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The Carroll Avenue Neighborhood Association elects their new president at 10 PM Hugo's time. Cassandra's relayed that it's a crisp spring evening over there, and Patrick knows that the last thing on Hugo's obsessive to-do list before officially turning in for the night is to keep busy while he waits for Patrick's call. Patrick wonders if he can get away with texting, just this once, before deciding that'll only make things worse.
He pulls up FaceTime and then taps Hugo's name. Hugo picks up instantly, cozy in his bed that's been outfitted in sheets Patrick himself bought for him, a matching set to Patrick's own, one of their many attempts to help make the distance between them seem a little shorter.
"Hey," Hugo says. The pixels making up the sleepy smile that’s stretched across Hugo's face are a pale comparison to the real thing, but Patrick knows that he needs to take what he can get, especially with the news he's about to deliver.
"Hey," he says back. "You sitting down?"
"You can literally see that I am flat on my back, Patrick," Hugo groans. "What kind of question is that?"
Patrick's learned that the best way to give Hugo news that'll annoy him is to make sure he's already annoyed. Consider that box checked.
"They elected the new Association President this afternoon," Patrick says. "Three guesses who it is."
Hugo blinks. "Did they change the bylaws so that my mom could be it again?"
"Nope." Patrick shakes his head. "Two more."
"Cousin Jimmy?" Hugo hedges. "Wait! Please, don't tell me it's that awful C.C. Babcock?"
Patrick raises his free hand, the other one only slightly shaky as it holds his phone steady. "It's me!" he says with exaggerated enthusiasm, though he can't quite hide his wince at the affronted shock that overtakes Hugo's face before Hugo covers the expression with a big, fake smile. "Yay."
"I'm so happy for you, Patrick!" Hugo says. "Congratulations!"
Patrick copies Hugo’s tone as he says, "Then why are you using the 'I'm actually super pissed off but don't want you to know it' voice?"
"Because I'm pissed off!" Hugo sighs, dropping the act. "Oh my god, Patrick, I didn't even know you were interested! If you were eligible, why in the hell didn't they elect me?"
"You don't even live here!"
"Hugo, it's September." Patrick drains the water from the pasta he's making into the sink, not bothering to glance at the iPad he's got propped up on the island in front of him, broadcasting Hugo as he makes the same dish. He refuses to entertain even the notion of this conversation. "It's not even Halloween yet."
"Mom literally would've started planning on boxing day," Hugo says it like he's informing one of his clients that the jury’s come back with a guilty verdict. "Of last year. 257 days ago!"
Patrick wakes up earlier than usual one morning. He rolls over to stare at the side of the bed that Hugo sleeps on whenever he's in town. They'd learned early that they both preferred to sleep on the right side of the bed, a stalemate that lasted exactly three hours before Patrick caved and let Hugo have it.
He'd spent that final week before Hugo had gone back to NYC training himself to sleep on the side opposite to Hugo, just for this. He closes his eyes and pretends that Hugo isn’t there. That Hugo hasn't been out of bed for likely hours at this point.
When Patrick focuses hard enough, it almost feels like Hugo's side of the bed is still warm, like Patrick could walk into the kitchen and find Hugo there, cuddly and making coffee just the way Patrick likes it. One day that’s gonna be their life, Patrick knows it. He’s just gotta wait it out.
Patrick’s never been all that patient, but Hugo’s worth it.
He grabs his phone and taps at the screen until he finds the app he wants. "Send Hugo some hot chocolate," he commands, and then gets up to start his day.
Hugo calls around lunch his time, just as Patrick's logged into his computer at the office he keeps downtown.
"You have no idea how badly I needed that." He's talking with his voice pitched low, the way he does when he's in his office and is worried that the assistant they've hired for him can hear. "You're seriously the best, Patrick."
Patrick smiles at him through the screen of his laptop. "I had Hermes do it," he says. "Did I tell you that I sent the beta to some friends back in the valley? I think it might've gotten passed up to the brass at Apple, cause the other night I got this really cryptic email from Ti-"
"Literally only you could create revolutionary technology in your spare time, Patrick Ryan, I swear."
Patrick shrugs even as he feels his face heating up, warmth spreading through him at Hugo's praise. One of his many less-than-stellar ex-boyfriends had a jealousy streak where Patrick's success had been involved. It was nice to have Hugo constantly hyping him up, even if it was a little embarrassing. "Stop."
