TIMING: Morning After Pretenders
PARTIES: @loftylockjaw @fearhims3lf
SUMMARY: Mateo picks Wyatt up, and the two have a heartfelt conversation on the way home.
WARNINGS: None
Wyatt hadn’t slept well, of course, and his body still ached from the beating it’d taken from those demonic, feathered fuckers. The night with Caleb had been a gentle reminder of all the things they still needed to talk about, and the anxiety that stemmed from having that conversation looming on the horizon had kept him up better than any threats of nightmares could have. Caleb didn’t sleep, just like Mateo, so they’d just spent the night talking about anything other than what had happened, filling the silence between conversations with whatever was on the television. It’d been nice, in its way, even if he was exhausted. And come morning, he’d excused himself to go deal with his disaster of a life — there was no way he was fighting tonight, so he’d need to see if Agnes or someone else could move things around.
Wandering through the streets of Deersprings and stopping at the first coffee house he passed, Wyatt texted Mateo to let him know where he could find him. He looked tired when the mare arrived, despite the finished coffee he tossed in the garbage bin on the sidewalk before climbing into the passenger’s side seat. Huffing out a weary breath, he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, brows furrowed.
“Fuck,” he muttered for no reason in particular other than how shitty he felt. But he wasn’t the only one feeling like crap, so he did roll his head to the side to look at Mateo, flashing him a brief, weak smile before reaching across the console between them to put a hand on his thigh. “Hey.” He felt compelled to apologize, which was stupid — they’d both gone through last night together, and were both hurting in similar ways. There was nothing to apologize for. So he didn’t, instead just giving the man’s leg a squeeze.“Good to see you.”
—
The old truck's engine rumbled and revved under the pressure of the mare's foot. He could smell the small hint of exhaust while he was stopped at a light. The window was down and he could feel the breeze dance on his skin as his arm dangled out the window. Mateo didn't know what to make of everything, but he at least found some comfort in the way Wyatt squeezed his leg and muttered a reassurance. He needed that more than he'd ever admit, though he was sure they way he slid his hand into Wyatt's said it all.
“Fuck, indeed. You look like shit.” The mare said blatantly, with a hint of humor in his tone. “Still nice to see you too, though.” He offered a languid smile in return, shifting gears as they went up a small hill. They weren't too far from Mateo's place, but the drive felt much longer than it needed to. All the mare wanted to do was get in bed and forget how pathetic he'd been in the last fourteen hours as he moped around his apartment with Angel pacing right behind him.
He wasn't sure why he'd been so jealous, why Wyatt wouldn't just let him pick him up or visit. Did that Caleb guy matter more? Was…Ah, shit, Mateo thought. He was being pathetic again. It needed to stop, he knew that. But before he could hold his tongue, he asked, “You dating that Caleb guy?”
—
Scoffing at Mateo’s astute observation, Wyatt closed his eyes again and settled in for the ride. The question that broke the silence was one he should have expected, but it made his throat close up all the same. There was no good reason for it — Mateo knew Wyatt had been at least messing around with people outside of their throuple situation, and had expressed to him that it was fine, and yet… well, maybe it was mostly just the guilt of not having had this conversation with Caleb yet. Caleb never really thought they were dating, but then Wyatt used the b-word. Caleb had said more than once now that he wanted to be in Wyatt’s life, no matter what that looked like, but Wyatt still hadn’t been forthcoming with those details. He wanted to, it just seemed like there was never a good fucking time for it. Which was maybe an excuse, but he knew he had to get it over with. He was just afraid that it would be too much for Caleb, which was why he hadn’t wanted Mateo to pop over with hardly any kind of explanation or formal introduction.
“I… think so,” he answered honestly. “There’s still a lot of things to talk about, you know? Uh. We didn’t really… start off on the most honest footin’. Met about this time last year. Didn’t tell him ‘bout my night job. Didn’t tell ‘im ‘bout the nightmares, when they started. Separated for a while, when he…” Well, that wasn’t exactly Wyatt’s story to tell, at least not without Caleb’s permission. “Anyway. Weren’t his fault. I went off the deep end, n’ we only just reconnected ‘bout a month ago.” The lamia shifted himself in his seat, lifting his head away from the headrest and staring at the road in front of them. “I care ‘bout him, though. A lot. He’s got baggage, same as you n’ me, but he’s a good person.” Probably too good for me, even with that baggage, Wyatt thought. But he didn’t want to insinuate that Mateo was any different by leaving him out of the statement, so it remained in his head.
—
Mateo gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he chided himself internally for it. He had no right to be jealous, but there was something that felt uncomfortable about not being told about Caleb. Because it likely meant Wyatt hadn't mentioned Mateo either. The very thought made his stomach sink, and he squeezed the steering wheel even harder.
Why would Wyatt want to mention the mare anyway? All the money in the world couldn't hide the fact that Mateo wasn't good to keep around. He was a lost cause to a life he wasn't even supposed to be living. He was foolish to think he would ever be worthy of long lasting connections. Xóchitl was the first to realize, and it was only a matter of time before Wyatt did too. Mateo figured it would be in his best interest to just rip off the bandaid sooner rather than later, but he was too selfish and weak to do so.
“That's…nice. Good for you.” He spoke flatly, a bit dejected but he tried his best to sound a little more himself as he continued. “You just can't help yourself, can you, slut?”
