#.. mateo lara

“Come on, asshole.” Mateo tapped furiously away on the keyboard of his phone, an absurd amount of obscenities coloring his latest message. All pleasantries went out the window when he realized he was being stood up. 

“You fucking…goddammit.” What was the point of saying you'd buy something and then not show up? Mateo glanced over at the guitar case he'd carefully set aside, tapping his foot impatiently as he thought on what to do. Obviously the buyer had chickened out, and now Mateo was left with a custom guitar he had no use for. 

“Okay, whatever.” The mare picked up the case and opened the back of his truck, sliding the guitar in. His phone dinged and he groaned, taking a moment to check the message. Annoyed by the utter lack of accountability, Mateo shoved the phone back in his pocket and took out a joint, putting it between his lips and lighting it. The first inhale settled him and by the second puff, he was chill. Zen, even. Maybe. He was something, for sure. Enough of something to whistle at a random guy walking by to get his attention. “Hey!” 

—

It hadn’t taken long for Zack to relearn his bearings around Wicked’s Rest. The first week had been like moving through an odd dream, a memory of the town he had left. Now, though, he could easily navigate the familiar-again streets and avenues. As such, he was more or less zoned out as he trailed through the town, headed for his favorite coffeeshop. A sharp whistle and shout changed that, though.

Zack jerked to attention, casting his eyes over to the man. “Me?” he asked. The stranger was very attractive but also seemed agitated over something. And in Wicked’s Rest, you could never really be sure just how much trouble any random stranger might be. “Hi. Do you need help with something?” He did like to offer the benefit of the doubt, though, so he pulled up a smile for the guy and took a step closer.

—

“Man, I knew you looked smart.” Mateo wrapped a friendly arm around the man and led him to the open hitch of his truck. He unlatched the guitar case and revealed red-stained pine wood guitar with f-holes, brass pickup covers, and turquoise opal inlays. A smile full of pride spread across Mateo's lips and he leaned the man over for a closer look. 

“I have here a custom electric guitar that some asshole didn't show up to buy. We made an arrangement, and lo and behold, I've been waiting an hour for him to show. So…” Pointing to the guitar, Mateo bounced his eyebrows expectantly. “I've decided to find a new, smarter customer.” He took a drag from his joint, offering it to the man. “I'm Mateo. You play guitar?”

—

Zack was a little apprehensive when the man put an arm around him but he was easily flattered and it wasn’t often that he was told he was smart. His anxiety did briefly pick up when he got led over to an open truck, it settled some when the guitar came out. He knew next to nothing about music and even less about musical instruments. Like most American teenagers, he had tried to learn some guitar – but that was a beat-up acoustic at thirteen years old. None of it had stuck, aside the surprise at how badly his fingers hurt from the strings.

While not a musician, Zack was an artist. And he could tell this guitar was a work of art. It was a gorgeous piece.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry,” he sympathized. He had run into similar situations, the few times he tried to sell physical art. It was also a toss-up. “That sucks, what an asshole.” His commiseration cut short when he realized all that was happening. He was being targeted for a sale. “I’m Zack, but I don’t,” he said, shrugging as if chagrined. “This is really beautiful work, though. You should have no problem finding another buyer for it.”

—

Mateo's head fell dramatically in defeat. “Of course you don't play.” He crossed his arms, grumbling Spanish expletives to himself while he tapped at his phone again. Still no messages from the customer. There was no way Mateo was going to let himself take a loss. 

Drumming his fingers across his forearm, a plan began to form. A deviant, vandalistic plan. From the submission form for ordering the set, there was an address. Using that knowledge, Mateo figured he could pay the man a little visit. A more reasonable man would've just sent the invoice and a past due notification to the guy's home, forcing him to pay. 

Mateo was not a reasonable man. 

“Do you like vandalism?” He cut through the silence, arching an inquiring brow. “Scratch that, would you be willing to be paid for some vandalism?”

—

Zack had learned enough Spanish by osmosis to know that Mateo was not being very nice about whomever he was speaking about. He did feel bad for other man, both in general and specific as an artist, but this was also a stranger. An agitated stranger, someone who Zack couldn’t be sure how he would react.