"I'm serious! If this one tips you over into being a billionaire I don't know what I do." Hugo sighs dramatically, dropping his head onto the desk. The video quality goes a bit fuzzy as he moves the camera to get his face back in the frame, peeking at Patrick with the one eye that isn’t squished against the top of his desk. "Is it gauche that I find you being rich hot?"
Patrick laughs and shakes his head. He drops his chin onto his hand, grinning at Hugo. "I can start sending you screencaps of my bank balance instead of nudes?"
"Please don't," Hugo says, as if he's worried that Patrick's being serious. "With my luck, it'll depress the hell out of me and give me an erection." Patrick starts laughing outright as mortification overtakes Hugo's expression. "I can't believe I actually said that out loud. I've become peak capitalism."
Patrick has to take a couple of big gulps of his coffee to calm down. "Oh baby," he sing-songs. "Talk dirty to me."
"I literally hate you."
"You literally don't." He makes eyebrows at Hugo through the camera. "Do you think if we have phone sex, your assistant will finally stop eavesdropping on you?"
"Oh my God, Patrick! I will hang up on you!" Hugo's face has gone beet red.
"Alright, alright." Patrick settles into his chair, pulling a couple of spreadsheets up on his second monitor. "What did you call about, if not that? I actually have some work planned for today, believe it or not."
"I wanted to check in on the planning."
The Planning, capitals very much needed. "Oh shoot, Hugo," Patrick says, dragging the pointer of his mouse to the red end-call button. "I think my internet is about to drop."
Hugo floats the idea of coming home in November, which is how Patrick ends up spending Thanksgiving with Hugo.
"I cannot believe you left Carroll Avenue during Planning Season!" It's about the fifth time Hugo's said as much since Patrick touched down at the airport.
Patrick feels like he's finally starting to come around to finding it cute rather than vaguely annoying, but it could go either way at this point.
"Hugo, it's a neighborhood celebration, not the president leaving the country while we're at war, please calm down. Unless, this is you trying to get me to leave…"
"No!" Hugo rushes out from where he'd been flossing in the bathroom to fling himself on top of Patrick in the bed.
"Or," Patrick offers, "we could talk about Planning."
Hugo's face lights up for a second before it seems to click that Patrick hasn't actually been replaced with a pod person from Mars and is only teasing him.
"Oh," Hugo says, voice going low in a way that always makes Patrick feel sweaty, and usually precedes good things. "You're gonna get it."
Patrick's only had one Hugo-less week before it's Hugo's turn to finally, finally visit home. Kate makes the executive decision to be the one who picks him up from the airport, since the last-minute obligations of being association president have pretty much taken over Patrick's life.
His watch chimes sometime just before lunch, Hermes alerting him that Hugo's flight touched down safely, but then a text comes through, the general manager at the neighborhood’s biggest grocery store letting him know that they've restocked on flour. There are five bakeries who have eagerly been awaiting the news, and just like that Patrick's dragged back into the unending drama of the season.
An hour later finds him at the tree lot with his dad — helping to unload a tree delivery and finding a blissful sort of zen in the repetitive use of his muscles, his brain quiet for once — when a voice calls out, "Patrick Ryan!"
He's smiling before he even really registers what it means to hear Hugo's voice without some piece of technology at hand. Patrick turns and jumps down from the bed of the truck and tugs off his gloves, absentmindedly dropping them onto the tailgate. "Oh my gosh," he says, quiet, and mostly to himself. "You're here!"
Patrick's sweaty, probably smells like someone doused a gym locker room in Pine-Sol and called it a day, and definitely has a light layer of tree sap covering him from head to toe, but Hugo bounds over and hugs him tightly anyway, even though it definitely means the chic traveling outfit he's got on is going to need dry cleaning.
"I missed you." Patrick's speaking into Hugo's hair, breathing in deep. "Which is crazy because I saw you like a week ago, but," he finishes with a tight squeeze, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever take the feeling of Hugo in his arms for granted.
Hugo shifts like he'd like some space; Patrick considers himself a master of self-control for the way he loosens his grip, allowing it. It's worth it in the end, Hugo's bright smile tipped up at him once his face is no longer hidden in Patrick’s neck.
