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fearhims3lf · 3 months

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TIMING: A few weeks ago

PARTIES: @vanishingreyes @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Mateo invites Xóchitl over for some homemade pozole, and the two discover some scary truths.

WARNINGS: None

The stew simmered quietly, the meat sizzling in the neighboring pan as Mateo hummed to the music playing from his speakers. Angel, just a few feet away, lay in her bed, sleeping soundly. Wicked’s Rest had never felt more like home, but the ache and longing for Temple was still persistent. He took a deep breath and exhaled, moving on as quickly as he could to focus on making the red sauce for the stew.

He threw everything in, letting it all mix together with a press of a button to bring the blender to life. A knock at the door took Mateo’s attention for a moment, and he quickly called for his new pet. “Angel, c’mere.” Her tendrils writhed, moving toward him with care. Mateo smiled adoringly, taking a few extra moments with Angel before sending her to her room. He couldn’t exactly let Xóchitl see her, could he? Or anyone, really. Next best thing was giving her her own room so she could sleep soundly with plenty of enrichment to keep her busy.

“Okay…” He trailed off, wiping his hands on his apron before walking to the door and opening it with a grin. “About time you showed up.” A tease, really. Xóchitl was actually on time, but Mateo could never help himself when it came to things like that. “Pozole isn’t done yet, but you can make yourself at home. You know the drill.” Walking away to the stove, Mateo trusted Xóchitl to close the door and get settled in while he finished dinner. It’d become a sort of routine for them, one that made him question a few things, but he wasn’t the type to linger.

She just wanted to go and get food, and so what if maybe she felt a little safer around Mateo? There wasn’t anything worth analyzing in that, other than the fact that he was fantastic to sleep with, and they’d developed something sort of routine, even, and Xóchitl certainly didn’t need that, but she also wasn’t complaining. Having someone else make her food, especially food that made her think of home, wasn’t bad in any way, shape, or form.

“Well, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll make it up to you later.” She wrapped her fingers around his shirt, pulling him close before giving him a small bop on the nose, before dropping her hand from his shirt. “I’ve got my shoes off, and I feel plenty comfortable. I could use a drink, though.” Xóchitl hummed, a smirk (that she probably hoped was alluring) crossing over her lips.

She nodded. “I’m already in something cute,” Xóchitl pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. “How much longer until it’s ready, do you think? I can be patient, though, it’s well worth it, that much I know.”

“Yeah, you better be sorry, ma. But you’re right. You are already in something cute.” Mateo smirked, confident and playful, enjoying the tease Xóchitl had in return. It was enough to keep himself from recoiling at the intimacy of it all. Hiding behind stolen glances and good old fashioned bullying always made it easier to believe he wasn’t feeling a bit more than just friendship.

“I’ll get started on that drink. The usual, right?” The mare began a dance he knew well, moving to his bar and pouring everything he needed to make Xóchitl her favorite drink. “We got about another twenty…thirty minutes or so. Plenty of time to just…” Trailing off with a semi-awkward smirk, Mateo looked toward the couch and then back to his bar, pouring himself a whiskey to sip on. “Whatever you want, really.”

“I’d say you’d need to get your eyesight checked if you didn’t already think I was in something cute. Which goes for pretty much whatever I wear…” So maybe she was being a bit too cocky about all of this, but it was easy to relax around Mateo, and Xóchitl wasn’t going to focus too much on that, or whatever that might have implied.

“The usual sounds perfect,” she cooed, just slightly, following his gaze to the couch. “I mean, I do like lying down on the couch…” Xóchitl bit her lip. “But we could do anything you’d like. You are the host, after all, I’m happy to go with the flow.” Which she was, usually, but perhaps, on some level, even more with him, and people like him, because she felt comfortable. “You know if you let me have my way at least some of that time will be spent with my lips on yours.” Flirting was easy and comfortable.

“Whatever.” Mateo rolled his eyes in jest, taking his drink and plopping himself on the sofa with a smile that faded slowly. By the time Xóchitl placed herself in her usual spot, the mare rotated the glass of whiskey in his hands, pondering. There was plenty of time to have a little fun, but for some reason, for the first time in what seemed like…ever, Mateo didn’t feel like moving to his home’s favorite spots. The bedroom, or the couch, or as Xóchitl had said it before, the walls. He, oddly, wanted to talk, but his voice wouldn’t comply. Instead, he sat there quietly, idly rotating his glass for a minute or two before snapping himself back into focus.

