Chapter Text
Carlos Santiago was not a stupid man. At least most of the time. But he did stupid things and he did them a lot more than he would like to admit. But this might be the absolute dumbest thing he had ever done and he wasn’t even aware he did it.
He and Marcus, finally 18, were finally done with school. Well Carlos definitely was. He knew that Marcus’s dad was expecting him to enroll at the Academy for his continued education, but from every conversation, short lived as they were, that’s not at all what Marcus wanted. Defying his father meant a conversation with his father. It wasn’t that Marcus was a weak man, it was just the opposite actually, but Marcus could never really be the strong man he’d grown into in front of his father. He’d just get shot down and treated like a child, Carlos thought.
He knew he was going to enlist the second he got a chance. He had a feeling Marcus might stand up to his father and join him. The thought of going through all of that with his best friend made him hopelessly optimistic about the future.
The night of their graduation the Santiagos took everyone out for a celebratory dinner. Adam Fenix was invited but of course had to leave to do work immediately following the ceremony. But Marcus was essentially family and generally felt more comfortable and able to be himself when his father wasn’t around, so maybe it was better that he wasn’t there. After dinner they went back to the Santiago’s house and Carlos’s dad pulled out some nice whiskey and beer and told Carlos and Marcus to help themselves. They had earned it. Eduardo offered Dom a beer and for a while they all sat around in the living room, telling stories and laughing.
After a while everyone else went to bed, which just left Carlos and Marcus and a bottle of whiskey quickly running out. Marcus sat on the couch and Carlos on the chair to the left of him. The only light in the room was a dim lamp on the side table. It made the whole room feel soft and warm. It felt like it was just the two of them in the quiet of the house. They were both definitely feeling the alcohol, and Marcus was downright chatty, well by his standards. They were reminiscing about their friendship over the years and laughing. In an uncharacteristic fit of laughter as Carlos told the story of Marcus getting detention after correcting a teacher, Marcus leaned forward and set a hand on Carlos’s thigh. It took a minute for Carlos to register the touch and then he looked between the hand gently squeezing his thigh, and Marcus, still laughing, eyes crinkled. And he realized something.
Over the years, neither of them had really had an actually serious girlfriend. Carlos’s romantic history was a few dates here and there and a few girlfriends who lasted a few months before breaking up with him. Marcus’s was even more scarce, but the same type of story. Girls just didn’t seem to understand Marcus. Not the way Carlos did.
They definitely weren’t the same horny teenagers their classmates were. They both let the other know when they lost their virginity, Carlos first, then Marcus shortly after, and admitted to the other that they’d only had sex a few times, nothing bad, just… not what they expected. They weren’t chasing it constantly. Their classmates talked about sex like it was the be-all and end-all, how being touched by a girl felt like catching fire. Carlos had never felt like that.
Until then. He was just barely able to repress a full body shiver. Marcus’s hand was so warm and sure. He felt like it was radiating heat. He immediately wanted Marcus to move his hand up further, wanted him closer. He couldn’t help that he was just staring now.
Marcus noticed and his smile fell a little bit and he withdrew his hand, “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, “must be the whiskey.”
“It’s, uh, it’s okay,” Carlos wanted to grab Marcus’s hand and put it back, but didn’t. “You’ve just… You don’t really, uhm…touch me like that.”
“Don’t really touch anyone like that. Wasn’t really raised to show affection.”
“Shit, man, I know. I get that. I'm sorry,” Carlos grabbed the whiskey to pour himself more, mostly so he didn't have to look at Marcus as words were spilling out of his mouth without his permission. "But… it's weird, y’know. Not like bad, just different. Spend so long with someone, they're such a huge part of your life, so I got used to that, you not touching much besides a pat on the shoulder here and there and that's fine, it is but, uhm…I don't know. That was kinda nice."
Carlos looked back up and saw Marcus staring back at him. Marcus's expressions were always schooled, very careful to not show too much. But there he looked shocked? Scared? Takenaback? Carlos downed his drink and poured more.
“That was a weird thing to say," he laughed nervously. “I'm sorry, man. Just ignore me. Must be the whiskey.”
"No, it's not weird, just unexpected maybe?" Marcus followed Carlos and downed his drink and poured another.
“Unexpected how? Don't your, uhm… your dates and ex girlfriends…Don't they, I don't know… like it?” Carlos was embarrassed that it was this difficult for him to say and ask these things to his closest friend. But Carlos was careful to not think about Marcus's sex life.
