Chapter Text
David looked out the window of Rose Apothecary and grimaced at the onslaught of snow barreling down. If he didn’t operate the only place in Schitt’s Creek for people to buy blizzard essentials like scented candles and alpaca throws, he’d have stayed home and binged reality TV all day without having to brave the shit weather. But as the snow fell faster and the depth on the ground grew high enough to cover his shoes, he’d compromise and close early. He shot a quick text to Twyla so she could help spread the word to anyone coming in the cafe.
The bell over the door dinged. He looked up and grimaced again. The special, full-body grimace only one person brought out in him. “Roland. Hello.”
“Good afternoon, Davey. Staying dry?” Roland shook the snow off his coat and drops went flying all over the door and front display. It took all of David’s self control to not pelt the man with bottles of body milk, but that would make more of a mess than Roland’s barn-raised behavior created.
“I am. Staying indoors helps with that.”
Roland laughed, and David flared his nostrils. “Got any more of that massage oil?”
David plastered his customer service smile. “Sure do.” He hoped if he didn’t say anything else, Roland wouldn’t elaborate on its use.
“Joc and I have been going through that stuff almost as fast as the foot cream.”
Ew. “Glad you’re enjoying the products.” David retrieved one of the massage oils and rung the mayor up as fast as he could. The less face time with Roland the better.
After Roland left, his phone buzzed with a text from Stevie.
He launched Instagram to kill some time while he waited for Stevie’s guest to come by. The top notification was of a photo memory from two years ago, and he tapped it before his brain could sound the alarm.
David’s heart leapt in his throat as a photo of he and Patrick filled his phone. Their heads tilted together with David’s arm around Patrick’s shoulders, and Patrick’s arm around David’s waist. Huge smiles and red cheeks from the craft beer they’d been tasting for their college friend’s bachelor party.
The weekend everything had fallen apart. The weekend that the man David loved basically disappeared from his life with no thought for the decade they’d spent as best friends. One drunken kiss and Patrick had fled to Toronto like a Canada goose heading south for winter. With David moving to Schitt’s Creek and starting a business, it felt like an ocean separated them instead of a couple hour’s drive. At least he’d been busy enough with the store he’d barely had time to pine over the black hole in his life called Patrick Brewer. Well, barely meant nearly every night in the space between the bustle of the day and sleep always eluding him.
A kiss that he’d dreamt of since he’d met Patrick in college. A kiss that felt righter than anything in his life until the soft, pleased smile on Patrick’s face had morphed into shock. Until his closed eyes opened in panic. Until Patrick had made excuses as he rushed away and barely spoke to David the rest of the weekend. Until Patrick pretended David didn’t exist at their friend’s wedding the next month. Until Patrick got a job in Toronto and moved away without telling David. Finding out on Instagram had been so fucking fun.
Wasn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Two years may have dulled the pain of Patrick’s brutal rejection, but a deep ache grew steadily each day as the absence of Patrick in David’s life grew more noticeable. Each time Patrick’s birthday passed or they didn’t make their annual trip to see the cherry blossoms or when his phone stayed silent when Patrick would normally text a running commentary on the baseball draft thingie. Patrick had worked his way into every part of David’s life over the years, and now the patchwork of his life looked like Swiss cheese with Patrick-sized holes all over.
Meeting Stevie had helped, but a lot of the time he found himself wanting to tell Patrick about her or share stories about Patrick with Stevie. And dating in Schitt’s Creek? A fucking joke.
After one more lingering look at the smile no longer a part of his daily life, he closed Instagram and focused on getting a start on his closing tasks. Anything to get his brain thinking about something else. Even sweeping was preferable to moping over someone who didn’t care enough about him, or their friendship, to have a fucking conversation. David went back into the storeroom to retrieve the broom.
The entry bell dinged and he stepped through the curtain to greet Stevie’s motel guest.
“Hi, how can I—“ David froze as his breath left his body. He took in the familiar figure with snow on the shoulders of his blue parka and a toque pulled over his ears. “P-Patrick?” Surely it couldn’t be. Just another adorable man with red cheeks and owlish honey-whiskey eyes.
