Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Daaaaayviiidd,” Moira calls, bursting into his room without hesitation. “Oh, David, there you are! Converge with your father and I in a little venture to the local eatery, would you?”

“I already ate,” he answers, turning back to his phone and the latest draft of a potential vendor email. Ted had happily introduced him to Anita, and at first David was very excited about the possibility of selling her organic pet treats. Recently, though, she has been giving him more trouble than the little biscuits are worth. And it takes a lot for David to think someone is too high maintenance. 

“I have never known you to turn down the chance at a second supper.” 

“I’m working.” 

Besides, it’s meatloaf night. There is no need for second helpings of the cafe’s meatloaf. 

Before his mother has a chance to respond to that, his father walks into the room as well. “Oh, David! Just the man I was looking for. Would you like to join us for dinner, son?” 

“I already ate,” he repeats. “And I’m busy.” 

They don’t have to know this email is the last one he planned on sending before an early night in. There have been far too many late nights and early—at least by his standards—mornings lately. If he doesn’t catch up on sleep before the opening nobody will believe the eucalyptus eye cream he’d labeled just that afternoon works and he’ll go out of business. The dark circles under his eyes will be for nothing . 

“Perhaps just a social call, then?” Johnny continues, unperturbed. “You have been… Well, uh— Working? So hard. And I’ve noticed that, well, Stevie and Jakob haven’t been around much lately and—” 

“I’m going to have to stop you right there,” David cuts in, unwilling to allow his father to continue rambling. “I have been talking to vendors all day. I’m plenty social. So social I’d even allow a comparison to a butterfly.” 

David stands, throwing his phone down on the bed and moving to his parents. He gently herds them toward their door as he says, “so while I appreciate the invitation, I’m going to have to insist that you choke down the mystery meat without me this evening. Have a good night!”

He slams the door behind them, grabbing a chair from the table and jamming it under the door handle for good measure before they can think about a second attempt at cajoling him into a second trip to cafe tropical in as many hours. 

Pulling up his favorites as soon as he gets back to his phone, David is relieved when Alexis answers after the third ring. 

“They know,” he grumbles. 

“Who knows?”

“The parents,” he continues. “They know that I’ve broken up with Jake and that I’m alone and they’ve decided that it’s time for me to give up on love once and for all.” 

“Ew, David,” Alexis groans. “What are you talking about?” 

“The parents invited me to dinner. Alone. Without you.” 

“Well, that’s nice of them.” 

“They were just sitting there, staring at me, like they knew this moment was coming.” 

Alexis sighs, and David is surprised when there is real sympathy in what she says next. “David, it was Jake. Everybody knew it was coming. They’re just worried about you, but we both know that they’re incapable of worrying about us for more than, like, seven consecutive seconds. Relax, they’ll be over it by the morning.” 

“Okay, first of all, when have you ever heard of telling somebody to relax actually working?” He stands and begins pacing the short distance of their shared motel room. Cutting off her retort before she can begin it, David continues, “And second of all, it’s not fair. We just broke up! It just happened. I’m still young! It’s still possible that I’m going to have a successful relationship. You don’t know! My wedding dream binder is still viable!”

“Are you yelling at me or the parents?” 

“Neither! The wall, the universe—I think it’s flipping me off via the wallpaper of this godforsaken motel.” 

“Well, actually Jocelyn made me read that story and I’m, like, pretty sure that wallpaper lady was just crazy, so don’t flatter yourself with the universe being involved.”

David cuts off his sister again with a biting, “Whose side are you on?” 

“Ugh, sorry, David.” 

Intellectually he knows. David knows that he is over-reacting to the dinner invite. But that doesn’t not stop him from continuing his rant. 

“Everyone knows. They can see it in my face. ‘He’s single, again. He couldn’t make it work, again. He picked the guy who wanted a weird throuple situation, again.’” 

“David, I need you to get a grip!” Alexis says, finally interrupting him for a change. “You’re tired and you’re stressed out with the store opening coming up, and you’re not seeing things clearly!” 

His sister is almost making sense; David takes a few deep breaths, and he almost achieves a sense of peace he hasn’t known since that time he attended a hatha yoga class Christine Baranski led on a beach in Bali. But at that same moment, his phone vibrates and all that calmness unravels with one quick look at a text from his father—including a picture of his meatloaf—with an invitation that there is still plenty of time to join them. 

“Oh, my god!” 

“What?” 

“They’re not even easing me into this, those bastards.” If his parents are convinced he is becoming a sad, single version of them, then so be it—who is he to disagree? “I give up. I guess I need to start collecting VHS tapes for the store, do a deep dive on Sunrise Bay summaries, find out if I can find a cheap knock-off of Dad’s Balenciaga bathrobe—” 

“Well, obviously you’ve got a busy night ahead of you, so I’m going to let you go.” 

“Black and white wigs!” David responds, “I’m going to have to find some aesthetically appropriate wigs!” 

“Bye, David!” 

At his sister’s sing-songy goodbye, David slouches back against his headboard with a sigh. So much for being in the right headspace to finish off Anita’s email.

David wakes with a start, flinging his hand out from where it’s tangled in his bedspread and grabs his phone off the nightstand. 

“Stevie, bring your windex,” David mutters after unlocking his phone and calling the number he’d set up for Rose Apothecary last week. “Alexis, schedule instagram post and soft-launch email.”

He throws his phone back onto the nightstand, not bothering to even plug it back in before turning over and attempting to fall back to sleep. A moment later, however, he remembers a few additional things he might not think of come morning. 

“Uh, Antia follow up. Ask Ted about potential Anita replacements, fix the logo on labels from the first set of lanolin lipsticks.” 

After the second call ends, David sighs like a woman in all those Victorian romance novels Stevie loves but refuses to admit she reads. 

“Ehhhhk,” he mutters, throwing his bed spread back and sitting up. It’s not a good sign when he’s up before the sun.

Rising slowly from the bed, David walks over to the door and flicks the light on—thankful Alexis decided to stay at Ted’s so he doesn’t need to attempt to stay quiet for her. Then, he moves as quickly as he can to the counter and fumbles through making a pot of coffee. 

When that’s gone, he makes another. And then, when he realizes he doesn’t have any more to make, he walks down to the office and finishes off what is in the carafe there, too. Desperate measures and all that. 

A quick shower, an abridged skin care routine, and his comfiest jogger/sweater combo later, David begins his walk into town. Cafe Tropical doesn’t open until six o’clock, but he can hope Twyla shows up early and shows some mercy on him. 

In a move a past version of David would’ve certainly scoffed at, he plops down cross legged on the sidewalk just outside the front door and waits. Then he waits some more. 

And then a noise to his right startles him. 

Assuming the worst, David jumps to his feet and forms fists with his hands—as if he would know how to throw a punch even if the intruder wasn’t one of his best friends—and breathes out a high-pitched, screechy “who’s there!?” before his brain catches up and relaxes at the sight of Patrick. “Oh, hi.” 

“David, what are you doing?” 

David slumps back down onto the step and sighs, “I need coffee.” 

“It’s five o’clock in the morning,” Patrick says. He takes the last few stairs on the rickety staircase that leads to his apartment above Cafe Tropical and approaches David like one might approach a wild animal. “Make coffee at the motel.” 

“I did. I drank it all.” 

“You drank all the coffee at the motel before five in the morning?” 

“Big gulps,” David confirms, nodding his head just once. “Lots of sugar.” 

“Alright, get up.” His hands come up under David’s armpits and he hauls him to his feet—giving David entirely too little say in the matter. Patrick starts pushing him toward the staircase.

Distracted enough that he doesn’t even make his usual commentary about how unsafe the stairs feel, David continues on, “I didn’t have any milk or cocoa powder, but I did add a little of Alexis’ gross flavored creamer ‘cause it makes it cold.” 

“Keep moving,” Patrick sighs, shoving David onto the first step. He stays half a step behind David, who tries not to shiver at the feel of Patrick's hand still at his hip. When he stumbles on the third stair, he’s thankful for it, though—thankful Patrick could tell he needed someone to steady him even when he himself couldn’t. Patrick’s had a habit of doing that since they became friends when David and his family moved to Schitt’s Creek just over 3 years ago.

“I can’t sleep,” David admits after he catches his balance and continues upstairs. “I can’t turn my mind off. It keeps running and thinking and making lists.” 

“Well, David, maybe if you drank a little less coffee, you’d make fewer lists.” 

“Oh, I can’t stop drinking the coffee. I stop drinking the coffee, I stop doing the standing and the walking and the words putting-into-sentence doing.” 

“Okay,” Patrick murmurs quietly. “I’ll get you some coffee.” 

David sighs deeply, possibly the biggest one of his life. “If I wasn’t afraid I’d fall asleep on these godforsaken stairs if I stop moving, I would hug you. In fact, in my mind, I am hugging you—and also, I’m telling you that there’s still shipments of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash from a hairdresser from Elm Valley that need to be delivered by Tuesday so they can get stocked and situated in time.” 

Patrick pulls out his apartment keys as they get to the landing and seems to reach a decision. “I’m also making you some oatmeal.” 

“I don’t like oatmeal.” 

“You’ve got to eat something,” Patrick answers. “Preferably something healthy. And I assume you left the motel before today’s cinnamon buns arrived.” 

David ignores him, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “I am so completely stressed. I can’t remember what I’m doing from one moment to the next. It’s never gonna get done.” 

“It’ll get done.”

“No, it won’t, and then the store won’t open, and then we’ll both go broke,” David huffs as they walk into Patrick’s apartment. “How’d you do it?” 

“Do what? Make us go broke?”

“No, get the grants for the store, handle all the stress of the financial stuff on top of your work at Ray’s.”

“The grants weren’t that stressful,” Patrick admits with a small shrug as David settles on the side of the table he sits at during all of their business meetings—first, detailing what they each expect from Patrick’s investment in Rose Apothecary and later providing progress updates. 

“They weren’t?” 

Patrick just shrugs again, moving through the kitchen as he grabs everything he needs for David’s coffee. “It was all there—your idea. I didn’t do anything but put it on paper and send it to the right people.” 

“Maybe I can’t handle it.” David faceplants onto the table. He doesn’t want to see Patrick’s face when he asks the next part. “Do you think I can handle it?” 

“I already told you that you could handle it.” 

“When?” 

“Quite a while ago. There was a breakdown on Bob’s bench, an offer to get you the money you needed to get off the ground.” 

“Did I believe you?” 

“Apparently,” Patrick says, setting a coffee cup down in front of David, “you didn’t even listen to me.” 

Of course, David had believed him—he was just looking for a little reassurance; that conversation had been months ago, after all. Following a breakdown rivaling the one he’d had after James Franco ghosted him, Patrick had volunteered to become Rose Apothecary’s business consultant. Not only did he invest some of his own money to keep David afloat in the weeks immediately following, but then he’d secured several grants that David knew were responsible for ensuring he could actually open the store. 

“Oh, hey,” David says after he’s had two large swallows. He had known this was gonna be the best coffee he’d consumed all morning—Patrick stocked his apartment with supplies to make a better caramel macchiato than anywhere else in a twenty mile radius—but it never stops catching David by surprise at just how right he gets the ratio of skim to sweetener to cocoa powder. “I want you to stop by the store, see some of the progress we’ve been making.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, David, why don’t I just wait till the place is repossessed? Then I can see it at the public auction.” 

“How can you be so mean to me when I only manage to coif half my hair?” David asks, gesturing broadly to his head. It still looks better than most people’s, but he’d be kidding even himself if he tried to pretend it was up to his normal standards. Patrick’s lips do the amused, downturned smile thing David has grown so fond of, and he has to look away. 

“Would we call this mean? Or am I just being practical, you know, as your business consultant.” 

“Seriously, I want to give you an official investors tour,” David continues, ignoring the jab. They both know he's gone above and beyond the standard business consultant. “You should see the place. It’s looking really good!” 

“I heard there’s not even going to be shampoo, conditioner, or body wash at the soft-launch,” Patrick says, doing air quotes around soft-launch as he sprinkles brown sugar over the oatmeal he’d heated up. 

David, not willing to have another semi-firm discussion, powers through. “What do you say?” 

“You eat the oatmeal, I’ll stop over.” 

“Fine, I’ll eat it,” David concedes. “But I’m making a face the entire time.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Patrick says. 

After a few bites, David realizes he didn’t know what Patrick is doing awake, let alone leaving his apartment at five o’clock in the morning, so he asks as much. 

“Oh, I was just going to go for a hike.”

Chapter Text

“David, is this your voice?” 

Alexis hits play on the answering machine and David hears his sleep-scratchy voice—god, does he really sound like that?—play through the main room of the store. 

“Because if so,” she continues, “you should, like, really consider voice lessons. I could call up the producers from my ALBA days and see if they have anybody who could take you on pro-bono.”  

“Okay, swallow a thumbtack, please,” David retorts. “I may have left myself a couple of messages last night.” 

They are on either side of the cashier’s stand; the point of sale system just got installed the other day, and from the one specific spot David is standing, he can pretend that everything is as ready for opening as this little corner is. He can almost ignore the sounds of Ronnie behind him, anchoring the vintage bookshelf he found at an estate sale a few weeks ago to the wall. 

“A couple? David, there’s like twenty-five messages here, and half of them are things for me! It’s not very girlboss of me to be taking down my own messages!”

Papers scatter as Alexis throws her hands up. It’s a blessing for both of them that Patrick had been able to calm David down a bit this morning, because otherwise his response would not have been as kind as, “can you just hand them to me, please, instead of littering in my store!” 

“Every day that you breathe, you make my life harder,” Alexis huffs, but she gathers the papers that fell within her reach and hands them to him before she pulls out her phone and stalks past him.

“Got a solution for you, Alexis.” 

There’s not as much bite as he meant to put behind the words, but it doesn’t really matter because Alexis is already in the back room, talking to somebody on her phone. He’s hopeful it’s something to do with the marketing plan she’s set up for the store, but he’s pretty sure he heard her say “Twy” so the chances aren’t great. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that, though, because the bell above the front door rings and he turns to find Patrick—a tiny grin on his face as he says hello. 

“Hi! You just missed Alexis,” he says, gesturing as he picks up the rest of the scattered messages. He looks up at Patrick, dressed in his little hiking clothes and wearing his ‘I’m really sure of myself’ face. 

“Still not here for your sister, David.” 

When they’d first met, David continually assumed Patrick was using him as a means to get closer to Alexis. It turned out he was looking for any friends of his own after a failed engagement had led him to Schitt’s Creek a year before the Roses, and despite a bumpy start Patrick had quickly become a frequent addition to his and Stevie’s outings to The Wobbly Elm or dinner at the Cafe. 

“Right, I know that now, it’s just that I don’t generally allow people to see me crouched down in these pants and… and, um, I just wasn’t expecting you to—”

“I’m here because you told me I had to come by,” Patrick says, wincing. “Or were you sleep walking and talking through our whole conversation this morning?” 

“No, no—I’m, uh, glad you’re here.” 

Patrick walks farther into the store, stopping next to Ronnie; he offers her a tentative smile, still hesitant around her for reasons unknown to David. 

“Wow, this bookshelf is beautiful,” he says. “Hi, Ronnie.” 

“Patrick,” she nods.

“Nice work here.” Patrick seems to unconsciously rub at the back of his neck. “But… Did you use a molly bolt for that? I worked construction with my uncle for a couple summers, and I thought with a plaster wall—” 

“Oh, are you gonna kibitz?”

“What?” 

David watches, unable to hide the amusement he’s sure is on full display on his face as Patrick visibly shrinks back, away from Ronnie and the shelf. 

“Guys who know a little about construction,” Ronnie huffs, “they build a birdbath, install a towel bar, mix some water into the concrete mix for a fence post, makes them think they know something. They come in, looking like a thumb, and they kibitz—offer a lot of free advice to the woman in charge of her own construction company on things they don’t know anything about. Gotta say, Patrick, I have a low tolerance for that right now.” 

“I wasn’t gonna kibitz!” Patrick promises, his big, honey eyes turning back to David and practically begging for help. 

The bell above the door, rather than David, saves Patrick from Ronnie’s wrath. 

“Hi, hello, I’m sorry but we are not open yet,” David greets the bland man who’d walked in. He is so not the target audience for Rose Apothecary.

But before he has a chance to respond, Alexis comes stomping back into the main room of the store and says, “Oh, Shel! Good! You’re here! I was just on my way out so I’m glad you caught us.” 

She walks up and boops him like they’re old friends, and then turns back to David. 

As if noticing Patrick for the first time, she adds a simple “Hi, button,” and then air boops him, too, from across the room. 

“David, I would like to introduce you to Shel… uh, Shel. Shel, this is my brother, David Rose.” 

Alexis drags Shel toward David and Patrick as the man tells David, “it is really nice to meet you.” 

“Mmm, it’s nice to meet you, too.” David tries to smile, but he’s pretty sure it comes off more like a grimace. He wonders briefly if it’s as obvious to Shel as it seems to be to Patrick that he’s embellishing just how nice he finds it. 

“Shel is one of Ted’s favorite patients. He’s got, like, a thousand chickens just running around his little farm.” 

“That’s… great?” 

Alexis, clearly unable to pick up David’s hesitancy, or more likely picking it up and not caring at all, continues, “He also sells free-range, hormone-free eggs from his chickens, and he and his husband recently got divorced.” 

Patrick turns to inspect a half-finished product display, clearly trying, and in David’s opinion failing, to make himself look busy. Shel might not be able to tell, but there is no way Patrick is quite that interested in the ingredients of the rose gold face masks David has arranged across a small tray. 

“Mmhm, well,” David bites out, eager to get back on track and actually start showing Patrick around the store so that he can see him flush at the flavored lube in the back corner. “I assume that one doesn’t have anything to do with the other.” 

Alexis laughs, a laugh that David—at the very least—can tell is entirely fake. Shel chuckles, too. “You’re funny.” He turns to Alexis. “He’s funny! You know, they say handsome men usually aren’t funny because they never had to be. Did you have trouble making friends as a child?” 

David gives Alexis death eyes. Shel doesn’t seem to mind. 

Alexis, on the other hand, seems to realize how close she is to bearing the brunt of David’s pent up anxieties about the store opening and whatever nonexistent emotions about the Jake breakup. 

“Um, I’m going to go out and, uh, check with Stevie on something about the…” she says, walking quickly toward the door, mumbling the end of her sentence unintelligibly. “You guys just talk till I get back!” 

“What do you need to talk to Stevie about?” David demands, following her, but the door to his own damn store is slammed shut in his face and suddenly he has so many regrets, because now he’s just a few feet from where Shel is standing. 

“Listen, David—” he starts, and David panics. He doesn’t want to know where that sentence is going to end up.

“Shel, have you met Patrick?” David nearly screeches, and then—placing two fingers on his piling sweater vest—drags Shel back toward Patrick. As soon as they’re within a reasonable distance, David wipes his hands on his jeans, and then moves to stand next to Patrick again. “Uh, Shel, this is Patrick.” 

The two men shake hands, and they mention how nice it is to meet each other, too. David doesn’t know exactly what room they’ve been in for the last two minutes, but it’s certainly not the same one he’s in. 

“Patrick is…” David says, moving closer to him, somehow folding his body so that he’s slightly leaning into the shorter man’s chest, “my special friend.” 

“Oh?” Shel says, and David thinks he might feel a similar puff of questioning leave Patrick’s mouth, just barely loud enough to be able to know if it was real. 

“I have to tell you,” David goes on. “Getting this store in shape for opening has been a real nightmare, with all the business incorporation-ing, and the, um, grant applications.” David grabs Patricks arm, and twists it around his waist, covering Patrick’s hand with his own where it is settled just above his hip—near where it had been just a few hours ago as they climbed up to Patrick’s apartment. “I just don’t know how I would have gotten through it without him.” David glances over to meet Patrick’s eye and clears his throat, mouth twisting up as he tries not to offer a genuine smile. “Have I said thank you recently?” 

“Uh, no,” Patrick grumbles. 

David is pretty sure Ronnie snorts, but she covers it well with a cough. 

“Oh. Well, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Well,” Shel winces, “It was nice meeting you both. I’m just gonna, uh, go find Alexis.” 

“Bye Shel,” David says. 

Patrick, noticeably less amused, echoes, “Bye, Shel.” 

As soon as Shel is out the door, David shoves Patrick’s arm away from him. 

“Don’t touch my stomach!”

“You put my arm there!” 

“Well, do you want your investor’s tour, or what?”

“Sure,” Patrick agrees, biting his lip as if there’s something else he wants to say.

Instead of reading into it, David starts showing him all the progress that’s been made since Patrick last stopped by. When they get done on the floor and in the back room, David leads Patrick back to the small inventory room that he’s turned into his office and sags with relief against the small couch. 

“And here, is the only room that is ready for opening, and also ironically the only room that customers will not see,” he laments. 

“Hey, it looks great,” Patrick says, sitting next to David. They’re both quiet for a long minute until he finally asks, “You okay?” 

“I just… I can’t believe Alexis is trying to set me up with Shel, the poultry guy. Why would she do that? I just broke up with someone!” 

“Yeah, the poultry guy really—” 

“We’d been dating for more than a few weeks,” David continues, tired of talking about Shel already. “Which I realize is not a long time, but in my life…” He shrugs, and Patrick nods—seemingly understanding. He’s heard all about the birthday clown, and comforted him after Sebastian came to town, after all. 

“I figured there was someone in the picture.” 

“You did? How?” 

“Just clues.” Patrick’s shoulders rise in a shrug, brushing against David’s for just a moment as they fall again, and David wonders briefly why they so rarely talk about the people they’re dating when they talk about pretty much everything else. “You left that party at Mutt’s barn awfully suddenly, you wore your special sweaters more often, that kind of thing.” 

“Well, I can pull out the bargain bin knits now.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“My parents invited me to hang out with them last night,” David says, shivering. 

“And that’s…” 

“Because they know I’m a loser and destined to be alone.” 

“You’re not destined to be alone,” Patrick says, glancing over at David. Their eyes catch for a moment, and David feels a slight tension to the air before Patrick grins again. The same grin he’d had on his face when he told David he’d gotten the money. “You have Shel.” 

David buries his head in his hands and groans. Suddenly hyper-aware of Patrick’s presence so close to him on the couch he gets up and starts pacing. “Why is it so hard?” 

“What, relationships? Look who you’re asking.” 

“At least you’ve been in a long-term relationship,” David says.

Patrick offers him that damn upside down smile again. “At least it didn’t take you nearly three decades to realize you were gay.” 

David has the urge to pull Patrick into a bear hug and repeat all the things he’d told him when Patrick came out to him—about how personal a thing it is, how it shouldn’t happen on anybody’s terms or timelines but his own. But he’s not sure the hug would ever end if it started now. 

“It makes me sad sometimes,” David admits quietly, eventually. It’s a miracle he doesn’t choke on the words, sincere as they are. He slumps back onto the couch, this time slightly farther away from Patrick. “Does it make you sad?” 

After considering for a moment, Patrick tips his head back against the top of the couch and closes his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.” David understands, he’d like to hide from this particular topic of conversation, too. So he does what they always do—he makes light of the situation. 

“Mmm, I see Dr. Phil podcasts in our future.” 

“Unless they’re under Spotify’s Discover New Business Podcasts playlist, they’re not likely to cross my path.” 

“Eh, it’s probably for the best anyway,” David admits. “His son Jordan was in this alt-rock band called Stars in Stereo I followed on tour in 2011 and from what he said, ‘ol Phil is, like, seriously unhinged.” 

Patrick laughs, carefree as the sound carries throughout the room. He laughs the way he often does when David tells a story from his pre-Schitt’s Creek life: like he can’t really believe David’s real, but desperately hopes he is. 

“The place looks great.” 

In the years of their friendship, David has made some progress in taking Patrick’s sincerity at face value, but he’s still David Rose. 

“Do you think I can do this?” 

“I already told you that you can do this,” Patrick reminds him, “and I already told you that I already told you that you can do this.” 

“You’re making me long for Shel.” 

“You’d never want for chicken nuggets again.” 

After Patrick leaves the store to head back to Ray’s for his next meeting, David has a surprisingly productive afternoon. 

