#this is my offering for webgott wednesday

[ww2yaoi]

[youcalledmebabe]

webgott pretty please!

75. “I’m going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?” (preferably it’s joe who asks. if you are so inclined. 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂)

send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write you a Drabble

happy Webgott Wednesday yna!! enjoy some hot pygmalion summer Webgott. full disclosure this will 10000% be a fic someday.

Waves crash onto the shore. David can just barely make them out from the porch of the summer house. The moon shines bright tonight but his vision isn’t what it used to be; all the straining to see his journal in the dark in Europe has caught up with him. Or maybe he’s just getting old. Twenty-six tomorrow.

He lights a cigarette and takes a contemplative puff. Laughter and chatter filter out through the windows. It seems nobody has noticed the guest of honor has absconded.

The screen door creaks open and David sighs. Please don’t be his mother. He glances up to see Joe, offering him a glass.

“Water,” Joe says. “You’ve been mainlining gin all night.”

David takes a sip and pats the step next to him. When Joe sits, he offers him a drag of his cigarette. Joe doesn’t give it back.

“People keep asking me if I’m Bobby.”

David grins. He supposes Joe does have the reediness of the Kennedys but one word out of his mouth would disabuse anybody of that notion. “My roommate from Harvard. He’s in Hyannis for the summer. But maybe you’ll get to meet him.”

“You really think I’m gonna stick around the whole summer?” Joe says, but it’s a half-hearted barb. He’d come to Long Island at David’s request, had endured a week of the Websters already and earned the affection—if not approval— of everybody but his father. And David hadn’t even managed that in twenty-six years, so he could hardly fault Joe for it.

“Maybe,” David hums and lights another cigarette.

David watches Joe smoke his cigarette, how his face looks marble under the moonlight. Age is doing him nothing but favors. He feels a little guilty for not being completely honest with Joe.

“I lured you here,” he blurts out. “Under false pretenses.”

Joe stubs out his cigarette, amusement flickering in his expression. “I miss you and I want you to come to my summer home was a pretense?”

“Well, no. But it wasn’t the entire truth.”David sighs and takes a drag. “My parents want me to get engaged this summer. Or to go to law school. ‘War Hero’ got me through 1946 and Harvard student got me through now but my mother needs a new accomplishment of mine to brag about at her functions.”

“Just go to law school, Web, Jesus. You talk enough for it.”

David shakes his head. “Bobby’s going but…it’s not for me. I want to write. Lawyers have to actually work.”

Joe flicks his arm. “You’re a spoiled brat.”

“I invited you out here because I want you to get engaged.”

“So that’s why you tried to marry me off to Ann the second I walked through the door,” Joe muses.

“If you marry some wealthy heiress, your life is set, Joe. And we’ll see each other every summer. Maybe even during the year, depending on who the lucky bride is.”

Joe smirks. “I want no part of this life. You’re all crazy. If I were a writer like you I’d write some great piece on this place.”

“Very Nick Carraway,” David says, frowning. Joe was supposed to want to marry rich.

Joe snaps his fingers. “Gatsby.”

David stares at him, surprised he remembered. But then, he shouldn’t be surprised. Joe had read it too, and Joe had a great memory. So sharp, so intelligent.

“You look like you want to kiss me. Just because I get your little book joke. You’re so easy.”

“Maybe,” David sighs. “But it wouldn’t be very ethical to do while I’m trying to marry you off.”

Joe snorts. “None of these women want to marry a cab driver from San Francisco.”

But what if they did? David knows plenty of rebellious young women, plenty of fathers who would be indulgent enough to let Joe slide into the family. If David could just teach him how to walk the walk, talk the talk, he’d be in.

“I bet that I can get a girl to want to marry you. Probably more than one. I’ll teach you to be a perfect gentleman. It’ll be like Pygmalion.”

David would do Pygmalion right though. There was absolutely no danger of him falling in love with Joe. A bit of fooling around in Austria wasn’t love; Joe had made that very clear. And David was much older and wiser now. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Whatever that means. We can talk about it in the morning. Speaking of luring,” Joe says. “Can’t believe you haven’t tried to get me in the ocean yet.”

The truth is David doesn’t entirely trust them to be around each other in a state of undress. He glances out at the water, waves pushing into the shore. It does look inviting, and so do Joe’s eyes. But his party persists inside.

Joe sheds his jacket and loosens his bow tie, scowling. He stalks down the steps. “I’m going for a swim. If you want to join me.”

“Well when you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” David retorts, but he’s taking off his own jacket and running after Joe anyway.

By the time they reach the beach, Joe’s only in his trousers. David’s itching for him to take them off; to see moonlit skin.

“You hate swimming. You just want to see me naked,” David says. “Now who’s easy?”

“Nobody hates swimming, Web. It’s just that nobody else is as weird about it as you.”

David grins at him. How he’s missed Joe’s affectionate ribbing. It just doesn’t read the same in a letter. A whole summer of Joe’s teasing; a whole lifetime of summers if he can just get Joe to marry one of Ann’s ditsy friends, or maybe one of the women being offered up to him. “I’m so glad you came.”

Joe waves a hand. “Just here for a free vacation,” he says, but he’s smiling back, and inching closer.

“Kenyon? Kenyon! Come inside. You need to say goodbye to the Gilmores.”

David turns and squints at the porch. His mother is framed by the lights, martini glass in hand. He looks back at Joe and the water longingly.

“Duty calls, Kenyon,” Joe says but his expression softens. “Come meet me back out here when the party is over. We’ll go for a birthday swim.”

“You’ll be okay out here alone?” David asks.

“Survived a war, Web. What the fuck could go wrong in rich person USA?”

Plenty, David wants to say, but it’s mostly psychological. Joe will be fine. He nods at Joe and slouches back up the beach to a woman his parents want him to marry, already counting the seconds until he can be in the water with Joe.