Recognize The Way You Pull Me Into You
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Schitt's Creek
Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Patrick Brewer, David Rose (Schitt's Creek)
Published: 2021-10-20 Words: 2,468 Chapters: 1/1

Recognize The Way You Pull Me Into You


David wakes up next to Patrick, missing thirteen years of his life. He tries to figure out why. (Not an amnesia fic.)

TW: Discussions of death and loss, discussions of surgery, strong language.


Title from the Kris Allen song Blindfolded

This fic comes somewhat from a dream, but also I just wanted an excuse to write future!Patrick and David

Recognize The Way You Pull Me Into You

Patrick sets his book down on the nightstand and looks up at David, smiling affectionately at him, as he climbs into bed.

"Last night in this bed."

David shakes his head, pulling the covers up to the right height and waiting for Patrick to reposition himself before snuggling up closer to him. "Last night in this apartment. We're moving the bed to the new place."

"I stand corrected."

"You're lying down."

The sides of Patrick's eyes crinkle and he kisses David before pulling him into his usual spot against his side. "I lie corrected, then."

David sighs, content, and as he feels himself drift off to sleep, a stray thought crosses his brain.

"I'm actually going to miss this place," he murmurs, and he feels Patrick's hand gently squeeze his.

"Me, too."


His first thought as he drifts back into consciousness is that he's pleasantly warm.

His second thought is of Patrick's arms, wrapped around him and holding David against his chest. They don't often sleep like this, since David's neck always hurts like hell afterward, but he allows himself to just enjoy the feeling of closeness and safety, for the moment.

He kisses Patrick's chest, and Patrick makes a pleasant noise, but doesn't wake up.

Eventually, he reluctantly opens his eyes, yawning as he waits for them to focus. It's unusual that he wakes up before Patrick, but he always loves the sight of his husband in the morning, eyes still soft with sleep and hair rumpled, all of the edges that are usually there dulled with the early light and relaxation.

But as his eyes focus, he realizes something is wrong. This isn't the apartment.

He jerks backward, almost unconsciously, breaking out of Patrick's arms, who makes a noise of displeasure. But he's not focused on that, looking around the room, instead.

It's the bedroom at the cottage, that they were moving into tomorrow, but it looks...

Lived in, he thinks, as he looks around the room. From the pictures on the wall to the hamper in the corner that he's sure was his selection but that he doesn't remember picking out yet, it definitely doesn't look like a place that they were moving into tomorrow.

"Babe?" Patrick's voice brings him back to reality, and he instinctively turns toward it. Patrick's looking at him, blinking the sleep from his eyes. And Patrick is...

Older, is the first thought that comes to mind. His hair is longer, starting to curl in the way David had always suspected it would, the temples starting to gray. His face is softer, but the lines etched into the skin by his eyes and mouth are more prominent, as if from years of laughs and smiles.

David finds himself temporarily speechless by how beautiful he is, opening his mouth but finding that nothing's coming out.

Patrick frowns. "Did it happen again?"

Did what happen again... oh God.

"No," he squeaks out, and when Patrick's eyes turn affectionate and reassuring, he realizes that was exactly the wrong thing to say. "No," he says again. "I didn't... have an..." He stops himself, before trying to find a simpler word. "Bathroom."

He stumbles out of bed and into the ensuite, feeling blindly for the light switch that he knows is there but doesn't have the muscle memory for yet.

He's temporarily blinded when the lights turn on, the harsh white glow beating his still-groggy-but-mostly-confused brain into fully awake mode, and as he stares into the mirror, his dad stares back at him.

Well, not his dad. It's still him, he recognizes, but his hair is now streaked with gray and the morning stubble adorning his cheeks is mostly white. He shakes his head, trying not to panic.

He splashes some water on his face, the cold sting convincing him that, no, this wasn't some sort of weird dream. Somehow, he had lost his memories from the past however many years of his life.

Patrick. Patrick will know what to do.

He dries off his face, remembering to flip the light back off before heading back to the bedroom.

Patrick's lying on his back, eyes closed, apparently having convinced himself that David hadn't had another accident in the bed. The sheets are pulled down lower now, covering just over where David knows his bellybutton is under his white sleep shirt, and David can't help but stop and stare, joy growing in his chest. This man chose him. This man married him, only a few weeks ago.

