17 + dealers choice
of flooded basements, midnight worries, and soft cookies
david/patrick │g │400-ish
“Ok, well… fuck.” At the sound of the words, David immediately snaps his head to look at Patrick. “What?”
“Nothing, I just - I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss,” David explains. “You know outside of the bedroom, it tends to be more of my realm, it doesn’t really go with…” he keeps a flat hand in the air as he gestures to Patrick’s person. “…all of it.”
“You know what, David? Maybe there is a time and a place to make fun of me for using a bad word, and maybe now is not that time?”
David feels his eyebrows climb up his forehead, both of his hands now in the air.
“Okay, fine,” he gives in. “…so how do we fix it?”
“I don’t know, David,” Patrick sighs, still a cut to his tone.
In theory, it had been a great idea - a fantastic idea, in fact. Fix up the basement of the Apothecary so that they can expand their business, and make it into a coffee shop/café. David has always found basements to be extremely cozy - when correctly decorated, of course. A counter, some soft lighting, some tables and sofas and chairs - it would be the new place to be. And it wouldn’t cause any friction with Twyla’s, because David and Patrick wouldn’t actually be selling any food. Just coffees, teas, and maybe the occasional soft cookie.
In reality, however - they’re currently standing in a half flooded, dark basement, listening to the devastatingly mocking sound of one of the pipes spitting out more water by the second.
“I’m gonna call Ronnie,” Patrick sighs, turning on his heel and walking back up the stairs. David moves out of the way, following Patrick with his eyes until he’s out of sight. Then he looks back at the pipe across the floor.
“Shut up.”
~~~
“It’s gonna be fine,” Patrick mumbles later that night. David turns his head, from where he’s laying on his back, fingers thrumming against his sternum. Patrick is still turned away from him.
“How did you know I’m even awake? You’re not looking at me,” David says, an accusatory hint to his tone.
“Husband’s intuition,” Patrick mumbles, before proceeding to flip himself over onto his other side, scooting closer to David until he can place his hand over his.
“I just - maybe it was a mistake. The apothecary is going so well -“
“Which is exactly why it is a good idea, David,” Patrick says, with a squeeze to his hand. “It’s gonna be fine - it’s gonna take a little bit longer, and it’s gonna be a little bit more expensive, but we can handle it. Ronnie says it’s not even difficult to fix.”
“I just-“
“David,” Patrick silences him. Because Patrick knows - he knows David better than David does. David doesn’t need to tell him all of the worries inside of his head - doesn’t need to tell him how he’s terrified of failing, because he feels like that’s all he ever did until Patrick and the store came into his life. Doesn’t need to tell him that his life feels perfect right now and that he sometimes, silently, secretly waits for the other shoe to drop. Doesn’t need to tell him that he still has voices inside of his head telling him that he’s not good enough, and that he never will be. He doesn’t need to tell Patrick any of that - because Patrick knows. “David,” he says again. This time with a hand in David’s hair - something he’s only allowed to do in the middle of the night, when there’s no product in it, no style for Patrick’s fingers to destroy. Carefully, he combs it back against the pillow, his eyes wandering over David’s face, taking in as much of the features as the moonlight allows him to. “It’s gonna be fine,” he promises, before pressing a chaste, warm kiss to his lips. “I promise,” he whispers.
~~~
Patrick is right - as is often the case.
Because three weeks later, they’re standing in a softly lit basement, not a leaking pipe in sight - and it looks even better than David had pictured. He has decided to keep the cement floor and the concrete brick walls mostly as they were, although it’s all painted white. The cold, rough floors and walls go well with the fluffy curtains that framed the small, rectangular windows that sit high up towards the ceiling. The fluffy rugs, big sofas, and large paintings also do a good job of making the space feel warm and inviting.
As does the large sign on the wall behind the counter. It matches the one above the front door, except this one is backlit with a soft, yellow light. The writing is bold, but simple. Rose Brewery.
“You ready for me to go up and let everybody in?” Patrick asks, with a squeeze to David’s shoulder. David takes a breath, and lets his eyes move over the room one last time, before finally, he nods.
“Yeah. Ready.”
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Hello, Witches! What are your guys' fave brewerrose recs with 80k and upwards words? I've just read Anything For Us by SweetSirius and I'm hooked with reading long fics!
Preferably not very heavy angst please 😅
Thank youuu!! ❤️❤️
There's really nothing like getting lost in a longfic!
We'd like to suggest spending some time with these:
A fair return - thingswithwings
favored nations - @blueink3
Going Down - @concannonfodder
I carry these heart-shapes only to you - @ladyflowdi, @ships-to-sail
I'd Swing With You for the Fences - @nontoxic-writes
Incorrect - @lisamc-21
Love at First Taste - @deenerann
My gambling days are gonna end like this - whetherwoman
Shall I stay? - alldaydream (@maybewecandreamalittle)
Sometimes, Home Is a Person - houdini74 (@mostlyinthemorning)
Such Great Heights - @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3
You are the only, only, only - @designatedgrape
You can fall - sweetsirius/@wordthieve
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