“Sorry, ma.” He cleared his throat and grabbed the remote to flip on the television to keep himself from fully reacting to what Xóchitl had said. It automatically turned to a music channel that was pre-programmed. Much to his relief, the music was something lively and a bit distracting. Though it wasn’t enough to keep Mateo from awkwardly tensing up when he looked back at Xóchitl. She was his friend, and they’d already agreed that developing a crush wasn’t an option. Hooking up only. And the occasional night over with some cooked meals, too. But none of that meant anything to Xóchitl like it did to Mateo, did it? He didn’t think it was possible. It wasn’t. Not for a guy like him. Not when he hadn’t even told her exactly who he was. She only knew a certain version of Mateo. It was him, truly him, but if she knew the rest, would she stay? Not even as a girlfriend, but as a friend at all? He didn’t think so. But that didn’t really stop him from blurting out something stupid, with his voice bordering on soft.

“I like it when your lips are on mine.”

“I – what?” Xóchitl shook her head, jumping just slightly when he turned on the television and some sort of music came on. It was a welcome distraction from where her thoughts kept wandering, kept her from having to rein them quite as frequently. Because maybe she had said something a step too far, being softer rather than the more usual forwardness. Talking about just lips was romantic, she figured, at least to an extent, and that wasn’t what they were. So the music was great, and she let her thoughts be partially carried off and away.

Except then he was responding, and the music was no longer any sort of a good distraction. “We seem to be in agreement on that.”

She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was doing, but soon enough she found herself sitting on his lap, straddling him, but in a sort of gentle, soft, and wholly-unlike-the-two-of-them way. “This okay?” Xóchitl asked, suddenly shy, suddenly brushing her nose against his, her lips against his. Soft, in trepidation, at first, before more fully, yet still not with the usual urgency that came along with their meetings.

“Do we have to eat?” She pouted, wide-eyed. “I think I like where I’m sitting right now.” She also liked how soft his gaze was, how he smiled secretly as a new song came on. A smile that wasn’t for show or anything other than appreciation of the music. “But I also like everything you make, so I can be persuaded. Probably.”

“Yeah.” He whispered, “It’s okay. I like it.” I like you. Was what he wanted to say, but he thought better of it knowing his place. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Xóchitl to find herself on top. She was there so often because that was one of Mateo’s favorite views. But when he looked up like he had done many times before, her eyes were different, and so were his. Then, when she became playful and entirely way too soft for what they were supposed to be, Mateo smiled with a bit of apprehension, unsure whether he should continue to let himself live in the dream. After all, he was, and always would be, a nightmare.

“This is different.” Mateo muttered, ripping off the bandaid and forcing himself awake. “Um…I, uh…” A bewildered sigh escaped him, and it was all he could do to not back out of what needed to be done. “It’s been feeling different—to me. I don’t know. I’m fucking this all up, but if I don’t say nothing, it’s all gonna go to shit even worse so…” With his eyes tightened shut, Mateo leaned his head back onto the headrest of the couch and groaned. He didn’t know how to word it all, or whether or not he should just be blunt. It was the much simpler route, but it was faster, too. Which meant he thought he was on the brink of seeing Xóchitl walk out the door.

“Sorry.”

“Glad you like it.” She looked down at him, her smile once again far more gentle than the usual sort of look that she gave him. His look almost seemed to match hers, though, which was as equally terrifying as it was charming. Xóchitl enjoyed the feeling that this particular position gave her, and as much as she loved ( – or rather enjoyed – loved seemed too strong of a word) looking up at Mateo, there was a certain feeling of satisfaction that came with sitting in a position of power.

And he had said that he liked women in positions of power, hadn’t he?

“It’s –” her words caught in her throat. “You’re – I – it’s. Yeah.” Xóchitl wasn’t sure what to say, or if Mateo even wanted her to respond, so instead she ran her hands up and under his shirt, pressed her lips against his. “Let me take care of you, alright?” Except that he was apologizing, and she pulled away, pulled up the shoulder of her top, and looked at him in intense confusion. “Why are you sorry?” She did her best to have it not sound overly harsh, or even slightly judgemental, but she wasn’t sure how well she did in succeeding at that. “Do you want me to stop?” Her lips remained centimeters away from his, and she could smell him so easily, and it was such a comforting smell that she nearly winced.