Well, a few weeks and even more years ago, from the look of things.

Patrick cracks an eye open and looks over at him.

"Fuck. You're so beautiful."

The eye shuts again and Patrick chuckles, holding a hand out in David's direction. "We're doing 'beautiful' now? I thought we agreed on 'handsome'."

David slides back into bed, into the waiting arm that wraps around him and pulls him close to his husband. He looks even better now than what David remembers as yesterday. "Nope. Definitely beautiful."

"Mmm." Patrick presses a kiss into David's forehead, and David lets himself enjoy the feeling for a second before he realizes he really needs to deal with... whatever's happening, in case there's a real medical issue.

"What... year is it?"

Patrick laughs at that, for some reason. "You're not getting out of it that easily, David."


Patrick just shakes his head. "I don't know, David. How many years have we been married?"

It feels like an exam that he hadn't studied for, and his brow furrows. "Um."

The eye cracks open again and Patrick looks at him with amusement. "Fine. You get a hint. It's more than twelve but less than fourteen. Now don't go wishing me a Happy Eleventh Anniversary again tonight, okay?"

Patrick kisses his forehead again before settling back into his pillow, and David lets himself think.

Thirteen years. He's missing almost thirteen years. And today is their anniversary.

His hand wanders automatically as he thinks, slipping up under the hem of Patrick's shirt and over his side. He's trying to figure out how to ask the question so Patrick doesn't think he's crazy when his fingers brush... something.

He frowns, his fingertips following whatever it is up around to Patrick's stomach, through where the soft wisps of hair lead downward from his navel into his pants and a little beyond that. Patrick's suddenly very still, he realizes, as if he's holding his breath.

It's a surgical scar, he realizes suddenly, and he finds himself wondering what could have happened that would leave such a large one. Patrick's hand is gripping his back a little firmer than usual, as if he's waiting for something to happen.

"What..." he starts, temporarily forgetting all about his own predicament.

"David..." Patrick's voice is rough, afraid in a way he hadn't heard since the the morning of the surprise party.

"What happened?" he croaks out, squeezing his eyes shut. Clearly, whatever happened is difficult for both of them.

Patrick breathes in a halting breath. "I'm so sorry, David."

He isn't sure he understands, but his husband is suffering, so he shakes his head, rolling back and pulling Patrick against him instead, holding his head against his chest and trying to kiss reassurances into his hair.

"I want to talk about it," he tries, knowing that if it was something traumatic, he probably would have shut it out and refused to bring it up. And Patrick would have let him, if he felt responsible for it. "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah," Patrick says, his voice shaking. "We... we really should. It's been... We should."

David waits until Patrick seems calmer, his hand running through the hair at the back of Patrick's neck, ignoring the way it doesn't feel quite right because it still feels like Patrick and that's all David wants.

"I'm so sorry," he repeats. "I was so stubborn. And I almost... you almost..."

"Your appendix," David breathes, the pieces suddenly fitting together. And it makes sense: Patrick's stubbornness, and his single-minded focus, and his surprisingly high pain tolerance. If something important had been happening, of course he'd try to push through it instead of complaining.

"David. Even though the pain... when they were wheeling me back for surgery, all I could... all I could think about was your face." He lets out a sob, and David kisses his forehead again.


"You were... I'd never seen that look before. It was... broken, David. You were broken, and it was my fault. It was... worse than when Rachel showed up. Worse. It was like... just... fuck."

"It's okay. Everything turned out okay." David has the benefit, at least, of not remembering the events, but from the sudden pit in his stomach from even just the thought that he might have lost Patrick, he knows what it would have felt like.

"It's not okay. I was stubborn and an idiot and you almost lost me. And I never... I never let you know how... how sorry I was. How... David, how much I..."

He's fumbling, unable to find the words. David just shakes his head trying to press soothing kisses into him. "Everything turned out okay."

"I... I thought you were going to leave me." That gets David's attention. "I put you through... that. I thought you were going to say it hurt too much. That you wouldn't be able to... risk anything like that again. I thought you..."

"I would never leave you." He knows himself well enough that he's sure it's the truth. "I would suffer through anything for you, Patrick. Anything." He doesn't feel a need to caveat the statement, this time.

