IT FINALLY HAPPENED AFTER ASKING TIME &TIME AGAIN!!! You have no idea how happy I get when I look at this picture💙💙 #nandre

P.s.- Rocky was like “Andre she needs a selfie!” 😂

The Way We Do

Chapter 4

Two drinks in, and Nacho was struggling. It was all Andres’s fault, really. Andres, with his big dumb grin and his stupid crinkly eyes. Andres, with his irritatingly broad shoulders and his perfect fucking hair. Nacho kept having to remind himself that Andres was, in fact, an asshole. It was just so easy to forget that they weren’t actually on a date - that he and Andres weren’t even friends - what with Andres being all charming and shit. He was almost obnoxiously adorable, all sweet smiles and soft giggles, no matter how rude Nacho was to him. But Nacho was always up for a challenge, so he’d just have to try a bit harder.

“Man, do you ever shut up?” he groaned, earning another laugh from Andres, like he thought Nacho was joking. Nacho sighed heavily, resigning himself to another hour or so of forced conversation before he could leave.

It could be worse, he supposed. Andres had been talking nonstop, mostly about dumb shit that Nacho really didn’t give a damn about, but Nacho had to admit that there was something about the way that his lips moved when he spoke that wasn’t completely unattractive. The were bright pink and looked so soft, like they were made to pout, or for sucking c-

Shit. Nacho really needed another drink, or maybe some fresh air to clear his head. Actually, what he really needed was for this night to end. They’d moved from the bar to a table for two, and with Andres sitting across from him, their knees bumping under the table and their hands resting only inches apart, Nacho found himself unsure of where to look or what to say. Being this close to Andres was making him feel hot all over and he didn’t know why. All he knew for sure was that Andres got under his skin in a way that no one else ever had, making him feel equal parts annoyed and turned on, and he fucking hated it.

And Andres would not stop with the questions, like he wanted to learn every single thing he could about Nacho, from what he did for fun to why he’d joined the force. Nacho searched Andres’s intrusive inquiries for hints that it was really Eva that Andres wanted information on, but his interest seemed genuine. Realizing this only served to make Nacho more uncomfortable, certain now that Andres just wanted to find out about Nacho’s tragic past. He opened his mouth to fill Andres in on all the gory details, wanting to get it over with, but was struck silent when he recognized a familiar face walking into the restaurant.

“Missis?” he called uncertainly, raising a hand in greeting before he could think better of it. “What are you doing here?”

Missis turned at the sound of his name, plastering a grin on his face as he walked towards Nacho and Andres. He slapped a hand on Nacho’s shoulder when he reached their table, his grip tight as his smile turned sharp.

“Just picking up some carryout. How ‘bout you?” he asked, eyeing Andres.

Nacho forced his smile to match Missis’. “Oh, um. I’m here with my…this is Andres. Andres, this is Missis,” he introduced the two. “Missis was my training officer. He molded me into the mediocre cop you see before you today.”

“Don’t be silly, Nacho,” Missis chided him. “You’re far from mediocre. You’re downright terrible.” They all laughed automatically, and Nacho searched for something more to say. There were just so many topics that were off limits when it came to Missis. Missis seemed to be having the same issue, and Nacho was relieved when he made an excuse to leave, both men promising that they’d get together soon, though Nacho knew that they never would.

“Dude,” Andres let out a breath after Missis’d left, pulling a face. “That was like, really awkward. Do you still work with him?”

Nacho let the fake smile fall from his face as he shook his head. “He’s actually not on the force anymore,” he told Andres, not offering any further details, since it was really none of Andres’s business. “He and Eva used to date,” he added casually. “She prefers cops to firemen, just so you know.”

Andres shrugged with a chuckle, a sly smile playing at his lips. “Well, no one’s perfect.”

“Yeah, well the Bills suck,” Nacho replied, which really wasn’t fair, since Nacho had no idea whether they did or not. The only time he cared about football was when he was on the field.

Andres leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and licking those fucking lips of his. “Do you have a favorite team, Nacho?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “'Cause I’m sure we could come up with some kind of bet, if you think you’re up for it.”

