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Emiliano is having A Goddamn Terrible Day.
He has had many Goddamn Terrible Days in his time alive. That one Day in ‘31. That other, Worse, Day in ‘38. The Absolutely Devastating Years that were 1941 to 1950.
…OK, today definitely wasn’t as bad as the 1945 Incident. But the point still stood.
Andromeda had started the week sick. No one in the house had a good time if Andromeda was sick. Her wheezing and whines had gotten worse by the end of the first day, she couldn’t breathe, daddy, so of course he’d stayed to monitor, because any hospital bills would be out of budget and Jacqueline was a great help but she must be tired of their asking after this long and Agui had understandably been too busy to watch her.
It had easily cut two days from Emiliano’s work schedule, and on the third his bad, shot, bum leg had decided to be as useful as a heavy chunk of wood. Tony called off work that day, mostly to help with his niece and help with his brother and help in general, which Emiliano had appreciated to the stars and back but the boss certainly hadn’t been happy about it. The two had been on thin ice since they stepped foot in the bar, even more so when they started working in it, but to get fired would mean to lose money which would mean Sarai and Andromeda would starve, forget Emiliano, he’d starved plenty of times and lived, but god that couldn’t happen to the girls, never to them, so he’d popped more aspirin than usual and entrusted his kid with Mrs. Fenimore and trudged with Tony to the bar and made people’s drinks and really, it’s 1 PM and you’re drinking straight whiskey, three rounds of it, no I’m not getting you a fourth-
On a better day there would be less racist assholes shooting him looks across the bar-top. On a better day Emiliano would be killing them and hiding the bodies.
At least Jacqueline was singing. He always felt a little better when she sang, she was very good at it. They’d shared a smoke during their break, too - not talking, he’d said he wasn’t up to it, but it had been nice all the same. Simon had come in after his own workday ended eventually - Emiliano was fond of Simon, he treated Tony with the utmost respect and would probably sit and discuss a book if Emiliano ever asked, but they were both too busy for that, he reckoned. The rest of the bar patrons were free to march right back out and find another place to get their fix.
“Excuse me, bartender. The usual, please.”
He doesn’t look up from the drink he’s mixing, trying to feel his shoulders relax at the voice. They don’t.
“Remember the agreement.”
Carlos pouts, he can hear it. Emiliano can visualize the happy shine in his hazel eyes fading to upset, and tries not to.
“I want to talk to you.”
Propping his cheek on his palm to lean, softening in every respect. Trying to coax him - he’s usually good at it, Emiliano loathes to admit. He slides the filled glass to its owner, still not meeting his eyes.
“I’m not allowed to serve you your first drink.”
He watches the glass get lifted to the veteran’s lips, liquid tilting down. Carlos tends to get even more upset when he doesn’t look at him, but looking at him would mean ignoring the agreement.
The agreement was simple - two men couldn’t get talkative the moment one of them walked in. They couldn’t look at each other in any particular way, like Carlos was prone to doing. Emiliano set it up to keep them safe, keep his family safe, yet Carlos saw fit to push the agreement’s limit every time he came by like there was never any danger present. He loved him and this was their first time seeing each other in hours - Emiliano understood that. But he couldn’t wait a little longer?
“And what if I only want one drink?”
Warm fingers tingle where they touch his hand, sliding down his knuckles as Carlos bends over just enough for Emiliano to feel the warmth of his body.
“You know how easy it is for me to get hungry.”
He looks at him then, snapping up to meet his toothy little grin and dark eyes framed with brown curls. The look makes his stomach churn as he yanks his hand back under the counter and curls it into a weak fist.
“I do not like that sort of language. And you’re getting - handsy.” He warns, voice wavering when he glances at the man to Carlos’ left, who had already looked upon him distastefully and would undoubtedly take issue with the display of affection.
His face falls instantly, reverting back to its creased brows and thin-pulled lips. He drops harshly back onto the stool.
“Fine.”
Carlos scoffs, turning his cold, now it’s cold, why is the sick feeling worse, gaze away for the first time.
“I’ll catch you after your shift.”
Emiliano isn’t given much chance to say anything before Carlos gets up and leaves, door slamming behind him.
