Do not doomscroll. Think about Patrick and David snuggling on the count on a crisp fall evening instead.
Yes. This.
I imagine David pushing for an aesthetic in their living room, with monochromatic pillows and throws. Patrick, not caring much one way or another, would have obliged, stashing his grandma’s old patchwork quilt in the den where he goes to watch baseball or play his guitar.
After being away for a few days visiting his parents, he smiles when he finds David out on their back porch sipping coffee (with a dash of booze), waiting for him amidst their twinkle lights, all wrapped up in that ratty old quilt with a sheepish smile he’s trying desperately to hide behind his mug. Patrick doesn’t say anything about it, but when he joins him, he pulls the quilt around them both a little tighter and smiles into the side of his husband’s neck. They stay out there until dark, watching the leaves as they rustle and fall to the yard in a colorful pile and kissing each other’s smiles.
Ask me anything - tell me something good that’s happened lately - chat about fic - whatever.
