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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Doctor Recommended

Nestor Oceteva & Erin Thomas

For Day 6 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: painkillers/bad coping mechanisms

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, mentions of pills

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: In a twist that is shocking to no one at all, I do have a bigger fic about these two sitting in my wip folder as we speak. It exists completely separate from this one-shot, but it does exist. Despite the fact that the two of them have never shared a single second of screentime, you can catch me constantly thinking about Nestor and Erin together anyway. No one can stop me. 😌

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @yourwonkywriter @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @anditsmywholeheart @artemiseamoon @nessamc @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @passionatewrites @darqchilddaydreamz @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The house was silent as Nestor made his way through to the kitchen. Despite the fact that the last forty-eight hours had gone horrendously, and that his right arm was now strapped down in a sling, he still was pulling his overnight watch at the Galindo house. Realistically, he didn’t know how much use he would be if something were to happen, but the house had yet to be ambushed in the dead of night so he figured it would be a relatively safe and easy shift.

For the few hours that he’d been there so far, everything had been quiet. Everyone was upstairs and, presumably, asleep. The house was as close to silent as it would ever be. Most of what he’d been doing was just patrolling and making sure that nothing looked like it was out of the ordinary.

Even though it’d been an uneventful night so far, it didn’t stop the shooting pain in his shoulder that was quickly starting to travel down his arm. The doctor had given him painkillers when he’d initially gotten checked out. The pain hadn’t been bad enough, in Nestor’s opinion, to warrant them yet. However, he also had no intention of spending the entire night in pain. So he made his way to the kitchen with the intention of finally taking a couple of the pills to at least take a bit of the edge off.

Erin was quietly making her way back to her room upstairs from the bathroom when she heard noises coming from downstairs. If it had been anyone else’s house, she would’ve assumed that it was nothing, but it wasn’t just anyone’s house. She didn’t pretend to know all the details of what Miguel got up to when he left the house, but she knew that things hadn’t been going well lately. After all, there was no other reason that the man would’ve called her and invited her to the house.

She was regretting all of that as she crept down the stairs and started making her way towards the noise. She knew that it was an ill-informed decision—it wasn’t like she had any weapons on her and she had no interest in getting into a brawl with an intruder, but it was too late now. She was too committed to the plan.

The closer she got to rounding the corner to get into the kitchen, the better she could make out some of the actual sounds. She heard someone grumbling but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Then she heard something clattering against the countertops. Her heart felt like it was starting to creep up into her throat as she tried to brace herself for rounding the corner.

She stepped into the kitchen with more speed and gusto than necessary, and with more than she thought she would be able to muster given the late hour. She was holding her breath, eyes wide as she looked around to see who was in the house and what was going on.

Her sudden appearance caught Nestor off-guard. The still-closed pill bottle in his hands slipped from his grasp and clattered against the counter again. He whipped around to face her, having to reach with his non-dominant hand for his gun, the motion much slower than it would’ve been if he actually had use of his right arm.

That turned out to be a good thing for both of them, though. In the time that it took for him to try and reach for his gun, he realized that it was only Erin, and the extra couple of seconds that she had on him because of her silent approach allowed her to see that it was only Nestor. As much as she hated that Miguel always seemed to have people wandering around the house at all hours, she was glad that he was at least supposed to be there.

“Fuck me,” she said, the words sounding more like a sigh of relief than anything else.

Nestor was struggling to re-holster his gun, eyes trained on that rather than Erin as he asked, “What are you doing up?”

She walked deeper into the kitchen, landing herself on the opposite side of the island from him. “I thought I heard someone breaking in to try and, I don’t know, kill everyone.” Even with her hushed voice, the sarcasm was impossible to miss.

He lifted his eyes and looked at her, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of her in a ratty, over-sized t-shirt and pajama shorts. All he could think was that if he had been someone breaking in, Erin wouldn’t have posed much of a threat. “Planned on being the first to go?”

She laughed quietly and rolled her eyes. “Big talk coming from the guy who can’t pull his gun right now.” She leaned forward so that her forearms were braced against the countertop. “Why are you even here? Like, are you even useful right now?”

Nestor would’ve taken more time to be annoyed by her commentary if he hadn’t been so busy battling it out with the bottle of pills in his hand. “Useful enough,” he grumbled out.

