Work Text:
Spain is entirely Dustin’s fault.
Steve had wanted: one beach, one hotel and approximately zero plans
Dustin somehow turned it into: tiny coastal towns, crowded night markets, scooters Steve is convinced are trying to kill him and “authentic local experiences”, which apparently includes getting hopelessly lost in Barcelona at eleven at night.
“This alley feels illegal,” Steve mutters.
“It’s called culture.”
“It smells like fish and gasoline.”
Dustin grins and keeps walking. Steve follows because unfortunately he’s been following Dustin around willingly for years now.
The street opens into a tiny plaza glowing with warm string lights and loud music spilling from outdoor bars.
People are dancing, someone’s laughing too hard somewhere nearby. The whole city feels alive in a way Steve can physically feel in his chest.
Then Dustin suddenly veers toward a food stand and starts speaking rapid Spanish to the guy behind the counter.
Steve stops walking.
Blinks. Because-
Not awkward tourist Spanish.
Not butchered textbook Spanish.
Fluent. Easy. Fast enough Steve can barely separate the words.
The vendor laughs at something Dustin says and replies immediately. Dustin answers without hesitation. Steve stares openly.
Dustin pays, still chatting casually while accepting two paper trays of food.
Then turns around and immediately freezes.
Because Steve is looking at him like he just witnessed witchcraft.
“…what?”
Steve points at him accusingly.
“You speak Spanish?!”
Dustin blinks.
“…yes?”
“Since WHEN?!”
Dustin laughs once in disbelief.
“Steve.”
“No, no, hold on-” Steve grabs one of the trays automatically while still staring. “You’ve just been HIDING this?” “Hiding - baby, I literally dirty talk to you in Spanish.”
Steve opens his mouth. Stops. The plaza noise suddenly feels very far away.
“…what?”
Dustin stares at him, slowly realizing, then physically folding over laughing.
“Oh my God.”
Steve’s face heats instantly.
“No because WAIT- ”
“You are JUST realizing this?!”
“You say weird shit during sex all the time!”
“IT WASN’T WEIRD SHIT, IT WAS SPANISH.”
Steve feels personally attacked.
“Well how was I supposed to know?!”
Dustin is laughing so hard he can barely stand upright now. People walking past glance at them curiously.
“I cannot believe you thought I was just making sounds.”
“I thought you were being emotionally expressive!”
That makes Dustin laugh harder, Steve grabs his arm before he falls into the street.
“Okay, no, now I need examples.”
Dustin wipes tears from his eyes immediately.
“Oh absolutely not.”
“You brought this on yourself.”
“Nope.”
“Dustin.”
Dustin grins wickedly.
Then leans closer deliberately, too close.
Warm night air.
Music echoing through the plaza.
Steve suddenly very aware of Dustin’s mouth near his ear.
And then Dustin murmurs smoothly into Steve‘s ear, “Mira cómo te pones cuando te hablo así, cariño.”
Steve has absolutely no idea what he said but the tone alone nearly kills him.
And honestly? That’s the problem.
Because Steve loves when Dustin does this.
Loves the low warm cadence of Spanish against his ear. Loves not understanding every word while still understanding exactly what Dustin means. Loves the way Dustin’s voice drops softer and rougher during sex when he switches languages halfway through making Steve lose his mind.
Steve just… somehow never realized it was actual Spanish.
Steve grabs Dustin’s shoulder instantly.
“Oh, that was FILTHY, wasn’t it?”
Dustin looks delighted.
“It means,” he says innocently, “look at how worked up you get when I talk to you like this, sweetheart.”
Steve actually stops walking. The entire plaza keeps moving around them while Steve processes that information in visible horror.
“…you can’t just DO that.”
Dustin beams, “Oh, I’ve said much worse.”
Steve makes a strangled sound.
“Much WORSE?”
“Baby,” Dustin says, laughing again, “half the time you just nod encouragingly.”
“I thought you were praising me!”
“I was!”
“That does not help!”
Dustin is practically glowing with amusement now, then he steps closer again. Close enough that Steve can smell sunscreen and saltwater and whatever cologne Dustin stole from him this morning.
Dustin’s fingers hook briefly through one of Steve’s belt loops. Dangerous.
“Besides,” Dustin murmurs, eyes bright with mischief, “you like it when I talk to you like that.”
Steve opens his mouth. Closes it again.
Because unfortunately:
absolutely true.
Dustin notices the exact second Steve gives up denying it. His grin turns softer. Hotter.
Then he leans in again, “Si te portas bien, quizás lo haga otra vez esta noche.”
Steve stares at him helplessly.
“…okay, I know that was threatening somehow.”
Dustin laughs under his breath.
“It means,” he says smugly, “if you behave, maybe I’ll do it again tonight.”
Steve nearly drops the food.
“Jesus Christ.”
Dustin looks unbearably pleased with himself.
“Okay,” Steve says finally. “Now, because this is psychological warfare now.”
Dustin laughs again and starts walking backward through the plaza just to keep looking at him.
“You love it.”
Steve opens his mouth automatically.
And then-
because he’s an idiot-
decides to attempt Spanish.
Very badly.
He points at himself confidently.
“Uh… yo… um…”
Dustin’s grin grows instantly.
“Oh no.”
Steve ignores him.
Squints in concentration.
Then proudly announces:
“Yo… look forward-o… tonight.”
Dustin physically stops walking.
Then doubles over laughing so hard he nearly drops the food.
Steve groans.
“Shut up, that was close.”
“That was NOT close!”
“You understood me!”
“Barely!”
Steve tries again anyway because apparently humiliation is his passion now.
“Estoy…” he starts carefully, “very excited… for the… sexy español?”
Dustin makes the single most tortured noise Steve has ever heard.
“Oh my God, baby.”
Steve’s face is burning now but he’s laughing too.
“What?! I’m trying to communicate!”
“You sound like a divorced dad trying to flirt on Duolingo.”
Steve points accusingly, “That app owl is aggressive.”
Dustin is still laughing helplessly when Steve grabs the back of his neck and pulls him closer before he can escape.
“Hey,” Steve mutters. “You don’t get to laugh at me when this is your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You unlocked something in me.”
That somehow makes Dustin blush harder than the Spanish attempt did, which Steve finds deeply satisfying.
Dustin ducks his head briefly, smiling helplessly now.
Then quietly, teasing again, “Maybe I’ll teach you properly later.”
Steve immediately forgets every remaining word in English too.