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After tons of school for his MBA and CPA, Patrick McDuklorpen got a job with the federal government, working on large-scale white collar crime investigations. He’s always loved numbers, he has a knack for connecting dots, and this is his dream job. He knows he could apply for CEO positions and make tons of money, but he hates rich people.

It’s his responsibility to take the numbers from taxes and ensure they are correct. He pairs government numbers with a person's public life. The numbers were the draw to the job, but life research is more fun than Patrick expected, and he’s really good at it. See, if someone’s business is taking in zero revenue on paper, but their social media shows a brand new yacht, there’s a problem. Patrick loves finding the problems. He scours social media, local papers, real estate listings, interviews, whatever he can find. He works closely with other government agencies, he contacts lots of local law enforcement, he investigates suspects' close associates.

The government can access a lot of information, and people share a lot of information. Between the numbers and the research, Patrick can tell you almost everything about anyone. Their hopes and aspirations, their vices, and their stupidity. A plaque on his desk reads, “People lie. Numbers don’t.”

Patrick loves his job and he’s good at it. A few good solves early in his career put him on the highest-profile cases. He tracks the lives and taxes of some very famous celebrities, occasionally getting to bring justice to these millionaires who try to avoid paying their fair share. 

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His favorite assignment by far has been the Rose family. He helped the team that— well, no, that’s modest. Patrick’s break solved the case that took them down. He had meticulously constructed the evidence for years and finally cracked it. It was the largest case he’s led, both in value and profile. This case is his baby.

Patrick hates the Rose family. The kids are about his age, so he compares his meager upbringing to theirs. Their privilege is astounding.

Before the repossession, he watched the daughter, Alexis Rose, take trips too far off places and matched those trips to the income of her latest beau. She had fun numbers to follow, making her his favorite Rose. A few times, Patrick had to work with the FBI to ensure hostage money was legit. She put herself in danger. He likes to imagine she saw her privilege and wanted to get away from it, wanted to use it to see the world and seek thrill. She used her status to entertain. He binge-watched her short-lived reality show with his fiancée, Rachel, biting his tongue about how much trouble they’d soon face.

He watched the numbers as the parents provided capital for art galleries for their son, David Rose. The parents wrote checks to patrons that matched the amount paid for art. Patrick matched the checks with the sales and the galleries' newsletters. This money was all above board and on the books, but he wondered if David Rose knew that his patrons were bought by his parents, or if he didn’t care. David Rose’s story was boring in comparison to his sister. He didn’t do as much, just stayed in New York and partied. He’s funny to watch in videos, and the tabloids were always a bit shocking, but that’s about it.

The mother and father earned their money through some honest work, and while their children are brats, they have the money for a reason. Patrick just hates the ultra rich in general. There’s no need to hoard money while other people go hungry, social programs go unfunded. He wore the same baseball mitt for decades. He wore hand-me-downs from his cousins. His family worried when his dad got laid off in a recession. His life would be permanently changed with the amount of money the Roses spent any given day. 

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The day the feds came knocking to repossess everything from the Roses, he insisted on being there. The investigators are not expected to come to a repo, but Patrick had to see it. It was the best day of his career, watching his hard work take down this massive fortune, smiling from ear to ear. He slunk around the rooms slowly watching the chaos, ogling at the opulence he sees all day from behind a screen. He watched the family pack bags. It wasn’t his job to stop them, but they packed the dumbest shit. Not much of sentimental value, a lot of very ridiculous, impractical clothing. A suitcase of wigs...? None of them stopped to look at many of the people taking their things, and when they did they focused on one person at a time. Patrick’s insides flurried as David Rose screamed at Terry, who apparently was getting paid to “destroy another person’s life!” Patrick giggled. ‘Terry didn’t destroy your life, I did.’ But Patrick was a fly on the wall. 

His team had given the agents a list of the highest value items and rooms they’d likely be in, but it all had to go. Patrick stood outside the house with a team of assessors as things were sorted into trucks: This piece should go straight to auction, these should be bundled for auction, this should go to evidence, this is worthless, put it in their pile. Patrick stood in front of the eight-foot portrait of the family, picturing what the assessors would say about it. No one is going to want this creepy elephant in their living room. This was wider than any wall in Patrick’s apartment. It probably wouldn’t even fit through the door.

All in all, it was a great day. He never got to meet the Roses and they never looked at him or many of the personnel in the face, but he was pleased to see the mannerisms and voices match up with the countless videos and pictures he’d studied.  

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Luckily for Patrick, addicted to the Rose drama, his team doesn’t stop an investigation at repossession. Most rich assholes who lose everything retain at least some connections and some undeclared assets, plus they frequently re-offend. The cases stay open until they can prove there is no further illegal activity. So Patrick’s team continues the investigation, trying to find their business manager, Eli, who changed last names so often his file is first-name-only, and keeping tabs on the Roses from afar. 

Patrick assigns himself to that last task. He is going to be the person to track their every move, ensuring they’re not accruing money through back channels. He’s the most familiar with the case and has been following the family for years. This case is his, and he wants to be the one to see it through. He has a hunch that the Roses are not done breaking the law. He doesn’t trust anyone else to find out how. Paula and Smith, the other two on the Rose case team, work to find Eli and his other clients. To them, it becomes the Eli case.

One of their most ridiculous assets is a town called Schitt’s Creek. Yes, a town. The rumor is that the father bought the town for his son as a joke. ‘Imagine having the money to buy a town as a joke.’ Patrick would have liked a bike that wasn’t on its 3rd generation in the McDuklorpen family, but a town is nice. This particular asset has depreciated in value since it was bought. The town is struggling financially; it has only a handful of businesses, a dwindling population, and could not be sold. Patrick sits in on a meeting to assess the town’s value and is part of the decision to allow the Roses to retain the town in David Rose’s name. Patrick quickly learns they have relocated there. ‘They’ll be able to camp for free.’ He snickers.

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As the family lands in Schitt’s Creek, the workload for the Rose case gives way to other priorities for his department. His boss, Linda, loves that Patrick is passionate about the Rose case. It makes him chase the high and throw himself at every case as if it would be another Rose. He has some other good breaks, high-profile names you’d recognize, but the Roses remain his favorite, the highlight of his career. 

Naturally, his check-up on the Roses becomes the highlight of his week. He does it every Monday morning because he can’t wait. In fact, it gets him excited for Mondays. He sits down with his favorite tea in his favorite mug like a holy ritual. He peruses the Elm Valley newspaper, local law enforcement updates, town council minutes. The work isn’t super rewarding but the routine includes checking the kids’ social media, which is cathartic. He’s always enjoyed their antics, but the schadenfreude of seeing them in their personal hell always gives Patrick such a rush. He is reveling in their downfall. 

The numbers slowly start coming in from their new life. The father applies for and receives unemployment. Patrick chuckles, ‘That’s rich, he’s never paid into unemployment a day in his life.’ Roland Schitt (‘is that his real name?’ ), the town's mayor, claims to be his employer? The department agrees to let that slide, they have bigger fish to fry than Johnny Rose’s new $100/week. Moira Rose gets paid for a commercial gig. It’s a terrible commercial, but an honest paycheck. David Rose gets $56 in wages from a grocery store (‘Wow it looks like he didn’t even last one day’). A real estate listing for the town remains active (‘Who is going to buy this money sink?’).

Most weeks there are no new numbers. He follows them anyway, watching them acclimate to their new surroundings. As they get more comfortable, they post more on social media. He learns their new friends and replaces some of their old connections in his checklist. Theodore Mullins and Stevie Budd seem to be the siblings’ significant others. The town’s mayor is around them a lot. He and his wife are chronic over-sharers online, and while that is occasionally fruitful, most days it is cringe-worthy and just good for a laugh. He grows to learn new faces and even some faces that are not on social media. When Patrick doesn’t have much to sift through, he listens to local businessman and council person Ray Butani’s podcast on double speed. Again, there’s a lot of nothing. But it feels good to get a well-rounded picture of the town. A bit of Patrick takes in all this research to feel smug. The Roses had fallen into the exact worst town for them. 

Local law enforcement updates include Alexis Rose’s community service hours (‘Right, her DUI’ and he feels a bubble of laughter remembering how fun those tabloids were). Patrick feels a sense of pride for his favorite Rose. She’s dating Ted Mullins, who Patrick learns is a veterinarian (‘A normal, successful person, good for her.’) and then she’s not. It also seems like she’s spending a lot of time with the Mayor’s son, Mutt. She’s always been able to keep herself next to influential people, so this is no surprise.

An announcement in the paper indicates there’s an offer to buy the town, but they never close the deal. Patrick wonders what happened there. He checks on the deed— the town hasn’t changed hands so it’s not like they sold it for untaxed cash. A quick search for the buyer says he died in Schitt’s Creek. Patrick requests death records, finds natural causes. The Roses aren’t murderers, it seems they were just unlucky. 

A news alert for David Rose — which hasn’t come in handy for any of the Roses since the week of the bust — has him on a missing persons report. Patrick checks on them every day that week, finds no death record or suspicious news stories, and David Rose reappears on his sister’s social media by the following Monday. 

David Rose’s girlfriend, Stevie Budd, shares a post suggesting the siblings have learned to ride bikes. Patrick feels a sense of superiority. He has skill sets he takes for granted, and wonders how many other things these adult children have yet to learn. He wonders if they cook, if they get sick. His research paints a pretty detailed picture, but discoveries like this remind how far it is from actually knowing a person.

These little fun thoughts he leaves out of the weekly reports to the team. He does, however, always forward them to his best friend, Frankie. He shouldn’t really talk about cases outside of work, but he has two personal exceptions: the Rose family and Frankie. Frankie knows not to go anywhere with the information. They snicker about these elite, spoiled brats and how fucked they are in the real world. Frankie and Patrick have been best friends for decades. They text nonstop commentary all day, at all times TMI. They know way too much about each other’s (and their partners’) bowel movements, families, sex lives (or lack thereof), so of course the Rose family makes frequent appearances in their friendship.

Patrick does not tell his fiancée, Rachel. Not because she’d spread any rumors, but because she shows no interest in his work at all. In fact, they don’t really talk. They live together, go to dinner, do obligatory couples things, and they have a nightly ritual where Patrick will masturbate and Rachel will add a soft kiss or a hand on his thigh to help out. She’s not really interested in sex, and their arrangement is fine with Patrick. They stopped planning the wedding a long time ago, never setting a date.

Patrick is fine with his life. He goes out to drink with Frankie a lot. Sometimes Frankie’s husband, Zach, or Rachel, or both, will join them. He has hobbies: he loves hiking and playing open mic nights and watching baseball. His life is good, but Patrick shines at work. He loves his job more than anything.

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Months after the repossession, even with other cases proving more fruitful, Patrick still tracks the Roses. There’s no evidence they’ll be law-abiding in their new surroundings, and Patrick holds fast to a hunch they’re up to no good. Moira Rose appears on the town council’s poorly-written minutes, proposing a town beautification program. She runs for and wins a seat on the council. This makes it to the weekly meeting. Any time one of their suspects runs for public office, they need to analyze it. There doesn’t seem to be any campaign finance violation, and the council’s first few moves with her presence are common-sense improvements to the town, not suggesting any abuse of power. It’s something to keep an eye on, but it seems to be proper. In fact, she ran against the Mayor’s wife, which actually should have been more suspicious. The campaign is fun to watch from the local paper and social media. The two women seem to be close otherwise; they attend each others’ parties and are in the same vocal ensemble. 

Meanwhile, the kids seem to be settling into something akin to work ethic. David Rose gets a taxed job at a retail store called the Blouse Barn. He is actually able to keep it for more than a day. Alexis Rose also gets a job on the books. She’s a secretary at a vet’s office. ‘Wait… Employer: Theodore Mullins ?’ Patrick questions the means by which she got the job. ‘Oh well, can’t say I’m surprised’ . 

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Year-end tax time and the ensuing influx of new numbers is insane for Patrick’s department. With active cases getting priority, it takes a while to get to the Roses. Patrick works quickly through his caseload, eager to break into the new numbers for his favorite family. The only new numbers for the family pertain to the kids’ jobs. He learns their income biweekly, but their employers’ numbers are seasonal.

He starts with Ted Mullins’ vet office. The taxes were submitted two weeks early and everything is above board. It’s a slightly worse quarter than before, but these things fluctuate. 

The same cannot be said for the Blouse Barn. The clothing store, which was doing fine, is now declaring no new revenue. There’s a weird number of write-offs to the company and it looks like they were hemorrhaging money all quarter, the quarter David Rose worked there.

The write-offs are raising red flags in the department and with the regular tax auditors, so Patrick ups his Rose case research to twice a week. There’s not much that first extra day, just a post from Stevie Budd: a picture of a group including the Rose siblings and David’s girlfriend behind shot glasses at a dive bar with the caption “celebrating! #fakelawyers ”

Suddenly David Rose, previously the most boring Rose, is the most suspicious member of their family. The payroll tax department informs Patrick that David Rose’s income has stopped. He must have gotten fired for ruining the store. Wait, no. It looks like the store is out of business. Updated online street views show an empty store front. He looks for dissolution paperwork, but comes across something weird. The trademark Blouse Barn belongs to an Australian company that has never had an Elmdale location. A press release shows the Australian company is set to open 78 new locations in North America. Did they sue David Rose’s employer for the name? That would show up in court documents. A cease-and-desist wouldn’t. But a cease-and-desist would just mean a rebranding, maybe $1000 max. With a store this bankrupt, that might have been enough to put them out of business.

Patrick can’t believe that a financially viable company went completely out of business, unable to afford a rebrand, just months after hiring David Rose. Did Rose tank the business? Is that what the celebration post was about? There was no money when the business was dissolved, so it’s not like there is a big check lying around. Patrick can’t find the angle here. Rose was the only employee on payroll. Clearly Rose just fucked up this poor businesswoman’s life. 

In an ordinary case, Patrick might look away at this point. ‘Headline: Inept, spoiled moron kills previously-thriving business.’ But this isn’t an ordinary case, this is the Rose case, so Patrick digs. To get more background on the store, Patrick puts in calls to relevant Australian departments until someone has their file.

‘Well this is bizarre.’ The company wrote a big fucking check to the owner of the Elmdale Blouse Barn. Was it for use of the name? They could have sued for that, probably even getting the last of her money for trademark violation. If they were trying to save money on lawyers, a cease-and-desist would have done it. Why would they pay so much? Patrick is transfixed, spending time every day trying to work out the connections here.

Patrick feels insanely good at his job. With these big breaks at work, his mood rivals the level right before the break that led to the Roses’ repossession. His good mood is transferring to his social life: he’s going out almost every night, taking his dad to a game, buying drinks for Frankie and gushing about the case, playing peppy songs at his regular open-mic nights. One night he even has sex with his fiancée, which is front-page news for his life.

He is checking on the Roses daily now and their social media has even more red flags. There’s a new sweater on David Rose in the back of a local cafe’s social media post. Patrick matches it to a designer. It costs $350. Nothing compared to his others that cost a few thousand, but not exactly cheap for someone who doesn’t have a job anymore. Alexis’s posts show new fixtures in the background in their shared motel room. They post themselves getting manicures. Someone is getting money and there are no new numbers, despite the tax deadline. Patrick is a sleuth. He loves this job so fucking much. 

He calls a meeting about these new developments. His boss, Linda, commends him for his hard work, and they all conclude that some of the money from the sale of the brand went to David Rose. Why? How much? His team member Smith notices David Rose’s boss did not file taxes on the income from the check. Paula suggests the boss might have given Rose a portion, and he might not have declared it either. This is getting good. 

The meeting is ending and Patrick feels great about this. “Let’s go get him! It’s three hours away, we can leave tomorrow.” He wants to be there when it happens. He knows these people inside and out and he wants to be the one bringing justice to the Rose family. He wonders if they’ll recognize him from the repossession day. Linda is less eager: We don’t have enough evidence, we don’t know how much the check was, it’s not a case yet. With this little information, we wouldn’t be able to get a warrant for the bank statements or phone records. We can go after the employer, but if that’s the only offense, it’s really chump change for this team. They can send it down to smaller tax crimes departments.

Patrick is pissed. He knows there’s more to this story. He puts out more alerts to all relevant departments, even some that would probably never be relevant. He spends a daily two hours on the Roses. The social media posts consume him and he’s upset when he can’t find a new one. Most days there isn’t anything new, but he spends the time anyway. He emails Linda when a new car registers to the Rose name, but she’s still not convinced. According to an obituary in the local paper, it’s the same day Stevie Budd’s great-aunt died; maybe it was a gift to her boyfriend’s family from her inheritance.  

Shortly after, Patrick receives an emailed memo and attached file sent from the motor vehicle commission, a response to Patrick’s open call for intelligence. He opens the attached file. Rose had to take a driving test. Patrick is bemused at the idea of David Rose having to sit through a driving test. He takes a picture with his phone and sends it to Frankie. Frankie responds, “He had to renew his license? I don’t get it.” Apparently he doesn’t think it was as funny as Patrick does.

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One night, Patrick sits sleepless in bed, doomscrolling, waiting for the morning so he can continue his manic investigation. A push notification from Frankie shakes him out of it.  

Frankie
Do you know this guy?
[link]

The header on the link says Schitt’s Creek Veterinary. His heart drops. That's Ted Mullins’ vet office. The one where Alexis Rose works. What did Frankie find that Patrick missed? He doesn’t check the websites for these businesses daily.  

Patrick
Yeah, that’s Alexis Rose’s boss??? 
What is this. 

He scrolls to see a live video of a cage of bunnies. That’s cute, they’re adoptable. He makes it full screen and turns his phone. But now he can see there’s a guy in the background. ‘That’s Ted! and— oh my god he’s naked. Ted is naked? Oh my god and he’s stretching.’ Patrick watches on for what feels like hours until Ted leaves the live stream and it’s just bunnies.

Patrick
What the fuck did I just watch???

Frankie
You were still watching??

Patrick
Thinking about adopting a rabbit. 

Ted naked has nothing to do with why he was watching it, contrary to what it looks like to Frankie. It’s just exciting seeing live video from Schitt’s Creek. He wants to watch those bunnies all night. 

The next day, he sets up his tablet to the bunny cam while he works. Around mid-morning he sees in his periphery a woman walking behind the bunnies. That’s Alexis Rose! She’s talking to Ted Mullins. ‘Why doesn’t this have sound?? Are they together? They’re being a little handsy.’ Patrick doesn’t know if he should be watching this at work. The exchange is funny. Alexis Rose’s hands and face combination are entrancing. She’s beautiful. He could watch the two of them flirt and touch all day. It’s definitely Patrick’s new favorite channel, and he doesn’t get much done that day. Patrick spends 7 hours watching it after work, including another exhibitionist show from Ted Mullins that night. Luckily for his sanity, it’s dark by the next morning. A banner pops up in the URL: “We’re so hoppy you watched! The bunnies all have safe furr-ever homes.”

Patrick
RIP best live stream ever

Frankie
You were still watching??

Chapter Text

Patrick is still convinced there’s a large sum of money in David Rose’s possession, but Linda is right: no one would give a warrant for the bank accounts based on the evidence he has. Instead of taking that as a hint to drop it, Patrick leans in, trying to find more evidence. He continues to check on the Roses every day. He needs to know immediately when money starts moving.

He’s trailing people from town he’s not even sure the Roses know, checking the background of their pictures for any clues. But it's no longer the entire Rose family on Patrick’s mind. He is scanning every post specifically for David Rose. When there’s no new intel in his daily check-in, he’s learning everything he can about the Rose son. His most thorough attention had always been on Johnny Rose, then Alexis Rose as a guilty pleasure. There’s a lot he missed from David Rose because he found him boring. Now? Patrick finds he’s anything but. He’s less well-traveled than his sister but no less accustomed to the ultra-wealthy lifestyle. He delves back into old news articles, tabloids from before they even opened an investigation, interviews with artists at his gallery that might mention him, a Gap Kids ad from when he was 6, a few episodes on Dateline that Patrick watched start to finish, art projects from college. He went to college. Huh.

Rose’s only public relationship was with a high-profile photographer, Sebastian Raine. His name is on pictures of Rose, and they’re not good: Rose is clearly intoxicated in them, some are explicit but “artsy”, some have him holding his hand up indicating he doesn’t want his picture taken. Raine even sold a few of these photographs. Reading the tabloids, Patrick feels a ping of sympathy about how clearly abusive the relationship is from the outside. ‘Why didn’t he leave? If you have the money to do anything, everything you do is a choice.’ Otherwise, Rose has really been around the block, and Patrick knows he’s slut shaming but he can’t help it. He’s been seen out with men and women. He finds Rose in a BuzzFeed “Top 10 Pansexual NYC Socialites” listicle. Before Stevie Budd, Patrick had always assumed David Rose was gay, but now their relationship makes a little more sense.

David Rose quickly becomes Patrick’s least favorite person on the planet, and he’s insatiable for evidence to support that claim. Everything he finds deepens his hatred and solidifies his low opinion of Rose. Every new discovery has Patrick practically convulsing just imagining this cretin, left to rot away in Schitt’s Creek.  

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After weeks of this manic behavior, Patrick’s fiancée Rachel seems to notice he’s distracted and absent, but she doesn’t ask. He shouldn’t really disclose much about his work, but she never asks for any details. She’s always found his work boring. Years ago, there was a tax-crime story arc on a reality show and she looked up from her crochet project to ask, “Was that you guys?” It was. It usually was. 

Patrick likes to have hobbies in his spare time. His work day gives more than enough time, so he usually leaves his laptop at the office where it sits until Monday morning. But one Sunday night, at the dinner table, fork in hand, he’s glued to his work laptop, looking at a digitized yearbook from Rose’s high school academy, checking for any indication of clubs or teams sports.

Rachel’s bored voice plucks him from his hyperfocus. “Is that your work laptop?”

He stops and realizes what he’s doing, almost watching his body from above. She rarely says something like this. Rachel must be pissed if she’s bringing it up, so he saves the file and shuts the laptop. This might be too deep a dive, but he justifies it: who knows where a clue might be?

“Yeah. I have a big case right now, I guess I’ve gotten sort of absorbed. I’m sorry.” He means it. He doesn’t mention the jolt of energy every time he encounters a new picture or fact. After they’ve gone to bed that night, following a quick, routine masturbation, he realizes he wasn’t actually apologizing to her. The shame he felt was for himself, drooling at each new discovery. He resolves to stop the unnecessary back story into David Rose’s life. It's been weeks since the last substantial update on the Roses. Patrick has more than enough information, and this is getting sick. He resolves to stop the historical research on Rose and resume solely Monday morning current check-ins until there’s a break in the case.  

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The very next day, Monday morning, there’s a break in the case. The town council minutes indicate David Rose is submitting an application to start a store-front business in town. The address comes up in an expansion plan from the box store Christmas World. Why did it go to Rose and not them? The town council had to approve this... Moira Rose is on town council. Sure enough, according to the minutes, she voted in favor. Patrick does a cursory search of local laws and finds this is not a conflict of interest. ‘Fuck.’ Still, what is Rose planning there? If he needed proof of Rose’s untaxed windfall, this is the way to catch him. If the Roses are receiving any untoward income, they could also launder it through a legitimate business. He submits the update to his team and breaks his resolution to check on the Roses less frequently.

On Friday, a credit check and a background check into David Rose appear on Patrick’s desk, first one in the morning and the next one at lunch. He’s gunning for this storefront. How did his terrible credit score get approved for such a lease? The windfall from the store would be good collateral. This could be proof of the big check. Patrick is excited. 

He calls the realtor from the lease, his first time speaking with someone from the town outside of law enforcement. He’s listened to Ray Butani’s podcast, so he knows he is chatty. Sure enough, he gives almost too much information to Patrick, who didn’t even give his name. He says Rose is taking over the general store and has an appointment to file for incorporation at Ray’s office on Thursday. ‘Business incorporation at the real estate office?’ As they speak, Patrick scrolls Butani’s website, which lists dozens of business ventures. Ray sounds flustered, saying he doesn’t get many new business applications, and with his fifteen other businesses, it sounds like he’s drowning. Patrick deflates. There’s no way this guy is going to get the right information for the investigation. But Ray, in his fast, wandering diatribe, hands Patrick an idea on a silver platter:

“We haven’t had a new business in town for a long time, but I’m going to just teach myself how to incorporate businesses like I learned real estate, photography, closet organization, town council...” the man rambles on the other line. “Unless you know someone looking for a job in business incorporation.” He concludes with a chuckle. The idea hatches quickly in Patrick’s mind. 

“Actually I do! Can I send a friend over for an interview?” Patrick quickly supplies. It can’t hurt to open the avenue.

“Oh I was mostly kidding but actually that would be quite helpful, as you can imagine I’m already very busy!”

They set up a time for next Wednesday. Patrick says his buddy will be there. It occurs to Patrick again that he never told Ray his name. This would be too easy. Butterflies take up residence in Patrick’s stomach. 

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Patrick’s second-favorite Microsoft program is PowerPoint. That weekend from home, he makes a doozy of a presentation outlining his plan: He’ll go to Schitt’s Creek for Rose’s incorporation meeting, file Rose’s paperwork himself, and see if there’s anything shady. He’ll use the meeting as an interview, trying to figure out how Rose got the start-up cash, how he’ll use the business, if his father is involved. He’ll be as stealthy as he needs to be, but everyone in his department knows people think of bureaucrats as background noise, never thinking twice about their outside lives. He’d be hiding in plain sight.

When his PowerPoint is as good as complete on Sunday night, Patrick slinks to bed to find Rachel reading. He makes a move but she’s not in the mood. To her, tonight is no different than any other, but the thrill of the case has Patrick excited in all aspects. He passes out quickly after he jerks off, anxious for the presentation tomorrow.

