Genre: Humor. Friendship. Romance. PWP. Adventure.
Word Count: 2,685
Synopsis: In which Miguel has a terrible plan and Tulio, as usual, goes along with it. Turns out it is a not so terrible plan.
Comments: This has been in progress for so long now and it's finally, finally done! It spiraled a little out of my control, but whatever. Set before the movie. First try writing for Road to El Dorado, so hopefully they come across okay. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.
"Why do you always do this?" Tulio laments, as he and Miguel run from the angry mob intent on capturing them, a bag full of their hard-won prizes slung over his shoulder - food mostly, a few gold coins, not worth the risk they'd taken to get it. "Every time, it's always you and your big mouth getting us into these situations. 'Tulio, no one will notice it's missing,' you say, it's always 'Tulio, we'll be rich, think of the adventure,' and yet I remain deplorably impoverished and I don't really think of another marathon run through Seville at sunset as adventurous any more, seeing as we've done this a dozen times!"
"Less talking, more running!" Miguel insists, grabbing Tulio's arm to steer him down a narrow alley.
It proves to be as good a hiding place as any, as the crowd of city guards and angered civilians alike rushes past them without so much as a glance.
They're both heaving for breath after the long chase, muscles burning with the desperate sprinting and daring leaps their escape had entailed up to this point.
"Think we've lost them?" Miguel questions, listening carefully for any stragglers of the mob or any sign that they might have doubled back upon realizing they'd lost their prey. There's a shout in the near-distance, closer than it should have been if no one had realized, and that means they're not in the clear just yet. "Guess not. Now what?"
With only the dead end alley Miguel pulled them into to work with, Tulio spots an open window above them. "Give me a lift," he says, and manages to haul himself through the opening. A brief glance around the room assures him that it is empty, and then he's leaning out, reaching down for Miguel as the shouting grows closer. "Quick," he whispers, and he only barely gets Miguel safely out of view before the angry voices burst into the mouth of the alley.
"Phew," Miguel breathes, leaning against Tulio as they slump against the wall on either side of the window. "Well, that was close."
Tulio glares at his partner in crime, but Miguel only gives him sad, puppy eyes in return, as if he has no idea why Tulio might be mad at him for leading them on what has been yet another in a long line of misadventures. "Don't even think about-"
"Ooh! Tulio, let's stay here for the night."
"We can't-" he starts to say, because breaking and entering is not usually on their list of crimes and loitering in a home they've snuck into does not seem like the wisest decision ever. But Tulio finally stops glaring long enough to finally get a good look around the room and no, no way can they stay here. This is a nice house. A really nice house, judging by the elaborately huge bed and the ornate decorations in the room - and those things mean that someone will most definitely be returning to them sooner or later.
But, as usual, Miguel doesn't listen. The other man is up and exploring before Tulio can convince him that they should leave as soon as the mob has given up on them. He's circling the room, the centerpiece of which is the bed, the largest thing Tulio has ever seen. "This place hasn't been cleaned in a while," he notes, dragging his fingers through the layer of dust on one of the tables to the side of the bed. Tulio can see the specks of it float through the sunlit air. "And it doesn't look that fireplace has been used recently. Maybe this place is deserted?"
Tulio thinks that might be a little much to hope for. After all, who would leave a window open in a deserted house as magnificently furnished as this? Despite the inherent stupidity in even considering Miguel's 'let's stay in the house' idea, Tulio drags himself up off the floor and crosses to the heavy oak door that leads out of the room. Slowly, he pushes it open. It creaks, and he freezes, but when no one comes running to investigate the noise after a moment, he pushes it the rest of the way and slips into the hall.
The rest of the house proves to be just as extravagantly decorated as the bedroom had been, but there aren't any small (easily thieved) items to be found. Everything left is stuff that would be difficult to leave with, and like in the bedroom, there aren't any personal items lying around. Everywhere else is just as dark and dusty, just as vacant.
Maybe this is not a terrible plan after all.
Scratch that. It is a terrible plan.
It shouldn't be, Tulio thinks, but it is.
"Miguel," Tulio grumbles, still far too awake for the hour that the amount of sunlight creeping in the windows suggests it is. "Would you stop shoving your feet into my legs? Your toes are freezing!" He gives his bedmate a shove that is perhaps a bit more forceful than is strictly necessary and only feels a little bit bad about it when Miguel nearly rolls off the side of the bed.
