Notes: I feel shame for having written this, but c'est lá vie. I also have not posted anything to this site in years, but I figured this might have a bigger audience here than on A03, so here it is. Inspired by a certain, short comic by bbcat from years and years ago that you may or may not know of but could find pretty easily if you looked. That comic cemented my love for this pairing, so I thought I would pay tribute by (far-too-greatly) expanding on it. Also, please note that there is way too much Portuguese in this fic. I am not fluent in Portuguese, so there are probably errors, but I slaved away researching as much as possible to make it not only correct, but appropriate formality and dialect-wise as well. Fic should be easily understandable without having to know everything he's saying, but I have added Portuguese translations now at the bottom of the fic in order of appearance. I realized you can't copy-paste directly off this site, so it might have been a little tricky trying to look things up, ahahaaa...

José wasn't sure what round they were on. He'd lost track at some point during the evening, along with a few other things as the night had progressed. It was warm—hot, the smell of salt was on the air—fresh, and the music poured from the clubs like water. Guys and gals of all shapes, sizes, colors, and plumages were out, and each boate they stopped by was in a more hopping state of hubbub than the last.

You couldn't have asked for a better night to spend drinking, dancing, and philandering, and that's exactly what they were doing.

"A glorious reunion," he'd called it. A "weekend away from it all." He hadn't known if Donald had needed it or not, but he certainly had, and he was planning on making the most of it. A bus ride up the coast to meet Donald at the Salvador airport, and then the two of them had dropped their luggage off in their little hotel room and left to paint the town red.

By the time they'd hit their third place, Donald had unsuccessfully attempted to pick up four different women—and José had gone into right conniptions at each failure. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to let loose—something he'd been sorely missing for some time now. The ludicrous, white-feathered duck and his awkward gringo antics made him forget the stressors plaguing him back in Rio, and he already felt better than he'd felt in weeks.

"Não acredito, Donal'! Tha' should have worked. Maybe you are saying a wrong thing!" José took a big puff on his cigar and blew it across the table as Donald came back from the dance floor with a defeated look on his face.

"I said just what you told me to say!" Donald scratched beneath his cap, eyes squinting as he wracked his brain. "Oyy gattina, vamoze tomarr a-… algo june-tos? …Kay tal oom… banno?"

The accent was so bad, José could barely understand what the duck was saying, but there was something ridiculously endearing about it all the same. José slapped his knee in laughter and watched as Donald slowly swayed side to side in a drunken lull.

"Pega leve! Take it easy! It's not our last day here. Give it some time—vai acontecer!" José sat back in his chair. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. "What you need is more fire, no? A little força!" He raised his fist in encouragement.

Donald slapped his palms down on the table. "Clarro!"—the barely-recognizable word José had taught him earlier. Hearing it only made José laugh again, and he promptly raised a hand to summon their waiter. "Duas caipirinhas, por favor!"

Donald grinned and sluggishly slid back into his chair. "You know how to keep the night young, Joe."

"Esta noite é uma festinha!" José took one of the drinks as their waiter sat them down on the table. The ice sloshed around the clear liquid, and the limes seemed to shine all bright green at the bottom of the glass. "It is a time for celebrating and forgetting, yes?" He held it out towards Donald, who quickly mimicked his actions.

"Saúde!"

"Sow-… sujee-… oh, whatever! Cheers!"

Their glasses clinked as they brought them together, and then both of them quickly drained nearly half their contents.

Things grew blurry again after that. They were back out on the dance floor, surrounded on all sides by moving bodies, lights, and music. Donald finally succeeded in gaining a dance partner for a grand total of five minutes before she left him for her group of friends. José laughed and beckoned the dejected fowl over with a curl of his finger, and then the two of them were dancing and squeezed close in the throng of bodies and Donald may or may not have had his arm around José's waist at one point—none of it mattered. It was all just a wash of color and sound blurred by an alcoholic daze. José's heart felt like it was beating in time with the music. Donald's fingers wove themselves tightly between his own, and José relinquished the lead for once, happy to let Donald have the dance he'd been hoping to have. His accent may have been cringe-worthy, but they'd been meeting often enough over the past couple of years, now, that his dancing was in fine-form—especially, surprisingly enough, when he was drunk.

