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[...get shit-faced and talk about sex...]
So I found the fandom in an alley and fed it my leftover pizza and patted its head and stuff, and dagnabbit, it just followed me on home.
CAN I KEEP IT? CAN I KEEP IT, HUH, PLEASE?
Terminus
Y Tu Mama Tambien. Julio/Tenoch/Luisa. High R.
(especially when)
ETA: Read the drabble-remix by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amory_vain here.
i. bar
Julio didn't let himself believe that maybe one day they'd once more be linking arms for toasts without the silent enmity. There were moments when he almost believed the fight was over or almost over, because they were laughing together and toasting every other thing coming out of their mouths. But he never got so naive to mistake, or weak enough to hope, that their carousing stood for anything more than their unspoken agreement to live in the moment and take their pleasures to-go. Not that the niceties were a lie. (Far be it from them to be lying now, apparently.) It was just easier to get shit-faced and talk about sex than to give each other bitter looks across the table.
Tonight Julio just wanted to forget this shit with girlfriends, and the shit with Tenoch and Luisa too, even though they were sitting right in front of him. Luisa said something but he didn't catch it. Tenoch did, and he laughed, and Julio laughed with him. There was another toast. With their arms linked across the table and tequila dribbling down their chins, it was easy to forget that things had changed.
There were optimistic maybes that hovered over Julio's mind, but he didn't put much stock in them. The moment one started to become more than a ghost of a thought, he would refill his glass and shoot a violent smile at Tenoch, who would return it and laugh.
ii. bed
Julio blamed it on muscle memory.
They were naked and horny and the night was warm with summer and sex. If he were with Ceci, he would know what to do and he would already be doing it. He was already in familiar territory, in that place of ragged breaths and vanishing boundaries, where he always knew (or thought he knew) what to do. But it was not Ceci, it was Tenoch. It was also Luisa, but that didn't matter so much because at least she was a woman. Tenoch was an aberration in the landscape.
Luisa wrapped her hands around their cocks and Tenoch was standing close so close to him (but not close enough) so fucking close, and Julio knew it was Tenoch's hot breaths on his face and Tenoch's hair falling into his eyes, but his body thought it was Ceci, because usually it was Ceci, except for the times when it was Ana.
The body remembers how to do things even when (especially when) the mind does not. When Tenoch's forehead bumped against Julio's for the second time, a vague and detached knowledge came to him about where this was going to go, how this was going to end. He raised his hand to cup Tenoch's face--and there was a moment when he could have stopped himself, when he could have pushed them apart, could have rested his head on Tenoch's shoulder with his face turned to the wall--and their mouths collided. Their hands were tangled in each other's hair, partly in a conscious effort to avoid touching any other part of each other's bodies, but then Tenoch parted his lips and Julio tasted the alcohol on Tenoch's tongue.
Luisa pulled them to the bed and they sprawled across each other, under and over and inside. Julio did what he knew how to do, with an abandon that, like dreams, would fade with the stars in the morning.
iii. breakdown
The drive back home was uneventful and, in Julio's mind, unfair. It was frustrating, annoying, strained, and too quiet. Any synonym for shit he could come up with, it was probably that too. It was a number of things, and it annoyed Julio to think about them, so he didn't, and kept his eyes on the road.
He didn't let himself look at Tenoch unless it was absolutely necessary. Tenoch did likewise, sitting in the passenger seat, joint in his mouth, cowboy hat on his head, until Julio remembered that it was his cowboy hat, and took it back.
It would be an insult to call this a fight, thought Julio. It would be an insult to him, to Tenoch, and to friendships everywhere. It would be like calling bloody battles a lively debate. What this was, was a DMZ, a great and gaping no man's land. A rift. Yes, a rift between the lands Juliostan and Tenochia, caused by the movement of geological plates and the earth vomiting its steaming innards, pushing continents apart. What this was, was the world changing beneath their feet.
"Who wants a hat," said Tenoch, "from a bum who lives in the middle of the fucking desert?"
"It doesn't suit you anyway," said Julio, and he was right. Neither of them were cowboys, astral or otherwise. "Throw it out."
"Why don't you?"
The hat was in the backseat where Julio had thrown it. He couldn't see it now but he could feel it. He could feel the fucking hat taunting them and he hated it. He fucking hated it, and didn't know why the fuck he took it from the old man in the first place. He hated cowboy hats, he hated Tenoch, and he hated the feeling in his chest that made it hard to breathe and had nothing to do with lung disease.
"Throw it out," said Tenoch. "I dare you."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Asshole."
"Fuck you."
And home was a long way away.
[end.]
CAN I KEEP IT? CAN I KEEP IT, HUH, PLEASE?
Terminus
Y Tu Mama Tambien. Julio/Tenoch/Luisa. High R.
(especially when)
ETA: Read the drabble-remix by
amory_vain here.i. bar
Julio didn't let himself believe that maybe one day they'd once more be linking arms for toasts without the silent enmity. There were moments when he almost believed the fight was over or almost over, because they were laughing together and toasting every other thing coming out of their mouths. But he never got so naive to mistake, or weak enough to hope, that their carousing stood for anything more than their unspoken agreement to live in the moment and take their pleasures to-go. Not that the niceties were a lie. (Far be it from them to be lying now, apparently.) It was just easier to get shit-faced and talk about sex than to give each other bitter looks across the table.