An amused grin came over her lips as she watched him struggle. “Yea, I see that.”

Nothing more was said between the two of them as Nestor continued to fiddle with the bright orange bottle of pills. Erin perched her chin in her hand as she watched him. She could’ve easily gone back to bed, but she knew that she wasn’t going to fall back to sleep anytime soon so there was no point. Instead, she kept herself camped out on the opposite side of the island, perfectly content while Nestor had growing frustration to pair with his intensifying pain.

Erin wouldn’t have had any problem popping the top off the bottle of pills for him, but she wanted him to ask for the help. She didn’t have any specific problem with Nestor that made her want to watch him struggle, but she knew that it really wouldn’t kill him to just ask for some assistance.

He could feel her eyes on him as his left hand wrapped around the bottle and tried to get the top off. As if being in pain wasn’t enough, now he had an audience to his temporary incompetence. He didn’t have to be looking at her to know that she was getting a kick out of it all, probably scheming up some smart remarks. He was no stranger at this point to being on the end of those, but the pain he was in made him a little less tolerant of it all.

A couple different times he tried to use the hand of his arm that was bound in the sling. Each time, though, he was reminded that everything in his arm and hand were connected because another jolt of pain would go through him when he attempted to put apply any kind of pressure with that hand.

Letting out a deep sigh, he fought the urge to just slam the plastic bottle against the countertop. His left hand was clamped down tightly over the lid, and even in the low lighting of the kitchen Erin could see the clench in his jaw as he tried not to throw the entire thing across the house.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, ready to make another futile attempt at it all. Erin didn’t know how long the two of them had actually been standing there on either side of the island, but it was far too long for so little reward. The second he lifted the bottle off the countertop, Erin leaned over the island, nearly lifting her feet off the floor in the process of reaching, and snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“I can’t fuckin’ watch this anymore,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I—”

“No you don’t,” she didn’t allow him to try and argue. It took her all of five seconds to get the lid off. She handed the bottle back over to him, keeping the lid to herself as she spun it on the counter like it was a coin she’d found along the way.

Her hand toyed idly with the cap to the bottle while she watched Nestor set the bottle down before turning around and stepping over towards the cupboards where all of the glasses and plates were kept. Reaching up, he pulled the door to one open and grabbed a glass tumbler for himself. Erin assumed that he was going to put it under the sink faucet and fill it with water. Instead, though, he set the glass down on the counter and reached for one of the bottles of whiskey intermingled among hers and Emily’s numerous bottles of wine.

That was a bottle that he was able to get the cap off of with no problem. Erin chuckled as she watched him pour a fairly generous amount of the liquor into the glass that he’d gotten. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle, sliding it back into place before moving the glass to the island where the open bottle of pills sat.

Everything felt like it took so many more steps than necessary when he only had use of one hand. He set the glass down and grabbed the pill bottle, shaking two out onto the counter before setting the bottle back down. He swiped the pills up and tossed them into his mouth, holding them there for a moment as he grabbed the glass of whiskey. He took a large sip to wash the pills down. Once that was done, he took another sip for good measure before setting the glass back down.

Erin was watching the entire thing, chuckling to herself as she did. “Yea,” she said when Nestor set the glass back down, “I think that’s exactly how the doctors recommend you take those.” She ignored Nestor’s lack of a response as she reached across the counter for the bottle again. Making a big show of turning the bottle in her hand and reading the label, she said, “Right here, actually. Make sure to take with copious amounts of alcohol.”

Nestor shook his head at her as he drummed his fingers on the outside of his glass. He knew her well enough to know that whether or not he gave her an argument about it, she was going to keep talking anyway. Every day he wondered how she and Emily came from the same family. He and his brother had been different, sure, but nothing like the two of them.

Erin half-expected Nestor to tell her to go back to bed. Or, at the very least, simply walk away from her and out of the kitchen. It wasn’t as though he was chatty with her under the best circumstances, let alone a night like this. But still, he hadn’t left, hadn’t tried to send her away.

“So, what happened, anyway?” she asked, her voice so much quieter than it usually was.

He was so caught off-guard by how genuine she sounded when she asked that he almost gave her the answer. He opened his mouth to tell her, but stopped himself. Instead, he just shook his head. “Nothing.”

Erin sighed, shaking her head as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yea, last time I ended up popping painkillers with my arm strapped down it was also because of nothing.”

