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"Fucken oath?" Patrick asked, brow furrowing in thought.
"Hmm," was all David responded, tapping his finger against his stubbled chin in curiosity. "I'm thinking maybe it's an oath you take before you fuck a stranger? Like, you promise them that even if they're a shit lay, you won't tell them?"
"That's gotta be it." With excitement, Patrick clicked the arrow on the screen of their tablet, which took them to the answer on the next page of the online quiz.
David and Patrick had recently bought ‘Real Deal Real Estate’ from Ray – so Ray could focus on his many, many other flourishing businesses – and they were expanding into selling and renting properties to international clients. For two weeks now, they had been corresponding with a man based in Australia named Gary Taylor, who wanted to buy some land in ‘fucking woop woop’ to lease to locals, for god knows what reason. But it was income, and a regular client, and they weren’t going to knock back a paycheque.
During their emails and Zoom meetings, David and Patrick had been confused by some of the words and phrases Gary had used. He always started his calls with, 'G'day, Mate,' and ended them with 'Hooroo'. But on one occasion, he'd told David he had to ‘get up before sparrows fart' and he was ‘absolutely rooted' because of the time zone difference. David had scowled so hard that his eyebrows had joined in the middle of his forehead, and Gary had said it looked like someone had just ‘belted him'. David had gasped with such offense thinking Gary had kink-shamed him, that he shot up out of his desk chair and quickly left the Zoom meeting. Patrick had to do some damage control and explained that David was scared of moths, and he thought he'd seen one flapping around the light above Gary’s head.
Since then, David and Patrick had been taking online quizzes and watching YouTube videos to try and become a little bit more accustomed to the not-so-eloquent Australian vernacular. This current quiz was really testing their skills.
“God, David, we weren’t even close. Fucken oath means ‘of course, an absolute truth’.” Patrick looked up from the screen, defeated.
David puckered his lips and tucked them into his cheek, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in disapproval. “I like my description better.” He jutted his chin out with self-satisfaction and leant over Patrick’s shoulder to read the next phrase. “Dry as a dead dingo’s donger? Ew…”
Patrick turned his head and chuckled when he saw the disgusted look on David’s face. He squeezed his hand in solidarity. “Okay, so we know a dingo is part of the canine family,” David nodded in agreement, so Patrick continued, “we just need to work out what a donger is… and why it’s so dry.”
“Patrick,” David whined like a petulant child. “That is too much thinking. Can we just click the arrow to reveal the answer already? Discussing a dry, dead animal is not high on my list of proprieties right now.” And he reached over Patrick’s hand to click to the next page.
“What?” David asked in surprise. “Dry as a dead dingo’s donger means ‘very dry’. Why not just say very dry?!” bewilderment lacing his voice. “Australians confuse me,” he said, shaking his head.
“You’re not wrong, David,” Patrick agreed, kissing David on the cheek. “But I think it’s important that we get to know as much about Australia as we can.”
Patrick felt a puff of air on his neck as David huffed indignantly beside him. “We’ll be having more and more conversations with Gary as the weeks go by, and I can’t keep telling him you see moths when you accidentally get offended by something he says,” the smirk on Patrick’s face grew exponentially the more David’s face contorted. “But before we move onto the next question, I really want to know what a ‘donger’ is and why it’s so dry. Hang on a second,” and Patrick pulled his phone from his exceptionally tight jeans, unlocking the screen. “Hey Siri, what does ‘donger’ mean in Australian slang?”
“Penis,” Siri replied in her robotic voice.
“What the fuck!” David screeched, nearly choking on the sip of water he’d just taken. “Why does a dead dingo’s dick mean ‘very dry’?” his hands flailing erratically in utter disbelief.
“That, I cannot answer,” Patrick stated succinctly. Why the fuck would you use a dry dick to describe something? He shook his head quickly and turned his attention back to the tablet. “Next question,” he continued, trying to distract David.
“Sheila?” David enquired with confusion, as he read the screen from over Patrick’s shoulder. “Isn’t that just a name?” he asked, exasperated, his eyes rolling so far back he could almost see behind himself.
