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One
“This is…”
“Weird as fuck,” Nairobi finishes for Rio and nods. “Yep, I agree.”
Both of them frown as they watch Palermo put his fork down, only for Berlin to pick it back up and use it to take a bite of risotto. Berlin chews slowly, savouring his food. Palermo sighs, then impatiently holds his hand out for the fork which Berlin hands over.
Rio shakes his head. “Why don’t they just get separate plates – or at least another fork?”
“I don’t know?” Nairobi says, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “I’ll ask.”
She puts down her own cutlery and flings a piece of garlic bread at Palermo’s face. He flinches when it hits him, leaving a little spot of grease on his forehead.
“What the fuck?” he asks angrily.
Nairobi gestures between him and Berlin. “What are you two doing?”
Berlin, who once again has custody of the fork, frowns around his mouthful. Once he’s swallowed, he speaks.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, handing the fork back to Palermo.
“That!” Nairobi yells, pointing at the fork. “Why are you two sharing a fucking fork?”
Palermo and Berlin exchange a look.
“Because I’m not having dinner, I just wanted to try some,” Palermo says, as if that explains everything.
Rio shakes his head. “But… you’ve eaten like half of Berlin’s food by now.”
“So?” Palermo asks blankly.
“Oh, so you think it’s normal for two grown men to share a fork?” Nairobi demands.
Berlin sighs. “Why are you two so hung up on this?”
Rio looks at Nairobi incredulously before turning back to Berlin and Palermo. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Does he look like he’s interested in fucking with you?” Palermo asks, setting down his wine angrily.
Nairobi sees Rio’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. “No, no I don’t.”
“Hey, leave the kid be. It’s fucking weird. Especially because this morning, Denver handed you a piece of bread and you said you wouldn’t touch it!” she exclaims.
Berlin rolls his eyes. “Well of course not, I asked him to pass me the bread basket – I don’t know where his hands have been.”
“But you know where Palermo’s mouth has been?” Nairobi asks, raising an eyebrow.
Berlin smirks, the slow smile spreading across his face. “Usually.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rio mutters. “I thought you two aren’t together.”
“We’re not,” Palermo says, draining the last of his wine and getting to his feet. “I’m going to bed.”
Berlin watches him go, before turning a flat gaze on Nairobi and Rio. “Next time you have opinions on what is and isn’t normal, keep them to yourself.”
He’s sort of smiling around the words, but it’s a cold smile, one that makes Nairobi’s hair stand on end. Berlin leaves and Rio makes a soft sort of whimpering noise and she pats his leg.
“Let’s have more wine.”
Two
Denver sighs and clutches at his head. It’s been two hours since he woke up with a pounding headache and it’s since progressed into a full-blown migraine. Beside him, Stockholm makes a soothing sound and rubs his neck. Except even that is too much and he flinches away from her.
“That’s it, I’m going to find you an aspirin,” she says softly.
He presses his hands against his eyes. “You think that’s going to help? I need a fucking tranquiliser or something.”
“Okay, I’ll see if I can find something stronger,” Stockholm promises.
She leaves him on their bed and leaves the room as quietly as she can, trying to let as little light in as possible. She makes her way down the hallway towards the kitchen, hoping someone there will be able to give her a painkiller when she runs into Berlin. She’s still wary of him – sensibly so – but Denver is in pain so she smiles at Berlin and he stops, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you alright?”
She nods. “Yes, but Denver… he has a migraine. Do you have any painkillers? Something strong so he can sleep it off?”
Berlin shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. Nothing that would help him, but Palermo has some oxycodone left over.”
“Thank you,” Stockholm says. “I’ll go ask him.”
She moves turns and starts to walk towards the section of the house that Palermo’s bedroom is in. She’s almost there when Berlin suddenly grabs her shoulder. She flinches and squeaks – not that she’ll admit that if she’s asked.
“What?” she asks and he lets go of her.
“I wouldn’t go in there,” he says, nodding towards Palermo’s door. “He’s… indisposed.”
