Jin’s brain was simultaneously trying to catalog every little detail of this very moment, at the same time as it was trying to convince him that he was about to fuck it all up like he usually did. Mateo’s thumb on his jaw, the way he spoke so gently, the tenderness in every touch… it was both too much and exactly right at the same time. “No, no. Definitely not stop.” Jin shook his head, his hand coming up behind Mateo’s neck to keep him close to himself. “Unless you want to stop, in which case we can absolutely stop, but… I don’t really want to stop.” 

Jin was rambling. He knew he was, but Mateo had just questioned what he had done to deserve such a blessing, and Jin’s ability to be smooth about anything had suddenly completely abandoned him. “You didn’t do anything,” Jin said, shaking his head with a small smile. “Well, actually, that’s a lie. You did everything, actually. You kept our son safe. You remembered our pie mission. You came back for me in the hypothetical horror movie.” He chuckled lightly, brushing his fingers along the hair in the nape of Mateo’s neck. “You’re the blessing, not me.” 

Jin reached down to take Mateo’s hand in his as he rested his forehead against his. He gave his hand a gentle squeeze and looked up at him. He honestly couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be sitting here like this with Mateo again. He definitely didn’t deserve it. Like, at all. He gave him another gentle kiss and rested his forehead against his, leaning into the warm comfort coming from the other man. “I’m sorry.” 

Every word Jin spoke landed somewhere deep, somewhere he’d tried not to poke at too much since they’d drifted apart. You’re the blessing, not me. Mateo swallowed, his gaze softening in a way he didn’t bother disguising. “But you are a blessing, Jin,” he said gently, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, sincere smile. “I’ve felt that way since day one. Time nor circumstances have never ever changed that.” His smile softened, “I’m always going to keep our son safe. And I’ll never leave you behind. Not even in a hypothetical horror movie.” His nose brushed lightly against Jin’s for a brief second, giving him a little eskimo kiss before planting another gentle kiss to his lips.

When Jin took his hand and rested their foreheads together, Mateo’s fingers tightened instinctively around his, holding on without hesitation. “Hey,” he murmured, thumb brushing slow circles over Jin’s knuckles. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. Everything is okay. Everything will always be okay with us, remember?" His voice was quiet, but unwavering. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to Jin’s temple, lingering there for a second before pulling back just enough to look at him properly. His free hand drifted to Jin’s waist without him even thinking about it, drawing little circles.

“I think if you removed the loyalty trait from Stu, he would be much more impulsive, and he’d definitely get caught. But he’d have a good time while it lasted. I mean, he did, but he was also frustrated by being held back by Billy.” Jin pointed out, smiling some up at Mateo. He felt his shoulder brushing against his own, he was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Normally he would probably have pulled away, but right now he didn’t want to. In fact, he wanted more of that warmth. 

“I think sequels are better when they have a story to follow.” Jin said as his hand came up to rest on Mateo’s wrist. He was pretty sure by this point, Mateo could hear, and feel, his heart beating in his chest. The one glass of wine helped him talk his way into this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t extremely nervous. “I think we should fix it, though.” He said, his eyes dropping to Mateo’s lips once more before meeting his gaze again. “You know, just in case a sequel isn’t in the budget.” He reasoned teasingly. 

Jin shifted so he could lean closer and close the distance between them, he pressed his lips to Mateo’s, gentle and careful at first, like he was trying to remember how this all worked, or like he was afraid that if he moved too fast the moment would shatter. After a moment, Jin pulled back and looked up at Mateo, trying to read his expression. “Now, I think the setup is pretty perfect.” He said with a small smile tugging on his lips. “But that could just be me.” 

"Also, justice for Stu,” he declared, raising his wine in a dramatic little salute before taking a sip. “And Tatum. I loved her. I hate she went out in such a weak way. I mean, if she was going to die, it could’ve been more gnarly. She deserved that.” He shook his head, clearly still offended on her behalf years later. His shoulder stayed pressed against Jin’s, and this time he didn’t pretend it was accidental. He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned into it. “You’re right, though. Without loyalty, Stu’s just chaos with no direction. Which is fun… but short-lived.” His eyes softened as he looked at Jin. “I hope there is a budget for a sequel." And then Jin’s hand was on his wrist.

