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flowerfan2 · 3 years

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David x Patrick, 40k so far, A03 (read from the beginning here)

It starts with a reunion... but what happens after that?

Chapter 13

Monday morning after his run David goes into the office, closes the door, and gets to work. He spends a little bit of time figuring out whether he needs a printer (no), and if there are any office supplies he can order from Amazon and charge to the company (possibly; a larger monitor would be nice, and they aren’t actually that expensive). The desk and chair are functional enough, although they probably weren’t meant to be used for actual nine to five activity, and David is going to feel it in his back before the day is over.

He reluctantly logs on and starts checking emails. There’s a bunch from last week that he needs to deal with, and he messages Rory to see if he can respond to some of them. At ten there’s a meeting with a vendor over Zoom (and yes, he thinks, I am capable of using Zoom, Stevie), and by eleven o’clock, he’s bored.

It’s not that his job is bad, or even difficult. It’s just boring. Although he’s still involved with the type of products he enjoyed selling at the Apothecary, most of the joy has gone out of it. Now bringing in a new product means finding some way to convince the hotel operations staff that they can use it, and there are only so many travel size toiletries that a motel chain can give out without losing money.

When Patrick knocks on his door at noon, he’s more than ready to take a break. They bring their lunches out onto the lanai, Patrick rocking back and forth on the chair as David eats the delicious salad Patrick has prepared.

“I should have known you’d appreciate the grapes,” Patrick says, smiling as David takes another forkful.

“And the goat cheese,” David says, his mouth full. “It’s quite good. This can’t have come from the Publix.”

“No, I went to the farmer’s market in town,” Patrick says. “There’s a guy there with some really nice cheeses. From his own goats.”

David narrows his eyes at Patrick. “Are you being serious?”

“What, you think there can’t be goats in Florida?”

“It just doesn’t seem very on theme.”

“You’d rather they try to make cheese from alligators, or dolphins? I don’t think it would work.”

“Shut up.”

“People used to eat the armadillos, but now they give you the plague, so you won’t find that at the farm stand.”

David stares at Patrick. “Now you’re definitely making things up.”

“Nope.” Patrick grins at him, then takes a long sip of his iced tea. “So, how’s work?”

David opens his mouth to complain about how bored he is, and then shuts it again. He has no right to complain, he’s still involved with RA, he’s still employed. Patrick is neither.

Patrick sees exactly what’s going on. “It’s okay. I can take it. What craziness are the vendors trying to pull today?”

David hesitates, but Patrick’s face is open and he’s genuinely interested. He launches into his tale of woe, the repetitiveness and the limits and the damn corporate frames, and all of a sudden he’s out of breath, sitting back in his chair with his jaw on the floor.

“Sorry. I guess it’s been grating on me for a while. I didn’t mean to spew that all over you.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it.” Patrick shrugs. “I wasn’t able to find anything I liked doing as much as our store. It’s different, I guess, when you’re in charge.”

David smirks. “When who was in charge?”

“Fine – when we were in charge.” Patrick’s face changes, and David can feel it in his chest. “It was ours. Together.”

That’s the rub, isn’t it? Rose Apothecary wasn’t just the ideal place to express his creative side through high-end bath products, it was a labor of love with the love of his life. Together.

*****

“Ugh, David, why won’t you help?”

“Alexis, for the hundredth time, I can’t magically lower your rent. I’m already working for you for a fraction of what my time is worth. If you’re not making enough money and you don’t want to live somewhere our parents already own, get a real job.”

“Every time I run the numbers it looks like it should work out. I don’t know why my projects never make what they say they will.”

“What who says they will?”

“My spreadsheets!”

Like a genie responding to his name, Patrick sticks his head in the door to the office, an Amazon box in his hand. His eyes go wide when he sees Alexis on the screen. “David, um, this came for you, I didn’t know if you’d need it…”

“Oooh, thanks.” David’s pretty sure the package contains the sketch pads and colored pencils he ordered. He was planning on expensing them to the account he’s working on with Alexis, but it sounds like now is not the time to discuss it.

He stands up and goes to Patrick, taking the box from him and putting it on the couch, then reaching out to link his arm through Patrick’s. Patrick is possibly even paler than usual, and seems to have lost the power of speech as he stares at Alexis. She’s staring back at him, her hands frozen in whatever little flingy motions she was making when she caught sight of Patrick.

“So, this is incredibly awkward,” David says, looking between the two of them. “What do we say we just move past it?”

