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It’s not often that Patrick wakes with a panic. His alarm went off at his usual 7:30, which would be all fine and great except for the fact that it’s David’s birthday, meaning he has an exorbitant list of tasks to complete, all before he has to open the store. Already rearranging the day’s plans in his head to make up for that lost hour, he’s decided David can live with muffins from the café instead of the new bakery in Elmdale, which would be more than made up for if he drives the extra twenty minutes to the pizza place in Elm Glen instead of their usual in Elmdale. It’s not ideal, but it’ll be fine.
Stevie will pick up the cake from Ivan before she comes over for dinner and drinks and Alexis is scheduled to FaceTime during lunch; Patrick even managed to perfectly time when the Roses will call so that it will fall just after Moira finishes shooting for the day and definitely after David has a few drinks in him. Everything else will be fine, so long as Patrick can recover from the rough start to the day.
What he will absolutely not sacrifice, however, is David’s morning blow job that will, quite frankly, serve them both well. David will no doubtedly fall back asleep afterwards - with a soft, content little smile on his face that does all sorts of things to Patrick’s insides - giving Patrick enough time to prepare his coffee and run to the café before David actually wakes up for the day, rumpled, affectionately clingy, and only slightly grumpy.
He turns over onto his side, ready to pepper his husband with kisses until he slips into some form of consciousness. He reaches his arm to wrap around David’s waist and hits cold air. Patrick stares at his arm on David’s empty side of the mattress, utterly confused. The sheets are too cold for him to have gotten up to use the bathroom and he can’t hear the shower running, so unless his husband decided to leave him in the middle of the night - which is highly unlikely considering he knows firsthand just how much David loves birthday sex - David’s missing. Great.
Instead of a day filled with gushing over his husband, great food, and physical attention (Patrick knows that isn’t too far off from a normal day, but the ambiance of a birthday makes it more special), he will have to send out a search party and go down the list of their contacts to make calls and ask everyone they know when they last saw David.
He sighs into his pillow and jumps up with a mumbled okay as he moves to grab his clothes from the dresser, deciding that locating David takes precedence over a shower. A cursory five minutes later, his teeth are brushed, his face looks somewhat presentable, and he’s donned his sweater, jeans, and socks. He goes to grab his phone from where it was charging on his nightstand when he notices David’s phone plugged in on the end table by the seat in the corner.
Patrick woke up an hour late and his husband is missing without his phone, all on David’s birthday; if this is the first fifteen minutes of his day, he really doesn’t want to find out what could happen in the next thirteen or so hours.
He all but flings himself down the stairs, phone already out of his pocket to text Stevie about David’s whereabouts. He’ll go to the café, then check the store and Moira’s garden in case David is just missing his family-
“Oh fuck!”
Patrick snaps his head up so fast he stumbles a little, barely catching himself on the wall on the bottom of the staircase.
David grimaces, reaching out to smooth his hands over Patrick’s arms. “Sorry,” he says, much more softly this time, “you were supposed to be asleep for another twenty minutes.” He shrugs sheepishly and there’s a little glint in his eye, something nervous and a little amused.
“David, what-”
“I know, I know,” he soothes as he pats and rubs at Patrick’s shoulders. “It’s way later than you like to get up when you have to open, but you looked so peaceful sleeping and- wait. You’re dressed? Your alarm went off like fifteen minutes ago.”
David’s brows are scrunched up in confusion and his lips protrude in a little pout that Patrick can’t help but want to kiss. Much to his chagrin, kissing will have to wait until he figures out what the hell is going on.
“I thought you were missing,” he says slowly, the corner of his mouth ticking up as he watches David’s face pinch up, “so I was going to go look for you.”
David’s hands continue their journey across Patrick’s arms and shoulders, settling finally on his chest. “Why would I be missing?”
Patrick sighs, not liking when his own irrationality is pointed back at him. “I don’t know, David. I woke up and you weren’t there.” He mutters that last bit, the initial adrenaline of his first waking moments subsiding into tiredness.
“While that is very sweet, I promise I was down here the entire time. I figured you were planning some marathon trip this morning, so I wanted to get up early enough to- ugh, just come on.”
With a huff, David tugs at Patrick’s wrists, one hand slipping down to lace their fingers together. “Wait!” David stops abruptly before the entrance to their kitchen, causing Patrick to bump into him.
“What?”
“Just- you. Stay here.” He cements Patrick's position with slight adjustments to the angle he’s standing at, patting his shoulders before continuing into the kitchen.
Patrick rolls his eyes at his husband’s antics, noticing he’s probably overcompensated for waking up earlier than normal with far more coffee than is healthy. “David, what are you doing,” he shouts through the doorway.
“Just gimme a sec! Okay, okay - you can come in!”
Patrick crosses the threshold to their kitchen, expecting to see a failed attempt at a homemade breakfast with dishes piling in the sink and broken who-knows-what. It’s not that, not at all. David stands by the counter, a big white box in hand, a bashful grin on his face.
“David, what is this?” he asks gently.
“Happy anniversary, honey,” is all David says in response, his tone soft and so full of tenderness.
He flips open the box when Patrick steps up close enough, revealing an oversized, heart-shaped cookie with pink frosting spelling out 16 Years!
Patrick’s breath hitches and his hand tremors as he reaches out to touch the box, David’s eyes, soft and open and loving, on him all the while. “We’ve only been married 14 years in September, David.” He tries for teasing but he misses by a mile.
“I know, but this is officially the longest relationship you’ve ever had, marriage or not, so.” He flips his hand back, but Patrick catches it, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss each of the engagement rings he put there 14 years prior.
“David.” It’s all he can say, because he can’t be expected to say anything else, like any other word could possibly contain the amount of love and awe he feels for the man in front of him.
David, functioning at a much higher capacity, gently places the cookie down on the counter before stepping into Patrick’s space and cupping his face between his hands. He reaches up to hold David’s wrists, turning to kiss his left palm. Leaning his forehead against David’s, he lets out a shaky breath.
David’s thumbs stroke across his cheekbones, gently whispering, “I know, honey. I know,” layering the words with kisses wherever he can reach them. The left corner of Patrick’s mouth. His chin. The tip of his nose. His cupid’s bow. “I love you, Patrick. So much.”
Patrick doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his ridiculous, thoughtful husband. Instead, he winds his arms around David’s back, clutching at him until there is no semblance of space between them. He kisses his spot on David’s neck and his husband’s arms wrap around his shoulders, matching the weight and depth of his strength. “I love you, David.”
They sway gently in their kitchen, in this home that they built for their life together that they fought for, and, not for the first time since that night 16 years ago in Patrick’s car, he feels settled, right.