(no subject)
Cesc sees a zombie movie on TV and it takes a long time for Iker to convince him that it isn’t real, that not all things on the TV are real. Cesc doesn’t sleep for a week until when he moves, it’s halting and sluggish, and Iker realizes it’s actually hurting him, not going to sleep.
Iker sits him down. "They aren’t real. And they aren’t even people," he tells him.
"They bite. They look like people."
For some reason, Iker can’t repeat it to him. That just because something looks human, that doesn’t make it human. Instead, he naps with him during the day and shows him how the bathtub works. The first time, Cesc smells the water and submerges to his nose, smiling. He stays until his skin goes pink.
They make an attempt at a blackberry ricotta soufflé. It’s one of the most complicated recipes they’ve tried, one that Cesc doesn’t know. They have to follow a recipe book. Iker beats the egg whites, Cesc hovers on ingredient duty. He hands Iker the butter when he needs it, and the yolks, and the cheese.
"Vanilla," Iker says over the beater.
Cesc hesitates. "…Which one?" There’s six bottles in a tight circle on the counter, different shapes and sizes.
Iker can’t look up, really. "The one that says ‘Vanilla’."
After a moment, Cesc hands him almond oil.
The soufflé ends up falling in the oven. Iker Googles "what do fallen soufflé," and they mix it with chocolate pudding from the pantry. It still tastes good. They eat it while they’re watching Almeria versus Mallorca. When they show the line-ups, Iker takes a quick glance at the screen, then checks his phone. He takes his time replying to a text, then puts it away.
"I missed Mallorca’s. Who’s playing?"
Cesc pauses with the spoon halfway to his mouth. After a moment, he sets it back down in the bowl. He won’t look at Iker. "I don’t know."
After the game starts, Iker rubs Cesc’s wrist with his thumb. "Okay."
On Friday, Iker calls his mom, asks her how to teach someone to read. She’s confused at first, because Iker doesn't know how to explain that his roommate is an android and that his android can’t read, because most people don’t buy them to read anything at all. Finally she explains some things to him, phonics and all that, then agrees to mail him books to help.
Iker sits with Cesc on his bed in the evenings after dinner.
("You already know the alphabet," Iker says the first night.
Cesc stares blankly at him.
"Every time you list something. It’s."
Cesc’s eyebrows go up, waiting for Iker to make the reveal.
Iker sighs. He gets the book.)
Iker goes through the alphabet with him over and over. Then laminated phonics sheets. Then children’s books.
Once he wakes up at six in the morning, automatically reaches for Cesc, but Cesc isn’t there. The blankets are tucked in carefully around him. Iker gets up and pulls a shirt on, peers into the spare bedroom. Cesc is on the floor with his books spread out in front of him. He’s following words with his finger, like Iker taught him to.
"The cat sits on the mat," he mumbles. "The hen is in the… pen."
Iker goes back to bed.
They start watching more football. On Sundays, Sergio comes over and brings Fandi and a six pack. They eat shitty finger food and Iker starts learning new faces, is amazed that he still loves Madrid as much as he does, even when he only recognizes a third of the players anymore.
One night, after a game that got them into the semis of the Champion’s League and after Sergio's left, Iker’s high on a few beers and happiness, and Cesc is high on him being happy. They’re making out on the couch, heavier than they usually do. Cesc is in his lap and Iker has a hand up his shirt. Cesc likes that, wiggles in this sexy way. Iker pushes his hips up. He kisses him and reaches down and gropes him-and Cesc isn't hard.
Cesc seems to notice that something's off. He pauses, still grinning. His hair is sticking up. The post-match commentator drones on in the background. "What's supposed to happen?"
Cesc isn't into him. That's Iker's first thought. He isn't into him and he's pretending all of this, he doesn't actually want it. But then, the only thing Cesc really does is Be Into Iker. And Iker remembers ordering him through a haze of liquor, skipping pages and pages of chips and customization options. He thinks about people adopting him as some kind of surrogate child and not wanting him to get hard. It makes him feel sick about everything.
