Nacho’s chest hurt like a bitch as he sat on the steps leading to the back of the ambulance, watching as the crime scene techs took the vest that had saved his life into evidence. His uniform was unbuttoned, revealing the giant bruise that was forming just above his heart. He shivered as he looked down at it, not just from the chilly December air but also from how close he’d come to-
He shook his head. No fucking way was he going to sit there feeling sorry for himself. He focused on the scene surrounding him instead, a small sound of surprise bubbling out of him when he spotted Andres getting out of his annoyingly expensive car.
Andres ran between the cops and reporters milling about, searching frantically for something. His eyes went wide as they landed Nacho, the look of relief washing over his face apparent even from several yards away. He bounded towards Nacho like a giant fucking puppy dog, crashing excitedly into him and pulling him into a tight hug.
“Ow,” Nacho groaned, and then immediately regretted it when Andres jumped away from him.
“Shit, sorry! God, Nacho, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. I heard Luis’s distress call over the scanner, and I just…,” He stopped himself from saying anything more, letting out a deep breath as he gathered Nacho into his arms again, more gently this time. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
Nacho smiled a little, his pain seeming to recede a bit when he was wrapped up in Andres’s warm embrace. “I’m sorry, I…I won’t. I’m okay,” he assured him, patting his back awkwardly.
Andres pulled back, his eyes raking over Nacho’s entire body like he needed to be sure that he really was okay. He lifted a hand to his bruise, softly skimming his fingers over the tender skin as his mouth formed a tight line. “I’ll fucking kill him,” he swore, dropping his hand and looking around.
“Alright, big fella. Calm down.”
“Where is he, Nacho?” he demanded.
“I shot the motherfucker,” Nacho yelled, raising his voice so that he could be just as loud and ridiculous as Andres.
A smile tugged at the corner of Andres’s frown. “You did?” he asked, his smile getting bigger when Nacho nodded. “Is he dead?”
“No, he’s not dead,” Nacho laughed. “I got him in the shoulder, and Luis tackled him.”
Andres nodded knowingly. “I figured someone who looks like you had to be a terrible shot.”
Nacho rolled his eyes. “Sorry I was too busy, you know, being shot to aim properly. I could kick your ass at the shooting range any day. Blindfolded,” he tacked on at the end, just to get his point across.
Andres sat down next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and leaning into him. “That sounds a lot like a challenge, and you know I never turn down a challenge. Especially one that involves you being blindfolded.”
“Fuck off,” Nacho nudged him away with his shoulder, making sure that he didn’t push him hard enough to actually make him move. Not because he liked the way Andres’s arm felt wrapped around him, but because it was really cold out, and Andres was really fucking warm. A space heater would have done the job just as well, but Nacho didn’t see any laying around, so Andres was just going to have to do.
“Listen. I’m taking you out this weekend, no arguments. We’re gonna get shitfaced and celebrate you still being alive.”
“I dunno if that’s a good idea, An-,” he started.
“Hey, what did I say?” Andres asked, pressing a finger to Nacho’s lips to cut him off. “No arguments. I’ve been meaning to go to the club Eva works at anyway, and I think she’s scheduled for Friday night, right?”
“She is,” Nacho admitted, trying not to think about how many dark corners there’d be at the club for him to push Andres into, so that he could-
“Perfect! It’s a date then,” Andres declared, sending a flutter of excitement through Nacho at the word date. “Luis and Martin and whoever else you want to invite can come too.“
So, not a date then. Which was totally fine with Nacho, it really was. Better than fine. The only way he’d want it, honestly.
Andres ran his hand up and down Nacho’s back a few times before standing up. "I’m gonna call Eva and let her know you’re alright, and I’ll see you Friday. Try not to put yourself in any life threatening situations before then, okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” Nacho grumbled, though he was secretly pleased at how worried Andres seemed to be.
“Good boy,” Andres praised him, and god fucking dammit why did Nacho like the sound of that? He ran a hand through his hair as Andres walked away, reminding himself that immediately following a trauma was not a good time to develop a new kink.
By the time Friday night rolled around Nacho couldn’t fucking wait to get out of the house. It’d been nice being on leave from work for the first day or two, especially with his sisters fawning over him, but Andres’d had to switch his shifts around in order to be able to go out tonight, meaning that they hadn’t been able to hang out all week. Not that Nacho missed him or anything. He was just sick of being surrounded by women.
