Chapter Text
David isn’t sure why he agreed to go on a road trip with Patrick, Alexis, and Ted. As much as he loves Patrick, a road trip with him alone would have been a big ask. But with his sister and Ted?
“Remind me what I did to deserve this,” he murmurs.
“Lost a bet,” Patrick reminds him.
David whines, about to refute this. Patrick gives him a loving but firm look and he stops. He returns his gaze to the road.
“I swear Cool Whip is vegan,” he says under his breath.
“Your bet was about Cool Whip?” Alexis demands from the back. “Oh my God! We’re out here because of Cool Whip?”
“What is that?” asks Ted.
Alexis turns to him and touches his lips. “Oh, Ted. Oh, may you never find out what Cool Whip i--”
“It’s like whipped cream,” says Patrick.
“IT’S NOT,” Alexis and David chorus.
Ted’s eyebrows jump. “Okay. Some strong opinions about whipped topping here.”
They drive in silence for a moment. Alexis adjusts her hat against the sun and Ted sips his coffee. Patrick unfolds his giant map.
“Were you an Eagle Scout or something?” David finally asks.
Patrick looks at him, amused, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Would you like that?”
“No,” says David, expression unchanging as he leans to take the map. “I have a phone.”
“Yes, but do you have service?” asks Patrick.
“No,” Alexis tells them.
David makes a noise between a growl and a sob. “I am going to murder you.”
Patrick makes a note on the map. “Okay, David.”
David huffs, reaching for his long-cold latte. A moose wanders into the road and he says, in an exceptionally high pitch, “Why are there so many deer?”
***
They reach the lodge after another hour. Alexis gets out first and drags her suitcase from the hatchback, then stops, staring at the lobby. It’s tiny, detached from the cabins, and covered in moss. She frowns, stumbling over her heels, and looks at Ted for support.
“Okay,” says David, airy and measured. “When you said motel, I was picturing something at least as nice as the Rosebud.”
“Well, I said lodge,” says Patrick. “And I think this is pretty nice. Right, David?”
David shakes his head, stiff with apprehension.
“This is where you get serial-killed,” Alexis adds.
“I think it’s cute,” says Ted.
It is, objectively, not cute. They all head for the lobby, skirting mud puddles and patches of ice, and David’s lips twitch at the smell of mothballs as he opens the door.
“Oh my God--”
Patrick elbows him and smiles at the lodge owner, who glowers and pulls on a cigarette.
“How many rooms?” she asks.
“Um, two,” David answers. “And do you have any kind of open bar?”
The owner puffs out a cloud of smoke and silently accepts Patrick’s credit card.
David glances around at the taxidermy. “I’m thinking that’s a no on the bar?”
The owner slowly raises one eyebrow, then says, “Watch out for bears.”
David holds very still, arms in a strange T-Rex pose, staring at her. Patrick slides his card back in his wallet and turns to put an arm around David.
“Off to a great start,” he says.
“Okay, this is why I’m planning our honeymoon--”
“You haven’t even seen the room yet!”
David exhales in defeat. “Okay.”
They return to Patrick’s car and take their bags from the back. Patrick glances at the number on the keys and gestures with them.
“Cabin #6.”
“Ugh, we’re #5,” huffs Alexis, dragging a pillow from the backseat. “I’m trying to, like, get some separation, you know? That was a six-hour drive!”
Patrick pulls his backpack over one shoulder and takes David’s hand, headed for Cabin #6. David wrinkles his nose slightly. The cabin is slumped on one side, like the foundation gave way, and it’s painted an alarming shade of green. They climb three slippery stairs to the porch, then look at the door, which features a large, wooden plaque. #6 - Whispering Pines.
“Do pines whisper?” David asks.
“I think it’s supposed to be whimsical, David,” says Patrick, fluttering his fingers on the last syllable.
“Ah, uh-huh,” says David, nodding.
Patrick unlocks the door, but it sticks, so he shoulders against it. It creaks open and he feels inside for a light switch, but stops.
“What is that?” he mumbles. His eyes widen and he quickly withdraws his hand. “Oh. Okay, those are antlers.”
David’s eyes flash and he gently moves Patrick aside. He shines the flashlight on his phone inside and nods once at the decor.
“Okay. I think I saw another motel about an hour back-”
Patrick laughs, searching for a light switch again. “No way. You’re stuck with this now. For better or worse.”
“Does that really apply if we’re just engaged?”
“That’s nice, David -- oh, there it is,” he says, flicking on the lights to reveal a rustic cabin with many kitschy knick-knacks mounted on the walls; there’s a kitchenette, several windows with plaid curtains, and two beds.
“Two beds.”
“Yeah. Hm.”
“Is that standard or did she think we’re brothers?”
“No one has ever thought that. We could push them together?”
“And fall down the crack in the middle while we’re sleeping?”
Patrick glances at him. “You were planning on sleeping?”
David misses this obvious come-on because he’s staring at a taxidermied fox.
“No. Good point. Definitely not sleeping with that thing watching us.”
Patrick raises his brows.
“What?" David asks. "Oh. Oh.” He turns, taking Patrick’s shoulders. “So clear something up for me. You brought your fiance on what you hoped would be a romantic getaway...here...and you brought Alexis and Ted?”
“Yes,” Patrick says, unabashed. “And--”
A hair-raising scream interrupts them next door. “Oh my God, there’s no wi-fi?!”
David sets his jaw, meeting Patrick’s eyes, point proven.
“Honestly, I’m surprised they agreed,” Patrick says.
“Honestly, I remember you pitching this to Alexis as a charming and homespun one-of-a-kind retreat.”
“Definitely didn’t use the word homespun.”
“You did, actually,” David says, wrinkling his nose at the word choice.