Cesc touches Iker's hair. He leans forward and kisses him again, a gentle touch of lips. He tastes like chips and soda. "What's supposed to happen?" he repeats.
"I'll fix it," Iker replies.
"Can we kiss more for a while?"
"Okay."
In a few weeks, Cesc chews through all the books Iker’s mom sent. It’s cold and stormy out and Iker puts a knit hat and a scarf on him. He drives him to the library.
Cesc takes the car ride better than Iker was expecting, and he isn't afraid of all the people either. Mostly he acts normal, a little excited to be out of the house. Iker doesn't really know what level he's reading at, so he lets him browse around. Cesc chooses a young adult novel Iker doesn't know, and "A Tale of Two Cities." He tries to pick up something by Michael Crichton, but Iker puts it back. He doesn't want try to convince Cesc that dinosaurs aren't real, or admit that man-eating gorillas might be real, but they live far away from here.
Cesc lingers in the children's books, possibly under the impression that the colors mean they're more interesting. Iker expects him to take to "The Adventures of Pinocchio" in some kind of final irony, but Cesc hates it. "The Swiss Family Robinson" ends up being his favorite. Iker suspects it’s the tiger, and all the plants.
Two weeks later, the chip comes in the mail. Iker was expecting an actual computer chip, like they used to use when he was a kid. It’s more of a black box, flat and thin, and apparently all Cesc has to do is hold it in his hand for a while. For ten minutes, the instructions say.
Cesc holds it. He sits next to Iker on the couch while Iker’s eating oatmeal for breakfast, stays stock still, like a kid with a thermometer in his mouth. Iker feels him keep looking at the clock, but he doesn’t put it down until Iker takes the chip away from him, sets it on the coffee table.
Iker told himself he'd wait a while, that he wasn't going to fuck his android at eleven’o’clock in the morning, but Cesc seems eager to find out what will happen. (They’ve been experimenting for a few weeks now, with shirts off and mouths open. Cesc figured out Iker likes his mouth on his neck, and his shoulder. He’s been taking advantage of it ever since.) He swings his legs over Iker’s thighs and scoots up next to him, wraps his arms around his neck. He ducks in and licks at his ear. Finally, Iker sets his oatmeal down and turns to kiss his cheek, then his neck.
Cesc smiles and hunches up like always. He tilts his head with a slack-jawed grin and lets Iker nose up into his hair. Iker touches his stomach, then rubs his nipple over his shirt. He can actually see the exact moment when Cesc’s expression shifts. When he feels that his body is reacting differently than it used to. Cesc immediately looks down at his dick.
"…Okay?" Iker asks.
"It feels," Cesc says. He moves on Iker’s lap. Iker waits for him to finish, but that's all Cesc wanted to say. His mouth is open. He seems baffled.
"It's," he says. He hesitates, then reaches down and touches himself. His eyes go big, and he looks up at Iker with his brows drawn together, like he actually can’t believe how it feels.
Iker shifts underneath him and kisses him, takes over and palms his cock. Cesc fumbles backwards, spreads his legs, and Iker follows, moves between his knees and presses with the heel of his hand. Cesc clamps an arm around his shoulders, struggling to get his balance. He humps up against Iker’s hand.
It’s clumsy. One of his feet is slipping off the couch, and he’s pulling Iker down on him with his weight. Iker lets him go for a few minutes because Cesc is so eager for it, seems so capable of getting off just like this, just from Iker pressing with his palm and rocking with him. Finally he gathers himself, pulls back.
Cesc looks up at him, mouth wet and cheeks pink. He looks stunned.
"Come on," Iker says, gently taking his wrist.
"Why?" Cesc asks, breathless. He’s wobbly when he stands, following after Iker with a funny gait.
"Because your first time shouldn’t be on the couch," Iker says.
