Out At Sea

[saxophonic]

Series: CJC Week 2019
Title: Out At Sea
Summary: Joseph didn’t board the cruise to fall in love; it just happened.
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 12,856
Note: Fill for CJC Week 2019, Day 4: Makeup/Tequila & Music/Dance. X-posted to AO3 today! I had a lot of fun with this prompt, as happy old gays on a cruise is something I wanted to write since I saw old!Joseph in Stardust Crusaders. This fic ended up becoming very close to my heart as I decided to explore themes like non-monogamy, touch on the varied aspects of gay life (and the fact it is not the same for all people, and that's okay!!), as well as try to challenge some of the taboo around "old people still have lots of sex." There's a lot to unpack in all of these ideas, and this fic probably could have benefited from more whittling and focus, but I'm still happy with what I got to do here.

The song Caesar sings Joseph is essentially a MLM version of "My Foolish Heart" (which you can watch/listen to Keith Elling perform an arrangement on YouTube here [x]). Old!Joseph as Madam Tequila was heavily inspired by Michelle DuBarry. You can read more about her in this article here [x]. And now, the fic!

Joseph had been assured, time and again, that the ship was too big for him to get seasick. As he heaves into the toilet for the second time that night, he begins to suspect the travel agent lied to him.

The ticket he purchased to embark on the Crusader had been a last-minute idea. After his grandson won two tickets to a gay cruise during a Heritage of Pride event, Holly agreed to let Jotaro go only if an adult accompanied him. And Suzie had been there as usual, always encouraging him to explore himself to the fullest. “Of course I want you to go!” she’d cried, throwing her arms around him and kissing him twice on each cheek. He loves her all the more for these pushes of encouragement on their journey through life together. “Bring back plenty of photos of the boys, okay?”

The reminder that he’d be making sure their only grandchild didn't drink himself into oblivion aboard a cruise ship full of strangers sealed the deal.

Said grandson he left behind at the table in one of the ship’s dining rooms, no doubt still sitting awkwardly with his long-distance Internet boyfriend. Joseph rips tissue paper from the roll to wipe his mouth. He may need to find his sea legs, but Jotaro needs something else entirely. A spine? His tongue? Joseph isn’t sure yet. He’s confident they’ll figure it out before the week is over. By the end of the night, if what he’s heard about “cruise time” flowing different is true.

Once he’s satisfied that he won't empty the rest of his stomach on the dinner table, Joseph leaves the lavatories behind. To his dismay, he finds both Jotaro and⁠—Kakyoin, was it?⁠—both sitting in silence, stiff as a pair of rail drinks. Just like he left them. It looks like they didn’t even touch their menus while he was away.

He heaves a sigh and slips back into his seat. It’s going to be a long week if they don’t break the ice tonight.

The sit-down dining room might have been a poor choice if the boys can’t speak to each other face to face. Joseph surveys the salon, a mix of generations and presentations seated among the various tables. Waitstaff circle the channels to cart drinks to guests and drop off food as it comes out of the kitchen. The clink of cutlery and rumbling murmurs of dozens of conversations fill the air, almost overshadowing a familiar melody played over gentle piano chords.

“Do you hear that?” Joseph asks. “Is that a CD?” He swivels his head, trying to find the speakers.

“It isn’t a recording,” Kakyoin says. His voice is deeper than Joseph expected, something that takes Joseph by surprise every time the young man speaks. It’s odd. Kakyoin is a strapping youth by any standard measure, but beside Jotaro, he seems almost dwarfed in comparison.

Joseph frowns. “It isn’t?”

“No one uses CDs anymore.” Jotaro points across the room, and Joseph follow his finger. “They’ve got a real piano player over there.”

True enough, Joseph spots the baby grand piano tucked in a far corner. He has to lean in his chair to see around the pillar that partially obscures his view. A man sits at the bench with eyes closed as his fingers dance across the keys. Joseph can’t quite make out his face, but the angles he does catch feature smile lines carved around a fine moustache. His platinum hair throws highlights with each bob and turn, leaning into progressions. The color is a rare one to Joseph’s eye, but too natural in appearance to be from a bottle. Whoever the man his, he must have been fully blond in his youth, the color now infused with a natural silvering over the years.

And his voice. The pianist’s singing complements the masterful way his fingers play the old blues standard. Even filtered through dozens of conversations and deadened by the subpar room acoustics inherent in cruise ship design, there’s a sensual and smokey undercurrent to the musician’s voice that reaches directly into Joseph’s chest to squeeze his heart.

The song comes to a quiet close. Joseph has every intention of making his way across the room to leave a tip in the jar beside the music rack when a server greets their table with, “Good evening, folks. Can I get you all started with something to drink?”

“Yes,” Joseph says, turning his head. “What whiskeys do you have behind the bar?”

They order drinks, and at Joseph’s encouragement, Jotaro and Kakyoin pick out appetizers to share. By the time the waitstaff leaves them, Joseph looks toward the piano to see that the performer has changed. A younger man with dark hair and a fake tan now sits at the piano bench. The musician grins widely to show off too many of his unnaturally white teeth before he starts in on a cover of a contemporary single.

“I love this song!” Kakyoin says, a burst of excitement shattering his nervous facade. It has the same effect as someone sitting on a whoopee cushion in an otherwise silent movie theater.

Jotaro smiles, a little stronger than before. It’s a softer expression than Joseph is used to seeing on him. “Do you think they take requests?”

Kakyoin returns the small grin. “I hope so. I was thinking…”

As the discussion about song requests becomes too esoteric for Joseph to follow—and it isn’t because Joseph is fifty years their senior—Joseph tunes in and out with amiable nods and well-meaning questions about fake-sounding genres like ‘post-punk nerdcore’ and ‘bedroom grunge rock.’ By the end of the dessert course, the older pianist hasn’t reappeared and Joseph’s left wondering if he was a dreamy figment of Joseph’s imagination.

---

Sitting in a reclining lounger on the pool deck, Joseph keeps one eye on the boys roughhousing in the water and one on his novel. It wasn’t anything particularly gripping, no hard-boiled detective mystery or list-crowned memoir, but the conversational tone of the novel and its plucky heroine are entertaining enough for light reading. The sex in the romance paperback isn’t half-bad, either.

He reaches for his glass of lemon water and considers reapplying sunscreen. He doesn’t burn easily, but it’s never a good idea to tempt fate.

By chance, Joseph spots him as he brings the straw to his mouth.

Across the pool, sitting in the shade of the tiki bar staffed by oiled-up young hunks draped in fake flowers, a silvery-blond gentleman catches his attention. It has to be the pianist. How many queer men on this cruise ship could possibly have that hair color? That build? Age and beauty wrapped up in one devastating package.

The man turns his head, just enough so that Joseph can make out a quarter of his face. He looks younger than Joseph, maybe by only a handful of years, though the plump moustache on his upper lip could be throwing Joseph off.

Still, there’s a chance the man could be someone else. Joseph can’t be sure he’s got the right stranger until he hears the man’s voice. Joseph had never heard anything like it.

Without hesitation, Joseph pushes the straw aside and drains his drink. He leaves the empty glass on the side table beside his book and makes his way around the pool. For some reason, the cruise operators set up the speakers blasting music right beside the bar. If he wasn’t already at risk of losing his hearing, weathering a bass-boosted version of Britney Spears’ “Womanizer” from within spitting distance is sure to do it.

Picking a strategic spot one person down from his target, Joseph wiggles his way through the crowd to lean an elbow on the bar. “Can I get a Long Island Iced Tea, please?” He doesn’t wait to see if someone heard him. Instead, he checks to see what the pianist is drinking.

The man is looking right at him. Joseph’s breath catches in his throat. Under greying eyebrows, framed by long lashes, he has the clearest green eyes that Joseph has ever seen. Reflections from the pool surface deepen and smooth over the age lines on his face in alternating ripples of light and shadow.

“A Long Island?” The man checks his wristwatch. “It’s hardly noon.”

Oh, there’s that rich smokiness. It’s definitely the pianist. There’s a subtle lilt in his voice that teases the vowels of each word, an Italian accent that contrasts with the barest traces of the Queen’s English still clinging to Joseph’s speech.

Joseph grins on reflex. “Well, you know, cruise time runs different. Or so I’ve been told.”