Nacho’s belly swooped as he felt a familiar pull, the same one that had driven him to try to push Andres’s buttons the day they’d met. He could think of a million things he’d like to bet Andres for, none of them involving any clothing. He began racking his brain, thinking back over snippets of conversations he’d overheard, trying to remember which teams were performing well this season.

“And what exactly would I get, when I won?” Nacho wondered aloud, bending his elbow so that he could rest his chin in his hand, his face less than a foot away from Andres’s.

Andres raised an eyebrow, biting his lower lip, forcing Nacho’s attention back to his mouth. The air between them seemed electric, buzzing with tension in the most intriguing way as the noise of the restaurant faded away, Andres the only thing that Nacho could focus on. “I dunno about you, but I think I’d want to go all in.”

Nacho’s heart beat a little faster as he squirmed in his seat. “All in?”

“Winner takes all,” Andres said, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip. Nacho studied the way his throat moved as he swallowed, his own mouth going dry. “Whatever the other is willing to give them,” he added, his eyes locked on Nacho as he set his drink down, his fingers trailing up and down the neck of the bottle.

“Are you fellas ready to order?”

Their server’s voice cut through the fog clouding Nacho’s mind, reminding him that he didn’t actually like Andres, nor did he want to win a bet against him just so that he could do any number of dirty things to him. He didn’t, not one fucking bit.

He sat back in his seat, any tension he’d imagined between them dissipating. “I think we need a minute,” Andres said, his voice soft and flirty, his gaze still on Nacho. Nacho felt all of his original annoyance towards Andres rush back, for being a spoiled rich kid who couldn’t mind his own business, and for making Nacho feel things that he most certainly did not want to feel.

“You know what, I don’t think I’m really that hungry after all, so why don’t we just get this over with?” he grumbled, all traces of humor gone from his tone.

“Get what over with?” Andres asked, looking genuinely confused.

“You said you wanted to hang out so we could finish our conversation from last night, right? So go ahead and ask me what you want to know.”

Andres shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Nacho, I don’t want to know anything that you don’t want to tell me,” he insisted.

Nacho arched a dark eyebrow. “So you don’t want to know what happened to my parents? Or how Eva and I got stuck taking care of two kids before we were out of our teens?” Nacho’s heart hurt to word it that way, but it always hurt to talk about his parents, and he had a point to get across to Andres.

Andres apparently didn’t like the way Nacho had worded it either, anger flashing across his features. “You’re really bitter for someone who was blessed with that face,” he muttered, before closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t need to tell me what happen-”

“It was a car accident,” Nacho blurted, suddenly needing Andres to see why he was the way he was. “We were coming back from visiting a college I’d gotten into upstate and there was a freak accident. It wasn’t raining, or snowing, and no one was driving drunk, so there wasn’t even anyone to blame. A truck in front of us had a blow out and had to slam on their brakes, and my dad couldn’t stop in time. Pau and Evelyn were in the back with me, and we were barely hurt, just some cuts and bruises. I got them out as quickly as I could, but by the time I got back to the car my mom was…she was gone and my dad was unconscious. He didn’t make it through the night.”

Nacho paused as he felt an unfamiliar pressure building behind his eyes, his throat tightening as he forced down another drink.

“I’m so sorry, Nacho,” Andres said, his voice tight. “I’m sorry that happened and I’m sorry you were there to see it.”

Nacho looked up into Andres’s damp eyes, his heart hardening when he saw the pity in them.

“Yeah, well. It’s fine. Eva dropped out of college and I joined the academy and we’re making it work. Who cares about school when you need a steady paycheck, right? Not that you’d understand what it’s like to have to worry about shit like bills and putting food on the table.”

Andres smiled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which looked sad as he began to pick at the label on his beer bottle. “You really don’t know anything about my life, Nacho,” he said quietly.

“I know enough,” Nacho insisted, thinking once again of Andres’s big house and his fancy car and the parents who were probably wishing he’d come home to Buffalo.

