#i just drank a whole bottle of wine while dancing around my kitchen jamming out

[damnonew]

ya’ll as an ex religious person

NOTHING IN THIS WORLD slaps harder than the book of mormon soundtrack 

[deaky-disco-queen]

New Neighbour - Maylor Week Day 2

A/N: Here we are! Sadly, my only piece for this week but I tried to make it Count. Written for the prompt ‘dancing in the kitchen’ even though that’s hardly the Focus of this. Whoops. Thanks to @iamnotbrianmay for organizing this week!

Can also be read on AO3.

+++

Roger could faintly hear his phone ring from the edge of the pasture where his bag and the rest of his stuff was. He let out a sharp whistle, alerting his herding dogs Clover and Kit who immediately starting herding the sheep closer to the barn while he jogged towards his phone. A very unflattening picture of John was on his display and he chuckled lowly before accepting the call.

   “Deaks? What’s up?”

   “Hey, sorry, I know you’re out with the sheep right now but I need to borrow your truck on Saturday.”

He frowned slightly and wiped the seat off his forehead, mentally already going through his to-do-list for the weekend. He knew John’s truck was still out of commission, waiting for replacement parts at Jim’s garage but the younger man also hadn’t worried about that because in their village, nobody really needed them anyway which is half of the reason only John and Roger had one in the first place.

   “When and what do you need it for?”

   “Somebody bought the Criston House and Miami asked me to fix the roof before the guy moves in but-”

   “-but the supplies are at the factory, I got it. Yeah, you can have it, just bring it back by Monday.” 

They exchanged a little bit of small talk then but both of them were busy and they quickly wrapped it up, not wanting to keep the other one. He put his phone back into his bag, quickly grabbed the rest of his things and walked back to the barn to have on last look at the sheeps, just making sure everything was alright, before calling his dogs and making his way back to the house.

He patted Clover’s head in passing, opening the door for his girls and they immediately slipped inside, making a beeline for the kitchen, knowing there were treats waiting for them. He followed them, laughing quietly to himself. After giving them their well-deserved treats he refilled their bowls and then went to take a shower.

Roger didn’t waste much time in the shower, he really only wanted to change into his sweatpants and curl up in front of his TV with something to eat. He knew he still had left-overs from back when he had been invited for dinner at Freddie’s parents place and he was already looking forward to eating it because his mother was an amazing cook.

Kit was trailing around his legs as he was heating the curry back up, wanting his attention and probably something of the meat but he chastised her softly and sent her off to play with her toys. He filled a bowl with his food and grabbed a beer and sat down heavily on the sofa, groaning happily. Immediately, Kit was with him again, jumping on the sofa and resting her head on his legs. Clover laid down on the floor in front of them, chewing on her teddy bear, her tail wagging happily. Roger turned on the TV, catching one of the crime shows he was following half-heartedly whenever he found the time to watch them.

   “So, somebody bought the Criston House, huh?” He said to Kit, scratching behind her ear. “That’s a decision, I guess.”

The Criston House was an old house on the site next to Roger’s ranch. It had been empty for as long as Roger could remember and he hadn’t thought it would ever be sold but apparently he had been wrong. Bad for John as he was the guy people went to when things needed fixing but good for someone, Roger assumed.

The house was beautiful for a house that had been abandoned for over twenty years. Nice grey brickwork with ivy growing on it and a beautiful oak tree in the backyard and the river was running by closely. He had never been inside but from the outside, it looked like a nice house to live in. Except maybe for the roof which got a bit damaged over the years but John didn’t sound too worried about fixing it so it couldn’t be too bad.

   “Looks like we’re getting a neighbour, girls.”

+++

A perk of having your friend work next to your house was definitely having lunch together. Most of the time, Roger didn’t have the time to sit down for a lunch but John had no issue with walking beside him, eating whatever lunch he had brought and holding Roger’s food when needed.

