Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The streets in Brentwood were eerily lifeless. Over there everyone stayed inside their homes, or their fenced in backyards. With the exception of the ten minutes it took for the bus stop to clear out, you'd think there weren't any kids living there at all. It was an unspoken taboo to make too much noise lest you bother someone.   Homeowners Associations with honest to god board members that visited your house to “mediate complaints” were real and not just something from a late night suburbia sitcom. Monse had been paranoid every time she’d stepped out the front door at her moms house that she was going to do something wrong, something to show them all she was just a street rat who didn’t belong in their sterile little bubble. Here in Freeridge Monse found herself walking around the neighborhood aimlessly. Every way she turned she could hear people talking, laughing, fighting.  Modded out lowriders slowly stole down the streets with music blaring out of open windows. Lemons with mismatched doors that squealed and hissed every turn or stop sign. Dogs barked with their snouts pushed against their fences and stray cats performed their own renditions of fight club. Closing her eyes she let the sounds blanket her. The white noise had been the accompanying soundtrack to her life for 18 years. The silence in its absence wasn’t just silence, it was emptiness. Hollowing. 

Not that any of that mattered anymore. She was never going back to that house, to that woman.  

‘Fuck, I can’t do this anymore, I’m stronger than that.’ Monse thought bitterly to herself. It was a lie, of course. She’d done nothing but cry since she’d confronted her mom and ran back to Freeridge to lick her wounds. A whole lifetime of hurt and anger had broken through all her carefully constructed walls after she realized the truth. The crazy bitch hadn’t just abandoned without a word for her entire life, happy to live like she didn’t exist just one town over, no, that wouldn’t have been fucked up enough for it to be her life. Her mom hadn’t just changed her name and her look, she’d made up an entire history about Monse’s dad being a violent domestic abuser that forced her to flee, that gave her some sick sort of justification for her own racism. Tragic enough that her new friends didn’t ask too many questions, just cooed and comforted the broken victim persona she showed them.  

God, she felt like such a fool. So many things made sense now in hindsight. Monse had thought the searching looks and awkward exchanges were because she was the secret lovechild that came to light, a soap opera reveal that scandalized their delicate sensibilities. Pity. It had all been pity. The poor little brown girl, the victim. Like mother like daughter.  Who knows what she had said about Olivia’s death. She had gone to her mom for some comfort, for peace, after losing her ‘best girl’. But now she has to doubt and overthink everything her mom did, what she could have said about Olivia or Ruby’s family to those vultures she calls friends.  It was like her mom didn’t even see her as a person.  Monse was an interesting story she could capitalize on, no more significant than a character in one of her books. As the days went on she’d spoken less and less until she realized her mom hadn’t been listening at all. Every interaction she had in Brentwood felt forced and suffocating, like she was some sort of wild animal they were waiting to go rabid. She’d given them exactly what they’d wanted too. She and her mom had screamed and pushed and spit at each other until the cops had arrived. The only time in her life she’d been happy to see a pig. He was one of them, a signature Brentwood sheep, but at least he’d driven her home. 

 Monse felt the hot, acrid tears hitting her chest before she realized she was crying. Wiping her face aggressively she felt like she wanted to scream, but even in Freeridge she didn’t want to have a mental breakdown in the middle of the street. Looking around she realized she was close to the Santos house. She had been avoiding Cesar since the Paula thing had happened, but last she heard he was still staying at Jamal's house. It was still early enough in the day that there probably wasn’t going to be anyone hanging around. Shuffling her feet on the sidewalk she tried to think through her options. Worst case Spooky wouldn’t let her in and she’d just cry on the couch in the backyard until she got herself together. Best case Spooky had made something for lunch. No one would guess it looking at the stoney, aloof visage he projected, but Spooky was passionate about cooking. Growing up the best home cooked meals she’d eaten had all come from her best friend's older brother.  Spooky had always been the silent brother, but actions speak louder than words and he’d always take care of his own. Feeding his family was a big part of that. Monse had thought four years in prison might have changed him, but since coming back he seemed to be the same guy he always had been. Just with more responsibility and twice the amount of mouths to feed. He was a natural provider, the nurturing kind. The thought sent a semi hysterical giggle through Monse. ‘He’d probably shoot me for waxing that kind of sappy poetic about him.’  The possibility of food pushed her feet forward, mind made up. 

