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asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2022-04-08 04:57 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2022-04-08 04:57 pm
Culaccino (Romani Detective Original Fiction)
Title: Culaccino
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos + Zayne Reyes (pre-relationship)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,162
Summary: Zayne calls Andrej to come keep him company.
Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Rainy Days and Mondays prompt: I was drowning right in front of you, and you were too busy to notice. It was mainly written to fill the culaccino space on my untranslatable words bingo.
Culaccino (Italian): The mark left on a table by a moist glass.
Andrej dragged his finger through the puddle of condensation surrounding the base of his glass. It gave his idle fingers something to do rather than clench in anger and frustration, which was probably for the better as it was. He picked up the glass and finished off the dregs of the whiskey it held.
The bartender swiped the empty glass and gave him a pointed look. He’d intended to only have one drink tonight, but that ship had sailed three whiskeys ago. He nodded at the bartender and thought ‘fuck it’ to himself. Zayne had asked him here tonight and then had abandoned him for a woman before Andrej had even had a chance to arrive. So, here he sat, drinking and watching his partner get entirely too close to someone he didn’t know on the dance floor.
He tore his gaze off Zayne and made himself look at anything else. His eyes snagged on the bar top, scarred and marred by the marks of too many glasses. His new tumbler of whiskey was already collecting moisture along its outside edge. A storm was moving in, he’d heard as much on the news, and the humidity in this otherwise dry climate was climbing by the minute.
He felt Zayne before he heard him. Maybe it was the cologne drifting off his skin sweaty from dancing or maybe it was years of working alongside the man that alerted Andrej to his presence. His partner slid onto the stool beside him, draping an arm over Andrej’s shoulders. Zayne leaned in close, his nose brushing Andrej’s jaw. Heat rose off the Texan like his body was the sunbaked asphalt in the dead of summer. The heavens only knew both could burn you with the briefest touch.
Closing his eyes, Andrej took a deep breath, steadying his rapidly beating heart. He wished he could control a secondary, more embarrassing reaction to Zayne, one that had been the bane of his entire partnership with the man, but his stubborn hormones refused to obey. Andrej adjusted his position on the stool and accepted the humiliation that was sure to come.
Zayne turned his head, lips brushing Andrej’s ear. “I know I’m an arrogant ass,” he breathed, hot and wet against Andrej’s skin, “and that you hate me right now, but thank you.”
Andrej swallowed, opened his eyes. “Pentru ce?” He cleared his throat, fought through the whiskey-laced fog, tried again. “For what?”
“For being you,” he said, a soft sigh sending a chill down Andrej’s spine. “For putting up with my bullshit, even when I don’t deserve it.”
Andrej licked his lips, turned towards Zayne, their foreheads touching. “You are my friend and my partner,” he said, ashamed by the quaver in his voice. “I will always come when you call.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Zayne muttered, “but I’m lucky as hell to have you.”
He caught sight of the girl Zayne had been dancing with, saw her searching for him. “Your date is looking for you,” he whispered.
“She’s not my date,” Zayne clarified. “She was here when I got here.”
His blood was thundering in his head, this closeness was going to kill him. “And?”
“And she was pretty,” Zayne said. “Plus, she seemed interested in me. So, when she asked to dance, I said yes. I knew you’d be a bit, but I hadn’t meant to…”
“Get carried away,” he asked, feeling his words run into each other as they left his lips.
“Yeah,” Zayne said, a warm chuckle following his words. His arm tightened around Andrej, pulling him closer. “I didn’t mean to abandon you or leave you to drink alone.”
“It is okay,” he lied, hating that even after four whiskeys he still felt the need to placate his partner.
“No, it’s not,” Zayne said, leaning back so he could see Andrej’s face. “Not even close. I’m sorry.”
Andrej stared into the depths of Zayne’s green eyes. Every emotion he’d ever felt towards his handsome, sexy partner rolled through him like a wave. He felt them well up, press against his chest, tears pressed against his eyes. Turning away from Zayne, he forced out the only thing he could think to say. “You are forgiven.”
“Thank you,” Zayne said, his face close enough that Andrej could smell the beer on his breath, the hint of perfume rising from his clothes.
His eyes fluttered closed again, the nearness, the alcohol, the unbearable unrequited love overwhelming him. Zayne’s lips pressed against his jaw, then were gone. Andrej’s eyes opened and Zayne was standing, looking down at him, an uncertain expression on his face.
