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EIGHT DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
Patrick watches the colour from David’s face drain precisely ten seconds after answering his phone. With a confused expression he slowly lowers the bottle of body milk back to the counter and moves carefully towards the register.
“What?” David chokes, eyes instantly reddening with the threat of tears. “Oh my god.”
Patrick places a comforting hand on the small of his fiancé’s back, studying his distressed face with concern.
“Babe,” Patrick whispers, and David grabs into his shoulder like he needs it to stay upright. He looks desperately into Patrick’s eyes and the sadness makes Patrick’s stomach drop.
“No, of course. I’m so sorry. Yeah, sure. Bye.” David drops the phone onto the counter with a clatter and covers his eyes with his hand.
“Honey, what...what’s going on?”
David sniffs and lowers his hand. “Our wedding venue burned down.”
“What?” Patrick gasps in disbelief, his chest heavy like he’s just been suckerpunched.
“There was an electrical fault with...Uhm...I don’t remember...but over half of the place has been charred and they have to close indefinitely.”
David bursts into tears, and the sob he lets out forces him into Patrick’s arms. Patrick holds him tightly, his own tears sliding silently down his cheeks as David sobs into his shoulder.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Patrick whispers.
\\\
“So there’s nothing they can do?” Stevie asks from behind the motel desk.
After the phone call, David completely broke. When he’d finished sobbing he shut down almost entirely, looking into the distance all lost and hopeless, unresponsive to Patrick’s soft comforts. Patrick closed up the store quickly and brought David straight to the motel to the (surprisingly) comforting warmth of Moira, who enclosed her arms around her son and shushed him gently.
Patrick shakes his head. “No. The ceremony area and the dinner hall are completely destroyed.”
“Shit,” Stevie whispers, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. “There’s gotta be some place you can find last minute.”
Patrick rests his elbows on the desk and hides his head in his hands. “Even if we could we sank all our spare money into the wedding. It was a whole package deal, venue, food, entertainment - everything was included at that lodge and it’s all gone and who knows when the refund will come through. I don’t know what I’m gonna to do.”
Stevie sighs and reaches out to touch Patrick’s shoulder and give a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure this out, okay? I promise.”
Patrick sniffles and blinks back tears. “Can you do me a favour and keep an eye on him? I have to get back to the store.”
“Of course,” Stevie replies, smiling weakly and giving Patrick’s shoulder another squeeze. He steps back and heads for the door, pausing when he gets there and turning back.
“And please tell him that I love him and I’m gonna marry him no matter what.”
Stevie’s eyes are kind as she chuckles to herself. “I will.”
///
When Patrick arrives back at the store, he’s surprised to see Herb Ertlinger loitering by the door. He’s checking his watch and peering inside when Patrick approaches, and he jumps back startled when he sees Patrick’s reflection in the window.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Brewer. Is your husband around?”
“Fiancé,” Patrick quickly corrects, the word making his heart sink at the very thought it might not happen next week. He unlocks the door and holds it open. “And no, David isn’t feeling well today. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was hoping to chat to David about our latest line of fruit wine. Watermelon is very popular this season and it could be a great asset to the store.”
Patrick sighs. David’s been dead against having Herb’s fruit wine in the store since his mother’s drunken commercial years ago, but Herb is nothing if not persistent. With each new concoction he tries to get David on board, but David has yet to give in.
“I don’t think David’s really going to be a fan, Herb, if I’m being honest,” Patrick says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Herb pulls a pink wine bottle from his jacket and sets it at the register. “I know I’m onto a winner this year. Since we’ve had to uproot half of our vineyard due to last year’s crow scare, I’ve had to get inventive and I know I’ve cracked it this time. Just give it a chance, ok?”
Patrick picks up the bottle and studies it. The design of the label is elegant, very minimal with a good font David would appreciate. If it really was half decent, he probably would have had something like this at the wedding.
The wedding...the wedding that probably won’t be happening now, unless through some miracle a free venue just pops up out of—
“Did you say you’ve had to uproot half your plants?” Patrick asks quickly.
“Yup. God, what an operation it was too. Getting the ground fertile again was a real task. It was more work than trying for our second child! We were just constantly—”
“You really don’t need to finish that sentence,” Patrick says. “So, would you say there’s enough space out there for an event? Say, a wedding, perhaps?”
Herb raises a skeptical brow. “What exactly are you getting at?”
So Patrick tells him the whole tragic tale, hoping to pull on as many heartstrings as possible as he recounts the events of the morning and his devastated husband to be.
“You have no idea how much it would mean to us,” Patrick pleas.
Herb folds his arms. “So you’d want use of my grounds for a whole afternoon and evening, for free?”
Patrick nods. “Yes. Yes, please. I’ll do anything.”
As soon as he says it, Patrick wants to take it back. Herb grins, bouncing excitedly as he swipes the bottle and cracks open the screw top.
“Oh, I’m sure I could think of something.”
Patrick ends up agreeing to sell the new watermelon wine in the store for the next six months, as well as serving it at the wedding - along with passion fruit champagne. And that’s not even the hard part. He also, for some unknown reason, agrees to get Moira to do another commercial.
As Patrick shakes Herb’s hand, his stomach knots. This is either going to be brilliant, or a complete and utter disaster. Either way, he’s got to try.