The yard of the Santo's house was barren as she walked up the front steps. Before she even knocked Spooky had ripped the door open, anticipating a threat if the gun in his hand was any indication. He definitely hadn’t been expecting a crying Monse on his doorstep. 

“Cesar ain’t here.” He tucked the gun into the waist of his shorts, body still tense as he looked over her quickly checking for injuries. He’d known Monse her entire life and he had never seen or heard of the girl crying. 

“Good,” she muttered bitterly. It only served to confuse Spooky more. “You got any food? I haven’t eaten yet.”

His eyes, dark and intense, bore into her for a heavy moment. He has this way of touching without ever moving a muscle. He sees, makes people feel seen . She shudders under the warm weight of it over her skin, and he sees that too. 

Nodding the man opened the door wider and stalked off towards the back of the house leaving Monse to follow after him. He had been in the midst of making carnitas tacos when he’d heard the sound of someone approaching his house.

Without any prompting Monse picked up a knife and started cutting limes beside him in the small kitchen. Spooky picked up right where he had left off cooking, giving him something to do with his hands and nervous energy. Monse’s unexpected drop in had him on edge. He’d been more of a target than usual with tensions between the prophets and 16th street building, a full on war on the way if they weren't all careful.  As he shredded the meat he snuck glances at the glum figure beside him. He wasn’t the type to make someone talk about feelings and shit, but something was itching under his skin right now. Food he could do, food was familiar territory. 

“Aqui,” his voice was gruff as he handed over the bowl of veggies to be made into pico. “Know what to do with that?” 

All he got in response was a hum before Monse got back to work. It was strange working together side by side in the quiet, but not uncomfortable. Spooky couldn’t help watching her work, glancing at her as much as he thought he could get away with without outright staring. He knew shit was rough with Cesar, so by default his crew too, with the prophets and rollerworld money job they were on, and that girl Olivia getting shot. He knew what it was like to lose people. 

They moved around each other seamlessly, always seeming to know what the other needed.  There was an ease to their dance in the cramped space, a gentle push and pull that came naturally. Spooky wasn’t one to share his kitchen, partly because he hated other people fucking up his hardwork and partly because other people broke the peace. Cooking was his safe space, his one thing that was all his and could bring him solace. If he looked closer at the realization it would unsettle him that he’d fallen into such an easy rhythm with her, unlike with anyone else. 

The quiet was broken by Monse’s appreciative moans once they seated at the dining table. “Fuck Spook, I missed this,” she said around the food in her mouth. “No one else around here could cook for shit when you were gone.” 

Spooky was taken aback by the comment. Honestly he’d never thought much about Monse, barely thinking of her outside the few interactions they had around Cesar. Sure they were kind of familiar being from the same circles, but it wasn’t like they’d ever hung out just them. Not like now. A long time ago he’d locked her into a box in his mind labeled “untouchable” and never thought of it again. She was too young, or too Cesar’s. It confused him that sitting here alone with her, cooking and eating, felt so easily domestic. He reasoned she must just be comfortable around the house because of Cesar. He could feel the frown pulling on his face the longer he sat with his thoughts. It was irking him that something big had obviously happened and whatever it was could involve his little brother.  “Y’all fighting or somethin?” he heard himself blurt out. 

“Nah. We broke up awhile ago,” she shrugged with force nonchalance. Spooky was frowning even harder, eyebrow quirked in a silent request for her to continue. Huffing a sigh she slumped back in her seat. “You don’t know?” 

“Know what.” his growing frustration made the question a statement.

“He cheated on me.” 

