Work Text:
David Parrish leaves his office later than normal, and walks the rain-slicked sidewalks of downtown Seattle with a skip in his step. His partner, Evan Lorne, who had been on a seven-day trip flying for Last Frontier Air, and hadn't even been in the state when the first day for marriage licenses had become available, was coming home tonight. Evan's absence had forced David to go to the courthouse alone to get their license when they came available on the 6th, his best friend and coworker Deborah Kiang insisting on joining him, to keep him from being too morose at Evan missing the event. It hadn't worked, though; every smiling couple picking up their license had made him miss Evan that much more. But now, Evan was coming home - due in at 9pm - and they had an appointment with City Hall for the following morning to finally make their marriage official, followed by a short honeymoon up in a cabin in the Cascades. Nothing can peel away the smile on David's face today.
Walking away from his office at 1201 3rd Avenue, David realizes as he crosses the street that he'd forgotten his briefcase and cellphone. He would normally just leave them in the office, but his briefcase holds their license - which they would need the following morning, so he turns to head back. He walks in, fumbling with his security badge to get back into the building. Once in, he heads for the elevators, badge in hand when he hears a voice behind him.
"I'm sorry, sir," the voice calls (David recognizing it as one of the geriatric night-shift security guards), "but the elevators are all turned off for maintenance tonight."
"All of them?" David asks as he turns to the guard. "But I just left ten minutes ago."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," comes the reply. He points to the stairwell, saying, "But the stairs have all been unlocked, so you shouldn't need your badge."
David looks skyward to the 41st floor of the building and to where his office at Atlantis Associates sits. He sighs, but is determined to not let the inconvenience spoil his mood. "Guess this'll make up for me missing my run this morning," he says with a smile, then heads for the stairs.
It takes fifteen minutes for David to reach the 41st floor of the building, the sign, 'ATLANTIS ASSOCIATES - SECURE AREA - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' staring back at him as he rubs the muscles of his thighs and catches his breath. He pulls his keycard from his pocket, then flashes it at the cardreader once. Then again. He flashes it a third time, but the light on the cardreader access stays a solid red instead of flashing red/green to indicate access.
Not knowing exactly what to do, David first pulls at the doorhandle, and when it doesn't budge, he pulls harder before making a fist and banging on the door. "Hello?" he calls, then waits for a response he instinctively knows won't be answered.
Nothing.
He tries the cardreader again, pulling on the doorhandle as he does, but again gets the steady red light.
"Great," he mutters, then turns to go back down the stairs. It doesn't take as long to traverse the 41 stories going down, though his legs feel a bit rubbery when he finally exits the stairwell and heads over to the security guard's station.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Sighing, David responds, "I can't get into my office," then points to the stairwell. "Atlantis Associates, 41st floor."
The older security guard's face turns a even paler as he mutters, "Oh my... Do you need to get into your office tonight, sir?"
"I'm afraid so," David says, offering a sympathetic smile.
"Oh my," is the only response the security guard can offer. After pondering the situation, and as David gets even more antsy, the security guard grabs his walkie-talkie. "Base one to base two, over."
"What is it, Elwin?" comes the response.
"You're supposed to say 'base two, copy', Nigel," security guard Elwin whines.
"Fine. Copy base two," squawks forth from the device.
"Nigel! You don’t say copy until after-"
David rubs his hand over his face, still trying to think good thoughts for the next day. He clears his throat, getting the first security guard's attention.
"Base two," the security guard starts again. "I've got a customer that needs to get into a locked office. Over."
"Fine," blares through the walkie-talkie a second later, followed by what sounds like a flush. "Be right there."
David momentarily considers leaving the briefcase and coming back early in the morning, but nixes the thought since their appointment is at 8am.
It takes several minutes, but an equally elderly (to the first) security guard finally shows up at the desk. "Which office, sir?" he asks.
"Atlantis Associates," David responds, then points up. "41st floor."
"Seriously?"
David just nods.
"Fine..." the second security guard whines. He turns to flip off the first security guard, then hobbles slowly towards the stairs, David close behind him.
This trip up the staircase takes twice as long as the first time, David almost afraid that the elderly guard might have a heart attack at the sudden exertion. He takes to following the man (just in case), who suddenly stops and clutches himself when they reach the 38th floor landing. "Are you okay?" David asks.
The security guard turns to him slowly, a grim look on his face, then utters one word, "Prunes..." before sitting down on the staircase for a moment.
"Well we're-" David starts as he points up, but the security guard balks at him.