On Monday, Patrick gets dressed in a suit, white shirt and blue tie, just his regular work attire, but he puts on his best suit jacket. He spends an extra thirty seconds on his hair, and puts some of Rachel’s anti-bag cream under his eyes. Rachel even gives him a rare compliment on his way out. 

He makes his case in the 10am meeting. He outlines his plan: he will take Ray up on the job. Rose will have to sit down and explain his business plan if he wants to file the incorporation paperwork. With Patrick in this meeting instead of Ray, he’ll be able to ask the correct questions, get a sense of what the family is planning, and report back. If the Roses are making moves it will be a lot easier to see with boots on the ground. It could be crucial in getting a conviction out of this family, who had skirted the full hammer of justice last time. 

“Or,” his team member Paula chirps out, “close the case, if there’s no potential for future crime,” but Patrick doesn’t want to hear that. These are the Roses. There is always the potential for future crime. 

After the presentation he returns to his desk but can’t focus on anything else, and his other case files full of pop stars and real housewives lay dormant. At the end of the day, Linda calls him into her office to confirm his plan has been approved. He’ll leave on Wednesday to make it to the Thursday morning meeting. Patrick is elated, geared up, ready to face the people who have made this indelible mark on his life, who have given him the best case of his career. And to bring them to justice, of course.

.

Patrick wakes up Tuesday morning wired. He has one day to prepare before heading to Schitt's Creek to meet David Rose. He was approved for travel to the meeting on Thursday, but he has plenty of sick days accrued. He could easily take Friday off and spend the weekend. He looks at his sleeping fiancée. He didn’t tell her he’d be gone tomorrow night, let alone his new secret thought to spend the weekend. He forgot or didn’t want to or never got the chance or some other excuse. They talk so infrequently it’s not a surprise. He knows any other couple would probably have discussed this together, had some sort of family meeting for an overnight stay, but any other partner would have shared his excitement. Rachel hadn’t even asked the details when he was obsessively working from home. He gets dressed and heads off early, leaving just as she gets into the shower. ‘Oops, we didn’t have time to talk about it.’

Once in the office, he begins packing file binders, putting digital files on flash drives, updating his laptop to be able to work the case from the tiny town. He looks around his desk for other ideas of what to pack and sees his nameplate. Patrick McDuklorpen. When people want to use his last name or a nickname they usually just say Mac, so Patrick forgets his name is so Googleable. He’s never been a good actor; in high school musicals he was only cast for his voice. He knows he can't believably change his first name, but his last name has always been a cringe-inducing part of his identity. It makes him stand out. An introduction with his last name would make Rose's hideous eyebrows shoot up and suspicion would have him researching the name in no time. Patrick's eyes dart to the mug holding pens: Milwaukee Brewers. The McDuklorpens have been fans for generations. Patrick Brewer. It sounds good. He makes an email account. He makes a fake resume with Paula and Smith as references, but he gets a feeling Ray won’t check. He makes a boring, template business card complete with his cellphone number and the new email.

Patrick Brewer 
Business Consultant 

He sends 30 copies to print on his commute home. 

He gets a burst of energy mid-afternoon accompanied by a weird feeling that he doesn’t want anything hanging over his head. He considers his two other open cases. There’s a pop star who didn’t declare a full tour’s worth of income. She paid her entire staff of 200 off the books. The other is a businessman who just isn’t paying taxes. His wife is a reality TV personality, a real housewife of somewhere, so it’s a high-profile case. Both of the cases are very straight-forward and basically done. Patrick was hoping to find more, he always is, but he has enough to ensure they’ll have to pay taxes on their income. He formalizes their files and pushes both of them to the next stage. He looks at his updated open case tab and sees just the Rose file. Exactly the way it should be.

With his slate clean, Patrick hasn’t been this excited about something ... ever? Is this the happiest day of his life? Is that sad? He thinks of other contenders. It should be the day he proposed to Rachel, but he was more anxious and nauseous than happy. His high school baseball team winning championships? The Rose family repo day? Being the best man at Frankie’s wedding? Now that was a good day. He and Rachel were on a break that night, so he just enjoyed the wedding, flirted, danced, laughed with his friends. ‘Frankie.’ He needs to meet up with Frankie to gush about this.

Patrick
Drinks tonight
Big Rose news

Frankie
K
Did Alexis finally slide into your DMs?

. 

Frankie has been Patrick’s best friend forever. Not only were they neighbors, but they played baseball together, were in the Boy Scouts together, and when Frankie came out as gay at 15, Patrick was the first one he told. Before then, Patrick kind of bullied gay kids, but Frankie’s revelation made him more understanding. He chose his best friend over being a bigot pretty quickly. As adults, they still live in the same neighborhood and get together to over-share microscopic (and often very private) details of their lives. They text nearly constantly. Frankie is the only one outside of work who knows about the Rose case, and how it’s been obsessing Patrick. He’s tried to get Patrick out of the house as much as possible these last few months. They’ve been doing a lot of double dates with Rachel and Frankie’s husband, Zach, and the four of them get along really well.

Frankie loves to hate on the ultra-wealthy too, so the hilariously out-of-touch and privileged tidbits about the Roses always make his day. But when the Roses lost their money, Frankie tried to remind Patrick that they were people. He knows Patrick tends to get his judgement blinded by vitriol, especially for the Roses, and Frankie occasionally plays devil’s advocate against him. He just doesn’t like seeing Patrick saying rude, violent things about anyone, even if they are the Roses.

At the bar, Patrick gets a beer and a booth. Frankie walks in shortly after, sitting down with a gin and tonic. He barely ekes out a “How’s it going?” before Patrick launches into the plan.

When he finishes, Frankie is grinning and sharing the same level of excitement. “Gotta tell you, when you went on the David Rose bender, I thought you seemed a little obsessed. I’m glad something came out of it.” 

“Just doing my job.” Patrick leans his head to the side a little, “...And then some.”

“So you’ll just be there for Wednesday night, have the meeting on Thursday, head home Thursday night? We’re still on for Friday open mic night at Prosecco?” Each step he thinks Patrick will start nodding and filling in, but he does not.

“Yeah... I’m not sure. I’m approved for travel tomorrow and Thursday, just for the meeting,” Patrick swigs his beer and flips a bar coaster in his hand. “But it depends. I’m pretty amped up about it. I might take the day off work on Friday and stay the weekend if I want. I’ve spent a long time researching the area and I can’t imagine I’ll be able to see everything I want to in one day.” Patrick concludes.

Frankie nods slowly and takes a sip of his drink. “Any other reason you’re taking a solo weekend trip to the most boring vacation spot in the entire world?”

He cocks his head. ‘What is he implying?’ When Frankie doesn’t elaborate, Patrick inquires, “I don’t follow.”

“Just… I’m sure Rachel would take off work, lay low while you’re working and then you guys could go… I don’t know, maybe there’s a hike or winery or something? Have you suggested that to her?” Frankie surveys Patrick’s face and narrows his eyes. “Let’s rephrase this: what does she think about the trip?” He knows the answer. Patrick responds by thumbing at the label on his beer bottle. “...Oh my god you told her about the trip right? It’s big news! Plus, you could be gone the whole weekend! Even a roommate should be filled in on that!”

“It all happened really quickly... and we didn’t talk this morning...” Patrick trails off. He feels guilty. He knows he should have told her. “But Rachel doesn’t really care. What else would we be doing? Silently watching baking shows and reading in bed by 9? Watching each other masturbate?”

Frankie glares at him, “You didn’t have time to tell her but you had enough time last night to have another sad sexual experience?” Patrick blushes. Frankie knows him too well, and they talk about sex way too much. “Go home, Mac. Go talk to your wifey. Maybe this is a good thing for you guys, absence and heart and whatever.”

“Yeah I guess.” They wrap up, pay the tab, and walk out onto the sidewalk. “I’ll keep you posted.  And no more ‘Mac’. It’s Patrick Brewer now.” He smiles and hands him a business card. Patrick Brewer. Business  Consultant. Frankie smiles at the card.

“Let me know when you fall in love with Alexis Rose and complete the rom-com!” Frankie calls as they get into their respective cars. Patrick laughs. They’ve joked about this before. Alexis Rose is cute, and Patrick knows enough about her to woo her. 

“Miss you already!” He teases back.  

. 

When Patrick returns home, Rachel is on the couch, eating leftover pasta from a bowl, and watching the Real Housewives. It’s the one his suspect’s wife is on, so he watched this episode at work last week, looking for clues. He points to the wife, “Her husband’s business hasn't paid taxes in eight years.” Rachel just hums in response. This has been the bulk of their interactions for the last two years. They used to watch his suspects' shows together, since she likes trash reality TV anyway. How did even the simplest quality time fall by the wayside? It’s almost like they avoid spending time together.

“Can I talk?” He asks, joining her on the couch as the show ends, muting the TV during the “next week on”. Rachel moves her feet to make space for him. “I have to go to Schitt’s Creek for work tomorrow morning. There’s a big case I’m working on and we need eyes on the ground.”

Rachel breathes a fake laugh out of her nose. “You tell me twelve hours before you leave? How long are you there?”

“Well, it happened fast. I have a meeting there on Thursday, but depending on how it goes I might stay the weekend.” Patrick hopes his tone conveys annoyance about the trip, but he’s shaking inside. He wants to answer ‘Indefinitely.’ like Julia Roberts at the end of Notting Hill. He is so excited to be in the same town as his white whale.

Rachel looks at him, head cocked. She puts her fork down in the bowl. “Are you happy?” ‘Busted. I guess I can’t act.’

“Yeah, actually, to be honest I’m really excited about this case. The guy is just the worst and I’d love to—”

“No. Are you happy... with us?” She’s got a conversational tone for such a serious question.

Patrick is blindsided by the question but answers honestly, “Uh, yeah I guess it’s gotten a little routine recently, right?” 

“Yeah. You seem weird lately.” Again, her tone is eerily steady. She picks up her fork and takes a bite of food.

“I’ve been buried in work on this case. But this will be a good trip for me. Maybe for us, absence and heart and whatever,” he says, quoting Frankie. 

“Are you saying we should take a break?”

The question rang in the air. She always does this, making it seem like something she wants is his idea. It’s not a shock, they’d been on and off since high school. Just because they’re engaged, Patrick realizes in that moment, doesn’t mean they’re immune from ‘taking a break’.

“I wasn’t, but maybe now I am.” He responds casually. There's no fight in his words, or this conversation. She hums in response and turns back to eating her leftovers, like they had just calmly and mutually agreed to a break. ‘Why just a break?’ a quiet but annoying voice says in his ear. ‘Why not just let her off the hook? What happens when you get back on Sunday night?’ “I’ll just stay at Frankie’s next week when I get back.”

That night, he packs his essentials. A suit jacket in a garment bag, three button downs, slacks, jeans, workout clothes, his favorite Milwaukee Brewers t-shirt, pajamas, hiking boots, 5 sets of underwear and undershirts, socks. Just enough for 5 days maximum. He doesn’t completely know the vibe in Schitt’s Creek but he’s hoping it doesn’t require formal business wear like his office. He puts the bags in the entry way. Rachel packs him a sandwich for the road.

In the morning, she wakes up to see him off. Patrick reaches into his wallet and hands her a business card. Rachel reads it and laughs. “Patrick Brewer? Business Consultant?” She giggles again. “Like the Milwaukee Brewers? What if someone asks your favorite baseball team?” 

Crap. Is this weird undercover thing going to be hard? He reaches to unzip his clothes bag and hands her his Brewers T-shirt. “I guess put this away then,” he says with a sigh. “Am I just a Jays fan now?” He laughs through his wince. 

“Can you just switch teams like that?” She laughs back. 

“I can pretend.” He shakes his head. His poor Brewers. “I hope that doesn’t give me away.”

He promises to text when he gets in, but they agree to be ok with minimal contact while he’s away, as they start their break. They hug in the hallway. He thinks about the warm contact and the soft feel of her sweatshirt. ‘I’ll miss this.’

Chapter Text

Patrick arrives in Schitt’s Creek on Wednesday afternoon. He is completely unprepared for the welcome sign, a hilarious and lewd reminder of what he’s missing from behind a screen. He laughs out loud, his stomach flipping. He prepared a self-guided tour of the town but chastises himself for not including that landmark.

The butterflies that hatched in his stomach days ago have not been digested, and he practically vibrates, smiling widely in his car alone through the whole town, positive that this is already the most fun he’s ever had. He drives past the motel where the Roses live, the Cafe and Wobbly Elm that backdrop their social media posts, the empty general store Rose has leased, and finally to Ray’s business, which, according to the emails Ray has been sending to Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant., is also the place he’ll sleep. 

He practices introducing himself over and over out loud in the car. “Hi! I’m Patrick Brewer. Hi! My name is Patrick Brewer. Nice to meet you. Patrick Brewer.” After years of saying “Patrick McDuklorpen” the new name runs off his tongue surprisingly well. 

Patrick walks into Ray’s for their 4:00 job interview, which Ray said was basically a formality. As he said on the phone last week, “I have no one else.” It confirms that Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. could just work here one day and leave.  

So he’s pretty confident walking into the… photo set? …office? …living room? Patrick puts on his MBA hat to assess the situation. Ray was right, he needs help: Focused branding, fewer ventures, an army of staff, to name a few. Approaching him quickly with a chaotic but friendly demeanor is Ray Butani. Patrick likes him immediately, instinctively knowing that he’s “good people” as his dad would say.  

“Come, sit.” Ray says and gestures to the desk in the room. It’s cluttered enough for three people, but he’s pretty sure Ray is the only one who works here; Patrick made sure Ray’s million businesses were clean of trouble before he came. “This will be our shared desk when we’re done here. You’re welcome to put any special knickknacks around to make you feel more at home.” ‘If this is a job interview, remind me to play poker with this man.’ 

Patrick sits at the desk, fake résumé still inoperative in his bag, as Ray chatters haphazardly about the details. The job is mostly part time and as-needed, but the pay will be enough to rent the room upstairs and a little extra. He rattles off the job duties, which basically amount to listening to townies with pipe dreams and shutting them down. Patrick is actually excited to hear these ideas, to use his MBA. He momentarily forgets his purpose here. ‘You’re holding this job for exactly one business day. Slow your roll.’ 

“You already have two appointments tomorrow morning. First with Ivan the baker who is still in formulation stages...” Ray furrows his brow and shakes his head humorously like it’s not going to happen, “...and second with David who leased the general store. That one’s a pretty big deal.” Patrick’s heart skips a beat. He thinks he might actually be salivating. He is so close.  

They rise from their seats and shake on a successful job interview. Ray hands him some tax forms for payroll. ‘Shit.’ “Mind if I fill these out tomorrow? I’m exhausted.” Ray agrees and together they bring Patrick’s bags from the car. Ray leads him up to the room he'll be renting. Patrick tries to be polite, but the flowery wallpaper, the chotchkes, the lacy bedding, the sweet feminine scent are all too much and he starts laughing. Ray joins him, acknowledging it’s ridiculous. Patrick doesn’t ask for an explanation, Ray doesn’t provide one, and they stand giggling for a minute.  

“Ok, I’m going to settle in.” Patrick says, hoisting his clothes bag onto the bed. Ray stands in the doorway.  

“You can put your clothes in the dresser or closet but the closet is the model for my closet organization system so if you have questions on that... Actually, let me walk you through the system.” He says, walking further into the room toward the closet.

Patrick halts him. “That’s ok, I don’t have that much, I won’t use the closet.” Ray stops moving but continues talking, now fully in the room.  

“I’m planning to make tacos tonight, I got a recipe from Jocelyn on Monday and I’ve been dying to try it. You’re always welcome to join me for dinner with the small fee of clean-up.” 

“Ok Ray, thank you! I’m just going to—.” 

“I just redid the bathroom, so it should be up to any standards. It’s just down the hall, label any products you don’t want to share.” 

“Ok thank you, Ray, really I should—.”

This continues for a while. Patrick realizes he’ll have to be firm with Ray to really get his privacy. There’s not even a lock on the door. Luckily the phone rings downstairs, finally luring Ray out of the room.  

Alone and unpacked, Patrick surveys his room. There’s a small desk across from the foot of the bed where he sets his laptop. He boots it up and immediately confirms it is password protected. He loads his quick fact sheet to refresh his memory on the case but it’s not necessary. Every important detail is memorized at this point. Still, he finds himself spending the night studying his binder of files anyway, taking a brief break to eat dinner with Ray, who tells him his whole life story, never asking about Patrick’s. He thanks Ray for the meal, the home, the job, does the dishes and retires to bed. He’s pleased to find he can still masturbate without Rachel’s small amount of help because it’s the only way he’d be able to calm the nerves and sleep. It works.  

. 

Thursday morning, with shaking hands, Patrick dons jeans and a blue button down. This welcome change in work attire is the outfit he would wear every day if given the chance, not his usual stuffy suits. Unfortunately, by 9:45 he's regretting the decision to forgo a suit jacket, with sweat nearly seeping through his shirt.  He cuts Ivan’s meeting short, hopefully quashing a dream, too anxious to focus.  

‘This is it.’ He’s about to begin the most exciting meeting of his entire career. ‘Start-up money, plans for business, family involvement. Start-up money, plans for business, family involvement.’ Patrick repeats the meeting’s goals in his head like a mantra. ‘Keep him talking as long as possible, get all the information you can.’ Ray had given him a file with blank business incorporation forms in it. He sets one on the desk.

The meeting is supposed to start at 10:00, but 10:00 comes and goes. ‘Of course Rose flakes. I bet he’s chronically late, with no respect for other peoples’ time. He’s probably “not a morning person” because he hasn’t aged intellectually past a 16-year-old.’ Patrick waits in the kitchen, mind staticky, a shaking hand bringing tea to his lips over and over until he hears the door at 10:21. “Patrick!” Ray calls, sing-songy.  

Patrick enters the room, unable to keep the smile off his face when he sees Rose standing in front of him, looking back at him. His white whale. “Patrick.” Patrick introduces himself. He’s too nervous to say his last name. What if he messes it up? He barely got those two syllables out, and he’s been saying those his whole life. 

“David—”  

“David Rose!” ‘we meet at last’. “You bought the general store.”  

“Leased. Leased the general store.” Rose hisses in correction. Patrick is hoping the smile isn’t visible on his face. He’s having a hard time controlling it, but his brain is just a bowl of cold, vibrating noodles right now. ‘He’s trying to downplay his grand scheme? That's not going to work here.’

“It’s a pretty big deal.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yeah it’s pretty big.” Patrick's short breaths betray him, like every organ in his body has been tied together with nerves. He eyes the man standing in front of him. Patrick is a master of guessing the cost of high-fashion items and knows this boring lined sweater probably costs more than Patrick’s beat-up car. His hair probably took the full 21 minutes he was late. His skin care routine is probably 9 steps. He’s probably never had to sit through bureaucracy ‘so let’s make this excruciating for him.’ “Hey, have a seat.” 

The first question on the form is the business name. “Oh um, I'm oscillating between two names at the moment? so if we could just leave that one blank.” ‘...He doesn’t have a name for his fucking business?’ Patrick can’t read whether that’s an oversight in the master plan or if Rose really is so stupid trying to incorporate without a name. ‘Oscillating’ …the way he says the word in such a nasally way, it sounds so pretentious. It pairs so sweetly with what Patrick imagined in his months of research. 

The professional part of Patrick’s brain shuts down and the catty bully comes out. “Sure, sure. Give you more time to ...oscillate.” He repeats the word to make this idiot hear what he’s saying out loud. Rose looks surprised to be called out like that. The knot of Patrick’s nerves tightens at the idea he could make David Rose uncomfortable. 

It continues. He doesn’t know his business address? This perfectly matches the spoiled, dependent brat Patrick had built in his mind. Wait, he thinks the business address is his own address? ‘Rose isn’t just sheltered, he’s actually stupid.’ Patrick considers all the people his parents must have bribed to get that college degree. Patrick doesn’t clarify the question, finding it funnier to have a completely blank form and chipperly declare, “We’ll leave that blank as well!”

Patrick can’t keep the grin off his face but he doesn’t care at this point. He knows he had mantras. He knows at some point he had plans in his head. Right now though? He feels like a shark. “Battin’ a thousand here, David.” 

Rose’s mouth contorts like he’s disgusted. “I don’t know what that means.” Of course he doesn’t. Everything Patrick is learning in this interaction is reinforcing his beliefs and he couldn’t be happier. He revels in talking down to this man. His breath is coming in short pulls. 

“Hey, here’s an easy one,” Patrick can’t help himself, it’s so much fun to be able to talk down to his face. “Brief description of the business.” As he reads the words, Patrick remembers the goals of the meeting and braces himself.

Rose begins to speak, and Patrick has never seen someone strike out like this before. He is rambling a string of pretentious, trendy buzzwords that mean nothing. Patrick can't even trying to write anything down; it’s all bullshit. ‘This guy doesn’t know shit about starting a business. He can’t be the mastermind behind a criminal operation, he’s too vapid. Maybe he didn’t pay taxes on that windfall because he didn't know how.’ At one point in the verbal diarrhea, Patrick literally has to bring a hand up to his mouth to stifle a laugh. He’s beaming. He doesn’t care. This is the best moment of his life. Rose is the most incapable person he’s ever met and it’s addictive to watch. Patrick loves how spot-on correct he was about this character assessment. 

Despite his complete glee that Rose is failing so spectacularly, Patrick really needs to put something down on this form in order to complete his mission today, and none of what Rose is saying is usable. He’s fumbled every question and Patrick is giddy, but he knows he should be helping. He should be pushing Rose to elaborate, nail down a solid business plan. He should be asking about start-up funds and business models and other investors. He knows he should be doing his job. 

But with his professionalism and moral compass in the trash, Patrick wants nothing more than to hand him the blank form and tell him to do it himself. He wants Rose to know what a fuckup he is. He wants him to know his business is a failure. He tosses all his restraint in the trash with everything else: “Tell you what. Why don’t you just take these home with you and fill them out when you have a clearer idea of what you want to do with your business.” ‘Or: get your dad to write down what he had instructed you to say just now.’ 

“Ok,” Rose looks very disgruntled and Patrick is here for it. “I do have a clear idea.”

Patrick can’t help himself, his breath tight with the adrenaline. It’s too rich, and he is swimming in it. “Ah. You’ve settled on a name then.” Surely this can’t be professional but after years of visceral hatred for the man in front of him, he feels he’s earned it.

‘Did he just smile at that?’ It's quick but Patrick catches it. Rose assesses Patrick. “You’re either very impatient or extremely sure of yourself.” Patrick has never felt more understood. ‘Both.’ 

Clearly no one has ever called Rose out on his bullshit. “Threw you a bit of a change-up there.”

“Again, I don’t know what that means, I don’t play cricket,” Rose distractedly replies. Surely he must be kidding. Cricket? If it’s a joke, it’s funny. If it’s not, it’s funnier. 

In a brief nanosecond of panic, Patrick realizes he's lost the meeting. Rose is going to leave, and none of the goals were accomplished. The only thing now is to give him a contact. His mind travels to the business cards.

“Look. Take this. It’s my card and I feel like you will need it.” God, talking down to this man is his new favorite drug.  

He takes the card but says, “You know what? I think I’m good. So... thank you... for this.” He’s trying to act like he’s better than having a Business Consultant. ‘Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant.’ But Patrick is watching how Rose’s face always expresses his true emotions, even if there are 19 of them at once. His face is perturbed, overwhelmed, almost worried as he looks down at the form and walks away, holding the business card in between his fingers like it’s something gross.  

“Nice to meet you, David!” Patrick could jump out of his skin with the thrill of that sentence, but what comes next is better: Rose turns around with an ugly, dejected, surprised, insulted face that solidifies Patrick as the victor of this business incorporation meeting. His lips curled down into his lower jaw into an almost grimace. The facial expression is a work of art, one that Patrick crafted by making Rose uncomfortable. 

“Yep.” He breathes, flashes the briefest, fakest, most uncomfortable smile, and leaves. 

Patrick forces back tears of happiness.

As the door closes behind Rose, Patrick freezes to his spot on two feet, winded, heart racing. It’s 10:30. That’s the last meeting of the day? He couldn’t do any work now anyway. He needs to compose himself. His hands are still shaking as he brushes past Ray’s active photoshoot to rush up the stairs.  

He flings himself onto the bed, sprawling out with his head against the mattress. He’s winded from the meeting, his heart is racing, and his jeans are tented with adrenaline. Patrick has the entire conversation memorized. As he replays it, the thrill comes back to him in waves and, knowing this would be the only way to relieve this kind of excitement, Patrick sets out to the bathroom with his travel tube of lotion.  

He locks the door, turns on the faucet and pulls his pants down to his thighs, laying out a handful of tissues on the vanity, squirting some lotion and starting to stroke his semi-boner. His mind is still swirling with disbelief he's even in this thrilling situation. He is an undercover operative today. He has a secret identity. It’s doing something for him.  

More importantly, he’s working on his passion-case. The Roses. His baby. And it’s even sweeter than he thought it would be. He replays the meeting as his hand picks up speed. Rose set him up for so many swings and Patrick hit every one of them. He’s so pleased with the barbs: pointing out the form was still blank after three questions. Telling him he’s going to need a lot of help and handing him the card: Patrick Brewer. Business consultant. He gasps a little at that and strokes harder.  

He thinks of how dejected Rose left the office. His stupid face when he took the card, his ridiculous eyebrows twisted in surprise and hurt. His body language, usually over-done gesticulations in interviews and videos, the day of the repo, subdued as his stiffened body seemed literally shocked to the core. ‘I did that. I made him so uncomfortable.’ His strokes reach a punishing speed. The lips that grimaced across Rose’s face, disgruntled and insulted, were always so expressive on the screen and Patrick relishes seeing them in real life, now expressing the painful effect of Patrick’s words. Rose’s mouth hung slightly ajar in surprise, taken aback by Patrick’s “very impatient or very sure of himself” attitude. That image sends him over the edge as Patrick grabs the waiting tissues from the vanity and finishes into them.  

