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With the misunderstanding mercifully cleared up, Johnny claps his hands together and promises to leave the Brewers in peace to unwind from their journey and the subsequent surprises. Marcy walks with him to the door, and David intends to follow.
“David.” Clint stops him before he turns to go, lifting a hand and stepping tentatively towards him. He stops short of touching his arm, like he’s afraid he might spook him.
David raises his eyebrows with some trepidation as Johnny and Marcy step outside without him.
Clint drops his arm to clasp his hands in front of himself, looking pained. It’s a clear signal: I come in peace.
“I’m sorry I scared you before, David,” he says, and oh no, those earnest eyes are hereditary. David cocks his head and furrows his brow. “When I asked… if it was something we did. I didn’t think - I was so caught up in all the… all the emotion of it, I didn’t think how it came across to you.” He surveys David for a moment, and David feels the scrutiny. “You thought I was asking if we’d done something wrong, that - that made Patrick gay.”
David grimaces, feeling caught. He flaps his hands, trying to explain. “I just, I didn’t know you; I didn’t know what you were… feeling? About everything? I mean, I thought - but you never know how someone’s going to react - and sometimes people think…”
Clint holds up a hand, a look of sympathetic understanding on his kind features. “I know. I know. I just didn’t think - I only realised afterwards how it sounded.”
“Mm.” David tucks in a small smile and nods. He feels so much lighter now - there’s a wonderful relief in knowing this is going to be alright for Patrick, after the sheer terror he’d felt on his unsuspecting boyfriend’s behalf this morning.
Clint raises his hand again and reaches out to touch David’s arm. It’s a singularly paternal gesture, and David forces himself to stand there with it, not shying away or shrugging it off.
“I saw how upset you were,” he says, holding David’s gaze with that terrifying, earnest intensity. “When you thought we were upset. About that.” He pauses. “You came here not knowing what you’d find. Don’t think we didn’t notice.”
David feels the urge to squirm but holds himself as still as he can.
“It’s comforting to know Patrick has someone who takes such good care of him. He doesn’t always remember to take care of himself.” Clint sighs, and when he speaks again his tone is regretful. “I think maybe I taught him that.”
David sniffs, feeling his eyes sting. “I’ll take care of him,” he tries to say, but it comes out a whisper.
“I know you will,” says Clint.
“He takes care of me, too.”
Clint smiles, squeezes his arm. “Good.” He drops his hand but his gaze doesn’t waver from David’s face. “You… hm.” He clears his throat, like this kind of conversation is new to him; David can sympathise. “You love him, huh?”
David nearly laughs, a startled, congested, hideous sound. “Mm!” he agrees, nodding vigorously, looking upwards against the renewed stinging in his eyes. “I really do.”
Clint nods. “That’s all we ever wanted for him. To be loved and safe and settled. He was so unhappy before he left. We didn’t know what was wrong, or - or how to help. Now, when we talk to him… he’s so optimistic, so excited about things. He’s where he’s supposed to be. I just… wish we’d done more to make him feel like he could share it with us.”
David can’t explain it. He has some vague ideas about why Patrick might not have told them, partly from general experience and partly from the work he and Patrick have done sifting through some of their baggage together. But he doesn’t know, and anyway, it’s not his place to say.
“Coming out is one of those things that’s different for everyone,” he says carefully. “It doesn’t have to be anything you did. People figure things out at different times and it can take a long time before someone’s ready to talk about it.”
Clint hums, thoughtful.
“I wouldn’t have known how to tell my parents, or really wanted to bring it up with them, only they always thought I was gay, and I’m not,” David adds, his hands starting to flap again with his nerves as he wonders why he’s sharing this with his boyfriend’s father. “I mean, I like men, obviously, um, but I’m not gay, and I wanted them to know that because I dated women too and I didn’t want them to be weird about it.”
As David speaks, Clint looks like he feels a little out of his depth, but sincerely interested in understanding.
“Oh, okay,” he says. “So does that mean you’re… bisexual? Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, you - of course you don’t have to explain to me.”
David waves away Clint’s obvious concern and tries to figure out how to explain it as simply as possible. “I don’t mind. I’m actually not bi, I’m pansexual - it’s, um, it’s kind of similar? I just - gender isn’t that important to me.”
It’s clearly a new concept to him, but Clint’s expression is attentive and respectful, and he nods.
“I’ll have to ask Patrick what he - how he would... describe himself,” he muses aloud, glancing at David for reassurance. “Or is that - should I not do that?” he asks outright, and David feels a pang in his chest at Clint’s clear anxiety about saying something wrong.
He doesn’t really know the right answer, but gives the best one he can. “I think that… he’ll tell you everything that he feels is important for you to know. But I think it can be really healthy and, like, validating? To have a two-way conversation about it. So you can always ask about things, and he can answer or he can choose not to, if that makes sense? There’s not - there isn’t a script.” David takes in the man in front of him, all his uncertainty and guilt and willingness to make things right for his son who ran away. He thinks about these kind people who made Patrick, who matter to Patrick, and he has to offer what encouragement he can. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “He just needs you to love and support him. As long as you can do that, everything else will be fine.”
Clint gives a small smile. “Never been a problem before.” He huffs out a little self-deprecating sound, like he’s embarrassed by the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. “God, I miss him.”
“He misses you, too,” David says softly. “Not for much longer, though.”
Clint smiles properly at that. “No. Not much longer.”
The words hang there for a moment, warm and comforting and hopeful, before David has to excuse himself to get back to the store; he’s left it in the hands of someone who requires payment by the hour in very expensive wine.
“So I’ll see you at the café a little before seven?”
“You bet you will,” Clint answers, sounding more upbeat. He walks with David to the door and holds it open for him. “Thank you, David. For today, for all of this. Bringing us all together.”
David doesn’t know how to respond to that kind of sentiment, but he smiles and shakes his head a little awkwardly. “Thank you for coming,” he manages, and he means it.
He steps outside and makes his way back towards the road, passing his father and Marcy, who are still chatting. Marcy beams at him and Johnny looks at him with something even David can’t fail to recognise as pride, and he has to wave an acknowledging hand in their direction and hurry away before he gets emotional again.
He breathes deeply, reminding himself that the hard part is over. They’ve just got to get through the party now, really. And based on the Brewers’ reactions, and how obviously and sincerely they adore their son, David can be confident that’s not going to be a problem.