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flowerfan2 · 4 years

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One Night in Milwaukee

David/Patrick, 4700 words, A03

A little angsty-with-a-happy-ending, h/c one-shot. Happy Friday!

Summary: Being stuck in the Milwaukee airport is bad enough. Then David realizes that the man who broke his heart is sitting right next to him.

*****

The announcement at the gate is almost impossible to understand, but David gets the gist anyway. His flight to Toronto is cancelled, and no further flights will be leaving until at least tomorrow morning.

He immediately starts searching on his phone for a nearby hotel, wishing he had bitten the bullet and done so hours ago. It’s nearly midnight and he’s exhausted, having spent the best part of six hours in the Milwaukee airport as his connecting flight got delayed again and again. He’s just about to reserve a room when a nearby airline employee is accosted by an impatient couple. David stands up and drifts close enough to listen in – at least her words are clearer than those coming over the PA system.

Apparently due to the blizzard many roads are impassable, and passengers are being encouraged not to leave the airport. Even if they make it to a hotel, the airline employee explains, they will almost certainly have trouble returning in the morning. She encourages the couple to stay at the airport overnight if getting out on a flight tomorrow morning is their goal.

David sighs, grabs his bag, and makes his way over to the long line of passengers hoping to rebook their flights for the next day. He’s reached that state of tiredness when he can’t even focus on things around him. He doesn’t even bother scrolling through his phone, he just tunes out and shuffles forward until his turn comes.

It’s not as if it even matters if he gets to Toronto tonight, or tomorrow. There’s no one waiting at home for him, no one who will care if when he gets home. It’s been more than three years since he’s had anyone like that. Three years since he lost the best thing that ever happened to him.

David’s done the best he can to keep busy, now that the initial period of paralyzing depression is in his rear view. He works out, and keeps up with current events, and stays out of bars. He lives in Toronto, someplace familiar enough to be comfortable, yet completely bare of memories of Patrick.

For the past few weeks he’s been hanging out with Alexis at her condo in Brooklyn. She had decided to throw a party for American Thanksgiving, which David thought was actually in poor taste but somehow didn’t manage to convey to Alexis until the day before. In the end they cooked a bunch of food and donated it to a homeless shelter so he figures they did okay. It had been good to spend time with his sister, but she is busy with her job and her friends and eventually David had to head back home, which brought him to this endless stopover in Milwaukee.

David tries his best to be civil as he is tentatively booked onto an 8:35 a.m. flight the next morning.

“Thanks for flying with us,” the perky gate attendant says as she hands him his new ticket. “Please make your way to the lobby. This area will be closing soon.”

David blinks at her, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Please make your way to the lobby, sir. Passengers can’t remain by the gates overnight.”

David shakes his head and steps away as the next impatient customer pushes forward, and the woman’s instruction soon becomes clear. Everyone at the gates is being herded away, back out past security and to the much smaller lobby area. So not only does he have to spend the night in the Milwaukee airport, he’s got to fight for a chair again. Fantastic.

Miraculously David manages to find an empty spot at the end of a row, near a chilly expanse of glass with a view of the storm outside. He flops down with his bag next to him and stares for a while, not able to see much except swirling flakes illuminated by the flood lights on the tarmac.

After a while David drapes his leather jacket over his head to block out the evil florescent overheads and leans back, trying to doze off. He knows it’s going to be next to impossible to sleep like this, but he’s got nothing better to do. He vaguely notices someone approaching him, looking for a place to sit, and he tugs his bag off the empty seat next to him so the man can sit down. David may not be a nice person, but he’s not a complete asshole.

A nice person. Once upon a time, there was someone nice who cared about David, and who David cared about more than he ever thought possible. It was like something out of a fairy tale, right up until the end. David’s still not sure what happened, but the outcome was clear enough – Patrick was tired of him, and so that was that. No fiancé, no wedding, no happy ending in Schitt’s Creek. Rosebud Motel Group bought out Patrick’s share of Rose Apothecary, and David moved the store closer to Toronto, where it slowly became just a source for toiletries for the motel chain. Eventually the physical location closed, and David’s role dwindled to almost nothing.

