Flying In (3)
Mayans MC & Narcos Crossover
For @narcosfandomdiscord’s Book of Genesis: Fanwork inspired by someone else’s fanwork (be sure to tag the creator of the OG work!)
Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, smoking, arguing/light angst
Word Count: 3.2k
A/N: The crossover lives! As always, shout-out to @garbinge for letting me borrow her oc Lara Losa! I'm so obsessed with these guys it's ridiculous.
Chapter Index
When Lara woke up the next morning, it was with a throbbing headache that had her not wanting to open her eyes despite the fact that the hotel room curtains were still pulled closed and the room was still shrouded in relative darkness. Slowly blinking her eyes open, Lara immediately regretted doing so.
She sat upright, blanket falling down so that it pooled in her lap, still covering her legs on the pull-out couch that she and Chepe had transformed into a bed the night before. Through squinted eyes, she looked around the room to find Chepe still fast asleep in his bed as well, snoring with one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress. She allowed herself a small chuckle at that before getting up and starting to accumulate all of her things.
If she hadn’t still felt so exhausted, or if the throbbing in her head had been a little less intense, she would’ve at least done Chepe the courtesy of collapsing the bed back down into a sofa. As it stood, though, she really just wanted to put on her shoes and head back to her apartment so that she could stand underneath the hot water until it ran out. She knew better than to wake Chepe, so she scribbled a note instead on the back of a napkin before taking off.
Her trip back to her apartment had been a quick one, as much as she just wanted to collapse down into her own bed and fall right back to sleep again. A handful of aspirin and a scalding hot shower later, she was off and running once more, making her way back towards the clubhouse.
By the time she got there, morning had already begun its shift into the afternoon. That fact didn’t really hit her until she saw just how many bikes were parked outside the clubhouse—none of the guys with the exception of maybe EZ were really what she’d describe as early birds. That was something that they all had in common. So, if they were already there and reporting for duty, it was later than she’d bargained for.
The only bike she had really been looking for was Bishop’s and the effort to find it wasn’t born out of doubt that it would be there, but more of a hope that it wouldn’t be. She didn’t read all of them, but she saw how many missed texts she’d accumulated from him the night before. It didn’t take a genius for her to figure out what had him so bent out of shape, and if she could put off having that conversation with him for a couple hours she definitely would, but the singular headlight of his bike staring back at her let her know that there was no point in hoping for that.
She kept her sunglasses on even after she entered the clubhouse, not that they were really doing much to save her in the already dark bar space. It didn’t take her very long to locate Angel, who was sitting at one of the small tables scrolling on his phone. A few of the other club members were scattered around, but it was evident that everyone was waiting for something, or for someone. Lara figured that it had to do with her uncles, with Galindo, but no one said that in so many words.
When she plopped down in the chair across from Angel at the table, that’s when she finally took her sunglasses off. She tossed them unceremoniously onto the tabletop as she slouched back in her chair.
“Shit,” Angel said with a laugh as he took in the sight of her.
Lara wanted to feign being annoyed but a laugh came out first. “Real way with words, you know that?”
He shrugged before leaning forward, bracing his forearms along the edge of the table. “Got a lot of things goin’ for me, I know.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “Yeah, you’re a real—”
“Lara,” Bishop’s voice drowned out whatever the rest of her retort was going to be as he came all but stomping out of Templo. He wasn’t yelling, but the harsh edge to his voice made up for that.
Turning to look at him, she managed a smile that almost could’ve passed for innocent if it weren’t for the mild look of dread in her eyes. “Good morning. Well,” she chuckled, “afternoon. Same thing, right?”
Bishop wasn’t having any of it. “Outside. Now.”
If he had been speaking to anyone besides Lara, he would’ve been yoking them up out of the chair by their collar and dragging them out to the clubhouse porch. But it was Lara, so all he could do was storm right by her with an alarming amount of tension held in his jaw.
She watched him go, wincing slightly as the door swung and slammed shut behind him. It would’ve been easy enough to blame her flinching at the sound on the lingering traces of her hangover, but luckily enough no one asked.
Angel leaned back in his chair. “Have fun with that.”
She was shaking her head at him as she stood up from her seat, making the time to give him the finger before turning to follow where her father had just gone. She didn’t justify his comment with a verbal response, something that had him chuckling to himself as he watched her get up and walk out. The door shut much more quietly when she was the one closing it.
Bishop was sparking up a cigarette as she walked out. If he’d seemed a little less pissed off she would’ve made a joke of asking him for one. But, even with as far as she enjoyed pushing her luck sometimes, she knew that now wasn’t the time for it. She didn’t get enough hours of sleep the night before to be in fighting shape like that.
“Where the fuck were you last night?” he asked, smoke pouring out of his mouth with each word.
“I told you,” she said, half-innocent, half-defensive, “Chepe and I—”
“You didn’t fucking call,” he said, harshly cutting off her explanation. “And you didn’t pick up when I called.”
Her frustration quickly started to bubble up beneath her skin. “Yeah, I know, but—”
“No!” he snapped. “You can’t keep fuckin’ doing this to me.”