He gets his entire supply of lip balms labeled, a vendor drops off a case of bath bombs and he gets them packaged and added to the point of sale system, and once Ronnie’s crew is done he begins cleaning and organizing stock on the new shelves that were installed. 

At six o’clock, Stevie comes and collects him, literally dragging him out of the store when he claims he’s too busy to eat, across the street, and into a booth where Alexis and Ted are waiting for them—mozzarella stick platter already on the table. David inhales three before saying anything. 

“So how goes things at the store, big guy?” Ted asks David after they’ve all finished eating. 

“Better when your little fiancé doesn’t bring poultry men there to try to bed me in front of my business partner!” 

“What does that cute little button being there have to do with Shel supplying your store with farm fresh eggs, David?” 

“Mmm, mmmhmm,” David considers, nodding along dramatically. “So the divorce comment was just irrelevant then?” 

“I thought I was doing you a favor,” Alexis scoffs. 

“Can we go back to the whole you ‘always finding a way to bring Patrick up’ thing?” Stevie asks as she finishes her glass of wine. “You seem flustered—and I, personally, love that for you.” 

“Well!” Ted cuts in, as if he knows his three companions will keep going in a spiral until he puts a stop to them. “While I’m sure both Patrick and Shel are clam -tastic guys, I was actually asking because I was wondering if you still need me to do the wiring for those lights in the store before you open?” 

“Um, if you can, that would be great,” David admits. He hates asking Ted for help on things like this, but what else is he going to do? He’s already over budget and it’s not like he can become a master electrician with a few YouTube tutorials and an Electrical Wiring For Dummies book. “Is that a problem?” 

“Not a problem, per say! It’s just that on top of prepping for the bachelor party, Mrs. Leonard’s horse is about to go into labor with twins, and she’s asked me to be on call at her farm this week, so…” Ted says, going off on a tangent David’s already-too-stressed brain couldn’t follow if he tried. He’s not trying. And Ted must be able to tell. “But don’t worry, bud! We will find a way to make it happen.”

Chapter Text

Patrick is good at his job. 

He’s always been one of those people who picked things up easily. Even when his mom told him he should admit it less freely, he’s always been pretty good at being naturally good at things. And if he puts in the effort, he is even occasionally great—time tables in second grade math, his middle school piano recital, being just good enough at baseball in high school to warrant some scholarships to play in college. 

He even liked to think that he was a pretty good boyfriend. For all the attraction he lacked, he was determined to make up for it with pure grit and over-eagerness to go down on a girl moments after starting to make out.  

Still, even when he got a C- on his first Calc 2 exam because he spent the weekend before driving back home to hang out with Rachel, or he’d stopped hosting his open mic nights in favor of going to the bar, or had a frankly embarrassing batting average for somebody whose education was mostly funded by his ability to play baseball, he was always able to take pride in knowing he was a good worker. 

At Rose Video during high school, the tutoring gig he had during undergrad, the market research analyst position he held during his MBA—he always went above and beyond. After he’d called off the engagement and hidden himself away in Schitt’s Creek, sometimes being good at his job felt like it was the only thing he had. Until the Roses had moved to town and David and Stevie adopted him into their friendship, anyway. 

So it throws him for a bit of a change up when he gets back to Ray’s after his meeting with David and he can’t focus on his job. His cursor blinks in the same spot it’s been since he got off the phone with a potential client, who, if he’s being honest with himself, probably won’t sign the contract he should be drawing up right now. 

But he can’t focus. 

Not when his conversation with David at the store keeps playing over and over in his mind. 

Why is it so hard? Look who you’re asking. At least you’ve been in a long term relationship. At least it didn’t take you nearly three decades to realize you were gay. It makes me sad sometimes…does it make you sad? I don’t know, maybe. I see podcasts in our future. 

Why is it so hard? Look who you’re asking. It makes me sad sometimes…does it make you sad? I don’t know, maybe.  

Why is it so hard? Does it make you sad?

“Excuse me, Patrick?” 

If it were anybody but Ray, how visibly he flinches at the startling noise would be embarrassing. 

Luckily, it is just Ray. 

“Did you hear what I asked, Patrick?” 

“Oh, uh, no,” he admits. “Sorry. What did you need?” 

“I just asked if you were alright,” Ray says, a chipper smile still present on his face. “You’ve been staring at your laptop for quite some time now, and your face looks a little bit like that time I accidentally added a cup of salt to the cookies instead of sugar.” 

“Oh, yeah. Fine.” 

Ray leans around Patrick’s desk to look at the screen of his laptop, and he quickly hits the minimize button. Ray may be his boss, and own the desk he’s sitting at and the house he’s working in, but this is his laptop. And Patrick is good at his job, so having Ray think he’s doing something he shouldn’t be is the better option than letting him see the blank document. 

“What are you working on?” Ray tries, situating himself so that he’s sitting on the edge of Patrick’s desk instead, hand coming up to rest under his chin and keep his head at the odd angle he ended up in when attempting to look at the screen. 

Patrick slams his laptop shut and gives a sheepish smile. Hopefully Ray can’t see the deep shade of red the tips of his ears are likely turning. “Actually I was thinking about taking off for the day. Got caught up on most of my projects.” A lie, but he can catch up tomorrow. If he figures out how to stop spiraling. 

“I don’t mind if you aren’t always working one hundred percent of the time, Patrick.” Apparently being embarrassed in private is too much to ask. “Will you just tell me what you were looking at that bothered you so much?” 

“If I tell you, will you promise to never mention it again?” 

“Yes?” he says, but it sounds much more like another question than it does an answer. 

“You know, Ray, I’m having a hard time taking that answer as truth since I can practically hear the question mark that came after it. So maybe not.” 

“C’mon, Patrick, what were you looking at?” Ray asks, glancing around the room and then lowering his voice despite the fact that the two of them are alone. “Porn?” 

Of all the responses he could have to hearing Ray of all people accuse him of watching porn, somehow the best Patrick can come up with is, “You constantly tell me the extra bedroom right upstairs is mine for the using and you really think I’d watch porn in the lobby of your business?” 

“I really don’t know what you were doing! But you were just so clearly in distress… or maybe that’s your pleased face? Whatever the case, I just want to help if there’s a customer giving my employee a hard time, or if a specific grant is particularly tricky, or if you need any help with insights for researching competitors for my closet organization business we talked about.” 

And, oh. That’s actually nice. Much nicer than Patrick deserves with how annoyed he’d been getting at Ray’s line of questioning. Although Patrick has his doubts about Ray’s ability to actually help with most of those problems, Ray was trying to be a good boss. That’s not really what Patrick needs right now, though—what he really needs is a good friend. He realizes Ray can probably fit that bill, too. 

“It, uh…” Patrick trails off, not really sure how to put his feelings into words. For all the things he’s good at—work, music, baseball—he’s never been particularly good at communicating how he feels. “It wasn’t porn, or anything to do with work actually… I, um, stopped by David’s store today to check in on his progress, and we just got to talking about how hard relationships are. I guess I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.” 

He doesn’t know why relationships—even those with people he’s actually attracted to—are so hard, or what to do about it, but does know the fact that they are makes him sad. And it hits him square in the chest as soon as he says it out loud. 

Ray’s answering smile doesn’t match the mood.

“Oh, that’s easy then!” Ray says cheerfully, “I have a podcast all about love! It’s kind of a self-help slash emotional growth activity. It even comes with a free activity workbook! I’ll send you the link and the printable PDF straight away.” 

Ray slaps his palms down on his thighs and jumps off the table, scurrying away to (evidently) send Patrick the links before he can even think about whether or not he is interested. 

A few moments later, he feels his phone vibrate and the printer kicks on across the room. Ray doesn’t have to come back to tell him that he took the liberty of printing the workbook for Patrick to know that’s exactly what happened. He doesn’t have to check the text to know what link will be there waiting for him. 

Patrick knows the conversation really must’ve shaken him when Ray suggests playing hooky for the rest of the day, going home to start the first episode—and he listens. 

After he gets back to his apartment, he strips out of his work clothes, throws on a pair of joggers and a faded Blue Jays t-shirt, and crawls into bed. His phone is in one hand, his favorite pen in the other, and the printed out workbook, which Ray insisted on putting in a three-ring binder before he left, across his lap. Patrick sighs, and presses play. 

“LOVE!” slightly auto-tuned Ray says from his phone speaker, and Patrick quickly moves his finger to the volume button to turn it down a couple of notches. 

He tries not to shudder. He fails. But podcast host Ray, much like his real-life counterpart, continues on unperturbed. 

“You want it? You can have it,” he says. “And not compromised, soul-killing love. But open, honest, life-affirming love.” 

It’s startling, really, how seen Patrick feels 45 seconds into the first episode of You Deserve Love with Ray Butani. 

“But how do you get it?” Ray asks. “How do you get this love?”

“If I knew that, what the hell would I need you for?” Patrick grumbles. He’s already done the compromised, soul-killing love on his own. It’s the life-affirming shit he’s after now. 

“It’s going to take work,” Ray informs him. “It’s going to take a lot of introspection. You’re going to have to learn new things—how to be your own best friend, how to treat your damaged psyche with a little kindness, how to say, ‘hey, pal, you’re worth it. You deserve love.’ That is the key!” 

And Patrick really, really does not know if he can handle this. Maybe a self-help book would be better? He’s about to turn it off, but David’s voice plays back in his head again—louder than the recording of Ray, a feat of its own.  

Why is it so hard? Does it make you sad?

“If you crave love, then you deserve love,” host Ray continues, unaware of real Patrick’s instinct to run. “Say that to yourself! ‘If I crave love, I deserve love.’”

Patrick can’t help the deep sigh that escapes his mouth. 

“Now how did that feel coming out? I’ll bet it was hard. I’ll bet you felt ridiculous,” Ray gives a small giggle on the recording that he’s heard in real life a thousand times, and Patrick has never felt more ridiculous in his life. How did he get to the point of taking relationship advice from his boss slash friend’s podcast? He’s never felt more ridiculous in his life, and he didn’t even repeat the saying out loud. He feels even more ridiculous yet when Ray continues. “Some of you may even have been incapable of saying it at all. Try again!”

A long, slow groan escapes before Patrick mutters, “I’m not incapable, I just haven’t been hit in the head with enough baseballs lately.” 

“Trust me, my friend, it will get easier… until one day, you’ll turn around and you’re not alone anymore. Ready to begin that journey? It’s going to be one heck of a ride! Okay, let’s open up your workbook to page one. If you haven’t printed it out yet, please pause now and go to ‘you dash deserve dash love dash w dash ray dot com slash print’ and join us!” 

Patrick thinks, for just one more second, about turning it off again. But—as much as he doesn’t want to admit it—he is ready to begin this journey, so he flips the binder to page one. 

“It doesn’t get lower than this.” 

Ray says in order to find love, you first have to figure out what you want out of it, and Patrick begrudgingly accepts that. So, even though it has been the Monday from hell and he only has an hour long lunch break, and even though the first 40 minutes of it got taken up by Bob asking accounting questions he really should’ve been paying Patrick to answer, he’s spending the last fifteen minutes before he has to drive back to Ray’s sitting on the bottom step of the stairs up to his apartment scarfing down a tuna sandwich from the cafe and listening to the next episode of the podcast. 

His three-ring binder workbook is back in his bedroom, but he’s decided that part of it isn’t really necessary—as long as he actually commits to whatever exercise Ray suggests for emotional growth. 

“Complete the following sentence,” Ray says through his headphones. “I feel angry because…” 

“I am listening to this podcast,” Patrick mutters, looking around to make sure nobody is walking by.

“I feel hopeful because…” 

“This podcast must end eventually.” 

When Ray’s voice prompts “I feel helpless because…” Patrick is about to answer with something far more sarcastic than it should be considering he actually wants to get something out of this stupid activity, but he’s startled by Alexis and Ted walking out of the cafe and toward him. His hand flails out to turn off the podcast and pull his headphones out of his ears before he greets them. 

“Sorry, button! Didn’t mean to startle you,” Alexis says, booping his nose like she has for the greater part of the time he’s lived in Schitt’s Creek. 

“Not a problem. What, uh, what can I help you guys with?” 

“You remember, Ted, right?” Alexis asks, pulling him a bit closer to her side. 

“Alexis, of course I remember Ted,” Patrick says. “We all had dinner together last week. How’s it going Ted?” 

“How’s it going? Huh, uh, Alexis, I don’t know,” Ted says. “How am I doing?”

Patrick has to stop himself from asking exactly what is going on. By this point, though, he knows that sometimes it’s easier to just go along with whatever bit the Rose family is going for. 

“He’s doing great,” Alexis answers. “Thanks so much for asking. It’s just that, like, he’s also maybe a little stressed out, because of the wedding. Which, yay for getting married!” 

Ted and Alexis’ third engagement happened only a couple months ago, and they’d decided that it would be a short one. Patrick’s had his invitation on his dresser since he got it, so he knows it’s coming up, but he plays into the conversation so that it continues without tangent.  

“Yeah, I’m sure. This coming weekend, right?” 

“Yep,” Ted answers. “We wanted to do it before kitten season really gets going and I have a million extra home visits to do. Speaking of which! I’ve got to go see my furrr-end Mango the Calico, so I’ll see you both later.”

He kisses Alexis’ cheek before taking off toward the clinic, and Patrick shoves his hands deep into his pockets. So much for getting the next episode of the podcast done before he goes back to work. 

“Right, so, uh…” Patrick says, “Is there anything I can help you with, then? Because I really should be getting back to Ray’s soon.” 

“Yeah, so the wedding!” Alexis chimes in, “It’s gonna be, like, totally unbelievable. I’m wearing a white dress—” 

“That is unbelievable,” Patrick can’t help but interrupt with a grin. Alexis would probably show up to somebody else’s wedding in a white dress. Of course she has her own perfect white dress. 

“I didn’t have the budget to hop over to Kleinfeld like I’d planned, but there’s actually this super cute little second hand store in Elm Glen where I found this zillion year old vintage dress. It’s got these adorable flowing sleeves. It’s, like, a chic-er version of San’s in The Proposal. Seriously, Patrick, I love this dress.” 

“It sounds like a great dress,” he agrees. “But I’m still not sure where I come into this picture.” 

“Yes! So, Poor Ted. He’s so stressed about the wedding because we have, like, a thousand things to do, and his stepbrother and vet school friends and everybody are coming in for his bachelor party tomorrow, but David has been making all of us spend every spare minute in the store.” 

Patrick doesn’t mention that, if Alexis didn’t want to spend time in the store leading up to their wedding, maybe they shouldn’t have picked the weekend before David had already planned his opening. Instead, he strives for empathy he doesn’t necessarily feel—he loves Alexis and Ted, but it’s impossible not to be on David Rose’s side. 

“Yeah, that seems super stressful,” he agrees, hoping she doesn’t pick up on how flat his voice sounds. 

“Anyway, he was supposed to be helping David with wiring the lights at the store, but now he has to… Okay, um, if I’m being honest, I can’t quite remember what he has to do. But it was something, like, supes important. And you seem like such a handy little guy! So I was wondering if maybe you could swing by the store and get the lights sorted?” 

“You know, I’ve never really done anything like that before…” he starts, but Alexis turns the biggest puppy dog eyes Patrick has ever seen on him, and he might be gay, but he’s certainly not blind. “But, I guess I could, uh, probably watch a few Youtube videos and figure it out.” 

“Eek! Perfect!” 

Alexis gives him one more boop, turns on her ridiculously high heel, and throws a quick “toodles” over her shoulder as she walks away from him—leaving Patrick to wonder how anybody could ever say no to a Rose.

Chapter Text

Patrick is falling behind on his work, and it’s all the damn podcast’s fault. 

The podcast and David—he wouldn’t be six episodes into the podcast had David never put these stupid ideas of love and belonging in his head. Patrick hasn’t felt this lost since just before the final time he’d broken up with Rachel. At least then he could blame it on the whole not-knowing-he’s-gay thing, though. Now he should know better. 

He’s behind on work, and if he knew better, he’d stay at Ray’s and work through lunch to get caught up. But instead he’s in a booth at the cafe, waiting for David to show up for their scheduled monthly investor’s meeting, and watching a ‘wiring for dummies’ video on YouTube in hopes he doesn’t electrocute himself at Rose Apothecary tonight. 

If he didn’t have to keep pausing it to rewind after Mrs. Rose, Mr. Rose, and Ivan distract him, Patrick would probably be done by now. Alas.

“No no no, Issac,” Mrs. Rose laments, unperturbed when Mr. Rose interjects to remind her that the name of the person who brings cinnamon buns to the motel daily is actually named Ivan. “We are not after processed wheat. We are in need of stalks. Stalks!” 

“Cannot eat stalks of wheat, Mrs. Rose,” Ivan says for at least the third time. There might have been a fourth when Patrick was particularly intrigued by his YouTube video, but there’s three confirmed repetitions. 

“We know you can’t eat it like that, Ivan,” Mr. Rose says, trying to stay calm. “We just need it for decoration.” 

“Stalks?” 

“Yes, bare-ass stalks of wheat!” Mr. Rose yells, entirely too loudly for a public space. “I need stalks of wheat because my daughter is getting married and I am trying to make her ex-boyfriend’s barn into her fairytale without the fund that had been saved since she first dated one of those Backside Boys!” 

“Backstreet Boys, dear,” Mrs. Rose corrects gently. 

“Look,” Mr. Rose sighs, and Patrick might as well start the video over because at this point he’s not even trying to pretend he’s doing anything but eavesdropping. “I just need to know whether you have it or not?” 

“No stalks, only processed,” Ivan says. 

David flops down in the seat across from Patrick, bringing his attention back to his own table. Patrick can immediately tell he’s still overwhelmed and decides against teasing him for being late like he’d planned. 

“Oh, god,” he says, visibly shuddering. “Are we talking about wheat stalks again?” 

“Yes, yeah,” Patrick confirms, glad for the distraction. If Patrick is going to be distracted from the video that is a distraction from his work, the least this distraction could do is come in the form of his favorite of the Roses. “Yep, we sure are.” 

“Did you know there’s no wheat left in this country?”

“So I’ve gathered. Have you tried calling any of your old contacts in the states?” Patrick asks. “I hear Kansas is lousy with wheat.” 

“I do recall Toto running through fields of it, but unfortunately all of my old friends would think I had just misspelled weed if I text them looking for wheat.” 

When Patrick awards David with a smirk, he waves his hands dramatically and moves on, gesturing to Patrick’s computer. “Anyway, what are you up to?” 

“Ah, just looking up how to fix your lights tonight without frying myself. Can’t have that insurance bill go up—it’s not in the budget I set up for your first quarter.” 

“Wait, lights?” David asks, apparently too stressed out to even acknowledge Patrick’s joke. “How did you get sucked into that? I thought Ted was doing it.” 

“He was, but he’s busy with horse births and stepbrothers and wedding plans, so I offered to help.” 

“And nobody thought to tell me?” 

Honestly, Patrick had assumed Alexis would’ve told David herself. “I’m telling you now?” 

“Mmm, sure, but don’t you already have like a million things to do at Ray’s this time of year? You told me just last week not to add stuff from my to-do list to your to-do list!” 

“Well I didn’t realize you had so many tasks that required help from, as your sister referred to me, ‘such a handy little guy,’” Patrick says, trying to rile David up. 

Riled up David is a lot to deal with, but it’s a lot to deal with in all of Patrick’s favorite ways. He’s funny, and a little self-deprecating, but still surprisingly honest. Stressed out David, on the other hand, is a lot in all of his least favorite ways: sad and quiet, with walls higher than the 56th floor penthouse he’d lived in in New York and still occasionally waxes poetic about. So over the course of all the years that they’d known each other, Patrick has learned exactly how to take stressed out David and push just the right buttons to bring out the softer, sweeter side he tries so hard to hide—and the quickest way to do that was usually just to bring up Alexis in any context. 

“Okay, you are not little, has she seen your thighs in your baseball tights?” 

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Patrick responds, pleased with the smile David was trying to hide in the corner of his mouth. “Just like I did when Alexis assumed I could help you with a very important task for your store’s opening. I’m happy to take this one thing off your to-do list.” 

“Um, okay, but I can’t say I’d be as generous,” David responds. “Did you know that if the entire population of China walked by, the line would never end because of the rate of population increase?” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“Mmm, yes, well, that’s my to-do list, Patrick! Every Chinese person in the world.” 

“Scary.” 

“ Scary .” 

After David and Patrick finish lunch, he goes back to Ray’s and is surprisingly productive. He had considered canceling their investor’s lunch—a tradition David started shortly after they were awarded the first grant to tell Patrick about the latest updates at the store—because he knew how busy both he and David were. But spending time with David, even if they were both stressed and didn’t talk much between shoveling down their sandwiches and heading back to work, always made him feel better. 

Patrick catches up on a few reports due to potential clients in Elm Valley, finishes Ronnie’s payroll early, and gets some budgets set for next quarter for a variety of their full-service clients. He even has time to actually watch several wiring videos before eating some of the Chicken Tikka Masala Ray offered for dinner and heading over to the store to help David with his lights. 

He’s not entirely sure that his work is completely up to professional standards, but when he turns the power back on and flips the light switch, both the lamps turn on and David squeals behind him. 

“Oh my god! You did it!”

“Did you not have faith in me?” 

“Well, I mean, you were watching a video with the word dummy in it this morning,” David says, but he’s not even trying to hide his smile as he walks over to where Patrick is standing with open arms. 

Patrick folds himself into David’s embrace, rubbing gently over his back. His zebra striped sweater is softer than anything in Patrick’s own closet, and he holds on a little tighter. 

“Congratulations, David,” he murmurs, almost afraid to speak above a whisper. “Your opening is going to be huge.” 

The hug goes on for a second too long, and then another few seconds too long, but neither of them are moving to pull away. 

“Except it’s really supposed to be more of a small friends and family, soft launch type of thing,” David responds, still hugging back, potentially even tighter than at the start. “So, like… hopefully not too big.” 

At that moment, the lights Patrick had just installed flicker and they both tense. 

“And also hopefully not in the dark.” 

They both pull away, but the soft atmosphere stays intact. 

“I can fix that.” 

When Patrick gets home he’s feeling better than he has in days. 

He chalks it up to the fact that he spent most of his day with David. Which, since David is the one who’d triggered this little spiral with all of his why is it so hard s and doesn’t it make you sad s, is really quite fair. 

It may have taken him until he was nearly thirty to realize he was gay, his love life may have only gotten slightly less disastrous after he started dating people he’s attracted to, and he may have resorted to a relationship podcast published by someone he’s not sure has ever actually had a serious relationship, but Patrick still lives a pretty good life.

He can only hope said podcast might, somehow, make it better. 

If the first six episodes of You Deserve Love with Ray Butani have taught him anything, it’s that he has to be willing to make himself better if he wants to deserve the type of relationship he’s after. Ever since he was a kid, Patrick has always done better when he has a plan. And god help him, Ray’s podcast might be the thing to give him one. So, even though he’s tired, and even though he’s slightly worried about it ruining his good mood, Patrick pulls out his phone and queues up the next episode. 

“Heelllllllllllooo, my friends, and welcome to episode seven of You Deserve Love with Ray Butani. Today’s episode is brought to you by ABCCCs, Aloha from Butani’s Closet Configuration, Chao! My very own closet organizational system designed for you to say hello to all your favorite outfits and goodbye to an overwhelming wardrobe.”

Patrick hits the button to skip ahead—he has already heard the spiel for ABCCCs about twenty times—and then when Ray is still describing how to go to ABCCC’s website, he skips ahead again. 

“Now, onto more relevant topics: repairing your love life instead of your closet,” Ray says with a forced chuckle. “Open to page 17 in your workbook and spend a few moments filling out the very special quiz there about your past relationships, what you want in a future relationship, and how you may help or hinder yourself to get there.” 

Ray begins humming the Jeopardy! theme song as Patrick begins filling out the quiz. He still isn’t done when Ray’s humming ends and he begins talking again, so Patrick pauses the podcast until he finishes and tallies his score—42. 

“So, you’re a road in need of repair before you can drive off into the sunset with the love of your life,” Ray says. “If your score is between 1 and 15, your road is probably passable, but you will want to stay in constant communication about the state of the conditions with all others on the same path. If you scored between 16 and 25, your road may be difficult to travel; it’s going to be a bumpy road without some patching.” 

