093. thanksgiving.

[tyrannicides]

Nam Mellitus Erat, 093. thanksgiving.
late November.

023. lovers.

Iker wakes up late in the afternoon. There's a crick in his neck and his mouth is dry, but he feels more rested than he has for a while. He carefully cranes up to check the clock, then settles back down on the bed.

Cesc is tangled around him, half-naked and almost too hot. He's breathing deeply, close to snoring. Iker's leg is falling asleep. He frees a hand and lays it across Cesc's lower back. Eventually Cesc stirs. He defiantly pushes his head in Iker's shoulder.

"The flight's tonight," Iker says. "We'd have to leave soon. Do you still want to go?"

After a beat, Cesc grunts. Iker scratches the back of his hair and the sound turns into a hum. Cesc drags his lips across Iker's cheek and zombies into the kitchen. Iker hears the fridge open and sees Cesc drinking a lot of orange juice. Cesc notices the bowls on the counter.

"You made more spaghetti." His voice is rough with sleep.

"...Yeah."

Cesc doesn't smile with his mouth, really, but he smiles. He drinks again, then brings the glass out to Iker. "I can't finish it," he says, handing it to him. He starts digging around for something clean to wear and wanders into the bathroom.

Iker drinks the juice while Cesc is in the shower, ordering another ticket for his flight on the internet. He texts Sergio to tell him that ticket used to be his, but now something else has come up and he can't use it. Sergio replies "good," meaning you fixed it and are partially forgiven and then "okay," meaning I recognize that Cesc would flip if he knew you bought it, so I will play along. Iker texts back "Thanks" for both.

Cesc packs like they're spending a month in Timbuktu. He examines the entirety of his wardrobe (which isn't much, but still), then selects clothes that cover pretty much every social and environmental situation they could possibly encounter. He spends the shuttle ride constantly double and triple-checking that he has everything. Iker wants to tell him "It'll only stress you out more if you figure out you forgot something and know there's nothing you can do about it," but Cesc is a little frantic about the whole thing. Checking seems to reassure him.

Security is a nightmare. Cesc gets selected for a pat-down. The number of times Iker's flown is in the double-digits, and that's never happened to him.

Iker waits and when Cesc rejoins him, he keeps pulling his sleeves down. It's something Iker hasn't seen him do before, but sometimes Cesc is weird. It doesn't come out until they're sitting in front of the gate. Iker is reading a magazine, Cesc is listening to Iker's iPod. (Cesc seems wary of the amount of people, and the noise. He sits right next to Iker, even when there's a whole row of empty seats.)

"I haven't been on a plane before," Cesc says.

Iker finishes reading a sentence on rainforest birds, then looks up. "What?"

"I haven't been on a plane before."

Cesc has wound the headphone cord all around his hand, until it's impossibly knotted and tight around his fingers. His shoulders are hunched. Iker looks at him.

"Then we need to buy gum," he says finally, closing his magazine. He stands up and waits for Cesc to shrug his coat on, pull his hat back over his hair and stick the iPod in the side pocket of his bag.

Iker leads him through the terminal. People part for him but not for Cesc, so Cesc shadows in his wake.

"Gum?" Cesc asks, trotting to keep up. His duffel is big for him, too heavy for his shoulder. He periodically switches sides. His shoes are squeaking on the floor.

"Otherwise your ears will pop when we're taking off and landing," Iker explains.

"Are you messing with me?" Cesc asks, suspicious. Messing not fucking, because there's a kid pretending to be an airplane on the floor. Cesc is always careful with that kind of thing.

The airport store is brightly lit, and everything costs ten times what it's worth. A girl with a nose ring is texting behind the register.

"Which flavor?" Iker asks. Airports always have a huge selection when it comes to gum. Cesc seems momentarily distracted by the variety, examining all the packets. He isn't as tense he was, but maybe that's just because he set his bag down.