\\\
Stevie: Taken David to my place for whiskey and pizza. Come pick him up in a few hours so he doesn’t get too messy.
Patrick fires off a thank you text as he arrives at the motel. He’s glad David’s got a distraction. If Patrick’s got any chance of pulling this off, he’s going to need David distracted. He doesn’t think he could take that crushing look on his fiancé’s face if another wedding fell through.
As he’s about to knock on the Rose’s motel room door, it flies open to reveal a flustered looking Johnny Rose.
“Pat!” He smiles and then immediately frowns. “I’m so sorry to hear about the wedding. I wish there was something I could do.”
Patrick gives a small smile in return. “I know, Mr. Rose. Thank you.”
“Gee, I’d love to chat but I’ve got to dash. Roland’s trying to set up a Facebook page for the motel.”
“I was actually here to see Mrs. Rose.”
Johnny waves towards the room. “Well, go right on in, she’s just brushing Agatha.”
Before Patrick can look puzzled, Johnny rushes off in the direction of the office.
Inside, Mr. Rose sits at the table by the kitchenette, brushing a short auburn wig with a large roller in the fringe. She looks up with a sympathetic smile as she sees him, using the toe of her insanely high heeled boots to push out the seat opposite.
“Patrick, my dear,” she says, extending an open hand to the empty chair. “Come...have a seat.”
Patrick closes the door and takes the chair, feeling that Mrs. Rose is still feeling especially maternal after dealing with David for most of the day.
“Thank you for taking care of David today, Mrs. Rose. He’s been through a lot,” Patrick says honestly.
Mrs. Rose reaches over to squeeze Patrick’s wrist. “As have you, my dear. This whole business is just absolutely dreadful. I know how long you been planning this day. It’s all either of you has wittered on about for months now.”
Patrick presses his lips together and nods. “Yes. Well. We did put quite a lot of effort in.” Mrs. Rose nods. “But, I think I might have found a way to make it right.”
“Oh,”
“And I’m going to need your help.”
Mrs. Rose sighs. “Anything, my dear.”
///
“Absolutely not. No. No way. Amateurly direct me once, shame on you. Amateurly direct me twice - shame on me!” Mrs. Rose wails.
Patrick had tried to sound as pleasing as he felt, hoping compliments and right out flattery, along with her renewed maternal instinct, might sway her.
“Please,” he tries again, sounding as pathetic as he possibly can. “There’s no way he’ll give us the grounds otherwise.”
Mrs. Rose shakes her head. “No, I’m afraid you’ll have to find some other bargaining chip. I may not have my pride but I have my dignity.”
Patrick sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair. “Is there a bargaining chip as high valued as you and your talents?”
“Well, Patrick, of course not,” she says quietly and confidently, dropping her brush onto the table.
“And you’d be playing a vital role in the wedding, giving us a gift that’s priceless.”
“That would mean you’d have two gifts from me including the gift certificate from Blouse Barn I stole from David years ago for such an occasion.”
“Didn’t the Blouse Barn close three years ago?”
She waves him off. “That’s not important. What’s important is that I’m considering your offer to be in such a commercial for a return favour.”
Patrick blinks. “Favour? I thought it was a gift?”
“Half gift half favour,” she corrects, thinking for a moment before shooting it from her seat. “Oh, all right! I will indeed once again lend my timeless talents to that amateur in exchange for your participation in wig training.”
“Uhm,” Patrick swallows hard. “Wig training?”
It seems, for some reason, Mrs. Rose finds Patrick more trustworthy than the rest of her family or social circle. That, and his love of a good spreadsheet has not gone unnoticed. He should be flattered really - maybe - probably, but he can’t help but feel a little insulted when Mrs. Rose insists that he pulls extra attention to brush technique because his own hair is that of a fledgling city pigeon.
Reluctantly, he agrees. If Mrs. Rose is going to make herself extremely uncomfortable for the sake of the wedding then he can only do the same.
For the next two hours, Patrick’s brain in filled with the most detailed presentation of wig packing than he ever thought possible. Each wig bag has a higher thread count that all of his bedding, combined, and the cotton lined bags look like tiny, cozy coffins. It’s terrifying, to say the least, but ultimately pretty impressive. Patrick can’t help but admire the attention to detail.
“That’s enough for today, I think. Though there will be refresher courses every six to eight weeks,” she informs him.
Patrick pushes his chair back from the table, his mouth dry from all the preserving hairspray. “Thank you, Mrs. Rose. And you’ll email me over the spreadsheets for a review?”
Mrs. Rose smiles kindly and lays a soft hand in Patrick’s shoulder. “Of course. I trust you with everything important to me.”
Patrick can’t help but smile back, chest fluttering with pride.
\\\
SEVEN DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
If two weeks ago someone had told Patrick that he’d be starting his day off walking to Ronnie’s house to beg for help saving his wedding, he would have told them to go get checked out at the local vet’s - yet here he is.
It’s a sunny day, but there’s a nice early morning chill that makes it feel refreshing. He hasn’t been awake for long, just enough time to dress and kiss a still sleeping David goodbye.
Last night, after picking a slightly tipsy David up from Stevie’s, Patrick had held David close while they watched Notting Hill in bed. He kissed David softly each time David got a little clingy, and brought bags of snacks to the cocoon of blankets when he wanted food. He let David mourne, because even if Patrick did pull something off, it wouldn’t be the original wedding they had planned. Nothing would ever be that wedding, and whether it was meant to be or not, knowing that wedding was never going to happen was a loss.
