Archive of Our Own

After a long and lonely day of vendor pickups, bookended by a dental appointment and a meeting at the bank (equally dreaded), Patrick pulled into the small parking and unloading alley behind the Apothecary, dead tired and a bit blue. His day had started at the crack of dawn, leaving the house before David was even awake, and he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than a kiss and a hug from the husband he hadn’t seen all day.

He resisted the urge to leave the product in the car and head straight inside to see David, and started hauling crates and boxes out of the backseat and trunk, stacking them just inside the back door. He felt a little silly being so desperate to see David after less than twelve hours apart, but ever since the wedding, despite living and working together every day, it was harder and harder to be away from him.

Sometimes, when David wasn’t right there in front of him to ensnare all his senses, he was half-convinced this couldn’t possibly be reality. Just a few years ago, he’d lit a match and blown up his entire life, and from the ashes rose David and a future more blissful and fulfilling than he ever would have hoped for. Two months married to the love of his life wasn’t nearly long enough to get used to this unimaginable happiness.

As he passed in and out of the building, he could hear David’s voice mingling with a customer’s, hopefully in the midst of a sale. When Patrick heard the unmistakable sound of receipt tape being torn off the printer, the bone-deep satisfaction and pride was almost palpable. The shine hadn’t yet worn off and Patrick was still as excited as the day he’d joined Rose Apothecary. He couldn’t deny, though, that he was deeply relieved the work day was officially over when he heard the tinkle of a bell and knew David would be flipping the sign to Closed and locking the door behind the last customer of the evening.

The timing couldn’t have been better. He closed the trunk with the last box balanced on his shoulder and headed inside, adding it to the stacks by the door and continuing further into the store, arms free and eager to be holding David instead. His heart fluttered when David looked up and smiled brightly as Patrick came into the store proper and he couldn’t help but grin in return.

“I thought I heard you back there. I was about to close out the register. Do you need help unloading the car?”

Patrick shook his head as he strode toward David, standing behind the counter. “Nope, it’s all inside. I’ll move it to the store room in the morning, and I’ll do the register in a minute. For now…” Patrick trailed off as he joined David behind the counter.

David’s hands found their rightful place on Patrick’s shoulders with a sexy smirk and a breathy, “Hi.” Patrick responded wordlessly, winding his arms around David’s waist to pull him closer for a deep and thorough kiss. David responded instantly, opening to Patrick and moving his hands to drape his arms around his shoulders.

Patrick sighed into the kiss and crowded David against the counter behind him, pressing impossibly closer and eliminating every molecule of space between them. Even when they broke apart for air, he dropped a series of kisses to David’s neck and hugged him tight. David held Patrick just as close and rocked them slowly on the spot.

“Bad day, honey?” David whispered into Patrick’s hair.

“No, not really. Just long. Missed you.” Patrick took a deep, fortifying breath and loosened the death grip on his husband. They untangled themselves and David smoothed his hands over Patrick’s shoulders, straightening his shirt and adjusting the collar. “How about you? Busy today?”

“Unusually busy for a Wednesday, but can’t complain about a good sales day.” David pressed a kiss to Patrick’s cheek. Patrick could tell it was warm with the faint blush of arousal and maybe a little embarrassment over his impulsive display of emotion. “Slow enough to finish restocking already, so I’m ready to close up and go home. You do the register and I’ll tidy up?” 

“Deal.” Patrick shifted to the side to allow David to step out from behind the sales counter and reach for the broom just inside the curtain to the store room. Determined to get home as soon as possible, Patrick turned to the register and began the closing process.

David was ostensibly sweeping the floor, but when Patrick glanced up from finishing the drawer count, he was standing still, barely swishing the broom back and forth. One might assume he was distracted by the light snow that had just started to fall outside, but Patrick could tell by the purse of his lips and the faraway look in his eyes that David was lost in thought. Loath as he was to break their comfortable silence and interrupt David’s moment, the snow was starting to stick and Patrick wanted to leave before the roads got too messy.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” David immediately snapped to attention, halting his half-hearted attempt at sweeping and pivoting toward Patrick, who gave him a small smile.

“I’m gonna put this in the safe,” Patrick said as he lifted the drawer and bank deposit bag, tilting his head toward the back room, “and then I’m done for the night. You almost ready to go?”

David bobbed his head and distractedly glanced around his immediate vicinity.

“Mmhmm, yes. Let me just—” He finally noticed the broom clutched in his hands and began sweeping with much more intention, though maybe not much more efficiency.

By the time Patrick emerged from the back, David’s coat draped over his arm, David was emptying the dustpan into the small trash can behind the counter. Patrick traded him his coat for the broom and dustpan and ducked into the store room to hang them on the hook to the side of the doorway.

David was fastening the last button of his coat when he returned and Patrick reached forward to pull David’s scarf out of the right hip pocket, where he knew David would have carefully folded and tucked it safely away when he’d arrived this morning. David raised an eyebrow when Patrick draped it around David’s neck, then smirked when Patrick used it to gently tug him closer.

“Careful,” David gently scolded before bending to Patrick’s whim and leaning in for a kiss. “That’s Burberry and you can’t ruin it. You’d cry if I told you how much it would cost to replace it.”

Patrick scoffed but leaned back to artfully wind the scarf around his husband’s neck, looping and tucking and smoothing, leaning in for one more kiss before David’s chin disappeared behind the last loop.

