Chapter Text
“What can I get you?” The voice behind the counter is entirely too chipper for this time of morning, and David doesn’t even look up.
“Large caramel macchiato, skim, two sweeteners. And a sprinkle of cocoa powder.”
“So basically, hot melted ice cream,” the voice says.
Ugh, he must be new. Where’s Twyla? David never thought he’d be wishing for Twyla to appear with her all too sunny disposition and weird stories, but at least she doesn’t mock him.
“That’s right,” David says, his voice clipped. “A little less mocking, a little more focus on making my coffee.”
“Can I get a name for that?”
David rolls his eyes behind his oversized sunglasses. “David.”
“Won’t be a minute, David.”
“Large caramel mac, skim, two sweeteners, sprinkle of cocoa, right?”
David is so shocked the barista has remembered his order that he pulls his sunglasses off. He swears he sees the barista suck in a breath and smirks. “Mmkay, we won’t be doing ‘mac’, but yes.”
“Coming right up, David.”
David raises an eyebrow as he pays for his coffee. Who the fuck is this guy? He remembered my coffee order and my name?
He slips his sunglasses back on so he can study the barista, and takes in the copper curls spilling onto the man’s face; his round amber eyes; the broad shoulders filling out a – ew, polyester-blend – button up; the nicely defined forearms flexing as he pours the milk into David’s coffee.
I’m not not liking this.
“One large melted ice cream for David?”
“You think you’re funny.”
“I am funny.”
“Sounds fake.”
“The usual?”
“God, please.”
“My name is Patrick actually. Large caramel mac, skim, two sweeteners, sprinkle of cocoa coming right up.”
David storms into the cafe, later than usual and bites back a growl at the size of the line. He lets the door slam behind him and sighs as he joins the queue. Patrick looks up at the sound of the door, and David sees him smirk when he notices him at the end of the line. He lets the corner of his mouth quirk in acknowledgment, then looks down at his phone.
There’s still four people ahead of him when he hears, “large caramel macchiato, skim, two sweeteners, sprinkle of cocoa for David.”
His head snaps up in surprise and he sees Patrick doing his frown-smile at him. He hurries to the counter to grab his coffee.
“Oh my god, marry me. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh David, we haven’t even been on a date!” Patrick says in mock horror.
“Scandalous,” David deadpans.
“I won’t tell anyone it’s a shotgun wedding if you don't,” Patrick says, echoing David’s tone. He hands the coffee to him, their fingers brushing as David tries not to snatch it from him.
The warmth of Patrick’s fingers against his sends a little buzz through David and his eyes meet Patrick’s as he winks, or tries to.
“On the house, seeing as you proposed to me.”
“Can I have a muffin too then?”
“Unbelievable.”
David pulls his lips between his teeth to hide his smile when a chocolate muffin in a paper bag slides across the counter in his direction.
David is late and Stevie is going to be insufferable. He knows she already gives him a 20 minute buffer and he’s still late.
He rushes into the cafe, unbuttoning his coat as he walks through the door. He looks over the counter and smiles to himself when he sees Patrick standing there.
Somehow, as if he knows David is looking at him, Patrick glances up and makes eye contact. He smiles at David briefly then looks back at the customer he’s taking an order from.
David finds Stevie sitting at a corner table, already nursing her long black.
“Nice of you to join the living,” she drawls as he pulls out a chair.
“Ugh, would it have killed you to order my coffee too?”
“I could have, but then it would be sitting here cold and I’d have to listen to you bitching about how incorrect unintentionally cold coffee is. So…”
David rolls his eyes at her, refusing to admit that she is, in fact, correct. He places his bag on a chair, carefully shrugs off his Loewe coat, folds it then drapes it over the same chair. He’s rummaging around in his bag for his wallet so he can order his coffee, when he hears the sound of a plate hitting the table. Straightening up, he turns to see Patrick standing there, holding David’s coffee, a plate with a chocolate muffin on it on the table.
He raises an eyebrow at Patrick who shrugs. “I mean, I can take it away if you don’t want it but it’s a large caramel macchiato, skim, two sweeteners and unless you suddenly want a different coffee to the one you’ve ordered every day for the last three weeks, I’m pretty sure you’re desperate for this coffee.”
Without looking at her, David knows that Stevie is watching them with a gleeful smirk on her face. She’s been dying to come to this cafe and check Patrick out after David slipped and mentioned him to her a week ago.
“You forgot the sprinkle of cocoa powder.”
Patrick gestures at the coffee. “Actually, I didn’t. It’s right there so, you’re welcome. Come to the counter and pay whenever you’re ready.”
“I didn’t ask for a muffin!”
“You never say no to a muffin, especially the chocolate. You’re welcome!” Patrick calls over his shoulder as he walks back to the counter.
David definitely doesn’t watch him walk back and admire the way his mid-range denim hugs his ass and thighs. Even if he is, who’s to know?
“He’s got a nice ass.”
Stevie, that’s who.