Patrick shakes away the heavy thought and knocks on Ronnie’s door. She answers surprisingly fast, seeming annoyed by Patrick’s presence but amused that he startles back.
“Patrick, what are you doing on my doorstep this otherwise fine morning?” she asks, folding her arms.
Patrick gives his best smile. “Ronnie, you’re looking lovely this morning.”
Ronnie waves an impatient hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, get to it. I don’t have all day.”
So Patrick retells the whole tale from the beginning, speeding up when Ronnie looks bored and doing his best to appeal to the soft side he knows she secretly possesses.
“So you want me to call up my hard earned contacts and track down a full size marquee, with no notice and no payment?” Patrick nods. “Boy, you must be crazy.”
“Please, Ronnie,” Patrick begs. “I’ll do anything you need. I’ll work all my days off for you for as long as it would take.”
Ronnie tuts and rolls her eyes. “I don’t want your pasty face and clumsy hands anywhere near a construction job.” Patrick looks as pathetic as possible, eyes big and desperate. Ronnie huffs. “I may know a guy who owes me a favour.”
“Ronnie - thank you!”
“It’s not for nothing,” Ronnie starts, leaning against the doorframe. “My wife wanted me to paint the bedroom today while she’s away at her sister’s. I said I would but Bob just found six cases of beer in an old car and has a spare ticket to the Race Track since Gwen is taking up playing the panpipes. Can I trust you to paint a room and keep quiet around my wife?”
Patrick nods eagerly. “Yeah, of course. You got it, Ronnie.”
She shakes her head and steps aside.
///
When Ronnie gets back, five hours later, Patrick’s standing in the middle of a freshly painted seafoam green bedroom looking pretty impressed with himself.
“Y’know, that’s not half bad, Brewer.” Ronnie turns in slow circles as she regards the crisp clean walls. “If only you handled a bat as well as a brush.”
Patrick shrugs off the insult, favouring to admire his work instead. “Thanks. This is probably the first time I’ve ever not disappointed in a woman’s bedroom.”
Ronnie stares blankly at Patrick for a few long uncomfortable moments before throwing her head back to cackle unnervingly. “You’re alright, Brewer. You’re a pain in my ass and my wife spends too much money in your store, but you’re alright.”
Patrick doesn’t know what to do with his face. “Uh, thanks. Thanks, Ronnie.”
Ronnie waves him off and makes him swear on next season’s practice schedule that he won’t breathe a word to her wife, and then he’s back out the door and on his way home.
Ten minutes later, Patrick finds David on the couch huddled under a blanket and watching Dirty Dancing. He’s got an empty bag of Doritos in his hands and a somber look on his perfect face.
“Where have you been?” David asks, his voice small as he reaches out for Patrick who slides next to him on the couch and pulls David into his arms.
“Had to help Ronnie with something,” he says and David instantly shoots up a questioning brow.
“Don’t ask,” Patrick replies, hoping a defeated sigh will stop stop David from pressing the matter any further. It seems to work, and David settles against Patrick’s chest. Patrick drops a kiss to David’s forehead and run a comforting hand through his hair.
“I missed you,” David whispers, and Patrick kisses him again.
They comment on the movie once or twice and at the end Patrick sings Time of My Life into David’s ear until they both tear up. Then he takes David to bed and kisses him softly until they both fall asleep.
\\\
SIX DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
Jocelyn turns out to be a pretty hard nut to crack. Patrick had figured she’d be all too happy to help, but he finds her in the middle of a breakdown in the highschool gymnasium, waving around a clipboard and aggressively supporting students as they hang decorations.
“Oh, I don’t know, Patrick. The students worked real hard on these decorations and the school hasn’t really forgiven me for all the things I borrowed for Cabaret,” she says as Patrick hurries behind her. “I don’t think they’d be happy if I gave them all to you right after the dance.”
“Please, Jocelyn,” Patrick begs. “You’d really be saving my whole wedding, and I’d be forever in your debt. Whatever you need. I’ll babysit Roland Jr whenever you want, I’ll be in every play you direct. Please - I just want to do this for David.”
Jocelyn hugs the clipboard to her chest and sighs. “Oh, Patrick. I know you want to marry David more than anything.”
“I do, I really do. I love him.”
She bites her lip for a moment, studying Patrick’s desperate face. “Oh…alright.”
Patrick breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Jocelyn,” he smiles.
Jocelyn points a pen at him. “Okay, mister, but you have to promise to bring everything back intact.”
“I promise,” Patrick nods.
“And I also need another chaperone for the dance tonight - one of the parents had some bad sushi and hasn’t left the bathroom for two days.”
Patrick pulls a face but quickly smiles. “Yup, no problem. I’ll bring David. It might be good for him to get out of the house.”
Jocelyn squeezes Patrick’s arm lightly and the turns to reprimand a student making obscene shapes with the balloons.
///
It takes a while to convince David to go to the dance, and the thing finally sways him is the excuse to wear the suit he hasn’t worn since his mother’s birthday - as Schitt’s Creek is seriously lacking in the formal events department.