“I mean, sure. But I’m assuming it has another meaning. It can’t be that obvious, can it?” Patrick’s logical brain was working overtime. Sheila was definitely a name, but he had a feeling, given it was part of an online quiz, there was something more important to the name – or maybe it wasn’t even a name.
“I’m guessing that it’s a very unfortunate yet common name in Australia, given to someone born with female reproductive organs,” David declared as his answer, folding his arms across his chest and nodding his head once.
“If you say so,” Patrick replied, shrugging his shoulders, disappointed in himself that he couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. He clicked the arrow for the answer page. “Huh,” Patrick said with a tilt of his head, his lips forming a straight line. “You were in the right ball park, David.”
“Patrick!” David reprimanded with a light slap to Patrick’s upper arm. “I cannot decode sportsball references and Australian slang at the same time. It’s one or the other.”
A burst a laughter shot out from Patrick’s throat, startling himself. His shook his head fondly at David and placed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Okay, David. Best not to overwhelm you right now,” and he smirked at David before explaining what it meant. “Sheila is a term used to describe a woman.”
David scrunched up his nose and pulled his head back into his neck. Thank god there was no mirror in their kitchen because he knew it was not an attractive look, but the reaction was warranted given how baffled he was by the term. “Why not just call the person by their actual name. I don’t understand Australians!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in the air and shaking his head in frustration.
Patrick chuckled at his husband’s endearing dramatics, carefully capturing David’s arms and bringing them back down to the tabletop. He held both of David’s hands and squeezed them comfortingly, kissing the tip of David’s nose. David sighed under his ministrations and Patrick could see his shoulders deflate. “David, we don’t have to understand Australians, we just have to try to understand their lingo,” and he placed a chaste kiss to David’s lips before letting go of his hands to work the tablet again.
“Ooh, here’s a fun one. It’s multiple choice.” Patrick turned to face David to check he was back on board. David motioned with his meticulously trimmed chin to ask the next question. Patrick couldn’t resist his sexy husband and nibbled on his jaw quickly.
“Patrick, focus,” David said with faux-annoyance, running his hand up and down Patrick’s thick thigh teasingly. He heard Patrick clear his throat and saw him look up to give David a warning glare, but Patrick’s slowly forming grin belied his admonishment.
Smiling at the fact that David never let an opportunity to grope Patrick pass him by, Patrick tried his hardest to focus on the quiz again. “Now it’s time for us to really concentrate, David. We can do this,” Patrick encouraged like they were about to go up to bat. “A longneck, a stubby, and a pot, are all variations of what? Drinking vessels for beer. Nicknames for Australian animals. Or things found in the backyard.” Patrick rattled off the list of options, trying to process the information at hand.
“I vote the first one, drinking vessels,” David said with certainty, not even giving Patrick a chance to talk through the options.
“But wha–” Patrick tried before being cut off by David’s index finger pressing firmly onto Patrick’s lips. He poked out his tongue and licked David cheekily, then bit down gently on his finger.
“Ugh, rude!” David cried, using his other hand to poke Patrick in the side of the ribs in retaliation. The movement caused Patrick to open his mouth in shock, allowing David to remove his finger carefully from between Patrick’s teeth. Wiping it on Patrick’s jeans, because David would create any reason to touch Patrick’s thighs, he said, “Trust me. In the past, I’ve had a hard time with Australians – a lot of drunks.” And with confidence, David clicked on the screen to reveal the answer. “See, drinking vessels,” he said pointing to the green tick with glee, and a little bit of smugness. “I told you. Lots of drunks. They have way too many vessels for their alcohol. What’s wrong with a standard sized glass? Very uncultured,” David replied haughtily, holding up his perfectly sized glass of water.
It never ceased to amaze Patrick the little anecdotes David would gift him over the years. And although some stories broke Patrick’s heart, or made his eyes bug out of his head, in times like these, they were truly invaluable – it was only an online quiz, but Patrick wanted to answer at least one question correctly, and David’s vast experience had helped him do just that.
“Woo hoo. We finally got one,” Patrick cheered, arms outstretched above his head.