“Hmmm.” David sits and takes a sip of his coffee to avoid answering her. It’s perfect, like it always is when Patrick makes it.
“So is the service here always that good or do you just get VIP treatment from a very cute barista?” Stevie asks, smirking.
“Jump off a cliff please, he’s just doing his job.”
“No, David. Doing his job was taking my order and sending a server out to bring it to me. You got your stupidly complicated coffee brought to you without even asking for it.”
“And a muffin,” David adds without thinking.
“And a muffin,” Stevie echoes, snickering.
“Okay, you know what? We’re not doing this. He’s just very good at his job and makes a delicious coffee, that’s it,” David huffs.
“Whatever, you don’t need to get so worked up about it. I’m just saying, he’s cute and clearly interested and you’re single so you should—” she makes an inelegant gesture with her hands.
“What are you, twelve?” David asks, just a little too loud for their surroundings.
“Clearly,” she says flatly. “Anyway, you wanted to see me today. Why?”
David wrinkles his nose before answering. “I got invited to Margot and Thea’s wedding. It’s in two weeks, so clearly this is a reserve invite and they’re making up numbers or whatever. Sebastien will probably be there, he’s close with Thea’s brother – or as close as an asshole with a gaping hole where his heart should be – could be to anyone,” he finishes bitterly.
“And you’re telling me this because…”
“Obviously, I need a date. A hot one. Preferably one who will pretend to be my partner...”
“So you thought of me. I don’t know if I should feel flattered that you think I’m hot or insulted that you think I have nothing better to do than pretend to be your girlfriend at a pity wedding.”
“Okay, first you know you’re hot, stop fishing for more compliments. You’ve exhausted your quota. Secondly, I have to go to this and I can’t go alone.”
Stevie stares at him and he tries not to fidget. “Why do you need to go, David? You don’t have anything to prove to those people.”
“It’s nice of you to say that, but you’re wrong. I have everything to prove and I can’t let this opportunity to show them all that I’m thriving just go.”
“Are you though? Thriving?”
“Oh fuck off.”
Stevie grins. “But then what would you do about a date?”
“So you’ll come with me?”
“No.”
“Oh my god. Why not?”
“I don’t want to. But also, I’m going away with Jake that weekend.”
“Ew.” David takes a bite of his muffin and lets out a groan that would be better placed in the bedroom. “Fuck, this is good. But what am I gonna do now?”
“Don’t go, go on your own or find another date, whatever you want,” Stevie shrugs and reaches over to steal some of his muffin.
He swats at her hand. “Find another date? The wedding is a two-hour drive away! In Montauk! I’m not driving for two hours with some random, even if I can book separate rooms for the weekend!”
“Oh god, it’s for the entire weekend and there’s a road trip involved? Now I’m definitely not going with you.” She swipes another piece of muffin.
“Ugh,” he sighs as he sips his coffee. “Where the fuck am I going to find an acceptable date?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Patrick says, suddenly appearing at their table looking a little nervous. It looks good on him, David thinks, the little flush high on his pale cheeks. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
“He was dropped on his head as a child,” Stevie offers.
Patrick gives her a quick smile, “that might explain the coffee order then. I’m Patrick by the way.”
“Stevie. I like you,” she grins. “I like him,” she says to David.
Patrick huffs a laugh, then takes a breath and says, “I heard what you were saying David, and— this might be weird— but, well. I’ll go with you to that wedding. If you want. I mean, I don’t want to presume that you’d bring a guy to the wedding... But if that’s a thing you might— if you want— well, anyway, the offer is there.”
David’s eyebrows shoot up and he stares at Patrick, unable to answer. “So I’m just gonna go—” Patrick turns to leave.
“Ow!” David exclaims as Stevie kicks his shin. “Patrick, wait,” he says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist.
When Patrick turns around, he looks down at David’s hand on his wrist. “Oh, sorry.” David says as he lets go. His mind is racing. Patrick is nice and more than a little attractive, and apparently interested in men? Or at least willing to pretend to be into men.
“You’d do that? Did you hear the part where there’s a two-hour road trip involved? And an overnight, to Montauk. In February,” David says incredulously.
“I did hear all of that, David.”
“And you’re willing to come. With me. To a wedding full of strangers?” David’s voice is climbing in pitch to match the height of his brow.
“Well, you’re not a stranger.”
“You barely know me! I could be a murderer for all you know,”
“You’re really selling this trip,” Patrick says drily.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to do this. That would be crazy. I don’t know why you’d want to do this.”
“Maybe I need a little crazy,” Patrick says softly, there’s something that flits across his expression that David can’t place.
“Well now I’m wondering if I should be worried.”
Patrick gives him a small smile. “Look, you asked why I’d do this – weddings mean booze and by the sounds of things this is going to be a fancy wedding, right?” David nods. “So I’ll get a weekend in a fancy hotel room, a night with some good booze and maybe it’ll be fun. The offer is there if you want it, but I’ve gotta get back to the counter.”
When Patrick walks away, Stevie looks at David with a wicked grin on her face. “Well that answers my earlier question. I like this for you.”