José pulled him closer. Pulled him so the distance between them had all but been eliminated, and their hips were pressed tight and gyrating with the rhythm. He wasn't sure if Donald would continue as normal—sure, he was drunk, but José had danced with other men who'd had limits no matter how much alcohol they'd consumed. It was a safe test of sorts because he could wave it off as his own drunkenness, which meant that if necessary, his fondness for playing both sides of the field could be kept secret.

Donald, however, didn't seem to notice. If anything, delighting in it—his hands low on José's waist, and his body moving in time with his own. José savored every moment. It was something he didn't get often, and just one more thing to help him forget everything back home if even for one dance.

It wasn't until the music came to a stop—to switch bands—and Donald was practically stumbling over him that José decided it was time to call it a night. It had to be well after three in the morning, now, and Donald looked like he was running on fumes.

José leaned forward to whisper in Donald's ear. "Isso foi ótimo, Donal', mas vamos voltar ao hotel, tá?" Donald simply blinked his eyes slowly, as though unsure if he was supposed to have understood what he'd just been told. José grinned and put one arm around Donald's shoulders to lead him towards the door. "Back to the hotel, yes? There will be much time for dancing more tomorrow."

José had to do a bit of pushing and maneuvering to get the two of them out of the club, but they eventually made it. The cool night air felt wonderful after the almost suffocating heat. It smelled like salt and nights from long, long ago that José had nearly forgotten about. It made him somewhat nostalgic as he gave Donald a little push on the back to get him moving.

"Você curtiu? Did you have fun?" José lit up another cigar as they walked down the almost empty path running parallel to the coast. Every couple of meters was a firefly-like lantern shining light down on the stone beneath their feet.

"We have to come back tomorrow night! That last place was the best!" Donald spun around with his arms out to his side. "Brazil is the best! …Bahia is the best!" Another spin, and this time he half-tripped, using the momentum to curve around and envelope José in his arms with a giant squeeze. "…you're the best, Joe…"

José stopped where he stood. He was unsure what kept him from returning the hug—his inebriation, his fatigue, or, perhaps, the memory of their earlier dance still running through his mind. Whatever the reason was, he found himself rooted to the spot as Donald simply sighed happily against his neck.

It would be okay, wouldn't it? Just this once? Donald wouldn't remember any of this anyway, and the moment was just too perfect. He would never get a chance like this again.

José brought his hands up to Donald's shoulders, fingers lightly kneading the fabric of his shirt before pushing him ever so slightly away. Then, palming his cigar for a moment, he brought their beaks together.

It was light. Soft. Bathed in the yellow light of the lantern above their heads.

And for just a second, José really did lose himself in the moment. It was strangely freeing. There was no one else there. No one from Rio. Not his family. Not his friends. Not his colleagues. No one to see the side of himself he normally kept hidden away. To take exception to his unbiased promiscuity.

It was just him, Donald, and Bahia.

When he pulled back, Donald had the most peculiar look on his face—still drunk and sleepy, but now with a touch of utter confusion and a loss for words. It was silent aside from the distant sounds of the music starting back up in the club behind them.

José's beaked curled up in a little smile, and he let his hat cock to the side. He was just about to bring his cigar back to his beak when Donald moved. He didn't even have time to register exactly what was happening—only that suddenly, Donald's mouth was back on his, and Donald's hands were squeezing his shoulders, pulling him in tightly.

This kiss was different than José's had been. It was hard and needy, their mismatched beaks grinding against each other as Donald grappled for the best angle. José could hear, feel Donald's breath against his, intermingling with his own, and the grip on his shoulders was strangely possessive.

He hadn't expected this.

He hadn't expected this at all.

He twisted his head away. "D-… Donal'…"

But Donald pulled him back in, now fitting their beaks back together with ease. It felt good. It felt voracious, somehow, the way Donald had him practically tilted backwards in his eagerness to mash their mouths together. For just a moment, José let his eyes close, even as he felt the tingle of unease creep up his spine and the sweat gather just beneath the feathers decorating his forehead. He could lose himself in it—that feeling of being needed so much. At being coveted. Even if the one doing the coveting wasn't of right mind at the moment.

