Valentine's Day Gabill
Gabe Saporta is the most outgoing man he knows. He can also drink more than anyone else he knows. Gabe figures these are his most interesting personality traits, in case he is ever asked to fill out a profile of himself.
Gabe used to think he had more sex than anyone else he knew, but then he met the man he’s currently sleeping with. Gabe doesn’t think William Beckett has lived a chaste day since he first became sexually active. Gabe assumes this happened at a young age, probably thirteen. Gabe also assumes that this is because William is, honest-to-God, the most beautiful person on the planet.
(Gabe used to think he was the most beautiful person on the planet.)
Right now, William is talking at Gabe while Gabe stares at him, because William is, in fact, wearing nothing but underwear at the moment. He’s spent the night at Gabe’s-actually, he’s spent every night there for the past five months. Gabe hasn’t yet decided whether it’s time for him to just ask William to move in, already. He figures he’ll wait until it’s been six months.
William usually doesn’t let Gabe drink before noon (which is, Gabe has decided, the only drawback of having sex with him) but since today is special, William is allowing him to have a very small amount of vodka mixed with a comparatively huge amount of lemon-lime soda now, at ten fifteen in the morning. In return, Gabe isn’t rolling his eyes at William’s endless stream of facts or telling him what he could be doing with that pretty mouth of his other than talking.
Actually, Gabe realizes, William isn’t talking anymore-he’s stopped, and is looking at Gabe expectantly. Gabe sets down his glass and clears his throat.
“A-hem. Yes, you’re right. Mhm. Exactly.” He takes another swig and leans back, waiting for William to start up again.
Instead, he shakes his head, smiling a little. “Gabey, I asked you what you’re in the mood to do later. We haven’t seen that one movie yet, and it’s playing at the theater up the street. Or perhaps we should go out to dinner at that lovely Italian restaurant?”
“No, actually-”
“Oh!” William exclaims. “I know; you want to go to a club!”
“No, actually,” Gabe says, “maybe we could just hang out?”
William chuckles. “Sweetie, if you want to stay here and fuck, just say so.”
Gabe repeats, “I just want to hang out.” He shrugs. “Talk or something.”
William raises his eyebrows, looking uncertain and slightly disbelieving. “Um, you do know today’s February 14th, right?”
“Yeah, Valentine’s Day. Why?”
“Just… it’s not April Fool’s Day… What do you want? Are you trying to get me to do something?”
“No!” Gabe sighs. “Is it really that hard to believe that I just want to spend some time with you? It’s what couples do.”
“Not us,” William tells him.
“Sure we do,” Gabe argues, but he knows William’s right. Whenever they’re together, they’re either screwing, drunk, screwing while drunk, with other people, or doing something that won’t require actual interaction. “C’mon, Bilvy, what could be more romantic than a Valentine’s Day spent together?”
William’s nickname seems to mollify him. “All right, then… what do you want to do, exactly?”
Gabe shrugs again. He raises his glass to his lips, hoping alcohol will help him think, but finds it empty. “I don’t know… like I said, talk or something.”
“About what?”
“I don’t fucking know, the weather or some such shit, I-don’t-give-a-fuck.” Gabe’s already regretting not saying they should go to the movies.
“Fine, okay! Um…Wh-… What did you think of the new season of Lost?”
“I don’t watch Lost.”
Silence.
“What about… um… Chuck?”
“That either.”
“Scrubs?”
“I haven’t been watching much TV lately.”
More silence.
“How’s the band?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Good.”
This time, neither of them talk for a full five minutes before William tries to break the awkwardness a third time. “Do you want to play a game?”
“Yeah, okay. I have a deck of cards; poker?”
“I don’t have that much money on me.”
“Strip poker?”
“Do you still have the Scrabble board I brought over last Christmas?”
“Oh, yeah!” Gabe hops up, crossing the room in a couple of long-legged strides. “I think it’s in my closet, hang on.” He rummages through his dumping-ground, very nearly hitting William with a neon green sneaker he tosses aside. “Aha!” He stands up, holding aloft a cardboard box with a dent in the side that wasn’t there when it was brought over. “Let’s play in the living room, kay?”
“All right.”
Gabe moves aside to let William pass, partly to look like a gentleman, but mostly because William is still only wearing his briefs and he has a fantastic ass.