It’s only when they’re both checking each other’s ties that Patrick gets why it took so much convincing to get David to do this. David looks so sad as he smooths his hands down the lapels of Patrick’s jacket, and Patrick almost wants to blurt out what he’s planning but something could still go wrong. He can’t let David down like that, can’t see even more pain piled on top of those already sad eyes that glisten with forbidden tears as they stand before one another in formal attire.
“Did you go to your prom?” Patrick asks, desperate to take David’s mind someplace else.
David sighs and nods slowly. “I did. I got wasted before I arrived and threw up all of my friend. I don’t really remember much until I woke up in the gardener’s shed the next morning.”
Patrick laughs. “So you had a good night, then?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” he shrugs. “What about you?”
Patrick runs David’s slim tie through his fingers. “Well, there was no gardening shed but Rachel got pretty drunk on wine coolers afterwards. It wasn’t that much fun and to say it was a dance, there wasn’t that much dancing.”
“And you wanted to dance?” David asks softly.
Patrick stares at the tie and shrugs. “Things always felt less complicated when we danced. I liked that feeling,” he admits before glancing up to smile at David’s handsome face.
“You look gorgeous,” David beats him to say and Patrick hums and pecks at David’s lips a few times.
“Will you go to prom with me?” Patrick murmurs, sliding his arms around David’s waist and pulling him close. David smiles, a real genuine smile, and nods.
“Only if you promise to dance with me,” he replies. Patrick grins and kisses his fiancé, more determined than ever to make him his husband before the week is out.
\\\
The dance is actually a lot of fun and a great distraction for them both. David doesn’t even make any sarcastic comments about the decorations, instead commenting that silver and gold are very ’in’ this year and that they’ve done a lot with a small budget. Patrick breathes a sigh of relief, though he knows he’s still going to need extra help if he’s going to decorate a marquee with high school dance decorations and have it be anywhere near David’s standards. He’s definitely going to need to talk to Alexis.
“So, do we just stand here all night and watch like some creeps on a Crime Stoppers special?” David asks as he sips on his small plastic teacup of punch.
Patrick looks out across the dark dance floor covered in speckles of light and couples of teens, swaying together to some slow indie track. They look happy, nervous and youthful. They look exactly like kids are supposed to look at this stage in their lives, lost and content. Patrick envies them, envies them as though they’re getting a second chance at this. With a firm nod he takes David’s hand.
“Nope, not just watch,” he says, tugging David just a few steps towards the dance floor.
Fully expecting David to protest (even just a little), Patrick is delightfully surprised when David grins and easily slips his arms around Patrick’s neck. Patrick holds David’s hips and pulls him close, revelling in the warmth of his fiancés gorgeously dressed body.
“That was surprisingly painless,” Patrick smiles as they dip from side to side.
“If I can help you have fun at at least one high school dance then I will,” David says, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to Patrick’s cheek.
When David pulls back he looks a little sad, and it makes him look so vulnerable. For a moment, Patrick second guesses this whole night. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to get David all dressed up and bring him to an evening of young couples gazing at each other in a somewhat well decorated room.
“David, if this is too much,” Patrick tries you say, but David quickly sighs and shakes away his sullen expression.
“No, honey, it’s not,” David promises, petting the hair at the nape of Patrick’s neck. “I just love you so much, and I want you to have a nice night. Sometimes I just really wish that we would have found each other a lot sooner than we did - for both our sake. You wouldn’t have had to stand through so many boring dances.”
Patrick smiles brightly and twirls them around. “I would wait at a thousand crappy dances if I knew it led to you.”
David laughs and shakes his head. “I’m the king of rom coms and even I know that was corny.”
“Sorry,” Patrick grins.
“I’m not,” David says, this time twirling Patrick before pulling him back quickly for a kiss. He laughs, and Patrick enjoys the sound.
///
They stumble into their apartment in an avalanche of kisses and hands, pulling at each other’s jackets and ties. They spend most of the night dancing and whispering sweet things to each other than gradually caramelised into warm sticky promises of later.
“Did you spike the punch?” David murmurs into Patrick’s neck as he blindly slips the small buttons of Patrick’s shirt open.
“My dance moves must just - fuck - have that effect on you,” Patrick gasps, unbuckling David’s belt as he walks them in the direction of the bed. David sucks on Patrick’s pulse point as he thrusts against the touch.
The clothes are pulled and pushed in a well practiced routine until they’re sprawled naked on top of each other, warm skin pressed with cold fingers. David pins Patrick to the mattress with his hands gripping Patrick’s pale biceps as David bites at down Patrick’s jaw.
“You wanna get fucked on prom night?” David asks, settling himself between Patrick’s legs. Patrick keens and arches against him.
“God, yes,” Patrick groans, winding his legs around David’s waist. “Fuck me.” Patrick doesn’t know why he’s feeling so needy, but suddenly being completely wrapped in David is everything he needs. He’s been hiding so much from David this week that he just wants to open himself up, be completely pliable and transparent.
David opens Patrick with his mouth, sloppy and eager as he laps his wet tongue over and around Patrick’s hole. Patrick’s spine curls beneath the perfect brutality of David’s mouth, and soon he’s panting and whining, begging to be filled.
“I know, baby. I’m coming,” David promises as he slicks up his fingers with lube before pressing one inside of Patrick. He bends to suck at the head of Patrick’s cock as he works him open with one and then two fingers, until Patrick’s greedily pressing himself down onto David’s hand and thrusting up into his mouth.