“You’ve had too much to drink,” he said, stating the obvious. “Let me call you a taxi.”
“No,” Andrej said, grateful that that one word was similar enough that it didn’t matter what language slipped out of his mouth, Zayne would still understand. “I will call someone to come get me. You go and…” His words failed him, so he waved a hand in the direction of the young woman from the dancefloor.
Zayne observed him for longer than was comfortable before giving a nod. “Okay, but you come and get me if you can’t get anyone.”
“Okay,” he said, knowing he’d do no such thing.
“Promise?” Zayne rested his hands on his hips, much in the same way his mother would when she was exasperated with Andrej and his siblings.
“Iţi promit,” he said, grimacing at the Romanian. He let it go, Zayne would understand.
“Será mejor que,” he returned with a grin. Zayne loved responding to Andrej’s native tongue with his own, even if neither understood the other. “Don’t drink anymore, okay, Zek?”
Andrej nodded, watching Zayne walk away from him, getting closer to her. Another wave of emotion hit him when Zayne took her hand, pulled her close, started moving in rhythm with her body. This time, it was longing, desire, and self-hatred that nearly knocked him off the barstool. Why did he always fall so helplessly for a man who’d never even notice him? A man who was too busy living his life to notice his partner drowning in his own pool of emotion.
That was a question he’d never be able to answer, so he didn’t bother to try. Flagging down the bartender, he requested one last whiskey. The man gave him a dubious look but filled his order anyway. Maybe it was his heartbroken expression or maybe desperation wafted off Andrej the same way sensuality did Zayne, but the bartender gave in. Grateful for this glass of courage, he pulled out his phone and texted the one person who wouldn’t judge him for his feelings tonight.
Eli, please. I need you.
He hated himself for relying on Elias for emotional support where Zayne was concerned, but Eli had never let him down. No matter how badly their relationship had ended.
On my way papi.
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos + Zayne Reyes (pre-relationship)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,162
Summary: Zayne calls Andrej to come keep him company.
Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Rainy Days and Mondays prompt: I was drowning right in front of you, and you were too busy to notice. It was mainly written to fill the culaccino space on my untranslatable words bingo.
Culaccino (Italian): The mark left on a table by a moist glass.
Andrej dragged his finger through the puddle of condensation surrounding the base of his glass. It gave his idle fingers something to do rather than clench in anger and frustration, which was probably for the better as it was. He picked up the glass and finished off the dregs of the whiskey it held.
The bartender swiped the empty glass and gave him a pointed look. He’d intended to only have one drink tonight, but that ship had sailed three whiskeys ago. He nodded at the bartender and thought ‘fuck it’ to himself. Zayne had asked him here tonight and then had abandoned him for a woman before Andrej had even had a chance to arrive. So, here he sat, drinking and watching his partner get entirely too close to someone he didn’t know on the dance floor.
He tore his gaze off Zayne and made himself look at anything else. His eyes snagged on the bar top, scarred and marred by the marks of too many glasses. His new tumbler of whiskey was already collecting moisture along its outside edge. A storm was moving in, he’d heard as much on the news, and the humidity in this otherwise dry climate was climbing by the minute.
He felt Zayne before he heard him. Maybe it was the cologne drifting off his skin sweaty from dancing or maybe it was years of working alongside the man that alerted Andrej to his presence. His partner slid onto the stool beside him, draping an arm over Andrej’s shoulders. Zayne leaned in close, his nose brushing Andrej’s jaw. Heat rose off the Texan like his body was the sunbaked asphalt in the dead of summer. The heavens only knew both could burn you with the briefest touch.
Closing his eyes, Andrej took a deep breath, steadying his rapidly beating heart. He wished he could control a secondary, more embarrassing reaction to Zayne, one that had been the bane of his entire partnership with the man, but his stubborn hormones refused to obey. Andrej adjusted his position on the stool and accepted the humiliation that was sure to come.
Zayne turned his head, lips brushing Andrej’s ear. “I know I’m an arrogant ass,” he breathed, hot and wet against Andrej’s skin, “and that you hate me right now, but thank you.”
Andrej swallowed, opened his eyes. “Pentru ce?” He cleared his throat, fought through the whiskey-laced fog, tried again. “For what?”