“I know, David. I attended every single one of your garment care lessons, including the addendum for winter accessories. You wouldn’t have married me otherwise.”

“And you did so good, honey. You passed with flying colors.” David smiled brightly and Patrick shook his head with a chuckle.

“Come on, let’s go home. I’ll heat up that container of leftover chili in the freezer and I think we have everything to make cornbread, too.”

At the mention of Marcy’s mouthwatering cornbread recipe, David’s eyes lit up and he was off like a shot, dashing through the store and out the back door before Patrick could even blink. He shook his head again and rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, taking David’s bag out from under the counter where he’d left it behind without a second thought; Marcy’s cornbread had that effect on David. He clicked off the lights and followed his hungry husband into the snowy evening, locking the door behind him.

Later that night, bellies full of warm chili and buttery cornbread, David and Patrick were curled up together in the living room, both still craving that closeness after a long day spent mostly apart. Patrick was reclining against the arm of their new couch, his legs slung over David’s lap and a blanket spread over them both. A hockey game was playing out on the television, muted—a compromise in their new home: Patrick could watch all the evening sportsball he wanted, but if his team wasn’t participating and it wasn’t a special occasion performance, David could invoke the Mute Clause as he wished. They hadn’t even sat down tonight before David had turned on some quiet, mellow music; a clear signal that the clause was in effect.

Most of Patrick’s attention was on the last period of the game, catching enough of the color commentary from the closed captions flashing across the bottom of the screen (his attachment to the clause) to follow along. But his eyes kept drifting over to David, who’d been quiet and distracted most of the night, even during dinner. After clapping with joy when Patrick did manage to whip up a batch of cornbread, he’d only managed to eat three pieces (and Patrick had once watched him demolish an entire tray in a single evening).

David sometimes got wrapped up in his thoughts and that wouldn’t normally spark Patrick’s concern. But after an entire day working the store alone, he usually had quite a long list of complaints and stories to share. Tonight, there was nothing; just the occasional scribble or sketch in the journal propped open on Patrick’s legs.

He’d caught glimpses of whatever David was jotting down in there and it looked like he was sketching out display ideas, maybe, but nothing like what he usually designed for the Apothecary; the dimensions seemed different, and they weren’t surrounded by his notations and measurements. Patrick’s curiosity was officially piqued, and when the game ended, he turned off the television—David, staring off into space again, didn’t even notice.

Patrick gently shook one of his legs to get David’s attention, then leaned forward enough to hook a hand around David’s bicep and pull himself up to crowd into David’s space. His arm slid around David’s lower back and he rested his chin on his shoulder, all in the name of getting close enough to press a kiss to the smile tucked into the corner of David’s mouth.

“Can I help you with something?” David asked with mock exasperation, but wriggled a little to settle into Patrick’s embrace.

Patrick shook his head with a sly grin. “Do I need a reason to cuddle my husband?” David narrowed his eyes, now a little suspicious, and Patrick chuckled. He jiggled his legs again, the journal still propped open against them, and gestured toward it with his chin. “What are you working on? Is that for the store?”

David stroked the pen across the page a few more times. “Not really, no.” He sighed a little and closed the journal, leaning forward to rest it on the coffee table and escaping Patrick’s embrace, dislodging the legs across his lap. They both resettled on the couch, angled toward each other now but still close enough for their knees to knock together under the blanket rearranged on their laps, maintaining that physical connection.

“What’s on your mind, babe? Your head’s been in the clouds all evening.” Patrick smoothed back a few strands of hair falling out of place over David’s forehead. “Everything okay in there?”

“Mmhmm. Just thinking about some stuff.” He paused, making that face Patrick knew meant he was trying to organize whirling thoughts into coherent sentences. “Alexis called me this morning. We actually ended up walking to work together.”

Patrick frowned, wondering why something so damn adorable—though he’d never say that to David—had sent his brain spinning. “Is she okay? Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“No, no, it was good. She’s fine. She’s thriving, really, and busier than ever. They love her at Interflix and she already has her first big solo assignment. She was supposed to go to California next week to spend American Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad, but she can’t take the time off anymore.” David was avoiding eye contact now, looking down at his lap, watching his fingers twisting the gold bands on his other hand. “But it turns out Dad has a meeting with the motel group and was going to be in New York for a day anyway, so he extended his trip by a couple more days, and filming will pause for the holiday, so Mom is tagging along now. Stevie was already flying in for the meeting, so now she’s going to stay and join them…” David trailed off, still looking anywhere but at Patrick.

Patrick’s heart sank, understanding what David wasn’t saying: the family was reuniting and they’d be the only ones missing from the festivities. He ached for David, knowing how significant this was for the Roses, considering their checkered family history.

“David,” he began, not even sure what he was going to say, only to be cut off immediately.

“But I told her no, we can’t afford to take a trip so soon after the wedding and the house. We didn’t even take a honeymoon.” David was wringing his hands now. “And then she was telling me about all these perks she got for signing with Interflix and how they gave her a bunch of first class travel vouchers , Patrick, just because, and maybe she could just transfer one to me, or maybe she could trade one in for two normal tickets—”

Patrick’s ears perked up at that and he immediately pulled up mental images of their household budget and the schedule at the store. Removing the cost of last minute airfare made this a whole different ball game, and there were no evening events at the store for the rest of the month. He could probably make this work, at least for one of them.

“David—” he began again, more excitedly, but David either didn’t notice or ignored him.