He’s already setting up the game when Gabe enters the room. Gabe helps him turn over the last few pieces in the box, and when William says they should draw letters to see who goes first, Gabe says it doesn’t matter; William can be first anyways.
William’s first word is ‘naïve.’ Gabe’s is ‘can.’
William is five points behind Gabe and the game is past the midway point. Gabe’s wondering if there might actually be a chance he’ll win when William puts down all seven of his letters and crows, “Sixty-four points!”
Gabe looks at the board. D-Y-S-T-O-P-I-A. “No way is that a word,” he says.
“It is so!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Are you calling me a cheater?” William sounds outraged.
“If that’s what you call people who make up words so they can win at Scrabble, then yes, I’m calling you a cheater.”
William glares at him. “It. Is. A. Word.”
“Prove it.”
William pulls out his pocket dictionary-what the fuck, Gabe thinks, who the hell carries around a fucking dictionary in their pocket?-and there it is, right between dystonic reaction and dystopian-dis-toh-pee-uh: -noun a society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression, disease, and overcrowding..
“Sixty-four points,” William tells him, smirking.
A few turns later, it’s Gabe’s chance to cheer. He sets down his tiles one-by-one, all of them, and grins. “Almuerzo! Sixty-nine points! I’m in the lead!”
“You can’t do that!” William protests.
“Yes, I can! Almuerzo, it’s Spanish for ‘lunch’! Chew on that, William Shakespeare!” Gabe leaps up and does a little dance mostly consisting of pelvic thrusts, hand-clapping, and coming dangerously close to knocking the board off the table.
“No, really!” William’s brandishing the little paper packet of instructions. “It says, right here, ‘foreign words cannot be placed on the Scrabble board.’ You can’t do that.”
“It’s not a foreign language, it’s Spanish.”
“It’s not English,” William says.
Gabe slumps back down in his chair, glowering at the other man. He removes all his tiles but one, sliding it over in front of an ‘r.’ “There. ‘Or.’ You happy? Two points.”
“Look, you could do ‘roam,’” William suggests. “Three times as many points.”
“You said earlier we couldn’t do proper nouns,” Gabe mutters moodily. “Don’t go being lax on the rules all on the account of little old me.”
“Not that kind of Rome, I meant…” William groans. “Fuck. Fine. Never mind.”
William wins by twenty-six points in the end.
“Do you want to watch something?” he asks kindly.
“No!” Gabe snaps, and he goes over and turns the TV on anyways. William comes and sits next to him, but Gabe doesn’t so much as look at him. He doesn’t talk through the whole hour-long show, and then the next one comes on and he grumbles, “This is retarded.”
“Well, then, change the channel, I don’t mind,” William says with a little smile.
Gabe grunts and scowls, but doesn’t pick up the remote.
“Baby, we don’t have to watch this,” William tells him, and picks up the remote to change the channel-and then Gabe’s hand flashes over and closes around his wrist.
“Don’t touch my remote,” Gabe growls.
“Look, I was going to-”
“Just leave me alone.” Gabe yanks the remote out of William’s grasp and sets it back down, returning his attention to the television set.
William stands up and switches the TV off manually. “You are acting like a spoiled brat,” he hisses. “What the hell is your problem?”
“What the hell is my problem? What’s my problem?! I’ll tell you what my problem is, it’s-”
And then Gabe’s on William, dragging him over to the couch. William’s stripping off Gabe’s clothes, and sliding his hands over his chest, grinding up against him, and they’re kissing, always kissing, on the lips and all over the body, down to the belly button and back up again teasingly.
Then there’s William’s mouth on Gabe’s cock, and it’s so warm and good and right that it’s Gabe’s whole world, and he forgets their fight-it was only a stupid bicker anyways-and he forgets that William doesn’t speak Spanish so it’s streaming out of his mouth like it always does when he’s this happy, and he forgets that it’s Valentine’s Day and he promised William that they were going to just hang out, not do any of this-and he’s over the edge, and he forgets where he is, even, in a moment of bliss so pure that all that exists is him and William.
It all comes rushing back in the instant after, and Gabe says, with a jolt, “Oh mi dios lo siento mucho que no podíamos hacer esto hoy me siento.”
“Slow down!” William says, giggling. “Ingles, por favor!”