"I was never as bad as Hugo is about this whole Christmas thing," Kate says, appearing to their left. "I just want that to go on the record."
Patrick laughs and shifts the grip he has on Hugo until his hands are beneath the wool coat he's got on, settled into the curve of Hugo's waist. "Oh no, does that mean you get the full interrogation on the ride in?" he asks Kate.
"And then some!" Kate moves closer so that she can poke Hugo in the cheek.
"Mom, stop." He levels his mother with a look that has her holding her hands up in defeat even as she's grinning. Hugo's eyes turn to look back up at him and he says, "Patrick, I've forgiven you for the Association President thing."
Patrick blinks. "I didn't even know that it needed forgiving," he says. "But, uh, thanks? Yay?"
"Do you want to know the reason why I've forgiven you?"
Patrick's hands slide down until they're pressed against the curve of Hugo's ass, the action hidden beneath the length of his coat. "Not really," he says, grinning.
Hugo frowns, even as he presses back into Patrick's grip on him. "Just for that, I'm really not gonna tell you."
"Good."
"I'm serious!"
Patrick snorts, laughing again. "Me too!" he says, in the same offended tone Hugo's used. He looks at Kate. "Did you already take this one home to drop off his stuff?"
She shakes her head. "He insisted on seeing you first thing."
Warmth fills Patrick, even though he's instantly suspicious. "Were you just trying to scope out Downtown out?"
"You know he was." Kate shakes her head. “I took the freeway in because of it; he hasn’t seen a thing.”
"Wow!" Hugo draws out the word, looking between the two of them. "I see what you think of me! The man that I love and my own mother, that's cold."
Patrick's smiling so hard it's embarrassing, so he leans down to press his face into Hugo's neck. "The man you love," he repeats, a bit dreamily. His lips and stuble catch against Hugo's skin and he can feel the shiver that races through Hugo's body.
"I can take it from here, Kate."
She reaches a hand up to pat the top of his head, the only part of him that isn't directly in contact with Hugo in some way. "I know you can, sweetie."
Hugo goes to get his suitcase from her car while Patrick unloads the last of tree from his truck. They're on the way to Patrick's house in about five minutes, and Patrick makes sure to drive the long way around, so that Hugo can finally see a good portion of the neighborhood decorations.
"Patrick," Hugo practically breaths out his name, voice full of wonder. "This is amazing!"
And the thing of it is, if Patrick can say so himself, it actually is pretty magnificent.
He'd gotten the local high schools involved, enlisting the help of all the various robotics clubs and partnering them up with the theatre kids, the local woodworking shops and their apprentices, basically any and every artisan group with even a tangential connection to the neighborhood. The end result is something he's really proud of, a showcase of the skillsets in their community, traditional and new.
"Do you really like it?" Patrick asks, and is surprised that he’s actually is nervous to hear Hugo's opinion.
His family might not have been as into it as the Spencers, but Patrick's a product of Carroll Avenue just as much as Hugo is, and, loathe as he is to admit, he knows the legacy that he's got to uphold if he’ll ever have a hope of becoming a respectable Spencer himself one day.
It must show in his voice. Hugo gives him a look and says, "Pull over."
Patrick does, stopping on a little side street that'll lead them out of Downtown and into the suburb where Patrick lives, his house officially home-base whenever Hugo comes to visit, even if they do end up at Kate's quite a bit for breakfasts or dinners. It's the time of day where the sun's just started to set, sky a mix of purples and orange. The street is pretty empty as the office crowd still has about thirty minutes before they get to leave for home for the day, school-aged kids already at home or consumed by whatever extracurriculars they're caught up in.
It means that they have some privacy when Hugo undoes his seatbelt and leans across the truck's bench to kiss the hell out of Patrick, over and over again. His hands are cold where they press against Patrick's cheeks, and Patrick wouldn't have it any other way.
"It's seriously amazing," Hugo says before diving in again, kissing Patrick deeply. "I can't believe you pulled it off in just a couple of months."
"Well," Patrick admits, pulling back so that he can undo his own seatbelt and stop if from casually strangling him. He moves closer to Hugo, hoping that keeping the kisses coming might distract him a bit. "I may have started laying the groundwork in May."
"Patrick!"
Hugo's silent treatment lasts until they get through the door. He's on Patrick in an instant, kissing him more frantically than he had in the truck, that previous fondness replaced with passion.
