himself, puts them back on Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick resists the urge to lean in, as said firefighter is standing by their open front door, waiting for them to leave.
“No, although I applaud your effort. I said we should go see Asha’s pottery studio, since we have the time. She sent me sketches of an exclusive design series she wants to do for us.”
Patrick remembers this conversation, where David had assured him that a line including mugs, pie plates and serving platters glazed entirely in white was actually perfect for fall, despite having none of what Patrick considered to be fall colors.
“Okay, sure,” Patrick says, as David stuffs some papers into his bag and they head out the door.
“We just need to stop at the motel first,” David says.
“Oh? Need to pick up some snacks?”
David tosses his head. “Yes, except we don’t have those at the motel, we’re going to have to stop on the way. But I have to change.”
Patrick glances at what David is wearing, a gray leopard print sweater and white jeans with some kind of blue swirl. “What’s wrong with what you have on? You look great.”
David hides his smile and shakes his head. “I’m meeting Asha for the first time. I have to make the right impression.”
“Whatever you say, David,” Patrick says, but he punctuates his words with a quick kiss to David’s cheek, loving how David beams in response.
Predictably, David takes forever to change his clothes. Stevie convinces Patrick to wait with her in the lobby, and then promptly assigns him front desk duty while she runs off on an errand. David shows up about half an hour later, grumbles about Stevie, and presses Patrick up against the counter to dance teasing kisses across his jaw and up to his ear.
When Stevie returns, she shoots them a disapproving look.
“If you didn’t want us to make out in the lobby, you should have come back sooner,” David says matter of factly.
“I am not responsible for your poor choices,” she retorts.
“No poor choices have been made today,” David replies, tugging Patrick outside.
“There’s still time!” Stevie calls after them.
Patrick bumps against David as they go through the door. He feels unsteady, in a ridiculously bubbly way, like he’s been sipping champagne all morning. The black sweater David has chosen as Asha-appropriate is soft to the touch, and he wants to stroke David’s body through it, his chest and his arms and his stomach. He wants to run his hands down the tight black jeans that cover David’s legs, and slide his fingers through the rips in the knees.
Instead, he’s folding himself into his car, getting ready for a road trip. It would be disappointing, except David is right here with him, and they’re going to spend the whole day together. If things go right, they’re going to spend lots and lots of days together.
“Okay, it’s happening again,” David says, a little smile tugging at his mouth.
“I can’t help it,” Patrick says. “Something’s got me distracted.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be driving,” David says, walking his fingers across the console until they land on Patrick’s thigh.
Patrick sucks in a breath, and shakes his head at David. “Maybe not.”
David tilts his head back and groans. “I already texted Asha and told her we were coming. Why didn’t you say something sooner, Mr. Let’s-take-it-slow?”
Patrick laughs. “No, you’re right, we should go check out the pottery. We have plenty of time for other stuff.”
David catches his eye, his face suddenly softening. “We do, right?”
Patrick nods, the sincerity in David’s expression making his throat tighten up. “Yeah, we do.”
After about an hour they stop for lunch, at a cute roadside diner that winds up having a pretty little patio in the backyard. They linger over sandwiches which David declares are significantly above average, enjoying the breeze that rustles through the flowering trees planted around the property. The waiter flirts with David, and Patrick thinks David doesn’t even notice, he’s so fixated on watching Patrick. They’re in a feedback loop of excitement and teasing compliments and Patrick keeps losing the thread of their conversation, over and over until David just wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him close.
“I can’t get enough of you like this,” David whispers, soft and low, and Patrick feels a shiver race through his body. He’s never felt like this before, joy and disbelief and desire all wrapped up together. It’s amazing.
It’s also raining by the time they get back in the car, and they’re still two hours away from the pottery studio. They debate turning around, but at this point they’re halfway there, and, as David points out, if they go home they’ll just have to do it again some other time.
Patrick concentrates on the road, which is getting harder and harder to see as the rain increases in intensity. Suddenly there’s a loud popping sound and the car lurches to the side as Patrick slams on the brakes.
“What happened?!” David shouts.