Alexis recovers first, her need to disagree with David overpowering her distress. “David,” she starts, tossing her hair and shaking her head in an effort to get herself on track. “It’s not awkward. We’re fine. Peachy. Right, Patrick?”

David moves them a little closer to his laptop, and guides Patrick to sit down in the chair. “Yeah, um. Hi, Alexis.”

Alexis twists a lock of hair around a finger and leans in close, peering at Patrick through the screen. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” she says, gently sincere.

Patrick’s hand flies up to his head, as if he had forgotten all about his wound. “Is it that noticeable?”

“It’s not, not really.” David slides his arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “I’m sure she can’t even see anything,” he says softly into his ear. “She only knows because I told her about it.”

Patrick looks up at David a little helplessly, and David can’t help leaning in and kissing him, a hand on his cheek, not letting up even as Alexis sighs loudly at them.

“Eat nails, Alexis,” he says, without much venom.

“I’m not mad,” Alexis says. “I get it. You’re each others’ locks.”

Patrick blinks at her, confused. “We can’t both be locks.”

“Whatever, you’re the key that goes in his lock, you know what I mean.”

“That’s quite an assumption,” David says, struggling to keep his face straight.

“Eew, David, shut up.”

“You started it.”

“I don’t care, you still have to help me figure this out!”

Patrick shifts, sitting up a little taller. With a quick glance at David, he enters the fray. “Did I hear you say you were having problems with your budgeting spreadsheets?”

*****

David’s in the living room, waiting for Patrick to finish talking with Alexis and possibly reveal that she needs to declare bankruptcy, when the landline in the kitchen rings. Figuring it might be the hurricane screen guys (who he needs to be nicer to, they could be saving their lives) he scoots off the couch and hustles into the kitchen to pick it up. When he hears the voice on the other end, he really wishes he had let it go to voice mail.

It’s not the hurricane screen guys. It’s Marcy Brewer.

“David? Is that you?”

He imagines hanging up, but that would be unfathomably rude, and this is Patrick’s mom. Who David hasn’t spoken to in over three years. Who probably hates him for leaving Patrick.

“Um, yes, hi, hello.”

“It’s so nice to hear your voice,” Marcy says. Sounds fake, but whatever. “How are you?”

David rocks his head back and wonders how on earth he could have gotten into this situation again – he’s not going to be mistaken for Patrick’s business partner this time around, but do Marcy and Clint know they’re back together? At least Marcy doesn’t seem to be surprised that David is at their house picking up the phone.

“I’m good, thanks. How about you?” he responds, the standard phrases giving him a moment to catch his breath.

“Oh, we’re fine. What have you and Patrick been up to?” Marcy sounds friendly, interested. Not at all like she wishes David was suffering in the deepest levels of hell.

David forces himself to try to respond to her question, and then nearly laughs, given that they haven’t been “up to” anything nearly as raunchy as Marcy probably expects. Best to escape as soon as possible. “Not much – hang on, let me get Patrick.”

“David, wait,” Marcy says, and David does, pressing a hand over his eyes and hoping that this isn’t the scolding he was expecting. Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s really not looking forward to it.

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to say that Clint and I are so pleased that you two boys are giving it another go. Patrick’s never been as happy as he was when you were together.”

David’s throat gets tight. He’d like to think that’s true. Patrick seemed happy, at least most of the time. He had said he was. But then how does he explain the whole Mark thing?

“It probably seems hard, but we have faith in you,” Marcy continues. “We saw what the two of you had. It was something special.”

“It was,” David says, Marcy’s kind words demanding an answer. “You have to know, he made me happy too. Happier than I ever thought I’d be. But I blew it, I screwed it up…” David has no idea why these words are falling out of his mouth, it’s some kind of effect that Brewers have on him, it’s horrible.

“Don’t beat yourself up, dear. Sometimes getting everything you ever wanted can be overwhelming. Patrick wasn’t used to that either, you realize. The important thing is that you’re both trying again, and learning from what happened before. You’ll make it work this time.”

David lets out a long, slow breath. From your mouth to god’s ears, Marcy. “Do you really think so?”

“I do. I have a good feeling about this. I know my boy. It can take him a while to figure out what he wants, but when he does, look out.”

David laughs weakly. “Is that a good thing?”

“Well, do you want to be with him?”

He’s positive that there aren’t words in spoken language to fully express how much he wants to be with Patrick. “Yes.”

“Then it’s good. Because Patrick is sure about you. Let yourself be sure about him. Not everything has to end in disaster.”