“For being you,” he said, a soft sigh sending a chill down Andrej’s spine. “For putting up with my bullshit, even when I don’t deserve it.”
Andrej licked his lips, turned towards Zayne, their foreheads touching. “You are my friend and my partner,” he said, ashamed by the quaver in his voice. “I will always come when you call.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Zayne muttered, “but I’m lucky as hell to have you.”
He caught sight of the girl Zayne had been dancing with, saw her searching for him. “Your date is looking for you,” he whispered.
“She’s not my date,” Zayne clarified. “She was here when I got here.”
His blood was thundering in his head, this closeness was going to kill him. “And?”
“And she was pretty,” Zayne said. “Plus, she seemed interested in me. So, when she asked to dance, I said yes. I knew you’d be a bit, but I hadn’t meant to…”
“Get carried away,” he asked, feeling his words run into each other as they left his lips.
“Yeah,” Zayne said, a warm chuckle following his words. His arm tightened around Andrej, pulling him closer. “I didn’t mean to abandon you or leave you to drink alone.”
“It is okay,” he lied, hating that even after four whiskeys he still felt the need to placate his partner.
“No, it’s not,” Zayne said, leaning back so he could see Andrej’s face. “Not even close. I’m sorry.”
Andrej stared into the depths of Zayne’s green eyes. Every emotion he’d ever felt towards his handsome, sexy partner rolled through him like a wave. He felt them well up, press against his chest, tears pressed against his eyes. Turning away from Zayne, he forced out the only thing he could think to say. “You are forgiven.”
“Thank you,” Zayne said, his face close enough that Andrej could smell the beer on his breath, the hint of perfume rising from his clothes.
His eyes fluttered closed again, the nearness, the alcohol, the unbearable unrequited love overwhelming him. Zayne’s lips pressed against his jaw, then were gone. Andrej’s eyes opened and Zayne was standing, looking down at him, an uncertain expression on his face.
“You’ve had too much to drink,” he said, stating the obvious. “Let me call you a taxi.”
“No,” Andrej said, grateful that that one word was similar enough that it didn’t matter what language slipped out of his mouth, Zayne would still understand. “I will call someone to come get me. You go and…” His words failed him, so he waved a hand in the direction of the young woman from the dancefloor.
Zayne observed him for longer than was comfortable before giving a nod. “Okay, but you come and get me if you can’t get anyone.”
“Okay,” he said, knowing he’d do no such thing.
“Promise?” Zayne rested his hands on his hips, much in the same way his mother would when she was exasperated with Andrej and his siblings.
“Iţi promit,” he said, grimacing at the Romanian. He let it go, Zayne would understand.
“Será mejor que,” he returned with a grin. Zayne loved responding to Andrej’s native tongue with his own, even if neither understood the other. “Don’t drink anymore, okay, Zek?”
Andrej nodded, watching Zayne walk away from him, getting closer to her. Another wave of emotion hit him when Zayne took her hand, pulled her close, started moving in rhythm with her body. This time, it was longing, desire, and self-hatred that nearly knocked him off the barstool. Why did he always fall so helplessly for a man who’d never even notice him? A man who was too busy living his life to notice his partner drowning in his own pool of emotion.
That was a question he’d never be able to answer, so he didn’t bother to try. Flagging down the bartender, he requested one last whiskey. The man gave him a dubious look but filled his order anyway. Maybe it was his heartbroken expression or maybe desperation wafted off Andrej the same way sensuality did Zayne, but the bartender gave in. Grateful for this glass of courage, he pulled out his phone and texted the one person who wouldn’t judge him for his feelings tonight.
Eli, please. I need you.
He hated himself for relying on Elias for emotional support where Zayne was concerned, but Eli had never let him down. No matter how badly their relationship had ended.
On my way papi.
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Not one bit. Told you I was torturing him.
Ah, Eli's a good friend. But I hear ya.
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I can see that.
Better Eli than the girls, but he could have his own drowning moment.
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I knew I needed to work that prompt out through his POV, even if it hurt.
Exactly my thoughts. Hilary would have laid into Zayne right on the dancefloor. Trish would have given Andrej more whiskey which he did not need. Yeah, poor Elias. But he kind of knew from the beginning of his relationship with Andrej what the stakes were. Not that it makes it right, but he at least wasn't blindsided.
no subject