It was nice because it meant Roger had someone else then his dogs to talk to and work had kept both of them busy so they couldn’t hang out as much as they had wanted to. Neither of them was much of a gossip but then again, it was a small village and there wasn’t really much happening and so the most interesting thing was whoever didn’t make it to church on time. Or, in their case, the fact that Paul Prenter had let his car fix by a mechanic from a different town instead of going to Jim’s garage which was incredible stupid because Jim was the best mechanic Roger had ever seen and even if he couldn’t stand him, he’d get his car fixed by him.

   “He’s being ridiculous.” John said, shaking his head.

   “Yeah, but what’s new? I never really liked him anyway.”

John hummed in agreement, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Roger pulled his hair band out of his hair to gather them into a new ponytail since too many strands had escaped over time and had fallen into his face. John passed him a bottle of water and he drank almost half of it before giving it back. He nodded towards the Criston House.

   “Have you met the guy who bought it yet?”

   “Yep, met him a few days ago. Nice guy, tall, wild hair. Probably the type who gets on my nerve after a while but very polite.”

John shrugged, absently flipping the bottle in his hand a couple of times then put it back into his bag and shrugged again, this time pulling an unimpressed face. Roger snorted and gently knocked their shoulders together.

   “But I guess we’ll see how he is soon enough. He wants to move in by, uh, end of August if I remember correctly.”

   “Let me know if you remember the date. I don’t think Miami will let me live it down if I am late for a welcoming present again.”

He laughed and Roger slapped him playfully, grumbling under his breath.

   “Well, you forgot the present for Freddie. And you literally annoyed us for months because you were so excited for him to move in. I don’t think Jim was so excited and they are married. And then you forgot the present.”

Roger threw his arms up and groaned in mock-frustration but John wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close and next thing he knew they were play wrestling and falling back into the grass, pushing and pulling at each other while yelling, cursing and laughing. John’s elbow digged harshly into his side and he let out a strangled breath before he managed to turn them around, effectively straddling his friend. Both of them were breathing hard but giggling, trying to outdo the other.

   “Will you two ever grow up?” An old voice asked.

They quickly sat up- Roger flicking a clover out of John’s hair who stuck his tongue out at him- to see Mrs. Thompson, their former school teacher, standing just behind the fence, two big bags in her hands.

   “I’m afraid not, Mrs .Thompson.” Roger chuckled.

She shook her head at them and they scrambled to their feet quickly, stuck somewhere between thinking this situation was embarrassing and being incredible amused by the whole thing.

   “Do you need help with those bags, Mrs. Thompson?”

   “At least your manners never were an issue.”

They quickly jumped over the fence which made Mrs. Thompson sigh quietly and shook her head again but she did let them take the bags from her, setting the way to her house not far from Roger’s.

+++

Roger carefully wrapped the cheese into wax paper, sealing it with a sticker and placed it into the basket to the jam and sausages and quickly grabbed the bottle of wine he had bought for this, also adding it to the other things.

He brushed his hair out of his face. He really needed a haircut.

The basket was looking really nice and he wiped his hands on his shirt before grimacing and deciding he needed to change before he could go over to the new neighbor. He washed his hands and quickly changed into something he hadn’t been wearing out for taking care of the sheep. Only then he grabbed the basket and walked over to the house.

John had done a good job with the roof, not that Roger was an expert in these kind of things but it looked better than it did before. It had also been John who reminded him about the new guy moving in. Usually, he would have noticed things because a big moving truck was kind of a dead giveaway but Roger had been out of town yesterday and he was thankful for John because he would have forgotten it again.

Sometimes, he missed the big city. Nobody really expected you to know everyone or give every new neighbour something for moving in and nobody gossiped about you just because someone came late for church or whatever town festival was happening. On the other hand, he loved his hometown and he did move back here after all. He really couldn’t imagine himself in a different job besides being a sheep owner.

It took only a moment for his neighbour to get the door and Roger’s kind of fake, polite smile grew into something much more sincere.

He was pretty. Long, dark curly were framing his face and he had gentle, dark eyes. His sweater was too short, leaving his wrist and part of his lower arm bare and there was just a sliver of skin between his pants and the sweater but Roger quickly looked up again, not wanting to be caught staring.

