Twenty
By postmodernpippo
“Hello err Robert,” and Robbie is going to tear David's head off and spit in his neck before he realizes that it’s a joke. He sits down, moving a cushion out of the way. “I listen to you, on 606,” says David, watching as Robbie eats the whole plate of crunch creams, dipping them slowly into his tea. “Pippo Inzaghi eats biscuits like that,” he adds, removing an invisible piece of cotton from his crossed leg. “How come neither of you ever put any weight on?”
On the way back to the hotel for dinner, Robbie glances over at him in the passenger seat and has a sudden feeling that his own hair is too long.
They are on the settee, drinking brandy when David laughs, “I remember Scholes’ Suede obsession, I still know the words to The Drowners.” Robbie laughs as well, even though that was after his time. And then David suddenly leans over, his face close to Robbie’s. “That’s not all I remember,” he says.
Robbie stops laughing. “You aren’t drunk, are you?”
David replies, “No, not in the least.”
*
It’s twenty years, nearly, and everything has changed. David breaks their kiss and leans up on his elbow. “I didn’t bring you any chocolate,” he says and Robbie sighs.
“I didn’t do it for the chocolate, you know. I liked doing it.” He lies back, stretching, and David kisses him again, putting his hand against Robbie’s face.
“You didn’t need to shave so much, then,” he says.
*
At one point during the night David runs his finger along Robbie’s stomach, and traces the line of his hip. “What about that time we nearly got caught?”
“Jesus.” Robbie puts his arm over his eyes. “What do you think Fergie would have said?” He sits up. “You know he lived next door to me for six months and never said hello once.”
“Better that than a boot in the face,” says David, touching the tiny scar without even knowing he is doing it. Then he leans over and slips his thumb beneath the bracelets Robbie is wearing, gently stroking the inside of his wrist.
“God,” says Robbie, “you really do remember.”
David moves behind him. “You always were easy, Savage.” His arm is around Robbie’s neck and his mouth is so close that Robbie can feel his breath on his skin. David watches his face, intently, but Robbie doesn’t mind. He’s never minded whatever David wanted to do.
*
Too tired to unwrap the sheet from his legs, Robbie doesn’t think that he can sleep. He wakes up an hour later, after dreaming about something sparkling. David’s arm is around his waist and he mutters something into Robbie’s hair. Robbie doesn’t move, in case he disturbs the other man, and drifts off again, trying to remember if they’ve ever actually slept in the same bed before.
When he wakes again it is the morning. David comes out of the bathroom, his skin damp, and lies down on the bed. “You’re still a good kisser,” he says, wrapping his hand in Robbie’s hair and tugging his head gently towards him.
After breakfast Robbie gives him a lift to the airport, and as they take David’s bags from the boot of the car Robbie asks, “Was there anyone else, you know, after me?”
“Only one,” says David. “Just that one.”
“Hello err Robert,” and Robbie is going to tear David's head off and spit in his neck before he realizes that it’s a joke. He sits down, moving a cushion out of the way. “I listen to you, on 606,” says David, watching as Robbie eats the whole plate of crunch creams, dipping them slowly into his tea. “Pippo Inzaghi eats biscuits like that,” he adds, removing an invisible piece of cotton from his crossed leg. “How come neither of you ever put any weight on?”
On the way back to the hotel for dinner, Robbie glances over at him in the passenger seat and has a sudden feeling that his own hair is too long.
They are on the settee, drinking brandy when David laughs, “I remember Scholes’ Suede obsession, I still know the words to The Drowners.” Robbie laughs as well, even though that was after his time. And then David suddenly leans over, his face close to Robbie’s. “That’s not all I remember,” he says.
Robbie stops laughing. “You aren’t drunk, are you?”
David replies, “No, not in the least.”
*
It’s twenty years, nearly, and everything has changed. David breaks their kiss and leans up on his elbow. “I didn’t bring you any chocolate,” he says and Robbie sighs.
“I didn’t do it for the chocolate, you know. I liked doing it.” He lies back, stretching, and David kisses him again, putting his hand against Robbie’s face.
“You didn’t need to shave so much, then,” he says.
*
At one point during the night David runs his finger along Robbie’s stomach, and traces the line of his hip. “What about that time we nearly got caught?”
“Jesus.” Robbie puts his arm over his eyes. “What do you think Fergie would have said?” He sits up. “You know he lived next door to me for six months and never said hello once.”
“Better that than a boot in the face,” says David, touching the tiny scar without even knowing he is doing it. Then he leans over and slips his thumb beneath the bracelets Robbie is wearing, gently stroking the inside of his wrist.
“God,” says Robbie, “you really do remember.”
David moves behind him. “You always were easy, Savage.” His arm is around Robbie’s neck and his mouth is so close that Robbie can feel his breath on his skin. David watches his face, intently, but Robbie doesn’t mind. He’s never minded whatever David wanted to do.
*
Too tired to unwrap the sheet from his legs, Robbie doesn’t think that he can sleep. He wakes up an hour later, after dreaming about something sparkling. David’s arm is around his waist and he mutters something into Robbie’s hair. Robbie doesn’t move, in case he disturbs the other man, and drifts off again, trying to remember if they’ve ever actually slept in the same bed before.
When he wakes again it is the morning. David comes out of the bathroom, his skin damp, and lies down on the bed. “You’re still a good kisser,” he says, wrapping his hand in Robbie’s hair and tugging his head gently towards him.
After breakfast Robbie gives him a lift to the airport, and as they take David’s bags from the boot of the car Robbie asks, “Was there anyone else, you know, after me?”
“Only one,” says David. “Just that one.”