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It's Good to Have Someone

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There are people with moles in the world and there are people with freckles. Patrick is the former, David is the latter. 

Patrick has known this about himself all his life, and after many pamphlets from his doctor, stomach churning google searches, and a stern reminder after his dad had to get a few moles removed on his back, he’s told once again by his mother that he needs to start documenting his moles and noting any changes.

“Patrick, this isn’t something to mess around with. I always checked Clint’s moles when you were young. That’s how we caught the one on his hip last summer,” as soon as he got off the phone he made a mental note.

Later that night, Patrick was changing into his pajamas but stopped before grabbing his t-shirt, pulling David out of his thoughts as he was finishing his last step in his skincare regimen, “Hey David, can you come here for a sec?”

“Yes?” He peeked his head out of their en suite bathroom.

“Can you take a look at my back? My dad had a mole removed on his hip and I know I have a few back there, I just can’t see them. My mom thinks you should be checking them regularly.”

“You’re mom is correct. One sec, let me just finish up in here. Lay on the bed.”

Patrick did what he was told. After a few moments with his head face down into the mattress he felt David’s weight next to him.

“Okay, I pulled up the ABCDE’s of skin cancer. Have you been using that for the rest of your body?”

“Erm. Sure,” Patrick lied and turned his head to the side to speak.

“Mmmkay, you are a moley person, Patrick. There are three back here. One just below your neck,” he pressed a soft finger into his skin. “One on your right shoulder blade, and one that’s like, an inch above your lil butt dimple. It’s cute.”

Patrick let out a chuckle that turned into a hum, “Mmm, I don’t think that’s a part of the skin cancer check.”

“It’s a part of my skin cancer check. Anyway, these all look healthy and normal. I’m putting it in my calendar to check in a month.” David sat up on the bed and took out his phone.

Patrick turned around and pointed to one of his moles on his forearm, “What about this one?”

“You can check that one yourself!”

“I don’t know, David, don’t you think you should be thorough and check them all? ” Patrick’s puppy dog demeanor soon turned mischievous.

David smirked, knowing exactly what Patrick was referring to. Patrick had a small mole on his upper left thigh that screamed at David whenever they got naked together. It was a little secret David had with Patrick’s body. Only for his knowledge and consumption.

“Fine, take your pants off,” David tried to be nonchalant and casual, but his voice was breathier than he intended. 

Patrick immediately obliged. This was soon to be one of his favorite activities if every mole check ended in getting them naked.




The store was closed since it was a Monday, but after the busy weekend they’d had, they both decided to come in anyway to restock and get the store back in order so they didn’t have to do it on Tuesday morning.

Just as David was passing the jar of eye cream he had labeled over to Patrick, he noticed Patrick’s hand wasn’t there to accept it. David glanced over to see Patrick blinking hard and opening his eyes wide.


“What happened?” David’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t know, I think I got something in my eye,” he brought his index finger up to run it along his lash line when David gasped next to him.

“STOP, stop, stop. Do not put your finger in your eye. Here, let’s go into the bathroom for better lighting.”

David pushed him into the small room and turned on the lights. Manhandling him, he invaded his space, forcing his eye open with somehow still the softest touch Patrick had experienced from another person. 

“Okay, it looks like an eyelash. Let me go get a cotton swab from one of the packs out front, we need more at home anyway. Stay here and keep your hands out of your eyes.”

Not thirty seconds later David caught him looking at his eye in the mirror and spun him around, “Alright, hold still.”

Again, David pushed up on him, his face inches from Patricks while his focus zeroed in on his eye with surgical precision. A few moments later, he was backing away cross-eyed with the cotton swab in front of him. Patrick blinked a few times with ease and sure enough saw an eyelash clung to the very tip of the swab.

“Got it.”

“Thank you. Feels much better.”

David kissed him chastely before turning on his heel and exiting the bathroom without another word. Patrick followed with a private smile.




“Stronger! Than yesterday! Now it’s nothing but my way!” David and Patrick both were singing at the top of their lungs in their shared vehicle, driving back from a day at the Elmdale farmer’s market. 

It had been a morning full of seeing vendors they knew, running into a few townies from Schitt’s Creek and sampling some of the most luxurious cold-pressed apple seed oil that David had seen in recent years. They were on their way back now, stomachs full and eyelids a bit heavier than when they left earlier that morning.

Patrick reached behind him to grab his waterbottle, now feeling the effects of singing and laughing for such an extended time with David today. He gripped the cap off his favorite Nalgene wide-mouth but couldn’t get a good grasp while driving. Trying to steady the steering wheel with his knee, he tried again but to no avail.

David quickly noticed this and wordlessly - though still singing - took the waterbottle from Patrick’s hands and bared down on the cap. Within a few seconds it jolted and opened. He handed it back to Patrick during the bridge of the song.

“Here I go, here I go, here I go. HERE I GO!! Stronger than YESTERDAY!” He closed his eyes as he poured his heart and soul into the performance for Patrick.

Patrick watched in awe with a joyous laugh and eventually took a long sip of his finally opened waterbottle. He’d thank him later with enough kisses to turn them both into a pile of giggles, but right now he was dutifully harmonizing his husband’s solo.




“Oh my gaahhhd,” Patrick dropped his messenger bag in the entryway, while throwing his head back in frustration. David watched him from the couch and noticed he looked positively disheveled. 

“Well hello to you, too. What happened?”

David had left that afternoon to meet with a prospective vendor in Uxbridge, which obviously meant he had missed a busy day at the store.

“A charter bus full of middle aged women headed to a ‘rom-com-con’ happened. The hell is a rom-com-con?”