The bartender drops two neon drinks on the bar beside Joseph. The man standing between Joseph and the pianist picks them up by the thick stems of the glassware. An umbrella-speared pineapple nearly topples out of one of the cups as the stranger leaves. Joseph slides into his place.

Full pink lips spread into a welcoming smile. “First time on the Crusader?” the pianist asks.

“Yes. I’d never heard of this company until a few weeks ago.” Joseph shrugs and, now that he’s gotten the pianist’s attention, orders a bottle of ginger beer, much more reasonable for the bartender than a Long Island. Much more reasonable for Joseph to drink and maintain some semblance of sobriety. “Perhaps you won’t believe me, but it’s my first time ever on a gay cruise, too.”

“Wow, a virgin at your age?” The way the pianist’s tongue curls around the word ‘virgin’ is filthy in a way it shouldn’t be, coming from a sixty-something. Spoken to a sixty-something. “Interesting.”

A glass bottle thunks against wood as the bartender drops an open ginger beer on the counter. Joseph thanks the bartender and picks it up by the neck. “Oh, I’m sure you know the saying,” he says, pausing as he brings the bottle to his lips. “It’s never too late to get your cherry popped.” He takes a swig of the ginger beer and lets the familiar flavor wash over his tongue.

Even the pianist’s chuckle sounds like a melody. “Is that how it goes?”

“Close enough.” Joseph sets the bottle back down. “By the way, were you the pianist in the upscale dining room last night?”

The man’s smile broadens. “One of them.”

“I’m Joseph.” He wipes his hand on his swim trunks and offers it to the man.

After a moment of silent observation, the man accepts it with a firm handshake. “Caesar.” Caesar’s hands are broad with long fingers, as expected for a pianist, and warm enough that Joseph’s skin misses where Caesar touched him after they break off contact.

“Do you play there every night?” Joseph asks.

“Not every night.” Caesar returns to his drink, something orange and carbonated. It looks like it could be a mimosa if it wasn’t so homogeneous. There’s no pulp, either, but Joseph figures that omission doesn’t mean much on a cruise ship where almost everything is marketed as ‘bottomless.’

Joseph hums and nods. “Where are you playing tonight? I want to see you.”

Caesar sets his drink down. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Would you give me a tip this time?”

“I would have last night if I had gotten to you in time,” Joseph says. “Once our server left, it was some other player.”

“The kid isn’t so bad,” Caesar says.

“He isn’t you.”

At that, Caesar blinks, then chuckles softly. He checks his watch before he looks at Joseph again. “I’m playing in an hour at the Explorer’s Lounge. The dress code isn’t so…” His eyes travel down Joseph’s exposed abdomen to his swim trunks, then back up again. “Formal, shall we say, as the starboard dining room.”

“An hour?” Joseph looks over his shoulder, scanning the pool for Jotaro and Kakyoin. He finds them lounging in the zero-depth shallows with another couple, one of whom is enjoying the clothing-optional aspect of the pool deck. As well he should. Many other vacationers have also cast aside their swimwear, something Joseph would do himself if he wasn’t certain it would embarrass his grandson.

When Joseph returns his gaze to Caesar, he finds the other man watching him with an easy smile. “You here with someone?”

“No,” Joseph says, then corrects himself. “Well, I’m supposed to chaperone my grandson and his boyfriend.” He gestures to them. “But I’m not here with a partner.”

That attractive smile grows broader on Caesar’s face. “Good.” He finishes his drink and slides the cup across the bar. “I’ve got to get to sound check.” Caesar stands, putting a hand on Joseph’s shoulder as he leans in to speak into his ear. “See you around, Joseph.”

Joseph takes another swig as he watches Caesar leave. Performing in an hour? He checks on the boys. One of the newcomers, the one who isn’t naked, has leaned in to tell a story. Gesturing with his hands, he mimes a panting dog. The group bursts into laughter, and it’s always nice to see Jotaro smiling. Maybe it would be okay to leave them to their own devices.

“Hey,” Joseph says to the bartender. “Where’s the Explorer’s Lounge?”

The bartender doesn’t hear him. Before Joseph can ask again, he hears a yelp that sounds just like his grandson and whips his head to check. The naked one is, for some reason, trying to get Jotaro to his feet by lifting from under his armpits. Jotaro looks indifferent. It’s Kakyoin who must have squawked; he’s nursing his hand as though it got stepped on with a murderous look at the naked one.

Instead, Joseph leaves the bar with his drink in his hand to join the kids in their fun.

---

Polnareff, the formerly naked one, turns out to be a frequent traveler with the cruise company. His partner, Avdol, jokes over lunch, “Ask him anything about Stardust Travel. He’s a living brochure at this point.”

“You’ve been on almost as many trips as I have!” Polnareff protests in a French accent and stabs his fork viciously into his large salad. Avdol grins and takes a hungry bite out of his sandwich.

Joseph shakes his head, amused as the exchange eventually switches back to activities offered aboard the ship that afternoon.

Time does have a way of warping aboard the cruise ship. By the end of the day, their band of merrymakers feels particularly cemented, forged in the fire of an intense doubles ping-pong tournament that Avdol suggested they enter. Perhaps it is too soon to tell, but he hopes they’ll keep in contact after the week is done. It seems to be heading that way, a fast friendship meant to last beyond the dreamlike state aboard the vessel.

As Joseph returns to his cabin for the night, he loves that many of the other travelers have decorated their doors. Several seem to have chosen a particular theme, like the one with a couple’s travel photos posted everywhere like a scrapbook, and another could be considered a shrine to a newspaper-themed musical Joseph’s never seen before. There’s one he passes in a nearby hallway whose occupants have plastered it with printed-out phallic imagery and gone a bit Jackson Pollack with liquid white-out. It sends him into a fit of raucous laughter he doesn’t bother to keep down.

His stateroom door is one of the few in his hallway that doesn’t have much decoration, so Joseph immediately notices the brochure stuck between the door and the jamb. A few of the other doors have it too. Cruise staff must have come around during the day and drop them off.

Inside his cabin, Joseph sits in the small armchair and leafs through the brochure. He almost tosses it back on the desk when a line on the schedule for yesterday evening catches his eye.

Music provided by Caesar A. Zeppeli & Co.

Joseph blinks, his attention fully engaged. He runs the tip of his finger down today’s schedule, eyes skimming names until he finds Caesar’s again. The discovery sparks a grin on Joseph’s face. The pianist is playing tonight. Right now, actually, in something called the Rendezvous Club. Joseph nearly tears the brochure apart flipping to the ship map.

He’s back out the door after ten minutes of fervent preparation. It’s enough time to change clothes, drag a comb through his grey hair, and slap some cologne beneath his close-cropped beard.

Once he manages to find it, the Rendezvous Club turns out to be an intimate performance space. It features enough mood lighting, sleek black and white furniture, and neon accents to earn its name. Jazzy fusion pipes in through speakers hidden in the shadows of the club. Along opposite walls, circular booths offer dividers between them to provide extra privacy from the small dance floor and the stand-alone tables. The back-lit bar sits at one end of the room, facing a stage at the other.

Nobody’s performing, but stagehands test the sound for a small jazz ensemble set-up. The electric keyboard sitting beside a vocalist’s mic renews Joseph’s interest.

The average age of the other men in the club definitely skew closer to Joseph’s generation than his grandson’s. It’s nice, he thinks, that this cruise is a space that allows for intergenerational contact and conversation. New York does not lack for a queer scene, but there’s something magical about being on what’s essentially a giant floating community of gay men who want nothing more than to meet and relax with other gay men. Among other things.

And at the same time, being around people closer to his lived experience is refreshing in its own right, too.

He eases into a stool at the bar and orders a martini, before he notices the bottle of Pimm’s No. 1 sitting on the shelf. “Hold that thought. Can you make a Pimm’s Cup?”

The bartender, a young thing probably in their thirties if Joseph had to hazard a guess, grins apologetically. “If you tell me how, then I’ll mix it up for you,” they say, styling a shock of electric blue hair across their forehead.

Absolutely not. “Let’s try 3-to-1 fizzy lemonade to Pimm’s, then.” The bartender nods in relief at Joseph’s suggestion and reaches for their Boston shaker. They’re fast, mixing quick and stirring with a spinning bar spoon. “Got any mint to garnish?” Joseph asks, leaning forward to take a look for himself.