“I’m sorry! We weren’t supposed to, we were just going to hang out, I’m sorry-”
“Oh. I see.” William’s face falls. “You remember this now, I see how it is.”
“No, I just forgot…”
“Convenient, isn’t it? Well, I have needs too, Gabriel Saporta.”
“I just wanted…”
“Yeah, save it.” William stands up, stomping back to the bedroom. “I’m leaving.”
“William, wait! Are you breaking up with me?”
“Were we dating?”
“I thought we were…?”
“Then yes, I am breaking up with you.”
“But I love you!”
William turns around and walks back down the hall. “You mean that?”
“Yes… well… maybe… I think so…”
William sighs. “Gabe, you and I don’t do anything but screw. We have very little in common, obviously we can’t hold up a conversation to save our lives… do you really think we’ll be able to survive in a relationship together?”
“Yes! We can make it work!”
“Gabriel Saporta, no force on the earth could make me date you. I will always be your friend, and I love you as a friend, but you can’t possibly expect me to be subjected to ‘hanging out’ like this, ever again. I can honestly say that today was one of the most horrible days of my life.”
“But, Bill… I thought we…”
William walks back over and sits down next to his shocked and hurt friend. “Hey, look, it’s not like we were really in love in the first place, was it?”
“No, but…”
“Gabe, I will always think you’re the hottest motherfucker on Planet Earth, okay? I just don’t want to be your boyfriend.”
Gabe furrows his eyebrows. “What?”
“Who says friends can’t have mindblowing, over-the-top, blow-your-socks-off sex every once in a while, hm?” William’s eyes are twinkling.
Gabe laughs-a good, long, laugh filled with relief that he’s never again going to have to pretend to listen to William talk again or wait until noon to get wasted or limit his bed exploits to one man. He’ll never hear William say marriage vows filled with words he doesn’t understand. “Right, sounds like a plan.”
William laughs too. “God, what an awful day.”
“I think you and I can do something to make it better,” Gabe tells him, and gives his neck a wet, sloppy kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day, fuck buddy.”
Date: Feb 11, 2010
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): William Beckett, Gabe Saporta. (Gabilliam)
Summary: Gabe sighs. "Is it really that hard to believe that I just want to spend some time with you? It's what couples do."
"Not us," William tells him.
Gabe used to think he had more sex than anyone else he knew, but then he met the man he’s currently sleeping with. Gabe doesn’t think William Beckett has lived a chaste day since he first became sexually active. Gabe assumes this happened at a young age, probably thirteen. Gabe also assumes that this is because William is, honest-to-God, the most beautiful person on the planet.
(Gabe used to think he was the most beautiful person on the planet.)
Right now, William is talking at Gabe while Gabe stares at him, because William is, in fact, wearing nothing but underwear at the moment. He’s spent the night at Gabe’s-actually, he’s spent every night there for the past five months. Gabe hasn’t yet decided whether it’s time for him to just ask William to move in, already. He figures he’ll wait until it’s been six months.
William usually doesn’t let Gabe drink before noon (which is, Gabe has decided, the only drawback of having sex with him) but since today is special, William is allowing him to have a very small amount of vodka mixed with a comparatively huge amount of lemon-lime soda now, at ten fifteen in the morning. In return, Gabe isn’t rolling his eyes at William’s endless stream of facts or telling him what he could be doing with that pretty mouth of his other than talking.
Actually, Gabe realizes, William isn’t talking anymore-he’s stopped, and is looking at Gabe expectantly. Gabe sets down his glass and clears his throat.
“A-hem. Yes, you’re right. Mhm. Exactly.” He takes another swig and leans back, waiting for William to start up again.
Instead, he shakes his head, smiling a little. “Gabey, I asked you what you’re in the mood to do later. We haven’t seen that one movie yet, and it’s playing at the theater up the street. Or perhaps we should go out to dinner at that lovely Italian restaurant?”
“No, actually-”
“Oh!” William exclaims. “I know; you want to go to a club!”
“No, actually,” Gabe says, “maybe we could just hang out?”
William chuckles. “Sweetie, if you want to stay here and fuck, just say so.”
Gabe repeats, “I just want to hang out.” He shrugs. “Talk or something.”
William raises his eyebrows, looking uncertain and slightly disbelieving. “Um, you do know today’s February 14th, right?”
