Work Text:
David woke up in pain. He stumbled into the bathroom, hissing, as he covered his burning eyes. Blinking, he stared into the small mirror, his vision bleary, and realized that he’d forgotten to take his contacts out before he went to sleep last night. Both of his eyes were bright red, making it look like he’d done something much more entertaining the night before than forcing Stevie to watch a Meg Ryan movie marathon with him and then crashing.
David grunted as he removed first one sticky contact and then the other from his eyes and put them carefully back in the case. He rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes and tried to alleviate the painful itchiness before giving up and digging through the shelf for some eye drops.
The headache developing behind his eyelids told him that he wouldn’t be able to put the contacts back in again today. He groaned.
“Ew, David,” Alexis said when she walked into their shared room later that morning. She threw her purse down on the table and stared at him. “Why are you wearing glasses?”
David looked at her through the reflection in the mirror as he fixed his hair. “I slept with my contacts in last night.”
He gave himself one last once over and adjusted the black, square-framed glasses that he’d bought almost a decade earlier. They weren’t the right prescription, but they’d have to be good enough to make it through the day.
“Well, do you want to borrow a clipboard, because you look like you’re about to ask me to sign a petition to, like, save the whales or something.”
“Ok,” David said, shooting her a glare. “I’m going to the store.”
“Whatever,” Alexis answered, shrugging. “Oh, and David?”
He stopped with a hand on the doorknob and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “What?”
She smiled at him sweetly. “I think it’s really great that you’re comfortable enough with Patrick to let him see you like this. It's, like, a real milestone in your relationship.”
“Kill yourself, Alexis,” he answered.
“By-yyyyye,” she said with a little wave, elongating the ‘y’ sound obnoxiously as he slammed the door.
David walked into the store in a flurry of annoyance. Patrick was in the back on a step stool, restocking the cologne.
“It is barely past the crack of dawn, and this day is already miserable,” David complained.
“It’s almost 10:30,” Patrick responded.
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” David answered.
Patrick put the last bottle of cologne on the shelf and turned to face him, freezing at the sight of David’s terrible hipster glasses. Living in Brooklyn had made him do some crazy things.
“You’re wearing glasses,” Patrick said, blinking.
“See, miserable,” David replied, gesturing up at himself.
“I didn’t know you had glasses,” Patrick continued. “Are they decorative?”
David rolled his eyes. “That’s insulting. Do you think I’d willing wear these in public if I didn’t have to? I left my contacts in all night and now my eyes are killing me, so.” Patrick just kept staring at him, making David start to feel uncomfortable. “What?”
“But I’ve never seen you wear those before,” Patrick said, sounding oddly intense. “Even when you’ve slept over.”
David paused, trying to figure out if this was some kind of relationship thing that he was missing. “I don’t wear them,” he said slowly, “like, at all if I can help it, even at night. What’s the big deal?”
Patrick shook his head and stepped off of the stool, still staring at David like he had two heads. “No big deal.”
David narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. “Sure. Well, you’re being weird, so I’m going in the back to check on the fruit shipment.”
He walked around the counter and into the back room, and after a moment, he heard Patrick’s footsteps following him.
Whirling around with a huff of exasperation and more than a little bit of self-consciousness, David spread his arms out and asked, “Ok, what -- “
His question was cut off by Patrick grabbing the back of his neck and yanking him down so that their mouths crashed together, wet and deep, the force of it sending David stumbling back until he hit the wall. Patrick’s body immediately boxed him in, and David’s arms instinctively wound their way around Patrick’s shoulders.
When Patrick finally let him up for air, David smirked, having put the pieces together. “So I’m gonna go out on a huge limb here and say that you actually like the glasses.” He pointedly used one hand to readjust the frames that had fallen askew on his face and smirked wider when Patrick groaned.
“Yes,” Patrick agreed, kissing his mouth again before moving down to the shivery place below his ear and then further down his neck. “Yes, I like the glasses.” He groped at David’s thick black sweater. “Get this off,” he said.
“Patrick,” David said, doing his best to sound scandalized, even though he was thrilled. It usually took all of his tricks to get Patrick to do any more than kiss him in the store. He stripped the sweater off quickly and draped it on one of the shelves without further argument, not wanting to dissuade this kind of bad behavior in his boyfriend.
But he couldn’t stop himself from teasing, “Glasses on or off?”
Patrick growled -- growled! What was happening -- and ran his hands down David’s bare sides. “Get on the floor.” His voice was deep and gravely, sending a fissure of arousal shuddering through David.
“Um,” he gulped, eyeing the hardwood floor and trying to remember the last time they’d mopped it. “I wholly approve of this initiative you’re taking, but there’s no way…”
Patrick let him go long enough to grab a hand stitched quilt that was folded on one of the shelves and fanning it out on the ground.
