Participants:
| Scene Title | I Love You, Too |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Let me in the walls you've built around. We can light a match and burn them down. Let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flames in front of us. Dust to dust. |
| Date | March 7, 2017 |
The Benchmark Center: Mexico
It's been months now since Mateo has joined the Benchmark Center and things have fallen into kind of a system. He helps out in the morning, gets lessons of some kind most afternoons, and plays music for the residents in the evening. He even whipped out a charango and started playing that occasionally. His was made of wood, not an armadillo, but still had a unique sound to it. Some of the younger members wanted to learn, and he would occassionally give lessons. Tonight, he'd done just that— until the sun had long been set and his student needed to get upstairs and go to bed.
Lynette had already been upstairs, so before he opened the door to her room, he knocked gently and said it was him, before opening the door, peeking inside before fully emerging, with the tiny guitar-like instrument in hand. "I was hoping you'd not gone to sleep yet." It was a rare night that he didn't spend in her room. Some would almost call this their room, now, even if he still had a room of his own not too far away.
Some might call it their room. There's a mix of his and her clothes, there's a side of the bed for each, there's even a toothbrush situation that makes it all-but-in-name. Those things just sort of ended up here, after all. It wasn't like anyone asked anyone to move anything. But there's a certain comfort in it, which Lynette doesn't mention, but she hasn't forced any space between them, either.
Once he opens the door, he can hear her record player going, a jazz singer over an orchestra singing what he knows to be one of her favorite songs just by how often this particular record gets chosen. Fly Me To The Moon played low and slow, that's what she likes to hear when she's getting dressed or doing her hair or sitting around reading.
Just now, she's doing none of those things, but she is sitting in bed with some paperwork she was definitely supposed to leave in the office when she was off for the day. She's wearing his shirt, so perhaps she had the intention of going to sleep, but she didn't get there. Close, but seeing as her legs stretch out over the sheets instead of under, she didn't get close enough.
She looks up at the knock, smiling when he peeks in. "Without seeing you first? Perish the thought."
The sentiment earns a grin, as Mateo steps fully into the room and kicks the door closed. He glances toward the record player, the song playing on it, before he puts down his wooden charango and says, "They're getting better at playing. I think I might be able to start up a small band at this rate." It's half a joke. "Or at least get some Christmas Carols for the holiday." That might be a little more reasonable.
As he moves further into the room, he unbuttons his own shirt, grinning at her because— well he likes the way she wears his clothes. He'd almost say they look better on her than they do on him, but he might be biased.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed near her, he reaches across to push a lock of hair off of her forehead. "Working in the bed?" he teases, that hand shifting to her paperwork as if he might take it away from her.
"They have a good teacher," Lynette says, watching him as he moves into the room. She might be a little distracted from paperwork, especially once he starts unbuttoning. Her head tilts a little, her smile turning more sly. But who could blame her? "I think a band's a pretty good idea. Since they're interested. It would keep them from getting too bored." It isn't a place with a lot of excitement. Usually.
Lynette closes her eyes when he touches her hair, but his tease gets a chuckle. "Only a little," she lies. When he moves as if to take it away, though, she puts a hand on it. "No no, just a couple more pages," she protests, but with a laugh.
It seems he is not going to listen to the protests, cause Mateo pulls the papers out from under her hand. "Uh-uh," is about as much as she gets at first, as he puts the papers aside on the nightstand. "Later." Probably tomorrow, considering how good they are at distracting each other.
The music is soft and quiet, slow, almost makes him tired, which might be why he kicks his shoes off and just gets on the bed with her. His side. But he's not laying as if to lay next to her, instead… he lays down on his side with his head on her lap, like she was a pillow, looking up at her for a moment.
"You deserve a break," he adds in a voice that sounds more tired than he'd sounded when he opened the door. It'd been a long day, but mostly— he just wants to lay on her for the moment. So the paper work had to go.
Lynette makes a noise of protest when he sets the papers aside and she makes a show out of reaching for them again. But she doesn't actually want them now that they're gone, so she lets out a defeated sigh when he declares that they'll be dealt with later.
When he lays his head in her lap, she moves to run her fingers through his hair. "It looks like you're the one getting the break," she says, teasing. Really, she doesn't seem to mind, seeing that she can't keep a soft smile from her face. "Were the kids that bad?" she asks. That's also a tease, but there's a real question behind it and a hint of concern in her eyes as she looks down at him. It isn't the kids she worries about bothering him, though.
"No, the kids are great," Mateo responds, even as his eyes close. The feeling of her fingers through his hair might well be one of the best feelings, almost as if it's brushing away all the darkness that hides underneath the surface. It certainly helps him filter out something else that's always bothering him. Even their lessons haven't diminished that. But she helps.
