prompt fill for anonymous who said: “i can't stop thinking about joseph singing frank sinatra's ‘i got you under my skin’ to robert”.
--x--
“In spite of a warnin’ voice that comes in the night, and repeats, repeats in my ear.”
Robert catches the whispered phrase as Joseph passes by on his way back to the grill, a tuneless little melody before he goes back to humming. Joseph hums when he’s distracted, usually because he doesn’t actually know the words well enough to sing. He occasionally sprinkles in what words he does know, the same phrase over and over until Robert has to tell him to shut it.
That was a new one, so Robert isn’t sick of it yet. He just shakes his head fondly when Joseph is out of earshot once again, turning back to his conversation with Hugo about the cheese plate he’d brought. Robert would honestly rather listen to Joseph sing Margaritaville at him for the millionth time.
--x--
“Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win?”
This is the line that sticks. Joseph’s repeated it at least seventy million times since Robert arrived at the church. Joseph had asked him for his professional opinion on some remodeling ideas for the sanctuary. Robert hadn’t realized that meant Joseph would be following him around as he gets an idea for the space. He wouldn’t even mind the following, if it weren’t accompanied by the singing.
Robert snags a hymnal from one of the pews as he passes, handing it to a bewildered Joseph. “Learn a new song, sweetheart.”
Joseph flushes, giving an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I heard it on the radio earlier. On the 50’s on 5 channel?” He waits for a reaction. Robert has no idea what he’s talking about. Don’t radios have stations? “Do you have Sirius? In your truck?” Joseph tries again.
“Honey, my truck doesn’t even have a CD player.”
Joseph shakes his head, amused. “Maybe I should talk the church into paying you for your time here. Maybe then you could afford a vehicle built after the 21st century.”
“Hey!” Robert laughs, letting Joseph lead the way back to his office. “That truck has landed me more than a handful of hot dates. People appreciate antiques.”
Joseph fixes Robert with a look over his shoulder, one that makes Robert feel inexplicably flustered. “I don’t think it’s the truck they appreciate, Rob.”
Rob swallows, leaning up against the doorframe of Joseph’s office as he settles in behind his desk. The mood has shifted into the oddly charged state he sometimes senses from Joseph. Joseph, who’s watching him closely, eyes unreadable. He offers nothing to alleviate the tension. As usual, it falls to Robert to lighten the mood. “You calling me an antique, Joe?”
Joseph smiles, enigmatic. He doesn’t answer.
--x--
“I’d tried so hard not to give in...”
Robert pauses, t-shirt halfway over his head. “You say somethin’?”
Joseph turns over in bed, pulling the sheet up as he goes, like there’s any modesty left to preserve. He smiles at Robert, a little uncertain, watching Robert getting dressed across the room. “Just singing.”
Robert snorts, shrugging into his jacket. “It was good enough to get you singing?” He considers his options for a moment, but Joseph all shy and insecure is too good to resist. He moves to the edge of the bed, bracing a hand on the headboard to lean in for one last kiss.
“Something like that,” Joseph says against his mouth, wrapping his fingers around Robert’s wrist. He hangs on even as Robert steps away, letting himself be pulled upright. The sheet gathers at his waist, exposing his chest and stomach, where his blush spreads under Robert’s hungry gaze. “You’re leaving?” The vulnerability in his voice is almost enough to make Robert stay.
Almost.
--x--
“I’d sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near.”
“That’s your answer?” Robert asks, incredulous. He glances down at their clasped hands, then around the moderately busy park. “You’re gonna sing at me when I ask you if you’re sure you want people talking about this?” He squeezes Joseph’s hand for emphasis.
Joseph smiles, a little trembly but determined. “Two guys can’t hang out on a bench and hold hands while the kids play?”
“They can,” Robert huffs, settling back against the uncomfortable wood, letting Joseph wriggle in close to his side. “But that ain’t how people are gonna describe it.”
“Are you worried about it? What they might say?” Joseph clarifies, sounding genuinely concerned. Robert bumps his knuckles against his thigh, twice, jostling them both by their joined hands.
“I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. I’m just worried about you.”
Joseph smiles again, absently, eyes fixed across the grassy expanse of the park, watching his kids horsing around on the playground equipment. Content with his own view of Joseph’s sharp profile, Robert waits.
--x--
“I’ve got you under my skin, I’ve got you deep in this heart of mine.”
“You can have me deep in something else, if you’d rather.”
Joseph laughs, a contented sound in the early morning quiet, stepping back where he’d pinned Robert to the counter, letting him turn around to squint up at the taller man. Robert sets his coffee mug aside, hands settling at Joseph’s hips, head dropping to his shoulder. Joseph’s hands come up to comb through Robert’s tangled hair, brushing it away from his ear as he leans in.
“So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me,” he croons lowly, wrapping his arms around Robert’s shoulders and swaying on the spot. Robert locks his knees, trying to resist, but Joseph is determined. He pulls Robert away from the counter, drifting in slow circles around the kitchen. “I said to myself: this affair never will go so well. But why should I try to resist when, baby, I know so well, I’ve got you under my skin.”
“That’s not even how it goes,” Robert complains, turning his face into Joseph’s neck, tightening his hold on his hips. “You’re jumbling all the lines around.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Joseph tells him, silencing any further complaints with a soft kiss.
This may be the one song Robert never gets tired of. It’s a helluva lot better than Margaritaville, anyway.