Patrick’s heart is pounding as he turns to David. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“What - yes - I’m okay - are you okay?” David paws frantically at Patrick for a moment, but they quickly determine that their short stop has not resulted in any injuries. Still breathing hard, Patrick gets out of the car, immediately getting soaked by the rain. Peering at the front passenger side through the downpour he confirms his fears - they have a very flat tire.
He gets back in the car, dripping wet, and tells David.
“Well, can’t you change it? The tire?”
“I could, but I don’t have a spare,” Patrick admits. He watches David’s face, wondering if he should pretend that some cars just don’t come with spares, but then continues on. “I used it a few weeks ago and didn’t replace it. I know that was stupid.”
He can see David almost physically forcing himself not to get angry. It’s an impressive feat and definitely goes against his instincts.
“That’s… that’s okay,” David says. “We can call CAA. Right?”
“Yeah, yeah, we can.” Patrick digs his phone out of his pocket and prays for a signal. Amazingly, he gets through. But the storm has apparently knocked down power lines and blocked roads. There are dozens of cars needing assistance. It’s going to be a long time before anyone gets to them.
He can see David fighting the urge to panic, as the storm rages around them. The wind is whistling harshly and making the car rattle unsettlingly. Patrick shivers, his drenched clothes leeching away his body heat.
David notices and strips off his sweater, leaving him in just a plain white t-shirt that probably cost more than Patrick’s entire outfit. “Here, put this on,” David says, holding out his sweater. Patrick can’t help but wish he was in a better state to admire David’s bare forearms.
“Then you’ll be cold,” he protests.
“My shirt isn’t wet,” David says, pointing to his own dry t-shirt. “Yours is soaked.”
Patrick starts to unbutton his shirt, his fingers shaking. David reaches out to help, then freezes. “Um, is this-”
“Yeah, it’s fine - thanks.” Patrick stops fumbling and lets David unbutton his shirt, wondering if there is any way he can turn this into something sexy, but he’s too cold and annoyed at himself for his imagination to get fired up. Finally his own undershirt comes off, and David is helping him into his fuzzy black sweater.
It’s incredibly soft, and warm, and Patrick can feel himself relaxing. He blinks up at David. “Wow. This is… thank you.”
“Don’t spill anything on it,” David deflects, but he’s petting Patrick’s arms soothingly, betraying his concern.
“No, really, I feel better already.”
“Good, because you’re not allowed to die and leave me here alone in this storm.”
“I promise I won’t do that, David.”
The wind roars, and a branch slams into the car as it blows by, making them both cringe.
“We’re going to be stuck here all night, aren’t we?” David says.
“No, no, we’re not.” Patrick can’t let this go on. It’s not safe. And he’s got an option, even though it’s not one he’s very excited about. “I can, um, call my parents.”
David looks at Patrick as if he’s hallucinating. “Do they know someone at CAA?”
“No. But they live about ten minutes away.”
“Oh my god, Patrick, why didn’t you say so!”
Patrick gets through to his dad, who promises to come with the truck and pick them up. David is quiet after Patrick hangs up the phone. He keeps sneaking glances at Patrick, clearly wondering why Patrick is so distressed.
“I thought you had a good relationship with your parents,” David finally says. “Because if you don’t want to see them, we’ll be fine here. Just call your dad back and tell him we got the car started. It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”
“No, that’s not it.” Patrick opens his mouth to explain, but the words get caught in his throat and he gives up.
“Patrick,” David says, reaching over to put his hand on Patrick’s knee. “What is it?”
Patrick swallows hard. “I haven’t been home since I moved to Schitt’s Creek.”
David nods, waiting.
“They don’t know about….”
Patrick sees David flinch a little and then shake it off. “Well, it was just last night that we got together,” David says carefully. “I didn’t expect you to tell them immediately. Just because my whole family already knows doesn’t mean you had to alert the presses.”
“No, it’s, um, it’s not that. I mean, it is that, but it’s more.” Patrick glances at the clock on the dash. His dad is going to be here any minute, and he feels entirely unprepared. Taking a deep breath, he looks at David. “They don’t know I’m gay.”