She waited for him to have some sort of response, something passive-aggressive and dismissive all at once. But he was silent. The two of them stayed across from each other, silently staring at each other and waiting for the other to have something to say. If history was evidence to anything, it was that Erin was going to have something to say first. However, it seemed like she was determined to get him to speak up for once.

He knew that getting into any of it with her was going to do more harm than good. There was nothing that she could do about it, no help that she could offer. And if she was already paranoid about whoever was in the house, telling her about the threats they were dealing with outside the house on a regular basis wasn’t going to help ease any of her unrest.

Instead of offering her anything substantial, he asked, “Can you put the cap back on that?”

She watched as he nodded towards the pill bottle that was sitting in front of her. Her knee-jerk reaction was to be petty and tell him to do it himself. He saw it in her eyes that she didn’t want to make things easy for him if he wasn’t going to offer her any kind of answers. But the harshness in her eyes only lasted for a moment before it softened slightly and she put the cap back on for him. Her concession to that was the most she’d ever seemed to be like Emily in the entire time that Nestor had known her.

“Next time you gotta open it, you’re on your own,” she said as she slid it across the counter to him.

A tiny smirk pulled at the one end of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything, instead giving a short nod of acknowledgment. He stood there waiting, assuming from her tone and her comment that she was going to go back to bed. Instead of leaving him to his own devices, Erin walked around to the other side of the island and grabbed her own glass. Nestor watched her intently, wondering what she was going to grab for herself. Much to his surprise, she reached for the same bottle that he had only a short while before.

She poured herself a smaller portion than Nestor had poured for himself. Once she put the cap back on, she stepped back to the island, her and Nestor now both on the same side. Setting her glass out of harm’s way, she hoisted herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the counter, legs dangling over the edge of it. Nestor didn’t comment on it or try to move away from her. He watched as she grabbed her cup and took a sip, cringing slightly as it went down.

The silence between them was welcome, comfortable even. It wasn’t often that the two of them found themselves in each other’s company with no one else around. Typically wherever Nestor was, Miguel or Emily wasn’t far behind. There were a million questions that Erin wanted to ask since it was just the two of them for once, but she was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t get the answers to any of them.

“Future reference,” she finally broke the silence as she toyed with the glass in her hands, “the wine is way better.”

It was the first time Erin had ever heard Nestor let out anything reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle. She chalked it up to the painkillers finally starting to kick in. He nodded in acknowledgment as he picked up his glass and brought it back to his lips, taking another sip without a word.

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Left Behind

Nestor Oceteva x Erin Thomas

For Day 21 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: scars / "It's just a scratch."

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, mentions of blood/injury, alcohol

This fic is technically a follow-up to Doctor Recommended but it can be read as a standalone.

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: I went into this with whump in mind and somehow it turned into smut. So. You know. We're being generous with calling this a whump fic lmao. Also I write smut once maybe every five thousand years?? So go easy on me. Honestly, mj said that they need to make out and fuck on the counter and they were so right!!! So here goes!!!

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @narcolini @darqchilddaydreamz @passionatewrites @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

There was a specific type of stillness in the house since Miguel, Emily, and Cristobal had left. Erin was looking forward to having the entire Galindo mansion all to herself. She knew better than to ask why she hadn’t been part of the family invite to go to whatever event for whatever cover business Miguel was currently opening. The reality was that they were doing her a favor leaving her behind, because it wasn’t like she would’ve had a good time anyway.

She’d had her music on, for the entire afternoon, content to relax and enjoy herself with no spectators around for once. As the afternoon started to fade into the evening, she let herself into Emily’s extensive stash of wine. She figured that it wasn’t as though her sister was really going to notice a bottle or two missing—reality was that someone would probably replace them before anyone else besides Erin even knew that they were gone.

She was upstairs, changing and swapping out her regular clothes for her pajamas. Her cropped t-shirt being exchanged for an over-sized one, jeans being traded in for a pair of soft shorts. She was in the middle of that when she heard the door shutting downstairs.

Neither Miguel nor Emily had mentioned anything about anyone stopping by while they were gone for the next couple of days. Erin figured that maybe one of the various people they hired to help take care of the house, the pool, the garden, the whatever, might stop by at some point. But it was a little late for that. She frowned for a moment, leaning down and reaching underneath what had become her bed for the baseball bat that she’d gotten to keep under there after the last time she got scared and realized that all she had to defend herself were her own two hands.