“Um, we?” David asked indignantly. “I believe I answered that one correctly, not you, thankssomuch.” How dare Patrick claim that win as a shared effort. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with this question, honey,” sarcasm coating each of David’s words before he pouted at Patrick in sympathy. “A true or false question. Thankfully, you only have a fifty percent chance of fucking this one up, Patrick.”
Patrick glared daggers at David, who knew just how much Patrick hated failing, if that cocky eyebrow raise and prominent smirk on David’s face was any indication. “Fuck you,” Patrick mouthed silently at David.
“What was that?” David asked coyly, pressing his hand to the back of his ear to indicate he didn’t quite catch that, his face filling with a smile.
“I said ‘love you’,” Patrick replied, turning toward the screen so he could read, and reread, the question before he answered. Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick could see David shaking his head at Patrick’s response; Patrick was fooling no one. “True or false. A ‘Bushman’s Handkerchief’ is a term used to describe the act of emitting nasal mucus from the nose, by placing one index finger on the outside of one nostril and blowing out forcefully from the other.” Patrick’s eyes widening with both astonishment and disgust.
“That’s fucking gross, Patrick! Absolutely incorrect. Nu-uh, that cannot be a real thing!” David shook his head vehemently from side to side, practically gagging at the thought. He knew Australians could be a little crass, but that? That was beneath them. Beneath any human.
If Patrick wasn’t as appalled as David, he would have been laughing at David’s antics, but he took a moment to really think about the answer. “Hear me out…” Patrick said, turning in his chair to have a serious conversation about this. “I know there are a lot of amazing national parks and mountains to trek in Australia. And the freer your hands are, and the less equipment you have to carry, the better you can hike the terrain.”
“Surely you could just pop a Kleenex in your pocket! Or use one of your socks. Even the sleeve of your friend’s flannel shirt would be more acceptable than a… what was it… Bush Walker’s Tissue?” David could hear his own voice getting louder and more high-pitched. “What happens if the wind blows the wrong way?” The shudder that rippled through David’s body was so powerful he knocked his knee under the table.
Patrick laughed heartily, then rubbed David’s knee to soothe him. “Bushman’s Handkerchief,” he corrected. “And not everybody has a Stevie they can hike with, David.” Patrick bit the bottom of his lip to hold down his grin as he visualised Stevie and David hiking together – he wasn’t sure either of them would make it back alive.
“You just have to make sure your blowing is skilful enough to not hit you, or someone else, in the face,” Patrick explained, and the grin he saw grace David’s face was devilish – David’s eyes sparkling with mischief.
Shimmying his shoulders suggestively, David replied flirtatiously, “Oh, we’ve experienced our own fair share of skilful blowing that has ended up on both our faces, haven’t we…” David trailed off, raising his eyebrows a few times in quick succession, a wicked smirk tucked into the corner of his cheek.
Patrick huffed out a chuckle through his nostrils at David’s not-untrue observation, and as he did, he realised that with enough force, you could definitely clear your airways by blocking one side of your nose. “I am one hundred percent certain that a Bushman’s Handkerchief is something Australians do… or is it, use?” Patrick wasn’t sure the correct terminology, but he was absolutely certain the answer was true.
Begrudgingly, David tapped on the screen and was mortified to discover that Patrick, was in fact, correct. “Nope, this is unacceptable,” his finger waggling manically at Patrick.
“As unacceptable as you believe this to be, David, I am still correct.” Patrick sat up proudly in his chair, an air of arrogance surrounding him. “Actually, now that I think about it, a Bushman’s Handkerchief would be perfect when I’m playing outfield at my games, and while I’m on my hikes,” he dead-panned, trying his hardest not to let his smile burst out from his cheeks.
“M-kay, no. We will have none of that,” David countered definitively. “That is abhorrent and uncouth, and no husband of mine will be blowing anything in public!”
“Not even you?” Patrick asked, batting his eyelashes at David and running his hand across the top of David’s shoulders coquettishly.