Patrick frowns, then shrugs as if impressed by his own vocabulary. He pulls David inside and nudges the door shut with his foot. “How about...I get you a glass of wine...and I move the fox?”
“I think you might get rabies if you touch that.”
“Pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.”
“Are you though?”
Patrick guides David toward the couch, then pushes him into his seat and lifts his feet onto the coffee table. “Relax.”
David’s eyes find the stuffed fox. Patrick sighs, turning to pull it off the mantle. But it’s glued down and it won’t budge.
“Uh…”
“Just cover it with a blanket!” David shrieks, hiding his face.
“Good call,” says Patrick, grabbing a quilt from one of the armchairs. “Sorry fella.”
“Are you apologizing to me or the fox?” asks David, voice muffled through his fingers.
“...the fox?”
“Good, because we are not doing fella.”
“Noted,” Patrick replies, stretching to grab his backpack.
He takes out a bottle of red and a multi-purpose tool, both purchased at a gas station on the drive here. David would be more optimistic about the quality of the wine had it not been stored next to a stand of hunting rifles and a crate of Bazooka bubblegum. How bad can it be? Patrick had asked when he bought it, five words that should never be said when purchasing wine.
Patrick sets the wine on the coffee table and returns with two glasses, found in the highest cabinet above the fridge. He uncorks the wine and pours them each a glass, then sits by David and puts his hand on his leg. David softens slightly, watching him.
“Well, you tried,” he says.
Patrick leans close and kisses him, mumbling as he pulls away, “You lost a bet. This wasn’t supposed to be fun.”
“Right,” says David, unconvinced, smirking now. “See, I think you wanted to put together a nice little mini-moon for us.”
“What’s a mini-moon?”
“A pre-honeymoon.”
“That’s a real thing?” checks Patrick.
“Yes, Gwyneth swears by them.”
Patrick kisses David again. “Okay then. To Gwyneth and five-dollar wine.”
David laughs, sneaking in a last kiss. “Yes.”
They both take a sip of wine. David’s eyes widen in surprise and he pops his brows.
“This...isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever had,” he admits.
Patrick chuckles and takes another drink. “Good.” He picks up the bottle to examine the label. “Not bad for a wine called 4 Skins.”
“It is not called that-”
Patrick turns the bottle. “Yep.”
David looks down to disguise his amusement, putting a delicate hand over his mouth. Then he gestures at Patrick in disbelief. “Okay. Do...did they know what they were doing there?”
“I think it’s an innocent mistake. Grapes do have skins, David.”
“Hang on, Stevie has to see this,” he says, taking out his phone.
He snaps a picture and sends it.
Weekend’s off to a great start!
Wow! Bet that wine pairs really well with ball cheese!
Another text comes in, this time from Alexis.
There’s no heat?!? David murder meeeeeee!
David glances at Patrick. “So when were you going to tell me that there’s no heat?”
Patrick gestures at the fireplace. “What do you mean? It’s right there.”
“Okay, as much as I’m digging the sexy but sensitive mountain man thing-”
“You’ve never built a fire before, have you?”
“Uh, no. Ew. Why would I have built a fire?” He squints. “Were you a boy scout?”
“Yes, and I went camping a lot as a kid. You know this, David, we’ve talked about this.”
David shakes his head, eyes glazing over, and grimaces slightly. He slugs the rest of his wine, then sets his glass down and rubs his hands together.
“Okay. Show me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“Okay. First we need to go get wood. Which…” Patrick trails off, reaching for a laminated brochure, and flips to the third page. “...is located at the back of the property, by the creek. Complementary log carriers can be found by the door.”
“We have to hike...to get wood?”
Patrick smiles. “I think it’s more like a short stroll, David. And you love hikes.”
David softens at this, watching him with a glimmer of affection. “No. I love you.”
“Well, I thought our last hike was...pretty fun,” says Patrick.
David looks away, overwhelmed by a smile, and rolls his eyes. Patrick grins lightly, laughing, and tugs on David’s arms. They get up, glance tenderly at each other, then tangle their fingers and go toward the door. David stops on the porch at an icy gust of wind, returning inside for furry earmuffs, and Patrick pulls on a jacket and a bomber cap.
David pauses at this. “You look like Paul Bunyan.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a compliment.”
Patrick ignores this and grabs the log carrier. They go down the steps together, then pause in front of Cabin #5, because Alexis is in the window. She waves, looking rather deranged, and mouths help!
“So she’s settling in,” Patrick remarks.
She struggles to open the window, then cranes her head out.
“Twin beds! Twin! And Ted is cooking salmon. Ugh! Who gave him salmon?”
“He bought it,” David says blandly. “At a gas station. When you were reapplying your mascara in the bathroom.”
“He bought fish at a gas station?!”
She slams the window and storms away. David nods, thumbing over Patrick’s knuckles.
“Okay then,” he says, breathy. “Speaking of salmon, I’m starving.”
“Great. I brought us some dehydrated camping foods. They come in envelopes.”
David replies with such a searing expression that Patrick balks.
“I’m kidding! I have an amazing dinner planned for my amazing fiance. David, relax.”
The corner of David’s mouth twitches.“Are you telling me there are foods that come in envelopes?”
“Yeah. They’re actually not bad.”
“Highly doubt that,” says David, adding, “where’s the path and are we going to get mauled?”
“The path is right there and no, David, we aren’t. At least, I don’t think so.”
David glances at a singletrack trail, which is obscured by huckleberry bushes and ivy. Patrick digs in his jacket for a flashlight, then beams this between the trees as an owl hoots.
“Don’t love this,” says David.
“You could have stayed in the cabin.”
“And let you get mauled?”
“That’s really sweet of you, but you don’t seem like the type who would fight off a bear.”