Andres sighed, any semblance of a smile disappearing as he raised his head to look at Nacho. “You got dealt a shit hand, and I’m really sorry about your parents, but you’ve got a family who loves you, and who you love, so maybe you should try to get rid of that chip on your shoulder. For such a hot guy you’re really not looking too attractive right now.”

“Like I’m gonna take life advice from someone like you.”

Andres’s eyes went wide, his features clouding for an instant before his face went completely blank, all emotion wiped clear as he stood up and pulled his wallet out. “Listen, I thought maybe we could be, I dunno, friends or something, but I was obviously wrong,” he said, tossing a few bills onto the table. Nacho’s chest tightened with panic, or regret, as he realized that Andres was leaving, but he forced a smile to his face as he looked up at him.

“Yeah well, that was probably a shit idea from the start,” he agreed. Andres didn’t say anything more, just nodded once at Nacho and turned and walked away.

Nacho sat at the table for several more minutes, tamping down the desire to chase after Andres and apologize. He had nothing to be sorry for, and there was no reason for him to be upset that Andres was done with him.

Good fucking riddance.

He walked home quickly, needing the distraction that his family would provide him. Eva was the only one up when he walked through the door, but her bright smile did nothing to make him feel better.

“How was your date?” she asked as soon as he’d plopped down on the sofa next to her, not allowing him even a second to recover from the disastrous evening, or to calm the whirlwind of feelings threatening to spill out of him.

Nacho shrugged, and made sure his voice sounded as light and unaffected as possible when he answered. “Boring. Uneventful. And not a date,” he said, ignoring the fact that none of those things felt true.

Credit: @cupcakes-x-cocaine

Chapter 2.

It ended up being harder to stay away from Andres that Nacho had anticipated. He could hear laughter drifting out of his apartment as he made his way up to the fourth floor a few days later, and he smiled, thinking that he’d do whatever he could to be able to hear his girls laugh more often. Growing up their house had been filled with nonstop laughter and lots of love, but things had been different since the accident. Nacho did the best he could, he really did, but he feared that his best wasn’t always good enough.

His smile died on his lips as he unlocked the front door and walked in to see everyone crowded around Andres, who looked completely out of place in the shabby apartment. Nacho’s eyes went immediately to the couch, which was still covered with his blanket and pillow from the night before, and he cursed himself for having been too lazy to put them away this morning. And then he cursed Andres fucking Ceballos, because how dare this asshole make him feel ashamed of his home.

Nacho squared his shoulders and raised his chin as he walked the few steps it took to get to the kitchen, giving Paula a kiss on the head before glaring at Andres. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, earning a swat on the arm from Eva.

Andres had the good graces to look a bit rebuffed, at least, but his voice was sure when he answered him. “I live not too far from here, and I saw Evi,” - Evi? Did he really just fucking call his sister Evi? - “struggling with a load of groceries. I recognized her from our game and offered to help.”

“It was very nice of him,” Eva added, looking pointedly at Nacho. He ignored her.

“Where do you live?” Nacho asked Andres, doing his best to ignore the way Andres was looking him up and down. Nacho didn’t even bother to stand up straight, since he already knew how good he looked in his tight navy uniform as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. Not that he gave a damn whether Andres thought he looked good or not (but he did, he definitely did).

Andres waved his hand towards the window closest to him. “A few blocks down, over on Sayler Ave.”

Nacho nodded, his suspicions about Andres confirmed. Sayler Avenue may only have been a few streets over, but that neighborhood bore no resemblance to Nacho’s, made up mainly of fancy old Victorians with expensive cars parked in front. Cars like Andres’s. Nacho looked him up and down, seeing him up close out of uniform for the first time. His clothes looked nice, though Nacho couldn’t tell if they were designer or not, since he really didn’t know shit about that stuff. But he could definitely tell how expensive his watch was. It was huge and gaudy and probably cost more than Nacho made in a month.

Like Nacho had suspected from the start, Andres Ceballos was an asshole. He could carry Nacho’s groceries a million times and that fact would still remain.

