FIC: Cowboy Casanova (3/?)
Fandom: NFL RPS
Pairing: Jason Witten/Tony Romo
Rating: PG (a little language, a little drinking, and a lot of jokes based on one ill-advised late night thesaurus venture)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
“So,” Tony said, scrubbing one of the dishes. Jason smiled; mostly because no one had ever actually cooked dinner for him before. Granted, it was Rice-a-Roni, but it was cute how Tony called it Rice-a-Toni. Jason had always been a sucker for puns.
“So,” Jason replied, playing with the edge of his napkin, sitting sideways in the chair so he could see Tony.
“I was hoping you would come to this thing,” Tony said, briefly looking up from the dish, which was definitely clean by now.
“What thing?”
“It’s, um, my family’s, uh… annual clambake.”
Jason snickered.
“What?” Tony said, suddenly slightly defensive.
“Oh, nothing. Just…a clambake? Really?”
“Yeah. What’s so weird about that?”
“Well, I mean, it’s kind of like using the word ‘lawn social’ in everyday context. Or ‘hullabaloo.’”
Tony snorted.
“‘There’s a donnybrook fulminating down yonder!’”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Jason grinned.
“Yes; just as long as it doesn’t devolve into a bedlam or, worse yet, a hurly burly.”
Tony rolled his eyes and threw the dishcloth at Jason.
-----
Tony had rented a room in the same hotel as the clambake; Jason didn’t really know why, but having a room, with a bed, nearby and at immediate disposal was never a bad thing.
What was a bad thing, though, was Tony compulsively brushing imaginary lint off Jason’s sport coat. He wouldn’t let them leave the room until this was achieved.
“I swear to God, Tony.”
“It has to be clean.”
“Okay, you’ve said that like three times, you are very quickly approaching Mommy Dearest.”
“You don’t understand, it has to be clean.”
“Four. I really hope there are no wire hangers in this hotel.”
“Don’t even joke. Do you think they do? Fuck.” Tony mumbled the last word under his breath.
Jason grabbed Tony by the shoulders.
“Why are you freaking out?”
Tony kept eye contact for a moment, and then sighed, looking away.
“I wasn’t honest with you.” He said.
“In what sense?”
Tony exhaled.
“My family is insane. I mean like ‘We the jury find the defendant…’”
“You stole that from Chris Titus.”
“Not important, it’s true.”
Jason quirked a half grin.
“I can handle it. Trust me. I am a semi-retired male prostitute. I have bore witness to the flea-bitten underbelly of insanity.”
“Ew!”
Jason laughed.
“Let’s go.”
Tony nodded exhaustedly, and opened the door. They walked a short distance down the hallway to the elevators.
“Should I be worried about putting my dick in you?” Tony asked, smiling slightly, as he pressed the down button.
“Well, only if you fear, uh…chlamydia and gonorrhea. Oh, and the herpes,”
“Oh, good. I’m fine then.”
They shared a laugh, Tony’s still with an undertone of nervousness. Jason shrugged it off. The elevator finally came, and they stepped in.
-----
Jason began believing he might be in over his head around 20 feet before the ballroom where the clambake was being held for the afternoon.
“Goddamn Jews!”
Jason’s eyes got wide and he turned to Tony, who was staring straight ahead, color draining from his face.
“Uh, Tony?”
“This was a bad idea, we should just go.”
They had just begun to turn around.
“Tony!” came a scratchy menthol voice. Jason glanced toward Tony, whose eyes were as big as saucers; but in a split-second, he plastered a smile on his face, and spun around.
“Hi, Ma!” Jason turned around as well, to see Tony hugging what appeared to be a gecko clutching a cigarette.
“You haven’t,” the gecko hacked a cough for a few minutes, “come to the family clambake in five years!”
“Wow, you’ve been, uh, counting, Ma?”
“Of course.” the gecko croaked, apparently just then noticing Jason.
“And who is this?” she asked, gesturing toward him with her cigarette hand.
“Oh, uh,” Tony seemed to panic for a moment, “Ma, this is Jason. Jason, this is my mom.”
Jason set aside his disgust and reached for the gecko’s emaciated paw.
