#c mateo

“Fuck.” Mateo groaned, body stiff and sore from the festivities he'd been up to for the last…he checked his watch. “Shit. A whole fucking day?” He blinked several times, eventually keeping them shut. They were closed so tightly that he saw stars. Then, it hit him. He was home.

“Xóchitl?!” The mare called out, eyes snapping open as he scrambled to his feet. “Xóchitl!” Tearing the door open, Mateo rushed into his bedroom and looked around frantically, going for his phone when he didn't hear his fiancé's voice. 

__

She didn’t like being alone, and even though it was against the advice of people around her (namely Eve), she’d gone out partway through being stuck at home. It wasn’t even stuck, necessarily, and she didn’t want to go just anywhere, she wanted to go to Mateo’s place. She still wasn’t sure how living together would work for the two of them, namely on account of Esperanza, but she didn’t need to think about that right now.

He’d been out when she had arrived, and so she’d curled up and fallen asleep (even having the smell of him around helped, even though it didn’t help quite as much as when he was actually there). Xóchitl shifted as her phone buzzed, loud against the couch cushions.

—

The line trilled once, the sudden sound of another phone buzzing cutting through behind the mare. He turned around, stomach dropping, and all but ran over to the living room. Relief consumed Mateo upon seeing Xóchitl sleepily looking around for her cell. He sighed, “You're okay.” 

Relinquishing himself to that relief, he shakily walked to the couch and sank to his knees. Half of him rested against Xóchitl, arms wrapped tightly around her, while his knees on the floor kept him up. “I'm really fucking glad you're okay. Last night…” Mateo trailed off, unnerved by how full he felt. 

For all the things Xóchitl knew about him, he kept his more murderous tendencies hidden. “Last night was bad.” He murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of Xóchitl's neck. “But I'm really glad you're okay.”

—

“Of course I – yeah, I’m okay.” Because if there was something that she’d learned, being okay was far from a guarantee in this town. She couldn’t be flippant about it, least of all with the man she was going to marry. The same man who knew nearly everything there was to know about her. “I was lonely and so I came over, and then I guess I fell asleep…” she yawned, welcoming Mateo’s arms around her.

She kissed his forehead and brought her hands under his jaw so that she could look at him more. “I’m sorry last night was bad. People keep saying things like that – or people – one person – did warn me about that.” Xóchitl ran her tongue against her teeth. “But I still wanted to be near you. I’m so glad you’re okay, too.” That was all that really mattered – she’d check in on other people soon, but she needed Mateo to be okay and here he was, alive (well…) as ever. 

Xóchitl hadn’t realized just how worried she had been that he wasn’t going to be alright (even though that was sort of her thing, worrying that people she loved were going to be harmed) and she tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to get him onto the couch with her. “Can I make sure you’re alright?” She asked, fingers already under his shirt.

—

It didn't take long for Mateo to go where Xóchitl wanted him. One tug and he was seated next to her, his eyes fluttering shut  as her hands made contact with his skin. She had that effect on him. Even one look was enough to settle him. 

“I'm okay, babe.” Most of his injuries were from his own erratic movements that sent him tumbling. Hardly anything was able to truly touch Mateo thanks to his meals being inside someone's mind. That thought made his chest twist, and the more he mulled on it, the more he felt that Xóchitl deserved the truth. Especially now that there was a ring on his finger. 

“I think I…no-I know I hurt a lot of people last night. And-and…it's honestly better that you weren't here or that I didn't run into you.”

—

She smiled at him, at how real he was. How alive he was, despite technically not being. He was here and he was still around and that was enough for her. It didn’t have to be, she could have been much more done up about all of this, but it was enough and that, Xóchitl figured, was love. Or at least some version of it. There were so many forms of love, and she’d crossed over multiple kinds with Mateo. It was beautiful, and it was incredibly distracting.

“You hurt a lot of people?” She felt her heart both stop and race all at once. “Do – you – you wanna tell me more about that, babe?” Trying to keep her voice light. She knew there were things Mateo did that he hadn’t told her, and that he perhaps didn’t want to tell her, but that perhaps he also needed to tell her. “I was – okay.” She swallowed, hands dropping from his chest for a moment as she took in a deep breath of her own. Xóchitl looked down at the ring on her own finger and over to Mateo’s ring and sighed. “You can tell me anything, you know.” 