“You don’t have to take care of me.” He shook his head, getting a little distracted by the hands trailing over his skin, and the pressure on his lap. How was he supposed to think in those conditions? Mateo swallowed a groan down and looked to the ceiling to avoid Xóchitl’s gaze a little longer. There was no turning back anymore. He’d begun opening the can of worms, and they were creeping out before the lid was even fully removed.

“It’s not that, Xó. It’s not…” Mateo absentmindedly traced patterns on Xóchitl’s skin, no real rhyme or reason to the movements. He just liked her warmth and wanted to soak up as much of it as he could before he ruined it all. Because villains didn’t get the girl, did they? Murderers weren’t meant to love without horrible consequences, and Xóchitl didn’t deserve that. Pain was inevitable, a crucial part of life, but Mateo didn’t want to be the cause. He much rather bring out her smile and laughter. That’s what he was after, all that time. He was going to miss seeing it. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore.

“I fucked up.” His entire body tensed, and he rubbed at this scalp a few times as he forced himself to keep going. “I, um…you’re not…” Come on, Mateo, just say it. “I know we weren’t supposed to do more than fuck, but I, uh, yeah. I fucked up.” That was clear, right?

“But I like taking care of people.” She didn’t like that her voice had turned whiny, but she also found herself wholly unable to do just about anything other than whine. His whole body was cold – it always was – but she didn’t mind. She’d never minded – or asked about it, but it wasn’t like his being cold (physically, at least) had any significant effect on their arrangement.

Except then he was looking away from her and saying other things and those made Xóchitl only want to focus on the physical, because none of what he was saying made any sort of sense given what they were. What they’d explicitly agreed to. Besides, she’d seen how people looked at him in public, and though she was not even the slightest bit in doubt about her good looks (not to the point of self-centeredness, but just a healthy appreciation of reality), but the way people looked at Mateo had a certain sort of hunger to it, and she didn’t want to think that she’d switch him off of wanting to flirt with everyone.

Unless he was like her – though she still didn’t know this for certain, either – and could become infatuated with more than one person at once. It gave Xóchitl a headache, having suddenly gone from actively avoiding friends (to still end up with a few) to having multiple people she cared about, and people who’d gone past just –

Fucking. Yes, that was what they’d agreed to. It was an abrasive word in some ways, but fit. Energetic, thrilling, but then over. Except then she’d started staying over, and she liked his bed, and Xóchitl liked being in a bed with someone else, and … she needed to focus on what he was saying, though her hands hadn’t been able to stop themselves from running along his chest. “How – what – I’m a ditz right now, Mateo, I’m – you’re going to have to clarify, so I don’t run off with some assumption. Some assumption I might think, but it’s –” she pulled her own shirt over her head, and then sat there, frowning for a moment. “I - instinct.” Was all she said.

How much clearer could he get? Albeit, the statement was maybe, purposely, accidentally vague. After all, what was the concept of thinking anyway? “Ma…” He trailed off. Thinking was difficult, near impossible, when pretty, warm hands were dragging across his chest. And it was only going to get worse with Xóchitl sitting there with no shirt on and a pout on her face. Mateo was beginning to lose his nerve. If he had one at all in the first place.

“You ain’t a ditz. I’m just…not being as clear as I should be. I’ve never done this before and-and we agreed, ya know? We agreed to not…do this.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned, leaving a few moments of silence between the pair. When he finally broke it, Mateo returned his gaze to meet Xóchitl’s. He was memorizing her, scanning every feature he could to commit her to memory. Her presence had been a comfort on more than one occasion, and fun in every single one. Sometimes he’d watch her sleep when she talked during a dream, never daring to feed on them. In fact, when she stirred, many times, Mateo would lull her back to slumber with a careful touch. She always rose in the morning looking fully rested, much to his relief. He was going to miss that.

Finding his nerve, Mateo swallowed thickly with his eyes shut. With a final deep breath, his brown eyes met hers, soft and anxious, and he leaned forward to give Xóchitl what he thought was a final kiss. It was thoughtful and slow, a tenderness Mateo thought impossible to produce. Pulling back, the mare sighed. “I caught those damn feelings. For you.” He confessed, adjusting his seat uncomfortably as the truth hung in the air. As he waited for Xóchitl to walk away from his mistake. “I like you. I’m sorry.”