“Oh,” David says, then takes Patrick’s hand and squeezes it. “Okay. No problem. I’ve talked to your mom plenty of times on the phone, she obviously knows we work together. And we’re on a business trip, we don’t have to fake that. We just won’t tell them it’s anything else.”
David clearly wants to help Patrick, and he is helping, but Patrick’s not sure if that’s the story he wants to tell. He hates to lie to anyone, especially to his parents.
But then headlights flash on the road ahead of them, and his father’s truck pulls to a stop. They’re out of time. And just this morning Patrick thought they’d have all the time in the world.
David is clearly on his best behavior as Clint drives them back to Patrick’s childhood home, a split-level ranch that is the essence of 1980’s suburbia. To his credit, if David is judging the outdated décor, it doesn’t show on his face. Instead he greets Marcy animatedly and declares with real enthusiasm that yes in fact he is starving and would love some beef stew. When Patrick comes downstairs after changing into some blessedly dry sweatpants (he keeps David’s sweater on, it’s remarkably comfortable) Marcy is directing David on how to set the table, and he is complimenting her on her grandmother’s candlesticks.
Dinner conversation is painfully light, if determinedly pleasant. Patrick feels more like a guest than someone who used to sit at the kitchen table and do his homework while his mom emptied the dishwasher. At one point Marcy goes on for about ten minutes explaining the convoluted plot of a British crime show she’s been binging, David doing his best to follow along.
Despite the somewhat awkward nature of the meal, both his parents seem delighted that Patrick is there with them and are doing everything they can to make him and David feel welcome. Their happiness is unforced and genuine, and it loosens something inside Patrick’s chest. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s missed them. He likes being home. He likes his parents.
Clint and Marcy make themselves scarce after dinner. Patrick suggests that they watch television, and leads David down into the family room. Patrick sits on the couch, and David takes the faux leather recliner. To say David looks incongruous, well, Moira would be proud of the word choice, but the whole thing is awful.
“You can sit over here with me,” Patrick says, while David is scrolling through the guide to find something to hold their interest, the silver rings on his fingers catching the light.
David glances over to him, his expression unreadable. “This is fine.”
“It’s weird,” Patrick says. “And probably unnecessary.” Although it’s true that earlier today Patrick could hardly keep his hands off David, he thinks the knowledge that his parents could walk in on them any minute will probably take care of that problem.
“It’s just for one night,” David says, and then seems to reconsider. “Or, you know. As long as you need.”
Patrick tries to play it out in his mind, what will happen if he doesn’t tell his parents. He imagines dinner out in Schitt’s Creek, his mom and dad in the booth across from them, David still playing the affable business partner. He doesn’t like it.
They go upstairs eventually. Marcy had informed them that she would set up an air mattress in Patrick’s room; they’ll both be sleeping in there because the guest room is full of craft supplies and exercise equipment. “You won’t mind, right honey?” she asks, an undecipherable look on her face. “It’ll be a sleepover,” she says cheerfully.
David excuses himself to use the bathroom, and then Patrick takes his turn. When he comes back into his room, David is sitting cross-legged on the air mattress on the floor, scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing an old set of pajamas that Patrick had dug out for him, blue flannel pants and a matching button up shirt. It’s not how Patrick had imagined their first night together.
Patrick feels exposed in his own sleep clothes, a thin white undershirt and striped cotton pants. David gazes up at him from the air mattress. The evening finally seems to have caught up with him, and he seems lost. Patrick knows how he feels.
“I’m sorry,” Patrick says, keeping his voice low. His parents are right down the hall.
David shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He turns to Patrick, leaning on one knee, and falls over, losing his balance as the air mattress shifts.
“Come on, you take the bed. I’ll sleep down there,” Patrick says, offering his hand to David. David wobbles but makes it up to the bed. Patrick doesn’t leave, and they sit there next to each other for a long moment.
“I think it has a leak,” David says, pressing on the air mattress with his bare toes. “Do people really sleep on these things?”
“Yes, they do.” Patrick and his cousins spent many a night on air mattresses during family get-togethers. That’s probably why this one is leaking. “I’m sorry,” Patrick says again, and David makes a disapproving noise.