“Hi, nice to meet you,”
The gecko looked Jason up and down for a long moment. She said nothing as she shook his hand.
“Tony, come here, your great uncle is having another hilarious anti-Semitic rant.” The gecko ushered Tony in, ignoring Jason.
“Is he?” Tony replied weakly, looking back at Jason, his eyes apologetic. Jason tried to smile reassuringly, but he wasn’t sure if it came off that way as he followed them into the room.
-----
They were drinking at the corner table, watching the rest of Tony's family either argue amongst themselves, or dance to Kool and the Gang.
“So, wait,” Jason whispered to Tony after (another) sip of mimosa, “The stroke actually made him a paranoid anti-Semite?”
“Yeah,” Tony replied, “There was no sign of it at all until after the stroke.”
“Well, that’s terrible and all, but kinda amusing.” Jason said, chuckling momentarily. Tony reciprocated.
“At least, until we have a family trip to Einstein’s Brother’s Bagels. Then it’s just embarrassing.” Tony took a long sip of his drink.
“You know, this is more of a brunch-type thing. Not really a clambake.”
Tony was obviously trying to keep his laughter in his throat as best he could; that is, not at all.
“You sounded so fucking gay just then, dude, holy shit.” Tony said between laughs.
Jason grinned and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Shut up.”
This was the first real laugh they’d had since they’d been here; admittedly, the mimosas helped.
“Frankly, Tony, your family isn’t that bad.”
Tony’s eyebrows perked.
“You think?”
“Yeah! I mean, the anti-Semitism thing is, uh, unique, and your mom looks like a gecko…”
Tony snorted.
“…but other than that, they’re pretty manageable, for me.”
“Well,” Tony said, smiling, “Thankfully, the Aunts didn’t show up.”
“Who?” Jason asked.
“They’re like those Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp, only there’s three of them, and they’re totally OCD and degrading. They will nag you until you’re driven to the ragged brink of insanity.”
“Sounds, uh…” Jason was interrupted by a very smooth voice, almost a purr.
“Has this damn place everrr been vacuummmmed?”
“Apparentlyyy not.”
Tony’s smile fell slowly. Jason suddenly became nervous.
Pairing: Jason Witten/Tony Romo
Rating: PG (a little language, a little drinking, and a lot of jokes based on one ill-advised late night thesaurus venture)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
“So,” Tony said, scrubbing one of the dishes. Jason smiled; mostly because no one had ever actually cooked dinner for him before. Granted, it was Rice-a-Roni, but it was cute how Tony called it Rice-a-Toni. Jason had always been a sucker for puns.
“So,” Jason replied, playing with the edge of his napkin, sitting sideways in the chair so he could see Tony.
“I was hoping you would come to this thing,” Tony said, briefly looking up from the dish, which was definitely clean by now.
“What thing?”
“It’s, um, my family’s, uh… annual clambake.”
Jason snickered.
“What?” Tony said, suddenly slightly defensive.
“Oh, nothing. Just…a clambake? Really?”
“Yeah. What’s so weird about that?”
“Well, I mean, it’s kind of like using the word ‘lawn social’ in everyday context. Or ‘hullabaloo.’”
Tony snorted.
“‘There’s a donnybrook fulminating down yonder!’”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Jason grinned.
“Yes; just as long as it doesn’t devolve into a bedlam or, worse yet, a hurly burly.”
Tony rolled his eyes and threw the dishcloth at Jason.
-----
Tony had rented a room in the same hotel as the clambake; Jason didn’t really know why, but having a room, with a bed, nearby and at immediate disposal was never a bad thing.
What was a bad thing, though, was Tony compulsively brushing imaginary lint off Jason’s sport coat. He wouldn’t let them leave the room until this was achieved.
“I swear to God, Tony.”
“It has to be clean.”
“Okay, you’ve said that like three times, you are very quickly approaching Mommy Dearest.”
“You don’t understand, it has to be clean.”
“Four. I really hope there are no wire hangers in this hotel.”
“Don’t even joke. Do you think they do? Fuck.” Tony mumbled the last word under his breath.
Jason grabbed Tony by the shoulders.
“Why are you freaking out?”
Tony kept eye contact for a moment, and then sighed, looking away.