“Classy,” David commented with a snort, but he still allowed himself to be dragged down, putting up no resistance when Patrick straddled his hips and pinned his arms over his head. He let his tongue slip out to trace his bottom lip as he raised one eyebrow from beneath his glasses. “Now what?”
Patrick’s eyes widened, and he let out a sound that David could only call agonized, grinding down on top of him and heaving a harsh breath. “David…” he said.
“So is this, like, a librarian kink thing?” David asked. “I’m not judging, just trying to figure out what I’m dealing with here. It definitely wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve done in bed.”
“Birthday clown,” Patrick responded.
“Sadly, that also doesn’t crack the top ten,” David admitted. “Should I say something like, ‘Mr. Brewer, your books are overdue’?”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s not that. Just...you in those glasses. They make you look, I don’t even know...soft.”
“Oh, soft. Exactly what every boy wants to hear,” David said wryly.
Patrick glanced pointedly to where his dick was anything but soft in his pants. “Does it look like I mean it as an insult?”
“No,” David admitted. “And like I said, I am 100% behind this uncharacteristically aggressive behavior, but do I have to be the only one half-dressed here?”
Patrick let go of David’s arms and sat up to fumble with the buttons on his dark blue shirt while David took some calming breaths to regroup. He tried not to wince when Patrick flung his shirt over his shoulder, careless of where it landed.
David reached up to touch all of the newly bared skin in front of him, but Patrick once again took hold of his wrists and trapped them above his head, his eyes flitting over David’s face.
“Oh yeah,” David said breathlessly, his stomach giving a lurch at just how incredibly hot that was. He cleared his throat delicately, and tried a new tactic. “There’s no way I’m wearing these with other people. But I could be persuaded into it after work, when we’re alone, in bed, at your place…”
He knew he hit the nail on the head when Patrick squeezed his eyes shut a moment, mouth falling open, before he dived down to finally kiss David again.
Patrick’s hands were gripping his wrists hard enough to bruise, and he was frantic on top of him, twisting desperately until he broke away with a gasp and began to fumble with the belt on his jeans.
“Sorry,” he said, unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out without even bothering to take off his pants. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” David assured him, thinking it was far, far more than ok the way that Patrick’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed, his mouth slack. “Do you want help?” he asked.
“No, just…keep your hands there?” Patrick asked.
David tipped his head back and spied a wooden chair behind his head. Stretching, he grabbed the leg and dragged it closer, wrapping both hands around it. “Good?”
Patrick gulped. “Holy shit,” he answered faintly. “So good.”
His own dick was hard under Patrick’s shifting hips, but it was easy to ignore at the moment in favor of the incredibly appealing and, frankly, ego-stroking image of his boyfriend helplessly jacking off to the sight of him.
“I’m gonna…” Patrick gasped, wrist jerking wildly. “Sorry,” he repeated.
“Stop apologizing and come on my chest already,” David said.
“Oh god,” Patrick moaned, and then did as he was told, his free hand slamming down on the floor to keep him balanced when he bent over double above David, his whole body heaving with the force of his orgasm.
After a moment of silence, with Patrick’s hot face tucked into his shoulder, David let go of the chair leg and ran his hands down Patrick’s back. That was all it took to get him into action. Pushing away, he crawled down David’s body, unzipped David’s pants and dragged them down his thighs.
“Let me take care of you,” he said, taking David’s dick out with a hand that was wet with his own come and stroking in the way perfectly designed to bring David off as quickly and effectively as possible.
“This day has gotten...so much better,” David gasped, writhing up into the sure touch. “Kiss me.”
Patrick obliged, their mouths meeting hot and messy and inelegant as David fell apart under him.
Patrick rolled over to lay on his back as David used the quilt to clean them both up.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new blanket,” Patrick commented.
“Maybe we could leave it back here,” David suggested archly. “It could be our bootycall blanket.”
“You’re making fun of me,” Patrick said.
“I am,” David agreed. He gave himself one final wipe before dropping the corner of the blanket and cuddling against Patrick’s warm body. “How many people do you think walked into this store and heard us having sex?”
“None,” Patrick said. “I locked the door before coming back here.”
David pretended to gasp. “Who are you and what have you done to Patrick?”
In answer, Patrick raised a hand and traced his finger over one of the lenses of David’s glasses.
“I have to say, this is gratifying,” David admitted.
Patrick snorted. “Well, I’m glad you’re gratified.”
“Oh, I am. I am very, very gratified, and very excited to use this new information about you to my advantage in the near future.”
“I have no doubt.”