“I’ve fought off many bears,” grumbles David, recalling a summer in WeHo.
They start down the trail -- David apprehensive, craning around each tree -- and walk for a moment in silence, shivering. A few snowflakes drift from the sky, the start of a storm and a creek burbles in the distance.
“See, this is nice,” says Patrick. “It’s peaceful, we’re alone…”
“It’s freezing, there’s probably a tiger behind us…”
“Where do you think tigers live, David?”
David gestures in annoyance. “The forest?”
“We’re in Canada.”
They continue for another moment. David stays unusually close to Patrick, jumping at every twig that breaks and leaf that falls. The trees taper off as they near the creek, giving way to a small clearing with a picnic table and a massive store of firewood. The creek swirls through overhanging berry bushes and stars sparkle overhead, beyond the drifting clouds. They stop for a moment, both breathing in, and Patrick glances at David.
“What?” asks David - his fiance is looking at him a little too lovingly.
“Nothing, I…” Patrick stops and shakes his head. “Nothing, I just love you.”
David gestures at him. “Okay. Too much. I love you too.”
“Well, the thing is, I’ve just seen a bear and I wanted that to be the last thing that I said to you-”
David pushes Patrick toward the stack of firewood. “Not funny.”
“Maybe it was a cougar. Or a wolf.”
“Even less funny-” David stops, blinking. “Okay, that 4 Skin is really hitting me.”
“Not a great phrase, David.”
“You may have to carry me back.”
“Maybe,” says Patrick, putting his hands on David’s shoulders, “you would feel better if you helped me stack all this firewood.”
“Maybe,” says David, matching his tone, “I would feel better if you made out with me.”
Patrick shifts closer, wearing a thoughtful, musing expression. “Maybe...I will do that...after you help me stack all this firewood.”
“Boo,” says David. Then something crackles in the bushes behind them and David raises his brows. “Okay, yes, on second thought, let’s get out of here as fast as fucking possible.”
“Yep,” Patrick agrees, unrolling the log carrier.
David tosses logs haphazardly onto it (while Patrick stacks them neatly) and starts to gather kindling from the side of the pile. He adds this on top of the logs, making a face.
“How many of the tiny ones do we need?”
Patrick looks at the sad pile of twigs. “Well, more than that, David-”
“But I saw a spider. And I’m like really needing to be alone with you right now-”
“Okay, you are alone with me-”
“Yes, by be alone with you, I actually mean I need you to fu-”
A branch breaks behind them.
“Okay!” Patrick says brightly.
David trots closer to him and hides behind him, staring into the dark bushes.
“Do you have bear spray?” he breathes.
Patrick points his flashlight through the trees. “No.”
“Why not?” David squeaks.
“I don’t know,” admits Patrick, beaming the flashlight up. He frowns as it illuminates a raccoon. “Oh. It’s just a raccoon.”
David closes his eyes and breathes out. “Oh thank God.” He snuggles his face against the back of Patrick’s neck. “I’m too young to die.”
“Well, there’s still time,” Patrick replies. “We still have to make it back to the cabin.”
David groans, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “No. I’m staying here now.”
Patrick starts to laugh, tilting his head back, and David eyes him, smirking slightly.
“You know...I helped you stack all that wood…”
“You,” says Patrick, slowly turning, “are so greedy.”
“Yeah,” David agrees, nodding before he kisses him.
They soften into each other and Patrick’s lips twitch in a tiny smile before the kiss deepens. David instantly forgets the impending snowstorm and the wild animals, happy to stay here indefinitely, alone under the canopy of pines. But Patrick pulls away, laughing quietly.
“What?” David sighs.
“The earmuffs.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, are the earmuffs not working for you?”
Patrick slips the earmuffs down and covers David’s ears with his hands. “There. How’s that?”
“Weird,” David says frankly.
“Well, I can’t kiss you with the earmuffs.”
David tugs on the earflaps of Patrick’s hat. “You don’t think you’re being...a little hypocritical?”
“I know how these hats turn you on, David.”
David presses his lips together. “Okay.”
Patrick chuckles and kisses him again, murmuring, “Do you think the raccoon is watching us?”
“Why would you say that?” asks David.
“I don’t know,” Patrick mumbles; then he glances into David’s eyes, more solemn, and tilts his head to kiss him again.
David smiles slightly, leaning into the kiss, and hums as Patrick puts his hands through his hair. He pulls him closer, hooking his fingers in Patrick’s belt loops, and Patrick chuckles before resuming the kiss. David pulls back and breathes out after a moment, playing with the zipper of Patrick’s jacket.
“Okay...we cannot have sex on that picnic table, right? Like, that would be wrong, right?”
“It’s ten degrees outside so I think that’s...dangerous, yeah.”
“Right, yes, okay. Yes. Um.” He kisses Patrick again. “Fuck. Okay.”
Patrick laughs. “Guess I was right about the hat-”
“No, no, you were not right about the hat, you look like a plaid turtle, but you are a sexy turtle.”
“I thought you said I look like a tortoise.”
David frowns, starting to unzip Patrick’s jacket. “Oh. What’s the difference?”
“You could ask Ted,” says Patrick, raising his brows.
David wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “No.” He leans into another kiss, pulling his hands over Patrick’s biceps, and adds, “Five more minutes.”
“What happened to your fear of bears?”
“Oh, it is stronger than ever, but you are distracting me…”
“Well, I don’t think we should lower our guard, imagine the headlines: local couple mauled because David Rose couldn’t wait to kiss his fiance.”
“I know, I know, but you smell really nice right now--”
“Maybe that’s attracting the bears.”