He’s pretty sure it’s impossible that he has swallowed a large amount of lead in the last few moments without noticing, but it sure feels like it. Patrick has never scored so poorly on a test. 

If Ray were here with him now having this conversation, Patrick is sure Ray’d soften the blow after seeing whatever despondent look he’s sure is on his face. But Ray isn’t here. So, his pre-recorded bluntness continues without any respect for Patrick’s rapidly declining mood. “If your score is between 26 and 40 points, then you’re a road laden with potholes and you need a double stripping.” 

Is there lead in his throat? Patrick doesn’t know what else the lump could be. 

“And if your score is 40 or above, it’s jackhammer time—because your road is impassable.” 

Patrick doesn’t know whether the groan that leaves his throat or the somber, sarcastic “yikes” that follows is more embarrassing. But he needs a plan, so he keeps listening. 

“A question for you: what is fantasy? The answer: fantasy is the imaginative fulfillment of your heart’s desire. And one of the most common fantasies is to have a newly paved road to traverse with your ultimate companion.”

“Story time,” Ray continues. “I had a friend—let’s call him Kirk—who couldn’t make up his mind amongst three different people that he liked, so I developed a test for him… and for you!” 

“Oh, good.” 

“Whose phone calls or visits are never unwanted or too long? Whose visits make your day better, no matter what they may entail? Do you see their face?”

Patrick stills. The pen he’d been tapping repeatedly on his workbook binder drops to the side. Lunch would’ve made his day better no matter the company. He’s pretty sure. 

“When something wonderful happens in your life—a promotion at work, a win for your favorite sports team, an exciting new purchase—who do you want to share the news with? Do you see their face?” 

And… that doesn’t mean anything. It’s normal to want to spend time with your friends, to tell them things that are important to you. He knows way more about Givenchy’s latest collection than he’d have thought possible a few years ago.

“Who would you most like to have in your life to ward off moments of loneliness? When you’re in pain, who would you most like to comfort you? Do you see their face?” 

David knocking on his door, barging in with a first aid kit and smoothie after Patrick had texted him that he took a baseball to the face and broke his nose comes to mind immediately. He hadn’t even known how much he’d needed someone to help ease the pain until David had freely done it. 

“When you travel down your newly fixed road into that sunset, who is going to make your travels more enjoyable? Do you see their face? Whose face appears to you, my friend? Whose face?” 

Patrick swallows past the lump in his throat. He closes his eyes and can practically see David in the passenger seat of his car. Alexis had taken the Rose family car despite the fact that David had reserved it on the sign out sheet the night before, and he’d called Patrick in a panic about being late for one of his first merchandise pickups.

It was just a few days after he’d broken down on the bench, and Patrick didn’t ever want to see that level of desperation in David’s eyes again, so he’d played hooky for the rest of the day and drove David to the vendor’s house. As soon as David got in the car, Patrick had handed him the aux cord, hoping to lull him out of what was sure to be another spiral. It took almost then entire drive to Saint Elms, but on the way home David became his best self again. He stopped trying to hide his smiles. He relaxed into the seat, head turned toward Patrick while he drove. He even sang along to the divas playlist he’d chosen, carefree in a way he rarely was. And Patrick would never forget his monologue on why The Best was the most romantic love song ever written when Tina came on. 

It was the first and only vendor run he went on with David—usually he did them while Patrick was at Ray’s—and despite the mundanity of driving across rural Ontario listening to music he’d never pick himself, it was one of the best days of his life. 

“Woah. ”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Stevie pleads with Patrick, glancing between David and Alexis with wide eyes that David resents—even if he feels a little bad that she’s gotten caught between his and Alexis’ battles several times over the last couple of weeks. 

“Nah,” Patrick confirms. He’d just been finishing up his fix for the accidentally dimming light when Stevie and Alexis had shown up for her bachelorette party, and all three of them had tried to convince Patrick to join them for the night. “I appreciate it, really, but I’ve got a baseball game tomorrow against Ronnie’s team, and there’s no way we’ll win if I’m as hungover as I know I’ll be if I stay.” 

“Bums for you, Button,” Alexis pouts as she crosses to the fridge where David plans to keep local cheeses and other perishable items. She takes out a bottle and pops the cork. “But more Zhampagne for the rest of us!” 

David rushes toward her, finding cups quickly before his beautiful store is covered in the sticky slime of dried off-brand champagne. “Alexis, please! Just, like, a modicum of respect. If not for me, for the leather bound journals!” He tries very hard not to regret offering to host her bachelorette party at the store. 

After Ted’s stepbrother had planned his bachelor party at The Wobbly Elm, Alexis had gotten uncharacteristically sad that there was nowhere else in town for her own party; so, despite his better judgment, David volunteered to set aside some of the wine he planned to sell and put together a few charcuterie boards with samples of products he’d be selling on the condition that they spent the first portion of the night finishing up the preparations for his textiles section. 

She’d perked right up, and he didn’t have to admit he wanted her eye for home decor when they set up the display—so really it was a win, win… even if he had to spend all of tomorrow deep cleaning every surface again. 

“Well, have fun you guys,” Patrick says with a chuckle as he starts walking out. 

“Please don’t leave me alone with Thing 1 and Thing 2,” Stevie pleads one last time as she downs her first cup of bubbly. 

“Goodnight!” Patrick cheerily calls just before the door shuts. 

David echoes with a “goodnight” of his own despite the fact that he knows Patrick won’t be able to hear it, and then he follows in Stevie’s footsteps and downs the glass Alexis put in his hand. It’s not a good idea to try to keep up with Stevie, but it’s what he might need to get through the night without murdering his sister as she says, “Okay, now that Patrick’s gone and the lights are fixed, we can, like, totally start the party!” 

“Um, no, we most certainly cannot!” David tries very very hard not to regret offering his store up. “You agreed to help me arrange the throw pillow display in the back before we get so drunk you start pushing for them to be put in the front windows!” 

As he and Alexis go back and forth about what they’d agreed on, David barely notices Stevie take the Zhampagne from Alexis and start chugging it right out of the bottle. Eventually, though, after only a little more screaming—and, honestly, a lot more booze in all of their systems—they set up the textiles display in a way David actually doesn’t hate. 

The collection is one of his favorites. A goat farmer in Timber Elms has taken their wool and made a series of beautiful cashmere throws in a variety of shades that beautifully compliments the store’s sand and stone color palette. Then, after a meeting with David in one of his lightning bolt sweaters, the farmer’s wife made a collection of throw pillow covers: some with lightning bolt designs, another that reads “struck by lightning.” 

The drive to pick up the product had been a long one, but well worth it. 

And though he’d tried a thousand times, David had never been able to find a set up that didn’t look tacky. Luckily, it is precisely in his sister’s wheelhouse, and after she finishes the set up all three of them sit back and admire the view. 

“God, I hated checking this box of my to-do list with a passion,” he admits. Begrudgingly, he adds, “But they look good. Thank you.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Stevie says, getting up to grab another bottle of wine. 

“Good, not great?” Alexis asks.

“They look great,” David responds. 

“Great, not fabulous?” 

“Fabulous,” he huffs, and now he doesn’t know if she’s actually questioning the set up or if she’s just fishing for compliments. 

“Fabulous, not mondo-fabulous?” 

It may very well be the latter. 

“They look good to me,” Stevie says as she returns, voice not betraying that it’s the third bottle of wine they’ve opened since the Zhampagne ran out. 

“Good, not great?” Alexis repeats. 

“Alexis! Do you need to get checked by a neurologist or will you stop repeating yourself?” 

“Does it bother you that the word ‘lightning’ is misspelled, though?” Stevie chimes in before Alexis can respond. 

David lets out an involuntary gasp, getting up and moving to grab the ‘struck by lightning’ pillow case. 

“What? No! I’ve looked at these a million times.” He looks down closer at the pillow, then, and tries to focus his eyes. It’s been awhile since he’s consumed this much alcohol. “Wait. L-i-g-h-t-n-i-n-g. That’s right.”

“No,” Stevie insists, “It’s ght-e-n-ing.” 

“No. Lightning—l-i-g-h-t-n-i-n-g.” 

“There’s a second ‘n’?” Alexis asks. “I thought there was only one ‘n.’”

Stevie stands firm in her position. “There’s a second ‘n’ but there’s also an ‘e.’”

“There is a second ‘n,’ but there’s no ‘e’ between the ‘ght’ and said second ‘n,’” David says. “Ugh, this is giving me a headache. Somebody just google it.” 

After another fifteen minutes of back and forth regarding the spelling and, consequently, Alexis going on a long, drunken rant about how Ted makes her feel like she’s been struck by lightning in the best way, Twyla shows up after her closing shift at the cafe ended. 

From there, they leave behind all talk of the store opening and crank up the music. 

Eventually, David can’t dance to the bad Diplo remixes any longer and lies on his back on one of the still empty stock tables he’d been dancing on top of for the greater part of the last hour. The ceiling of his store really is rather pretty. 

“It’s getting very late,” he says around a yawn, looking at his phone to see the fact that it’s nearly three in the morning. “Maybe we should head back to the motel.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Stevie agrees. But she cuddles into his side on the table instead of getting up to leave. 

Alexis keeps dancing around the table to the Alexis-approved playlist David had started a couple of hours prior, happily sipping at the remainder of her glass of wine and wondering aloud if Ted’s ever seen an animal who was struck by lightning. 

There’s a pounding in David’s head, and he’s considering getting up to take some medicine and chugging water from the sink in the back to attempt to avoid the worst of the inevitable hangover. 

“Omigod! Ted!” Alexis squeals, turning quickly and closing her eyes.

“Yes, we get it, Alexis,” David groans. “Ted! You love him, you’re gonna marry him, lightning lightning love of your life, blah blah blah.” 

“Ugh, David,” she says. “No! I mean it’s Ted! And I can’t see him tonight so can you go let him in, please?” 

“Um, excuse me , there are very few people who have seen me mid-panic attack. I’ve let him and his puns in plenty.” 

“David! Ted is here . Go unlock the door before he leaves me at the altar like I did to him!” 

“Ted’s here?” he asks, finally moving to sit up. He doesn’t mention that they never actually got to the altar part. 

“She’s said it four times,” Stevie grumbles, trying to resituate herself now that her pillow has gotten up. “You’re very slow tonight.” 

“Oh my god,” David says after he moves to the front door and allows Ted and company in before relocking it. “I’m sorry, I thought that pounding was in my head.” 

“Crazy night, bud?” Ted asks, slurring his speech. His button down shirt’s buttons are all undone, and he has a white tank top underneath that’s stained with what David can only imagine is the cheapest beer at The Wobbly Elm. It’s been awhile since David has had the pleasure of seeing Fun Ted. 

“Oh, my god, Alexis, turn around and stop humming!” David screams, ignoring Ted’s question. Celine may not be his favorite diva of all time, but she certainly doesn’t deserve the Alexis Rose remix that’s currently gracing his store. Ted’s stepbrother and three vet school friends start looking around the store, skyrocketing David’s anxiety. “There’s no rules about not seeing people at your bachelorette party. That’s just the wedding day! And there’s no rules about hearing anybody at any time!” 

“I can’t hear you, David!” 

“Okay, but you responded! So clearly you can, though!”

She spins around, clearly with the intent to yell at David more, but then she sees Ted and her eyes light up. “Teddy!” She squeals, and David makes a mental note to ensure that’s something his drunken brain makes him forget tomorrow. She runs over to jump into Ted’s arms, apparently forgetting all about her prior misgivings about seeing him tonight.

Stevie lets out a loud snore from the table, and David is going to lose his mind. Two people in the store for the night had stressed him out enough, but now it feels like all the progress he’s been making in the last several weeks is about to be undone in a matter of seconds by a gaggle of veterinarians. 

“Ted, what are you doing here?” David asks. “We were just about to head back to the motel.” 

“Oh, I came to wire your lights! But I see that’s already done.” 

David is about to make a snide remark about how if they hadn’t been wired yet, Ted would’ve left his bride-to-be in the dark for the majority of the night, but it is Ted’s bachelor party, after all, so he decides to embrace kindness. “Patrick got that done earlier.” 

“Oh, Patrick’s the best!” Ted sighs. “Isn’t Patrick the best, babe?” 

“That little button is cute as a button,” Alexis agrees, and David once again charitably bites his tongue to avoid ruining the wedding festivities—mostly because he’s not quite ready to admit, even in his drunken state, why it bothers him so much when Alexis calls Patrick cute. 

“She’s got the right idea,” Ted’s stepbrother, Jace, says as he points at Stevie. Jace walks over and crawls underneath the table Stevie’s on and lies down. 

Really, it’s a miracle David has managed to bite his tongue for this long; his willpower runs right out. “No! Nope, no no,” David says. “We are not all lying on the floors and furniture in my place of business. It’s incorrect!” 

But everybody else is already finding a place to lay down near Stevie and Jace. Alexis and Ted cuddle up together underneath the next table, Ted whispering sweet nothings in her ear that David wishes he couldn’t hear—because, honestly, he’s always had a soft spot for the few people who actually treat his sister right, but he wants to hold his ground. 

“This floor is surprisingly comfortable,” Hank, one of Ted’s vet school friends, says. 

“C’mon, David,” Alexis says as Twyla and the other vet school friends settle in and he’s the only one left standing. “It’s very nice down here. We’ve all been so stressed out about the store opening and the wedding plans and, like, remember when we were kids and Mom and Dad would forget your birthday or call me Allison for a week and then Adelina would bring the mattress from the spare guest room down to the den and we’d have a sleepover with her? They always made things better.” 

And, well… he had to admit she is right. Despite the fact that they always came after a bad day, those sleepovers are one of David’s only fond memories of his childhood. They, however, had included an actual mattress. 

“We’re letting this whole experience fly by,” she whispers. “Let’s just let ourselves enjoy the night.” 

His sister, who he’d spent so much time taking care of in his life, is finally trying to take care of him. Even if it is incorrect, he can see how happy she is, so he flicks off the lights Patrick wired what feels like a lifetime ago, and finds his spot next to Stevie again. 

The last thought David has before he falls asleep is that he can’t remember the last time he’d been able to fall asleep so quickly. 

David is just stepping out of the store, locking up the door to head back to the motel to shower and change before coming back to start working when he sees Patrick crossing the street. 

“Hi,” he offers timidly, still feeling a little discombobulated from drinking a bit too much and sleeping on the floor of the store. He runs a hand through his hair, hoping it’s behaving, and Patrick offers a smile—as if he knows exactly what is going through David’s head. He probably does. 

“Hey, you already leaving for your next cup of coffee? Your big night go okay?” 

“Oh, um, actually I haven’t had any coffee yet.” 

“Wow, complete 180 from finding you on the step of the cafe at five in the morning last week.” 

“It’s, uh, kind of a long story?” David says, as if it’s a question, and then realizes it’s really not. “Actually, it’s short. I slept at the store, so… I’m just leaving to go actually start my day.” 

A flash of worry crosses over Patrick’s face, and David is already waving him off, rings catching rays of sun as he waves his hand. “It’s fine. Maybe even good? So, what—what are you doing here?” 

“Well, I got a few texts from Stevie last night and from what I gathered it seemed like you and Alexis might be… getting to each other a little bit. I wanted to come check in with you, make sure you’re okay.” 

“Considering that the opening is next week and my sister forgot when the opening she’s supposed to be promoting is because she’s been too busy with her wedding plans, yeah, you could say they were a little tense for a while,” David admits. “But… I don’t know. Somehow sleeping on the floor of the store fixed everything, for now at least.” 

“Good, David. That’s great. Because I know it’s, uh, your sister’s wedding, and that we both got invited. And I know things with Alexis have been… well, I just. I think you could use a little break. From being worried about the store, and your family. Let me help you take a break this weekend, let’s go to the wedding together.” 

“Oh… Oh, um. You don’t have to do that.” 

“I’d like to.” 

And, really, who is David to object? Alexis and Patrick, who are on opposite ends of the personality spectrum, both telling him to take a break seems like maybe the universe thinks he needs one. 

“Really? 

“Well, once you realize you want to go to a wedding with David Rose, you kind of want that wedding to be the one coming up as soon as possible,” Patrick says, not even trying to hide his smirk. 

“Okay, I don’t even care that you’re playing dirty by quoting When Harry Met Sally to me, because the fact that you know that quote could move me to tears, but I’m not going to let it. Because if I’m going to take a real break this weekend I have far too much to do today.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

Patrick seems as if he can’t stop the smile that David sees on his face, and David fears he’s not faring much better. “Good,” Patrick says. “Good, I’ll meet you at the motel, we can head over to Mutt’s barn together, okay?” 

“Great.” 

“Okay, good,” Patrick responds, and he seems a little flustered. David decides not to point out just how many times he’s said the word ‘good’ in the last thirty seconds. “I’ll see you then.” 

“Or before then,” David smirks, because he can’t really help but tease him at least a little bit. When you get a chance to troll Patrick Brewer like Patrick Brewer would troll you, you take it. 

“Either way is good.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he says. 

Patrick turns on his foot, heading off in the direction of Ray’s with a small wave, and David realizes it’s not quite true. Because, god, when was the last time he’d gone four days without seeing Patrick? He’s not sure, but one thing is for certain—nothing good could come of it.

Chapter Text

“Rollie, I’m just saying!” The door chimes as it opens, Jocelyn’s voice filling David’s previously very peaceful store. “Radishes can be puny! They’re a choking hazard, we need to cook them and mush them up before Rollie Jr. can have them.” 

“Puny? Radishes are not puny,” Roland answers, indignant. David really needs to start remembering to lock the goddamn door. “They’re not even small enough to shove up our son’s nose! Wanna talk puny, let’s talk about his nostrils!” 

“It could certainly fit up his nose,” Jocelyn counters. 

David wonders, not for the first time, why the Schitts seem so hellbent on coming to the store before it’s even open. 

“Not that I’m the voice of reason when it comes to the tiny humans,” David chimes in, “but you probably shouldn’t try to shove a radish up your son’s nose.” He’s had enough things up his nose for a lifetime, and while he’s not particularly fond of the jam hands Rollie Jr. always seems to have, nobody deserves that. Plus, he’s almost certain there’s no good ENT surgeons in the area. 

Joceyln and Roland seem to remember that David is there, in his own store, with them at the same time. 

“David! I was just giving Roland Squared here their mid morning snacks from my garden,” she says. “And I was curious if you’re going to be sourcing any local produce here for the store? So we thought we’d just pop on over and see for ourselves.” 

“Yes, we will be. I have a variety of vendors set up to bring in their seasonal vegetables. A couple in Elm Glen even has a greenhouse so we can hopefully offer fresh produce year round. The first delivery is coming next week so they’ll be in prime condition for opening day.”  

“Oh, great! I didn’t see anything when I was looking through the windows so I was just so nervous that there was a gap in your business plan,” Jocelyn responds. “But I should’ve known you’d thought of everything!” 

David breathes in for a count of four, and then back out just as slowly. He knows his face could probably use the customer service training, but dear god the store is not even open yet and he’s already having to deal with 75% of the Schitts. “As much fun as this has been, is there anything else I can help you with? I do have a lot to prepare before we officially open next week.”

Roland had wandered off looking, but thankfully not touching, at the display of bath bombs as David and Jocelyn were talking, but he makes his way back over. 

“Oh, yeah, Dave!” David cringes, but doesn’t even bother making the correction. “That’s why we stopped by. I had something to run by you!” 

When he doesn’t continue, David makes a broad gesture between them. 

“It involves the ‘P’ word,” Roland says hesitantly. 

If David were asked what the first ‘P’ word that came to his mind was and had ample time to think about it before answering, he might pretend it had been Prosecco, or patchouli. Papua New Guinea—where he had once flown to rescue Alexis when she thought the volcano was about to erupt—or psychedelics are good options, too. Even penis might be preferable. 

Instead, “...Patrick?” is what comes out of his traitorous mouth. 

Jocelyn’s eyes sparkle as she bounces Rollie Jr. on her hip, but Roland barks out a snort of laughter. 

“No, not Patrick,” he says, like David is the one here being ridiculous. “Picnic!” 

“Why on earth would you refer to picnic as the ‘P’ word?” 

“Well, because, the last time we had a picnic at the motel, you stormed off and ate six helpings worth of potato salad in the dark.” 

“It was five servings. And my mother had invited my ex to town to take photos of—” David cuts himself off. “You know what, doesn’t matter! What about a picnic, Roland?” 

“I was thinking, it’s been a good long while since we’ve had a block party,” Roland says, and David graciously does not point out that a block party would essentially be a town party, or that Lenny Kravtiz had been at the last block party he attended. “Next week at your store opening, I thought I might block off the street between here and the cafe. You could get some vendors or Twyla to make some food, I can drag down all the old picnic tables from Town Hall’s storage shed. Make an evening of it for your big grand opening.” 

“Okay, well it’s really supposed to be more of a soft-launch…” David trails off. However much it pains him to admit, this is a good idea. And not just Roland good. David might be able to convince Heather Warner to set up a booth for dinner, and with a few strings of twinkle lights it might even be kind of beautiful. “But, um. That sounds great, actually. Can I stop by after the wedding so we can iron out the details?” 

“Sure thing, Davey! I’ll be sure to break out my Hawaiian shirt and find our extra tiki torches from the last beach bash we threw so you can plan ahead for them.”

“That really will not be necessary.” 

“Oh, I am just so excited,” Jocelyn chirps. “It’s been too long since we’ve had something so exciting happening in town.” David doesn’t note his sister’s marriage or his store’s opening, as a thank you for the idea. “C’mon, Sweetie, let’s leave David to his planning. It’s time to get this little radish to nap!” 

After a longer than ideal goodbye with Roland, David shuts the door and remembers to actually lock it this time. Finally alone, he allows a genuine smile to take over his face. 

Years ago when his family landed in Schitt’s Creek, David felt like the world was against him. But something about this town, these people… it’s changed him. In a lot of ways, both big and small. Maybe most notably of all demonstrated by the fact that he is excited about an idea Roland Schitt just gave him. 

And if, when he pulls out his phone to start a mood board and share the good news with someone, Patrick is the first person to come to mind—well, Roland had put him in David’s head. 

The night before Alexis and Ted’s wedding, Johnny and Moira load the happy couple and David into the backseat of the Lincoln and drive them out to Mutt’s barn. 

Johnny spends the entire drive babbling about how important a rehearsal dinner is; Moira talks over him, reminding everybody of the multiple weddings she had over the years on Sunrise Bay. Alexis and Ted are ignoring them completely, lost in their own little world as if the honeymoon phase has already set in. 

David tries desperately not to think about how he’s fifth wheeling. 

After fumbling through a quick but disastrous rehearsal of the ceremony, they all sit down at one of the tables that had been set up yesterday in Mutt’s pasture with styrofoam takeout containers Johnny picked up from Twyla on the way. 

“David, can you please get off of your phone,” Johnny grumbles part way through the meal. “Your only sister only gets married once and this is a special night for her and Ted.” 

“Okay, but… my only sister has already been engaged to sweet Theodore thrice , so I don’t know if that’s, like, a great? measure in this particular instance?” 

“And that’s completely ignoring the time I pretended I was married to Rafa to get out of a tricky blackmail situation when I was at the Madrid Open. Let’s just say it’s really good that my tennis skirt was white.” 

Johnny’s sigh nearly echoes through the barn. 

“Is it too much to ask to ask for one family dinner without texting or tweetering or whatever it is you’re doing?” 

“Honestly, David,” Moira chimes in. “I was under the impression you’d be free as a bird tonight.” 

“Well, since Alexis decided—roughly two minutes ago, may I remind you—to get married the week before my store opens, excuse me for needing to finalize a couple vendor emails while we eat soggy chicken kievs in a barn!” 

“Rude, David!” Alexis glares at him, but her tone gives away that she doesn’t actually care. “Dad also got raspberry soufflés! Twy made it with the raspberries that didn’t get used in yesterday’s mystery smoothie, so nom nom for us.” 

“Please never say nom nom again.” 

“Could you two please settle down?” 

