Esteban Diaz

Finn x Sean Appreciation Week

Day 2: Night and Day

I would love to do a couple commissions. Cheap right now as I am unemployed and needing to pay bills.

10$ sketches like 

25$ for 

Finn x Sean Appreciation week. 

Day 1: Flowers

When Sean was 2 he was a big Pumpkin because he couldn't sit up on his own without flopping over and hitting his head. So they stuck him in a big inflatable pumpkin costume he couldn't roll around in

When they finished trick or treating with Sean, they brought him home, sat on the porch with him and let him hand out candy to the bigger kids who had more energy than to go trick or treating for 30 minutes.

Esteban and Karen dressed as Scarecrows. Sean used to laugh so hard when he dropped pieces of candy into kids bags.  

 Esteban loved the shit out of it and Karen would laugh. She loved little moments like that, and birthdays. She didn't love putting him to bed and telling herself "16 more years until he moves out"

"16 more years until I'm free. 16 more years until I'm too old to do what I want."

The frustration she feels when Esteban puts his savings he was going to put towards college towards Sean's college funds, and instead, tells her he's going to get his certificate to be a mechanic. The anger she feels when they don't make enough money when Sean turns five to get him the toys he wants for Christmas, so he sells his favorite Jacket, the leather one he wore to their first concert together(edited)

The sadness she feels because, this is her son and she shouldn't be getting mad at him for selfish things, but she doesn't think it's right she has to give up the rest of her life to him because they had too much wine and the music was too loud and they were too absorbed in each other that night in the bathtub that spilled over into a 9 hour love making marathon. 

Both of them sitting in bed after Sean is born, and she smiles at him, but she begins to reflect on the life she's lost. He can see the sadness in her eyes and he holds her, kissing her head as she holds their son. He promises he'll make her happy, that he'll make this a life she can be proud of. But years pass and she tries, and he tries to help her. Sean get's older and it starts to become easier, until she has Daniel. 

 It's the same sadness, the same heart break. He can't promise it anymore because he knew one child was easier than two. one child was easier to cope with than two. He cries when he asks her what she wants to do, holding her hands as he sits on his knees before her, kissing her hands. She fights a little longer. therapy, but at the end of the day, she can't. When he signs the divorce papers, he cups her face and kisses her long and lovingly. 

"I love you, I love you to the end and back, to the stars and the moon, forever and ever, even though this kills the fucking hell out of me." He keeps his voice quiet, nose beside hers, his lips in the corners of her. "I love you more than I do me, and I want to see you happy, so I'm letting you go. But you'll always have a home here if you ever change your mind, don't you ever forget that." She takes the papers and leaves, leaving him in the center of the living room feeling as though he were the center of a world disaster. 

It was the sound of fire that registered first, and the warmth on frozen legs. His eyes remained closed, sock padded feet thudding on a wooden floor, pacing anxiously.

“Sit down,” he grumbled, the words casting the room in silence. Seconds later, he felt the floor shift, only to realize his place on an old mattress. He opened his eyes, looking around the room, trying to recollect what happened, but all he could feel was the pain in his chest.

“Are you ok?” The softly spoken words of his companion interrupted the crackle of the fire. His eyes rolled up, stopping on the pale, worried face of a boy who’s been through too much, tinted orange by dancing flames.

The room felt warm; which was good, even though the home was in such bad condition, it held heat. It was warm enough to not need their coats. Or pants it seemed as his eyes traveled over the others body, covered by briefs and a black tanktop, no doubt warn as a layer beneath his t-shirt.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, feeling as he did the first time he opened his eyes in the hospital. His hand travelled down the blanket that covered him, resting on his chest.

“I oughta kick your ass.” Finn huffed, leaning forward to rest his worried head on his hand. “I’d only been that scared before once in my life. To watch you go down like that.” He shook his head. “You couldn’t even hear me, you just gasped and fought it before you hit the floor. I had no clue what to do, what happened, nothing.” His voice quivered. It was different from being held at gunpoint. Finn was an amazing bullshitter, charismatic as Satan himself; him and Cass both were.