“Patrick,” David says measuredly, “If you don’t stop talking about bears--”
Patrick laughs, takes David’s face in his hands, and kisses him firmly. Then a stick cracks down the path. David pauses, eyes flashing over Patrick’s shoulder, but the next moment is quiet and the forest is still except for a slight breeze. David nuzzles Patrick, then bumps his nose against his, resuming their kiss.
A moment later, they hear a woman exclaim.
“Ew! David! What the hell?”
He and Patrick break apart. Patrick puts his hands on his hips and glances down, flushed, while Alexis gestures at them both with a flashlight.
“Why didn’t you text me that you were getting firewood? Eugh! I would have asked you just get us some!”
Ted follows out of the bushes, then smiles, far too cheerful for the circumstances.
“Oh! Hey, you two!”
“We were just leaving…” says David, taking Patrick’s hand and dragging him toward the path.
“Firewood, David,” Patrick reminds him.
David sighs. He turns, grabs the log carrier, and sends a wrathful glance at Alexis for interrupting.
“Oh, sure, David. How was I supposed to know you’d be making out in the middle of the woods?”
“Um, Alexis, everything you know about me should have prepared you for that possibility.”
“Uh, yeah, but Patrick isn’t a messy bitch like you, David!”
“Oh, hey, do you guys want any salmon?” adds Ted.
Alexis gives a serious, silent shake of her head as a warning. David attempts a grateful smile.
“Ah, no, no Ted, but thank you.” He puts an arm around Patrick. “See, my wonderful fiance is going to cook me a real outdoorsman’s meal!”
“Oh, nice!” says Ted. “When my dad used to take me camping, we’d always eat baked beans right out of the can!”
David nods. “Great. Okay--”
“Hey, Ted, would you mind explaining to David what the difference between a turtle and a tortoise is?” Patrick asks, tone intentionally innocent.
David turns to stare at him, appalled, but Ted’s eyes light up.
“Sure, yeah! So, the important thing to remember about tortoises is--”
Alexis rolls her eyes, tugging the log carrier from Ted’s arms, and stomps over to the log pile near the creek.
“--tortoises are turtles—they belong to the order Testudines or Chelonia—but not all turtles are tortoises!”
Ted makes an exaggerated, excited expression, as if he just told them that Obama became a professional surfer. David squints.
“Tell us more,” says Patrick.
“Well, tortoises are exclusively land creatures. And, they tend to be vegetarians, whereas turtles are omnivorous. You know, if you guys are interested, there’s this awesome documentary about tortoises. I have it on Blu-Ray. You can pop by some time and we could all watch!”
David nods, snapping his earmuffs back on, and pulls Patrick along. “Yes, that is so sweet, we will definitely consider it.”
“Cool, yeah, any time!” says Ted as David and Patrick squeeze past him on the path.
David looks at Patrick as they slip into the forest together.
Patrick smiles, pleased with himself, and shrugs.“I thought you should have more tortoise information, you know, because you’re marrying one--”
“Okay, for what it’s worth, I think you are more turtle-like than tortoise-like, and upon reflection, both of those are inaccurate. You’re more like a soulful, baby-faced aardvark.”
Patrick wrinkles his brow. “Okay.”
“Here,” adds David, swinging the log carrier toward him. “Take half. I overdid my Vinyasa flow yesterday.”
“Is that what you’re calling yoga now?”
“No, Patrick, it’s a type of yoga.”
“Ah huh,” says Patrick. “So maybe you’ll need a massage.”
“More like I will definitely need a massage.”
“Maybe you can polish off that wine while I build a fire and then…”
David turns. “You’re being too nice. Is everything okay? Did something happen?”
“No,” Patrick laughs. “No, I just thought...since I dragged you out here, then the least I could do is make you comfortable.”
“Okay, that makes it sound like I’m dying and you’re my doctor. But I will take that massage.”
“The way you said that makes it seem like you expect more than a massage.”
“That’s because I do.”
Patrick laughs again and shakes his head, picking up his pace as it starts to snow. David hurries with him, past cabins #7 and #8, and they haul the firewood up the stairs and into their cabin. Patrick dusts off his hands and surveys the wood, then glances at the cabin next door as Ted and Alexis struggle upstairs with their wood.
“Are they going to be okay?” Patrick checks.
“I’m pretty sure Alexis went through an arsonist phase as a teenager, so yes.”
“Starting a fire’s harder than it looks.”
“Trust me, it’s really not,” says David, reaching for the bottle of 4 Skins and pouring them each some more. “When I was dating Anderson Cooper, I started a small fire in his office because I may have read a classified report and I may have gotten cheeto dust on that aforementioned report. So my only option was a recycling bin fire.”
Patrick nods. “Right, well, that’s happened to the best of us, David.”
David nods too, sipping his wine. “Sure has. Do we have any cheese? Like a nice light brie?”
“No, but we do have…” Patrick trails off, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a brick of cheese, “this...excellent, locally-sourced, grass-fed cheddar.”
David grabs at it. “We do?”
“No. That was from Shop ‘n Save.”
David lets go of the cheese, staring at Patrick, unamused.
“And we’ve got…” Patrick continues in a musical tone, “...these artisan crackers!”
He presents a box of Ritz and David nods.
“Okay, I’m gonna need at least two more glasses of 4 Skins to enjoy that.”
“You’ve really got to stop saying the name of the wine.”
David points with his glass “Never.” He drains the wine and pours some more, then shudders. “I’m freezing.”
“That’s why we got firewood.”
David sits down with a tiny huff, drinking more wine, and Patrick starts to pile some wood in the fireplace. David fights a smile as he watches him, suddenly moved, then hops to his feet.
“Okay. If you’re doing that, the very least I can do is cook us dinner-”
“No. No, David.”