“Well, thanks for your help. I can take it from here,” Nacho told Andres hoping that he’d get the hint that he wasn’t welcome.
“I’ve invited him to stay for dinner. As a thank you,” Eva piped up.
“Yay!” Paula shouted, grabbing one of Andres’s big hands and jumping up and down. To his credit he looked just as happy as she did, even jumping up and down a few times himself, which delighted Paula to no end. Nacho made a mental note to try to stop being so grumpy all the time around her. It was nice to see her this excited, even if it was because of a fucking fireman.

Nacho decided that just because Andres was making himself at home didn’t mean that he needed to hang around to watch it, so he left the room without another word, heading into the bathroom for a shower. The hot water felt heavenly after a long day at work, and he did his best to force his tense muscles to relax. But for some reason knowing that Andres was only a few yards away from his naked body was getting him way, way more worked up than it should. For once he was grateful when the hot water cut out, the cold snapping him back to reality and keeping him from imagining what Andres would look like soaking wet.

Nacho changed into his rattiest sweats and a worn out t-shirt, which he took as further proof that he obviously didn’t give a fuck what his unwelcome house guest thought of him. They were all crowded around the tiny kitchen table as he joined them, frowning when he saw that Andres was in his goddamn seat, only he’d moved it way closer to Eva’s chair than Nacho ever did.

Nacho picked Paula up and set her on his lap so that they could share a seat just as Evelyn set a plate of spaghetti in front of him. He gaped at her, shocked that she was even joining them at the table let alone serving him, but she just smiled sweetly, her eyes darting to Andres. Nacho rolled his eyes, a bit annoyed that Andres seemed to be affecting all of the Gotors.

“So, Andres was just telling us how he moved here from Buffalo. You’ve been there once or twice, right Nacho?” Eva asked, clearly in an attempt to engage him in conversation.

Nacho glared at her, since she knew exactly when and why he’d gone to Buffalo. “Yeah. Wasn’t too impressed with it, honestly.”

Andres laughed. “Me either. I always wanted to live in the city, so as soon as I graduated from the academy I headed here. It’s a lot different living in New York than I imagined it to be as a kid though. I grew up in a small suburb surrounded by the same group of people my whole life, so I’m not that used to making new friends.”

“I bet you miss your mommy and daddy too,” Nacho sneered before he could stop himself.

He felt Paula shuffle on his lap as she reached across the table to pat Andres’s hand. “It’s okay, Mr. Andres. I miss my mommy and daddy too,” she said quietly, making Nacho regret having ever opened his big mouth. He ran a hand through her hair as the other one wrapped around her tiny body, pulling her back so that he could give her a hug.

“We all do, Pau,” he whispered in her ear.

Things were quiet for a moment after that, but Andres, god bless him, finally broke the silence.

“So Nacho, how long have you been playing in the league?”

“This is my first year. I wanted to wait until Paula was in kindergarten so that I didn’t have to be away from her too much. But now that she’s a big girl,” Nacho said, tickling her sides and earning a giggle from her, “and is busy with all her friends, I had some extra time.” Nacho blushed as he finished speaking and looked up to see Andres staring at him, a fond look on his face. Nacho looked away, focusing instead on shoving as much food as possible into his mouth. The sooner this dinner was over the better.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the meal, not that anyone fucking noticed. No, it was the Andres and Eva show, both of them chatting up a storm, mainly about stuff that was way too boring for Nacho to even bother listening to, and laughing at each other’s dumb jokes as if they were the funniest people in the world.

As soon as everyone had finished eating Nacho set Paula down and told her to go brush her teeth and to get ready for bed, promising that he’d be in to read her a story in a few minutes. He brought their dishes to the sink before heading out of the room, not wanting to watch Andres flirt with Eva for any longer than he had to.

“I’m gonna go-” he started to call over his shoulder, before Eva interrupted him.

“Actually, I told Pau I’d read to her tonight. Come on, Evelyn. You two,” she said pointing at Andres and Nacho, “can do the dishes.”

Nacho groaned audibly. He didn’t really mind doing the dishes, he just didn’t want to do them with Andres. “It’s okay, I can handle them myself if you’ve got somewhere to be,” he told him.