Spooky shifted to face her head on, both brows raised. On anyone else it would have been a miniscule reaction but for Spooky he might as well have gasped in surprise. Monse allowed herself a small moment of amusement at the observation.

That was not what Spooky had been expecting at all. With everything else going on in their lives he hadn’t expected that from his hermanito. 

“You didn’t deserve that, nena. Sorry to hear it.” Spooky was many things, but unfaithful wasn’t one of them, and he had thought the same of Cesar given what their dad put their mom through. 

Monse scoffed, “No shit. But his bullshit is only to blame for a tiny percentage of my current emotional clusterfuck, and I'd really like to not talk about any of it right now.” 

Spooky allowed himself to stare now. The girl sitting across from him was a shell of the firecracker personality he knew and he felt himself aching to do something about it. Monse was a good girl, the kind that you took care of, settled with. She was loyal, tough and smart. ‘ Wifey material’ his brain unhelpfully supplied. She had been so young when he got locked up he’d never looked twice, but right now all he could do was look. When she met his eyes again there was a dampness clinging to her lashes, something a little desperate dancing behind the honey brown orbs, something he recognized. 

“Quires una cerveza?” He knew a thing or two about drowning out his problems, if she didn’t want to talk about it then they wouldn’t do any talking. 

“I can’t drink like this, dude, you got tree?” 

“Don’t call me dude.”’ he bit out with a glare, but regardless he got up and walked to his room. 

Monse chuckled at his antics as she waddled her way to the couch with an overfull tummy. She really wasn’t sure what she expected when she came over here. Spooky attempting to comfort her with food and drugs was the best possible scenario she could have imagined. She thought back over their talk at the table, something niggling at her brain. From the way Cesar had been talking since Spooky came back she had assumed the two of them were closer. Four years was plenty of time to drift apart, but Cesar had been spending all his time with the Santos lately. Well, until he started spending so much time at Jamals. She’d had tried to subtly ask Ruby and Jazmine about it, but they were evasive and she’d had her own problems going on out in Brentwood so she hadn’t pushed. Something had obviously happened between Cesar and Spooky though, and it was bothering her to not have answers. 

Spooky distracted her from her thoughts by dropping onto the couch next to her, blunt extending her direction. 

“You’re seriously my favorite person right now,” Monse praised.

Spooky flashed her a wide smile, all straight teeth and an impossibly big dimple that changed his face. He looked so much younger at this moment, the lines of his face and body softened like she hadn’t seen since she was a kid. He was beautiful. Not the pretty boy way Cesar was, though it was easier to see the resemblance the longer she looked. He was good looking, sure, everyone in Freeridge knew Spooky was hot like burning. But there was an intensity about him that made his attractiveness sharp somehow, untouchable and dangerous.

It had started with one episode of some random telenovela that spiraled into a whole day binge for them. Monse could feel the familiar high filling her body until she felt lighter than air. For the first time in weeks her body was completely relaxed and her mind was blissfully empty. At some point she had snuggled down so that her toes were under Spooky's thigh. Absentmindedly he’d grabbed onto her ankle, massaging at the delicate juncture and lazily moving his way to her calves as he soaked in the dramatic scandals on tv. 

Spooky felt the vibrating of his phone snap him back to reality from his food and drug induced haze. Glancing over at Monse he sees the girl had fallen asleep curled up beside him. 

Sad eyes:

‘Drop off 20 min. ’ 

He ran a hand over his face deep in thought. Some of the guys would be here in 20 minutes, so he should wake the girl up and send her on her way. But something in him didn’t want to. He knows she’s got a crew, her own house, but if she hadn’t felt it was alright to go any of those places earlier…Something possessive flared in his chest as he looked her over. She’d come to him. So despite every reason this was a bad idea, he picked her up and carried her to his room. She was dead to the world as she snuggled into his pillow. ‘ Cute.’ he thought, and then quickly scolded himself. ‘Don’t even think about it, viejo. Cesar would kill you.’  