David wants to argue with her, to point out how his life is an example of exactly the opposite. But then he remembers a conversation with his therapist where she made him reflect on things that have gone well for him, whether or not they were shaky at some point in the past – his relationship with his parents, his bond with Alexis, his work with RA. His recovery, and the effort he’s put into his mental health.

Maybe his relationship with Patrick can be like that. Shaky in the past, but solid now.

Patrick is sure about you, Marcy put it. Maybe David can be sure, too.

“Thank you,” David says to her, his brain spinning.

“Anytime. Now go get yourself a glass of water, and put Patrick on the phone.”

Patrick chooses this moment to appear, his eyes questioning as David thrusts the phone at him and escapes into the bedroom. But he’s too jittery to just sit on the bed. He goes into the guest room, strips, and tugs on his swim trunks and a long-sleeved swim shirt. He pauses to look in the mirror over the dresser, his eyes looking back at him a bit wild. The thin shirt is white with a black stripe down each sleeve, and he runs his hands over the smooth material. Not exactly haute couture but it’ll do in what is feeling very much like a pinch.

David feels Patrick’s gaze on him as he breezes through the living room and out on to the lanai, not letting himself pause before jumping feet-first into the deep end of the pool. The water is warmer than the air, but still a bit of a shock as it surrounds him. He pops up to breathe, pushing his hair out of his face, and starts swimming.

David had it in his head that he was going to swim laps until he burned out his nervous energy, but he rapidly discovers that the pool isn’t really big enough for that, and also that as fit as he might be, swimming seems to use different muscles than running and breathlessly swimming miniature laps in a tiny pool isn’t that much fun.

He still swims back and forth a few times, then bobs around in the deep end, letting himself sink down with his hands above his head, his fingertips seemingly staying above the water even when his toes touch the bottom. It’s not very deep.

The pool isn’t large but it is pretty, dark blue ceramic tiles running along the waterline, and seat-like ledges set in several places in both the shallow and deep ends, presumably so that the old people doing their water aerobics can rest. Or maybe to sit on while sipping a tropical drink, which is a decidedly appealing thought David files away for later.

He hears steps and spins around to see Patrick, clad in a white t-shirt and Kelly green swim trunks, standing by the edge of the pool.

“Hi there,” Patrick says. His face is wavering between fondly amused and concerned.

“I like the pool,” David says. He reaches out to hold on to the concrete by Patrick’s feet. The angle is kind of funny, looking up at Patrick’s pale legs.

“I can see that.” Patrick fiddles with the hem of his shirt, glancing around and then back at David. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” David tries to make this sound confident. Why wouldn’t he be? Getting worked up over talking to Marcy Brewer for the first time in more than three years and then throwing himself into the deep end of the pool is dramatic, fine, but it’s not completely out of character.

“Want some company?”

David can’t help but smile at this. “Assuming you are referring to yourself, always.”

Patrick goes over to the shallow end, where there are steps leading into the water and a curved handrail. He pauses, and David sees him hesitate before tugging off his t-shirt. David swims over, reaching out to Patrick, catching him by the waist and guiding him into his arms.

They stand in the shallow end together, David carefully running his hands along Patrick’s flanks, wary of the still healing bruises. Patrick relaxes, his shoulders coming down, and he rests his head on David’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” David asks softly, a hand splayed over Patrick’s ribs.

“Good. Really good.” Patrick looks up at David and presses a finger along his eyebrow, catching a stray drop of water. “How are you?”

David shudders as he remembers the call with Marcy, which the sight of Patrick’s bare skin had managed to overshadow for just a moment. He takes a breath and squeezes Patrick’s shoulders, putting on a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Did my mother say something to upset you?”

He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“Then what is it?”

“You told your parents.”

Patrick tilts his head. “Yes…?”

“About us. Being back together.”. The phrase still doesn’t sit right with him, it seems too trivial for what is going on between them, but it gets the point across.

“Yeah, I did. Was that not okay?”

“No, of course it’s okay, it just…”

“It surprised you.” Patrick gives him a rueful glance. “Because I didn’t tell them, before, back in Schitt’s Creek.”

“I just wasn’t sure,” David says, “when I picked up the phone and it was your mother, whether she knew? And then it turned out that she did know, and she said – all these unbearably sweet things.”

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t have much of a filter.”

“No, it’s okay, like I said, she was really nice.”

“It was just a lot?” Patrick suggests.

“It was a lot. And from your mother.”

Patrick laughs. “She’s just excited.” He backs them a little deeper into the pool, the water now up to their shoulders.

“But why?” David says, a panicked whine creeping into his voice. “After what I did, why would she think this is a good idea?”

