TITLE: Saturday (Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)
AUTHOR: Cara (ohnoscarlett)
RATING: R, for some language, sexual situation.
PAIRING, IF ANY: Pete/Patrick
POV: third person limited (focus on Patrick)
SUMMARY: After the market. (2079 words) Immediately following “Patrick’s Garden Center” and associated fic.
“Patrick Has a Truck”
“Bittersweet Bakery”, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.
”Dreaming in Color”
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Obviously.
NOTES: Beta by tuesdaysgone and kueble. Plus, this whole deal was conceived by kueble, when she drove over to my house and saw the actual Patrick's Garden Center down the road and essentially freaked out over it. Hee. This is not the same Patrick, nor Patrick's Garden Center. Please see the disclaimer.



It became Patrick's custom, if you will, to take Saturday afternoons off. He knew it probably wasn't the most sound business decision he could have possibly made, but the garden center was his, and he did have another manager who was more than willing to pick up the slack. The place practically ran itself anyway. Besides, he had devoted himself to that place since he was fifteen and his grandpa had started making noises about retirement. The biggest hassle was the weekly farmer's market, and that was Patrick's baby.

And, that was Saturday morning.

Patrick loved Saturdays. He enjoyed the farmer's market, sure, but it was his standing date with Pete that he really looked forward to. It was a casual thing with Pete. They would meet every Saturday after Patrick had packed up his stand. They would take Pete's puppy for a walk around the block, then usually go off and actually do something. Patrick had seen more of the city since he started dating Pete than he had the entire rest of his life. Although, dating? Pete would say no. They were just... Them. Pete was finishing law school and ready to move on, unwilling to make attachments in a place where his roots were so shallow. Patrick was already too attached to care.

They went to the movies, and got coffee. They went to the science center (cool), and the art museum (modern; weird). They wandered the university, while Pete pointed out architecture and told random anecdotes about classrooms, other students, and professors. They went to the public library, and the dog park. They even went to the zoo.

Then Patrick would climb the stairs to Pete's apartment.

They explored each other like they explored the city. It was leisurely. Nothing like their first frantic encounter, all teeth and nails. Even so, Patrick quickly discovered that Pete enjoyed a certain level of roughness. He was something of a biter, and responded enthusiastically when treated in kind.

Patrick had plans for this Saturday.

Pete and Hemmy strolled through the market mid-morning. That was Pete's custom. He usually bought something or other from one of the other vendors--this time, a jar of lavender honey from Joe--but really was there to see if Patrick was still stopping by, after. As if Patrick had any other intention. Pete seemed to need the reassurance. It was a casual affair, after all. Patrick might bolt.

Pete grinned at Patrick from the sunny strip of asphalt in front of his stand. One hand gripped his little amber jar. The other was twisted in the leather of the puppy’s leash. Said puppy had plopped his furry butt on the ground and sat there panting in Pete’s shadow.

Patrick took two steps and scooped Hemmy into his arms. He held him cradled in one arm and tickled his naked pink belly until the puppy wriggled and kicked his short little legs. Patrick laughed and let Hemmy lick him.

“It’s too hot out here for this little guy today,” Patrick said. “He’ll burn his feet on the pavement.”

“I know,” Pete agreed with a nod. “I just wanted to…” He trailed off and glanced away before fixing Patrick with a look of anticipation. Patrick blushed.

“I know.” Patrick blushed harder and scuffed the toes of his boots on the ground, willing himself to breathe. “I’m going to be a little later than usual today.” Patrick saw concern flash over Pete’s features. “I want to swap out trucks.” There was a slow smile forming on Pete’s lips. “It’ll give you time to take the little demon for his walk.”

Pete barked out a laugh. Hemmy barked along with him.

***

Patrick’s truck was a hundred degrees inside. The air hit him like a blast furnace when he opened the door, and it was all he could do to turn over the engine as quickly as he could and roll all the windows down and crank the AC. He was thankful for the cloth seats on a day like today.

Patrick had tossed his goods haphazardly into the garden center truck and raced back. He hated wasting time, yet he really wanted his own truck today. Patrick loved his truck, or his “rig” as the farmers and guys around the shop insisted on calling their vehicles. It always made Patrick smirk and giggle to himself. Rig wasn’t really a term he felt he could use without looking like an idiot.

Patrick loved his truck. It was the only luxury he had allowed himself, given that he carried the responsibility of an entire business on his shoulders. His mother still gave him grief over it. Apparently he was supposed to be driving around some tiny little low-emission whosiwhatsit. More environmentally friendly. But Patrick had a nice truck. It had a quad cab (four real doors) and power everything. A great sound system. Four wheel drive, of course, and the 345 horsepower 5.7 liter Hemi V-8 engine. Patrick resolutely did not geek out over his truck. Or at least he tried really hard not to.

***

Pete was waiting for him when he got there. In fact, if Patrick hadn’t been paying attention he likely would have run him over. Pete was leaning against the wall at the head of his parking spot. Patrick smiled. Real casual, Pete.

Patrick rolled down his window and stuck his head out. Pete whistled low, then grinned.

“Just get in,” Patrick said with a laugh. Pete clambered up into the truck, and didn’t stop to sit in his seat. Rather, he crawled across to Patrick and crushed their mouths together. Patrick momentarily flailed and double-checked that the truck was in park before he threaded his fingers in Pete’s hair and pulled him closer.

“Nice rig, Trick,” Pete breathed, right against Patrick’s lips. Patrick groaned.

“Oh, shut up.” Patrick could feel Pete’s lips turn up at the corners.