When Monse came to it was dark outside. Looking around it took her a few seconds to realize where she was. Spooky’s room. Spooky’s bed. Jumping up quickly in a panic she hit her foot on the side table making a thump sound. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she murmured to herself as the pain subsided. ‘Spook’s a gentleman, ’ she told herself. ‘He let you crash when he didn’t have to, don’t make it weird.’ Also cotton mouth was a bitch and she needed a drink 5 minutes ago. With that resolve in mind she limped her way out to the kitchen, brain still half turned off, high  and sleep filled, rooting around the fridge for something to quench the sahara desert that settled in her throat. 

“Behind the sopa,” called out a baritone voice from the dining room. Grasping at the juice desperately she downed a few mouthfuls while turning in the direction she’d heard him from. Any words she planned to say fell away as she realized he wasn’t alone at the table. Three other Santos all sat around a pile of money and unmarked baggies making their counts. Spooky looked over and caught her gaze with a subtle raise of his brow. Monse weighed her options, she could walk home in the now dark, or she could lay back down and continue to have the best sleep she’d had in months. Her fully sober and awake brain would have urged her to leave for her empty house and stay far far away from all Santos business that she could. Especially if that business involved her ex boyfriends brother.  Right now though? There was a joint and a warm bed calling her name that she couldn’t refuse. Sauntering up to Spooky she took the joint resting behind his ear and mumbled low, “I’m going back to bed.” 

Spooky watched her retreating figure with a smirk on his lips. Monse was bold. No one just casually took liberties with him the way she was, everyone knew that. Taking his joint and sealing herself in his bedroom was basically a declaration as far as his current audience was concerned. He knows this could get messy with Cesar, but the idea of them thinking Monse was his satisfied the possessive hunger growing in his gut. Focusing back on the table he catches the laughing face of his mejor amigo, Sad Eyes. “You're down bad, mano.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, which only caused all of them to laugh in amusement. 

“I ain’t take lil spook as the type to share,” stated Joker. His tone was casual but the implications were clear. 

Movements unfaltering Spooky countered, “No se, pero I don’t share.” 

He had long since perfected his unbothered persona, patience is a virtue and all that shit. Someone like Joker is always starting shit, and usually the best way to deal with him was to ignore his mess. He knew Joker had eyed Monse before though and he wasn’t gonna let that fly no matter what she was doing with him or Cesar. 

Joker, Rey, and Sad Eyes all knew him the best though, and he them. He knows the questions and thoughts he’s having are the same ones in their heads. As far as the Santos were concerned Monse was free game now that Cesar was kicked out. But gang or not that was his little brother. That meant something to him, to his personal code. Now his hermanito had fucked up in a major way cheating on her, disrespecting everything Spooky tried to teach him about relationships. 

Spooky knew there wasn’t anything going on between Monse and himself, but if other people thought there was…how was that gonna work itself out? Last thing he needed right now was another thing to splinter his fragile relationship with his brother, his only remaining blood. Kicking Cesar out had saved his life for a bit but the kid was trouble. Four years had changed a lot between them, his Mano had grown up without him. No one looking out for him. No one but the girl currently in his bed. She had always kept Cesar in check in a way only a woman could do. Something they hadn’t had after their mom died. According to her, all that was over now, yet she was here at the house. His house. 

The rest of the drop off went quickly and he shooed them out faster than he normally would, again to their vast amusement. Making not so subtle jibes at him about finally getting some. Walking back to his room he rolled his eyes at himself. He definitely was not “getting some”. The truth was so much more incriminating. He just wanted to lay down and sleep in a bed that wasn’t empty right now. Readjusting after getting out was harder than he had been anticipating. He had his crew and brother around most of the time, but there was still a lingering loneliness. He’d flirted when women threw themselves at him, but he wasn’t the type to sleep around. He never had been. Those women wanted his body or his reputation, but that did nothing to soothe him, didn't bring him anything but a temporary release on the rare occasion he gave. Then the awkward politics of avoidance once he kicked them out. Monse brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. Things were so easy and comfortable around her. Spooky knows his thoughts are entering dangerous territory. She had come to the Santos house in a kind of emotional crisis, not looking to get anything from him. 