It’s been more than three years, but his heart still aches when he thinks about Patrick. He can still hear his voice in his head, giving him shit or whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Bizarrely, it’s at that very moment when he hears Patrick’s voice again, and it’s most decidedly not in his head.

“Thanks, that would be great.”

David sits up, his jacket sliding on to his lap, and his jaw drops. Sitting right next to him, taking an orange polyester blanket from an airline employee, is Patrick. He’s got a hoodie pulled up on his head over a ball cap, but it’s obviously him.

“Oh my god,” David breathes out, feeling his stomach fall. This can’t be happening.

“David?” Patrick turns to him. “Oh. Wow. What are the odds?”

“What – what are you doing here?”

Patrick is in the Milwaukee airport, backpack on the floor by his legs. It’s no mystery what he’s doing here. But David’s brain refuses to process this.

“My flight was cancelled.” Patrick fidgets with his hat, not really looking at David.

“But why are you sitting here?”

Again, not a mystery. The whole lobby is packed. David needs to get a grip and stop asking stupid questions. But he’ll need to work himself up to something more on point. He still can’t get over the fact that Patrick Brewer is sitting next to him.

“Um, right. I’m sorry.” Patrick leans forward to grab his bag. “I’ll, um, go somewhere else.”

Patrick stands up, and a nearby man spots him, vulture-like and poised to take his chair if he moves away. There’s not another free seat in sight.

“No,” David chokes out. “No, stay. It’s all right.”

“Yeah?” Patrick glances quickly at David and then away again, his shoulders practically up by his ears. “Okay. Thanks.”

David focuses on his breathing and presses his face into his hands, hoping Patrick doesn’t notice how close he is to freaking out. It’s unlikely, but you never know. If he does notice, at least he probably won’t call him out on it.

“I’m sorry, David. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Or maybe he will.

“I’m fine.”

“I really can leave, there’s a spot against the wall over there-”

“Patrick, for fuck’s sake, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Can I get you something? I’ve got some water…”

Unbelievable. “I’m sorry, you can sit here, but if you think there’s anything you can do to make this better, you’re out of your mind.” David can hear how shrill he is, but he can’t help it.

“Whatever. It’s not as if I ever knew how to fix us in the first place.”

“It’s not like you tried.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Patrick says, nearly shouting.

“Um, excuse me, but some people are trying to sleep, man,” a kid in a beanie sitting across the aisle from them interjects. “You should try it.”

“Eat dirt,” David hisses, and Patrick, that bastard, laughs.

“What?”

“You’re a riot, David. Sue me.”

David huffs and twists his body away. He’s not sure how to do this, have an ordinary conversation with Patrick in an airport. All the anger and hurt he thought he had handled is suddenly back, as painful as ever.

A few minutes later there’s a crinkling sound. “Want some?”

Patrick is holding a piece of red licorice in front of his face.

David blinks, disbelieving. Patrick wiggles the licorice. “Fine.” David accepts it and takes a bite, hoping he’s chewing in a sufficiently dignified way.

“Did you have a nice visit with Alexis?”

David frowns. “How do you know I was visiting Alexis?” Alexis had closed ranks against Patrick when it all went down. David had thought it appropriate at the time, but something in Patrick’s voice tweaks a pang of regret.

“You smell like her.”

“Ew, what?”

“Her perfume.” Patrick shrugs. “I recognize it. Or maybe you’re dating someone who wears it, I don’t know.”

“I’m not.” As if. “Guess I spent too long on Alexis’ couch.” He brushes at the leather jacket on his lap, as if little bits of Alexis would be clinging to it.

“How is she?”