Prior to last week’s incident, Patrick would have been happy to have his fiance cook for them. But last Tuesday, David decided to serve medium-rare chicken with a zucchini compote. While the compote was nice, the chicken was deadly. (Patrick referred to this as the “salmonella surprise” and David didn’t speak to him for an hour.)
“I’m going to cook all the meat thoroughly!” David complains.
“Well, luckily, I didn’t bring any meat. Because of the drive and the fact that you keep the car the temperature of a sauna.”
“Fine,” sighs David. “I will work a miracle with whatever other Shop ‘n Save products you did bring.” He enters the kitchenette and rummages through Patrick’s backpack, finding pasta, some broccolini, and a package of cherry tomatoes. He gestures with these, surprised and impressed, and looks at Patrick. “So you brought everything to make my favorite pasta dish.”
“Yes,” Patrick replies.
David nods and sips his wine, then grips the counter. “Okay. Are we sure there isn’t something going on?”
“Well, I was going to propose to you - oh, shit, wait, no, I already did that.”
“Patrick,” says David, voice airy but serious.
Patrick sighs and puts down the log he’s holding, then brushes his hands off and approaches David. He takes both his hands and leans to give him a gentle, lingering kiss.
“You need to realize...that this is what people who love each other...do for each other.”
“But it’s not my birthday,” says David, breathless.
Patrick glances down, almost laughing. “Yeah. Exactly. It’s not, David, that’s the point. We don’t need special occasions to treat each other like this.”
“Okay,” David says, voice very small. “I’m just, suddenly feeling sort of overwhelmed, and I’m still very cold--”
Patrick interrupts him with another kiss and he melts, then pulls Patrick into a tight, needy hug. Patrick breathes in and locks his arms around David.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Shh, mm mm, nope,” says David, rubbing his back. He sniffles hard and sinks closer. “No talking. Just stay here.”
Patrick tucks his face into David’s chest, smiling. “Okay.”
They stay in a quiet embrace for a long moment, until David softens and pulls away to look into Patrick’s eyes. He smiles, then turns Patrick by his shoulders.
“Okay, you go relax while I make us dinner.”
Patrick chuckles. “Okay.” He glances over his shoulder, smirking slightly, and pulls his guitar case from their pile of luggage. “But you have to put up with this.”
David smiles over a sip of wine, then nods, his eyes warm. Patrick grins gently, then sits by the fire and takes the guitar out of its case. David glances down, undone, and tries to focus on slicing some cherry tomatoes. Then Patrick plays the few first chords of A Case of You and David flaps his hand in the air, fanning himself.
“No, no, you’ll actually make me cry-- I mean, you really crush this one, always, it’s like insane and sort of unfair to the rest of us--”
Patrick looks down to hide how pleased he is. “Okay David, how about…” He changes the next chords, settling more comfortably on the couch, and starts off, “When your legs don't work like they used to before…And I can't sweep you off of your feet...”
David points at him with a spatula. “That’s true now.”
“I think it’s metaphorical, David…” says Patrick, still playing.
“Is it?”
Patrick glances at him, too earnest, and continues to sing, “And darling, I’ll be loving you 'til we're 70…”
“As long as we don’t get eaten by a bear.”
“As long as we don’t get eaten by a bear at 23,” Patrick goes on, matching these words to the cadence of the song.
“Okay, we are like, rapidly approaching 40.”
“David, while I really appreciate this feedback, I’d like to sing without so many interruptions.”
David finishes his wine, almost laughing, and nods as he reaches to turn on the stove. Patrick stays quiet for a moment, gauging whether his fiance will actually behave, then transitions into a lowkey version of All I Want For Christmas Is You.
“You thought you could sing this without interruptions?”
“I was kind of hoping so, yeah.”
“Ah huh,” says David, nodding as he searches the cabinets for olive oil. He makes a face when he finds a strange red canister. “What the fuck?”
“David?”
He grimaces, carefully taking the canister from the cabinet, and studies the label on it: Frontiersman Bear Deterrent - Total Bear Incapacitation Guaranteed! He blinks, then thrusts the bear spray into view and gives it a jazzy shake.
“Found it!”
Patrick glances up from his guitar and his eyes widen. “David. That’s - that’s explosive.”
David looks at the canister and finds the words DO NOT SHAKE - CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE in bright yellow. His eyes jump open in terror and he sets the canister back on the shelf very gently.
“Okay, you should know exactly how much I love you if I’m staying here after finding that where the salt and pepper should be!”
“You’re very brave, David,” Patrick murmurs, tossing another log onto the fire and transitioning into the first few chords of The Best.
David glances up at this one, giving into a helpless, stupid smile. Patrick returns a more subdued smile, then looks down and shakes his head, happily overwhelmed. David lingers on his expression, then pours some more wine and presses his lips together. He sends a last secret glance at Patrick before continuing to cook. He’s not sure if it’s the cabin or the snowstorm or the wine or the fire or Patrick’s voice, but he stays unusually quiet. He can’t find a garlic press and for some reason, this cabin didn’t come stocked with fresh basil, but the pasta looks good -- good enough, anyway. Patrick made this dish for him on one of the very first nights he slept over; he associates the taste with those stomach-swooping, surreal summer nights when he was suddenly sure -- somehow decidedly and doubtlessly sure -- that he had met his person.
Of course, his stomach still swoops -- it’s swooping right now, because Patrick has started to do a little shoulder shimmy along with the song. David presses his lips together, watching him as he changes songs yet again.
“My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue, all's well that ends well to end up with you, swear to be overdramatic--”
David interrupts with a laugh, raising his hand. Patrick grins at this, pausing as David walks slowly to the couch. He sinks onto it beside him, already handsy, and Patrick chuckles through a kiss.
“Yeah, this song may be more appropriate coming from you…”
“Yeah, think so,” David agrees, shifting the guitar to the side to climb on top of him.