Quietly opening the door he saw Monse curled on her side on top of the blankets, sleeping like the dead once again. Making the executive decision that he was not going to feel weird about this he stretched out on his back and relaxed into the mattress.  His bed was warm and smelled faintly like him and weed and Monse, a heady mix. Matching the rhythm of her deep breaths he let himself be lulled into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

“No dad, it's totally okay ...yeah, from Em-” Oscar found himself colliding with someone coming around the tiendita aisle. “Oh fuck, Im so sorry I-” the voice cuts off mid sentence in surprise.
He was face to face with Monse.

~~Flashback~~
~Oscar slowly felt his senses coming back to him. Stretching lazily beneath the warm covers the world around him clicked into place. Monse. Darting a glance over he realized she wasn’t there. Now consciousness sharpened in a snap. He listened out for any noises in the house, but all was quiet. She had left and he hadn’t even woken to someone moving about or opening and closing the front door. It was unlike him to sleep so deeply.
“Pinche mandelon, get it together,” he scolded himself. ~

“¿Estás bien, mami?” he asked softly.
Monse mouthed an apology as she brought her phone back to her ear. “Yeah, I gotta go dad, text me the details, okay? Love you too, bye.”

Turning her full attention back to the man in front of her she inquired,”You ate yet?”
Oscar quirked a brow at her, “Ain’t this like deja vu or something?”
“So you gonna get BBQ with me or not,” Monse sassed back.
“Dwaynes?”
“Where else, viejo?”
“Nah, just for that I’m not givin you a ride over,” Oscar smirked as he retreated towards la tienda doors.
“Ooooscar, I kid I kid,” Monse laughed as she chased after him to his car.

Oscar spent the car ride looking at Monse out of the corner of his eye, trying to sort out his mind. He felt off balance with her after their little sleep over. He didn’t even know platonic bed sharing was a thing people could do. Shit, it probably wasn’t something normal people did, but nothing had ever been normal about his life. He didn’t know the protocol, nor what he was supposed to say or do to make it happen again.

In the passenger seat, Monse felt the weight of the day slipping away as she dipped lower into the leather seat. She hadn’t gotten any sleep the past week since leaving the Santos house. Her dad had been making more of an effort since the epic meltdown with her mom, but unfortunately that looked like constant hovering. Which meant his new pregnant girlfriend was always hovering. She was used to the distant, silent understanding thing they had before. This constant attention was suffocating. Monse hadn’t had a moment to relax and process anything.
She felt her eyes dip closed just being in the car in Oscar. It's like he had some sort of calming balm in his aura. She was so relaxed when they pulled up to Dwayne’s all she could think about was taking a lill nappy nap.

Monse settled on the hood of the car to soak in the sun while they waited. Oscar leaned against the car and watched her silently. Their blissful bubble was popped by an angry shout,
“SPOOKY! Your phone broke or something?”
Marching across the parking lot was Maria, an unfortunate hookup from Joker's birthday party a few weeks ago.
“Nah, we aint doin this. Vete de aqui,” Spooky spoke in his stoney, neutral tone.
“Quien eres, puto, think you can just use and drop me like that?”

As Maria gets within a few feet of the car he shifts protectively in front of Monse. The subtle movement doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the young women.
“Callate Maria, don’t embarrass yourself, get the fuck home and forget about it,” Spooky commanded the irate girl.
“Enserio?! It's this puta aqui, huh? Fuck you Spook, what is she like 12?? Gonna fuck this up for some jailbait?”

Monse scoffed, annoyed she was always getting dragged into some shit if one of the Diaz brothers was around. Maria took a step towards her only to have Spooky lean into her space menacingly. Monse couldn’t hear what he whispered to her, but whatever it was made the color drain from her face. Maria cast Monse one more glance before she turned and stalked off just as quickly as she arrived.

Turning back to Monse, Oscar expected her to have something to say, but her only response was a half shrug.
“You think our orders are ready? Me muero de hambre,” she said as if nothing had happened.