Cesc blinks at him, but obediently sits down on the bed, then lies down when Iker tilts him back. Iker lifts his shirt and kisses his stomach. Cesc bites his lip. He alternately tries to watch and lies back on the bed. He makes a strained sound when Iker dips his tongue in his navel, his belly jumping under Iker’s mouth.
Iker wants to take his time, to rut against him, suck at his neck and his nipples, but he can feel that Cesc is wired and close to coming off, so he moves down to unbutton his jeans.
Cesc’s cock is full and turgid in his underwear, a dark wet spot around the head. He seems surprised. He half sits up, looks down at himself distrustfully.
"It’s okay." Iker moves up to kiss his mouth again. He rubs him over his underwear. Cesc’s eyes slide shut.
Cesc doesn’t open them again until Iker peels back the elastic and his cock sways free. Iker is steadying him in his hand, about to go down on him, when Cesc tugs his arm.
"In your mouth?" For all the kissing they've done, Cesc still doesn't entirely trust mouths.
Iker looks up at his face, jacks him a few times. "I won't bite you."
"Don’t bite me," Cesc repeats. His hips move up slightly.
"I won’t."
At first, Iker just mouths at the tip, enough to swirl his tongue before he pulls away. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him, and if Cesc is scared, he wants to stop. Cesc makes a sound, when Iker's mouth touches and again when the air hits his skin. Iker licks his lips. As he watches, a thick drop of precome beads at the slit.
Cesc is watching too. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth when it dribbles over, his hands fisting in the sheets. Iker ducks down and chases it with his tongue, catches it and slides back up to take the head in his mouth.
Iker hasn't had a cock in his mouth in years. The weight and feel alone would turn him on, but the taste-it’s real, familiar. He can feel Cesc twitch against his tongue. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this turned on.
Cesc is making choked moaning sounds. His fists are tight in the sheets, and Iker wants to tell him to slow down, let him do this, he can make it really good. But he remembers his first blowjob, vaguely, and that technique didn’t matter as much as how hot and wet it was inside. He relaxes his throat and lets Cesc fuck up into his mouth. It’s sloppy and without finesse-Cesc can’t even keep a rhythm-but it’s the hottest thing Iker can ever remember doing. The sounds are messy and lewd. Iker reaches up to touch Cesc’s nipple, and Cesc’s hips stutter.
"Iker," Cesc says. He gently tugs Iker's ear. Iker knows he wants to come, but he doesn’t know how to say it. "Iker," he repeats, more urgently.
Iker slides his hand up his stomach, rubs reassuringly. He fondles his balls and suddenly, Cesc tries to sit up. Iker swallows him down and Cesc curls up, whimpers.
"Iker-"
Iker has to pin his hips. Cesc pulls his ear and makes a keening sound and Iker feels him twitch and start coming. He pulls off, lets Cesc see himself come on his tongue. He swallows. Cesc watches him do it with a pained expression on his face, then falls back on the pillows, boneless and exhausted. His chest is heaving.
Iker kisses the ridge of his pubic bone, then his belly, then moves up to lie next to him.
After a minute, Cesc turns his head and noses at Iker’s cheek. "What's that called?"
"Which part?"
"When it feels."
Iker considers. "Coming."
"Coming," Cesc repeats reverently. He reaches down to grope himself, like he wants to do it again.
Iker stills his hand, trying not to smile. "You have to wait a while."
Cesc grins dopily and turns over on his side, wraps his limbs around him. He mindlessly strokes the back of Iker’s hair and falls asleep like that, limp, breathing loud and heavy.
Iker feels like he understands, for the first time, why David liked doing that so much.
One afternoon, Iker takes the box out of the back of the closet. Cesc is sitting at the table, looking at the bird feeder, and Iker sits next to him. He sets the box down and opens it. Cesc watches. Iker hands him a picture.
"This is David."