He let it continue—for too long, probably—until he couldn't take it anymore. His conscience began to ring in his head like a high-pitched warning bell, and he reluctantly brought his hands up to Donald's shoulders and pushed him away. If he let it go on any longer, it really could turn into something the other bird would regret, and José didn't want that. He didn't want anything that could potentially lose him one of his best friends.

"M-… mil desculpas, Donal'. A culpa foi toda minha. I should not have done that—it was a joke, tá? Just a joke." He laughed stiffly, purposefully turning his eyes downward. He brought his cigar back up to his beak and inhaled a much-needed puff.

Unfortunately, this didn't seem to deter Donald's approach. If anything, it seemed to encourage him.

"Okay, okay—it's a joke, ta ta." Donald mimicked his accent with a smile before leaning in and kissing him again, not even caring that the corner of José's mouth was still occupied with the cigar.

José took a step backwards.

Donald followed.

Another step.

They moved out of the light and into the shadow of a nearby shack and tree.

"Você é cabeça-dura, meu amigo!" Another somewhat awkward laugh.

"Is that part of the joke, too? Because it's doing more than making me laugh…" Donald gave him a cheesy, drunk smile, this time ducking forward to run his beak up the feathers of José's neck.

"Donal'…" José's voice hitched, and he could feel his cheeks begin to heat up. This was getting wildly out of control—something he wasn't used to—and it was doing things to his head. He had to stop this. He wasn't about to lose another friend.

—and yet, even as his head told him to push the other bird away, a part of him delighted in the touch—craved the touch, and when Donald kissed him again, he kissed back. When Donald dipped his beak into the crook of his neck, he didn't pull away.

"M-… merda, quando você me beija assim, eu…"

Donald smiled against him, hands now roving his hips. "I don't know what you're saying, but I don't care. Just keep sayin' it…"

"Você é muito amistoso, docinho…" José laughed between the murmurs working their way out of his throat. His English was failing him. Hard. "…mas você tá bêbado. Nós dois estamos bêbado. Você não quer isto. Não é como eu! Isto não está certo. Não devemos—"

Donald's beak met his again, abruptly cutting him off. "Now you're talking too much." His fingers crept beneath José's jacket, twirling through the feathers there before working down towards his tail.

Porra.

José tensed immediately. "D-… Donal', pare! Stop…" He gently pushed Donald's hands away, holding him back like a dog at bay. With a little shake of his head, he attempted to work together the words he was looking for in English. "We can't, Donal'. That's going too far—we are just friends, no?"

"But-… but Joe…" Donald's face was absolutely despondent. He held his hands out as if begging to touch him again, but José refused to relinquish the grip on his arms.

"You don't know what you are doing, docinho…" José gave him a somewhat saddened smile.

"But I love you, Joe…"

This brought a laugh from José. Donald's words were so slurred they could barely be understood. "Oh? Que besteira, meu bem. You are just drunk." He let go of Donald's arms. Donald swayed for a moment, looking a bit like he was going to fall over, then he simply slumped forward to lean heavily on José's shoulders.

"…m'not drunk…"

"É mesmo? Are you sure about that?" José tapped the ash off his cigar with one hand before bringing his other hand up to comfortingly pat Donald's back. "You will sleep this off and remember nothing tomorrow—confia em mim."

Donald seemed to not have heard him. He nuzzled his beak affectionately into the feathers of José's neck. "But Jooooe… you know you're the only reason I come down here… We should just fuck already…"

The color rose back to José's face, and he found himself once more at a bit of a loss. "Você é incorrigível. Deixa de ser tão sacana fofa. If you only knew what you were saying…" He laughed even as the thought of it tempted him like carefully laid quindins all in a row. "How about this, Donal'? You still remember all of these things tomorrow and want to have a go, and we can, shall you say, trepar como animais, yes?" He blew a puff of smoke in Donald's face. "But for tonight, you should be a good menino and just sleep tight."

Donald scrunched his eyes tightly with as incredulous a look as he could muster in his drunken stupor. "Tomorrow?"

"Sim, meu patinho fogoso. Tomorrow."