“Right here.” The bartender pours the drink into a glass and pulls a sprig out from somewhere. They stick it along the side of the cup before setting it on the counter. “Cheers. Never made one of those before.”

Joseph grins. “First time for everything.”

“You’re one to talk.”

They hardly know each other, but Joseph instantly recognizes that voice and the way it sends an alluring warmth curling around his body. He turns to greet Caesar with a pleased smile. “Eavesdropping, were you?”

Dressed in musician blacks, Caesar’s meant to be relatively forgettable. Not to say the silkiness of his shirt, or the tailored taper of his black pinstripe vest, or the crisp lines of his pants are unattractive. It’s a matter of closeness, of comparison, and perhaps that’s part of the point. The lounge musician’s job is to be heard, provide enough pleasant noise to fill any holes in conversation. To set the mood, without being seen.

But now that Joseph has found him again, he can’t stop staring. Caesar’s handsome face invites Joseph’s gaze, flashing laugh lines and long dimples when he grins. The faint rasp of a greying five o’clock shadow on his cheeks catches the light. His moustache matches the platinum fringe tumbling over his forehead, though he’s combed back the rest of his hair away from his features. Those lagoon green eyes look at Joseph with a fondness like they’ve known each other for years. The soft glow of such a sweet emotion makes Joseph want to abandon the cup and the club entirely, before he remembers Caesar is here to work tonight.

“Preposterous.” Caesar eases an elbow on the bar, turning his back toward the bottles of liquor and facing the stage. “I missed you earlier. Or maybe it’s more precise to say you missed me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Joseph admits. The fluttering in his stomach makes him feel as awkward and inexperienced as his grandson. It’s been years since this old dog felt the giddying rush of puppy love. “I’m here now, though. When I saw your name on the schedule, I couldn’t resist.”

Judging by the grin on Caesar’s face, the idea that Joseph finds him irresistible is quite a pleasing thing indeed.

Mic feedback distorts the moment. Caesar winces. “I should return backstage to cement our track list before we go on for our second set. But I saw you come in and I had to say hello.”

“How many more sets do you have planned tonight?”

“Just the one.”

Joseph nods. “I’ll be around.” He meets Caesar’s eyes. “Watching. Listening. Dancing.”

Caesar pushes off from the bar. “Don’t stray too far. I won’t know where to look for you.”

“Nonsense. I’ll make sure to find you after you’re done, if you want to share a drink together. If that’s allowed.”

That earns him another smile that Joseph wishes he could tuck into his pocket to brighten a rainy day. “For you? I’ll allow it.” Caesar settles a hand on Joseph’s shoulder again, squeezing once before he heads toward the green room door.

A nearby voice pipes up. “How long have you two known each other?”

Joseph looks at the bartender, who appears to be mixing up a huge batch of some kind of rum punch, if the jug of pineapple juice and the plastic bottle of clear liquor is any indication. He shakes his head. “Just met him today.”

“Wow.” The bartender’s eyebrows lift comically high on their face, almost disappearing into their dyed hair. “This cruise sails three times a year. He performs each time.” They stir the pineapple and rum concoction. “In the four years I’ve been working with him, I’ve never known him to get so friendly with a guest before.”

“Is that right?” Joseph grins and takes another sip of his drink. He casts a glance toward the stage in anticipation. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet and stuffs a few bills into the glass tip jar sitting on the bar. “Thanks.”

“Oh no, thank you,” the bartender says. “Let me know when you want another drink. You won’t have to tell me twice how to make it.”

Joseph whiles away the remainder of the time before Caesar’s second set introducing himself to some of the others in attendance tonight. He spends a few moments chatting with a group of passengers who are all a few years older than Jotaro. They ask him questions about New York’s gay scene with fascination. “There’s, like, one gay bar near me, and you have to drive an hour to get there,” one of them says. “Trips like this are like, paradise.”

Though listens attentively when they describe their triangle of a relationship, he can’t quite understand what they mean when they gesture at a human being and lovingly call them a courgette. It baffles him, but they seem happy, and in Joseph’s opinion, that’s what matters most. Mutual happiness, not someone else’s cookie-cutter idea, is the foundation for his own marriage, after all.

A group of men sitting around another table catch his attention with a familiar accent. Brits, at least a few in their party. It feels like a homecoming as he sits among them to chatter away the time until Caesar’s set. They nod in sympathy at his Pimm’s. One of the men twists the edge of his waxed moustache as he asks about the ring on Joseph’s finger.

“Right, well.” Joseph fiddles with the ring and smiles as he thinks of Suzie. “I’m a lucky man.” He resettles in his chair to launch into the story of how they met when the door to the green room opens at that moment.

Jazz musicians file into the lounge and Joseph’s voice trails off once he sees Caesar take the stage. He’s handsome under the spotlights. The light bounces off his silver hair and makes his green eyes even brighter. Who knew that was possible? Joseph watches him take his seat at the keyboard before scanning the crowd. He waves at Caesar from his spot, grinning when Caesar finds him in the darkness.

Conversation dies away as the ensemble counts off their first song. It’s a fast-paced, toe-tapping tune. Several guests get up to dance. By the end of the second song, another jovial number, Joseph’s invited a few different people to dance with him.

The third song receives an introduction. Not by Caesar, unfortunately, but the lead trumpet gets the job done. It’s a slower tune, so Joseph returns to his seat among his new friends.

People shuffle in and out as the night goes on. Sometimes Caesar sings, but mostly the band plays instrumental pieces with plenty of vivacious soloing. Joseph finds himself a bit sweaty as he collapses into his chair by the time the ensemble announces their last song.

Caesar taps the mic. “Thank you for coming out tonight, everyone. It has been a pleasure performing for you.” He names each musician, and they play a short riff on their instrument of choice to the polite applause from the crowd. “We have one last song for you all. It needs no introduction.”

Quiet percussion sets the tone before the bass joins in. The two face each other, heads bobbing in time to the rhythm their hands play. After a cresting ride cymbal, the rest of the ensemble joins them in music. The melody they play and harmonize around sounds familiar to Joseph. He doesn’t place it until the band takes the volume down and Caesar begins to sing.

“The scene is set for dreaming…”

His smooth voice draws Joseph in from the first note. Caesar sings into the mic, his fingers pressing the piano keys with confidence. Paired dancers sway together on the floor. They move in and out of Joseph’s line of sight, which remains trained directly on the pianist drawing out a beautiful note with vibrato.

After the first verse and chorus, Caesar leans away from the microphone. The band cycles through itself, with various instrumentalists taking their turn at ripping off one last round of impressive improvisational solos. Joseph claps along with the crowd after each talented offering from the ensemble. Anticipation builds in him as each musician finishes.

Finally, after the set percussionist’s snappy and syncopated drum solo, it’s Caesar’s turn. He finds Joseph in the crowd with a grin. Then, he closes his eyes and gives himself fully to his improvisation. His fingers trace a winding path through the notes. Chords and trills pull at Joseph’s heartstrings almost as effectively as lyrics. The band backs him as steady as a metronome while Caesar plays around with rest beats and staccatos.

As he brings his solo to a close with major chords in forte, Caesar opens his eyes and leans toward the vocal mic once again. He projects his voice with renewed energy, drawing out the vowels in the lyrics. He meets Joseph’s eyes as he adds his own musical flair to lyrics about love and fascination. Holding his gaze, Caesar finishes singing him the rest of the song.

The last note hardly has time to clear the air before the room bursts into applause, punctuated by cheers and whistles.

“Lovely meeting you all.” Joseph stands and excuses himself from the table.

Stagehands disassemble the set-up as the musicians pack up their things. Caesar’s eyes never leave Joseph as he makes his way to the front. “You still offering that drink?” Caesar asks, unplugging several cords from his keyboard.

“After that last song? I’d be criminal not to,” Joseph says. “Do you want help?”

Caesar rests a possessive hand over the electric piano. “No touching.” He grins. “Save me a seat at the bar, caro. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

It takes more time than Joseph expected before he sees Caesar exit the backstage door. Then again, when he’s waiting for something he wants, it seems like time slows down to an excruciating crawl. And he’s old enough now to know exactly what it is he wants when he sees it.

That night, they spend hours together, jumping both feet first into an easy flow of conversation. Joseph often finds himself chatting up strangers, but there’s something different about the way he and Caesar trade stories. Learning about each other feels less like discovering something new and more like recovering long-forgotten memories. Like pulling a book off the shelf he hasn’t read in years but every word jumps off page, ready at the tip of his tongue.