He washes his hands and returns to his room. 11:00. He should sit at his laptop to debrief his team on the meeting, probably downstairs so it looks like he’s working. But as he’s grabbing the necessities, some post-nut clarity crashes in: he just jerked off to David Rose’s face. Huh

Chapter Text

The novelty of getting off thinking about David Rose is hilarious to Patrick. You know who else would find this funny? Frankie. Once downstairs and settled at his desk, closed laptop in front of him, Patrick pulls out his phone and texts him.  

Patrick
I just got off thinking of David Rose’s stupid face lol 

He regrets it as soon as it’s sent. Even with their very open, over-sharing relationship, there’s no context here. Before he can send the five follow-up texts he thinks will redeem him somehow, Patrick gets an email notification from his boss: “updates?” 

Distracted from the bomb he dropped on Frankie, but grateful he released some of his nerves, Patrick opens his laptop and starts an email to his team. The conversation is etched in Patrick’s memory so he types up a summary and an analysis of the meeting. If it’s just David Rose starting this business, there’s nothing to worry about besides incompetence. If Johnny Rose is using him as a puppet, we should be worried. But right now, there’s no business plan here at all. He lists the buzzwords he remembers from the conversation, trying to piece together how anyone ever thought this was a fiber of a business plan. How would they be laundering money if his business doesn’t have the prospect of making money? If this is a scheme of any kind it is not well prepared. This business is a failure, a waste of whatever untaxed windfall befell Rose. Maybe Rose was expecting Ray and not prepared to talk to a stranger, or anyone more competent in business matters? 

Patrick feels some guilt settling inside. He could have asked more questions, he could have gotten a better sense of the plan, he could even have been a little nicer so Rose has an incentive to come back. Patrick has never once felt bad at his job until today, but some kind of visceral reaction to seeing Rose tripped up his game. He also acknowledges a small fear that this plan would look like a waste to his department if there was no crime. But the plan is a fact-finding mission, and right now, it’s necessary for him to be in Schitt’s Creek. Even if the business is above board, it still might lead to income they don’t declare, and Patrick hasn’t gotten the scope of their living conditions to determine any shady income.  

Unless Rose’s dream is quashed like Ivan’s, Patrick knows he’d see him at least to file the incorporation papers. But when would he come back? When Patrick was in front of him, with all the adrenaline, he wanted to insinuate that Rose’s business would be a failure. But that’s not the most conducive strategy for his job. ‘So maybe I shouldn’t be such an asshole to the guy. I can play nice. I can prove myself useful and trustworthy. God knows this guy is going to need a lot of help, so it should be easy.’  

His team is updated, the next moves are set out and there’s nothing to do but wait. Unable to sit on his hands and do nothing, Patrick looks up local hiking trails. There’s one really close, promising a short, moderate climb and good views. He changes his shirt, tells Ray and departs at noon. The internet didn’t lie. The view was good and it was only a 45 minute hike up. He sits for a few at the top to breathe, contemplates his excitement, and heads the 45 minutes back down. 

Checking the time at the base of the hill, nearly 2pm, he realizes he didn’t have cell phone service on the hike. Now, back at the car, Patrick sees 1 new text from Ray, 5 new texts from Frankie, 11 missed calls and 11 new voicemails from an unknown number. ‘What the fuck?’  First his “boss.” 

Ray
Hi Patrick! Ivan might come back later today to ask about his business plan again.

‘Fuck.’ Next, avoiding Frankie’s texts, Patrick plays the first voicemail. To the delight of the nerve cluster in Patrick’s stomach, it’s Rose. He gets his own name wrong, is he still so flustered by their interaction earlier? He continues buzzword nonsense over the next 10 voicemails. On the fourth voicemail, he hears a vibrate and the voicemail ends. The next one begins “The text cut us off.” ‘Has he ever used a phone?’ He’s asking questions like the voicemail can respond. He’s picking up random threads from three voicemails ago. He’s obviously never had to make a phone call in his life, let alone a professional one. Patrick can’t keep the smile off his face at how absurd it is. Does he sound high? Patrick is laughing out loud at this bumbling idiot, trying to do anything on his own. And “Ciao”? ‘What a douchebag.’ He’s sitting in the car marveling at the voicemails. He wants to play all eleven again, but he’s in the middle of nowhere. He should at least sit down with a pen.

The texts from Frankie don’t help the laughter:  

Frankie
LOL
What do you mean? Like you thought of his face and jerked off?
What is the context here at all?
Tbh not shocked
David Rose could get it 

He returns to the house and changes back into his blue button-down in case Ivan returns. He sits down at his desk downstairs to try to translate Rose’s messages on speakerphone. Ray can’t believe this guy either. He hangs around to assess the damage, trying to help decipher. He gives up helping when it’s evident Rose isn’t going to get clearer and they’re spending more time laughing at him than listening. Patrick has to continue, though. It’s part of his job. Jobs? 

Patrick finally puts some pieces together. ‘So he’s selling locally-sourced goods. He makes it sound very pretentious but it’s trendy right now and plays to a wide variety of consumers. But it’s not providing the function of a general store where you can pick up anything you need. So he’s not really providing a service in that regard.’ 

Something else piques Patrick’s interest, ‘He wants these vendors to give him merchandise that he just… promises to sell? Does he know how business works? You pay for the product up front. If not… who would put that much trust in David Rose? Consignment clothes shops are one thing, no one is making a living putting a piece up for consignment. But if someone is putting their livelihood into creating a product, they’re not going to just hand it over to David Rose.

‘And why would they allow their products to be rebranded for this guy they don’t even know? It’s not Rose making the stuff, why would he take the credit? What vendor would agree to this? 

‘The rotating door of consignment vendors would actually be a great backdrop for a crime. The payments can be irregular in timing and amount. No one would bat an eye at a one-time payment. These small local vendors have more lenient business laws, so they might not even be required to be on the books.’

Patrick pulls out a blank form and begins to fill it in. He is being generous making the leaps from Rose’s word vomit to an actual business model, but he thinks he’s got the gist. Patrick even chooses between the two names Rose said he was “oscillating” between. He can’t believe the less pretentious of the two options is “Rose Apothecary.”  

He sends a copy of the filled form and the voicemails to his team with the note “I think this is what he’s going for.” The voicemails indicate his dream isn’t quashed and he would still be trying to incorporate, that he would be back. Patrick failed at insinuating his business was a failure. If he isn’t back by the end of the day, Patrick resolves to call him back, as the voicemails requested. He enters David Rose as a contact in his phone, and pressing “save” sends a flurry through his stomach.

Throughout this process, Patrick’s smile doesn’t leave his face, especially not looking at his phone to find his team’s group chat lighting up.

Smith
Lmfao Rose is serious?
Mac you gotta fuck this guy up
I want to hit him after listening to those
Wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Paula
Is he high? I didn’t want to say anything in the email but like…
Come on dude

Patrick
I thought the same thing.
The meeting was absolutely wild guys I have no words

Smith
I bet I could think of a choice few

Patrick can’t sit still while he waits for Ivan to maybe show up, so he offers to look over Ray’s taxes and Ray enthusiastically agrees. They spread the tax forms across the dining room table and Patrick leans up on it to work, finally distracted from— 

There’s a tiny noise behind him. Patrick turns around to see David Rose and can’t keep the smile from taking over his whole face. Rose is sheepish, embarrassed he couldn’t even fill one stupid form out. He’s coming back, tail between his legs, having failed at the most basic task of becoming a business owner. Patrick’s mantra is different this time: ‘Be nice be nice be nice.’

Wait... is he actually high? His eyes are red and there’s a distinct odor now that Patrick thinks about it. It explains the voicemails but further lowers Patrick’s opinion of him. You’re coming to file business paperwork. You’re calling a business consultant. Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. You really think it’s a great idea to be high? This brat has never had to be professional ever in his life. 

Rose starts, “So I messed up... my form.” He sounds embarrassed. “And I’m going to need another form from you.” 

Patrick realizes he’s not just embarrassed about the form, which has visibly scribbled and scratched out words all over. It’s the 11... eleven. voicemails. He should be embarrassed. Patrick is thrilled, running through insults in his mind that would stab this man’s heart and make him reconsider his entire life. Patrick’s smile gets harder to hide thinking of some good jabs to emphasize how stupid it is to get high and call someone who is in charge of your destiny. Rose must notice Patrick looking deliriously predatory while trying to decide on one and offers a quiet “What?”

“I’m so glad you made such good use of my business card.” Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. Patrick stifles a giggle. Rose seems confused that he would bring it up. Like it’s normal? Or maybe he forgot? Or he’s never been called out for his buffoonery? Patrick reminds himself to tone down the hatred and mockery for this interaction, and professionally welcomes him to the desk. ‘Be nice be nice be nice.’

Rose is standing directly in the line of traffic, and rudely doesn’t move as Patrick heads to get behind the desk, so he has to squeeze closely past him. His idiot brain quickly flashes to the bizarre experience of jerking off while thinking of that face this morning. He arrives behind the desk and scoops up the folder with the newly completed form.  

He assures Rose, professionally of course, not just to make him squirm, that he listened to all of the messages to piece them together. Patrick knows he needs to ‘be nice be nice be nice’ but he also needs to torment this man like he needs air. So before handing him the very nice favor he did, he can’t stop the jokes escaping. “Actually I played them for a few friends of mine… I was at a birthday party so there were a lot of people weighing in.” The look of horror on Rose’s face, on his mouth, is worth it.  

‘Now that's out of your system, be nice.’ “Just kidding I didn’t play them for anybody,” he says, trying to let the laugh go in attempted controlled breaths instead of barking out. It physically hurts him to reassure this coddled grown man in front of him.  

Ray, with perfect timing, chimes in that he heard a few. Patrick could kiss him, it’s brutal. Rose looks mortally wounded at this. ‘Be nice be nice be nice.’  

“The good thing about the messages is that I was able to get enough information to fill out your forms.” ‘I filled out your paperwork for you based on your nonsense, drug-addled stutters because you’re incompetent. Be nice be nice be nice.’ Patrick hands him the forms. 

“Oh.” Rose doesn’t look appreciative or even surprised that someone just did his work for him. ‘God this is just the worst person.’ “I wish I could remember.” ‘Are you fucking kidding me? Be nice be nice be nice.'

“It’s a good idea. Your business.” Patrick regurgitates what he wrote on the form. He revels in articulating Rose’s own idea better than he could. Even choosing a name for him— “Rose Apothecary. It’s just pretentious enough.” Shit, did he say that part out loud? For the first time, Rose quips back.  

“Would we call that pretentious? or timeless?” Rose breathes the last word like a whisper and something like hatred burns in Patrick’s stomach. ‘Pretentious. For sure so pretentious.’ Patrick smiles. He imagines a world where this man wasn’t so dumb, and they’d have fun sparring with their words a little. But if that’s the best Rose can do, Patrick will work with kid gloves.  

‘Be nice. Get back on his good side. Be nice be nice.’ “So I’ll call you when I hear something. And if I don’t get a hold of you, I’ll just… leave a message.” Patrick has a hard time holding back a laugh as he makes Rose visibly uncomfortable. 

As he’s leaving, Ray helps out with the twist of the knife, “Ciao!”  

Patrick releases a snort as Rose leaves. That interaction was no less thrilling than the first. Dealing with Rose is going to be more fun than he ever imagined. “Man, that guy is a lot!” Patrick says out loud. 

Ray barks out a laugh and launches into the Roses’ story. ‘Right. I’m an outsider and I’m not supposed to know any of this.’ He prattles on about some key events that Patrick already knows, and some that stayed off of the radar. Rose got fired from the grocery store after one day (‘The $56 paycheck’). Rose had a panic attack and lived with the Amish for three days when he thought they were selling the town and it fell through (‘The missing persons report’). Rose worked at Blouse Barn until he didn’t (‘The reason I’m here’). These were welcome confirmations, connections, and elaborations of things Patrick had pieced together.  

One thing the numbers didn’t really elucidate: It sounds like Rose has kind of made himself kind of at home here. That’s the one that surprises Patrick the most. The spoiled brat he’s pictured and met today would still be upset about being in this podunk town, but here he is trying to build something at least semi-permanent. Huh.  

Permanent? ‘The store could be part of a larger Rose family plan to raise the value of the town before they sell it. That would explain the pretentiousness. There’s nothing illegal about that, at least not yet. We’re also in the middle of nowhere, less chance of someone noticing any misconduct. It would be a smart idea to plant roots here.’

Ray segues into the other Roses. Patrick feels like he should be taking notes with all the new information filling the gaps between the numbers. Alexis Rose is getting her high school diploma? This woman who used to almost pride herself on being uneducated has turned a new leaf? Patrick is awed by his favorite Rose. It’s quickly quelled learning of her breaking off an engagement to Ted, the nice and very handsome vet who Patrick watched naked for a full evening. 'Why would she let that go?' That brings her back to the spoiled princess status in Patrick’s mind. ‘Maybe she’s single? ...Am I single?’  

Ray goes on to talk about Johnny, who apparently had a consulting business run out of Bob’s garage? Did it have any revenue? He never filed paperwork. Now he is managing the motel… Wait, he’s managing the motel!? That’s news. Is he getting paid? If so, it’s under the table. Who pays a manager under the table? Rose’s girlfriend Stevie Budd owns the motel. Is there something there? There’s more to investigate here than just the son’s ill-conceived and potentially nefarious business venture, and that’s a huge revelation Patrick might never have gotten from behind his desk.

Ray’s stream-of-consciousness strays from the Roses, now just talking about another motel in Elmdale. Patrick sees an out, ending the conversation more forcefully this time. It’s 3:30. He wants to get Rose’s business approved quickly, anxious to see where this is heading. Typically these business forms would be mailed in and take weeks, but Patrick has strings to pull. With the rest of the afternoon, he drives to the town and then the regional municipal offices to get the necessary signatures.

From his car, he calls his boss and asks her to help out. She agrees, “Let me see what I can do, but we can probably get the field office to handle it by Monday. The quicker this business is set up, the better.” 

“Thanks Linda, I’ll call Rose and let him know.” Patrick loves this sentence. He can now call David Rose. He has things to tell David Rose.

“Actually, what are you up to this weekend?”

“Uhhh,” Patrick stalls. His plan is to call in sick tomorrow to spend the weekend spying on the Roses, but he can’t exactly tell his boss that. “I don’t think I have anything, why?”

“Well you turned in your only other two cases. You know, we wouldn’t assign new ones until Wednesday’s department-wide monthly anyway. Why don’t you stay there and hand the license to Rose in person on Monday?” His entire body shakes. “We’re having some unofficial brainstorming sessions over here and it would be cool if you could get a contact there to stay in touch and keep you posted. This Ray Butani sounds great. Try to build some repute with him over the weekend and get yourself a mole.”

“Yes. Yeah, yes. I agree, what a good idea!” He doesn’t care that he sounds insane. This is the best news. “I’ll try to spend the weekend getting some other leads. I actually got some info this afternoon from Ray just before I left and there’s already a hundred things I want to look into.”

“Well, keep writing them up. If you work over the weekend we can do overtime, or you can just take unofficial days off when you get back to make up for it. Otherwise, try to keep it to 8 hours tomorrow and Monday, and we’ll see you back here on Tuesday if it all shakes out.”

“Amazing. Thanks Linda!” Patrick is shocked to be back in Ray’s driveway and not in a crash on the side of the road with how badly he’s shaking. ‘Tuesday.’ This is one day more than even his secret plan. He won’t waste a sick day, he won’t have to lie to work. He’s glad he packed for 5 days. 

Back from getting the requisite signatures and sending them to his office, it’s now 5:30. Patrick relieves himself for the day. It feels like his first meeting with Rose that morning was 3 days ago. He’s exhausted and can’t handle the emotional toll that would come with leaving the house, so he takes Ray up on the offer to stay for pasta and meatballs and a side of daily gossip. Could his weekly check-ins someday include a call with Ray Butani? He daydreams about it as Ray goes on, but his ears perk up when Ray mentions the Roses again. Alexis was caught cheating in high school today, apparently her dad wrote a paper for her. ‘Of course.’ Patrick laughs, he can’t help himself. “So those adult kids are pretty spoiled huh.” He says, hoping it sounds like part of the conversation.  

“They really have gotten better since being here, but I see what you mean. I showed them an apartment a few months ago, great price, very cute, and they wouldn’t take it just because the previous owner had killed himself there.” Ray’s perpetual smile is a little creepy given the subject matter. 

Patrick laughs again, “Actually don’t blame them too much for that.” They tried to get an apartment. Together? From his research he’s hypothesized that they share their motel room. They must be really close.

Patrick does the dishes from dinner, happy he stayed in for the continued intel that comes out of Ray’s mouth. He thanks him and lets him know he’s going upstairs to watch the baseball game. “Oh, you can watch the Jays game down here, I don’t mind rooting for the home team.”  Patrick’s heart sinks. His poor Brewers will never forgive him. 

“That’s ok Ray I might fall asleep.” And he does. Fifteen minutes after changing into pajamas and putting the Brewers game on, he’s passed out in bed. 

. 

Friday morning Patrick wakes up in Schitt’s Creek for just the second time, but he’s already comfortable staring at his pink walls. He pulls up his phone:  

Rachel 
I assume you got in ok two days ago. 

Patrick winces. He really doesn’t want to respond but...  

Patrick
Yeah sorry things got crazy.
Staying the weekend.

He scrolls to the next message thread.  

Frankie
So I’m not going to get context am I.  

This one seems like he should respond.  

Patrick
Yeah ok so I guess I was really geared up about how well the meeting went like I really threw some low punches at him
I guess it felt really great to be able to do that to his face after all this time
Then I had to go settle my nerves and I guess at some point the excitement about the situation turned into something a lot more specific?
It was how offended his face looked.
Does that make it better?
Then I saw him again later in the afternoon
And dude he left me 11 voicemails.
You gotta call today when you have time, I’m staying the weekend!

With no work appointments for the day, Rose’s business license out of his hands, and exactly zero friends here, Patrick sets out to hit at least one spot on the Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. Walking Tour of Schitt’s Creek.  

He walks to Cafe Tropical, the backdrop for many social media posts and the only eatery in town. A bubbly waitress who Patrick recognizes from social media as Twyla (her name tag confirms and Patrick secretly celebrates his knowledge of this place) tells him to sit anywhere. He chooses the furthest table, wanting to witness this restaurant unfold like a play in front of him. He wants to guess names and listen for gossip. There are a few people already there for breakfast, and Patrick recognizes Jocelyn Schitt, the mayor’s wife, who overshares on Facebook. He knows way too much about her life, her marital problems.  

As Patrick finishes his omelet and moves onto the potatoes, an older couple walks in. The sight stops Patrick’s hand halfway to his mouth. ‘It’s them.’ The unmistakable Johnny and Moira Rose are here for breakfast. They aren’t dressed for this establishment, this town. Moira Rose might be overdressed at the fanciest party Patrick has ever attended. He feels like he’s seeing a celebrity and an old friend at the same time, his heart beating in his ears. He has to stop himself from going to greet them. He looks down to hide his face before realizing they don’t know him.  

‘Oh my god’, they are followed closely by their adult children. Patrick knows he should hide his face from David Rose, who would be the only one here to recognize him, but he doesn’t want to miss a single heartbeat of this scene. Luckily, Rose is animatedly fighting with his sister on the way in. Patrick chuckles to himself. ‘Of course he doesn’t see me, he’s obsessed with his own life.’ He pictured Rose being a lot more relaxed outside of their meetings, and he is a little, but it seems like he’s just a really tense person. He is smiling more today, but never with teeth. The fighting with his sister is playful and they giggle as they approach the table.  

They sit at a table halfway across the room, kids facing away from him (‘Thank God’) and bickering about something. Patrick can’t hear their conversation well enough and seriously considers moving tables closer, but he’s transfixed just watching them and pulling his fork to his mouth with a shaking hand.  

They order food. Where do they get money to pay? Patrick slows his eating. He wants to stay and watch. Twyla comes back to refill his coffee and he makes an effort to look like he’s still enjoying the tiny scraps still on his plate. He thanks her and she smiles at him. Is she the only waitress here? Restaurants are notoriously bad for keeping employees off the books. The service here is very fast for ...how many employees? Patrick shoots a text to his team. 

Patrick
I’m not at my laptop. Cafe Tropical?
They have an employee Twyla.
Anything there? 

Paula
I’m not at work yet but don’t do this to yourself Mac
You’ll shut down every business in that town.  

'She’s right.' Patrick stares back at the Roses. He wishes badly that he could hear anything. 

Smith
Holy shit guys.
Twyla Sands won the lottery.
She is a multimillionaire.  

Patrick’s jaw drops but he quickly recovers and shakes his head in confusion.  

Patrick
??? You have the wrong person
She works as a waitress here.  

Smith
Yeah she’s on the payroll there, minimum wage.
Get this: she declares her cash tips.  

Paula
Fucking no one declares their cash tips.  

Smith
They have one other person on the payroll, George.  

Patrick looks through the kitchen slide-through. There are 3, maybe 4 people back there. Paula’s right. They don’t need an audit just because they live in the same town as the Roses.  

Twyla comes out of the kitchen with a tray of plates, juices, smoothies. It looks heavy. She is strong. Actually, she’s very attractive. Patrick hadn’t really noticed that before. Is this woman secretly sitting on a fortune? The people in the town certainly don’t know; money changes how someone is treated. She would have been bombarded with requests. But she seems so sweet, Patrick likes to imagine she’d happily share. 

She’s heading toward the Roses with the tray. Fuck. The Roses. That’s the whole reason Patrick is here. She places the food in front of them. Johnny and Alexis Rose are surprisingly nice to her, but Moira and David Rose don’t really acknowledge her. Patrick rolls his eyes. David Rose is really the worst of his terrible family. They start eating, too self-involved to notice a stranger watching their every move. ‘This is going to be too easy.’ 

Patrick realizes other people might notice the staring so he looks at his phone. The text thread between Paula and Smith continues, mostly speculation about the lottery winnings, the cafe, Twyla’s insane family's social media and surprising criminal records. He learns the cafe's numbers have been low but consistent for years. After payroll and taxes, they break even every quarter. The owner takes home a little, pays taxes. No one is making a fortune off this place.  

Jocelyn Schitt walks over to the Roses’ table. She delivers good news. She pats Johnny Rose’s shoulder and leaves. David Rose hands his sister something. She holds it up. It’s red, is it a coaster? Like you’d get at a bar? Patrick wants so badly to know everything they’re doing, every single thing they’re saying. He can’t choose which one to focus on, they all have expressive faces and gesticulations. It occurs to him that he could very well work 24/7 if he wants to tail every single move and watch it with this intensity. He has a sense that he missed out by staying home last night. He’s always gotten FOMO, but he’s going to wonder what each one is up to today, tonight, this weekend, next week when he’s back home. The obsessed feeling that he had while stalking David Rose’s history comes back in a wave.  

He breathes to calm down as Twyla unhurriedly brings his check. He knows he’s staying here all weekend and he has time to stare at each one of them. He looks around the room and sees a few other familiar faces from his research. This place feels weird but good, like his hometown after he came back from college. Everything is the same but slightly different than he pictured it.  

He leaves cash on the table for the check and a nice tip, despite how badly Twyla doesn’t need the money. He walks past the Roses’ table on his way out to try to hear just one snippet of their conversation. Johnny is speaking “...and your mother got him to take it down!” He says to no reaction from anyone. Patrick wants to sit and listen in. ‘Patience.’ He realizes David Rose might recognize him if he doesn’t move quickly so he waves at Twyla and walks out into the morning air.  

He hustles back to Ray’s and plops in his bed, overwhelmed with emotion. He feels like he just had that first meeting with David Rose again, nerves frantic, replaying every second of the morning. And this was just breakfast. Lying in bed, eyes closed, he thinks about how great the last two days have been. He is happier than he has been in a long time. He replays yesterday in his head. It feels like forever ago. The meeting, settling in, the hike, the voicemails, the second meeting, running around for the business license, Linda extending his stay, dinner with Ray... Each element filled Patrick’s heart with mirth. 

And back to that first meeting, he thinks about David Rose again. He remembers his private moment after the meeting, finding it a little less humorous. What was that about? Did he really come thinking about David Rose’s mouth? His dick twitched with the memory. He wishes he had some work to do.  

. 

Patrick settles into a weekend getting to know the town. He drives around the motel but is well aware he can’t do anything without an invitation. He regrets not staying there instead of Ray’s. He hikes the same trail every morning. It’s a good routine, and he wishes a hike could be part of his daily routine in his regular life at home. He eats more meals at the cafe, people watching, picking up names he missed. He’s collecting the residents here like baseball cards. 

He drives to the two vendors Rose mentioned in his voicemails. The farms are small and do not have a public store. How did Rose find out about these places? From the outside, they don’t even seem like they are selling anything. Patrick is excited by this mystery. Which of their contacts from pre-repo would buy up farm land in this area to scheme with Johnny Rose? Back at Ray’s, he dives into the owners of those farms to no avail. There’s something here, he’s just not finding it. 

On Saturday at brunch he sees Alexis Rose alone for the first time and realizes it didn’t even really register yesterday at breakfast. He was too busy staring at her brother. What’s that about? He really cares more about this job than about women?  

But now he stares, he can’t help it. She is beautiful. She’s magnetic in her gesticulations and her bubbly laugh seems louder than anything in the room. She touches Twyla’s nose and says a quiet “boop!” as she’s leaving. Patrick thinks about how badly he’d like to earn a boop. He’d like anything from her, any attention at all. He shakes his head and tries to think of all the bad shit she’s done, even recently. Cheating on homework, breaking off an engagement, getting a job from her boyfriend. Before she lived here she traveled the world on her parents’ dime, never once having to work for her lavish lifestyle. His crush subsides. She’s just as bad as the rest of them.  