Emily had laughed and rolled her eyes when Erin came home with it. And why wouldn’t she? Why would a woman whose husband had a whole security team dedicated to keeping her safe and running interference ever feel like she needed an extra line of protection? But Erin didn’t trust anyone enough to not have a failsafe. She definitely didn’t have enough faith in Miguel to trust him blindly.

Creeping quietly across the hallway that led to the staircase, Erin kept her bat raised and at the ready. Her bare feet were silent on the staircase as she slowly made her way down. She was nearly to the bottom step when whoever it was that had entered the house turned her music down. She frowned, adjusting her grip around the handle before stepping onto the first floor of the house.

She heard someone’s footsteps coming from the kitchen, and she felt herself holding her breath as she waited to catch sight of whoever it was, or hear them. There was the muffled clattering of things hitting the counter. She took a couple more steps towards the kitchen when she caught a quick glimpse of him, shuffling around the kitchen putting things away.

She sighed, arms dropping back to her sides, tip of the bat tapping harshly against the hardwood floor. “What the fuck, Nestor?”

He materialized, stepping out around the dividing wall between the kitchen and the rest of the house. “What?”

She made a broad gesture with her empty hand. “Do you ever think to announce yourself? Say hello, maybe?”

“Who else would it be?”

She pointed the bat at him. “That’s exactly my fucking point.”

He shrugged. “Least you brought a bat with you this time.”

Despite the initial urge to laugh at his comment, Erin mentioned to refrain. In turn, she made her own reference to the run-in they’d had about a month prior. “Least you can use both arms this time.”

He didn’t smile but Erin could see the way that he almost wanted to. Perching the bat against her shoulder, she strode into the kitchen. Nestor waited for her to say something else, but when she didn’t, he went back to the task he’d been engrossed in before. Erin leaned against her side of the island, watching as he put things away. All the time that she’d been spending at Emily and Miguel’s house, and she still couldn’t say with certainty if there was anything that necessarily fell outside of Nestor’s scope of responsibility.

“Thought you would’ve been part of the family vacation,” she finally said.

Nestor shrugged, not turning around to face her as he replied, “Could say the same about you.”

Erin laughed at that. “Emily treats me like a feral cat—she’ll feed me at home but she’s sure as shit not gonna bring me anywhere.” She paused. “What’s your excuse?”

He pulled out a bottle of wine, same label as the one that was already on the counter and nearly empty. “Taking care of the feral cat.”

She laughed again. “Oh, he has a sense of humor.” She finally set the bat down, leaning it against the side of the island. “Just takes being in an empty house.” There was a stretch of silence before Erin spoke up again. “You don’t have to stay. Feels like a waste of time.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Right. You have a bat.”

She smirked. “Exactly. See? You get it. So go home.”

“Can’t,” he said with another shake of his head.

Erin rolled her eyes. “Your boyfriend isn’t here—you don’t have to listen to him. I’m not gonna snitch on you to Mike if you actually decide to go and try to have a life for the next forty-eight hours.”

“Erin,” exasperation was dripping off the singular word, so much so that he didn’t even have to say anything else.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes as she walked over to the speaker that her phone was hooked up to, turning the volume back up a bit as she continued, “but you don’t get to turn my music off.”

The two of moved around each other, both working separately in the same space. Nestor was putting away the last few things that he’d brought, and Erin was finally starting to pull something together for dinner. For as much as Nestor wanted to reach over and turn the music back down, he did have to admit that the noise made it so that he didn’t feel like he was supposed to be entertaining some kind of conversation. Erin had no problem doing most of the talking anyway, but this was all much more Nestor’s speed.

Erin was reaching for something in the same cabinet as Nestor when she saw a stain on his sleeve. Normally it wasn’t something that she would notice or pay much mind to, but the rust color that was tarnishing the floral print of his button-down was difficult to ignore.

“What happened to your arm?” she asked, her tone casual as she moved back to the stove.

Nestor’s brows furrowed as he turned his arm over to look at what exactly she was referring to. He frowned, more out of annoyance than pain. Shaking his head, he said, “Nothing.”

Erin chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think you know what that word means.”

He didn’t want to feed into the argument but before he could stop himself, he said, “It’s fine.”