—

He looked away from Xóchitl, too ridden with guilt to be strong enough to keep their gazes locked. When her hands drifted away, he quickly grabbed a hold of her wrist, gently guiding it back. No one had ever called Mateo strong, and he certainly wasn't right then. To do the right thing, he needed his partner to comfort him. 

“Last night,” The mare swallowed, keeping his eyes trained on the lump of Xóchitl's hand under his shirt. “I couldn't control it. I needed nightmares. Craved them so badly I thought I was going crazy.” Mateo scrubbed at his face, chin trembling. 

“Maybe I was. Everyone else looked crazy, and-no. I'm getting–that's not the point. I-I do it…fuck.” He sniffled, scrubbing at his face more. “That's what I do, Xóchitl. That's my real job.” A teary hiccup, “People pay me and I take care of shit, but I–but I swear, if the reason ain't right, I take the, the uh, the client out instead. I-I use my abilities to get away with it, and last night was nothing like that--and-and I couldn't…!” 

Mateo tightly pressed his palms against his eyes, his cries teetering into a sob. He could very well lose Xóchitl now, but she deserved the truth. “Fuck.” 

—

She startled for a moment at his hand around her wrist, but only for a moment. Soon enough it was the usual comfort that came with any physical contact from Mateo. Even though this was much more carefully taken and done than they usually were, and less caring and careful all in one (and so very confusing to Xóchitl, just on the whole). 

“It’s okay.” He was being honest, and the first time he’d been very open and honest with her she’d handled it terribly. But now she knew what he was, and even if some of the concepts of it all were hard to process, she was working on it, and doing her best to understand. Besides, the only people she really had an issue with were fae and she and Siobhan had… whatever the hell it was they had going on, so the least she could do was listen to her partner.

“Or – well, I mean, it’s not okay if you don’t want it to be…” she tried to find solid ground with her wording, tried to make everything make sense even when it seemed impossible. “So you kill people?” She swallowed. “For a living?” Her hand went with him when he went to press his palms against his eyes. “That’s what you’re saying?”

—

Mateo nodded weakly, only able to produce a few hiccups instead of words. He knew he was being pathetic and that he had no right to behave as if he were a victim, but he couldn't stop it either. The last time Mateo was honest about who and what he was, Xóchitl met him with anger and confusion. So, it surprised him a little, when she continued to coax the truth out gently. It helped him calm down, and he dropped his hands from his face. 

“I like my job. I like what I am.” He shrugged, “Most of the time.” Absentmindedly, Mateo searched for Xóchitl's hand and carefully grabbed ahold of it, thumb brushing her knuckles. “At first I didn't care who I hurt, but it took one kid being in danger and I couldn't just be that.” 

A dry chuckle tumbled out of Mateo, and he shook his head. “Turns out it's way more fun to take out assholes who think they're untouchable.” He cleared his throat, finally looking Xóchitl in the eye. “I understand if this changes things. I just…last night was–being out of control like that made me feel like-I don't want to keep you out of it. I want to be the good man you think I am.”

—

“Of course.” It was a reflexive response, but she knew enough about reflexive responses to things that she knew that this had to meant she was okay with this, at least somewhat. Or in the very least, okay with hearing about it. She had grown since his last major confession. Xóchitl knew more about the world that they were both part of, her more reluctantly so than him. Her, because that world had murdered her very best friend right in front of her.

The fact that a kid in danger had made him reevaluate made her nod. Not quite smile, because that would be pushing it too much, but they had talked about kids and even though she’d never really wanted them before (mostly because she was so convinced something would go wrong), being with Mateo did make her consider wanting them, and it was nice to see that his talk about children hadn’t been all an act. “Yeah, kids do make you think about things in a new way.”

She still felt almost sick, which wasn’t good, but it wasn’t full-blown sickness and unease, which meant that it wasn’t bad, either. Which – well, she’d been learning about and leaning more into the gray, these days. The gray was far more comfortable than she’d imagined it would be. “You are a good man,” she stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think you are. It doesn’t change things. I love you all the same.” For someone as comfortable with hiding behind the truth as she was, Xóchitl could even tell how honest she was being. “I trust you.”