“But even if she could get us both tickets, we can’t close the store so close to Christmas! All the new holiday products are coming now, and we still have to transition from autumn décor to winter and I haven’t even finished the mood board for that, and—”

“David!” Patrick recognized the signs of descending into an anxious spiral and stopped it in its tracks, grasping one of the hands now flailing about and gripping David’s thigh. He bobbed his head around until he caught David’s gaze. He looked so disappointed and Patrick’s heart panged again.

“You’re right, we can’t afford a trip or to close the store right now.” The side of Patrick who couldn’t bear to be away from David for even half a day anymore braced himself for the rest. “But you can go. You should go to New York, David.” He scooted closer, tucking his bent knee under David’s and rubbed his thigh reassuringly. “Go be with your family.”

David’s eyes began to water but didn’t look away. “But you’re my family, too, Patrick.”

“I am, always. But I know how much you’ve missed Alexis and your parents since they left town. And from what you’ve told me about what it was like before you guys moved to Schitt’s Creek, I know it’s not nothing that you’re all getting together like this.” David sniffled, but didn’t deny it. “This is a big deal and you should be there.”

“So should you,” David whispered.

“Yeah, I know. But we can’t close the store, so I’ve gotta stay here this time. You go, eat enough for the both of us, and I’ll catch the next one.” He gave David the most reassuring smile he could muster. “I promise there will be another one. We’ll make it happen.”

“What about all the new products coming in?” David’s eyes were clearing, but Patrick could see the lingering hesitation. “You can’t handle the intake and merchandising on your own!” He was grasping at straws now, but Patrick was determined to make this happen.

“Almost everything will be here by the end of the week, so we’ll finish as much as we can together before you leave, and I’ll handle the rest while you’re gone. And,” Patrick spoke over David’s next objection before he could even voice it, “we’ll just decorate for winter when you get back. A few more days won’t matter.”

David chewed his lip, still looking unsure, then launched himself into Patrick’s arms. “Are you sure?” he whispered into Patrick’s neck. “Totally sure? I feel like I’m abandoning you.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Patrick chuckled. “David, look at me.” Patrick pulled at David’s arms to unwind them, and held him by the shoulders to look directly into his eyes. “Yes,” he repeated firmly. “You’re going to come back, right?” David huffed but played along and nodded. “So you’re not abandoning me. It’s only for a few days. We’ll survive.” And then, lips twitching and eyes beginning to sparkle, he continued, “I know my husband very well, and I know what’s most important to him. Would I ever deny him the opportunity for two Thanksgivings in the same calendar year?”

David didn’t even try to defend himself. “Oh my god, I love you so much.” Patrick threw his head back with a laugh and David tackled him again with much more than a hug in mind.

“You never told me what you were working on in your journal tonight.”

David, just starting to doze off after repeatedly and thoroughly thanking Patrick between the sheets, lifted his head from where it was resting on Patrick’s shoulder.

“What in the world made you think about that? I mean, I was doing most of the work and I can barely remember my own name right now. Am I just not doing it for you anymore?”

“Well, now you’re just fishing for compliments. Did I not moan your name often enough? Or loud enough? Are you losing your hearing already? Was that a grey hair I noticed on your chin?”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” David shrilled, gently slapping Patrick’s bare stomach in annoyance and moving to retreat to his own pillow. Patrick just laughed and wrapped his arms around David’s torso, pulling him closer to rest on Patrick’s chest.

“I’m sorry, David. No grey hairs, I promise.” David raised a thick eyebrow in admonition but rearranged himself to settle between Patrick’s legs, resting his head on arms folded across Patrick’s chest. Neither of them could fall asleep in this position, but it was a favorite late night cuddle: Patrick liked the weight and warmth of David on top of him, and David loved Patrick’s calloused hands stroking his back and scalp, blunt nails gently scratching. Those hands got to work right away and David sighed, mollified.

They lay in silence for a while, surrounded by the safety of darkness and the intimacy of their bed. Patrick felt no urge to remind David of his question. He wasn’t obliged to answer it, and David knew that, but if he wanted to share, Patrick would give him the space to do it on his own time.

Eventually, he felt David’s chest expand against his own as he took in a deep breath.

“Talking to Alexis got me thinking about winter in New York and how much I loved the holiday season there. The millions of extra tourists were the worst, obviously, but the city transforms practically overnight. You’ve never seen anything like it, Patrick, I swear. I’ve been to dozens of big cities dressed up for the holidays, but no one does it like New York.” David turned his head to rest his chin on his hands and look up at Patrick. “The entire city turns into a winter wonderland. All the big landmarks are famous for it, of course, but the little stores and boutiques get into the spirit, too. Even some of the hot dog and pretzel carts hang up garlands and twinkle lights.” David trailed off and turned to rest his head on his folded hands again. Patrick stroked his fingers through David’s hair and waited patiently.

“So I’ve never told anyone this. I only did it alone. My old friends would have turned up their noses at something so basic and tacky; I would have, too, if someone had asked me. It really does not fit my overall iconoclastic aesthetic.” Patrick held in a snort of laughter, but only just, sensing this was a little too sensitive and serious for that. David cleared his throat and continued. “But I love all those cheesy decorations. And I’d walk around for hours, days, taking it all in. It was my private holiday tradition every year.”

