RP FIC: Hollywood and Hawaiian Shirts
Well, ya knew it was bound to happen.
This one is cuz Laura asked, Susan demanded, and Sue got a new job!!!!!!
This has nothing to do with the lovefest that happened out in California - well, almost nothing. This has everything to do with the boys, the past, the present, and the happily ever after.
Title: Hollywood and Hawaiian Shirts
Author: Kaye
Pairing: DS/PMG
Rating: R for Roman Candles
Disclaimer: What, I found the transcript. I cannot confirm. But I can surmise.
HOllYWOOD AND HAWAIIAN SHIRTS
Rome: 2008
“So you’re saying if I do this, you’ll come with me to at least one gig.” David set his coffee cup on the bedside table and turned to look at Paul.
“I’m saying you will never do it, so yes, I will go with you to whatever Starsky and Hutch circle-jerk you decide to attend.” Paul grabbed David’s wrist to look at his watch. “Hey, it’s late - aren’t they sending the car at ten?”
David ruffled Paul’s hair, smiled and rose from the bed, shrugging off his robe.
Paul shook his head and rolled to his side. “You’re not fooling me, Davey. I know your ego. No way will you go through with it.”
David just smiled and walked to the window, slipping off his watch and setting it on the table. Naked, he turned back to Paul, who was sitting up in bed.
“Last chance, Paulie.”
“No chance, Davey.”
David pulled at the heavy curtain and the morning sun brightened the room. He turned back to Paul.
“Okay, tell me again.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Tell me.”
“God you’re an ass when you’re sober.” Paul scrubbed his face and rested his hands behind his head. “Yes, Davey, if you show all of Rome your - what did you call it?”
“Sword of Romulus.”
Paul cringed. “Right - so if you open those doors and show all of Rome - god forbid - your sword of Romulus - then I will go to one of those things with you.”
David pulled back the sheers and the noise of a busy Roman street came into their hotel room. “Promise,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped closer to the doors.
“Promise - now stop all this and go take a shower. We’re going to be late.”
David just chuckled and turned the handle, opened the door and stepped out on the balcony. Paul opened his mouth to say something, stopped, flipped off the covers and stood.
The street noise grew louder as David spread his arms, looked once over his shoulder, stepped further out and shouted, “Behold, the city lies before you.”
The honks increased and Paul, moving swiftly from the bed to the side of the window, hissed, “Davey, for fuck’s sake, get back in here.”
A chorus of whistles and “corpo provocante” and “bello corpo” answered him. David waved and shouted, “Ti voglio bene.”
David gave a final wave and turned back into the room where he picked up his watch, slipped it on his wrist and walked into the bathroom.
Paul closed the door and the curtains, walked over to the mini bar and poured himself a drink.
California: 2012
David set his coffee cup on the bedside table and reached for his phone. “Are you sure?”
Paul nodded. “Yes - I have to know.” He got up from the chair and settled on the edge of the bed. David pulled his legs out from under the covers and stretched them across Paul’s lap.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this.” Paul absently stroked David’s leg.
“It was a bet.” David fumbled for his glasses, set them on his nose, and peered at his phone. “Damn if I can read this fucking thing.” He looked at Paul over his glasses. “And if you keep that up, we’re not going to appear anywhere but here.”
Paul sighed and patted David’s ankle. “Just call him, will ya?”
“Patience, old boy.” David punched a number and waited. “You should be glad I waited so long to collect on the bet.”
“I had hoped you’d forgotten.”
David snorted. “Forget nothing. Plus they’re just heaving money at us.”
“Money isn’t everything, Davey.”
“Oh sure, Mr. Treadmill, Mr. Car Show Book Tour. You know, Paulie, you’d have more credibility if you hadn’t sold your soul to the big red tomato. I saw those pictures of you and the car.”
“I hate that fucking car.” Paul lay back on the bed, flung his arm across his eyes. David moved his legs up Paul’s thighs.
“Methinks the lady doth protest-oh Tony,” David turned to the phone, “You old bastard - meet us in my room.” He dug his heel into Paul’s crotch. Paul shoved David’s legs off his lap and rolled off the bed.
