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Another door shuts in his face and Patrick sighs before turning and trudging down the path, tucking his tablet beneath his arm so that he can dig his hands into his pockets for a brief respite from the cold before he has to knock on the next door.
Canvassing for the council wouldn’t be his first choice of job but needs must when you’ve moved to a new city having upped and walked out on your life in search of something more.
“Good afternoon,” he says when the next door opens, fumbling in his coat for his lanyard. “I’m with the local council, canvassing the area to find out public opinion on the new housing...”
He’s halfway through his opening spiel when he finds his ID badge, looking up as he presents it. The familiar, scripted words falter on his tongue at the sight of the gorgeous man in the doorway.
Patrick’s been doing a lot of soul-searching over the last few weeks. Questions asked and answered, things that have always felt misaligned slotting at last into their rightful place, fitting so perfectly that it took his breath away. It’s been like flicking on a light he’d never even known was there, illuminating hidden corners, casting light on things long left in the shadows. And what he’d found had been a relief, a weight lifted that he hadn’t noticed he carried. It hadn’t even really been too much of a surprise, the overwhelming thought had been ‘of course.’
But had he had any lingering doubts, the man standing in front of him – dark hair, dark eyes, stunning – would have swept them away. Because yes, this pull, this swooping in his stomach at the mere sight of this man’s glittering eyes and strong, slightly stubbled jawline... This is attraction.
The man flicks his eyes over Patrick, head to foot and back again, meeting Patrick’s wide-eyed stare. The smile that quirks at the stranger’s lips has Patrick’s mouth drying as dizzying images of what would happen if he were to lean in and kiss that smile fill his brain.
It’s wild. It’s insane. He isn’t going to do it but the fact that the impulse exists makes his breath hitch.
He doesn’t realise he’s still staring until the man raises an eyebrow. His smile doesn’t drop, and his deep voice shimmers with amusement as he prompts, “The new housing... What?”
“What? Oh!”
For as cold as he’d been two minutes ago, Patrick’s face warms remarkably quickly as he realises he’s been caught gawking.
Shit. The first guy he’s been attracted to since realising he was gay and he’s already made a fool of himself.
He scrambles, groping for the tablet under his arm in an attempt to regain some professional bearing but he fumbles as he loosens his arm before he has a proper grip. The device tumbles to the ground, landing face down on the concrete with a worrying slap.
He just barely avoids swearing out loud this time as he hurriedly crouches to scoop it up.
“Fuck-” the stranger’s voice above him is more serious now and apparently has no such qualms about cursing aloud but then why should he? He isn’t on the clock. “-Is it broken?”
Patrick turns it over in his hands, swiping a hand over the screen to wipe away the dirt clinging to the mercifully uncracked glass before pressing the home button. The screen lights up, the first page of the council’s survey appearing, and Patrick exhales a relieved breath.
“No. Still working.”
He stands before lifting his eyes to the man’s face again. His eyes are still fixed on Patrick, although his smile has faded a little. Patrick misses it already.
“Good. Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Patrick says quickly. “You didn’t drop it. Anyway, it’s fine. No harm done, see?”
He turns it round to show him the screen, and this time the man’s face twists into a grimace as he sees the official council logo, the streams of text underneath. Belatedly, Patrick wonders if it was maybe a bad idea to show the survey to a potential participant – the sight of the dull questionnaire would hardly encourage contribution – but it’s maybe worth it to witness the gymnastics that expressive face goes through as he takes it in.
“‘The perceived impact of proposed new build housing project (reference: B13/308) on the local environment and inhabitants.’” The man reads the title aloud. “Well, that does looks fun.”
Patrick can’t help the laughter the comment surprises from him. “Yeah, it’s um. It’s riveting stuff.”
“I bet. With a title like that, how could it not be? Will there be a sequel do you think?”
Attractive and funny. Patrick’s grin spreads; it feels ridiculous on his face but thankfully the stranger doesn’t comment.