Stockholm frowns. “What?”
Berlin smirks. “He still has company. From last night.”
She gapes and unfortunately, in the silence between them, she can hear the faint noises from behind the door signalling what sort of company Palermo has.
“Oh,” she says, flushing and Berlin smirks wider. “But, I thought you two…”
“We aren’t,” Berlin says, the smile dropping immediately.
She nods. “Right…sorry. Well, I’ll go see if someone else can help.”
Berlin sighs and rolls his eyes. “Stay there, I’ll go get you the painkillers.”
“Wait, what are –“ she starts, but before she can fully comprehend what’s happening, Berlin is walking into Palermo’s room without even knocking.
There’s a voice that’s too deep to be Palermo’s shouting, and she hears Palermo laugh.
“Relax, it’s just Andrés. What do you want?”
“Painkillers,” she can hear Berlin reply. “Are they still in your desk?”
There’s a drawn-out moan from Palermo that has Stockholm blushing, but it must be an affirmative because moments later, Berlin is re-emerging from the bedroom, a bottle of pills in his hand and an odd look on his face.
“Thank you,” she says when he hands them to her, “You didn’t have to…”
Berlin shrugs. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
He attempts a smile, but it seems to fall flat and he turns and leaves before she can say anything else. Stockholm stares after him, a little stunned, and almost forgets the reason she’s there in the first place.
She hurries back to her room and shakes a pill out to give to Denver, who accepts it gratefully.
“Thank you,” he says, lying down and she carefully starts stroking his hair. “Where did you get them?”
Her hand stills in his hair. “Don’t ask. I’ll tell you when you aren’t on the verge of throwing up.”
Three
“I don’t get them,” Tokyo says.
Sergio doesn’t look up from his book. “Whom don’t you get?”
“Your brother and his… friend. I mean, look at them.”
Sergio sighs and puts down his book to look over at Andrés and Martín, who are on sun loungers next to the pool. Well, Andrés is lying on a lounger, stretched out on his front, chin propped up on his folded arms. Martín is sat on top of him, knees braced on either side of Andrés’ hips, ass planted on his back, massaging sun-cream into the backs of Andrés’ thighs.
He rolls his eyes and looks back over at Tokyo. “What do you want me to say?”
“Are you serious? What the fuck is going on with those two? They both swear up and down that they aren’t dating, and you’re telling me they aren’t even fucking?” Tokyo demands.
“Believe it or not, I don’t spend that much time thinking about my brother and his friend and whether or not they’re having sex,” Sergio replies drily.
Across the pool, Andrés says something and Martín laughs, smacking his calf. He wipes his hands across his own chest, before climbing off Andrés’ back and settling onto the lounger next to him, taking a long sip of one of the overlarge cocktails he’s been periodically getting drunk on since they left the mint months ago.
“So they’ve never fucked?” Tokyo asks. “Berlin flirts with everyone and Palermo has had sex with any man who’s even looked at him in a bar, because he’s hornier than a catholic rabbit and you’re telling me they haven’t, not even once –“
Sergio groans. “Tokyo, please. I haven’t exactly asked.”
She grins wickedly. “But you’re a smart man, you know how to analyse people. So do you think they ever did it?”
Sergio looks between the two men who are deep in conversation, Martín talking animatedly while Andrés smiles at him from behind his sunglasses.
“For most of the time, whatever you have seen between them – it seemed one-sided. My brother has been married to five different women, you know?”
Tokyo shrugs. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
A little laugh escapes him. “I know. Palermo is… I saw how he looked at my brother, I thought it would be a distraction so I asked Berlin to get Palermo to drop out of the heist.”
“And?”
“He said no, that he needed Palermo to do the mint heist. The next thing I knew, his wife had left and Palermo was a permanent part of the plan,” Sergio says.
Tokyo puffs out her cheeks and then releases a breath. “Do you think we should just lock them in a closet? I don’t like Palermo, but none of the men he kicks out look like they’ve had a terrible time. I’m sure he could persuade Berlin to forget about his wives.”