"God I wanted to do that since I saw you," Hugo says.
Patrick can't even tease him for it, because he felt the same way. It's ridiculous, how much he wants Hugo, basically all the time. "Why didn't you?"
Hugo groans, pulling back even as he's shrugging off his coat. His head disappears under the dense fabric of his sweater before being visible up again, the white t-shirt he has on underneath twisted and showing off a patch of Hugo's stomach that Patrick loves to bite and mark up. "Because my mom has already started dropping grandkid ‘jokes’,” he says, making air quotes. “Which I can assure you are anything but."
Patrick's heart races just thinking about that. About the ring he has hidden in his desk upstairs, and the plans he has for New Years Day, once all the madness of a Carroll Avenue Christmas is behind them.
"She may have made one or two immaculate conception comments to me while she helped me get things set up this year."
That revelation leads to Hugo groaning out noises that sound like a whale dying, even as he makes grabby hands at Patrick, helpfully undoing the buttons on the flannel shirt Patrick’s got on. "But I mean, hey," Patrick continues, using his height to his advantage as he starts backing Hugo towards the stairs. "I'm willing to do my part if you are," he offers.
Hugo gives him his most withering glare, even as his face flushes red. "The fact that I know you probably said that exact thing to my mother," Hugo says, shaking his head and giving an exaggerated shiver. "Just for that, I'm fucking you."
Patrick barks out a laugh. "Twist my arm!"
Boxing Day has never felt like such a relief. Patrick wakes up early out of habit, his mind calm as he stares at the ceiling and appreciates that there isn't a single thing he actually needs to do today.
Nothing besides anything and everything he wants with Hugo, that is. Patrick smiles sleepily and rolls to the right until his body is settled over Hugo's, warm and soft and deeply asleep, even as Hugo starts letting out grumpy noises over Patrick squishing him.
"You're a child," Hugo groans, voice a raspy mess. It drives Patrick insane whenever he manages to actually call Hugo before he's woken up. Having the real thing live and in stereo is pretty much the best gift Patrick could've asked for.
"I'm so glad it's over." Patrick sighs, shifting until he's got his arms wrapped around Hugo, their legs hooked together beneath the covers.
"I'm thinking of moving back home."
Patrick's eyes pop open and he sits up so quickly that he feels a bit dizzy. "Home as in," he can't even finish the question. His heart feels like it's lodged into his throat, preventing him from saying anything more.
"As in Milwaukee," Hugo says, sighing. "I can't let you do this alone again, and there's no way they'll actually ever elect me. I know they'll just think I'm a puppet for my mom to continue doing her thing."
"So you're only moving back for the parade," Patick interprets, speaking slowly. "And you don't want people to think you're your mom's puppet, but you want me to be your puppet."
"I knew that big sexy brain of yours would see the logic in it," Hugo says, tapping a finger against Patrick's nose before rolling his eyes. "No, you weirdo! I'm moving back because I miss you like crazy and, honestly? Cards on the table? I'm good at my job, there's no reason why I can't find a firm out here even if it is a pay cut compared to what I'm netting now. Besides, you're legitimately rich."
It takes a lot of effort for Patrick to keep himself from grinning. "So you're saying that you're factoring in our joint income and the perks of being —" he stalls out. "What would it even be called? First," he asks, fumbling for a word. "Gentleman?"
Hugo looks similarly stumped. "First elf?" he offers, even though it's clear he doesn't like that one bit. "Jack Frost? If Santa were gay, he'd definitely end up with Jack Frost, right?"
"Whatever," Patrick says, shaking his head. "You're factoring in a lot of perks given that we aren't even married yet, Hugo. That's pretty bold."
"Yeah," Hugo says, drawing it out. "About that."
"Stop!" Patrick feels giddy, that competitive streak in him coming alive.
There's no way he's letting Hugo beat him to this.
Patrick shoots out of bed, racing to his study even as Hugo shouts what the hell at his retreating form. His pulse is racing, a cold sweat breaking out on his shirtless back even though the house is literally freezing, wooden floor stinging against Patrick's bare feet. He's back in the bedroom in a flash, panting with the box clutched between his sweaty fingers.
He throws the stupid thing at Hugo, grinning.
"Yeah, Hugo," he says, "About that."