You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

Night

Joey wanted to stay one more night at Mick's house, so I left him my car and rode back with Steven.

        "So what'd'ya get me?" Steven asks at a break in conversation.

        I shrug.  "Can't tell."

        "Why not?" he whines.

        "Because I can't.  I think it's pretty lame anyways."

        His hand drops to my knee, eyes on the road.  "I'll love it," he says.  "Even if it is lame, I'll love it."  I give half a laugh and slide a little closer to him.

--

We stop at my place first so I can get my lame-ass present, and then we go back to his apartment.  Tom and Joe weren't there; it was just Steven and me.  I don't see any wrapped boxes around here with my name on them...

        "Lemme go get yours," he says, running into a room that had the door shut.  It was most likely a bedroom, as this apartment was set up quite similarly to mine.

        He returned with something that was about the same size and shape as my present for him.  I found myself feeling actually a little disappointed...

        "It's nothing special," Steven says quickly before handing it off, "but at least it's somethin', right?"

        And then we traded.  And it turns out, we have quite the similar taste in gifts.  The Rolling Stones' Let it Bleed.  Wow.  I know they're his favorite band (and they're mine too), but... The same record?!  Really?

        "Oh," was all Steven said when he opened it.  I thought that he was like disappointed or something in my poor gift choice, and he noticed this, then laughed.  "Open yours."

        And then I laughed too.  Oh, the irony.  "Apparently it's pretty good, then," I said.

        "Let's find out," Steven replied, leaping up and placing the record on the plate and placing the needle down.  I had never heard the album before, as it was just released on the fifth.  The sound crackled to life and Keith Richard's guitar filled the small apartment, soon accompanied by Mick Jagger.

--

I was confused at first as to where I was.  I wasn't cold, which was a first, and it didn't smell like burning food, also a first.  I wasn't tired, another first, but I certainly didn't want to get up.  The mattress wasn't lumpy, which was strange.  And it didn't smell like dust and mildew; it smelled so incredibly good.  It smelled like Steven.

        I peek an eye open, curious as to what time it is.

        Speaking of my perfect boyfriend... I must've stayed the night.

        Also a first.

        Yes, I remember.  We listened to the entire record, then found a movie on TV.  It was called For A Few Dollars More.  We had both never seen it before.  He made some stale popcorn and we curled up under a blanket.  I fell asleep during the movie.

        I slid closer to him, and that's how I knew he was awake too: the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.  But he kept his eyes closed.

        Awhile later, I opened my eyes again.  " 'Morning," Steven yawned.

        " 'Mornin'," I said tiredly.

        After a short beat, he asked, "Hungry?"  And I nodded.  After kissing my nose, he lazily got up and pulled a dark pair of jeans and a sweater from a drawer.  "Coming?" he asked.  I frowned.  "Those fucktards ain't gonna buy food," he explained to my questioning look, "we've gotta go out."

        "Oh.  Can we stop at my place first?"

        "Why?"

        "So I can, uh, not look like shit," I say, running a finger under my eye and looking at the mascara dust smeared on my finger.

        "You look gorgeous," Steven assured me hastily, pulling off his shirt from yesterday and replacing it with the sweater.

        I laughed.  "Thanks for trying.  Lemme at least put on different clothes?"

        "Wear this," he says, tossing a random sweater at me from his drawer.

        "Why?" I ask, incredulous.

        "Because it's kinky."  What the fuck?!  I thought it was just Steven and me!  When did the others get home?!  "Hurry the fuck up.  Are we going to breakfast or not?  Hey, Gin," he adds with a wink.

        "What the fuck?" Steven and I say at the same time.

        "I'm sorry!" Joe says, laughing, putting his hands up in surrender (and not sounding sorry at all).  "I saw Gin's shoes on the floor and heard you tell her to wear something and her ask why and..."  He said all of this very quickly, and continued in a whiny rush, "I dunno, man, I'm really really–like, really–fucked right now."

        "Get out, maybe?" Steven says, not making it much of a question.

        "Whatever," Joe says.  "Just hurry up."

        I left my jeans on and pulled Steven's sweater over my head.  It fit well enough, though a little big.  I did my best to fix my hair and then I laced my shoes and we were out the door.  Steven made Joe and Tom ride in the back, which they complained about.  But I didn't really care because I'm actually really hungry right now.

--

"So Gin," Joe says once we were seated at the bar in the breakfast place.  It was actually like one o'clock in the afternoon because we sleep late, but that doesn't mean I'm getting lunch.  I groaned internally when Joe looked at Steven and me, smirking.

        "Before you say anything else," Steven said to Joe, "shut up."

        Joe grinned.  "I'm just wondering how your Christmas was," he said to me, sounding innocent.

        "It was the best yet," I reply cheekily.  Although it probably wasn't really the best Christmas I've ever had.

        "Was it," Joe replied knowingly, but he was poking his eggs a little too violently to be nonchalant and careless, too agressive to be making small talk.

        "Yep."

        "Interesting..." was his reply, while he stabbed his eggs.