Chapter Text
Patrick had been dating David for two weeks when he got the first text from Rachel.
Well, not the very first text. But the first that was coherent and serious enough to warrant a response.
He sighed, resigning himself to type out a response.
That wasn't wholly true. It was Tuesday, which meant that two days the store was closed each week had just passed. But he and David were planning on doing vendor runs on Sunday, and spending Monday curled up at Ray's, watching a marathon of Friday Night Lights. When Patrick had teased David about being such a football fan, he replied "It's about football?"
That night as they went through their closing rituals, Patrick got the nerve up to tell David.
"Hi," he said, coming behind David and hooking a chin over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around David's middle.
"Hi," David replied with a little shoulder shimmy. Patrick could hear the smile in his voice, a smile he'd seen a lot of over the last two weeks. A smile he never wanted to not see.
"Can I talk to you about something?"
He felt David freeze in his arms, stiffen. "Um," he choked out. "What about?"
"David," Patrick breathed. He knew the signs of an impending spiral. He stepped back and touched David's shoulders, turning him around. "It's nothing bad."
"Okay," David squeaked, thoroughly unconvinced.
"It's just…" Patrick sighed, unsure of how to say this. "It's my ex. She wants to get together to talk, probably try to convince me to come back. And before you start panicking, it's not gonna happen." He grabbed David's hands from where they were crossed against his chest. "It's over between me and Rachel. It should have been over years ago, but I just didn't know what was making it feel so wrong. We were off and on so I let myself fall back into it because I didn't know why nothing felt right. But now I do."
"You do?" David's voice was just above a whisper.
"Of course I do," Patrick couldn't help but smile. "It's you, David. You make me feel right."
David's eyes began to blink rapidly as he looked to the ceiling. "That is quite possibly one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard anyone say. Um, outside of the Downton Christmas Special."
"It's the truth."
"I know," David said, breathing out. He looked back at Patrick. "It's just that my truth is that I am damaged goods." Patrick inhaled painfully at the idea David was anything but exquisite. "So please forgive me if I panic a little about this?"
Patrick stepped closer, putting a hand on David’s cheek. "I promise that it will be fine. I'll see what she has to say, and then come home. To you. Okay?"
David nodded. "Okay," he whispered. Patrick leaned in and kissed him, chaste but full of feeling.
"Let's finish closing, and I'll buy you dinner," he offered.
"I think you were going to do that anyway?" David replied, sounding a little more like himself. "But I will accept it either way."
Sunday morning, Patrick woke up early, like usual. He went for a run, then came back and had breakfast with Ray, like usual. Then he showered and packed an overnight bag, something he hadn't done since that night, almost a week before, when they'd stayed at Stevie's. He smiled at the memory, wishing he were packing for that again, instead of spending the night at his parents'.
He'd told David, a few days after telling him about Rachel's cryptic text, that he was thinking about using the opportunity to come out to his parents. He was likely going to be telling Rachel, and he'd be wanting to see them anyway. David had hugged him, held him, and assured him that David was proud of him, and would be here to support him. It warmed Patrick in a way that he'd never felt before.
There was a traffic backup on the 401, so when Patrick arrived at the restaurant, Rachel was already there. She stood when he walked in, rushing over to give him a tight hug.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, politely patting her back.
"I'm just so glad you're here," she said into his shirt. He sighed, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting this embrace to go on. Luckily she pulled back. "I missed you so much."
"What did you want to talk about?" He asked.
"Let's sit," she replied. The waitress swooped in just then, handing them menus and taking their drink orders. Rachel didn't even look down, just stared at Patrick with wide eyes and a faint smile. She mindlessly played with the gold cross around her neck. "How are you?"
"Fine."
"And your job? Did you start at another bank?"
"No," he sighed, keeping his attention on the lunch options. "I, uh, help run a store."
"Oh!" Rachel brightened. "What kind of store?"
Finally, he looked at her, feeling almost guilty for the hopeful expression on her face. "Rachel, what do you want?"
Her smile faltered for just a moment before she reached across the table and grasped his hands. "You know what I want, babe."