Patrick could feel the tension borne from an uncomfortable disclosure growing in David’s shoulders. This wasn’t anything like some of the painful memories and experiences he’d shared from his complicated past, but what mattered to David mattered to Patrick, regardless of how insignificant and innocuous it may seem to him. Patrick wrapped his arms around him to squeeze him tight, then resumed his gentle strokes.

“I used to do something like that back home,” Patrick mused, giving David a break from his story. “Nothing like the scale or sophistication of what you experienced, of course. But when I was a kid, there was a neighborhood in the next town over that always did it up right with the decorations, like a whole Christmas village. Reindeers on rooftops, big blow-up figures, light shows coordinated with music playing on big speakers, the whole nine yards.

“So for a few years there, when I was old enough to appreciate it but young enough that it was still ‘cool’, we’d bundle up and fill thermoses with hot chocolate and drive over with Dad’s pickup. When we got close enough, Mom and I would get into the back of the truck and Dad would slowly drive us through the neighborhood, so I wouldn’t miss any of the decorations.”

David lifted his head to face Patrick again. “Marcy Brewer let her sweet boy ride in the back of a moving pickup truck!” 

“With supervision,” Patrick clarified. “And Dad was driving very slowly. It was no worse than a hayride, really.”

“A hayride? Who did I marry…” David trailed off, aghast, and Patrick could only grin and shrug.

The distraction seemed to have worked and he’d felt David’s tension drain away. It seemed safe to get the conversation back on track.

“So you were working on the winter decorations for the store? It looked like a window display, but not for our window.”

“Well, I was trying. Since I have my own store now, I’ve thought about the dozens and dozens of memorable holiday window displays I’ve seen over the years and I’ve always tried to be a little inspired by them. But I just can’t seem to find the inspiration these days.”

Patrick stretched forward enough to kiss David’s chin. “The last few months have been a big adjustment for all of us. There’s been a lot on your plate, but you’ll find your groove again. I’m sure of it. You make our store beautiful every day, and I’ve never been in those other stores, but I’m sure they don’t hold a candle to the branded, immersive experience of Rose Apothecary.”

David preened a little under the compliment, ignoring the gentle teasing, and seemed to relax a bit more.

“I keep thinking about this one window display, probably my favorite.” They were close enough that, even in the dark, Patrick could see his eyes lighting up and his face became more and more animated as he went on. “There was a tiny little stationery store near my apartment and hanging in the window must have been a thousand of the most elegant, delicate paper snowflakes I’ve ever seen. All different designs, nothing larger than an inch or two, and bright white, but some of them had bits of silver leaf or gold leaf. And mixed in with all the snowflakes were these strings of tiny, clear glass beads, and the edges of the window were lit, so as the light bounced off the gold and the silver and the glass, the whole thing just sparkled. Everything was suspended on these gossamer thin wires, you could barely see them if you weren’t looking for them. The whole effect made it all seem like a moment frozen in time, but somehow still in motion.”

David was staring off to the side and Patrick was completely enamored with the beautiful smile on his husband’s face as he recalled the memory. Most of David’s stories from New York weren’t nearly this wholesome or pleasant, so to hear about something that made David so clearly joyful did a lot to soothe the ache those stories had left on Patrick’s own heart.

“I spent a truly incorrect amount of time standing outside and staring at that window, trying to pinpoint every individual snowflake. I swear they were all unique, I never found two of the same. I was out there long enough one day that I felt like a creep and went inside to buy something.” Patrick laughed at that and David refocused his gaze on him. “At that point, I was convinced it was more like an art installation than a window display, and you know, I was running a gallery at the time and always looking for the next big thing. I asked the owner about it and it turns out her nephew had made it for her. Not an artist, just a guy.” He shrugged.

“I knew how much work must have gone into creating something so impossibly intricate, so I asked for his contact info. She was a sweet old lady and probably thought I was nuts, but she gave me his number. I couldn’t believe someone could make something so beautiful and detailed just because, only once, and wasn’t, like, harboring a secret desire to be an artist. So I called him, invited him to the gallery, told him he was insanely creative and talented and I wanted to feature his work.

“But there was no other work. Marcus really was just a guy who’d made a beautiful gift for his aunt to hang in her store window. He said he was flattered and took my information, I think just to humor me; I never heard from him again. And the next year, the display was gone. I wanted to go in and ask her about it, but that seemed weird. And I guess I felt a little awkward about her nephew.” David sighed, clearly still harboring some disappointment and regret, and Patrick frowned in sympathy.

“From my living room window, you could see the storefront. At night, all lit up in the darkness, I could barely make out the broad shapes of the display, but the light sparkled so beautifully and I could imagine the rest. That’s what I was sketching tonight, the view of the shop from my apartment. I was supposed to be working on the store, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about that window today, so I tried to sketch it out of my system.” He twisted and shuffled toward his side of the bed, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “You know, I think I’ve still got a picture…”

Free from the weight on top of him, Patrick stretched and turned on his side to face David settled in next to him, rapidly scrolling through the photo album on his phone.

“Found it!” David stared at it for a few moments, wistful, then passed the phone to Patrick.

“Wow, David. You’re right, it’s gorgeous.” Patrick zoomed in, dragging his finger across the screen to get a closer look at each section. David had captured the entire display, including most of the storefront, just at dusk; dark enough to suggest the full impact of the lighting, but bright enough to get a good photo without a flash.

“That doesn’t even do it justice.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t.” Patrick passed the phone back to David. “I wish I could have seen it in person.”