David loves taking care of Patrick and giving him what he needs, and Patrick knows that. He wants David to know what he does to him, wants David to know how much Patrick needs him - mind, body and soul.
“Fuck, David. I love you so much,” Patrick breathes, tugging lightly at David’s hair until he backs off Patrick’s cock. David smirks and runs his tongue over the head to gather the pearls of precome. “Tease.”
David licks again and Patrick’s squirms. “You love it.”
Patrick’s hums. “Mm, usually, but I need you inside me. Please, fuck me.”
David pulls out his fingers and kisses Patrick, deep and hard with a hint of teeth. Patrick fumbles are his side for the discarded lube, squirting a generous amount into his hand and jerking David’s cock smoothly, grinning as David moans his approval. He leans up and guides David’s cock to his hole, David following all too willingly and smirking at Patrick’s impatience.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” David murmurs as he presses Patrick back down onto the bed.
“Someone keeps promising to fuck me,” Patrick shoots back. David’s eyes narrow and Patrick knows it’s Game On.
Minutes later, Patrick’s so glad he laid down the challenge as his hands are gripping helplessly wherever they can find purchase on David’s rolling body. He’s fucking Patrick within an inch of his sanity, pressing his knees apart as he drives into Patrick’s body with a pleasing force. Patrick buries his fingers into David’s hair, nails scraping against David’s scalp as he holds their faces together.
Patrick’s moaning with every thrust, and when he feels himself getting close he starts nodding to let David know. David grunts and presses forward, hips shifting and pistoning against Patrick’s prostate. “Yeah, fuck - make me come.”
David moans and goes hard, grabbing Patrick’s hips and hoisting him closer in a feat of strength he only ever uses in sex. It’s enough to push Patrick over the edge, and he comes untouched, calling David’s name until his throat tightens beneath the effort. David comes just as Patrick’s coming down, holding himself deep inside Patrick so he can fill him to the brim. He pulls out and collapses on top of Patrick, sweating and panting.
“I don’t think I can move,” David croaks, face buried in Patrick’s neck.
Patrick sighs and pets his fingers through David’s hair. “There’s no rush,” Patrick whispers, and he really does feel like he could stay here forever.
\\\
FIVE DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
Alexis turns out to be the easiest person to get on board, jumping and clapping around the side of the register to hug Patrick tight, but Patrick’s come this far that he demands she think of something in return. She settles on using the store for her Girl Boss Workshop once a month, and a free lip balm every other week. In return, she’ll help Patrick organise all the elements of the wedding as well as being in charge of arranging the high school decorations in the marquee.
“Don’t worry, little worker bee. The queen is here to help,” she smiles giddily as she boops Patrick’s nose twice.
“Thanks, Lex. Please don’t say anything to David. If this doesn’t work out I don’t want him to know we lost a second wedding.”
Alexis clutches her phone to her chest and presses her glossed lips into a tight smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little face. Alexis Rose Communications hasn’t failed a client yet.”
///
Twyla is as innocently deviant as always. She somehow manages to convince Patrick to stand in for Ted as her partner teaching yoga to the elderly couples at the old folks home, as well as agreeing to listen to her and Gwen’s piece on the panpipes they’ve been practicing for the next open mic night and offer his honest opinion.
In return, she’ll do a deep dive into the cafe’s freezer and pantries and throw together a buffet of all the items that’ll hold shape long enough through the ceremony.
“Thank you so much Twyla, you’re an absolute life saver,” Patrick gushes as he collects his and David’s lunches for the day.
“It’s my pleasure, Patrick. You’re really helping me out standing in for Ted. Now, make sure you wear something comfy to move it, but nothing too tight. Some of the ladies can get a bit handsy once the exercise endorphins kick in,” Twyla breezes, smiling brightly at Patrick like that’s the most normal sentence in the world.
“Right, uhm...okay…” Patrick swallows.
\\\
The only good thing about the whole ordeal of being put into ridiculously suggestive positions in front of a room full of seniors doing the same, is that Patrick comes home sweaty and warm and it seems to do something to David.
David’s been in a surprisingly good mood since the dance and he’s been extremely affectionate. Patrick’s not sure if this is one of the stages of grief or something, but he’s certainly not complaining as David attaches himself to his neck the second he walks through the door.
“Did you enjoy yoga?” David murmurs as he nibbles at the tender skin beneath Patrick’s jawline. “Learn any new positions you think would translate well to the bedroom?”
Patrick gasps as David’s hands tug at the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Well, there is this position called Downward Facing David…”
David snorts because it’s a terrible joke but still he pulls back to kiss Patrick with supple lips and sweeping tongue. Patrick clings to David’s shoulders and accepts the kiss, whining slightly when David pulls away. “Sounds fascinating, tell me more.”
They fuck with a frantic kind of energy, David on his hands and knees with Patrick’s hands blisteringly tight on his hips. David needily shoves himself back onto Patrick’s cock and Patrick lets him take everything he wants, whispering compliments that make David’s back arch. It’s rushed and messy and wonderfully cathartic, burning Patrick’s worries right out of his body until he’s spent and empty and cuddling David close to his chest.
///
FOUR DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
Once Ronnie confirms and double confirms the marquee, Patrick starts to get really fucking nervous. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he’s being selfish. Maybe he should let David know what’s going on. Maybe he’s just not meant to get married.