Marcus looked down at his drink as he muttered quietly, "Didn't always feel comfortable enough with them for that.”
That means he feels comfortable enough with me.
Even when they were children Marcus seemed to keep a distance between himself and everyone around him. There had been hugs, somewhat frequently in the first few years that thinned out as they got older. Then it was a hand on a shoulder or pat on the back, and Carlos mirrored the behavior, never wanting his buddy to feel uncomfortable. As Carlos thought back, sometimes they would linger longer than others, and he vaguely remembered feeling warm then too. Any contact with Marcus felt warm, now that he thought about it. And subconsciously, he’d always wished that Marcus’s hands had lingered longer or touched more. How had he just now realized this?
Carlos inched closer to Marcus and let his hand hover just over his thigh, “This okay?”
Marcus nodded, face flushed slightly, and Carlos didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or something else. Carlos smiled as he set his hand down gently, and he felt it again: that warmth that started at the point of contact and spread slowly. He could only think how it would feel without clothing between them. That thought shocked him a little bit.
“Nice, right?” Carlos smiled.
Marcus nodded again, less sure, staring into his drink still.
Carlos, emboldened by the alcohol, or the feeling of Marcus’s thigh, solid and sure underneath his hand, scooted forward so that their knees were knocking together just a bit. Every bit of contact just made Carlos feel warmer. Marcus looked at their knees, then to Carlos’s hand on his thigh, then to Carlos. Carlos saw something new and different he couldn’t place in Marcus’s eyes, but it also made him feel warm.
“So, uhm, you remember, after he dismissed you for a third time you just walked up to the board, erased it, snatched the chalk out of his hand, and began teaching the correct answer?”
Marcus smiled back, “Yeah he just stood there for a few minutes in complete disbelief that I actually did that.”
“Everyone did! Then, you snapped at us and told us to take notes and the teacher left the room to get the principal!”
“His math was wrong, what was I supposed to do?”
Carlos squeezed his thigh just slightly, “That’s exactly what I would expect of you, man.”
Marcus chuckled and looked away, “That teacher wanted me expelled, you know. Because of the disrespect.”
“Yeah, Marcus Fenix, the most disrespectful man I know,” Carlos rolled his eyes and removed his hand and went to relax back into the chair.
“You don’t have to, uhm… You can keep it there… if you want.”
Carlos was already moving before he realized he was. He plopped down right next to Marcus on the couch, pressed together from knee to shoulder, and set his hand back on Marcus’s thigh with a slight squeeze and a smile. It was immediately an overwhelming sense of warmth. Marcus was just looking at him with a mostly unreadable expression. Maybe a little shocked? Offended? It was hard to look at Marcus when he was this close.
Carlos felt like he was breathing heavier. He watched Marcus out of the corner of his eye as he drained his glass again. He'd never felt more comfortable and confident. Marcus looked away and finished his drink as well.
Suddenly, a little bit of sense came back to Carlos. “I can move back if this is too much," he offered, but he really didn't want to. Being close to Marcus like this was intoxicating in ways he didn't understand.
"You can if you want.”
“I don't want to but, uhm. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will.”
Marcus paused for a few moments before saying very quietly, almost in disbelief, “It's nice."
Carlos had absolutely no idea what to say to that. He wanted to wrap Marcus up in a hug and never let go. He wanted to punch Adam Fenix in the face for not giving Marcus the affection he deserved. “Yeah, man,” Carlos sighed, “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Grab the whiskey. Let’s finish it off tonight, okay?”
“Your dad won’t be mad that we finished it?”
“No, he knew what he was doing by leaving it alone with us,” Carlos smiled and Marcus smiled back.
Marcus grabbed the whiskey off the side table and poured more for both of them, and they continued telling stories.
As time went on, the stories got more slurred and messy. Carlos especially would forget what he’d just said or go off on tangents. Marcus just smiled, angling his body slightly away from Carlos so he could see his face better. They were still sitting closer than they probably ever had before, knees pressed together and Carlos’s hand still glued to Marcus’s thigh. Carlos didn’t notice, but slowly his hand had moved from just near Marcus’s knee to now resting on his upper thigh. Marcus had one arm on the back of the couch, giving space for Carlos to move even closer. Carlos hadn’t noticed that either. He was too focused on keeping Marcus laughing and smiling by any means necessary.
Soon enough Marcus poured the last of the whiskey between their glasses, “Well, that’s it Carlos.”