"You gotta wait, Mister," he says. He stands up, then uses his key to disappear into the locked area, clutching himself.
"Jesus!" David swears, then sits down on the steps to wait.
It takes ten minutes before the security guard returns, apologizing as they start up the stairs. They finally reach the 41st floor landing when the security guard pats his pockets and says, "My keys!"
Just as David rolls his eyes, the security guard laughs and says, "Got ya!", then pulls his jangle of keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and ushering David into Atlantis' office space. "Thanks," David says, then disappears into the office, silently cursing the security guard he left behind.
David gets to his own office and grabs his briefcase. As he starts to head out, he reaches in and grabs his iPhone, noticing he has a few emails and a voicemail. The voicemail is from their housekeeper Caroline, who says she put a special meal - Evan's favorite, a beef brisket - in the oven on a low temperature, that will be fine until David gets home. Since David's an hour later than normal, he wonders if he should take a cab for the quick mile walk home, but shrugs it off, figuring he'll just walk fast. The emails are a mix of the usual, plus an email from Evan (thank goodness for in-flight WiFi), saying there was a brisk tailwind that was not only bringing home some nasty weather, but upped Evan's arrival time from 9pm up to 7:45pm, David breaking out in a smile once again at his good fortune.
David looks at his watch, realizing that Evan's arrival is now only ten minutes away. With traffic from SeaTac, that means Evan would be home in about 30 minutes. "I still have time," he thinks. He crosses the office and heads to the elevators, just in case, but finds them still out of order, so he heads to the staircase. Looking out the 41st story window, he notices a heavy rain, and strong winds - obviously already settling into the Puget Sound area before Evan gets home, so he turns back to his office, grabbing an umbrella.
The trip back down the stairs is interrupted when he finds security guard Nigel stopped on the 23rd floor, sprawled out and happily snoring on the landing. He starts to gently step over the sleeping man when his phone rings, startling him, so he missteps. As he reaches for the handrail to steady himself, the phone drops from his hand, tumbling down between the rails of the remaining 23 stories below him, a glass-crunching splat announcing when it meets the pavement.
David takes a deep breath, then screams, "SHIT!" at the top of his lungs.
"Jeez, mister," the security guard drawls from his spot on the floor. "You don't have to yell."
David just rolls his eyes, and then continues his trip down the stairs.
Stepping outside, David is almost pushed back against the 55-story building by a sudden gust of wind. He steadies himself, then opens his umbrella and steps out onto 2nd Avenue, turning north towards their home in Lower Queen Anne. As usual, there is a gaggle of tourists as he approaches Pike Street, so he darts out of their way (as they take up the entire sidewalk, the family bickering about where to eat and not caring about anyone trying to walk around them). David takes a step into the street to bypass the family, when his left foot sinks into several inches of standing water, flooding his Italian leather loafers. He grits his teeth and starts to continue, when one of the children from the griping family throws his milkshake down in protest to whatever has been decided, splattering down David's right pant leg.
"Are you fucking serious?" David nearly screams at no one in particular as the treat sinks into his pants, rain helping it melt into his right shoe.
He glances at the family, the father pulling his unhappy child next to him. "Don't you talk to my son that way!" the man bellows.
David just shakes his head and continues on, ignoring the man, though he'd seriously like to give him a piece of his mind when he overhears the man muttering about "how people in Seattle are so rude." Taking a deep breath, David reminds himself "Just a few more minutes 'til I'm home."
As David passes the Undead Café at Stewart Street, a sudden massive gust of wind stops him in his tracks. He fights to hold onto his umbrella - an oversized golf umbrella that Evan had gotten him as a present when he started walking to and from work every day - but the gust is too strong. As he adjusts his grip, the umbrella is ripped from his hand, and skitters up the sidewalk towards Macys.
And that's when the rain really starts to come down.
David feels cooler than normal, and looks down to find a gash in his pants. In his struggle with the umbrella, a small bit of one of the rounded metal corners of his briefcase had caught on his woolen trousers, ripping a two-inch hole just above the knee. "Great," he mutters. "Now my shoes and my suit pants are ruined."
Starting his journey from yet another false-stop, he tries to use his briefcase as protection from the weather, but stops when some paperwork (luckily just some receipts, not their marriage license) tumbles out of the side pocket. He loses the papers in another gust, and decides to just ignore them and continue walking. When he looks up, he sees his building just a quarter mile away, so he redoubles his effort, picking up the pace.
"Change, mister?" a homeless man calls from a darkened stoop.