“You’re doing a wonderful thing, because you’re a sweet boy who’s trying to marry the love of his life. David will love whatever you do,” Marcy assures him over the phone in the afternoon. He’d only called to check his family were still coming to the new wedding, but he’d ended up spewing all his nerves down the phone instead.
With his mother’s reassurance and confirmation that the Brewer clan will be descending secretly and on time, Patrick finds himself standing in the lot of Bob’s Garage with Bob joyfully jogging over to him.
“Hey there, Pat. What can I do for you?”
He’s been telling this story so many times over the last few days he’s got it down to a fine fast art, and it’s less than sixty seconds before he’s asking Bob for use of his classic Rolls Royce he’s been fixing up.
“Well, gee, Patrick - I, uh- I’d love to help you out but the car needs detailing and today is my only day off and Uh, honestly, if I’m home late again I don’t think Gwen will let me in.”
“I can do it,” Patrick offers but Bob quickly pulls his mouth into a doubtful frown. “Ok, then. What have you got going on today? Maybe I can help with that.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I should probably wait for Johnny’s expertise. I can’t just let anyone get their paws on the business plan for Bob’s Bagels.”
Patrick’s soul soars and drops all at once. He takes a slow, deep breath and prepares for the longest afternoon of his life with time he just doesn’t have. But he has to make this work.
“Say, Bob… what do you know about spreadsheets?”
\\\
THREE DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
Patrick’s been in the bathroom for the last forty minutes cursing his life choices. His stomach knots again as he splashes water on his face before staring in the mirror at his paler than usual complexion.
“It’s for David, it’s for David, it’s for David,” he whispers to himself over and over again until he’s interrupted by a loud gurgling sound from deep within his guts. He groans, “Shit, fuck — God, will it ever end?”
It’s partly his own fault. He could have said no, he could have found something else to do for Ray in exchange for free photography, but Ray’s been so good to him (and David, really) over the years that he just couldn’t say no.
Which is how Patrick wound up agreeing to sample all six of Ray’s entries for the Elmdale Indian Cook Off, despite the fact that Patrick has never been good with spicy food since he vomited up spicy Mexican food in college until hot sauce came out of his nose.
But Ray had stood there looking so excited and hopeful, and he studied Patrick’s face closely as he sampled every dish - each one hotter than the last. It took Patrick’s best theatre skills to smile and sweat his way through, showering Ray in praise before driving home at breakneck speed.
Patrick shuts off the tap and practically flies back to the toilet, hoping to god this is over before David gets home. He wonders if he can convince David to have milk and bread and deep breaths for dinner.
///
TWO DAYS UNTIL ‘I DO’
Patrick leaves David organising a new display of scarves to sneak away to the town hall and the Jazzagals rehearsal under the pretence of something business-y (as David calls it). Patrick watches David’s content little smile from the street as he busies himself in the window of their store, being that kind of creative and wonderful he never gives himself enough credit for. Patrick only hopes he’s learned enough from the man he loves to build him a wedding that’ll make him as proud of Patrick as he is of David.
Jocelyn, Moira, Twyla and Ronnie glance at each other with knowing smirks as Patrick coughs to politely announce his presence. He shuffles into the room clutching the empty file he picked up in the back room of the store as a prop for his act and smiles brightly at the group.
“You guys sounded incredible! Really, just—”
“Ah, cut the flattery, Brewer. We all know why you’re here,” Ronnie interrupts, folding her sheet music and then her arms.
Moira twirls a strand of orange hair back into place and sighs. “I think what my cargo clad compadre is trying to say is - Good Afternoon, Patrick. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Patrick takes a deep breath, ready to launch into his well rehearsed speech, but after a pause he lets the breath out again slowly. He must look completely defeated and probably close to tears, because Twyla rushes over and wraps Patrick in a tight hug. He hugs her back hard, chin pressed into her shoulder as he squeezes his eyes shut tight.
“It’s been a long week, huh?” Twyla says softly before pulling away from the embrace. Patrick smiles weakly and nods.
Moira pulls out a chair and stands behind it, jewelled fingers clinging to the back. “Come, sweet Pat. Have a seat and some tea and we’ll discuss which compositions from our back catalogue would cast a mystical and harmonious atmosphere over your wedding.”
Patrick swallows. “And, and in return I can—”
“This one’s on us, short stop,” Ronnie interrupts and points to the chair.
Patrick sighs, already feeling a little lighter, and strolls over to the seat.
“Though there may be an ABBA tribute night next month we might need just a splash of musical assistance with,” Moira adds quietly and Patrick laughs.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replies as Jocelyn hands him a mug of hot tea.
\\\
ONE DAY UNTIL ‘I DO’
Patrick’s gotta hand it to Alexis and her perfect blend of encouraging compliments and sweet insults - because she really is all over every aspect of this wedding, pulling together the pieces Patrick has gathered and weaving them into something that might actually work.
“Wow, you really are the ultimate girl boss,” Patrick marvels as Alexis clutches an armful of print off wedding signs from Pinterest. She boops his nose and gently scolds him for ever thinking otherwise before dashing out of the motel office.
“If anyone knows the underlying swamp of David Rose’s crazy, it’s his sister,” Stevie says reassuringly from behind the desk. Patrick doesn’t answer, he doesn’t really hear, he’s too busy staring out the door trying to stomp down his panic. “Hey, you ok there?”