“Hi, David.” Patrick smiled tentatively at him. He knew that smile. It was the one he’d used plenty of times over the years when he wasn’t sure whether David would respond happily or have a meltdown in response to something Patrick was about to tell him.
A really fucking appropriate smile because David oscillated between wanting to wrap Patrick in his arms and throttle the hell out of him.
“Why are you here?” The words were harsh and short, but there was no way he’d be able to manage anything else.
Patrick stepped further into the store, but still hugged the entrance. “It’s good to see you.”
David leaned the broom against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “So good to see me that you couldn’t let me know you were going to just pop by after two years of radio silence?”
He had the grace to look chagrined. “The store looks amazing.” Patrick shoved his hands in his coat pockets and looked around.
“Thank you,” David managed. “You’re dodging my question.”
Patrick laughed. “Still calling me out on my shit, huh?”
“Obviously.” David wouldn’t be charmed by him. He worked quickly to erect as thirty-story walls around his heart as fast as he could. Before the curls peeking out under his toque could charm him or the pallid tone to his skin could worry him.
“Can I come in?”
“You’re literally already in here.”
Patrick sighed and his shoulders dropped like all hope and fight left him. David pressed his fingertips into the back of his arm to stop himself from going over and comforting him. “I was on my way to visit my parents and my tire went flat. I changed it to my spare, but didn’t want to go the rest of the way on that in this storm.” He shrugged. David had watched that shrug cover all kinds of sins over the years. “I was only about twenty minutes from here.”
“So you thought you’d pop into this tiny town and get a new tire instead of Elmdale or Elm Glen or, really, any of the other larger towns near here?”
Patrick took a step forward and lifted his chin. “I knew you lived here and owned this store. I decided to take a chance and see if you’d put me up for the night.”
David blinked. And blinked again. The guy had balls. “How did you know where I live?”
“Instagram.”
“O-okay.” David’s mind spun. Patrick still looked at his Instagram? He hadn’t seen his name pop up on the list of people who watched his stories, not like he checked every single time for Patrick’s name or anything.
“Do you have a bathroom? I’d like to dry off so I don’t keep dripping on your floor.”
David pointed to the back of the store. “There’s some towels under the sink.” Patrick offered a half smile as he passed by the counter. Once Patrick was out of sight, David scrambled for his phone.
The door chimed again.
“Hi, the woman at the motel sent me over? I hope I caught you before you closed.”
David nodded and slid his phone in his pocket. He noticed Patrick in his peripheral vision, but tried to ignore him as he helped the woman out. Patrick moved around the store, examining the products and managing to stay nearly opposite from David the whole time.
David’s hands shook slightly as he rang up the woman’s purchases. He asked her about where she’s from and why she’s in town, and nearly invited her to a game of Monopoly to delay the inevitable conversation with Patrick. As he watched the woman leave with a smile and a wave, his anxiety cranked up to twenty. He fiddled with the iPad for a moment.
A few items appeared in front of him on the counter and now gloveless fingers. David looked up. “I’d like to buy these.” Patrick had unzipped his coat, which was, thankfully, no longer dripping on his floor.
Shampoo, facial moisturizer, and hand lotion. David cleared his throat. “Would you like a gift receipt?”
“No, thanks. They’re for me.”
David’s head snapped up. “For you?”
Patrick shrugged. “You always told me I needed to treat my skin and hair better.”
“And you think buying incorrect things are going to do it?” David pressed his lips together before he said anything else or before he commented on the new twinkle in Patrick’s eyes. His body ached to lean across the counter and pull Patrick into a long hug. Purely muscle memory or something.
“Will you help me pick out the right things?”
David finally got a good look at Patrick with only the counter separating them. Two years probably weren’t long enough to show on someone’s face, but he couldn’t help but notice dark under-eye bags on his pale skin. He expected the crinkles at his eyes to be more pronounced as Patrick had always been so quick to laugh deeply and often, but they looked the same.
“Yes. I can’t have you fucking up your skin and hair further and it reflecting poorly on my store.”