Tonight Julio just wanted to forget this shit with girlfriends, and the shit with Tenoch and Luisa too, even though they were sitting right in front of him. Luisa said something but he didn't catch it. Tenoch did, and he laughed, and Julio laughed with him. There was another toast. With their arms linked across the table and tequila dribbling down their chins, it was easy to forget that things had changed.
There were optimistic maybes that hovered over Julio's mind, but he didn't put much stock in them. The moment one started to become more than a ghost of a thought, he would refill his glass and shoot a violent smile at Tenoch, who would return it and laugh.
ii. bed
Julio blamed it on muscle memory.
They were naked and horny and the night was warm with summer and sex. If he were with Ceci, he would know what to do and he would already be doing it. He was already in familiar territory, in that place of ragged breaths and vanishing boundaries, where he always knew (or thought he knew) what to do. But it was not Ceci, it was Tenoch. It was also Luisa, but that didn't matter so much because at least she was a woman. Tenoch was an aberration in the landscape.
Luisa wrapped her hands around their cocks and Tenoch was standing close so close to him (but not close enough) so fucking close, and Julio knew it was Tenoch's hot breaths on his face and Tenoch's hair falling into his eyes, but his body thought it was Ceci, because usually it was Ceci, except for the times when it was Ana.
The body remembers how to do things even when (especially when) the mind does not. When Tenoch's forehead bumped against Julio's for the second time, a vague and detached knowledge came to him about where this was going to go, how this was going to end. He raised his hand to cup Tenoch's face--and there was a moment when he could have stopped himself, when he could have pushed them apart, could have rested his head on Tenoch's shoulder with his face turned to the wall--and their mouths collided. Their hands were tangled in each other's hair, partly in a conscious effort to avoid touching any other part of each other's bodies, but then Tenoch parted his lips and Julio tasted the alcohol on Tenoch's tongue.
Luisa pulled them to the bed and they sprawled across each other, under and over and inside. Julio did what he knew how to do, with an abandon that, like dreams, would fade with the stars in the morning.
iii. breakdown
The drive back home was uneventful and, in Julio's mind, unfair. It was frustrating, annoying, strained, and too quiet. Any synonym for shit he could come up with, it was probably that too. It was a number of things, and it annoyed Julio to think about them, so he didn't, and kept his eyes on the road.
He didn't let himself look at Tenoch unless it was absolutely necessary. Tenoch did likewise, sitting in the passenger seat, joint in his mouth, cowboy hat on his head, until Julio remembered that it was his cowboy hat, and took it back.
It would be an insult to call this a fight, thought Julio. It would be an insult to him, to Tenoch, and to friendships everywhere. It would be like calling bloody battles a lively debate. What this was, was a DMZ, a great and gaping no man's land. A rift. Yes, a rift between the lands Juliostan and Tenochia, caused by the movement of geological plates and the earth vomiting its steaming innards, pushing continents apart. What this was, was the world changing beneath their feet.
"Who wants a hat," said Tenoch, "from a bum who lives in the middle of the fucking desert?"
"It doesn't suit you anyway," said Julio, and he was right. Neither of them were cowboys, astral or otherwise. "Throw it out."
"Why don't you?"
The hat was in the backseat where Julio had thrown it. He couldn't see it now but he could feel it. He could feel the fucking hat taunting them and he hated it. He fucking hated it, and didn't know why the fuck he took it from the old man in the first place. He hated cowboy hats, he hated Tenoch, and he hated the feeling in his chest that made it hard to breathe and had nothing to do with lung disease.
"Throw it out," said Tenoch. "I dare you."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Asshole."
"Fuck you."
And home was a long way away.
[end.]
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can't get enough of you, baby
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Fantastic.
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Tenoch was an aberration in the landscape.
You always build the most elaborate and relevant metaphors. The continental drift in the end was great, as well.
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Julio's thoughts took me even further than that, which is what I loved about this. It's like seeing inside the movie
I'm easily fascinated by characters, so my first fic in a fandom tends to be a walkabout through the character's head as I try to figure out what's going on.
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someone said it above already, but yeah, this: Tenoch was an aberration in the landscape.
fwuh. oh man, i could sing your praises till, like, the end of time.
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i can't help but cross my fingers and wait for the happy ending in the movie and when it doesn't come i always feel like crying. this too. goddamnit boys just kiss and make up. *wail*
I KNOW! Damn you, canon! Damn yoooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuu!
*blows you lots of kisses*
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...i hope.
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It would be an insult to call this a fight, thought Julio. It would be an insult to him, to Tenoch, and to friendships everywhere. It would be like calling bloody battles a lively debate. What this was, was a DMZ, a great and gaping no man's land. A rift. Yes, a rift between the lands Juliostan and Tenochia, caused by the movement of geological plates and the earth vomiting its steaming innards, pushing continents apart. What this was, was the world changing beneath their feet.
I prostrate myself at your feet. That was unfathomably brilliant.
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Aw, shucks.
*le blush*
Thank yoouu.
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And hey, have you checked out
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*stalks comm like a stalking thing*
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But.
Here I am and the friendsskip is so long omgwtf.
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I found this by
*tips hat*
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Man, I loved that movie. And you NAIL it!
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::applauds::
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Which I evidently said already - but it's still true!
&hearts
takes a lot of peppers to get it this spicy. garlic is especially useful.