David continued talking into the phone. “Like a fucking cat on a hot tin roof. Yeah, yeah, I tried that.”
Paul tried to grab the phone, but David twisted away.
“Just come up here. Okay, okay. Ciao.” David sat up, put down the phone and picked up his coffee.
Paul sat in the chair. “So?”
“So, he’s on his way. Capice?”
“Don’t think I don’t understand the not so subtle phrases you keep throwing at me, Davey.”
“Don’t think I don’t understand how excruciatingly uncomfortable this is for you.” David sat up, swung his legs off the bed. “On the other hand, you’ve been whoring around all fall, haven’t you? So maybe I should be the one to feel a little uncomfortable - cohabitating with the celebrated author of the most unfathomably obscurely opaque piece of . . .”
“We are not cohabitating.”
“You’re in my room.”
“Not for long.” Paul stood and grabbed his jacket.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Paulie. Calm down.”
A knock interrupted Paul’s reply and David swept past him to the door. “See? Your wish is my command.” He opened the door and Tony walked in.
“What it is, amico mio?” Tony swatted David’s stomach and turned to Paul. “Heard you boys need a little recon.” He gave a low whistle. “Nice digs. I guess I got my registration in late or something.” He walked over to the bed and sat down. “So, what’s the gig?”
Paul was staring at David. “Amico mio? You told him about the bet?”
David smiled. “How else was I supposed to explain your presence here? Stroke?”
Tony laughed. “Just wish I could have seen Ol’ Wrinkly winking at the seven hills.”
Paul moved to the mini bar. “I need a drink.”
David sat in the chair. “Make it a double.”
“None for me,” Tony said and stroked the sheets. “Damn, must be at least a thousand thread count. Don’t they realize there will be legions of Car Wash fans out there?”
“At least.” Paul handed David a glass.
David took the glass and grabbed Paul’s wrist, pulled him down onto his knee.
Tony chuckled. “You know, I forget sometimes.”
Paul leaned back into David, took a drink. “Forget what?”
Tony pointed . “That - you. The thing.”
David shifted a bit. “What thing?”
“Well for one thing, you know grown men don’t usually share a chair, right? You do know that? Intellectually, you must know that.”
Paul started to get up and David pulled him back. “Don’t,” David said to Paul. “Now, Tony - here’s what we need you to do.”
“As long as it won’t get me accosted or arrested, I’m in. Oh and the rule still apply.”
David and Paul looked at each other.
“The rule?” Paul emptied his glass.
Tony sighed. “Tell me you remember the rule. From last time.”
David chuckled. “I do. And it’s simple really. Just go check it out and report back.”
Tony stood and walked over to the bathroom, looked in, turned back to the chair. “Am I being punked? Is Ashton Kutcher here somewhere?”
“Punked?”
“Because what you’re suggesting is that you get good ol Huggy Bear here to go collect some intel and report back to Starsky and Hutch. Don’t tell me, you want to meet me in the alley later.”
Paul got up to refill his glass. “Just go down and see how many people are there, Tony.”
“And what do I get for my efforts? If I remember correctly, Huggy mostly got his joint tossed and his head cracked.”
David stood. “Dinner, tomorrow night. Your choice. His treat.”
Tony winked at Paul and shook David’s hand. “Deal. You want me to call you on the cell? Describe the scene? Scope out the women?”
“Memorize the exits.” Paul patted Tony on the shoulder.
Tony and David laughed. “Oh, like last time,” Tony said and headed toward the door. “I just hope you two remember the rule. I’m about to be a grandpa. I can’t have that kind of notoriety at this point in my career.” He opened the door and walked out. “Ciao my brothers.”
David headed toward the bathroom, but Paul stopped him. “What in the hell was that?”
“You wanted to check it out. I got Tony to check it out.”
“Not that. What the hell is the rule? What was last time?”
David rolled his eyes. “Well, I knew you wouldn’t remember. But you should remember. Tony took one for us back in the day.”
“Oh, you mean on the show? Are you talking in episode talk again? What, do you and Tony both have the whole series memorized?”