His heartbeat thudded so loudly it was almost disorienting, like it was drumming in his ears. The room felt like it tipped slightly off-axis. Everything slowed down, the flicker of the TV light, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the space between them shrinking in careful inches. He hadn’t let himself imagine this. Not really. Not after everything. Not after convincing himself that maybe that chapter had closed. His breath hitched softly just before Jin leaned in, and then their lips met. Mateo kissed him back instantly. It was soft at first—testing, gentle, almost reverent. Like rediscovering something fragile that had been tucked away too long. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and it took him completely by surprise how right it felt. When Jin pulled back, a quiet breath slipped from Mateo’s lips, almost shaky. He smiled, eyes a little dazed. “Perfect,” he murmured, voice low and honest.

There was a small pause—just enough for the weight of it to settle —before Mateo closed the space this time. For the first time, he stepped forward instead of waiting.

His hand slid gently to Jin’s jaw, thumb brushing just beneath his cheekbone as he kissed him again—deeper now, still tender but more certain. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. This was every restrained feeling, every almost, every what-if finally given permission to exist. When he finally eased back, he didn’t go far, their foreheads nearly touching. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he confessed softly, a breath of a laugh under the words. And before things could tilt too heavy, too serious, he pressed one more tender kiss to Jin’s lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such a blessing,” he teased gently, eyes warm and bright, “but I hope I do it again.”

His thumb traced lightly along Jin’s jaw, a bit reluctant to let go. "Do you want to stop?"

But there’s no time to think of hate, when the one he loves more than the vastness of all galaxies combine is undressing before him. Izar drinks in his beauty, how each muscles flexes easily with simple movements, how the beautiful curls brushes against shoulders he longs to kiss. For a moment, it feels like his heart will jump out of his ribcage. Elias turns and everything stops for a second before their hands touch. As soon as the emberwolf is by him, he pulls the cover over his waist. He wants to kiss that hand he holds in his, but instead, his mouth finds the emberwolf’s.

For a moment, he forgets the guilt. It’s so easy to do so when Elias kisses him like this, pulls him close. Even more so, when he puts a leg over Izar. The celestial beast’s hand slides up the muscular thigh until he reaches Elias’ ass and pulls his hips closer as he thrusts forward. They’ve messed around while sitting before, but not like this, not when Elias is more in tune with his emotions. He frees his other hand to caress the curls he loves so much.

Though, as soon as Elias halts, the guilt comes rushing back and he almost pulls back completely. He doesn’t. Only because he cannot stop himself from touching the emberwolf and knows how much damages doing so would cause Elias. He can feel his the whole front of his ribcage vibrating almost painfully to the erratic beat of his heart.

What if he didn’t slow down tonight? What if he let their love win isn’t of the guilt he feels?

He’s right, he’d been patience, but he’s been suffering and Izar realises that he’s been torturing not just himself but Elias too. What must his mate be thinking? The horror he’s hear thrown at Elias, maybe the emberwolf believes it’s why Izar hasn’t gone more after so long…? “I’m sorry―” He whispers. He’s apologizing for causing grief to Elias, but also to Moira for being unable to hold back any longer.

He let go of Elias’ ass just long enough to half yank down his boxer-brief, if only to free his erection. He tries to control himself still. He pushes his cock pass the fabric of Elias’ brief, thrusting between ass cheeks with a growl. “I’m sorry―” He says again, tearing up; though his tears are not like humans, but milky iridescent white. “I love you so much Elias… my mate.” He confesses before he can stop himself. His nails turn to claws and unknown galaxies fill his eyes.

Just this once, let me forget my guilt.

He prays to the Moon; she listens.

Eventually, the full body shaking ceases, soothed by careful caresses and gentle kisses and touches, as do the sobs yet, not once does he let go of the other undead. Those hands he adores carefully cup his face, and the man he loves dearly tells him not to apologise, brushing away the wetness that lingers on his cheeks. "I love you," Maddox says again, as if its the answer to everything in this moment. Things are complicated, there is still a despicable witch in the picture but, for now, it's just the two of them, in this room, each the centre of the others universe.

A warm hand presses to his cold chest, where his un-beating heart sits, Ric's words sincere and soft. I want to figure out this new life with you. I died loving you, and I was reborn loving you. Maddox says very little and lets the other talk, each word burrowing its way within his chest and sitting there, heavy and sentimental. The question posed is one he never thought he'd ever hear - my partner, my lover, my other half. Maddox lets a small smile grace his features, eyes slipping shut as Ric presses his lips to his forehead and asks him things he'd only ever dreamed of hearing.

