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“David!” He yanked open another drawer, but that one was empty, too. “David, what the hell did you do?”
David looked up from his stool in the bathroom, face covered in something green and gritty. “Hi,” he said, but the sweetness in his voice didn’t fool Patrick anymore. “Remember how you promised I could have the bathroom for an hour and how you would entertain yourself?”
“I remember.” Patrick nodded. David turned back to the mirror and his collection of little pots of goo. “One question first: why don’t I have any clean underwear?”
“Oh!” David grinned. He looked caught, might be blushing through the face mask, and when he bit his lower lip, the taste of whatever it was made him grimace. “That was going to be a surprise,” David explained. “Do you have to get dressed right now?”
“An underwear surprise? David, I don’t know—“
He stood, and he took Patrick’s hand. Kissing was out of the question at the moment, but David twisted the ring around Patrick’s finger, a familiar gesture. “Trust me?”
Patrick nodded. He lifted David’s hand and kissed his knuckle between the two rings on his middle finger. “Of course.”
“Go watch some sports,” David said. “I’ll be out in a bit.”
He stepped over the threshold, but Patrick didn’t want to let go of David’s hand, not yet. He turned it over to kiss the palm. He pressed the hand against his cheek. Finally, David pulled back so he could close the door.
“Contain yourself,” he scolded, eyes fiery, mouth sinful. Once David was locked up in his private sanctuary, Patrick didn’t know what to do with himself.
He turned on TSN, but it was a panel show. Duthie wasn’t even trying to rein the guys in, just leaning back and watching them argue. Patrick hit mute, then flipped around to see if anyone was airing actual sports.
He could, of course, just wear the underwear he already had on. When he got dressed that morning, his drawers were full. No, not full. Not as full as they had been when he first moved into this apartment. But Patrick had first moved into this apartment alone, and now he shared the space with his husband.
His husband who had precisely defined opinions about what was and was not correct.
The first to go was every pair with even a single hole or tear. It started when Patrick had jogged, half-dressed, across the apartment to grab the toast that had just popped, and David had leaned over the back of their couch to say, “You’re not wearing those, are you?”
Patrick had looked down at his briefs. They were an older pair, but still white, not yet saggy in the butt.
“There’s a hole.” David pointed, but even with them on his own body, Patrick couldn’t see it.
“No there isn’t.”
David stood up and walked, still pointing, until his finger found the tiny hole at the waistband of Patrick’s briefs.
“No one but you is even going to see that!”
David didn’t say anything. He let his eyebrows show his displeasure.
“Fine.” Patrick threw up his arms because why should his husband get all the dramatics. He sat on the edge of their bed, and as soon as he peeled down his underwear, David was there to take them and drop them in the trash. Suddenly, Patrick had half as many pairs as he did the day before.
Next, his husband got rid of all his boxers with fun patterns. Patrick wasn’t sad to see the pairs with the hearts go—Rachel had bought him that set for a Valentine’s Day, but they were really comfy.
“Sometimes I wear those as pyjamas!” Patrick argued. “Maybe if I wasn’t sleeping with a literal space heater who also wears sweaters to bed…”
He knew it was the wrong thing to say. He just didn’t expect to find a mere seven pairs of plain white briefs left for him in the last dresser drawer David hadn’t claimed.
Now, all seven of those pairs were missing. David did their laundry a few times a week (he owned a lot of hand wash only garments). There was always something clean to wear.
But tonight was their anniversary. Tonight, they were having dinner at a private restaurant, a new concept from one of their vendors who wanted to cook, but didn’t want to lease a space. Tonight, Patrick and David would be eating at a table under the stars in a corn field, and he kinda wanted to wear something nice. Not the same clothes he had been wearing all day.
Patrick left the TV on an old Argos game and flopped backwards onto the couch. He put his feet up on the arm because David wasn’t there to tell him it was incorrect. He allowed himself a dramatic sigh and sank into the cushions.
He woke up because something heavy hit him in the chest. Patrick made an “oof” sound when he startled and sat up.
“Happy anniversary,” David said, grinning down at him from behind the couch. His skin was glowing, his eyes were dark, his hair was reaching towards the sky. He looked more beautiful every day.
“Hi,” Patrick whispered. “What’s this?”
“It’s a present, honey. You’re supposed to open it and find out.”
Patrick caught hold of David’s hand before he could flounce off. He pulled him around the couch to sit down next to him. It had been too long since they had kissed.
“Thank you,” Patrick said.
“Open it first.”
It wasn’t a big package, and it was soft and squishy, but also dense. It was wrapped in a scrap of the hemp fabric they sold and tied up with the string they kept in the backroom for making price tags. Did David get him something from the store? Did he remember to mark it out of inventory?
“The second anniversary is cotton,” David explained as Patrick stared down at the bundle in his lap. “I know they’re not as blindingly white as you’re used to, but unbleached is better for the environment.”
The grin hurt his face. He looked up and saw David was definitely blushing now. Patrick ran his fingers under the waistband, feeling how soft it would be against his skin. He knew David’s fingers had been here, too. No stripes, no patterns, no sports team logos. Only David put this much thought into underwear.
“You bought your husband tighty whities for your anniversary? That’s so embarrassing for you.”
“All right, we’re done here.” David stood up and walked away. “Go get dressed and splash some water on your terrible skin if you want to join me at dinner.”
“I love you,” Patrick said.
“I’m getting rid of your shoes next.”