“Oh, this is happening now?” checks Patrick. “Are you going to let the pasta burn?”
“Yes,” David murmurs, kissing him more intensely.
***
An Hour Later
David hums as he rests his head on Patrick’s chest. Patrick plays with his hair, half-asleep, and the fire crackles beside them. David is warm for the first time in hours - too warm, actually, and sweaty enough to need a shower, but damn it, he’s not moving for anything right now.
“Feel like we’re forgetting something,” Patrick murmurs.
David thumbs over Patrick’s collarbone, tipsy and mellow, and responds by kissing Patrick under his jaw. Patrick’s lips twitch in amusement, but he keeps his eyes closed.
“Must not have been important,” he mumbles.
“No,” David agrees. Then he sniffs the air and squints. “Wait.”
“Hm?”
“What were we doing before this?”
“You were…” Patrick trails off, barely awake, “...something.”
Then he sits up, abruptly alert, and they meet eyes in realization.
“Oh shit,” he breathes.
“Shit!” says David, jumping up.
He dashes into the kitchen and his eyes bulge slightly at the culinary crime before him - the sauce has been reduced to a thick, crusty paste, and the pot of rotini clearly ran out of water long ago. True, he should have used a bigger pot, more water, and less pasta, but who has that kind of control? He bares his teeth in a scowl, hands hovering over the mess, unsure how to salvage it.
Then he hears a scream and turns to find Alexis, who is covering her face in the doorway.
“David. DAVID! Why are you naked?"
David grabs at an oven mitt to cover himself. “WHY ARE YOU HERE?”
“Ew, David! Put - put something on!”
David hears a rich peal of laughter in the other room - Patrick is enjoying this a little too much for someone who is safely out of sight.
He closes his eyes to compose himself. “Okay, Alexis, will you please tell me why you’re here?”
“I needed to borrow a comb, ugh, David! I forgot mine!”
“Oh my God,” says David, unable to draw a breath. “Alexis. Out. Get out!”
“How would I know you’d be naked in the kitchen? What the hell, David? And what is that smell?”
“Oh, it’s pasta that he burnt to a crisp because he got distracted,” says Patrick, appearing in the doorway wearing a robe. “Hey, Alexis.” He gestures with a comb. “Will this do?”
Her horrified expression transforms into a knowing smirk. “Oh. Oh, I see what’s going on here. You two just had to have a little...avant-le-dîner appeteaser.” She shimmies as she says these words. “That is so cute, and like, mood, that’s what I’d be doing if Ted wasn’t too busy catching a bat-”
Patrick frowns. “If Ted wasn’t doing what?”
“Oh, so, this adorable little bat was hiding in one of the closets but I am not about that life so I came over here pretending I needed a comb because I knew you’d want me to have a better excuse than being afraid of a bat to interrupt your romantic night.”
David gestures, face contorted in pure annoyance. “What better excuse is there than a bat attack?”
“Yeah, we would have let you take refuge here for sure,” Patrick agrees, adding, “though you may not have wanted to be here about ten minutes ago.”
“Literally such an unnecessary detail, I’ve already seen my brother naked tonight and I really don’t need more…” She flaps her hands at them. “Imagery.” She huffs, then hugs herself. “And it wasn’t an attack, David. It was like, hibernating. So can I stay awhile?”
“No!” David yells. “No, you can’t, not now!”
Patrick stretches to grab a blanket from an armchair and tosses it at David, who wraps it around himself like a toga; he fights with the fabric until it conforms to the shape he wants it, then seethes at Alexis.
“Okay. I am going to go take a shower to wash all of this…” He gestures at her and Patrick. “...off of me!”
He stalks out, only to return, muttering that the bathroom is the other way. Patrick folds his arms, unabashedly amused, and Alexis rubs her temples. They wait to speak until they hear the water running in the other room.
“So, like, he didn’t think to put something on before coming into the kitchen? The kitchen?”
“Apparently not.”
Alexis flutters her lips like an exasperated pony, shaking her head. “Okay. Can’t be unseen. I’m going, I need to get out of this, like, weird, smoky afterglow situation.”
Patrick nods at this and she exits, getting in one last “eugh!” as she goes down the steps and into the snow. Patrick glances down, then gives a helpless snort.
***
Having dumped the pasta in the trash and accepted that David is going to take an endless shower, Patrick decides to find dinner for them - somewhere, somehow, something that isn’t Ted’s gas station salmon. He leaves a note for David and puts on a parka, then braves the cold to walk to the lobby. When no one greets him here, despite ringing the service bell twice, he starts to browse the local brochures; most of them are for fly-fishing, pontoon boat rentals, and seaplane tours, but there is one menu from a tavern called The Moose Brew.
It’s only a few minutes up the road. He’s not thrilled about driving in a snowstorm, but he’s just as worried about dealing with David if all he gets to eat is Ritz crackers and Shop ‘n Save cheese. He takes the menu with him, headed for his car, and glances at the cabin with a small smile as he pulls onto the bumpy dirt road. The Moose Brew, it turns out, is a rowdier version of The Wobbly Elm. Despite being a freezing weekday night, it’s packed --Patrick’s not sure where all these people came from, considering they’re in, as David so delicately put it, “Nowhere, Ontario.”
He shoulders through some loud, rough-and-tumble hunters and finally lands at the bar counter. He glances at the huge chalkboard menu of local brews and cocktails, then attempts to order two grilled chicken sandwiches and fries.
“Grill’s closed.”
He exhales in disappointment. “Okay. Look, um, my fiance is having a rough night, and if there’s literally any food left, I’ll take it.”
The woman behind the counter gives him a very Ronnie look. She turns without responding, but after a few minutes, returns with two styrofoam boxes. Then she hauls a six-pack onto the counter beside them.