   “Hello, I’m Roger and I live next door. I, ah, just wanted to drop off a welcoming gift.”

The man smiled softly and took the basket from him, looking it over quickly.

   “This is lovely but, um, I’m actually vegetarian.”

   “Oh, sorry, I just take the sausages back then.”

They shared an awkward smile during the exchange and Roger cursed himself inwardly for making this meeting weird already.

   “Oh, I’m Brian, by the way. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”

   “I’d love to.”

The house was nice. Roger had never seen it from the inside before but he assumed a house that had been empty for twenty years couldn’t look that great but Brian had done a nice job with the interior. Not that he had any real idea about what good interior design looked like since his house was basically a mismatched collection on old furniture still from his grandparents and the ikea furniture he had brought with him when he moved back after college. Brian’s furniture seemed to fit together most of the time, though, and everything was neat and tidy.

   “You have a beautiful house.”

   “Thank you.”

The kitchen had a door to the backyard and Roger could see a couple of his sheep grazing close to the fence and watched them while Brian made the tea.

   “Do the sheep belong to you?” Brian asked.

He pulled two mugs out of a cabinet, looking to him for a moment before putting the kettle on the oven.

   “Yeah, I sell their wool, milk and meat to others in the village. The cheese is made from milk of my sheep and so were the sausages but that’s not that important.”

   “I only have jasmine tea and mint tea unpacked so far so, uh, I hope that’s fine.”

Roger nodded and smiled at him. Brian honestly didn’t look like the type of guy who would like to move into a village in the middle of nowhere. The only people who move out here were couples with young children because ground was cheaper here but except that, the people who lived here were the same families that had lived here since what seemed like forever. Some people, like Roger, left for a while to go to college and get a degree and some stay and don’t come back but some do.

Brian poured some water into the mugs and put both of them on the table, followed by the tea bags and some sugar and milk. Roger took a mint tea bag and added two sugars to it.

   “So, what brings you here?” He asked.

   “Ah, I’m a writer but I’m kind of stuck so I decided maybe a change of scenery would help.” Brian shrugged, then chuckled softly. “But I guess I’ll see that with time.”

Roger made an interested sound, his eyebrows lifting as he gestured for him to continue. Brian blushed. He laughed, sounding quite embarrassed.

   “It’s nothing really. I wrote two books before and they did pretty well all things considering but the next one just doesn’t want to come to me as it seems.” He shrugged again and waved his hand through the air. “I just want to bring it to a good end, that’s all.”

He smiled, looking almost shy and Roger decided to prod a little bit because not only did it actually interest him- he didn’t always had the time to get into a book but he used his limited free times to find some good reads- but Brian seemed embarrassed talking about it. It was kind of sad, in a way, as he was obviously passionate about his writing and when Roger was passionate about something, he would talk about it with everybody, given the chance.

Brian was hesitant at first, quietly telling him about his Science Fiction novels but quickly realized that Roger really wanted to hear about it and his voice grew more sure and eventually, he was basically rambling, gesturing animatedly.

   “That sounds really cool.” Roger said, drinking the rest of his tea. “But I’m afraid I have to go back to work now.”

   “Thank you for stopping by. And thank you for the presents!”

+++

The next time Roger saw Brian was in his backyard and he waved at him from the distance, a grin appearing on his face when Brian waved back. He jogged over to where the fence separated his backyard from his pasture.

   “Hey! How have you been doing? Settled in nicely?”

Brian smiled and nodded. Roger spotted a watering can in his hand.

   “Hello, Roger. How are you doing?”

Roger jumped up the fence, sitting down on top of it, legs dangling above the ground as he grabbed the wood to steady himself. Kit and Clover trotted over to see what he was doing.

“Oh, good, busy with work, you know.”

He wiped his forehead, his shirt clinging to his body from the sweat and nodded at the watering can.

   “Planting something?”

   “Oh, no, I don’t think I could.” Brian laughed. “It’s just pretty hot and I figured the bushes might need some water.”