Once again, Zack was caught off-guard. “Uh. I wouldn’t say I like it.” He had been on either side of that line, had endured plenty of vandalism the years he was living without a solid home, or had a home in the less-than-great area in town. But he also had a brief stint as a vagrant that included some petty vandalism, rarely anything worse than some tagging. “I’ve been known to do a little spray-painting but–” He raised his hands. “That’s not gonna get you paid for your work.” Actually it would just be costing him more money, if he was going to be paying Zack to commit some light property damage. 

He nodded to the phone in Mateo’s hands. “What if he’s just, like, in the middle of an emergency or something?” There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why this customer wasn’t responding. It didn’t seem like the smartest thing, to jump to vengeance.

—

Mateo heard spray-painting and that was all he needed to spring into action. With a grin, he sauntered over to his storage and flipped it open to reveal several compartments. One of which contained several spray paint bottles. The rest were covered and locked up, hiding Mateo's more nefarious weapons. 

“Look, it's not about being paid now. I've got money. It's the principle!” Mateo grumbled, tossing out a few empties into the bed while he searched for the hottest pink he could find. Finally obtaining it, he cheered in victory, turning back to Zack. 

“I'll pay you a thousand dollars and guarantee neither of us will get fined or go to jail.” After taking a long drag of his joint, Mateo tossed the roach on the ground and smashed it under his sneaker. Then he looked Zack up and down, shrugging. “If you do a good job, I'll throw in a date. How's that?”

—

Zack’s head cocked as she saw that Mateo had a little haul of spray cans in his trunk. There was a brief moment where a giddy sort of connection flashed through him and he almost asked whether Mateo was a street artist. But something about this man’s vibe told him no. No, the paint was more likely to be used for whatever this adventure might end up being: vandalism.

But a thousand dollars was a thousand dollars, and if he could guarantee they wouldn’t end up in trouble… It was still a terrifically stupid idea. Zack knew that. It was obvious on his face that he should not be doing this. But it also sounded like fun. And when Mateo threw in a date, he knew he was done for. Sure, the man was a little strange edging toward scary, but he happened to be hot enough to make it irresistibly intriguing. 

“If you’re absolutely sure this won’t end in us getting thrown in jail or anything. I’m in.” He offered a game smile as he held out his hand – either to shake on it or to take hold of the spray can. Zack only hoped he wouldn’t end up regretting it.

—

“Oh, you beautiful himbo. I might be in love. Wonder what else you would do for a stack.” Mateo looked Zack up and down, nodding with approval and not even trying to hide it. Committing crimes always got Mateo a little frisky, but he had to focus. Flirting could come after the fun. Although the two devils (because why would a nightmare have an angel at all?) on his shoulders were telling him that he could do both. Mateo likely would, to be clear. He always has been, and always will be over indulgent. 

“On top of payment, I have now decided that you are cute enough to not leave behind. I would even stop my escape if you tripped.” The tone was playful, meaning that Mateo wouldn’t have actually considered letting Zack take the fall. 

Mostly.

Taking Zack’s hand, instead of a shake like a normal person, the mare yanked the man into him and pressed his cold lips into his to seal the deal. He was warm, so he was definitely alive, which meant Mateo would have to take that into consideration when approaching any sort of snafus that led to confrontation. That was fine. And it wasn’t like Zack was weak. Those biceps could do something. 

Mateo  pulled away, patting Zack’s back. “All right.” He unlocked the truck and gestured for the man to hop in. “A deal’s a deal. We didn’t kiss for nothing.” 

—

“Hey, does that mean you were going to leave me behind?” Not that Zack could really blame him. They were essentially strangers. Despite Mateo promising that he would stop for him, he resolved not to trip at any point during this escapade. He was grateful he had left Zippo home that day – his familiar didn’t need to get mixed up in whatever disaster this would inevitably become.

Zack let out a small sound of surprise, muffled against Mateo’s lips, as the other man yanked him into a kiss. He did get a split second of linger, though, where he got to relax into the kiss. But no longer – his hand drifting up to lay on the other man’s shoulder met air. Still he found himself a little dazed from the contact as Mateo urged him along, into his truck. “Is this a kidnapping?” he asked, already climbing into the passenger side.

—

Mateo grinned, arching a brow. “Guess we'll never know.” Well, he did, and the answer was no. Leaving someone behind, even a stranger, was practically like being a snitch. When it came to authorities, the last thing Mateo wanted to do was give them an easy time, especially when it was for a crime as juvenile as vandalism. The thought reminded him of Rory, and how they escaped not too long ago. 