—
Wyatt didn’t miss the tone of Mateo’s voice, or… lack thereof. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably and he shifted in his seat, drawing his arms back to himself to scrub his palms over his face, groaning as he leaned forward in his seat. “No, I can’t,” he answered Mateo, though his own inflection wasn’t quite as carefree as he would’ve liked. “... I don’t know what I’m doin’, man. I feel like I gotta fight fuckin’ tooth and nail to get people to stay. And when things seem good, I… I don’t wanna do nothin’ that’ll disrupt that.” But that wasn’t an excuse, and it didn’t mean he could keep Mateo a secret. Not that he was trying to keep him secret, necessarily, but that was a big conversation, and… “I ain’t good with words, in case you hadn’t noticed. Even worse with… everythin’ else. Actions speak louder, or whatever, and I keep screwin’ the pooch.” And to add injury to insult, the world seemed out to target him specifically. First it was the legs, then the beak, and now the birdlike monsters that had attacked them last night. His greatest fears were manifesting outside his nightmares and trying to rip him apart, and it made him jump at every shadow, tense at every squawk and screech and chirp he heard. It made him worry that he might start seeing his mother next, and if something as innocuous as birds had become such a pain point for him, he couldn’t imagine being confronted with some twisted version of his mother that was trying to rip his throat out. That might send him to a place he wouldn’t be able to come back from.
“Anyway. Gonna talk to him about it. All of it. All of…” Wyatt gestured at Mateo, keeping his tired eyes facing forward. “Maybe when I ain’t bangin’ down death’s door, though.”
—
Whatever was going through Wyatt's head had to be hard for him, and it wasn't fair to him that Mateo was acting like a clingy asshole. The mare couldn't get people to stay either, but there was a good reason for that. Whatever Mateo wanted in life, when he practiced an ounce of selfishness, it always cost him. Always led to tons of regret and disapproval. Not that Wyatt disapproved, but Mateo had experienced that elsewhere. He could hear his father right then.
You have responsibilities, Mateo. Family is family. People don't love selfish men.
Filipe wasn't a selfish man, and look at him. A loving wife and five children that respected him and adored him. Sometimes even feared him. But that was a secret Mateo kept to himself. It felt ridiculous to be scared of a man that he could thrust terror onto, and he wasn't going to subject himself to that sort of joke. He'd had enough of that growing up, but it looked like he was a joke again anyway, and the punchline was his own doing.
“You're doing fine.” Mateo finally managed to say, only just realizing tears were starting to muddy his vision. He quickly blinked them away, ensuring to keep his gaze forward so Wyatt couldn't see. It was probably time to set the man free from deadweight. Mateo knew that's all he was now. Had been for about five years. “Nothing practice can't help, y'know?” He paused for a moment, adding, “And you don't have to say anything. If you wanna be done, be done. I'd get it. Really.” With a languid shrug, Mateo turned at a corner and watched his apartment building grow closer with each roll of his truck’s tires.
—
Well that wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear. Wyatt lifted his gaze, sitting up straighter as he stared over at Mateo. Be done? “That’s the last thing I want,” he choked out. “No, Mateo — I’m gonna tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well, then that’s… that’s it, you know?” The truck rolled to a stop at the curb, and the two men sat quietly while the engine still rumbled and filled the silence between them. Only for a few seconds, though, before Wyatt was speaking again. “I can’t go back to… I’d just hurt him eventually, if he ain’t okay with it. That’s all I been doin’ all my life — hurtin’ people. I can’t do that no more. You… you were the first to…”
He swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to his lap. “You showed me that it’s okay to be the way that I am. That it can work. That’s… that’s huge. I know it probably don’t seem like much to you, but I…” I might not have been this lonely for this long if I’d known I could just lead with that, and find people who were like me. Like us. “Whatever happens with Xó, or with Caleb, I don’t wanna lose you too. You’re important to me. You matter.” He shook his head, glancing back up at Mateo. “Don’t ask me to be done.”
—
It was all so unexpected, the way Wyatt fought for the man next to him. He'd always been expendable, easily tossed aside if he wasn't any use. On days that he felt too tired to function on the farm, Junior was once again the favorite, or Estela skidded into first, or really any one of the Lara children could steal the spot. It wasn't enough to just be for Mateo or his siblings to be. Work gave him value, and if he couldn't provide that, what use was there for him to be around? What use was there in putting in the effort to love him?
You were born for one thing and if you can't do that, what's the point? You're an asshole and you have no right to be. I gave you this life. I sacrificed to get you here. Where is your effort?
Mateo shut his eyes tightly and clung firmly onto the steering wheel, hoping to hold onto some fragment of composure. Because he never needed anyone to be more than they were. No one ever needed to work for his love. He was dumbfounded to find that someone wanted to provide that for him too. “I…I…” Mateo trailed off with a sniffled, croaking, “I love you the way you are. Don't be done. I need you to not be done.” Keeping his eyes shut, he felt his tears trail down his cheeks, sharp and cold. “It does seem like much to me. It's like…everything to me. You and Xó have been everything to me for a while.”
— “Hey. Hey,” he muttered, leaning over the console between them and reaching for Mateo, one hand landing on his neck while the other turned the mare’s head toward him. “I’m not done. I’m here.” His gaze jumped between Mateo’s eyes, thumb wiping away part of the streak of tears on his face. “I’m here. And I love you the way you are, okay? So cut the crap. Stop tellin’ me you ain’t enough. You are.” Wyatt’s lips were pressed into a thin frown as he struggled to keep his own composure, the emotions from the last couple of days feeling absolutely overwhelming in that moment. “Whoever’s been tellin’ you the opposite is a fuckin’ liar and a moron.” His neck felt hot and his vision seemed oddly blurred, making him blink hard a few times as he looked at Mateo, refusing to move away just yet. “You’re enough, and you’re not gettin’ rid of me so easy,” he reiterated with a shaky voice, nodding definitively. And, as if to seal the affirming statement, Wyatt then leaned even closer, his injuries shouting in protest at the strain from this awkward angle, catching Mateo in a careful kiss.