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[matadorable]

If you're hearing this message, I am probably not here. Or I am furiously pressing every button I can because I forgot how this thing works. One of the two! Either way, I will get back to you...eventually.

Comments

[medalsome]

Your face is a family heirloom!

[The fuck does that even mean? Joaquin doesn't know, it just sounds funny! So he laughs even more, his forehead falling to Manolo's shoulder.]

[matadorable]

Isn't it, though? [Sporting a toothy grin, he bats his brown eyes at Joaquin.]

[medalsome]

[Really, Manolo? You want your best bro to die from busting his gut? Joaquin doesn't think he has much more laughs in him and his ribs are starting to hurt.

Wheezing a little, his hands clutch weakly at Manolo's shirt.] You're killing me, Manny! Jesus Christ...

[Man, when did he get so tired? Laughing was an unspoken form of exercise.]

[matadorable]

[The laughter is contagious, and now Manolo's shoulders are starting to shake.]

That's what you get for not showing such delicate antiquities proper respect!

[medalsome]

Delicate? Pfft, yeah right, your head is as hard as a rock!

[He sure fell down enough staircases to prove that point.]

Antiquated, sure, but I guess that makes me just as ancient. Moreso! You should respect your elders!

[He gives Manolo a light poke in the side with his index finger.]

[matadorable]

Okay, technically!! [He pokes Joaquin in the forehead.] I turned 20 last month. We are the same age now, so you can't pull that card anymore!

[medalsome]

Technically [and Joaquin half-heartedly swats his hand away] I'm still half a year older than you, so yeah, still older!

[And for that poke, Joaquin decides a little wrestling is in order. Prepared to be attackled!]

[matadorable]

No! [Manolo is gasping for breath as he laughs.] I'm drunk and I'm old! Be nice!

[Of course, if Joaquin really wants to play this game, that's fine. Manolo will just TICKLE HIM, and he grabs for his friend's sides to do just that.]

[medalsome]

A-ah! [Joaquin doesn't expect such a counter-attack! He's weak from having laughed so much before and now he can't stop again, feeling like his ribs are about to break.

But he can't lose this quickly! No, he has to fight back! He struggles to somehow get Manolo's arms away from him while also managing to hold him down. It turns into a weird, vice-like hug around his friend, though it seems Joaquin can't help but still laugh.]

[matadorable]

Ahh, no! [Manolo tries his best to wiggle out of Joaquin's grip, struggling like a fish out of water, but to no avail.] This should be against the rules!

[medalsome]

There are no rules in hug war!

[Joaquin grips him tighter and buries his face in the crook of Manolo's neck, stifling more giggles.]

[matadorable]

Whaaat, you mean they teach that in the military? [He snickers, and now he doesn't seem to mind that his friend is holding onto him so tightly. Instead, he snuggles into Joaquin's arms with a content smile.]

[medalsome]

[The mix of alcohol in his system and physical exhaustion are starting to take their toll. Joaquin is tired but he doesn't let go. When he speaks just the tiniest brush of his lips and mustache glance across Manolo's neck.]

'snot for just any occasion it's... secret... technique something.

[matadorable]

[Joaquin's words tickle at his neck, which draws a breathy laugh from Manolo.] The most secret, most macho of techniques. I see...

[medalsome]

Def... definite...

[He dozes off before he can quite finish whatever thought he was trying to convey.]

[matadorable]

[Joaquin's slow, steady breathing combined with the warmth and security found in his arms start to make Manolo's eyelids grow heavy. Soon, he's trying to fight off a yawn of his own, but he begins to drift off to sleep himself...]

[medalsome]

[Joaquin wakes with a jolt sometime later. It's warm, he's way too warm, and there's someone right up against him. Or, more like, he's right up against someone else, his arms thrown about them in a messy tangle.

This is so abnormal Joaquin thinks he's perhaps just dreaming it all, but then his eyes adjust to the darkness, their last candle having burned itself out a while ago. Probably a good thing, as his head is pounding a bit from all the alcohol drying out his system. God, why did he drink so much...?

Finally, he looks down. It's Manolo.

That's both relieving and distressing for some reason and slowly Joaquin tries to drag himself away. God, what time even is it?]

[matadorable]

[Joaquin's movements are met with a whine from Manolo, who stubbornly digs his fingers into his friend's shirt in a bid to keep him in place. There's no way he's coherent enough to ask questions. He just wants to stay like this for a few more hours...]

[medalsome]

[Joaquin frowns, not sure how to take that. Guilt eats at him when he thinks of how tight Manolo seems to clutch onto him though.

.... fuck this, man. It's way too early for this and he's hungover and sick feeling.

He gives up, closing his eyes as he resettles.]