Donald passed out the moment he hit the pillow. José wasn't quite so lucky. He spent a while just sitting in the bathroom at first, then splashed his face with a couple handfuls of cold water before changing into an old tank and climbing into bed. He could hear Donald breathing from the other bed. It was hard to tune out.

The next day, however, started normal enough. José was surprisingly chipper when he awoke. He showered, changed, and made his bed all before Donald even opened his eyes. When not even a glorious flourish of the curtains could rouse the duck, José lit himself a new cigar and sat himself down on the side of Donald's bed, crossing his legs.

"Bom dia, Donal'! Levante-se e brilhe! Rise and shine!" He reached over and tapped the ash from his cigar onto the top of Donald's beak. "The sun is already singing its morning song!"

Donald cracked one eye open and instinctively furrowed his brow at the light. This was quickly followed by a sneeze as he inhaled the ash decorating his beak. He groaned and turned over, trying to bury his head back beneath his pillow.

"Ai, ai, ai, my friend! Now is not the time for sleeping." José yanked the pillow away from Donald's head with exaggerated embellishment, tossing it behind him. "Você tá lindo essa manhã, docinho." He laughed, then stood up from the bed. "How are you feeling this morning, Donal'?"

Donald brought a hand up to his head and cringed. "…like someone dropped a sack of bricks on my head. What time did we even get back? The last thing I remember was ordering more drinks and getting rejected for the third… fourth time…" He pushed himself slowly up to a seated position, hands still cradling his forehead.

José's beak curled up in a smile. He inhaled the smoke from his cigar. Hard. "You are not missing much, then, hm? You had a very busy night. But all is not over yet. Come and get yourself ready and we will go see the beaches and plazas. Vamos dar um passeio! Vem, vem!" He clapped his hands together before walking towards the door. "I will be outside."

By the time Donald got downstairs, José had already gone across the street to a small café and procured them coffee—a much needed beverage for Donald, at least, as his eyes were still half-closed when he walked out the door. Once coffee was had, however, and the sun had injected some vitamin D into their systems, they were off to do exactly as José had promised.

They explored the streets and markets of Bahia, and José delighted in pointing things out, teaching Donald words and phrases in Portuguese, and watching Donald ooh and ahh over the colors, the trees, the buildings—everything that was different and new. They took a stroll along the beach, relishing in the sun and the salty sea breeze as it rolled in with the waves. Bright-colored umbrellas dotted the sand, shading bikini-clad beachgoers, and José delighted in that as well. He also enjoyed watching Donald enjoy it, and every once in a while, he found himself wishing Donald could remember what had transpired the night before, but he'd always shake it off—preferring to keep Donald blissfully ignorant and their friendship intact.

No need to make things awkward, after all.

When dinnertime approached, José suggested they visit a show, and Donald was quick to agree. José knew of a fancy place towards the center of town that would, no doubt, capture the duck's fancy, so they caught the tram and made it there just as the sky was beginning to redden. It had a beautiful outdoor seating area and a stage at the center for dancing and music—a soft jazz band already playing as they were led to their table—and candlelit lanterns hanging from ropes stretched between artfully-placed trees.

Donald seemed to enjoy it immensely.

"This place is classy, Joe!" The duck sat down with a satisfied plop in his chair, and José took the seat opposite.

"Naturalmente! I show you only the best." José immediately lit up, sliding the ash tray towards his side of the table. "I think you will enjoy the show, yes? Quer beber alguma coisa?" He didn't wait for a response—not that one would come anyway—and instead, simply beckoned their waiter over to order them two caipirinhas to start.

When the drinks arrived, he raised his over the table with another short "Saúde!" that Donald was quick to match, then brought it to his beak and downed half the alcoholic concoction in one go. Up on stage, a group of dancers was already starting to get into position, and the band in the back was plucking out a catchy rhythm. José brought his hands together as the audience welcomed the group, then rested back in his chair. The cigar tasted good in his mouth mixed with the sweetness of his caipirinha. He inhaled long and slow and let the smoke marble in his lungs. He was more than ready to fade back into that familiar alcoholic daze.

After a few moments, though, he found he couldn't shake the feeling of a pair of eyes on him, and he glanced across the table to find Donald simply staring in his direction.