Iker is eying the spearmint or the cinnamon but Cesc goes for one of the flashier packages, with "blizzard" or "storm" or "freeze" written on it, wintry stuff Iker doesn't think he'd ever want to experience in his mouth. He pays for it anyways.

The timing's perfect. They start boarding as soon as they get back to the gate, so Cesc doesn't have time to wait and fidget and make Iker nervous too. Iker puts his roll-on bag in the overhead compartment and Cesc stuffs his duffel under the seat.

"Do you want the window?" Iker asks, and Cesc immediately shakes his head.

"It's all right," Iker says. Cesc looks like an animal searching for an escape route. "Cesc." Cesc is pulling his sleeves down. Iker takes his wrist and squeezes, very lightly. Cesc goes still. He looks at Iker like he just realized he was talking.

"It's all right," Iker repeats. "The flight isn't going to be full. Which seat do you want."

After some deliberation, Cesc chooses the middle. Iker sits on the aisle. Once the stewardess goes by and checks their seatbelts, Iker puts the armrest up. Cesc immediately presses against his side. He watches the safety demonstration like his life depends on it (Iker feels like he could go up and give that goddamn monologue, at this point).

"Prepare doors" comes across on the intercom and Iker opens the gum. Cesc takes three pieces and stuffs them in his mouth. Iker would stop him, but Cesc looks like the right jibe could push him into a panic attack. He isn't even chewing--the gum's just sitting on his tongue.

"I'm scared of heights," he says as they taxi, eyes fixed straight ahead.

"I'm scared of lions."

Cesc tears his eyes away from the seatback pocket. He chances a glance at Iker, then seems to remember himself. He snaps back forward, like turning his head to the side might throw the whole plane off-balance.

"I saw a movie when I was a kid," Iker continues. "And I still have nightmares about them sometimes."

"What was the movie?" Cesc asks, then the plane starts to take off. He goes rigid all over, squeezes his eyes shut tight. Iker reaches over and holds his forearm in his hand. He rubs his thumb in the soft part between the bones in his arm, gentle over his sweater.

"I can't remember. It had Michael Douglas in it. And Val Kilmer. They were trying to build a bridge but these lions were eating everyone, so they called hunters in to kill them. It was, like. Ghosts. Something with that. ...'The Ghost and the Darkness'."

"'Ghosts in the Darkness'?" Cesc stammers. He's actually gone gray.

"No, 'Ghost and the Darkness'. Those were the lions' names."

They get airborne, and the plane steadies out. Everything's smooth again. Cesc's hands slowly unclench on his knees, and Iker reaches over to close the shade. Cesc relaxes the slightest bit, hearing the sound. "...Those were their names?"

"Yeah."

"...That's really creepy." There's a pause, then Cesc winces his eyes open, looking kind of sheepish. He makes an attempt at a smile. "I'm scared of dentists."

"I'm scared of snakes."

"That's like Indiana Jones, though." Cesc swallows, and Iker isn't sure if it's because he relieved or because he's trying to keep vomit down. "That's a cool fear."

For the first hour, they talk about things they're afraid of. When there are silences, Iker fills them. Eventually Cesc's eyes stop drifting towards the window, and the conversation moves into things they like and things they don't like. Iker finds out a lot about Cesc he didn't know. Cesc wishes he had the brain to do something related to space, but he doesn't really. He likes Star Wars a lot more than he lets on (that has more to do with Harrison Ford than the space thing, though), and peanut butter is actually one of his favorite foods, not just something he buys because it's cheap.

Iker tells him that he's probably seen every episode of the Japanese Iron Chef, twice. That he doesn't like the taste of fish, no matter how it's cooked. That he doesn't actually like "Dawn of the Dead" very much either, even though he feels like he's supposed to. Cesc says he hasn't seen it. The cabin lights dim and Iker shifts his shoulder, lets Cesc huddle up closer on him in the half-dark. He catches him up on social commentary in zombie movies, voice quiet and level, turning Cesc's wrist over in his hands and following the veins with his fingers. After a while, he notices that Cesc's head is getting heavy on his shoulder.