Hopping inside his truck, the mare chuckled and shook his head. “Did you really just ask if this is a kidnapping while willingly getting into the truck?” Cute. Honestly, Mateo liked stupid jokes like that. Zack didn't make the best decisions based on the ease at which he accepted the job, but it was obvious he had some intelligence to him. You didn't have cute timing like that otherwise. Still, Mateo had to tease him. 

“I was right,” He turned his key and the engine roared to life, and he shifted into gear, then finished what he was saying. “You are definitely a himbo.” A chuckle escaped him and he pressed on the gas while tapping on his phone for his maps application. Mateo clicked the go button and mounted the phone before exiting the parking lot and driving the twenty minutes to the address he'd gotten from the customer. 

“So uh,” Mateo looked at Zack in his periphery, trying to make light conversation. “Those muscles are functional, right? ‘Cause mine are great and all, but I can't be the only one doing the heavy lifting.”

—

“It still kinda feels like a kidnapping.” And he would know, as someone who had been kidnapped. By vampires, no less. That was a lot more violent, obviously, but there was an unease and fear at the edge of this whole interaction. If “willingly” was a spectrum, Zack was hovering somewhere in the middle of it right now. (Though that kiss had briefly, artificially, sent the needle sailing toward the higher end of it.).

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment?” He knew what a “himbo” was, of course, but could never really tell whether he was being made fun of when someone referred to him as such. Arden, he knew, said it with a degree of warmth and fondness. He didn’t know Mateo well enough (or at all) to be able to determine how he was using it.

His anxiety spiked as they pulled out of the parking lot and set on their way. Zack hadn’t been lying – there was some light vandalism in his history and he was no stranger to a blank concrete wall and some spray paint cans. “How would they not be functional?” Zack asked, genuinely uncertain. And besides that, “What kind of heavy lifting are we going to need to do?”

—

“You can hop out of my truck any time, chavo.” In response, Mateo stepped on the brake pedal, waiting a moment before he continued following the path the GPS gave him. “See? Not kidnapping. I'm a reasonable guy.” He'd even waited an entire hour for the customer to show up before he resorted to mild violence!

“Look, you're probably a smart guy, but you're obviously making a pretty dumb decision right now.” Shrugging, Mateo clicked his tongue and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he made a turn. Continuing with a pat to Zack's lap. “My guess is that you're here for a good time regardless of dumb decisions, and your bottom status veers you into himbo territory due to my charm and good looks.” He was mostly kidding, going so far as to give Zack a dramatic wink. “Takes balls to be your version of himbo. You're willing to do dumb shit you know is dumb.”

The energy shifted slightly in the cabin of the truck, and the mare arched a brow while he looked at Zack in his periphery. His body was a little stiff, but he wasn't withdrawn or terrified. Figuring he needed a little reassurance, Mateo leaned back in his seat and laid his arm across the backrest, his hand draping over Zack's shoulder. “You know,” He took on a playful tone, hoping to lighten up the vibe. “Some muscles are for show. They're big with no actual density. Might need you to hoist me up for a tough spot.” Mateo shrugged, “Who knows?”

—

Zack jerked forward a little with the brake, but didn’t move to get out. He did end up squirming some, a little uncomfortable with how on the nose Mateo’s assessment of him seemed to be. He had found himself in more than one stupid situation due to following his dick instead of his head. Most recently, in the store room of a daylight warehouse rave. Although, that had kind of worked out, in the end… 

“I’m not necessarily a bottom,” Zack pointed out, the only clear statement he could dispute from all that Mateo had said. As if to prove himself wrong, his whole body relaxed some at the touch, the arm over his shoulders. 

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Zack countered, but he didn’t actually know for sure. Was there a way to build muscles without lifting weights? Even on gear, those guys were still actually strong. He thought. Now he wasn’t sure. Either way, it wasn’t very relevant. Zack eyed Mateo over (not for the first time) and judged what the other man might weigh. “I think I could lift you, yeah.” His build seemed similar to Kieran’s and Zack knew he could lift the fae without issue.