…The door slammed no matter how careful you were. Emiliano swallows carefully, and the result curls up in his chest to fester. It was fine. He hadn’t had the energy to deal with him anyway.
How long has Tony been looking at him like that? He douses the nearby rag to scrub at a stain, ignoring him.
It had taken a long time for Emiliano to warm up to Simon, after all.
After assuring Tony that he would be meeting with Carlos and therefore not alone, and they would pick the girl up from Dawn’s before Mr. Howard came home, and that he would remember where he and Jackie and Simon would be, and stop fussing, Anthony, Emiliano finally clocks out.
The aspirin had stopped working hours ago. He dry-swallows one more just as he gets to the fountain.
“Is it a crime to want to spend time with my boyfriend?”
It coats his mouth with an unpleasant aftertaste.
“To most people. It’s why we have the rule.”
He wants to take a shot? Fine, see if Emiliano doesn’t shoot back. The park sits empty for the most part, leaving the two free to prying eyes.
“No one’s caught us yet,” Carlos tries, purring like he had in the bar, anger melting instantly to something sweeter. Pushing himself off the fountain edge, he snakes to Emiliano’s side to cozy up against his shoulder with a smirk.
Emiliano can’t say he feels the same, inhaling sharply at the contact. “They can. And fire me because of it. I would appreciate it if you were more cognizant of that.”
‘Not everyone has the luxury of a family-owned business,’ he doesn’t say, because despite it all, he isn’t seeking a fight today. Though, biting back a sneer, his grip on his cane tightens.
His hand loops behind to massage his arm. “Mmh,” he rests his chin on his neck, smirk softening, “What good is hiding out of fear doing us?”
Good-
He jerks away from his light caresses, leaving them both stumbling with the force of it.
“Hiding keeps us alive.”
They would and have killed for less, he’s seen it and heard it, but if Carlos apparently hasn’t-
Emiliano’s family is at risk daily, and he’s the one keeping those haughty bastards in check when they try to strike, and they would try harder if they knew this, knew what else they could take - no one took from him anymore! They-
“They attack based on suspicion, you want them to do it based on fact?!”
Carlos rearranges himself, jaw tightening. Struck a nerve there, as this topic always did. His fists curl at his sides, nostrils flaring, oh great, a fight! Can’t keep those away for more than an hour!
“Then why would it matter?! If the target’s already point-”
“I am not-!”
Why won’t his pills work?!? Emiliano slams his cane with enough force to send a grounding jolt up his arm. It isn’t enough, heat still burns through every vein.
“-Doing this with you. Not right now. Alright.”
His fists are still cocked, as if he’d try to hit him. It’s almost laughable.
“I just wish you would understand wh-”
“Al-right.”
Carlos’ fists reluctantly ease. He turns away with his tight frown.
“…If you want to get so worked up over it, be my guest.”
“…You’re coming to pick up my daughter.”
Only a nod.
On the walk, neither of them apologizes.
He sways gently in Dawn’s kitchen, slightly offset by Andromeda’s weight in his lap. It’s almost reassuring enough to loosen the tight knots in his body. But they still coil tightly in wait.
He’d found a sun-drenched, pleasantly warm spot to rest his hand in for now. The soup’s sharp spices fill the air, blending with the careful clinking of dishes. He breathes, trying to let it calm him a little.
“…Thank you for this, ma’am. I would have told you yesterday, but I was…indisposed and it slipped my mind.”
Andromeda snorts when he adjusts her, but otherwise doesn’t wake. Dawn shakes her head, flicking soapy water off her hands.
“It’s always my pleasure, hon. She fell fast asleep thirty minutes in. Only woke up to eat and almost finished the whole bowl.”
Her voice lilts with pride when she offers him that fond lipsticked smile of hers, and it strikes Mili that she’s looking at him softly - she always looks at him so softly. He ducks his head at the sudden catch of emotion in his throat and swallows roughly.
“You…er, monitored her as I asked?”
“Just like you asked.” She walks to the pot she’d put on a simmer earlier. “Her breathing stayed steady. I even applied some Vaporub to her chest to help it along.”