He blinked once. Twice. Then shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth and raised an eyebrow in inquisition.

"Qual foi, Donal'? Tá me olhando por que? Is something wrong?" His eyes flashed downwards to Donald's drink, and he couldn't help but notice it was still completely full. "O que está mal? You haven't touched your drink! What's wrong, Donal'? Drink, drink! You should watch the show!" He reached over and pushed Donald's drink into his hand. "Don't be shy, meu amigo!"

At that moment, the dancers broke out into a fiery step up on the stage, and the audience burst into applause. The music swelled into a rush of sound, and the lights flashed different colors to the beat. José turned back to the stage with his eyes alight. He instinctively brought his hands together to cheer on the show, then reached back for his drink. He was going to need to order another one soon.

"What you said last night, Joe. Did you mean it?"

José laughed, only half paying attention. He didn't even avert his eyes from the stage. Taking another puff from his cigar, he let it bob up and down as he spoke. "To what are you referring, Donal'? I say a lot of things."

"That you won't sleep with me if I'm drunk."

José almost spat out his cigar.

He couldn't move for a second. All the air seemed to rush out of his lungs at once. Finally, he turned his head to look at Donald, not quite sure what he would see.

Donald himself seemed to be scrutinizing him closely, his eyes narrowed. He leaned forward on his elbow and stared José straight in the eye. "…because if that's true, I won't drink a fucking drop."

A million and one questions ran through José's head—the first of which being whether or not he'd actually woken up this morning, and the second of which being what had been in his drink. Donald's unflinching gaze, however, belayed all of these questions (and many more). José lowered his eyelids with the tiniest of smirks and tried to control the heat rising to his face. He brought a hand up to wipe at his mouth before palming his cigar, blowing a slow stream of smoke across the table.

"Someone has been a good boy, hm?" He tapped his ash into the tray.

"Oh? Do I get a treat, then?" Donald tilted his head with a little grin, chin resting in his hand. "You should always reward good behavior, you know."

At this, José laughed, cigar going back between his lips. "Você dá mole pros caras, docinho! Realmente quer ficar comigo? You are not still drunk from last night, are you?" He leaned back in his chair and looped an arm around the back. The show was all but forgotten now.

"I've never been more sober in my life! And you still haven't answered my question." Donald crossed his arms in front of his chest as he gave José a good couple of once-overs.

"Which question was that, my friend?"

"Are we gonna do this or what?"

José simply smiled. He pushed his cigar further between his lips, sliding it in and out agonizingly slowly before letting his tongue grace the tip, then let out a puff of smoke. When he looked back across the table, Donald's eyes had grown considerably wider.

"Tá na hora do vamos ver, meu bem."

Donald had trouble making it back to the hotel. José enjoyed watching him squirm next to him on the tram. Enjoyed the way his hand kept creeping over as if wanting to rest on his thigh, but ultimately stopping in mid-air, pausing for a moment, then awkwardly returning, before the duck would wrench his head in the other direction. On the walk from the tram stop to their hotel, he seemed unsure just how close to stand. One second his hand was lightly prodding the small of José's back, and the next second, he was purposefully walking just a step or two ahead of him.

José cheerfully greeted the receptionist in their hotel lobby, making a bit of small talk—Nossa, que calor, né? Sim, eu sou carioca. Como você sabia? Você tem planos pra esta noite? Oh, você dança?—until Donald practically dragged him away by the crook of his arm and pushed him up the steps to their floor.

"Donal', you are so pushy." José let out a hearty guffaw as he stepped up into the hall. "Why are you all in a rush, hm?"

Donald responded to José's inquiry quite promptly—by pushing him up against the nearest wall and mashing their beaks together.

"D—!"

But José didn't even try to finish—nor resist for that matter. He felt his face and neck heat up and his heart give a little embellished flutter from inside his chest, but he pushed all that under the rug, so to speak, and simply smiled against Donald's mouth with his eyelids lowered and his body melting willingly into the wall behind him.

