Work Text:
***
It began the usual way, in the hotel where they were staying.
The whole team was celebrating at the bar and Leo was standing to De Paul’s right. He wore faded black jeans and a dishwater gray T-shirt. So many bodies had heated up the room, lifting off Leo’s skin a perfume he’d been wearing for years - or was it a lotion? - that smelled like apricots, not just the sweet part but that slight bitterness around the pit. And De Paul breathed in Leo’s scent, his prick roused itself suddenly like a hound getting a swift kick. But he kept his cool.
Don’t push things, just let it happen. De Paul reminded himself.
He moved closer to Leo, eyeing him tenderly, drawn to the sight of him enjoying the moment and taking everything in. And it was from this lusty, devouring joy, he took Leo by the hand and led him out of the bar through a tumult of bodies and fluorescent purple lights. He couldn’t resist touching him every moment during the elevator ride, for the contractions it made he feel around his heart.
Soon as they stepped into their room De Paul put his arms around him from behind, and Leo turned, timid, but willing. De Paul kissed him full on the mouth, then undid his zipper and kicked off his own shoes. Leo tried to lead him towards the other room, where they could lie down on the sofa bed, but De Paul dropped to his knees beside the table and pulled him down, the Persian carpet pricking Leo’s back, street light falling through the window onto De Paul’s eager, hopeful face; Leo’s bare white thighs.
***
Their car is last in a line of five, nosing along a winding road. Paredes, whose gaze Leo has managed to avoid for several days is driving. Next to Paredes in the shotgun seat, Otamendi is ranting about the road. He acts like a jerk sometimes but his antics are a staple source of amusement for Leo. Behind Otamendi in the backseat sits Lo Celso who’s gazing from his window, beside him in the middle seat, De Paul thrusts his torso from the car’s open roof and takes pictures, ignoring the rule to stay seated while the car is moving. Paredes swerves suddenly, and De Paul is knocked back into his seat, iPhone smacking his forehead. He swears at Paredes, but the words are lost in the car’s wobbly jostle through the traffic.
They’ve left the road. Otamendi leans out of his open window, and Leo realizes that Paredes must be taking this detour for him, giving him a chance to see the outskirts of the city at night. Or was the temptation to knock De Paul down too sweet to resist?
After a minute or two of chaotic driving, their car emerges a few feet from a town square thronged with gleeful people. The whole square seems to vibrate, the energy is electric, excitement floating around in the air.
“What’s happening?” Lo Celso asks.
“Looks like there will be fireworks later.”
Paredes answers, driving with one elbow out of the window, slowly coming to a stop.
Having Leo with them the group decides to remain in the car so as to avoid unwanted attentions from the mass.
“I’m gonna climb up to take some videos.” Otamendi sounds pumped.
“So am I.” De Paul says.
They both raise to their feet and jam their upper halves through the open roof. Leo is now effectively alone inside the car with Paredes and Lo Celso, who peers at the buzzing crowds through his window.
“How did you know?” Leo asks, after a silence.
Paredes swivels around to look at him down the length of the car. He has scavenging blue eyes, the blue of sex and wildness.
“Just a guess.”
“By just one look?”
“He probably has a good sixth sense,” Lo Celso says, “after many years of playing and living here.”
There is a commotion in the crowd, Paredes turns back around to check.
“Did you see something?” Leo asks.
He expects Paredes not to turn again, but he does, leaning over the back of his seat, his eyes meeting Leo’s slowly. Leo feels a jolt of attraction roughly akin to having someone seize his intestines and twist. He understands now that it’s mutual; he sees this on Paredes’ face.
“Yeah,” He says, resting his eyes on Leo. “Could be any moment now.”
Lo Celso, sensing his exclusion, sighs wearily. “Can someone move a bit so I can look too?” he calls to those above the roof.
A sudden flash of light whirls into the dark sky, followed by the explosion, filling the night with vivid colors and light- green, red, orange, purple and yellow…
“One moment!” De Paul yells from above, but Otamendi is faster, ducking back in front seat and then leaning out his window. Lo Celso rises in his ripped jeans. Leo’s face pounds with blood. His own window, like Paredes’ is on the car’s left side, facing away from the crowds. They sit in silence, hands dangling separately from their windows, a warm breeze stirring the hair on their arms, ignoring the dazzling riot of vibrant colors in the night sky.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Paredes finally says, very softly. The sound seems to travel out his window and back in through Leo’s, like one of those whispering tubes. “You must know that.”
“I didn’t.” Leo murmurs back.
“Well, you do now.”
“My hands are tied…”
“Forever?”
“Please…”
Paredes chuckles. Leo isn’t sure what that chuckle means - is it funny Leo is sleeping with his friend? Or does he believe this is only one of Leo’s flings?
The silence between them takes on a kind of heaviness. Flickering lights are illuminating the sky like diamonds glittering in the dark.
***
How had it come to this?
As usual, De Paul found himself revisiting the moment when years ago he had this drowning, helpless feeling whenever he glimpsed at Leo: his rosy face and soft, generous ass. But tonight, unlike countless other nights, Leo lay across in the king-sized bed, falling asleep next to him, his knees tucked under his. De Paul felt the warmth of Leo’s body. He slid across the bed and kissed his warm cheek. Leo stirred and De Paul moved closer, gathering him in his arms. He felt a swell of immense happiness accompanied by a tint of guilt - out of anyone in this world, he was the chosen one to hold him, to feel the faint patter of his heartbeat.
“I love you Lionel.” He whispered, warm, sweet breath filling Leo’s ear.
***