He grimaces at the floor. He would have preferred actual medicine, but beggars were absolutely not choosers.
“Thank you. I really appreciate…oh, no, thank you. We’re alright.”
He makes no move to grab the steam-filled container on the table. Dawn leans on her forearms to fix him with a look.
“I insist. She’ll need something when she gets hungry. There might be enough for two in there if you split it.”
She lowers her voice to a mock-whisper at the last bit, eyes twinkling.
Mili smiles back as much as he can, shoulders dropping.
“Hey, it’s, uh, getting a little late.”
They both look over when Carlos leans on the doorway with a concerned frown.
“We should get going.”
Dawn’s hands tighten a second before she widens her smile toward him. He shoots a smile back before slipping out of the room.
Emiliano startles at the hand clasping around his own before he manages to shift his cane to the right side. When he blinks up, Dawn is watching both him and his daughter, smile visibly saddening. Though it was always slightly sad.
“…You take care of yourselves, you hear?”
There’s the slightest tremble. Emiliano squeezes her hand in return, furrowing his brow.
”…We will, ma’am.”
Carlos liked touch in a way no one else Emiliano knew liked touch. When they were finally away from the public eye - and sometimes he couldn’t even wait - he’d press against, around him, kissing and grinding and loving on him as if starving. Emiliano was no stranger to nestling, but having Carlos against his front and a firm wall against his back was far from it.
Like they were doing right now in the orderly apartment underneath the lampshade. The bright bulb gives Emiliano an excuse to turn his head away, but he can’t as easily ignore Carlos’ hair tickling his jaw.
His eyes are heavy with some kind of exhaustion, one he keeps blinking away at each kiss to no avail. Carlos trails them down his neck, along his collarbone, with his hands dancing down his shoulders, paying no attention to his silence.
Well, he hadn’t been silent. A weak grunt or small whimper had slipped out despite himself. He had long-since reached his limit on painkillers for the day.
Most times, Carlos wasn’t forceful with his love. He always stopped when Emiliano wanted to. He just had a lot of it.
His touches, though wandering, were light and thoughtful. He enjoyed touching him, also. It was admittedly the eagerness that kept Emiliano there. No one had adored him in that sense as far as he could remember - made him feel desirable.
Sometimes it disgusted him. He’d go home at early dawn and scrub himself clean of any lingering touches. Sometimes Carlos got too close and he itched to shove him off and send him to the ground and pull out a knife and feel it sink-
Sometimes Carlos’ affection was the only reassurance Emiliano hadn’t fucked something up.
“Please stop.”
He can’t get it above a whisper. Carlos’ hand, where it had been trailing down, pauses over his stomach. His last kiss waits on his collarbone, then leans away.
“I’m trying to apologize.”
Emiliano swallows his nausea, feeling it bob back down and not leave.
“Use words, will you?”
He pulls away completely, sliding his hand off and causing Emiliano to freeze.
“…You’re better with words than I am.”
He grits his teeth at the light chuckle. It quiets just as quickly.
“I know how much your job means to you.”
Softening in every respect.
“I j…” sagging, he hesitates, “it gets lonely here. Lina’s with our parents and they’re all far, and you’re my - partner-” his voice catches, “and when you let me hold you, it-”
He reaches slowly so that he can see it, grazing the leathery skin of his scar. The touch, like all the others, burns.
“I get overly excited. You’re finally letting me in, so I…”
He shakes his head, dropping his hand.
“It’s difficult for you to be like that. I know that.”
Carlos’ knuckles accidentally fall on his leg and it spasms in response. They both turn down to it.
“…You should stay the night.”
Emiliano fights embarrassment, just barely flinching away when the hand brushes his cheek again.
“I can set you up in the living room.”
It was getting late, wasn’t it? He glances to the side, at the half-carved wooden car that had been sitting untouched for some time and his knife right beside it.
“…I thought you needed me to…”
Carlos follows his gaze.
“You did pretty good for today. You should get some sleep.”
The pride flooding his chest at ‘good’ mixes with the sting of the warm, soft, hand, Mili jerks away again.
The lamp is clicked off. Andromeda complains quietly through her dose of medicine before slipping right back into sleep, pressed close against him as they share the laid out sleeping bag and blanket tucked into a corner of the small apartment.
