Fics like no raft, no savior

They eat in the kitchen, two stools at the end of the island, one worn with use, the other not. Whitaker compliments him on the carbonara, even insists on helping him with the dishes after they’re done. Their drinks sit on the bar half finished. They turn to each other as the last utensil is set in the drying rack. Dark spots dot the younger man’s shirt where he got splashed by the faucet. Robby’s fingers follow their path to the bottom most hem. His voice is soft, he’s looking down at Dennis like this is normal for either of them. “Hey there.” “Hi.” “You work tomorrow, do you want me to drive you home?” “Yes and no.” “What does that m-“ Whitaker is stretching up, one hand pushing off the counter, but he pauses just short of Robby’s lips. “Means I can’t go home without knowing what this feels like.” ~ Hucklerobby mutual obsession, weird, pathetic and devoted.

Fics like no raft, no savior

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