Her distraction seemed to be doing its job, but then Mateo wasn’t even totally focusing on her and Xóchitl hated that she cared about that beyond her usual craving for attention (so maybe her parents dressing her up as Tinkerbell when she was three made some kind of sense), how she didn’t want him to look at her with anything but desire, but desire laced with care, and she couldn’t focus on that right now. Focusing on his body and how much she wanted to kiss it was much easier.

“We agreed.” Xóchitl echoed his words. His gaze on hers felt almost more intimate than them being completely naked in bed had been. Which was strange, because she would’ve expected that sex would have been the most vulnerable a person could have been – yet in the same train of thought, she had to acknowledge that sex wasn’t too vulnerable for her, because it was somewhere where she felt comfortable and incredibly at ease. This? Not so much. She slept easier around Mateo, and she couldn’t totally explain why. She liked waking up to his breakfasts, enjoyed talking with him until she drifted off to sleep, impressed by how he never seemed to get tired before she did.

“You don’t – don’t say sorry.” She kissed him back, blinking rapidly, trying to process what he’d said. Feelings. Which they weren’t supposed to do, full stop. Getting close meant bad things could happen, and she was already close enough just by staying over as often as she did. “Feelings are natural – it’s – it’s stupid to make rules like that, right? Lo siento, Mateo – I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Xóchitl steadied her breath, wondered if she should move, but instead brought her hand to his jaw, kissed him again. “I like you too. A lot. I feel safe with you, and you’re one of the first people I think of when I want to share something good that happened – I – but I’m not – I’ve never done relationships. It’s not – I don’t know if I’m girlfriend material.”

Mateo raised his brows slowly with surprise, an unsteady feeling circling his stomach and twisting it. He kept people at a distance, molded an image that held his most genuine traits while withholding the messier side of himself. Killing people as an undead creature of nightmares wasn’t something just anyone could accept. It was just easier to keep those things hidden, especially when there were hunters out there trying to kill people like the mare. But Xóchitl was no hunter, and whether Mateo wanted to admit it or not, she had become important to him. So few people could make him consider such a leap, but she was definitely one of them. He knew better than anyone that the truth couldn’t stay hidden forever. If Xóchitl liked Mateo back too, then there was only a matter of time before she discovered every part of him.

That idea terrified him, but the possibility of never getting a chance at all scared him more. He didn’t know how that made him feel, and it didn’t really matter. Not anymore. Xóchitl had confirmed the impossible, and Mateo let himself take on a softer disposition. Like he always did around her. She just rarely had a chance to see it because he was always helping her back to sleep. “I’ve never done this shit either, Xó. I mean, you saw how long it took me to just say anything at all.” Mateo paused, looking at Xóchitl softly and taking her hand in comfort. If anyone didn’t have the capability to be any sort of worthy material, it was Mateo. At least, that was his opinion. What came out though, was a reply far more thoughtful and sincere. Maybe a little hopeful, too. “I think…I think we get to decide what that material is.” He shrugged, “Like, I decide what makes the material for my girlfriend, and you decide for your boyfriend. Everything else is just…” With another shrug, he locked eyes with Xóchitl, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. “Nerves. You know?” Mateo would like to think he did, but truthfully, he was completely lost and acting from the thing in his chest he reserved for his family.

She’d distinctly made an effort to not get too close to anybody. It had already failed with a few, but that had been all friendship-adjacent. This was something entirely different, wholly new, and completely strange. Xóchitl liked the way that he made her feel, even if he didn’t know everything about her. Even if, despite all the complicated feelings that arose whenever she thought about him – or them together – she didn’t know if she wanted him to know everything, because maybe knowing everything would shatter some sort of illusion that he had of her. She did figure that whatever his vision of who she was was better than she actually was. She didn’t want to shatter that view that he might’ve had of her, because maybe (or more than maybe), she liked the fact that he might have thought of her highly.

“Fair enough.” She giggled, “it did take you a while to say that. I thought you were just going to ask me to do something extra strange in the bedroom. Which, still not opposed, but I – I like this.” She nodded between them, “this is nicer. Softer, ‘teo.” Xóchitl let him take her hand and she rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. “I – yeah.” She didn’t especially enjoy feeling at a loss for words, but she did, and she couldn’t help herself, now, and Mateo had been honest with her and wasn’t she supposed to show him some honesty in return? “That’s true. Yeah. We can decide. Because fuck the norms of whatever society expects boyfriends and girlfriends to be.” His thumb was on the back of her hand now and it was maddeningly distracting, so much so that she had to close her eyes for a moment. “Yeah – nerves. I – same. I’m – those are a thing.” She opened her eyes and kissed him again. “So – I – wait, is your food going to burn? Not that I’m even really thinking about that now, but I’d prefer to not be the cause of your house catching fire, or your hard work going to waste.” She sat back a moment. “That does mean I have to get off, and I don’t like the idea of that much at all.”