"Ah," Miguel yelps, quite awake now, as he only just manages to catch himself before he hits the floor. "What the hell, Tulio? I was asleep!"
"Well, you were the only one."
"And how, exactly, is that my fault?"
Tulio rolls his eyes at his partner in crime, "I don't know, between your frozen feet and your snoring, how could anyone be expected to sleep? And on a bed so big, how are you practically on top of me?"
"You could always just go sleep on the floor, you know," Miguel counters, settling back in under the thick blankets that keep the chill of an unseasonably cold Seville night that permeates the room at bay. "Go sleep outside for all I care, just lemme go back to bed."
He grabs up his pillow and whacks his unfortunate bedmate with it. "I am the one who found us this room, in case you've forgotten. You sleep on the floor."
Miguel, as Tulio probably should have anticipated, retaliates, swinging his own pillow to nail Tulio right in the face. "I'm the one who suggested we stay in the room, if you recall!"
"Damn it, Miguel," Tulio curses, forgoing his original weapon to grab at the other man, fighting until he finally captures both of Miguel's hands in one of his own. From there, it's easy enough to make sure that there will be no further attacks, straddling Miguel's hips to keep him pinned in place. He expects Miguel to fight him - he never likes it when Tulio one-ups him at anything - but instead, the other man goes completely still beneath him. His eyes dart around the dark room, looking for anything that could have startled Miguel into giving up so easily. He's sure it had to be something. Maybe they're not alone anymore, maybe they've been caught. But there's nothing. "What?"
"Nothing," Miguel is quick to say, and suddenly he does start fighting, half-hearted attempts at escape that continue to perplex his partner.
"What?" He asks again, releasing the grip he has on Miguel's hands.
Immediately, they settle on Tulio's shoulders, slow and tentative in ways that the man usually isn't. "I, um... this is... Oh, forget it."
"What are you talking abo-" Tulio tries to ask, but finds himself interrupted when Miguel surges up off the bed to kiss him soundly. The kiss is all fiery passion, like ten years of pent up feelings. Tulio finds himself kissing back, with no real idea as to why.
Miguel takes advantage of Tulio's distraction and flips them; the kiss evolves, gaining tongue and teeth as it drags on.
Tulio reaches up, drags a hand through Miguel's golden hair, where it hangs down over his face. He pushes it back, fingers tangling in it in the same way that Miguel's hands are fisted in his shirt, holding tight and close, like he's afraid to let go. Tulio can't blame him, he feels dizzy and disoriented with it all, and he's not entirely sure that the bottles of wine they took from the basement are entirely to blame.
"C'mere," he mumbles, the words lost against Miguel's lips, as he pulls the other man in closer. His free hand wanders under Miguel's shirt, tracing lightly over pointy ribs and smooth skin.
Miguel groans and pulls back. It's dark in the room, but there's enough moonlight for Tulio to make out just how blown-wide Miguel's eyes are, the grin on his kiss-swollen lips.
He leans up, presses his lips to Miguel's neck and sucks, bites, laves over the skin there, taking in how each new action makes Miguel grind down against him, revels in the guttural groans he can pull from the man on top of him.
"All this time and this is what it takes to render you speechless, my friend?" Tulio teases, a hand running over the front of Miguel's pants. "Should have done this sooner."
But Miguel is never one to be outdone. He sits up, and Tulio tries to follow, but Miguel pushes him back. "Oh, we'll see who's speechless," he counters, his fingers working at the buttons of Tulio's shirt, letting it fall to either side when it's finally open. Then he's fumbling with Tulio's belt, a hand snaking into his pants, curling around him.
And Tulio should stop this - he's the logical one, after all, and logically, they could be in serious trouble for this if they're caught. Arrested or exiled, if they're lucky, killed if they're not (and they are rarely lucky). He should stop this.
But Miguel is kissing his way down Tulio's chest, leaving marks of his own. Somehow, he's worked Tulio's pants open, too, and suddenly there's Miguel's mouth on him and all thoughts of stopping this are immediately forgotten. "Where did- where'd you learn that?" He manages, after Miguel does this thing with his tongue that makes Tulio forget how to breathe for a moment.
He reaches out, fingers once against tangling into Miguel's hair, because he's not going to last. It's been too long since he's been with anyone and the wet heat of Miguel's mouth on him, the sight of those green eyes flicking up to meet his every few seconds, it's just too much.