“Dear god I hope not.”
The man’s eyes sparkle back at him. “Not really the attitude I’d expect the man handling the questionnaire to have.”
Patrick tuts, twisting his face into a mock-rueful expression. “It’s just that last week I was asking questions about the frequency of refuse and recycling collection and the noise pollution caused by the early morning schedules. Now that was a page-turner.”
“Shame I missed it,” the man says. “Ah well. This one will have to do. A council survey. Just what I was hoping to do this afternoon.”
“You want to take part?” He probably should try not to sound so shocked. This is his job.
“What can I say? You’ve sold it so well. And if you’re committed enough to almost smash your equipment on my path the least I can do is listen to what you have to say.”
His dark eyes flit over Patrick’s face once more, brushing over his cheeks and nose, reddened by the cold, and his windswept hair. He purses his lips. “Do you want to come in?”
“In?” Patrick repeats, unsure if he’s heard right.
“As in, not out?” Another quirk of his lips. “It’s freezing. You must be cold and this sweater really is more for form than function.”
Now that he looks properly Patrick can see that the man’s sweater is indeed rather a loose knit, with several large holes in the arms. They remind him of the ripped jeans Rachel used to have (she’d called them distressed) and now he’s imagining this guy wearing jeans with holes in the thighs, offering glimpses of his strong legs.
Patrick clears his throat, reluctantly dragging his thoughts back into line.
“I... I mean, I’m fine on the doorstep. People usually prefer to do it here but if you’re cold and you’re comfortable with me coming in then that’s fine too.”
“I’d like you to come in. If that’s okay.”
Patrick pauses for a moment, assessing.
In all his weeks doing this, no one has ever invited him in. They covered the scenario briefly in his induction (never put yourself in a position that could be unsafe. Your tablets are equipped with GPS and if you’re stationary too long we will call you to check on your wellbeing) with the overall message being to use discretion and common sense.
He supposes they didn’t want to put an outright ban on it at the risk of alienating some participants who would not want to spend long periods standing on the doorstep. He’s fairly certain they didn’t include hot men with insanely soft looking sweaters, a heart-pounding smile, and a neck that Patrick itches to nuzzle into in their considerations but that’s on them for not being clear.
He takes in the man, replaying their words so far in his head. Patrick would like to think he’s a good judge of character and nothing so far has set off alarm bells. Patrick doesn’t feel unsafe with him. Unbalanced, exhilarated, invigorated, yes. But not unsafe.
“Yeah. That’s... Yes.”
The man nods – is that pleasure sparking in his eyes? – and steps back to let Patrick pass over the threshold. It’s warm inside; Patrick can already feel his frozen fingers beginning to thaw as he lingers awkwardly in the hallway, waiting for the man to lead the way to… wherever he wants to do this.
“I’m David, by the way,” the man says as he closes the door behind them. “In case you need it for your survey. David Rose.”
“It’s question number one,” Patrick replies, while the name echoes in his head. David Rose. It’s strong, beautiful, mysterious. It suits this man perfectly. “Good to meet you, David.”
The man – David Rose – chuckles and the sound makes butterflies explode in Patrick’s stomach. “And do I get to know your name? Or is guessing it one of the later questions?”
Patrick flushes. That’s right – his opening speech had been cut short. He manages to hold his voice remarkably steady as he answers.
“Patrick Brewer.”
“Patrick,” David repeats softly. Patrick likes how his name sounds in David’s voice, and if he’s imagining David too is rolling Patrick’s name around in his mind, revelling in the new-found knowledge of it, well there’s no one else to know it.
“So, Patrick. You said the name was question one. Question one of how many?”
“Ah, I’m afraid if I tell you that you may quickly change your mind about taking part.”
David walks past him, heading further into the house. His shoulder brushes Patrick’s in a way that feels… if Patrick was giving into his fevered hopes, there would be a strong case for arguing that it felt deliberate. After all, there’s space for David to have passed him without contact at all.
