They go back to the motel afterwards.
It had been Stevie’s wedding present- now that the motel had some money, they were slowly beginning renovations on each room, starting, evidently, with the love room. The house was still empty, save for David’s wardrobe already occupying the spare bedroom, and with Johnny and Moira departing for the airport early the next day it had simply seemed like the best option.
“Trust me,” Stevie had said as she dropped the key into David’s hand, “it’s a very nice gift. I let Alexis have artistic control.” And, as little as that sentence did to assuage David’s fears, she had been right. The disco ball and awful heart-shaped bed, as well as the thousand other standard tacky motel furnishings were gone, filled instead with a California King and 800-thread count sheets. Sheets that, to David’s delight, smelled nothing like cigarette smoke or BO.
It had taken a bit of bribery, but they’d persuaded Alexis and Stevie to distract the guests at the café while they slipped out the back door with a wink from Twyla. They’re both a little drunk, either from the champagne or the love or a little bit of both, but they eventually stumble their way to the main road, giggling and checking behind them to make sure no one’s noticed their disappearance.
Once they’re safe from the prying eyes of drunk wedding guests, Patrick leans in to David’s shoulder, reaching down to thread their fingers together. He’s been doing it all night, and still David’s heart skips a beat every time he feels Patrick’s wedding band clink against his engagement rings.
They walk in silence for most of the journey, interrupted only by the cool autumn breeze and the faint trickle of water still running into the drains from the morning’s storm. As they near the motel, David realizes that Patrick’s humming softly to himself- Emotions, the bastard, but David can’t even bring himself to so much as roll his eyes at his husband’s antics tonight.
He stops, right there in the motel parking lot, suddenly overcome with emotion (ignoring the laughter in his head that sounds suspiciously like Stevie) and love for the man beside him.
Patrick turns, a questioning look in his eye as David reaches for his other hand. “Hey, what is it?”
David blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes again and presses their foreheads together. “You’re my husband.” He says, not even trying to hide the way his voice breaks on the word.
Patrick sighs, but David can hear the laughter in it as he looks down into his eyes. “Oh yeah? Last I heard, you were my husband.”
David laughs, and leans in to kiss said husband right there in the parking lot, right there in that same spot they shared their first kiss in so long ago. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders as Patrick’s arms encircle his waist, a move they’ve done a thousand times. They stay there for a moment, kissing and holding each other in the warm yellow light, content to just be in each other’s arms.
Eventually, David can sense Patrick growing restless, and breaks the kiss to reach into the pocket of his jacket to pull out the key, which Stevie has helpfully adorned with the most garishly sparkly heart keychain she could find online.
“Well, husband,” David says breathlessly, “I don’t know about you, but I think this conversation would be better had inside, don’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t know David,”’ Patrick says as he bites his way down David’s neck, “I think we could just lay down in this muddy parking lot and consummate our marriage right here for the world to see.”
He laughs at David’s eye roll, and takes his hand as his new husband drags him into the room.
It’s a pretty uneventful wedding night, all things considered. By the time they get into the room, neither one of them has enough patience to do more than strip their shoes and jackets off before David is pulling Patrick on top of him in the bed. Ties are loosened and buttons are undone, and normally David would have more respect for his clothing than this, but they’re too desperate to do more than ruck their shirts up and pull their cocks out before rutting against each other, hard and fast until they’re both coming. There’s a pack of baby wipes already helpfully laid out on the nightstand (and David will be having words with Stevie about presumptions later,) and he cleans them both up before collapsing back into the bed beside Patrick and linking their fingers together once more.
“M’ sorry” Patrick mumbles sleepily into his pillow.
David frowns. “What for?”
Patrick turns to face him, worry all over his face. “I wanted to give you a wedding night to remember, especially after everything earlier, but I-”
But David is shaking his head, pressing a finger to Patrick’s lips. “Shh. This has already been a night to remember. How could I not remember the first night I spent with you as my husband?” Patrick softens at this, but there’s still apprehension in his eyes. “It’s memorable because I’m married to you. We could have exchanged a firm handshake at the foot of the bed and it wouldn’t have changed the fact that this has been the best day of my life. Besides,” he says, eyebrows waggling, “you have the rest of our lives to make it up to me.”