"Do you want to sleep?" he asks. The sound is almost entirely eaten up in the white noise of the engine, but Cesc is close enough to hear him.

"I don't think I could." Cesc presses his nose in Iker's arm and then digs the iPod out. He hands Iker an earbud. They listen to an eclectic playlist Cesc Frankensteined together out of Iker's music and his own--it's odd, but it works. The Smiths go better with Jay-Z than Iker'd expected. He doesn't doze, really, but he's relaxed. In the end, Cesc does fall asleep. Iker can tell by the way he goes completely limp on his side, unselfconscious about hurting Iker with his weight.

Cesc only stirs when the lights come on and the fasten seatbelt sign dings. Iker can feel the exact moment when he remembers when he is. He sits up straight, stiff and wary.

"Do you still have the-?" Iker starts.

"I swallowed it."

Iker gives him another piece of gum, just one, this time. Cesc breaks the shell with his teeth and scrunches his face up. He notices the way Iker's looking at him and tries to look indignant.

"It's strong," he explains, eyes wet at the edges. "It burns."

Iker wants to say 'It's called 'Avalanche Mint'. What did you expect?'. Instead, he watches Cesc root around for a piece of paper for a while until finally he just cups his hand in front of Cesc's mouth. Cesc drops the gum in his palm and Iker digs a wrapper out of his pocket, wads it up inside.

Landing is only a little better than taking off. As soon as the plane starts shaking, Cesc places Iker's hand on his arm again. He keeps his eyes open this time, self-conscious, maybe, but his relief when they hit the ground is obvious.

When he talks, he's actually a little breathless. Iker wonders if he was holding it the whole time. "...That sucks," Cesc says simply, pulling at the strap of his bag until it comes loose.

"It gets easier."

Cesc follows Iker out of the plane, then through the bustle of the airport. He stands next to him on the curb, like he just trusts Iker to magic them to the house somehow. The cold is biting, and the air is heavy with car exhaust and noise. Iker orients his body to block Cesc from the wind. Cesc is biting his knuckle and Iker pulls his hand down. Cabbies think he's waving them down.

"My friend's picking us up," he tells Cesc. "His name is Xavi."

Xavi pulls up ten minutes later, driving the same car he drove in high-school. Which would be sad, except for how Xavi drives a cherry red '64 Mustang. He'd been saving up for it for as long as Iker can remember, and it got him laid more times than Iker could count.

Xavi likes cars. He really, really likes cars.

Iker puts their stuff in the trunk, then slides with Cesc in the back.

"I'll just chauffeur you then, no big," Xavi says sarcastically, pulling out into traffic.

His hair is shorter than it used to be, and he spikes it with product that makes it look hard and shiny. He has diamond studs in both ears. Iker makes a mental note to make his life miserable with Godfather quotes later.

When they have to wait to get on the freeway, Xavi glances back to Iker. "So. How are things."

"Alright," Iker says. It's warm in the car, the heat cranked up on high. The smell reminds him of high-school, English class and standardized tests and smoking pot with the window cracked. "You?"

"Alright."

"Thanks for the ride."

"No big."

Xavi thrums his fingers on the wheel to the song on the radio, and Iker dials Unai's number. At a red light, Xavi adjusts the rear-view to look at Cesc. "Who are you?"

Cesc shifts. The leather creaks. "Cesc."

"It's like a Cher thing? Prince?" Xavi asks. Cesc clutches the edge of the seat when Xavi takes off again. Xavi has a lead foot and he takes turns fast, which would be scary except for how Iker's pretty sure he can execute a Kansei drift without breaking a sweat. Cesc doesn't know that, though.

"Cesc Fabregas," Cesc clarifies. "I mean, Francesc, not Cesc, but I go by-"

"No, just tell her we got in safe," Iker tells Unai, exasperated. "I don't know when we'll actually be home, you know."

"That's a mouthful," Xavi says, shifting gears. "So you're an exchange student?"