“I wasn’t honest with you.” He said.
“In what sense?”
Tony exhaled.
“My family is insane. I mean like ‘We the jury find the defendant…’”
“You stole that from Chris Titus.”
“Not important, it’s true.”
Jason quirked a half grin.
“I can handle it. Trust me. I am a semi-retired male prostitute. I have bore witness to the flea-bitten underbelly of insanity.”
“Ew!”
Jason laughed.
“Let’s go.”
Tony nodded exhaustedly, and opened the door. They walked a short distance down the hallway to the elevators.
“Should I be worried about putting my dick in you?” Tony asked, smiling slightly, as he pressed the down button.
“Well, only if you fear, uh…chlamydia and gonorrhea. Oh, and the herpes,”
“Oh, good. I’m fine then.”
They shared a laugh, Tony’s still with an undertone of nervousness. Jason shrugged it off. The elevator finally came, and they stepped in.
-----
Jason began believing he might be in over his head around 20 feet before the ballroom where the clambake was being held for the afternoon.
“Goddamn Jews!”
Jason’s eyes got wide and he turned to Tony, who was staring straight ahead, color draining from his face.
“Uh, Tony?”
“This was a bad idea, we should just go.”
They had just begun to turn around.
“Tony!” came a scratchy menthol voice. Jason glanced toward Tony, whose eyes were as big as saucers; but in a split-second, he plastered a smile on his face, and spun around.
“Hi, Ma!” Jason turned around as well, to see Tony hugging what appeared to be a gecko clutching a cigarette.
“You haven’t,” the gecko hacked a cough for a few minutes, “come to the family clambake in five years!”
“Wow, you’ve been, uh, counting, Ma?”
“Of course.” the gecko croaked, apparently just then noticing Jason.
“And who is this?” she asked, gesturing toward him with her cigarette hand.
“Oh, uh,” Tony seemed to panic for a moment, “Ma, this is Jason. Jason, this is my mom.”
Jason set aside his disgust and reached for the gecko’s emaciated paw.
“Hi, nice to meet you,”
The gecko looked Jason up and down for a long moment. She said nothing as she shook his hand.
“Tony, come here, your great uncle is having another hilarious anti-Semitic rant.” The gecko ushered Tony in, ignoring Jason.
“Is he?” Tony replied weakly, looking back at Jason, his eyes apologetic. Jason tried to smile reassuringly, but he wasn’t sure if it came off that way as he followed them into the room.
-----
They were drinking at the corner table, watching the rest of Tony's family either argue amongst themselves, or dance to Kool and the Gang.
“So, wait,” Jason whispered to Tony after (another) sip of mimosa, “The stroke actually made him a paranoid anti-Semite?”
“Yeah,” Tony replied, “There was no sign of it at all until after the stroke.”
“Well, that’s terrible and all, but kinda amusing.” Jason said, chuckling momentarily. Tony reciprocated.
“At least, until we have a family trip to Einstein’s Brother’s Bagels. Then it’s just embarrassing.” Tony took a long sip of his drink.
“You know, this is more of a brunch-type thing. Not really a clambake.”
Tony was obviously trying to keep his laughter in his throat as best he could; that is, not at all.
“You sounded so fucking gay just then, dude, holy shit.” Tony said between laughs.
Jason grinned and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Shut up.”
This was the first real laugh they’d had since they’d been here; admittedly, the mimosas helped.
“Frankly, Tony, your family isn’t that bad.”
Tony’s eyebrows perked.
“You think?”
“Yeah! I mean, the anti-Semitism thing is, uh, unique, and your mom looks like a gecko…”
Tony snorted.
“…but other than that, they’re pretty manageable, for me.”
“Well,” Tony said, smiling, “Thankfully, the Aunts didn’t show up.”
“Who?” Jason asked.
“They’re like those Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp, only there’s three of them, and they’re totally OCD and degrading. They will nag you until you’re driven to the ragged brink of insanity.”
“Sounds, uh…” Jason was interrupted by a very smooth voice, almost a purr.
“Has this damn place everrr been vacuummmmed?”
“Apparentlyyy not.”
Tony’s smile fell slowly. Jason suddenly became nervous.