Patrick glances over quickly. “Yeah, yeah...I’m fine. I just-”
“Hope there are no naked flames around your second wedding venue?” Stevie adds helpfully.
“Something like that,” Patrick shrugs and Stevie reaches across the desk to offer a comforting arm squeeze.
“If there’s one thing I know about David, it’s that even through all his crazy, you’re the most important thing in his life.” She’s smiling so sincerely, which is definitely a rarity, and Patrick smiles back with nothing but warmth.
“I need a favour,” he says quietly and Stevie laughs.
“Don’t worry, I already got ordained on the internet last week. You really think I was going to let anyone else hand off my best friend to the man of his dreams at a surprise wedding?”
Patrick blinks for a few moments and then throws himself around the side of the desk so he can pull Stevie into a crushing hug.
///
“Are you going to finish that?” David asks, thrusting his plastic spoon in the direction of Patrick’s mint choc chip ice cream. Patrick smiles and slides the bowl across the tiny table for two.
“Have at it.”
David makes a small noise of delight and pokes his spoon into the soft green scoop and pops it into his mouth with a pleased hum. Patrick watches him eat with the same fond smile he always does, happy to see at least one piece of David back to normal.
When David looks up to find Patrick staring, David smiles nervously and pulls the spoon noisily from between his lips. He fidgets with the paper bowl for a moment before sighing.
“Thank you for dragging me out of the apartment,” David says quietly, nodding his head towards the ice cream parlour they’re currently sitting outside of. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a wreck lately.”
Patrick shakes his head. “No, you haven’t.” David gives him a look and he rolls his eyes. “It’s okay. It’s been a lot to process, for both of us.”
“I know, but you’ve still had to do everything. You’ve been running around so much taking care of the store and everything. I know I’ve been a lot for you, and I just wanted to say thank you for giving me and my crazy the space we needed.”
Patrick takes both of David’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together across the small tabletop. “David, you could never be too much for me, not ever. You’re the perfect amount of everything.”
David bites his lip and smiles. “Even crazy?”
“Yeah,” Patrick laughs. “Especially crazy.” He pulls David’s hands to his mouth and kisses the back of each one.
“I love you,” David says and Patrick presses another kiss to David left hand over one of his gold rings.
“I love you,” Patrick replies before gently lowering David’s hands back to the table. “Wanna go make fun of the badly dressed mannequins?”
David grins. “You know me so well.”
\\\
It’s pretty easy to distract David, and even Patrick finds himself somewhat distracted from the crippling worry of the wedding being out of his hands and the crushing anxiety that David will hate it. They wonder around Elmdale high street, shopping and snacking and making each other laugh as much as possible.
They settle on a cute little Italian place for dinner and share a giant pizza and a large glass of wine, ankles hooked together under the table like they always do on date night. It’s a cozy restaurant with not too many tables, and the soft lighting makes David look devine. Patrick has to stop himself from mentally dressing David in his wedding tux, because the image is making it hard to swallow.
It’s close to sunset when they step outside the restaurant, and though Patrick can feel his phone buzzing away with probably a thousand messages, he wraps an arm around David’s waist and pulls him close. They walk back to the car in a happy and content silence, never parting.
When they’re driving home, David keeps his hand on Patrick’s thigh, his thumb stroking along the denim in his usual telltale sign that he wants Patrick naked sometime soon. Patrick speeds up a little and doesn’t miss the smirk on David’s face.
///
Making love to David is one of Patrick’s favourite things in life. He loves it when they fuck, when they have fun and make each feel desired until they come - but making love to David is something else entirely. He gets lost in David’s body, completely surrounded by David’s long limbs as he pulls Patrick deeper into him. He sucks a soft spot on David’s neck and David groans, begging to be kissed again.
Patrick kisses and doesn’t stop kissing. He doesn’t stop kissing David when they come, doesn’t stop kissing David when they clean each other up, and he doesn’t stop kissing David as they lay together in the darkness and gently fall asleep.
\\\
THE BIG DAY
David doesn’t remember setting an alarm, but his phone is blaring an obnoxiously loud alarm from the bedside table. He groans and throws his arm out, hoping to hit Patrick’s shoulder and prod him awake so he can silence the offending noise, but his hand lands on an empty space in the sheets. He grips the cold material (Patrick’s been gone for a while) and blinks his eyes open.
He sits up slowly and groggily fumbles for the phone, shutting it off when he finally grasps it. He coughs and rubs the sleep from his eyes before blearily peering around the empty apartment.
“Hon?” He calls, thinking maybe Patrick’s in the bathroom, but there’s no reply. Instead he finds a post it note on Patrick’s pillow -
Look in the closet x
David flips the note between his fingers for a moment, waiting for his curiosity to override the fatigue. It doesn’t take long, and soon he’s striding to the closet and pulling it open. When he sees his wedding suit hanging on the door, he gasps, hand flying to his mouth. He’s almost forgotten what today was meant to be and now the sight of the metallic dark navy fabric with black floral embellishments is a stabbing reminder right in the center of his chest. Why would Patrick show this to him today?
There’s another note pinned to the lapel of the suit and David grasps at it quickly.
