#might dig through there and Officially Reblog some older stuff in a while

[grim-maul-kin]

I have no idea why this was gathering dust in my drafts for over a year. possibly because I hadn't added an image description yet?

posed this to a discord, but thought I'd extend it to y'all as well:

make (using this picrew) your real/true/natural/base form, and then make the form you'd use to interact with humanity

I'll go first:

you can tell I really don't wanna scare people so I tone down a lot to try and look friendlier. my true form is reserved for people I know well and people I actually want to scare

[flowerfan2]

One Night in Milwaukee - Ch. 2

Friends, you asked for more... so now the angst continues in Florida.  This is now officially a WIP, with three chapters written and more to come.  Please reblog or otherwise let me know you’re on board!

Read on A03.  David/Patrick, 7k.

Chapter 2

It’s chilly on the airplane, but most people seem thankful for the early morning flight after spending the night in the Milwaukee airport.  Patrick watches from his window seat as David charms an older woman, ticket in hand, convincing her with his best customer service smile to take David’s seat two rows back so that David can sit next to Patrick.  

Despite everything, Patrick keeps finding himself staring.  David looks so good, even on just a few hours of sleep.  Patrick can hardly believe he’s right there, with his ripped jeans and twinkling eyes, breathing the same recycled air as Patrick.

“You traded an aisle seat to sit next to me?” Patrick asks as David wedges himself into the middle seat, twisting and turning to get his leather jacket off without elbowing Patrick.

“Hm, yes, questionable decision,” David says, flashing a quick look at Patrick before digging underneath his leg for the seat belt.  

There’s some more shuffling as a young woman settles herself in the seat next to David.  She promptly sticks airpods in her ears and closes her eyes, so all things considered, it’s the best case scenario as far as a potential seat mate.

Once all the announcements are over and the plane takes off, David’s attention turns back to Patrick.  It’s uncomfortable in a way it never used to be, and suddenly Patrick can feel how their years apart have scarred them.  He wonders if it’s a mistake, this spur of the moment decision to spend more time together.  To <i>be</i> together, if his own words are to be believed.

Maybe it wouldn’t seem so overwhelming if it didn’t start off with literally being pressed together, thigh to thigh, for the next three hours.

“How are you feeling?” David asks, his eyes flickering over Patrick’s face.  

Patrick remembers the sharp pain of a booted foot impacting his body.  He can’t seem to stop remembering it.  Taking in a breath, he pushes away the wave of fear/anger/shame that goes along with the memory.  “Okay. Kind of sore.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Patrick shifts a little, and winces.  David of course sees it, and the whole mess just gets more uncomfortable, a feedback loop of sympathy and pain. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Want to try and get some sleep?”

Patrick’s head lists obediently towards David’s shoulder, as if it has a life of its own, but the movement makes his ribs twinge painfully.  Patrick’s injured right side is next to David, unlike when they were sitting in the airport, so it’s not going to be as easy to lean against him.

David looks him up and down and frowns, then fiddles with the seat arm in between them until he can raise it up and out of the way.  He shuffles a little closer to Patrick, his body close and warm.  “Does this make it easier?”

Patrick leans carefully, not needing to tilt as much, and breathes out slowly.  “Yeah.  You sure…?”

“Yes,” David says firmly, without even waiting for Patrick to finish his sentence, assuming Patrick was even able to finish it.  “This is good.  I mean – for me, this is good, I shouldn’t have assumed, only if you’re comfortable-”

“It’s good,” Patrick says quietly.  He sets his hand on David’s thigh, palm up.  He can feel the frayed edge of his jeans, the ripped opening right under his hand, and the warmth of his skin underneath.

David places his palm against Patrick’s slowly, reverently.  “Try to get some sleep,” he says, his voice wavering.  “We’ll be there soon.”

