A/N: This is weird. Completely dialogue between David and Racetrack. Implied slash and hetero. Enjoy... I hope?

Also: Any Italian LYRICS, I got from the Internet and therefore may be screwed up. Race's conversational Italian was pretty much my basic knowledge, but it is possible to be a bit screwy a well.

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, but I DO own Nicoletta. Or at least the idea of her since she's not so super real in this fic... I also don't own ABBA, Mamma Mia, Gone With the Wind, "Bridge Over Troubled Water," Andrea Bocelli, Mary J. Blige, or anything else I reference in this monstrous oddity.


"Hey, c'mon, Racetrack. We gotta move if we're gonna get there in time."

"Ciao, David, caro mio!"

"Um, yeah, hi. Get in."

"Buon Giorno!"

"Race, I've told you before, American men do not kiss each other as-keep your tongue where it belongs-you are American, Race. You're from Schenectady."

"Io parlo solo Italiano!"

"Race, you've lived here longer than I have, and just because your apartment is in Little Italy does NOT make you Italian."

"David! I am highly offended! The Italian language was a large factor in my traditional upbringing!"

"So it's about a girl, then."

"NO! Never! Figlio di puttana!"

"Well, jeez, no need to get nasty about it! So what's her name?"

"Nicoletta, and she is as sweet as a kalamata."

"... Kalamatas are the most bitter of olives."

"You see my point."

"O-Kay, well, this is our turn, right?"

"Right, hop on the bridge after the light up here. I wish Nicoletta would hop on-"

"RACETRACK I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH-"

"-board already with NYU so we can get an apartment next year."

"-Oh. Well. That's reasonable."

"So we can have raging jungle sex at every opportunity."

"I hate you."

"Oh, oh, oh! Turn it up!"

"Oh, man. Andrea Bocelli is my mom's obsession, I swear... I can't believe she left this CD in the car again..."

"Sei hai paura. Piangera' E dentro gli'occhi tuoi la …"

"No, just-just stop. You are crooning, Racetrack. CROONING. In MY car."

"Il correrera' e' l'asiugero'… C'mon, Davey, be Mary J.!"

"NO."

"Il sole rivertrai; like a bridge over troubled waters, I will laaaaaaay thee down!"

"Seriously, I don't even know why I drive you everywhere."

"It's my sexy Italian body. And, I'm your only friend."

"I have plenty of friends, thank you."

"Oh, yeah? Name one."

"Jack!"

"Friends don't give friends head on a daily basis, Dave. He doesn't count."

"Well, you're not exactly a social butterfly yourself, Mister I-get-all-my-friends-drunk-and-take-their-money."

"Mr. Jacobs, I do declare!"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

"I sat through FOUR HOURS of listening to you complain through the Gone With the Wind movie about how much better the book was! And we just quoted it in casual conversation."

"I quoted it, not you, and NOTHING is casual about this conversation."

"She's Irish, I'm Italian, it wouldn't have worked out. I really have no reason to care about Scarlett O'Hara, and yet I watched the whole movie because I am just that freaking awesome. Please, Davey!"

"FINE. When you're down and out, when you're on the street... When evening falls, when it falls so hard I will comfort you. I'll take your pa-a-aaaaart-"

"OKAY FINE YOU WIN. David, darling, would you PLEASE change the music selection?"

"Why, of course, Racetrack, darling."

"Um... David... In what world is ABBA acceptable under any circumstance as a male?"

"Hey! I'm driving you, asshole! And you're the one that cried through the ending of Mamma Mia!"

"I was in a delicate post-breakup depression!"

"Oh, yeah? What was her name?"

"... Doesn't matter! I felt it!"

"You felt the power of the pop tunes! ABBA is God!"

"... I can't believe that just came out of your mouth."

"It never happened, so what is there to believe?"

"That I'm locked in a car with a homosexual disco diva?"

"Oh, come on, I am so not a diva."

"Your rolling eyes beg to differ..."

"Shut up, Racetrack."

"And your inability to say something to me without crinkling up your nose like that..."

"Shut UP, Racetrack."

"And now you're eyes are closed because you and your diva-ness can't bear the sight of me..."

"Racetrack! EUGH!"

"Dude, that SO spoke for itself. I need some straight friends."

"Spot is straight."

"Spot makes out with anything that has a mouth. Including my sister."

"Gross..."

"TELL me about it. I need to wait for her realize he's a manslut that's never going to call her before we can be seen together in public again."

"Poor Maria, but really, Spot? Even Jack wouldn't sleep with him."

"That would be like the two of us sleeping together."

"EW."

"What, Davey? Don't I turn you on?"

"I don't like the turn this conversation has taken."

"You wanna get diiiiiiirty? You wanna be seeeeexxxxxxy?"

"NO."

"I can borrow Jack's cowboy hat; I bet you's have fun with THAT in bed..."

"You know, interestingly enough, I'm the gay one in this conversation. At least, I thought so..."

"Oh, no. I like girls. Girls like Nicoletta, and her Italian curves... My, oh, my, what that girl-"

"AND WE'RE HERE. So get out of my car."

"You know, Dave, I still don't know why you drive me to work every day."

"To be honest, I'm not really sure either."

"It's okay. We bond so well during our car rides, don't we, buddy?"

"No."

"Of course we do."

"I'll see you at six. We're going out to celebrate Jack's birthday."

"I bet I know how you'll celebrate tonight when-"

"OKAY GOODBYE RACETRACK!"

"-you order that special dessert he loves. Geez, jumpy much? I guess I have that effect on people... Too charming for my own good."

"Hey, Racetrack!"

"Hiya, Jack! Guess what you're doing tonight?"

"Whassat?"

"Well, I know David has this thing for your Cowboy persona..."