"Ric," His voice is warm, full of hope. "I would love to be all that and more. If only you would be the same for me - my sunshine, my witch, my darling Ricardo," Maddox asks in return, hands finding the others waist and thumbing skin there affectionately.

Ricardo tilts his head, resting his forehead against Maddox’s, letting his lips brush against the curve of his jaw as he murmurs, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Each repetition trembles with devotion, with relief, with joy that he can hardly contain. His hands roam lightly, brushing over Maddox’s shoulders, down his arms, memorizing the feel of him as though he’s also afraid if he lets go, that this will vanish, like a dream dissipating in daylight. He lets himself breathe with Maddox, truly breathe, each inhale filling him with warmth, each exhale letting go of years of uncertainty and longing he thought he’d never escape.

When he finally looks up, his eyes find Maddox’s, shimmering with everything unsaid, and he whispers softly, “What did you do, Maddox? How—how did you survive all that?” The question isn’t accusatory, not even curious—it’s tender, filled with concern even now. "I'm sorry for every day you had to go without me. For ever making you think I wasn't coming back, for leaving without a proper goodbye. I'll spend every day of this new life making it up to you, my beloved. I'll love you harder by the second and remind you why you're so special to me every morning and night." And fight, fight against anyone or thing that would try to come between them.

“I would love to be all of that, and anything else you’d wish of me, my beloved, sweet Maddox,” Ricardo says then, letting his hands slide down to cup Maddox’s face fully, thumbs brushing over the tears, memorizing every line, every curve. He can feel Maddox’s hands finding his waist, fingers pressing warmly into him, and he can’t resist the pull. Slowly, gently, he scoots closer, letting his legs slide over Maddox’s so he’s straddling him, sitting, facing him, hands still cradling his cheeks. The closeness is electric, intimate, the air around them thick with the heat of their shared breaths. “I’ll stay,” he murmurs, “for as long as you’ll have me. You are my heart, Maddox, and I am yours, entirely, in ways that no past or unknown future can undo.”

“Really?!” He says sounding as he felt; surprised. “He seems so happy. Actually this whole place―it feels like a safe haven. I think that’s all you.” Simon wonders if that had sounded the way he’d intended. Though he tries not to push to far down that train of thoughts as this place, but also Emiliano feels like warmth and peacefulness to him.

“I’d love to learn more about how to take better care of him.” He says, not accepting just yet; even though in his heart, he’s already said yes a thousand times. “Would you teach me?” He almost sounds out of breath and that’s when it hits him how fast his heart is beating. He’s just that if he looked down right now and paused a moment, he’d see his chest moving with each pulse of his heart. A soft breathless laugh follows―”I don’t think any of my friends would be of any help for that. I’ve seen the long hours you work to take care of your ranch and brewery, and even if it’s just one horse, Shadowfax also deserves someone who’ll have his back… so I need to be in it fully.” He doesn’t know why he suddenly asks the next question, but he blurts it out nonetheless. “Do you have someone who has your back Emiliano?” The tone of his voice is caring and concerned and a part of him wants to reach out to the older man. It’s such a strong feeling that one of his hand had been halfway to do it, before he realizes what he’d been about to do and pulls it back.

He motioned toward the path leading off the barn, nodding with a quiet, steady confidence. “Come on, then. Dinner’s waiting, and I’ll walk you through some of the ways of the ranch on the way.” The walk was unhurried, filled with soft conversation. By the time they reached the house, the sun had dipped low, spilling amber light across the porch and the front yard. The place was cozy, warm in its lived-in way—too big for just him and Bandit, maybe, but Emiliano refused to give it up. It held memories, quiet corners for reading, and a sense of peace he’d carved out for himself over the years.

"As for my favorite book," he said, returning to the question from earlier, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows, "I’d have to go with All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy. There’s something about the way he writes about the land, the horses, and the quiet grit of life that…well, it speaks to me. You might like it—lots of heart, lots of hard work, and a way of seeing the world that stays with you long after you’ve closed the cover."

