you had jesus on your breath (and i caught him in mine)

[vaqueros]

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[vaqueros]

[ ... As far as Jack goes, Vasquez genuinely doesn’t doubt Faraday’s claim that the damn dog will break out of the yard. That beast seems capable of just about everything.

Faraday starts listing off all sorts of chores to do, dinner to eat, and Vasquez lifts his brows in an expression of faux concern as Faraday leans over him. ]

If there’s so much, then maybe I shouldn’t keep you, guerito.

[ He says that, but he makes no move to wiggle out from under Faraday or take his hands off of the other man. If anything, Vasquez seems to be enjoying the freedom to be extra handsy. ]

[peacemakers]

[ He tips his head to one side in a vague nod, though a small part of his attention is diverted in mentally tracking the path of Vasquez's calloused palms. ]

We've also gotta factor in the fact that you're a damned prick, even at the best of times.

[vaqueros]

Oh? And where does that factor, exactly?

[ Vasquez’s hands drift absently up Faraday’s thighs, rounding his hips, smoothing up his partner’s chest. He follows faded scars with his fingertips, before mapping the broad shape of Faraday’s ribs and down again. ]

[peacemakers]

Very, very high on the list.

[ Despite his best efforts, his voice grows a little thin as he appreciates the warm, rough slide of Vasquez's hands against his skin. His body shows evidence of a life not wisely lived – most of the scars are old and faded, clearly before his time in Statesman. Though maybe that's obvious, considering the training Statesman dumped into him, and all the special gear they outfit him with on missions, meant to protect him from being on the wrong end of a gun. ]

You're an annoying bastard, you know that?

[vaqueros]

So you say, cariño.

[ Though Vasquez sounds more amused than offended. ]

Maybe I should stop touching you, if I am such a prick.

[ And as casually as he put his hands on Faraday, he lifts them away, palms up.

... Of course, Vasquez is perfectly aware that this is the more dickish move, which is exactly why he does it. ]

[peacemakers]

[ Faraday had fully expected that, which is why he snorts out a laugh, more dismissive than genuinely amused. ]

Jesus wept, you're predictable.

[ He sits up again, grabbing hold of Vasquez's wrists. ]

What's that one? Cariño.

[ And he echoes it back with a reasonably accurate pronunciation, once again showing that he knows how the words are supposed to sound but makes the active choice not to use a proper accent. ]

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez lifts a brow that almost seems like it approaches approval for how Faraday repeats the word. He tugs at his wrists, twisting his hands to try grabbing Faraday’s wrists instead – though without the kind of speed and determination he might use when trying to actually break someone’s grip.

It’s more token struggle, just to be difficult. ]

It’s not an insult, if that’s what you’re worried about.

[peacemakers]

[ He maintains his grip on Vasquez's wrists, though without any real intent to keep the guy restrained. It's more like play wrestling.

Naked, adult play wrestling.

He quirks an eyebrow. ]

So it's like lindo, then?

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez hums in low conformation. ]

Si.

[ He keeps tugging at Faraday’s grip, though with slightly more determination – to be a pain in the ass or, more likely, because he likes the absent sort of physical competition of just messing around with Faraday, fighting for fun instead of trying to punch each other’s lights out. He reaches across, grabbing for Faraday’s opposite wrist. ]

Would you prefer I just call you names instead?

[peacemakers]

[ He doesn't answer immediately, still trying to maintain the upper hand. It's— stupid, admittedly, but it's close enough to their usual shenanigans that he doesn't really think about it.

They both know how easily Vasquez could reverse their positions, though – not because of any disparities in skill, because Faraday maintain that he's got Vasquez beat on that front – but because they know each other's training. Faraday isn't exactly secure in his spot, and he knows it; and the fact that Vasquez isn't even making any attempt to shove Faraday off signals that this is just them dicking around. ]

I'd prefer it if you just— hey, quit it— if you just told me what the hell you were sayin'.

[vaqueros]

You quit it.

[ actual children

Vasquez keeps half-heartedly trying to free his hands and grab Faraday back, if only because he's still a competitive bastard, even uselessly. ]

Why does it bother you so much?

[peacemakers]

[ There is something a little hilarious about sucking each other's dicks and then devolving into play fighting, which is why Faraday is wearing a crooked grin – even if he's doing his level best to smother it. ]

"Why's it bother me"?

[ And he echoes it sarcastically. ]

Ever occur to you that I wanna know the difference between you going, "hey, beautiful" or "hey, dumbass"?

[vaqueros]

You think there's much difference?

[ There's a twist in his grin, amusement in his eyes. ]

[peacemakers]

[ A pause.

Then, with a quick jerk of movement, he tries to use Vasquez's hand to slap Vasquez's own face. ]

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez is half-expecting a reaction, and he rears back as much as he's able against the bed, stopping his hand just short of his own cheek.

His grin is replaced with a look of thorough displeasure. ]

Ahora estás siendo un gilipollas.

[peacemakers]

[ Loftily, in the face of Vasquez's obvious distaste, ]

I'm going to assume that was you saying I'm very handsome.

[vaqueros]

"Guapo" is "handsome." Or "hermoso."

You think you can remember those enough not to get them mixed up?

[peacemakers]

[ A pause, then, before he releases Vasquez's wrists climbs off him. ]

You must think I'm real stupid, huh?

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez is a little surprised when Faraday actually climbs off of him. He props himself upright on his elbows, watching the other man with wariness and curiosity. ]

Not so much.

[ ... which is shockingly honest, as far as answers go. ]

You just make good faces, sometimes.

[ He means Faraday's reactions are entertaining, even if it doesn't quite translate. ]

[peacemakers]

"Good faces."

[ And he repeats it back a little flatly.

And in that same flat way, ]

My word, Vasquez. You say such sweet things.

[vaqueros]

[ Vasquez snorts, reaching up to push some of his messy hair back out of his face. ]

What, you want I should talk to you like a pretty girl? Tell you flattering things so you giggle and blush?

[peacemakers]

I mean, even if you did, you'd probably just say it in Spanish, anyway, and I wouldn't know the difference.

[vaqueros]

Unless you learn Spanish, cariño. If you're not so stupid, it should be easy for you, no?

[peacemakers]

[ He lifts both shoulders in a shrug. ]

I still maintain that you could save us both some time and just tell me what you mean to my face, in a way we can both understand.

[vaqueros]

See, but you would be much more useful if you spoke Spanish. Many people in California do, and we are close to the border.

Better for an agent. Lots of us speak it.

[ Vasquez thinks he's making excellent points. ]