David pushed past Paul toward the bathroom. “Just the important parts. Think, Paulie. Hard. About you and me. And Tony. And a certain girlfriend of mine.”
“Like that narrows it down. Just tell me, Davey.”
David turned and tossed Paul his phone. “Here. Google it. You know, Paulie, there’s more than one reason that Huggy can’t go home again.” David walked into the bathroom, singing, “Nobody loves you quite like you do . . .”
Paul sat on the bed and stared at the phone. He hated when David did this. He could barely remember what he did last week, much less a hundred years ago. He slid his finger across the phone and tried to think of appropriate search terms.
When David appeared from the bathroom through a curtain of steam, Paul was sitting in the chair, legs crossed, twirling a cane.
“You wanna pour me a drink, Paulie?”
Paul stood and walked toward David. “No, I don’t.”
David reached for cane, but Paul swatted his hand away. “You’re not going to need this cane, Davey.”
David sat on the bed, took the towel from his neck and wrapped it around his head. “Like hell. You know how many pictures we have to take, right? You understand what’s going on. Whether you want to admit it or not, we’ve got a substantial amount of fans here.”
Paul stood above David, his knees on either side of David’s legs. “You’re not going to need this cane, Davey, because you are not going anywhere.” Paul tossed the cane on the chair.
David rubbed the towel on his head. “Yeah, okay. But can I at least dry off? Maybe get dressed?”
Paul took the towel from David and tossed it in the chair with the cane. “Uh, no, Davey, you cannot get dressed.”
“For fuck’s sake, Paulie.”
Paul responded by pushing David back on the bed.
“Really, Paulie? You choose now - when we have to be downstairs in like an hour - to get all fucking . . . what?”
“Fucking is good.” Paul turned and sat on the bed next to David. Took off his shoes. Took off watch. David tried to sit up but Paul reached over and pressed his chest down. “No, Davey. You cannot get up. While you were in the shower, I looked up the rule.”
“The rule is on the internet? Come on, Paulie.”
“Not exactly. Let’s say the internet reminded me of the rule.”
“Come again?”
“Precisely.”
“Oh, good, code. I love code. Can I please get up?”
Paul rolled over and laid his leg over David’s thighs. “You know, you think I forgot everything don’t you? You and Tony have all these little funny jokes you think I don’t understand. Like the one yesterday about the ‘Vic Monte Special.’”
David shoved his hands under his head. Sighed. “Man, did I ever love that Vic Monte Special.”
“If I recall, you spent a day in the ER after the Vic Monte Special.”
“See, you do remember. Then explain this to me, Paulie. Why do you act like anything that had to do with the show leaves a bad taste in your mouth? It offends Tony. It fucking pisses me off. You know that.”
Paul sighed and lay back on the bed. “It’s just . . . it’s painful.”
“Yeah, got that. Loud and clear. For thirty years now.”
Paul lifted himself up on an elbow. Swept a piece of hair off David’s forehead. “See, you do still have hair, Davey.”
“Fuck off.” David tried to get up and Paul held him down again.
“Maybe I act like I want nothing to do with your nostalgia circle jerk because it hurts.”
David snorted. “Really? Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
“What are you, twelve?” Paul sat up.
“Feel like a hundred.” David sat up and grabbed the towel. “So, c’mon - it hurts. Continue.”
Paul stood and turned. “So yeah, it hurts, which may be a little dramatic . . .”
“Maybe?”
“Well, fuck, Davey - how good was it? How good were we? Even with the shit with Aaron and the studio, how good was it?”
David smiled. “Well it wasn’t Shakespeare, Paulie . . .”
Paul grabbed David by the shoulders. “No, you asshole. Us. How good were we as us? Me and you.”
“Don’t you mean me and thee?”
Paul sat back down on the bed, shook his head. “Do you find a way to work that into every conversation?”
“It’s a gift.” David rubbed Paul’s thigh. “I know, Paulie. Nothing compares. But at least these little gigs get us back together.”
“Just reminds me of what we had. Past tense.”
“God, you’re morose. What you need is another Vic Monte Special.”