Though he avoids passing it directly, Patrick makes the general store part of his routine walks. Every time he passes from the other side of the street or the corner, he sees David Rose through the window. His breath always catches at the first glance, the novelty of seeing Rose in person not wearing off. On Friday, Rose is wiping down a wooden display shelf. On Saturday, he is mopping the floor. On Sunday, he is sitting at a laptop with a stack of papers next to him, glancing between the two, focused. That night, Patrick is tempted to go in just to see what the papers are. Rose seems more comfortable by himself. Sometimes he’s suppressing a grin like he’s thinking of something funny. It looks like he’s singing while he’s cleaning. It’s weird, why is he working on a Sunday? Patrick walks by at all different times, why is he always there? This doesn’t match up with the work ethic Patrick had in his head for the man at all.

Huh.

Chapter Text

Monday marks Patrick’s fifth and last day in Schitt’s Creek. He’s now met a couple of people: ‘Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant.’ Jocelyn Schitt gives him mom-vibes as she offers any help she could to the town’s “newest resident”. Ivan the baker sits next to him at the cafe and Patrick is relieved the man doesn’t hate him for squashing his dreams. When he takes the last local newspaper at the cafe, he catches a glare from councilmember Ronnie Lee. Ray continues to be wonderful, and they actually find common conversation topics and laugh a lot. Patrick wants to be friends with him, not just as a mole as Linda envisioned. In fact, Patrick is formulating a more ambitious plan to keep contact with Schitt’s Creek from home.

Patrick writes to update his team and outline the next steps of the plan: Deliver the business license to the store. Do anything possible to earn Rose’s trust as a business person to let him see any numbers. Ask about the start-up money and any family involvement. And, because the weekend here has made Patrick greedy, open a line of communication so they can connect when Patrick gets back to the office. That last one is the new pipe dream Patrick had this weekend: Why stop at a check-in with Ray? Patrick’s stomach somersaults at the prospect of his weekly check-ins including a phone call to David Rose. If he can’t get a conversation today, or if Rose isn’t amenable to him, he is to monitor for other offenses, poke around for any potential schemes of Johnny’s. Patrick almost feels weird writing that he needs to hang out with the Roses, like it’s something fun that shouldn’t be considered work. He feels bad about how much fun he’s having, but watching the Roses operate here is thrilling. 

The plan is pretty open-ended, and very dependent on how today goes. If he gets no intel today, will they still bring him into work tomorrow? How long is too long before his office determines he’s not moving forward? Before they wonder if it’s actually fruitful? Patrick doesn’t really care, he actually hopes they’ll let him stay longer. This is already the greatest experience of his life and he hasn’t even had a big break in the case yet.  

Well, kind of. There is a pretty big break in the case, but Patrick neglects to report Johnny Rose’s potential business connection to the motel, a little embarrassed he missed that in his research. He also has a weird, unexplainable intuition that he needs to hold that information to himself. For now.

Mid-morning, David Rose’s business license comes in and Patrick drives to the regional clerk to pick it up. They were impressed with how quickly it got done, telling him it usually takes weeks. ‘Another handout to the Rose family because of their name.’ He’s almost tempted to make Rose wait for it but Patrick has a time crunch. The clerk explains the licenses usually are issued framed, but they don’t have any frames on hand for the expedited order. So Patrick stops and buys a frame to make it look more official, head off any comparison Rose might make with other business owners. He thinks it would be funny to pick one that he knows Rose will hate. There’s an orange flowery one… but no, it needs to look official. Still, he forgoes the matte black he thinks Rose would have chosen and opts for a tacky fake silver.  

With the business license in hand and plan in place, Patrick checks his reflection in the nice bathroom at Ray’s. His new work outfit of jeans will make it hard to go back to suits. He thinks he looks ok but he’s interacting with Rose again today, and the man cares about appearances more than anyone he’s ever met.

. 

Entering the store he’s been spying on all weekend, Patrick is met face-to-face with Alexis Rose. He can’t help smiling with delight when she looks directly at him. She is gorgeous, and it’s not just her features. Her hypnotic mannerisms add to it. It takes him a minute to realize she is talking to him, something about how they’re (‘“We’re” ... is she involved with the store?’) not open yet and, “... we have been working very hard.” Patrick laughs to himself and thinks a very sarcastic ‘oh, ok.’  

Patrick starts to explain himself. “I’m actually not here to shop. I’m Patrick.” Again, too nervous to say his last name out loud, afraid to screw it up. Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. “I’m just dropping off David’s business license.” As he speaks, he realizes he can’t hand it to her with his shaking hand, opting to place the framed license on the counter to free up his hands. 

She introduces herself, “I am Alexis.” ‘I know, I think you’re the love of my life.’ She says her name like it’s a brand and points to her ‘A’ necklace like it’s a logo. “I am currently studying business…. and I’m David’s sister and life coach.” She’s in high school in her 30s, how is that “studying business”? And her brother’s life coach? He can’t tell if she’s serious. Again, funny if it’s a joke. Funnier if she’s serious.  

They shake hands and Patrick hopes he isn't sweating as he puts on a charming smile. His heart is beating hard in his chest with the thrill of Alexis Rose’s hand. All the tabloids, the paparazzi photos, the social media posts from her life come rushing into his mind. She is so much more beautiful in person, holding— shaking his hand. ‘Get it together, Mac.’   

Well, no. She’s fully holding his hand. She offers her other hand too, adding it to the handshake, apologizing for her hands being too soft? What a backhanded thing to say, so vain, but then she “blames” the products behind her and... 'Damn. She’d be great in sales.' Patrick thinks he’d buy just about anything from her. She’s making flirty eye contact and everything.

Wait but… is she actually flirting? ‘Frankie joked about it but is she interested in me?’ No one has hit on Patrick since... ever. Rachel didn’t even hit on him, he asked her out first. Other flings just sort of fell into place. But here is maybe the world’s most beautiful woman, Alexis Rose, undeniably flirting with him. ‘She probably flirts with everyone.’ 

Still, he allows himself to get a little lost in it. Alexis is prancing around the store, showing him everything as if it’s her own. It’s solidifying Patrick’s opinion that the family works as a team in their financial endeavors. ‘It’ll make it sweet when they all go down together.’ He can’t keep the smile off his face. She is dragging him around, letting him sample some products, rubbing lotion on his hands? Ok now she is definitely flirting. She suddenly has a scarf that she wraps around his neck as he rests his weight against the counter, her eyes scanning his face. Time stands still as they both lean in.  

‘Are you about to make a move on Alexis Rose?? What are you doing!? You are at work!! Keep it to flirting!’ He averts his eyes, knowing if he had just moved in he could be kissing Alexis Rose right now. His brain is right, of course, but he’s kicking himself internally. She is undeterred and continues to tie him up in the scarf. “Uhp, you might be tying it a little tight,” he flirts as she brushes his cheek with the scarf. He could live in this moment forever…. or until her eyes dart to something behind him. 

It’s her brother. Patrick’s heart stops as they make eye contact for the first time since Thursday. His breath gets caught in his throat. Sure, he’s watched Rose alone working in the store all weekend but here he is, staring directly at Patrick. Patrick feels briefly embarrassed about the compromising position he’s in with Rose’s sister, but he won’t be deterred. Patrick is ready to earn some trust.  

Rose informs Patrick the scarf Alexis has put on him is cat hair. ‘Shit, I’m allergic to cats. Also... a cat hair scarf? What the fuck? Who is going to buy this?’ 

No greeting at all. Not just unprofessional, but a rude social error. These people have not just been coddled by their family, but society as well.  

Patrick points out the lack of greeting. “Hi!” ‘Why am I out of breath?’ “I’m just dropping off your business license.” He realizes that he’s also not in the most professional position either, wrapped in a scarf, leaned up against the counter with Rose’s sister. However, he doesn’t want to ruin his shot with Alexis, if he has one, and if Rose doesn’t put any stock in professionalism, it’s not going to hurt if Patrick doesn’t either. He still should switch gears now that Rose is here ready to talk. He puts a pause on flirting, or maybe he can do both. “And uh… activating my allergies.” He looks at Alexis to giggle at the joke.  

“Oh, in that case you should probably take that off. Like, now.” Rose snips, like ordering people around is second nature. It works on Patrick as he complies without a second thought. He steps forward to put the scarf back with the rest and hears Alexis.  

“Isn’t that the sweetest thing, he framed it?” Shit. The frame was just supposed to make it look more official.  

“It is very sweet, thank you Patrick.” Though they are nice words in theory, the tone is flat, he says it without looking appreciative, just staring at the license in his hands.  

“Actually, they all come framed.”  

“Oh thank god. Because I was just thinking, this frame is a little too corporate for my brand.” Patrick’s brain does a fist pump. ‘Nailed it.’

Alexis tells Rose that her next flirtatious move is to sample a Mennonite cologne on Patrick. ‘Mennonite? Ray said Rose spent some time with them... or was it the Amish?’ She looks at Patrick with sultry eyes. He could get used to— “That’s not a sample!” Rose breaks Patrick from the spell, raising his whiny voice at his sister. “And you’ve sampled half the store at this point. We still need to sell all this stuff.” 

Rose is making a good point. Also, “...all this stuff…” As they bicker, Patrick looks around. There’s a lot of inventory here for a store that hasn’t opened yet. A perfect opportunity to earn some business trust and fish a little. Patrick brings up the excessive quantity. “There’s a lot of stuff in here, David. You don’t want to spend too much money up front.” ‘Ok now segue to the start-up money.’

Alexis agrees and takes the opportunity to move to Patrick’s side, like they’re a team. She contributes nothing, “Yeah, David, that is like.. Not good.” ‘Glad she’s been studying business for that retort.’

“You have to be prepared to survive a whole year without making any profit.” Patrick quotes, channeling his MBA. ‘Come on tell me how much money you have saved up.’

“Actually the textbooks now say 18 months.” Patrick tries his best poker face as Alexis backs him up with an actual true contribution from actual textbooks, kind of correcting Patrick. ‘Wait... is she actually smart? The best Rose.’ Patrick smiles internally, trying to look engaged in the conversation while calculating ways to replicate the moment with the scarf to make it end much differently. 

“Well, what are the textbooks saying about curating a selection of products from local vendors and selling them on consignment in a one-stop-shop retail environment, that benefits the vendor and the customer?” Luckily Rose is looking dead at Alexis as he says it because Patrick fails his best poker face. Is David Rose retorting with an actual response, in an actual sentence, even if it’s regurgitating the language from the business proposal Patrick himself had written? ‘Wait is he actually smart? Did he study the business proposal? What the fuck is going on?’ This conversation does not match the picture of these siblings in his mind. 

“I stand corrected.” Patrick blurts out. He hates himself for instinctively hearing the correct answer and ceding the point, but it’s probably for the best not to insult in this moment. In fact, there’s a good way to segue to the books right now. “Listen, if you need help, I’m happy to help.” ‘Let me see those vendor contracts, your start-up budget, inventory lists, anything.’ 

“Why? Alexis is here helping.” Rose says sarcastically. Patrick carefully holds back a genuine laugh at Alexis’s expense. ‘Is he funny? I guess he knows his sister is lazy.’  

“Well no, if Patrick wants to move all the boxes, I think we should let him.” What the fuck? Is she so used to people volunteering their manual labor so she doesn’t have to lift a finger? Or does she want to keep hanging out? 

“Uhh Is that what I offered?” It’s not really the kind of help he had in mind. She’s standing awfully close to him, though, and he doesn’t want to disappoint her and… ‘Fuck it’s working.’

“Ok well thank you, Patrick.” Rose is rudely taking him up on an offer he didn’t make. He’s stuck now.

“You’re welcome.” Alexis says, as if Patrick is hers to loan out. He’d love to be hers.  

As Patrick moves to follow her instructions, Rose clearly knows what just happened, but doesn’t stop it. He gives Patrick a tiny smirk as if to say ‘You’re welcome’ for letting him hang out with his sister. Patrick maneuvers around Rose who, once again, doesn’t move out of the way as Patrick walks toward him. ‘This guy is so rude, he really thinks he’s the center of the universe.’ Patrick turns back to Alexis with a smile that he hopes says ‘looks like we’ll get to hang out longer.’ 

.

Patrick is eager to help in any capacity that keeps him around. The longer he’s in the store, the better. If he can’t look at any numbers, at least he can hope Rose will just let something slip and work on earning some trust, building a rapport he can take back home. He could stay here all afternoon, this is literally his job.  

Patrick can be charming if necessary and it appears to be necessary to keep up with these people. Still, he doesn’t have to say much. Their quick banter is addictive to watch. That realization pulls him right back to Earth: these are his suspects. This is the case he’s worked for years of his life. ‘Get your head together, Mac. You’re not here to have fun.’ 

But it’s hard not to have fun. The siblings seem to hate each other as much as he hates them. They both seem to know how privileged, vain, vapid, and deeply selfish the other is, failing to see it in themselves. They try to embarrass each other with stories about their past life, some of which he recognizes from his research, some he doesn’t. They don’t seem to care who he is. He could be an undercover operative from the government, sent to spy on them, for all they know. Patrick is glad he didn’t spend any time creating an elaborate backstory. No one has asked him anything. 

He isn’t sure how he can find the invite to stay and keep talking to them. He keeps noticing more and more boxes. This is a lot of inventory. Where is all of this coming from? If the vendors provided them for free and they’d be reimbursed when the product has been sold on consignment, why are they trusting Rose with so much, so far ahead of the launch? Are his parents footing the vendors or customers like his galleries? How would they have the money to do that? It’s fishy. Patrick needs to find a way to look at a number, so he stays around without an invite. He’s lifting boxes, moving furniture, moving it again when Rose changes his mind, moving it again when Alexis Rose tells him to, eventually catching on that she might actually just want to watch him lift things. He’s not complaining.   

As the siblings tell stories and trade barbs, Patrick holds his tongue and remains pretty quiet. He’s still in shock about how much fun it is to witness that he doesn’t say much. They’re doing a good enough job roasting each other, and they don’t seem to mind if he laughs. But about an hour in, Alexis Rose tells a story about Rose’s misguided attempt to hook up at the Victoria’s Secret annual holiday party. It concluded with Rose striking out and having to spend the whole night eating caviar and only staring at beautiful women. “I’m shocked he lived to tell such a harrowing tale. Were there any survivors?” The siblings look at him. ‘Shit! I said that out loud?’ Alexis laughs genuinely in a way he hasn’t heard from her. Rose looks away, one eyebrow quirked and lips pursed to the side. It’s not an offended expression, but Patrick can’t read it. 

After that, Patrick gets a little more comfortable with how they interact, and he can’t help but play with the siblings. To his surprise, they’re happy to hear it. He realizes he can fully insult them to their faces and that’s just how they talk. He’s saying things he’s thought for years and never thought he’d get a chance to say. He’s calling them spoiled, insulting their work ethic, their professionalism, their family. They both laugh at their own expense. The whole conversation is surreal. It’s both so far from what Patrick had pictured and yet exactly the same.

Alexis eventually leaves, not having helped a lot. She blesses Patrick with a “boop,” so he can die happy. Once she is safely out the door, Rose turns to Patrick inquisitively, like he’s asking why he didn’t leave with her. “I’m sorry she volunteered you for all this,” he gestures around. “Usually her courtship doesn’t include as much manual labor. You can go, I’ll put in a good word.” 

Patrick laughs. ‘Busted.’ “It’s fine.” He wants to change the subject and he wants to stay helping in the store. He needs Rose to know he’s not just here for his sister, though she’s a perk. “It seems like you two are really close,” but Rose laughs meanly at that sentiment.  

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought you were in the room this whole time.” He seethes sarcastically. Patrick gets the sense that they like to pretend to hate each other, but he’s pretty sure they still share a motel room. If they’re still willingly spending time together outside of that room, then it’s probably because they do actually love each other.  

Patrick continues to help in the store, assembling some flat-pack furniture next. He still hasn’t found an opening to talk about the books; there’s not a lull in the conversation. It turns out they have a common favorite conversation topic: David Rose doesn’t mind talking about himself and nothing but himself. He’s confirming things Patrick has seen on paper, connecting dots, and Patrick makes a list of things he needs to add to the David Rose file. 

Rose just assumes Patrick knows their whole life story. Patrick does know their whole life story, maybe better than they do, but the assumption is self-centered and gross. Rose tells him about his galleries in New York, describing out-of-touch avant-garde nightmare performance art. Patrick bites his tongue, wanting to ask if he knows his parents bought his career for him. They talk about Rose Video and Patrick bites his tongue at the identifiable detail that he worked at one. That’s part of Patrick McDuklorpen’s backstory. Not Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. In fact, no one has asked anything about Patrick’s backstory. Rose hasn’t asked Patrick one question about himself, which speaks volumes.

Rose laments the designer clothes he lost in the repossession. Patrick’s heart leaps at the mention of that day. He remembers those clothes. He wants to say he was there when it happened, ask if he recognizes him, rub it in Rose’s stupid face that he’s the one responsible. The schadenfreude he felt years ago still burns like it was yesterday as Rose talks about the empire's collapse. A small, new voice in his head sees the human face in front of him, grieving a real loss. Patrick shakes himself out of that sympathy. ‘Ok so they have to live like humans, big deal.’ 

Patrick refrains from 90% of the things he wants to say, but some insults and disparaging comments still make it out. Rose’s face makes it worth it. He tries to look offended but almost smiles when Patrick berates him. ‘What is that about? I’m being mean to you.’ If the sibling dynamic is anything to go by, Rose clearly doesn’t mind being roasted.  

In fact, that’s the biggest surprise, and the worst part about all this: David Rose is funny. Patrick hates to admit it but they have the same sense of humor. When Alexis was there, Rose was sure to insult her work ethic and spoiled vanity. But without her, that becomes self-depreciation, saying identical mean things about himself. He sees how privileged he is, and he hates it. The jokes he’s making are funny and Patrick is laughing at him. But also with him? He’s dramatic and catastrophises everything, and he doesn’t seem to mind when Patrick laughs at an overreaction. They lose track of time talking and laughing and working.  

The sun starts to set. Rose doesn’t seem to be slowing his work at all. Patrick doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, but he still doesn’t see the opportunity to get a hand on any number. Plus, he’s actually having a great time. Being in the store feels like the right place to be. The conversation, solely about David Rose and his family pre-Schitt’s Creek, flows smoothly. Patrick doesn’t have to ask many leading questions, just react and briefly comment. It’s a theme of a lot of his conversations in this town: Patrick is having fun trying to bridge the gaps in the clues he has on paper. Rose doesn’t talk about his life here after they lost everything. He doesn’t mention his girlfriend Stevie Budd or Alexis’s love life here. No Blouse Barn or grocery store stories. Nothing new. He’s living in the past.

Out of nowhere, Patrick stops dead in his tracks to see the sky outside is darkened. He looks down at the box of jars he just moved. He has no idea what time it is. He hasn’t looked at his phone since he got here.  

‘What the fuck am I doing? I’ve been moving boxes and putting up shelves all day and laughing and talking with David Rose. David Rose, who I’ve hated for years. Whose downfall was my doing. He is here, in front of me, and I am laughing and smiling and helping? Not arresting him? 

‘I need to regroup. I need a plan. The groundwork is set now; we know each other.’ Patrick knows he won’t be able to come up with a plan here, with David Rose being a perfectly normal, amiable human being. It’s definitely after 5, too late to call a team meeting to brainstorm. Patrick can’t get a good sense on whether or not there’s anything shady with this business from outside of the books. He thinks he’d be able to contact Rose from home now but he’d like another day to earn the trust, would his team allow it? Should he be driving back right now to be in the office tomorrow morning?  

He must look like he’s calculating risk in his head.  

“…Earth to Patrick Brewer.” ‘Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant.’ Patrick jerks his head up to see the man standing too close to him. “Oh my god! go home! You’ve been too nice today, I don’t think you needed to do all of this as Ray’s assistant.” 

“Business consultant,” Patrick Brewer corrects sternly. ‘Learn the titles of the Help.’ 

“Business consultant.” Rose repeats back in a sarcastic, breathy whisper, turning away slightly. The half-smirk that was previously reserved for Patrick’s insults makes an appearance. ‘I’m sorry, is he making fun of -me- now?’ All day was spent at the siblings' offense, they didn't know enough about him to take any jabs at him. But now? Patrick takes stock of the whispered words, the smirk and the mouth making them. It’s a tiny pursed lip, pushed slightly to the side. A wave of… something hits Patrick’s lower abdomen. Patrick is suddenly breathless and filled with nerves. 

He gets a flashback from last week’s weird masturbation and he feels his face flush. ‘Oh. I gotta get out of this store.’ Patrick makes quick work of leaving. Rose announces he’ll be staying longer. “I’ll tell Alexis that you stayed, I’m sure she'll ‘thank you’ later.” 

“Uhh.. yeah.” Patrick doesn’t know what to do with that. “Call me if you need help. Have a good night.” 

On the street to walk home, Patrick pulls the phone out of his pocket for the first time since arriving at the store. 7:15. He spent 8 hours in the store with no break, no food, and didn’t notice it. 4 new texts. 1 missed call from his boss.  

Rachel
Any idea when you’ll be back? You said the weekend, haven’t heard anything.  

Linda
Tried emailing and calling you, everything ok? Video call tomorrow morning.  

‘Ok good.’ He’s staying here tonight, he’ll wake up in Schitt’s Creek again tomorrow. 

Frankie  
good luck seeing the mouth today ;) keep me posted
Seriously did you fall in?

That message was 7 hours after the first. Patrick smiles but the split second arousal from David Rose’s mouth today was much less humorous than it was last week. It freaks Patrick out. There’s no adrenaline he can blame this time. Sure, Patrick was excited but that’s been his base emotion since arriving in this town. No, this is something a little less excusable without the other factors. It’s weird, Alexis has the same mouth. Why didn’t it happen when she pulled him close by the scarf, when the intention was actually romantic? He looked at her mouth. He felt excited, but why didn’t he feel anything like that? The breathy, sarcastic words “Business consultant.” echo around Patrick’s mind. 

Patrick
I noticed it again today
It sort of freaked me out
But Alexis Rose flirted with me? Like hard. 
Like put a scarf on me and pulled.
I could have kissed her.
I’m working, right? I can’t actively be making out with anyone right? 
Am I single? 
Have you talked to Rachel? 

Frankie
Noticed what? 
The mouth? 
Do you want to be single? 
For which sibling?? 

Patrick looks at the last text. Last week they were joking a little about a funny weird gay thought Patrick had. Now Frankie is earnestly asking him his feelings about a guy. On top of that, it’s all funny to joke about hooking up with your suspects but today it became a very real possibility with Alexis throwing himself at him. He needs to get it together.  

Patrick 
I guess I have a lot to think about haha

.

He plops down on his bed at Ray's, starting his nightly masturbation ritual. It’s a little early but he can’t help it, he has to settle something tonight. He’s done his best not to think about Rose in these nightly private moments since the first time, kind of weirded out by the effect on him, but there are some things to be sorted out now. The constant drum of excitement from just being here, interacting with the Roses, is tapering slightly. It’s making it easier to think objectively.  

So he experiments with his imagination. Alexis is attractive. He thinks about her wrapping the scarf around him, staring deep at each other’s faces, kicking himself for using his stupid work-brain. He rides a small wave of arousal with his hand. Ok, that’s normal. Maybe he’ll try to get her number. ‘Am I even single?’ His mind wanders to Rachel. If she were here she’d be kissing his neck or stroking his thigh to “help out”. He never really pictured anything in his head whenever they did that, he just chased the feeling of his hand and whatever she was offering.

Not like the other day, when his memory very clearly brought him the vision of David Rose’s mouth. Tonight, he allows himself to think about it again. And sure enough, it’s the most exciting of the images he conjured. He tightens the grip on his cock. 

But tonight it’s not because he was amped up about the meeting. It’s not just the mouth either. He’s thinking about the smirk and the laugh and the whole face that comes with it, the snarky, sarcastic, funny way he breathed “Business Consultant” when Patrick corrected him. And quickly, for the second time in a week, Patrick is thinking about David Rose’s face to completion.  

This post-nut clarity is different. It’s not a revelation like the first time, it’s a resignation. The thought of David Rose is doing something for him. He lays there for a while, trying to think of what to do.

Patrick
Hey so great news, just jerked off to the wrong Rose sibling again.
Do I have to have weird uncomfortable conversations yet or is it still normal? 

Frankie
There’s no right Rose sibling
And every conversation about you jerking off is uncomfortable

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. People have weird thoughts all the time. It’s probably just because he’s spent so much time looking at that face on screens that seeing it in real life is messing with his psyche. It might be his body’s subconscious desire to see this man taken to justice. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday morning, after sending his team a long summary of his day with the Roses, Patrick sits in his car for a video meeting. He carefully crafts his analysis to suggest he needs more time. He categorizes his trust-building mission as “underway”, but notes that without proper access to the numbers, he can’t make assessments. Building trust up to that point will be difficult without making a power move. It’s a larger meeting, not just his normal team, so he asks for suggestions.  

One coworker suggests he offer free help with the books, a courtesy for new businesses in town. One says be honest, say you’re from the feds and want to help him. Paula thinks they can keep in touch already, if Rose is this incompetent he’ll ask for help with the books on his own. Smith jokingly suggests he invest in the business and become a partner, stay there, settle down. Everyone laughs. Patrick gets it, he’s been here almost a week with nothing to show for it. Patrick thinks about that. 

“Weirdly enough, I think you’re onto something. What if I apply for some small business ‘grants’” —he uses air quotes, hoping everyone knows he means fake grants— “and get money for the company. It puts me on as a business partner but means I can skip town scot-free, thanks Smith. If it’s not my own money, I don’t appear to have a stake. Then, as a former business partner, they’re more likely to call me when I return to the office like Paula said. Keep in touch, keep an eye on everything.” 

“That plan would have you asking this agency to invest in David Rose’s money laundering company?” Linda treads carefully.  