“Haven’t got anywhere to be, honestly. Besides, this is probably the most fun I’ve had since I moved here,” he said, and great, now Nacho just felt bad for him.

“I think you need to get out more if this is your idea of fun,” he told Andres, turning on the water and picking up a sauce covered plate.

“Maybe you can show me some of the more fun places around town sometime,” Andres murmured as he took the now clean plate from Nacho and started to dry it off.

“Hasn’t your squad taken you out?” Nacho asked him, because yeah, firemen were dickheads, but they were dickheads who knew how to party.

“No, they did, I just…I just don’t fit in that well with them.”

“You seemed to fit in with them just fine at the game,” he pointed out as he handed Andres another dish to dry. Nacho saw Andres grimace out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say anything, so neither did Nacho.

The room was quiet for a few moments, save the water running and the clank of the dishes as Andres set them on the drying rack. Nacho hardly knew Andres, but he could tell that he had something he wanted to say. He just had one of those faces that showed everything that he was thinking. Nacho didn’t really care what he wanted to talk about, since he was busy racking his brain for a way to subtly let Andres know that Eva had a boyfriend. She totally didn’t, but that didn’t mean that Nacho wanted Andres to think that he had a chance with her. Nacho cringed at the thought of having to see him every day, like he would if they started dating. Sure, he didn’t seem quite as bad as Nacho’d originally thought, but that didn’t mean that he was a good match for his sister.

“So, you know Eva has-” Nacho started, at the exact same time as Andres blurted out, “About what Paula said, about your parents-”

They both cut off at the same time and looked at each other, and Nacho probably would have laughed if Andres hadn’t mentioned his parents. He took a deep breath, ready to get the whole sad story out as quickly as possible, but Eva walked back in before he could begin.

“I’m headed to work. Feel like walking me to the subway?” she asked Andres, who nodded happily in response. Jesus, did he really have to look so excited about walking her a few blocks?

“I can walk her if you don’t want to,” Nacho offered, but Andres was already shaking his head no.

“No, it’s cool. I don’t mind at all,” he said as he dried his hands off and picked his leather jacket up from the back of Nacho’s chair. Eva waved goodbye to him as they both headed for the door, and he waved back halfheartedly, waiting for a feeling of relief to wash over him now that Andres was finally leaving. He turned back to face Nacho before it came, pausing in the open doorway, a smile on his lips and a question in his eyes.

“You think we could meet up tomorrow night? Maybe finish our conversation?” he asked, and fuck, his voice was so full of hope that Nacho wouldn’t have been able to say no even if he’d wanted to. Which he did; he definitely would have preferred to say no.

And yet, there he was, shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head. Andres’s entire face lit up at Nacho’s acceptance, and as he and Eva left Nacho found himself thinking that Andres Ceballos was a lot easier to ignore when the only thing that he’d known about him was that he was an asshole.

Credit: @cupcakes-x-cocaine

The Way We Do
Chapter 5

Nacho felt uneasy as he walked towards the park for his game early Saturday morning, in a way he never had before, and he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t seen Andres since their disastrous non-date, and he’d used the time apart to remind himself of how little he cared about Andres, or about what Andres thought of him. What concern was it to him if Andres didn’t want to be his friend? He had enough friends, and he’d be better off if he could just put Andres out of his mind completely.

None of which explained why he felt his stomach clenching as he approached the field, almost like he was nervous. Which was ridiculous, obviously. Nacho was there to win, plain and simple, and he wasn’t going to let thoughts of Andres Ceballos interfere with that plan. He just wouldn’t think of him at all, or even look his way.

Which, of course, Andres was going to make impossible, Nacho realized as his eyes were drawn automatically to him as he stepped out of his SUV, looking every bit as much of an asshole as he had the first time Nacho’d seen him. He rolled his eyes as he watched Andres step into the sunshine, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Seriously? He did know that he could change into his jersey at home, instead of waiting until he got to the field, right? Nacho scoffed and forced himself to look away. Dickhead probably got off on having an audience, especially when it included an unwilling Nacho.