Roger took him in, with his half-unbuttoned shirt, leaving his collarbone exposed, that was haphazardly tucked into his jeans and his curls were messy, looking as if he had been running his hand through it several times. He looked tired, too, dark shadows beneath his eyes.

   “If you want to know how to plant things, you should talk to Jim. He owns the garage but also has a great garden. It’s relaxing, he says.”

Brian crouched down and reached through the fence to pet Clover’s head who yipped happily.

   “I don’t really think I will. What’s their names?”

   “That’s Clover and this is Kit.”

He watched him scratch both dogs’ chins for a while, occasionally glancing back to his sheep. Brian cooed at the dogs for a moment longer, then he straightened up again. Roger smiled at him.

+++

Brian was out in his backyard alot and Roger often found himself caught up in conversation with him, idly chatting over anything as he watched over his sheep. Sometimes, they would talk about Brian’s books or Roger’s work but they quickly found other things to talk about like music and animals among other things.

Having a neighbour was nice, Roger realized. And Brian was nice, Roger might have developed a tiny crush on the man but nobody could really blame him because he was handsome and intelligent and didn’t know how to button shirts. It was distracting.

He started to look forward to seeing Brian, seeking excuses to keep talking with him even if it meant he had to miss his crime shows.

+++

Roger watched how Brian was cutting apples and took out a big bite out of one of the leftover apples as he sat on top of the kitchen counter. Brian was cutting them with practiced precision, his sleeves rolled up and Roger cocked his head to the side, humming softly.

His hair was pulled back into a ponytail so it wouldn’t hang into his face as he made his pie.

“Okay, help me out for a second: What even is a fall festival?” He asked.

Roger chuckled and wiped some juice off his chin.

   “It’s just good food, music and lots of dancing. It’s fun and just the people hanging out.”

   “I’m going to have to skip the dancing, I guess, but the rest sounds like fun.”

He frowned slightly before putting his apple to the side and jumping off the counter, clapping his hands.

   “Come ‘ere. Dancing is easy. I can show you.”

Brian stopped cutting for a moment and laughed, shaking his head. Roger just clapped again, wiggling his fingers at him.

   “Come on, Bri! It’s fun!”

He shot him a long look, then sighed, placed the knife carefully to the side and wiped his hands on a towel. Roger’s grin grew and he quickly grabbing him before he could change his mind again, pulling him close. He put one of his hands on his hip and placed his own on Brian’s shoulder. Brian’s hands were surprisingly rough.

   “I guess you’ll be the one guiding so you put your hands like this.”

He started humming a song he knew would be played at the festival and just moved them along the steps of the dance. Brian was clumsy at first, stumbling over his own feet and stepping on his toes a couple of times but soon he caught up to it and they were dancing somewhat decently.

   “There we go! You can dance!”

   “Barely, I can barely dance.”

Roger laughed, looking up at him. He was close enough now to smell him which should be way weirder than it was and he tried not to sniff him too obviously. It was a nice smell, clean and fresh but nothing Roger could clearly identify.

At some point, they had stopped dancing, more swaying back and forth in place. Only then, Roger noticed that they were actually really close to each other and that Brian’s hand had slipped from on his hip to the small of his back. His heart jumped in his chest and a blush rose on his cheeks. Hoping Brian wouldn’t notice it, he lowered his head a little bit, his forehead almost touching his shoulder.

He took a deep breath, trying not to immediately expose himself. Brian cleared his throat.

   “Is there anything else than dancing?”

They were still swaying in place, the apples forgotten on the counter. Roger looked up quickly, shooting Brian a short smile.

   “Uh, not really. It’s mostly about the food, the music and the dancing.”

Brian hummed softly, nodding to himself.

   “I like that, I think. This kind of dancing, at least.”

   “What? What kind of dancing?”

Brian smiled at him, his hand squeezing his. Roger swallowed hard at the look on his face. He couldn’t quite discern it but it looked somewhat fond.

   “Slow dancing. It’s nice.”

There was a short, heavy silence as they were just looking at each other and then he chuckled, licked his lips and leaned down, pressing a short, chaste kiss to Roger’s lips. Roger blinked, taken by surprise and they stopped swaying, just standing close to each other as they kept looking at each other.

