He heard the doorbell go -- shit, that was fast. Or he'd been woolgathering for a while. Whichever. He got up, grabbed a clean T-shirt and headed down. The pies were on the backyard table, along with a six-pack of beer, minus the one Drake was holding. They'd cleared having beer with Mindy, as long as it was drunk the same night it had been brought in, after the kids were in bed.
"Hey. Smells good." Looked good too.
Drake smiled over at him. "I love those kids, but I've got to admit, I love post-bedtime even more."
"Yeah. It can be tiring."
"Shit, yeah. And God knows I'm not doing any push-ups for that one."
Slayde sat, chuckled, not sure if he should steal a beer.
Drake nodded at the table. "Pizza and beer. Go ahead."
"Thank you." He took a can, popped the top, sighed.
"You're welcome," Drake growled out. He finished his beer and grabbed another one, downing a slice of pizza in fairly short order.
Slayde sipped half his beer, nibbled on the pizza, and tried to relax.
"I am sorry for earlier." Drake was looking at the pizza, not at him.
"Me too." He wasn't sure why he should be, but he was.
"So we're good?"
"Sure. Sure." He didn't think so, but whatever.
Drake snorted. "You're a shitty liar, man. Which is too bad because I thought we'd found a rhythm."
"I did too."
"Look, you pushed a button, okay? I thought you were being an asshole."
"Okay." Slayde decided, right then and there, to treat this like he would any angry kid. "I'm sorry your feelings were hurt."
Drake actually chuckled at that. "I'm a big enough man to admit it was my ego, not my feelings."
"I didn't intend any harm."
"Yeah, I eventually figured that out."
What was he supposed to say next?
Drake finished his beer, and reached for a third. Slayde put his bottle down beside him on the patio, still half-full, and grabbed another pizza.
"We got anything not kiddie for dessert?" the man asked.
"There's ice cream."
"Tell me it's not bubble gum or candy floss or some shit like that."
"I think there's strawberry and coffee chip."
"Oh, fucking A." Drake gave him a grin. "I don't know how you do this day after fucking day."
"It's my job." He loved those kids.
"There's easier jobs, man."
"I suppose, but this one is mine."
"Yeah. I hope Mindy knows how lucky she is."
Oh. Oh, that was dear. "Thank you."
Drake grunted, nodded, and waved a beer at him.
"Oh, I'm good, thank you. Go ahead."
"I probably shouldn't." Grinning, Drake took a sip anyway.
"It's okay. You've had a long day."
"Yours was longer."
What was he supposed to say to that? He kept thinking that with Drake.
"So you do anything for fun, Slayde? Or is it all work, all the time?"
"I go dancing. I hang out." Get blow jobs.
"That's right. Dancing." Drake chuckled. "I've always sucked at dancing, but I bet you move real good."
"I enjoy it. A lot." He loved music. He'd seriously considered going into singing in college, but his parents had convinced him that he needed something more practical. He didn't regret it, but there were days he wished he did more than karaoke.
"I bet you do."
"What about you? What are you into?" And why did that sound dirty?
The grin Drake gave him said he thought it sounded dirty, too. Slayde's cheeks felt like they were burning, and he was grateful the porch light was behind him.
"I suppose you got to do more of that while Mindy was here. You can do it again now, though. I swear I won't burn down the house or lose anyone if you take a night off or something."
"I may take you up on it. My best friends are coming Saturday to visit."
"You got it."
"Well, we can't dance around here." The soldiers would kick his ass. "But they'll come for supper and to visit, and I may go back to their hotel room and have a beer." A hand job. A snuggle.
"We can't dance? Sure we can." Drake gave him a grin and got up, headed inside.
What the hell? Slayde frowned, eyes following Drake. What had he missed?
Drake came back with his iPhone. "This thing does music, right?"
"Uh. Yeah. Yeah, sure it does." He held his hand out for it.
Drake handed it over and rolled his hips, punched his hands to the right and to the left. "See? We can boogie."
Slayde chuckled, searching for something that Drake could dance to and not feel like a drunken idiot in the morning.
"Well…" Drake tilted his head. "You can dance. I can look like someone being electrocuted."
"I bet you're fine." Maybe.
Drake laughed. "Maybe after another beer."
He found some dance music on Pandora, and his foot started tapping. Drake grabbed his bottle and downed whatever was left in it, hips swaying. Slayde swallowed his groan. That was like a wet dream come to life.
"Come on now, don't let me make a fool of myself on my own."
He stood, staying out of the light, out of Drake's way, and started moving. He was awkward and self-conscious for about half a song and then the music caught him and he just let himself move.
Drake sang along, out of key and most of the words were wrong but he was moving, clearly having fun. Slayde chuckled, moving with the music, hips rolling as he danced.
Drake clapped his hands and called out, "Woo, move it, baby."
Oh, God. His cock jerked and he was glad he hadn't bothered to tuck his T-shirt in.
Drake wasn't a bad dancer, the booze had loosened him up, and whoa, could Drake move his hips. Slayde could imagine that hard, fine body slamming into him, spreading him and fucking him like there was no tomorrow.
He felt like Drake was watching him. Closely. He closed his eyes, stopped looking, and he just focused on the music. He felt Drake against him suddenly, dancing back to back with him. Oh, fuck. His cock went rock hard, his body insisting that it