"You like playing with my hair," he mutters, a soft tease, to show that, yes, this is a break for her too… But in a way for the both of them.
His hand toys with the shirt she wears, not too terribly bigger than one of hers. Fingers slide under the bottom hem to tease against her stomach. "I like how you look in my clothes," he adds, glancing up again with those words tugging on his lips.
"Of course they're great. They're my kids," Lynette says with a chuckle. They're not, of course, and their greatness is mostly their own doing. But she's only jokingly taking credit, so it works out.
The accusation has her glancing up toward the ceiling in playful indignation. "Alright, you have me there," she says as she looks back down at him again. "It's very nice hair. Maybe my favorite." His hair is her favorite, his nose is her favorite, eventually she'll catalogue everything about him under that particular heading.
She does her best not to out and out grin when he touches her, but only acheives it by pressing her lips together in a very telling fashion. "They're comfortable clothes," she says, as if hers aren't. "Plus, if I'm wearing them, that means you can't. And that's a treat for me," she says with a more playful smile.
"That didn't work, cause I'm still dressed," Mateo responds with a grin, shifting so that he's no longer using her body as his pillow, shifting so he's hovering over her, even moving his legs so that his knees rest against hers. The hand stays under the shirt, teasing higher as he presses his lips onto hers. Yes, they are both quite the distractions. He almost can't even hear the sound in the back of his head, as if his own heartbeat, her heartbeat— everything between them— drowned it all out.
"So what paper work was so important you brought it upstairs," he teases, even as he focuses on kissing her, his nose bumping against hers. He almost doesn't even care about what he's half-asking. 'Cause really, he might not. He just wants to hear her try to talk while he distracts her.
"Well, I can only wear so much at a time. So it wasn't the most well thought out plan I ever — " Lynette cuts off as he shifts, in favor of returning his kiss instead. Her hands move to slide over his shoulders, under his shirt since it is helpfully unbuttoned. She certainly seems to be more interested in kissing him longer than she is with conversation, so when he pulls back to ask her a question, she opens her eyes just enough to give him a sidelong look.
"It's — " she says with a breathy laugh when they bump noses, " — for the new center in New York. Whatever state it's in, the US governement still loves its paperwork." Her words come out in little pieces, since kisses are interrupting her. Once she gets it out, though, her hands move to peel his shirt off. The one he's wearing.
Shrugging his shirt off, Mateo sits up enough to pull it off of his arms and toss it aside, before moving back down to continue to kiss her, this time moving to her neck. He still has an undershirt on, so she has more to go through, but— sometimes unwrapping the presents is the funnest part.
But before they can continue such festivities, he actually hears what she said. "You're opening a new center?" he asks, even as he kisses under her chin. It's further distraction, but there's something starting to move toward the surface under all of it, pushing through the whispered roar.
New York is a long way away…
Unwrapping is what she seems to have her mind on, since when he moves back in, her hands slide under his shirt and up along his back. But since the distraction is a welcome one, she tilts her head invitingly instead of getting his shirt off.
When he replies to her, she blinks, like she might not have noticed what she just said herself. Or maybe that she has to clear her head a little before she can answer. "I don't know yet. We've been jumping through the hoops. But that's the plan. I have some friends in the right places." Things shook out fairly well for her contacts in the post-war world. While he kisses her, she takes in a shaky breath before she proves that his distraction works pretty well. "Would you come with me?" she asks, the lingering fear she sometimes still battles with missing this time around.
It's almost as if he was trying to kiss away that doubt that bubbled to the surface. That if he just kept kissing her that little part of him that feared her leaving would shut up for a while. But Mateo hadn't quite been prepared for the question that he hears next. That causes him to stop, his lips pressed against her neck, his slight beard-stubble scratching the sensitive skin there. He stays paused there for a few breaths, longer than he probably even thinks he is.
When he does pull back to look at her, he has a softness to his expression, something she hasn't really seen that often. Often because he's able to hide it under jokes or teasing— or other things. But it's there now, with a vulnerability she didn't even see when his ability overpowered him. 'Cause this is different.
"Do you want me to?" he asks, not having that tease that he might have normally had, instead sounding like a genuine question— like she might have just been saying that and not actually meant it.
The pause is what brings Lynette back to the moment. To what she said, to what he isn't saying. Her eyes close and her brow furrows and by the time he pulls back, she looks inches away from some sort of panic. "Sorry, that was too much, too fast — " she says, words coming out almost on top of one another before she actually looks up at him.