Cesc carefully takes it in his hand. They're all physical, flat shiny rectangles-David liked old photography. Never really took to holograms. This isn’t Iker’s favorite picture of him, but it might be close. He has Iker’s cousin on his hip, and she’s reaching up to pull his baseball cap down over his eyes. David is laughing.
"He died?" Cesc asks.
Iker nods.
"How did he die?"
"His car was hit by another car." He stands up. He suddenly feels like he has something to do.
"Can I look at them?" Cesc asks.
"If you want."
Iker starts chopping celery for dinner, a long time before they’re going to need it. He takes his time, snaps off the leaves, makes sure the cuts are even, then puts the pieces in a big ceramic bowl. He covers it with saran wrap. When he puts it in the fridge, he sees Cesc paused on a picture that Iker knows, even from here.
They were on the beach. David took it at forearm's length, his arm slung around Iker’s shoulders. He’s wearing a puka shell necklace. Iker has the beginnings of a sunburn across his nose and shoulders. He's laughing, looking at David instead of the lens.
Iker watches Cesc pass the tip of his finger over his face.
Iker goes shopping every week now, because there are new things Cesc wants to make. He gets home and tosses some flower packets on the table, checks the message machine, then idly searches around the house for Cesc. He picks two books up off the ground and sets them on the table, moves Cesc’s shoes out of the hallway.
He finds him in the spare bedroom, his jeans around his ankles. He’s just out of the bath, concentrating, trying to jerk off. Iker’s sleep shirt is clutched in his spare hand.
Cesc’s head snaps up and he opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he thinks he might be in trouble. Iker toes off his shoes and sits next to him. Their shoulders touch.
"It’s okay. You can do that."
He looks at Cesc’s hand. His fingers are far apart, his palm barely touching the shaft.
"Fingers closer together," he says gently. "Tighter." He arranges Cesc's hand. "And wrap like this." He turns Cesc's wrist so it’s more perpendicular to his body.
Cesc tries again. He smiles.
"Better?"
Cesc nods. He works himself for a few moments, then pauses, places Iker’s hand on his leg. He nestles into Iker’s shoulder and breathes, shirt forgotten in his other hand. Iker watches him, the way he figures out that a steady rhythm feels better, and that touching his own stomach with the tips of his fingers feels good too. He rubs Cesc’s knee with his thumb. When Cesc gets close, his shoulders go pink and his heel pushes against the bed. He looks up from Iker's chest and says "Your mouth," pleading.
Iker kisses him and settles him against the pillows. He moves down his body. Cesc rests his hand in his hair.
(One day, it's raining, and it's been exactly three years to the day. Iker feels the same crushing sadness he always did, like it never really lifted at all, like he can't even remember what it's like to not feel this way.
Cesc crawls into bed with him. He lies close. The liquor stays in the desk.)
Sergio lets Fandi stay at their house one night, because Cesc wants her to. She whines unless she’s in the room with them and finally Iker gives in, but he draws the line at her getting on the bed. Cesc sleeps on the very edge of the mattress, one hand on Iker’s chest, the other dangling off to rest on her head.
Sergio picks her up in the morning before work and sees the circles under Iker’s eyes and laughs.
It's nine'o'clock and for the first time in years, Iker is in bed before midnight. He's lying on his back, wearing sleep pants and a thin shirt, and Cesc is naked, covering him, kissing his neck. They've been making out for half an hour and Cesc has been naked for at least half of that and Iker is painfully hard. And Cesc keeps rocking back on his dick, like it turns him on and he doesn't know why.
Iker rests his head back on the pillows, looks at the ceiling like something there will give him the strength not to-
"Fuck me," Cesc says.
Iker groans. His hands tighten on Cesc's hips. "You don't even know what that means."
"People do it," Cesc says.
"That's true."