Normally, David keeps change or dollar certificates for fast-food restaurants in his pockets. But it's deep inside his briefcase, so he makes his apologies and continues on his way. This occurs twice more, and so he's ready when he sees the fourth man lean out from his stoop into the rain. He's about to offer his apologies when the man leans down, throwing up on David's shoe just as he passes.
"FUCK!"
For once, David is glad for not having an umbrella, because his shoe is - thankfully - thoroughly washed by the rainstorm by the time he gets to the end of the block. He knows his blood pressure has skyrocketed, because his ears are burning and he can feel the veins throbbing in his forehead. He looks up, seeing a light shining from their top-floor penthouse apartment, dwarfed only by a blinking red light standing at the zenith of the cell tower atop their building. Sighing, he quietly thanks the hidden stars above that there're only two more blocks to go.
Another man steps out of the shadows and into David's path. And David goes to dismiss him, when the man steps into his way, wielding a knife. "Gimme your money," the thief utters, as light bounces off the blade of the knife from the flickering streetlight above.
David is so angry that he's shaking. He squints his eyes, then yells, "Piss off, asshole! I am in no mood!" and steps into the street to bypass the robber.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," the thief yells, stepping into David's personal space. "Give me your wallet."
Without thinking, David swings his briefcase, connecting with his attacker's jaw. The attempted thief immediately drops to the ground, unconscious. David looks down at the unconscious man, 'harumphs', and is almost distracted by a flashing light before he turns back to his path.
There's half a block to go, and David can see the doorman for their building through the big lobby windows as he stops for the light at Thomas Street. He hits the crosswalk button, and waits for the light to turn, which seems like it takes forever.
Finally the stoplight turns, and the white "WALK" signal changes. But just as he's taking a step out into the walkway, an errant car speeds through from the West with his horn blaring, resulting in David being covered in the giant splash that the car causes. David just sighs, then continues his walk. When he finally reaches their apartment building, he stands outside the front door to take a deep breath, and tries to throw off the bad vibes that seemed to follow him throughout his entire journey.
"Not a good day to forget your overcoat and umbrella," Charlie, the doorman, says as he opens the door for David.
David stops in his tracks, then closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he comes back to reality, he lets Charlie close the door behind him, then shuffles him into the elevator. As the door closes, Charlie offers, "Oh, and Mister Lorne preceded you home tonight. He's waiting in your apartment."
"Great," David offers as the doors slide shut.
The elevator ride is quick, David sloshing out of the elevator and stopping just at their apartment door. He leans forward, ignoring the charred-meat smell coming from inside of the apartment, knocking his head against the door repeatedly until it's opened.
"Aww, Sweetie!" Evan says as he appears when the door opens, wearing a sympathetic smile. "Are you okay?"
David mumbles a reply, stepping into the apartment.
"You wanna talk about it?" Evan asks, David quelling that question with a look. "Then how 'bout we get you out of these wet things, and into a nice, warm tub?" Evan asks. He grabs David's briefcase, setting it on the counter next to the charred remains of what the housekeeper had so painstakingly prepared for their dinner, before starting to undress his partner.
"Best husband ever," David says, voice barely above a whisper, as Evan slips the wet clothes off of him.
"Not your husband yet!" Evan says playfully, knowing not to push it based on the look David gives him. With a kiss, he adds, "But soon..."
Evan finishes getting David out of his clothes, then guides the man over to their fireplace, where a fire was already crackling. "Wait here," he says, then disappears.
David does as he's told, enjoying the warmth of the fire while Evan disappears deeper into the house. He hears a bath being drawn, Evan showing back up a few minutes later with David's plush bathrobe. "You ready for that bath now?" Evan asks. David just smiles, grabbing Evan's hand and letting Evan guide him to their oversized tub.
~*~*~
David relaxes in the tub, sending away the stray thoughts of his tortuous walk home with every drop of hot water their apartment can manage. After half an hour's dip, he's happily relaxed, Evan checking on him every few minutes (and topping off his glass of pinot noir), when the phone rings. "I'll get it," Evan calls.
"Hey, Doctor McKay," David hears Evan answer into the phone. "What's up?" Knowing his boss is on the phone, David fights the urge to plunge underneath the bubbles. He listens, hearing, "Wait a minute - slow down. Okay, what channel?" David hears the television turned on, Evan saying, "KOMO?" then changing the channel. "Okay, I'm- Um, we'll call you back."
Both Evan and the television noise stop at the same time, so David figures out something is going on. He looks up, eyes just above the waterline, and watches Evan walk into their bathroom, telephone in one hand and remote control in the other. "Umm, Boo? Is there anything you want to tell me about your day?"
