kirsch (a short fic)
I initially wrote this last night just on a light whim, recalling the story in Parachute Infantry about the bottle of kirsch, but today I've been obsessed with this song and it's lent this a darker cast (even if the song is about Judas and Jesus and even if it doesn't totally fit....)
You lead me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You, you were acting like it was the end of the world
_________________________________________________________________
Although David had expressly picked one of the more out-of-the-way rooms in the Bavarian chalet so that he'd avoid any intruders, he wasn't surprised to open the door and find Joe Liebgott sprawled across his bed, smoking and clasping the neck of that bottle of kirsch from earlier (of course it ended up with him).
"Make yourself at home," David said with a resigned sigh, sitting down on the bed facing Joe.
"Hey, Web," Joe said, passing him the bottle. David took a drink, wincing. The kirsch's taste never got any better, but it did send a lovely warmth through his stomach.
"It's early. What're you comin' back here for?" Joe asked as he took back the bottle.
"I was going to write some," David said with a shrug. "Might be too tired." He let himself lean on Joe's legs. "What are you doing here, if it's so early?"
Joe shrugged. "I'm crashing. Plus I can't afford to play any more craps."
David raised his eyebrows. "Fair enough. Where's your room?"
Joe took a long drag. "Far as I'm concerned, tonight, it's here."
David reached to pluck the cigarette from Joe's lips, and the man took the opportunity to take another drink.
"You write every night?" Joe asked, watching him inhale, and then taking back his cigarette.
"I try to. I thought you knew that."
Joe shrugged. "Didn't think about it much." He looked away, and exhaled. "You ever write about me?"
"Sometimes. If you do something interesting." David couldn't help a grin.
"I'm always doing something interesting." Joe feigned offense, and took another drink. "Hey. C'mere. Can't be comfortable sittin' like that." Cigarette in his mouth again, he tugged at David's collar, and David heaved himself with an exaggerated sigh to rest against the headboard alongside Joe.
They each crossed their ankles, the bottle between them, and Joe passed his cigarette over. It had been nearly done for when David had come in, and soon enough there was nothing to it. David stubbed it out entirely in the ashtray on the bedside table.
When he turned back, Joe was drinking the last drops of the kirsch. He set the bottle on the table at his side of the bed. As they settled back in, David was aware of the need to occupy his hands somehow now that there was no cigarette to smoke or bottle to hold. He bit his lip.
His shoulder pressed against Joe's. He turned his head slightly to observe Joe's profile; the man turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised, a sly grin slowly stealing over his lips. What a mouth he had, David found himself thinking, just before he realized that Joe's gaze had found David's lips and the man was moving to sit up slightly (turning, one hand pressing to David's chest to hold him there), to kiss him, and it felt like a capturing.
David's mouth opened slightly in surprise against Joe's and the man's tongue found its way in immediately, insistent and tasting like kirsch and cigarettes, with a particular tang that was essentially Joe and which sent a rush directly to David's groin. He made a soft lost sound, not the one he was expecting to make, and curled his fingers tightly in the rough cotton of Joe's shirt, shifting beneath him.
Joe's tongue curled around his and traced just over the inside of his lower lip before he shifted back, his eyes bright as they bored into David's, making the heat in his skin rise.
Joe chuckled and murmured, "That interesting enough for you?"
"That depends," David said, a little breathless. "Will there be a sequel?"
You lead me on with those innocent eyes
You know I love the element of surprise
In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You, you were acting like it was the end of the world
_________________________________________________________________
Although David had expressly picked one of the more out-of-the-way rooms in the Bavarian chalet so that he'd avoid any intruders, he wasn't surprised to open the door and find Joe Liebgott sprawled across his bed, smoking and clasping the neck of that bottle of kirsch from earlier (of course it ended up with him).
"Make yourself at home," David said with a resigned sigh, sitting down on the bed facing Joe.
"Hey, Web," Joe said, passing him the bottle. David took a drink, wincing. The kirsch's taste never got any better, but it did send a lovely warmth through his stomach.
"It's early. What're you comin' back here for?" Joe asked as he took back the bottle.
"I was going to write some," David said with a shrug. "Might be too tired." He let himself lean on Joe's legs. "What are you doing here, if it's so early?"
Joe shrugged. "I'm crashing. Plus I can't afford to play any more craps."
David raised his eyebrows. "Fair enough. Where's your room?"
Joe took a long drag. "Far as I'm concerned, tonight, it's here."
David reached to pluck the cigarette from Joe's lips, and the man took the opportunity to take another drink.
"You write every night?" Joe asked, watching him inhale, and then taking back his cigarette.
"I try to. I thought you knew that."
Joe shrugged. "Didn't think about it much." He looked away, and exhaled. "You ever write about me?"
"Sometimes. If you do something interesting." David couldn't help a grin.
"I'm always doing something interesting." Joe feigned offense, and took another drink. "Hey. C'mere. Can't be comfortable sittin' like that." Cigarette in his mouth again, he tugged at David's collar, and David heaved himself with an exaggerated sigh to rest against the headboard alongside Joe.
They each crossed their ankles, the bottle between them, and Joe passed his cigarette over. It had been nearly done for when David had come in, and soon enough there was nothing to it. David stubbed it out entirely in the ashtray on the bedside table.
When he turned back, Joe was drinking the last drops of the kirsch. He set the bottle on the table at his side of the bed. As they settled back in, David was aware of the need to occupy his hands somehow now that there was no cigarette to smoke or bottle to hold. He bit his lip.
His shoulder pressed against Joe's. He turned his head slightly to observe Joe's profile; the man turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised, a sly grin slowly stealing over his lips. What a mouth he had, David found himself thinking, just before he realized that Joe's gaze had found David's lips and the man was moving to sit up slightly (turning, one hand pressing to David's chest to hold him there), to kiss him, and it felt like a capturing.
David's mouth opened slightly in surprise against Joe's and the man's tongue found its way in immediately, insistent and tasting like kirsch and cigarettes, with a particular tang that was essentially Joe and which sent a rush directly to David's groin. He made a soft lost sound, not the one he was expecting to make, and curled his fingers tightly in the rough cotton of Joe's shirt, shifting beneath him.
Joe's tongue curled around his and traced just over the inside of his lower lip before he shifted back, his eyes bright as they bored into David's, making the heat in his skin rise.
Joe chuckled and murmured, "That interesting enough for you?"
"That depends," David said, a little breathless. "Will there be a sequel?"