There isn’t much opportunity to dwell on it as David looks back over his shoulder, tilting his head to signal Patrick to follow him.
The second door off the hallway leads to a sitting room and it’s into this that David leads them. A stylish leather couch sits by a white rug bearing a coffee table in front of an unlit fire. There’s an armchair in the same black leather at a right angle to the couch and a switched off television in the corner. The clock on the wall ticks in the silence and on the coffee table there is a paperback book – open and face down, holding David’s place – and a mug of coffee on a coaster.
Apparently Patrick has interrupted his reading. Patrick tilts his head to see the spine, eager to have an extra scrap of information about the man. It’s a Jackson Pollock biography, the front cover displaying a wild, chaotic, colourful painting of criss-crossing lines.
“You like art?” he asks, nodding to the book. He settles himself in the armchair while David takes the couch.
David nods, a smile tucking into the corner of his mouth. “I do. Do… do you?”
“Yes. I mean… I’m not an expert but yeah.”
When he sees the pleased glow that graces David’s face, Patrick resolves to do some research as soon as he gets home into the local galleries. He might never see David again after this afternoon but maybe visiting a gallery or two, being close to something that clearly brings David joy could be the next best thing.
“You don’t have to be an expert,” David says. “Art is to be experienced. It’s about how it makes you feel.”
“Kind of like music.” At David’s questioning look, he elaborates. “I, er… I love music. All kinds. I hear a song and it’s just- It’s amazing how a collection of notes and words can make you feel so much.”
David tilts his head, regarding Patrick with an intrigued gleam to his eye. “Exactly.”
The approval in his tone brings a flush to Patrick’s face and he meets David’s eye, smiling. Silence settles and for a moment the two of them rest in it, allowing the warmth of understanding to stretch between them.
Ten minutes. Ten minutes, Patrick’s known this man and he’s already enchanted. He doesn’t know the protocol here, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to act on this but if David continues being this fantastic, he may not have a choice. He needs this job, yes, but not enough to let this chance pass him by if, by the end of this meeting, he still feels such a strong connection. Especially if David lets him know he feels the same way.
David breaks the moment by looking down at the tablet which Patrick has set down on the arm of the chair he’s sitting in. The flicker of his eyes towards the device startles Patrick out of his reverie.
Right. He’s here to do a job, even if that job’s seeming less and less important by the second (which is saying something as it never felt all that important to begin with.) Plus David’s been nice enough to invite him in; Patrick could at least do him the favour of not making this weird by sitting and openly staring at him.
So, while Patrick doesn’t particularly want to do the questionnaire, there’s no point putting it off. Even if it’s going to be awkward as hell trying to maintain a professional demeanour and get through it while everything in him just wants to toss the tablet away and spend the next few hours getting to know David.
Except it isn’t awkward. Not in the least. Yes, the questions are boring and repetitive but between each question, they often end up going off on tangents and Patrick eagerly soaks up all information David offers.
He finds out that David has a sister named Alexis when he mentions that she once dated someone from one of those home-renovation shows. He discovers that David likes fashion and Italian food and has opinions on a wide range of things that Patrick had never really thought about (and the gestures he makes when he makes those opinions known involve his whole body, as well as his face.)
He learns that David is sarcastic and quick-witted with a smile that curls up into the corner of his mouth and makes his eyes gleam. That smile speeds Patrick’s heartrate faster than any workout at the gym and he wonders how he’s missed this feeling all these years.
One of the later questions – ‘How long have you been a resident in the neighbourhood?’ – leads David to mention that he moved here from New York a couple of years ago, wanting to get away from the city somewhere quieter.
The whole story is murky, and Patrick doesn’t want to pry, but he can sense that there is something deeper there. It’s written in the crease of David’s brow when he mentions his parents being overly involved in his life, comes through in the humourless wry tone he employs when he speaks about the friends he had there. Patrick can almost hear the inverted commas around the word ‘friends’ and despite having no firmer basis to rest his suspicions on than that, David’s demeanour is enough for Patrick to believe that his time in New York did not end happily.