“I could also just apply for the actual grants, but that takes time and I think we all want me out of Schitt’s Creek as soon as possible.” Patrick responds to laughter.  

“Speak for yourself, I already took your desk.” Smith jokes. ‘Jokes, right?’ 

Linda sighs. “Get me an actual proposal here, let’s see what we can do.” 

The moment the red button is pressed to hang up, Patrick never worked faster to put together a proposal. By noon, he’s made a case for the cash to go to the business. 

He checks his email to find a message from Paula:  

"It’s so unlikely they’re approving any such proposal, it’s not even funny. So I went ahead and applied for this large grant at my friend’s organization. She looked at the business proposal and said it’s practically in the bag. This is the exact kind of business they look for, that it would probably win in a normal application process, so she’ll fast-track it through. She’d even expedite it for us if it gets approved. I told her the circumstances, that they’d need to hold off on publicly announcing the store as a winner until it’s cleared legally, but we’ll be able to refund the money through the repo if the business isn’t kosher. I ran it by Linda and she said if this is the strategy we want, this is a better option than department money. —Paula"

He responds with enthusiastic appreciation. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding all day. The potential plan means he could be here until the store opens. Patrick doesn’t know Rose’s timeline for a launch date, but regardless Patrick is thrilled. If approved, he’d be working his favorite case full time from this town where his teeth shake with excitement. 

If he’s a trusted business partner he could see whatever number he wants. He could hear every plan there is for the business. A business partner would go to work there every day, and Patrick’s stomach squeezes with the idea. That feeling from yesterday, working with David Rose and losing track of time while listening for clues? That could be every day. 

In the real world, Patrick McDuklorpen would never go into business with David Rose. The idea is laughable— Rose is incompetent. His family’s history with money and the law is terrible. He knows nothing about running a store. But Schitt’s Creek Patrick? Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant.? might do it just to spend more time with David Rose.  

He doesn’t know how he’ll sit still while waiting for answers. The business has to win the grant money before Patrick can put through a proposal to stay, so he has to wait for word from Paula before any next step. But Patrick itches against the desk chair in Ray’s thankfully-vacant living room. The hideous wall clock says 12:07pm. ‘How am I supposed to just wait around for answers?’ He knows Rose is out there at the store, hard at work, potentially scheming. 

He gets a really stupid idea. Idiotic, really. Narrow-minded, unrelentingly ignorant. Naive. 

But fuck it. 

.

Patrick walks to the store, terrible plan in tow. He doesn’t have a grant yet. He’s sure to be rejected money from the department. He doesn’t even know if this is the strategy his team wants. But Patrick is walking to Rose Apothecary to offer his business partnership, what could be a grave error in strategy.  

Frankie
Are you seeing the Roses again today?

Patrick
Actually I’m about to do something stupid
Wish me luck 

Standing outside the store watching David Rose, Patrick considers what he really wants here. He has other options, strategies his team considered. But Patrick has to admit at this point, he wants to stay here in Schitt’s Creek to see this happen, not watch through a computer screen or even a sporadic phone call. He wants to witness it in person. Whether David Rose is failing upward, taking advantage of the system again, or burning another business to the ground, Patrick has to be here for it. 

This morning he proposed throwing department money at what is, at best, a private small business and, at worst, a money laundering enterprise run by known criminals. The nearsightedness is uncharacteristic of him. He’s embarrassed he even submitted the proposal. He usually thinks through every facet of a problem, that’s why he’s so good at his job. His hatred for the Roses is making him reckless. 

He justifies this latest reckless plan. The goal is to look at the books. This plan satisfies both his need to be constantly drowning in the Rose family AND getting to see the numbers. Against his better judgement, which is currently unavailable anyway, he pulls on the door.  

Rose is struggling with his arms full of an electronic receipt machine. He looks surprised to see Patrick. “Uh-oh. I take it you’re here to tell me that my business license has been revoked?” His face is a little horrified, which Patrick loves. ‘Can we please not catalog any more looks to jerk off to today?!’ 

“No, no you’re all good.” ‘Except your spoiled ass got it three weeks before schedule.’ 

Rose looks around, trying to figure out what else would summon Patrick, landing on a pretty good second guess. “Well my sister’s not here, so...” This poor guy has probably been chosen second to his sister a lot. ‘He needs to know I’m here for the store, only.’ 

“I’m not here for your sister.”

Rose breathes a small “Okay.” with a stifled smile. ‘Was that relief? Why did he say it like that?’ The breathy word catches Patrick off-guard. ‘Why does this man breathe-speak so often? And yikes, yeah, I guess we are cataloging things.’

“You know, I’ve been thinking about all this,” Patrick gestures around, beginning his prepared speech. “These products that Alexis was showing me yesterday are actually really impressive, and the model is actually really sustainable.” ‘The model that I wrote up for you. That I fixed for you.’ “But I think you’re going to need more start-up money.” Patrick revels in breaking this news to Rose, who up until Patrick helped take everything, had never heard those words before.  

“Oh! More start-up money.” Rose is almost sarcastic and Patrick wants to laugh with him. “And where do you think I’ll get that money?” This is spoken like someone who has faced financial hardship. Patrick feels a kindred spirit? to one of the wealthiest people he has ever met for lacking vast troves of cash.  

Patrick launches into the grants, but is Rose even paying attention? He’s holding some electronic receipt machine and has been acting baffled by it this entire conversation. Patrick doesn’t know if he’s listening, and he keeps trying to meet Rose’s distracted gaze. ‘Someone is trying to talk to you, make you a life-changing offer, you need to look at them.’

He knows he’s putting the cart before the horse. Even if Paula’s friend doesn’t come through, they can apply for grants in other places, do it the old fashioned way. It would take longer than his department will let him stay, but it’ll make David Rose show some patience. He also needs numbers to apply for those grants, which Rose will have to turn over. Patrick explains he’ll help with the applications. 

When Patrick finishes, Rose looks him in the eyes. He doesn’t look appreciative, he looks surprised. “Well that is very generous.” 

Patrick hates that David Rose thinks he's generous, “Well I wouldn’t be doing it for free.” Rose stills, confused. ‘That’s fair. I wasn’t clear.’ “If the grants came through, you’d have the money to start paying me.” Patrick clarifies. This is the part Rose needs to understand, that Patrick would be part of this team. Rose is speechless, and he still looks surprised, wondering why this random man is coming in with this generous offer. That’s fair. 

Patrick needs Rose to trust him and get him off that train of thought. Flattery time. “I really think you have something here, David. You just need some help.” And Patrick can’t help himself because the compliment tastes terrible on his lips, “...you need a LOT of help.” Rose is appropriately offended, making Patrick’s day.  

Just kidding. The highlight of his day is Rose’s carte blanche acceptance of the plan. Is this too good to be true? ‘Does he know that means you'll be looking at the books? Soon, actually, in order to view the budget for the grants. You need to make it clear that you’re the business brains here and he is the… bird-brain.”

They take a beat to look at each other. 

‘Well,’ Patrick admits to himself, thinking of all the reasons he abandoned his high-school dream of owning his own business, ‘I wouldn’t have been able to pick a business. Or cared to paint and get matching furniture. So he’s the aesthetic brain.’ More flattery. Patrick needs to compliment Rose’s aesthetic, then Rose will compliment his business acumen, and the roles will be set out. He tries to find words to compliment something in the room, but complimenting David Rose is not coming easily to Patrick. He’d almost rather insult himself than compliment Rose. ‘So just tell him you know nothing about design and would need to do the businessy part.’

Patrick starts, “In the interest of us potentially working together, I did want to uh.. to come clean about something...”  How does he phrase this? Even downplaying his own shortcomings is turning out to be hard. How do you tell someone who only values aesthetic that you have no aesthetic value? His eyes focus on the frame he picked out. ‘Maybe I can make him say it…’

“I actually picked out that frame…” 

“Oh.” Rose puts on a smug smile to talk down to Patrick. “Well thank you for making it clear I’ll be making the creative decisions for the store. I guess you can handle all the business stuff.” ‘Fuck yes.’ The clouds disappear. This is the perfect sentence.  

“Um... you do know if the grant money doesn’t come in then I wont...” Rose starts.  

Patrick starts to tell him about Paula’s friend, “Oh, I’m gonna get the money—” he stops short. 'What the fuck am I doing??' His head doesn't get the abrupt stop and keeps just bobbing like an idiot. Leaving those words hanging, it sounds like he’s really confident or incredibly sure of himself. Patrick hasn't had such a close call. 'Maybe I'm not cut out for this.'

Rose is agape again, clearly struck by the perceived confidence, and gives him another breathy, smiled “Okay…” ‘and wow yeah another for the catalog.’ Patrick feels flush.  

He takes over the receipt machine his new business partner has been wrestling. It’s actually pretty simple, Rose is just inept. Rose allows the help and disappears into the back room, leaving Patrick alone to spiral. He briefly skims over how reckless this all was, how unprepared he was, how many mistakes he just made. Why would Rose allow Patrick to take control of the “business stuff” if there are going to be shady business practices? Why did he answer him so quickly if his father is involved? Patrick gulps in front of the register. After that quick answer this is looking less like a case. ‘Well at least I didn’t put through the proposal to stay yet.’

Rose comes back onto the floor a few minutes later looking exhausted. He leans on the counter perpendicular to Patrick, arms crossed in front of him. “Ok. Honesty hour,” he announces and Patrick gulps again, looking over at him cautiously. ‘Here come personal questions. You are Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. without a backstory. Think before you speak.’  Rose throws his head back, wincing hard like he’s going to say something big. ‘No, he just called his dad who berated him for his stupidity. He’s going to turn down the offer.’ 

“I’ve just been working so hard here.” Rose finally continues, gesturing around the store. Patrick silently agrees after seeing Rose here basically nonstop for days. “It’s hard to throw yourself into a project and it feels so vulnerable? I’m glad if I have backup...” he gestures at Patrick “...but I also need to know I can do it on my own.” His eyes are still closed, and he’s not looking at Patrick when he opens them. While Patrick runs through possible outcomes and possible responses, Rose walks out to the front of the counter, distancing himself from Patrick a little bit. He leans on the center table and picks up a jar to fiddle with.

“There's stuff you should probably know,” Rose stares at the jar in his hands intently, clearly wrestling with how to frame his next sentence. ‘This is a confession! That this isn’t a real business? That you’ll be funneling in money from illegal revenue sources? That your start-up money was stolen? Or at least from an undeclared windfall?’ As Patrick’s mind races and his breath comes in short gasps, Rose continues, his voice quiet and pained, “I told you about my business in New York, but I didn’t tell you that my parents bought all of my clients.” 

‘Ah.’ Patrick tries to figure out what emotion he is supposed to have here. Shock? Sadness? Rose doesn’t care and just wants to keep talking, self-absorbed. He continues, “My mom told me just before I got the lease here. Apparently on top of all the start-up money, they were paying people to buy the art.” 

Patrick had speculated about those transactions. This is a big moment for the numbers-to-reality fabric he’s been weaving. Rose wasn’t aware his success was bought. He hears the words “start-up money” for the first time and can’t even do anything about it. “I’m sorry, David. That’s a huge betrayal of trust.” Patrick feels a ping of sympathy, knowing he’s about to do the same exact thing. One of the pillars of Patrick’s disdain for the Rose kids was the unfettered consumption of their parents’ funds. But here Rose is, saying he was betrayed by that same exact thing, that he was an unwilling recipient of that help, at least in his professional life. And here Patrick is, about to fund his endeavor in largely the same way, again without his knowledge. Patrick would feel vengeance if what he had just admitted weren’t so sad.  

As they work that day it’s pretty quiet. That’s not great for a fact-finding mission, but Patrick feels good enough about his progress. Around 3 o’clock he looks at his phone for the first time since he walked in. 1 missed call, 2 new texts, 1 email marked urgent.  

Frankie
Good luck doing something stupid!
Is David Rose the something stupid? 

The urgent email is a rejection of his proposal to fund the store with agency money. ‘Duh. What a stupid idea to begin with,’ Patrick rides a wave of embarrassment. The missed call is from Paula. He excuses himself from the store and stands on the sidewalk outside to call her back.  

“Hi Patrick! How’s undercover life?” 

“You can’t start a conversation like that Paula! Are you crazy? What if you were on speaker phone?”

“You called me, idiot.”

“Still.” 

“Anyway I just thought you’d want to hear from your new best friend because she got your grant money.” Patrick smiles broadly. He catches Rose looking at him from inside and quickly resolves his face.  

“That’s great news Paula! I just told Rose that we were going to get the—” 

“You told him before you told the team? The plan needs to get approved.”  

Patrick winces. “Yeah... it felt right in the moment and that's why I’m on the ground here, to gauge things in real time.” 

“What if I didn’t get the grant money?” 

“Well, good thing you did and now we never have to talk about it ever again because we’re in business.” Patrick relies on an old favorite trick to squash a line of questioning.  

“You’re welcome, Patrick. You owe me a big one.”  

“The taxpayers thank you Paula. They owe you a big one.” He hangs up and gathers himself. 

He’s proud of how he handled the line of questioning but still feels so stupid. He took a giant risk that morning, and it played out well so far, but he hadn’t gotten his department’s approval. That heartfelt conversation indicated that money laundering might not be the primary goal of this operation, but maybe Rose isn’t in charge here. Maybe he was trying to warn Patrick that Johnny would try the same stuff again with this business. Maybe Rose isn’t being truthful. He seems pretty genuine, but he also could be hiding something. Accepting Patrick’s business partnership means nothing. If someone hands you money, you take it.

At the end of the day, it’s important for Patrick to stay and see it through, to find something wrong, to prove all his hunches correct. Staying at the store makes him feel like he’s actively working toward that goal, so he’ll stay as long as it’s necessary.

Chapter Text

“...A presence in the business until and directly following the launch will ensure there is no criminal activity in the foundation of the organization. The transactions after the business opening will indicate whether there are exterior sources of income being filtered through a legal enterprise. During these weeks, this presence will also be used to investigate other indications of criminal activity and lead to a conviction or closure in the Rose family case...”

The department quickly approves Patrick’s proposal to stay and invest the grant money into the store, guaranteeing Patrick’s time in Schitt’s Creek until the launch. The launch date isn’t set, but the proposal gives him a lot of flexibility.

With this news, Patrick is happier than he’s ever been in his life, and for some reason that doesn’t dull in the days that follow. It’s weird, he should feel stressed. Between his actual job, the few part-time hours at Ray’s, and every other waking minute setting up the store, he doesn’t have time for much. He hikes in the morning before the town wakes up and masturbates at night when they go to sleep, both with the same thought in his mind: ‘What is this case doing to me?’ He thinks maybe it's like a desert island scenario— the only life raft he has is David, so he’s latching onto that.  

That’s right, “David.” Patrick is saying his first name so much these days around the store that the word rings around in his head. His department always uses last names for suspects. For the original bust, Johnny had been “Rose”. After the repo, they all had their own full names. Starting with the weird Blouse Barn thing, when David became the most interesting one, he took the last name. He thinks the rationale is not seeing the criminal as a real, familiar person, and he understands that now better than ever. The moment Patrick starts thinking of his given name, David is real. It’s not possible for him to be anything else when David is right in front of him. He’s seeing David in person every day. David is being vulnerable with him in the long hours at the store. David is sharing some hard truths. After years of being some unknown criminal entity built out of numbers, David is real. Patrick has never seen his suspects as real people before.  

The store is his favorite of the three jobs, despite requiring 8 hours or more with David Rose. Being around someone this much while undercover should be hard, but David never asks about Patrick’s life at all. Every time Patrick notices this, he laughs at the vanity. He can't believe he gets to freely insult David and they just laugh about it. David hates himself, Patrick hates him, and the time together is bonding them in that hatred. Gradually, David starts taking digs back at Patrick, which is inexplicably just as thrilling. He never shuts it down, actually leaning into it, verbally sparring with the man, insults lobbed and volleyed. 

On his first full day as business partner, Patrick asks to see the books. David shows him a desk in a tiny back office that smells like burnt coffee despite the clear absence of a coffee maker. He gives Patrick login information for the store’s bank account and email address. He pulls out a small stack of vendor contracts. When Patrick inquires about a budget, David cocks his head and says, “I’m glad you’re here.” The man had literally no idea what he was doing before Patrick got there. Still, the bank account has a weirdly large number in it and the vendor contracts leave a lot of room for questions, so Patrick is not completely satisfied by the new wave of information. He documents everything and sends it back to his team, including some professionally-veiled snide comments about David’s complete lack of preparation to start a business. 

.

His second weekend in Schitt’s Creek sees him alone on a Saturday night. This would be a double date night at home, so he’s acutely aware of his loneliness. The days at the store are fun, but David goes home to the motel where he lives with his sister and his parents in close proximity. Patrick goes home to Ray. Weeknights, Ray is all his to watch the Jays games and cook elaborate dinners, but this weekend it’s clear Ray has a spirited social life. Ray is everyone’s friend, and tonight he has a bridge club. 

“Do you know how to play? You could come, I’m sure no one would mind.” Ray is looking at him with pity in the kitchen. 

Patrick shakes his head, “I didn’t even know people still played bridge, Ray, I thought it died out with my great-aunt.” It’s not just that. He has manners: he isn’t invited and he doesn’t even know who hosts. “Always been more of a poker guy.”

“Maybe I will try to talk Bob into hosting weekly poker nights again. They weren’t very popular… Bob is very good.” He puts on a light jacket and twists his keys in his hands. 

“No, you see enough of me on weeknights, go! Have fun!” Patrick knows there’s a Brewers game on, and he’ll finally be able to root for his new namesake again. It’s a small consolation for his loneliness. Ray leaves and in the first silent moment, Patrick makes a decision to head to dinner before the game starts. 

At the cafe, he sits at his now-usual far back table, where he can be an audience. While Patrick finishes his meal, an unexpected David Rose enters with a very cute little brunette lady. Patrick’s heart pounds. ‘Stevie Budd. His girlfriend.’ Patrick had deduced their relationship pretty early on from social media, where they are nearly constantly together. David hasn’t mentioned her at all, but he doesn’t really talk about Schitt’s Creek, just his time before.‘She’s very cute, I guess David can pull.’ 

They sit at the counter waiting for takeout and Patrick luckily doesn’t fall in their line of vision. They seem to be so enamored with each other they don’t look around the room. He sees David roll his eyes, exasperatedly sighing, face expressive, throwing his hands around in wild gesticulations. Stevie seems to play the opposite. She barely moves as she speaks, showing no emotion on her face. She’s beautiful (‘why are all the young people in this town so attractive?’) but boring to watch. So Patrick turns his focus back to David. Their conversation is really quiet, but he supplants some of the self-hating narcissism he’s gathered.

It’s hard to picture David dating a woman after the time Patrick spent with him. He knows he has; there are paparazzi photos from clubs and parties, rumors, interviews. But —and Frankie would kill him for saying it—  he just seems so gay. Stevie has been his girlfriend for a while. Patrick wonders if he misses men.  

Still staring, Patrick tries to figure out what’s so mesmerizing about this guy. He stalked him for months. Was it just because he was a suspect? He never did that deep a dive on Johnny Rose, even as he cracked the case. But Patrick has every photo of David there’s ever been, including some pretty risqué ones, in a folder on his work laptop. Every tabloid article, every tax document, every social media post, every yearbook quote, every art sale, every school transcript. Why? And why are the nerves from this case manifesting in such a visceral way when it comes to him? 

The couple leaves with their takeout. Patrick pays his check, rolling his eyes as he tips Twyla, and walks back to Ray’s, heading directly upstairs and changing for bed despite the early hour. He regrets not following them out of the cafe tonight and watching their date. Oh well. If he wanted to track the Roses’ every move he’d never sleep. Despite spending 6 hours with David today, he still feels a pang of missing out. 

.

As Patrick adopts his new fake full-time job in the store and they settle into a workflow, Patrick quickly realizes that David has very little regard for personal space. He stands too close, he is too comfortable. He still rudely obstructs Patrick’s paths, forcing Patrick to squeeze by and scrape against him. In an effort to teach Patrick about the products, David has been applying lotions to Patrick’s hands, just like Alexis did that first day, rubbing their hands together while explaining how this one differs from the one he tried yesterday. Weirdly enough, Patrick never pulls away or does anything to stop the physical touch. In fact, he finds himself setting up close work stations so their shoulders have to bump and their hands graze. When David won’t move from his path, Patrick braces a hand on his waist to maneuver around him, sometimes two hands to pointedly shift the body out of his way. One day, Patrick climbs a ladder to install a shelf and David stands at the base, holding the ladder and handing him screws, his face two inches from Patrick’s waist. Patrick looks down at the view, insides short-circuiting. 

Objectively, Patrick knows there’s no meaning behind it. It’s not like they’re doing it on purpose; David is dating Stevie. He doesn’t talk about her much, just a few stories that include her. She’s never been to the store, at least while Patrick was there. He’s only seen her from afar, that time at the cafe and driving past the motel.

Their only visitor is Alexis, who comes by every day after school. To Patrick's dismay, she doesn’t want to flirt as much as the first time, despite his attempts. His bids are met with an amused but confused head tilt and a squinting eye that hints, “I’m on to you.” ‘Yeah, busted, I’m trying to flirt with you.’ She hangs around to “help” which is usually code for sitting around and joking with them. The energy with her included is even better and now that Patrick feels more comfortable chiming in, his insults land with more laughter, and the siblings both take more jabs at him as well.

He's not finding anything criminal, but if he’s there until the store launches anyway, he’s letting himself have fun. He reports everything to his team, taking diligent mental notes whenever he hears something new. His team is impressed with how much information he’s able to extract from the siblings, but in truth, they overshare without any pressure from him. He wonders if it’s a tactic to distract from the actual nefarious secrets or if they really just don’t have any secrets at all. 

.

One day at the end of his second week, Alexis announces she's come to “cheer David up.” ‘You’re here every day without a reason… Also, David seems fine, what?’ His baseline demeanor is disgruntled but it doesn’t seem any worse today. She sits on the counter “helping” while David and Patrick work. In a particularly fun conversation, Alexis and Patrick team up against David about going to Ted the veterinarian for a panic attack, roasting him so hard he escapes into the back alley to break down boxes. If Alexis is trying to “cheer him up” for whatever reason, it’s maybe a mean thing to do.  

Now alone, Alexis cocks her head at Patrick, smiling devilishly. “So this is what you guys do? just flirt around all day?” She inspects her nails, “I mean as long as the work gets done...”  

Patrick swings around to face her squarely. “What!? I’m not—.” He furrows his brow and crosses his arms, “I think we all talk the same way to each other.”

“Yeah, but I’m his sister. That’s called sibling banter, Patrick. When you do it, the term is actually flirting.” She says it matter-of-factly, like he’s supposed to already know this. 

Patrick just gulps for air. “Ok, no. That’s not my intention at all. I just like bullying? …no like, teasing? …but more like insulting—” he sputters, feeling his face turn a deep pink. 

Alexis looks like she’s been given a brand new car as David comes out of the back. She hops off the counter saying, “Well this has been a productive day!” She turns to David, “You might want to avoid the motel for the night? I think it would be a whole thing for you, poor little guy.” She finishes with a pout before turning around to Patrick with a smile, chirping “Glad I could help!” and placing a wordless ‘boop’ directly onto Patrick’s nose. He doesn’t like it so much now.  

David looks inquisitively at Patrick blushing and Patrick looks back at him the same way about what she said, and thank god they make a silent agreement to leave everything alone. Patrick makes an excuse that he has to help at Ray’s and calls it early that afternoon.

He only realizes on the walk home what the rational reaction would have been. He should have made it clear he was flirting with her! Why didn’t he think of that? Why did he hop to the defensive so quickly? It’s true, right? He gets the same bolt of energy when he lands a good blow against her as her brother, right? Patrick itches at the increasingly-familiar sensation of denial.

Patrick
SOS I maybe have inadvertently been flirting with David.
I had no idea that's what I was doing but Alexis called me out on it 
Why did it have to be her?
It’s so embarrassing
And what if she’s right?
Can you find someone attractive and hate their personality?
Can you like someone’s personality but still hate them as a person?
Ugh I don’t know what I’m going to do.  

Frankie
Sorry I can’t call but it sounds like you kind of know what’s going on.
I think you need to tell your boss about some of this stuff  
And unrelated (but maybe should be related) you should text Rachel she doesn’t know when you’re coming back.
When are you coming back? 

Patrick
I can’t tell my boss she’ll pull me back to the office and take the case from me.
I’m here until the launch
But like I want to finish the case here
It sucks if it’s flirting because I really liked doing it
I don’t want to talk to Rachel right now.
If it weren’t David it would be Alexis. Or someone. It just wouldn’t be Rachel.  

Frankie
Call your boss. Call your fiancé. Don’t run from big feelings. 

Patrick  
Calling my boss WOULD be running from my big feelings.
She’ll send me home 

And maybe because Patrick likes the idea of someone else making the decision, or because he knows in the back of his mind that staying here is a bad idea, or some combination of the two, knowing he would never voluntarily opt to leave, he emails his boss: 

“This may be slightly absurd but there is a fair amount of fraternization happening here. I’m becoming very close to our case in ways that might become emotionally damaging. Please advise. —Patrick”

He knows this email might send him packing, that it’s very unprofessional to be fraternizing and getting emotionally invested. But that’s the goal of the email, to get Linda to make the decision to leave for him.  

At 4:45 she responds: 

“I’m assuming you’re talking about David Rose. If so, good. Let him fall in love with you. He’ll spill everything. If that’s emotionally damaging to him, by all means. If he tries to act on it, I’m sure it won’t be the first time he’s hit on a straight man. Getting close means getting more information which might get you home to your fiancée sooner. Go for broke here, Mac. —L”

She fundamentally misunderstood. She’s assuming David is the one getting hurt in this scenario. But David isn’t going to “fall in love with” Patrick. David is in a relationship, and knows nothing about him. He’s not going to make a move on Patrick. 