She stopped, turning so that she was facing him. “It’s nothing,” she mocked, “It’s fine. It’s just a scratch.” She shook her head at him. “You’re gonna lose that arm, dude.”

Nestor took a deep breath, like he was gearing up to have some sort of response that would stop the debate before it began. Instead, he let out a sigh and finished up what he was doing, shutting the cabinet when he was done. Without another word, he turned and started to walk out of the kitchen, giving Erin the space she had clearly been looking forward to having when everyone else had left.

He didn’t even make it past the threshold when she spoke up. “Let me see it.” She watched as he turned around, confusion on his face. “Let me see your arm,” she elaborated.

Nestor wanted to ask why, wanted to have some sort of slick, sarcastic comment in response to the question the same way she seemed to have one for everything that he, or anyone else really, ever said. Nothing came out, though. He simply just shook his head.

“I’m serious,” she said as she took a step in his direction.

“Since when?”

She scoffed. “You know, what? Fine.” She threw her hands up in defeat. “But when you have to get that shit amputated, I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

The cut really hadn’t been that bad. It hadn’t even needed stitches. And, coming off having to wear a sling for the last month, it hardly even made a blip on his radar. Still, despite the fact that Erin was talking like she was going to give up on the whole thing, Nestor knew better. She was nothing if not incessant. With a deep sigh, he walked back over, undoing the buttons at the cuff of his sleeve as he went.

Rolling the fabric back, Nestor revealed the white gauze that was wrapped around his forearm. Well, the gauze had started off white. It was almost entirely red now, the gash running up his forearm having reopened at some point throughout the day when he hadn’t realized it. He was looking down at the blood-soaked bandage, clearly unimpressed.

When his eyes wandered back up to Erin’s face, he couldn’t get a good read on her expression. It wasn’t really one that he’d seen on her before. He stood and waited for the joke, the jab, but it never came. He watched her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. Shaking her head, she turned around and went to shut the stove off, clearly abandoning whatever plans she’d had for making dinner for herself.

“What?” he finally asked.

She gestured to the bandage. “You can’t leave it like that.”

He shrugged. “I can take care—”

“Obviously, you can’t. Or won’t. Either way…” her voice trailed off as she walked out of the kitchen and went off to get something to replace the bandage with.

Nestor called after her, but she didn’t even give him a verbal response. All he got was a good look at the back of her head and a waving-off gesture as she went off to do exactly what she wanted to and nothing less.

When she came back, she had a first aid kit in her hands. Nestor watched her from where he was seated at the island. His arm was perched against it, a dish towel keeping him from getting blood all over the countertop.

She set the first aid kit onto the surface of the island next to him. She studied his forearm before she looked him in the eyes again. “Couldn’t take the bandage off while I was gone?”

“I told you it’s fine,” he repeated, no real emotion coming through his voice one way or another.

She rolled her eyes. “How have you lived this long when you have no self-preservation skills?”

Nestor could sense that the question was rhetorical, so he kept his mouth shut as he watched her start to slowly peel away and unravel the gauze that was wrapped around his forearm. The pull of it against the cut that was trying to clot stung every now and then, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t let it show.

The more gauze she unraveled, the more Erin realized that the cut was more serious than she had originally thought. She noticed the way that it continued up underneath his sleeve, skin she didn’t have access to. Exhaling through her nose, she looked up at the ceiling for a second before looking back at Nestor.

“You’re not going to make me ask, are you?”

He lifted is eyebrows slightly. “Ask what?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “So you are going to make me ask, make me feel like some kind of creep.” She tapped the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. “Take this off.”

Much to Erin’s surprise, Nestor didn’t bat an eye at the request. She figured that he would drag it out, or just outright refuse. But he just reached and started to undo the buttons on his dress-shirt. He wasn’t looking at her as he said, “Wasn’t a question, but alright.”

She laughed quietly. “Can’t say no if it’s not a question.”

That got half of a smirk out of him. Erin was picking through the kit on the counter. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t help but to notice all of the ink on his chest and stomach. She expected him to have on a tank top or a t-shirt underneath—it was a surprise but it wasn’t one that she was upset about.

Her eyes were still trained on the bandages in the first aid kit as she said, “No undershirt? Seems a little scandalous for the workplace.”