He went through his warm-up routine, concentrating on each movement and ignoring everything else. Part of him wondered if Andres would approach him, and maybe take back what he’d said to Nacho before he’d left the restaurant, half expecting to feel a tap on his shoulder as he stretched his muscles until he felt loose and limber. Someone did finally come to stand beside him, but it was just Luis.

“What’s Ceballos doing with your sisters? Is that the fucker that likes Eva?” he asked. Nacho whipped his head to the sidelines, watching as Andres hugged each of his sisters in turn, even picking Paula up and spinning her around in a tight circle.

“Fuck, Luis, you have no idea how annoying he is,” Nacho groaned, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun as he watched Andres set Paula down and continue to chat with Eva and Evelyn. “Bastard actually seems to think he has a chance with her.”

Luis clapped him on the back. “Guess we’ll just have to show him he’s wrong then.”

Nacho smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he began to get excited for the game. Sure, it was just touch football, but Andres hadn’t seemed to care much about that rule during the last match, so why should Nacho? “I like the way you think, Gonzalvo.”

The ref blew the whistle and Nacho headed towards the back of the field, glancing over his shoulder to see Andres running along the sidelines to take his place opposite him. He nodded once at Luis, letting him know where he wanted him to kick the ball, and then turned back, heat inching up his spine when he found Andres watching him. Gone was the smile Nacho had already grown so accustomed to, a frown in its place as he narrowed his eyes at Nacho and pointedly turned his attention towards Luis as he kicked off.

The ball sailed through the crisp fall air, headed straight towards Andres. Nacho’s teammates held back, expecting Andres to call for a fair catch, but Nacho had seen the challenge in his eyes even from across the field, and he knew that Andres wouldn’t back down. Nacho ran towards him without a second thought. He was fast, reaching Andres only seconds after he’d caught the ball, plowing into him before he’d made it more than a few yards.

They hit the ground hard, Nacho landing on top of Andres with a thud, forcing the air from Andres’s lungs as Nacho’s thighs rested on either side of his hips. Nacho propped himself up, his hands by Andres’s head as he looked down at him. He felt a tickle of arousal at Andres’s firm body beneath him, the ball the only thing between them. Then he immediately felt guilty, because of Andy.

But Andy wasn’t there, he reminded himself. Andy was never there, too busy having fun at college to have much time for Nacho. He climbed off of Andres slowly, before looming over him, one arm extended in the hopes that Andres would let him help him up. Andres didn’t, rolling to his side and pushing himself up on his own, the football still tucked to his side.

“Sick hit,” Luis congratulated him, jogging up to them and slapping Nacho’s ass. “You alright there?” he said to Andres.

Andres’s eyes darted to Nacho. “I can handle it a lot harder than that,” he murmured, not looking away from Nacho, and fuck, Nacho really hated him.

Martin reached them next, moving as languidly as he spoke. “Everybody okay?” he asked. Andres nodded, and Martin turned to face Nacho. “That wasn’t a very safe maneuver you just pulled. What’s it we always say about safety, Nacho?”

Nacho looked behind him to see that the rest of the players were watching their exchange, but he could still feel Andres’s eyes on him as he answered. “Be safe, sleep with a smoke detector. Or, be safer, sleep with a firefighter.”

Martin laughed. “That is true, but I was thinking more along the lines of, there’s no tackling in touch football. Think you can remember that?” he asked Nacho, placing a hand on his back.

Nacho shrugged him off. “Let’s just play. Fucking firefighters,” he muttered, walking back to his teammates. Annoyance burned through him, messing with his head. He had no idea why he let Andres get to him this way. His only consolation was that he seemed to affect Andres just as strongly, but that was little comfort when Nacho missed an easy pass at the end of the game, allowing an interception because he was too caught up watching Andres run towards him, wondering if he was going to tackle him.

He didn’t, instead grabbing Nacho’s waist just as Nacho released the ball, knowing without looking that it wasn’t going to reach his intended destination.

