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Ten whole minutes. He's counted.
They're going through the closet together to make some room for Adrian's clothes too, @Danny pulling things off the rail one at a time and holding them up for his own inspection before they land in one of three piles on the bed, and Adrian's been standing here watching the process without saying a word so far.
So many flannel shirts.
He doesn't say anything, but it's a challenge.
Danny Hernández
“I haven’t seen this thing since the nineties,” Danny mutters, giving the shirt one last look before tossing it onto the growing get-rid-of pile on the bed.
He catches Adrian looking at him and huffs, tilting his head. “What’s that look for? I’m almost done.”
Adrian Niven
"Nothing." His voice is thin, strained from trying not to laugh. He promised he wouldn't laugh or heckle or he'd end up wearing some of the 'donate or destroy' pile. "Nothing. You're doing great, babe. I just didn't know they made that many different plaid shirts." He covers his mouth but his eyes give everything away.
Danny really is doing well, though. Adrian doesn't want to discourage him.
He also does not want to have to wear one of those plaid shirts into town. The tight fit would only be the start of the catastrophe.
Danny Hernández
“Whaaat? They’re comfortable. And inexpensive,” Danny mumbles, tossing the last of his clothes into their respective piles.
He surveys what’s left with growing suspicion. “Okay, let’s see if I have any clothes left by the time we’re done here.”
Danny reaches for one of his favorite flannels and holds it up. The fabric’s worn soft from years of use, and there’s a hole near one of the sleeves, but that hardly counts as a problem.
“This stays.”
He doesn’t bother putting it up for discussion. Instead, he folds it and adds it straight to the keep pile.
“There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Adrian Niven
"Nothing wrong with it?" Adrian repeats, already crossing to the bed. He plucks the flannel back out of the keep pile before Danny can stop him, holds it up by the shoulders, thumb finding the hole at the sleeve without looking for it. "This is held together by nostalgia and static electricity."
Danny huffs. "It stays."
Adrian laughs as he carefully folds the shirt and lays it back down. "At least I know for sure now why you're still dating me — you don't mind a hot fraying mess."
Danny Hernández
“Neither you nor the shirt are fraying. Hot mess, maybe,” Danny teases.
He sets his crutch against the side of the bed before lowering himself onto the mattress, careful with his ankle. Then he looks over the piles spread across the room.
“So, whatcha think?”
Danny gestures toward the evidence of several different versions of himself scattered over the bed.
“This is about three decades of clothes.”
Adrian Niven
Flopping dramatically backwards on the bed between the piles, Adrian laughs again as he snuggles up against Danny. "I just realized that some of this might legit be older than I am."
Danny Hernández
“Well, yeah,” Danny replies, combing his fingers through Adrian’s hair. “I don’t exactly make time to clean out the closet, but I’ve got two fucked-up limbs keeping me from working and a boyfriend moving in for the summer.”
He glances toward the piles taking over the bed. “Needs must.”
Adrian Niven
"All work and no play makes Daniel have a seriously outdated wardrobe," Adrian purrs, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. "Give me another five minutes of this and I'll start hauling these downstairs."
They already had bags ready to fill and Clemencia's friends from church had needy recipients ready and waiting.
Danny Hernández
“Just five? We’ve got a little over an hour before the church ladies descend on us and start telling me how handsome my boyfriend is,” Danny says, amusement warming his voice.
His fingers slide from Adrian’s hair to his chin, tipping his face up for a kiss. Danny keeps him there for another, then another, enjoying himself far too much. “And you didn’t complain once about three decades of clothes. That deserves a reward.”
His thumb brushes along Adrian’s jaw as he leans in close again. “Close the door. Lock it.”
Danny’s smile turns smug.
“Then we’ll find out how good you are at keeping your mouth shut when you're riding me.”
Adrian Niven
He's up off the bed so fast it nearly jostles both Danny and the piles onto the floor. The door clicks and he's back on Danny with much more care, straddling him and pushing his shirt up to kiss along his ribs and chest before planting a solid, lingering kiss on his mouth.
"You already know I can't be quiet with you," Adrian murmurs, wriggling. "But I can sure make good use of that hour."