“I don’t think you can do it with a cane. And that hip.”
“Well what exactly were you planning when you hijacked me out of the shower?”
“Just wanted to give you shit about the rule.”
“That you found on the internet.”
“I didn’t find anything on the internet. Except something about Tony and Phillip Michael Thomas. Then I remembered how Lynne almost walked in when we were . . .”
“And Tony made her believe it was him and Phillip . . .”
“And then later you suggested a game of mixed doubles . . .”
“I stand by that - would’ve been so much better than a Vic Monte Special . . .”
“Could barely look at Phillip when I did Miami Vice - every time I talked to him, he just kept staring at the ground, giggling. I’m sure he fucking told Johnson.”
David put his arm around Paul. “Darling, they followed our footsteps in more than one way . . .”
Paul looked at David. “No.”
“Jawohl.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, my little fairy horse. Believe it.”
“At least I have finished a book.”
“Yeah, yeah. You win.” David leaned over and kissed Paul on the cheek. “Now, my one and only, if we’re done hobbling down memory lane, can I please get dressed so we can go make our fans happy, do our dance, maybe steal a snog in the coatroom?”
Paul stood, turned to help David up. “Tony’s not back yet. We have no idea what we’re headed into.”
“Oh, I doubt Tony will be back. That cat is like honey to a bear down there. Ha! A Huggy Bear. But he’s the honey . . . get it? He’s nip to the kitties, honey to Winnie.”
Paul pulled David close. “Do you talk like this in real life, Davey?”
“It’s all real life, Paulie. And I’m just happy mine is yours and yours is mine.” David hugged Paul hard. “Thanks for doing this.”
“You won the bet, Davey. Fair and square, as they say.” Paul pulled the towel from David’s waist.
“Hey!” David swiped at the towel.
“I’m taking a shower.” Paul looked at David. “Sharpen that sword, Romulus. You may need it later.” He walked into the bathroom, turned, and poked his head back out.
“Hey Davey, one thing I gotta know. Who the hell is Vic Monte?”
David burst out laughing and sat back down on the bed. It was going to be a long day.
This one is cuz Laura asked, Susan demanded, and Sue got a new job!!!!!!
This has nothing to do with the lovefest that happened out in California - well, almost nothing. This has everything to do with the boys, the past, the present, and the happily ever after.
Title: Hollywood and Hawaiian Shirts
Author: Kaye
Pairing: DS/PMG
Rating: R for Roman Candles
Disclaimer: What, I found the transcript. I cannot confirm. But I can surmise.
HOllYWOOD AND HAWAIIAN SHIRTS
Rome: 2008
“So you’re saying if I do this, you’ll come with me to at least one gig.” David set his coffee cup on the bedside table and turned to look at Paul.
“I’m saying you will never do it, so yes, I will go with you to whatever Starsky and Hutch circle-jerk you decide to attend.” Paul grabbed David’s wrist to look at his watch. “Hey, it’s late - aren’t they sending the car at ten?”
David ruffled Paul’s hair, smiled and rose from the bed, shrugging off his robe.
Paul shook his head and rolled to his side. “You’re not fooling me, Davey. I know your ego. No way will you go through with it.”
David just smiled and walked to the window, slipping off his watch and setting it on the table. Naked, he turned back to Paul, who was sitting up in bed.
“Last chance, Paulie.”
“No chance, Davey.”
David pulled at the heavy curtain and the morning sun brightened the room. He turned back to Paul.
“Okay, tell me again.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Tell me.”
“God you’re an ass when you’re sober.” Paul scrubbed his face and rested his hands behind his head. “Yes, Davey, if you show all of Rome your - what did you call it?”
“Sword of Romulus.”
Paul cringed. “Right - so if you open those doors and show all of Rome - god forbid - your sword of Romulus - then I will go to one of those things with you.”
David pulled back the sheers and the noise of a busy Roman street came into their hotel room. “Promise,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped closer to the doors.
“Promise - now stop all this and go take a shower. We’re going to be late.”