"You should do it to me." He presses his nose hard in Iker's neck, rutting as best as he can against his stomach. The movement is making Iker's shirt ride up. Iker doesn’t respond and Cesc says, "Did you hear, you should do it to-"
Iker gets a hand between them and jerks him off. Cesc shudders and goes limp on top of him, mouth open against Iker’s neck. He whimpers after a second, pushes himself into Iker’s hand.
Later, Cesc is resting on Iker's shoulder, watching him do taxes. Iker doesn't know how he could possibly find it interesting.
"You did that to trick me," Cesc says, lazy.
"Did what?" Iker pushes up his glasses, catching himself before he checks that there are two residents in his house.
"Touched me, when I was talking to you. You heard me, right?"
Iker grunts noncommittally.
He did hear Cesc. And he knows he's tricking him again, really, by acting like he didn't.
In the end, Iker does fuck him, late at night on a Wednesday. He’s lying there afterwards, coming down and breathing, and Cesc gets up. After ten minutes, he doesn’t come back.
Iker finds him in the bathroom by the sink, carefully cleaning himself out with a washcloth.
"You did know what it was all along, then."
Cesc looks up. "No. But when you did it, after-it's like. I remembered." He looks to the side, like he always does when he realizes something's different about him.
"You don't have to do that," Iker says, stepping forward off the wall.
"No, I do," Cesc says, intent. "If it stays inside, it will-"
"I mean you don't have to do it by yourself." Iker rubs his hipbones with his thumbs. "And you don’t have to shut yourself in the bathroom."
Cesc shuffles closer, flush against his body. Iker spreads him and gently slides a finger inside, checking how much he’s gotten. Cesc presses his nose in his shoulder. He breathes out a long breath in his shirt. Iker cleans him, careful, and Cesc turns his face into his neck. He holds on to Iker’s shirt. Iker rests his hand on the back of his head.
The next time, the lights are off and Iker holds Cesc close until he’s done shaking, then moves down and spreads him with his hands, licks and sucks until most of the taste is gone. Cesc’s muscles are loose, his movements slow and languid. He comes again on his belly. Afterwards, Iker takes him to the bath and sits in there with him, smoothing soap on his arms and shoulders until both of them fall asleep in the water.
It’s late afternoon and raining again. Cesc is lying on his stomach, mostly naked in bed. He’s tangled in sheets. Iker’s in boxers and a shirt and his glasses at the desk, typing.
"You writes books?" Cesc asks. "That’s what you do?"
"Yes."
"What are your books about?"
Iker pauses and looks at him. Cesc is looking back. Iker realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t want Cesc to know that he sold out. That he writes graphic gritty techno-thrillers instead of the novels he came out of college to do. And that he makes money he doesn’t even need off of war and rape and "realism."
"Nothing good," he says finally.
Cesc rolls over on his side to see him better. He pulls the blankets up to his chin. "One day, you'll let me read one?"
"…Yes."
That night, Iker deletes "Without Regret" and opens a new document. He starts writing.
Eventually, Iker has a meeting with his publishers that he’s put off for as long as he can, and he has to drive a town over for the day. He knows, rationally, that Cesc would be fine by himself, that he’s fine by himself every day, but if something happened-
Iker calls Sergio, and Sergio’s happy to take him out for a couple hours. And Iker’s happy about it too, until he sees Cesc sitting in a car and it’s just.
"I’ll take care of him," Sergio says. It’s not even something real people say, outside of movies or whatever, but Sergio’s sincere about it.
Iker nods. He stands in the doorway and watches them drive away.
The meeting is long but not as boring as usual, because he tells the board that he started a new book and deleted the old one. There’s a lot of yelling and phone calls. He doesn’t regret it, any of it, but gets home with a headache and he can’t find the right key on his keyring. Then the door flies open and in a second, Cesc has him enveloped in a hug. He’s small and warm.
Iker relaxes. He hugs back. Presses a slight kiss to the side of his head.
"Hi," Cesc says from his shoulder.
"Hi."