Sergio blinks and shakes his head. “That’s a terrible idea. Do you want to deal with the ramifications, if it goes wrong? Remember when he handed you over to the police?”
Tokyo snorts. “Yeah, to your girlfriend.”
“Well, Raquel was just doing her job, but my brother has a temper.”
“I know,” Tokyo says. “But someone needs to do something.”
“Tokyo, they’re friends. If they want to be friends, then let them.”
“You and I are friends, but if I didn’t have Rio and you didn’t have the inspector….”
Sergio gives her a harried look. “Tokyo, please.”
She laughs. “Fine, fine, but I mean it. They need to get their shit together.”
Four
“Come on, come on,” Nairobi yells. “We need to go!”
Tokyo laughs. “She’s right, how is it all the women are ready, and the men aren’t?”
“I’m ready,” Berlin says, gesturing at himself and the ridiculous suit he’s wearing.
Tokyo rolls her eyes. “Yes, congratulations. Do you want to tell your boytoy to hurry up?”
Before Berlin can reply, Denver comes rushing into the room in beige chinos and nothing else.
Stockholm sighs. “Cariño, we need to go. This is our son’s christening that we’re all going to be late for.”
“Yes and our son threw up all down my blazer,” Denver says, eyes wild. “What am I going to wear?”
“Just wear a different blazer,” Raquel suggests.
Denver whines. “That’s the problem, I don’t have one. I need to borrow someone else’s.”
Rio pats him on the shoulder. “I’d lend you mine, but… I don’t own any.”
Tokyo laughs again and Berlin looks disgusted, especially now that Denver fixes pleading eyes on him.
“Please, Berlin,” Denver begs. “Can I borrow one of yours? You have like a thousand.”
“Absolutely not,” Berlin says. “I don’t know why you only own one jacket, and I don’t care. The last time you stole something of mine, you left evidence behind for the police to find.”
Denver scowls. “You know that was the Professor, not me. Please, Berlin, this is my son’s christening!”
Berlin shrugs. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”
“Come on, don’t be an asshole,” Nairobi says, but Berlin has already turned his attention elsewhere, namely Palermo who has just walked in.
“Is that mine?” Berlin asks, frowning at the light green, linen blazer Palermo is wearing.
Palermo looks down at himself and then grins up at Berlin. “Yeah.”
“It suits you.”
“What?” Denver yells. “Why does he get to take your clothes without even asking and I can’t borrow a jacket from you when I’m begging?”
Berlin smirks. “Because he has respect for my belongings. You should go get dressed, we’re going to be late.”
“Fuck you,” Denver says as he storms out.
Palermo cackles and exchanges a grin with Berlin who gets to his feet and straightens his tie for him. As Tokyo rolls her eyes and Stockholm sighs, they can still hear Denver swearing from further in the house.
Five
Raquel scowls and pointedly puts her book down. “Does he have to do that?”
Andrés shrugs. “He likes singing in the shower, what can I say?”
From down the hall, Martín’s voice rises half an octave and also goes up a few decibels.
“But does he have to do it so loudly?” she asks.
“At least he’s not off-key,” is Sergio’s opinion from the floor where he’s putting together a puzzle with Paula.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Andrés says. “He’s always sung in the shower.”
Raquel is silent for a moment. “But does it have to be musicals? Does it have to be Westside Story every time?”
“He makes a charming Maria,” Andrés says and Sergio laughs.
“Sergio, I can’t hear myself think,” Raquel complains.
Sergio looks up at her. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Well, the whole point of getting all of your gang out of the house was so we could have some peace and quiet,” she says. “Please, make him stop.”
“How?” Sergio asks and when Raquel just raises an eyebrow, he sighs and gets to his feet.
He walks down the hallway knocks on the bathroom door, behind which Martín is still singing ‘Somewhere’.
“Palermo,” Sergio calls. “Palermo, can you sing more quietly? Martín!”
There’s no reply as Martín continues to sing and Sergio shuffles back to the living room.
