David sat crossed-legged on the bed, his ankles feeling the evening spring chill from the cracked window as his pajama pant legs scrunched up. Leaning his chin on the palm of his hand while his elbow rested on his knee, he tapped his pen gently on his temple. He had been trying to think of ideas the store could incorporate as a part of town council’s new Schitt’s Creek SummerFest to take advantage of the seasonal travel boom. The spare page in the back of his journal was covered in doodles and scratched-out words, but nothing of note seemed to be coming to David.
He hadn’t realized that he had left the bright overhead light of their bedroom on when he went searching for his lost slipper earlier, a necessity to have right next to the bed for 1 a.m. bathroom trips or to traipse downstairs to acquire the day’s first cup of coffee. Tired enough that he didn’t want to get up, it’s illumination came in handy when Patrick emerged from their steamy en-suite.
With a dark gray bath towel wrapped around his hips, it set off Patrick’s fair skin which had now taken on a deliciously pink hue after his shower. David had gently recommended for years that Patrick shouldn’t crank the water up too hot or scrub himself so hard as to not dry out his already delicate skin. While he normally tried to heed David’s advice, it was nights like these after he spent the day tilling the soil of David’s raised garden beds and mowing the lawn followed by an early season baseball practice, where Patrick couldn’t seem to resist.
David decided he wasn’t going to complain at all.
As Patrick ambled over to his dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of boxers and t-shirt and setting out items for the next morning, David closed his journal and watched the strong muscles of his husband's shoulders and back flex as he moved with quiet precision through their space, the blush fading away as it reached his waist.
David’s memory couldn’t help but flip back through the images of his squeaky clean but dirty minded husband throughout the years.
The first and one of the best was watching Patrick pack up his little duffle bag the morning of their stay at Stevie’s apartment. With both of them still feeling out those casually intimate interactions, even after an eager yet inexperienced Patrick had fucked David out of his mind into the mattress the night before, Patrick had put his jeans on in the bathroom. He had come back out into the main room with a towel slung around his neck and a shy smile escaping his lips.
David had dawdled as he got his own shower items ready, mentally comparing the pale ruddiness, a scratch or two highlighted, to the unblemished canvas he got under his hands the night before. Patrick had turned to look over his shoulder and saw David staring, biting his lip. It was no surprise that David had to abandon his shower, his hair, and even a clean sweater when he stalked across the room for one last taste of that delectable skin, above and below the belt, leaving them with zero time before Stevie was due back.
Then there was the championship game. David had felt itchy from the polyester uniform, dusty from his slide into home, and every muscle in his body ached, but Patrick had endorphins enough for the both of them. He kindly let David shower first, but after David had put his leave-in conditioner to set, the curtain flew open and a rambunctious Patrick clamored into the small space. David watched his skin bloom with color as Patrick grinded into David, whispering exhaustively how he was going to treat his MVP tonight. David's tongue followed the blush down Patrick’s neck while his hands felt the radiating heat as he soaped up Patrick’s back, letting his sultry words and the water wash over him.
A more melancholy memory took hold thinking of the day after their wedding when David’s parents left for good. Sleepy, sweaty, still tipsy, and a little sad, they had walked back hand in hand from the motel to the apartment, their apartment. David wanted to hang up their clothes properly, so Patrick took a shower first. David sat down on the edge of the bed, wearing only his boxer briefs and a t-shirt, looking up at his skirt and his jacket hanging from the shelving unit. It was the best day of his life, but he didn’t know how he was going to handle the new normal, especially with Alexis leaving in a week.
David lazily unlaced his boots, pulling them and the socks off before resting his head in his hands. Feeling tears prick his eyes from the rollercoaster of emotions, he didn’t even hear Patrick. Instead, it was his warm and wet body wrapping around him from behind. David let his head fall back on Patrick’s shoulder. With a brushing kiss to his temple, Patrick gently pulled them both back against the pillows, surrounding and comforting David, who tucked his head into his husband's rosy neck.
“Rick Owens just sold his company to Wal-Mart.”
“What?!” David snapped out of his reverie to look at his husband. He only had the soft modal cotton boxers on, holding his t-shirt while the patches of pink still trailed from his collarbone downward across his chest.
“Just kidding, you were lost in your own head there for a bit,” Patrick teased before he set the t-shirt down so he could plug in his phone and put his wedding ring, safely taken off before the baseball practice, back on.
“Something like that,” David hummed with a lecherous grin as his memories and reality collided in front of him. He crawled across the bed, wrapping his arms over Patrick’s shoulders before his lips traced the delicate outline of the flush only he got to see, caress, and experience.