“That’s the Rough Night special,” she says.
Patrick thanks her profusely and leaves a huge tip, then returns to his car and starts a very slow, very slippery drive back to the cabins.
***
By the time he’s back to the cabin, David has gotten out of the shower. He’s wearing a knee-length angora sweater, his hair in a towel, and he’s got two under-eye masks applied. As Patrick muddles through the door, struggling with the food and the beer, David puts his hand on his heart and tilts his head.
“Okay, your note was like, really sweet, and the fact you did this was actually too sweet, but I’m not sure you should have been driving after all that wine.”
Patrick sets the food down on the tiny kitchen table, then approaches David and takes his face in his hands. “David. I had one glass. You had five.”
“That explains like, so much.”
“Yeah,” Patrick chuckles, kissing him.
“Where the fuck did you find food?” David adds. “Are we near civilization and you didn’t tell me? Is there a Hilton up the road?”
“No, David, this was from a bar, and I don’t know what the food is, or what the beer is.”
“Mm. Okay. Sweet idea, iffy execution.”
“Okay, maybe you could hold off on judgment until you actually try the food?”
“I will try,” says David, nodding. Then he gasps, remembering something, and gestures at the fire. “I kept it going!”
“That’s amazing, David.”
David’s lips twitch down, torn between a laugh and a glower. “Okay, it’s not amazing but--”
“No, I’m actually amazed the cabin is still here at all-”
David squeezes Patrick’s shoulders. “Okay, I know you’re the capable one here, but I can do some things.”
“Yeah, you can burn pasta. That’s actually hard to do, now that I think about it.”
“Um, excuse me, but you benefited from that moment of drunken irresponsibility.”
“It was more like an hour, David, not a moment but-”
“Yes, keep complaining about the amazing sex we had-”
Patrick laughs, then kisses him and mumbles, “We’re both saying amazing way too much here.”
“I know, isn’t that amazing?”
“Okay,” Patrick says. “Want to try our mystery dinner?”
“Yes,” says David, actually smiling; he keeps Patrick close and kisses him again. “Thank you, because I’m about to pass out. I almost texted Alexis about the salmon.”
“You mean, after you got my note about how I was braving the snowstorm to get you food?”
“Yes, after that,” says David.
Patrick nods, resigned. “Okay.”
He nudges David toward the kitchen table, then takes down two glasses and pours them each some beer - which is, unfortunately, called Truth or Deer. David notices this, glances at Patrick, but doesn’t speak as he takes a sip. Patrick chuckles, then ominously shakes the box of takeout.
“This was dramatic enough without you doing that.”
“Oh, okay, David, do you think you’re the best person to say what is or isn’t too dramatic?”
David considers this, then touches a single finger to Patrick’s lips - like a boop, but intimate. “No. I am definitely not. Okay just open it I can’t stand it - oooh!”
They look in surprise at the pastrami sandwich, complete with chips and two pickles. Patrick pops his eyebrows, smiling.
“Okay then-”
The door opens - it’s Alexis again, mid-speech. But she stops, staring at their food.
“Excuse me? You got food without telling me? You left me to Ted’s stinky salmon?”
Patrick opens his mouth, but no words come out. David twitches his finger at Alexis, who approaches warily, absolutely untrusting.
“What...are you doing?”
“Shh, shh, c’mere,” says David.
When she reaches him, he presents her with half a sandwich; she holds it tenderly, eyes suddenly soft, and replies with a grateful frown.
“Okay, I may have come here to yell at you about booking a place with no wifi or television, but now I’m not going to.”
She touches his nose with the sandwich, then turns on her heel, leaving him and Patrick alone again. Patrick takes a big bite of his own sandwich, then eyes David.
“So you’re still tipsy.”
“Oh, clearly, yes. Also you’ll be giving me half of your sandwich now.”
***
The Next Morning
David wakes up in a warm slump, tucked against Patrick, hoarding most of the blankets. It’s early -- too early, considering they went to bed just after 2, having stayed up to talk by the fire and split more Truth or Deer. They didn’t bother shoving the twin beds together. Patrick took one and expected David to take the other, but David crammed his body into bed next to Patrick, clinging to him like a needy lemur.
“Mm, good morning...” says David, surprisingly well-rested.
He slides his knuckles along Patrick’s left bicep, then leans to kiss the side of his mouth, smiling when he sees he’s still deeply asleep. He hums, tapping Patrick’s arm with his thumb, then gets out of bed. He’s rarely awake before nine, and never awake this early, but he can’t fight the urge to make coffee for his fiance this morning.
He gets up, wandering into the kitchenette, which still smells vaguely of burnt pasta. He wrinkles his nose at this, waving his hand in the air as if this will dispel the smell. Then he shakes his head and digs through Patrick’s backpack for a bag of coffee. It’s on top, which was likely intentional - Patrick knows how David rifles through luggage to find caffeine, CBD gummies, and his moisturizing socks. These items always get packed on top, a go-bag for David’s anxieties, so that the other contents don’t get destroyed.
“Thank fuck,” David murmurs, sloshing some water into a pan to boil.
He takes a French press - which he packed separately, in bubble wrap - and scoops some coffee into this. Then he pauses, taking in the messy kitchen, and smiles slightly. He looks down, surprised how this spontaneous, silly trip has moved him; how safe he’s felt, how certain of himself he feels. He used to wonder if Patrick was waiting for the day that he would calm down; the day when he wouldn’t burn dinner or accidentally flash his sister. But day by day, it’s become crystal clear that Patrick was never waiting for this, never expecting it.
He never asked David for the impossible, and no one's ever shown him that kind of grace or patience. That kind of love.