“Nooo,” Carlos whined dramatically, “tonight can’t be over. I’m having too much fun!”
“You gotta keep your voice down, it’s the middle of the night. I don’t want your mom coming out and yelling at us.”
“It’s fiiine,” Carlos said quieter, then downed the glass in one go.
Marcus rolled his eyes and also finished his glass, then leaned forward and set it on the coffee table, pulling his arm off the back of the couch, “I should get going.”
“Absolutely not. How the hell are you gonna get home by yourself, drunk?” Carlos squeezed Marcus’s thigh just slightly.
“I’ll call a cab.”
“It’ll be impossible to get one this late.”
“I’ll walk.”
“You are not walking through the city by yourself this late and drunk either. No, you’re staying here, or I’m walking you home and I’ll just crash there. You’ve got like a thousand guest rooms. You’re not getting rid of me tonight, Fenix.” For whatever reason, he just really didn’t want to be away from Marcus.
“‘M fine,” Marcus went to stand up and stumbled a little.
Carlos laughed and stood to steady him, stumbling himself a little, “No you aren’t. C’mon. I’ll set you up in my room and I’ll take the couch. I don’t think the pair of us drunkenly stumbling through the city is a great idea.” He had one hand across Marcus’s back and the other grabbing his arm. Honestly he was probably relying on Marcus to steady himself as much as Marcus was relying on him.
Carlos was trying to sound put together and confident but honestly, the room was spinning a bit and he was sure he was slurring his words more than he thought. He didn’t want Marcus walking home alone, but he also didn’t really like the idea of trying to navigate his way there in the dark and in the shape he was in. One or both of them was sure to end up in a bush. Probably him first and then Marcus after because he refused to let go of him. But the prospect of hanging all over Marcus and using the fact that he was intoxicated as an excuse wasn’t a bad thought.
He’d not really thought about touching Marcus the way he was until then. Now it was all he could think about. It’s like when Marcus touched him, it opened a floodgate. Carlos was way too drunk to try and sort out what any of it meant. All he could manage right now was thinking how goddamn good it felt to have Marcus so close to him, and how he could keep that feeling close. It was like touching Marcus had suddenly become some sort of necessity to him.
He needed that warmth that was radiating off touching Marcus like he needed to breathe. He had to get him closer, to touch more of him. He needed to grab him and pull him as close as he possibly could and…
And what?
Carlos absolutely fucking needed Marcus.
He was going to do something outrageously stupid, wasn’t he?
Marcus had a hand across Carlos’s chest, steadying him, “You okay?”
Holy shit there’s no way he can’t feel how fast my heart is beating right? It’s Marcus, he could probably fucking hear it, now he just has physical proof.
Carlos took a deep breath. He tried to not let his eyes show anything. He was sure he failed, “Of course. Just a little dizzy. We had a lot of whiskey, right?”
Marcus huffed a laugh, “A bit."
"C’mon, let’s get you settled,” Carlos took the first few steps, heavily leaning on Marcus but still pulling him along.
Marcus maneuvered them around so they both had one arm thrown around the other, his across Carlos’s shoulders and Carlos’s around his waist. Rather than use his free hand to steady himself, Carlos set it on Marcus’s arm.
The walk out of the living room and down the hallway wasn't a long one, but with the way the two of them were stumbling it took probably three times longer than it should have. Carlos just kept asking himself when it was that Marcus had filled out and how he hadn’t noticed it. How long had he been careful to not look too long at him?
They were finally at the door to Carlos’s room and Carlos did not want to move his hands from Marcus for even a moment. Marcus opened the door, led them inside, and closed it behind them. He flipped the switch to a lamp next to the door and it tried its best to light up the room.
“Yeah, yeah it’s a mess I know,” Carlos was pulling Marcus towards his bed.
He let go of Marcus to gather some clothes for both of them, “Don't throw a fit, I'm not letting you sleep in a button up shirt and it's hardly the first time you've borrowed my clothes. No arguing, go to the bathroom and get changed," he turned back to see Marcus just staring at him through half lidded eyes. It made his stomach turn and he felt that warmth all over without even touching Marcus. He had no clue how to respond. “Go on,” he urged.