After that David seems a little on edge, eyes troubled as if worried he’s revealed too much and so, in an effort to brush away the worry from his expression, Patrick opens up a little as well, revealing his own new status in the neighbourhood. Seemingly grateful for another topic, David seizes on it, asking what made Patrick choose this town.
Patrick shrugs. “I don’t know. This place seemed as good as any other for a new start. It was far enough away that I knew no one here but close enough that I didn’t feel completely cut off from my family. I was looking online and there was an apartment for rent at a reasonable price and some jobs I could apply for.”
“So that was the plan, was it? A new start?”
At David’s question, Patrick has a quick flash of panic – has he given too much of himself away? – but David's tone is gentle, as are his eyes when Patrick lifts his. Patrick breathes, allowing the fear to ebb away.
He’s been hiding too much for too long anyway. Later it will strike him as strange that here, sitting beside a man he’s known for such a brief period of time, he feels safe, able to open up more than he had with his friends that he’d had for years.
Maybe it’s because he didn’t know David before. David has no pre-conceived expectations of him, no assumptions for Patrick to butt up against. Maybe it’s that blank slate that lets him be so open. Whatever it is, Patrick just lets it be, allowing the feeling of freedom to wash over him.
“Honestly?” he asks and when David inclines his head, Patrick continues. “Honestly, I don’t really know what the plan is these days. My life before wasn’t… it wasn’t making me happy. I’m taking some time to figure things out.”
David sighs. “I’ve been there. And one thing I’ve learnt: there’s nothing wrong with starting over if you aren’t happy with how things are.”
“Yes. And while wandering the streets knocking on doors in the freezing cold never really appeared on my life plan, it does give me a lot of time to think while the people inside hide and pretend they don’t hear the door.”
“Don’t forget the thrilling access you have to all those surveys,” David teases lightly and Patrick smiles, grateful for the levity sneaking back into his voice.
“How could I?” He glances down at the tablet in his hand, letting out a low whistle. “Wait until you hear the next question, it’s a real nailbiter.”
“Can’t wait,” David says. “Just give me a moment, I need to centre myself to brace for the excitement.” He shuffles forward on the sofa, taking a couple of exaggerated, theatrical breaths. When he catches Patrick’s eyes, his own are glinting with amusement. Patrick’s smile grows into a grin.
“Centred now?”
“As I can be. I guess we’ll find out if the excitement is still too much.”
Patrick chuckles, delight fluttering in his stomach. God, the last time he had this much fun just talking to someone was… Actually, he doesn’t think it’s ever been this much fun and isn’t that an odd realisation to have while sitting on a virtual stranger’s couch?
Across from him, David raises an expectant eyebrow and Patrick is shaken back to the present moment.
“Okay, next question: ‘What, if any, impact do you anticipate the proposed new housing complex to have on the area’s native wildlife?’”
A loud bark of surprised laughter bursts from David’s mouth. The sound is bewitching and Patrick can do little but stare at him, breathless.
“The native...” he manages when the initial wave of amusement has abated. “What native wildlife? This isn’t the Galapagos! Or is the town home to a specialised species of squirrel I’m unaware of?”
Patrick shrugs, grinning and turns the tablet around so David can see the question printed clearly on the screen. “I just read the questions. You have a problem with the wording, you should take it up with the council.”
“And spend an hour on hold trying to get through to someone? I think we both know I’m not going to do that.” David shakes his head, amusement still tugging at his lips. “Native wildlife. I don’t know. I guess if we’re just talking about wildlife that just happen to live here then… loss of habitat?”
Patrick dutifully types in David’s answer and then scrolls down. As he drags the next question to the top, his spirits dip when he sees there are just two questions left. Then he’ll be forced to leave this precious, golden bubble of time with this man and head out back to the cold.