Even talking about how his marriage with Suzie has developed through the years feels almost nostalgic, like Caesar was meant to be there all along. And making Caesar laugh with a well-timed joke gives Joseph the same feeling as stepping out of a too-cold room into the summer sun and letting himself thaw.

Midnight arrives before Joseph realizes it. Where did the hours go?

“I should go back to my room,” he says, though he leaves the end of the phrase propped open like a door.

Caesar’s eyes twinkle as he follows him through it.

---

Joseph finds his grandson surrounded by their boisterous, newfound friends. “Good Morning!” he greets them cheerfully as he sets his tray of porridge and breakfast tea down beside Avdol. Staying up late with Caesar last night makes him wish he’d gone for coffee. He might grab a cup later.

“Good Morning, Mr. Joestar,” Avdol says.

Waving him away, Joseph says, “None of that. Don’t make me feel old on my vacation.”

Jotaro pauses, his glass of juice halfway to his mouth. “You are old. I bet you went to bed at, what, 8PM last night?”

“I’m young at heart,” Joseph says. He rips open the single-serve packet of honey and pours it over his oats. “Did you boys have fun after dark with that disco dance?”

Kakyoin hides a laugh behind a hand. “Disco.”

“I don’t know what you kids are calling it these days but it’s all the same, I figure.” Joseph mixes his food to encourage cooling. Steam rises from the canyons his spoon carves into his bowl with each circle. He stirs faster.

“We did go dancing, yes.”

Polnareff spears a chunk of honeydew from his bowl of cut fruit and feeds it to Avdol. “It was a great time! Too bad you couldn’t join us, Joseph.” He grabs a piece of cantaloupe and eats it himself. “I think we’re making port today. What activities have you signed up to do later?” He pauses, then gestures with his fork at Joseph, Jotaro, and Kakyoin. “You did sign up for things, right?”

“I wanted to try the snuba experience, but it wasn’t included in the package I won,” Jotaro says. He drapes an arm with practiced casualty over the back of Kakyoin’s chair. Joseph grins into his next bite of food at the sight. Progress! “I think we’ll just disembark and explore the island.”

As Joseph’s brain works that suggestion to its natural conclusion, he’s surprised by the brief wave of bittersweetness that rolls over him. Leaving the ship means there’s less chance he’ll run into Caesar.

Polnareff doesn’t stifle his disappointment. “Well, that’s too bad. The snuba always fills up fast, anyway, even for early bookings like ours.” He brightens immediately. “Let’s plan to meet up for dinner! Stop by our room later. You can give me my souvenir from the beach then.” Avdol laughs and pats Polnareff’s hand affectionately.

Joseph smiles. For a pair that’s been together for almost seven years, they pour over each other with the same fervent affection as honeymooners.

---

Strolling on the tropical shore with Jotaro and Kakyoin offers Joseph a chance for quality time he doesn’t always get back home. Their walk on the sunny beach gets cut short when Kakyoin points out Jotaro’s burgeoning sunburn. Joseph offers to let him borrow the very fashionable floral Aloha shirt Joseph’s wearing, arguing he has the floppy, oversize brim hat to protect him. Kakyoin tries to include him in the shade of his green parasol, but Jotaro declines them both. They hurry back into the on-again off-again shade of the main strip of the island.

In a souvenir shop, they reunite with a few other travelers from the cruise excursion. While Jotaro and Kakyoin delight in an assortment of goofy accessories, paying particular attention to the shop’s collection of neon shutter shades and novelty hats, a middle-aged couple Joseph recognizes from the pool deck yesterday approach him. “Those your cubs, papa bear?” one drawls in a flat American accent, jerking his head in Jotaro’s direction.

The other chimes in before Joseph can reply. “Do you swing?” The expression on his face suggests this partner’s primary interest is Joseph himself.

He laughs and puts up his hands. “Oh, thank you, I’m flattered,” he says. “But that’s my grandson and his boyfriend. I’m here to keep them from, you know, drinking too much and falling overboard.”

Understanding dawns on their faces, and in accidental synchronization, they nod. “Ah.” They exchange looks before moving on with a barely audible, “`Scuse us.” Only when they’ve walked away does Joseph realize one of the partners was flagging with a bright red handkerchief in their left back pocket.

Joseph shrugs and lifts his hat, running a hand through his hair before setting it back on his head.

“Mr. Joestar!” Kakyoin waves him over with one hand. The other he’s fisted in Jotaro’s shirt, which is somehow enough to keep Jotaro from running away. Kakyoin managed to stuff Jotaro in one of the hats, a marbled green octopus whose tentacles curl down around his face and neck. He’s also shoved a pair of oversized sunglasses on Jotaro’s face. “Take a picture! Quick!”

“No!!” Jotaro tries to shove himself out of frame, but Kakyoin is stronger than he looks, and hauls Jotaro back into Joseph’s field of view.

With a quick unzipping of the handy fanny pack at his hip, Joseph whips out the camera. “Smile!”

After an impromptu photoshoot, Jotaro slowly but surely warming up to the idea without managing to smile in a single photo, they pass the rest of the day wandering in and out of shops.

Returning aboard the ship, they stop by Avdol and Polnareff’s cabin. Kakyoin tosses a dog toy on the bed, a souvenir the trio agreed would make a good gift for Avdol and Polnareff’s rowdy Boston Terrier they left back home. Jotaro’s sunburn pales in comparison to Polnareff, whose back strongly resembles a boiled lobster shell. They swap stories from the day before deciding on dinner, a luxurious multi-course dinner that’s somehow part of the all-inclusive ticket.

Stumbling back from the water-level dining room after a few too many drinks, Joseph grins. The note taped to his otherwise barren door catches his attention instantly. It’s folded in half to hide the contents from passers-by. He pulls at it with one hand until it starts tearing, then it’s a rush of murmured cursing and careful peeling until the note clears the door more or less in one piece.

He unfolds it. In slanted, curving script, someone wrote: Meet me at Rendezvous. 9pm.

Joseph knows exactly whose handwriting it is and grins broadly. He rubs his face and checks his watch. Plenty of time for a quick shower and trim.

---

Caesar finds him sitting at the Rendezvous bar again. “You look like you got some sun,” Caesar says as he levers himself into the squeaky stool beside Joseph. Tonight, Caesar’s dressed in a navy suit jacket, with another silky black shirt and tie. Joseph hadn’t checked the schedule ahead of time, though he wonders if a person can ever go wrong with well-fitting clothes. The combination of a nice button-down, a pair of firm suspenders, and polished dress shoes serves him well enough tonight.

Then again, some areas of the ship seem to grow increasingly nudist as each day progresses, so maybe it doesn’t matter. He wonders how Caesar would react if Joseph met him in his favorite blue-and-white star-spangled banana hammock and nothing else.

Well, there’s always tomorrow for that little experiment. They only have two more nights left before the ship returns home, so he might as well make it count.

It amuses Joseph how quickly and confidently he assumes they’ll make plans to see each other again. And as he meets Caesar’s flirtatious grin, Joseph knows he isn’t the only one greedily hoarding their time together aboard the Crusader. “Disembarked with my grandson and his boyfriend today,” Joseph says. Fondness and pride unfurl in his warm smile. “They’re cute together. I’m lucky I get to spend time with them.”

“You love your family,” Caesar says, signalling the bartender. It’s the same person who mixed Joseph his poor man’s Pimm’s last night. “I like that about you.”

Joseph reaches to interlace Caesar’s fingers with his. “You’ve mentioned that before.” He squeezes Caesar’s hand. Joseph melts when Caesar squeezes back. “I should introduce you to them, and the kids they’ve become friends with practically overnight.”

“Kids?” Caesar raises his eyebrows in such a way that Joseph prepares himself for a joke. “If you weren’t all over me last night, I’d assume you’re running some kind of sugar baby daycare.” With a toothy grin and a heavy pinch of sarcasm, Caesar adds, “Or maybe you like to be mistaken for a sugar daddy.”

“Sugar daddy?” Joseph barks out a laugh. “But you’re older than me, even if you look ten years younger.” He gives Caesar a quick and enthusiastic once-over. “If I’m a sugar daddy, then let me spoil you.”