Donald had never been one for patience, and he'd never been much of one for maturity, either—that much, José was well aware of. But he'd only ever fully witnessed these traits as a bystander and fellow compatriot. This was the first time he was being made privy to them on a firsthand basis. It was both strange and exhilarating. In all his years, José had never been with someone quite like Donald.

It wasn't until the sound of footsteps came from the stairs they'd just ascended that Donald quickly pulled away, and José just smirked as he straightened his now-slightly-rumpled jacket and tie.

"As coisas boas vêm para aqueles que esperam, docinho. I'm not running away, if that is what you're afraid of."

Donald didn't respond. The look he gave José was somewhat off-kilter—as though a giant four-course dinner had been laid out before him, but he'd been told he couldn't touch it. An innocent Bahian made his way up the stairs with what appeared to be his son, and the two birds lightly bobbed their heads in salutation before watching the ignorant pair continue on down the hall. Once they were a good couple of doors down, Donald grabbed José's sleeve and pulled him towards their own door just two rooms down on the left. His fingers were trembling slightly as he swished their hotel keycard through the slot and pushed the door open at the beep.

"Calma, meu patinho." José walked in behind him, considerably less impatient.

Something odd came over Donald, however, once they got into the room and the door was closed behind them. His earlier fervor and assertion gone, he stood in the middle of the room looking at the beds as though he just now realized they were really here, they were really going to do this, and perhaps, just perhaps, he was having second thoughts about screwing his very male and very non-duck good friend.

He turned to José a bit lost.

José just laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. "You are too cute, my friend. What happened to your força?" He meandered towards the bed on the right and sat himself down lightly on the edge. "I thought you wanted your treat, no?" He began undoing his tie almost routinely, unlooping it from his neck and hanging it around the knob on the headboard.

When he reached up to remove his hat, Donald was there in an instant to grab his wrist.

José raised an eyebrow in amused inquiry. "Não?"

Donald shook his head. "No." Then slowly pushed José all the way back onto the mattress. "The hat stays." He brought their beaks together once more—this time a bit hesitant at first, testing the waters. José was soft beneath him. Soft and warm and small between his legs as he pressed him down into the comforter. He tasted like smoke and alcohol. Donald brought his hands up, fingers working at the buttons of José's jacket as José wrapped his arms around Donald's neck.

"Esta é uma experiência nova para mim." José's breath came out in short little murmurs as he pressed his hips upwards into Donald's feathery underside.

"I hope that wasn't… anything… important…" Donald mumbled out between subsequent kisses. "…because I couldn't… understand a… damn word…"

José laughed against Donald's beak, tilting his head upwards teasingly. "…it's just that I've never been with a duck before. Go easy on me, querido." He ran his fingers through the feathers of Donald's neck. "My poor little parrot body wasn't built to handle all of your… lingüiça."

"Oh, it'll handle that and a whole lot more. Damn dick-less birds getting saucy on me."

Another laugh from José. "Não vejo a hora, meu bem. Just because I don't have a pau doesn't mean I don't know how to make one feel good, hm?" He leaned up just enough to whisper aside Donald's ear as he tugged down on Donald's collar. "Quero sentir você dentro de mim, Donal'."

Donald may have been clueless to what José was saying, but he wasn't clueless as to what José was doing with that voice, with that murmur, with the way his R's rolled all seductive and salacious right next to his ear.

"Fuck you, you damn parrot."

And he got to work doing exactly that.

José woke up the next morning with one of Donald's arms draped over his hip, the sheets helter-skelter strewn across his legs, a rather feathery tickle on the back of his neck, and the sound of the ocean drifting in from the open window.

It was—dare he say it—nice.

He simply lay there a while in no hurry to move. Every so often, he heard the breeze pick up, rustling the green palms outside, and then felt the brush of the wind as it ruffled the feathers across his shoulder and back. Every so often, Donald would give a little snort in his sleep, moving lazily back and forth across the mattress but usually ending up back against José's side. Sometimes the duck's beak would tuck itself instinctively into José's neck. Sometimes his hand would unconsciously trace the curve of José's hip before curling around his waist.

José wasn't in love.

José wasn't a bird to fall in love.

There were too many fish in the sea. Too many adventures left to take. Too many figures and shapes and feathers to appreciate.

But.