—

“A good man?” Mateo’s brows twitched together, a bit confused. “Really?” He never thought himself to be a good man. He knew, from the beginning–even as a teenager, that he wasn't good. 

Mateo's mother told him all the time he had the face and demeanor of a criminal, and if he didn't make an effort to fix that, he'd be one. Although he'd never tell his mother she was right, Mateo found out she was the moment his brother's lucrative lifestyle enticed him. 

“I'm not sure I'm a good man. I'm just a bad person trying to do good things when he can.” That said a lot about someone, but Mateo wasn't particularly good at applying that thinking to himself. “And I still fuck up. I kept it from you. Thought it was better that way, but it's not.” He paused, clearing his throat. “If you're going to marry me though, all the cards are on the table. I hurt people. Definitely did last night, even if I couldn't control it.”

—

“Well, good for me, at least. I think being too good is overrated.” She made a face. “Not – well, I mean, I want to do good for the world and I want good things in the world but people who get all high and mighty about being and doing good are not it.” Xóchitl winced. “Okay, that makes me sound like some sort of cartoonish villain, but you get my point, don’t you?” He had to, didn’t he? Given everything, given who he was and what he did and how he was better at seeing the world in gray than she’d ever be, he had to. Either that, or she’d just made a giant misstep and the consequences were not going to be delightful at all.

She shrugged. “Okay, well, you’re good for me and that has to count for something, I think.” She felt her voice wavering, felt the uncertainty pouring out of her body. “Hey, in your defense, you didn’t know we were going to get married until a few weeks ago, so…” though she knew that if they were to work out, she couldn’t bend over backwards to make excuses for him. “It’s fine, I also reacted like shit when you were first open with me, so I can’t exactly blame you at all. I still want to marry you.” Xóchitl kissed him. “Could even get married just us, just right now.” Another kiss punctuated her statement. “It’s okay. I know you wouldn’t hurt me or –” well, if cards were on the table she had no excuse to be anything other than open, “any future kids we might have, or any kids in general. That’s a hard line for me.”

—

Mateo's expression softened, a warm, doting smile pulling his cheeks up. As if Xóchitl could be a villain. She definitely couldn't be cartoonish about it either. From the beginning, it was her heart that Mateo admired. 

She fought through her fear all the time, doing it right then, in front of him. Because she wasn't scared of him. She was scared of what the future might hold, she was scared of failing the people she loved, and she was scared of not being enough. To be clear, Mateo thought she should be at least scared of what he did, but there was a selfish part of him that was glad she wasn't. 

“Never. I protect my own, and I protect the little guy. Anyone else is fair game.” The tears had finally stopped, leaving the mare only sniffling now. After a few breaths, he circled back, pulling Xóchitl into his lap. “And don't think I'm brushing over the getting married now comment.” He chuckled, “Ain't no way I'm giving up our big moment. That spotlight is ours.” An easy sigh fell out of Mateo and he kissed Xóchitl's cheek.

“So…we're okay?”

—

It warmed her, despite how cold his skin was against her own, to hear Mateo say my own. She wouldn’t push it, but maybe there was more serious time to talk about adoption. Another time, though, not when Mateo’s emotions were heightened from anxiety that he might attempt to deny, and not when she was getting through processing more information about him. Not bad information, not really, but more information. There was only so much that either of them could handle at once, no matter what either of them might claim to the outside observer.

She easily went to his lap, their flow together as natural as a river running its course, and she grinned. “Yes, okay, well, I was just making a point!” She kissed him, hard and slow and long, not wanting to draw her lips away from his. Not wanting them to be apart any longer than they had to be. Unfortunately though, she did have to breathe, and so she pulled away from him for a moment. “We should start looking for clothes for that soon.” Another easy nod, something so obvious that there was no follow up necessary. 

“We’re so okay. I love you. Te amo por siempre.” She kissed him again, and she could have even thought that he was somehow alive right now.

—

“A point, yeah.” His body relaxed, lids growing heavy. He didn't realize how tired he was until he was able to settle fully, and that only managed to happen after a few confessions.