The bartender sets another bubbly orange drink in front of Caesar. Joseph drops his hand to reach for his wallet, ignoring Caesar’s half-teasing protests. “You’ve spoiled me plenty already,” Caesar says as the bartender accepts the tip. By the way his eyelids drop to half-mast, Joseph knows he isn’t talking about the drinks.

“Not nearly as much as I want to, darling.” Joseph shifts to put his wallet back in his pocket. He gestures to the glass and changes the subject. “What is that, anyway?”

Caesar slides it his way. “Here. Have a taste for yourself.”

Ignoring the drink, Joseph lifts his hand to brush Caesar’s loose hair behind his ear. “I’d like that quite a bit.” Caesar leans into his touch, letting his eyes fall closed. Joseph combs his fingers through the soft, silver-blond locks. He lowers his voice. “What time do they need you backstage, love?”

Light eyelashes open to reveal those green eyes, growing darker with an understated emotion by the minute. “Ah, didn’t you know? I finished up earlier with another dinner rotation.” Caesar grins. He lays a firm hand on Joseph’s thigh. “Dance with me tonight. Only me.”

“So you were jealous watching me yesterday! I knew it.” Joseph teases him with a small tug of Caesar’s hair.

The soft groan that escapes Caesar’s parted lips sends a glimmer of heat through Joseph. “I don’t like sharing if I don’t have to, you know,” Caesar says. “One person is quite enough already. Don’t make me compete with the rest of the ship, too.”

“She’d like you,” Joseph says, unthinking. “Suzie would like you because I like you.” He slides his hand down to curve against the nape of Caesar’s neck. Caesar squeezes his thigh in response and encouragement. “Because you’re impossible not to like.” Joseph rubs his thumb against the soft spot behind Caesar’s ear, making him shiver.

It feels taboo to talk about life after the cruise, so Joseph stops before he says anything more tonight.

A smattering of applause and the sound of a band testing the mics brings them back into real time. Caesar pulls away enough to reach for his drink. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Joseph says, watching Caesar’s throat work as he swallows.

The band finishes their final tuning and starts in on the entertainment for the night while Caesar and Joseph finish their drinks at a comfortable pace. Soon after Caesar sets his empty cup on the bar, Joseph leads him to the dance floor. They find their rhythm together, Caesar quicker than Joseph. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you're doing,” Caesar whispers into Joseph's ear as they sway chest to chest. “I saw you, remember?”

Joseph nuzzles his nose against Caesar’s hair. “Which one of us is supposed to lead this one?”

Warm air puffs against the side of Joseph’s head as Caesar snickers. “I thought we’d take turns again, cuore mio, but why don’t you go first?” His voice comes out low and smokey, laced with extra meaning.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Joseph grins and readjusts his hold on Caesar. He lifts the frame of their arms and puts enough space between them for East Coast swing. There’s an infectious, palpable excitement emanating from Caesar. It shines in his bright green eyes as they move around the floor. Joseph leads them in a dance step that grows more confident with each passing measure.

Joseph spins Caesar out in a flourish, showing him off to the others in the room. Caesar dances at the end of Joseph’s arm for several seconds. A delight to behold, his captivating body moves in time to the beat of the drums. Only when he’s ready to return does Caesar twist back into Joseph’s waiting embrace.

Moving together feels more natural than Joseph thought it ever could on the rocking cruise ship. Song shifts into song and their dances evolve with each change in the music. After they break apart to applaud the performers, they trade roles when they come back together again.

With a slow count off from the hi-hat, the band moves from the lively swing of the last few pieces into something more down tempo. It’s a welcome breather, though as the melody begins to play, their dance follows in steamy suit. Caesar leads him, bringing their hips close as their bodies twist together. Their thighs brush in the tango, a style Joseph could never nail during his wedding dance lessons decades ago.

An imperfect dance unfolds between them, all missteps forgiven as time stretches and snaps with the subdivided rhythm. They slide against each other, their palms mapping over the now-familiar terrain of their bodies. A surge forward, a slithering retreat. Music fills his ears. Slipping to one side, they turn around. A leg raises, caught by a hand on a thigh, and they lean together. A head tilts back, throat exposed for lips to kiss. His face framed by Caesar’s long fingers. Caesar, solid in his arms.

His heart races like he’s found a new reason for living in the aged hands that press against his own thighs. Flung away from Caesar, he reaches like he wants to leave before he allows himself to be pulled back and pushed down the front of Caesar’s body to the floor. Like he could grab at the tie around Caesar’s neck to bring him with and make clear their horizontal desires as the club looks on. Instead of giving in, the tension in the song pulls them vertical again. Their feet move as the music trills, spinning with each other.

It ends too soon. The last note hangs in the air and Joseph stands, arms poised and body framed, panting with his nose bumped against Caesar’s, not quite kissing.

They separate as the room bursts into applause for the band, though their arms slow to release one another. “Is it time for us to leave?” Caesar asks, voice pitched for Joseph’s ears only. His hand slides around Joseph’s shoulders in a possessive grip and remains there.

One of Joseph’s hands flirts with the ends of Caesar’s black tie. He grips the length of fabric around the middle and gives it a tug for emphasis. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I stayed last night.”

“Stay through the morning.” Joseph looks into Caesar’s face, unafraid of the desire he sees burning there. He releases Caesar’s tie. “Wake up next to me.”

The band strikes up another song. They make no move to leave. Joseph changes the grip of their hands to lead Caesar in a small box step, far more unobtrusive than their tango, but no less intimate. Their hips sway with the music and they bow their heads close to whisper promises they intend to keep.

Midnight sees them leaving together once again, exhausted from a full night of dancing. The hallways leading back to Joseph’s stateroom all look the same to him; it’s the decorations on the doors that change. “I didn’t know about this,” he says as he passes a door and plays tie-dye balloons that have gone slightly flat with age like bongo drums.

“Virgin,” Caesar says, curling his tongue around the word again in that irresistible way of his.

Joseph laughs and loves the way crow’s feet crinkle the corners of Caesar’s eyes when he smiles. “The filthiest ‘virgin’ you’ll ever meet,” Joseph says with a wink. “Full of surprises you haven’t had yet.”'

Caesar hooks his index fingers under Joseph’s suspenders and pulls him in close. “And some surprises I want to have again.”

---

They wake up together the first time, and the second time. But eventually, Caesar collects his things from where they lay strewn about the cabin. In the doorway, they linger in their goodbye until another round of Caesar’s alarms go off, his cell phone chirping another urgent reminder that he’s going to be late to his morning rehearsals.

Joseph reaches for a bottle of painkillers to chase away the soreness from dancing the night away before he readies himself for the day ahead. To his surprise, he’s the last one down at breakfast.

“You’re up late this morning,” Jotaro says. “Was there a problem?” Tension in Jotaro’s jaw and tightness in his fist eases away with each step Joseph takes.

With a fond smile for the words Jotaro doesn’t say, Joseph shakes his head. His grandson was worried about him, in his own way. It’s sweet. “No, Jotaro. Just a bit of a late start this morning.”

Polnareff makes a noise of dismissal. “See? I told you he was sleeping. It’s almost the end of the trip. People get worn out after days of nonstop fun.”

“We should take it easy today to recover for tonight.” Avdol pats the open spot beside him at the table. Joseph holds up a hand in acknowledgement as he scans the room for the tea cart. He finds it tucked away on the far wall, hidden from his line of sight by the young group of tourists clogging around the coffee carafes. Why the cart moves around each morning is beyond his comprehension. It would make more sense to leave it in one place so passengers don’t have to waste time milling around. Maybe that is the point, since it seems to provide a fresh excuse to meet new people.

“It’s the second to last night of the cruise,” Avdol says. "You know what that means, right?”

“What?” Kakyoin asks.

Avdol smiles. “Drag karaoke in the Explorer’s Lounge.”

“It wouldn’t be a Stardust Cruise without it!” Polnareff says.

The look on Jotaro’s and Kakyoin’s faces are similarly intrigued and nervous. Joseph smiles to himself and moves across the dining room to fix his breakfast tray, starting with caffeine. This was something that he packed for, but it seems his grandson wasn’t paying the event much attention before today. It doesn’t surprise Joseph. Drag culture was never something that seemed to interest Jotaro, before or after coming out.