José was pretty sure that falling in love had to feel something like this.

He wanted to lie there for hours. For days. Unfortunately, the bus to Rio left that afternoon. As did the plane back to the states. And soon both of them would be far, far away and this would become just one more of those beautiful Bahian memories lost in his thoughts.

He twisted around in bed until he was facing Donald and simply watched him for a few moments.

Yes. Soon both of them would have to return to reality.

"Bom dia, docinho."

Donald murmured something incomprehensible and scrunched his eyes up before letting out a soft sigh. "…say something else… I like listening to it…"

"Minha bunda tá doendo."

Donald's arm wrapped itself around José's waist, pulling him in. "Mmn, that was nice… What did it mean?"

José's beak curled up into a somewhat impish smile. "…you have beautiful eyes."

"That's so…" A yawn. "…sweet…" Donald's head nestled itself into the crook of José's neck, and his body went limp with sleep. In only a few moments, he was snoring lightly once more.

"Donal'?"

There was no response. José continued anyway.

"Promise me something, tá? Promise me that we'll always have Bahia."

Donald continued to sleep in silence.

Soon, the words got lost in the salty ocean breeze.

José listened to the palms rustle outside the window as the clock tick-ticked away towards the time of their departure.

Translations of the Portuguese (in order of appearance):

"Não acredito!" - "I don't believe it!"

"Vai acontecer!" - "It'll happen!"

"Claro!" - "Exactly!"

"Duas caipirinhas, por favor!" - "Two caipirinhas, please!"

"Esta noite é uma festinha!" - "Tonight, we celebrate!"

"Isso foi ótimo, Donal', mas vamos voltar pra o hotel, tá?" - "That was nice, Donald, but let's go back to the hotel, okay?"

"M-… mil desculpas, Donal'. A culpa foi toda minha." - "My apologies, Donald. That was my fault."

"Você é cabeça-dura, meu amigo!" - "You're quite stubborn, my friend."

"M-… merda, quando você me beija assim, eu…" - "Shit, when you kiss me like that, I-..."

"Você é muito amistoso, docinho… mas você tá bêbado. Nós dois estamos bêbado. Você não quer isto. Não é como eu! Isto não está certo. Não devemos—" - "You're incredibly sweet, darling, but you're drunk. We're both drunk. You don't want this. You're not like me! This isn't right. We shouldn't-"

"Que besteira, meu bem." - "Nonsense, darling."

"É mesmo?" - "Oh, really?"

"Confia em mim." - "Trust me."

"Você é incorrigível. Deixa de ser tão sacana fofa." - "You're incorrigible. Stop being such an adorable little fucker."

"trepar como animais" - "Fuck like animals."

"Sim, meu patinho fogoso." - "Yes, my frisky little duckling."

"Bom dia!" - "Good morning."

"Você tá lindo essa manhã, docinho." - "You look lovely this morning, darling."

"Vamos dar um passeio! Vem, vem!" - "Let's go for a stroll! Come, come!"

"Quer beber alguma coisa?" - "Want something to drink?"

"Qual foi, Donal'? Tá me olhando por que?" - "What's up, Donald? Do I have something on my face?"

"O que está mal? - "Something wrong?"

"Você dá mole pros caras, docinho! Realmente quer ficar comigo?" - "Aren't you a little flirt, darling! You really wanna be with me, huh?"

"Tá na hora do vamos ver, meu bem." - "Why don't we find out, sweetheart?"

"Nossa, que calor, né? Sim, eu sou carioca. Como você sabia? Você tem planos pra esta noite? Oh, você dança?" - "Whew! It's roasting! Hm? Why, yes, I'm from Rio. How did you know? So, any plans tonight? Oh, you dance, do you?"

"As coisas boas vêm para aqueles que esperam, docinho." - "Good things come to those who wait, dear."

"Calma, meu patinho." - "Calm yourself, my duckling."

""Esta é uma experiência nova para mim." - "This is a new experience for me..."

"Não vejo a hora, meu bem." - "I can't wait, darling."

"Quero sentir você dentro de mim." - "I wanna feel you inside me."

"pau" - "dick"

"Minha bunda tá doendo." - "My ass hurts."