David just chuckled and turned the handle, opened the door and stepped out on the balcony. Paul opened his mouth to say something, stopped, flipped off the covers and stood.
The street noise grew louder as David spread his arms, looked once over his shoulder, stepped further out and shouted, “Behold, the city lies before you.”
The honks increased and Paul, moving swiftly from the bed to the side of the window, hissed, “Davey, for fuck’s sake, get back in here.”
A chorus of whistles and “corpo provocante” and “bello corpo” answered him. David waved and shouted, “Ti voglio bene.”
David gave a final wave and turned back into the room where he picked up his watch, slipped it on his wrist and walked into the bathroom.
Paul closed the door and the curtains, walked over to the mini bar and poured himself a drink.
California: 2012
David set his coffee cup on the bedside table and reached for his phone. “Are you sure?”
Paul nodded. “Yes - I have to know.” He got up from the chair and settled on the edge of the bed. David pulled his legs out from under the covers and stretched them across Paul’s lap.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this.” Paul absently stroked David’s leg.
“It was a bet.” David fumbled for his glasses, set them on his nose, and peered at his phone. “Damn if I can read this fucking thing.” He looked at Paul over his glasses. “And if you keep that up, we’re not going to appear anywhere but here.”
Paul sighed and patted David’s ankle. “Just call him, will ya?”
“Patience, old boy.” David punched a number and waited. “You should be glad I waited so long to collect on the bet.”
“I had hoped you’d forgotten.”
David snorted. “Forget nothing. Plus they’re just heaving money at us.”
“Money isn’t everything, Davey.”
“Oh sure, Mr. Treadmill, Mr. Car Show Book Tour. You know, Paulie, you’d have more credibility if you hadn’t sold your soul to the big red tomato. I saw those pictures of you and the car.”
“I hate that fucking car.” Paul lay back on the bed, flung his arm across his eyes. David moved his legs up Paul’s thighs.
“Methinks the lady doth protest-oh Tony,” David turned to the phone, “You old bastard - meet us in my room.” He dug his heel into Paul’s crotch. Paul shoved David’s legs off his lap and rolled off the bed.
David continued talking into the phone. “Like a fucking cat on a hot tin roof. Yeah, yeah, I tried that.”
Paul tried to grab the phone, but David twisted away.
“Just come up here. Okay, okay. Ciao.” David sat up, put down the phone and picked up his coffee.
Paul sat in the chair. “So?”
“So, he’s on his way. Capice?”
“Don’t think I don’t understand the not so subtle phrases you keep throwing at me, Davey.”
“Don’t think I don’t understand how excruciatingly uncomfortable this is for you.” David sat up, swung his legs off the bed. “On the other hand, you’ve been whoring around all fall, haven’t you? So maybe I should be the one to feel a little uncomfortable - cohabitating with the celebrated author of the most unfathomably obscurely opaque piece of . . .”
“We are not cohabitating.”
“You’re in my room.”
“Not for long.” Paul stood and grabbed his jacket.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Paulie. Calm down.”
A knock interrupted Paul’s reply and David swept past him to the door. “See? Your wish is my command.” He opened the door and Tony walked in.
“What it is, amico mio?” Tony swatted David’s stomach and turned to Paul. “Heard you boys need a little recon.” He gave a low whistle. “Nice digs. I guess I got my registration in late or something.” He walked over to the bed and sat down. “So, what’s the gig?”
Paul was staring at David. “Amico mio? You told him about the bet?”
David smiled. “How else was I supposed to explain your presence here? Stroke?”
Tony laughed. “Just wish I could have seen Ol’ Wrinkly winking at the seven hills.”
Paul moved to the mini bar. “I need a drink.”
David sat in the chair. “Make it a double.”
“None for me,” Tony said and stroked the sheets. “Damn, must be at least a thousand thread count. Don’t they realize there will be legions of Car Wash fans out there?”
“At least.” Paul handed David a glass.
David took the glass and grabbed Paul’s wrist, pulled him down onto his knee.
Tony chuckled. “You know, I forget sometimes.”
Paul leaned back into David, took a drink. “Forget what?”
Tony pointed . “That - you. The thing.”