Patrick gasps, and then he's sobbing into David's chest, and David wishes he had some way of showing Patrick how much he meant it. Even though this wasn't him, and his Patrick, he can't imagine a world where he would ever want anything else.

"I promised... I promised I'd always be here for you, David. I promised I'd always be a part of you. Indefinitely. And I... I almost..."

"Okay. Honey. Do you remember what I said? I told you I'd never known love like I had when we're together. And that's still true. Love can make things hard sometimes, but you make it worth it. Every day, you make it worth it. I'm in this with you, Patrick, for as long as I can have you."

Patrick doesn't have a response to that one, and he's quiet for a bit, letting David rub reassurances into his back until he's no longer shaking in his arms. When he speaks again, it's quiet, and David almost misses it.

"Fuck me."

He isn't sure he heard it properly, and he kisses Patrick's hair again. "Baby..."

"Please." He's louder now. "I know that morning breath kisses are incorrect. You don't have to kiss me. Just fuck me. Please."

He pulls back, staring David in the eyes, and he loses his breath at the need, and the love, and the regret that he sees there.

"Yes." And then he's kissing him anyway, because morning breath kisses are incorrect but he also can't bring himself to care right now.


David groans, blinking his eyes as he shakes himself back to consciousness. He must have dozed off after the sex, which was unusual for the two of them.

Patrick makes an unhappy noise next to him, and David can feel his hand on the rough fabric of his sleep sweats.

Wait, what?

He looks around, unsure of what he's going to find, but feeling an immediate sense of relief when he finds himself back in the apartment, boxes stacked up around the room. He doesn't need a calendar to know that he's back in the right time.

Patrick, he thinks suddenly, and turns around.

His eyes are open, still unfocused, but he's looking at David with such affection. "Good morning."

David doesn't even think, moving toward him and capturing his lips in a kiss. Patrick makes a surprised noise and pushes him backward, looking equal parts confused and flustered. "I thought morning breath kisses were incorrect."

"Mmm." David definitely doesn't like the taste in his mouth, now. "They are. I just... needed that."

Patrick hums and kisses David's cheek instead before turning onto his back. There's a slight, almost imperceptible, wince that David would have missed if he wasn't so focused on Patrick's face, and he remembers suddenly that Patrick hadn't eaten very much last night, claiming to be nervous about the move.


"I love you. So much."

Patrick looks back at him and smiles, all affection. "I love you, too." Then he grins. "And since you're awake, we can get an early start today. We should make breakfast so we can finish packing the kitchen."

David watches as Patrick stands and pads off to the bathroom, wondering how to broach the subject. He hears the distinct click of the medicine cabinet and the sound of a pill bottle. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Patrick says from the bathroom, his voice tinged with... something. "It's just some aspirin. I was just carrying a lot of boxes yesterday. My, uh... my... back, is bothering me."

David follows him, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around to Patrick's front. He positions his hands lower than typical, making sure to squeeze under Patrick's stomach as he pulls Patrick back against him. Patrick groans.

"Okay. How long has this been happening?" He's trying not to panic, but if Patrick is still actively trying to ignore the problem, it can't be that bad yet.

"My back? I think I just hurt it yesterday."

"Patrick." He squeezes again, deliberately now, on the right side of Patrick's pelvis, and he lets out a painful hiss through gritted teeth.

"It's nothing. I just stretched a muscle. I'll get it looked at after we finish moving."


"David." Patrick looks exasperated. "We have to finish packing, and the lease is up tomorrow. We can't do this today. I'll be fine."

David shakes his head, thanking whatever deity might be listening for the opportunity. "If it's nothing, then it'll be a quick hospital trip, and we'll barely lose any time since we woke up early today. Get dressed."


"Not a debate."

"Fine," he says, pulling off his shirt, and the relative ease with which he agrees tells David that he was right to be worried. "But you owe me breakfast, afterward. And not at the hospital cafeteria."

David just nods, pulling Patrick in for another incorrect kiss. Patrick laughs and pushes him away again, and yeah, David really doesn't like morning breath kisses.

"I love you, Patrick."

Patrick walks out of the bathroom, toward the shelves with his clothes, smiling as he looks back at David over his shoulder.

"I love you, too."


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