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Lalo never thought he would be a domestic man. That he would make it to where, eventually, days are simple. Monogamous. Boring, yes, but...comfortable.
Well, he may have, actually. At least once or twice, thought about growing old. Maybe doing some work around the house most days, cooking the meals once Yolanda passed away...domestic shit. But, he'd never thought he'd have someone like Howard to grow older with.
There were flings, small periodic relationships which usually ended in his partner getting killed. Either by his own hand or someone else's. Anyways, he just had an understanding that relationships wouldn't last. The honeymoon phase will pass, the partner will get greedy because Lalo's rich and shit. Such is the way of life, being a Salamanca. Because of this, though, he thought he knew what a domestic life would look like for him.
Alone. Well, besides from the people that he employs around the house. Maybe a dog or two. But, in his bed, he would be the only human to sleep in it.
So now, as he stares at Howard staring at the ceiling, he finds himself mapping out a new path. A new future. A domestic one. With him.
"You keep staring at me," Howard's voice cut through the pleasant silence like a butter knife through a stick of...well, butter. Howard did not glance at Lalo, and Lalo knew he didn't need to. "What is it?"
Lalo hummed softly, reaching a hand over to hold Howard's cheek, the faint bit of stubble on his face from his lack of shaving this morning prickling at Lalo's hand. Lalo turned Howard's head to meet his eyes, which held dark circles underneath them.
He remembers a conversation they had, months ago. About insomnia. About how they both struggled with it. It was before they had found each other's places in their arms. It was the strike that lit the match, Lalo remembers. The way Howard spilled his feelings that night, his worries that keep him up at night. The way Howard looked so...pathetic. But in an endearing way. Howard avoided his eyes, during the conversation. But right near the end, they had locked eyes. Something inside them clicked, in that moment. An understanding of each other.
Lalo pecked under each eye, and grinned at the other man. "What, am I not allowed to look at mi novio?" He asked, obviously a rhetorical question. Howard chuckled lowly, reached up to take Lalo's hand off his cheek, and instead held it. Something about the way Howard touched Lalo, like he was a delicate ceramic figure, despite everything Howard knew he'd done. It melt a part of Lalo, every single time. Howard could see it, a small shift in Lalo's eyes, like he'd never been held that way before.
"Of course you are, darling. I think I'm just...not used to it?" Howard said, softly, with an awkward smile making its way onto his face. This got a laugh out of Lalo. Not a loud one, it was still late, and both of them were tired.
Lalo shook his head. "Not used to it?" He asked, "We've been together for months, Howie."
Howard nodded, "I don't think I'll ever get used to you," He admitted, and leaned in slightly. Lalo followed, and their lips met. Kissing Howard was something special. Especially in the late hours of the night. Howard usually held such an uptight stance, like he had perpetual butt-plug syndrome. But, when their mouths connected like this, Howard became mush. Lalo could feel his muscles relax, could feel a bit of tension seep out of his pores.
Lalo pulled away, slightly.
"Me neither."