One side of Patrick’s mouth quirked up into that little smile he had always used when he was particularly fond of David’s antics. His knees nearly gave out at the sight.
“Right. Well.” He grabbed the items and began moving around the store as though he was simply helping any random customer. Not Patrick. The man who David had randomly sat next to in the intro to business course he’d taken his first semester of college to meet his general education requirements. The man who’d sat next to David that same afternoon in a drawing 101 course Patrick needed for his own gen eds. They’d become fast friends and tutored each other through the semester. But it was the classes they’d continued taking together throughout college that had cemented their lifelong friendship. Or, at least, David had assumed it would be lifelong like a chump.
Two years ago, he would have sworn nothing could have gotten between them. They’d survived all the assholes David dated and Patrick’s on-again-off-again with Rachel. But David kissing Patrick (or Patrick kissing David, it was still unclear) on a trip had been too fucking much for Patrick Brewer. David could have moved on. Somehow. Shoved the feelings of how right Patrick’s lips against his felt, how great his hands felt around his waist, how Patrick’s happy sigh sounded to his ears. Shoved those feelings right into a locked box alongside his unrequited love for the baseball-loving numbers nerd.
He could have moved on and saved their friendship, but at the end of the day, being in each other’s lives mattered more to David than Patrick. And he’d made his peace with that. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not at all.
“We both know you have curly hair, and we both know you’ve never listened to my advice on caring for that. Please, for the love of God, use shampoo for curly hair.” He swapped the shampoo bottle out and didn’t look at Patrick. “Using moisturizer for oily skin on your dry skin is a crime. Not on my watch.” He almost felt normal, like the last two years hadn’t happened. Teasing Patrick was as natural as breathing. And fuck, it cracked his heart wide open. Bleeding all his boxed up feelings all over the floor at Rose Apothecary. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he swapped out the moisturizer bottle. “I don’t know why I picked up the hand lotion. You’re an adult and can make your own choices on what you like. What smell you or your, um, whoever, likes.”
“What scent do you like?” Patrick’s voice cracked. “Or recommend.”
David’s back was to Patrick, so he took the opportunity to squeeze his eyes closed and think for a moment, just one second of fantasy for an alternate life where Patrick took David’s likes into consideration for his lotion and cologne and aftershave purchases. Where that kiss had meant something to both of them and they’d finally started dating. That they’d been together the last two years. Squashing down the shame, he changed the grapefruit and mint lotion for the sage and sandalwood. “This one smells great. I think you’ll like it. You always seemed to gravitate toward earthy scents too.”
Squaring his shoulders and holding his head high, he returned to the register. He could do this. He could ring Patrick up, take him back to his place and make awkward small talk for a couple of hours until he faked a headache to go to sleep early. In his studio apartment where Patrick would be too damn close the entire night. Fuck. Fuck! Maybe if he got lucky, Patrick would be gone before he woke up, so he could spend the rest of the day (week? month? life?) trying to pretend Patrick’s abrupt arrival was a fever dream.
All he had to do was steer clear of discussing the incident, happy memories, his anguish, any memories, really. Easy peasy. If only he’d actually paid attention all the times Patrick had tried to teach him about sports, he’d be able to keep Patrick on safe topics all night.
Patrick unscrewed the hand lotion cap and sniffed. “You’re right. That smells great. Thank you.”
“Mmhmm.” He rung Patrick up in silence, decidedly not giving him the friends and family discount. Patrick was lucky he didn’t get a former-best-friend-who-abandoned-him-like-trash markup. He put the items in a tote bag so Patrick got the full Rose Apothecary experience and could see how well David was doing.
With the transaction complete, David clasped his fingers together on the counter and looked out the window. His mind whirred with a thousand thoughts out of reach. He felt almost trapped in his body and unable to decide on one thought. One action to carry him through to the conclusion of the torture. His anxiety could be such a prick.
“What time do you close?”
Right. Close. He was going to close. “Um, usually six, but I was going to close early because of that.” He waved a hand toward the window.
