Chapter Text
“Think we missed the party?”
“I hope so,” says David, turning off the highway.
It’s New Year’s Eve and they’re almost home. It’s late, snowy. David is hunched over the wheel, wearing his glasses. He’s sure he looks far too much like his father right now.
“Well, I want to go,” Patrick yawns.
David looks at him. “How are you not partied out?”
Patrick shrugs and David shakes his head. After a week with Patrick’s cousins, David’s ready to sleep through New Year’s and emerge from his slumber in several months, like a hibernating bear. He’d be happy if he never saw another bottle of whiskey in his life and he expected Patrick to be just as beat.
“Well, I’m going home--” He pauses, slowing at the only stoplight in town. He recognizes the truck in the other lane. “Oh, fuck...”
Jocelyn waves at them from the truck as they come to a stop. David reluctantly rolls down his window.
“Hi Rose-Brewers!” she calls. “Happy New Year!”
She’s wearing a crown with “2021” emblazoned on the front and Roland Jr. is on her lap, decked out in a sparkly blue suit.
“Joceyln, for the last time, we didn’t hyphenate our names.”
“Oh, I know that, I just like to say it!”
Roland leans around her, chuckling. “Well, there they are! Back from the north! Coming to the party?”
“Oh my God,” murmurs David.
“Yeah, we’ll be there, just have to drop off our stuff,” says Patrick.
David turns to give him the evil-eye. He smiles, unmoved, and pats David’s leg.
“Thank goodness,” says Jocelyn, sagging in relief. “Because we hit a bit of a snafu. The Shop ‘n Save in Elmdale was totally out of champagne. And if memory serves me right, you boys sell quite a lot of that!”
“Patrick, we are not giving them our--”
“Just got a new shipment,” says Patrick.
“Great!” Jocelyn takes Roland Jr’s hands and waves them in the air. “You hear that, Rollie? I told you we’d find a way!”
Roland rubs his hand over his stubble. “Well...if I know the Roses...and believe me, I do...I’d say there’s a catch.”
David raises his brows. “There is a catch. It’s $37 a bottle and yes, that is the friends and family price.”
Patrick leans closer. “He’s kidding. Party still at the café?”
Jocelyn grins and nods. “Yep!”
Roland waves as the light changes and he punches the gas. David rolls up his window, sitting at the green light because no one’s behind him, and looks at Patrick for an explanation.
“It’s the least we can do, David.”
“Oh my God.” He pulls forward. “You can go alone.”
“You’re not bailing on our first New Year’s as a married couple. Besides, we didn’t go last year.”
“Um, that’s because last year,” says David, “I surprised you with a hotel room in Toronto and we drank champagne in a private infinity pool all night..."
“Well. Not all night.”
“Don’t flirt with me. I am very annoyed with you.” He pauses. “That shower was fucking amazing.”
“Great acoustics.”
“Almost too good.”
“Yeah, I scared myself a little--”
David laughs. “Oh my God.” He pulls in the drive, softening at the sight of their house, and glances at Patrick. “Okay. I will stay for one hour. But then we are coming home…” He leans to kiss him. “And doing everything we did last year…”
“I don’t think our shower can handle that,” Patrick murmurs.
“Mhm.” David tugs him closer. “But our bed can…” He pauses. “We could just…” He slides his fingers down Patrick’s chest. “...skip the party…”
“David, I know what you’re doing and it’s not working.” He tilts his head for another, messier kiss. “It’s working a little…”
He breathes in, nose brushing David’s, then chuckles and kisses him hard. David would smirk if he could. Got him.
They kiss for a moment, forgetting the snow and the idling car, ignoring their promise to show up with booze and snacks...their hands start to stray, mouths open and impatient, and David’s just nipped Patrick’s neck, just unlatched his seatbelt, when someone honks behind them.
They both jump. David glances in the rearview and sees Stevie’s old hatchback in the street.
“God, are you fucking kidding?”