David breathes in, unexpectedly emotional, and hurries to pour the boiling water over the coffee. He waits, watching the sun rise over the creek, bright orange and blazing. Then a slip of paper catches his eye.
He read it last night, but he didn’t absorb it. Patrick’s note.
David,
Went out to find dinner. Don’t worry. I took a bear self-defense class as a kid.
I love you.
Patrick
There’s something about the flourish on I love you that stops his breath. It’s like he wanted to write more, an endless string of this affirmation, hung like a garland on the page.
David pours two cups of coffee and walks back to bed - but not before pausing at the fire, which is burning strong. Patrick must have gotten up at God-knows-when to add more logs.
“Fuck,” David breathes, actually annoyed how in love he is.
He continues, about to put the coffee by the bedside table and kiss Patrick awake, but he stops beside the window. He glances out and it’s all he can do not to drop scorching coffee all over his fiance.
“Oh - OH MY GOD!”
Patrick startles awake, reaching for David as if he’s still beside him; he blinks, gaze resolving, and gestures in confusion when he meets David’s eyes. David points out the window with a shaky coffee cup.
“Patrick, there - there is a bear. There is actually a bear."
There is actually a bear. It’s perusing a trash can in a leisurely, kingly kind of way. But Patrick is skeptical.
“David. We’ve talked about this. Sometimes, dogs are big.”
“Patrick! It’s a fucking bear!”
“Okay.” He gets out of bed, joining David in the window. Then he breathes in. “Oh. Okay, yes, that is actually a bear.”
David gestures in outrage. “We can never leave now! How do we get to the car?”
“Pretty sure we’re not leaving because of the…” Patrick tilts his head, measuring. “Two meters of new snow, but, yeah. Good point.”
David gestures, open-mouthed, as the bear pulls something from the trash. “No. I’m literally never leaving this cabin now. Like, not unless you get the RCMP to escort me to our car, and probably not even then.” Then he whispers, “Patrick. Patrick, is that…?”
“The salmon?”
David can perfectly picture Alexis, fed up with the smell, sneaking the leftover salmon into the trashcan across the parking lot. “Oh…my god.”
Patrick takes one of the coffees from David, then puts an arm around him. “Had I known your sister was going to bait the local bears with salmon, I might have reconsidered bringing her.”
“You should have reconsidered bringing her for like, a million other reasons, but fine.” He huffs, adding, “We’re stuck here now. Forever.”
Patrick watches him, then murmurs, “Well, I don’t mind if we don’t leave.”
“Okay, I can see that, but I mind, because I’m starting to feel like we’re in The Edge and that is as close to being Anthony Hopkins as I ever want to get--”
“David, we are inside a locked cabin, and that bear has plenty to eat.”
“But now I know it’s out there!”
Patrick sets his coffee aside and slides his hands over David’s shoulders. “Okay. Would you feel better if I scared the bear away?”
“What? No! You’ll provoke it!”
Patrick leans to open the window and calls, in what can only be described as a loving tone of voice, “Hey there! Hey, time to move on, buddy!”
David watches him with an open mouth, a strange blend of impressed, aghast, and turned on.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
The bear pays no mind to Patrick or David and continues to snuffle at the salmon. Patrick frowns, tapping on the windowsill, and shouts another polite request at the bear. Then the lodge owner steps outside of the lobby, drinking her coffee and smoking a cigarette. David’s eyes widen and he hides behind Patrick, which looks rather ridiculous given his height.
“Oh my God! I can’t watch!”
But he peeks over Patrick’s shoulder with one eye. He watches the woman pull an airhorn from her pocket, casual and composed. She thrusts it in the air, then lays on the horn. David jumps, fingers digging into Patrick’s shoulders, and the bear picks up the salmon and dashes away. The woman shakes her head and returns inside.
“Okay,” David says after a moment, “I am very over this.”
Patrick reaches for his coffee, far too relaxed for the circumstances. “Well. That was something. Too bad we only have this place booked for another week.”
David spins. Patrick catches his gaze and replies with the tiniest smirk. David’s shoulders soften in relief and he holds his hands up.
“Not funny.”
“It was kind of funny.”
"I was having a nice morning and this whole bear thing has taken it wildly off course."
"You were having a nice morning?" Patrick asks.
David glowers, but his annoyance doesn't reach his eyes; in fact, he looks slightly flustered. "Yes, Patrick. I...saw your note in the kitchen and reread it while I was making coffee and I started to think about you driving in that storm and I just wanted to do something nice for you, like make you coffee-"
"So were you making coffee and you wanted to do something nice or you wanted to do something nice so you made coffee?"
David gives him a supremely unamused look but shifts closer, putting arms around him. "I wanted to do something nice. I'm sorry about the pasta."
Patrick chuckles. "No, don't be. I have a great story now."
"You will be telling exactly no one that story."
"Alexis will be."
David gives a kind of crazed smile and nods. "Yeah. Yes. Let's not talk about that."
"I think using an oven mitt to cover yourself was pretty inspired.”
“Okay,” David says sharply, squeezing Patrick’s shoulders. “I think we should go back to bed so that I can keep having a nice morning.”
Patrick pulls him a bit closer, nodding, but murmurs, “Are you sure you don’t want to go on a hike?”
“Very, very sure,” says David, kissing him.
Patrick’s phone buzzes, interrupting them. He sighs and grabs it off the bedside table. He expects Alexis, because she has a flair for interrupting lately, but it’s Ted.
Ted, 7:14: Hey, do you guys have my leftover salmon? I can’t find it anywhere. Weird!
Patrick, 7:15: Maybe a bear ate it.
Ted, 7:15: That would be unBEARable! Ha!
Patrick wordlessly shows this text to David, who covers his face before taking Patrick’s hand and tugging him back to bed.