“I tried,” he says. “I don’t think he could hear me.”
Raquel scowls and Sergio sighs, turning to go back to the bathroom. Andrés gets to his feet and waves Sergio away.
“I’ll do it,” he says. “Anything to stop your bitching, hermanita.”
He knocks on the door, and like Sergio receives no answer. Unlike Sergio, he doesn’t turn back. Instead, he just walks right into the bathroom, ignoring the steam that billows out and the singing cuts off abruptly.
Raquel turns to stare at Sergio. “Did he just go in there?”
Sergio sits back down next to Paula and hands her a puzzle piece. “Probably.”
Andrés returns a moment later, looking completely unruffled. He reclaims his seat on the sofa next to Raquel who offers him a smile.
“Thank you,” she says and then narrows her eyes. “Why is your sleeve wet?”
Andrés shrugs. “Had to get his attention somehow.”
Sergio makes a strange sort of wheezing noise and Raquel rolls her eyes. Tokyo was right, he should have just locked them in a closet.
Plus One
Martín yawns and curls further into Andrés’ warmth. The arm around his waist tightens and Andrés’ chin settles on top of his head.
“Do you want to go to bed, querido?” he asks when Martín yawns again.
Martín shakes his head and presses his face to Andrés’ neck. “No, I’m okay, let’s just finish the movie.”
A laugh rumbles up from Andrés’ chest. “You’re not even looking at the TV.”
“So?” Martín asks obstinately and tilts his chin up for a kiss.
Andrés immediately leans down and presses their mouths together, only pulling away when someone very loudly and insistently clears their throat. He turns and scowls at Tokyo who is glaring right back at him.
“What?” he asks, tone clipped.
“You are aware that there are eight other people in the room with you, right?” she says, pointedly staring at the two of them.
Andrés pulls Martín more tightly against his chest. “Your point?”
“There’s no point, Tokyo,” Helsinki says from where he’s sprawled on a giant floor cushion with Rio. “Just leave them be.”
Martín shifts in Andrés’ lap and smiles at Tokyo. “I agree with the big guy, mind your own business Tokyo.”
“I hate you both,” she announces, turning back to the TV. “But I hated you slightly less when you were just being weird together.”
“What are you talking about?” Andrés demands.
“Hey, shut up,” Nairobi says, from an armchair beside them. “We’re trying to watch the movie. But for the record, she’s talking about the weird shit you two did while insisting you weren’t fu- dating.”
Martín scoffs. “Like what?”
“Like massaging each other,” Tokyo says.
“Or sharing a fork,” Rio chimes in with a grin.
Denver nods. “Yeah and you let him wear your clothes.”
Andrés shrugs. “So?”
Across the room, Raquel sits up on the other sofa. “Berlin, you walked into the bathroom while Palermo was showering.”
“That’s nothing, he walked into Palermo’s bedroom while he was hooking up with some guy,” Stockholm mutters.
“What?”
All eyes turn to her and then back to Andrés.
“I didn’t hear anyone complaining at the time,” Andrés says. “You wanted painkillers for Denver and quite frankly, Palermo has always been a bit of an exhibitionist.”
“Nope,” Martín disagrees. “I just hoped you’d realise what you were missing.”
Andrés’ mouth curls into a salacious grin. “And I have.”
“Mmh, I’d say so,” Martín purrs, turning so he’s fully straddling Andrés and can kiss him properly.
“No,” Nairobi yells, flinging popcorn at them. “Fuck off and get a room if you’re going to do that.”
Martín scowls and flips her off, but doesn’t budge, instead resting his head on Andrés’ shoulder and letting the other man rub his back. The others turn their attention back to the movie and Andrés presses a kiss to the side of his head.
“For the record,” he whispers. “I’ve known what I was missing for a while. I just didn’t want to lose what we had.”
“You’re an idiot,” Martín mumbles and Andrés laughs.
“I’m still smarter than all those idiots.”
Tokyo sighs. “You know we can hear you.”
“Oh, he knows,” Martín says. “Why else do you think he said it?”