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Charlie fucking hates house parties. He hates how sweaty and loud they are. Quackity made him promise to come to this one, claiming it’s the only one he’d ask him to go to.
“I invited the exchange students from Mexico that I met last month,” Quackity had enthused, and Charlie feels like he’d be sort of a dick if he declined.
Now that he’s at Quackity’s shitty campus apartment, he feels like he has made a horrible mistake.
He almost goes to turn around when the door swings open, and an arm insistently pulls him inside.
Foolish. The man is practically gleaming in the colored lights Quackity has strung all over his place, eyes flashing. Charlie can tell he’s already been convinced to do shots by someone, probably Bad.
“Charlie! I’m so glad you’re here!” Foolish shouts into his ear, and Charlie pats the well-muscled man on the shoulder. Foolish grins again, and disappears into the crowd.
Maybe if Quackity doesn’t notice him, he can still slip out the front door like he was never here. Charlie starts strategically inching back to the door, barely avoiding a pile of coats strewn across a chair.
“Charlie!” A second voice calls out, and, shit, this time it’s Quackity. He’s flushed a pretty red, and Charlie remembers a time when they used to hook up. Those days are long over with the arrival of that British fucker, Wilbur Soot, but Charlie isn’t too upset about it. Really. He swears.
“You came; I thought you were lying to be nice,” Quackity is closer now, and Charlie notices the two men he has in tow. One is much taller than the rest of them, and Charlie almost regrets making eye contact. Holy shit, he’s hot.
The other guy that Quackity has next to him bounds up to him first before the tall one, and sticks out a hand.
“I’m Roier, and you, handsome?” The man asks, a flirting lilt to his voice. Charlie is not used to being flirted with so directly, and Quackity rolls his eyes.
“Roier, can you give it a rest for two seconds? He just got here!” Quackity exclaims, and Roier mutters something in what Charlie thinks is Spanish to himself.
“The exchange students!” Charlie accidentally yells louder than he intends to, and Roier finds it incredibly amusing.
“We are from Mexico, yes, is that a problem?” Roier asks, sidling up to Charlie. He can feel the warmth emanating from Roier, and he unconsciously takes a step back.
“N-no, no, of course not!” Charlie replies defensively. The otherwise silent giant beside Quackity snorts, and Charlie thinks he has the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.
“Do not listen to him. Es un pendejo,” The pretty man continues, and Charlie has heard Quackity cuss out enough people to know what he means.
“This is Mariana,” Quackity shoves the man in front of him, and Charlie suddenly needs a drink. Maybe two drinks.
“I’m Charlie,” Charlie introduces himself, and Mariana grins easily again. Charlie thinks he might need to go lie down. Perhaps until tomorrow.
“Whatever, man, it’s obvious he likes Mariana more than me,” Roier pouts, and Charlie freezes at being called out immediately.
Luckily, Mariana just laughs and Charlie feels like this happens a lot.
“Por fin alguien me gusta mas quien tu y te quejas. Eres el peor,” Mariana scolds, and Roier sticks his tongue out childishly.
“I am going to find the bad boy again. He is more fun,” Roier declares, and Charlie interprets that as Bad is about to be in for a wild ride if he and Roier’s brief interaction is anything to go by.
Quackity has vanished in the time Mariana and Roier have their argument, and Charlie thinks he hates him. Now he’s left him with the hot exchange student, and Charlie isn’t good at this.
“I need a drink. Do you want a drink?” Charlie babbles instead, and he takes off to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
Thankfully, it looks like Mariana is following him, and he hasn’t completely blown it. Charlie wrenches the fridge open to pull out two beers. He’s not going anywhere near the mystery punch that sits on Quackity’s counter.
Mariana is leaning against the counter, and Charlie scrambles desperately for the bits of Spanish he learned in high school. What was beer again? He knows that he knows this.
“Here is your corazón,” Charlie feels his accent clunk over the word, but he’s sure he got it right. Mariana’s smirk indicates he most definitely did not.
Mariana wraps his hand around Charlie’s on the proffered beer, and it takes everything for Charlie not to drop the bottle.
“Cerveza, but you are cute when you try,” Mariana laughs, but Charlie can tell it’s good-natured.