David shifted a bit. “What thing?”
“Well for one thing, you know grown men don’t usually share a chair, right? You do know that? Intellectually, you must know that.”
Paul started to get up and David pulled him back. “Don’t,” David said to Paul. “Now, Tony - here’s what we need you to do.”
“As long as it won’t get me accosted or arrested, I’m in. Oh and the rule still apply.”
David and Paul looked at each other.
“The rule?” Paul emptied his glass.
Tony sighed. “Tell me you remember the rule. From last time.”
David chuckled. “I do. And it’s simple really. Just go check it out and report back.”
Tony stood and walked over to the bathroom, looked in, turned back to the chair. “Am I being punked? Is Ashton Kutcher here somewhere?”
“Punked?”
“Because what you’re suggesting is that you get good ol Huggy Bear here to go collect some intel and report back to Starsky and Hutch. Don’t tell me, you want to meet me in the alley later.”
Paul got up to refill his glass. “Just go down and see how many people are there, Tony.”
“And what do I get for my efforts? If I remember correctly, Huggy mostly got his joint tossed and his head cracked.”
David stood. “Dinner, tomorrow night. Your choice. His treat.”
Tony winked at Paul and shook David’s hand. “Deal. You want me to call you on the cell? Describe the scene? Scope out the women?”
“Memorize the exits.” Paul patted Tony on the shoulder.
Tony and David laughed. “Oh, like last time,” Tony said and headed toward the door. “I just hope you two remember the rule. I’m about to be a grandpa. I can’t have that kind of notoriety at this point in my career.” He opened the door and walked out. “Ciao my brothers.”
David headed toward the bathroom, but Paul stopped him. “What in the hell was that?”
“You wanted to check it out. I got Tony to check it out.”
“Not that. What the hell is the rule? What was last time?”
David rolled his eyes. “Well, I knew you wouldn’t remember. But you should remember. Tony took one for us back in the day.”
“Oh, you mean on the show? Are you talking in episode talk again? What, do you and Tony both have the whole series memorized?”
David pushed past Paul toward the bathroom. “Just the important parts. Think, Paulie. Hard. About you and me. And Tony. And a certain girlfriend of mine.”
“Like that narrows it down. Just tell me, Davey.”
David turned and tossed Paul his phone. “Here. Google it. You know, Paulie, there’s more than one reason that Huggy can’t go home again.” David walked into the bathroom, singing, “Nobody loves you quite like you do . . .”
Paul sat on the bed and stared at the phone. He hated when David did this. He could barely remember what he did last week, much less a hundred years ago. He slid his finger across the phone and tried to think of appropriate search terms.
When David appeared from the bathroom through a curtain of steam, Paul was sitting in the chair, legs crossed, twirling a cane.
“You wanna pour me a drink, Paulie?”
Paul stood and walked toward David. “No, I don’t.”
David reached for cane, but Paul swatted his hand away. “You’re not going to need this cane, Davey.”
David sat on the bed, took the towel from his neck and wrapped it around his head. “Like hell. You know how many pictures we have to take, right? You understand what’s going on. Whether you want to admit it or not, we’ve got a substantial amount of fans here.”
Paul stood above David, his knees on either side of David’s legs. “You’re not going to need this cane, Davey, because you are not going anywhere.” Paul tossed the cane on the chair.
David rubbed the towel on his head. “Yeah, okay. But can I at least dry off? Maybe get dressed?”
Paul took the towel from David and tossed it in the chair with the cane. “Uh, no, Davey, you cannot get dressed.”
“For fuck’s sake, Paulie.”
Paul responded by pushing David back on the bed.
“Really, Paulie? You choose now - when we have to be downstairs in like an hour - to get all fucking . . . what?”
“Fucking is good.” Paul turned and sat on the bed next to David. Took off his shoes. Took off watch. David tried to sit up but Paul reached over and pressed his chest down. “No, Davey. You cannot get up. While you were in the shower, I looked up the rule.”
“The rule is on the internet? Come on, Paulie.”
“Not exactly. Let’s say the internet reminded me of the rule.”
“Come again?”