Women who were surrounding him at that very moment, all of them weighing in with their opinions on what he should wear. He ignored them all, having already decided on the black v-neck sweater that showed off the upper edge of his bruise, which he figured made him look even tougher than normal. He grabbed a few rings from the box he kept shoved under the coffee table and sat back, pretty fucking confident that he looked downright irresistible. Not that he was planning to seduce anyone or anything. He just had a reputation to uphold.
He looked at Eva, who was already dressed in the skimpy black dress her boss claimed was a uniform, a question occurring to him. “So Eva, do you like, like anyone at the moment?”
She paused where she was flipping through Paula’s workbook to glance up at him. “Is this about Andres?” she asked with a sigh.
“Of course it’s about Andres,” Evelyn cut in. “Nacho talks about him constantly.”
Nacho glared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. “I do not,” he scoffed.
“Oh, come off it, Nacho. Yesterday I mentioned that Marcos’s parents might get him a car for his birthday, and you were all like ‘Andres’s got a car, blah blah blah.’"
"Well, you were talking about cars and Andres does have a car so…I’m failing to see your point.”
“My point is that you like him. Like, like him like him. Otherwise you wouldn’t bring him up all the time, and you wouldn’t have just spent an hour fixing your hair,” Evelyn pointed out.
“It took me that long to fix it because someone used all of my gel and didn’t tell me,” he reminded her. “And anyways, none of that means anything.”
“Okay, Nacho, keeping telling yourself that,” she murmured dismissively.
“I like Mr. Andres,” Paula said as she climbed up onto the sofa to sit next to Nacho. “And he likes me best.”
“I dunno, Pau, I think he might like me best,” he told her gently, because it wasn’t right for someone to go around spreading lies, no matter how young they were.
“Unh unh,” she insisted, getting up on her knees so that she could glare at Nacho. “I’m his favorite."
He groaned, turning his attention back to Eva before he got into an argument with a five year old over who Andres liked the most (it was obviously him though, he was almost positive). "So, are you going to answer the question, or…”
“Fine,” she groaned. “I don’t like Andres like that, and it wouldn’t matter even if I did. Pretty sure I’m not his type,” she said pointedly, and yeah, Nacho definitely didn’t have to bite back a smile at that.
“Well, I was asking about Luis anyway,” he said nonchalantly.
“Sure you were. And I can like Luis all I want, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a terrible idea for me to date another one of your cop buddies.”
Nacho stayed silent, knowing that he couldn’t argue with that, not after what had happened with Missis.
“Have you told him about Andy?” Eva asked.
“Who, Andres?” he asked, earning an eye roll from her, like she couldn’t have been talking about any number of people. “No, why would I? I’m barely friends with him; he doesn’t need to know every detail of my romantic history.”
“If it was actually history, then I’d agree with you, but we both know it’s not. I think you should tell him about h-”
“I got shot like 3.5 seconds ago,” Nacho whined, tossing his hands up in the air. “Can we please not talk about this right now?”
Eva let the subject drop, but Nacho’s mood had already soured. Evelyn pushed them out the door a few minutes later, reassuring them repeatedly that she was happy to watch Paula if it meant that Nacho could have some fun.
“She’s totally got a boy coming over, doesn’t she?” Nacho asked as they headed for the stairs.
“For sure,” Eva agreed with a grimace.
They walked to the subway in companionable silence, having agreed to meet everyone else at the club. Luis was waiting for him at the bar as he stepped inside, drumming his fingers against his glass and looking bored, and Nacho gave Eva a quick kiss on the cheek as she headed to the back room to clock in before joining him.
“You the first one here?”
“Nah. Your boyfriend’s already tearing it up on the dance floor,” he said, inclining his head towards the main section of the club. He turned to follow his gaze and spotted Andres right away. It wasn’t very crowded yet, but Andres must have gotten there early to secure a spot for himself. He was putting it to good use as he moved to the music, the slow grind of his hips making Nacho’s mouth water.
“Asshole,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn away. Luis pushed a drink in front of him and he took it gratefully, needing something to numb the filthy thoughts racing through his head.
“I thought you two were getting along better?”
“He’s a fucking Disney prince come to life, Luis. It’s awful.”
“A prince doesn’t sound all that bad, and it was nice of him to set this night up, you gotta admit that,” Luis urged.
Nacho shrugged, not willing to admit anything. Luis looked back at Andres, pursing his lips like he was considering something. “I think I might ask him out.”
“The fuck you will,” was Nacho’s immediate response, his brain to mouth filter suddenly failing him.
“Ha, I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Luis shouted, pointing at him happily. “You like him.”
“Screw you, I do not,” Nacho grumbled. “I just don’t want my best friend going out with a complete twat.”