He queues up behind a familiar-looking group and makes pleasant conversation with them as they compare the muffins on display. By the time he sits back down at his table, Joseph realizes one of them was sunbathing naked beside him on the pool deck that first full day. The man looks very different without clothes.

“Come on,” wheedles Polnareff. He uses his fork to fling a blueberry across the table at Jotaro, who catches it between two fingers without flinching. “Merde, what kind of superhuman reflexes do you have?” Jotaro perches the blueberry on his thumb and flicks it back. It hits Polnareff square on his forehead. “Ow! You’ll blind me if you aren’t careful.” He rubs the wound. “Karaoke is fun. You can come as you are, too. No one will say anything.”

Jotaro’s voice goes more monotone than usual. “I don’t sing.”

“Not even one song?”

“Not even one.”

Polnareff points at him. “What if we pump you full of rum punch?” Joseph clears his throat. Polnareff has the decency to look guilty, at least for a moment, and drops his hand. “Or not.”

“Lip synch?” Avdol asks.

“No.”

“Backup dancer?” Kakyoin asks innocently.

“No!” Jotaro casts his boyfriend a look somewhere between amused and betrayed. “Will you sing?”

“Do it,” Avdol says. “It’s so much fun.”

Kakyoin opens and closes his mouth in hesitation, so Polnareff slaps his hand on the table. “You know you want to.” On his forehead, the small pink blotch roughly the size of the blueberry looks like a growing rash. “We all want to perform.” He strikes a dramatic bodybuilder pose engineered to show off his muscular body.

“Not all of us want to,” Joseph says nonchalantly and sips his tea. “Though drag is a tradition I plan to uphold.”

All heads at the table swivel toward him in various shades of excitement.

---

They spend the morning lounging around the pool together until they’re all too sun-drunk and dehydrated to stand being outside any longer. Polnareff, with his penchant for nude bathing, and Avdol, who joins him for the better part of an hour, make themselves particularly vulnerable. Joseph finds the whole thing very entertaining.

Privately, he wishes that Caesar would somehow appear on the pool deck like that first full day. Even better if he decided to join them in a quick dip. Joseph wore his best floral lounge shirt and starred swimsuit beneath his trunks, just in case, but no such luck. They pack up their things without so much as a glimpse of that silver-blond head of hair Joseph has come to enjoy ruffling.

Back below deck, they indulge in a ridiculous cruise buffet lunch that sees Jotaro going back to the carving station five times for more meat. In the wisest move of the day, their band of friends decide to break to their cabins for recovery naps.

Joseph breathes out a sigh in the privacy of his stateroom and rubs the ache away from one of his knees. Instead of sleeping, he digs out his makeup bag from one of his suitcases. He figures he can use the afternoon to test some makeup for his alter ego, Madam Tequila, instead. Having never applied eyeliner and falsies while swaying in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, it seems like it would be a prudent use of a few hours.

The knock at the door startles him as he finishes painting on a glittery blue-tinged gloss over a matte purple lipstick. Odd, housekeeping already made the rounds up and down this hallway. He unlocks his door and swings it open.

Caesar leans against the door frame, his forearm above his head. He’s dressed for the pool in palm-tree patterned swim trunks and a sea foam green shirt, which Caesar chose to leave completely unbuttoned. The long strip of skin invites Joseph’s hands to relearn every point of firmness and softness as his fingers spread over Caesar’s body.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.” Caesar looks up, eyes catching on Joseph’s mouth with intent fascination. “Is this a bad time?”

The subtle change in his expression makes Joseph’s breath hitch. “I’ll always make time for you.”

Caesar tears his eyes from Joseph’s mouth to look away with a small laugh. It’s a quiet, precious sound that makes Joseph fall a little more in love each time he hears it. “The drag karaoke isn’t until after dinner. Unless, did they change the schedule this year?”

Joseph steps to the side and welcomes Caesar into his cabin with a smile. “No, it’s still after dinner. I’m testing.”

“Do you want my help?” Caesar pushes off the door and walks inside. “I know a thing or two about makeup. Or we can bathe together.”

Every suggestion sounds as appealing and intimate as the last. “You look ready for a swim.”

Caesar shrugs. “Plans change.” He slips out of his shirt and drapes it over a chair. “I’ve got a free afternoon. I’d rather spend it with you.” He casts a sidelong glance at the makeup left scattered across the desk, Joseph’s makeshift vanity.

Joseph takes a few steps as he gestures at the makeup. “Show me what you’ve got.” He drops a hand to pick up a container of foundation. “I don’t know if I’ve got something that will match your color, but when has that ever stopped a show.” The color in his hand is almost his own exact skin tone. Caesar’s skin is lighter than Joseph’s, with a cool undertone, and using this color might be the visual equivalent of a missed note in a piano solo.

Caesar shakes his head.

Piano solo. Ah, damn. “Here I am, talking under the assumption that you’ll be there,” Joseph says. “Do you have another performance tonight, or are you free?”

“The whole ship shuts down for the show,” Caesar says. “Lucky for me this year that I don’t have to work.” He steps in close, his eyes trained on Joseph’s painted lips again. “I want to spend all night beside you.”

“You’re free the rest of the day?”

Caesar cups Joseph’s bearded jaw in one hand, his thumb brushing over Joseph’s bottom lip. The gloss smudges over his skin. “For a few hours.”

Joseph pulls Caesar’s hand to cup his other cheek. “Then let’s make them count.” He holds one of Caesar’s wrists in each hand and squeezes.

“I know that look,” Caesar drawls.

“What look?” Joseph asks, blinking innocently.

With a sly grin, he moves his hands down Joseph’s neck. “Let’s try out your collection and see how long-lasting it really is.” Caesar places both his palms on Joseph’s shoulders and spins him around. His arms snake around Joseph’s chest as Caesar pulls himself into a tight hug from behind.

Joseph covers Caesar’s hands with his own. “I can’t tell if you want to put your own face on, or if you want to rub mine off.”

“They’re two very different activities.” Caesar nuzzles his head against Joseph’s back.

Checking the time on Caesar’s wristwatch, Joseph asks, “Do we have enough time for both?” He uses it as an excuse to interlace their fingers.

“We have a little over two hours,” Caesar says.

Joseph sighs and pats Caesar’s hand. “Only time for one then. We won’t fully enjoy the latter with the way we go at it.”

“And which way is that?”

“Repeatedly.” Joseph grins. It must have caught Caesar by surprised by the way he chokes on his laughter. “Now, come on. Let’s put your face on.”

They disentangle from their hug. “Are you putting it on me or am I putting it on myself?”

“Pick a color, love.”

Caesar browses Joseph’s collection, his fingers turning over a matte lime green and a cherry red gloss, until he settles on a true coral with a faint hint of shimmer in the pigment. “This one.”

Holding his hand out for the tube, Joseph nods. “Good choice.” He gestures to the chair, but Caesar passes him the lipstick as he settles on the bed. “Don’t move,” Joseph says. He catches Caesar’s jaw in one hand and uses his mouth to pull the cap off the lipstick. Without a beard, Caesar’s chin is smoother than Joseph’s. It’s a comfortable fit in Joseph’s hand.

Caesar needs no further prompting to let his jaw relax.Joseph paints his lips with the color. It’s a nice shade, one that would suit any undertone, but Joseph must be biased because it never looked better anywhere other than Caesar’s mouth.

As he finishes, they both press their own lips together to fill in the color on instinct. “You already had yours on,” Caesar says.

“I want yours, too.”

Amusement adds a teasing note to his voice. “I thought we didn't have time for that.” Caesar reaches a possessive hand for Joseph's hip.

“Well,” Joseph says, leaning in as Caesar’s eyes start to close, “maybe just a taste.”

---

When Caesar leaves for his final work engagement of the day, half an hour late after an impromptu shower together where they washed the makeup from their bodies, Joseph pulls out his supplies in earnest. Body, dress, shoes, accessories; he lays them out for later use.

Joseph leaves for dinner soon after. Jotaro narrows his eyes in suspicion as soon as Joseph rounds the corner into the next corridor. “You’re late again,” he says. He doesn’t ask why.

He doesn’t have to. “On this trip, I…met someone.” Joseph rubs his shoulder. “We were spending time together.”

“I know.” Jotaro points. “You have a bruise on your neck that your shirt doesn’t cover.”