—

“Necessarily? I knew it.” Mateo grinned, turning the wheel after a brief stop of traffic. The GPS read for five minutes left in the drive, and that irritated him. He'd only been driving for a handful of minutes, with very little to go, and the customer couldn't be bothered to show up? 

Mateo grumbled a few Spanish expletives beneath his breath and absentmindedly raked his fingers up the back of Zack's head. It was nice to have something else to do while he drove. That, and well, the conversation. 

“Sure it's a thing. Ever see that episode of SpongeBob? Where he blows up them big muscles and he can't lift shit?” Mateo snickered and rolls his eyes at himself. He was bullshitting. “That ain't you though, apparently. ” He stole a glance, a too-playful smirk on his face while he turned onto the street the customer's house was on. 

“We're here, chavo. Show me what you got.” Mateo parked the truck a house over, behind some shrubbery to conceal their position. Once at the truck's storage, he grabbed two spray cans and a paper bag, just in case. He tossed one can over to Zack and put his hoodie up, sauntering sneakily over to the garage door and happy to see there were no security cameras. “In and out, cutie.” He said to Zack, can in hand and lifted at the ready.

—

A blush touched Zack’s cheeks, whether it was from Mateo’s smile or the absolute transparency of his tendencies, anyone could say. What was the point in denying it? He knew what he liked. He just didn’t exactly love that it was apparently so easy for just about anyone to spot. Although, he was at least part to blame for that: the shudder that shook through him at the feel of the man’s fingers through his hair was anything but subtle. He opened his mouth to protest on behalf of his dignity, but all that came out was a content hum. So much for his dignity.

Before Zack could parse the reference Mateo made – no, he hadn’t seen that episode of Spongebob. In fact, his parents hadn’t allowed any cable television so he was only aware of Spongebob through cultural osmosis, a few episodes caught here and there at friends’ houses – they had arrived. Adrenaline and anxiety made an unpleasant cocktail in Zack’s blood, pumping through those muscles Mateo was so concerned about. 

“In and out, right,” he muttered back, catching the can of spray paint. Really gotta have a talk with my dick and the situations it gets me into, he thought to himself. But it was too late for that in the present situation. All he could do was follow Mateo toward the unassuming-looking suburban home. The vandalism Zack had engaged in previously had all been street art-based, never malicious. So he didn’t really know where to begin. 

In the end, he gleaned from what he knew about the situation and went for a giant, stylized dollar bill. In the center, where George Washington would normally sit, Zack opted for a pig wearing a top hat and a monocle. An argument could be made that it was to represent something about greed and the money Mateo had been cheated out of. But really, it was just the first thing that popped into his head.

And he hated to admit it, but as he got into the design, Zack really was having fun. Maybe his dick didn’t make such bad decisions after all…

—

There was a light in Zack's eye that bloomed the moment he had a paint can in his hand. He looked excited, a little more alive than he had in the truck where anxiety had made a home in his nerves. That was a look Mateo enjoyed seeing in his partners in crime, especially those that had thought to have hung up the nozzle long ago. 

“You're a natural.” The mare grinned, shaking the red paint in preparation of his tag. He started the line, pushing it straight and then pulling it into a few curves until he had the body of a guitar completed. It was an exact copy of the shape of the guitar he'd made for his customer. One would say the man could make a connection to Mateo from the pictures he'd sent as he completed the project, but even he knew that was circumstantial at best. 

“Hey,” He nudged his chin to the artwork. The neck of the guitar would go just a bit too high for him to reach even with his height. “Gimme a lift.” Mateo circled around Zack and massaged his shoulders, waiting for the go ahead to hop on. 

—

There was no denying it – Mateo’s praise did light a fire in Zack’s chest. A pleasant warmth there, sure, and then something that burned a little hotter, lower. There was a reason why the hot bad boy was a cliche, and seeing the other man with the can of spray paint in his hand… Well, if Zack hadn’t been eager for their date before, he certainly was now. “Thanks.” He sprawled a few more details on his design and told Mateo, “I didn’t tag all the time when I was a teenager but it was always fun. Just couldn’t risk getting picked up by the cops.” He had been a runaway, at the time, and living on the streets for most of it. Not someone who wanted any more attention from law enforcement than necessary.