“Gotcha,” Andres whispered, his breath hot against Nacho’s ear as his hands slid down to Nacho’s hips, squeezing him softly and pulling him back until their bodies were flush. His grip tightened, fingers curling in as they watched Martin intercept the ball and run it into his own end zone.

Nacho pushed him away, cursing him as he stomped off the field. He ripped his shirt off as he went, throwing it to the ground in a fit of anger. Fucking Andres, this was all his fault. He turned around to make sure the bastard wasn’t following him, only to be met with a shock of cold water as Andres emptied the contents of his water bottle over Nacho’s head.

Nacho gaped at him, chills breaking out on his skin, the cool water dripping down his chest to his abs as he grabbed the bottle from him and threw it to the side. “What the actual fuck, Andres?”

“Sorry,” Andres purred, stepping close enough that Nacho could feel the stiff nylon of his jersey brushing against his side. “I just couldn’t resist. Find ‘em hot, leave ‘em wet, that’s what I always say.”

Nacho ground his teeth together, his jaw twitching as he moved forward, bumping his chest against Andres’s. “I should kick your ass for that.”

“Is that really what you want to do to me, Nacho?” Andres wondered, tilting his head to the side.

Nacho groaned in frustration, not sure if he wanted to kill him, or to kiss him. No, the only thing he knew when it came to Andres fucking Ceballos was that he didn’t know a goddamn thing. “Do you have split personalities?” he demanded, putting his palm flat on Andres’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer.

“Huh?” Andres asked, stumbling backwards, the question catching him completely off guard.

“I’m serious. Why do you act like a completely different person here than you do when we’re alone?”

“I guess…I guess I’m just a little competitive,” he admitted, his trademark cockiness faltering. Nacho shot him a look, because really? “Okay okay, I might be more than a little competitive. Competition just brings out a…a different side of me,” he finished and, oh. Um. That was definitely not the least bit intriguing to Nacho, and he certainty did not file that fact away for future reference. Nor did it make him want to invite Andres over for game night. (Though he wouldn’t be totally annoyed if Eva did just that.)

“Well, it’s really fucking annoying,” he told Andres.

“You sure about that? ‘Cause I was thinking I might try to act like that more often. Seemed to me that you might like it,” he murmured.

Nacho let out a nervous laugh, not sure if he could deal with a flirty, aggressive Andres full-time. Andres seemed to take that as a no, shaking his head regretfully as he started to walk to his car.

“Hey, hold up,” Nacho called before he could get too far, digging in his pocket for the cash he’d stashed there before the game. “You uh, you paid too much at the bar the other night.”

Andres turned around, but he didn’t step any closer. “I’m the one who wanted to hang out, so I should be the one to pay.”

Nacho closed the distance between them, grabbing Andres’s wrist so that he could press the bills into his palm. “I can pay my own way, Andres. I’m not that fucking poor.”

Andres groaned as he pocketed the money, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but next to Nacho. Nacho kind of hated it, seeing Andres in such a hurry to get away from him.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he mumbled quickly.

“What was that?” Andres asked, holding a hand up to his ear, clearly having heard exactly what Nacho said.

“I said I’m sorry or whatever, fuck,” he grumbled. “About the other night. I was kinda being a dick, I guess.”

“And that’s totally out of character for you, right?”

Nacho huffed, tossing his hands in the air. He wasn’t going to beg. He couldn’t think of anything worse than having to beg to be friends with a fireman, except maybe when that fireman happened to be named Andres fucking Ceballos.

“Do you still want to be friends or not?” he asked anyway, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

Andres didn’t respond right away, the moment stretching out while Nacho waited for him to reply, his heart beating way too fast for such an inconsequential question.

“Friends?” Andres asked, holding out a hand.

Nacho rolled his eyes, groaning. “Friends,” he muttered in agreement, though the word friend seemed completely inappropriate when it came to Andres. He could think of a million things he’d rather call him, most of them unflattering. But he still shook Andres’s hand, and he still felt a warm flutter of pleasure at the smile that spread across Andres’s face. A smile just for him.

Credits: @cupcakes-x-cocaine