“Precisely.”
“Oh, good, code. I love code. Can I please get up?”
Paul rolled over and laid his leg over David’s thighs. “You know, you think I forgot everything don’t you? You and Tony have all these little funny jokes you think I don’t understand. Like the one yesterday about the ‘Vic Monte Special.’”
David shoved his hands under his head. Sighed. “Man, did I ever love that Vic Monte Special.”
“If I recall, you spent a day in the ER after the Vic Monte Special.”
“See, you do remember. Then explain this to me, Paulie. Why do you act like anything that had to do with the show leaves a bad taste in your mouth? It offends Tony. It fucking pisses me off. You know that.”
Paul sighed and lay back on the bed. “It’s just . . . it’s painful.”
“Yeah, got that. Loud and clear. For thirty years now.”
Paul lifted himself up on an elbow. Swept a piece of hair off David’s forehead. “See, you do still have hair, Davey.”
“Fuck off.” David tried to get up and Paul held him down again.
“Maybe I act like I want nothing to do with your nostalgia circle jerk because it hurts.”
David snorted. “Really? Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
“What are you, twelve?” Paul sat up.
“Feel like a hundred.” David sat up and grabbed the towel. “So, c’mon - it hurts. Continue.”
Paul stood and turned. “So yeah, it hurts, which may be a little dramatic . . .”
“Maybe?”
“Well, fuck, Davey - how good was it? How good were we? Even with the shit with Aaron and the studio, how good was it?”
David smiled. “Well it wasn’t Shakespeare, Paulie . . .”
Paul grabbed David by the shoulders. “No, you asshole. Us. How good were we as us? Me and you.”
“Don’t you mean me and thee?”
Paul sat back down on the bed, shook his head. “Do you find a way to work that into every conversation?”
“It’s a gift.” David rubbed Paul’s thigh. “I know, Paulie. Nothing compares. But at least these little gigs get us back together.”
“Just reminds me of what we had. Past tense.”
“God, you’re morose. What you need is another Vic Monte Special.”
“I don’t think you can do it with a cane. And that hip.”
“Well what exactly were you planning when you hijacked me out of the shower?”
“Just wanted to give you shit about the rule.”
“That you found on the internet.”
“I didn’t find anything on the internet. Except something about Tony and Phillip Michael Thomas. Then I remembered how Lynne almost walked in when we were . . .”
“And Tony made her believe it was him and Phillip . . .”
“And then later you suggested a game of mixed doubles . . .”
“I stand by that - would’ve been so much better than a Vic Monte Special . . .”
“Could barely look at Phillip when I did Miami Vice - every time I talked to him, he just kept staring at the ground, giggling. I’m sure he fucking told Johnson.”
David put his arm around Paul. “Darling, they followed our footsteps in more than one way . . .”
Paul looked at David. “No.”
“Jawohl.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, my little fairy horse. Believe it.”
“At least I have finished a book.”
“Yeah, yeah. You win.” David leaned over and kissed Paul on the cheek. “Now, my one and only, if we’re done hobbling down memory lane, can I please get dressed so we can go make our fans happy, do our dance, maybe steal a snog in the coatroom?”
Paul stood, turned to help David up. “Tony’s not back yet. We have no idea what we’re headed into.”
“Oh, I doubt Tony will be back. That cat is like honey to a bear down there. Ha! A Huggy Bear. But he’s the honey . . . get it? He’s nip to the kitties, honey to Winnie.”
Paul pulled David close. “Do you talk like this in real life, Davey?”
“It’s all real life, Paulie. And I’m just happy mine is yours and yours is mine.” David hugged Paul hard. “Thanks for doing this.”
“You won the bet, Davey. Fair and square, as they say.” Paul pulled the towel from David’s waist.
“Hey!” David swiped at the towel.
“I’m taking a shower.” Paul looked at David. “Sharpen that sword, Romulus. You may need it later.” He walked into the bathroom, turned, and poked his head back out.
“Hey Davey, one thing I gotta know. Who the hell is Vic Monte?”
David burst out laughing and sat back down on the bed. It was going to be a long day.