“Mr. Rose is right.” Ted tries to peace keep between the Roses. “I think we could all benefit from a switch to a new subject. Hey! Did you guys hear about the local who was arrested for stealing stuff from a barn?” 

“Well I do hope you two have hired proper security for your nuptials,” Moira says. “The only stealing that shall be going on is that of hearts!” 

“Ohmigod, babe, really?” 

David surreptitiously returns to his email, this time hiding the phone under the table. He’s not sure what the joke is going to be—but he knows that look on Ted’s face. Something entirely unfunny is coming. 

“Yeah, he’s out on Bale ,” Ted says, grin still plastered on his face. 

“Well, that’s not good, son.” Johnny worries at his bottom lip. “Maybe I should see if Roland can call the sheriff and an extra set of eyes out here tonight so you two don’t have to worry about anybody running off with the chuppah before your big day.” 

“Okay, so, I’m maybe realizing that this joke works better on paper…” 

Alexis is getting ready at Twyla’s so David has the room to himself and takes full advantage. He spends the morning doing a face mask sample that he plans on stocking at the store if the vendor’s other products sell well, and then does his extended skin care routine. 

He’s got his pants and dress shirt on—and is trying to decide between two ties—when Stevie barges in. 

She watches him for only a fraction of a second before she hums. 

“ What ?” 

“You look nervous. Why do you look nervous?” 

“I’m not nervous,” David squeaks, but god—he even sounds nervous. 

“You do know that Alexis is the one getting married today, don’t you?” Stevie asks. “What do you have to be nervous about?” 

“Yes, I do realize that, thank you so much.” 

David stands in front of the mirror, holding each tie option up to his neck and then switching back. His jacket is striped, navy and a lighter almost teal-blue he normally wouldn’t wear but that Alexis has always loved, and he can’t decide which color tie pulls the look together better. 

He’s just about to scrap the whole outfit and put on his all-black option when Stevie says, “go with the navy.” She walks into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her and David can’t help but feel like maybe she knew he needed to be alone to be able to take her fashion advice. After popping the collar of his dress shirt, he quickly ties the tie and is just slipping his jacket on when there’s a soft knock at the door. 

And maybe he’d tied the tie just a bit too tight, because when David opens the door he feels like he’s going to choke. 

“Greetings, my lord,” David hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut—because, seriously , what the actual fuck. Thank god Stevie hadn’t heard that; he’d never hear the end of it. 

Patrick, standing there looking like an absolute vision in a fitted navy suit and light blue patterned undershirt, looks like he’s biting back laughter. David tries his best not to let his eyes wander down to where Patrick has left two buttons undone. Somehow, Patrick does David the courtesy of not mentioning the fact that David seems to be having some kind of breakdown and steps through the door. 

“You look nice,” Patrick says, giving his outfit a once over. “I’m lovin’ the tie.” 

“Mmm, thank you—flattery will get you everywhere, my friend,” David says, and then bites his lip. Why had he used that term? And also… why is he second guessing it? Patrick is his friend. One of his best friends. Still, he feels like he needs to remedy the comment. “You, um, look very nice as well.” 

Pink tinges Patrick’s cheeks. “Listen, before we head out, I had something I wanted to give you,” he says, but then both of their attention is drawn away when Stevie swings the bathroom door open. 

“Oh, Patrick. Good, you’re here. Shall we?” 

“Oh, uh, hey Stevie,” Patrick says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you were coming—or, I… um. I guess I knew you were coming but I didn’t realize you were. Here.” Patrick swallows visibly and Stevie looks intently between the two men. He places two gift bags on David’s bed and then says, “I am actually going to use the restroom quickly before we head out, too. Be right back.” 

As soon as the bathroom door is closed behind him, Stevie scurries up to David and punches his bicep. “So that’s why you were nervous,” she hisses. “Is it okay that I’m here?” 

“Of course it’s okay,” David answers, deciding to completely ignore the first part. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?” 

“Because I think I’m crashing a date? Patrick definitely thinks I’m crashing a date.” 

“Oh, no,” David says. His eyes dart back toward the bathroom, and he lowers his voice even further. “No no.” 

“He brought you a present,” Stevie gestures to the gift bags on his bed, “to your sister’s wedding.” 

And if Stevie had gathered that much while she was in the bathroom, David is fairly certain that Patrick can hear every word they are currently saying. He brings his pointer finger up to his lips, shushing her and then shakes his head again. 

Stevie steps a bit closer to him, thankfully lowering her voice, “okay, I'll just say this... if there's anything remotely sentimental in here, that man is on a date with you right now.”

Chapter Text

Patrick puts deodorant on for the third time in the last thirty minutes before finally pulling on his shirt and beginning to button it—leaving the top button undone. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves, and looks at the watch on his wrist. He’d been up early and went on a hike, but he clearly hadn’t worked out enough of his nervous energy and still feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He’s ready early, but not quite early enough to go for a quick run, take another shower, and still not be late to pick David up. 

David. 

The smile that takes over Patrick’s face at the mere thought of him would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking elating. 

He can’t help it, just like he hasn’t been able to help reexamining countless memories and moments with David from the last few years. David offering to help him paint his new apartment when he first moved out of Ray’s spare bedroom. Driving David through a blizzard to the hospital in Elmdale when they thought Mr. Rose was having a heart attack—and celebrating with burgers when they learned it was just indigestion. Sitting on the empty floor of Rose Apothecary with him and Stevie and a joint the day after the lease was signed. 

The countless movie nights and board games and occasional trips to The Wobbly Elm or The Dude Cave. They’ve spent so much time together, and Patrick feels like he’s always truly seen David in a way not many people are allowed to. 

And, god, he really cannot believe it took him this long to realize what that meant. What was right in front of him. 

His alarm buzzes, pulling him from his daydream and alerting him to the fact that said daydream went on much longer than it should have. 

“Get it together, Brewer,” he mutters to himself, pulling on his jacket. He looks at himself in the tiny bathroom mirror, wishing he’d listened to David’s advice and gotten a full length one after he moved in.

Patrick decides to unbutton another button before grabbing his shoe polish and sitting down at the kitchen table with his dress shoes. As soon as he opens it, though, it’s very clear he won’t be polishing these shoes—because apparently shoe polish goes bad and he really should’ve known that with all the Queer Eye David and Stevie have made him watch. 

What he does know is that David would never put this chunky polish anywhere near his shoes, so he grabs his matte, tan oxfords instead—they match his belt, anyway—and grabs both gift bags on his way out the door. 

On the plus side, being flustered by being late has left very little room to be flustered about the gift he plans to give David before they leave

There is some consolation when David answers the door saying, “greetings, my lord.” So maybe he isn’t the only one who is a little flustered. Patrick even feels like he maybe has the upper hand. 

That is, until Stevie comes out of the bathroom and he feels all the blood in his body flush his cheeks a deep shade of crimson as he flounders through greeting her.

“Be right back,” he finally mumbles, stumbling toward the door she’d just come out of. 

Patrick counts to four as he inhales deeply, something he learned from David, and then exhales just as slowly. And then he does it again, and again, until the blood pounding through his ears isn’t the only thing he hears—he also hears Stevie and David hissing at each other. 

He flushes the toilet he didn’t use, washes the sweat off his hands, and then goes back out into the room and sees Stevie moving the two gift bags to the table next to David’s bed. 

“Good, you’re back,” Stevie says. “Which one of these is David’s? Can he open it now?” 

“Oh, no,” Patrick rushes to say. “No, no no. That’s okay, he can just open it later. We should, um, get going so we’re not late.” 

“I assume the blue one is David’s?” She asks, correctly putting Alexis and Ted’s silver bag aside and handing David his. 

“I definitely assumed nobody would be getting me anything for my sister’s wedding,” David says with a little shoulder shimmy, pulling the first piece of tissue paper out of the top of the bag. 

And Patrick really did not need an audience for this. He’s pretty sure anybody besides David will be able to see that for what it is. “You’re going to be so underwhelmed when you open it, trust me.” 

Stevie watches on with glee as David takes the rest of the tissue paper out of the bag. David pulls the frame out, eyes immediately looking a bit misty. He’d fumbled the ball. 

“It’s not—see, it’s nothing.” 

“What is it?” Stevie asks. 

“It’s, uh, just a picture I snapped of David and Alexis in the store the night of her bachelorette party,” Patrick answers. He’d been walking across the street to go home when he looked back, and the scene in front of him so perfectly encapsulated the Rose siblings that he couldn’t help but snap the photo, Rose Apothecary sign dominating the top of the frame with their silhouettes visible through the windows. 

“Um, this is not nothing,” David answers, clearing his throat. “So, thank you.” 

“I printed one off for Alexis to take with her when she moves in with Ted,” Patrick says after nodding. “Thought you might like one too. I know what it’s like to be a kid alone in a room wishing a sibling were there with him.” 

The tension between Patrick and David is broken when Stevie loudly clears her throat and opens the door. “I totally forgot about my gift for Ted and Alexis, so I’m just gonna go back to my apartment and grab that—I’ll see you guys out there.” 

She’s gone before either man can utter a response. Silence falls over the room. 

“Um, this is a very solid frame.” 

“Thank you, I’m learning.” 

Once they’re in the car and heading to the barn, things settle down. David, much to Patrick’s surprise, requests rolling the windows down citing a super-hold pomade that won’t let his hair move no matter the wind situation and cranks up the music. They sing along together to the only Top 40s station that comes in and Patrick finds a bigger smile returning to his face with each mile. 

When he pulls into the field-turned-parking lot and turns the car off, Patrick looks at David and murmurs, “wait right there.” 

Jumping out of his car, Patrick rounds the hood and opens the passenger door for a stunned David; and while he’s seen David’s less than ideal romantic history for the last several years, and heard many stories from before that, he’s still a little surprised how much it seems to throw David off. 

“Um,” he says, still planted in his seat, looking back and forth between his knees and the open door while his mouth opens, and then clothes, and then opens yet again still without anything escaping. 

“I don’t think it’s a drive-in wedding, David,” he says, hoping a good bit of trolling will help get David on solid ground—both literally and figuratively. 

“That’s good, because the last time Alexis was at a drive-in I had to come rescue her from the trunk of a Russian mob boss who apparently wanted to watch Ratatouille before threatening to chop her ear off if she didn’t divulge what she saw at a party Edward Snowden was at in college.” 

Try as he might, Patrick will never be able to accurately guess what will prompt a horrifying story from Alexis’ life before Schitt’s Creek, but luckily the anecdote has seemed to bring David back to his body enough to get out of the car. Patrick shuts the door, hoping it won’t cause another glitch, and then grabs the gift bag from the backseat. 

“Shall we?” 

The barn actually looks much nicer than Patrick had expected it to based on the few parties he'd been to here when he heard that’s where Ted and Alexis planned to have their wedding. Even David seems a little enamored by it all. 

He can see through the giant open doors that there’s string lights hung from the ceiling of the barn. Outside, the gathering area is lined with beautiful, vintage lanterns that look to have real candles waiting to be lit tonight and tasteful tables are set up in the pasture leading toward the door. Flowers cover pretty much every flat surface. Mutt, as a wedding present, carved a beautiful chuppah and painted it golden for Ted and Alexis to stand under while they say their vows. Mr. Rose must’ve found somebody to sell them stalks of wheat, because the last folding chair in every row is adorned with wheat and a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“I can’t say the woman who left me for a traveling circus salesman whom she married just so that she could be a bride on TLC’s 4 Weddings would rank the venue very high,” David says, completely unaware just how charmed Patrick is by that sentence. “But it’s not half bad, is it?” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

Patrick’s hand finds the small of David’s back, leading him to the gift table where they both sign the guest book, and then continuing on toward the group of people heading to find seats. They fall in behind a group of guys around their age that Patrick doesn’t recognize. 

“Ted’s vet school friends,” David murmurs as he blinks toward them, and Patrick pats his back in thanks as they both seem to eavesdrop. 

“I tell you, this is paws itively beautiful,” one says. 

“I just hope Alexis stops being so shellfish and actually marries him this time,” another scoffs. 

Patrick feels David tense, and while he knows Alexis herself has admitted to the mistakes she’s made with Ted, Patrick isn’t particularly fond of this stranger coming to her wedding at running his mouth either. Ted certainly wouldn’t be either—though, he would probably applaud the pun. 

“C’mon, Tristan,” another chimes in, “you have no i-deer-a what they’ve gone through. Don’t make it hawk ward.” 

The groan that escapes David’s mouth seems to be involuntary, and honestly Patrick can’t blame him. Patrick and Ted get along well—occasionally drinking a beer side by side while the Jays or Maple Leafs play—but he never would’ve guessed that he seems to be on the low end of the puns spectrum within his group of friends.

David stops abruptly, hand finding Patrick’s, and jerks him to the side. 

“Okay, I need you to do me a favor,” David whisper yells, more yell than whisper. “I am going to try to keep a happy, proud look on my face to cover the gawking and the about-to-stand-up-and-yell-about-how-repugnant-puns-are face just underneath.” 

Patrick wills his palm not to start sweating, but when he realizes it’s the first time David has ever held his hand it certainly doesn’t help matters. 

“Please help me achieve this,” David continues when Patrick finally manages to nod. 

“Oh, C’mon, David.” Patrick squeezes his hand. Because that’s something you do when you hold hands with your best friend, whom you recently realized you have a massive crush on, right? “Ted has a community of people around him, who love him like you love Alexis—” David raises a finger, clearly beginning to object but Patrick doesn’t let him. “—no, no. You do, you maybe show it differently, but they’re here to support him just like you are, and maybe they engage in a little silliness along the way. I think it’s nice.” 

“Okay, but the silliness is where I—” 

“Hi, Patrick,” Ken cuts in, breathy and clearly scaring the shit out of both him and David, previously in their own little world. 

“Oh! Hi, Ken.” 

“Is that a power suit?” Ken asks. 

Patrick can’t help but smirk when he sees the look of absolute disgust that crosses David’s face at that; it almost makes up for their hands having been pulled apart when Ken startled them. Ken is a frequent customer of Ray’s, so he’s wormed his way into Patrick’s life on a few occasions. And while it’s not really David’s place, Patrick can’t help but be a little giddy at how much David has always objected to that fact. 

“It’s my only suit,” Patrick answers. 

“Looks pretty powerful to me,” Ken says. “So, um, Barry stayed home.” 

“Who?” 

While he knows he should be spending more of his brain power on the conversation at hand, Patrick can’t help but notice David stepping a bit closer into his personal space again. He can practically hear the dig about a thirty something named Barry running through David’s mind. 

“The ball and chain. I’m flying solo tonight. Save a dance for me?” 

And of any of the responses that could’ve come, what Patrick mutters is, “uh, I don’t dance.”

“It’s a wedding! Everybody dances.” 

“Hey, how ‘bout we work on him together?” David chimes in, both of his usually broadly gesturing hands coming to rest steadily clasped on Patrick’s shoulder. “I think there’s a Terpsichorean buried deep inside there, don’t you?” 

Patrick has zero clue what a terpsichorean is, but he leans into David a little as a dejected Ken mutters, “I guess.” 

“Ken, this is David.” 

“I know,” he says. Everybody knows the infamous Roses in town. “Hi.” 

David’s only response to Ken is a squished up face before he turns more deliberately in front of Patrick and asks, “should we go find our seats?” 

“Sure.” Patrick nods his goodbyes to Ken. Then, when they start back on their path toward the front of the ceremony area he drops his voice low enough so just David can hear it. “He makes me very uncomfortable.” 

“And did you see his shoes!?”

“No shoe should be that squared off,” he agrees. 

They find a pair of seats next to the aisle in the second row, just behind where Mr. and Mrs. Rose will sit, and claim them as their own. Patrick doesn’t have even a moment, though, before Stevie graces them with her presence again. 

“So, um, there’s gonna be a little delay,” she says, eyes wide. “I went into the barn when I got here to see if I could tap a keg and get an early start, and apparently there’s something, like, majorly wrong with Alexis’ dress.” 

“ Oh my god! What is wrong?” 

“Yeah, so, I did not pay very close attention, but apparently it’s gonna take some time to fix, and Twyla asked me to spread the message,” Stevie says. “I graciously did not make a joke about other things that might be spread tonight.” 

“Does Alexis or Twyla know how to fix something like that?” Patrick asks. 

“Alexis never was much one for household skills,” David answers. “Have you met a Rose? Though, honestly, who knows about Twyla.” 

“I have a sewing kit and Tide pen in my car,” Patrick says, standing. He has indeed met multiple Roses, and the life skills his mother taught him during childhood have come in handy more often than not since that first day he ran into David at the cafe. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.” 

“Don’t leave me alone!” David screeches. 

“You’re not alone! Stevie’s here, she’ll help protect you from the pet rifying vets.” 

“Okay, well, Stevie never helps,” David says. “But apparently neither do you. I thought you were supposed to be helping me relax! Not making even worse puns than the vets.” 

“I know you won’t relax if your sister doesn’t have the wedding of her dreams,” Patrick says, patting David’s shoulder as he squeezes past him and ignoring the way Stevie is obviously observing them. He can only imagine the conversation that will be had as soon as he’s out of earshot. “I’ll be right back.” 

“See that you are!”

Chapter Text

Sneaking around the edge of the venue to avoid any additional run-ins with Ken or the vets, Patrick runs back to his car and opens the front passenger side door. 

And if sees the slight blush on his cheeks and the smile still on his face in the passenger side-view mirror when he closes the door again after grabbing what he needed from the glove compartment—well, he’s not trying to kid himself anymore. 

David has been putting that smile there for longer than either of them would care to admit. 

The main part of the barn is set up for the dance, the string lights Patrick had seen when they arrived waiting to be turned on, but several strategically placed disco balls are already sending little beams of glittering light across every corner of the room. A small curtain hides the kitchen area from view, and when Patrick steps beyond that and into the small back room that Alexis is using to finish getting ready he’s met with an assault of hysterics only the Rose family could convene. 

“Oh, Patrick,” Twyla gasps when she sees him step through the doorway. “Thank heavens you’re here, I’d try to sew Alexis’ dress myself but my mom’s sister’s seamstress ran off with her mailman before she could teach me even the most basic stitches. Can you help?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he smiles, and then Alexis, Mrs. Rose, and Mr. Rose seem to catch sight of him at the same time. 

Mrs. Rose is already babbling a long string of words he’s never heard with ‘Sweet Pat’ interjected in every few seconds and Mr. Rose—as oblivious as he sometimes is—seems to realize their presence is causing his daughter more harm than good. 

“C’mon, darling,” he soothes, “Patrick here will take good care of the wardrobe needs. Why don’t we go let everybody know it’ll just be a few more minutes.” 

He looks at Patrick solemnly as if to confirm it will, indeed, be just a few more minutes, and then they’re off—the promise of a crowd hanging on her every word too much of a draw for Moira to ignore.

“I’m holding everyone up,” Alexis says quietly as soon as they leave the room in an uncomfortable silence. She looks so dejected, and while Patrick may be counting down the seconds until he’s back at her brother’s side, Alexis’ boops were one of the first things to make him genuinely smile after everything with Rachel blew up and he moved to Schitt’s Creek.

“Hey, no, none of that,” he says. “Today’s your day, if anyone gets to hold things up it’s you. Relax.” He holds up his travel emergency kit, with a quick grin she almost returns. “And I’ve got everything we need to fix you up right here.” 

He unzips the case and starts pulling out the contents. A small vial of ibuprofen, a few safety pins, a Tide pen. The travel sewing kit—small, but certainly big enough to get a quick job done—his mom taught him to use while not running off with the mailman. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

“Well, Mutt was still here when we got here,” Alexis says. “And I wasn’t expecting him so I… I don’t know, I just got nervous thinking about everything that happened before.” She slowly rubs a hand up and down the lace adorning her shoulder as if her trademark braid was there rather than the elegant up-do she’s actually sporting today. “I tried to turn to walk away, ran into the pole, and tore the dress here when it got stuck on an old nail.” 

She sits, showing him the tear just above her left hip. It’s pretty noticeable when she lifts her arm, but the fabric seems to still be in pretty good shape; Patrick should be able to stitch it up in a way that blends in with all of the intentional designs and when he tells Alexis as much, she practically shines. 

“You really think it will look okay?” she asks when he’s a few stitches in. 

“It’ll look better than okay,” he promises. “It’ll look great.” 

Alexis, though, doesn’t seem convinced. She’s still twitchy and eerily quiet, not that she would have time to get a word in between Twyla’s rambling about another vaguely terrifying childhood trauma disguised as a lighthearted anecdote. 

Patrick sends Twyla away under the guise of letting everyone know it will just be a few more minutes despite the Roses having just left a few moments earlier, and then bumps Alexis’ knee with his own as he works. 

“Hey, it’s normal to be nervous on your wedding day.” 

“Were you nervous?” she asks, “Before your wedding with Rachel?” 

He can’t help the snort of laughter that echoes through the quiet room. “Well, we never got all that close to the actual wedding planning since I had my first panic attack the night I proposed and ran off to Schitt’s Creek a few weeks later.” The smirk she gives him makes her look a little more like the Alexis he knows and loves. “But that was different.” 

“How?” 

“Well, I was never in love with Rachel. I loved her, but I was never in love with her. You love Ted, and you’re in love with him,” he says quietly. “I have to believe that’s a whole different ball game.” 

“Do you want to get married?” she asks. “You know, now that you’re playing the game you’re good at? You must want to get married—you’d be the perfect husband.” 

Patrick resists the urge to scratch the back of his neck, heat spreading down his cheeks to just above where his shirt collar rests. Given his recent realizations about her brother, this conversation may be hitting a little too close to home. 

“I guess so,” he says, belatedly adding, “you know, if I find the right guy.” 

He’s pretty sure she sees right through that last part, but Alexis is kind enough to not to call him on it. 

“It’s just that like—I hate being single, you know? I think I needed it, for a while… After Ted, and, well, before him again.” She’s quiet for another moment, but she’s slowly turning back into her animated self, so Patrick can’t regret the direction the conversation has turned. “You ever think about how if you got married today—or even in the next few years—you could be married for, like, fifty years? You could be married for most of your life, same with me and Ted. I could be married to Ted for most of my life. Isn’t that weird to think about?” 

“I could be married for most of my life,” he reverently repeats, before patting her side and clearing his throat. “You’re, uh, you’re all set.” 

Alexis lifts her arm, looking down at the dress he just fixed. It’s not perfect, but it’s also pretty hard to spot unless you’re looking for it. 

“Button!” She squeals, jumping up and down a couple of times. “It’s perfect! You’re a miracle worker, and you’re going to make a great husband to some lucky guy and probably an even greater brother-in-law to some very lucky girl one day.” 

She boops him once, and if both of their eyes are slightly glassy neither of them mention it. 

“Now, go on,” she scolds. “David is waiting, and I’m seventy six percent certain he will murder Hank if they’re left alone for more than two minutes.” 

“Oh! You don’t have to worry about that,” Twyla chirps as she walks back in. “I just left Hank and Ray, and they were talking about his self-help podcast!”

Alexis’ dress (and nerves) in check, Patrick leaves them to one more round of hair and makeup fixes as he goes back out to find David, extremely impressed with the woman who he could only dream might be his sister-in-law one day. 

Patrick slides back into his seat next to David just as the band starts to play. 

“Everything okay?” David asks, more concern for his sister than he’d normally show after Patrick’s trip took longer than expected. 

“Crisis averted.” 

A small band softly plays music as Ted walks his mom and step-dad down the aisle and to their seats across the aisle and one row in front of David and Patrick. Next, he walks Mrs. Rose to her spot before standing under the chuppah. In some strange twist of events, Mrs. Rose settles quietly and watches intently as Twyla and Jace walk down the aisle that had been lined with flower petals earlier in the day given no children were allowed to attend. 

They take their maid of honor and best man spots at the front, and everybody stands as the small band begins playing the processional. Patrick sees Mr. Rose first, eyes already full of tears threatening to spill over as he pats a dazzling Alexis’ hand where she holds onto his arm. 

“She looks happy,” David whispers, and Patrick’s not sure whether David intended him to hear that. 

Still, he pats his hip once as he responds with an equally quiet, but maybe not quite as adoring, “yeah, she does.” 