Danny Hernández
Danny chuckles as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, deciding it’s a hell of a lot easier than wrestling the thing over his sling. “Let’s see you complain about my flannel now,” he teases, letting the shirt fall open and giving Adrian easier access to his chest.
His good hand catches the hem of Adrian’s shirt and tugs. “Come here,” he says, quieter now.
Once the shirt is out of the way, Danny draws him back in and kisses him slowly, taking his time with it at first. That patience doesn’t last long. The next kiss carries more urgency, his fingers curling into Adrian’s hair as he pulls him closer.
Adrian Niven
Adrian's patience doesn't last much longer. He's been a good boy and deserves a reward, he tells himself, and he's pleased that Danny agrees. The frantic kissing turns into frantic groping, which turns into frantic grinding, and then Adrian is shucking off his remaining clothes as fast as he locked the door. He doesn't even wait for Danny to finger him open, he just lubes himself up and works himself onto Danny's cock with as much care as the urgency allows.
Piles of clothing tumble to the floor as he rides Danny, biting his lip to not alert the entire house to what they're doing. The threat of the church ladies arriving means he doesn't hold anything back, doesn't tease or play like he usually does, just goes straight for the demanding power bottom he knows he can be.
"Fuck, babe, let me know if I'm hurting you," he pants.
Danny Hernández
Danny’s already panting. “No, you’re not hurting me. Just don’t stop,” he says, his good hand gripping Adrian’s hip. “You feel so good.”
They both know they want to drag this out, but the clock is working against them, so Danny does what he can around the sling and bad ankle. He arches into Adrian, rolling his hips while his nails drag down his leg.
“There you go,” he breathes, pulling him closer. “Just like that.”
Adrian Niven
It doesn't take Adrian long to bring them both off. Danny's got ahold of his dick and is stroking him and he's bouncing enough to make the bed rock. Somehow, he manages to not howl when he comes, though he really wants to. Sweating and panting, he collapses down onto Danny's heaving chest, licks at the mixture sweat and cum he finds there, then nuzzles into his neck, biting.
"Goddamn. I needed that."
Danny Hernández
“Mmm,” is about all Danny manages at first, still trying to catch his breath. Truth is, he needed that just as much as Adrian did.
“We made a mess, and we’re both a mess,” he finally says, some of his composure returning as his hand traces slowly up Adrian’s spine. Clothes have ended up on the floor, the piles are barely piles anymore, and they’re going to have to fix at least some of it before anyone comes upstairs.
“Damn, I still want you though,” Danny groans, helping ease Adrian off him as carefully as he can with one arm. He tugs his jeans back into place, then grabs the nearest shirt to wipe off his chest.
“Mijos, are you ready?” Abuela calls from downstairs.
The smell of cooking has already worked its way up into the bedroom. Danny chuckles and pushes himself upright carefully. “She’s cooking them a feast, I bet.”
He looks over at Adrian and grins. “Better make ourselves presentable before she comes up here and finds out what kind of closet cleaning we’ve been doing.”
Adrian Niven
"We're almost finished, Abuela!" Adrian calls back, voice pitched light and easy, then snickers afterwards, making conspiratorial eye contact with Danny. Then he's up and snatching his shirt off the floor, yanking it over his head backward, then fixing it with a huff.
Danny's laughing at him, quiet, still buttoning his own shirt one-handed. Adrian throws a pillow at him for it, catches the flannel Danny used as a rag before it can slide off the mattress, and throws it into the floor of the closet. A stay of execution.
"There." The room's a wreck, but it's the kind of wreck that could pass for one afternoon of closet-cleaning enthusiasm if nobody looks too hard. He grabs Danny by the collar to fix it himself since Danny's one good hand clearly isn't managing. "We're absolutely finishing this later."
He presses a kiss to the corner of Danny's mouth. "I still want you too. I'm just better at hiding it with my clothes on."
Danny Hernández
Danny grins and reaches around to give Adrian a quick pat on the ass. The sound of his mother crying out in delight downstairs as her friends arrive pulls his attention toward the door.
“Here we go.”