“Fine,” David sighed with feigned annoyance. “I’ll make an exception.” He leaned forward into Patrick’s space and laid a lingering kiss to his lips. Patrick pulled away with a very smug grin and a wink. God his husband was a menace, but David wouldn’t have it any other way. “Are we nearly done with this quiz?” a furrow forming across David’s brow.
“Yep,” Patrick replied, kissing away the lines on David’s forehead. “Only a few more questions.” And as he looked back at the tablet, Patrick said, “Ooh, this seems like an easy one.”
“Oh god, don’t say that,” David scoffed, knowing how absurd this quiz had been, “we are clearly inept when it comes to the Australian language.”
“Technically, Australian isn’t a lang–” and Patrick stopped short of finishing his sentence because the look David gave him translated to, “If you don’t want a divorce, do not utter another word.” Patrick pretended to zip his lips closed and David provided a spectacular eyeroll that made Patrick grin from ear to ear.
Shaking his head fondly at David, Patrick turned back to the screen to read the question. “Fair suck of the sav?” Patrick asked, his voice laced with a tone of confusion.
“I have absolutely no fucking idea where to even start with this one. Next!” David was in no mood to analyse that particular phrase, especially after the previous question’s dissection.
Patrick quickly clicked through to the next question. “All right, all right, how about th–” Patrick stopped suddenly, his eyes bugging out from his head.
“Um, Patrick, is everything okay?” David asked cautiously, rubbing a comforting hand across the small of Patrick’s back. He leaned over to get a glimpse of the screen, and squealed with absolute delight, and surprise. “Oooh, Australians are kinky!” a very enthusiastic shoulder shimmy accompanied his mischievous smile.
After clearing his throat and blinking at the screen a couple more times, Patrick finally found the words to speak. “Kinky, indeed!” he exclaimed, chuckling softly and turning to face David. “Who would have thought Australians also used the terms, ‘Slip, Slop, Slap, Seek and Slide’. I thought it was only us. We are very familiar with those words, aren’t we, David?” Patrick surged forward to capture David’s lips in a searing kiss, his urgency fuelled by explicit memories of last night, when he’d put each of those words into practise and rimmed David so thoroughly he was sobbing for release.
David pulled back from the breath-taking kiss, squirming in his seat. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered how Patrick’s tongue had worked his hole just as magically last night. He exhaled in an attempt to compose himself, and as he clicked to reveal the answer they already knew, he froze.
“What the actual fuck?” David shrieked, looking at Patrick in complete shock.
“That can’t be right,” Patrick said, re-reading the answer. “Are they for real? They’re actual words Australians use to promote being sun smart? Unironically?” Patrick was just as stupefied as David.
“It says it right here, Patrick,” David informed with a firm tap of his finger to the screen. “Slip, Slop, Slap, Seek and Slide, refers to an ad campaign created to remind Australians how to protect themselves from the harsh UV rays of the Australian sun. They can slip on a hat, slop on sunscreen, slap on a hat, seek out shade, and slide on sunglasses.”
“Well, fuck!” Patrick was mollified. “That’s actually really impressive.” He clicked on the link to the ad and within a couple of watches, (to confirm it was actually legitimate), both he and David were singing along with Sid the seagull.
“Okay, okay,” Patrick said, clicking back into the quiz. “Ready for the last two questions?”
“Mm-hmm,” David replied, still humming the tune to the ridiculous, yet very important, earworm. “What’s the next question?”
Patrick smiled at his husband fondly, then asked, “Is a Bin Chicken a bird, or a meal?” He looked to David, who had stopped humming and seemed to be deep in thought. Patrick wasn’t sure which way this was going to go, but to his surprise, David actually seemed keen to discuss the answer, sitting up straighter in his seat, a determined look on his face.
“So, I know it’s a fifty-fifty shot here, but hear me out…” David said, turning completely in his chair to face Patrick. “A chicken is a bird, so a Bin Chicken could be a Bin Bird. Maybe a bird that is attracted to rubbish in bins, yeah?” David asked rhetorically. “But also, you can eat chicken, so maybe Bin Chicken is a meal. Australia is extremely multicultural, so Bin could actually be the name of a person, or a region associated with a chicken recipe.”