Patrick inwardly grimaced at the pet name. He always hated it. It felt grating against his skin, so opposite of the tender caress of David calling him 'baby.' "I'm not coming back," he said firmly. "I found a town I like, I have a job, I have a life… "
"You can have all of that here," she challenged. "You did have all of that here. Until you packed up and ran off."
"Okay, you don't have to make it sound so dramatic," he said with a roll of his eyes.
"It was dramatic!"
"Maybe it was! But I needed to get away from…" You, he finished in his head. "Everything. I needed clarity."
"And did you find what you were looking for?"
He smiled, thinking of David, just last night. How he sat on the picnic table outside the motel, Patrick standing between his legs, just kissing and talking and kissing some more. "Yeah. I did."
"Good," Rachel smiled. She tightened her grip on his hands from where it had loosened. "Then you can come home."
"This isn't my home anymore, Rachel." He swallowed, sitting up a little taller, speaking a little firmer. "That part of my life is over now. We're over. And I'm not coming back."
"I'm pregnant," she blurted.
It took a moment for it to register, her words. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face.
"What?" He croaked.
She grinned, eyes filling with tears. "I'm pregnant. Twelve weeks and two days, due in February." He felt his back hit the back of the chair as he apparently leaned away from the table. Rachel didn't seem to notice, her hand moving to her still-flat abdomen. "I know it wasn't exactly planned, Patty, but it's all on God's divine timing. Who can say no to His miracle?" She paused to swipe at her cheeks, still broken open in a grin. "So now you can come back home, babe. I still have the ring. I know we planned on a spring wedding, but it will be so beautiful to do it this summer. Before I'm really showing, of course. We don't have to worry about buying a house just yet, since the baby will be in our room for the first six months, at least. I was thinking, for a girl, Esther? Such a strong woman of God. And for a boy, Gabriel? Unless you want to name him after you, Patrick Jr? Or, the second?"
She kept talking. She kept talking and talking and talking as the air was sucked out of the room and Patrick slowly suffocated. Bile rising in the back of his throat, panic gripping his heart. No no no no no…
"I'm gay," he practically shouted.
She froze. "Wh-what?"
"I'm gay," he repeated, just above a whisper this time.
"N-no, you're not." A broken laugh slipped past her lips. "That's not funny."
"It's not funny," Patrick agreed.
"You… we've been together for years. We were engaged. Were you just lying to me the whole time?!" Her tone was rising, getting hysterical.
"No," he insisted. "Absolutely not. If anything, I was lying to myself."
"What does that mean?" She asked, voice full of venom.
"It means that you and I both know something wasn't right--"
"I didn't know that."
"And it wasn't until I left that I figured out why."
"Because you're gay," she sneered. This righteous indignation was an ugly look on her usually pretty face.
"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. "I am gay. I'm seeing someone. And I am happy." He said that last part, knowing it was a low blow, but one she needed to hear.
She overlooked it completely, though, when she laughed and said, "You're seeing someone? A man?!"
He chose, then, to be the bigger person and carry on. "What can I do?" He asked. "Have you had an ultrasound yet?"
Rachel scoffed. "Oh, now you care? What, are you going to pick up your little boyfriend and move back here to be near your baby mama?"
"Of course I care, Rachel," he said, fighting to keep his voice even. "But no, I can't move back. The store I run? David and I own it, together."
"Well, aren't you living the Happy Homo lifestyle."
"Stop." He looked at her sternly. "I am trying to be civil here."
Rachel scoffed and leaned back, crossing her arms.
"Listen," he tried again. "I want to be a part of this baby's life. Tell me what I can do."
"Go to church, for starters." She sat up and grabbed her purse. "I need to pray on this," she muttered. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Patrick left to his feet and reached for her in concern. She flinched away from him, like he burned her with his touch.
"Don't touch me!" She snarled. "It's not morning sickness, it's you! I don't need you poisoning my baby with your disease."
"Rachel!" He scolded. He couldn't believe she was acting like this.
"Don't," she hissed again. "Stay away from me."
She pushed past him, and Patrick let her go. Resigned, he pulled a ten dollar bill from his wallet and left it for the poor waitress. They hadn't even gotten their drinks yet.
He waited, slumped in the chair and counting to one hundred, before leaving. He was thankful he had the foresight to park on the opposite side of the building from Rachel's car.