“Oh we might not have time for that tonight,” David got up from the couch and made his way over to Patrick who was now toeing off his shoes, grasping at the doorway’s trim.

“Take a guess at how many of them touched my face. Guess. I’m serious.”

David’s eyes widened, “Oh no. Do I even want to?”


“Thr-” Patrick’s eyebrows raised as David pivoted, “Four.”

“Five. David, five strangers touched my face today.”

“Ew,” he grimaced and set his phone down on the kitchen counter. “Can I get you anything? Do you want… a beer?”

“I would absolutely take a beer, yes.”

David’s face relaxed and his supportive-husband brain kicked into gear. He stepped closer to his very tired husband and kissed his forehead, only slightly hesitating before realizing that would be a very weird place for an old woman to touch.

“Why don’t you go up and change, I’ll grab you a beer and we can sit and watch tv while I give you a backrub.”

Patrick smiled up at him, “Deal.”

After just a few minutes, Patrick descended the stairs in his pajamas to find David on the couch with a glass of wine for him, and a chilled beer sparkling with condensation waiting on the coffee table. David looked up at him and smiled, holding a bottle of their own body milk.

“Alright, shirt off.”

Patrick happily complied and sat in front of David’s open legs. The first few touches were tentative and gentle, but soon David was pressing his strong hands into his shoulders, grinding his thumb in just the right pressure points.

He involuntarily let out a groan, “Aahhhgaahhd. Owww.”

“Sorry, is that too hard?”

“No, it hurts good, hmm, I love you,” he smiled into another hum of pleasure and turned his head to ask for a kiss, which David offered happily.

“I love you, too. Okay, so did we at least sell a lot of product?”

“Yeah, it was a good day. I’m thinking we’ll be able to afford that burr grinder for the espresso beans now.”

David smiled and quickly rubbed his hands over Patrick’s shoulders in joy, “Fuck yes, it’s going to change the game, Patrick.”

“Whatever you say, David.”




“Goddammit.” Patrick cursed under his breath as he jumped and still couldn’t get to the nice champagne flutes in their upper cabinets.

To his embarrassment, David walked in just as he said it.

“Do you need a little help there?” His tone was dripping with patronization.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, live it up, David. I can’t reach the top shelf. I’m trying to get the good glasses,” he wiped at his jaw, showing the hint of frustration rising in him.

“Aww, wait, does this mean you got the good champagne, too?” He was too excited to keep his focus on the task at hand, making Patrick laugh.

“David just get the glasses!” He chuckled at how easy it was to distract him with French wine.

He reached up with ease to grab two glasses and handed them to Patrick closing in on him flirtatiously, “So what’s the occasion?”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you forgot?”

David’s face dropped and his eyes widened. As much as he hated Patrick’s incessant need to celebrate every anniversary they’d had; the store opening, their first kiss, their first time , their actual wedding day, David had made a genuine effort to remember each and every one. Today was just another day. Another evening in late September.

“I, uh. No, I didn’t forget. It’s… Thursday, the twenty… seventh.” Patrick’s face contorted into a giddy smile, “No don’t do that! Don’t look at me like that.”

“David, it’s the day we closed on the house. It’s been a year since we got the house!”

“Oh my god, like I’m supposed to remember that.” 

Patrick watched David leave the kitchen in a huff, but grabbed the glasses and followed him to where they had their dinner set up outside in the crisp fall air. It was good to have David around.




“Fuck,” David stood in their closet trying to keep calm but failing with each passing second. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, god dammit. PATRICK!!”

He heard Patrick climb the steps up to their bedroom. As he rounded the corner of their closet, his eyes traveled immediately to David’s groin. 

Standing in their closet was David, in a white undershirt with his black Tom Ford boxer briefs somehow caught up in the zipper of his very own Rick Owens Black Tyrone Trousers. Patrick only knew their name because he had to google it about twelve times in order to get it right and purchase them for David as a birthday present.

“The zipper is stuck.”

“Yeah, I see that. Um, okay here let’s lie down on the bed I’ll be able to get a better angle.”

If this position was for any other purpose than to save his six hundred dollar pair of jeans from their ultimate demise, David might have been a little turned on with how close Patricks’ face was to his crotch. But the pulls and prods that the zipper was experiencing was doing nothing for him at the moment.

“Man, it’s really stuck in there. Do you think you could take off your pants? Like, all of it?”

David lifted his head and looked down, “Are you serious?” He threw his hand back down in annoyance. 

Sliding his hands under the waistband of his briefs, he shimmied the ensemble over his hips, Patrick pulling along the way. Now that Patricks hands were caressing his lower body, David was starting to get a little interested.

Patrick was taking note, and lunged forward to kiss David’s inner upper thigh, getting a bit distracted, “Patrick.”

“Sorry,” he lifted up and continued to slide David’s pants off until he was sat up on the bed, with deft fingers working to delicately remove the soft fabric from the metal zipper. After a few more minutes, with a bit of a tug, he removed the two garments and handed the briefs to David, “Finally!”

David quickly looked to see if there was a hole or any other altercation in the fabric, but it looked perfect, he swiftly put them back on. Soon after, Patrick had handed over the pants with the zipper all the way up.

“All done!”

“How did you do that?”

“It was just stuck in the fabric a bit,” he smiled widely and sat up to straddle David, still half-naked from the waist down. “How can you ever repay me?”

David hummed into the kiss that Patrick pulled him into, “Hmmm, well seeing as I was just about to get ready for us to go to Elmdale for dinner, did we just want to skip the meal and go straight to dessert?” 

Patrick pressed his weight on top of his, pushing him back into the bed, “God, I love having you around.”