FANDOM: RPS
TITLE: An Interlude
SUMMARY: Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez. Needed to write something short and silly to take my mind off of things.
WORDS: 449
RATING: PG-13

Quentin groans when his cellphone rings - it just so happens that it occurs at the exact same time Robert crawls on top of him.

"Fuck," Quentin grumbles, reaching for the phone. Robert grabs his wrist and stops him from picking up.

"I thought I told you to turn that off," Robert complains. "This always happens." He tries to shake the phone out of Quentin's grip but Quentin holds on. "You're not answering it."

"I have to answer it, dude, it's Uma."

"How the hell do you know it's Uma?"

Quentin makes a face. "The ringtone, idiot."

"Uma has her own ringtone?" Robert looks perturbed by this fact, and also a little bit jealous. He lets go of Quentin's hand.

Quentin brings the phone up to his ear. "Uma? Hey, doll." Robert rolls his eyes. He mimics Quentin silently, batting his eyelashes. This earns him a shove in the chest. "No, no, it's fine; you didn't interrupt anything."

"Liar," Robert mutters, pouting. Quentin wrinkles his nose and warns Robert to shut up with his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, Robert's here," Quentin says, still on the phone. Robert continues to frown until a flicker of amusement passes over his face. He leans over Quentin and runs a finger down his side. "What are we doing? Oh, we're -" Robert starts to suck on Quentin's collarbone, running his tongue up to Quentin's neck. Robert bites him playfully. "Movie!" Quentin shouts into the receiver. "We're, ah, watching a movie." A pause. "No, yeah, it's cool, don't worry about it. Yeah, I'll talk to you later."

Quentin hangs up and chucks the phone across the room. "I'm going to fucking murder you," Quentin hisses. Robert grins and settles down against Quentin's side, one leg still thrown over Quentin's knee.

"Do I have my own ringtone?" Robert asks flirtatiously. Quentin nods. "What is it?"

"If you think I'm going to tell you after that debacle, you're clearly out of your mind," Quentin responds. He tightens his arm around Robert in attempt to settle him down and get off the subject.

"Oh, come on, tell me."

"No."

"I'll call you."

"You will not. Shut up and stay here," Quentin demands, but Robert is already reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. Quentin tries to wrestle him away, but Robert successfully pulls the phone out. He hits the number two. "Two? Two? I'm not even the first person in your caller ID?"

"One is voicemail," Robert claims. Quentin's cellphone, which landed in front of the closet, begins to buzz and vibrate.

The intro to "You Sexy Thing" starts to play.

Robert starts to cackle, poking Quentin repeatedly in the chest.

"You maniac, you can't be serious..."