“Yeah, Valentine’s Day. Why?”
“Just… it’s not April Fool’s Day… What do you want? Are you trying to get me to do something?”
“No!” Gabe sighs. “Is it really that hard to believe that I just want to spend some time with you? It’s what couples do.”
“Not us,” William tells him.
“Sure we do,” Gabe argues, but he knows William’s right. Whenever they’re together, they’re either screwing, drunk, screwing while drunk, with other people, or doing something that won’t require actual interaction. “C’mon, Bilvy, what could be more romantic than a Valentine’s Day spent together?”
William’s nickname seems to mollify him. “All right, then… what do you want to do, exactly?”
Gabe shrugs again. He raises his glass to his lips, hoping alcohol will help him think, but finds it empty. “I don’t know… like I said, talk or something.”
“About what?”
“I don’t fucking know, the weather or some such shit, I-don’t-give-a-fuck.” Gabe’s already regretting not saying they should go to the movies.
“Fine, okay! Um…Wh-… What did you think of the new season of Lost?”
“I don’t watch Lost.”
Silence.
“What about… um… Chuck?”
“That either.”
“Scrubs?”
“I haven’t been watching much TV lately.”
More silence.
“How’s the band?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Good.”
This time, neither of them talk for a full five minutes before William tries to break the awkwardness a third time. “Do you want to play a game?”
“Yeah, okay. I have a deck of cards; poker?”
“I don’t have that much money on me.”
“Strip poker?”
“Do you still have the Scrabble board I brought over last Christmas?”
“Oh, yeah!” Gabe hops up, crossing the room in a couple of long-legged strides. “I think it’s in my closet, hang on.” He rummages through his dumping-ground, very nearly hitting William with a neon green sneaker he tosses aside. “Aha!” He stands up, holding aloft a cardboard box with a dent in the side that wasn’t there when it was brought over. “Let’s play in the living room, kay?”
“All right.”
Gabe moves aside to let William pass, partly to look like a gentleman, but mostly because William is still only wearing his briefs and he has a fantastic ass.
He’s already setting up the game when Gabe enters the room. Gabe helps him turn over the last few pieces in the box, and when William says they should draw letters to see who goes first, Gabe says it doesn’t matter; William can be first anyways.
William’s first word is ‘naïve.’ Gabe’s is ‘can.’
William is five points behind Gabe and the game is past the midway point. Gabe’s wondering if there might actually be a chance he’ll win when William puts down all seven of his letters and crows, “Sixty-four points!”
Gabe looks at the board. D-Y-S-T-O-P-I-A. “No way is that a word,” he says.
“It is so!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Are you calling me a cheater?” William sounds outraged.
“If that’s what you call people who make up words so they can win at Scrabble, then yes, I’m calling you a cheater.”
William glares at him. “It. Is. A. Word.”
“Prove it.”
William pulls out his pocket dictionary-what the fuck, Gabe thinks, who the hell carries around a fucking dictionary in their pocket?-and there it is, right between dystonic reaction and dystopian-dis-toh-pee-uh: -noun a society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression, disease, and overcrowding..
“Sixty-four points,” William tells him, smirking.
A few turns later, it’s Gabe’s chance to cheer. He sets down his tiles one-by-one, all of them, and grins. “Almuerzo! Sixty-nine points! I’m in the lead!”
“You can’t do that!” William protests.
“Yes, I can! Almuerzo, it’s Spanish for ‘lunch’! Chew on that, William Shakespeare!” Gabe leaps up and does a little dance mostly consisting of pelvic thrusts, hand-clapping, and coming dangerously close to knocking the board off the table.
“No, really!” William’s brandishing the little paper packet of instructions. “It says, right here, ‘foreign words cannot be placed on the Scrabble board.’ You can’t do that.”
“It’s not a foreign language, it’s Spanish.”
“It’s not English,” William says.
Gabe slumps back down in his chair, glowering at the other man. He removes all his tiles but one, sliding it over in front of an ‘r.’ “There. ‘Or.’ You happy? Two points.”
“Look, you could do ‘roam,’” William suggests. “Three times as many points.”
“You said earlier we couldn’t do proper nouns,” Gabe mutters moodily. “Don’t go being lax on the rules all on the account of little old me.”