Patrick grins at this, leaning over to press a soft kiss to David’s lips. “I’m holding you to that.” He glances down at where their pants (or kilt) are still tangled around their knees. “Shouldn’t we at least change?”
David, who is mid-yawn, responds by reaching to pull the blanket up over them. “Patrick Brewer, husband, love of my life, please listen very carefully, because I will never say these words again: I don’t give one single fuck what happens to these clothes tonight.”
David is awoken by his husband’s soft lips against his forehead.
“Pull your pants up, David.”
David is vaguely aware of Patrick climbing out of the bed, tucking himself back into his rumpled suit pants as he goes.
“Is’sa kilt, Patrick, we’been over this.”
“I don’t care what it is David, because if you don’t pull it up then whoever’s at the door is about to get a hell of a show.”
That gets David moving. “Who the hell is at our door at four in the morning? On our wedding night?!” he asks, checking the clock on the nightstand as he pulls his kilt back up.
Patrick sighs, running a hand down his face as he goes to open the door. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
David groans as Patrick pulls the door open, turning away from the light of the parking lot and pulling the blanket over his head.
“Um, hello to you too, David!” comes Alexis’s voice from the doorway.
David groans again, lifting his head out of the blankets as his sister saunters into the room, followed, strangely enough, by Stevie. Judging by the fact that Alexis has pulled a white sweater over her dress and Stevie bumps into the doorframe on her way in, neither of them are sober.
“Guys, not that we’re not thrilled to see you, but what are you doing here? There’s no way the reception lasted for nine hours, and we were, uh, kind of asleep?” The fact that Patrick is capable of doing even the most basic math at this hour makes David want to marry him all over again.
“Well, you’d be correct that we didn’t come from the reception. Your parents got everyone out of there by midnight, no thanks to you two” comes Stevie’s reply.
David props himself up against the headboard as Patrick crawls back under the blankets, reaching for David’s hand once more. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here in our room at four in the morning!”
Alexis sits primly on the edge of the bed, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater. “Well, we herded Mom and Dad back into their room so they could get some sleep, and then Stevie pulled out some of the leftover champagne that the caterer didn’t want back, and we just stayed up, you know… talking, for a while.” She says all of this to a nonexistent spot on the blanket, not making eye contact with any of them.
David glances wildly over at Stevie, who glares daggers of we’ll discuss this later back at him.
“And you just… decided to come in here? At four in the-“
“I just couldn’t sleep, okay!” Alexis finally looks up at him, and oh, David’s seen this look before.
I think I need a hug, or something.
“It’s just, like, Mom and Dad are leaving tomorrow, and you guys are moving next week when your furniture arrives, and I’m just gonna be in that room alone until my lease starts next month, and…” she trails off, and fuck, now David feels kind of like an asshole.
Patrick squeezes David’s hand reassuringly, a soft look in his eyes, and David melts. “C’mere” he says, patting the empty bed to his left. “I can’t guarantee it’ll be very comfortable, but you can stay here until we have to see Mom and Dad off.”
She crawls up under the covers, her silky dress hanging off the side of the bed, and nuzzles into his shoulder. “Thank you” she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear.
He hums in acknowledgment, glancing over to where Stevie is still hovering awkwardly by the door. She raises her eyebrows suggestively, and David thanks whatever deities may exist that this bed is a new one. “Come on, you too” he says, rolling his eyes in a fake-exasperation that he knows Stevie can see right through. He turns to his husband, who’s already starting to nod off again. “Scooch.” He pokes Patrick in the side with his free hand, until they’ve made enough room for Stevie to lay down on the other side of Alexis. It’s not comfortable, but they fit.
It’s not long before the other three drift off, leaving David staring up at the image of the four of them in the mirror that unfortunately seems to be structurally attached to the ceiling. It’s certainly not how he ever imagined his wedding night to go- laying with his husband, sister, and best friend, still fully clothed in formal wear probably would have been the very last thing on his list of acceptable wedding night practices. And yet, he thinks, as sleep starts to claim him once more, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.