Is he? Does she have a point? Should he be trying to exploit any potential feelings David might have? He wouldn’t know where to start. Sexual espionage is nowhere near his job description or skill set. Seducing men is even further.

There was another concern from Frankie: Rachel needs to know Patrick isn't coming back any time soon, and that he doesn’t want to. Their “breaks” have varied in length from hours to months, but this one will last at least until he goes back home. Unfortunately, she has all his stuff hostage, and if Linda isn’t sending him home over his fraternizing, he’ll need more than five shirts. If he keeps up this laundry schedule, Ray will get suspicious. So despite every blood vessel in him resisting, Patrick holds his breath and types. 

Patrick
No idea when I’ll be back. It could be a while.
I really don’t mind it here, so I’m ok with it.
Can I send Frankie over to pack a few things for me?

Rachel
Yeah I heard something like that.
Do what you have to.
We should talk about us at some point. 

Patrick
You don’t have to wait for me to get back  

Rachel
You don’t either.

‘Shit.’ He should feel worse about this. You can’t text message breakup after ten years.  

By 7:30 that night Patrick is laid on his bed. Ray is at Bob’s poker night (to which Patrick was not invited after all) and he has the house to himself. Now with permission from his best friend, his boss, his fiancée, with a suspicion from David’s sister, he has no reason to feel guilty for what he’s been thinking. He gets the lotion he damaged out from their inventory. It’s a step up from the drug store brand and the scent comes with the memory of David rubbing it into his hands, pulling each finger and massaging his thumbs on Patrick’s palms. The nightly use means the smell causes a Pavlovian response at work, but it’s made his evenings a lot better. He starts his nightly routine. 

He thinks about what Alexis said, “When you do it, it’s flirting.” Was it flirting from the beginning? At first, the insults were sharp, designed to cut, he meant them. Now? He replays one of today’s offending “flirts”: 

David was overreacting to spilling coffee on his pants, so Patrick mock-whined, “Oh I’m sorry did you get a spot on a piece of fabric that costs one month of rent?”
“You can’t just use these like a mug and throw them in the dishwasher like whatever you have on.”
“Yeah they’d fall apart at the pre-made holes. What’s that about? You’re too lazy to even put the miles on your jeans yourself?”

The sparring is electric. David’s face has a disgusting smug air after he lands any good response. Like that stupid smirk. ‘Stop smirking! Smile with your whole mouth, idiot!’ He needs to take David’s head in his hands and crash that smirk into his mouth, opening that smirk with his tongue, meeting David’s tongue— 

Ok. Huh.  

Patrick catches himself on the brink of orgasm and slows to a halt. He’s never thought about any scenario like that before. His nightly self-care is always focused on things he’s already seen or done. Never a “what-if” or, god forbid, a fantasy. Actually, he always cringed when people talked about fantasies, like they didn’t actually exist. But now that it’s happened to him, the floodgates are open, and he restarts his motion.

He thinks about the hand lotion David has been rubbing on him, how it would be so easy to push his slickened hands down David’s pants. He thinks about the control he’d have over David if he could get his hands on his dick. He could turn David into a blubbering idiot, more so than he already is. He’d be completely defenseless at Patrick’s touch. 

He thinks about that time on the ladder. His dick was level with David’s mouth. What if he held David’s head by the hair, slipped into his mouth? He could push and pull his head how he wants it. He could hold his head down, choke him out. He pictures David’s eyes, pleading to stop, or maybe to keep going... 

Patrick is done for, coming in waves into the tissue in his hand. He breathes heavily, trying to remember the last time he felt that turned on, or had an orgasm that good. He keeps flashing back to those scenes in his head and they squeeze his stomach every time.  

Fuck.  

.

Patrick is nervous to see David after all of the hot images he conjured last night, but luckily David comes into the store a little perturbed. Bad night at the motel? Patrick considers it hard before speaking. If insulting is flirting, he doesn’t want to insult him. ‘He smells weird. Not bad. Weird. Like a new shampoo. Why am I paying attention to what this man smells like? ...Oh my god he has a hickey.’  

“Wow… just wildly unprofessional.” Patrick says, underhandedly pointing to the red speckled circle peaking from under David’s sweater. Patrick mentally high-fives the little brunette girlfriend and lets his mind wander to the two of them— ‘Not. At. Work.’ His brain snarls at his new fun imagination.  

“What?!” David squawks and runs to the mirror they planned to set up in the cosmetics display. “No nonono Fuck! I don’t want a reminder of this!” He whines loudly.

“Fun night?” Patrick laughs but feels a small mania at his own confusing range of emotions. What happened with Stevie? 

“My ex was here. He was taking advantage of my mother so I had to step in.” David says like it's obvious, or even a normal thing to say, inspecting the hickey on his neck.  

“Gross. Elaborate.” Patrick smiles, crosses his arms and leans one hip against the counter. He’s confused but he enjoys David’s overreactions immensely. 

David turns on his heel to rush to his bag on the counter, rifling through, frustrated. “He’s a photographer who takes advantage of people. Yesterday, he took these terrible pictures of my mother without her permission, and he was going to publish them? So I stole his memory card after a night of...” He finally stops moving, sighing, eyes closed like he’s suddenly mortified that he started that sentence. He waves his hand and it lands softly to brace his forehead. “...distraction?” He whispers the last word like a prayer that no one would hear it. 

“Wow… Uhh.” Patrick considers this and answers very sincerely, “That is… honestly very cool of you.” And it is. David really would do that for his mother? Moira always seemed like the most aloof and distant of the group, Patrick’s second least-favorite Rose. It’s weird to think David would be protective of her. Patrick thinks Moira would rather have bad pictures out there than no pictures at all, but if they were really nasty, David did the right thing. Every day something chips at the negative impression Patrick had, and this is a big one. But… he probably cheated on his girlfriend to do this, so it’s not like he’s a saint. “So who is this really bad dude?” But Patrick already knows. It’s—  

“Sebastian Raine. The name means something in like a four block radius in New York City and nowhere else.” David rests his forehead in his hands, propped on the counter with his elbows, apparently giving up on finding whatever in the bag would help his hickey.  

Patrick thinks back to the research on Sebastian Raine. That was the name on those awful photographs of David. His perception of their relationship as abusive seems to be correct if he’s saying this guy took advantage of him. He remembers when he felt a little sympathy but judged David for falling into that situation. 

Patrick is tempted to hurt David, to spout some lore that implies he knows of Raine or is a fan. He could rattle off at least two projects from when they were together, should he mention them? Patrick knows his own vibe, especially his new blue jean uniform, indicates he knows nothing about art, and it would be suspicious. And not funny at all, even to Patrick. So instead, he fixes his face. “Well, he sounds like a douchebag.” David flashes a quick warm smile.

That afternoon Patrick takes off early again. In the safety of his pink room he opens the folder of Rose files on his laptop. He locates the pictures Sebastian Raine took. He remembers when he found them, working at home late at night. Why did Patrick blame David? He gets so sad looking at the pictures. 

How else did Raine take advantage of him? No one deserves that, not even David. Patrick flashes back to his fantasies last night. Were they consensual? Does it matter if fantasies are? It’s uncharted territory. He remembers conjuring a pleading look to David’s face but also remembers his orgasm came as soon as he reframed that face to be pleading for more. He shivers with arousal and relief at the thought coming back. But he catches a glance at one of the pictures and the arousal is gone. Sebastian Raine is here in Schitt’s Creek, this idyllic little oasis, and he turns again to anger.  

So Patrick does what he does best. He runs research on Raine. He reads through every number he can find, he goes back years, he checks every revenue stream and asset and finally because Patrick is very very good at his job, he finds it. Raine had a $9.7million house in the Hamptons and then suddenly he didn’t. It never went on the market. No record of sale. The deed now belongs to another name. No money changed hands on paper, but a whole mansion did. It needs a few more details but Patrick is sure they’ll be easy to find, and it’s probably already enough to get a warrant. Plus, if he found this much in less than two hours, there will definitely be more to find. He starts a file for Raine with his findings and sends it to Paula, subject line: I owed you a big one. 

Chapter Text

In the weeks leading up to the launch, Patrick spends nearly every waking minute with David. If Alexis is right about his flirting, then they’re flirting a lot. They laugh all day, Patrick gets to be brutally honest when David does or says anything he hates (which is often), and they’re still “accidentally” making physical contact whenever possible. Patrick is still learning things he hates about David, which is thrilling. At the same time, he’s learning surprisingly positive things, which is inexplicably just as thrilling. 

Patrick is even poking fun at the business, despite it coming together to exceed his low expectations. The store looks great, but some of the stuff is way too pretentious for this town (A pencil shaped like a twig? Seriously?), and all of it is going to be way over-priced. It’s not Patrick’s problem; he’s not actually involved with David’s store.

“Body milk? Doesn’t all milk come from a body?” Patrick considers the bottles as David labels them.

“No, it's milk for your body.” 

“Isn’t all milk for your body?” He picks up a bottle and turns it over in his hands.

“It’s not drinking milk. It’s body milk.” David argues, approaching Patrick. 

“Ok. Not getting it, but won’t it be a lawsuit when someone tries to drink it?” He hands the bottle to David.

“Anyone with a fiber of common sense would not drink this.” David tips the large bottle, pours some of its contents into his cupped hand, and puts down the bottle. He holds the hand up to Patrick’s nose, “See? This is Lavender Springs.” 

“Lavender Springs?" Patrick replies incredulously, "I don’t even know what a lavender spring would be... lavender is a dry soil plant.” Patrick is baffled by the concept but doesn’t mind David’s hand this close to his face. And the stuff actually smells good. Like lavender. ‘Still don’t know where they’re getting the spring part.’

David ignores him, “It’s also a little thicker than like, drinking milk.” He picks up Patrick’s hand and pours the liquid from his cupped hand into Patrick’s, showing him the viscosity. Patrick isn’t prepared for it to be so runny and it dribbles down his wrist. “See? Milk.” David catches the rivulet with his thumb and works the milk into Patrick’s hand. Patrick has let David rub lotion into his hands almost every day for over a month. He still isn’t used to it. 

“See, now it seems like it’s hand milk.” Patrick jokes and immediately blanches. ‘Oh my god, that implies you think he should put it on your body instead?’ He walks away quickly, trying to ignore David’s smirk. Patrick is a little more professional for the rest of the day. The whole dynamic is wildly unprofessional, but Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. doesn’t really seem to care about that.  

His suspicions about the store are drying up, but Patrick is here until the launch regardless. At this point, short of Johnny Rose having his hand in things, Patrick just doesn’t see anything nefarious here. His hunch isn’t based solely on the fun days spent with David. The vendor contracts and inventory are matching up, and he even tagged along to meet a vendor. The farmer just really liked David, who was charming and competent and funny and flattering, so he gave them a good contract. The store is unfortunately looking like a real, legal business. His only hope for a crime here would be after the launch, if the income doesn’t match up. He spends a lot of time wondering if his team would keep him here long after the launch to make sure. He wants to preemptively work on his proposal to stay after the store opens, but on what evidence? 

He has a list of innocuous questions to troll for clues like “How did you get the start-up money?” to “What does your dad do these days?” but Patrick hasn’t used them. Instead, he picks fights with David about the products with pretentious names. 

The truth is, and he’s starting to be honest with himself, he really likes this. The store is shaping up to be something even Patrick McDuklorpen would invest in. If it’s all legal. If it weren’t the Roses. If David actually had Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. as a business partner.  

He quickly recognizes he didn’t even have to get the grant money. David’s suspicious start-up money would have been plenty and he hasn’t actually checked any of the numbers since Patrick took over. He doesn't even know how much the grant gave them, or whether they even got it. Patrick tries to tamp down the guilty similarity to what David's parents did to his galleries. If David knew— No. Patrick doesn't let himself go down that road. 

.

One day, resolved to ask at least one of the questions on his list, Patrick walks up to the shop door to see Stevie Budd already inside. David’s girlfriend, in the flesh. He recalibrates the list of questions to include hers. She runs the motel, and Ray said Johnny Rose is doing work there. With so many connections to the family, she could actually be a really important person to know.

He sees them talking and laughing through the window. It looks like they’re still together, so he definitely cheated on her with his ex-boyfriend. David’s a douchebag, Patrick wouldn’t put it past him, even if there were good reasons for it. Is that another reason he wanted to forget that night and cover the evidence? Maybe it’s an open relationship. That would explain all the touching in the store. He shakes his head out. Today might be hard.

When Patrick walks in, David is explaining the body milk to Stevie. She turns to the door. Patrick is struck; she’s actually gorgeous up close. He forgoes a greeting like David does, “Did you ask if you could drink it too?” Patrick feels something, knowing about this product before David’s girlfriend did. ‘That means he’s never spread it on her hand… Ok, no, we are not doing jealous-of-David-Rose’s-girlfriend today.’

David responds, frazzled as ever, “It says ‘body milk’. On the label.” 

Patrick turns to Stevie. “You know, I told David that the label was going to be misleading, but he insisted. What was it you said? Anyone with a fiber of common sense would know that it’s not actually milk?” ‘Uh-oh’ This is dangerously close to the “flirting” that Alexis noticed. Patrick might have to rein it in today. 

“Ok. What do we think body milk is? If not milk… for your body.” David says with a gesture over his body that will haunt Patrick’s mind for days.

Stevie turns to Patrick. “Exactly,” she hisses sarcastically. ‘Ugh, is she going to be funny too?’

“Stevie, right?” ‘Shit. How would I know that?’ “David’s told me a lot about you.” He hasn't. Patrick looks at the floor after lying. They've barely spoken about her. Some stories involve her but she’s never the main character, David is always the main character in all his stories. Everything Patrick knows is from his own research, but it’s flattering that her boyfriend is talking about her, right? So it’s probably a favor to David.

“None of it is true.” She’s quick. Her demeanor is the same as he predicted from afar. She doesn’t move much, her face doesn’t give too much away, and she’s very cool. In some weird way she’s the opposite of David, but she also fits well into the tapestry of his life, his aesthetic. They seem like each other’s “type”. It occurs to Patrick that he himself is the odd one out. 

“Well anyone with a fiber of common sense would know that.” Patrick teases back, taking a swipe at David. 

She says she likes him. That seems to make David upset, his girlfriend outright saying she likes another man. Patrick likes her too, he thinks, except that the image of her did nothing for him the night he tried thinking about all the women here, plus she’s been pretty firmly “off limits” in his mind. But if it is an open relationship…

“Ok, is this how this is going to go? Because we have too much to do today for me to feel attacked by way of an imbalanced social dynamic.” Patrick dies for David’s over-reactions and this is a good one. He can now openly grin about making David Rose feel uncomfortable. He loves his life. Today might be weird though—

‘ —Wait what the fuck is that?’ Patrick walks over to stand in front of Stevie, between them, to get a better look. “Are you wearing a shower cap??” 

“Alexis has lice, and I’m taking preventative measures.” 'Oh my god this man is scared of lice. Oh my god he is wasting a product with his incompetence.'  

“By wearing one of our hats, that we now can’t sell.” ‘You moron.’ Infuriated, he wants to rip the hat off his head and— no, he looks to Stevie for back up, surely she’s sane enough to know how dumb her boyfriend is.  

“Oh no, he doesn’t have it. I checked his head. I think now it’s more of a fashion…? choice at this point?” She’s good, hit him where it hurts. He spares a thought for her running her fingers through David’s hair... ‘ok thats enough.’ She already checked him. And he’s still wearing the hat. Sounds like David hates the idea of lice a lot, and Patrick wants to make him suffer. 

“But you’re still living with someone who does have lice, so just because you don’t have it doesn’t mean you couldn’t get it tonight, or tomorrow or whenever.” 

“Ok, it’s almost as if you want me to get the lice.” He raises his voice, flustered. 

Patrick is living for it, and can’t keep down a smile. “I don’t want you to get it, I just think you should be careful.” An idea to spend more time with David, get more information, crystallizes and leaves his mouth before he can think about it. “You can crash at my place tonight if you need to.” ‘WHAT???’ He wants to eat the words back into his mouth. There is absolutely no way that David could stay at his house, ever. David wouldn’t sleep on a sofa. Patrick isn’t going to sleep on the sofa with David up in his room, alone with the physical paper files, some that literally have David’s picture in them. David can’t ever even be in that house. Did he really just forget they aren’t just normal friends in a normal situation? ‘What the fuck did I do??’ 

David gets weird. Oh. Duh. He’s staying at Stevie’s. Of course he is. Why would Patrick offer his place when David’s girlfriend is right here? He probably sleeps there all the time.  

“Can I crash at your place?” She jokes and Patrick laughs. She’s a lot funnier than her social media posts let on. Like the siblings, she has the same sense of humor as Patrick. In fact, this conversation sounds a lot like the Rose siblings going after each other, a lot like how it went for Patrick asking about the body milk (‘notably without the demonstration’). Now he can see why Alexis thinks it’s flirting: Stevie and Patrick talk to David the same exact way. 

After that, the “imbalanced social dynamic” is a lot of fun. Stevie does marginally more work than Alexis, but it’s still clear she’s here primarily to hang out. David seems like he’s making a conscious effort not to touch Patrick as much while Stevie is around, ‘Guess it’s not an open relationship,’ and Patrick can respect a boundary. Clearly David is trying to hide their level of physical contact from Stevie, like it’s some sort of secret, like he’s not supposed to be doing it. It’s a tacit acknowledgement that David knows about the touching and what it means. Patrick is uncomfortable with that, and he takes the hint, trying not to “flirt” as much either. The couple does enough of that without him, and yeah, from the outside, it is VERY flirtatious. Stevie even says some of the exact insults Patrick is thinking. But she’s David’s girlfriend, she’s allowed to. 

So this is what a relationship is supposed to look like? Rachel and Patrick exchanged maybe 16 words per day. Even at their best, it was never like this. These two bounce off each other, the quips go back and forth. They laugh a lot. It’s effortless. The love between them is palpable. Patrick gets a bit jealous of their relationship, in that he wishes he had that with Rachel. Or with anyone. It seems fun.

Patrick’s goal today is one serious investigation conversation, and now without the distraction of trying to touch David, he is capable. “So Stevie, you work at the motel right? How is that?” Patrick barely counts it, but the conversation is open.

“Mmm, ok. Work? is a strong word.” David jumps in.  

She glares at him from her lounge on the table. “You’re right. Because I own the motel.” She turns back to Patrick, her voice now dripping with sarcasm. “And it’s great, I love my job. That’s why I’m here while Mr. Rose changes the lice sheets.” 

Patrick smiles. He knows Mr. Rose is involved with the motel, just not sure how. He thinks he can kill two birds with one stone here. ‘The ol’ flirt-’n’-fact.’ “And changing lice sheets is in his job description?” 

David helps him, “I don’t think he actually has a job description. Or like, a job even.” 

What? Patrick is more confused. He furrows his brow, trying to clarify for himself. “But he’s over there changing sheets instead of the motel owner, he must do something.”

“Again, I love my job.” Stevie responds slowly as she cocks her head, “Should I be over there changing the lice sheets? Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me, Pat-rick.” She puts a hard K at the end and beams widely over at David, who looks like he’s going to kill her. Shit. That’s not what Patrick was doing. He needs her for information. Also, does she say that because she thinks he wants alone time with David? What is David going to think about that? God, how did this turn so fast?? She’s really good.  

Patrick runs through his options. He needs something that will keep her there and keep the conversation on the motel. “No, no! I think it’s great to see the Roses give back to the community with volunteer hours.” Stevie barks out a laugh. Salvaged. She’ll stay.  

David doesn’t let the conversation go further, though, turning to Stevie and swatting her arm with the back of his hand. “Oh my God speaking of! Did you know Alexis is dancing with old ladies with Ted for her community service??” ‘Did he just change the subject on purpose?’ 

She swats him back, “Ew David!” Stevie does her best Alexis impression and all three of them giggle. “Aaaanywho, I can sense when I’m just getting in the way...” she turns and winks — literally winks — at a horrified Patrick. She grabs her messenger bag and turns to David. “Bring a lot of booze so the lice get drunk when they bite you.” She’s grinning at him, clearly excited that he’s coming over. If she thinks Patrick was trying to eject her to be alone with David, maybe she’s rubbing it in Patrick’s face? ‘It’s certainly working.’ She backs out the door, making smiling eye contact with Patrick.  

“She seems nice.” Patrick lies, with his hands on his hips in front of the counter, watching her walk away.  

“I’m sorry, again, I thought you were here the whole time.” David puts a box down on the table next to a roll of labels.  

“Well it’s nice that she lets your dad change the lice sheets.” He turns around to David, arms crossed.  

“Yeah, he doesn’t say no to anything for the motel or for Stevie.” David says absentmindedly as he begins putting the labels on jars of lotion. He stills and considers for a minute before saying, “I think maybe he’s still riding some deep-seated embarrassment from walking in on us.” 

Patrick’s brain glitches. He doesn’t mind an image of David and Stevie having sex. In fact… But no, Mr. Rose walking in on them? Nope. Ew. That image is a lot. “Wow so he gets paid in mortifying experiences?” 

“Humiliating for all involved.” 

“Well, I think it’s sweet you can share that moment with your Dad.”  

And Patrick realizes he has gotten no closer to figuring out why Johnny Rose is working for the motel, presumably for free. 

Chapter Text

As the launch date approaches, Patrick is growing anxious. Once the revenue stream is open for the store, any potential misconduct will rear its head. This is what his department has been anticipating. If it’s legal, he has to go home empty-handed. If it’s not... well. Patrick thinks about David. He thinks he knows him pretty well now. Would he be party to any kind of misconduct? Would he know how? Johnny Rose certainly would, but he’s certainly not showing any interest in coming to the store or meeting Patrick, despite how badly Patrick wants to meet him. A criminal mastermind would probably want to meet a partial owner of his illegal operation. 

He wishes he could just ask David. Every day he thinks about coming clean, begging him not to do anything stupid. But David might not be able to help doing something stupid. The man has never made a to-do list because he’s never had to do anything. He was supposed to call the electrician. He didn’t. He was supposed to get the insurance.  He didn’t. He takes things from the store. At this point, Patrick is really seriously nervous to watch him interact with customers. He’s not a naturally soft personality. He’s impatient and rude. When Patrick is called home, David will have to fend for himself, which feels like leaving a 5-year-old home alone. Patrick tries to help as much as possible, spouting business lessons and trying to teach him something, but David is hopeless. 

“Greetings from Schitt’s Creek!” He barks to the video conference with his department. There are some new faces in the packed conference room. ‘How long have I been here? 6 weeks?’ 

“Hey Mac! How is it?” 

“Great, the store is launching on Friday. Moment of truth.” 

“Any new indication of what the plan is?” Linda wants to get straight to business. Patrick has shirked a few of these work calls with the rush leading up to the opening, and she sounds impatient. 

“None. D— Rose is pretty incompetent. He’s likely to forget that taxes exist if I leave. If Johnny Rose has his hand in things, that’s a different story, but we won’t know that unless we monitor after the launch.” 

“Well incompetence isn’t a defense for a crime, but we were really looking for something more. We’ll have to wait and see the numbers as the ledgers start filling in.” 

His phone vibrates with a notification:  
Paula
“If” you leave? 

Patrick ignores the text and soldiers on with his agenda. “Question: if I’m the business part of this arrangement, how much should I be doing? Rose would not do taxes or insurance or anything if I weren’t here. Should I be letting him fail? Doing it for him? I kind of want to teach him what to do but I wanted to get your opinions.” 

Linda considers for a second. “Teaching him would build trust.”

“But a stupid slip-up could give us an opportunity if we need a warrant for something. It could expose worse stuff.” Paula strategizes. 

Smith agrees, “Also if he doesn’t know shit, maybe he’ll be reliant on you so he has to contact you when you return. Write it all in Patrick-ese so he can’t figure it out on his own.”

“I could write it in English and he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own,” Patrick chuckles and his laugh is joined by some others.

“Your team has a point. Follow his instructions and don’t work to teach him.” Linda's word is final on this kind of thing, so no one debates it. “Unless his dad is doing that stuff for him... Does Johnny Rose have eyes on the books?”

‘I’ve never even met Johnny Rose.’ He bites his tongue. “No. Almost everything is on the store laptop, and Johnny Rose has not seen it. The laptop is password protected, I don’t even think Rose himself remembers the password.” 

“What a fucking idiot.” Smith blurts out. “You’re a stranger, you could be anyone— no, you are anyone, and he just hands you his business. This family has learned nothing.” 

Paula pipes up, “Right? Like, are you literally in the store right now?”

Patrick glances over his shoulder at the storeroom and a dopey upsidedown grin forms on his face. “Huh, I guess you can get away with anything when your suspect doesn’t function before noon.” Patrick’s smile is playfully wicked and he knows it. The observation is true: David Rose is completely worthless before 10am. ‘And after 10am. He’s just worthless.’ 

There’s some chatter and chuckles in the conference room on his screen. Some voices are clearer than others:
“You’re taking a call with the feds investigating him in his own store?"
"...while he’s sleeping."
"Cold, Mac.”
"You gotta be more careful."

"That's enough." Linda shuts it down, “Unlock the store computer but put our tracking software on it please. We don’t want to make it harder on them to complete whatever it is they’re doing. Follow instructions, use his business decisions. Hopefully any plan starts up with the launch and we’ll be able to get you back home within the next week or so.” 

Patrick cringes internally at the prospect of going home. “I have a few other leads I want to track down, too.”

“Speaking of which, the Raine case is moving forward. It was a good catch, and it wasn’t on anyone’s radar.” Paula chirps.

“Try to get your leads sorted before you go but we can’t keep you out there forever. We need you to take up other cases as soon as possible.” 

“Or stay! I love my new desk.” Smith laughs.  

“Later guys, thank you.” Patrick signs off.  