“This isn’t a problem, Patrick,” David says, his voice as steady as his gaze as he finds Patrick’s eyes. “It’s a very personal decision. You didn’t plan on us getting a flat tire a million miles away from Schitt’s Creek. You don’t have to do something you’re not ready for just because we wound up at your parents’ house today.”
“But don’t you see,” Patrick starts, and then lowers his voice. “Don’t you see? Now I’m lying to them. Maybe before I could get away with it because I wasn’t sure, but now…”
David takes his hand and rubs his thumb over Patrick’s wrist. “You’ll tell them when you feel safe. When you’re ready.”
Patrick feels a tell-tale burning behind his eyes, and he leans in, pressing his face against David’s chest. His borrowed pajama shirt smells a little like summer camp, a bit musty from sitting in the dresser drawer for who knows how long. David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and holds him, letting Patrick ground himself.
When he feels a little less like he’s about to unravel, Patrick gets up and locks the door to his bedroom. David raises an impressive eyebrow, but Patrick ignores him and returns to the bed. “Come on,” he says, pushing back the covers.
“Are you sure?” David asks, his words barely audible.
“We both need sleep,” Patrick says. “And neither one of us are going to get any on what’s left of that air mattress.”
David frowns, glancing from the bed to the floor. “I could sleep on the couch downstairs?”
The fact that David is willing to sleep on his parents’ twenty-five year old sectional speaks volumes about David’s respect for his desire to “go slow” (whatever that means when he’s just met his parents under false pretenses), and Patrick feels a pang of affection for him. “No, you don’t need to subject yourself to that. I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay on the bed together. I mean, I’m okay with it. If you are.”
Patrick’s not sure he could be any more awkward if he tried, but David takes pity on him and complies, turning off the bedside lamp and climbing under the covers. He settles on his side, facing Patrick. “Bet you never thought you’d be taking a man to bed who was wearing grandpa pajamas,” David says, his eyes glinting in the dim light from the hall.
“I never thought I’d be taking a man to bed at all,” Patrick says. “And be careful what you say - those are my pajamas.”
“Well, I’m honored to be here,” David says. “Even if this isn’t how I imagined our first night together.”
“You’ve thought about our first night together?” The question slips out without Patrick’s permission.
“Indeed, and it’s really not something we should be talking about right now.”
“Why not?”
David slides closer, whispering the words against Patrick’s cheek. “Because your parents are right down the hall.”
Patrick feels a thrill of arousal spark through him, and he has to agree with David. “You’ll tell me some other time, right?”
“Just try to stop me.”
Patrick leans in and brushes a soft kiss against David’s lips, and David responds, just a moment of connection. Then Patrick turns over, pulling David’s arm over his waist as he goes. “This okay?” he asks softly, holding his breath.
David snuggles a little closer and hums against Patrick’s hair. “Yes.” They lie there for a few minutes, both of them unnaturally still, until Patrick starts to giggle.
“Okay, fine, it’s really hard for me to fall asleep this way, sue me for trying to be nice,” David says.
Patrick turns back around and grabs David by the shoulder before he can turn away. “It’s fine, I can’t fall asleep anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” David says.
“No, it’s not you, it’s…” Patrick hates that this is so hard, that he’s here with David in bed and this is what they’re talking about.
“I know. I meant I’m sorry you’re feeling pressured.”
“Not by you, or, anyone really. Except maybe myself.”
“Look, go to sleep, and tomorrow we’ll get the car fixed and go home. And you can think about it when you’ve got some distance. If you want, we can come back here anytime for you to talk to your parents. I can just drop you off and go wander in the cornfields, or whatever people do to kill time out here.”
Patrick sighs. “My parents aren’t bad people, David. It’s just… until I actually tell them, I can’t know for sure what will happen.” His throat tightens. “What if… what if they don’t react like I think they will?”
David reaches over and pulls Patrick into a somewhat crooked hug, and Patrick suddenly gives up on this whole sleeping in the same bed but not together thing and shifts until he’s comfortably tucked up against David’s side, his head on his chest, listening to the sound of David’s heart under his ear.