Patrick closes his eyes, and takes slow, measured breaths.  He wants to breathe deeply, to inhale David’s scent, but his ribs ache more now than they did yesterday, after over twenty-hour hours without being able to stretch out in a bed.  Not that he’d trade anything for his cancelled flight, given what happened as a result.

After some uncertain amount of time he feels David’s breathing slow, and opens his eyes to take him in.  David is beautiful when he sleeps.  Patrick always loved waking up before David and getting to look at him, his face relaxed and deprived of all its usual armor.  

Patrick studies the new lines on David’s face.  There are little ones that have crept in despite David’s careful skin care routine.  His scruff is longer than he likes it, as a result of not having shaved this morning, and it gives a bit of a rugged edge to his jaw.  Patrick is seized with the urge to nibble on David’s earlobe, to wake him up with a whispered request, like he used to do, and laughs to himself at the thought of doing that on a plane – even if they were there yet, which they are not.  Which they might never be.

He’s not sure where they are headed.  Their melodramatic meeting in Milwaukee, as alliterative as it might be, can hardly be relied upon to set the groundwork for a stable future relationship.

David hums, mutters something about sunscreen, and settles back down.  Patrick wants to kiss his mumbled words, tell him not to worry, shush him back to sleep.  But he just keeps still.

When the flight attendant comes by asking if they are sure they don’t want something to drink, apparently not influenced at all by the fact that people don’t generally tend to drink anything while sleeping, David rubs his face and blinks.

He’s adorable, making the same disgruntled expression he always did when faced with the cruel reality of waking up, but then he looks at Patrick and his eyes brighten.  

“Hi,” David says, his lips pursing, happy but trying not to show it.  It still kills Patrick that David censors his own happiness.

“Hi,” Patrick replies.  “Have a nice sleep?”

David frowns.  “You were supposed to sleep too.”

Patrick shrugs, which is actually sort of painful.  David, of course, notices.

“I can’t believe you’re traveling right now,” David scolds him softly.  “Do you even have any pain pills?  If I had known, I could have found something useful in Alexis’ medicine cabinet.”

They both ignore the fact that neither of them had any clue that they were going to meet up, and that Alexis probably doesn’t have that kind of stuff around the house anymore.

“There’s some extra strength Tylenol in my backpack.”  Patrick realizes as he says this that he hasn’t taken any since the night before.

“Okay, give me a sec,” David says, then turns to the woman next to him, who decides it’s a good time to make herself scarce for a few minutes.  David tugs Patrick’s backpack down from the overhead compartment and finds the pills.  “Need anything else from in here?”  

Patrick shakes his head, and David puts his bag away.

“Want to go to the bathroom before Ms. Earpods gets back?”

Patrick is starting to feel like a child, with all David’s questions, but he knows David’s just trying to help.

“No, I’m good.”

David disappears down the aisle, whether to visit the bathroom himself or bother the flight attendants Patrick doesn’t know.

It’s the first time they’ve ever been on a plane together, which is kind of funny given the length of their relationship.  They probably would have flown somewhere for their honeymoon, if they had made it that far. Patrick’s glad at least that David doesn’t turn out to have any kind of flight-related phobias or complaints, although chances are he probably does and is just keeping them to himself for Patrick’s sake.

Patrick doesn’t doubt it, actually, because it’s clear that David is still in full-on guilt mode.  He’s laser-focused on taking care of Patrick, and not saying a word about his own concerns.  Patrick’s not sure what to do about it right now, but he knows they’ll have to talk eventually.  

David returns with a fresh bottle of water for Patrick and a plastic cup of something fizzy for himself.  “Want to stretch before I sit back down?”

But Patrick is stiff, and sore, and is sort of afraid that he’s going to scream a little when he finally stands up.  While stretching now might make it better later, he just can’t do it.  “No, still good.”

David slides his way back into his seat.

“What did you get?”

“Ginger ale.  I always used to like to get it on flights.  If vodka wasn’t an option.”