"I-"

Iker feels Cesc look to him and senses his anxiety. He covers the receiver, ignoring Unai's babbling. "He's my roommate." He goes back to the phone.

"Roommate." Xavi repeats. He glances at the hand Iker didn't seem to realize he put on Cesc's knee, then at Cesc, who looks like a kid desperately hoping a lie will be bought. "Right."

When they pull up to Iker's house, Xavi pops the trunk and Iker gets out, but Xavi grabs Cesc's wrist and keeps him for a moment. Iker doesn't hear what he says, but Cesc laughs and visibly relaxes. Iker supposes it was something at his expense. He doesn't really mind.

The house is dark and quiet. Iker spends some time wandering around, flicking switches on. There's a new white armchair in the living room, a tall corn plant in the foyer that he doesn't recognize. It looks like Unai finally convinced their mom to let him hook the XBOX up to the big TV, but otherwise, things mostly seem the same. Iker drinks a glass of water and cancels the time someone left on the microwave, then goes searching for Cesc. He finds him idling in the hallway, looking at a portrait of Iker and Unai on the wall.

It was taken at Easter in a crappy photo studio, when Iker was seven and Unai was two. Iker is missing three teeth and he's wearing a blue gingham shirt that his mom wrangled him into. Unai is fat and laughing, a plastic purple egg clutched in one hand and a yellow in the other. There's a bored looking rabbit sitting between them.

"He's shaking the eggs because he thought there was something in them," Iker says, setting their bags down on the floor. "Candy or something, you know."

Cesc laughs. He squints at a school photo of Iker from seventh grade, Iker thinks. He had a really horrible haircut, short on the sides and high on the top.

"You make that face all the time."

"What face."

"Like you're thinking about something that makes you mad and disappointed." Cesc grins like he always does when he's taking the piss, and he pulls an imitation of the expression he's talking about. It looks nothing like Iker in the picture, but Iker knows in Cesc's head, it matches perfectly. He doesn't take the bait.

"...Get your stuff."

Cesc pads after him into Iker's room. Iker turns on the lamp and changes his bedside clock for daylight savings and Cesc peers in at his shelves, at the baubles from other countries and the postcards tacked on the wall.

"You read these?" he asks. He's looking at the hardcover Harry Potter books, dusty and lined up in a row on the bottom shelf.

"Everyone did," Iker answers. Then, "And the characters were always the same age as me, when the books came out."

"Who was your favorite?"

"Snape," Iker answers easily, and maybe too quickly for a casual reader.

"I liked Dumbledore," Cesc replies absently, flipping through a dog-eared copy of The Sun Also Rises.

"Dumbledore," Iker repeats.

"Yeah."

"Your favorite character in the Harry Potter series was Dumbledore."

"He was really powerful, but he was still nice to everybody."

Iker sits on his bed, watches Cesc poke around in his stuff. It's odd to see him here, moving around in his bedroom. Some kind of weird clashing of worlds. Iker got his first blowjob on this bed. He gave hickeys and got hickeys, pulled panties aside and fingered girls until they shook apart underneath him. He didn't bring boys home then. He wasn't sure he was into them until college.

Eventually Cesc sits down next to him, oblivious and smiling. He smells like stale airport air and residual mint. "Your room is cool."

Iker takes his chin in his hand and tilts his head, ostensibly checking the progress of the bruise under his eye. Cesc fights down a smile. He squints cockeyed, like a pirate. Iker kisses him.

Cesc kisses back, tapping Iker's thigh with his fingers. He's grinning when Iker pulls away, looking down at Iker's mouth.

"I've never made out with someone on their bed before." He pauses. "I mean, at their house." He says it in the tone he always does when he says something that doesn't make sense, like it's not a big deal at all.

Iker takes Cesc's scarf off and sets it on the bed. "Did you date anyone in high-school?"

"I went with a couple people," Cesc corrects.

The hat follows. "Girls?"

"Mostly."