Answer the door
“What the?” David mumbles in confusion, only to be interrupted by insistent knocking on the apartment door. He double takes back to the suit and the note before dashing for the door. He throws it open to reveal his family all grinning eerily at him, dressed in their finest. Dressed in...their pre approved wedding attire.
Oh God. Did they all forget? Was David supposed to confirm the devastating cancellation of the wedding to the love of his life?
“Good morning, Mr VIG,” Alexis greets, prodding her limp hands in David’s direction. “That’s, Very Important Groom.”
David scoffs with shocked awe. “What the hell is going on here?”
Moira extends her arms dramatically, knocking Alexis out of the way as she strides inside the apartment and into David’s personal space. “My bébé Prince is about to become a King!”
“We’re so happy for you, son,” Johnny adds warmly, spilling into the apartment with Alexis.
“Okay, did you all collectively hit your heads or something?” David asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My wedding was cancelled, remember? Awful fire, shattered dreams, perfect floral arrangement gone to waste...any of this ringing any bells?”
“Actually, there’s been a change of venue, and some little worker elves have been hard at work,” Alexis says, jumping excitedly towards him.
David swallows hard, the rising anxiety the only thing assuring him that he is actually awake right now.
“Excuse me?”
Alexis shoos David before he can say any more. “We’re actually on a bit of a schedule so if you could hold all questions until the end and go put your suit on.”
Moira hands him the suit from the closet door and ushers him towards the bathroom. He trips and fumbles on his way, tumbling through the bathroom door and almost face planting the medicine cabinet.
“What the-” Alexis slams the door closed, cutting him off.
He looks at himself in the mirror. He feels dizzy and sick. He hasn’t prepared, his skin hasn’t been given the proper breathing time, his hair hasn’t been teased right for the last three days, he hasn’t detoxed or hydrated adequately - how is he supposed to just get ready?
Glancing from his reflection to the suit and back again, David thinks of Patrick’s face and sighs. He trusts Patrick, more than anything, so he’s going to put on the suit and just figure his hair out.
///
When they step outside and in front of a large black Rolls Royce, David jumps as though the luxury stings him. His heart thuds, stomach dropping when he sees dark blue ribbon and white ribbon threading from the hood to the windows. He wants to stare at it some more, but Alexis shoves him towards the door his father opens for them whilst furiously texting away on her phone.
Johnny drives the family the thirty minute ride, whistling gleefully the whole time. David watches the country roll by and tries to unfurl the tight knot in his stomach. Did the venue reopen? Did Patrick find a new one? What about the South East Asian catering and the sea foam pastel colouring of the table napkins? Did they survive the fire? Was he about to have some war torn, charred wedding?
Before David can get too far into his downward spiral, they arrive at a place David vaguely recognises. The car pulls up in front of a rustic looking building and what looks like a lot of fairy lights. He steps out of the car and follows the strings down to a path beneath a large marquee.
“What’s this?” He asks quietly, though he knows probably no one will answer him. He feels his father’s hand grasp one elbow and his mother the other, and he turns to regard them both with a calm smile despite the storm building inside.
“Come, gentlemen,” Moira says softly. “Let’s go for a little stroll, shall we?”
As they get closer to the marquee through what David now realises is a field of some kind, the image before him and the sounds of gentle mystical flutes becomes clearer and clearer. Wooden benches containing friends and loved ones lay either side an aisle of confetti, leading down to where his best friend, fiancé and his fiancé’s parents stands. A sob escapes David’s lips, happy and awe struck.
When they approach the edge of the aisle, David recognises the streamers and balloons that line the marquee. He laughs, shaking loose a few tears that fall onto his smile. Patrick looks golden, nervous and golden and like David could melt into him at the slightest touch. He looks incredible in his classic royal blue suit, just stunning and shiny. He looks so new but so like home, and David’s wants to flee down the aisle into his arms.
The tempo of the airy flute music changes to something a tad more commanding, and everyone turns to David. As he starts to walk, Patrick starts to tremble. He looks like he’s holding in a laugh or maybe a sob, either way his eyes are glistening. David keeps his elbows tucked tight, trapping his parents hands like they might leave him stand on his own. But then Patrick is right there and David reaches for him instantly, pulling him into a hug like he hasn’t seen him in weeks.
“Hey, you,” Patrick says softly and David pulls back, sniffling.
“What’s going on?” He looks around the marquee to the people and the lights and the musicians that - wait - “Why are Twyla and Gwen playing me down the aisle with panpipes?”
Patrick grins. “They’ve been practicing. They’re getting really good.”
“Right,” David nods. “So, you’ve been busy.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Patrick says, looking genuinely guilty. “I just took a chance and I didn’t want to upset you if it didn’t work but I had to try because I really want to marry you today.”
David feels completely grounded by the weight of Patrick’s care and devotion. He loves this man so much, more than he ever thought possible. Patrick never ceases to amaze him, always surpassing David’s expectations of how loving one human can be to another. He must be grinning, because Patrick’s beaming right back.
“Plus the stripper I hired for later was fully booked for the rest of the year,” Stevie interjects, peering over the top of her black binder.
Patrick laughs and then reaches for both of David’s hands. “So?”
David lets out a shaky breath as he contemplates everything Patrick is to him, how imperative he is to David’s existence in this world. He nods “Of course.”
Stevie grins and flips open the binder. “Are we ready to do this?”
X