Nestor huffed out something that was almost a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting to have to take my shirt off.”

She looked over at him then, eyes moving even though her head didn’t. “That’s fair.”

That was the last comment she made about it as she went back to taking off what little gauze was still wrapped around his arm. She promptly tossed the bloodied bandage into the trash can before grabbing a washcloth to run under warm water, something to clean off the dried blood that was still stuck to his skin.

Nestor was surprised at how careful and gentle she was as she cleaned the blood away. With someone who seemed to move through life with nothing but reckless abandon, he wasn’t mentally prepared for her to have such a deft hand with this. He didn’t comment on it, though.

“Should I even bother asking how this happened?” Erin couldn’t even try to venture a guess. Despite what Nestor had said to her before, it was much more than just a scratch. If it had been any worse he definitely would’ve needed stitches. He probably still needed to get it checked out by a professional but she was sure that that hadn’t happened. Then he’d have to give some doctor an explanation that wasn’t whatever illegal activities had most definitely caused the injury.

He didn’t want to tell her, but he didn’t want to lie to her, either. So, he shook his head. “No.”

She smiled even though she knew she probably shouldn’t. “Right.”

Even though Nestor very rarely took the time to take as much care of his injuries as he should, he did know basic first aid. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but his default was thinking that Erin probably didn’t. He kept a close eye on her as she worked. Even with the music in the background, it still felt like the house was extremely quiet. Nestor was watching Erin and her singular focus on his arm, the way that she finished cleaning and started wrapping it back up again. He had been waiting for an opportunity to advise or correct her, but it didn’t happen.

He wanted to ask her how she got so good efficient at it, why she was able to do it so confidently, but he had the feeling that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of her. He watched with piqued interest as she tied off the last of the gauze, the small knot resting on his arm just enough to the side where it wouldn’t get in the way of him comfortably resting his arm against the counter or anything else.

She finally pried her eyes from his arm and looked back up at his face. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

He shook his head, fighting harder than he cared to admit to keep a neutral expression—he’d never hear the end of it if he let her know that he was impressed. “No.”

Shrugging, she walked back towards the sink. “Alright.”

Now that she didn’t have to devote her focus to the open wound on his arm, Erin took a moment to actually look at the rest of him. She knew that she shouldn’t have been surprised, necessarily, to find out that most of him was covered in tattoos, but she still found herself staring longer than she should’ve as she scrubbed his blood from her hands.

When she looked back up at his face, she found him already staring at her. Her face suddenly felt hot and this warmth wasn’t coming from the wine she’d been drinking all evening. Clearing her throat, she reached and shut the faucet off. “Shit’s probably gonna scar,” she said, nodding towards his arm as she dried her hands. “It’s probably going to mess up your ink.”

He shook his head, holding his button-down in his hand but not making any move to put it back on yet. “I’m used to it.”

Erin chuckled, not sure what else was a proper response to that statement. “Good? I guess?” She shook her head as she walked back over to him. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

“You always come up with something.”

It wasn’t untrue. However, now that she was closer to him, she had a hard time coming up with something to say about anything. She looked at his other tattoos, all of the ink splattered across his chest and down his arms, territory that was usually buried underneath one of what seemed like a thousand different floral dress shirts. And, sure enough, when she looked closely at a few of them, she could see the blemishes, scars that broke up what used to be perfect lines and seamless shading. All that damage and for what?

Before she even knew what she was doing, Erin reached out and traced her fingertips along one of the raised scars that was just below Nestor’s shoulder, running parallel to it and stopping just before it reached his arm. He didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch in the slightest. But it only took a couple seconds for Erin to realize what she was doing, quickly yanking her hand back as embarrassment flooded her face, a look that Nestor wasn’t acquainted with on her.

“Shit. Sorry. That,” she laughed nervously, “that was fucking weird of me.”

“It’s fine.” The words didn’t match up with the neutral expression on his face, but neutral was the best Nestor could do as he tried to figure out what he was actually feeling.

Erin laughed, shaking her head. “No, it’s n—” She stopped herself short when she finally looked him in the eyes again, the look in them one that she hadn’t seen before.

Nestor watched the embarrassment melt away from her expression the longer that she stood there looking at him. She wanted to say something, do something, but never in her life had she been able to gauge what Nestor was actually feeling or thinking. The last thing she wanted to do was make this situation anymore volatile than she already had. Part of her wanted to try and walk away, but it felt like her feet were glued to the floor.