Cesc reaches up to fix his hair and Iker rubs his thumb over his cheekbone, on the side that isn't bruised. Cesc smiles and scoots closer, touches Iker's neck when he kisses him again. It's something Iker hasn't noticed before--he couldn't, when it was just fucking--but he recognizes it now. Cesc is a gentle kisser. Hesitant. And he touches where girls would want to be touched. It doesn't make a huge difference, but it's noticeable. Iker takes his hand and pulls it down to his pants. He presses Cesc's palm where he wants it, then bites Cesc's lip and tugs.

For a minute, Cesc doesn't even respond. He seems stunned with want, slack-jawed, breathing into Iker's mouth. Then he surges up against him--a small surge, but enough to make the bed creak. He kisses back, rougher than before, clumsily squeezes Iker's dick through his jeans. Iker laps into his mouth and Cesc is moaning when the front lock turns. The sound of voices drifts down the hallway.

Cesc starts and breaks it off and looks to the door--Iker smiles against his cheek. "It's just my mom. And maybe Unai." He takes a breath, kind of amused at how fast that whole thing turned him on. He cups Cesc's elbow. Cesc seems to relax under it without even realizing. "Do you want to meet them?"

Cesc looks unsure, like he did when Xavi asked him questions. Iker doesn't mind keeping things on the downlow. They can straighten it out what they tell people when they straighten it out.

"Or we can stay in here for a while. They don't know we're home yet."

"No, I want to meet them." Cesc sounds confident and only a little shaky, so Iker takes him out into the kitchen.

Iker's mom is looking for something in the fridge. There are bags of groceries on the table--a french baguette and bushels of green vegetables, rare commodities at school. Half of dinner set out on the counter. His mom grabs the eggs and turns around, makes a little sound of surprise.

"Oh, Iker!" She slaps his shoulder, setting down the carton on the table. "You scared me. I wondered why the lights were on."

She hugs him tight, the same hug he's gotten since he was a kid. Iker hugs her back.

"Hi mom."

"How was your flight? Everything was okay?" It's rhetorical, the kind of thing moms say without expecting a response. She pulls back after giving him an extra squeeze, then looks at Cesc.

"And who is this?"

"Cesc," Unai says, appearing out of nowhere. His arms are full, carrying in the rest of the groceries in one go. He waggles his eyebrows when Iker shoots him a warning look.

"Cesc." Iker's mom smiles. She gives Cesc a hug too. For once, Cesc is taller than someone. "Nice to meet you, honey."

For a second Cesc doesn't respond, comically wide-eyed and frozen. Then he tentatively hugs her back.

"Your cheek," she says when she pulls back, examining it. "Do you play sports? Unai's always- Unai! Out of the fridge. Dinner in an hour."

Unai skulks off.

"Anyways." She smiles again. "Do you want some ice for it?"

Cesc's mouth works, but he ends up settling for shaking his head.

"Well it's in the freezer if you need it." She moves back to the food and not for the first time, Iker appreciates her. She's always been good at accommodating Iker's shyer friends. Caring, but not overbearing. She takes her apron off the wall and ties it around her waist, busying herself with removing saran wrap and mixing contents. Iker looks in the pots, trying to figure out what they're having, and Cesc leans forward the slightest bit from behind his shoulder, peers into what might be a bowl of seafood paella.

Iker's mom notices. "Do you like Spanish food?"

Cesc seems slightly taken aback, but he smiles. Nods.

Iker's mom switches on the radio. Old-time Christmas music plays, and Iker suddenly feels less stressed than he has in a long time. "Well, c'mere. I'll show you what I'm making."

Iker leaves as the cat wanders in to check out the visitor. He sits at the table in the dining room and flips through the local newspaper. He feels kind of bad leaving Cesc trapped in there, but figures it's better to get him acclimated to his mom quickly. Just dunk him in the pool and get it over with.

Unai makes a lot of noise sitting down across from him.

"He's cute," he says, faux-casual. He grabs a fistful of grapes from the bowl on the table.

Iker gives him a look that says "If you're teasing, you better stop it" and "If you're serious, you better stop it", all at the same time. Unai's been his brother for a while though, so unfortunately he's immune.