He makes his way downstairs carefully while Adrian stays behind long enough to start shoving clothes into bags.
“Mijo,” his mother says the second she spots him, crossing the room to cup his face in both hands. “Sit down, sit down.”
Danny huffs but lets himself be steered toward the kitchen table, only to get intercepted by five elderly Catholic women who immediately erupt in Spanish. Hands go to his cheeks, shoulders, hair. Someone crosses herself. Someone else starts blessing his injuries while another tells him he looks too thin.
By the time Adrian comes downstairs carrying a couple of bags, the whole thing starts all over again.
“Ay, qué guapo.”
“Ay, mijo.”
Danny chuckles from his chair, watching Adrian get absorbed into the group just as quickly. Then he glances toward the hallway where he knows Sterling and Holmes are doing everything possible to stay out of sight.
Smart men.
Adrian Niven
Three steps past the doorway and the first woman already has both hands on his face, thumbs pressed to his cheekbones, turning his head side to side like she's checking for damage. He sets the bags down against the wall by the door, out of the way, before they can get more hands on him.
"Hola," he tries, reaching for the little Spanish he actually has and immediately losing most of it. "Mucho gusto. Me alegra estar aquí." His mouth catches on the last word half a beat too late, the mistake already out before he can stop it — he's just told her he's happy to be a place, not happy to be here.
It doesn't matter. She gasps like he's said something beautiful, calls over her shoulder, and then all five of them are on him at once, cooing over the accent, correcting nothing. One of them pinches at his torso through his shirt, clicks her tongue, mutters something to the woman next to her that includes the word flaco.
"You need to eat," the second one translates. She pats his stomach twice, testing bread.
"I eat," Adrian says, mostly to Danny, who's watching all of this from the kitchen table with his mouth pressed flat, clearly fighting a laugh and clearly losing. "I eat a normal amount of food."
"Uh-huh," Danny says.
Someone starts telling him, in rapid, cheerful Spanish he can only catch every third word of, about a granddaughter, or possibly a recipe. He nods along like he's following.
Then the back door bangs, and a voice cuts through everything. "Abuela, do we have any soda left?"
The room turns as one unit. Hands leave Adrian's face and arm and shoulder, all five women pivoting toward the kitchen doorway where Fabian's standing in a school hoodie, looking mildly surprised by the crowd and entirely unaware he's just been crowned the most interesting person in the house.
"Mijo!" They move toward him like a flock of pigeons to dropped french fries.
Set down like a half-finished plate of food, forgotten mid-sentence, Danny, Adrian, the story about the granddaughter, and the recipe exchange are all cut off in favor of Fabian's hair, Fabian's day, Fabian's graduation, whether Fabian's eaten.
Adrian crosses to the table and drops into the chair next to Danny's. "I guess we're no longer relevant," he says with a laugh. "That was fast."
Danny Hernández
“Well, he is cuter than both of us,” Danny says with a smile. “Not that I’m biased or anything.”
Abuela pats both their cheeks before moving back toward the stove. Within minutes, the kitchen is full of women stirring pots, chopping vegetables, talking over each other, and making the kind of noise Danny grew up hearing whenever too many relatives or church friends ended up in the same room.
Two glasses of sandía agua fresca appear in front of him and Adrian somewhere in the middle of it. Danny gets up long enough to wash his hands, then settles back into his chair to watch the chaos unfold.
Fabian slips into the kitchen for a Coke and nearly makes it out untouched. Nearly. He takes a couple of cheek pinches and a thorough hair ruffling before escaping upstairs.
Danny takes a drink and looks over at Adrian. “I hope you’re prepared to eat seconds tonight, baby.”
He glances toward the stove, then back at him. “And don’t think saying you’re full is gonna save you.”
Adrian Niven
Adrian laughs, shaking his head. "I guess I'll be fueled up for hauling out all those bags of clothes and for getting the dresser upstairs when it comes."
There's no arguing with Clemencia about food and there's definitely no arguing with her and all of her friends. Adrian knows a losing proposition when he sees one.
"I surrender to las comidas."
Adrian Niven
-chapter end-