Patrick blinks, slightly dazed. “Huh?”
David groans as Stevie gets out of her car and walks beside theirs. She motions at him to roll down the window, which is steamy -- an incriminating detail. Of course she won’t be cool about it.
“So. What are you two up to?”
Patrick falters. “We…”
“I’m trying to fuck Patrick away from the New Year’s party.”
Patrick nods. “Yep. That.”
Stevie pops her brows. “Wow. Well, I’m not going without you two. Last year, everyone got wasted and Roland and Jocelyn acted out Julie and Julia. They knew every word. We were there until four in the morning.”
“And you think we can prevent that?” asks David.
“No. But you can suffer with me.”
“Who played who?” asks Patrick.
“Oh, Roland played Julie, which was as disturbing as it sounds.”
David looks at Patrick. “Do you still want to give them all of our imported champagne?”
“No, but…”
“I’m going to need something stronger than champagne,” says Stevie, adding, “and I need to heat this up in your oven because mine broke.”
She holds up a dish of seven-layer dip and gives it a jazzy shake.
“Okay, we just got home, I haven’t even given Patrick his gift--”
“Looks like you were about to.”
David simpers and throws his door open, making her jump aside. She scoffs, cradling her casserole dish.
“Don’t take it out on me.”
“Oh, I’m going to, and if we’re there past one, I’ll murder you.”
Patrick gets out of the car, pausing to get their bags, and David presses closer to Stevie as they approach the front door.
“So, he doesn’t know about the...”
“I know, David.”
“So don’t let him go into the basement.”
“I’m not going to!”
David may have downplayed his gift, but he’s actually proud of it -- and nervous. He doesn’t want to reveal it until the perfect moment, which is decidedly not now.
He unlocks the door and they all push inside, greedy for warmth. Patrick goes upstairs with their luggage, Stevie puts her casserole in the oven, and David swaps his clothes and contacts. When he returns, she looks at him with a smirk and takes something out of her top pocket.
“Would this help you get through the night?”
He grabs the joint and reaches into the nearest drawer for a lighter. “Yes, yes it would…”
She leans on the counter, amused. “How was Christmas?”
He lights the joint, musing over an accurate description. “Remember when I tried to get in shape and I went to the gym three days in a row?”
“I do,” says Stevie, nodding solemnly.
“So it was that, except I was drinking straight whiskey instead of water.”
“Sounds relaxing,” she says, taking the joint.
“Mhm, it wasn’t.” He glances at her and can’t hold back a tiny grin. “It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
She grins too, uncharacteristically warm. “Thought it might be.”
He takes the joint back and they look up as Patrick returns. He looks at them like a tired dad.
“I’m not watching Meryl Streep reenactments sober,” says David. Then he smiles, offering the joint. “Want to try? I tried new things for you this week.”
“Ew,” Stevie complains.
“He means sledding,” says Patrick, adding as he reaches into the fridge, “I’m good with a beer, thanks.”
David tips his head back and blows out a stream of smoke. “Boo.”
“David, the last time I was high, I called my doctor and asked him if he was really a doctor. And you didn’t stop me.”
Stevie pops her brows, laughing. “What? When was this?”
“When he dislocated his knee last fall,” says David, raising his brows. “He had never tried Oxy before and he left this rambling voicemail about his PT’s credentials. My knee doesn’t feel any better. Are you any good at your job? Where did you go to medical school? Are you actually a veterinarian?"
Patrick rubs his face, still embarrassed, and Stevie shakes her head in amazement. Then Patrick uncaps his beer and David sidles closer to put an arm around him.
“You just watched?” Stevie asks.
“Um, that was pure karma,” says David.
“Right,” says Patrick. “What the strongest marriages are built on.”
David grins and turns to pour a glass of wine.
They linger in the kitchen for the next half hour, taunting each other and sipping their drinks. David would rather stay here, in his tiny kitchen with his two favorite people, but the oven timer rings and sends them into the night.