“Thank you, David,” Patrick whispers. “For being here.”
“I’m a very generous person,” David whispers back, and presses a kiss to Patrick’s head.
*****
When Patrick wakes up, it doesn’t take him long to realize that something is very different from every time he’s ever woken up in this bed before. He lets himself have a few minutes to stare at David, hair mussed and face relaxed in sleep. He thinks about everything David said the night before, and how David did everything he could to reassure Patrick, even though their relationship is brand spanking new and David has his own anxieties. No matter what happens now, he’s sure David’s going to be there to support him. Knowing this gives Patrick the little bit of extra courage he needs to have a conversation with his parents that could change everything.
Patrick slides out of bed as quietly as he can, trying not to wake David. David doesn’t even stir, not until Patrick leans down and presses a barely there kiss to David’s cheek.
“Mmm, Patrick?” David mumbles, wrapping a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck, his aim surprisingly good especially since he hasn’t opened his eyes. Patrick leans in for a soft kiss, loving David so sleep clumsy and soft.
“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly against David’s messy hair. “I’m going to talk to my parents.”
David pries one eye open and then the other. He gets it. “I’ll be here,” David says, “whatever happens.”
“I know.”
“If you need to, yell really loud, and we’ll make our getaway.”
“Okay.”
“Really loud, though. Because I’m a heavy sleeper.” David quirks a smile at Patrick, and he can’t help but smile in return.
“Okay, David.” Patrick leans in for one more quick kiss, then makes himself step away. If he doesn’t leave the room now, he’ll lose his nerve. He grabs his old robe from the hook on the back of the door and lets himself out into the hallway.
His parents are in the kitchen, sitting at the table with their coffees, a half-eaten bagel in front of his dad.
“Morning, sweetheart,” his mom says, standing up to pour him a mug of coffee. “Sleep well?”
Patrick sits at the table where he’s sat so many mornings before, his body suddenly thrumming with adrenaline. He accepts the coffee from his mom but doesn’t bother trying to take a sip, he’s afraid he’ll just spill it. “Yeah, but, um,” he takes a deep breath. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
His mom sits back down, and now both his parents are gazing at him expectantly.
“Okay,” his dad says. “We’re listening.”
They’re wearing matching patient, earnest expressions, and Patrick is starting to think that his announcement might be a bit anticlimactic. Perhaps he and David were a little more obvious than he had thought. It doesn’t matter at this point, he’s got to forge ahead. “I’m gay. And David and I are together.”
“Oh, Patrick,” his mom says, reaching across the table to take his hands. “Thank you for telling us.”
“Yes, thank you for trusting us,” his dad says. “We love you.”
“We do, Patrick, so much,” his mom says, and Patrick is now certain that they already knew - they were probably surfing the web last night while he and David were watching television, reading up on how to have this conversation. But it doesn’t make him any less relieved to have finally said the words.
“I’m - I’m really happy,” he says, and his parents both beam at him.
“We’re so glad,” his mom says. “That’s what’s important.”
“David seems very nice,” his dad says. “And very handsome.”
“He is, he’s lovely,” his mom agrees.
Patrick winces. He did not need his parents commenting on David’s looks - although they have certainly mentioned often enough how pretty Rachel is, so maybe it’s not that strange.
“All right, tell us everything,” his mom says, her eyes taking on a conspiratorial glint. “How long have you two been together?”
Patrick laughs and hides his face in his hands. “Not very long. Just, um, for a few days.”
His parents exchange a fond look. “Well, you seem like you really click,” his mom says. “Now, go wake that boy up and let’s all go out to breakfast before you two have to head home. Maybe this time we can talk about something other than the weather.”
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.” Patrick gets up from the table, and then on a whim, holds his arms out. His parents grin and join him, all of them wrapped up together, Clint patting Patrick’s back and murmuring a heartfelt “love you, son.”
The past few days have been filled with firsts - his first date with David, his first kiss that felt like it was supposed to, his first time taking a man to bed, however platonic. And now this.
Patrick has definitely never had a moment quite like this in his family kitchen before. But if this is what the future holds, he’s all for it.