He looked over at Mateo’s prompting and then tried not to completely lose his focus because of the hands on his shoulders. “Yeah, sure thing.” He crouched to give Mateo a better vantage point and then, with only a little effort, stood with the other man solidly on his shoulders. It was definitely a little more difficult than just hoisting Kieran up onto a counter or against the wall, but nothing Zack couldn’t handle. 

Still he couldn’t help a nervous swivel of his head (that didn’t result in much intel, as his vision was blocked by either of Mateo’s thighs… Not that he was complaining). “Hurry up, though, okay? We’ve already been here awhile.” It had only been a few minutes at most, but when you were technically committing a crime, you didn’t want to linger.

—

“Yeah, yeah.” Mateo slipped onto Zack's shoulders, using the wall to keep both of their balances. When he was steady, the mare quickly set to work and finished his guitar with a few flicks and drags of his paint. “All right, big boy.” Mateo patted Zack's pec, signaling him to put him down. 

When his feet touched the ground though, a whiny, shrill voice yelled out, “Hey!” It made Mateo jump slightly, but he quickly went into action. “Go to the truck!” He commanded, booking it toward the customer who'd fucked him over. Jeff. Mateo narrowed his eyes and calmed the man's face until his body went limp with a few telltale snores. He dropped the body then made a break for it, picking up the cans on the way out to his truck.

—

Zack tried to focus on the image Mateo was spray painting, but he was mostly lost in the feeling of the heat of his strong legs on either side of his neck. Hopefully they could finish up soon, and move onto the date that he had been promised. Adrenaline was already winding high through his system and he would need some way to burn that off. At Mateo’s signal, he carefully squatted back down and let the other man climb off of him.

Which was when, of course, things went sideways. Mateo didn’t seem shaken, though, and if there was one thing Zack could do, it was follow directions. He booked it for the truck, opening the passenger door and sliding in. Just as he clicked his seatbelt on, he realized that Mateo wasn’t there with him. “Oh, shit!” They had even joked about not leaving anyone behind. Zack wasn’t going to do that to his new friend. Thankfully, before he could undo his seatbelt and go back after Mateo, he saw the other man headed his way. “Go, go, go!” he urged as Mateo climbed in. He had insisted that they wouldn’t get into trouble, but Zack didn’t really want to test that. 

—

At the truck, Mateo threw the cans over to Zack's side and started the ignition. “Don't worry,” He slowed down and relaxed, not taking any of Zack's urgency into account. Jeff wasn't going to wake up for at least an hour. “You look so cute while you're flushed.” Shifting the truck into drive, they rolled off and took a few back ways until they were back on the freeway again. No car in sight. They'd made the perfect getaway.

“And…” He looked through the rear-view mirror one last time, “We're good.” Not even the neighbors saw them, which was a godsend. And it meant they could go on their merry way. With a quick pitstop of course. 

Mateo turned into a gas station and parked at the back, where no one could see them. He hadn't even bothered to put on his seatbelt like Zack, and he undid his very quickly. There was way too much adrenaline running through his body. He had to put it to use. “You okay with a car fuck before a date? I'll get you nice and fed after. You've been so good for me, I'll even throw in a steakhouse as an option.”

—

It wasn’t until they were on the busier freeway that Zack registered just what Mateo had said (you look so cute while you’re flushed) and blushed even deeper. He resisted the urge to ask if that made him cuter to Mateo, and instead just reveled in the fact that they seemed to have gotten away. There were no sirens, no rotating lights, and Mateo’s phone was blowing up with calls from an angry customer. Well, surely an ex-customer now. He only hoped that Mateo hadn’t killed the guy back there. Zack was at least about ninety-four percent sure that he hadn’t.

“That…was fun,” he commented on the end of a breathy laugh. It had been awhile since Zack had let himself do something like that, something outside of his strict little routine that he had developed in Chicago. That routine had come about to ensure that he didn’t have any accidents with his abilities, so he knew it was important. But, maybe it was also important to have a little bit of a release from the schedule every now and then.

For a split second, as they pulled into the gas station, Zack was sure his luck had abruptly run out and Mateo was going to, finally, murder him. But it was quite the opposite actually and he grinned bright and wide up at his partner in crime. “I am so very okay with that.” Nothing felt better, actually, for his adrenaline-riddled body, than a car fuck. Reaching over into the driver’s seat, Zack took hold of Mateo’s collar and pulled him in for a kiss.