Going home? Other cases? They seem like foreign thoughts he tries not to hear. He reads Paula’s text.  

Patrick
Sorry. When.  

.

David’s plan for the launch— a small, exclusive event— is such a poor strategy that it’s suspicious. Patrick knows his boss’s instructions: just follow David’s lead, don’t stand in the way of shady business practices. Still, it’s hard to watch something you’re investing time into fail. He can’t stop thinking about the terrible launch strategy, and he’s determined to figure out why David wants to tank the business before it starts. 

On Wednesday with a plan, even a speech, in place, Patrick walks out to the floor but immediately notices that David had opened a juice from the fridge. ‘He wouldn’t even have the option to pay for that yet, and he has no idea how to damage something out of inventory.’ Emboldened by his frustration, Patrick makes a show of swigging from the open juice. “Um, is that your juice?” David passive-aggressively protests.

Patrick calmly points out, “Technically, I think it’s our juice, because you just took it from the fridge and didn’t pay for it.” He can’t believe he has to explain this to a grownup, let alone a business owner.  

David doesn’t get it. “It's just that I don't normally share beverages with people.” That’s not the point.

But of course he doesn’t share drinks. Patrick thinks back to the lice, maybe he’s a germaphobe? “Really. That is shocking news.” 

“Yeah. Fortunately, um, you look like you have a clean mouth so...” 

‘I must have misheard him.’ “Sorry, a clean mouth?” 

“Yeah. Some people have nice, clean mouths, and some people have sloppy mouths.” He’s explaining as if it's common knowledge, like he’s teaching Patrick something he should already know. But Patrick is feeling a pang of arousal every time the man says “mouth” right now, so it’s a good idea to change the subject, give some MBA advice about what the launch should look like. 

Patrick wants to go big. It’s the tried-and-true way to do it with a store like this. Lots of advertising, offer some samples, just get people in the door, it’s textbook. David thinks it should be a small, exclusive event and give a “friends-and-family” discount. He talks about Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop and how it’s a great business model. Patrick bites his tongue hard at everything he knows about that company. David obviously doesn’t read the papers. Patrick changes the subject to the to-do list before he can out himself knowing too much about that particular subject. 

Ceding to David’s launch plan, even as part of a larger take-down strategy, feels like a defeat for Patrick, so just to maintain the upper hand, he tells David he has a sloppy mouth. David opens his sloppy mouth in shocked offense. Patrick is momentarily disappointed with himself but he knows the fodder will pay off later. The flirting since the body milk debacle has gotten more risqué, and Patrick is getting bolder, so he can usually get David visibly riled up like this. It’s not professional, and he’s glad David doesn’t have a Human Resources staff, but every day it’s more clear that Patrick is striking out on the investigation and will likely have to close the case when the store opens. So he’s having fun while he can. 

When David leaves him alone to go get their lunches from the cafe, Patrick feels like he should have put his foot down. A friends-and-family discount for a friends-and-family exclusive gathering before the store’s launch is just terrible business. Those people are going to support you no matter what; they don’t need a discount. But the recent conversations with his team tell him he needs to be hands off and allow David to make decisions exactly like this one, see what he has planned. He also shouldn’t be reminding him to do things like call the electrician or the insurance, but these seem pretty innocuous. Plus, you can’t burn something down for insurance money if you have no insurance.   

David comes back from the cafe in a huff. “How many people did you tell about Friday?” 

“Just the names on my pre-approved list, why?” And by that, Patrick means no one, not that David asked. ‘Can you imagine my parents coming? Rachel? She would actually love this place. So would Frankie and Zach. Should I actually invite them? Should I invite my team?’ Patrick almost snickers out loud at that last one.  

Apparently more people are coming than they thought. ‘One of the many downsides to a soft launch, especially one that offers a discount.’ But 75 people? Is that number a David Rose Overreaction, patent pending? 

Actually, the overreaction is doing something for Patrick. Before he knows what he’s saying, “Looks like this soft launch is firming up a bit.” ‘So unprofessional, Mac. Dick jokes? In the workplace? What are you doing? Are you still riled up from the sloppy mouth thing??’ 

“But it’s not supposed to be firm.” David doesn’t get the joke or is too overwhelmed to indulge Patrick.  

“Well with this many people it’s definitely at least semi-firm.” Patrick has lost full control of his words. This new body-based, vulgar flirting has to stop. This isn’t even flirtation, it’s workplace harassment. Because yes, Patrick is semi-firm.  

“Ok well as long as it doesn’t get hard.” David stops himself. It seems like he just started hearing the innuendo. “And that’s something... that’s what I just said... to you.” 

These new “flirtations” Patrick can’t even attribute to insults, they're just flirting. The impending launch is giving him a lot of nerves to settle, so he lets himself take his time thinking about the conversation that night.  

.

Thursday is spent in a state of panic. They’re nowhere near ready. David is oscillating between calm, calculated (Patrick recalls his stories of saving his sister in crisis) and a nervous ball of unproductive anxiety-spirals. It’s 8:00pm and Patrick can feel the pendulum swinging back toward panic attack.  

Patrick puts two grounding hands on David’s shoulders and looks into his face. “I think we’ve done all we can do tonight. You need your beauty sleep, you look terrible.” This is a low blow for how vulnerable David is at the moment but Patrick doesn’t care. There’s so much to do and David is going to eat up both of their time by spiraling. Patrick is also in his 5th consecutive 10-hour day working for a store that, when all is said and done, will never be his. For weeks, he’s dreaded this day because his mission is one step closer to being done, one step closer to going home and leaving all of this behind. ‘Ok, you can’t also be spiraling.’  

David rolls his eyes at the insult, too exhausted to produce a response or act offended. He opens the door but turns back to Patrick. “See you at the launch party,” he breathes quietly and genuinely, almost like a secret, and then leaves. That utterance settles deep in Patrick’s stomach. It’s exactly the calming tonic that he needs to finish everything and make it perfect for that stupid, spoiled manchild to have a great day tomorrow.  

But that soft-voiced mantra ringing in Patrick’s ears has dimmed by midnight as he’s elbow-deep in the dry wall of the back room with a screwdriver, trying hard not to electrocute himself, whipping his head back and forth between a YouTube video going too fast and wiring that looks wrong. This was not in his white-collar crime investigator job description. He wipes a sweat bead. The YouTube video ends and his wiring still looks wrong. He climbs down off the ladder and flips the switch. The lights come on. Fuck yes. Patrick feels really fucking good at his job.  

. 

Patrick wakes up on launch day nervous like he actually has a stake in this business. On his hike, he thinks about the stakes for David, if David is being honest. He’s never run a successful business, despite years of running successful businesses. He was lied to. People kept secrets from him. His father’s trusted business advisor fucked them over. This is his chance to prove himself, and he trusted Patrick to help him. Patrick knows he’ll be another face in that long line of betrayal no matter what happens. So Patrick holds on to hope the whole family is corrupt.  

David comes in looking displeased. There are “off-brand” people outside. 'This pretentious asshole really thinks of people as products.’ But it sounds like there are a lot of them. 

Patrick wants to rub salt in the soft-launch wound. They could have been prepared for this if they had been smarter and not gone with the soft launch. David is going to stew in a chaos of his own creation today, and he’s going to be miserable, and he’s going to quit on his own volition so Patrick can go home guilt-free.  

Home? Ugh. If this is one of the last days he gets to spend insulting— bantering?— flirting? with him...? “David. Relax. It’s going to be fine.” He reassures David, and himself.  

“Oh my god the lights. I didn’t call the electrician.”  

‘I know and I mopped up your mess you spoiled, coddled manchild.’ Patrick flips the switch. For the first time, David looks appropriately appreciative. He should be. The praise goes straight to Patrick’s core and radiates. It’s ok if the lights or Patrick’s very insides or years of work combust— he also got the insurance David didn’t get.  

.

The launch is exhilarating. Patrick is manning the register. It’s what they agreed to, and he’s thinking of it as a line of defense. Anyone trying to use the store will have to go through him. He will be able to meet and assess anyone buying anything, and he’ll know a ballpark number to check the deposit later. Across the room, David is in his element and all Patrick can do is watch. One of Patrick’s fears about his fake business partner dissolves immediately: David is actually incredible with the customers. He knows everything there is to know about these pretentious, unnecessary products, he always gets the up-sell, he convinces people they need stuff they don’t. These traits would have been negative character afflictions to Patrick McDuklorpen in the office. Here in Schitt’s Creek, to Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant., they are welcome, almost attractive. Patrick keeps catching David looking at him. They beam at each other.

Johnny and Moira Rose show up for the launch. It occurs to Patrick that he hasn’t even met them yet.  They’ve never been in the store as they set it up. When they walk in, they freeze in the entrance, faces awestruck. “David did all this?” They had no clue what was going on in this building up to today. His father is speechless, and looks so proud as he picks up a bag with the Rose name. Patrick assesses their genuine reaction and realizes what it means. 

His heart sinks hard. The last remaining hunch about the store caves: Johnny has nothing to do with any of this. There are so many people here. There’s no way the Roses paid all of them. David’s business is completely above board. Patrick will be going home empty-handed. Fuck.  

He doesn’t get a chance to sit with this realization with the stress of running a busy register all day. Finally, the whirlwind dies down and only a handful of customers are left in the store. They agreed they’d stay open as long as there were people shopping today, so Patrick has a few minutes to breathe before cleaning up. His mind is off the revelation from David’s parents when—

“Roland accused the store of being a front.” David declares out of nowhere, popping a crumb of sample cheese in his mouth. 

Patrick’s breath catches as he freezes. ‘This is it.’ “...does he have a reason to think that?”

“Mr. Hockley’s tea is weed. I’m not sure about the other flavors but the Joshua Tree one is fully just weed.” David says, conversationally. Patrick unfreezes, a little relieved at the candid reaction. 

“Mr. Hockley’s— did you know it was weed?” ‘Drug dealing wasn’t ever in their rap sheet…’

“No! He’s like a normal, hippie, boomer farmer? I had no clue, but now I am very impressed with him.” David can probably see Patrick’s petrified face because he quickly changes course, “Oh my god! We’re obviously not going to stock the tea again! ...but full disclosure, I did take two bags off the shelf before Roland and Jocelyn bought the rest.”

Ok. It was an honest mistake. Still, Patrick’s heart is racing. He glances around. There are still two customers in the back corner of the store, but it sounds like they’re acquaintances who haven’t seen each other in a while, and they’ve been catching up, not shopping, for the better part of ten minutes. Patrick summons all his confidence and lowers his voice, “Plus, you’d tell me if the store was a front, right?”

David smirks coyly, almost flirtatiously? “And make you an accomplice?” ‘Is he joking? I can’t tell if he’s joking.’ Patrick’s head swims in confusion. David rolls his eyes and loses the smirk, “No, Patrick. The Apothecary is not a front. I think you know me better than that by now.”

Patrick’s eyes narrow, “I don’t know, I wouldn’t put it past you. You could be a criminal—” ‘What are you doing? This is risky. Abort.’

“No, like, I wouldn’t know how to do that. Wouldn’t know where to start.” David’s face lightens.

“So it’s not a moral objection, just logistics.” 

“Correct. Morally? I am as bankrupt as I am monetarily.” David’s lips playfully curl again. Patrick gets it. It’s flirtatious and facetious. It’s such an outlandish idea that David doesn’t mind joking about it. What’s worse— Patrick trusts him.

‘And that’s it.’ All at once, just as if David’s parents were still here in awe of his work, it hits Patrick that there’s nothing suspicious about this store at all. For the second time today, Patrick realizes he will be going home empty-handed next week. 

When those last stragglers are gone, the door is locked, and David turns to Patrick to say, “Well, this was a success,” the realization washes over Patrick heavily. There’s no crime, so Patrick is leaving. It’ll be a few days to ensure the sales are kosher but if they’re good—and they will be— he’s going home. The team has planned for him to leave on good terms so David always lets him come back and access the numbers, but Patrick doesn’t even see how he’ll be able to lift himself out anymore. This terrible person he despises now relies on him and, inexplicably, Patrick doesn’t want to disappoint him.  

He hasn’t talked down to David all day, and he misses it. “You know we’d be 25% richer if we’d just done a hard launch but hey I’m just a numbers guy.” Saying that feels right, like a part of his identity is still here. ‘We also would have needed to get a liquor license because it would have been a public event.’ But Patrick doesn’t want to stroke this guy’s ego.  

“Mhmm. But had we not done the soft launch we wouldn't have lured all those people.” David looks smug. 

He has the opportunity to continue sparring but he’s not up to it. He turns to his old reliable: “Well, you know, the best thing is that we never have to talk about it again because we're officially open.”  

“That is true.” 

Patrick is just really happy for David. “Congratulations, man.” He can’t resist it— he goes in for a hug.  

David hugs back. Patrick realizes too late that this a hug is intentioned physical contact. It breaches a wall of plausible deniability about their fraternization. Hugs show that you care about someone. But it’s not about that, he’s just relieved to know David won't be going to prison. That his store is safe for now. That Patrick might be able to not hate him soon, guilt-free. Shit, that is caring. Does Patrick care about David Rose? No. Patrick hates David Rose. Whom he’s currently hugging. Whom he doesn’t hate hugging.

Wait. The hug is going on too long but David isn’t letting go either. Fuck. Does David like him? That’s never occurred to Patrick. ‘He can’t like you. He knows nothing about you. He’s never asked you anything about yourself. He has a girlfriend.’ Despite all the fantasizing at home and touching in the store, Patrick hasn’t really considered any possible scenario of them actually doing anything. They can’t do anything. It would compromise the investigation and make it impossible to leave with a good report intact. Plus, it’s not like Patrick likes men, he’s just been enjoying a persistent nightly fluke. Luckily the light flickers just in time to keep Patrick from another ring of his mental spiral. “I can fix that.”

Patrick
The store is above board. There’s no reason for me to think they’ll be committing crimes here.  

Frankie
That’s awesome! Congratulations! 
Did you tell work?
When do you get back? 

Patrick
They’ll probably call me back in next week
See you soon  

.

The next day before opening the store he makes the drive to his hike. His heart is pre-emptively breaking with the short time remaining in this town where he is happier than he’s ever been in his life. Last night, he began drafting the memo to close the Rose case permanently. It’s the correct thing to do based on the launch, but he’s certainly not going to bring up the prospect on his own. They’ll have to order him back, so now he just waits. Will it be days? A week? He hates that he has to pretend to be suspicious of the transactions now that the store is open— he knows they’re going to be perfectly acceptable. 

He decides if his time is limited, he’s going to do the Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. Tour of Schitt’s Creek every day. He passes the store, of course, and the cafe. Bob’s garage. The motel '—wait what the fuck?' There’s something huge on the curb in front of the motel. Patrick pulls over and walks up to it.  

It’s a painting. He rounds the corner. ‘It can’t be.’ 

This is the painting. The one he stood in front of the day of the repossession. The one he wondered about: 'What would happen to it? Who in their right mind would want this?' After that day, his curiosity found the taxes for the man they commissioned to paint it. He got five-figures for the piece. And now here it is, on the curb waiting for garbage pickup, in front of the motel the Roses call home.

Patrick recalls the excitement of that day. It wasn’t unlike his excitement yesterday at the launch. Or the first meeting with David. Or seeing the Roses at the cafe for the first time. Or the first day flirting with Alexis and then working with David. Or really any day spent working with David. The most exciting and best days of his life have been spent with this family, but not the people in this painting.  

He’s glad it’s on the curb. It’s where it belongs. Fuck those people.

Chapter Text

The hug after the launch leaves Patrick afraid. Is this a new level of physical contact they can exchange daily, like shoulder grazes and hand rubs? But weirdly enough, now that the store is open they actually go in reverse. While they were getting increasingly touchy and suggestive in the private days before opening, they are now more professional. Patrick is a little impressed. There are countless other ways David’s professionalism is lacking, but this is notable. He chalks it up to the near constant presence of townies, and the rumors that might spread back to David’s girlfriend. It’s not that Patrick misses the physical touch, it’s just something he noticed. 

As the ledgers come in innocent from the first few days, he has to wonder when he’ll get called back home. The exit strategy from his team is in place: he is to leave town on a family emergency, call in a few days or weeks to announce his plans to stay with his family, and dissolve the partnership. The gradual departure will ensure Patrick stays on as a consultant but not a business partner. Patrick has fought against this strategy, but he can’t give his team the real reason, because he can barely believe it. He knows it’s crazy but he just gets a weird feeling that David would try to come with him in such an emergency. He knows objectively that’s insane, right? David doesn’t care about Patrick, he’s never asked about the family or the hometown in question, or literally anything else about his life. Despite confirming the plan, Patrick is still silently opposed to it.  

Patrick is acutely aware he is here on borrowed time. The ledgers show no indication of foul play, a recommendation to close the Rose case sits unsent on his computer. He doesn’t bring up his exit strategy with his team, but it’s going to happen whether he likes it or not, and it could literally be any day. He was supposed to be here a day, maybe a weekend, and now it’s been two months. This town has completely turned his life around for the better. He is happy— even giddy— every day he wakes up here. The fact that Patrick has stayed this long is ludicrous. He hasn’t been assigned new cases. Every day, he gets an email or meeting asking for updates, and most days there are none at all, let alone new developments or leads in the all-but-closed case. Patrick writes a lot of “yet”, “alleged”, “he claims”, to try to make it sound like there will be news soon. When is soon? How long will they be abated?

He also worries about the store, about David, when he leaves. It could be any day, and he can’t leave him unprepared. So a few days after the launch, Patrick calls him into the back office as they close up. “I made you something,” he announces, forgoing a joke about an early birthday present. David doesn't need to know that Patrick knows his birthday. David’s eyes widen but he joins Patrick in the office.

Patrick points to the desk where he’s laid a black 3-ring binder. David looks on in disgust. “What is that?” he asks, like it’s roadkill. The face is glorious, but it’s a very serious matter, so Patrick needs to be serious. He sits down at the desk and beckons David closer to lean over him. ‘Well that is very close… oh well, it’s fine.’

Patrick worked hard on this binder. It’s loaded with everything business-related the store will ever need, complete with dark-hue color-coded instructions catered to David’s learning style. Every scenario is here: taxes, payroll, template vendor contracts, event approval, write-offs (Patrick pretends not to notice David’s cringe), permit renewal, sales tax, website renewal, insurance, liquor licenses, and a list of where to find more copies of these forms or online versions. Then, there’s a very clear written timeline of everything that needs to be done in a year in chronological order with approximate due dates, colors corresponding to the respective forms. There’s a sample ledger with instructions and sample budgets for renovations. There’s a timeline for upkeep on the building, when to replace fixtures. It has all of the passwords, account numbers, vendor contacts, service contacts, even manuals for appliances. The package is the business end of things, all fool-proof, designed for David, a fool.

The binder goes against his boss’s direct orders: don’t teach him, just follow instructions. But she’s operating under the assumption there’s still suspicion of the store. In truth, he doesn't care. David needs this information. Patrick needs him to have it.  

Patrick finishes his explanation, running down the table of contents, and shuts the binder. He leans back in the rolling chair and swivels slightly to look at David, who is standing too close. He can feel the warmth radiating off David’s body, and his face is level with David’s hips, closer than he’s ever been, cologne melting Patrick's face, but he won’t be distracted. This is important. 

David stares at the binder. For the first time since Patrick met him, he is quiet and shows no emotion on his face. Patrick hates the eerie, cold silence, but he needs to hear a reaction. It’s taking forever. 

Finally, the reaction comes. “This is your purview.” David says, quieter than his typical whisper, barely audible, gently brushing the spine of the closed binder with the backs of his curled fingers as he stares blankly at it. 

“Yeah, I get that. I’ve learned a lot of the products and aesthetic stuff because I think we should both know how to run the other part.” Patrick responds, hoping it’s not too clear what he’s doing. He continues, “You have to start thinking about the ledger and sales tax and payroll taxes and—” 

“—ok but that’s why you’re here.” David cuts him off, a little louder. Patrick hasn’t seen him this dead serious since their first meeting. 

Patrick is strict and stays the course, “You need to know how to do this stuff in order to stay above board.”  

“Do I? Can’t I just hire someone to do it for me.” It’s not a question, and he’s no longer speaking gently. Patrick sighs and bites at his lips. Yes. Of course he can. Most businesses hire someone to do this stuff. But Patrick needs something, some assurance that everything will stay legal if —ugh, when— he leaves.  

“You need to know that this stuff is serious. You could get in a lot of trouble for—” 

“Or can’t I just rely on my business partner to hold up his end??” They freeze, the room tense and quiet, just audible breathing breaking the silence. That one hurts. Patrick wants to lash out, grab him, shake him, tell him to listen, tell him he knows how this ends if he keeps being an idiot. But he needs to restrain those urges and tread carefully.

“David... I will always be around to look this stuff over. But the government... well just that these requirements or... the legal—” Patrick stumbles over the phrasing to avoid a slip. He breathes deep to plan his words carefully. “You could lose all this,” he gestures around, “over any stupid clerical error, let alone non-compliance or willful misconduct." He's searching in David's face for any indication that he understands the way Patrick needs him to. "I need you to have access to this after what happened with your dad’s—”

“You don’t know anything about that situation!” David’s voice is high as he shakes his head, stands up straight and crosses one arm over his body, gesticulating with the other, “This is nothing like that! …for you to even bring that up!” His face contorts with offense. 

Patrick slowly blinks, swallows, and looks around the room, landing on a spot just outside the door. ‘No one is here. We’re behind locked doors. None of this is in writing. Nothing is being recorded.’ Patrick’s mind gets reckless. ‘I could tell him. I could tell him right now that I know everything about that situation, because I was the one who figured it out. I stood in front of the family portrait in their house and I laughed. I’m leaving in a matter of days. It would save him from the inevitable betrayal to just do it now.’ He breathes in and turns his gaze back up to his business partner's face. “David, I know everything about it.”

David stares back at him, taking him in. He looks angry, but he isn’t wearing as many expressions on his face as usual. Usually there are 100 emotions written there, and there's always something positive when he looks at Patrick. Even when they first met, when Patrick was the enemy, he had more affection on his face. This though? This face is cold and mean, brimming on furious. Maybe that’s why Patrick swallows hard, exhales, and chickens out. ‘He has the materials to teach himself, and I warned him,’ as if that will absolve him from guilt. 

“...I’m sorry for what I said. I thought you’d want peace of mind... I’ll always take care of this stuff for you.” And it’s true. Linda wants him to leave the town with his trust intact so he can look at the books periodically. If that means helping David at tax season or filing some paperwork when he gets an employee to replace Patrick, he'll be happy to do it. He will sit at his desk at work and wait to hear from David every day, and that will be the highlight of his week, not the Rose case, which will be over. Patrick mourns for his pathetic future self. He should have just told him. Anything would be better than that life. “This will live here if you ever need it.”

David gives Patrick’s shoulder a grazed hand and leaves the room to finish closing the store. Patrick sinks further into the chair and breathes deeply. He’s frustrated that he almost spilled everything, ruining the investigation, and why? Because David said he didn’t know what he was talking about? He doesn’t have anything to prove to that prick. He brings the palms of his hands to his eyes, and suddenly he’s simultaneously frustrated with himself for not going through with it. 

He stands to turn off the desk lamp. As he leans across the desk, he notices a small white box with a business card on top. ‘I just cleaned this off yesterday to do the binder. When did this get here?’  

The business card has their Rose Apothecary logo on it. Patrick picks it up and reads the words.

David Rose 
Co-Owner and Operator

Co-Owner. Fuck.  

“David?” Patrick emerges from the back office but David is gone.  

. 

The next day, David doesn't come in on time. It's not necessarily weird, he's is chronically late to work. It wasn’t a problem before they opened but now it’s clear that he has never held down a regular job for a reason. Well, he’s never had to, but he also wouldn’t be able to. He’s lazy and has no respect for anyone else’s time. But today, David’s birthday, is the worst. It’s three hours after opening and David is absent. ‘He’s flaking on work for his birthday. No call, no show. Lazy piece of shit.’ 

'Did I offend him with the binder?' They've gotten into worse spats before and David's preferred method of communication is ignoring the problem. Still, Patrick's stomach is twisted with guilt.

Patrick picks up his phone to text him, but they never really text. Their message chain is mostly addresses and numbers and pictures of barcodes. Patrick knows anything in writing could someday be used as evidence, so he doesn’t want to start a habit of it. That, and Patrick is a texter. He knows if they start, it’ll be another level of fraternization and he doesn’t want to breach it, especially on David’s birthday. Luckily, just as he is about to cave, David comes in, miffed. He takes up resolutely at the register, indicating he won’t be doing customer service today. Patrick doesn't know him to hold a grudge overnight, so if this is about the binder, it obviously struck a nerve. 

Patrick wants to lecture him, ‘You have to do your job even if you're mad, even on your birthday,’ but Patrick probably shouldn’t even know it’s his birthday. Plus, something about David’s demeanor seems really off. About an hour into the day, David projects his life into some poor customer’s ear. Patrick tries not to pay mind to the unprofessional behavior, because it sounds like his family forgot his birthday, and it's not actually anything Patrick did. 

A few minutes later in an empty store, he seems pissed Patrick hasn’t asked him what’s wrong. The guilt from the binder conversation gets to Patrick as he asks, "Everything ok?"

“Here’s a question. Um... has your family ever forgotten your birthday? Your parents...your sister...  collectively... as a whole...?”

This marks the first personal question David has asked about Patrick’s life. Ever. In two months of their acquaintance, seeing each other every day, in their owning a business together, spending some 10-hour days together, David has never asked a single thing about Patrick’s life. He’s not even aware Patrick is an only child. And this question is not even a genuine curiosity, this is a means to his conversation. ‘What a self-centered asshole. Is he really pissed, all day, because his family forgot his birthday? You’re a grown man. What the fuck.’  