“What did I say, then?” Charlie asks, mortified. Maybe he said something horribly offensive, and now Mariana will want nothing to do with him.
“Heart,” Mariana replies, and Charlie thinks that might actually be worse than saying a bad word. He realizes belatedly he knows corazón from all the Spanish love songs Quackity likes to play when he cleans.
“Esta bien, tu puedes ser mi corazón como sea,” Mariana says, and Charlie doesn’t know what he means, but it makes him feel all wobbly in the legs anyway.
“No hablo español,” Charlie replies as smoothly as he can, and Mariana’s eyes crinkle at the corners.
“I know. It means I can say whatever I want about you, and you won’t have a clue,” Mariana teases, and Charlie thinks this man has been sent here to kill him. He’s never met someone who has taking a liking to him this quickly.
“Good things, I hope?” Charlie jokes back, now that the beer is pleasantly fizzing in his bloodstream.
“Only the best,” Mariana says faux-solemnly, and it’s only then Charlie realizes he’s somehow pressed into Mariana’s space against the counter. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice their closeness, but now that he has, he doesn’t want to move away.
“Something wrong?” Mariana asks, but his smile seems dangerous in a way that makes Charlie’s stomach swoop.
Charlie chooses to drink more of his beer instead of answering. Mariana puts a hand on Charlie’s hip, and Charlie has to stop himself from squeaking out loud. God, he’s so fucking embarrassing.
“Nope, nothing at all!” Charlie replies too quickly, and he thinks if he looks Mariana in the face right now, he might disintegrate.
“Mariana! Are you bothering Charlie?” Quackity has wandered back over to them, and Charlie can’t tell if he hates he’s here or thankful he’s not by himself anymore.
Mariana squeezes Charlie’s hip and pushes himself off the counter. He slings an arm around Charlie’s shoulders instead, and Charlie automatically leans into it.
“Q, it’s fine, really,” Charlie waves him off, and Mariana makes a sound of agreement.
“Okay, well, use protection,” Quackity smirks, and Charlie is going to throw him into an industrial shredder.
“That’s not - we’re not - it’s not -” Charlie starts and stops three different sentences, and he hears Mariana’s admittedly attractive laugh again.
Quackity puts his hands up like he didn’t just say something wildly inappropriate, and he pours himself a cup of the mystery punch.
“That shit has to be disgusting,” Charlie comments as Quackity takes a swig.
“You’ve just never tried my jungle juice,” Quackity retorts, though Charlie can see him wince from the sheer amount of alcohol in his cup.
“Yeah, because I’m not insane,” Charlie says dryly, and Mariana snorts. Quackity glares at the both of them.
“This is my apartment, you know,” Quackity pouts, and Charlie rolls his eyes. This routine only works on Wilbur; no one else is swayed by Q’s puppy dog eyes. Charlie finds them a bit nauseating.
“I am sure Charlie and I can find something else to do,” Mariana slides his arm from around Charlie’s shoulders to his waist.
Quackity glances between them again, and he huffs into his cup.
“Oh, so you and Wilbur can be all over each other, but no one else, huh?” Charlie scoffs, and Quackity looks like he might actually kick them out. Oops.
Thankfully, Roier arrives much drunker than when Charlie initially met him and wraps himself around Quackity.
“Come here often, guapo?,” Roier grins, and Quackity shrugs him off.
“One, I live here, two, I have a boyfriend, three, you know both of those things already,” Quackity raises an eyebrow at Roier clumsily attempting to open the fridge.
“What, your boyfriend is so jealous I cannot even call you handsome? Then why is he not here?” Roier challenges, and Quackity bristles.
“Should we… do something?” Charlie whispers to Mariana, the tension thick in the air.
“They are always like this, but also people are staring, so I will fix it,” Mariana whispers back after gesturing to the small crowd of people reacting to raised voices.
“Nenas, nenas las dos son bonitas,” Mariana steps between Roier and Quackity who are both glaring at each other.
“Fuck off, Mariana,” Quackity mutters, but he steps back from Roier anyway. Roier smirks, taking the confrontation as a win.
“Roier, go bother someone else,” Mariana shoves Roier lightly towards the living room, and Roier frowns until he spots someone by the TV.