“Me, too.” David plugged his phone in again and snuggled into his pillow, but Patrick thought he looked a little melancholy.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, just—” Hands fluttered between them. “New York and thinking about old memories and all that. And it was a long day without you in the store, and now a last minute trip and thinking about that all day. I'm not even making sense, I’m just feeling out of sorts or whatever.”

“I get that. It was a lot for one day. I felt off all day, too, just from missing you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Patrick nodded.

“Even though we spend pretty much all day and night together, almost every day?”

“Even though, David.” Patrick smiled and gazed at David, hoping he could see on his face all the love Patrick felt. David was tucking a small smile into the corner of his mouth, so he was pretty sure it worked.

“Come on.” He scooted closer and pushed at David’s shoulder. “Turn over, I’ll be the big spoon tonight.” David flipped over and inched backward until he was tucked tight into the curve of Patrick’s body pressed against him, shoulders to hips, legs tangled together. He pulled Patrick’s arm tighter across his chest and laced their fingers together.

“Thanks for sharing that with me.” Patrick pressed a kiss to the back of David’s neck and hugged him even closer. “Get some sleep. We’ll call Alexis in the morning and get your ticket figured out.”

David sighed contentedly and Patrick felt his body relax and sink into the mattress. “M'kay. I love you. Goodnight, Patrick.”

Patrick waited until David’s breathing had evened out and he was asleep, the vague outline of a plan beginning to form in his head, before drifting off himself.

They did call Alexis in the morning and her squeal was loud enough for Patrick to hear from across the kitchen. David sniped and she sniped back and they bickered a bit but Patrick could tell it was all for show. She promised to text them as soon as she had the ticket taken care of and made a last-ditch effort to convince Patrick to join them.

“You really can’t come, button? I miss you, you should totally come!”

“I miss you, too, Alexis, but I can’t.” Patrick was genuinely disappointed, but filled with warmth that Alexis sounded just as disappointed as he was. “Next time, okay?”

“You better!”

Not even half an hour later, David's phone pinged with a message from Alexis: his flight was booked, leaving from the Greater Elms Regional Airport the next Wednesday and returning Saturday. Accommodations were already covered, David having called Stevie with the news and confirming he could crash in her hotel room with her.

“Are you sure you don’t want Alexis to change it to Sunday instead? I know Stevie leaves on Saturday, but Alexis won’t mind letting you sleep on her couch.”

David’s face clearly and immediately showed his dislike for that option. “Sharing a room with Stevie for a few nights is one thing, but the days of sharing a room with my sister are long behind me now. Besides,” he added, face transforming to a sweet smile, “I wanna get home to my wonderful husband.”

Patrick couldn’t argue with any of that logic.

Over the next few days, Patrick and David worked overtime to get the store ready for the holidays. David was insistent they finish before he left, refusing to let Patrick take that on and handle the store alone for four days. Patrick spent most of his time in the store room, focused on the new product intake: unpacking boxes, verifying counts, setting up all the new items in their inventory system—all the boring stuff David hated to do, anyway. David turned his attention to the décor, finishing his mood board and transitioning the store from autumn to winter. They spent that Monday, their one day closed each week, deep cleaning and rearranging the tables and shelves to highlight and make room for the holiday products.

The only areas that remained untouched were the windows.

“I just don’t know what to do with them yet.” David threw up his hands, frustrated with himself.

“Don’t worry, David. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” Patrick felt a pang of guilt that David was so upset there was still no plan for the windows when, in fact, Patrick did have a plan… but David didn’t know about it yet.

After Alexis texted David with his travel arrangements, David gave Patrick his phone to add the details to their shared calendar. He quickly found the photo of the snowflake window display and took a photo of it with his own phone, leaving no trace of his scheme behind, and returned David’s phone to him.

Working alone in the store room had made it easy to steal a few moments in his "office"—the desk shoved into one corner, just large enough for his laptop and a spare monitor—to look up the stationery store with the part of the name he could see in the photo. He’d let out a huge sigh of relief when he found them still in business, in the same location. 

As soon as David had gone to the café to order and pick up their lunch, Patrick called the store, got the owner on the phone, and introduced himself. He began to explain the situation and shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was that it hadn’t taken much to trigger her memory of David.

“Oh, yes! David Rose, the gallerist! Of course I remember him. Who could forget?”

Patrick chuckled. “He does leave quite an impression, doesn’t he?”

“No one else has ever offered to turn my nephew into a famous artist for having a hobby, and no one else has ever stood outside my shop and stared at my window display long enough to make it uncomfortable.”

“Actually, that’s sort of why I’m calling…”

Mrs. Schaeffer, owner and operator of Schaeffer Stationery & Paper Crafts, was a little baffled but ultimately charmed by Patrick’s retelling of David's story and the odd request that followed, and easily agreed to help. She wasn’t sure what condition it was in, but she was positive the display was somewhere in the shop’s store room.

“I remember helping Marcus wrap it up and pack it for storage. I’ll look for it tonight and give you a call.”

Patrick was thrilled, nearly breathless with excitement. “Actually, it’s a bit of a surprise for David and I wouldn’t want to raise his suspicions with a phone call. Could I trouble you to send me a text message instead?”

“Of course, dear! I can even send you a picture. Marcus bought me this fancy phone years ago and taught me all about the spiffy do-dads and gadgets. I’ll be in touch!”

Patrick was grateful for the distraction of work for the rest of the day, the anticipation of learning whether or not his plan would work quietly buzzing in the back of his mind, his silent phone a heavy weight in his back pocket.