So to toss some vitriol back at him, and to force David to learn something about his business partner, Patrick rubs his rich-in-love family in his face. No fake back story, he can do this truthfully without any identifiable features. “That would be a no... No, we’ve always had some kind of party.” He feels a little like their first meeting. Patrick wants to taunt him so hard, he can’t keep the smile off his face.  

Patrick wants to make him regret asking a personal question. “In fact, sometimes two parties.” David is motioning for him to stop, that his question wasn’t genuine. Patrick sees it and keeps going. He can’t stop himself, it’s too good. “One before school ended with my friends and then one with my family, with my cousins who are kind of more like siblings.” ‘Throw the big family thing in there, really get to him.’ He finishes, “But they’ve forgotten other things...” hopefully clearly lying. What else would there be to forget? 

“Yeah. I’m sure. Yeah.” David shoots daggers at Patrick. It’s the most hateful look David has ever given him and it feels amazing. Patrick takes a mental picture. This man is jealous of something Patrick has. The level of hatred is back to its peak. The prospect of leaving has Patrick back on his game.

“I’m kind of piecing together that it might be your birthday,” Patrick already knows. He knows the hospital where he was born. He knows which club held his party 6 years ago.  

David kind of bows, grateful that one person is acknowledging it. “Yes it is.” 

“Well happy birthday! How old are we—” Patrick tries to ruffle some more feathers but David shoots more daggers. It’s actually a little scary, so Patrick changes course. “Do you have any plans for today or…”  

“Uhhh I plan on popping a pill...” ‘do you have a prescription for that?’ “Crying a bit, and falling asleep early. Just a regular weeknight.” ‘It’s Friday.’

“Sounds fun.” An opportunity presents itself to Patrick’s current Rose-hating investigator mood. Patrick needs to figure out the rest of the story before he goes home. The father, the mother, Alexis. He will sit David down, maybe get him drunk, and ask him point-blank some hard questions to hopefully get a confession of some unknown crime. In the spirit of the birthday. “We could go for a birthday dinner?” Patrick proposes and David, ‘the moron,’ agrees.  

The words hang in the air for the rest of the day. He sneaks into the back to email Linda from his phone. “I may have just agreed to a date with David Rose. —P” It’s an exaggeration. David has a girlfriend. It’s not a date. ‘Why did I write “date”?’

Patrick runs back to Ray’s after work. He has a present for David. It was meant for Patrick’s last day here, whenever that would be. He’d give a veiled speech about how numbers don’t lie and the importance of keeping track, without giving too much away, hoping David reads through the lines and takes it to heart. He wraps it. 

Patrick
Taking David out for his birthday  

Frankie
That’s uncharacteristically sweet of you.
Who will he be having this evening?
Pining business partner or scheming undercover agent? 

Patrick 
Started out scheming, regretting my decisions.
I thought I’d be able to get more info about his family and the birthday dinner seemed like a way to do it?
But could he misread it as like a date?
He has a girlfriend though. 
I do not “pine” for David.  

Frankie 
Yeahhhh it might be a date.  

Patrick
He has a girlfriend!
It’s not a date.
Fuck
Well what do I do? My boss said to lead him on if it means getting info 

Frankie  
Is it really leading him on if you like him? 

Patrick
Do I like him? 

Frankie
[screenshot of Patrick’s text saying he jerked off to David Rose’s face] 

Patrick
Ok that’s not the same

Frankie 
Ok did you get him anything 

Patrick 
Yeah I framed our first receipt.
I want to give him some sort of tangible reminder that the numbers mean something.
Like that the numbers exist in the real world and he should be careful.  

Frankie
Yes very meaningful 

Patrick
Shut up you know what I mean  

Frankie
He won’t.  

Patrick gets in the shower. As he washes up, he gets nervous. They go to the cafe all the time. They’re together like 23 hours a day. This isn’t different. His dick twitches on cue, as if to say yes, it’s different.  

He puts on one of the few shirts he has here in his rented bedroom. Even though Rachel and Frankie packed and sent some more clothes, it’s been nearly two months of wearing the same things every day. Patrick never did anything social outside of work, he wants it to be at least a little different. So he unzips a garment bag and pulls out his suit jacket. He’s never really worn one with jeans— what is he a college professor? But it looks like it works for Patrick Brewer. Business Consultant. Fuck. Patrick Brewer. Co-Owner? 

. 

He gets to the cafe before David and sets the gift bag beside him. Of course David is late. 

Linda
Sorry for the text but I wanted to get to you before your meeting tonight. A date was a great idea for a fact finding mission. Politely decline any physical contact. You’re straight, he’ll understand. That’s the only way I see this playing out while maintaining your close relationship. Try to get as much info as possible to work the case when you come back here, hopefully next week. Have a good weekend.

Patrick sends back a thumbs up. Of course he’ll turn down any physical contact. First, it’s not a date. David has a girlfriend. Second, Patrick is straight. Right? ‘Yeah no… every night of the last two months disagrees with you.’ Third, he hates David. His stomach churns with disgust at the idea of actually doing anything physical with David outside of his imagination. It won't be hard to turn down any physical contact should any come his way.

Then again… if he’s not straight, this could be the only opportunity to try anything out with a guy before going home to Rachel. He can’t be going out with guys while living with her, it would be cheating. They’re on a break now, he can. Suddenly, Patrick is resolved to do stuff with David before leaving town. Tonight, preferably. David clearly doesn’t care about fidelity to Stevie. On paper, he finds David revolting but his body has been fine with the idea for weeks, so it shouldn’t be an issue. 

‘Except… shit.’ Physical contact would compromise the case so badly. He probably wouldn’t be able to enact a successful exit strategy and maintain communication from home. He should have planned this. He plans everything, why didn’t he make a plan today? He’s just at the whim of whatever David wants to do?? ‘...Actually that sounds like a good plan.’ 

When David finally walks in, Patrick feels a rush in his stomach like when he first got to this town, watching David through the window of the store. It’s something that happens every day when he comes into work. Patrick is always so excited to be in his presence and why hasn’t that dissipated? God, leaving is going to suck.  

They settle into some jokes. ‘This is not a date, he has a girlfriend. This is not a date, he has a girlfriend.’ He’ll coax some info throughout the night, but food first. Patrick is nervous, why? They do this all the time. 

Stevie comes in and runs up to the table. Patrick breathes a sigh of relief. This is not a date. He has a girlfriend. Relief right? This is not a date. He has a girlfriend. He takes this distraction as an opportunity to collect himself in the bathroom, adjust the plan to include her.

He looks at himself in the mirror. The suit jacket feels weird. How did he used to wear one every day? He’s a different person now. Who was this person two months ago? Suits every day. Undeniably straight. Engaged to a woman. Hating upper class lifestyles, especially these privileged brats living off their parent’s money, avoiding their fair fee in any way they can. Hating the Roses, David Rose, more than anyone in the world.  

Now? Patrick recognizes the guy in the mirror. He knows his name, kind of. But all of those things are so distorted to this current version of Patrick. It’s a better person, a more trusting person, someone who sees nuance, who works hard, tries new things, meets new people and is excited to live life. He can think of three positive things to say about David Rose, his arch nemesis. Is that not a positive change? He loves this town. He loves his store. His store.  

And Stevie coming in was the icing on the cake. In this town, your closest friends are all walking distance. The whole town would fight for you. The whole town has the same sense of humor. You know everyone. Patrick thinks if Frankie and his husband walk through the town limits of Schitt’s Creek, he would immediately buy a house and never leave. Stevie’s presence hinders the night’s goal of experimenting with David, but it deepens his anxiety about leaving. 

In order to keep the new, better person he’s looking at in the mirror, he needs to stay here. So he needs an actual lead out of David and Stevie tonight. Literally anything Patrick can take back to his boss and say, “I need to stay to figure this out.” He thinks through his questions for her, about the motel. He hasn’t reported that Mr. Rose works at the motel, so tonight he has to find something there to tell them. Stevie’s presence is ideal.

He heads back out where his gift now sits on the table. Patrick tries to stifle a small laugh. David is probably used to very expensive presents and this one cost $5.99 for the frame. But he’s also scared about David opening it here, in front of Stevie, knowing they won’t understand it and he’d only practiced explaining it to David. Stevie might even think it’s a grab at her man, making the same assumption Frankie made. There’s no sentimentality, just a reminder to keep receipts and write everything down and stay above board, that numbers are traceable. Patrick really doesn’t want him to open it with his girlfriend here.  

But David does, and looks pleased, like it means something to him, and it’s definitely not what Patrick wants it to mean. The thank you is genuine even though it was a low-cost gift. Much less bratty than expected. His face is… something. Patrick hasn’t seen that face before, and he’s been cataloging David’s mouthshapes and faces for a while now. ‘What is that?’

All at once there are mozzarella sticks and no Stevie. She doesn’t even really make an excuse, but Patrick knows she’s pissed about the perceived sentimentality of the gift. She makes motions to David behind Patrick’s back, probably “we need to talk”, and storms out. Patrick momentarily feels bad for ruining his birthday, but then it’s just the two business partners.  

After they order dinner and wine, Patrick starts the soft interview. “I bet your dad misses his business, I’m surprised he’s not into yours.” 

David responds with a mouth of mozzarella stick. “Turns out he’s not really a great businessman?” He regales stories of selling someone’s car by accident (‘sounds like there was a null sale, and too little to count’). He almost sold the town but the guy died while signing the paperwork (Patrick remembers this and fills another gap from the numbers). He got really involved with the motel when Stevie’s great-aunt died. This is what stops Patrick a little bit and he wishes he could ask these questions tactfully without sounding investigatory.  

“Did he like, buy out a stake in the motel or…?” 

David chokes and laughs, “With what money? He doesn’t have a magic little grant writer on staff...” he gestures to Patrick. “He’s just like... overseeing everything. Stevie does all the check-ins and cleaning and work. I’m not really sure what my dad does there, it seems like he’s always working. But I’m glad it’s not just Stevie— tonight the motel is sold out for the first time in years.” Huh. Is the motel doing well? Maybe another explanation why Stevie left tonight. Their taxes last quarter didn’t show it. If Patrick recalls there was a marginal improvement in the numbers, but nothing to write home about. Nothing to indicate they were booked up for the first time in years. 

Is Johnny making money there? Taxes say no, there’s no indication he works there. What does he mean he’s “overseeing” the motel? And always working? If Stevie owns it and does all the work, she wouldn’t need an overseer. Patrick is suddenly wishing Stevie had stayed at dinner. He’s also taken by how impressive that little lady is. She’s really a catch. David is so lucky.  

David moves on from the subject before Patrick is ready. He tells him a lot more about his time in Schitt’s Creek. The getting-to-know you rants at the store were always about New York David. He still wants to talk exclusively about himself, because nothing matters except David Rose, but this is a little different. The Schitt’s Creek stories seem to be a little more vulnerable for David. 

David gets around to the Blouse Barn. “...so when I went to my interview with Wendy she kept saying the word ‘skanky!’ But that whole thing ended pretty well I’d say.” He gestures around and then to Patrick.  

Patrick looks behind him as if to wonder if there’s someone else there. “I’m here because of the Blouse Barn?” ‘Wait... he’s not wrong.’ 

“Well yeah. Some lady came for the name. So Alexis and I posed as lawyers, they offered five or ten thousand dollars or something, and I got her $150,000.” 

Patrick chokes on a bite. “What?” It's illegal to impersonate a lawyer.

“Yeah it was crazy. I just knew it was worth more to them than they were leading on so I just ...asked for a stupid high number? and they agreed?”  

Patrick's head is swimming. He wants so badly to go back to his notes right now. 'One thing at a time,' “So she gave you some of that money… for helping her.”

“Correct.”

“…and you put that money into the store.”  

“Correct.” 

“...and you never paid taxes on it.” 

“Corr— wait, should I have?” 

‘Oh my god this fucking moron. I’m here... all of this is here... because you don’t understand how money works.’ Patrick reels.

“Yes!” Patrick says loudly but can’t help himself. He doesn’t know what to do. Should he cuff him on the spot? ‘That would ensure it’s not a date. But it’s not a date. He has a girlfriend.’ It’s not even that much money in the grand scheme of things. Their department worries about much larger sums but if they did go after him, they would take his only asset, the store. All the hard work, the dreaming, the business partners… Shit. He'd likely be charged with a crime for false representation if that full story came out. ‘We gotta find something else or this has to be in the next update. Fuck. He has to pay those taxes, erase any suspicion about that event.’ “You can still pay them. I can help you.” ‘What? Why?’

“Why would I do that?” David’s look says he is not interested in paying taxes on that check.

“Your civic duty? For starters?” Patrick’s blood boils with hatred at the man sitting in front of him. He knows he’s getting riled up and tries to even his voice. “Legal obligation, secondary.” ‘Third, to keep my boss from taking your entire life away… again. Fourth, to keep a more thorough investigation from finding the more serious crime...’ 

“You’re a very responsible person.” David looks at him with an expression he doesn’t know. It’s the expression from when he opened Patrick’s gift.

Patrick is tempted to continue into dangerous territory. ‘Any responsible person would have the same response as this.’ “Remember I told you to stay above board with your business—” 

David rolls his eyes, “Yes, the binder that haunts my waking nightmares.”

“—I was serious, the government can come in and take your assets if you’re not paying taxes. You of all people should know that.” He knows he should stop, this is getting too close. 

“This is very good birthday conversation. Thanks for this. A fun night.” David flusters. Patrick shuts up, glad David stopped him; the conversation was not heading in a safe direction. He also doesn’t care if David’s store gets taken after that exchange. It put him firmly back into the box of Patrick’s least favorite things where he was two months ago. Typical rich asshole trying to avoid taxes. Fuck him. The full story, fake-lawyer included, will go into the investigation. 

“Sorry.” Patrick lies curtly. They sit in silence for a beat before Patrick changes topics, now ready to find dirt. “How’s your mom? Is she really on town council?” 

David doesn’t mind or acknowledge the abrupt shift. “Yeah that was a weird one too.” He launches into the story. It sounds like there could be a handful of times she’s abused her power. Again, they would all be tiny blips in the grand scheme of the Rose family, but shady nonetheless. Patrick remembers it actually wasn’t illegal for her to side with David over Christmas World in the vote. It could be a sign of further malfeasance, but it would be a pretty dubious lead. ‘Count it.’ 

There’s one last way Patrick can pull a lead out of this night. He thinks about Sebastian Raine’s visit and how that led to a pretty strong case. Paula is acting on it now, and it looks like Raine will have a property repossessed. This one might be a sensitive subject for David, but right now Patrick doesn’t care. “Do you guys still talk to anyone from before?”

“I think you mean ‘do any of them talk to us?’ and no.” David fidgets with a paper napkin. “My DMs are about as empty as the cinnamon roll box in the motel office. People drop you quickly when you have nothing to offer.”

“Well that’s sad. No one visits?”

“Ummm it would feel really weird to see anyone in this town, they’d stick out. I guess my ex-boyfriend was here, that wasn’t great. My aunt came around for a day or two. My parents ran into the Taylors and had a weird big group dinner with the Schitts in Elmdale, which is a crazy story—”

“The Taylors?” Patrick is wondering why that rings a bell. 

“Yeah Don and Bev Taylor. They’re old money, but they’re awful people. Apparently they were both colossal dicks the entire dinner so my dad kind of annihilated them, defending Roland’s honor or something? They used to be like best friends, but my dad completely called them out for losing our number and making fun of Roland. Who even are we?” David puts his head in his hands. “Defending Roland Schitt? In front of the Taylors?”

“The Taylors…like Donald Taylor… like the plastic and rubber magnate? They’re like… billionaires, David.” Patrick’s head is spinning. Why were they here? Are they in some sort of business together? He takes a gulp of water. 

David’s eyes roll around lazily. “Patrick, I name like fifteen actual celebrities I actually know, per day, and you only know the businessy ones? They’re not even that famous, and I don’t even think they’re that rich... Alexis used to babysit the daughter and Bev paid her in checks from their cancer research foundation.” Patrick chokes on some water but gestures to David to keep going. “I guess she’s going to college around here or something? I don’t know. That kid was kind of a brat.”

Patrick’s eyes stop watering from the choking. “Wow.” He’s speechless but David is looking for a reaction. “And they were at dinner with Roland??” He laughs, because the image actually is pretty funny. “They must be pretty hard-up. I guess it wasn’t a business meeting.”

David shakes his head quickly. “To hear Jocelyn tell it? the Taylors will probably scorch any earth my parents try to walk on… ever again. They were being snooty about Roland and Schitt’s Creek and I guess my dad snapped,” ‘Probably not a secret backer of the store then.’ “We’ve been getting this tendency to burn any bridge that does happen to appear. Alexis and I were mad for like a day. If that dinner went well, my dad could have asked them for some kind of help or something but no. He chose to insult them on Roland’s behalf.” Yep, probably not connected financially here. They do sound like douchebags though… and the cancer foundation checks? Huh. An idea takes root on the backburner of Patrick’s brain. 

Ok. The motel, the check, impersonating a lawyer, town council, and a cursory glance at the Taylors for good measure. There are some hunches to work with here. If he got really lucky, this could buy Patrick a couple of days, but probably not. He’s exhausted all of the questions David would be able to answer, pretty unfruitfully. As David rambles about his life, never once asking about the man sitting in front of him, Patrick has to bite his tongue. A lot. David describes an enormous painting of the four of them that hung in their mansion and how it ended up at the motel last week. If David cared to look at his reactions he would see no surprise to any of this.  

He’s still on alert for clues, but now just resigns himself to enjoy the weird love/hate company, pendulum swinging toward hate, for any brief remaining time he has. David doesn’t ask one single question to Patrick about his life, which would be terrible etiquette if this were a date. ‘It’s not a date, he has a girlfriend.’ Patrick is glad for his business partner’s ego, though. If David asked even one question, Patrick fears he would break down and tell him he’s probably leaving early next week. 

Though Alexis is getting mentioned a lot, he doesn’t ask any follow-ups about her. He doesn’t want to. Patrick still has some complicated thoughts about why this is the Rose he’s sitting across from on a not-date (‘This isn’t a date. He has a girlfriend.’).  Alexis is the perfect woman— his favorite Rose—and she showed interest. Yet he’s home every night at 8:30 masturbating to her brother’s image. He’s mad at himself for fumbling that. It won’t matter. He’ll be back sleeping in the same bed as Rachel in a matter of days.  

Patrick rounds back to the motel discussion from the beginning of the meal, but gets the same fruitless answers: The motel is booked up tonight for the first time, it’s unclear why there’s an uptick in traffic this weekend, Johnny Rose is working there, it’s unclear what he does, it’s unclear if he’s paid. 

“Sounds like Stevie is actually doing most of the work there.” Patrick observes, and David nods in agreement through a sip of wine. All bases covered, now it’s time for a little investigation for Patrick’s own sake. “She’s way out of your league, how did you two happen?” 

David chokes on his sip, “What is this? 21 questions!?” And Patrick regrets it immediately. ‘Actually… there have been like 60 questions. Why is this the question that gets me called out?’

“No sorry! You don’t have to… I’m just always super curious about your life!” ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Mac.’

“Ugh oh my god fine!” David takes another gulp, nearing the end of his glass. “She was my only friend here and we got high and drunk one night and hooked up in the love room.” 

“The love room.” 

“Yeah, the honeymoon room in the motel with the mirror on the ceiling.” 

“Mirror on the... What is that for?” 

“Poor sweet innocent child.” David tsks and slyly smirks at him. He looks almost predatory. ‘If this were a date... but he has a girlfriend.’

“Well I wouldn’t go that far...” Patrick protests under a hot flush but David is right on. His sex life has always been the most vanilla stuff on the planet. Up until a few weeks ago he didn’t even really understand how passionate it was supposed to feel. 

“Anywaaay… we did it a few more times but decided we were better off as friends. Then we got an offer on the town so I asked her to move to New York with me, and she said no because she was too in love with me which I mean...” David gestures at his body.  

“Right. Irresistible.” Patrick fills in dryly. David rolls his eyes but smirks a little. 

“...so I basically lost my only friend in town. I lost my mind and lived with the Amish. Came back, didn’t really talk about it. Luckily she’s over it. She’s my only friend, I don’t know what I’d do. Don’t tell her that.” 

“Mhmm um oh ok yeah.” Patrick’s mouth is making sounds and his head is moving in a nod, but he’s reeling, a cold tentacle clenching his esophagus. David is saying Stevie is just a really good friend he hooked up with ages ago. He’s not dating her. ‘Stevie saw it was just us and left. She realized it was a date and she left. She’s not his girlfriend. This is a date.’

He has no girlfriend. This is a date.  

“So she’s single I think if you want...” He says, half-heartedly, then thinks for a second, “Actually, when I was there because of the lice, she had two toothbrushes, so I’m not even sure.” 

“No!” Patrick barks out too loud, too nervously. ‘Oof. Make a joke.’ “She’s way too... enthusiastic and vibrant for me.” David smiles and rolls his eyes.  

He has no girlfriend. This is a date. Fuck. Patrick plunges into survival mode, the multi-headed spiral from earlier listed like bullet points in his brain. ‘Why didn’t I have a plan??’

. 

Somewhere between leaving enough money for Twyla and walking out the door, Patrick rallies himself, mind made up. This is happening. Tonight. The charged energy as David walks him to his car is on another level, and when they arrive at the beat-up vehicle parallel parked on the street in front of their store, Patrick stiffens, prepared for anything. 

Nothing happens. The conversation that had been easily flowing has stopped, and neither man is budging. David stands in front of him on the sidewalk, too close to be misconstrued. ‘Just do it, just kiss him. Just see what it’s like.’ He thinks, as if it’s that simple. ‘He’s not moving either… Does he even want that? Is he waiting for me? Do people normally throw themselves at him?’ Seconds or minutes tick by and Patrick’s heart can’t stop pounding. ‘Maybe it’s too public. Should we go into the store? Into the car? How could I suggest that casually?’ 

“Can I drive you home?” he blurts out. It’s weak. David lives a five minute walk away. It buys them another minute or two in which Patrick can think of a plan, stall the inevitable. ‘But what if he doesn’t make a move? Would I?’

“We’re both at your car, it would be almost weird if you didn’t.” 

So they set out, the warm glow of the radio providing some ambiance to their uncharacteristic silence, giving Patrick time to form more frantic mental lists. Even though he can’t envision another opportunity to do stuff with a man, it could end his career. But right now it seems imperative that he gets this experience before he leaves this town and never gets this close to a man again. But physical contact breaches a wall of fraternization that would risk the exit strategy. Was the exit strategy fucked the second he realized it was a date? He pulls into the motel lot. 

David points to his room and Patrick parks in front of it. “Well that was a really fun night.” David says emphatically, but Patrick is petrified. He’s decided he’ll reciprocate if the advance is made, but he can’t make an advance. He wouldn’t be able to live if he couldn’t tell himself David instigated it, that he didn’t want it but David did it anyway. ‘He’s not leaving this car until this happens.’ But how do you make someone kiss you? Make a joke about it? Admit feelings? ‘I’m leaving anyway, fuck it.’

“I’m really glad I decided to invest in your business, David.” Is the best he can come up with. 

“That is a really lovely thing to say.” Is all he says back. Patrick is trying to be genuine and David couldn’t return a compliment? What a monster. 

Patrick corrects him: “And I'm so glad you did, Patrick, because you've really helped to turn it into the success that it is.”

“Hmm. A bold claim.” David shoots back. 

There’s banter. Then there is silence. ‘Fuck. I ruined it by calling him out.’

Then slowly, almost imperceptively, David is approaching Patrick’s face with his own. Linda’s voice enters his head, “Turn it down, you’re straight, he’ll understand.” Frankie’s voice is saying, “do it do it do it.” Rachel’s in there somewhere, fuming. Patrick McDuklorpen wants to throw a punch, make fun of him. Patrick Brewer is— 

David kisses him. His hand cups the side of Patrick’s face. His mouth—the mouth!— moves faintly against Patrick’s. Patrick doesn’t turn it down, he doesn’t push him off, he doesn’t run screaming from the car. He’s human. If someone you’ve been fantasizing about kisses you, you go with it. 

Patrick suddenly remembers why he wasn’t turning it down. He’s testing something, and the experiment is successful. David’s mouth and lips are larger than Patrick’s. His jaw reaches beyond Patrick’s. The stubble on David’s face prickles straight through his face straight down his torso. The thick fingers on his jaw are firm and grounded. Somehow even the intake of air is deeper. This is a man kissing Patrick, and it breaks him. It clicks a large puzzle piece that has been shuffling noisily in his brain since his arrival: He’s not straight, and very interested in men. Suddenly, he’s glad he came to Schitt’s Creek, glad this happened before he left. It has dire career consequences, but Patrick’s world just opened. He can’t believe he has David Rose— selfish, inconsiderate David Rose, who just made a move on a straight coworker with no consent— to thank for that.

His brain shuts off as the kiss ends too soon. The world is buzzing. “Thank you,” he says, relieved, without thinking, immediately hating himself. David is inquisitive but also so smug, like he knows he just shook Patrick’s world. Patrick has to explain, “I’ve never done that before… with a guy.” ‘Which you’d know if you asked me!’ “Yeah. And I was getting a little scared that I was going to let you leave here without us having done that. So... Thank you for um... making that happen for… us.” Patrick is careful not to phrase it like he was the one leaving, that he wanted it to happen for “us” not solely for himself. 

“Well fortunately, I’m a very generous person.” Wow. Wow. Only the biggest dickhead in the world could respond to those genuine statements with such hubris, such a lack of compassion. Patrick just spilled his guts, was more honest than he’s ever been with David. And this asshole wants to make a self-involved joke? 

Patrick doesn’t know what to say to that. He just asks if they can talk tomorrow. Such a dumb question. As if they’re not talking all day every day. David exits the car and they share terse good nights. 

Patrick drives the car out of the motel lot and pulls over as soon as he is out of sight from David’s room.