“There’s nothing to like!” David’s arms flail a little to emphasise his point.
“Are you sure about that?” She sounds so much like David in that moment that he wonders if he’d said that instead.
“Yes, he’s just being nice.”
Stevie rolls her eyes. “No one is that nice David. Not for no reason. He likes you. And he’s got balls offering to go to this wedding with you. I like this. For you. Let yourself have this. ”
David doesn’t say anything. He can’t. Lord knows what his face looks like right now as he mulls Patrick’s offer over. Patrick is basically a stranger, but David doesn’t think he’s a sociopath. He’s too cheerful with the other awful customers. Plus he's hot, and that would be a bonus, turning up with someone very attractive and wholesome on his arm to show his so-called friends that he’s thriving despite everything. Also David doesn’t have any other options; so far it’s Patrick or no one.
Fine. This will be fine, he can do this.
He marches over to the counter, stepping in front of the waiting customers. “Sorry, yes I won’t be a minute,” he mutters to the woman at the front of the queue. “Patrick, if you’re sure about this, then yes. I will take you up on your offer.”
“Oh, I was serious.”
“Do you own a suit?” Patrick nods. “One other than the one you wore to your college graduation or bought for job interviews?”
When Patrick hesitates, David throws his hands in the air. “My god. Okay give me your phone, I’m going to give you my number and then you are going to text me your measurements and your address. I will pull some options together for you.” Patrick hands over his phone and opens his mouth to speak. “Shhhh, here’s how this is going to work. I will find you an acceptable suit and take care of the travel arrangements. This is all on me, you’re doing me a favour so I will cover the costs.”
“Okay David, but I’ve really got to get to these other customers.”
“Oh yes, okay. Sorry. Here’s your phone.” He walks back to Stevie and throws himself into the chair.
“I can’t wait to see how this pans out,” she grins.
“Give me back my muffin you wench.”
David’s phone rings while he’s arranging a new exhibition for the gallery.
“Patrick, hello.”
“ Hi David. Why have three garment bags arrived at my apartment? They look expensive.”
“I told you I was sending options over, for the wedding. You cannot be my date and wear an off the rack, polyester-blend suit from a Macy’s sale rack.”
“I promise the suit I have is nice David, I’ve worn it to weddings before.”
“Just try them on please, Patrick, and send me photos. Or better yet, FaceTime me. Actually do both. Send me photos and FaceTime me. Can you do it now? I have some time.”
“Oh um, sure. I guess. I’ll call you back.”
David paces while he waits for Patrick to call him again. He’s confident in his choices – he has impeccable taste after all – but isn’t sure whether Patrick will like them, and for some reason, that’s important. He busies himself with arranging the display for the exhibition until his phone buzzes.
Incoming FaceTime call
When the video connects, the first thing David notices are Patrick’s eyes, round and smiling, crinkled at the edges.
“David, these are very nice suits. Are you sure this is okay?”
“It’s fine, really. Now show me. Prop the phone up on something so I can see all of you.”
Patrick does as he’s told and after a couple of minutes fiddling with phone angles, he steps back and David can see his whole body. He sucks a breath in through his teeth. Patrick is wearing the classic black, single breasted suit David had sent, matched back with a simple white shirt and black tie. The clean lines frame Patrick’s shoulders well and won’t need altering, though the sleeve length might need shortening.
“Turn around for me? Then walk back towards your phone, I want to see it in motion.”
Patrick obliges and David is very glad they didn’t do this in person. The pants hug Patrick’s ass and skim over his thighs perfectly.
“What do you think?” Patrick asks, picking up the phone again, worrying at his lip.
Is he nervous? David wonders. He shouldn’t be.
“I think I chose well,” David says primly. “Now send me a photo so I can compare it with the others and go put the next one on. Please.”
They repeat the process with the next two suits: one a deep navy, almost black, in a similar cut to the first suit with a pale blue shirt and navy tie with sky blue flecks. The second is still navy, but brighter, with a slight sheen to the fabric. David had matched it with the same white shirt and black tie as the first suit. This one was a slimmer cut than the first two.
Patrick wears a suit well.
“The last one,” David says decisively. “But with the second tie.”
“Are you sure?” Patrick asks.
“Do you not like it? I want you to look good, and you will, but you also need to be comfortable.”
“I do, it’s just… more of a look than what I’m used to, I guess. I never would have chosen anything like this for myself.”
David laughs. “Firstly, would we call that a ‘look’? And secondly, I’ve seen how you dress yourself and that doesn’t surprise me at all. Okay, pack up the black one and I’ll have it collected. Keep the one you’re wearing for the wedding. You’ll need something for the welcome drinks the night before too, you can wear the darker navy suit with no tie for that. Have you got shoes?”
“Of course I have shoes.”
“Send me photos for approval.”
“Do I need to send you photos of my underwear too?” Patrick quips, then blushes.
David hides his own reaction with an eye roll. “I’m not a dictator, Patrick. You may select your own underwear.”