Wordlessly Marcus stumbled out of the room to the bathroom across the hall. A few minutes later they traded places, Carlos careful to not look at Marcus dressed down just yet. He knew he was drunk enough that the inhibitions that stopped him from staring at his buddy were long gone. And now he didn’t know where that staring would lead. Everything in him was absolutely aching to go back and put his hands all over Marcus. He wanted to feel the man his childhood friend had grown into. Something about that thought lit a fire in him.
He should have just gone straight to the couch from the bathroom. That was the smart decision. That way he couldn’t do or say anything that might make Marcus feel uncomfortable. But Marcus hadn’t seemed to feel uncomfortable with anything. He’d actually said the touches were nice. Maybe there was a chance that Marcus felt just like he did.
Carlos walked back into his room with the intent of asking Marcus that, just clearing the air and making sure everything was okay. But then he saw Marcus, one of his books in hand, relaxing on his bed in nothing but boxers and a light tshirt, and Carlos felt like he just got punched.
How the fuck had Carlos managed to go almost a decade without realizing just how attractive Marcus was?
His body was acting independently, and his brain was left playing catch-up. He needed to touch Marcus. Without realizing it he’d crossed the room and was now standing at the foot of his bed staring Marcus down like he was something to be devoured. Either not seeing the look in Carlos’s eyes, or choosing to ignore it, Marcus smiled and set the book down
“Hey,” his voice was softer than normal and so ridiculously sweet.
The lamp by the door was the only light in the room, leaving it relatively dark, but bright enough that Carlos could see how the dim glow made Marcus look… soft? Gentle? Touchable? He couldn’t find the words. There was an ache in his chest he couldn’t name either.
Without realizing it, Carlos found himself crawling onto the bed, up closer to Marcus until he was between Marcus’s thighs. He put one hand on the pillows under Marcus to steady himself and, because he couldn’t stop himself, set the other on Marcus’s chest. He could feel the steady, sure thumping of his heart, nowhere near as fast as Carlos’s surely was. They were face to face, just a few inches from each other. Carlos could smell the whiskey on Marcus’s breath, the woody scent of his shampoo, and something that was just Marcus.
“I… uhm… I have no idea what I’m doing,” Carlos said, just barely above a whisper.
“Me either.”
Marcus had every opportunity to run, or push Carlos away, or punch him in the face and break his nose, but he just stayed there, staring back at Carlos. Acting purely on instinct, Carlos moved forward just slightly, and pressed their lips together. He felt like there were fireworks going off. It wasn’t just a warmth emanating from Marcus now, it was pure heat.
Marcus wasn’t moving or reacting, and despite the fire in his gut telling him that he might actually die if he pulled away from Marcus, he did. He’d rather die than do something Marcus didn’t want.
“I still have no idea what the hell I’m doing but, uhm… is this okay?”
Marcus smiled, “You’re so fucking stupid,” he gently tangled his fingers in Carlos’s short hair and pulled him back down for a much more heated kiss that Carlos readily and happily returned.
Carlos wanted to ask what that meant but he was definitely preoccupied. The kiss quickly turned to something dirtier, Carlos gently licking at Marcus’s bottom lip then wasting no time when Marcus parted his lips slightly. Marcus’s other hand made its home on Carlos’s shoulder, fingers digging in slightly. This felt so different from kissing a girl with the hard line of Marcus’s jaw, the slight pull of the barely there stubble, and something about it just felt so much better.
Carlos had honestly never thought about kissing another man. It just wasn’t something that occurred to him to do. Now that he was doing it, he hated himself for waiting this long. Kissing Marcus felt so much better than any kiss he’d ever had. He would trade all of them for this moment. There was something so electric and satisfying and just right about this. If this is what kissing was supposed to feel like, he could understand why his classmates were so obsessed with it.
Carlos pulled away to take a breath and his heart ached at the sight of Marcus, once again staring at him through half lidded eyes. “I never knew it was supposed to feel this good,” he whispered.
“I knew it would.”
Carlos went right back to kissing Marcus, licking into his mouth like he was trying to map it out. There was no finesse or discipline. It was sloppy and hungry. He moved his hand to Marcus’s cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb.
That means he’s thought about this before.
That thought sent a shock down his spine that settled in his groin. He hadn’t let himself think about that, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. If he wasn't hard before he definitely was now. He wanted to press his body close against Marcus. He needed to know if Marcus was feeling the same way. Normally he would have thought it through, held himself back, something. But the alcohol bypassed all that.