David steels himself, then stands up, wiping the bubbles off of his skin, then reaches for his robe, Evan helping him into it. "What now?" he asks. Evan just waves the DVR controller at him, then leads him back into the living room, where David stops in his tracks when he sees a picture of an angry and wet version of himself staring back from the screen. "Oh god," he says, then retrieves the remote from Evan's hand, clicking the 'reverse' button at the television, then presses 'play'. He sucks in a breath as he listens to the reporter.
"And repeating our top story. In tonight's KOMO exclusive, police are looking for this man," the image fades from the news anchor to a blurry picture of David, taken just after he'd hit the attempted-thief with his briefcase, "who is responsible for sending a homeless man to Harborview with a broken jaw and facial lacerations after some unknown altercation in Lower Queen Anne tonight. Anyone who recognizes him is asked to call the police immediately. This picture was taken by a passing motorist, who witnessed the brutal assault. Again, if you recognize this man-"
David turns off the television, feeling the veins in his neck starting to throb again.
"Oh jeez," he says as their landline starts to ring again. Evan answers it and is about to hand the phone to David when the apartment's intercom buzzes.
"Yes, Charlie?" Evan asks.
"Sorry to bother you, sir," the doorman's meek-sounding voice comes through, "but I thought you'd want to know that the police are on their way up."
~*~*~
The police question David about the incident, seemingly knowing his innocence, but with the would-be thief still knocked out cold, they have to cover all bases. Evan stands behind David, hand on David's shoulder, to ground him through it all.
It's well past 1am when word finally comes from the officers who are with the thief at Harborview that they've gotten a confession. "We're sorry about this, sir," the police Lieutenant offers. David thinks the man, whose badge reads "Lt A. Ford", looks a little too young to be a police officer, much less one of rank.
"It's okay," David offers weakly.
"Thank you, Officer Ford; Officer Cadman," Evan says with a handshake. "C'mon, Boo. Gotta get you to bed. We've got an appointment downtown in the morning, and you've got to get some sleep."
"Appointment?" Ford asks as he and Cadman near the door.
Evan walks to sofa table, coming back and opening two black-felt covered ring boxes, showing their contents to the officers. "We're getting married in the morning." At David's yawn, he adds, "as long as I can get this one up in time."
Lieutenant Ford looks to his female partner. "Laura?" he asks with a grin on his face.
"What?" David asks as the two officers share a grin. "Did I miss something?"
"No, sir," Officer Cadman responds. "It's just that...I'm an ordained minister."
"Really?" Evan asks, throwing an arm around his partner.
It takes David a second to comprehend what the cop is suggesting, a timid smile creeping onto his face. "So you can marry people? In Washington?" he asks. Their appointment at City Hall the next morning was a mere formality; the couple had been registered domestic partners for as long as the law had been in place, and had already said their vows in a ceremony years before that.
Officer Cadman smiles back at him. "I was one of the volunteer ministers last Sunday and Monday, when couples could finally start getting married."
David smiles, reaching for Evan's hand. "You wanna?" he asks.
"God, yes," Evan says, kissing David to further his point.
The kiss leaves David in a bit of a daze, but he finally releases Evan, then goes to his briefcase to pull out their marriage license, handing it over to the officer.
After all signatures are in place, the officer checks over the document, then nods her approval. "Okay, how 'bout we do this over there?" she asks, pointing to the fireplace.
The actual ceremony lasts all of ninety seconds, interrupted only by the chatter on the police radios (or it would have taken just thirty). "Do you," Laura squints down at the license, "Evan Christopher Lorne wanna marry him?"
"I do."
"And do you, David Allen Parrish wanna marry him?"
"I do."
Laura smiles, glancing at her partner Aiden who is bouncing up and down in his boots. "Then by the power vested in me, blah, blah, blah, I now pronounce you hitched." Hiking her thumb over her shoulder, she says, "Now hit the sack."
"Wait, wait," David says as the cops head for the door. "You've gotta take our picture!"
~*~*~
Tuesday morning, after a blissfully long honeymoon weekend in the cabin, David walks to work with a smile on his face. He says thanks to everyone who congratulates him, and answers far too many questions about that night. But no one gives him even the slightest of looks when he takes out a framed picture and puts on his desk. It's him in his bathrobe, Evan in a pair of boxers (with fighter jets on them) and a ratty t-shirt, with Officer Laura Cadman standing between them, holding their wedding license.