Again, that pang. “Good. She’s good. She’s happy in New York. She’s got friends – real friends. Not that she didn’t before, you know, back in-” David can hardly say it, but Patrick nods. “But now she’s got real friends in New York, so.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Patrick says.

“What about you? How long have you been away? Work or pleasure?”

Something comes over Patrick’s face that David can’t describe. “Well, it definitely wasn’t pleasure.”

The conversation comes to an expectedly awkward end, both of them falling silent. There’s a group of people behind them who keep arguing over whether they should rent a car and drive to what seems to be a college reunion of some sort. David wishes they’d just go already.

“Want some more?” Patrick offers up another piece of licorice, and suddenly making nice isn’t working for David anymore.

“You can’t fix this with candy, Patrick. Bribes don’t make up for cheating.”

David can feel Patrick bristling next to him. “I didn’t cheat, David,” he hisses. “I told you, you just wouldn’t listen. If you want to keep believing it that’s on you, but I absolutely did not cheat. I would never do that to you.”

“You wanted to.”

“I did not!”

“Shhhh,” the woman on the other side of Patrick entreats. “We don’t care.”

David angrily bites off another piece of licorice. “You told me Mark was just a guy you met at the community center, and then all of a sudden he’s in the store when I’m not there.”

“We needed someone else to work on busy days when you had vendor visits – we agreed on that. I was training him!”

“You never told me. And when I came in-”

“He was just helping me put some boxes away.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion again,” David says, tears welling in his eyes. He remembers the moment like it was yesterday, coming into the back room and finding Patrick with a tall, slim, dark-haired stranger, the man reaching up around Patrick, pressing him into the shelves.

“What do you mean again? We never had it in the first place. You came in, screamed at me, and left. You never let me explain.”

“What kind of explanation would you have given me? What could you possibly say? You’d been out every night that week with lame excuses, you kept finding reasons to avoid me, and then I find you with someone else.”

“David…” Patrick takes in a long, deep breath, and lets it out again. “David. I was out so much because I was planning your birthday party.”

David stares at him. “That’s impossible. Stevie would have told me. Or Alexis.”

“I didn’t tell Stevie, or anyone in Schitt’s Creek. I didn’t want them to give it away. Mark was actually helping me. His family has an orchard out near Elm Valley, with an outdoor pavilion that was really pretty nice. I was thinking about having it there so I drove over to see it after work. Unfortunately, the first time I went, it started raining, so I went back the next night. Mark said there was a spectacular sunset view, but I wanted to see it for myself.”

“That’s… that’s only two nights. What about the others?”

“It was only two nights, David. Maybe my excuses weren’t that great, but it was only two nights. The rest of them we spent together just like always.”

David lets himself really look at Patrick, who is looking right back at him. He seems, possibly, just as hurt and miserable as David feels. Maybe more.

“It seemed like more than two,” David says pathetically. “Why, um, why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

“You blocked my number.”

It’s true. Not his most mature moment. “Oh.”

“I would have thought,” Patrick starts, and then shakes his head and presses his fingers to his mouth.

“What?”

“No, forget it. It’s history now, right?” Patrick tugs his ball cap down, shading his eyes.

“What were you going to say?”

Patrick wrings his hands together, then glances up at David and then back at his hands. “Just that, you know, in the context of everything we meant to each other, given that we were in love, and engaged, that you might have cut me a break and listened to me instead of jumping to such a ridiculous conclusion.”

“Ridiculous?” David scoffs, trying not to let Patrick’s all too valid words sink in. “Hardly. It’s no different than how every relationship I’ve been in has ended. I’m always left behind. Too much. I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did.”

“David.” Patrick grabs his hands, and David stiffens. “You were never too much for me. I’m not everyone else. And I didn’t leave you behind. You left me.”