“Compensating for something?” Pete laughed, and Patrick shoved him away halfheartedly.

“Fuck you.” Pete’s eyebrows waggled and Patrick shook his head, exasperated. “Go sit.” Pete sat, right next to Patrick. “Over there.” Pete rolled his eyes and slid over.

Patrick did have a sizeable truck.

***

Patrick drove for nearly an hour. Pete sat beside him and chattered about this and that. They argued about music over every CD change. Patrick was sure they hadn’t had that much conversation over the entire course of their relationship.

Patrick laughed.

Pete froze.

“Oh shit. Look, Pete, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Patrick just let his words trail off, and bit his lip. Pete looked out the window.

They arrived at their destination only a few minutes after Patrick’s supposition. Patrick supposed that he and Pete had a relationship. A “casual thing” is still a relationship. Apparently Pete was not comfortable with that distinction. He tumbled out of the truck, barely waiting for it to come to a complete stop, and walked off with his hands jammed in his pockets. Patrick hurried after him.

“Pete,” Patrick called, exasperated. “Come on, Pete.” Pete paused briefly, then hunched into his hoodie and continued on. Patrick sighed.

Pete led them into the woods, inadvertently following the path Patrick had intended for them. It was beautiful out there, and Pete was missing it. Patrick clipped a toe on a protruding tree root, stumbling and cursing under his breath. He stopped in the middle of the path and leaned with both hands against his knees, head hanging down between his shoulders. Pete stopped and turned when he heard the crunching behind him cease.

“Jesus Christ, Pete,” Patrick muttered, head still hanging dejectedly. He straightened, wiping his palms on his jeans. Pete looked tense, ready to fight. Patrick wasn’t in the mood. He was more in the mood to punch Pete in the head than to argue.

“I had plans, Patrick,” Pete said suddenly, gesturing wildly. “Plans! I’m almost done with school. I’m scheduled to sit for the bar exam. I’ve been cozying up with fucking Congressmen! I was going to go to Washington, Patrick!” Pete paused for breath. “And now…”

“And now?” Patrick echoed him.

“I don’t know!” Pete practically wailed. Patrick took a small step back. “I don’t want to go anymore, and I don’t know what to do about that! I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave…” He trailed off, his gaze slipping down to the leaf litter at his feet. They both just stood there; Pete staring at the ground, Patrick soon doing the same. Pete then continued, softly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Patrick’s breath caught in his chest.

“I don’t expect you to—“ Pete cut him off.

“I know,” he said. “I know. And that’s the thing. You haven’t—“ Pete stopped and viciously thrust a hand through his hair. “I sound like a girl.”

“I like girls,” Patrick supplied unhelpfully. Pete glared at him. “Girls are nice. Many of my friends are girls.”

Pete turned again and continued down the path. Patrick did the only thing he could do: he followed him.

They walked until the trees thinned and they found themselves in a sunny meadow. Pete stopped, blinking in the sun. Patrick adjusted the brim of his hat. Pete flopped down and stretched out in the short grass, leaning on his elbows and tilting his face up, eyes closed. Patrick just took him in for a moment. Until Pete’s eyes slid open and he nodded for Patrick to join him.

Patrick sat in the grass and looked around him. He couldn’t help but identify the plants he could see. It was mostly short buffalo grass, because, come on, it was mostly short buffalo grass pretty much everywhere. But there were some little random bursts of color and texture that Patrick found himself focusing on. Then Pete started to talk, low, almost to himself, and Patrick just happened to be there.

“I’ve been here so long. All by myself, and that’s been fine. My family’s off, you know, doing their thing, and they let me go, back when I wanted to come here. No problem. I go back now and then, and my mom visits a lot, but. Here. I never intended to stay. It was always just going to be a stepping stone, a way to get what I really wanted. And I never quite… fit in.” Patrick raised his eyebrows at that and Pete smiled a little. “Not that I really ever tried. Or wanted to. It didn’t really matter. I was here to work. I was focused. I was doing well. And then…” Pete looked down to where he was methodically tearing out clumps of grass by the roots. “I got lonely. You were just supposed to be a fuck.” Patrick made a tiny sound and Pete whipped his head around. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—I couldn’t give you up. It got so—so… big. So fast. And I didn’t know. I don’t know—“

“Pete.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Patrick closed the distance between them and kissed Pete hard. It knocked Pete off balance, one of his hands skidding in loose soil. He used the momentum to swing around and cup Patrick’s jaw and press dirty fingers against the bone and soft flesh.

Patrick could smell the scent of earth and green plants on Pete’s hands. He loved it, and he wanted all of Pete to smell like that. He pushed, and Pete fell back onto the ground, taking Patrick with him. They tussled a little, rolled until Patrick could grind Pete down into the plants underneath their bodies.

The heady scent of mint surrounded them, and Patrick smiled.

Pete wasted no time stripping off Patrick’s shirt and rubbing dirty fingerprints all over his skin. Patrick pushed until Pete’s shirt was bunched up underneath his arms and dipped his head to lick at his nipple. Pete arched and flailed, grinding further into the ground and causing more scent to rise around them. Patrick reached to the side and pulled away a handful of plants. Glancing at them quickly, just to make sure he hadn’t found something noxious like poison ivy, Patrick tangled his handful into Pete’s tousled hair and tugged.

“Smell that?” Patrick rasped into Pete’s ear. “I want—“

“You have the strangest kinks, Stump.”

“Shut up, Pete.” Patrick bit hard at the join of Pete’s neck and shoulder. “Wait til I can find a way to fuck you in the greenhouse without getting caught…”