Sergio is sitting at the bar, boots on the bottom rung of his stool, covertly stealing slices of steak for the quesadillas. Iker moves the cutting board out of reach and sits next to him. Cesc goes back to slicing.
"We went to an aquarium," Sergio tells Iker, swirling his beer bottle.
Cesc hands Iker a piece of steak before he moves on to peppers. Sergio glares.
"Was it cool?" Iker asks.
"Yeah," Cesc says. He looks up at Iker and grins, then realizes he needs to look down to chop. "There was a tunnel you can walk through with sharks, uh-"
"It’s built into the tank," Sergio supplies.
"Yeah." Cesc turns on a burner and melts a thin slat of butter in a pan. "And there was this thing where you can touch stuff. Before you go."
"A tide pool?" Iker asks.
Cesc makes an agreeing sound, rotating the skillet. "Shaped like this." He sets it down and outlines a star in the air.
"A starfish."
"No." Cesc gives him a look before he lays a tortilla down. "It wasn’t a fish."
"Duh, Iker," Sergio says.
Iker kicks him under the bar.
That night, Cesc gets tired early. When Sergio’s leaves, just after nine, he’s falling asleep sitting up. Iker goes to bed early with him, even though he isn’t tired.
"We can go to the beach sometime," he tells Cesc, when they’re under the comforter and Cesc is rearranging in his arms.
"The beach," Cesc repeats, sleepy.
"Where the starfish are."
Iker can’t see Cesc smile; he just knows.
Cesc falls asleep fast, and Iker shifts his arm around his stomach, rests his nose in his hair. He rubs Cesc’s wrist with his thumb when Cesc smiles, dreaming-Cesc does dream, he’s told Iker about them-and Cesc melts a little further into the bed.
Iker kisses the back of his neck and closes his eyes.
The next day, Iker goes food shopping. He buys asparagus and slabs of clean white meat, most of the ingredients they’ll need to make stuffed chicken later in the week.
When he gets home, Cesc is sitting at the counter. Iker ruffles the back of his hair, starts putting things away in the fridge.
"I bought a duck. We can roast it tomorrow. Okay?"
"I need to go to the doctor's."
Iker pushes the eggs back on the shelf and straightens up. He looks back at Cesc. The ice machine clacks new ice down into the tray. "What?"
"I need to go to the doctor's." Cesc's eyes are blank, his hands still on the granite. Iker walks over, turns his face towards him.
"What's wrong?" he asks quietly. "Did you hurt yourself?"
Cesc blinks, and seems to recognize Iker for the first time. Iker feels his stomach go cold. Cesc takes his wrist.
"I need to go to the doctor's," he repeats, pleading.
"Okay, hold on. Just sit here, okay?"
Iker goes into his bedroom, digs around on his nightstand for paperwork. He finds the number he's looking for, printed on the bottom of the manual that came in the box. He dials it. It rings twice.
"Welcome to Andromech Tech Support, my name is Allison. How may I help you?"
"There's something wrong with-there's something wrong with my android. He keeps saying he needs to go to the doctor's-"
"What is the unit's model?"
Iker squints down at the numbers and letters at the bottom of the page in the bold red rectangle. Cesc's sneakers sit next to his on the floor. "NF64C. What's wrong with him?"
"That's a general error message, sir. You'll need to make an appointment to bring the unit in for diagnostic testing."
"Okay. Can you set that up?"
"Yes. Hold please." Iker hears rapid typing. He looks out of the room-Cesc is still sitting at the bar. "Our next available appointment is the twenty-third."
"...That's in two weeks."
"Yes, sir."
"No, I need something sooner."
"Is the unit repeating the message, sir?"
"Yeah," Iker says quickly. "It's like he can't say anything else-"
"Powering down the unit in the interim will not damage the system."
Iker blinks, then feels himself getting angry. "I need an appointment sooner than the twenty-third."
"I am required to advise you that there will be a large additional fee, your warranty does not cover-"
"I don't care."