   “Was that okay?” Brian asked quietly.

   “Yes, yes it was. Completely okay.”

Another moment of silence followed, then they broke into giggles, leaning into each other. Roger hid his face in Brian’s chest, the taller man’s hand on his back gently pulling him closer and he wrapped his arms around him, his face red from laughter.

   “That was awful!” He laughed.

   “Am I that bad of a kisser?”

Roger shook his head and pushed back far enough so he could lean up and kiss him again. It was a longer kiss this time, both of them moving with purpose this time but it was still chaste, just shy lips moving against each other. Brian’s hand slid up his back, cupping his neck.

They pulled away from slowly, smiling dopily at each other.

   “Better?”

Roger nodded, stealing another quick kiss before taking a full step back. He laced their fingers together and squeezed them.

   “Uh, let’s finish your pie? And then maybe practice some more dancing?”

Brian laughed, throwing a quick look over his shoulder where the apples were and nodded.

   “Yeah, good idea.”

Roger sat back down on the counter and Brian went back to cutting the rest of the apples but they kept stealing glances at each other, unable to stop smiling.

   “We could, uh, go to the festival together?” Roger asked.

   “I’d love that.”

[boludosaires]

Jan 6: Wasted

Wow what a day. Wow.

This morning, we visited La Nación’s headquarters, which was one of the most glamorous media offices I’ve ever seen, and where I’ll be working the next 10 weeks. And considering I got rejected from a NYTimes internship yesterday, it may be the most glamorous media office I do ever see.

The lobby had modern art pieces on the wall, like huge canvasses painted one solid color and a giant wall covered in red scraps of tissue paper. La Nación has 5 floors of the building, which is wild in itself, but the top floors are occupied by such bigwigs as General Motors, Bristol-Meyers Squibb and Chevrolet.

We went up to the newsroom and were guided around by a young and super peppy woman named Romina. She works with the newspaper’s data team, which is a small group of 7 people who do super intense work to comb through stuff like government reports and data tables to uncover stories. I’m going to be working with them in collaboration with the video team. It’s definitely more of an American newsroom vibe, with normal 10-6 work hours and people who really work hard to produce high-quality content. It’ll be interesting to see how it differs from the super intense American workday and work culture, but it seems fairly familiar.

I’m very excited to be there, and to show them what I got. I really think what will be most important is for me to not be afraid to speak up when I have ideas or see a way I can integrate video or interactive skills I have that they might not. I’m not gonna worry too much about impressing people or getting people to like me, but I am going to hold myself to a high standard because I want to use these 10 weeks as an opportunity to grow creatively and as a storyteller. It would be easy to just go with the flow and do what they tell me, but I definitely want to challenge myself to push the envelope, seize the crazier opportunities and ideas that come my way, and come out of this having grown a lot.

Ok and then there was the night. This is explicit, so if you’re made uncomfortable from excessive binge drinking, please stop here.

We started the night at around 9:30pm for dinner a Mexican place in this super-hip district of Palermo, the part of the city we live in. The whole neighborhood is centered around a circular plaza, which is surrounded by restaurants and bars. Outdoor seating crowds the sidewalks, and young people around my age were everywhere; it’s definitely the place college kids in America would hang out if their school were nearby. And since people eat dinner and go out insanely late here, at 9:30pm every single spot was packed.

The restaurant was solid, and we had some delish drinks, including mine which was called a bastardito, a margarita with mescal instead of tequila. After that, we headed to a bar in what seemed like an old garage, with cement walls and super high ceilings. They played generic, bumpin’ house music and had rainbow lights flashing on the wall. We sat around a table and all had Fernet and Cokes, a typical bebdia in Argentina which essentially tastes like Coke if someone dissolved a bunch of Ricola in it. Super herby and weird, but it kinda grew on me.

 We had a ton of great convos at both places, about how we met our significant others, about our hometowns, about drinking in high school. I feel like we’re gelling really well so far, and I love how the whole group wants to do things together. Warms my lil heart.