He strokes her hair until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.
…
He’s plunging into ice cold depths with everything prickling and not enough air.
He jerks up, hands roaming around to unstick soaked clothing and check the damage to his eye and the injury is still there, he knew it, and where’s the-
There’s nothing in his leg anymore. Where is he? Can he breathe?! Mili checks, but the kid sleeping next to him is not his brother. That’s very, very, bad, Tony isn’t there and he’d feel a lot better if he was. He gulps in breath.
Crawling over the girl to not wake her - Andromeda, his mind faintly supplies. Daughter. - he bites back a whine when his leg buckles. Ow.
Brother. Has to find out where he is and get Brother. In an…apartment. Foster home?
Carlos. Carlos’ apartment. Knowing where he is doesn’t make him feel as better as he thought it would. But it means that Tony is at their home and not in any danger. Right?
Mili rubs his chest, cringing when his leg throbs. He wants the pain to stop, where are the pills?
His whole body hurts, the way it does after too little sleep. He hasn’t been getting good sleep because he’s been here. He knows that.
His head loops back to the fact he doesn’t really know where Tony is. Wiping at tears in his eyes - when did those get there? - he scans the place for rooms.
His leg burns when he tries to lift himself. He drags himself instead, across cold wood to the closest door. Clawing the doorknob open, Mili falls into a heap on the carpet.
Carlos would know where his brother is, or help. He crawls up to shake him as hard as he can, not able to keep his breathing steady. Wake up, wake up, please wake-
“You would be lucky if anyone is even awake right now.”
Mili nods in understanding. ‘Lucky’ was a lot of what he was. Carlos uses his free hand - he’d held Mili’s hand warmly, but tightly, the whole way to the porch - to knock loudly.
In three seconds, the door opens, a face peeking through the crack.
Mili really wishes he could help it. But it’s Tony and he’s right there, so he drops Carlos’ hand to ram into him with as much force as possible to bury his face in the crook of his neck.
He’s warm, and breathing with the way his breath hitches when he stumbles. And he smells just like he should, achingly familiar. Mili’s relief bubbles up in a rough sob.
His brother hisses what sounds like a cuss word before returning his hug with as much force. He says something but he honestly can’t hear him. Can’t stop crying, either.
“You gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna leave?”
Tony sounds friendly, mostly. But it’s the kind of friendly that hides anger. He’s not angry at Mili, is he? He peeks up to check, but his brother is staring right at Carlos instead, who, though he isn’t able to see it, smiles wryly.
“I’m tired, Tony. He wanted you.”
Whatever is said next slips by Mili completely. He melts into Tony’s arms with a hum of exhaustion. His leg aches kind of badly, but it’s OK because he’ll probably be sleeping soon. He hopes Tony didn’t get hurt while he was away. He’ll ask later. He should tell him Andromeda’s still in the car because it was too cold outside. Carlos should get her, though, because he really doesn’t want to let his brother go, even if he’s getting his shirt dirty with snot and tears.
“-Like this on his own, I bet.”
The door finally shuts, and Tony’s shoulders rise with his inhale.
“…Love, lay on the couch for now, please? I’ll be right back.”
Trying to hold onto Tony when they start walking, and when he sits him into a dining chair, and when he shifts the kettle from the back of the stove to the front, isn’t easy. But he’s so warm and Mili still feels a little cold.
“So. How’s tea sound?”
It’s more a heads-up than a question. Mili nods anyway, letting out a choked noise when Tony’s hand slips from his to gather the needed tea leaves.
“Sorry-”
He has it and its soothing heat back just as quickly, and he guesses Tony finished putting the tea to boil because he sits right next to him a second later.
The hand untangles from his grasp to cradle his cheek. Mili leans into it, lids fluttering shut. That’s…really nice. Nice enough to have him forget he hadn’t wanted touch just a few hours ago.
“…We’ll talk later, ‘K?”
He really hopes ‘later’ means after some sleep.
Hugging Tony’s palm to his face and sniffling, the tight ache in his chest fades. He finds, with crushing reassurance, that this day is finally over.