Relief washed over Mateo, and despite not needing air, he was greedy for it with a deep and calming inhale. He sighed, thankful that he wasn’t the only one stumbling over his words. It was nice to not be alone, and to have feelings returned. He’d never been proven wrong like that before, even found that it wasn’t so bad to not be right. “Yeah.” Mateo agreed with a nod and a smile, “Fuck norms. All of ‘em.” With a chuckle, he moved his hands up Xóchitl’s arms, trailing his way to her shoulders and down her back. He’d long forgotten about the pozole, but knowing himself, Mateo had already set the stove to an appropriate temperature in case the two got way too distracted.

“Left that baby on simmer. You and I tend to…” He bobbed his head back and forth, making a playful face at Xóchitl. “You know. Time usually gets away from us. But I mean, who says you have to get off?” Bouncing his brows, Mateo placed his hands firmly on Xóchitl’s hips and rose from the sofa. She was secure in his arms, her face close enough for several more pecks to her lips and cheeks. He opted to focus on the walk to the kitchen instead, placing her on the counter next to the stove. “Hmm…” Mateo took a few sniffs from the pluming steam, humming with satisfaction at the smell. It was ready to eat, and he clapped his hands together before looking back to Xóchitl to give her his full attention once more.

“With confessions outta the way, do you wanna pour some bowls and…” His smile faltered at the idea of discussion, knowing he’d likely have to delve into the subject of emotions, of which he avoided often. But, if Mateo was allowing himself to feel something more than lust for someone, didn’t that mean he could possibly be evolving in other places, too? He swallowed nervously, sighing. “Talk. We should probably talk…more. You know?”

His hands were trailing around her back and it, once again, distracted her from any other thoughts she might’ve had. It was a certain delightful distraction. “Fuck the norms.” She repeated, once again. Xóchitl didn’t like to consider herself someone easily at a loss for words, but right now she very much was.

“That’s true, we do tend to get distracted. I’m impressed we’re still talking given that I have my shirt off, but…” Xóchitl shook her head. She was deflecting again, and she knew that she was, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Except then he was picking her up and she didn’t even have time to fully comment on what was going on before it was already happening and she had to admit that it wasn’t so bad at all. In fact, there was a certain sort of delicate intimacy to it all, and that made her both completely calm and utterly unnerved. It was also endearing to watch Mateo move around the kitchen, and she loved how at home he looked, and how his smile looked, and how lovely his humming was.

Then he’d turned back to her and she did nearly a double take, trying to register all that was going on, trying to jolt herself out of whatever half-trance she’d been in. “What, you aren’t going to feed me while I’m shirtless on your kitchen counter?” Xóchitl grinned, another eyebrow raised. “But … yeah. We should do that. Bowls and stuff and also talking.”

Mateo laughed at Xóchitl’s remark, looking at the pot and then back to her. “You want me to feed you hot-ass caldo while you’re shirtless? Isn’t that, like, how you get burned?” Still, he grabbed the ladle and the dish towel hanging from the oven handle. Slowly, he filled the ladle’s bowl and planted it carefully onto the towel to eliminate the possibility of dripping or spilling onto Xóchitl’s skin. “Here, ya big baby.” There was a wink added to the end of the statement, accompanied by Mateo’s signature shit-eating grin.

“Say ‘ah…’” He tilted the stew into her mouth and arched a playful brow before placing everything aside. “There. Happy?” She did, at least by Mateo’s observation, and he smiled even bigger in return with a soft tug to his lips. There was a terrifying nature to the entire encounter, but it didn’t seem so bad in the moment and it didn’t make his smile faster that time. Mateo could let himself enjoy what they had, if only for a little while. Ruining things was in his nature, but he’d take great care with the fall and accept whatever comes.

“Come on.” He kissed Xóchitl one more time, lingering his lips above hers for a few seconds before helping her down from the counter to get to work on their bowls. “Go sit down. I’ll get the food and drinks together, and then join you.”

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #scared to be lonely #xochitl and mateo #c: xochitl

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