Oscar eyed her suspiciously, but eventually stalked off in search of their food.
Monse released a breath when he walked away. She knew Oscar hooked up with people in concept, but he was never seen with a girl, or ever known to claim a hyna. Being confronted by Maria made her think things she didn’t need to be thinking about. She was hoping to have another rest day like her last one with Oscar. Eat food, get high, watch telenovelas until she falls into a 12 hour coma. Fighting his one night stands or having awkward convos about exes was not a part of her carefully curated itinerary. Seeing him returning laden down with bags and drinks pulled her from her introspection.
“I hold, you drive,” she commanded.
“Si, senora,” he smirked payfully.

/////////////////////////////////////

“No, the butler did it…I don't trust his face…” Oscar commented on the telenovela playing. After getting to the house he and Monse had sunk into the couch with a few blunts and enough bbq to feed a family of six. A handful of hours later they’d only moved to melt further into the couch. All pretense of boundaries had vanished long ago as Monse kept her legs sprawled across Oscars lap, occasionally whining for a foot rub.
“Nah,the twin, there's always an evil twin,” Monse sagely whispered.

Strangely Oscar felt like giggling. Whatever strain Joker had hooked him up with this time had him feeling loose. Every muscle in his body was liquid. Even though the sun was still up Oscar couldn't shake the intense desire to go to sleep next to Monse again.
“Nena, mira,” he softly murmured to get her attention. “Come to bed?”
Monse froze for a split second, not sure what kind of request Oscar was making. Surely he wouldn’t come on to me? He must just be super high out of his right mind,’ she mused to herself.
“If you can carry me,” she said after a moment of contemplation.

Oscar was on his feet and sweeping her up into a princess hold before she could release a full yelp of surprise. It should have been awkward. This wasn’t a thing they did. Oscar couldn't remember the last time he held a girl this close and didn’t have something sinful in mind. She had this soft smell, like soap and sunshine that made him want to bury his nose in her hair every other step.

After dropping her on the bed he was meticulous about setting the room for optimal sleep vibes; closing blinds, adjusting fans, turning off the lights…It was adorable watching him be domestic. Monse curled into his body heat on instinct when he finally settled beside her. Unlike last time where they'd gone to sleep separately, there was now a glaring intimacy that came with choosing to lay beside each other. To know the other is awake and settle yourself into their side without worry of overstepping.
No words were needed between the two of them as they drifted from the waking world.

Oscar emerged from a nightmare gasping for breath. In a panic he looked over at Monse to see if she'd awakened, but the girl was sleeping like the dead with drool down one side of her face. He chuckled at the image, and without notice he stayed frozen as he watched her sleep. The small smile on his lips never leaves. Suddenly, Monse shifts in the bed. Osca quickly laid back down with bated breath before he turned to look at her once more. She had curled away from him, so he scooted closer and wrapped himself around her back. Every muscle in his body relaxed within seconds. His heart beat slowed to an even pace. Inhaling one last big lungful of ~Monse~, he drifted back to sleep. Something that used to be impossible whenever he had nightmares.

Chapter Text

Oscar was used to shit days. His entire life was a string of shit days. But this random ass Tuesday was going to be the end of him. His monthly meet up with Cuchillos was shot up by 16th street. Sad eyes got shot in the arm, he got cut up from the shattered windshield, and Cuchillos escaped with one scratch. The attack was too bold for the Santos head to let go unanswered. He’d spent his hours in Sad eyes hospital room delegating and orchestrating. Then, of course, something else had to go wrong. Flaco, his newest runner, had gotten booked by PD while their usual sergeant on payroll was away dealing with the shooting. That was 1,000s in product they were down, and operations at a minimum for the next few days at least. Not to mention the fucking legal headache this kid was gonna cause. Cuchillos was not in a forgiving mood, so he was gonna have to sit in county until Oscar could post the bail.