His expression isn't what she expected to find there and it makes her stop and tilt her head a little. Questioning. Uncertain. Hopeful. Her hand moves to his cheek, her thumb moving over skin and stubble alike. And when he speaks, her smile returns, although it is a little… sad, almost.
"All I know is… I like waking up next to you. And falling asleep next to you. And when you're here, everything is… bright. And warm." She leans forward then, her forehead touching his. "If it's too much," she adds in a whisper, "that's okay." It's preemptive. It's armor. But it is not all that convincing.
Too fast? Mateo is sure her father would agree with that, but not him— that had not been why he froze against her neck for a moment. It's not why that constant roar in the back of his head, even when whispered, just stops as he looks down at her. Maybe it didn't actually stop, but he definitely doesn't notice it. Not even a whisper. Because he's trying to hard to hear what she's saying, the defensive shield she puts up, in case… well…
In case. He understands in case.
At first he says nothing, leaning back down to kiss her, with a lot of his weight behind it, lips parting, teasing her with his tongue— his eyes are also closed, but he is showing rather than telling, at first.
But that deep kiss, isn't the full answer, as he breaks it breathlessly to whisper a soft, "I love you too, mi cielita."
She'd not said that exactly, but— it felt like that to him. Maybe he's the one who should be worried about moving too fast.
Clearly, a kiss is not the response Lynette was expecting. When it comes, though, she leans into it, a surprised noise coming from her throat. Her hands cling to him and she responds with desperation, her lips parting with his as she slides closer to him. A shiver runs through her, but it just makes her wrap her arms back around him, as if to steady herself.
The kiss ends and Lynette sighs, relief in that sound. Since he didn't get up and run out the door. Her eyes open when he speaks, her heartbeat thrums in her ears, and she has to blink back wetness from her eyes. But it comes with a gentle smile, the urge to tuck the moment behind something lighter missing just now. "You do?" she asks, like maybe she misheard him. But the notion doesn't seem to put her off. The opposite, actually.
"Sí," Mateo responds, that smile starting to come back to his lips as he looks down at her, grateful to see, her smiling back at him. It helps him feel he didn't do exactly what she seemed so afraid of. Push it too far. But he means it, perhaps shown by the higher harmonics accenting his simple yes. It's a simple, unconditional, yes.
"Though we're going to have a lot more paperwork on our hands," he admits, glancing toward those papers on her desk. He isn't technically in Mexico legally as it is. And it might take some time get her any response on his papers in Argentina.
If they even bother— considering the state the country had been in when he left.
It's a simple answer, but it seems to be exactly what Lynette was looking for. She leans back in to kiss him again, although one doesn't seem to be enough, because she kisses his cheek, his temple, sprinkling affection until she finds her way back to his lips.
No one has told her that in a long time. She has let anyone tell her that in a long time. It surprises her, how much she wanted to hear it. How she could hear it again and again. How much she believes it.
"I'm really good at paperwork," she says, eventually, leaning back some to give him a wider smile. "I'm sure we can get it worked out." Even if they have to fake it. But that was a big part of what the Ferry did, after all. Figuring all that out is a problem for another day. Right now, she's more concerned with pressing a line of kisses along his jaw while her fingers slide along his back to work their way back toward the hem of his shirt.
"I knew those Ferry resources would come in handy," Mateo mutters breathlessly as she takes over the kissing, his hand going around her side and lifting her up off the bed slightly as he rolls, so that now she's on top of him. It allows him to shift his hands to her face, now that he's not using them to hold himself up. She didn't say it back, but she doesn't have to. She said something far more important—
That she wanted him to go with her. And her reasons had been beautiful, poetic even. "Mi luz." He's rather fond of spanish nicknames for her, but this is the first time he's called her his light. Much in the way she called him hers.
Lynette is easy to move and she ends up looking down at him, a breathy laugh following. Her hair falls around him, but she reaches up to push it to one side. She closes her eyes at his touch and she turns just enough to press a kiss against his palm. An arm props her up, but the other moves to cup his hand against her face.
She looks at him again when he speaks and a slow smile spreads against his hand before she leans down to press her cheek against his. "Mi corazón," she whispers back to him, her eyes closing again, "Mi tesoro." She pulls back then, but only enough to kiss him again, gently, slowly. Trying to put weight behind what she's said.
"Mi alma," Mateo murmurs back against her mouth, even as he pushes himself upward, forcing her onto his lap for a moment so he can sit up enough to pull the undershirt up over his head and toss it to the floor with the other one. "Mi amada," he adds, as he his fingers continue to travel, continue to work to remove all the physical things between them…
Because that paper work is definitely going to wait.