David huffs from the opposite couch, muttering ‘native wildlife’ under his breath again and Patrick swallows.
“Question-” his voice wobbles tellingly and he clears his throat before starting again. “Question twenty-four: Do you believe the current house prices would-”
In his pocket, Patrick’s phone rings, the generic ringtone that he’s never gotten around to changing slicing shrilly through the air and cutting him off.
He winces, clasping a hand to his vibrating pocket. “Sorry, I should…”
David waves his hand for Patrick to go ahead and Patrick quickly fishes his phone from his pocket. The first thing he sees is the caller ID – Work – followed by his eyes catching on the time display in the top corner, his stomach swooping when he realises how long he’s been here. No wonder they’re calling.
“You’ve been in the same place for fifty minutes,” his boss, Steph, says when he answers the phone and presses it to his ear. “Do you need us to call the police to your location?”
“No! Don’t- Everything’s okay. The, er… the participant just had some additional questions about the project.”
On the opposite sofa, David lifts an amused eyebrow and Patrick gives him an apologetic grimace. But what’s he supposed to say? He can’t tell his boss he was too busy chatting and tentatively flirting with the cute homeowner.
Over the phone there’s an unimpressed hum. “Well, if you’re sure. How much longer will you be?”
“I have two questions left. Then I’ll be moving on.”
“Ten minutes, Patrick. Or I’ll be calling back.”
“Yes. Okay.”
He says goodbye and hangs up, sighing as he tucks his phone away and meets David’s eye.
“Everything alright?” David asks.
“Yes. I just, um. I have to finish the survey.”
David nods in understanding, but Patrick doesn’t think he imagines the dimming of the glimmer in his eyes, nor the disappointed twist to his mouth. He hopes he isn’t imagining it, anyway.
They make it through the final two questions, although much more subdued than before. Patrick can’t say what’s got David distracted but for his own part his mind is occupied with ways that he might see David again. His mouth goes dry when he envisages himself asking the man out – he doesn’t know if he’s brave enough for that yet – but perhaps he can find some casual way to work out if David would be open to a new friendship. Then Patrick could come up with a plan to progress things, if David seemed interested.
When Patrick finishes writing out the last of David’s answers, he presses submit, waiting for the tick to appear to say the response has been received before closing the cover of the tablet.
He takes a breath as he looks up at David. For all the frantic planning he’s been trying to do in the last five minutes, he’s still no clearer on how adults ask other adults to befriend them. Why was it so easy when he was younger?
But although ‘Do you want to be my friend?’ sounds like a quite frankly ridiculous question, even in the confines of Patrick’s own head, he’s going to ask it, because he has no better way of phrasing it and he can’t leave here knowing that he might not see David again.
“So when will I find out?” David asks before Patrick can speak.
David’s hands are on his lap, the fingers of one hand fiddling with four silver rings adorning the fingers of the other. Patrick watches for a moment, hypnotised. David has beautiful hands. Strong and elegant, with neat nails. His skin looks soft; Patrick wonders what it would be like to hold his hand.
“Patrick?”
“Sorry,” Patrick says quickly, ripping his eyes away and back to David’s face, feeling the blush rise up his neck as he realises he’s been caught staring. “What was the question?”
That sideways little smile teases at David’s lips again. “I was just asking – do I get to know the results of this survey?”
Patrick blinks, nonplussed. His brain seems to be lagging a little behind but he can’t remember anyone ever asking that before. David can’t really be interested can he? “I… I think it’ll be on the council website at some point in the next few weeks.”
“Oh.”
It’s at the moment that David’s smile falls from his face that Patrick thinks he might have missed something here. He replays David’s words, his playful smile, and hope begins to flare in his chest.
“No, that’s fine,” David is saying as Patrick’s brain frantically connects the dots. “I thought you might… but no, okay.”
“Or,” Patrick says slowly. “David, I… You know, the council should really be listening to their customers more. So, um, what I think you’re getting at here is that- Were you thinking that you’d like me to come back and tell you the results of the questionnaire?”