Oscar slumped forward in the hard, plastic seat and rubbed at his head. The exhaustion hit him like a train, headache following. He felt the vibration of his phone again and again until he snatched it up in frustration, ready to snap on the poor bastard…”Monse”..

Oscar watched it ring for another few seconds as his brain tried to catch up. Monse never called him. Or texted him. She showed up at his house or hijacked him in public instead. Belatedly he realized he should answer. “Nena, que paso?”
“Oscar, fuck..” Monse sighed into the phone. “I heard there was a drive by and then no one had seen you, and you weren’t picking up.”
“Aye mami, i'm good, perfectly fine, okay? Don’t worry about me.”
“Where are you?”
“Mira, im at the hospital bu-”
“Oscar fucking seriously?!”
“Its Sad Eyes, Monse. He got shot, but he's fine now. I'm just waiting with him is all.”
She was quiet a moment before she softly asked, “Are you hungry?”
He couldn't help the goofy grin that overtook his face. “Starving, nena.”
“Hm, text me the room number,” she commanded and then hung up.

Oscar tried to wipe the smile off his face before he looked at his friend in the bed. Still asleep. The pain meds knocked his ass out. His eyes ran over the frail seeming figure in the bed. He hated this, hated the worry and the fear and the constant problems. He hated having his entire life dictated by that selfish puta in the mansion while he still struggled to keep his people fed and housed. He wanted something different, he just didn’t know how. He must have fell asleep as he waited because he found himself fluttering his eyes open at the sound of quiet conversation.
Sad Eyes sat up in bed while Monse fussed about him and laid out his food.
“There enough for me too?”

Monse clucked her tongue at him teasingly. “Pretty sure you weren't the one that got shot.”
“Ohhh, cooold mami, I’m not gonna make it,” Oscar whined dramatically as he clutched his stomach. Sad Eyes chuckled at their antics. He was happy to see this softer, playful side of Oscar. There were some days he wondered if that part of him had disappeared. Days like today.

“I’m not attached to the containers, toss em when you’re done,” Monse stated with finality once the two men had food in hand.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I gotta get back home. I just needed to see….and you're okay so..” she waved at Sad Eyes as she pivoted for the door.
Oscar jumped up and followed her out. She had checked on him, brought him and his boy food, came all the way out to Freeridge Memorial at midnight just to barely look at him…? There was something off in her energy and he needed to know what.

Finally he caught up with her in the parking lot.
“Monse! Esperame, muneca, porfa!”
“Spook, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t know what came over him at the moment but looking at her under the yellow glow of the light poles made him realize how close he came to death today. He pulled her into a hug, slotting them together from head to toe. He squeezed until she giggled and coughed a little. “Spook, stop or i'm gonna pop!”

He loosed his grip slightly but buried his face into her neck. A hug wasn’t going to be enough tonight. He knew he wasn't going to sleep unless she was with him.
“Stay with me tonight.”

Monse frowned over his shoulder. They had struck a comforting but odd friendship. But was it worth the risk to her life? Worth the inevitable heartbreak on the day the Diaz luck runs out? The silence stretched as she lost herself to her thoughts.
Oscar pulled back slowly and slid one hand to cradle the back of her neck. Looking him in the eye she could see the glassy sheen of tears unshed.

“Okay,’ she sighed. “Just a few hours.”

Oscar let out a deep sigh seeing the lights on at the Santos house. He wasn’t in the mood for more interaction or decisions, but when they entered it wasn’t Joker or Vaco waiting, but Cesar.
“Oscar..” the youngest brother mumbled as he yanked him into a bear hug. “I thought you got shot you crazy fucking foo, que pendejada!”

The eldest brother returned the affection just as aggressively. It wasn’t too long ago that he had kicked his hermanito out on the streets to get him away from this life. Yet because of this useless terf war he was brought right back into the fold. Something had to change.
“Estoy bien, mano,” he reassured.