“No vodka available this morning?” Patrick jokes.  “You could have a Bloody Mary.”

Something flickers over David’s face.  “Not in the mood, I suppose.”

Patrick stores that away for a later conversation and tries to settle himself in his seat.

“Still hurting?  Anything I can-” David sees the look on Patrick’s face and cuts himself off.  “Sorry.  Too much, I know.”

“No, it’s all right.  It’s just gonna hurt for a while, you know?”

“Maybe.  But I don’t have to like it.”

Patrick feels a rush of affection for David, one he hasn’t felt in years, and it warms him deep inside.  He takes David’s hand and weaves their fingers together, then leans back, closes his eyes, and tries to doze his way through the rest of the flight.

After what seems like forever they land, and Patrick manages to hobble out of his seat and off the plane.  He does start to feel better once he gets moving, but he doesn’t object when David take over luggage duty, tugging Patrick’s bag off of the carousel.  There are a few trying moments when David’s suitcase is late showing up, but eventually they drag themselves and their belongings out to the waiting area and into an Uber.

Patrick finds himself staring again as David effortlessly loads their luggage into the trunk of the car – he knows his own bag is way too heavy, but David hardly notices, chatting away with the Uber driver.  David looks up and catches him staring, and Patrick feels his cheeks warm.

He gives in when David climbs into the car next to him, and runs a hand up David’s arm to his shoulder.  His muscles are more defined than they used to be.  “You’ve been working out,” he says, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

“Well, when you reach a certain age and want to maintain your appearance, there aren’t many options,” David says breezily, but Patrick can tell he’s pleased.  

“I’m impressed.”

David gives Patrick one of his crunched-up smiles, dimples even making a brief appearance, and Patrick knocks their knees together.  

It’s like a drug, he thinks, being with David again.  Everything seems easier, more fun and less dreary.  Of course, being in the Florida sunshine doesn’t hurt, but even the palm trees don’t raise Patrick’s spirits like one sideways smile from David Rose.

The drug metaphor proves its relevance when they finally arrive at the house, and Patrick stumbles as he gets out of the car, coming down.  David is at his side in an instant, leaving their suitcases in the driveway as he supports Patrick with an arm around his waist and helps him inside.

“I think I’d better lie down for a while,” Patrick says, and David nods as he looks around.

“Where to?”

Patrick had tried to figure this out earlier, but hadn’t really come to any conclusions.  His parents’ retirement home is a style common to this part of Florida, one of many similar homes in a neighborhood filled with snowbirds fleeing to warmer weather every winter.  It’s got a master bedroom, a second bedroom with a queen bed that Patrick used on his visits, and a small third room that his parents treat as an office and a spot for their lonely treadmill.  

Either Patrick takes his parents’ room and gives David his own, or puts David in his parents’ room.  Neither solution seems perfect, but then again he’s not about to make David sleep on the pull-out couch in the office.

Patrick leads David down the hall and pauses in front of the door to his room.  David has been glancing into doorways and smirks at Patrick when they stop.

“It’s a bit of a dilemma, isn’t it?”

Patrick snorts.  “Somebody’s got to sleep in there.”  He nods towards his parents’ room.  “They haven’t been here since last April.  It really shouldn’t matter.”

David sticks his head into the second bedroom.  “I’ll take this one, you take the king.  You’re injured.”

Patrick nods, and then feels a pang of disappointment – had he wanted David to suggest sharing a room? Yeah, he realizes, he sort of had.  Well, time enough for that, assuming David doesn’t head right back to the airport once they start to talk for real about what ended their relationship.

He climbs into bed, reassures David that he doesn’t need anything else, and falls asleep before he even has a chance to remind David to bring their luggage inside.

When Patrick wakes up, the whole afternoon is gone.  His suitcase is set out on the other side of the bed, saving him the trouble of having to bend over to get to it.  He finds his toiletry kit and fresh clothes and shuffles into the bathroom.  