“Oh, hello.” Mateo sighed into Xóchitl's kiss and sank further into the couch, eyes still closed when she pulled away. He was listening and nodding along to what she said next, coaxing Xóchitl to return to where she was with a promise. 

“We can start looking this week.” The mare hummed into the next few kisses, standing up and lifting Xóchitl along the way. “Right now, though. I need a shower and a nap.” A grin pulled Mateo’s cheeks up brightly, and he sighed contentedly as he took them both to the restroom. “And you're coming with me.”

—

“Hey,” she said, gentle laughter barely contained under her voice. “You like when I make points…and stuff.” She loved the way that he sank into her kiss, loved the way that their lips fit together almost as though they’d been carved from the same stone years and years ago. It was magic and fate and a whole lot of other things that Xóchitl still wasn’t entirely sure she believed in, but she did believe in Mateo and so that was enough. It would always be enough.

The way Marcy spoke about the dead cat had Regan’s slow heart a-flutter. The “normal social activity” she needed to complete if she wanted the cat for herself didn’t have to be anything elaborate. Marcy only said it needed to be with someone, in person, and within the realm of what most people would consider socially engaging. And Mateo, despite his flaws – misleading her about boning, primarily – was willing to get coffee with her. 5 minutes. No conversation. There would be a dead cat at the end as her prize, making it all worth it.

Regan looked around the small coffee shop, drink in hand, until she found someone else who was there alone. An objectively attractive male who looked smug enough to be the person she’d talked to online. More than that, she could feel some strange death in the air, the same way Metzli, Leila, and others seem to exude it. She shook a shiver out and would do her best to ignore it. Rather than join Mateo at his table, Regan took a seat at one nearby, and looked at him from across the empty gap. “Mateo?” With any luck, that would be the only word she’d need to utter to him during the next 5 minutes.

Despite the charm not working and the subsequent joke Mateo had pulled, Regan still wanted to meet for coffee. It’d be a silent ordeal, but that didn’t really matter to the mare. He didn’t need words to speak. Any message Mateo wanted to deliver could be sent with actions, and for the most part, the contents would be similar to the boning mishap. 

There would be no play coming out of the inordinary date anyway. Not the bedroom kind at least. Mateo would make do, he always did. But damn, he wished, for a moment, that Regan hadn’t been as attractive as she was. Powerful women really were his weakness. The curt tone used for his name was just adding insult to injury. He took a deep breath, smiling smugly as he leaned back in his chair. “Yep.” Mateo chirped, grabbing his latte and moving to Regan’s table to have a seat. He remained silent, per her stipulations, checking his watch to begin the time. 

A lot of damage could be done in five minutes, but there was still a sense of urgency to get the maximum output of annoyance. Mateo took to staring at Regan to begin, knowing he could withstand never blinking again as he tipped his mug to his mouth and sipped loudly. It was obvious the sound was on purpose, made even more evident with the curl of the corner of his lips. If Mateo was lucky, he’d be able to get Regan to break the silence, though that seemed much too absurd. On energy and tone alone, the woman seemed way too resolute to give in at all. 

Mateo seemed to have misunderstood. Regan wanted him away. They didn’t need to be at the same table. Surely exchanging a glance was enough. As he crept closer and pulled up a seat, it became immediately clear that the death she’d felt earlier was clinging to him. And just like others with this affliction, there was something perverse and wrong about it. Regan crossed her arms to hide the goosebumps, and tilted her chair away from him. At least he spared a glance at his watch, which meant he’d be cognizant of their time. And… actually, she was coming to realize that she wasn’t sure she’d seen him blink. No, not thinking about that. Regan took a too-large gulp from her hot coffee and pretended it wasn’t scalding her mouth. That was all she needed to do. Sit here, finish her coffee, and ignore the grotesque slurping noises coming from her table companion. She could do it.

The discomfort was palpable, though Mateo wasn’t sure if it was from the distaste of socialization or something deeper than that. Regan wanted him away, sure, but Mateo thought it’d be foolish not to notice how she appeared visibly perturbed by the new distance. It became very clear that her choice to sit away wasn’t because she wasn’t sure about his identity. 