Patrick puts his hands firmly around David’s waist and finds his eyes. “After we broke up, I told my parents everything. Everything.. It’s kind of embarrassing, looking back on it, but I did. They were getting ready for a wedding too, remember? They didn’t understand what went wrong, so I told them about Mark, and how you knew something was off. They don’t blame you for what happened, any more than they blame me.”

David feels his chest clench. “Are you ever going to tell me what really was going on? Why you were flirting with him?” He doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but there’s a part of him that needs to know why. Was it something he did? Is there something he needs to do better? And if Patrick can’t come up with a reason, how do they make sure it doesn’t happen again?

Patrick steps back from David, one hand trailing down David’s arm to take his hand, putting a little distance between them but still hanging on. “I think I was just scared of getting something I thought I’d never have.”

“But you were going to marry Rachel. You had the chance before, you knew you could have it.”

“I could have been married to Rachel, but it wouldn’t have been right. When I was with her, there was always something missing. That’s what I thought I’d never have, even when I couldn’t put my finger on it. Turns out, what was missing was you.”

Patrick pulls David in, brushing a kiss over his lips. He tastes like tea, and pool water, and the soft warm heat of his skin. David melts against him, his hips swaying to bring them close. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know how to handle it,” Patrick says quietly. “It was scary because you made it right, David. After all that wasted time, you made it right.”

When they part, David feels giddy. It’s time to commit, he can feel it. He can feel how easy it is to love this person, who doesn’t hesitate to share his feelings with David, who isn’t scared off by how strongly David feels, by him spiraling literally into the deep end. He knows that loving someone is a risk, but Patrick is all in, and David wants to be there too.

“I’m sure about you, Patrick,” he says. Patrick’s eyes widen, fixed on his own, and David nods, feeling the truth of it all through his body. “I’m sure about you, too.”

Patrick surges forward in the water and climbs into his arms, his legs coming up and around David too, almost overbalancing them as David splashes to keep them upright. As he steadies he wraps his arms around Patrick and kisses him fiercely. Getting what you’ve always wanted may be overwhelming, but it’s damn good just the same.

#David x Patrick #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Schitt's Creek fic #SC fic #Schitt's Creek #Reunion fic #Literally spiraling into the deep end

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letsperaltiago · 5 years

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If the sun don't shine on me today |Jake x Amy|

I Love You-prompt request #16: It’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.

Requested by anonymous

Again: this isn’t proof read yet, so sorry in advance for typos and other mishaps!

Word count: 1.3K

The thing about being a cop is that some days are good; some days are hard as hell. Today was the latter, if you asked Jake Peralta. Not only had he woken up way too late, dropped a 20-dollar bill somewhere in midst of the morning rush, all resulting in arriving at work 40 minutes late to receive a frigid glance and didactic scold from Holt… No, that’s wasn’t all. Later that day - whilst inspecting an old, abandoned building potential hiding place for a perp - he’d seen said perp jump out an empty window frame, chased him for 15 blocks, only to watch him jump into a car and drive away. Worst of all was definitely that Amy had the day off, so he couldn’t even catch a break by slumping into his chair and look across his desk to see her pretty face. In the book of Jake Peralta, today was without a doubt one of those satanic days.

It didn’t get any better. Not only was this random Wednesday in a satanic mood; so was Holt. Even after knowing each other for 3 years and forming a good relationship with his superior officer, Holt still had his… Holt-days.

“Peralta?”

He was sitting at Amy’s desk with his back turned to the superior’s office, looking into some of her paperwork for their shared case, when his boss’ voice caused him to spin his chair 180 degrees. “Yes, Captain?”

“Since you’re so fond of putting in late appearances at work, I’m sure you won’t mind staying those lost 40 minutes later today. Also, I’ll need a fully conducted and faultless report on the perp you let go this afternoon. I’ll expect it to be on my desk by the time I enter my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

In his head, Jake’s jaw had dropped to the floor, but knew better than using dramatic facial expressions around Holt - especially when he was in this kind of rowdy mood. Instead Jake’s lips tightened in a straight line, sucking in the bitterness as he simply nodded. “Sure thing. You got it…” He spun back around in his chair, once again looking over Amy’s scribblings as he wondered just how he’d managed to both finish the getaway-report and work on his and Amy’s wide open ‘DUI and murder’-case. His eyes strode off to the bottom corner of Amy’s computer screen which, to his further disappointment, told him that he was already supposed to get off from work in an hour. A sigh escaped his heavy body, realising that a report that would satisfy a satanic mood-Holt would take at least 2 hours; plus the minimal amount of progress he was expected to achieve on the DUI; plus the extra 40 minutes… As soon as Jake Peralta realised that he was facing a 10 to 9 kind of day, rather than the average work day that he some times whined about, 9 to 5 suddenly sounded like a dream.