Once inside, the smell of the pot roast simmering on the stove mingled with the faint, homely scent of wood and old leather. Emiliano wasted no time, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands before setting out plates and bowls, then scooping up steaming mashed potatoes to go with the roast. He arranged everything carefully on the table, nodding to Simon with a gentle, inviting smile. “Please, take a seat wherever you choose,” he said, his tone warm, easy, and lightly teasing, the kind that made it feel like Simon belonged there already.

Moving over to the counter, Emiliano picked up a bottle and began to pour them each a glass of wine, the liquid warm and glimmering softly in the light. “I learned how to make this just the other day,” he said, holding the glass out toward Simon with a shrug that carried both pride and caution. “If you don’t like wine, or you don’t drink, I will take no offense to you not trying it.” He nodded toward the table where a glass of water waited. “I’ve got some water here too, or juice or soda in the fridge if you’d prefer. Nothing fancy, just…what works for you.” He set the glasses down, giving Simon a small, patient smile, letting the quiet hum of the home settle around them before he finally took his own seat.

He leaned back slightly, letting a slow exhale escape him before he looked over at Simon. “Been keeping busy, same as always—ranch, brewery, Bandit causing a ruckus,” he said with a small, fond shake of his head. “Nothing grand, nothing exciting…just the usual. But it’s good. Keeps me honest, I guess.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then gestured toward the plate in front of him with the tip of his fork. “What do you think of the roast? Does it need a little more salt or anything?” His tone was casual, easy, but there was an attentive note underneath, like he genuinely wanted Simon’s opinion, not just about the food, but about sharing this quiet, simple piece of his life.

Mateo’s own assessment about Stu had Jin nod along, genuinely engaged in what he was saying. “Weaponising being underestimated is exactly what he did. I think he was loyal to Billy, and he did want him to succeed. I think without Billy he would have been found out pretty quickly, because he got too excited about the grizzly details to think about the small ‘don’t get caught’ details, you know? So they make a great team, but I still think Billy is a bitch. And Stu is too loyal to him.” He said and shrugged. “He’s charismatic chaos, which is super dangerous, but unfortunately my favourite kind of charisma and chaos.” He joked. 

Jins throat felt tight when Mateo said he’d never leve him behind, not even running for his life in a horror movie. The way he said it with such certainty made Jin believe it, and it definitely triggered his flight response – or it would have done, had he not been so comfortable here on the floor with their pie and wine. It also made him feel guilty, because leaving him behind was exactly what Jin had done to Mateo last time things had been too real for him. “You’d come back for me?” He said, his voice soft as he looked up at Mateo. “Tactically speaking, that’s really stupid.” He teased, but without any malice behind it. “But I appreciate the gesture a lot. Maybe there is hope for me after all. Maybe we get to be in the sequel?” 

Mateo asking what the blackberry pie paired best with had Jin’s brain short circuit for a moment. He watched him carefully, taking in the way he was holding his wineglass, the soft expression on his face, and the way the light from the TV hit his features, and his eyes. “This,” he said finally, gesturing to the setup around them. The pies, the wine, the movie, Teddy, their alien plushie. The fact that it was also in the middle of the night, Jin’s favourite time of day, also helped. “All of it together.” He held Mateo’a gaze for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe… only one thing missing.” He said as his eyes flicked to Mateo’s lips briefly before back up at his eyes. 

When Jin called Billy a bitch, Mateo barked out a surprised laugh, nearly sloshing his wine. “Okay, first of all, that’s harsh,” he said, though his grin betrayed him. “Second of all…you’re not wrong.” He shifted closer without really thinking about it, shoulder brushing Jin’s as he talked. “Stu is loyal to a fault. That’s the tragedy of it. He’d burn the whole world down if Billy asked him to—and Billy absolutely would ask.” He tipped his head. “But you liking charismatic chaos?” His eyes narrowed playfully. “That tracks. Concerning, but it tracks.” His voice dipped just slightly. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m more ‘strategic survival instincts’ than ‘unhinged accomplice.’ Keeps the dynamic balanced.”

The teasing faded when Jin asked, softly, You’d come back for me? Mateo didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he replied gently, softly smiling. Mat let some of the playfulness slip away for a moment. He held Jin’s gaze, something open and unguarded sitting there. “Tactically stupid? Absolutely. Horrible survival odds. And the audience is probably going to be yelling at me that the killer is going to get us.” His mouth twitched faintly. “Still doing it.” There was a flicker in his expression then, “I don’t really do sequels without my favorite character,” he added quietly.