Mr. Rose slowly walks Alexis, whose eyes are also shining by this point, down the aisle. She stops just before they reach the chuppah, though, giving David a quick boop followed by a kiss on the cheek as Mr. Rose takes his spot in front of David. 

It doesn’t take an ophthalmologist to recognize the love in David’s eyes as he watches her greet Ted with a bashful smile. Handing Twyla her bouquet of flowers, Alexis grabs onto both of Ted’s hands. 

“Uh, David? Where’s the minister?” he leans over to ask, just as Ray jumps out from behind the closest tree—a small guitar around his shoulder. 

“Ray is the only non-religious person ordained in town,” David says, cringing as Ray begins strumming his guitar and singing some absurd melody. 

“ As kids we shared our toys with all the girls and boys, barrel of monkeys ,” he sings as he walks slowly over, just slightly off key and plucking at the guitar. “ Your battleship sunk me, please recall the joy. ”

Patrick has seen Ray do a lot of unhinged things in his days; you don’t spend your first four weeks in town living at his house with no friends and continue to work for him without questioning your own sanity at least a few times… but this is unlike anything else he’s ever experienced. 

David seems to be even worse off, whether that’s because he’s not quite as used to Ray’s oddities or just because he’s generally unable to control what happens on his face Patrick isn’t sure. 

“Help,” David chokes out, clearly about to burst out laughing. 

Remembering David’s pleas to help him come across as the proud big brother, Patrick tries to keep it together—he really does. But at that point he hadn’t known that they’d thought Ray was a good option for a minister, so he isn’t much better off when he gasps, “think of something not funny.” 

“Can’t.” 

“ Wheelo, Clue, Mousetrap, bash and spirograph, ” Ray continues. “ Kaleidoscopes spinning, Yahtzee I’m winning, think of how we laughed. ” 

“Avalanches, earthquakes,” Patrick supplies. 

“Not doin’ it.” 

“Famine… Sebastian…?” Patrick tries. When even that doesn’t stop David from looking like he’s about to pop a hernia, he knows there’s nothing left to do but hope for the best. “...and I’m out.” 

“ But today we share our love, today we share our love—for love is the greatest toy around. Around. Around ,” Ray finally ends, swinging the guitar around his back. Clearing his voice, he begins talking, rather than singing. 

Patrick has never really known what to think about organized religion; he’s a guy who likes answers, and religion isn’t exactly known for that. But as Ray jumps right into the ceremony, inviting everybody to finally take their seats, he thinks there might just be a higher power. There’s no other reason he and David made it through that without making fools of themselves. 

“Hello, friends. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ray asks. “That day that Alexis and Ted share their love in front of those they love. Alexis, do you want to tell Ted how you feel?” 

“Yes,” she answers immediately. “Yeah, I do. Ted, I used to think that the person I would marry one day would be, like, super aggressive and come from a long line of Adriatic royalty, or be in a boyband, or be really into the woods.” 

Everybody laughs, some people—like Patrick—finding her vows just so charmingly her , while others seem slightly uncomfortable. 

Oblivious to everybody but Ted, who looks like Alexis’ face is shining brighter than the sun, she continues. “But then I realized that even though you didn’t fit what I always thought I needed, you’re everything I want. You have been so good to me, and—and for me. I don’t know where I’d be without you, but I’d be worse off. I know that.” 

There’s not a dry eye in the field of her ex-boyfriend’s barn as Alexis finishes, and Ray prompts Ted to speak next. 

“Well, I wrote something down,” Ted starts, laughing a bit, bringing one hand up to wipe his eyes before returning it to Alexis’ grasp and shrugs. “But I don’t think I can follow that up with a bunch of puns about how we’re mint to be, so I gotta go off the cuff. I’d be kidding myself if I told you I haven’t wanted this every single day since the moment I met you. I love you, Alexis Rose.” 

Before Ray can pronounce them husband and wife, Ted is letting go of Alexis’ hands simply so he can grab both sides of her face as he kisses her. 

“Aw, that wasn’t so funny,” Patrick whispers, the emotional whiplash of Ray’s song and the surprisingly deep vows making his chest ache with a deep sense of… something. Hope, maybe. 

“No. Nope,” David agrees. “That wasn’t funny at all.”

Chapter Text

David is rather relieved when he makes it through the ceremony without tears—of the laughter or emotional variety. He really does not need puffy eyes in all of the pictures he’s herded off to take immediately following the ceremony, reluctantly leaving Patrick and Stevie in line for the keg that Mutt finally tapped. 

He trails behind Ray—who is apparently not only Alexis and Ted’s choice for their officiant, but also photographer—and the whole entourage of people involved in any of the photographs. The first several are of only Ted and Alexis, and then his parents, Ted’s mom, and step-dad are brought in. 

Once those are done, David and Jace are added to the mix. When he and the parents are ushered aside to take a few with Ted, Alexis, Jace, and Twyla, David is about to sneak off to find Patrick and Stevie again. 

“David,” Ray calls after he makes only a few steps in the direction of the barn, “Don’t go anywhere! After we get one with Ted and all his vet school friends, Alexis wanted one with just you!” 

And, well. Who is he to argue? 

He and Alexis have gotten much closer since moving to Schitt’s Creek, and while he still feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes if he thinks too long about the photo Patrick framed for him, if he’s being honest he wouldn’t mind one dressed to their best either. He could even ask Patrick where he got the frame and get a matching one, maybe. 

After posing with just Alexis, Ted asks if they can get one with the three of them; David tries rather hard not to get emotional about that, too. He’d dreamed of planning many a wedding in his days, but it always had been just that—a wedding. Never the marriage. 

Now, watching his sister fall in love and marry somebody neither of them could’ve ever pictured her settling down with, David can’t help but wonder if one day a marriage, possibly with somebody unlike all those he’d dated before, might be in the cards for him as well. 

Ray excuses everybody with the exception of Ted and Alexis, who he says he has a few more ideas for. David, unwilling to know what makes Ray that excited, starts the walk back to the barn before anybody can stop him and falls into step behind the vet friends again. Great. Without Patrick to keep him company from the puns this time. 

Instead of puns, though, he hears one of them—Hank, maybe—say, “Yeah, Ray was telling me earlier about this great podcast he has. It’s all about working on yourself to find love. Real love. I already started downloading it to listen to on the way home so maybe I can find true love like Ted and Alexis one day.” 

“He told me about it too!” Another one, this time one David can’t remember even a vague guess of a name for, says. “I’m really interested to hear the episode with the quiz he mentioned. I think I’m gonna print out the workbook that goes along with it and everything.” 

Luckily, before he has to overhear any more, they’re back at the barn and David can make a beeline for where Stevie and Patrick are. 

When he’s a few feet away, Stevie elbows Patrick who then looks up. His eyes find David’s immediately, and a huge smile spreads across his face. Stevie is already retreating toward a group of townies David hasn’t bothered to get to know, and he’s glad to have Patrick to himself. 

And then, because she’s his best friend, he feels bad that he’s glad. But on the other hand, she had entirely too many snide remarks to make about picture frames and date etiquette when Patrick had gone to fix Alexis’ dress. So maybe he shouldn’t waste too much time feeling guilty that she’s gone and more time feeling guilty about leaving Patrick alone with her to face a similar fate while he took pictures. 

“Hi,” Patrick breathes, megawatt smile still entirely taking over his face. “Pictures go okay?” 

“I think so. Ray managed to only place me on my good side, thank god.” 

“Pretty sure all your sides are good, David,” Patrick says, like he can just say these things . And then, before David’s brain can even catch up, he continues like he hadn’t just dropped another sincerity bomb. “Should we go grab our seats? I think the program said Ted and Alexis should be back for their entrance in a couple minutes.” Patrick holds up both his hands, showing David two red solo cups full of what he’s sure is a very cheap beer. “I know you’ll probably call this swill or some equally as insulting adjective I’ve never heard before, but I got you a glass anyway.” 

“Mmm, thank you.” He nods toward the table their place cards are on. “Shall we?” 

Alexis and Ted are sitting at the only circular table at the front and center, just outside the big open barn doors, and every other table is a long rectangle, chairs only accenting only one side and facing the head table in an almost ‘V’ like pattern. 

He and Patrick are sitting at the center of one of the closest two to the head table, with his parents and Ted’s on David’s right and Twyla and Jace on Patrick’s left. David spares a moment to thank Alexis for seating Patrick next to him, because without him David would be in a weird seventh wheel situation—both his parents and the bridal party likely ignoring him. He supposes had he not told Alexis he was going to the wedding with Patrick she may have sat Stevie with David, but Stevie wouldn’t have pulled out his chair for him and gently pushed him in just a bit after he sat, so… he’s still thankful anyway. 

They barely have time to get settled, before Ray’s stepping up to the PA system set up just inside the barn that will be used for the dance later and announcing, “For the first time, Mrs. and Mr. Ted Mullens!” 

Just close enough to the barn, David hears Alexis hiss, “Ew! No, we won’t be doing that.” 

A few awkward chuckles arise from the people close enough to hear while David watches Ted jog over to Ray with a quick wave at the crowd. 

“Actually, bud,” he stage whispers, still friendlier than most if not a little tense, “can we redo that and say—” Ray is escorting Ted back behind the barn door, earnestly shaking his head before he returns to his spot at the microphone next to the speakers. 

“Now, for the real first time as husband and wife, it’s Ted and Alexis!” 

The happy couple make their debut, all soft smiles and crinkled eyes at jokes the two of them are whispering into each other’s ears. Ted steps up to the microphone, then, making a short speech that’s full of puns probably originally perfected for his vows. He explains that he and Alexis will be going around to excuse guests to make their way through the buffet line so that they get a chance to chat with everyone. Clearly Ted’s idea, but Alexis doesn’t seem to mind and she traces invisible patterns into his jacket.  

In a former life, David probably would have left a wedding without formal waitstaff—but now, well… the best Italian place in Elmdale only caters weddings buffet style. And he’ll likely be one of the first through the line, so he’s decided to make an exception. 

Their table is the first Ted and Alexis approach, saying hi to both of their parents before stopping in front of David and Patrick. 

“There they are! My two heroes,” Alexis coos. She turns slightly to Patirck. “You saved the wedding with your little sewing machine.” 

David is fairly certain that Patrick didn’t have a sewing machine in his car, but he decides to leave that full story for another time. 

“I saved nothing,” Patrick says, waving her off. 

“And you’re always my hero, big brother.” 

David blinks up at the sky, swallowing roughly before he can respond. “Congratulations, both of you.” 

“I know this never would’ve made it into your dream wedding book,” Alexis continues, “but I… really just hope everything impressed you.” 

“Well, the entry I made during my candy raver phase had you in a lime green spaghetti strap bridesmaid dress, so.” David feels the need to get away from the sincerity before he breaks out in hives. But when his sister’s face falls—probably imperceptibly to anyone else, but not him—he decides a little benadryl would be worth seeing a smile back on her face. “But, for what it’s worth I am continuously impressed by you.” 

Eyes locked with Alexis, David isn’t quite sure how to move forward from such an uncharacteristically honest declaration, but Ted—bless him—seems to recognize the need for a little levity. 

“And I’m sure you guys are pressed to get in line, so why don’t you all go grab some food!” 

After going through the line and taking more than is socially acceptable when you’re first to go through a buffet line, David and Patrick settle back into their seats. Digging in, easy conversation flows between bites. 

As Ted and Alexis settle back into the head table to eat after everyone else has gone through the line, David and Patrick are both nearly done. 

“Oh, hey, want to know something funny I overheard the vets talking about on the way back from pictures?” 

“I really don’t think I can handle any more puns today.” 

“No, no… It wasn’t that! So I was walking back behind them, and this time instead of pun they were going on and on about this podcast of Ray’s. I thought I was hearing things!” 

“A podcast?” Patrick asks after swallowing what seems to be a big last bite of pasta. 

“Yeah, I can’t believe he’s never told me about it. Some self-help thing with a goofy title like ‘Learn to Love’ or ‘How to Love When You’re Unloved’ or something like that.” Patrick laughs, but it seems a little forced. David decides to push on, hoping to hear some of his signature snark. “Isn’t that bizarre?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, David.” 

“Mmkay, well I’ll answer for you. It is bizarre!” 

“Maybe they’re just trying to learn something, better themselves…” 

“Have you listened to the podcast?” 

“I know nothing about this podcast,” Patrick says, and David doesn’t know where he went wrong, but he’s pretty sure he took the wrong turn somewhere. The only problem is that he’s never been very good at U-turns. 

“Those kinds of podcasts are idiotic.” 

“Not if they help people!”

“I cannot believe you’re not mocking this podcast, which is so pathetically mockable!” 

“Maybe it’s more pathetic if people don’t try,” Patrick says, voice dropping from the higher register it had gradually taken on during the conversation. “And maybe he’s trying. Ever think of it that way?” 

“Well, no—”

“He can listen to whatever he wants to listen to.” Patrick shoves his chair back and stands with a huff. “I’m going to refill my drink. You need something to drink?” 

David looks at both of the nearly full glasses sitting in front of them. 

“I’m fine,” he says, but he’s not sure Patrick even hears since he’s already started heading toward the keg. 

By the time the DJ—not Ray, thank god, but some guy named Gil who honestly seems like he could be friends with Ray—is announcing the first dance, Patrick still isn’t back. 

David has always known that Patrick tends to run from difficult conversations, but he’s not quite sure how to handle it because he’s never been the one Patrick ran from. That, and he’s still not quite sure why the assumed light-hearted banter starter had turned into a difficult conversation. 

He moves into the barn, watching his sister and Ted for a moment before hugging the wall and searching for Patrick without obstructing the other guests’ view. Finally, he spots him in the opposite corner and makes his way over there. 

“Hey, um, you okay?” 

Patrick nods a few times, seeming slightly embarrassed and tries to smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“Are… we okay?” 

This time, his grin is more genuine. “Yeah, we’re okay, David. I didn’t mean to get so defensive.” 

“I didn’t mean to make fun of the podcast,” he says. “I know you and Ray have a…unique relationship. Maybe it’s good. You know, maybe he—” He swallows his pride. “—maybe he helps people.” 

“It’s okay, I mean… it does sound pretty dorky.” 

Tension melted out of both of them, all that’s left is soft glances and Patrick—intentionally?—brushing the back of his knuckles against David’s as he sways to the music. 

Alexis and Ted’s first song dance winds down, and the beginning notes of something familiar play as the DJ invites others to join the couple on the dance floor. 

When David recognizes the slowed down version of The Best by Tina Tuner, he turns to Patrick and forces himself to say, “Hey, did you ever get another drink? We could go get some more swill.” If he doesn’t say that, he’s afraid he’ll ask Patrick to dance. And Patrick doesn’t dance. 

“Sure,” Patrick says. “Or we can… you know.” He nods toward the dance floor. But Patrick doesn’t dance, so what on earth could that mean? 

“We can… do what?” 

“Do you want to dance?” 

“Um, really?” David asks, trying and failing to keep the surprise out of his voice. 

Patrick just offers a timid smile and shrugs. “Yeah?” 

“You…" He doesn't know why he is not already dancing with Patrick. But he can't stop the words from escaping his traitorous mouth. "You said before that you don’t dance.” 

David’s mind suddenly flashes back to a vendor trip during which he graced Patrick with his exaltations about how The Best is one of the most romantic songs ever written and wonders if Patrick remembers, too. And he wonders if that has anything to do with Patrick asking him to dance to this specific song. It couldn't be... could it?

“Well, I’m a compulsive liar.” 

“Uh, okay,” David says while his shoulders shake with silent laughter. He stops fighting it. “Yeah, let’s dance.” 

Grabbing David’s hand, Patrick leads David onto the dance floor and finds a place slightly apart from other couples before settling his other hand on David’s hip. David settles his on Patrick’s shoulder, impossible not to notice how it’s the perfect height for him to do so despite their height difference. 

It starts a little awkward, this tentative waltz between two people who have spent countless hours together but who have never done something quite so intimate. By the time the first chorus fades into the second verse, though, they’ve settled into something comfortable. Patrick even lets go of David to spin him in around once before settling back in even closer. 

Almost chest to chest, David hopes Patrick can’t feel his breath hitch as somebody—not Tina, but talented nonetheless—sings just as long as I'm here in your arms, I could be in no better place . 

They’re too close to actually look at Patrick’s face, but David glances tentatively toward him anyway. He can definitely see the curve of his favorite smile in the world.

He lets himself smile, too.

Chapter Text

The crunch of the gravel beneath Patrick’s tires quiets as he puts the car into park and—despite being extremely exhausted and still a little tipsy—David isn’t quite ready for the night to end. 

“Well, that was a fun night,” David says. 

Patrick finally looks over at him, smiling. “Yeah, it was.” 

“Hard to figure out which part of the evening was my favorite.” 

“Yeah, there were a few.” 

“Uh, Ted throwing that tray of jello shots at the bachelors instead of Alexis’ garter?” David suggests. “Never more sure in my decision to refuse to participate. You ducked well, by the way.” 

“Pure self-defense.” 

“Ohh, or it could’ve been Ronnie giving that choking guy the Heimlich.” 

“That was good,” Patrick agrees. “Though I’m unsure if she’d give me the same favor.” 

“Or! Or, um—the DJ making out with Ken? Ted’s step-brother making out with Ken? Or that last guy making out with Ken! Who was that guy?” 

David’s had just enough alcohol that he suddenly can’t remember why he hates Ken so much, but he suspects the way Patrick pressed against his back as he hid behind him every time Ken was alone might have something to do with his warming feelings. 

“I think that was his boyfriend.” 

“Oh, poor Barry,” David laughs, then pauses and bites his lip. He tries to tuck the smile he knows is attempting to break free into the corner of his mouth, but he’s not so sure he succeeds. Still, he continues on anyway. “Or, it might have been the dance.” 

They’d danced to several more songs as the night went on, but David can see in the way Patrick’s eyes light up that he knows exactly what dance David is talking about. 

“Really?” 

“Have you been taking lessons?” 

“That was all god-given talent.” Patrick smirks, just as sure of himself as he was the first day they met. David tries not to look at the way his lip is curving. He definitely fails—but the way Patrick is watching him, he’s not entirely sure he cares. 

“It was… really lovely,” David breathes, so quiet he’s not sure Patrick hears him until he responds.

“Yeah, it was.” 

Although he still doesn’t want to leave, he no longer has any reasonable excuses to stay in Patrick’s car, so David reaches for the door handle. “Well, goodnight.” 

“We should do it again.” 

And, well. That stops David in his tracks. 

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” 

“Nah, I mean have fun together,” Patrick insists, like it’s obvious. Or like they never have fun together. “You know, like go to a movie or something. I hear there’s a Julia-Stiles-a-thon going on at the drive-in the week after next.” 

“I didn’t think you were a romcom guy…” David says tentatively, trying to decide himself if it’s a statement or a question. Sure, Patrick has watched the occasional romcom with him and Stevie, but he’s never done so quite so voluntarily. 

“I can be a romcom guy. You like romcoms.” 

“Yeah—good, bad, and in-between.” 

“I know you’re, I mean, uh, we’re both busy with the store’s soft launch this weekend,” Patrick says, a little bit of nerves peeking through for the first time in this conversation. “But hopefully things will even out by the following week. How ‘bout Sunday?”

David, still trying to catch up with the turn this conversation took, blinks multiple times before he repeats, “Sunday?”

“Yeah, Sunday night. You free?” 

“I, um. I think so.” 

“Okay, good,” Patrick says with a nod, as if that means David has agreed to go (which, why wouldn’t he? It’s a Julia-Stiles-a-thon ). “Good.” 

“Good,” David answers, because apparently he’s only capable of repeating what Patrick says to him. “Good.” 

“I’ll see you… before then, but I’ll see you then too,” Patrick says with an awful wink, clearly referencing their conversation about going to Alexis’ wedding together. Which they have now done.

“Yeah, I’ll see you both of those… thens.” David finally finishes getting out of the door that he’d tried opening what feels like a lifetime ago, and turns back to look into Patrick’s car through his open window. “Goodnight, Patrick.” 

“Goodnight, David.” 

The last thing David expects when he opens the door to his room is to come face to face with another human. 

“Oh, my god! Stevie! What’re you doing here?” 

“Did the tie work out?” She asks, avoiding his eye contact. 

“The tie was great,” he says. “Thank you so much.” 

“Then why are you back in your motel room alone?” 

“Mmmkay, so what I didn’t come here to do is to be attacked in my own very bedroom—” he starts, and then he trails off. The full force of the day, of his sister getting married and going home with Ted, hits him square in the chest. 

David didn’t expect that. 

It would take a great deal of alcohol and probably multiple tries for him to even begrudgingly admit that this motel room is home. Even so, it feels… wrong. Without his sister here, too. Which is ridiculous, because before Schitt’s Creek they hadn’t shared a roof for years. More often than not they weren’t even in the same country. So, really, Alexis moving five minutes across town is not something that should matter. 

Much to David’s dismay, he finds it does. 

Stevie flops down on Alexis’ bed and hums. “Is it that difficult to believe I would want to be here for my best friend on the first night without his sister living here?” He glares at her, but moves to sit on his own bed, still facing her. “Also,” she continues, voice doing the thing it does when she follows up something sincere with a joke that is nonetheless true. “I was too drunk to drive, and your dad offered to share their cab, except I forgot that all the vet friends booked up the rooms, and I am not sleeping in the love nest. I’m nowhere near that drunk.” 

Kicking his shoes off, David settles back onto his bed and throws one of his pillows at her. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But if you want a turn in the bathroom before I start my night time skin care, you’d better get your ass right back up.” 

David has never been more stressed or sleep deprived, but he’s pretty sure the store is nearly ready.

On Tuesday, David is in Rose Apothecary doing some final paint touch ups when Alexis comes breezing through the—unfortunately unlocked, when will he learn his lesson?—front door and almost startles him into dropping a splatter of paint on his Rick Owens. 

“Ew, David!” she shrieks in the form of a greeting. “Why are you wearing that sad little smock?” 

“So when you come bursting into my store before it’s open I don’t accidentally smear paint all over my favorite sweater!” He sets the brush down carefully to avoid such mishaps. The painter’s smock had been a sample one of his vendors had sent him and just because he had no plans of stocking them didn’t mean it shouldn’t be put to use. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Rude, David. I thought you’d, like, want to see me since I moved out. So I figured I would let you buy me lunch!” 

And as much as he still has to do in the store, he begrudgingly admits (to himself, at least) that he is both hungry and has missed his sister. 

They’ve texted a few times, but it’s the first time he’s seen her since the wedding; from what little he’s heard, she and Ted had pretty much been holed up in his house doing things he didn’t want to hear any more about. 

He takes off the smock, grabs his things, and he and Alexis begin to cross the street to go to the cafe just as Patrick is coming down the stairs from his second floor apartment the owners of Cafe Tropical rent out to him. He waves and smiles. 

“Hey,” David whispers. 

“What?”

“When we reach Patrick I want you to pay very close attention.” 

“To what David?” She asks, but then they’re across the street so David shushes her as Patrick greets them. 

“Hey, you guys going for lunch?” 

“We sure are!” Alexis chirps, “You too?”

“Yeah, want to head in together?” Patrick asks, gesturing over his shoulder with a pointed thumb. “Or—do you two want some time together? I can just, uh…” 

“No, no, that’d be great,” David says. “Wouldn’t that be great, Alexis? I don’t know why I asked, we all know she thinks it’d be great.” 

Still, David makes no move to walk toward the door. 

“Ooookay,” Patrick says. “You coming, then? Or?” 

“We, um, just need a minute,” David says. He cups a hand up around his mouth as if that and a stage whisper will stop Alexis from hearing what he says next. “Just, could you go get us a table? Somebody is having, some, um? Marriage trouble? And she doesn’t want the whole town to hear about it, obviously.”

Patrick’s eyes go wide, but he just nods and slips inside the cafe, telling them he’ll grab a booth in the back. 

“Well?” David asks. 

“Well, what ?” 

“Did you notice anything?” 

“Anything?” Alexis asks. “Like how you told Patrick I’ve already failed as a wife after four days of marriage? If anything, David, your love life is the one in need of a generator!”