“You met someone!” Kakyoin perks up with interest. They come to a stop beside a stateroom door adorned with a mirror disco ball taped to the side of the frame. The door itself has been decorated with various animal photos, streamers of all different colors, and a white board with three colors of dry-erase marker magnets. Passers-by, or perhaps the residents themselves, have left messages. There’s a winking face asking ‘need a 3rd?’ and a hastily-scrawled ‘hey assholes!! why don’t you shut the fuck up at 4AM’. Joseph assumes the two are related.

Kakyoin grabs the disco ball and gives it a forceful twirl that nearly rips its tape from the frame. He raps his knuckles on the door. “Will we meet them? Will they perform with you after dinner?”

The door bursts open to reveal a gradient rainbow beaded curtain. “We're running late,” says a harried Avdol as he parts the strings with one hand. “Or, more precisely, he is running late.”

“Just leave him.” Kakyoin shrugs.

Polnareff’s dripping wet head follows a billowing cloud of steam. “I heard that, you snot-nosed kid.”

“You're like, five years older than us.”

“I meant what I said.” Polnareff's head disappears back into his room. “Weasel-faced brat.”

Kakyoin frowns and chases after Polnareff. “Get back here and say that again!”

As an aside to Jotaro, Joseph says, “Your boyfriend seems fond of entering dangerous territory.”

“It’s a calculated risk.” Jotaro watches him, questions racing like storm clouds behind his careful eyes.

Ah, Joseph was wondering if this conversation would continue on the trip. “Why don’t you lot meet us upstairs when you’re ready?” Joseph suggests to Avdol. He puts an arm around Jotaro’s shoulders. “We’ll try to find dinner seats close to the door.”

Their walk to the dining room Joseph fills with cheerful comments about their friends and inane chatter looking back on the trip thus far. Jotaro finally opens up when the elevator doors close.

“Ever since I can remember, Dad always left the room when Mom would mention you,” he starts, then stops abruptly. Joseph remains quiet until Jotaro finds the right words. His grandson is cautious that way. “It’s like an open secret in our family. But Granny never seems sad about it.”

When Jotaro doesn’t continue, Joseph speaks. “We do what makes us both happy, even if that looks different than what other people think our marriage should look like. It’s our lives, not theirs.” He watches his stony-faced grandson for any flicker of a reaction. “It takes years of hard work and honest conversation to be as fulfilled in our relationship as Suzie and I are. Even with all our history, each day we learn more about ourselves and each other.”

Jotaro looks around the elevator car before meeting Joseph’s eyes. “The person you…met.” Joseph doesn’t flinch. Even in a vulnerable moment, Jotaro needs to look strong to feel strong. To be strong, whatever that means for him. “What’s going to happen after the cruise ends?”

“Are you asking your grandfather what he’s going to do about his one-night stand?” he jokes.

“I’m asking my grandfather what he’s going to do about his wife.”

“Love her,” Joseph says honestly, “like I have loved her for years.”

The car ascends quietly and slowly, the air heavy as Jotaro processes the response. Joseph gives him his time. “Okay.” He nods. “Now I’m asking about your one-night stand.”

Joseph resists a smile. “I know I’m the one who called it a one-night stand, but it’s different than that.” The life that waits for him beyond the cruise doesn’t make his experiences aboard the ship any less real or profound. “We’re closer than that.” He doesn’t want to think about saying goodbye to Caesar. Not yet. There’s still tonight, and another day, or part of one anyway.

The elevator chimes as it arrives on the correct floor. Jotaro blinks, and with that small motion, Joseph watches him shutter away the rest of his unasked questions behind the bored-yet-surly expression only a teenager can manage. Joseph resigns himself with a sigh. They felt close to another breakthrough, one more personal than general discussions of the queer community at large. But for now, it is enough.

With a clap of a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder, Joseph changes the subject. “It’s too bad we didn’t get to try that snorba thing you wanted! Maybe we can all go snorba-ing another time.”

“Snuba,” says Jotaro. They walk from the elevator bay to the dining room. “It’s a combination of snorkeling and SCUBA. We’ve been over this.”

Joseph cackles as they enter. The hall from their first night has been opened up to combine the adjoining sections into one enormous event space. He scans the layout and finds a suitable table for the five of them.

Their friends join them eventually. Kakyoin slides into the seat beside Jotaro and tweaks his ear in an act of affection so small and quick that Joseph could have blinked and missed it, while Avdol and Polnareff take a lap around the room to greet old Stardust Travel contacts. A plated dinner follows, course after course coming out of the kitchens. Everyone seems to stuff themselves to such excess that Joseph wonders how anyone will be fit to sing and dance afterwards.

They manage, of course. Joseph leaves them with enough time to change, style, and make it down in time to snag a decent spot on the sign-up sheet, halfway down the second page. He flips through a few of the blank pages to get a feel for the volume before stepping aside.

He waves at some familiar faces. It’s a comfort to see all the different Queens excited around him, as well as some vacationers in plainclothes signing up to perform.

“Is that you?”

Jotaro stares at him from several feet away. In comparison to the rest of the room, he’s tame, but for himself, the tight animal-print shirt is a wild deviation from his usual dress. It looks a bit small for him. Joseph assumes it’s from Polnareff’s or Avdol’s closet. Beside him, Kakyoin sports a green and red cherry-themed outfit that seems to push him outside of his comfort zone as well, judging by the length of his red shorts.

With a wave of a bejeweled hand, Joseph says, “Hello.” Dressed as Madam Tequila, he knows he’s still recognizable. He didn’t go all-out with his makeup tonight, no painted high eyebrows or over-exaggerated cut creases. Keeping it simple, he stuck with some of his favorite colors: pink eyeshadow and purple liner, bright dots of blush on the apples of his cheeks, and bluish gloss layered over matte violet on his lips. Joseph had considered bringing a wig along, something platinum blond and outrageously curly, but instead decided that securing feathered rhinestone barrettes in his grey hair would suffice. The colorless stones match his set of clip-on chandelier earrings, waterfall necklace, and stacked bracelet. It adds to the old-money glamour of his plum-colored crushed velvet dress with its plunging sweetheart neckline.

The kids swarm around him, shocked and excited. He can’t make out any one single question in the flurry and simply laughs. Jotaro hangs back, slower to warm up, but eventually he pinches at one of Joseph’s slightly puffed Juliet sleeves and nods.

Eventually, the emcee for the night manages to corral a literal boatload of excited gays into some semblance of attention to kick off the night’s entertainment. Soft drinks and cocktails flow readily from the bar. Performer after performer thrills the crowd. Joseph cranes his neck to look for Caesar after each song, but he doesn’t appear. It isn’t cause for worry, not even when the emcee announces a break between songs now that they’ve reached the end of their first page of sign-ups. The night is still young.

“What song are you going to do?” Avdol asks Joseph. He shouts over the crowd and the pop music playing over the speakers.

“They didn’t have any Doris Day,” Joseph says. “What kind of gay cruise doesn’t have any Doris Day?”

Polnareff scoffs. “They have to have at least one. Maybe you didn’t look hard enough.”

“I looked hard enough.” Joseph shakes his head, feeling the earrings swing. He swirls his glass. “I left it blank for now.”

Avdol suggests that Joseph go for Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” which sends the table and several clusters around them into a quick rendition of the chorus.

“No, no.” Joseph laughs when they finish. “I’m sure we’ll hear that from someone here tonight.”

Kakyoin says, “What about ‘Lady Marmalade’ as your song?” Jotaro gives him a strange look. Kakyoin shrugs. “It’s a crowd-pleaser.”

Jotaro shakes his head. “It’s an ensemble performance.”

“He should sing ‘My Neck, My Back’ if he wants people to join in.” Polnareff swings his arm, sloshing his drink over the rim and onto the floor. He doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s a real crowd-pleaser.”

“No,” Jotaro says flatly.

Polnareff ignores him and launches into the lyrics. He makes it halfway through the first verse before falling silent under Jotaro’s glare. “Fine. No Khia.”

By the time the emcee calls his name to give him two songs’ worth of time to come to the stage, the group still hasn’t helped Joseph decide. He excuses himself from the table to flip through the song books again, both with and without vocal tracks for those who want to karaoke and those looking to lip synch.

“You look beautiful.” The smokey voice teases against the shell of Joseph’s ear with a long-familiar accent that sends a shiver through him. A broad hand rubs against the small of Joseph’s back. “I love this color on you.” Lips press a kiss against Joseph’s neck, and Joseph lets his eyes close. “What song will you sing me tonight, tesoro?”