Ok, now shit gets weird. First, as we were walking towards a club recommended by Julieta, the young Argentine woman who’s been helping with our orientation, we passed a homeless woman with a skinny kitchen knife, sitting on the sidewalk and slashing at her arm as if she was trying to cut her wrists. I was semi-drunk, and it was so out of nowhere that I didn’t even react for a second.  But then I turned to Nico and saw his face, and knew he saw too.

           “Did you see that?” I asked.

           “Yeah.”

           “Was that real?”

           “I mean, it didn’t look like she was piercing the skin much, but yeah.”

We walked in silence for a second. The women in the group were walking in front of us, and they hadn’t seen anything, so it was just us, reeling a bit.

           “You ok man?” I asked. “That’s a lot to process all at once.”

           “Yeah… you?”

           “Yeah.”

It was just this really dark moment that jerked the fact that we were about to go just blow a bunch of money at some club into stark perspective. I felt guilty and upset and numb. We walked in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the ground in front of me. And then the intensity of the feelings faded a bit, some small talk came up, and we moved on. But I had a moment where I wondered whether I shouldn’t just go home. Life can get real very fast sometimes.

We kept walking, passing a bunch of fairly empty clubs, despite the fact that it was almost 1am already. At Northwestern, shit would’ve been shutting down at this point. Finally, we got to Rosebar, or at least the outside, which was swarming with huge bald bouncer men. We went in, got patted down, and were asked if we were on the “list”. In my Spanish-speaking panic, I said “Si”, but then realized what he had asked and just awkwardly walked past the “list” monitor to the window to pay. $10 for guys, $6.50 for women. Classic club prices.

Anyway, we go in to a huge dark room, with a dance floor big enough for at least 200 or 300 people. There were “reserved” couches and tables, huge disco balls, and a raised DJ stand right in front, which at that moment was blasting some American pop jam. We go up to one out of four bars, where a bartender is busy tossing and flipping around a bottle of vodka, and check out the menu. After realizing that one shot cost $10, we made a pivotal decision that really set the course of the rest of the night: We bought a whole bottle of vodka and split it among us, which ended up being the same $10 price per person.

You can imagine that shit did, in fact, turn up.

We went out to this crowded pavilion area where everyone was hanging out, drinking and talking because 1:30am was obviously too early to start dancing. We had a bucket of ice with the cheap vodka in it, a pitcher of OJ and a bunch of glasses. And we drank. And drank. And almost finished the bottle. But with about a quarter of the bottle left, we decided the spirit of dance was too strong, and we headed in.

American pop was still playing, and the dance floor was still fairly empty, but we just went in. I started doing my dance thing, the vodka bottle in my right hand my partner. Little by little, the floor started filling up, the lasers started shooting frenetically around the room, and the speakers started bumping. I was already drunk enough that dancing was all I could and ever wanted to do. And every 20 or 30 minutes, I would flourish the bottle like a waiter presenting wine to the table and get everyone to take a swig. I have no idea what time it was when we finished it, but at that point, it was a miracle I hadn’t flung it out of my hand while busting a move.

And suddenly, the Latin music hit. It was a hard line: as soon as Spanish music came on, the American pop was nowhere to be found. Which was fine with me, because nothing gets me shaking my hips and bailindo like la música Latina. Our dance circle was beautiful: everyone was feeling it, Nico and I were shimmying and flailing our arms and egging each other on every time we made eye contact. We finally caught cabs home around 4am. I repeat: 4am. I have no idea how I lasted that long considering I usually hit my “I wanna be in bed now” point around 1 or 2 at parties, but the energy was still peak when we left. I wouldn’t be surprised if that club closed at sunrise.

When I got back, I devoured an alfajor I had stowed in my kitchen, a popular Argentine dessert which is basically 3 cookies with dulce de leche or some other goo sandwiched between them, all covered in chocolate. Yes, it was heavenly.           

<3 Escoot

Palabras Nuevas

·      Redacción- newsroom

·      Chinchundo- grumpy

·      Ansias-cravings

·      Casera-homeade

·      Sencilla-simple

·      Panificación- baking