“ Obviously that was just a cover,” David huffs. “Did you notice anything weird, anything different?” 

“About… Patrick?” 

“Of course about Patrick! Did you notice anything different?”

“Like what, David?” 

He lets out a dramatic sigh. As much as he doesn’t want to be having this conversation with his sister, he knows that she knows him better than anyone… except for maybe Patrick. Or Stevie. But he certainly cannot have this conversation with either of them, so. 

“Like, a vibe! An attitude,” he explains, poorly. “Did he look at me differently?” 

“Differently than what?” 

“Differently than he did!” 

“Differently then he did, when?” Alexis asks.

“Before!”

“Before what?” 

“Before before. Alexis!” 

“How on earth can you be frustrated with me right now?” 

David sighs again. He sure is sighing a lot for someone so tentatively happy. Because the thing is—David’s pretty sure he’s happy. But he can’t know for sure, not until he knows . And, god help him, he’s pretty sure his sister is the best person to help him figure it out. So, he takes a deep breath and, this time, lets it out purposefully. 

“I think I’m dating Patrick.” 

“ WHAT ?!” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” David admits. “It’s just a possibility. I could be wrong—we both know I have been before.” 

“But how? When?”

“Um, your wedding?” He says as if it’s a question. That part is definitely not a question. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to say the next part while looking at her. “We had a really good time. We laughed a lot, and we ate, and then we danced.” 

“Of course you danced, David. We all danced!” 

“But, like, it wasn’t that kind of dance!” 

“What kind of dance was it, then?” She asks. 

“Well, Pop, Lock, & Drop It was on when you went to the bathroom, so.” 

“I am trying to help you, David! Was it a fast dance, a slow dance? A group dance with Stevie?” 

“It was a slow dance—a waltz, to that slowed down version of The Best at the beginning of the night,” he finally admits. He’s sure his sister never noticed them; he sure as hell wasn’t noticing anybody but Patrick. “Patrick can waltz .” 

“Ohmigod, David! Listen to how you just said ‘Patrick can waltz’!” 

“What, I’m just saying… I’m surprised Patrick can waltz.” 

“That sounded more like ‘I’m surprised I still have my clothes on,’ David.” Alexis gives him multiple winks, that are more like blinks, in a row. “So what else happened?” 

“Nothing,” David sighs. “We spent the evening together. We danced, he drove me home, then he asked me to a movie. All of these things individually do not add up to dating.” At this point David is gesturing broadly with his hands. Thank goodness the street is deserted, though he’s slightly worried half the town is watching him pace back and forth from inside the cafe. “But, together… I don’t know! And there was this moment, in his car… where I thought—I don’t know.” 

“Did you say yes?” 

“When?” 

“To the movie,” she clarifies. “Did you say yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“That sounds like dating to me!” 

“But maybe he didn’t mean it as a date thing,” he justifies. “Maybe he just needed to get out of the house! And because I’m currently one of the only age-appropriate men in town he picked me.” 

“Okay, woah, David,” Alexis says, finally seeming to realize the severity of this conversation. “This is Patrick!” 

“I know.” 

“Our Patrick. The town Patrick! We see Button every day, David. He’s part of our lives—one of the first people we met in town, one of the only people who made this place tolerable at first.” 

“Don’t you think I know that!” 

Of course he knows that. David has thought about very little outside of that for the last three days. Because he’s never dated anyone like Patrick. There isn’t anyone quite like him. 

“I mean, everyone will know,” Alexis continues. “They’ll know if you’re together, or if you’re not together.” 

“ I know .” 

“You can’t just date Patrick! When you’re with Patrick,” she says, “you are with Patrick. And if it doesn’t work out it will be really bad for both of us! I mean, how do you feel about this? Do you want to be dating Patrick?” 

And maybe his sister hadn’t been the right person to talk to about this. Stevie would’ve given him shit, but at least she was pretty good at spotting his spirals and trying to avoid them, if only so she didn’t have to deal with him afterward. Alexis, on the other hand, tends to have the opposite impact. 

“Okay, we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” David says, because he needs to be done with this conversation now. “I don’t even know if this is what he’s thinking. This could be a totally innocent situation! And then we’ve done all the what-ifing for nothing, so let’s just go in there and see if anything is weird, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Alexis agrees, leading David into the cafe and marching directly back to Patrick’s waiting booth where she slides all the way into the open side. David climbs in behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” Patrick asks, looking between the clearly flustered siblings. 

“Yeah, of course,” David says, gesturing broadly in front of him with his hand—that just so happens to knock over a glass of water Patrick had ordered for him. 

Unphased, Patrick reaches to grab all the napkins on the table to make a barrier on the edge of the table before sliding out of the booth. David lets out an undignified squawk when he realizes the napkins were set there to protect his sweater. “I’ll go see if Twyla has an extra rag,” Patrick says as he rushes off. 

“Well, that was a little weird, David!” 

Chapter Text

After years of David dreaming about it, months of preparing for it, and weeks of spending every waking moment—and some sleeping ones, too, if the unintelligible voicemail Patrick woke up to from David is any indication—working toward it, Rose Apothecary is finally opening. 

And David is pretty much a certified mess. 

Last night, Patrick volunteered to help David set up the street between the store and his apartment for the store opening’s accompanying block party. Helping mostly meant running interference between David and Roland, dragging picnic tables back and forth time and time again between where Roland thought they belonged and the spot David demanded was best for ‘flow,’ whatever that meant. 

Still, despite the slight ache he knew his muscles would feel the next day and the sweat that had lined his back after David ‘supervised’ as Patrick was the one who actually manually hung all the twinkle lights, he was happy to do it. 

He was happy, too, to volunteer to run the cash register during the soft launch when he'd seen the Rose Apothecary lights on late one night and decided to walk over, only to find David crouched behind the counter moments away from a panic attack. 

All it had taken was one gasping “How am I supposed to run the till and upsell the skincare line, Patrick?” for Patrick to crawl down on his knees next to David behind the counter and offer his services. 

“I cannot ask you to do that.”

“Well, you’re not asking. It was my idea. Plus, I’m an investor—I want this to go just as well as you do.”  

But he is pretty sure the last time his heart rate has been this high was when Ted convinced him to run a 10K for some vaguely rhyming animal charity. And his palms are so sweaty he’s slightly concerned he’s going to drop the bouquet of flowers before he can even give them to David. 

Patrick has not been this nervous since… Well, he’s pretty sure he’s never been this nervous. The good kind of nervous, anyway. 

Not the dreading kind of nervous he used to feel as Rachel lit candles and wore that silk nightgown she only wore when she wanted to have sex, but the good kind of nervous. The fluttery, butterflies in his stomach kind of nervous he keeps having every time he’s seen David since the wedding. 

Because before the wedding, he was pretty certain that he liked David as more than just his best friend. 

But now… Now that there’d been that dance, and the moment he’d almost kissed him in the car, and the time he missed the ladder rung after attaching the last of the twinkle lights and David had held him steady with a firm palm on the small of his back. So now there is no denying it—not unless the denial is about whether ‘like’ is the proper L-word, anyway. 

“Get it together, Brewer,” he mutters to himself, drying each palm on his jeans before stepping away from the window in his living room that has the perfect line of sight to the store, and heads for the door. 

It’s become somewhat of a mantra for him the last week, reminding himself to stop acting like a lovestruck teenager with a crush. The only problem being that he feels like a lovestruck teenager with a crush. David makes him more like a lovestruck, crush-ridden teenager than he’d ever felt growing up, for obvious reasons. 

Today, though, he needs to take the mantra to heart. Because he knows as soon as he steps foot into the store he’s going to have to leave his feelings behind in order to help manage David’s. 

Even if he hadn’t known that would be the case, it becomes painfully clear when he walks into the store and David—presumably heading for the back stockroom—runs straight into the wall next to the curtain, his head knocking the proudly displayed business license Patrick had helped him secure slightly askew. 

As Patrick approaches the counter, David attempts to discreetly fix his hair and the frame. 

“Hey,” David says, meeting Patrick on the customer side of the counter. “Hi. You came.” 

“Sure.” Patrick nods once, as if anything might have come up in the nine hours since he’d left David in pretty much his exact spot. “I, uh… Here,” Patrick says, handing over the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you—a little congratulations.” 

“Oh,” David breathes, as if the flowers Patrick came into his store with could possibly be for anyone else. “Oh, my god. They’re beautiful.” He has a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he smells them. “Thank you. I was—um… well, okay, so we should get you all, uh. Situated. With the point of sale system.” Patrick feels slightly better about how he’d spent his morning when he sees how flustered David is. It feels like the playing field has been slightly leveled, though he’s given up trying to explain sports metaphors to David, so he only allows the corner of his mouth to twitch upward as David continues, gesturing to the computer. “And that’s… over there!” 

“You okay?” Patrick can’t help but ask with a slight chuckle. 

“Oh, god, yeah,” David says. “Me? I’m totally fine!” 

His words might be slightly more believable had he not turned and ran directly into the corner of the counter as he tries to round it, smacking his hip with a thud and a muttered curse. 

“David!” Patrick exclaims, which apparently startles him again, causing a jerk reaction that sends David crashing into the cooler next. 

“Oh, God. Um.” David chuckles, and Patrick can almost see him reaching for a self-deprecating joke, but David’s brain seems to be on strike after one too many assaults this morning. “I’m fine. No problems. Um, you’re the one who set up the damn point of sale system, anyway, so,” He says, gesturing broadly to the computer. “Maybe, just follow up on that and get situated?” He pauses for a moment before calling Alexis’ name, whom Patrick had not realized is here. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Patrick asks. 

“You beckoned?” Alexis asks, emerging from the back room. 

“Yeah,” David says, though Patrick isn’t quite sure if it’s to him or Alexis. “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.” So, him then. “It’s, like, the fifth time I’ve run into an unmoving object today. It’s, like, a bit? Or something.” He turns slightly more toward Alexis then, and says, “I’m going to run across the street and get something to drink before we open.” 

“Not sure why you needed to tell me that, David,” Alexis chirps. 

“Well, I would like you not to burn down my store by ‘testing’ candles that I then cannot sell at least until after I can have my Gwennyth moment, please!” 

“Okay, I can tell you’re a little flustered, David, but I’m just gonna have to, like, bring you down to earth for a sec. There is no way your soft-launch is going to be as successful as Goop’s. But I love your enthusiasm!” 

Patrick can practically see the steam coming out of David’s ears, so he nods to the door. “Go,” he asserts, and then decides to add one more suggestion. “Maybe something with no caffeine?” 

“Right,” David nods, heading toward the door before realizing he still has his flowers in his hands and shuffling back. He pauses for a moment. “So, I’m just going to leave these there, and you’ve got the computer handled? And so, um, uh b-b-bye.” 

Unable to stop a smile from spreading over his face, Patrick watches David until he slinks into the cafe, and then powers on the computer to make sure everything is ready to go. 

When David bursts back into the store, quickly closing and relocking the door behind him, he all but shrieks, “Hey, I’ve changed my mind! I want to be a curator at the Leslie-Lohman Museum of Art.” 

“Great timing!” Alexis chirps from behind Patrick, where she’s been standing and going on about Ted and their delayed honeymoon plans and, well, probably other topics Patrick has zoned out for since David left. 

The glare David levels her with is enough to make her take a few graceful steps backward, disappearing behind the curtain—all those stories from her life before Schitt’s Creek leaving her with better than average self-preservation skills, apparently. 

“David, I thought the coffee run was supposed to calm you down,” Patrick says. He feels a little bad about teasing David when he’s clearly under so much duress, but it’s so ingrained in him he doesn’t seem to get much say in the matter of what his mouth decides to do. 

“It was! It did! Until I got there and Bob wouldn’t stop harassing me about somebody named Gwen, and then seventy-five of Twyla’s relatives wanted to come, and then when I got back I was just verbally assaulted by a very off-brand customer for us.” David takes a big breath in, and then Patrick is pretty sure he hears him mutter, “Plus, somebody else called me ‘bro’.”

Patrick inhales a whistle, saying, “well, David, I have really underestimated you.” 

“How so?”

“I mean, who knew you had so many friends? Or, family members for that matter,” Patrick says. “Probably should’ve ordered more food and wine since it looks like this soft launch is firming up a bit, huh?” 

“But it’s not supposed to be firm,” David whines. 

“Well, with this many people, it’s definitely at least semi-firm.” 

“Okay, well. As long as it doesn’t get hard,” David says, before squeezing his eyes shut and turning away from Patrick. “And that’s… something. That’s what I just said to you, so.” 

“Well, you know, David,” Patrick says, deciding to give him an out. “Sometimes when you tell everybody how exclusive something is, everybody wants in. Now, it’s go-time. Remember, these people may be our customers, but they’re our friends too.” He doesn’t miss how much David’s eyes soften, how much tension drains out of his shoulders at the word ‘our,’ but he continues on before he loses his nerve. “Just, relax. And maybe don’t kill anybody, and then we can gorge ourselves on Heather’s quiche as a reward tonight.” 

Always motivated by food, that makes David twist his lips to the side in that way he does to avoid smiling, still infinitely more beautiful than most people’s actual smiles. 

“So, um, you really think we’re ready to do this?” 

“Open the doors.” 

In the end, David has nothing to worry about. Everything goes perfectly. 

While David upsells customers, moving around the floor with a grace that had been missing when Patrick showed up this morning, Patrick watches and rings up those who’ve found what they’re looking for. All the while, unable to help feeling a little proud, thinking about how it must mean David is comfortable being himself—and not this polished version that was forced to host parties in the Rose Mansion from a young age, the guy with the black card bankrolling a party—around him. 

Alexis and Stevie mostly hide out in the back room, and when they’re on the floor to greet Ted after he gets done with work, or decide it’s time to browse the products they know like the back of their hands, they seem to be on their best behavior as to not stress David out. David doesn't even complain about the sign Roland tacks up to the window, reminding everybody about the block party starting just after the store closes. 

The only hiccup comes from Roland, and on the grand scale of Roland related hiccups, he’s not even sure if it counts. 

“So, this says foot cream on it,” Roland says as he deposits the bottle in front of Patrick. “What happens if I use it on my hand?” 

“David is probably the one to ask product-related questions to,” Patrick offers, regretting it immediately when Roland starts hollering across the store to David, who’s helping Mrs. Hunt find some epsom salts. “You know what, Roland, actually I’m pretty sure your hands are going to be fine. Can I ring that up for you?” 

“Oh, sure. And it’s like 50% off if Jocelyn and I both buy it at the same time?” 

“Um, no. No,” Patrick repeats, a little firmer the second time. “Have you been talking to Mr. Rose about the discount?” 

After explaining to him that he’s only going to get the 25% off, Roland seems like he’s about to argue further until Jocelyn bounds up and elbows him, whispering something about the bag of Mr. Hockley’s tea leaves and they leave without another argument. 

When David finally locks the door behind the last customer, Patrick is left behind the register with Stevie, Alexis, Ted, Mr. Rose, and Mrs. Rose all standing in various places around the store and giving David various looks of adoration as he turns around to face them all. 

“Exactly what are you all looking at?” he asks, but without any of the normal venom a statement like that coming from David Rose might have. 

“We just… can’t believe you did all this, son,” Johnny says, clearing in his throat to dislodge the emotion clearly there for everyone to see. 

“It’s true, David,” Mrs. Rose chimes in, “You have managed to create, in this town, something truly winsome. I would shop here! Even without the nagging sense of obligation to support the next plucky young Rose business.” 

Patrick fondly watches as David takes in the compliments from his parents, and how he barely rolls his eyes at Ted’s horrible pun. He watches as Alexis boops David, who doesn’t flinch away from her touch like he normally would, and how something Stevie whispers as she heads to the door—clearly unable to handle all the genuine human emotion—makes him blush and bite his lip in an effort to contain his smile. 

Patrick watches, unable to add to the chorus of congratulations for a fear of blurting out right there on the spot exactly what David means to him, but deeply proud nonetheless—both of what David’s created and the fact that he’s included in this group of people that care so much about each other even when they don’t know how to express it. 

Instead, when David approaches, he offers to help him close out the cash and clean up, promising to meet the rest of the Roses outside when they’re done. 

As soon as it’s just the two of them standing in the store, Patrick pulls David tightly into his arms. He breathes him in, whispering what he couldn’t say in front of everybody else. “I’m proud of you, David.” 

David seems to struggle to find the right words too, instead opting just to nod into Patrick’s shoulder and hold on a little tighter, a little longer. He smells so good, so uniquely like himself that it confirms it’s really David that Patrick is hugging. He’s known David for years, hugged him plenty of times, been in his personal space even more. This feels so different than any other time they’ve been this close, though, so he appreciates the grounding smell of some earthy, woodsy spices Patrick has never really been able to put a name to other than David . 

He needs to tell David soon—what he’s feeling. If he doesn’t, he’s going to blurt it out in a less than ideal situation. Like at the end of an extremely stressful store soft-launch. So instead, he painfully pulls aways and says, “Last one done buys the first round of cheese!”

Chapter Text

“Alright, alright,” he agrees, “you win. Let me just run to the back and put this in the safe and then we can head out.” 

“Well you don’t have to do anything as drastic as running,” David says. “I can, on occasion, have a little patience.”

Patience is something that Patrick’s running lower on by the day, by the minute—the urge to kiss that smug look off David’s face getting ever harder to ignore. He’s pretty much completely decided he can’t wait until the Julia-Stiles-a-thon to make a move. He only hopes when he does, things won’t crash and burn before David gets to go. 

Lock to the safe securely closed, he walks back to the main room of the store only to find David leaning heavily against the wall behind the counter. Patrick doesn’t tell him that he had actually finished his closing tasks first, but figured David could use the win, so he’d made himself look busy until David had squealed that Patrick owed him as much cheese as he could handle. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Just… can we have one more minute of quiet?” David asks, eyes still closed, and Patrick is surer in his decision to let him win by the second. 

David doesn’t let many people see him this way—truly relaxed. His face is more peaceful than Patrick can ever remember seeing it, except for maybe on the occasional early morning he wakes up before him after a night at Stevie’s goes in the direction in which nobody can drive home. 

He leans against the opposite door jam, taking the opportunity to watch him without being caught. “Sure, David. As long as you want.” 

Eventually, though, David does catch him. He opens his eyes and Patrick is still looking at him, so they share a soft smile before heading toward the door without a word. 

One step outside, and Patrick’s amazed with how well everything has come together. Setting up last night, he knew the block party would be a hit, but honestly… it doesn’t take much for a hit in Schitt’s Creek. Still, seeing all the people he’s found a home with sitting and laughing together makes the setting sun and the softly twinkling string lights infinitely more beautiful than they’d been while deserted the night before. 

Heather has a booth set up selling a variety of the cheeses she supplies to the store, along with multiple flavors of quiche. Next to her is a food truck belonging to the vendor whose tapenade already needs to be restocked in the store. He’s selling a variety of hors d'oeuvres—most of which are on a stick. Patrick is ecstatic, both because he can’t wait to try the deep fried olives and because he can’t wait to hear how incorrect David finds the entire situation. On the other side of Heather, Twyla has a folding table set up with a red and white checkered tablecloth on it, George coming out with more platters of burgers and brats at regular intervals. 

On the far side of the block, there’s somebody strumming an acoustic guitar and singing along with some folk song or another even Patrick doesn’t recognize. It’s somebody Ray knows—maybe his cousin’s girlfriend’s sister’s kid? He’s not half bad, though Patrick is excited for the Jazzagals to take over later in the evening, Moira having taunted him with hints about their performance all week.

David had even been able to talk Roland out of using the tiki torches, offering instead to set up small displays of flowers and product samples on each picnic table for everybody to try throughout the evening. Patrick is sure he’s going to hear all about Alexis setting things up wrong while they were busy with the last hour of the store’s opening, but everything looks perfect to him. 

“Hey, Patrick!” Adam, a guy on his baseball team that—looking back—he’d definitely had a crush on when he first moved to town, says. “And David, congrats on opening!” 

“Hey, Man,” Patrick says with a nod, as David waves. “How’s that sweet boy of yours?” 

“He’s great! Just started crawling the other day and already trying to walk, so we’ll have a tenth man soon.” 

“Can’t wait! Good to see you,” he says, nodding again as he grabs David by the elbow and leads him in the opposite direction. 

Patrick is just about to make good on his promise to get David some cheese when Jocelyn runs over, practically dragging David away from his side, talking a mile a minute about one of the sample products a fellow Jazzagal has a question about. 

He skirts the edge of the area between the store and the cafe with all the picnic tables, hovering far enough away from David as to not bother him. He’s clearly in his element, just as he’d been at the store earlier, but he’s still close enough that Patrick might be able to grab him as soon as the conversation starts to wrap up. 

Unfortunately, before that happens, Ronnie comes up and starts talking to David, and he knows better than to interrupt that. Twenty minutes later, the line to talk to David is bigger than those at any of the food stations. 

After another nearly twenty minutes of wandering around aimlessly, Patrick finally goes and grabs a smattering of options from all three food stations and wordlessly drops them with David. He’d started feeling a little bad for himself after daydreaming about spending the evening with David, but he’s only ever seen the look David gives him after accepting the plate when they’d watched the Downton Abbey Christmas Special last year, so maybe it’s not so bad after all. 

Patrick goes back to grab some food for himself before settling into a table with Mr. and Mrs. Rose, Stevie, and Roland. 

“And all it took was a singular digit down Mr. Mellencamp’s back and I can tell you that he was certainly ready to whisk me away to his hotel!” 

Maybe he should’ve joined Bob and Gwen’s table instead. They were probably arguing, but maybe that is better than hearing about Mrs. Rose’s exploits again. 

“Now, I cannot discern whether his establishment was the Chateau Marmont or the Bel-Air—we had imbibed plenty that fine evening, after all—but he was raving about seeing me in one of their fluffy little robes,” she continues. 

“One time Jocelyn and I were…” Roland starts, and Patrick focuses on the troubadour’s—he really needs to spend less time with the Roses if he doesn’t want the vocabulary to match—slowed down version of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham! before he is further scarred by the table’s conversation. 

“Roland!” Mr. Rose scolds, pulling Patrick unwillingly back into the conversation a few minutes later when his food is gone and he no longer has anything else to focus on. “I told you, he prefers David. Not Dave! Not Davey. David.” Roland is about to argue further, but Johnny cuts him off. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Roland, but there are many things that set him off, and I would just really like to avoid this particular one today.” 

“But, Johnny,” Roland starts. 

“It’s not hard,” Patrick cuts in, unable to help himself. “There may be many, many things that set him off. But it’s not that hard, to just… call him by his name, Roland. That’s not a lot to ask. To give him the respect he deserves with something as simple as his name.” He doesn’t add the rest of his internal monologue, about how David spends a lot of time creating the persona of himself that he wants the world to see, and how his name—just like his sweaters, or a specific flick of his wrist—is part of that. Is part of him. But he thinks, maybe, based on the shocked looks on everybody’s faces, that they can read between the lines anyway. 

When David walks over in the following silence and asks, “what’s going on over here?” he feels his face blush slightly. 

And when Mrs. Rose says, “Sweet Pat here sees you, David, for all that you are.” 

Well, he’s sure that the slight blush turns crimson. 

“Okay, well, we’re not doing Pat,” David says before turning to Patrick and giving him a small smile. “Thank you, for um. The food. Earlier.” 

“Sure,” Patrick says, staring at his empty plate as he tries to come up with a way to extract himself and David from his family so they might get a chance to talk. 

“Sweet, Pat rick ,” Moira says, forcefully annunciating the end of his name, “sure seems to have enjoyed his food, as well. He’s been staring at his plate throughout the show of many of my best bits.” 

“And what bits would those be?” David all but shrieks. 

“Not bits bits, David,” Mr. Rose promises, “Your mother was just talking about John Cougar Mellencamp again.” 

While David and his parents bicker, Patrick is glad the conversation has moved on from the fact that pretty much everyone but David can apparently recognize his feelings for the other man. He catches sight of Stevie’s eyes going wide, but everybody else is too distracted to notice as she scurries off without a word. 

“Listen, David, do you maybe want—” Patrick starts, but he gets interrupted by Twyla jogging up, not skidding to a stop soon enough, and literally running into David—who lets out an undignified yelp. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, David!” she says. 