While the two brothers hugged it out, Monse tried to make her way towards the hallway entrance for a quick escape. She hadn’t really thought through her weird relationship with Oscar and what that would mean for Cesar. She hadn’t had to. But now she felt awkward and cranky and so fucking tired. She heard Oscar say, “I’ll give you the rundown tomorrow, but I need to sleep, ight?”
“Por supuesto, mano, get some rest.” Then realizing Monse was there Cesar tried to address her. “Uh, hey Monse, I could give you a ride home? I’m gonna head back to Jamals, so you're along the way.”
“I’ve got a ride,” she responded tersely.
Oscar patted his hermanito on the shoulder and walked him out. He didn’t want to deal with questions about him and monse tonight either.

In a familiar routine Oscar shuffled to and fro getting everything ready for bed. He started to turn off his bedside lamp only to be frozen by the sight of Monse changing into his clothes. The right thing to do would be to turn away, part of him knows that, but that part of his brain wasn't in the driver's seat as she pulled off her hoodie with nothing underneath. His eyes roamed over every detail of her from head to toe.
“Focus, viejo,” she teased in a hushed voice. The breath was knocked out of her at the look she received in return. She knew Oscar was called Spooky for a reason, but rarely was his intensity ever directed at her. Caught under his gaze her body broke out in goosebumps, her heart pounding out of her chest, like prey in anticipation of the hunt. Quickly as she could she pulled the oversized tee on and avoided looking at him. Internally she was cursing herself for being careless. No part of her really thought Oscar would hurt her, but whatever they were doing was weird and new and complicated as fuck already.

The silence between them in the dark was a space colder than the empty sheets between them. Minutes ticked on in awkwardness until finally her curiosity won out. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She could feel Oscar shifting towards her in the bed more than seeing it. The cold was slowly replaced by the heat of him as he slotted himself to her side, arm across her stomach and head in the crook of her neck. Painfully intimate. Her breath escaped her in small shudders he could no doubt feel, just like the traitorous uptick of her heartbeat. Yet, he still remained silent.

“You scared me today, Spook…”
The stoic man held her tighter, but still didn’t speak. With a sigh she willed her body to sleep, focusing on the in and out of his breath to reassure her still frenzied mind that he was alive and whole and home.

This time when Oscar awoke it was to the murmurs of the girl still sleeping beside him. Somehow they’d gotten even more tangled in the night, with every inch of himself wrapped desperately around her. A nightmare, he realized. Gently as he could he tried to extradite himself only for her to pull him back tighter unconsciously.
“Monse.” louder he tried again, “Monse, you gotta open your eyes, its just a dream.”
With a start Monse gasped awake, staring at him confused and bleary eyed.
“There we go, nena. Just a dream.”

Oscar pried himself from her as the awkwardness of their situation caught up to him. He didn’t understand himself when he was around Monse these days. He hated the feeling of not being in control, of being needy. He’d already pushed his luck last night. The last thing he could take right now was for Monse to leave him alone, to decide not to do..whatever the hell it was they were doing anymore.

“Oh fuck Spook! Its already 10!” Monse freaked as she picked up her phone. She needed to get the fuck outta dodge before anyone showed up at the Santo’s house to handle whatever came after a shoot out. Then there was also her dad, who she forgot to message about being out that night. Groaning in frustration she tried to prepare herself for the mental gymnastics of facing him today.

Oscar casually leaned against his dresser watching her as she sprung into action. Half texting, half changing she once again didn’t think anything of it as she spoke to him half naked. “Update me on Sad Eyes today. I gotta run.”

“Need a ride?” He was half blocking the bedroom door preventing her escape.
She paused before replying, “That's not a good idea, Spook. I shouldn’t even be here right now.”

He nodded as he shuffled out the way, following her out into the daylight. She hesitated slightly at the bottom of the front steps, as if she wanted to say something, but instead she just sighed and took off towards home.

Oscar ran his hands over his face in exhaustion. No sleep in the world could have prepared him for the drama he knew was ahead. Looking through his own phone he grew angrier and angrier with the situation he was in. This was only going to be settled with blood. The big question though, was whose?