Carlos moved his other hand to the pillows behind Marcus as well and slowly lowered himself until they were pressed together. He felt the hard line of Marcus’s cock next to his. He felt like he was going to pass out because of how damn good it felt. He never knew he needed this. And now he needed more. He rolled his hips just slightly.
“Fuck,” Marcus pulled away and moaned quietly. “Carlos,” he moved his hands to wrap around Carlos, setting his hands on his back, trying to pull him in even closer.
“Marcus I.. Fuck I don’t know,” he moved to kiss Marcus’s neck sloppily. “You feel so good. It’s- I’ve never felt like this before,” he murmured against Marcus’s skin.
Marcus arched his hips up and pushed against Carlos, “God, me either.”
“It’s just… I never thought…You’re just so fucking good Marcus,” Carlos bit his neck just slightly, and the noise that left Marcus’s mouth was unlike any sound he’d ever heard his friend make in all their time together.
It was soft, higher pitched than normal, and needy. Carlos’s dick twitched and he rocked his hips down into Marcus again. He was so close to completely losing control.
But this was Marcus, his best friend, who he’d known since they were kids. Could he even go through with this? Not to mention the fact that they were both drunk. What would Marcus think in the morning? Would either of them even remember this? What if Marcus didn’t even want any of this? Or at least didn’t want this with him?
If he went through with this, come tomorrow morning, Marcus could hate him. He couldn’t imagine his life without Marcus in it.
As much as every part of him needed this, needed Marcus, this wasn’t how this could happen.
Suddenly Carlos pulled away completely. Looking down at Marcus, eyes blown wide, lips kiss swollen, and a small wet spot on his boxers, Carlos just wanted to dive right back in and give Marcus absolutely everything, to hear more of those soft, sweet noises, to actually see what all that clothing was covering, to touch, to taste. But he knew he couldn’t. It took all of his self control to not.
Marcus looked back at him, confused and maybe a little hurt or panicked? Carlos could never properly read the man and the alcohol definitely wasn’t helping.
“Fuck, Marcus… We… we can’t do this,” his dick straining hard against his boxers didn’t at all agree.
Marcus’s face fell and he refused to meet Carlos’s eyes and Carlos’s heart clenched in a way that made him a little nauseous.
Marcus smiled sadly, “Yeah… I figured you wouldn’t want to-”
“It’s absolutely not because I don’t want to,” he set a hand softly on Marcus’s bare thigh and fuck was he sure this was the decision he wanted to make? “I want to,” he motioned to the obvious tent he was pitching, “God, do I fucking want to. But, Marcus, we’re drunk. It’s not a good idea. Fuck, since when am I the responsible one?” He smiled, hoping this would make things slightly less awkward.
Marcus smiled back and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I… You’re right.”
“I don’t want to be.”
Everything in Carlos told him to move his hand further up and finally actually touch Marcus. His head was so clouded that he almost did, despite knowing better.
“Marcus, I’m so sorry, but if I don’t leave I’m gonna do something,” the look on Marcus’s face almost made him reconsider everything. “There’s always tomorrow, right?”
Marcus looked like he didn’t believe him. His heart broke a little bit and if he wouldn’t have been constantly plagued by thoughts of doing something impure towards Marcus, he would have stayed right there next to him, overjoyed to be cramped on a bed too small to hold two men.
Carlos leaned back down for a lazy, still uncoordinated, kiss that made everything inside him light up and burn again. He pulled away for a quick moment, “Do you hate me for this?”
Marcus wrapped his arms around Carlos again, “I don’t think I ever could,” he pulled Carlos down for another impossibly sweet, clumsy kiss.
Reluctantly, every single part of him screaming to not do so, Carlos pulled away from Marcus, relished one last look of him, loose limped, relaxed, and so fucking gorgeous, and absolutely hated himself. He walked over to the door, too scared to look back and see how Marcus might be looking at him, and hesitated for just one moment.
“Tomorrow, Marcus. We’ll still be here tomorrow.”
Carlos flipped the light off and swayed and stumbled his way down the hall. He made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, downing it quickly. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he just had to walk away from something he desperately wanted, so he figured he was allowed to make a dumb decision as long as it wasn’t that dumb decision. He ambled back into the living room, dropped ungracefully down onto the couch, and thankfully, quickly fell asleep. At least that way he didn’t have time to torture himself over how much he hated leaving Marcus alone in his bed, hard and wanting. He didn’t have to think about his own dick, mad at him for denying it possibly the only thing it’s ever really wanted. He didn’t have to think about all the implications of all of this.