#mpmateo

starter for @mpmateo (and eventually @mp-cabrakan) ft Muzen, Mateo and Cabrakan

“Mateo! Mateo!” With a catering basket full of fresh ingredients Muzen is stomping his way towards the large kitchens of the venue for tonight’s party as his amber eyes shimmer with a golden irritation. “Where is that boy?!” He huffs and puffs to himself, moving to set the tray down on the nearest counter top before blowing a stray lock of blonde form his forehead as he starts to look around. 

Mateo had been roped in to help him cook and prepare for the party, not to disappear and leave all the cooking to him! “I swear, I am going to bring back ritualistic sacrafice just for him if he’s sleeping somewhere!” He grumbles, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper before stomping off in search. “He’ll be peeling sweet potatoes for a week!” 

There was a very hectic schedule to stick to if Muzen was going to get all the dishes for the buffet done and have time to go home, feed his friends and get changed! Does his little helper not understand that body paint and gold take time! First things first the van of supplies needs unloading, and that little roach is no where to be found! 

@mpmateo continued from here:

"You said. . .festive. Decorations. Jangsik. I did already." Daniel snapped flatly in halting accented Korean at his new 'boss' while rolling his eyes. Did was probably a bit of an exaggeration on Mateo's part. Shiny tinsel was flung haphazardly all over Roller Discos seating areas. The skate rental counter had unpolished silver and gold candle holders bunched up together in a stiff little unlit row, and the fresh cut poinsettias were now dipped low in thirsty protest by the entrance to the city's roller-skating centre. All in all, everything festive that had been on Osiris's "Matty To-Do" list had either been half-done or was now a complete decorative DIY disaster.    

He didn't like that glint of humor in Osiris eyes. Cabrón. Yesterday it was hang 'festive' lights outside on the roof in a snow storm so customers would still know they were still gonna be open. Mateo had nearly died from frost bite, electrocution, and hanging himself from the drainage pipe all in a one and done efficient icy accident. Was he being laughed at by this guy? He had a sneaking suspicion the other older man was playing some hardcore 'fucking with the new guy' routine on him and Mateo didn't like it.

Not one bit.    

"You don't like? You do! I. . .me. . .Mateo no decoration. . .sahrahm?...Eh--g-gosoo?" The younger mans defenses went a little higher. Mierda! What the hell was the word for 'expert' in Korean again? Whatever. He didn't even care, and to show the new boss that he'd rather be back at the concession area sneaking some fries off a customer tray Mateo kicked the still half full box of gaudy holiday garnishments back in in the other mans direction. The entire box rattled, and landed shuddering at Osiris feet, rattled less by the punting abuse and more by the source of an ominous, low rumbling that had begun to make the Roller Disco shimmy  shake and sway like an anchored tugboat listing at high tide.

so maybe hiring this little one had been a mistake. osiris isn’t entirely sure yet. most of the time he’s just highkey amused by the little firecracker, utterly charmed by the rough young man who resembles much an angry street dog to him. growling and barking and ready to bite, not because he hates the people around him, but because he’s almost certain he will be hurt if he doesn’t make it clear he’s dangerous. so most of the time osiris thinks of mateo much like of a stray dog; he wants to take him in, feed him, keep him warm and make sure that no one makes the mistake of hurting him.

but in the moments where he’s actually dangerous, like right now with the entire building trembling from the ground up to the rooftop, he thinks maybe he made a mistake and he shouldn’t have taken in someone this dangerous.

“my dear boy,” he says, and casually switches from korean to spanish, which is what he presumes is a language this young man speaks more fluently. “there isn’t a main language in this world that i don’t speak. if you’re not comfortable using korean you can use another one as you please.” he motions at the place around them. “now please calm down before you bring the entire place down on our heads. i’ll be on my feet again in three seconds but i doubt the same can be said for you.”

with @mpmateo

he leans back a little in his chair, feet propped up on the table and his head cushioned with what he believes might be the owner’s jacket. matty sits not too far away, just as comfortable. shared between them are two large plates carrying what must be some of the most delicious pizzas he has eaten in his lifetime. the little advertisement on the wall tells him that’s because the owner has learned a pizza recipe during his time in italy and has continued to make them according to said traditional recipe ever since.

the owner, he knows, is an egyptian god. according to his recently acquired friend, though, the owner is a strange old man who believes ‘the nonsense story they sell on this island but he’ll soon burn in hell for denying the one true god’. he’s not entirely sure if that point of view is any healthier, but he’s not one to contradict his friends’ ideas so long as they not harm anyone and since mateo isn’t going around with a pitchfork and a torch demanding witches be burned, he’s more than happy pretending like there is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about him. there isn’t, either, no magical powers other than how he is always just a tad bit luckier than most. but luck is even known to the believers, though usually they call it the will of god.

this particular will of god is currently enabling them to eat two large sized pizzas at one of the tables in the roller disco cafeteria, watching a few people try (and often also fail) to rollerskate around the rink through the glass window. since he came in and sat down, no new customer has shown up and none of the ones already there have decided to leave, giving mateo ample free time on the clock to spend with him. which he’s making good use of, because how he hates being alone and literally no one else was available today. he did have to come all the way over to the roller disco for it, but you take some you lose some, right?

a kind gesture ; ∞ my muse reading to your muse

This was probably pay back for making Mateo stand out in the cold with him, but it still didn't feel fair.

"I want to nap, too."

Pursing thick lips and narrowing bright eyes Bes glared at his friend over the papers he was working through. By process of elimination they had decided he would probably have a better chance of deciphering the manual, but still...

"Oh?"

Looking around them- down the narrow corridors and walkways -Jinsoul pouted in a way that conveyed minor inconvenience rather than actual disappointment or irritation.

“Hm..” worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, jaw rotating anxiously, the honey-god’s amber eyes dart a little from side to side, as his cooking companion reaches into his oven with one of his deep sighs. “Did something happen?” He calls out, enjoying the sweet smell of their sopapillas wafting from the open oven. Mateo wasn’t what Muzen would call a natural in the kitchen. He errs on the side of chaotic from time to time, but once Muzen learnt to jump when he hears a yell or duck when told to, they got on fine. Flour could always be mopped up, after all!

he can’t say he’s not utterly, utterly amused by the words spoken by his young employee, vitriol dripping from mateo’s lips once more. it’s not particularly new, this mood the boy seems to get every so often when the whole idea of having to work for his money becomes too much for the kid. in all honesty, osiris might have let him go a while ago already, if it wasn’t for the fact that that would mean the kid had these tantrums elsewhere, with a lot more danger of actually harming someone.

as it is, he has to make an effort not to let the smile show on his features, but rather keeps a straight face even as the whole building is shaking again around them. “my boy,” he says as warmly as he always calls upon this young man, because despite mateo’s tempers, his horrible work ethic and absolute lack of propriety; osiris likes this one. “you can kill me fifty times over if that’ll settle your anger. i’d rather die a couple more times than have them take you away for destruction of property.”