When Jin said maybe only one thing was missing—when his eyes dipped, brief but unmistakable—Mateo felt the air shift. The TV light flickered across Jin’s face, across his lips, and for a second the world narrowed down to the space between them. Mateo set his wine glass down carefully. “Only one thing?” he echoed, voice lower now. His eyes dropped to Jin’s lips and then lifted again, slower this time, making sure Jin knew he wasn’t pretending not to notice. His knee pressed a little more firmly against Jin’s, grounding himself in the contact, gravity pulling him in closer, but he didn’t close the distance—not yet. He let the moment stretch, warm and charged, the kind that felt fragile in the best way. Instead, he reached up slowly, giving Jin enough time to pull away if he wanted to, and brushed a stray piece of hair back from his face. His fingers lingered just long enough to trace the line of Jin’s cheek, light and careful, like he was mapping something he didn’t want to forget.

He swallowed softly, thumb resting for a brief second near Jin’s jaw. “Should we fix that,” he murmured softly, gaze steady and searching, “or are we letting it haunt us until the sequel?”

"I'll have to ask the old lady about the BBQ. I don't know if her family would wanna come out. They gotta see the house at some point. You can bring your dang... baby alien." Whatever weird situation was going down between the Mateo and Jin, Corey only hoped their friend wouldn't get hurt. Mat had a huge heart. He loved so fully. He always had. That love had been placed in the hands of people who didn't deserve it for too long. "Just be careful," was the only warning they gave. "I'm here if you wanna rant about boy shit." Lord knew Corey had bitched in Mat's ear enough times, especially recently, though things with Charlie had settled now.

"Hell yeah I ran into Rey. Shit, for somewhere so big, LA sure is small. We're playing music again. Shit keeps happening, man," Corey sighed, completing their food order on Charlotte's card, and gesturing for Mat to follow them outside. Corey plucked their cigarettes from their pocket, Bruin following at their heels as they made their way to the back yard. Corey didn't smoke in the house. Their mom would never let them get away with that, and it was a habit that had stayed with them. Bruin picked up a deflated soccer ball that was lying on the patio and ran around with it in his mouth. "You can kick and throw it around for him. He wants you to," Corey chuckled, heading down to the large, grassy area of the yard. "So, I haven't really told anyone yet, but... I found out something, or I guess, she found it out. I met my sister. My half-sister. I know who my dad is."

Mat grinned and shook his head, letting his gaze wander over the yard as Corey mentioned Rey and their music. “Man, LA is wild like that,” he said, voice light but full of warmth. “You blink and the whole city feels like it’s shrinking. One minute you’re bumping into people you know halfway across town, the next it feels like the streets are a maze designed to surprise you.” He laughed softly, shaking his head again. “I’m glad shit keeps happening though. It’s good to see you rolling with it, running into old friends, doing your thing, keeping the music alive. Honestly, seeing you handle all of it—life, work, your music—is very motivational,” he added, a faint tease in his tone, though the underlying pride in Corey was unmistakable.

Finally, when Corey dropped the bomb about their half-sister, Mat froze for a heartbeat, letting the words sink in. He looked at them with genuine curiosity and a flicker of awe, his jaw softening as he tried to process it. “Wait… seriously? That’s… wow. That’s a lot, man,” he said softly, shaking his head in disbelief. He crouched down to toss the ball to Bruin again, watching the dog race across the yard with a big, sloppy grin, and felt a strange mix of happiness and awe for Corey. “I mean…that’s huge. That’s really huge. I can’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like finding out, meeting her, realizing all that history,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “I know it’s probably a lot to wrap your head around, but I’m here for anything you need, alright? I mean it—vent, freak out, laugh, cry, whatever. You’ve got me.”

Mat straightened back up, hands loosening from his pockets as he looked at Corey more directly. “Seriously, though…how are you handling everything? Did it go okay when you found out? Did you get a chance to meet him, your dad, or… talk to her at all?” He shifted slightly, leaning against the fence for support, his tone soft and concerned. “I know this isn’t easy, and I get it if you’re still figuring out what it all means. But I just… want to make sure you’re alright. You don’t have to answer all at once, or even now, but I want to know that you’re doing okay.” There was a quiet weight in his words, that protective side, paired with an almost paternal instinct to make sure Corey felt safe and supported.