Words were just spilling from David’s mouth, and Patrick was so swept up in David’s ramblings, that he wasn’t listening as much as he was watching David’s perfect lips and mouth move in a confident rhythm. Patrick blinked a few times and shuffled in his seat to help bring him back to the present moment. David was very distracting.
A grin started forming on David’s face as he realised he’d lost his husband’s attention. “Patrick, Patrick…” David called out, tapping Patrick on those juicy thighs of his. “Did you hear any of what I just said?” his grin now a smile that was all teeth.
Patrick shook his head once and forced his brain to recall anything he could from the last few minutes. “Yep, yeah, of course, of course,” he replied as confidently as he could. “Chicken is a bird, but birds can also be eaten. So, it’s a fifty-fifty guess, got it.”
“My god, I thought I was a bad liar. You’re worse!” David chuckled, delighted that he still had game. “But I appreciate your effort,” he said, pulling Patrick toward him by the sides of the face, and kissing the top of his head. “Let’s go bird. A Bin Chicken is a bird.” And David clicked on the screen to reveal his answer as the correct one.
“Bin Chickens must be your soulmates, David,” Patrick mused. “It says right here that the ibis, a black and white bird, has earned the name Bin Chicken because of its habit of rummaging in rubbish bins for food. Sounds familiar, don’t you think?”
“Fuck you,” David replied with offense, flipping Patrick the proverbial bird. Although there was definitely truth to what Patrick had said, David was certainly not admitting to that right now, thank you very much.
“Last one,” Patrick said smirking at David, making an educated guess that his husband had just replayed his pizza-slice scavenger-hunt from the night before in his head – a very Bin Chicken-esque pursuit. “Budgie Smugglers,” Patrick stated matter-of-factly.
“More birds! What the fuck is with Australians and their use of birds for everything!” David squawked, hands flailing wildly. And he stiffened, eyes widening in realisation that he may actually be a bird, both behaviourally and vocally; he was becoming Moira Rose. Fuck! He would not entertain the possibility of ‘The Crows Have Eyes 4: The Birth of a New Generation’ as an idea. No, he would not.
David gently placed his hands in his lap and spoke in a soft, calm voice. “It seems quite self-explanatory – Budgie Smugglers are people who smuggle birds, particularly budgies, in and out of Australia?” And although that sounded like a reasonable answer, David had a feeling it was far from correct.
“Agreed, agreed.” Patrick nodded as David gave his explanation. And for all intents and purposes, it was an exemplary answer. But after completing so many of these quizzes, Patrick knew Australian phrases were rarely that simple. He clicked on the arrow and the laugh that escaped his throat was one of pure surprise and joy. “Oh my god, David, you will not believe what Budgie Smugglers are…”
David pulled the tablet from Patrick’s hands so he could read the answer, and look at the images attached very closely. As predicted, Budgie Smugglers were not as they seemed to be. No, Budgie Smugglers were in fact, extremely tight-fitting swimming briefs that barely covered the arse cheeks of the wearer. And because of their ability to leave very little to the imagination, this type of swimwear made it look like a small bird was being transported in the front of them, with absolutely nowhere to go. David spent a bit more time than necessary really analysing these fascinating images.
“Umm, do you need me to leave you alone with the tablet there, David?” Patrick chuckled, laughing harder when David turned to look at him sheepishly, nodding his head ‘yes’ in response. As Patrick got up from his chair to give David some privacy, a link for the Zoom meeting they had been expecting came through.
“Well, now that you’re well versed in all things Australian lingo, and there is absolutely no chance of moths being near Gary, given he is calling during his lunch break, I’ll leave you both to it,” Patrick said triumphantly, pushing his chair back under the table and grabbing an apple before leaving the kitchen. “Just don’t ask to see his Budgie Smugglers, okay, David. Keep it professional, yeah…”
“Fuck you!” David called out over his shoulder to Patrick, right before connecting to his Zoom meeting.
“G’Day, Gary, how’s the serenity?”
Patrick owed David, big time.
Fucken oath he did!