He opens his eyes and turns to look at Caesar. “It’s a surprise.”

Caesar hums, low and melodic, and Joseph wants to pick a duet just so he can hear that voice ring out alongside his own. He wants everyone to stop and take notice. “I should have guessed. You always find a way to make things brand new.”

That’s it! “I think I’ve got my song.” He fills in the space, covering the words with his hand like it’s a test and Caesar’s trying to cheat. “Let me take you to meet my grandson.”

The introduction is far less fraught than Joseph expected. Not that he expected much tension at all, given how many coconut rum punches Polnareff has put away. Caesar takes warmly to Jotaro, coaxing the young man into easy conversation. Joseph almost regrets not introducing them sooner but the timing was always off. This feels good, feels right.

When the emcee calls up Tequila to perform, Caesar sneaks a kisses on the cheek for good luck. Joseph catches Kakyoin’s thoughtful smile and how his attention shifts from Caesar to Jotaro. Polnareff and Avdol whistle in encouragement as Joseph winds through the crowd.

On stage, behind the mic, Joseph waits for the emcee to announce Madam Tequila before waving and throwing kisses to the crowd. The song starts with synth hi-hat and an iconic bassline.

The crowd immediately screams along with the first line. “I made it through the wilderness…”

He finds Caesar in the crowd and performs certain lines for him, belting out Madonna lyrics and sliding his hands up his body. Joseph eats up the attention from the crowd. He returns that energy with every sashay of his hips and shimmy of his shoulders until he’s left short of breath at the end of a four-minute-long performance of boundless exuberance. Spreading his arms, he welcomes the applause.

Upon his return, the table goes wild with supportive applause. Caesar pulls him aside shortly after the table returns its attention to the stage. “I make you feel like a virgin, hm?”

“You keep saying I am one. I’ve embraced it.” Joseph grins, then reaches a hand up. “Let’s go somewhere.” He thumbs the collar of Caesar’s shirt. “After I change back into my civvies. I can’t serve body like I used to, love.”

“Nonsense. You’re a vision.” Caesar grabs Joseph’s wrist, then lifts his hand to press a kiss to Joseph’s knuckles. His moustache tickles against Joseph’s skin. “Any chance you could keep the dress on?”

Joseph grins. “You’re either twenty years or two hours too late.”

“There’s always next time.”

“Cheeky.” Joseph squeezes his hand. “Let’s go.”

---

After a quick detour and a change of clothes, Caesar brings Joseph to the pool deck. It’s a fine evening for a stroll. Several other couples are enjoying their last night outdoors, watching the stars from the pool loungers or leaning against the railings to look out at the sea.

Caesar leads Joseph past them, taking him by the hand all the way to the row of unused cabanas on the back end of the deck. They turn on one of the LED lanterns outside the farthest one before they duck inside.

Its hanging sheets offer them enough coverage to encourage the illusion that they’re the only ones awake on the entire ship. It feels like they could talk about anything and everything in the privacy of those gauzy curtains, settled on the quick-dry sofa. The moon moves overhead as they relax together, and during a lull in the exchange hours later, Caesar pulls something out of his trousers.

Joseph’s breath catches in his throat until he realizes it’s his tube of coral shimmer lipstick.

“Help me put it on again,” Caesar says, pressing the makeup into his palm. It’s warm from his pocket. “I like the way it felt last time.”

Closing his fist around it, Joseph grins. “You stole this.”

“Borrowed it.”

Joseph laughs. “Come closer, my thief.”

Caesar scoots forward until they’re pressed against each other, thigh to thigh. He rests a hand on Joseph’s thigh as he leans forward and offers his chin.

After he uncaps the tube, Joseph twists the lipstick into position. One hand tipping Caesar’s face into the right angle, Joseph applies lipstick to him for the second time that day. It feels like he’s been doing this for years. Caesar hums underneath his fingers.

That feels achingly familiar, too, in a way that Joseph can’t explain.

He finishes up and they both rub their own lips together. Joseph doesn’t want to look away to pop the cap back on the lipstick, but he doesn’t want to miss and scrape the bullet with the edge of the plastic. When he meets Caesar’s eyes again, Caesar grins at him. The sparkles in the lip paint catch the light they left outside the cabana. The content on his face squeezes warmth into Joseph’s heart.

“What are you doing?” Caesar asks. The breeze saunters through the cabana to tease through his fringe.

Joseph wants to tuck the errant lock of grey-blonde hair behind Caesar’s ear and cup his face. “Looking at you.” Caesar lets out a breath of amusement, another one of those soft sounds that Joseph doesn’t want to give up. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how I want to kiss you.”

With a smile, Joseph says quietly, “Then you should stop thinking so much.”

Caesar moves in, using the hand on Joseph’s thigh to lean forward. The kiss is far from their first, and the slide of fresh lipstick between their lips reminds Joseph again of their afternoon together. But everything Joseph’s experienced with Caesar feels new and exciting as much as it feels like an old habit he’s only just rediscovered.

Joseph winds his hands through Caesar’s hair and presses deeper into their kiss. Caesar’s grip on his thigh goes tight before he pulls Joseph towards him. They struggle with their knees on the sofa until Caesar pushes Joseph back enough to speak.

“It pulls out.”

“That’s nice,” Joseph murmurs against Caesar’s moustache as he leans in again. “I don’t.”

Caesar laughs as Joseph wraps him up in his arms. “What I meant was,” Caesar says dodging his kiss. Joseph, unperturbed, simply drops it on his cheek. “It’ll be more comfortable for us if we spend the night out here.”

“We can do that?” Joseph sits back.

With a half-guilty shrug, Caesar hedges, “Well, we can, in a manner of speaking.” Joseph likes the way makeup has smeared from the edges of his lips as he speaks. Likes that he did that, and undid it. “These cabanas aren’t, ah—intended, shall we say?—for overnight use.”

“What are they going to do if they catch us? Make us walk the plank?” He laughs at his own joke. “Come on, then. How do we set it up?”

Switching the sofa to a daybed takes more effort than Joseph anticipated, and much louder than either of them thought, but they manage it without attracting any attention. Joseph, with a grin, holds Caesar close to fit their lips back together. Caesar bears him back down to the cushions, where they spend the last hours before the grey light of predawn. Talking and tumbling and laughing at turns, stretching their time to the very last.

Joseph leads Caesar, hand in hand, from the pool deck once they’ve finished. “Come to bed me,” he says, pressing kisses to each of Caesar’s knuckles. “Wake up beside me one more time.”

“One last night,” Caesar smiles, the coral shimmer long gone from his mouth, “deserves one more morning after.”

---

Joseph wakes at midday among the warmth of a shared bed and immediately falls into the sleepy green eyes that watch him. Only later, prompted by the muffled sound of a half-lost cell phone’s alarm, do they drag themselves from the bed. Caesar lingers in the doorway again, refusing to leave to pack his own cabin until Joseph promises to come see him before they leave.

A flurry of packing up his own stateroom, seeing to Jotaro and Kakyoin, a last jovial meal with their new friends, The day passes quickly in a flurry of activity. Between seeing to Jotaro, rushing to pack up his own stateroom, and one last jovial meal with their new friends, Joseph loses track of time. When Joseph makes time to knock at Caesar’s door, there is no answer. He considers breaking the door down, until his back threatens to seize up in protest, and Joseph turns away.

He’s halfway down the hall when the door opens suddenly, and Joseph whirls around to see that platinum head of hair burst out. “Hello? Joseph?”

“Caesar!”

Their eyes meet. Caesar grins. “Come in. I have something for you, and you have something I want.”

Disembarkation comes too soon after that. Joseph leads Jotaro and Kakyoin down the gangway. He closes his fist around the scrap of paper in his pocket. Tentative plans and a quick exchange of contact information buoy his mood. He lets the excitement carry him through the end of the trip.

At the airport, as they wait for their flights, Jotaro and Kakyoin say their goodbyes. Joseph gives them privacy and uses the time to call Suzie.

“Joseph! Have you and the boys made it back to dry land, safe and sound? How was the cruise?”

“Suzie, my dear, I have so much to tell you.”

At the end of his story, Joseph knows he fell in love with the right woman, and the right man, when she says, “Oh, JoJo, I can’t wait to meet him.”