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Patrick quickly picked his outfit for the next day as he heard the plastic and glass clatter of David’s skincare potions sound their twice-daily symphony on the bathroom vanity. He needed to be ready to go when David was finished before that little sneak, regardless of how cute he was, got there first.
The shuffling from the counter to the laundry hamper let Patrick know it was time, so after he placed his socks next to his coiled belt and boxer briefs on the top of his dresser, he quickly hustled over to the armoire, quietly opening its doors.
“No touching yet, Mr. Brewer,” David admonished as he gracefully slid into the bedroom and next to Patrick.
“I know the rules, David,” Patrick played off as he opened the small compartment hidden behind the longer sweaters and tunics that were kept in the mid-center wardrobe. “The Vault”, as they had dubbed it, didn’t have a lock, but its secretive location meant it was a good place for minor valuables to live temporarily like…
“Mrs. Callani’s Cookies! What are we going to do when you are all gone?” David mourned prematurely as he rounded the bed, pulling back the covers.
“I keep hoping she will start making Easter or Canada Day ones, but I think she puts so much effort into these and that’s what makes them so good.” Patrick carried the precious cargo to the bed, setting the decorative tub between them as he shuffled up towards the headboard.
Mrs. Callani had been a long-time customer of the store starting from the first day they opened. Even if she was just coming into town to drop something off at the post office or driving through on her way to visit her sister in Elm Creek, she stopped in the shop. A spritely lady in her late 70s, she had been a widow for many years with no children. David and Patrick fawned over her when she came in as she loved to hear David’s backstory on the products and design elements of the store and Patrick’s tales of business projections.
It just always seemed to happen that there was a clearance brick of artisan cheese that needed to be used up soon or that the supplier sent too many of Mrs. Callani’s favorite hand cream scent when she stopped by. She often left the store with her well-worn Rose Apothecary tote bag carrying something at a steep discount or with a bonus extra product or two. “Until next time, gentlemen!” she’d call out each time with a wave.
The first holiday season that they were opened, it was only a few months into their fledgling relationship. Mrs. Callani embarrassed them both saying they would each get an individual little container “until they were formally married or moved in together, which I am sure will happen sooner rather than later considering how you two look at each other”.
After closing that night, David couldn’t resist and had popped open his tin as Patrick ran the register report. The resounding “oh my god” that had echoed through the store made Patrick come running with concern only to find David stuffing another confection into his mouth.
“You’ve gotta try one of these!” David had garbled out around a mouthful.
And from then on (including receiving a large combined tray in the months after their wedding and cottage move-in), Patrick and David had counted down the days until Mrs. Callani waltzed in with a big smile and a bounty of treats for her favorite gentleman. It was in those first years with their couples combined container that they realized that their sweet tooths had made them both a little bit ruthless.
There was the night David found Patrick up at 3AM in only his underwear trying to quietly pry off the lock & seal lid to get the last butter cookie dipped in chocolate after he had already eaten the first three before dinner.
Or when David made a 10-mile detour to stop at home between vendor pickups to slice ever-larger chunks off the mini loaf of orange poppy seed bread until over half was gone.
And who can forget when they both found crumbs on each other's sides of the bed when a goodnight kiss turned a little heated (chocolate hazelnut crinkles on David’s side and Oatmeal Scotchies on Patrick’s).
Then there was the “Horror of 2021” when a very high Stevie, who was staying overnight in the guest room, demolished half the tub because it was left out on the counter. David and Patrick could never agree on who mistakenly left it in Stevie’s intoxicated reach.
It was then they realized a compromise was needed.
Now, every year whenever they got the very nice airtight holiday themed container from Mrs. Callani, it was promptly placed into The Vault. The ground rules were that they both had to be present whenever the container was opened nightly, they only got to eat one cookie each, and any disputes over remaining cookies would be resolved through rock-paper-scissors.
There was also the addendum to the rules that stated they could only eat the cookies when no one else was in their house because of the sexual noises David would make eating them, almost causing a visiting Marcy to break down the door when she thought her son-in-law was in mortal danger one time.
Both the remainder of the year, their fifth married, and the cookies were dwindling away just a day or two before New Year’s. After a few days of the Roses and Brewers both in town, they had been anxiously awaiting their own travels back through the decorative paper baking cups that held the special treasures.
“It keeps getting harder and harder to choose,” a salivating David remarked as Patrick ceremoniously uncovered the container and presented it to David, being his turn to select first.
Patrick watched as David’s eyes roamed from side to side. He considered the last peanut butter buckeye, before his gaze darted to the cranberry orange shortbread, then over to the eggnog snickerdoodles, before finally landing on the almond bars. David delicately reached down to pick up the small square and placed it on his tongue, eyes closing with pleasure as he let it melt in his mouth. Patrick almost got as much enjoyment watching David indulge as he did eating them himself. Almost.
As David contently sighed, Patrick decisively settled on a ginger molasses cookie, resting it on his leg before carefully re-covering the container to preserve its priceless contents. With David being the first to choose, he would have to put it back into The Vault promptly.
Patrick leaned against the fluffy pillows and took a satisfyingly chewy bite. He could see David out of the corner of his eye watching him savor the spice and warmth of his cookie. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that liked to take in their spouse’s gratification, even with the cutthroat nature of their (lack of) sharing in their first years.
In the end, Patrick supposed that was what marriage was all about, at least the ones like their parents and what they both had wanted for themselves. Yes, they could technically control themselves, but the fun of The Vault, the gamesmanship of the cookie choosing, and the nightly toast with flour and sugar towards the dear Mrs. Callani just made it one of the best parts of the holiday season for them.
Patrick smiled as he popped the remaining cookie into his mouth, admiring the view of his husband in his pajamas returning the container to The Vault.
“Hmm, I wonder how good almond and ginger would taste together?” David questioned as he climbed back onto the bed, scooting over to Patrick’s side to curl up against him.
“There is only one way to find out.” Patrick grinned as he captured his husband’s lips in the sweetest and tastiest of kisses.