It was a disastrous double date.
By dessert, Peter's girl wasn't talking to him, and she ended up storming out of the restaurant when she found out that they didn't have enough money to pay for dinner. Davy's girl followed in a show of female unity.
Davy wasn't used to dates ending badly. Peter wasn't used to dates at all. So it made sense that this failure caused them both to feel a little down in the mouth. Peter's heart was as heavy as the stacks of dishes the manager made them wash up when he found out they couldn't pay their bill. Davy was unnaturally subdued. The walk home was quiet.
Eventually, the silence got to Peter, and he tried to apologize as they trudged back to the pad. "I really thought that restaurant was Le Gourmet. If I had known that it was Du Gourmand, and that everything was so much more expensive…I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Davy said.
"Maybe you can call Christy tomorrow and explain."
"Maybe." Davy was noncommittal. He stared at his feet as he walked. Eventually he looked up and offered, "I'm sorry about Alice. I know you liked her."
"Yeah," Peter said. "But I don't think she liked me."
"She probably didn't mean all those things she said. She was just – upset when she found out we couldn't pay."
The date hadn't been going smoothly even before they'd come up short on the bill. Peter might not have been smart, but no-one was that stupid. "I think she did mean them." He shrugged and looked straight ahead, at the beach house that came closer and closer with every step. Bed seemed like the most inviting place in the whole world.
It took him a second to realize that Davy had stopped. Peter turned back to him. He was frowning.
"It's okay," Peter said. It almost was. "It was really nice to have you there. For support. And to help with the dishes. I guess…I can't be that much of a loser if I have a friend like you."
Davy put a hand on his arm. In a low voice he said, "She's not worth it, Pete. Really. I'm not just saying that." Peter tried to smile, but he kept talking. "You just wanted everything to be perfect. I mean, the flowers…"
(had made both him and Alice sneeze)
"…the chocolates…"
(Micky had picked through beforehand)
"…that Valentine's card you made yourself…"
(the paint had come off on her fingers)
"You're a good person, Pete," Davy continued. "And…you deserve someone who's gonna treat you nice."
He tried to nod, because he couldn't say thanks. It was strange but after Alice walking out on their date, and the manager of Du Gourmand making them wash dirty dish after dirty dish – Davy being so kind to him was the thing that choked up his throat and made his chest hurt.
Davy noticed. "Hey," he said, catching Peter's arm and pulling him back as he tried to turn away. "Hey," he said, even softer.
Then, out of nowhere his hands were pushing down on Peter's shoulders until he got the message and bent his knees. It felt rushed and confusing and it only got more so when Davy reached up and kissed him.
Startled, his lips made an 'oh' of surprise, and then suddenly Davy's tongue was in his mouth, slick and soft and stroking against his own tongue in a way that made these lush waves of heat roll all the way through his body. His toes curled inside his shoes.
Davy had to stretch upwards slightly, while Peter had to hunch down a little for the kiss to work. Davy's arms were wrapped around his neck, while Peter's hands hovered around Davy's hips, not quite making contact. It was a silly thing to feel hesitant about. Davy was sucking on his bottom lip. Every so often, he caught it gently between his teeth, before returning to the deep, sweet, tongue-sliding kisses that made Peter feel like he was slowly melting. Davy probably didn't care where Peter put his hands.
When the kiss ended, Davy didn't draw back. He rested his cheek against Peter's and waited.
Peter's lips tingled. They felt like they didn't belong to him anymore. "What. Why did you. What was that?"
Davy turned his head and kissed Peter's cheek. "I'm trying to be nice," he murmured. "After all the trouble you went to," he kissed the corner of Peter's mouth, "you deserve it." His eyes met Peter's. "If you want."
To be honest, Peter found it awkward.
The hunching hurt his back.
His knees were locked in an uncomfortable position.
He still didn't know what to do with his hands.
And no matter how long he did it for, it was the strangest thing in the world to have Davy pressed up against him, kissing him warmly, ardently.
But.
He jerked his head once in a nod, and Davy moved in again, lips parted. And Peter stayed exactly where he was, his eyes closed, and his mouth working softly against Davy's. Because Davy was right and no awkwardness could even compare to how nice it was.
Mike had once loaned him ten bucks to replace his guitar strings after Micky accidentally cut them all off with the scissors. But that didn't even rate against how nice this was. How nice Davy's lips and tongue and hands felt. How nice Davy could be.
Which was so very nice that Peter almost began to think that 'nice' wasn't the right word anymore.