“You okay?” Patrick asks. 

“Well, there’s a debate going on about that,” David says to him, but with just the hint of a smile that tells Patrick he’s really fine. “What can I do for you, Twyla?” 

“I was just hoping you could come talk me through which skincare products would be best for my skin type before the Jazzagals go on?” 

Patrick knows he’s lost his shot again by the way David’s eyes immediately light up. For claiming not to like Schitt’s Creek, he’s sure become the unofficial spokesperson for the block party. Selfishly, Patrick wishes he’d embrace a little bit of the egotistical, insolent socialite he had been when they first moved to Schitt’s Creek. Back when Patrick and Stevie seemed to be the only people he could stand to be around.

“You two go easy on him!” David throws over his shoulder to his parents as Twyla drags him in the direction of the table she was looking at, Roland following to find Jocelyn. 

He’d much prefer to sit with that for a minute, but at the same time Ray comes up on his other side. “Patrick! Just the person I was looking for,” he says at a normal volume before lowering his voice to a whisper and leaning into Patrick’s ear. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to take my cousin-in-law’s sister’s son home now that he’s done playing.” 

“Stop whispering in my ear, Ray.” 

“I’m just saying… If you, perchance, have made it through You Deserve Love with Ray Butani and are looking for somewhere to make that love, I’ll be staying in Elm Ridge tonight so the house will be all yours!” 

“You’re still doing it, Ray,” Patrick replies at full volume, glad to have a response not related to the contents of the whisper. 

“Feel free to leave your bedroom door open tonight! Or closed, either way is fine with me,” Ray says at full volume as he walks away, somehow leaving Patrick yearning for when he was whispering. He turns around, cutting eye contact and therefore hoping to avoid Ray yelling anything else when his eye catches on David. 

Which, to be fair, is pretty normal. 

What isn’t normal is the tense look on his face as he has what looks to be a hushed and harsh conversation with Stevie and somebody who can only be described as ruggedly handsome and overtly charming, if the low cut tank top and loose grin on his face that nearly every person who walks by ogles are any indication. 

“Oh, my god, Patrick!” Alexis says, her and Ted sliding into the seats at the picnic table that Roland and Stevie had vacated, “ What is that all about?” 

He painstakingly tears his gaze away from David. “Sorry, what?” 

“Ray, shouting about bedrooms and doors as he walked away,” Ted clarifies. 

“Oh, nothing,” he brushes off. He can’t stop watching David, Stevie, and the mystery man they’re with animatedly arguing while attempting to appear happy. He nods at them as he says, “Hey, Alexis, who’s that?” 

“Oh, that’s Jake.” 

“Jake?”

It’s truly a miracle Patrick doesn’t know him. It’s hard not to know somebody in a town as small as Schitt’s Creek, but he’s nothing if not a creature of habit. If Jake doesn’t frequent the cafe, the rec baseball league, or Ray’s, well… It’s not entirely surprising, he supposes. 

“Yeah, Jake. He and David have been together for the last, like, six weeks.”

“Oh,” he says. It’s not like David hadn’t told him as much just the other week, sitting on the sofa in the back of the store. He knew he’d been seeing someone before that, even, just like he’d told David himself. But seeing him and Jake standing there, still clearly involved—at least in some way—makes him deflate a bit. “Right.” 

“Yeah, he’s like, not exactly who I pictured David with?” She continues, either completely unaware of Patrick’s woes or acting as though she is. “But he does have, like, really nice abs. Anyway, so, David and Stevie were both seeing Jake, except they didn’t know it. And, well, of course they found out and things got very dramatic. Jake ended up asking them to be in a throuple and trust me when I say David in a poly relationship is just a disaster waiting to happen.” 

 “So are they?” He asks, pretty sure everybody can hear the lump he swallows before he clarifies, “A throuple?” 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I thought they all decided to break up, but they’re talking together? And that… kind of does look like a lover’s spat.” 

Patrick is pretty sure that Ted chimes in with some unfortunate pun or another based on Alexis’ laughter, but he can’t hear anything except the ringing of the word throuple echoing through his ears.

Chapter Text

🖤David🖤

David lets Twyla drag him away from the picnic table—even though all he really wants to do is finally sit down for a moment and actually talk to Patrick for the first time all day. But getting her started on a skincare regimen will not only be beneficial for her, but also, hopefully, for his store’s bottom line. And as much as it has pained him to admit that Roland was right, tonight’s block party has been amazing. 

There have been so many people—even more than had been at the soft launch today—telling him how excited they are for Rose Apothecary. He’s maybe, hypothetically, even starting to believe that he can actually do this. 

As Twyla blabbers on and on about some Jazzagals rehearsal story he doesn’t care about though, David stops in his tracks as his eye catches on Stevie. 

Stevie, who is talking to Jake. 

A few feet ahead, Twyla stops and turns around, realizing David is no longer following and asks, “You coming David? We have ten minutes before I have to go perform.” 

“Sorry, Twyla, um. I—” David quirks his head, pressing his lips together in a tight line as he watches Stevie not only talk to Jake but flirt with Jake. “I will have to talk to you about skincare some other time, Twyla. Sorry, excuse me.” 

Marching up to Stevie and Jake with all the fiery indignation of his long list of failed relationships, he feels no shame at interrupting whatever conversation they’re having. “Uh, hi. What are you two doing?” 

“David,” Jake greets, unmistakably happy to see him as he leans in and kisses him. “Wow, it’s been awhile. You look amazing.” 

David does not point out that it’s been just over two weeks. 

“Thank you. What are you doing here?” 

“Well, it’s date night,” Jake drawls, “So I thought we’d maybe spend it in the woods, but pony said she had to come to the block party, so here we are.” 

“So—I, uh. I take it you two are… still seeing each other?” 

Stevie visibly cringes. “As it turns out, we are, yes.” 

Jake, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind the situation they find themselves in. Naturally. “After we all broke up, Stevie came over to end things officially and it just—didn’t stick, so.” David waits for him to finish the sentence, but that seems to be the end of it. He tries to do any of the breathing exercises one of his old therapists taught him, but can’t seem to make anything stick. 

He and Stevie had decided that all of them, together, would be a bad idea. But it appears he’s the only one that held up his end of the agreement. He shouldn’t even care, but it’s a principle thing. He glances back toward the table where his family is sitting, and sees Patrick with Ted and Alexis. The three of them in what appears to be a deep conversation. 

“So, you offering to help at the store opening today?” David says to Stevie, “That had nothing to do with any guilt you felt about harboring a little secret?” 

“Nope, just trying to be a… good person. So.” 

“How very revisionist of you!” 

An uncomfortable silence falls between the three of them despite being surrounded by almost everyone they know. Why can’t somebody come ask him about skincare and get him out of this conversation?

“Stevie and I were gonna connect later tonight,” Jake finally says, “Maybe… you guys want to rethink all of us being… us?” 

David stares at Stevie. She stares right back. Unwilling to lose the unspoken staring contest, David raises a single eyebrow—and it might not make Stevie break but Jake certainly does. 

“I’ll leave you two to think it over. It seems like you two maybe have some things to talk about,” Jake says, completely unbothered. He grabs Stevie’s hand and kisses it. “This one’s for you!” He moves toward David next, grabbing his hand and kissing it just as he had Stevie’s. 

“Oh! I get one, too.” 

“All right, I’ll see ‘ya,” he says, wandering off toward the food lines. 

When he’s gone Stevie clears her throat and says, “Would you believe me if I told you that I was going to break up with him tonight?” 

David raises the same eyebrow at her once again.

“Okay, right. Uh, yeah, fine.” Stevie chews on her bottom lip as she appears to contemplate what to say next. “But if it makes you feel better, nobody loathes me more than me. Generally speaking.” 

Before David has the chance to respond, his parents walk up to him and Stevie—because, apparently, a block party in Schitt’s Creek is synonymous with a rotating conveyor belt of carnies. Oh, how he longs for taking a hit with Zoe as Lenny performed Fly Away. 

“David, why does your face look like that of a disgruntled pelican?” his mom asks. 

“Why… why-why are? Um. Why are you over here, anyway?” He asks them, and even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. God, he’s losing his touch. 

“We were on our way to the front because your mother is about to take the stage, David,” his dad reprimands. “You know how important this performance is for her, you could show some interest.” 

“Okay, first of all, there is no stage. It’s just an old rug, from what I can only assume is a church basement, sitting in front of the town’s only road closed sign,” David says, not adding the second of all because he does not have one. 

“My heart has already shattered from Jocelyn keeping the solo for herself, David,” Moira tuts, “You may as well go ahead and twist the knife.” 

David sighs, closing his eyes before admitting, “I’m sorry. I— it’s not. I just… Sorry. You’ll do great.” Then, he turns on his foot and hightails it into the store before another soul can say a word to him. 

He collapses on the couch in the back, finally able to figure out the damn breathing exercises. Inhale for four through his nose. Hold for seven. Exhale through his mouth for eight. Repeat. And then repeat again. 

It’s been a day.

It’s been a week. A month. 

But it’s particularly been a day. Just through the open curtain is the spot where roughly twenty-four hours ago he was on the floor about to have a panic attack when Patrick had found him and soothed him. 

And since then, it feels like he’s lived a lifetime that went by in the blink of an eye. Through all of it, he realizes, Patrick was there soothing him. Making sure he ate, teasing him when he was too much in his head. Handing out those soft smiles like they don’t cost him a thing—David is starting to believe that maybe they don’t. 

David stands and checks his outfit in the small mirror he’d hung in the back and then, as if forgetting that finding Patrick might mean coming head to head with everybody he’d come in here to avoid, he heads back out to the party. 

💙 Patrick 💙

When Alexis and Ted get up to find a better seat for the Jazzagals performance, leaving Patrick alone at the table for the first time all evening, he lets his eyes scan over the crowd. 

At this point he doesn’t even pretend they aren’t searching out David. 

Instead, they land on Jake. 

Before his brain even realizes what he’s doing, his legs are carrying him over to the deserted garbage can near the store that Jake is throwing his trash in. 

“Hey. How’s it going?” Patrick asks as he approaches, and spares a single second to feel ashamed to be Marcy Brewer’s son. She’d be appalled at his tone of voice. He spares another to be thankful he has his own garbage to throw out. 

“Good,” Jake says, giving him an appraising look. 

“Good,” Patrick echoes, and then offers his hand to shake. “Patrick Brewer.” 

Jake shakes the hand, but doesn’t offer anything more, so Patrick continues, “And you are?” 

“Waiting for my date to finish up so we can head out,” he says, and looks like Patrick isn’t going to get introduced to the man he already knows more about than he wants to. 

“You, uh, have the pot roast on a stick?” he tries when neither of them make a move to leave. 

“Yeah, yeah, very good,” Jake says. 

“Yeah, all the food was great tonight,” Patrick says, and he can’t help but remember Alexis’ comment about the abs despite his best efforts. “So, listen… I, uh, you look super familiar. Do I know you from—” 

Blessedly, Jake doesn’t make Patrick finish the sentence he clearly didn’t have an end for. “‘I’m a friend of David’s,” he says.

“Yeah, me too,” Patrick says. “I helped invest in Rose Apothecary.” 

“Yeah, he’s mentioned you.” 

“Has he?” Patrick asks, unable to stop himself. When would David have mentioned him to Jake? He can’t pretend like it isn’t nice to hear. A small chuckle escapes his mouth when he realizes how desperate he sounds, so he clears his throat. “So, uh, you know David from where?” 

“Actually, we’re dating.” 

“You’re dating?”

“Yeah, going on a few months.” 

“You’re dating now?”

Jake nods in confirmation, and seriously, he knows his mother would be disgusted but what the fuck. He knows that David has a rich dating history, but he’d thought that was mostly in the past. And as much as he likes David, he’s not sure he’s ready to jump into… whatever the term for a four person throuple is. A quadrouple? Especially if Stevie’s there—he’s had enough practice pretending to be okay about being in a relationship with a woman. 

“Oh,” he breathes, shaking his head a few times before finally saying, “My mistake, I thought you two had, uh—” 

“We hit a bit of a rough patch, but I think we’re working through it.” 

“Well,” Patrick repeats, “um, good for you.” 

“When it’s right, it’s right. And David is… right,” Jake says. He’s practically undressing David with his voice. Patrick didn’t even know that was possible . “Hey, do you have any idea if there’s a bathroom in the store?” 

“I don’t think it’s open to the public, actually. There’s one in the back of the cafe, though.” 

With a quick thanks and goodbye, Jake heads in that direction while Patrick offers a pained, “Good to meet you, man.” He wonders if it was as obvious to Jake how little he meant it as it is to his own ears.

Patrick wanders the few feet to one of the benches in front of Rose Apothecary and collapses, feeling rather sorry for himself. He sits there, stewing in his feelings for a moment before standing—intending to head back and maybe catch a song or two of the Jazzagals set before heading up to his apartment to stew for the rest of the night when the door behind him opens and David walks out. 

“Hey, all alone over here?” David asks, and god dammit if the smile on his face isn’t just as beautiful as ever.

“No, not alone,” he says, and David chuckles in misunderstanding. 

“You okay?” David asks as he approaches. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone with my family so much tonight.” 

“Actually, I’m feeling pretty stupid right now.” 

“Why?” 

“I’m not a mysterious man, am I?” Patrick asks. He’s spent a lot of his life feeling amiss, but never with David. Especially not these last few weeks. 

“Well, the wardrobe is a bit of a head scratcher…” 

“I think I’ve been very, very clear with my intentions,” Patrick cuts off, in no mood for that light, teasing trolling he and David usually engage with. 

“Your…” 

He doesn’t let David finish. “You know, the wedding, the movie invite? The flowers.” 

“Patrick—” David’s breathy chuckle, clearly one of somebody who’s nervous, has no right being so hot. Still, Patrick’s on a roll he can’t seem to stop now. 

“You knew what I was doing!” 

“Well, no, not officially!” 

“Not officially?” He asks, “Oh, c’mon, David. I mean, I didn’t have a ref present, but other than that.” 

“Well, you didn’t say anything official,” David squeaks. 

“What was I supposed to say? I did things. I let my actions speak. That’s what you’re supposed to do—you’re supposed to let your actions speak! That’s that romantic way to do this, damn it.” 

“Okay, you’re right,” David says, and Patrick has to take pause at that, because David Rose doesn’t often admit to being wrong. “I’m sorry.” 

Still, Patrick isn’t quite done saying all he needs to say. “And you went along with all of it! So, naturally, I assumed we were on the same page, and then your boyfriend shows up here, in front of the store that I invested in!” 

David, who’d been remarkably calm during all of Patrick’s ranting, visibly reacts to that—scoffing and letting his hands flail to their every desire as he says, “Woah, hey, what boyfriend? Are you talking about Jake?”

“No, Mutt,” Patrick scoffs, before clarifying, “yes, of course Jake.” 

“You guys were talking? What did he say?” 

“He said you were together. I mean, I was sitting there listening to this guy spout on and on about everything short of his favorite threesome position and the whole time I’m thinking, ‘what the hell have I been doing this all for? He’s taken.’”

Patrick can’t take it anymore. He thought he’d broken his habit of running from tough conversations, but David means too much to him, and he can’t take it anymore. He has to get out of here before he ruins their friendship for good—he starts down the sidewalk, no idea where he’s going but needing to get away from all the noise of the block party. 

It doesn’t help, though, because he can physically feel David’s body follow him as he yells, “I… I’m not taken! We broke up!” 

“Well, Jake doesn’t know that.” 

“Well, just calm down,” David reasons, right behind Patrick. 

Patrick spins around to face David, which in retrospect is probably a mistake because now they’re nearly chest to chest, both breathing heavily, alone, and very much in each other’s space. “I don’t want to calm down! I did everything right. I did exactly what the podcast said!”

“The podcast?” 

“I thought we were on track,” Patrick continues, “and now you’re standing there looking at me like I’m ridiculous!” 

“I’m not looking at you like you’re ridiculous!” 

“You know the last time I bought flowers for a man?” Patrick asks, “Never! That’s when. Very easy stat to remember!” 

“I loved the flowers!”

“And then when I drove you home after the wedding… there was a moment—or, I thought there was a moment.” 

“There was!” David huffs, then quiets his voice and takes a deep breath before admitting, “There was a moment.” 

Patrick gazes up into his eyes, still not used to just how good it feels for somebody to slightly tower over him. Both of them breathing heavily, he can’t help but let his gaze drop from David’s beautiful brown eyes to his lips. He takes half a step forward. 

“What are you doing?” David whispers. 

“Would you just stand still?” he asks, exasperated, before grabbing David around the waist with both hands and pulling him against his body. 

Patrick kisses David with everything he has. 

It’s fucking magic.

For most of his life Patrick didn’t know what it was like to kiss somebody he was attracted to. When he finally figured it out, and started kissing men, things had gotten better. Felt better, felt easier. 

But nothing felt like this. Nothing felt as right as David. 

David pulls away a bit to look at him, but keeps his hands where they’d found a home on Patrick’s shoulders and then moves in again. 

“What are you doing?” Patrick asks, breathless. 

“Would you just stand still?” David whispers, the sound more felt as a breath against Patrick’s lips than actually heard before he moves his right hand from Patrick’s shoulder to his jaw. 

Patrick feels the cool metal of David’s rings move to the back of his head as David pulls him into another kiss and he wraps his arms more tightly around David, pulling them flush together. 

And then he feels nothing but David.

Chapter Text

It’s possible he’s never been so breathless after a kiss in his entire goddamned life. And he’s had, like, a million of them. 

Chests heaving, David is still entirely in Patrick’s space—but they’ve both pulled back ever so slightly. Patrick has never been one to be described as shy, but his small, soft smile and the pink tint to his cheeks bring the word to mind. 

“Thank you,” he breathes. 

“For what?” David asks. 

“Um, I’ve… I never thought that would actually happen.” 

“Mmm.” 

“Yeah, and, uh…” Patrick chuckles self consciously, pulling back just a bit so that he can more easily look at David. “I was getting a little scared that I was gonna let you leave here tonight without us having done that. So, uh, thank you. For… um, making that happen for us.” 

“Well, fortunately, I am a very generous person, so.” 

Patrick’s smile breaks free, and then he bites down on his lip which sends another spark throughout David’s entire fucking body. David can practically see his teeth trying to contain all of his snark and all of his glee—and maybe another kiss, too. 

“Can I walk you home?” 

“Um? I would love that,” David says, hoping how genuinely he means that comes through despite his hesitancy. He glances over and sees that the Jazzagals have finished their set at some point, which means… “But, um, my parents?” 

“Sure,” Patrick nods, because if anyone understands what David means without him actually explaining himself it’s Patrick. He seems to hesitate for just a moment before asking, “Can we talk tomorrow?” 

“We can talk whenever you’d like,” David confirms. “Just… preferably not before 10 a.m., because—” 

“—because you’re not really a morning person,” Patrick finishes at the same time. “Right. Goodnight, David.” 

“Goodnight, Patrick.” 

David watches with a small smile as he turns on his foot, and then as he walks across the street toward his creepy, horrible apartment stairs. He watches as Patrick pauses at the base of them, turns back, and gives him a quick wave before jogging up the rusted death trap. And then he watches Patrick unlock his door and disappear into the apartment—a smile on his face the entire time. His fucking cheeks hurt from smiling do much. He didn’t even know that could physically happen. 

It takes the entire walk back to the motel to wipe the smile off his face, and even then his cheeks only get a brief respite before he unlocks the door and is greeted by his sister. Who is no longer supposed to live there. 

As soon as he’s inside, she’s squealing and jumps up off what will always be her bed. Alexis runs over to him, punching his bicep at first and then seems to think better of it before pulling him into a, albeit quick, hug. 

“Ew! What are you doing here?” 

“I’m so happy!” 

“Is this a normal happy or did you steal another drug lord's bag full of molly? Because I own the only general store in town and we don’t sell colored contacts.” 

“Rude, David!” 

“I am pretty sure that exact scenario happened at least thrice.” 

Alexis rolls her eyes, but the only thing she says is, “well?” 

“Wellllll,” David repeats, “I would love to weigh in, but I don’t exactly know what I’m weighing in about, so unless you would like to elaborate—” 

“You’re with Patrick!” she squeals, “It’s so wonderful! Do you know how wonderful it is!” 

“Okay, first of all, how do you even know that?”

“Um, you were frenching your business partner for the whole town to see.” 

“It was behind a wall, thank you so very much. And second of all , I find it a little uncomfortable that you’re so happy about the fact that I…” David gestures broadly around the room. “You know!” 

“David! Ew! Of course I’m not happy about that.” She mimics throwing up. “I’m happy to have a new favorite brother! And, like, I have always thought you two would be perfect for each other if you’d just open your eyes!” 

“Well, I—” David starts to point out that Alexis actually first thought that he was perfect for her ,  but apparently she isn’t done with her soliloquy. 

“And also , forgive me for being happy that you’re not going to die alone! Somebody will be there. Somebody will know. My sweet little button-in-law will, like, find your corpse and call the police and—” 

David takes his turn to interrupt. “Okay, I would appreciate it if you didn’t curse the first day of the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in with talks of corpses!” 

“Well, one of us should be happy about it and it doesn’t seem like you are!” 

“Fall off a bridge, please,” he says, and when his sister who never shuts up only stares at him in response, he can’t help but continue talking. “There was, just, a lot going on tonight with Jake, and… and I’m just processing what it’s like to be in a relationship with someone who’s, um, nice?” 

“But are you though?”

“Am I what ?” he asks, exasperated. 

“Happy? About Patrick.” 

And his sister’s small voice, finally no longer shouting or interrupting, takes all the fight right out of him. 

“Of course I’m happy about Patrick.” 

“But does he know you’re happy?” she asks, and, god, when did she become so good at this? Is there, like a switch that flips in your brain after you say your vows? 

“He knows,” David confirms. “I think he knows? He should know. I hope he knows.” 

“Well, make sure he knows, okay? Because you two together…” 

“Equals getting to the morgue before I smell, mmhm, yep. Got it.” 

The problem with owning your own business, it turns out, is that when somebody shows up dead at your father’s place of business—which also happens to be your home—you can’t, just, like… call in sick. 

So Rose Apothecary’s second day open, which is also David’s first day working alone since Patrick had to be back at Ray’s and Alexis and Stevie are not nice enough to volunteer two days in a row, starts off less than ideal. 

And then somehow manages to only get worse from there. 

A tour bus not unlike the one that brought him to Schitt’s Creek drives through town, stopping for lunch at the cafe which means a huge rush of tourists come in. He makes it through most of the customers without a hitch, and then a fussy, gray-haired man approaches the counter. He appears to be a few years older than David’s dad and wears a cardigan that just does not work on him, and then he gets snippy. He argues that the organic shoe polish David’s beekeeping vendor makes should come with a complimentary shoe shine, and it’s David’s first lesson that sometimes the customer is decidedly not always correct. 

While David is arguing with him, Patrick comes in. He seems to think better of interrupting the heated conversation, but catches David’s eye and makes his own go wide in equal parts awe and distress. All David wants to do is walk over and kiss the shocked look right off his face. 

Which he can’t do. Because even as David comps his shoe polish, just as the last of the tourists finally leaves the cash register, his mother comes into the store with a, “ding-a-ding!” 

“Hey, Mrs. Rose,” Patrick greets, ever the gentleman.

“May I help you?” David snarks, less than gentlemanly. 

“It’s startlingly quiet in here, David,” she says, “Is that a good sign for only your second day in the trade that is your career in couture commerce?” 

“I have literally not had five seconds to myself,” he huffs, eyes landing on Patrick. David hopes that he understands he doesn’t necessarily want them. “Besides, I thought you were booked up all day, and that’s why you couldn’t help dad with the d—” he cuts himself off, realizing Patrick probably doesn’t want to hear about the dead body. He’s had much smaller problems come up at the beginning of a relationship that still were too much for several past partners to handle. “With that thing,” he ends stiffly. “At the motel.” 

“I am booked up, David. You should see my schedule! Positively bedeviled with meetings, et cetera.” 

“Well, then, what are you doing here?” 

“You know what I’d love?” she asks, turning her attention to Patrick. “A tea.” 