David feels a rush of shame, and Patrick just squeezes his hands tighter. It’s not as if he’s never wondered if he hadn’t screwed up, leaving the way he did. He knows he probably did. It’s just that it’s striking him now how very likely it is that his misery has been almost entirely of his own making.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you don’t deserve to believe that I would do that to you.”

David tugs his hands out of Patrick’s. “Well, I’m sure you’re better off now anyway.”

“Not even a little.” Patrick’s voice is soft and sad, and David can’t help meeting his eyes. What he sees is devastating. “Sure, I dated for a while, once I was able to get out of bed, but I gave it up after a few disasters. You spoiled me for anyone else.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Maybe it’s just that my heart was so thoroughly broken, no ordinary guy had a chance.” The silence stretches, and then Patrick says, his voice thready, “How about you?”

There’s a catch in his voice, but something in his tone makes David’s heart skip a beat. It’s an opening he never expected.

“I never met anyone else either. Didn’t even try.” David clears his throat and looks up, catching Patrick’s gaze. For all the fear he’s shown in the past, for all that his insecurities ruined them, David feels like he owes Patrick a moment of bravery. “There was no point, not when I’m still in love with you.”

Patrick stares at him, eyes wide, and then abruptly stands up. “Save my seat,” he says, and strides away, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“Well, maybe now I get can some sleep,” the rude kid with the beanie grumbles, and David barely restrains himself from throwing something at him.

“We’re having a moment, here,” David says.

“Might go better if you fucking apologized,” the kid replies, pulling his orange airline blanket up over his head.

“He’s got a point.” The woman on the other side of Patrick’s seat gives David a pointed look that would put Ronnie Lee to shame. “Sounds like you really messed up.”

“Who are you, anyway?” David snaps.

“Audrey. Nice to meet you, David,” the woman sasses back, tossing her short black hair.

“Oh my god.” David stands up, arms wrapped tight around his body, and scans the lobby for Patrick. “He probably just went to the bathroom. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“I hope for your sake you’re right,” Audrey replies. “But if you want to go look for him, I’ll keep an eye on your stuff. There’s no way I’m falling asleep in this place. Too noisy.”

David looks her up and down, and then decides he doesn’t care whether she steals his bag. There’s more at stake here than an aging laptop. “Thanks.”

He weaves his way through the seating area, stepping around families sleeping on the floor and people stretched out in every available space. He shudders to think about putting his face anywhere near the carpet and the plethora of germs that must live there. He’ll never be that tired.

There’s a food court around the corner, all the restaurants closed with metal gates drawn down. It’s darker here, and quiet. The scattered tables and chairs are mostly empty, the metal furniture not particularly conducive to sleeping.

Patrick’s standing in front of the Cinnabon.

“They open at 5,” he says, not looking at David. “Only four hours to go.”

“Good to know.” David moves closer, trying to see Patrick’s face, but between the dim lighting and the way Patrick keeps ducking his head, he can’t see much.

“Look, Patrick. I, um, I know it’s probably too late, but.” David leans his head back and blinks up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I should have trusted you.”

Patrick shrugs. “Yeah. You should have.”

David sucks on his lip, not sure where to go from here. “Maybe we could talk about it?” This sounds like torture, but he doesn’t see too many other options, and they’re already in hell.

Patrick nods, and David tries to tell himself that this is a good sign. He spots a nearby open table and reaches to pull Patrick towards it, but he has barely grasped Patrick’s arm when he flinches and pulls away.

“Patrick?” David moves closer. Patrick’s eyes are squeezed together in pain.

“Patrick, wait, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” David’s hands flutter towards Patrick’s shoulders, afraid to cause further distress.

“No, sorry, I’m fine, it’s nothing,” Patrick turns away, but now David sees how stiffy he’s holding himself, how the puffiness in his face probably isn’t just due to airport overheating. All of David’s anger and hurt flow out of him, replaced by an urgent concern. Something isn’t right.

“Patrick,” David says, as calmly as he can. “Come sit down with me?”