"Miguel," he breathes out, all the warning he can give. It ends even faster than he expects when Miguel does that thing with his tongue again and it's all Tulio can do just to hold on for the ride.
Tulio comes back to himself a moment later, feeling boneless and sated, but there's still Miguel to take care of here. The other man is hovering over him again, grinding down against him in a desperate search for friction, his own hand shoved down his pants.
"Miguel," he says again, dragging him down for another kiss. He uses the momentum to roll them again - perilously close to the edge of the large bed - and bats Miguel's hand away, takes over.
And as much as he'd never admit it - never hear the end of it, if he did - Tulio thinks he likes not-speechless Miguel better than the Miguel he'd rendered silent earlier. He's definitely intrigued by the concept - wonders what else he could do that could so thoroughly undo the other man - but the unending stream of barely coherent words he's dragging out of Miguel as he works him toward the edge is proving pretty damn interesting, too.
Miguel doesn't last long, either.
Tulio drops down to lie beside him, trading off lazy, uncoordinated kisses for leaving more marks on Miguel's neck and shoulders.
The bed is a mess of tangled limbs and blankets, too warm skin in the cool air. "Remind me to listen to your plans more often," Tulio heaves a sigh of content and settles. "Especially if they end like this."
"Don't think I won't remember that," Miguel warns, his head resting on Tulio's shoulder. No doubt he's already planning something that will make Tulio regret his words.
Right now, though, Tulio does not care.
"Go to sleep."
Tulio lays awake the early morning sunlight, Miguel all pressed against him, his stupidly cold feet entangled with his own, but he doesn't mind quite as much now as he did before. He drags a hand lazily through Miguel's hair, listens to the slow breathing of his bedmate that tells him the other man is, indeed, still asleep.
They should get going soon.
He's sure Miguel will have another ridiculous plan lined up for today - another misadventure that will undoubtedly end with them running from somebody by sunset, though, so he supposes he should get as much rest as he possibly can.
He sighs and lets his eyes fall closed again, an arm pulling Miguel in closer to his side.
But then comes a crash-bang from downstairs - someone else in the house.
They both bolt out of bed with a speed that comes from often being in places they're not supposed to be, though Miguel is a little slower, having been jolted from a sound sleep by the noise.
"Shh," Tulio warns, unnecessarily. They're both scrambling out of bed, haphazardly straightening clothes as they stumble toward the window they'd come in through. Tulio grabs up the bag of supplies they'd gained both in yesterday's attempts at thievery and the few things they'd nicked from the house, and checks to make sure the coast is clear.
There's a loud crash just behind him - the sound of Miguel tripping over his own pants, surely giving them away, and Tulio rushes him with a harried, "Come on, Miguel!".
"Sorry!" Miguel whispers back, not all that quietly.
"Go," Tulio orders, herding Miguel out the window first, giving him a hand before he drops off to the alley below. He tosses the bag out next, trusting Miguel to catch it as he moves to climbs out himself, just as the bedroom door bursts open and a very angry man comes storming in, shouting about intruders and thieves. It's more than enough to raise an alarm that will surely alert all sorts of people whose attention they do not want to attract. They really need to get out of here.
"Hurry up!" Miguel calls up to him.
Tulio's out the window now, ready to drop down when a hand grabs at his wrist. It brings his fall up short, and something wrenches painfully in his arm, but that's the least of his problems because the furious homeowner is hauling him back through the window, despite his desperate struggling.
"Go!" He shouts down to his partner in crime. There's no sense in both of them getting caught.
As usual, Miguel doesn't listen to him. A wine bottle - one of the ones they'd swiped from the houses basement - goes sailing over Tulio's head and somehow it glances off of his captor's head. It's enough to stun the man into letting go of Tulio, but luckily not enough to get on every wanted list in Spain (the ones they're not on already, at least). However, there was a flaw in Miguel's desperate plan, and that flaw is gravity.
Tulio falls, prepared for a painful landing, but Miguel is proving to be rather on top of things this morning and also manages to catch Tulio before he can hit the ground. It's far from a graceful landing, but Tulio is definitely not complaining.
"Time for another adventure," Miguel says, once Tulio is back on his feet and the remainder of their supplies are in hand. He grabs hold of Tulio's arm and together they take off into the Seville sunrise, as city guards and civilians alike give chase.
"If there has to be adventure," Tulio starts, detouring them down an alley that will get them out of the center of the city and into more rural territory, somewhere safe, "I'm glad it's with you."