But you couldn’t talk down a heart attack or whatever the older man went through. You couldn’t talk down your body’s attempt to reap you, so all he could do was watch or do something and pray to a god he didn’t believe in that the man would be ok.

Esteban smiled at him, shifting to sit just a little, but a hand moved to hold him down. Those eyes were so intense, so worried, but beautiful. He needed to tread carefully. He grabbed the boys hand, fingers interlocking. Cold and trembling, hands that saved him.

“I’m sorry, cariño.” He replied finally, his voice like warm wax, sending a shiver through Finn’s body as it dripped along his spine. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He gently pushed his hand back, resting it on the pale thigh by his head.

“It’s not that hard to do, honestly.” The boy replied, eyes dropping down. Their hands rested next to the ugly mess of scar tissue on his thigh; something Finn saw as a reminder. A reminder of how badly he fucked up; how his decisions were problematic. How ugly his instinct was.

Esteban could see his eyes drop, staring at the scar which told a different story than the one it’s owner heard. He didn’t ask, because it didn’t matter what the story was; he only knew what the newspaper said happened. He wasn’t a stranger to the reminder of a bullet hole; he still re-experienced his in flashes.

Pulling his tangled fingers free, he covered the discolored reddened scar tissue, warming it with his palm. Finn said nothing, the heat soothing the ache from the surface of his flesh to the bone as fingers gently knead tired muscle.

They had to be careful.

The boy pulled his hand free from it, not wanting it warmed, not wanting it hidden or pampered. It was ugly and it was a punishment for his mistake; an unspoken reason the father could understand even without words just from the look of shame on his companions face alone.

Esteban wouldn’t let it be that; he refused to let Finn wear it as anything but what it was. He was a survivor, a body damaged unjustly when defending something important to him, and therefore, something he should be proud of. Pushing himself to his elbow, moving the hand that once rested across his shame to his lower back as he planted a kiss he meant to remain chaste against soft skin.

But nothing remains chaste when the flesh is touch starved, and soon, the line is crossed; blurred, erased, smeared. Fingers tangle in his hair, a soft and needy gasp leaving his lips.

He needs to stop; dragging his lips up the satin inside of alabaster thighs, his fingers tangling on cloth as they catch at his back. “Fuck, it’s been so long.” Finn muttered, shaking hands on his body.

It has been so long, so long for both of them.

Clasping his lower back, he pushed himself up, muscled chest traveling up his belly and chest as he laid the boy down beneath him. He was dressed in a black t-shirt himself, briefs clinging to his thighs as they parted the pale limbs beneath him. Their hips met, bodies pressed together, warmth caught between cloth covered flesh.

Esteban’s lips claimed the throat of the young adult, barely just emerged from his teen years and now tangled between a man matured by 20 or more years and a set of dusty blankets, pulling a moan from his lips like a confession from a sinners lips in church.

Finn’s body is taut; supple and nervous. Any experience he had is forgotten as he’s played with like putty in the hands of a lovers father. But Esteban doesn’t worship him for his youth; he’s never been that man. Finn is important to him, since the day they began to travel.

“I can’t,” Finn’s hands grab Esteban’s shoulders, pushing on him, and immediately the man stopped. Any lustful drive turned off as he respectfully pulled back, their hardened sexuality resting against each other through the cloth of their underwear. “I’m sorry.” Finn looked at him, not wanting to upset him, but Esteban just chuckled.

“For what?” He leaned forward, planting a kiss to his forehead. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“You’re not mad I stopped you?” The concept seemed so...foreign to him. Like he usually continued to have sex just to avoid confrontation; Esteban didn’t like the thought of that.

“Of course not,” he sat back on the mattress.”it’s probably for the best we did. I don’t think Sean would forgive me if we did it.” He laughed, his brown eyes glistening. Finn stared at him, feeling his heart leap as it had whenever he looked into the younger Diaz’s eyes.

“How the fuck is your family so perfect?” He exhaled, unaware of the breath he was holding. Esteban chuckled, expression warm. Shifting he made enough room for the other to lay down beside him, the sun long since gone down.

“Come on cariño,” he motioned him over. Finn pushed himself up, hesitantly laying down but trying not to take up too much room. Esteban slipped in behind him, covering them both beneath the blanket as the fire roared on.