Patrick glances at him and nods, and lets David lead them over to a table.

They sit next to each other, Patrick’s whole body radiating discomfort. David forces himself to wait, to breathe. To give Patrick a moment. “Sweetheart,” he says finally, the endearment purposeful and honest, “what happened?”

Patrick takes in a long breath and lets it out. “I was attacked.” He’s speaking softly but steadily, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “Three nights ago, coming out of a bar with my cousin Jamie. He’s only nineteen-” Patrick’s voice breaks and he sucks in air, then goes on. “He wasn’t hurt, thank god. He got away. But I-” Patrick huffs a bitter laugh. “I got a little banged up.”

Patrick turns towards David, sliding his hoodie off of his head and removing his hat. There’s a dark purple bruise on his temple, and a bandage running from the top right corner of his forehead back to his ear.

“Oh my god, Patrick,” David reaches for him, then stops himself. “Where – where else, I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Couple of broken ribs, bruises,” Patrick indicates his right side and upper arm. “Eight stitches my on head.”

“Come here, come here,” David can’t help himself, he walks his fingers onto Patrick’s shoulders and eases him in. Patrick sags into the embrace, his face nestling into that space against David’s neck that used to belong only to him. “I’m so sorry, Patrick, I’m so sorry.” David holds him gently, rubbing his back with careful strokes. He feels like his heart is going to burst. Patrick sniffles into David’s neck, trying not to cry, and David circles his arms around him. “I’ve got you,” David soothes. “You’re okay.”

David doesn’t ever want to let Patrick go, but after a minute or so Patrick starts to pull back, and David has no choice. He lets his fingers skim down Patrick’s arms as he straightens up.

“Thank you, David,” Patrick says into the awkward silence.

“Yeah, well. After screwing everything else up, seems like the least I can do.” David looks around and stands up, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Shall we go back and make sure Audrey hasn’t stolen our bags?”

“Who’s Audrey?”

David can’t help but stay near Patrick as they make their way to their seats, his hand on the small of his back. Patrick lets him, leaning into his side, a hundred and eighty degree reversal from where they were an hour ago.

He can’t imagine what Patrick is feeling. Despite all the crap David has gone through in his life, he’s never been the victim of a what he assumes was a hate crime. And the fact that Patrick is traveling by himself… where was he when he got assaulted? Who was there for him?

You should have been there, David’s guilty mind supplies. If David hadn’t ruined their lives with his self-doubt, he would have been there for Patrick. For better or for worse. Of course, if they were still together, nothing like this would have happened to Patrick in the first place, because they would have been safe in Schitt’s Creek where they belonged.

They arrange themselves in their miraculously still empty seats, David pulling the orange blanket up over them both. He holds out his arm and Patrick leans into him, resting his head on his shoulder. Patrick’s seated to his right, so it’s his uninjured left side up against David.

The feel of Patrick’s body against his is so familiar and yet it’s been so long, it makes David want to cry. Instead he gently curls himself protectively around Patrick’s body and closes his eyes.

Patrick turns into him, his arm going around David’s waist and his face pressing against his neck. “Missed you,” he whispers into David’s skin.

“You too,” David sighs into Patrick’s hair. “So much, Patrick. So much.”

David dozes for a while and eventually falls asleep, waking only when the PA system starts making incomprehensible flight announcements. Patrick is already awake, leaning forward and digging around in his backpack.

David blinks blearily at him as he remembers the events of the night before. It seems like a dream, but Patrick is right there in front of him, solid and real. He glances up at the clock on the wall. Five-fifteen. “Wanna get a Cinnabon?” he asks, his voice scratchy. It’s not the best line he could have come up with, but he figures Patrick must be hungry too.

“No, sorry, they said my flight’s here. I have to go to the gate.”

David suddenly feels faint. “What – no – that’s impossible. The first flight to Toronto isn’t until eight something, they put me on the earliest one, that’s what they told me at the desk-”

“David.” Patrick’s eyes are heavy and sad. “I’m not going to Toronto.”