David waggles his head side to side, but something in Patrick’s face must be screaming out his delight at this prospect, because David's eyes are brightening again. “That statement is… half right.”
“Which half?”
But he knows, he knows, and electric excitement fizzes in his gut even before David gives him a meaningful look. “Guess.”
“I suppose I could always give you a call and tell you the results over the phone,” Patrick muses, purposefully misunderstanding just for the chance to see David shake his head.
“Wrong half?” Even as he speaks he’s entirely unable to keep the grin off his face.
“You’re extremely sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Honestly David, this is kind of new to me. I think I’m dreaming. But, in case I’m not then, um. Maybe we could meet up sometime? Say, for lunch this weekend?”
“I might be free,” David says, and there’s definitely a flirty edge to his tone as he adds: “I guess for that for that you’d need my number, right?”
Patrick watches David lean over to the side table, open the drawer and pull out a business card. With a pen from the same drawer, he turns it over and scrawls a number on the back.
“My personal cell,” he explains as he holds it out to a suddenly breathless Patrick. “Give me a call, okay?”
Patrick takes the card, eyes running over the black ink of David’s handwriting. His first phone number from a man. At least the first one given by a man he’s attracted to who seems to be making it clear he’s similarly interested in Patrick.
When he’s done reading the number, Patrick turns the card over, reading the information on the other side.
It’s for an art gallery in town, the details underneath listing the manager as one David Rose. Looks like Patrick is going to be investigating the local art scene even sooner than anticipated.
When he looks up at David, the other man is fiddling with his rings again, eyes skittering over Patrick’s face as if trying to decipher his thoughts.
“I will definitely be calling you,” Patrick tells him with a smile. “And er, thank you for making that happen for us. I was a little worried I was going to leave here without… anyway. Thank you.”
David’s dips his head in acknowledgment, his eyes happy and warm as he teases, “You’ll come to find that I’m a very generous person.”
Patrick tucks the precious card away carefully in his jacket pocket, patting over the zip to ensure it’s safe and secure.
“So, listen, um. I have to go but I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
As difficult as it is to drag himself away, Patrick’s very aware the clock is ticking down and so he rises reluctantly to his feet, David following suit. David leads him to the front door, where they linger another moment saying goodbye before Patrick makes himself step out into the street once more.
“I’ll see you soon,” Patrick promises. In his pocket, he can almost feel the card bearing David’s number burning against his side, screaming to be taken out and admired. He doesn’t know how he’s going to last until this evening.
“I hope so.” David leans against the doorframe, the long line of his body drawing Patrick’s eyes. Wow.
He’d gone backwards and forwards on taking this job but suddenly he couldn’t be happier that he did.
“I’m really glad I knocked on your door today, David.”
David’s response is almost a purr. “Well that is a lovely thing to say.”
“And I’m so glad you did, Patrick,” Patrick somehow manages to tease through the loud, excited pounding of his pulse in his ears. “Because I’ve enjoyed spending the last hour with you, as well as getting the chance to express my views on a fascinating survey.”
“That wasn’t all implied?”
Warmth blooms in Patrick’s chest despite the chill outside.
“It’s still nice to hear.”
David huffs a soft laugh before nodding and giving in. “It was great to spend this last hour with you, Patrick. Thanks to you I now know far too much about local building projects. And… I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“Tonight,” Patrick promises. “After I finish work.”
With one last exchange of soft ‘goodbyes’ Patrick steps backwards down the path, keeping his eyes fixed on the beautiful man in the doorway until he reaches the street. David keeps looking too, until Patrick forces himself to tear his eyes away to turn to head to the next house. He hears the door click shut as he’s halfway towards David’s neighbour.
When he gets to the door, he halts on the welcome mat and takes a moment to breathe, letting the events of the last hour sink in. Then he raises his fist to knock, a smile on his face and David’s name echoing in his head.