That evening, just as he finished washing the dinner dishes, Patrick received a photo—sideways and a bit blurry, but a photo nonetheless—of a single strand of delicate paper snowflakes, with a pile of long, neatly folded sleeves of tissue paper in the background. Underneath was a single sentence: “Found it!”

With text messaging established as a mode of communication, it was much easier for Patrick to finish making arrangements with Mrs. Schaeffer the next day. She was a lovely woman, very friendly and invested in this secret project of Patrick’s. They’d developed an easy rapport and Patrick had told her a bit about their store and what Patrick wanted to do with the snowflakes. After Patrick divulged the story of their partnership in business and later in love, Mrs. Schaeffer refused to accept any sort of payment for the display.

“You can’t put a price on a romance like that!”

Patrick insisted and they compromised by agreeing that he would reimburse any shipping and packaging costs, along with purchasing some of the same paper and tools used to craft the snowflakes. (“It’s been a few years, dear; some of them might need to be replaced. And I refuse to charge a penny over my cost, so don’t even bother arguing.”)

Mrs. Schaeffer had everything packed up and shipped out that very afternoon, due for delivery the same day of David’s flight to New York. Patrick promised to keep her updated and send her pictures, and the smile on his face when he received another fuzzy, sideways photo, this time of a package tracking number, could have powered all the lights in all the window displays on Fifth Avenue.

Despite anxiously awaiting its arrival for super secret package delivery reasons, the day of David’s departure snuck up on Patrick. Well aware he was the one who insisted David join the Roses in New York, he still wasn’t looking forward to being away from his husband for the next four days.

After the excitement of tracking down and acquiring the display faded, all he could do was wait for the package to be delivered. That wasn’t nearly enough of a distraction from the vociferous return of that ache to be as close as possible to David. It was as if his body knew they were going to be apart and wanted to store up as much contact as it could before David left. David didn’t seem to mind Patrick’s clinginess; he was very tactile with his affection and draped himself on or around Patrick at every opportunity, and enjoyed whenever Patrick did the same. In and out of the bedroom, in public or at home, Patrick was now all over David whenever David wasn’t already all over him. Patrick wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped he was being, though, and he was pretty sure David had taken note. His suspicions were confirmed the night before David left, with a confession once again shared in bed and under the cloak of darkness.

“You’re sure it’s okay that I’m going, right?” Patrick was the little spoon tonight and felt the rumble of David’s chest against his back when he spoke, even at a whisper. “It feels weird. We’re barely married and I’m deserting my husband already.”

“I’m sure, David,” he murmured, nearly asleep. “I promise.”

“It’s just—lately you’ve been a little…”

Patrick pulled David’s arm tighter around his torso and hugged it to his chest. “I know. I’m just gonna miss you, that’s all. I’m stocking up for when you’re gone. I’m gonna miss you like hell, but I want you to go.”

David slid a leg between Patrick’s and gripped his hip to pull him even closer, as close as possible. They’d long since exhausted themselves sexually that night, so nothing would come from the suggestive position, but Patrick felt reassured that David was chasing the same impossible goal he was, to soak up every inch of contact in every moment they had together before he left.

“I’m gonna miss you, too, honey.”

David left early Wednesday morning, catching a ride to the airport with Ronnie, who was headed in that direction for a job. Patrick’s final goodbye kiss in the doorway was so drawn out and intimate that Ronnie had to honk her horn to end it and gave them both a dirty look through the windshield when they broke apart. For once, Patrick didn’t care what she thought; that kiss had to hold them over for days.

Patrick would be very grateful for the distraction the snowflakes provided over the next few days. He spent most of Wednesday compulsively checking the tracking number on his phone, even though he knew the status wouldn’t change again until it was delivered to the house with the rest of the mail around 4 pm.

He held out until 4:16 but couldn’t take it any longer; he rested his phone on the counter and refreshed the page repeatedly until it read “Delivered” in large, red letters. He pumped his fist in the air and managed to wait approximately three more minutes before deciding the store could sacrifice half an hour of business on their slowest day of the week. He rushed through closing the register, skipped the sweeping and restocking, and locked the door at 4:33.

Patrick didn’t break any traffic laws on the way home, but he’d never been more thankful for the town’s lack of street lights. He made the trip in record time and waiting for him on the porch was a large box with a New York return address. He carried it inside, directly to the large table situated between their kitchen and living room, and opened it immediately.

Nestled between thick layers of bubble wrap and sturdy foam were the long, neatly folded sleeves of tissue paper Patrick had seen in the photo from Mrs. Schaeffer, now carefully folded in half again to fit inside the box. Patrick very gently lifted them out of the box and laid them out on the table, one by one.

Underneath that was a thick, bubble-wrapped rectangle, solid and heavy. Patrick assumed that was the mounting apparatus and set it aside to inspect later. And beneath that, at the bottom of the shipping box, was a thin cardboard gift box. He opened it to find a thick manila envelope and the tools and materials he’d purchased from the store, though it was clear Mrs. Schaeffer had included far more than Patrick had paid for. He wouldn't call her out for it, though; he was already planning to send her a gift basket of Apothecary products.

Patrick set the empty shipping box aside and surveyed the contents spread across his table. He was itching to start unwrapping the sleeves of snowflakes and beads, but made himself start with the mounting apparatus first.