She scoffed. “Doing what? What could I possibly be doing to you?”
It was a miracle that Bishop’s body wasn’t visibly trembling with the amount of anger that was brewing within his chest in that moment. It wasn’t even truly anger, really. It was worry. It was hurt. It was the protective drive he’d been getting pushed by ever since he got a frantic phone call from her months before begging him for help because of the blood-soaked mess she'd landed herself in. He knew how quickly things could go so horribly—he’d lived it and so had she. He didn’t understand how she could start acting like none of it had ever happened, like he was so ridiculous for worrying about her.
“You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about,” he said bitterly.
“I’m not a child!”
“But you’re still my kid!”
The way he shouted the words seemed to shock the both of them into silence for a moment. The two of them locked eyes, unable to move from where they were standing, unable to try and continue the argument or even resolve it now. Both too stubborn for their own good, as always.
It was only the sound of another car pulling into the lot in front of the clubhouse that broke their stalemate. They both turned to see the luxury SUV that Gilberto had gotten for their trip rolling to a stop right beside Lara’s car. The two of them being parked next to each other seemed to highlight the best and worst of each vehicle respectively—they both probably would’ve laughed about it if the situation itself had been anything other than what it was.
Chepe and Gilberto both got out of the SUV. Their expressions were vastly different but even so neither of them could hide the fact that they were intensely focused on whatever was or wasn’t unfolding between Bishop and his daughter. Gilberto at least had the good grace to try and hide his interest—there was a pleasant smile on his face as he adjusted his suit jacket and crossed the strip of sandy dirt to the clubhouse. Chepe, however, had his brows knit and mouth flattened into a straight line.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” Bishop muttered under his breath as the two of them approached the clubhouse.
Lara usually would’ve had no trouble coming up with a snarky quip for the moment, but she still felt slightly off-kilter from before. Rather than trying to force herself through the discomfort of formally tabling her conversation with Bishop for another time, she simply jumped ship and turned her attention to her uncles instead.
“Morning, Tío,” she said as she stepped in and gave Gilberto a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Buenos días, mija,” he greeted her with a grin, his hand resting on the outside of her arm for a moment as he stepped back.
Gilberto wasn't actually any less nosey than Bishop or Chepe was, he just had a better understanding of when it would serve him to pry and when it wouldn't. Judging by the tightness in the air, he figured that it wasn't the time.
While Gilberto and Bishop were greeting each other, Lara made it halfway down the porch steps to Chepe, who greeted her as usual with an enthusiastic hug and a kiss to the side of her head. “Lalita,” he said it with a softness that let her know he knew that whatever was going on with her and Bishop, it wasn’t fun.
“Chepe,” she said in return, her exhaustion shining through.
Even after she pulled out of the hug, he left his arm draped across her shoulders so that he could pull her and tuck her into his side. Some of the levity returned to his voice as he said, “Like a thief in the night, you took right off.” They made their way up the few steps onto the porch. “Note left behind and everything.”
Bishop skipped over whatever pleasantries he was going to try and force himself through when he heard what Chepe had said. He butt right into the conversation, not even bothering with a hello before laying right in with, “Yeah, and if taking off is—”
Chepe cut him off, clearly not fazed by the anger simmering in Bishop’s tone. “Obispo.”
“What?” Bishop made the singular word carry so much with it.
Gesturing to Lara with his arm not slung around her shoulders, he said, “Look at her.” He paused and waited for Bishop to do what he said, which surprisingly enough he did. “She’s fine. Showed up in one piece—showed up before us!” he added on, nodding towards Gilberto. “You don’t have to wor—”
“You don’t know shit about any of this, Chepe,” he stated firmly. “So do us all a favor and stay the fuck out of it.”
Chepe’s eyebrows raised just slightly. So few people in the world could get away with speaking to him like that at all, let alone in front of others. If Bishop had any sense of humility at all he’d consider himself lucky to be on that shortlist of people, but it would never happen.
There was the barest hint of a smile on Chepe’s face as he started to reply. “I know enough—”
Their conversation was interrupted by the door to the clubhouse opening. Angel stepped halfway out onto the porch, halfway through addressing Bishop when he realized that he’d just landed himself in far larger of a mess than he had bargained for. He had been ready to stumble upon the scene of Lara and Bishop in the midst of a spat, something that most people around the clubhouse had been witness to on an occasion or two, but he wasn’t ready to see both of her uncles standing out there as well.
The sight of all four of them almost made him want to backpedal into the clubhouse again, maybe even send someone else out there to break up whatever it was that the four of them were in the midst of. That seemed like it could be the type of work a prospect could do.
He forced himself not to hide behind the shelter of the door. “Pres, uh, sorry. I just…guys were wondering if we were still meeting for Templo. But,” he made a lame gesture towards Chepe and Gilberto, “obviously—yeah I’ll just tell them—”
“Fucking go, Angel,” Bishop put him out of his misery with three little words.
“Got it,” Angel said with a tight nod before happily disappearing back into the clubhouse.
When the door shut behind him, Bishop returned his attention back to Lara and Chepe. He was speaking to both of them even though he was only looking at Lara. “We’ll finish this later.”