“So you’re not friends with him?”
“I don’t know what the fuck we are,” Nacho replied without thinking. Luis shot him a look, like he could read Nacho’s mind and knew just how much time he spent thinking about what he and Andres were, and what they weren’t. Nacho changed the subject quickly, before Luis could say anything else Andres-related. “Besides, we both know you’d go for me if you ever decided to swing that way.”
“It’s dem eyelashes, they do something to me,” Luis agreed, stepping closer so that he could nose at Nacho’s cheek. Nacho pushed him away with a laugh, turning around and raising his empty glass in Eva’s direction. “Hi Evita,” Luis cooed as she headed their way, propping his elbows on the bar as he leaned closer so that he didn’t have to shout over the music. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”
Nacho rolled his eyes, turning around and resting his arms back on the bar as he scanned the club, his eyes coming to rest on Andres after a cursory glance around the rest of the space. He was still dancing, his eyes closed as his hips moved in tandem with the steady thrum of the bass. He looked more like he was fucking the air than actually dancing, and Nacho felt his fingers tighten on his glass as he brought it to his cheek, needing to cool down.
“Quite the show off, isn’t he?” a gravelly voice murmured, startling Nacho. He turned to the side to see Martin, his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, his shirt unbuttoned enough for Nacho to see the top of a tattoo on his stomach.
“Sorry?” he asked, since he apparently wasn’t capable of listening while Andres was moving his body that way.
“Andres,” Martin said, inclining his head towards him with a sly smile. “He dances every chance he gets. You should see him in the shower at work,” he added, and no, just no. Andres naked and wet and moving his hips like was now? Nacho definitely did not need to see that.
“He- he dances like that in the shower? In front of you all?” Nacho managed to get out. He was only asking to make conversation, not because he needed more details so that he could picture it better.
Martin nodded, his eyes bright even in the dim lighting. “Sings too. Anything to get attention, really. Bastard was, let’s say blessed in certain areas, and I think he likes to make sure everyone notices,” he told him, his emphasis on the word certain telling Nacho exactly where Andres had been blessed, and fuck Nacho really did not need to be thinking of that right now, not with the alcohol starting to flow through him, muting his resolve and strengthening his impulses. Because right now his impulse was to drag Andres out of the club and into an alleyway so that he could see up close and personal exactly what Martin was talking about.
Martin appeared to be waiting for a response, but Nacho couldn’t say anything, since he seemed to have swallowed his tongue. He downed the rest of his drink in two gulps, welcoming the burn of the liquor sliding down his throat as he looked at the dance floor once again, just in time to see two girls start to dance on either side of Andres, their hands on his chest and back and-
“Andres!” he yelled before he could stop himself. Andres’s head popped up, a smile transforming his features as he spotted Nacho and stepped out from in between the girls. Nacho waved him over, a thrill of pleasure shooting through him as he watched how easily Andres left them, not bothering to look back even once, his focus entirely on Nacho.
“You just dance your little heart out, don’t you, Andres?” Martin greeted him, smiling as Andres came to stand in front of them.
“Fuck off ” Andres said with an easy smile before opening his arms so that Nacho could walk into them. Nacho made a face, because really? But he still took a small step forward, letting Andres envelop him in a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. Everything okay?” he asked as he pulled back to look at Nacho. “You sounded pissed when you yelled for me.”
“Everything’s fine,” Nacho insisted, his voice tight as he tried not to look at the front of Andres’s jeans and failed miserably, Martin’s revelation still fresh in his mind. “I just, uh. Just thought you were here to celebrate me being alive, and not to try to hook up with some random girls,” he said, trying not to cringe when he heard how jealous he sounded. “Not that I give a fuck who you hook up with,” he added quickly.
“Good to know,” Andres laughed, stepping in between Nacho and Martin so that he could lean against the bar. “Let’s get you another drink. Eva, perfect timing. Some shots for my boy, please,” he said, cupping a hand over the back of Nacho’s neck, his pinkie finger sneaking underneath Nacho’s sweater and sending chills down his spine.
“You trying to get me drunk?” Nacho asked, narrowing his eyes as Eva lined up the shots in front of them.
Andres angled his body to the side, sliding a leg in between Nacho’s. Nacho swallowed, a slow heat humming under his skin. The bar was starting to get crowded, sure, but there was no need for Andres to be this close, his thigh pressed to Nacho’s front as his fingers danced across his back to settle on his hip, squeezing him gently to pull him even closer.