“Not that kind of Rome, I meant…” William groans. “Fuck. Fine. Never mind.”
William wins by twenty-six points in the end.
“Do you want to watch something?” he asks kindly.
“No!” Gabe snaps, and he goes over and turns the TV on anyways. William comes and sits next to him, but Gabe doesn’t so much as look at him. He doesn’t talk through the whole hour-long show, and then the next one comes on and he grumbles, “This is retarded.”
“Well, then, change the channel, I don’t mind,” William says with a little smile.
Gabe grunts and scowls, but doesn’t pick up the remote.
“Baby, we don’t have to watch this,” William tells him, and picks up the remote to change the channel-and then Gabe’s hand flashes over and closes around his wrist.
“Don’t touch my remote,” Gabe growls.
“Look, I was going to-”
“Just leave me alone.” Gabe yanks the remote out of William’s grasp and sets it back down, returning his attention to the television set.
William stands up and switches the TV off manually. “You are acting like a spoiled brat,” he hisses. “What the hell is your problem?”
“What the hell is my problem? What’s my problem?! I’ll tell you what my problem is, it’s-”
And then Gabe’s on William, dragging him over to the couch. William’s stripping off Gabe’s clothes, and sliding his hands over his chest, grinding up against him, and they’re kissing, always kissing, on the lips and all over the body, down to the belly button and back up again teasingly.
Then there’s William’s mouth on Gabe’s cock, and it’s so warm and good and right that it’s Gabe’s whole world, and he forgets their fight-it was only a stupid bicker anyways-and he forgets that William doesn’t speak Spanish so it’s streaming out of his mouth like it always does when he’s this happy, and he forgets that it’s Valentine’s Day and he promised William that they were going to just hang out, not do any of this-and he’s over the edge, and he forgets where he is, even, in a moment of bliss so pure that all that exists is him and William.
It all comes rushing back in the instant after, and Gabe says, with a jolt, “Oh mi dios lo siento mucho que no podíamos hacer esto hoy me siento.”
“Slow down!” William says, giggling. “Ingles, por favor!”
“I’m sorry! We weren’t supposed to, we were just going to hang out, I’m sorry-”
“Oh. I see.” William’s face falls. “You remember this now, I see how it is.”
“No, I just forgot…”
“Convenient, isn’t it? Well, I have needs too, Gabriel Saporta.”
“I just wanted…”
“Yeah, save it.” William stands up, stomping back to the bedroom. “I’m leaving.”
“William, wait! Are you breaking up with me?”
“Were we dating?”
“I thought we were…?”
“Then yes, I am breaking up with you.”
“But I love you!”
William turns around and walks back down the hall. “You mean that?”
“Yes… well… maybe… I think so…”
William sighs. “Gabe, you and I don’t do anything but screw. We have very little in common, obviously we can’t hold up a conversation to save our lives… do you really think we’ll be able to survive in a relationship together?”
“Yes! We can make it work!”
“Gabriel Saporta, no force on the earth could make me date you. I will always be your friend, and I love you as a friend, but you can’t possibly expect me to be subjected to ‘hanging out’ like this, ever again. I can honestly say that today was one of the most horrible days of my life.”
“But, Bill… I thought we…”
William walks back over and sits down next to his shocked and hurt friend. “Hey, look, it’s not like we were really in love in the first place, was it?”
“No, but…”
“Gabe, I will always think you’re the hottest motherfucker on Planet Earth, okay? I just don’t want to be your boyfriend.”
Gabe furrows his eyebrows. “What?”
“Who says friends can’t have mindblowing, over-the-top, blow-your-socks-off sex every once in a while, hm?” William’s eyes are twinkling.
Gabe laughs-a good, long, laugh filled with relief that he’s never again going to have to pretend to listen to William talk again or wait until noon to get wasted or limit his bed exploits to one man. He’ll never hear William say marriage vows filled with words he doesn’t understand. “Right, sounds like a plan.”
William laughs too. “God, what an awful day.”
“I think you and I can do something to make it better,” Gabe tells him, and gives his neck a wet, sloppy kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day, fuck buddy.”
Date: Feb 11, 2010
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): William Beckett, Gabe Saporta. (Gabilliam)
Summary: Gabe sighs. "Is it really that hard to believe that I just want to spend some time with you? It's what couples do."
"Not us," William tells him.