Charlie watches the drunk man wind his way through clumps of people and throw himself at a man. The man turns around, and wraps his arms around Roier.
“Cellbit,” Mariana’s voice is in Charlie’s ear, and he definitely does not shiver at the feeling of his breath brushing across his cheek.
“Brazilian exchange student Roier met literally last week, and I think he claims they’re in love,” Mariana shakes his head, and takes another pull from his beer.
“He seems to be in love with most people,” Charlie replies, peeling the label off his bottle to keep his hands from doing something stupid like pull Mariana in for a kiss.
“Including you,” Mariana grouses, a note of jealousy nearly undetectable in his tone. Charlie feels surprised that not one, but two hot guys would be interested in him.
“Oh, is someone jealous?” Charlie teases, the alcohol propelling him forward. He’d never be this flirty regularly, and he thinks maybe meeting Mariana here was the best thing for him.
Mariana tightens his grip on Charlie’s waist and turns towards him. They’re still in the same spot they started in, but the energy has changed entirely.
“Jealous of what? I have what I want right here,” Mariana leans forward, but not before glancing at Charlie to see if he’s going too far.
Charlie answers his unspoken question by doing what he’s wanted to do since he first saw Mariana in Quackity’s living room. He sets his empty bottle on the counter behind Mariana and surges onto his tiptoes to kiss the man in front of him.
One of Mariana’s hands automatically goes from Charlie’s waist to his jaw, and Charlie feels like he could die happily rooted to this spot.
They kiss for what could be seconds, minutes, hours. Charlie doesn’t really care as long as he doesn’t have to stop.
“Ay, no mames, Mariana is getting some,” Roier’s voice floats above the haze Charlie’s in and Mariana pulls away from him.
The man that is apparently named Cellbit is being dragged across the floor with Roier, and he winces sympathetically.
“Sorry, I’ll get him home. He’s a little much,” Cellbit apologizes while Mariana chews Roier out.
Charlie shrugs, “Any idea what they’re saying?”
Cellbit shakes his head as Mariana jabs Roier’s chest with his finger, and they speak in rapid-fire Spanish. Roier just laughs, though, so Charlie figures they’ll be fine in the morning.
“Guapito, we’re going, come on,” Cellbit drags a pouting Roier away from the party, and he waves for the both of them as they slip outside into the crisp night air.
The fight has left Mariana as he sags against the counter, and Charlie goes to the fridge again.
“Wanna have a drink on the balcony? Get away from everyone else?” Charlie asks, passing another beer to Mariana.
“I’ve already learned to ignore Roier, by the way, so you don’t have to worry,” Charlie continues as Mariana takes him by the hand to head towards the door.
Mariana looks vulnerable in the moonlight, standing at the rail of the balcony. Charlie thinks he might be even prettier like this.
“I am just used to Roier, um… overtaking every conversation even with people I am interested in,” Mariana explains, staring out over the trees lining the parking lot.
“You are the first person who was not interested in him,” Mariana continues, fingers tapping on the bottle in his hand.
Mariana’s got black nail polish on, another little fact about him that Charlie files away for later. Charlie doesn’t just want to kiss Mariana at a party. He wants to know him, too.
“Then everyone else doesn’t know what they’re missing,” Charlie says softly as he places a hand on the arm Mariana has resting on the rail.
“You don’t mean that. You just met me,” Mariana brushes Charlie off, and Charlie feels his heart hurt for him.
“Mariana, how often do you talk to people without Roier around?” Charlie asks, redirecting the conversation.
Mariana looks surprised at the question, but he answers, “Not often. His English is better than mine, so I probably rely on him too much.”
“Well, I’m glad I get to see you as just you, not as an extension of Roier,” Charlie takes Mariana’s hand, fingers chilled from being outside.
Mariana flushes under the flickering light, and Charlie wants to kiss him again.
So he does. It’s entirely freeing knowing there’s nothing stopping him from expressing his affection, and Mariana melts into Charlie’s embrace.
“Promise me you’ll keep letting me see Mariana as his own person after this?” Charlie pulls back after a few moments and looks into Mariana’s dark eyes.
Mariana places his hand against Charlie’s cheek, swiping his thumb across his face.
“Promise.”