By the time Jake typed his last period to conclude his report, got the stupid printer to work so he could leave it on the captain’s desk, picked up a quick dinner at his favourite pizza place and unlocked the front door to his apartment, it was nonetheless almost 11 PM. Amy had been sleeping over since Monday, but since he’d been gone all day and sent her a ‘Sorry, Holt is in a mood and I won’t be home until late’, he wasn’t sure whether to expect her presence or not. Entering his dark place, thinking that it was selfish of him to expect her to stick around all day when he wasn’t there, he slid his hand across the wall to flick the light switch. Seconds later the light was on, revealing a surprisingly; unusually clean apartment. It was as he dropped his bag, dinner and kicked off his shoes that he heard a series of mumbles and groans come from the right side of the room. His head immediately turned in the direction of the sound, immediately spotting a bulge in his (also clean, he couldn’t help but notice) bedding.

“Shit,” he quickly turned off the big ceiling light upon realising that the bulge was actually his girlfriend.

“Jake?” Amy mumbled rather sluggishly, shifting lazily under his duvet, not really making clear whether or not she was actually awake.

“Shhh, don’t worry, Ames. It’s just me. Go back to sleep.”

After quickly turning on his smaller, more dimmed lamp (the one standing by the basketball basket that she still didn’t understand why he had to have), he quickly forgot everything about his hunger and put his now (probably) cold pizza slice in the fridge. After a day like this, idiotic accidents just piling onto each other, all he really wanted to do was get into bed with her. Even if she was already asleep. Without a second thought he kicked off his jeans and socks; pulled off his usual plaid shirt and hoodie before replacing the latter with a random grey shirt from his so-called ‘laundry-chair’ - which she hated just as much, if not more, than the basketball basket.

After turning off the lamp, he was finally able to slip into bed and feel the warmth that had already settled under the covers, since she must’ve been lying there for some time now. When on her own, not having him to keep her up and entertained, Amy was usually an early sleeper. Her back was turned to him, and he had to bite his lip and restrain himself from selfishly pulling her in closer to his chest and kiss the back of her head. Tonight he’d have to settle for the sound of her calm breathing and sent of her soft hair. Or so he thought. He couldn’t see it happen because of the pure darkness the room was plunged in, but he suddenly felt her body shift along with the mattress dipping beneath the movement. Next thing he knew, she’d turned around to face him, scooted into his chest and buried her face in the crook under his chin. One part of him felt guilty for waking her; the other part also couldn’t hold back a smile and the great feeling of coming home that she gave him. A happy sighed danced off her lips directly onto the sensitive skin of his neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over his tired body.

“Kinda rude of you to just let me go to bed all alone and then just act like nothing when you finally get back home,” she mumbled, face still buried into his soft skin.

“Sorry for waking you up,” he mumbled into the top of her head, taking in the vanilla scent of her favourite shampoo as he let his lips form a soft, tender peck.

“It’s okay,” she continued her mumbling, and he promised the world that he’d never get tired of feeling her mumbling into his skin, before placing a soft peck to where she’d previously spoken. “I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

“You’re such a liar,” his soft chuckle blew at the baby-hairs on top of her head, before he allowed himself to stroke the back of her head, continuing the swift motion down her shoulder blades and her back before coming to a rest on the small of her back. This only caused her to scoot in closer to him, if even possible, hands calmly grasping onto his shirt.

“Maybe,” she yawned, betraying her own words. “But it’s your fault for getting me used to sleep next to someone. Turns out this bed is way too big for one person.”

“Oh,” a warm feeling spread throughout his entire body upon hearing this pretty meaningful statement. They had only been dating for a couple of months, but after he finally got his new mattress, the truth was that both of them hated whenever the other wouldn’t stay over for whatever necessary reasons. “You’ve got some sleep to catch up on then.”

“Uhum..” Her mumble was barely conscious and he could definitely feel her body’s bearing slowly fading in his grip.

“Goodnight, Ames,” and with one last kiss to the soft crown of her head, they both drifted off to sleep, putting an end to an otherwise satanic Wednesday.

#I love you x Peraltiago #peraltiago #jake x amy #jake and amy #fanfiction #fanfic #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago prompts #prompts #prompt #fluff

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