3 Works by amx73
Listing Works
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Summary
The Javelin is a comfort to him, like always. He slides into the driver's seat, puts the keys into the ignition, and cranks the heat. Between that and the cold medicine starting to kick in, he can feel his body rally a bit and gradually stop trembling by the time he pulls up to Lalo’s place in Sandia Heights, some 40 minutes later. He shakes off the urge to lay on the horn to announce his arrival, feeling petty about running this vague errand at the crack of dawn while sick.
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Nacho comes down with a cold and Lalo is a shitty boss, until he isn’t.
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“Take me home.” Lalo says without opening his eyes. It’s strange, being able to look at Lalo without being looked at, without being caught.
Nacho drums his fingers on the wheel. “The safe house?”
“Your home, Ignacio. I need your big ridiculous bed. And your shower. With all the jets.”
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Nacho stares at Lalo’s outstretched hand: the hanging brown blunt, red hot tip smoking in the desert wind. He hesitates, then meets Lalo’s eyes, searching for the angle; for what he’s expected to do here.
Lalo’s arm wilts slightly. “You’re off the clock, ok?”