He hears a mouse clicking. "There's an opening tomorrow morning at 11AM," she says curtly.
"Fine."
Iker leads Cesc off the barstool and into their bedroom, changes him into his blue t-shirt and a pair of Iker's pants. He gets him into bed and covers him with the sheets and the comforter and the fleece blanket he likes, makes sure the pillow is close enough to his shoulders and supporting his neck. He lies down over the covers, close and facing him.
Cesc looks tiny under all the blankets. "I need to go to the doctor's," he says. He's scared.
Iker strokes his hair. "I know. I'm taking you tomorrow. It's okay."
He rubs Cesc's cheek with his thumb. Cesc won't stop looking at him.
"Go to sleep," Iker says quietly.
Cesc closes his eyes.
Iker stays with him. The milk and duck go bad on the counter overnight.
Iker hasn't been in a hospital since David. This isn't a hospital, not technically, but it feels like one. He's sitting in a room with chairs and end tables, magazines a few months old in plastic racks on the wall. There are three other people-a hulking man who looks like a fucking pervert, and two older people, a man and a woman. They're holding their hands together. The woman's trying not to cry.
"Mr. Casillas," the girl at the front desk calls. Her nametag says Caroline.
From the counter, Iker can see Cesc waiting in a room with a one-way window. He's sitting next to a girl model, Asian, in a stylized maid dress and pinafore. They both look nervous. Iker watches Cesc turns to the girl and give her a weak smile. He says something to her. The girl lifts her head. She smiles back a bit.
"Your unit has been repaired," Caroline says. "But you may continue having problems with it."
"Problems," Iker repeats.
"Your unit is an older model. If you're interested in upgrading-"
"I'm not."
She smiles at him like he doesn't understand. "In three years, your warranty will be up and we can no longer guarantee that your unit will remain in working condition. However-" She spreads a magazine on the counter in front of him. "We have a wide selection of-"
"I'm not interested," Iker repeats firmly.
He pays, and they bring Cesc out to him. As they leave, Caroline calls a name. The pervert stands up.
In the car, Cesc makes sure Iker's wearing his seatbelt, then spends the ride looking at the trees. Iker takes his hand.
In the mornings, Iker wakes up. If Cesc isn’t awake, he lets him sleep-usually Cesc will totter after him into the bathroom, half awake, warming up in the spray while Iker washes his hair.
They make breakfast and eat. Iker peels the crusts off of Cesc’s toast. Sometimes they go out, to the park or a museum. If they stay home, Iker writes and Cesc goes into the backyard to read or plant or prune the blackberry bushes.
In the afternoon, if it’s not raining and they feel like it, they take Toronto on a walk. Or Cesc does, holding tight on the leash and stumbling when she bolts, and Iker comes along. Cesc tells him the names of plants, if he thinks they’re interesting. They come home and make dinner, or order out. Cesc likes Thai food, but not Chinese.
At night, Cesc sits next to Iker on the bed and listens to him read what he wrote for the day. Sometimes Iker doesn’t feel like it, or his eyes are sore, and Cesc will read something to him. They’ve been working at "Don Quixote" for a few weeks now. Cesc does a voice for Sancho Panza.
They fuck sometimes, before they go to sleep. More often, they don’t. Cesc likes Iker’s mouth, and he likes putting his mouth on Iker. It’s enough. Iker doesn’t need anything else.
Today, Sergio’s supposed to come over to grill, and Toronto is dirty from digging by the fence. (They got her in the spring. Cesc named her that because he heard it on TV, he liked the way it sounded. So.)
Cesc checks how cold the water is before they get her wet, but it’s summer again, and the rubber is warm. Toronto shakes as soon as they get her soaked and lathered and Iker laughs with surprise, hugs her to his chest so Cesc can wash her body.
Cesc smooths soapy fur back from her eyes, grinning, and looks up at Iker’s face. Iker’s still laughing, kind of, and Cesc touches his cheek like he touched the photograph, months before.