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David has heard of Christmas markets, of course, even admired the sparkling lights of the Tuileries extravaganza in Paris when he was there ages ago rescuing Alexis from some crisis or other. But he never gave them much thought until Marcy’s sister lost her shit about them.
It all started when Melanie came home from a vacation in Germany, newly enamored with the concept of the absurdly quaint European holiday fair. “It’s just so festive,” Melanie insisted over and over until the word lost all meaning. She had brought over all the various things she bought at the markets to show Marcy, none of which rivaled the quality of items at the store owned by her very own nephew and nephew-in-law where surely her money would have been better spent. But Marcy’s eyes lit up and she ooh’d and aah’d over the pointless trinkets, listening to the stories of exactly where Melanie discovered each one and agreeing that surely a Christmas market was the most wonderfully festive event that she could ever imagine.
David can’t even recount the memory in his own head without getting annoyed.
Of course, Melanie doesn’t want her sister to miss out on the opportunity to experience such a wonderful thing for herself, and manages to track down a town a few hours away from Schitt’s Creek that is having a Christmas market of its own. Before David can object, she has arranged an extended family outing for the following week, inviting Patrick and David to come along.
David tries to get out of it, dropping hints in the car on the way home from the Brewers’ house, and a few more times since then. But he doesn’t push very hard, because Patrick seems so excited about it. Patrick, of course, has never been to Europe, let alone a Christmas market in Cologne, Vienna or Paris.
Since marrying Patrick and resolving to never let Patrick regret that decision, David has become slightly more self-aware. And so he recognizes that he might not have made his feelings about the Christmas market outing clear enough to Patrick. He can practically hear Alexis pointing out that his vaguely disgruntled comments were likely indistinguishable from his routine observations about daily annoyances. And so here they are.
The field they park in feels like it is miles away from the center of town, and requires them to slog through packed mud and pockets of frozen over slush. Patrick stays close to David the entire time, however, his arm tucked through David’s and his giant squishy green parka pressed up against David’s side.
“Bet you’re glad I reminded you to wear your winter boots,” Patrick says smugly, as they finally reach the pavement.
“I wouldn’t have had to wear these monstrosities if we stayed home,” David retorts, hating the way the heavy snow boots drag at his feet. He does like the look of them, though, and can’t help smiling as he recalls how patient Patrick was when they went shopping, determined to help David find a pair that satisfied his sartorial preferences, at least as much as that can be done with snow boots.
David's relatively pleased with his whole outfit, as it happens. His shearling coat was a particularly lucky Ebay find, and it’s also fantastically warm. He appreciates the way Patrick seems to like the way the coat feels, stroking up and down David’s arm and nuzzling into the fleecy collar to warm his cold nose.
They round a corner and the market comes into full view. It’s like a craft fair on red and green steroids, a farmer’s market bedazzled with holiday cheer. There are fairy lights draped over almost every stall and table, and carols coming from several different directions.
“Oooh, Marcy, they have glüehwein!” Melanie squeals from up ahead, and Marcy gives the two of them a bit of a smirk as she pushes forward through the crowd to join her sister.
“Do you want some?” Patrick asks. “You can get it in a souvenir mug, I bet.”
“I know,” David says, letting Patrick pull him along into the line that snakes back from the crowded stall. “Melanie told us all about it.”
“Yes she did,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss to David’s cheek. “How about this one?” Patrick asks, reaching over to hold up a mug shaped like a boot, bright red with rosy cheeked Santas dancing around the rim. “We could collect a whole bunch of them, and put them all over the house.” Patrick grins at David – he knows damn well that no such thing will ever find its way into their home. It might be an appropriate present for Stevie, though.
They make it to the front of the line and get their hot drinks in thankfully plain cardboard cups, and David sips carefully at his as they continue down the street. He’s never been a fan of mulled wine – he doesn’t need bits of twigs floating in his beverage and it tastes a bit too much like off brand orange juice mixed with cheap table red – but at least it’s warm and mildly alcoholic.
The next few stalls showcase a variety of Christmas ornaments. Patrick pokes at David until he looks at a display of Hanukkah-themed ones, which David has always felt were in questionable taste. Patrick knows this, of course. He’s just trying to get a rise out of David. As usual, he’s successful, and David proceeds to discuss his feelings on the subject loud enough that the vendor gives them both a dirty look.
Next up is a table with a musical instrument theme, and David hangs back to watch as Patrick picks up little harps and stringed things and plucks merrily at them, casting smiles back over his shoulder at David. David allows this for a generous amount of time, then leans in and rests his chin on Patrick’s shoulder.
“Want a turn?” Patrick asks, holding out one of the pretty wooden things.
“No thank you,” David says. “But I haven’t had dinner. And I recall you mentioning something about delicious food options?”
Patrick turns and nods. “Come on, let’s go find you something to eat.”
Unfortunately, the line at the food trucks is long, but Patrick tells David that he’ll wait on the line while David finds them a place to sit. Outdoor café tables have been set up down one of the side streets, and David hovers close to a couple that is clearly done with their food until they get up and he can claim it.
He pulls out his phone and settles in to wait, as the cold from the metal chair slowly seeps into his skin. His warm wine is long gone, and he wonders if Patrick will be able to get them some drinks along with the promised sausage rolls.
Soon his fingers get too cold to scroll and he puts his phone away, checking first to see if Patrick has replied to his text about drinks. He hasn’t.
The longer he sits, the more annoyed he becomes. He’s only barely managed to be acceptably civil for this outing, and the veneer is quickly fading.
The truth is, David really doesn’t want to be here. Not today. Not any day, probably, but especially not today. Every time he thinks about it, he gets more… sad. Sad because this was supposed to be a day for just him and Patrick. Sad because in all of the excitement over the stupid Christmas market, Patrick doesn’t even seem to remember.