Unable to make herself do anything else, she reached and rested her hand against him again, fingertips brushing over his scar, the tattoo that it cut through, her palm resting just far enough onto his chest for her to be able to feel how quickly his heart was hammering away in his chest. Her eyes slowly pried away until she was looking at his face again, and she was met with an expression that even though she’d never seen it on him, she knew exactly what it meant.

Nestor saw the way that she opened her mouth to say something, and he didn’t give her the chance to. Before either of them could fully process what was happening, Nestor was up out of his chair, shirt falling to the floor, crowding her back against the edge of the island as his lips crashed into hers.

There was no resistance, like she’d been expecting it, hoping for it. She pushed up into him, her hand sliding up just enough to grip onto his shoulder, nails digging in like a cue to give her more. He had one hand braced against the edge of the counter on either side of her, caging her in. He leaned against her more, the heat radiating off his chest enough to soak through her shirt onto her own skin.

She brought both hands up, resting them on either side of his neck for a moment before allowing them to slide down, fingers splaying as they raked over his chest. She lightly pulled his lip between her teeth as she pulled away. Even when they’d come back up for air, their lips weren’t even an inch apart, each of them able to feel the other’s unsteady breaths.

“Fuck,” the word came out hushed, nearly buried underneath her breath and the music that was still filling the kitchen.

Nestor hesitated, trying to figure out if that reaction was a good one or a bad one. He didn’t move, waiting for some other cue from her about whether he should leave, or whether he should keep going. He knew which of those options he was hoping it’d be.

He was about to ask if she was okay when she slid her hands back up, interlocking them behind his neck so that she could pull him back down into another kiss. Nestor wasted no time in obliging, bringing his hands to the small of her back for a moment before sliding them down over her ass until they were resting on the backs of her thighs. Without pulling his lips off of hers, Nestor lifted her up, hooking her legs around his waist as he set her on the edge of the island.

He brought his hands to the tops of her thighs, digging his fingers into the flesh there enough so that he could pull her closer, tighter, until the only space between his hips and hers were the clothes between them. He felt her lock her legs tighter around him, not allowing either of them space to pull away as his hands crept up her legs.

Nestor pulled his lips off hers only to drag them along her jaw and down onto her neck. He grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin there, feeling the way her nails sank into the exposed skin of his back as he did. She could feel the way his lips curled into the first real smile she’d ever gotten out of him as one of his hands slipped up well past the hem of her shorts, thumb finding the space where her thigh met her hip.

She caught his lips with hers as his hand strayed between her legs. He eagerly swallowed the moan she let out as he pulled her panties to the side, allowing him to feel what he’d done to her. If there had been any hesitation left in his body at all, it was gone the second he felt her grinding against his hand. She more than willingly took whatever he was giving her, one of her hands resting against the back of his head to keep his lips pinned to hers as she tried to pull more and more from him.

When he recoiled the slightest bit, putting just a fraction of distance between them, Erin couldn’t stop the whine that escaped her. Nestor’s eyes bore into hers, tongue running along his bottom lip as he tried to commit the sound to memory. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face as his hands landed on the waistband of her shorts. He was twisting his fingers into the fabric as he took in the hazy look in her eyes, her kiss-swollen lips.

He felt like he was supposed to have something to say, but that’d never been his strong suit. Instead, he gave a slight tug at her waistband, a wordless call for assistance. Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she obliged, lifting her hips off the island just enough to slide her shorts down off of them. She unhooked her legs from around his waist, allowing him to put space between them just enough so that he could slide them off and let them drop to the floor.

His lips were back on hers in a second, hand trailing down over the fabric of her shirt, only to slip underneath it and travel their way back up, calloused hands traveling over the soft skin of her stomach and sides. It was only then that he realized that Erin had some unexplained scars of her own, the ridges and divots of them passing beneath the pads of his fingers. Questions for another night.

He’d been so distracted by his own wandering hands that he almost missed the way that hers were now working at the buckle of his belt. She made quick work of it, not having any issues despite the fact that she was flying blind. Nestor’s breath caught in his throat as she undid the button and zipper of his slacks as well.