"I'm just saying," Unai continues, shrugging. "He is. Are you-" He makes a weird face. "Going steady?"

"Knock it off."

"Mom doesn't know you're going steady. She set up the guest room."

Iker's mom is totally fine with Iker being--whatever sexuality he is, but she still assumes by default that every boy is his friend and every girl is his future wife. Iker plucks a grape out of the bowl. "It's probably better," he says. "My bed's too small anyways."

Unai looks like he's about to say something when their mom interrupts from the kitchen.

"Iker! Cesc can make empanadas!"

"Cesc is an empanada," Unai says suggestively.

"You have no idea."

The next night, Unai's at basketball practice and Iker's mom is watching her programs. Iker knows better than to interrupt that kind of thing, so after him and Cesc do dishes, Iker tells him to get dressed. He reads for a while while Cesc showers, then Cesc wanders in from the spare bathroom, clean and still a little damp.

Iker's never seen this shirt. It's a dark blue button-up, and it fits him tight in all the right places. It makes him look older, lean instead of skinny.

"Where are we going?" Cesc asks. He looks down at the floor then looks up at Iker, uncharacteristically shy. Like he isn't really sure, but he thinks he might look good in this.

Iker isn't sure if they're going to make it out of the bedroom. But he's been nagged by this persisting thought: if no-one's made out with Cesc on a bed, then maybe no-one's ever-

"We're going out."

Iker takes Cesc to the nicer part of downtown. It's full of holiday shoppers, couples and kids bundled up in fur. There are evergreen arches over the street, wrapped in red and silver tinsel. Trees already been decorated in bright white lights. The shops are all lit up. It's a mild night for winter--cold, but not bitterly cold. It smells like snow and fireplaces.

They walk around for a while, looking at displays in the store fronts, avoiding the ice in the gutters. Iker takes Cesc to dinner. They get hot chocolate at the good place near the theater, where the line always wraps around the corner. Cesc chooses cinnamon with whipped cream, Iker gets dark chocolate. Iker shows him the art museum he'd take him to, if it was daytime.

He takes Cesc to a movie instead. Last time they left halfway through for handjobs on the side of the building; this time Cesc hogs all the popcorn, recounts his favorite parts to Iker on the way out with big eyes and big hand gestures.

When they get in the car, Cesc touches his thigh and looks incredibly nervous, and Iker figures that's part of the deal too. He leans over and kisses him and Cesc's hand goes still in the middle of the air, where he was reaching to pull Iker closer.

Cesc deepens the kiss, makes it clear that he wants more, and Iker reaches down on the side of his seat to move it back and down. Cesc climbs over the console. Iker holds him up when he loses his balance.

"This is- harder than it looks on TV-" Cesc manages, half breathless and half laughing, trying not to kick the gear shift as he settles on Iker's lap. His knee slips and the movement grinds their hips together--Iker accidentally bites him and Cesc groans and tries to sit up again. The steering wheel gets in the way and he stays half hunched over, hovering for a second.

"Oh god," he says, flushed red. "Okay."

He drapes his body over Iker's, careful not to put too much weight on him, then he slides their mouths together. It's making out for the sake of making out. Iker hasn't done that for a long time.

Cesc breathes a long sigh out his nose when he gets settled in, resting his elbows on either side of Iker's head. Iker untucks his shirt. Lets his fingers play under the waist of Cesc's jeans. Cesc tilts his head, lets Iker get into his neck. Iker hasn't given Cesc a hickey before. He wants to.

When he bites and squeezes Cesc's ass in his hands, pulls him up closer, Cesc stops moving. His eyes are shut tight. "If we don't stop, I'm going to come," he admits, scooting down and pressing their noses together.

Iker kisses him. Cesc's cheek feels hot under his hand. He kisses him again. He pulls back, and he's never seen Cesc look happy like this. He's seen him happy after a game, but that's more excited, exuberant, with this raw kind of violence behind it. This is softer. It's the same kind of look Cesc has when he's warm and layered in clothes that used to belong to Iker and Sergio, but times ten.