“How else am I supposed to take advantage of you?” he asked, low enough that no one else could hear him as he lifted the glass to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at the sugar lining the rim, his eyes never leaving Nacho’s. “To Nacho.”
Nacho brought his shot glass up to clink against Andres’s. “To me,” he agreed, wondering why the sound of his name in Andres’s mouth made him want to drop to his knees, just so he could make him say it again and again.
Andres straightened as a new song started playing, his whole face lighting up. “Come dance with me,” he demanded, reaching for Nacho’s hand as soon as he set his empty glass down.
Nacho shook his head, because the last thing he needed was to see the way Andres could move his body up close. It’d been painful enough from a safe distance. “You were doing a good job of looking like an idiot all by yourself.”
“I think we’d look pretty good out there together,” Andres pouted, cocking his head to the side and pushing his lower lip out.
“I’d bring your average up, that’s for sure,” Nacho said mildly.
Andres grinned, and Nacho had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from doing the same. “I’m not gonna argue with you, because a, that’s definitely true, and b, you just got shot. But I’m also not taking no for an answer,” he told him as he started backing up, grabbing a hold of Nacho’s belt and pulling him with him. Nacho’s hands went to Andres’s biceps to steady himself, and then Andres was leading him to the far end of the now crowded dance floor, his hands sliding around to rest on the swell of Nacho’s ass, their noses only inches apart as his mouth quirked up in a half smile.
He’s just a friend, Nacho reminded himself as they began to dance. Only the way Andres spun him around so that he could press against his back, and the proprietary hand he put on Nacho’s abs, didn’t feel very friendly. Neither did the hard length of Andres’s body grinding into him, or the tickle of his breath at the nape of Nacho’s neck.
Nacho closed his eyes. Arousal seeped into him slowly, like smoke, until all he could think about was Andres, and all of the things he wanted to do to him, none of which were things you were supposed to want to do with someone who was just a friend. But it was hard to care about that with Andres whispering into his ear, his words hot enough to make Nacho think that he and Andres might have very different definitions of the word friend.
“I requested this song just for us,” he murmured, his breath warm against Nacho’s skin as he started to sing. “Tell me why you wanna be bad…why you callin’ me daddy…”
Nacho groaned as Andres slid a hand down Nacho’s body, his fingers splaying out on the top of Nacho’s thigh, his thumb tickling along the juncture where hip met leg. Nacho pushed back against him, wanting to be impossibly closer as he let Andres take complete control.
“Giving you the best you ever had, babe…make me feel like you ain’t ever had it," Andres sang softly as he rolled his hips to the beat, his expert movements and sinful words making Nacho’s head spin with possibilities. "Baby, tell me do you want it deeper…I’m gon’ make you feel it…”
Lust curled around him as Andres pushed his hips into Nacho a little harder, leaving no doubt that Andres wanted Nacho just as badly as Nacho wanted him. He could feel Andres’s lips at the shell of his ear as his words flowed through him, lighting him on fire as he tried and failed to think of one good reason why he shouldn’t turn around and kiss him right then and there.
“It’s going down, turn around,” Andres sang, his words an echo of Nacho’s thoughts as Andres stepped back just enough to spin Nacho around, one of his hands smoothing up Nacho’s side and across his chest, his fingers trailing along the neckline of Nacho’s sweater.
“Tell me, do you wanna be bad, babe…” he continued as he curled his fingers in, tugging Nacho’s shirt lower to expose the bruise from when he’d been shot, it’s deep purple stark against Nacho’s skin when the lights flashed upon them.
Nacho’s breath hitched as Andres leaned in, his lips parting automatically as Andres inched closer. But at the last second Andres turned his head, bending down farther, his mouth finding the bruise instead. He kissed him gently as Nacho’s heart attempted to beat its way out of his chest. He was sure that Andres could feel it too, the evidence right under his lips.
He moved his hands into Andres’s hair, tugging on it involuntarily as Andres wrapped his arms around Nacho’s back and moved up his body, his lips searching for any bare skin they could find, kissing his way up the column of Nacho’s throat and along his jaw until his mouth was hovering just over Nacho’s, his breath coming out just as fast and hard as Nacho’s was.
Andres leaned in, just a fraction and not nearly enough, his lips just barely grazing Nacho’s as he spoke.
“My place?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
Nacho knew that he should say no, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when Andres was right in front of him, wanting him. He’d almost died this week, and he would have been hella fucking pissed if he’d done so without ever kissing Andres. So he nodded, his hands sliding down Andres’s back as his hips pulsed forward, needing friction.