“But you said-” He didn’t say, David realizes. He just assumed they were both on their way back home.

“It happened in Toronto,” Patrick says, not needing to identify what “it” he’s referring to as he tugs the hood of his sweatshirt over his ball cap. “I decided I needed to get away for a while. Put some distance between me and all that.”

David’s heart is pounding hard in his chest. It’s a wonder Patrick can’t hear it. “Where are you going?”

“Florida. My parents bought a little house there, they use it in the winter but not until after Christmas, so it’s empty now.” Patrick sighs and hoists his backpack up, wincing. “It’s been really good to see you, David.”

Patrick gives David a sad little smile, and starts walking away.

There’s a moment when David actually imagines letting Patrick go, and he wants to slap himself silly.

“Patrick, wait.” He scrambles to grab his bag and jogs after him. “Let me come with you.”

Patrick looks puzzled as they join the line of bleary-eyed people waiting to take off their shoes and slide their belongings through the scanner. “Okay, but once you go through you won’t be able to get to the food court.”

“No, Patrick – I mean to Florida.”

“You hate Florida,” Patrick replies automatically.

“That is entirely besides the point.”

“You can’t come with me. You have a life, David.”

“Patrick, I don’t. Not one I want. Not without you.”

This gets Patrick’s attention, and he steps out of the line. “What are you talking about?

David moves towards him, his whole body trembling. “I am so, so sorry I messed things up between us. I know how badly I hurt you. I have changed, though, I’ve been in therapy for real, and I’ll do whatever it takes…” He sucks in a breath and races on before Patrick can interrupt. “I will regret it forever, what I did to you, and it’s probably unforgivable. But if – if you think it’s not, if you think maybe you could give me another chance, please, let me come with you.”

“David…”

“I won’t give up on us again. And I don’t… I don’t want to say goodbye. Not yet.” David can feel his throat tightening up. “Not if there’s any possibility… Let’s try. On whatever terms you want, for however long. Please.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” But Patrick’s eyes are saying what his words aren’t, and David holds his gaze, hope building in his chest.

“I think it’s the only decent idea I’ve had in years.” David reaches out and twines his index finger around Patrick’s, a single point of contact holding them together. “I bet we can find someplace to go hiking in Florida. With lots of bugs, and, um, maybe alligators?”

Patrick’s eyes flicker down to their hands, and back up to David. “You’d face alligators for me?”

“Yes.”

“And bugs too?”

David feels his heart leap, and he struggles not to smile. “Yes. I will face a reasonable number of bugs for you.” He takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t have to mean we’re together, you don’t have to commit to anything-”

“What if I want to?”

David pulls Patrick’s hand up and presses it tight against his chest. “Then I’m not going to argue with you,” David says breathlessly.

“That would be a first,” Patrick says, and David chokes out a laugh.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

They crash together lips first, David’s arms going around Patrick’s shoulders and Patrick’s hands grabbing at David’s hips. David can’t get enough, and apparently neither can Patrick, mouths open and tongues tasting in a mad rush. It’s sloppy and ridiculous and David is going to remember it for the rest of his life. When they finally come up for air, they realize that everyone in the security line is cheering and clapping, and David rests his forehead against Patrick’s.

“They’re taking video, aren’t they,” David says.

“Hashtag ‘one night in Milwaukee,’” Audrey hoots at them as she takes off her boots and sets them in a plastic bin. “Glad you got your head out of your ass, David.”

“Me too,” says Patrick, herding David back towards the screening line. “Just promise me one thing.”

David searches Patrick’s face, but he’s smiling, and he can’t help a matching smile from stretching his own cheeks. “Anything.”

“Pretty sure our flight’s going to be packed. I get the window seat.”

#David x Patrick #Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #Hurt/Comfort #David Rose #Patrick Brewer

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