“We don’t sell tea!” David nearly screams, trying to get the first word in before Patrick volunteers. Which, because he is perfect, Patrick ends up doing anyway—leaving for the cafe before David really even got the chance to say hello. 

“Okay, I actually have a pretty important conversation to have with my business partner, so—” 

“Sorry, David,” she says, sounding anything other than apologetic, “I had nowhere else to turn! It’s probably nothing, but I think I’ve killed a man!” 

And from there his day only gets more dramatic. 

He and his mother bicker back and forth for several minutes, and they really need to wrap this up because Patrick has been gone way longer than a simple order of tea should take. 

Instead of Patrick, though, Ronnie walks in just as he’s loudly and unmistakably proclaiming, “can you imagine this in prison?” as he gestures to his body. 

She doesn’t acknowledge anything she overheard, simply drops off the drink and scone his mother had asked for along with a coffee for him, grumbling something about Patrick needing to get back to Ray’s and not being able to wait any longer in the larger than average line of tourists. 

“I can’t believe you’d do that for Patrick,” he says, taking a sip of the coffee—unable to contain his grin when it’s the right coffee. 

“I didn’t do it for Patrick, I did it to cost Patrick twenty bucks and to see if the dopey, in-love look on his face was mirrored on yours.” 

He really fucking needs to talk to Patrick. 

The only silver lining from the whole mess of the day is that it leaves David almost yearning for tomorrow, which will likely bring the return of Roland and Bob and all the other townies he’s begrudgingly learned to love and no dead bodies. That and the profits—those are definitely a silver lining, too. 

A few more people trickle into the store before David finally flips the sign to ‘closed,’ locks the door, and takes his lunch break. 

He cannot go another minute without talking to Patrick. So, he calls his cell phone. And when he doesn’t answer the first time, he calls again. 

When Patrick doesn’t answer again, David only spirals about how he’s avoiding him for a few minutes. But his lunch break is only 30 minutes. He doesn’t have time to spiral. So, instead of calling him again, or waiting any longer, he calls the number listed on one of Ray’s websites. 

“Ray’s, this is Patrick, how can I help you?” 

“Hey,” he says, embarrassingly glad to hear his voice, and then clears his own. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me,” David says, louder this time. 

“Oh,” Patrick says, and David can practically hear the recognition. “Hi.” 

“Hi. Can we talk? You, um, said you wanted to talk. Today. And, uh, I know when you came in this morning I was… a little distracted.” 

“Hey, no big deal.” 

“Uh, I think that maybe it was?” David says, “A big deal. I just, um—” 

“Seriously, you don’t need to…” Patrick starts, but then David hears Ray shouting something in the background and there’s a ruffling that sounds like Patrick putting the receiver of the phone into his shirt or hand. When it’s finally quiet again, he hears, “David?” 

He really needs to have this conversation, but he doesn’t want to have it without Patrick’s full attention. “Are you, um… busy?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick says, apparently misinterpreting the question. “Been keeping myself busy since, uh, about 5. Couldn’t sleep, thinking about stuff… you know, last night.” 

“Regrets?” 

“What?” Patrick nearly shouts, and David has to pull his phone back slightly. He still hears the certainty in Patrick’s voice when he continues, “No. No, no. No regrets. Why would I have regrets?” 

David can’t take it anymore. 

He and Patrick have been playing this game of back and forth, this will they/won’t they for too long. No more beating around the bush. He needs to lay everything out there in the open, so he knows exactly how many expectations to have about this. Because this is Patrick . And David really doesn’t want to screw this up. More than he doesn’t want to screw just about anything up. 

“Patrick. We kissed. You and me, we kissed?” 

There’s a beat before Patrick says, “I remember.” He sounds… fond, maybe? A little nervous, but also maybe like he’s trying to temper his excitement as much as David is. 

“And it was… unexpected,” David continues. 

“Relax, David,” Patrick sighs, “If you want to just forget it ever happened…” 

“Um, I don’t think I ever said that! I don’t want to forget it ever happened,” he says, bolstered by Patrick’s earlier comments. He won’t let Patrick talk them both out of this if there’s any shot he wants whatever this is as much as David does. Softer, he adds, “It was a great kiss. Kisses. They were great kisses.” 

“Yeah?” Patrick asks, “That’s a pretty bold claim, David.” 

That little bit of teasing snark is all David needs to feel like he’s back on even ground. If there’s anything David and Patrick do well together, it’s trolling one another. 

“‘And I thought it was a great kiss, too, David,’” He retorts with his best impression of Patrick’s voice, “‘If one of us had been a frog it would have had some seriously impressive consequences.’”

“David. I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders,” he says, all joking gone from his voice. “I know it’s all very new, and that it’s a lot to process, but I am very relieved to hear you feel that way.” 

“So, you, um? Concur?” 

“You know, after I came out and realized how much had been missing with Rachel, I sort of felt like I’d have to do all my first times over again, and as somebody who knows how much I hate doing a task wrong, I think you can imagine how much that bothered me. To feel like I was starting over at my age.” Patrick clears his throat and pauses for a long beat. “But, David, when we kissed, that felt like my first time, all over again, in the best way. All the things that you’re supposed to feel, I… I felt them, last night.” 

“Well, if we’re being honest with each other,” David says, which he desperately wants to do, “this is sort of like my first time, too. I mean, it’s not—you know that I’ve kissed, like, a thousand people. But nobody that I cared about. Or respected, or thought was… nice. So in a way it’s like we’re both starting something new.” 

“Thank you, David. And hey, for the record—I also respect you and think that you’re a good person,” he says, because Patrick knows David can only take so much sincerity in a single conversation. Because Patrick knows David . 

“Hmm. It’s just that I said ‘nice’ person.” 

“I know.” 

“Oh. I just need you to say ‘nice’ person.” 

“You’re a good person,” Patrick repeats, putting even more emphasis on the word. 

“That’s not nice,” David says, and as much as he doesn’t want this conversation to end, his lunch break is almost over. And if he gets his way, there will be much more than just conversation later. “So, um, I guess we’ll discuss this later?” 

“Are you free tomorrow? For lunch?” Patrick asks. 

“Yeah, I’m free.” 

“Good,” he says in a voice that is far sexier than it has any right to be, “I’ll pick you up at 11:30.” 

He already knew this thing with Patrick was going to lead to problems, but if Patrick ever finds out just how much that take charge voice does it for David, he’s going to have a lot of problems. He hopes his own admittedly rough voice is hidden over whatever shitty quality landline Ray still owns. “What are we gonna do?” 

“I’ve got some thoughts.” 

“Alright, but no taking me to an art museum after hours and then to an empty Hollywood bowl where you give me a pair of diamond earrings that you bought with your college money when all the time you're really in love with your best friend, the drummer, who's posing as our driver for the evening,” David says, wondering if Patrick has seen Some Kind of Wonderful or if he’ll assume this is a pre-Schitt’s Creek far-fetched anecdote. 

Patrick pauses for a long moment—just long enough for David to start panicking about using the phrases ‘in love with’ and ‘best friend’ in the same sentence—when he finally says, “Okay, I’ll think of something else.” 

“Okay,” he breathes. 

“Okay,” Patrick repeats. “Thank you for the call, David. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

When Patrick opens the door of his car and steps out, he’s surprised to find David already opening the door of his motel room. David, it seems, is just as surprised to see him. 

He’d pulled up and put his car in park at exactly 11:30 sharp. The call with David yesterday afternoon had gone a long way to soothe the nerves he’d felt after David hadn’t wanted him to walk him home and had been too busy to have a conversation when he stopped in the store. But he’d still spent most of the morning trying to figure out when to pick him up. 

He knows David is often a bit late, but he also knows David tends to spiral—so, on the off chance he was actually ready at 11:30, Patrick decided that was the best option. 

They both freeze when they see each other. Patrick is still next to his car door while David stands in the doorway of his room.

“Hi,” David says quietly. 

“Oh, hey. I was just—” Patrick gestures to the door, as if to say coming to knock. Or maybe to admit he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“Oh, I was, um. Coming to meet you at your apartment?”

“Sorry, was I not supposed to pick you up?”

“I just figured…” David finally decides to shut the door behind him and take a single step closer. He looks up at the sky momentarily before he glances back at Patrick. “I guess I figured Cafe Tropical is the only place in town anyway, so.” 

“Right,” Patrick says. “I guess we probably should have discussed.”

“No, no. I should have assumed…” David trails off. Patrick can almost see his second thoughts. “You, know, um. I could go back inside?” 

“No, this is fine, you’re already here now, so.”

“So we should go!” David says, and god does Patrick hate that that tone of voice—the one David uses when a vendor says something that makes him cringe on the phone—is what this date has already come to. David starts to walk to the passenger side, but before he can make it to the door Patrick scurries around the car and opens the door for him. “Oh, you don’t have to get—” 

Patrick scoffs, and the smile that follows comes a little easier. “You talk to my mother as much as I do. Do you really think she’d be okay with me not getting your door?” 

They share a small, nervous chuckle, but the whispered “okay” from David comes a little easier. 

When Patrick crosses back to his side of the car and settles back into his seat, David leans over and pulls him into a kiss. And that’s a little easier, too. 

“We’ll get better at this,” David says. 

The Divas CD Patrick burned and keeps in his car for whenever David is around seems to calm David during their drive, which in turn does a great deal to calm Patrick’s own nerves. David is mid-rant about a Substack article that ranks Shania Twain—whom he also is fond of—above Dolly Parton on the list of country divas when Patrick pulls the car over. 

“What, um? What are we doing?” David asks. 

“We’re here,” Patrick says, getting out of the car and leaving David to get his own door this time as he pops the trunk open. “I thought we’d go on a little picnic to avoid the entire town ogling us at Cafe Tropical.” 

“Yeah, it’s just that I sort of feel like picnicking by the side of the road is basically an invitation to get murdered.” 

“There’s just a short hike to get up to a nice lookout.” When he’d planned this, he knew it could go either way. He’s not so short-sighted to not consider the possibility that David will spend the entire hike complaining about his sweater getting attacked by moths or missing out on an eBay bid for the cappuccino machine he wants to buy for the back of the store. He just hopes it might be able to get David up the trail quickly enough for it all to make sense. “I have champagne, and cheese, and a backpack full of all sorts of little goodies waiting for you to make it to the top of the hill.” 

Patrick swings the backpack over his shoulder—it’s a little heavier than he’d like it to be, but he figured his best chance for the outcome he wants is to not force David into carrying his half. 

“Okay, it’s just? When I said we would get better at this… I didn’t really assume you would be listening to what my lungs sound like during any physical activity, at least not until there was much less clothing involved? And I’m not exactly sure you will want to try to get better at this if you see that… so soon?” 

And… that is not what Patrick had anticipated. Maybe some light complaining, or a few facial expressions that let slip how he actually feels about hiking. But not an admission that he thinks Patrick would ever not want more of him. It’s all the more reason to get to the lookout. 

“Hey,” he whispers, walking up and pressing a quick kiss to the side of David’s neck just because he can. “You’re gonna love this.” He entangles their hands together before leading him to the trailhead. “Trust me.” 

“Okay,” David agrees, following him onto the path. “As long as this isn’t, like, a long con for you to murder me on the side of a mountain. Are you gonna whack me with a tree branch when I’m at my most vulnerable?” 

“No, I’ve filled my whacking quota for the week,” Patrick says, turning back to wink at him. 

“Well, there go my plans for the night.” 

That’s how they make their way up the trail. They lob progressively dirtier and flirtier comments back and forth, finding any excuse to put their hands on each other for just a moment—brushing a bug off, steadying a step over a log, spreading sunscreen across the back of necks that clearly cannot be reached alone. 

Every time Patrick senses that David is starting to get a little winded, he finds an excuse to stop. Once he needs to re-tie his shoe. Another time, it’s pointing to a specific tree and admitting that he climbed it once when I thought I heard a bear that just turned out to be a group of teenagers drinking.

When they round the last curve in the trail and finally look out over Rattlesnake Point, David breathes out long and slow. “Well, this is nice.” 

“I wouldn’t’ve made you hike all this way if I didn’t think it was gonna be worth it,” Patrick says, nudging his shoulder into David’s bicep. “I know you a little better than that.” He slips the backpack off his shoulders and starts laying out the blanket before taking out the bottle of champagne, a bundle of cheese and crackers, along with some olives, pickles, prosciutto, and container of fruit.

Patrick pops the champagne bottle and sheepishly admits, “I didn’t have room for any glasses, so hope you don’t mind sharing.” 

They share a small smile before David grabs the bottle and takes a sip. "Here’s to us.” 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

While packing up the picnic, Patrick had hoped, but hadn’t been sure, that this was the right call. It certainly would’ve been less of a gamble to share a platter of sad, freezer-burned mozzarella sticks at Cafe Tropical or even drive to that ice cream place David loves in Elmdale. But sitting here, alone with David, eating backpack charcuterie and trading the bottle back and forth… He feels absolutely certain that everything is going to work out. 

“Hey, do you remember when we met?” 

“What?” 

“When we met, at Ray’s,” Patrick repeats. “Do you remember?” 

“Honestly, um. Only vaguely. Those first few weeks we were here were… Not great?” David visibly swallows, despite having finished eating. He’s clearly nervous, but honestly, getting to explain it all is probably for the better. 

“It was at Ray’s, just after lunch,” he says. “It was a very busy day, Ray had just expanded to include closet organization, but he was still on council so I was taking on a lot of things I was not qualified for, and this person—” 

“Oh, is it me?” David asks, cutting in. “It sounds like me!” 

“This person comes tearing into the place with a sweater that cost more than my rent and hands that would only stay still if they were locked in a straightjacket.” 

David’s eyes flick to his from where he’d been watching out across the lookout. “Oooh, it is me.” 

“I was helping somebody else, and he interrupted me. He started going on about how he owns the town, and that he needs somebody to list it for sale, so I tell him to wait his turn. He starts following me around, talking a mile a minute until finally, I march over to Ray’s ticket stub and pull out B13. I give it to him, and tell him he’s being annoying—to sit down and I’ll get to him when I get to him.” 

“Y’know, I bet he took that very well,” David says, “‘cause he sounds just delightful.” 

“He sat down, quietly waited his turn. But his eyebrows and facial expressions did all the talking for him, so when I finally called his number and asked what I could help him with he said, ‘Sell the town so I can get out of here and we never have to see each other again.’” 

“And you never sold the town.” 

“And the town never sold. That’s not where the story ends, though,” Patrick admits. He shifts to pull his wallet out of his pocket, opening one of the pockets and sliding out a small deli ticket—slightly faded, slightly wrinkled—and passing it to David. 

“Um… I can’t believe you kept this,” he finally says, running his finger over the weathered paper softly. Patrick watches as he traces B13. “You kept this in your wallet?” David glances up from the paper and locks his eyes with Patrick’s; he doesn’t even need to answer. When he repeats himself, it’s no longer a question, “You kept this in your wallet.” 

“Over three years.” Patrick reaches out and returns the ticket to its spot in his wallet. “I, uh. I was pretty annoyed after work that day. Frustrated that I hadn’t handled the situation better, frustrated that Ray was busy so I had to muddle my way through a real estate appointment. So I came on this hike, and that’s. Um—” Patrick blows out a breath and laughs an entirely unfunny laugh. “This is where I finally admitted to myself that I probably wouldn’t be so frustrated if I didn’t have feelings for this guy with the sweater. And I didn’t know what to do about it, because I was pretty sure this guy hated me, and then by the time he didn’t, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to muster of the courage to let him know that he’s the reason I figured out this huge part of who I am.” 

“Three years ,” David says, and for knowing someone as well as Patrick knows David, he really has no idea what he’s thinking right now. 

“Anyway, I got back to Ray’s the next day and found that slip of paper still laying on my desk, and I thought it might make me as brave as you seemed to be. But then you thought I liked your sister and you started hooking up with Stevie, and then I dated Ken, and I was happy, David. I was really happy being your friend while I tried to figure out who I was supposed to be.” 

David nods, clearly trying to blink back some tears, and Patrick lets him take a minute to digest everything before he continues. 

“David, this thing we’re doing here—me, you—I just want you to know that I’m in. I am all in.” 

When he says that, the tears are back in David’s eyes, but they seem like they may just be the good kind of tears. “Are… are you sure?” 

“Easiest decision of my life.” 

The groan that leaves David’s mouth when Patrick’s alarm goes off the next morning does nothing to help his erection. Neither does the swathes of David’s skin that are tangled up around him as he leans over to turn it off. Or the way those messy curls that David didn’t bother to fix after his shower last night tickle Patrick’s neck when David settles back on his chest. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Forgot to turn the alarm off.” 

“Bad alarm,” David grumbles. “Bad, bad alarm. What time is it?”

“Early.” 

“Hate early. Must kill early”

Patrick can’t help but stroke his fingers through David’s curls. Seeing them, along with David’s glasses as he crawled back into bed after a shortened skincare routine last night, had nearly made Patrick ready for a round two, refractory period be damned. 

He wakes David up slowly like that, fingers curling around his hair and connecting constellations of David’s moles with his other hand. Lips placing soft kisses wherever they can reach. 

“I can’t believe you kept that ticket stub,” David whispers eventually, and Patrick feels the tips of his ears turn pink. 

“You’re just lucky I never clean out my wallet.” 

“Mmm, nope.” David is shaking his head, lifting it off Patrick’s chest to look at him as he says, “Nope. You cannot take it back now. You’ve exposed yourself! You’ve been pining for me!” 

“I have not been pining,” he says with a chuckle, because it’s mostly true. At least if you disregard the last month or so. Sure, David may have been his sexual awakening. And sure, there were times when he wondered if there was more between them. But mostly it was just a reminder of being true to himself—a reminder that David gave him in more ways than just one ticket stub. 

“Cut you down in a forest and you’ll make a sound, honey, because it looks like pine to me.” 

At the term ‘honey’ being so casually thrown into conversation, Patrick is sure his eyes are doing very loud things so he shuts David up with a kiss. And then another. And by the time they clean up again, David is in serious need of some caffeine and Patrick realizes he’s out of coffee so they head down to the cafe.  If they hold hands the entire way there, Patrick decides it’s only to keep David safe on the stairs he hates. Not because now that he knows what it’s like to hold and be held by David Rose he’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to stop. Definitely not. 

He’s in such a bubble of David, David, David, that he almost doesn’t realize the group of people huddled together at the counter when they walk in. 

“I’m just saying, I think we should open up the floor for discussion about the possible negative ramifications of the general store owner and the town’s only business administrator dating,” Roland says. 

David draws to a quick stop, gasping. “That’s us.” 

“They’re talking about us,” Patrick agrees. 

“Now, as you all know,” Roland tells Twyla, Bob, Gwen, Ray, Ronnie, and probably a few other townspeople listening in from surrounding tables, “the relationship we have feared for some time has emerged, and we need to carefully consider whether or not we can support this.” 

“Oh, my god!” David says, still frozen in his place. 

Patrick’s mind immediately goes to a dark place, but everybody in Schitt’s Creek has been more than supportive of non-heteronoramtive relationships. And Ronnie may hate him, but she certainly loves her wife, so it must be something else—but what else is the question. 

“We’re right here, Roland!” 

“Yes, we see you, Patrick, and, as a member of the town, you two are welcome to voice your opinions.”

“Voice my—” he starts, but Roland continues talking over him. 

“Now, I will open up the floor for discussion.” 

Everyone starts murmuring, and Ray raises his hand, but Roland continues. “I’ll start. Pat’s accounting services and general business acumen is a staple of this town. Most of our businesses depend on him. And although Rose Apothecary just opened, personally I can’t go back to living without easy access to foot cream in our community.” Patrick and David exchange a look of disbelief. This town has always been a little… different. But this can’t be happening. “The co-mingling of these two establishments can only set the stage for disaster!” 

“What the hell is he talking about?” Patrick asks David. Maybe he’s having some sort of weird dream, and David will wake him up any minute. Waking up with David is good. 

“Well, he’s not happy with our co-mingling!” he says, shuddering. 

“Think of the consequences,” Roland continues as if he’s a judge presiding over court. Patrick is genuinely surprised he doesn’t have a gavel. “What will happen when this relationship goes sour, as, let’s face it, most of David’s relationships do?”

“Excuse me?” David asks, but nobody seems to be listening to the two people they’re discussing. 

“We’ll have to choose! Suddenly you’ll either be a ‘David’ or a ‘Patrick’ or, if you’re Bob and can’t make a decision to save your life, you’ll be neither.” 

“He’s probably right,” Bob admits, and Gwen nods along. 

“That’s bad for the economy, bad for the town,” Roland says. “I vote against this!” 

“Are they gonna make us break up?” David nearly shrieks, turning to face Patrick. 

“I think you’re overreacting, Roland,” Ronnie says. Patrick knows she’s standing up for David more than him, but he takes it anyway. 

“Do I have to remind you all about Twyla’s murder mystery party the year The Hunger Games came out? Team Peeta vs. Team Gale almost destroyed us. Peter and Gabe still don't talk!” 

“Oh, that was so fun!” Twyla says. She, at least, has the decency to turn to David and Patrick—neither of whom had lived here at the time—to explain. “It was like a murder mystery, but we hosted our own fake Hunger Games. We even had people who bet on the games like they were part of the capitol!” 

“And, for a while, it all worked very synergistically,” Ray says eagerly. “Everybody got very into it, and it seemed like Twyla was finally on to something…” 

“Yeah, until there were only two contestants left,” Ronnie chimes in. “The whole town split right down the middle, suddenly you could go to the Baker’s table or the Gatherer’s table.” 

“Oh, that was a nightmare,” Gwen remembers. 

“Par for the course for me,” Bob says. “Fruit and fudge both upset my tummy.” 

“Eventually the team Peetas won, but the hostility forced Twyla’s party to go on hiatus for 18 months,” Roland says. “Or was it five years?” 

“God, that sounds terrible,” David says. He turns to Patrick. “Maybe they have a point.” 

And, no. Patrick has waited too long for this. “No, they don’t have a point!” 

“Well, what if something happens?” 

“This is…” Patrick shakes his head and addresses the small crowd in front of him, “This has nothing to do with David owning the general store, or me working at Ray’s. I do not believe for a second that Twyla’s Hunger Games party affected the economy of this town one bit.” 

“Well, luckily for you, Joce made charts,” Roland says, pulling out his phone as if to call her. 

Patrick is fed up with this conversation. He’s never forgetting to restock his coffee again, but in the meantime, he walks up to the counter and yanks Roland’s phone out of his hand and disconnects the call. 

“This is my relationship. Mine!” He points to Roland. “Not yours,”—and continues pointing to Ray and Ronnie—“not yours, not yours.” He turns around, looks back to David and can’t help but smile a little bit at the shocked yet pleased look on his face. “Yours,” he says, pointing to him before returning to point at Bob and Gwen, “but not yours. Mine and David’s.” 

He steps back closer to David and gestures broadly at the rest of the restaurant, full of people paying attention now. “Not any of yours. There’s not going to be any more debating about whether or not it’s a good idea if we’re in a relationship, ‘cause we’re in a relationship.” 

“Show them the ticket stub!” David gleefully yells, unable to even try to keep his smile tucked into the side of his mouth any longer. 

“But in the event of a breakup,” Roland says, because he doesn’t know what’s good for him. 

Patrick doesn’t miss David’s wide eyes when he sternly states, “There’s not going to be a breakup. But in the case of a breakup, I’ll move. I’ll work remotely for Ray until you can find a replacement and I’ll go far, far away, and none of you will have to choose.” 

“Can we get your word on that?” Roland asks. 

“You can have my word and a couple of middle fingers,” Patrick says, and he watches David’s eyes go dark like they did just before they collapsed into his bed last night. If he plays his cards right, they might have just enough time to do that again. “Now, Twyla, can we please have an earl gray and caramel macchiato—skim, two sweeteners, and a sprinkle of cocoa powder—to go, please.” 

“Coming right up!” 

Patrick leads David a few steps away from everyone with a nervous chuckle as they wait for their drinks. 

“Wow,” David says. 

“Yeah,” Patrick breathes, “Are we… good?” 

David nods, “Easiest decision of my life.”