Cesc hugs him and Iker feels the same stupid clench in his chest as he did when he hugged him the first time, the morning after months ago. Cesc says something, but Iker has no idea what it was.

"I didn't hear you," he says in Cesc's hair, and Cesc pulls his head up a bit, rests his chin on Iker's shoulder instead.

"I went with Molly in ninth grade."

"Went with," Iker repeats. He reaches up to lock the door.

"You were asking about who I went with in high-school." Cesc shifts when Iker rests back down again, relaxes on him like this is the most comfortable thing in the world. "I went with her for a couple months."

"Then what?"

"I didn't have enough money to take her out like everyone else, so I told her I didn't like her." He checks Iker's face. "Does that make me an asshole?"

"Kind of."

"I still feel bad about it."

"Well you were what, fourteen?"

"I guess." Cesc chews on his lip. "Still. After her, I went with Monroe. Then Madeline. I kind of messed around with Marouane, but that didn't count."

"You had a thing for 'm' names."

Cesc snorts. "Well what about you. Who did you date?"

"...A lot of people," Iker responds.

Cesc blinks sleepily. He's smiling, just looking at Iker. Iker rubs his hip.

"Oh man!" Cesc says suddenly.

"What?"

"My ear finally popped."

Iker relaxes.

"From the plane," Cesc clarifies.

"Yeah, I know."

Iker spends an afternoon doing lawnwork. Unai always declares that it's his turn for everything whenever he's on break, and Iker doesn't mind it all that much. There isn't much to do in the winter anyways--most of it is shoveling the driveway.

His nose feels numb when he comes inside and pulls off his gloves. He heads for the kitchen, wondering if there are any coffee beans in the house, and sees Cesc and Unai playing XBOX on the floor.

He recognizes Halo on the screen. Unai's still in school clothes, and the cat is sprawled over Cesc's lap in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable. Cesc is resting his elbows on its back. Iker can hear it purring from where he's standing.

Iker sits on the couch. "That cat hates everyone."

"I know," Unai says, not breaking his eyes from the TV. "That's what I told him."

"What's her name?" Cesc asks.

"I don't know, what does mom call it?"

"Jackie," Unai replies.

"Like Chan?" Cesc asks.

"Like Kennedy. Ah, you fuck."

Cesc grins. He shifts his knees up, proud of himself. The cat delicately stands up and goes down the hallway. "Best two out of three?"

Iker smacks the side of Unai's head on the way out. "You'll never win."

Iker wakes up the morning of Thanksgiving and wanders in the kitchen. Cesc is baking. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up to his elbows and he's rolling dough, flour spotted up past his wrists. Iker sits on a bar stool at the counter. He leans on his hand and watches.

"I didn't know you bake."

Cesc rubs at his forehead with his wrist. "Yeah." The rolling pin clacks when he sets it back down on the dough. "My family's kind of big. Not my family, but the whole family, you know." He checks the oven, seeing if it's preheated yet. "I'm the oldest, so it was always me who helped."

"You have siblings?"

"A younger sister. Her name is Carlota."

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen."

Iker tries to take some dough and Cesc shoots him a glare.

"You'll get E. coli. And I'll tell your mom."

"Oh, my mom." Iker's been stealing dough from his mom since he could reach the counter.

"I'm helping her," Cesc says, proud of himself again. He's too far away to touch, but Iker has the urge.

Thanksgiving dinner goes well. Iker eats a lot but not as much as he means to, which is usually what happens. Cesc, on the other hand, puts away more food than Iker thinks is physically possible. He can't get enough of the mashed potatoes, and clearly likes that the gravy boat is shaped like a turkey. He tells Iker's mom about his classes when she asks, talking with his hands when his mouth is full. The way she looks at him, Iker's pretty sure if she had her way, Cesc would be loaded down with more take-home potatoes than he could handle.