He unfolded the bubble wrap to find what he’d expected: a short stack of thin wooden rectangles with dozens of tiny holes drilled in them. The manila envelope turned out to contain the rest of the mounting materials, presumably all the small parts he would need to assemble a collection of suspended boards from which to hang the strings of snowflakes and beads. Patrick sorted through everything and worked out in his head how it would all fit together. The whole setup was simple but appeared to be comprehensive and secure, and Patrick was impressed with Marcus’s ingenuity.

He set the mounting apparatus aside to begin sorting through the rest of the goodies in the gift box. Patrick had ordered everything Mrs. Schaeffer had determined he would need to reproduce any damaged snowflakes: paper, booklets of gold and silver leaf, adhesive, tweezers, even a thin utility knife and cutting mat. It was all there, along with a few more odds and ends Mrs. Schaeffer thought Patrick might find useful. Patrick was wary of the obvious delicacy of the tools and materials, unsure he’d have the skills to use them—he’d looked up how to apply something like gold leaf and was suitably intimidated—and hoped most of the snowflakes were in better shape than Mrs. Schaeffer implied.

And now it was time for the main event. Patrick cleared the table of everything but the fragile sleeves of tissue paper and gently opened and thoroughly inspected them all, one by one.

The strings of glass beads were in excellent condition, not even dusty after being wrapped so carefully. He set them all to one side of the table, neatly laid out in rows.

The real treasure was the snowflakes, of course. Mrs. Schaeffer was right, some of them were a little damaged, but the vast majority seemed whole and intact. After a complete inspection revealed only a handful of defective snowflakes, Patrick was fairly certain he could restore the display to its former glory.

Every spare moment of the next few days on his own was spent slowly but surely repairing or replacing the damaged snowflakes. Running the store alone didn’t leave much free time, so he was relieved there weren't too many to fix. It was tedious, fiddly work, and Patrick hated that his snowflakes weren't quite as neat and perfect as Marcus’s, but he managed it as well as he could. The leaf work was just as painstakingly annoying as he’d expected, but he got through that, as well, and when his snowflakes were mixed in with the rest, it was almost impossible to tell them apart.

He and David spoke or Facetimed every night before bed and Patrick found it very difficult to not tell David what he was working on. He was just so excited and it was at the forefront of his mind, always. Luckily, David had plenty to talk about and filled most of their conversations with chatter about Alexis and his parents and visiting as many of his favorite spots as he could manage before he left, so there was little chance for Patrick to accidentally let anything slip.

Their last night apart, Patrick was curled up on the couch with his phone propped up on the coffee table in front of him. He’d finished threading all the individual strings to the mounting boards just before David called, and was going into the store extra early tomorrow to install them before opening. Each section of the display was carefully and precisely laid out across the table to avoid tangling and he could see them from his position on the couch. The only light in the room was coming from his phone and the last legs of the fire he’d lit in the fireplace when he got home from work that evening. Even in such low light, the gilded snowflakes and glass beads were faintly sparkling and catching Patrick’s eye.

As David trailed off from his last story, they settled into a comfortable silence, blinking sleepily at one another.

“I’ve missed you,” David suddenly whispered. “I’m having fun but I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.” Patrick yawned. “I’m glad you’re having fun, though. I really want to visit there with you someday. Have you show me around. Stare at window displays together.”

David smiled and shimmied a little. “It'll be even better to have you with me next time. Gonna show you off and show you the sights all at once.” Patrick laughed lightly, which quickly turned into another yawn. “All right, sleepyhead. I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Don’t fall asleep on the couch, your back won’t thank you tomorrow.”

“Okay, David.” Patrick’s blinks were starting to slow down and last longer, but he caught David’s eye roll at his placating tone and smirked. “I’ll meet you in the arrivals area tomorrow, okay?”

“Can't wait.” Patrick's blinking had slowed all the way down to nothing and he was nearly asleep now. “Love you, honey. Sleep well.” He tried to respond in kind but was pretty sure he was asleep before the words left his lips.

Patrick was getting anxious. They were nearly home and as excited as Patrick had been over the last few days to show David what he’d done, he was now filled with nerves and self-conscious doubt. They’d decided on day one of their partnership that David was responsible for the creative decisions at the store, and Patrick had gone and installed an entire window display without his input? What if he hated it?

Oh, god, what if he thought Patrick had done it because he didn’t think David could handle it? He didn’t doubt David’s talents or abilities at all, the thought hadn’t once crossed his mind as he’d come up with this wild idea. Patrick was cautious and sensible, but once he had a plan for something, that take-charge attitude took over and he ran with it without a second thought. Should he have slowed down and thought about this? Was it all a massive mistake?

Well, there was nothing to do about it now. The display was installed, half the town had already seen it, and they were minutes away. Patrick’s stomach tilted and he felt sick. His palms were sweating now and he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, desperately hoping David was too engrossed in his phone to notice anything awry.

He’d picked up David at the airport less than an hour earlier, bouncing on his toes in the arrivals area until he’d spotted the top of David’s head in the crowd, an inch or two above most everyone else. When he emerged from the small throng of people with a beatific smile and suspiciously wet eyes, Patrick launched himself at David with enough force to nearly knock over them both.

“Hi, David,” was all he managed before they were wrapped around each other and sharing a kiss lewd enough to merit a wolf-whistle and a genuine, honest-to-goodness “Get a room!” from a total stranger. Patrick broke away at that, flushed with embarrassment, but David later admitted he was thrilled to experience a classic rom-com moment in real life.