Eager not only for the current conversation to stop, but also for them to move onto the business that they had shown up to conduct in the first place, Gilberto all but ushered Bishop into the clubhouse. “Let’s get started.”
Chepe let his arm drop back to his side as he and Lara stepped towards the clubhouse door that Gilberto was holding open for them. Bishop led the way, Chepe finding himself nearly sandwiched between his business partner and his niece.
He chuckled quietly, leaning over to Lara to speak to her in a voice that was too loud to pass for a whisper, but still quieter than his usual talking voice. “Would this be a bad time to tell him I changed the reservation for our dinner with Galindo?”
It got a genuine laugh out of Lara, her amusement causing Bishop to glance quickly back over his shoulder at them. She couldn’t get her expression under control in time, and as Bishop looked forward once more, she found her obstinate streak returning.
“I think it’s the perfect time, actually,” she said with another quiet laugh.
She stopped walking with them a few strides before the Templo door. Stepping off to the side, she watched as her father, her uncles, and then the rest of the men in the club disappeared into the room and slid the door shut behind them.
When the club was meeting in Templo, it was one of the only times that the clubhouse seemed quiet. There was always a certain level of din, and even with the guys locked away in Templo, there was still music playing quietly to cut through the silence. Other times there was still the sounds of machinery running in the scrapyard.
Not wanting to just stand there and stare at the door the entire time they were meeting, Lara turned away and made her way towards the bar where EZ was cleaning and stacking glasses, an endless and thankless task if ever there was one.
“Just you and me then, Prospect.” She laughed humorlessly as she plopped down on the stool. “As usual.”
He cracked a small grin. “C’mon, my company isn’t that bad.”
“You saying you’d rather be out here with me than in there with them?” she asked, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder towards the closed door.
He laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m saying you should rather be out here with me than in there with them.”
She rolled her eyes but there was no malice in it. “Shut up and get me a beer, Prospect.”
He was shaking his head but he still did as she asked. “See? Feels like we’re in there already.”
Lara wouldn’t have been able to say with any real certainty how long they all met in Templo for. She stayed put at the bar, her and EZ making small snippets of conversation here and there but nothing overly drawn out. That was such an interesting difference between him and his brother that Lara had noticed during her time spent with each of them. EZ knew how to let a conversation die gracefully, a skill that Angel lacked. Both could be infuriating in their own rites, she was sure, but it was interesting nonetheless.
“How long until you get promoted?” she asked, even though she was looking at the Templo door.
EZ chuckled, setting the last of the glasses on the top of the bar. “Too long.”
“Hm,” Lara said, before finishing off the beer EZ had given her. “Rough.”
The two of them were laughing when the door to Templo slid open and the men started to pour back onto the main floor of the clubhouse. Whatever happened within those walls always showed, for a little while at least, on the faces of the men as they exited and gathered back their phones.
No one seemed too deeply upset this time. A few of them were murmuring amongst themselves but no one was storming off in a huff. That was a good sign. When it came to business with Galindo, Lara had noticed that things had a tendency of getting very tense very quickly. Maybe having Gilberto and Chepe in the room helped to ease that tension a little bit. What she would’ve given to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, if for no other reason than to see what the men thought of her uncles, and more specifically Chepe.
Bishop, Taza, Hank, and their partners from Colombia didn’t come out right away. That wasn’t really surprising in and of itself, but Lara’s nosiness was getting the better of her. At least Angel was out, and making a beeline for her and EZ at the bar.
“So,” Angel said, his hand resting on her shoulder for hardly a second as he took the stool right next to hers, “I guess you’re catering the big boss meeting tomorrow?”
Lara laughed, head dropping back in exasperation. “Fuck me.”
“I think we should all book tables. Pack the fuckin’ house,” Angel joked.
She was still laughing while trying to seem annoyed. “I’ll get you all thrown out. Leave you to be Chepe’s fuckin’ problem.”
“Who’s going to be my problem?” Chepe asked as he materialized between Lara and Angel.
Lara didn’t miss the way that Angel sat up a little straighter with her uncle right next to him. She was kind enough not to comment on it. “The club, if they try to crash in at the restaurant while you guys are there meeting with Galindo.”
“Hah,” Chepe laughed, exaggeratedly so. He clapped a hand down on Angel’s shoulder. “That’d be an easy problem to solve, wouldn’t it?”
Angel swallowed hard, tension in his shoulders like Chepe’s hand was physically burning him. Lara could see that he wanted to have the right thing to say in that moment but he didn’t have the slightest clue what it was.
She jumped in to save him. “They wouldn’t make you do extra work like that on a trip like this, though. So I’m sure they’ll all be on their best fucking behavior.”
Chepe chuckled, pulling his hand off of Angel and giving the man a bit of a reprieve. “You will be too, Lalo.”
She laughed. “I know—you won’t even recognize me.”
Chepe cracked a grin as he started to head after Gilberto, who was making his way towards the clubhouse door. “Can’t wait.”
(Divider by @silkholland 💞)
Flying In Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @garbinge @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @narcolini
@proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon
