useduser (usedusername) wrote in straight_askew,

A maybe-possibly future longish DANTE/RANDAL
PGish for cussing.
Summary: Dante calls Randal before going to Florida.

He’d let the phone ring at first: one, two, three--- long, shrilling rings that he was surprised didn’t wake his mother in the next room. By the eighth ring, it was obvious the person on the other end was persistent; probably a telemarketer who didn’t honor the no-call list, and Randal picked up.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Oh. Hey, Randal. This a bad time?”

Randal was surprised to get a phone call from Dante at three A.M., but that was mostly because he was surprised at getting calls at three A.M. by default. He didn’t bother answering because it was also automatically a ‘bad time’ for him anywhere before noon.

Dante continued awkwardly, “Going to Florida.”

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. I told you I’d be leaving this morning.”

“Fuck, morning. It’s not morning.”

“Randal, whether you believe this or not, once the little hand is on the twelve--- Mother fucker!

“What? What’d I do?”

“Not you,” Dante said distractedly. His voice faded as he left the conversation, “If I have the decency not to piss on the bed, why can’t you?”

“Maybe she has a bladder problem.”


“Emma. Maybe she has-”

“Not Emma. The dog. Jesus, Randal, really.”

“I thought you had everything packed.” Randal moved the phone to his other hand.

“You mean the bed?”


“A little hard to fit in a station wagon. We called movers. ”

Randal snorted, “Ew. You really want to keep a pissy bed?”

“Randal---” Dante sighed, giving up, “Never mind. I should probably, you know, go.”

“Wait. Will you call me when you get to Florida?”

“Insecure with your new status in my life?”

“Fuck you. Will you call?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ll be busy, unpacking. But…” Dante didn’t finish the sentence, “Wait, Emma gave you the wedding invitation, right?”

“What? What invitation? No.”


Both ends fell silent.

Randal waited a minute. “….Dante….?”


“Wedding invitation? I thought you hadn’t picked a date.”

“It’s a long story. I don’t know. It’s in about three months.”

“ You ‘don’t know’? Jesus, Dante, you’re such a-”

“Just shut up.”

Randal smirked. He’d begun enjoying this conversation somewhere in the middle, which was strange, being a fairly permanent goodbye.

Dante sighed, “I think the movers might be here….” He trailed off loosely, apparently looking out of the window, then, “No. Guess not.”

“Would I have time to go up there and say goodbye in person? Kinda shitty doing it over the phone, you know.”

“Randal, I drive you everywhere. You’d have to walk here. So, no. You don‘t have time.”

“Jesus. That’s another thing, leaving me without transportation--.”

“Listen, I gotta go.”



“You’ll call me?”

“I’ll call you.”


“Tomorrow?! I told you, unpacking--”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Tomorrow?”

“Fine," Dante gave what Randal decided could pass over the phone as a dramatic pause, "Tomorrow.”
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