Before he can get into the shower, he has to deal with his injuries.  He peels the bandage on his head away slowly, relieved to see that the redness around his stitches is fading.  Unwrapping his ribs is painful, but not unmanageable.  Carefully, he eases himself into the shower, and stands under the hot water until it starts to cool.

Clean and dressed in a white t-shirt and joggers, he makes his way out of the bedroom, a little nervous.  He put a new bandage on his head, to cover the stitches, but it would be silly to put his hat back on.  David’s just going to have to deal with it.

David is standing at the kitchen island, tossing what looks like a Caesar salad.  There’s a platter with some sliced chicken breast, and a bowl of strawberries.  He glances quickly at Patrick, his eyes widening a little at the sight of his head, but he doesn’t comment.

“What’s all this?” Patrick asks, looking at the spread.

David shakes his head dismissively.  “I heard you get into the shower, so I figured I’d get dinner ready.”

“But – where did the food come from?”

David’s mouth curls up at the side.  “I think here in the States they call it a supermarket.  You can come with me next time, it’s pretty remarkable.”

“Very funny.”  Patrick takes a plate and helps himself.  “This looks great, David.  Thank you.”

David nods, pleased by the compliment.

“I take it you found the car keys, then?”  Patrick’s parents bought a used Camry specifically to leave here and use when they visit.  

“Yeah, they were very carefully hidden in the glove box.”

Patrick groans, and David smiles at him, and Patrick is suddenly torn between eating this very lovely looking salad and kissing David senseless.  Since there’s a fork full of romaine on its way to his mouth, he decides that the kissing will have to wait until later.

They spend what’s left of the evening on the couch, browsing through Netflix until they land on a new cooking show neither of them have seen before.  Patrick tries not to think about watching television back in his apartment in Schitt’s Creek, David stretched out with his head in Patrick’s lap while they planned a wedding that never happened.

“Want some popcorn?”  David asks after a while.  He’s been fidgeting over on his side of the couch, and Patrick figures it’s just as well to give him something to do.

“Sure.”

“What kind?”

“What are my options?”

David goes into the kitchen, which is separated from the living area only by the island, and opens a cabinet.  “Microwave movie theater butter, or kettle corn.  Also some of that cheese stuff you like.”

Apparently David’s shopping trip had been thorough.  “Smartfood?”

“Um, yes.”  David doesn’t like cheese popcorn because of the way the coating sticks on his fingers, and threatens his knits.

“Kettle corn, please,” Patrick requests.  

David ducks his head and smiles.  Kettle corn is David’s favorite, as they both know.

David sits a little closer to Patrick this time, the popcorn bowl on his lap, positioned so they can both reach it.  When they polish it off, David puts the bowl on the coffee table and then clasps his hands together, turning to Patrick.

“So, um, I know this has all been rather, well, sudden, and I was thinking that maybe we should talk about-” David starts, but Patrick cuts him off.

“Actually, could we not do this tonight?”  His words come out abruptly, and he winces.

“Oh.”  David straightens and shifts.  “Of course.  That’s fine, it’s been a long day.”

Patrick hates that he shut him down, that he rejected David’s brave and healthy attempt to treat their relationship like the fragile thing that it is.  He fixes his gaze on the television, expecting David to excuse himself and go to bed.

But he doesn’t.  David’s arm comes up and around Patrick, slowly, giving Patrick plenty of time to decline, and then settles gently, David’s fingers stroking the side of Patrick’s neck.  Patrick closes his eyes and leans his head on David’s shoulder, trying to feel like he deserves this.

They have been given an unexpected chance to right the wrongs that led to their breakup.  But Patrick knows that he hasn’t done his part yet.  And what he said to David in Milwaukee might have even made it worse.  Patrick didn’t lie, but he didn’t exactly tell the whole truth.  And he’s petrified that when it comes out, David might not be willing to brave the alligators for him anymore.