That night, Iker can't really sleep. It isn't even the lack of sex, though dealing with his hand for the first time in four months is kind of a let down. He just didn't realize how used he'd gotten to--sleeping with someone. It's weird being alone. He's staring at the ceiling and considering jerking off out of boredom when Cesc scuttles into his room in the dark, shoulders ratcheted up in the way that definitely means he's naked. Iker lifts the blankets for him even as he steels up to kick him out. He fixes the fleece one so it's against Cesc's skin, then covers him with the sheets and the comforter.

"Why are you naked?" he mumbles. Cesc's hair is damp on his cheek. He's still wet from the shower.

"I'm cold," Cesc says, cuddling up on him. His fingers and the tip of his nose are frigid in Iker's shirt.

Iker rubs his back and shoulders over the blankets. Cesc pulls the covers over his head.

"Yeah, but why are you naked?"

"I don't have any clean clothes left." Cesc's voice sounds weirdly hollow under the covers.

"We have a washing machine."

"I know, I thought I had more clothes but I don't."

"Hold on," Iker says, getting up to get some of his.

"Wait. I know, that's why I came in here." Cesc grabs at him, latches on. "But when I'm not cold."

Iker sighs and settles back down. Cesc pries his arms up so he can hug at the heat in his torso, then lets them back down again.

Iker waits for him to make an awkward move that he'll have to stop because he isn't having sex with a wall's worth of distance between his room and Unai's--but Cesc never makes the move. He just stays still and breathes.

Iker holds him over the covers.

They don't get caught or anything. Iker wakes up around six with his nose in Cesc's hair, lies there for a few minutes before he rolls out of bed. He digs up a shirt and boxers in his drawers, and then goes to the guest room and finds Cesc's jeans on the floor.

Cesc sleeps through all of it. He curls up and groans when Iker lifts the covers though, blindly grabs at them while trying to keep warm in a ball.

"Fucker," he says finally, sitting up and raising his arms up like a child. Iker pulls the shirt on, then hands him the boxers and jeans. Cesc tugs them on clumsily, slow with sleep. Iker gets him on his feet.

"Go sleep in your bed."

Cesc leans all his weight on him. Iker doesn't make him move until Cesc chooses to stumble away.

Unai agrees to drop them off at the airport. He warming the car up and Cesc is saying bye to the cat in the front yard and Iker is watching him, just leaving the house when his mom grabs his elbow. Iker takes one look at her face, and realizes she knows everything.

"Iker-"

"Mom-"

"Iker," she repeats, in the tone that means he'd better shut up. He's twenty-two, graduating, and at least six inches taller than her, but Iker shuts up. He braces for the "I know how you're feeling about him right now, but-" and all the other shit his mom tends to give him every time he dates someone, ever.

"Cesc is a good boy," she says. "You be careful with him."

Iker blinks. "Okay."

"Iker."

"Mom, I will."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Iker tries to shoo the cat away from the car, but she won't go. He ends up having to pick her up and bring her into the house. He gets in the backseat and uselessly tries to brush the hair off his coat. Cesc keeps a straight face. He tries to help.

"Is everyone buckled up?" Unai asks, in an eerie impression of their mom's voice. "Good. We're jamming to Beastie Boys." He pushes in a CD and turns up "Hold It Now, Hit It."

"Is everything okay?" Cesc asks quietly when they get on the freeway.

"Yeah, my mom just likes you better than me, is all."

Cesc grins, and goes back to picking hair off Iker's sleeves.

Author's notes:

-hahaaaa i update at 4 in the morning when still kind of drunk from madrid victory aftermath what now



come at me, bro i'll edit in the morning
-These updates are starting to take longer. I'm entering uncharted, "I have nothing planned in my head anymore lol the fuq is that the fuq is this" territory. be patience with me some help is going on
-But seriously, fuck this movie.
-But where even is plane? The authentic empanada.
-Iker's face.
-Cesc's approximation.
-in my mind this bitch is fine.



now can i play wit yo panty line.