“Put me to work.” Patrick took off his toque and, shit, David hadn’t had enough time to brace himself to see Patrick with a mop of wet curls on his head. He hadn’t seen his hair that long since… since college. After they’d graduated, a tidy corporate haircut became the go-to Patrick chic. Patrick ruffled his hair, and David winced at the callous mistreatment of curls and the drops flying off his head in David’s direction.
“You could use one of those towels on your hair.” He pointedly looked at the drops of water on the counter. Annoyance was safer territory than curl pining. Because running his fingers through those curls would be so goddamn—
“Sorry. I’ll grab a towel and clean that up. What else can I do?” As always, Patrick brushed off David’s attitude. “Want me to sweep?” He gestured toward the broom propped up beside David.
“Uh, sure. Thanks.”
“Least I could do for you putting me up tonight.” He flashed David a quick, closed-mouth smile as he walked to the bathroom.
Though David hadn’t actually agree, they both knew he didn’t have a choice in the situation. Patrick knew David never appreciated being cornered. Then again, the masochist in him was so fucking happy to see Patrick again. Nope. NO. No way. Not going there. Not yet. Not until Patrick’s brake lights were well beyond the Schitt’s Creek sign.
David walked over to flip the sign to closed and lock the door.
“What should I do with the towels?”
“We’ll bring them back with us and I’ll throw them in the laundry at home.” We’ll. Home. Ugh.
Patrick wiped down the counter and grabbed the broom. David walked over to the counter and began going through his closing process on the iPad. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Patrick used a dirty towel to wipe the worst of the wet spots off the floor near the door, including wiping up Roland’s mess, then wrapped the less dirty towel around the dirtier one. Thoughtful asshole.
He dragged out the process as long as he could, but the worsening weather and darkening skies forced him to quit stalling. It’s just that silence in the store was justified. Silence in his tiny studio with Patrick would be… awkward.
Patrick walked around the store and straightened things like he owned the place. David left crescent-shaped marks on his forefinger as he dug his thumbnail into the flesh. He did his best to ignore the image of Patrick running the store with him. Dealing with all the paperwork and taxes and accounting and all the shit David hated and Patrick was great at.
With a final pass through the store to make note of what to restock in the morning, he paused at the hair products. Before he could talk himself out of it, David picked up a jar of the pomade he used. “Here.” He avoided Patrick’s fingertips when he passed him the jar.
“What’s this?”
“If you’re going to insist on having longer hair, the least you could do is honor the curls you were born with by styling them. Air drying is not a style.”
“Okay, David.” Okay, David. Those two words sent a knife right through his sternum. If he weren’t about ready to crumple over from the pain, he’d be smiling because, like one of Pavlov’s dogs. The way Patrick said those words always pulled a reluctant smile fro him. But not today. Not this David Rose. Patrick looked at him with wide eyes. The little shit knew it too. What the hell was he doing? Trying to inflict as much damage as he could before fleeing town? He wished he could believe Patrick was that malicious, but he wasn’t. He was a great man. Scared, a shit communicator, and someone who ran when things got tough. But David wasn’t perfect either. He could read Patrick like an open book and instinctively knew the last two years had been just as hard on him, but David wasn’t about to set his own grief and anger aside to make Patrick feel better. If Patrick wanted something to change, he had to fucking work for it.
Fuck. He was already rationalizing. He needed to get the night over with.
Patrick reached into his back pocket.
“Nope. On the house.” Paying it forward to whoever got to enjoy those curls in all their glory.
Patrick frowned. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He walked into the storeroom to suit up for the cold. A couple minutes later, he returned to the front. He ignored the soft smile on Patrick’s face as he took in David all bundled up with a toque on. “Do you want to leave your car here and ride with me or follow me?”
“How far away do you live?”
“I live close enough that I should be embarrassed by driving, but in this weather, I’m not walking.”
Patrick smirked. “I’ll ride with you so my car stays closer to the garage. In case something happens to the spare.”
David nodded and turned off the lights. “My car is out back. I’ll drive us around to your car so you can grab whatever you need.” He felt Patrick walking behind him. Pushing open the back door, David walked toward a night with Patrick.