Nestor took the cues he’d been given, hands moving to grip onto her hips. She let him guide her forward, precarious on the edge of the counter but she trusted him not to let her drop. The string of raspy curses that Nestor let out as he slid into her made a smirk pull at the edge of her mouth for just a moment before her mouth was back on his again.

Erin had one hand on his shoulder, one wrapped around the edge of the counter to keep herself steady. There was something in the fierceness of his grip, how tightly he kept his hold on her, that almost made Erin want to put up a bit of a fight. She wanted to make him work for it, just because she could. But he felt too good sliding in and out of her to try and make him stop or slow down now. Next time.

Nestor moved one hand, temporarily releasing the bruising grip he had on her hips as he brought his hand up to the side of her face. His hand rested there, thumb dragging along her cheekbone for a moment until she pulled her lips off of his. The softness of the gesture in contrast to everything else had caught her off-guard. He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, watching the way she fought to get her composure back, a pointless task if ever there was one.

He lingered, thumb against her chin, lips mere centimeters from hers. He wondered how long he was going to be able to drag the moment out for. However, he’d hardly finished thinking the thought when Erin wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him farther into her and putting his lips back against hers in a clumsy, needy kiss.

It was all hands and teeth and shuddered breath as the two of them fought just to see how close they could get. The intensity had caught Erin off-guard coming from someone who never seemed to bat an eye or be enthusiastic about anything. It was almost like he was a completely different man sinking his teeth into the space where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the way his intensity picked up, movements a little more desperate. Her nails raked across his back, trying to anchor herself in the midst of feeling like she was losing herself in him.

It felt like it took more effort than it should to try and untangle herself from around him when it was over. For a minute, neither of them even tried. Nestor let her stay wrapped around him and she let him keep leaning against her and the island beneath her for support. The rise and fall of their chests were drastic, out of sync as Nestor rested his forehead against hers.

Erin’s hands slid down so that her palms were flat against his chest again. She didn’t pull away from him as she felt the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her hand. Once she caught her breath enough, she managed a quiet laugh.

Nestor didn’t even pull away at that, instead he just asked, “What?”

She let the sound of his breathless voice bounce around her brain for a few moments before finally making herself answer. “Not sure what I’m supposed to say to you.”

There was a half-smile on Nestor’s face as he pulled back to be able to look her in the eyes. “That all it took?”

She laughed a little harder, shaking her head at him. “Shut up.” Finally taking her hands off him, she placed them on the counter. “Can I have my underwear now? And my shorts?”

She ran her hands down her face as Nestor readjusted himself and picked her clothes up off the floor. He handed them to her, watching as she shook her head. She pulled them up her legs, managing to just get them over her hips.

“Well, now that we’ve thoroughly disrespected Mike and Emily’s counter,” she said with a laugh as she hopped down, feet landing silently on the floor, “I’m gonna go, you know, shower.”

Nestor looked down at her, noticing the way that she was still pinned between him and the edge of the counter behind her. His face went back to being hard to read as he nodded at her. “Okay.”

“You’re not gonna be, like, fuckin’ weird about this, right?” she asked, not really sure what him being weird about it would even look like.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Reassuring,” there was her usual hint of sarcasm in her voice as she said it. When he didn’t move to let her leave, Erin found her eyes traveling all over him again, the reality sinking in that it might be the first and last time that she got to see him like this. Her gaze finally landed back on his bandaged arm, the thing that got this entire mess started. She touched it lightly with her fingers, noticing the way that he didn’t pull away from her. “So now do I get to know what happened?”

Shaking his head slightly, he moved to the side, allowing her to leave. “Go shower.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was still a smile on her face as she said, “Whatever.”

Just when she was about to walk out of the kitchen, Nestor called after her, “Don’t forget your bat.”

Turning around, she faced him as she kept walking, in the opposite direction. “If you’re here, I apparently don’t need it, so,” she threw her hands up before turning back around and making her way up the stairs.

Nestor shook his head at her as he watched her silently make her way back up the stairs. Once she was out of sight, he swiped his bloodied shirt up off the floor, holding it in his hand as he walked over and, once again, turned her music down. Dragging his free hand down his face, he looked up at the ceiling for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Taking a deep breath, he tried not to overthink it. He couldn’t help but to look at the bandage wrapped around his arm, couldn’t stop the tiny hint of a smile that crossed his face as he looked at it, not caring about the mess that was sure to follow.

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