#i dont even remember the first iteration of this blurb sfjhsk

[aces-and-angels]

Could you please do a M!MC x Abel where the MC gets really flustered by nicknames, and Abel takes every opportunity to take advantage of it.

Congratulations on 100 followers :3

ooo- what a fun prompt! i know this took a while to get to you, anon. ty for bearing with me- enjoy the blurb 🖤

Nicknames, Abel x Rowan (M!MC)

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Abel's life was in shades of pink. 

Faded- like the old apron that hung on the hook by the oven. Two sizes too small and covered in oil stains too stubborn to be washed away; it was safe to say it’d seen better days. And he remembered those all too well even as the years went by. He absently traced the letters that were carefully stitched into the fabric over and over, feeling the bumps and curves against his skin. All of it forming a name that stayed right by his heart. 

Lupe. 

His father spent a week practicing his stitch work on old fabrics until his hands were made up of more bandages than fingers. A small smile graced his lips at the memory.

"Papá, do they hurt?"

"Does what hurt, mijo?" Abel gestured to his heavily bandaged hands. "Oh, these? They're fine, mira." He dropped his needle, wiggling his fingers freely. "I even have my thumbs."

Despite his reassurance, Abel continued to frown. "Mamá says not to play with sharp things."

"She's right. Sharp things are dangerous."

"Then why are you poking yourself so much?"

His father burst into a rich, rumbling laughter, which only confused him further. "It's not on purpose. I'm practicing."

"Practicing for what?" With his curiosity fully piqued, he abandoned his desk for a spot at his father's side. An old Danish butter cookie tin packed with spools of thread sat between them. Being this close, he noticed the same word messily stitched on every piece of fabric. "What's a lo-de?"

"Lupe," his father corrected with a chuckle. "That's mamá's name."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Cross my heart," he swore, drawing an 'X' over his chest while barely containing a smirk. "You remember mamá's new job at the bakery?"

“Uh-huh,” he chirped excitedly.

"Well, all bakers have a good apron. So I'm making a special apron just for her."

"Why?"

"Because I love your mamá. And when you're in love with someone, you'll do anything to see them smile."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Even if it's scary?"

"Even then."

His mind spun wildly at his father's statement. Even more so at how sure he sounded. "Do you love me that much, papá?"

"Mijo, tú eres mi sangre. No hay nada que no haría por ti."

Abel furrowed his brows. What did blood have to do with anything? "So... yes?"

Bright eyes, soft and tender, gave away his answer. "Si, te amo mucho."

---

Neon- the kind that was almost too painful to look at. There was a shortage- a lost shipment of medical supplies that was due to arrive a week prior. It hadn’t been recovered when Abel found his way to Westchester Medical Center. When the time came, all the nurses had on hand were rolls of hot pink casting tape borrowed from the pediatric ward. Those first moments of consciousness were mostly a blur.

“You’ve sustained multiple injuries…” 

“We’ll need to operate…” 

“Your parents… they…” 

Weeks passed before his siblings were cleared to visit. Matthias thought it’d be best to wait until he was through the worst of it. Though, it was tough to tell when that really was for him. All he had to show for in that time was some mobility in his fingers and a stiff neck that would come and go. It was hard to get comfortable with broken ribs. Even harder to breathe. But the PTs were adamant he focus on deep breathing every hour to prevent himself from developing pneumonia.  

The first thing Cesar noticed were his arms.

“They’re so bright,” he gaped, hand outstretched. 

“Careful, Cesar. Your brother is still hurt,” Matthias reminded him, his voice gentle yet stern. Cesar froze midair before dropping his hand back to his side sheepishly. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Your arms look cool, mano.” 

“Thanks, manito,” Abel chuckled, wincing slightly. “Nurse Hannah left a surprise for you.” 

Cesar’s face brightened instantly. “Really? What is it?” 

His mouth stretched into an enigmatic grin. “Look for yourself,” he answered vaguely, nudging his head towards the mini fridge in the corner of the room. Cesar leapt from his seat and ran to the fridge. A joyous shriek pierced through the whirs and hums of all the machines he was hooked up to, followed by the fridge door slamming shut. 

“Chocolate pudding!” It wasn’t long until he tore through the seal, licking up the bit of pudding stuck on the other side of the foil. He’d devoured nearly half his cup when the front door slid open. 

“We’re back with markers,” Lola chirped, waving a pack of sharpies triumphantly in the air. “Now we can sign mano’s casts!”

“I thought you two said you were going to the vending machines down the hall,” Matthias said, shock evident in his voice. 

“We were… but then we saw a lady holding one of those get-well-soon teddy bears and we got the idea to go check out the gift shop,” Mercedes explained matter-of-factly. 

“What? I’m not good enough for a teddy bear?” 

“Mano, you already have three,” Mercedes sighed, pointing at the stuffed animals lining the windowsill. 

“And?” 

Half an hour later, neon pink was met with a series of gold, silver, and green scribbles. His favorite was scrawled across his left forearm. A message worth muscling through the eye-strain: 

Te queremos muchísimo, mano ~ Lola, Mercedes, Cesar :)

---

Rosy- more beautiful than any flower. Flowers didn't leave Abel’s heart pounding, yearning for more. That was all because of him. Flushed from the tips of his ears down to his neck, Rowan was a sight to behold. A person to treasure. And most importantly, a boyfriend to fluster relentlessly. 

“Order #54. Order #54.”

Two mugs of hot chocolate- one with extra cinnamon, the other with a generous portion of whipped cream- were placed on the pickup counter. Abel began to rise from his chair, but Rowan quickly stopped him. 

“I got it,” Rowan said, motioning for him to sit back down.

“You sure?”

He scoffed fondly. “Am I sure I can handle carrying two drinks? Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”

“We also need napkins,” Abel snickered, earning him a light shove on his shoulder. 

“Alright, smartass. I’ll grab extra just for you.” He was mid-turn when Abel suddenly grabbed his wrist. Rowan looked back with a raised brow. “What is it? 

“Thank you, baby,” Abel hummed oh-so-sweetly, pressing a kiss to the inside of his palm. Rowan sputtered, much to his delight. It took everything in him not to whip out his phone and take a picture right then and there. No matter how many times he pulled this stunt on him, it never got old.  

“Uh-,” Rowan quickly cleared his throat, “n-no problem.” He spun on his heels, speed walking to the counter and apologizing profusely after almost knocking into another patron. Abel’s self-satisfied smirk widened as he relished the pink tinge dusting the tips of his boyfriend’s ears. The sight when he turned back, drinks in hand, was even better.  

Rowan’s blush lingered throughout their date, thanks to Abel. Whenever it’d start to fade, he slipped another name. Honey. Handsome. Mi sol. And without fail, Rowan’s cheeks flared a glorious, bright red. Hiding a laugh behind his mug, Abel mischievously wondered what else he could turn red. 

An answer they both happily found out as they stumbled through their front door, lips intertwined. 

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