Just then a little girl with a bright pink coat scampers past David. She crashes into his foot where it is crossed over his leg, and falls down onto the pavement. Responding to her barbarously loud screech, an imposing parental figure appears instantly behind her, swinging her up into his arms and glaring at David.
He stumbles over his words as he protests that he didn’t do anything wrong, but the man just turns on his heel and stomps away, the little girl wailing her distress for everyone to hear.
David’s pulse is racing, adrenaline filling his chest. He didn’t do anything. He shouldn’t even be here. He should be at home, in his cosy living room, curled up on the couch with Patrick, sipping an actually decent red wine and eating delicacies that don’t smell like sausage prepared for the masses.
By the time Patrick makes it over to their table, arms laden with plates and balancing two cups of steaming hot cider, David has calmed down enough to go through the motions of smiling at his husband and eating the food. The sausage roll thing is as mediocre as he thought it would be, but the cider smells amazing, and the fried dough is heavenly.
Once Patrick has relaxed into the meal he begins chatting at David about the other craft stands he spotted while checking out the food trucks, and whether he thinks they should stock Nordic knitwear in their store (the answer is no, but David will cross that bridge another day).
David knows he is being unreasonably grumpy, but he can’t seem to shake himself out of it. He can tell that Patrick is starting to notice, and that just makes him feel worse. Chastising himself isn’t helping and he’s spiraling further down with every glance at Patrick’s puzzled face.
They finish up, and David thinks for a moment that maybe the outing has reached a natural end point, but Patrick tugs him towards the other side of the square. There’s a holiday forest kind of thing, a display of fragrant pine trees and animal sculptures that Patrick guides David into.
It’s pretty in an icy kind of way, fairy lights twinkling all around and boughs of evergreen releasing their aroma as they brush past. The relentless carols are muted in here, and something tense inside David relaxes. He finds himself watching Patrick, his pale skin practically glowing in the light, his cheeks rosy with the cold. When Patrick takes David’s arm and pulls him close, David sighs and lets a reluctant smile escape.
“Good timing,” Patrick says, somehow recognizing that David’s inner tantrum is abating. David frowns, confused, and Patrick points up to the curve of greenery over their heads. “It’s a mistletoe arch,” he explains.
David bites down on a grin. “I expect you want me to kiss you now?”
Patrick shrugs. “If you want to.”
David leans in, pressing his lips to Patrick’s. The contrast between the chill of his skin and the sweet heat of his mouth is intoxicating. Patrick makes a happy noise somewhere in his throat, and David melts against him. They kiss for rather longer than is appropriate for a family setting, but when they finally pull apart David can’t help but feel a little giddy. It was an excellent kiss. Maybe there’s something to that mistletoe business after all.
He tries to hide his grin against Patrick’s shoulder, but Patrick just wraps his arms around him and holds him close.
“I might forgive you,” David says, not even realizing that he has said anything until he feels Patrick stiffen in response.
“What?”
“For forgetting our day.”
Patrick leans back, and David is forced to leave his cozy spot tucked into Patrick’s scarf. “What are you talking about?”
David shrugs, tries to pass it off as a joke, not let Patrick see how hurt he’s been feeling. “You know, today was supposed to be our holiday. Our special day. We always take this day off, the second Monday in December, to stay home together and sit on the couch and watch movies and eat things we actually pick out for ourselves. Because the store is going to get crazy around Christmas and we need to have some time for just us.” You promised, he thinks to himself. You promised we’d always have time for just us.
Patrick looks at him for a long moment, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling, and his face falls. “Oh, David.”
“It’s all right.”
“No – David…” Patrick trails off, and now David just feels even worse, because when it comes down to it he never wants to make Patrick feel bad. But then he catches that look on Patrick’s face, and he knows something’s up. The Patrick that kissed him under a snow laden mistletoe arch wouldn’t forget their day… although he might be just enough of a troll to try to get David to think that he did.
“Out with it,” David says, crossing his arms.
Patrick doesn’t waste any time pretending he doesn’t know what David is talking about. “Remember when we set up the google calendar for the store?” Patrick asks, and David gets a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Remember when you told me it didn’t matter if I didn’t know how to use it, because you were going to take care of it?”
“Um, that is not what I said,” Patrick starts, and David rolls his eyes as Patrick continues. “I said that you didn’t have to use it, but if you didn’t, you might miss something.”
“You rescheduled our day,” David concludes. You didn’t forget.
Patrick smirks. “I did. It’s tomorrow.”
David shakes his head, not quite knowing what to do with this information, the relief and love all bubbling up inside him and threatening to overflow.
Patrick seems rather proud of himself, but he doesn’t gloat, instead redirecting David’s attention with the one thing that always gets David’s attention. “How about we make another pass through the food stalls?” Patrick asks. “There’s one that has alcoholic hot chocolate. And they’ve got that raclette cheese, you can get it melted onto all kinds of stuff. I think I saw potato pancakes, too.”
David lets out a long sigh and then relents, linking his arm through Patrick’s as walk along the path leading back into the market. “Fine. I wouldn’t mind some latkes. It is Hanukkah, after all. Not that you’d know it here.”
“We can light the candles when we get home. And have our own little Hanukkah party tomorrow, if you want. We can even get the good jelly donuts.”
David pauses just before they leave the quiet of the mock forest, wanting one more moment alone with Patrick under the snowy boughs. He nuzzles against Patrick’s cold cheek and then whispers into his ear. “Tomorrow will be our day,” he says, wanting to hear Patrick confirm it again. “Just for us.”
“That’s right,” Patrick agrees. “Although,” he says, catching David’s gaze, “every day is special when we’re together.”
David groans, but he kisses Patrick again, and hugs him a little tighter. Because it’s true.