They’d stood near the back of the room, limiting the PDA to arms wrapped around each other’s waists and shoulders, waiting for David’s bags to come out. A wandering hand may have snuck into a back pocket or two, but they’d stood against the wall for a reason—no one had to know.

They emerged from the airport holding hands, both reluctant to break that last point of physical connection. Once they were in the car, Patrick the responsible driver had both hands on the wheel, but David was sitting as close as he could within the confines of his seat belt and had rested his hand on Patrick’s thigh for the entire drive. That reassuring pressure was the only thing keeping Patrick from vibrating out of his seat with anxiety.

David looked up from his phone and frowned when they drove right past the turn-off to take them home.

“Are we going to the café or something? Patrick, honey, I’d really rather go home to freshen up first.”

“Nope, no café. I just need to stop at the store, I forgot something earlier.” Patrick swallowed down another wave of nausea.

“Okay, but I’m staying in the car. No one else needs to see me until I’ve washed off the residue of commercial air travel.”

Patrick forced out a nervous chuckle and flicked on the turn signal before easing onto the stretch of road that would lead them directly to the Apothecary. He’d conveniently “forgotten” to turn the store lights off and could see the spot of warm amber glowing in the near distance. It got larger and brighter as they approached until David finally took notice.

“Is that the store? Did you leave the lights on?” David suddenly leaned forward to get a closer look. “Patrick? What is that?”

Patrick passed Bob’s Garage and crossed the intersection, parking on the side of the road across the street from the store. David had leaned as far forward as the seat belt would allow, peering around Patrick with his gaze fixed on the curtain of glittering snowflakes adorning the window to the right of the door. After a prolonged stretch of silence during which Patrick couldn’t even look at David’s face, so panicked at what he would see there, David finally spoke.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Patrick swallowed down another wave of nausea but his tongue still felt frozen in his mouth. He nodded instead, then croaked out with as much good humor as he could manage, "Found it!"

He felt David’s attention shift to him instead of the store. “That can't be it. The same one? How...?” He trailed off, apparently speechless.

Patrick finally screwed up enough courage to face David and every clenched muscle in his body relaxed the moment their eyes met. All he saw in David’s expression was shock and wonder, not a trace of disappointment or distress to be found. He exhaled every last trace of panic and the nausea faded and was replaced with excitement once more, bubbling throughout his entire body.

“Funny story, actually,” he began with a wry twist to his smile. “You made quite an impression on Mrs. Schaeffer.”

“Mrs. Schaeffer?”

“She owns the stationery store and we owe her a gift basket. A large one.” Patrick opened his door and climbed out of the car, coming around the front to open the passenger door for David. “I know you wanted to stay in the car, but would you please come inside with me? We don’t have to talk to anyone.” He held out a hand and David hesitated only for a moment before releasing his seat belt and accepting Patrick’s assistance.

They walked across the street hand in hand, David’s eyes fixed on the window. Patrick dug the keys out of his pocket to unlock the door and David drifted off to stand directly in front of the window, eyes darting to and fro, trying to take it all in. Patrick unlocked and opened the door, the jingle of the bell catching David’s attention.

“You were right, the picture didn’t do it justice. Come inside, see it up close.”

Patrick had no idea how long they stood together on the other side of the window while David admired the shimmering display of snowflakes and beads. Long enough that the warmth of the store compelled Patrick to remove his coat and help David out of his. Long enough for the lights across the street at the café to turn off. Long enough for David to ask a series of randomly dispersed questions.

“Is this the same one? It looks the same.”

“How did you even know where to look?”

“Is this ours now? We can keep it?”

Patrick answered each one, patiently waiting for David to get his fill of inspecting each strand. Time had no meaning when it was spent watching David’s reactions to the display, trying to reconcile a memory with the genuine article right in front of him, in his own store, his own window. Patrick couldn’t believe he’d ever doubted David would appreciate this. He knew by now how to make his partner happy.

Finally, David turned to Patrick and clasped both hands around his head to pull him in for a firm, brief kiss. He eased back and shook his head, eyes watering and lips twisting in that way that meant he couldn’t decide between joyful sobs or tearful laughter and settled on just trying to hold it all in.

“Why?”

Patrick had been waiting for this question. He shrugged and smiled his silly frowny upside-down smile, the David Rose Special.

“I wanted to see it in person.”

David barked out a wet laugh and slapped Patrick’s chest playfully. His hands settled on their favorite spot, rubbing and squeezing Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick wouldn’t say he didn’t realize how much he’d missed their comforting weight over the last few days; he knew exactly how much he missed it, and his hands automatically migrated to David’s waist, sure he was feeling similarly.

“You don’t have a lot of happy memories from New York. And I promised to do everything in my power to make you happy here, and I will. So I thought I’d bring some of the best of New York home for you.”

One of those joyful/tearful sobs/laughs escaped David’s throat and Patrick pulled him into a hug, dropping a kiss on his neck and holding him tight.

“I take it you like it then? You’re not mad I made a creative decision for the store without you?”

David let loose a real laugh at that.

“Never again, this was your one chance.” He sniffled and tucked his face into Patrick’s neck. “I love it,” he whispered. “I love you. I'm so happy here with you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, David. Happy Second Thanksgiving.” David’s peal of laughter rang out and filled the store, and Patrick just nuzzled closer and held him tighter, so thankful to have his husband home again.