The reason why completely evaded the mare, but he had a job to do. He had to sit there for—he checked his watch—four more minutes and he’d have a funny story to tell. That’s it. So, with no time to spare, Mateo quit slurping his drink, and moved onto the spoon still on the plate that accompanied his mug. His smile grew mischievously, eyes never breaking away from Regan’s. He wanted to quip, but he held his tongue, opting to use his spoon to mix his drink further, hitting the edges of the mug incessantly. When that didn’t give him much satisfaction, he scraped the cup until it caused an ear-piercing screeeech!

Mateo still wasn’t blinking, and Regan still wasn’t going to let it unnerve her. She’d seen stranger. She wasn’t impressed. Regan took a long, nonchalant sip of her coffee, this time making sure it didn't burn her mouth; she made sure boredom was the only expression on her face. In this coffee shop full of people who still hadn’t fully woken up for the morning, Regan managed to be the least lively. Mateo, meanwhile, was full of impish life, despite the waves of death surrounding him. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, the way he seemed to intentionally be banging the spoon against the sides of his glass. 

A lifetime ago, she grew up with three brothers. Regan was confident she could handle any immaturity Mateo decided to throw her way. But that sharp, flat screech was just offensive. “That was nothing.” Regan mumbled, unable to resist competing with a cup, apparently. She wasn’t going to show off what she could do here though, of all places. Instead, she tilted her chair even further away from the man, refusing to look at him. Her phone was far more interesting – specifically the time, indicating that two minutes had already gone by. 

Mateo was unable to hold back a snort, biting his lip as he leaned onto the table. Who knew that a simple screech would be the thing to force Regan to speak up? The mare hadn’t actually expected a reaction, but he was satisfied nonetheless. “Oh-ho…looks like someone doesn’t know how to keep quiet.” He jeered, propping his chin on his hand as he continued to state. Regan could turn away from Mateo all she liked, but she was the one who broke the silence, and therefore, all bets were off.

There were only three minutes left, and he was going to make them count. If the screech was what worked last time, then Mateo was going to do it again. A little more prolonged that time. Screeeech! It was cut short, but he quickly found the spot again and caused enough ruckus to force some heads to turn. Mateo didn’t mind, though he couldn’t speak for his companion. Lucky for her, there were only two minutes left.

Two minutes. Regan could hold out for two minutes. But Mateo was practically screeching out a song with the cup against the table, and she could feel the eyes of other customers burning in her direction. She thought of the dead cat, the way its patchy coat and curling claws would call to her once it was finally in her grasp. She was over halfway through this ordeal and it would be worth it. He was certainly trying to dig into her resolve, though, and she’d see that he was met with only disappointment.

Because Regan suspected it would grate on him, she stared at the wall, as if it was endlessly fascinating. Far more interesting than her company. She straightened her posture against the back of her chair, and lifted her chin in defiance, as if thinking about something faraway, completely unconcerned with anything going on in the shop and certainly across the table from her. If Mateo was anything like Al, ignoring his shenanigans was the best way to fight fire with fire. Her phone said 1 minute left. Regan’s defiance shined, and she couldn’t keep the very corner of her mouth from turning up.

Much like his Gabriella, Regan took the ignoring approach. With the shenanigans Mateo got up to, it wasn’t something he hadn’t dealt with before. When he was younger, it definitely would bother him, but he was a grown man now. Mateo knew better than to let some childish tactic ruin his fun. He just needed to be even more annoying. 

But…it was not meant to be. While Mateo let himself get preoccupied with what he was going to do next, precious time passed, and the timer blared. He suppressed a groan, not wanting to give his companion the pleasure of knowing he was disappointed. Perhaps another day he could irk her, force her to break for more than just a sentence. “Well,” Mateo sighed, slurping his coffee just like before. “That’s time, then.”

The alarm ringing on Regan’s phone delivered sweet salvation – far sweeter than even her sugar-loaded coffee that she’d managed to gulp down within five minutes. Even though Mateo seemed to want to be a pest, he had been true to his word. This was a brisk and decidedly normal social interaction in a public place. Surely Marcy wouldn’t push her to have more conversational intercourse with someone before handing over the coveted cat. No, Regan thought smugly, as she silenced her phone, this was enough. Enough for a whole year.