#they're not quite Chad right but it's Chad adjacent sksks

[hausofmamadas]

Ngl the second I saw your day1 character pick, I was like, “it was only a matter of time” and was also trying to figure out how this hadn’t happened yet at the same time? bc even though it’s just 2 of them, I sorta view Van Ness and Feistl as the like OG equivalent to the Smash And Grab Crew or at least the Sal and Walt and by that I mean haphazardly put together, ragtag duo of lovable but emotionally dysfunctional manchildren with too much time on their hands and no alternative outlets for their Tiny Feelings to look at this job and say …. Y’know. Maybe not? What if I just? didn’t? Maybe not just ruin my whole life over this jUsTiCe thing that doesn’t?? exist???Maybe therapy instead???? * …… crickets …….* no? Aight, just a suggestion

Anyway, I digress. I also lowkey do not have adequate words to describe how this fic made me feel particularly after this last watchalong of S3. Like before, I might've been all, "awwwwww how cute and sad and happy for them," but when I tell you I was clutching my chest for Jyeeeeezus by the end. And it's not that cracked of a ship, but I lowkey left this shit being like "uhhhhhh YES???? FUCK CANON BC DO WE KNOW HER??? DO WE SUPPLANT HER WITH OUR OWN REALITY???? IN THIS HERE HOUSE OF MAMADAS WE SURELY FUCKIN' DOKSKSK"

Bc straight out the gate, you're hitting me right in the eyes, forehead, heart, gut, you're taking a baseball bat to my gotdamn kneecaps like a regular Capodecina no way in fuck I spelled that right, it's fine sksksj with this: Under the yellow lights, and through the thick glass of the several drinks, he found that his partner looked older than he expected. Worn out, like an embassy vet. When exactly he'd lost that eager Boy Scout look, that look like a golden retriever about to pounce, Van Ness couldn't figure out.

OKAY FIRST OFFKSKSKS I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE TERM "EMBASSY VET" FOR THE NEXT 500 YRS AND NOTHING ELSE. Bc my goldfish memory can't hold any OGdetails for shit I blame Nmx so was this something they said in the show?? that you just put in there bc your eagle eye ear? caught a gem? or did you make that shit up???? Either way, the fact that it's something Van Ness thinks about regularly enough to have a name is like- I can't a[sdfj;qlejweveen idkwhyyyyy I find that so fucking funny. I think it's bc I'm just having visions of him getting to Bogota, walking through the halls of the embassy, taking in all the military personnel and capital-F, Feds in their suits bustling around with their papers, with their presumably haggard-ass faces and being like, "Jesus. Is this what tf are we in for? Cause if so, I need to up my skincare regime. Mfs straight lookin' like those before/after recovery pictures for ppl addicted to amphetamines." Like justasldkjfslkfj is he that catty bitch?? ...I mean, sí, obvio KEKW

God, moving on, and it's really gonna take a biblical amount of strength not to actually quote this whole-ass thing or go as hard as I normally do bc I only have so much finger strength and time to scream if I'm still trying to like eat and sleep and stuff scratch the sleep actually bc when really do I do that sksk but I wasfull hoooowowlwlling at Van Ness telling Feistl he reminds him of his ex wife, followed by just the most sincere outrage from Feistl like you know his Feelings were legit hurt. But bc you knew you had me where you wanted me aka wide open to this deadly offensive you had to go and just- ... they'd never had this argument before, not exactly, but it felt familiar in the way it felt dangerous.

LIKE FOR THE AL;SDFKJA;LS;DKJF;LQKWJE R;O;J LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, HOW IN THE ACTUAL FUCK DO YOU COME UPWITH SHIT LIKE THAT. *refers back to detective notepad, trying not to sob behind impossibly tiny reading glasses* You did it again. What did you do exactly? Well, according to my notes here, it's A Thing You Do that I've noticed where you put to words a common emotional experience that most ppl can relate to but that we don't necessarily have the right or a shared vocabulary for in the general zeitgeist, digital soup of the interwebs? And do it in the most succinct, poignant way possible, where I'm like- I know that exact teetering on the edge of an Actual Fight that will unlock deep and profound truths about you and the other person but you really don't wanna get into it rn, and I've thought about the experience before but only in teh sense that like the thought has bounced around nebulously in mind, but I havne't had the words to describe it. In my experience, it's usually it's a joke couched in Too Much Truth or that thing of like- how do I- okay, it's the one couple that shows up to like someone's engagement dinner and they take sarcastic little jabs at each other all night, to the point that you're like exchanging looks uncomfortably with your homies and when they leave, you all know for a fact they're having a screaming match in the car on the way home SKSKSKS

And then, there was this other devastating banger of a line: He almost missed that Feistl was speaking, only maybe by now it wasn't Feistl, it was Chris. He couldn't be sure, and he thought another aguardiente would've helped. It was probably Feistl. NOOLSKDFJA;LKJ OKAY bc ngl it took me a second to see that this was going in the slash direction bc I didn't fully read the masterlist kskss before copy/pasting the fics into my google doc to read like an Agatha Christie novel bc I am 80 and this was when it finally hit me that he's drunkenly trying to talk himself out of or into going home with Feistl in a don't-think-of-a-Purple-Elephant sorta way sksks and then it broke me apart bc I realized that it's basically the same as Dina saying "David" vs "Barron," or vice versa, him calling her "Dina" vs "Enedina," like the attempted maintenance of distance crumbling so spectacularly in a way that is almost measurable skskjd

And then, in closing, one last assault to really make sure I'm a full 6ft deep in my grave: Dark bar, hard liquor, he could've gotten away with it too—could've figured his way out of the conversation and fled on back to his shitty little apartment for the night. But it wasn't his shitty little apartment he wanted to fall asleep in.

what we do now

for day one of the narcos october challenge: create a fanwork about a canon character you’ve never written about/used before.

Victory lasted them a little while, until one night in some overpriced bar near the embassy, Van Ness looked at his glass and found it was empty.

“Damn,” he said. “I was just getting a taste for that.”

“Aguardiente?” said Feistl. 

Van Ness looked at him. Under the yellow lights, and through the thick glass of several drinks, he found that his partner looked older than he expected. Worn out, like an embassy vet. When exactly he’d lost that eager Boy Scout look, that look like a golden retriever about to pounce, Van Ness couldn’t figure out.

Feistl had undone the top button of his collared shirt and loosened his tie so the dark knot of it hung below the hollow of his throat. That was another thing Van Ness noticed.

“Hey,” said Feistl. “Earth to space cadet.”

It was no use protesting that his mind had been in the present. 

“You’re the one who dragged me here,” Van Ness said. The words came out of his mouth, bypassing his brain entirely. It occurred to him that he was drunk.

“Uh, no. I said I wanted to get arepas at the street stall Trujillo recommended, you said it was too far to walk.” Feistl chuckled, finished his beer, gestured at the bartender for another. 

“This fuckin’ guy,” he added fondly to nobody in particular. “Can’t hold his aguardiente for shit.”

Van Ness heard himself saying, “You remind me of my ex-wife.”

Feistl leaned back an inch, eyebrows shooting up comically, mouth sketching a willingness to smile just in case this turned out to be a joke. “The fuck, Dan?”

“I meant Colombia,” Van Ness said. “You’re the one who dragged me here.”

Feistl slumped his weight a little to the side, onto the elbow he had rested on the bar. Van Ness didn’t think for one minute that meant his partner was relaxing; he knew better.

“You’re the one who followed me here,” said Feistl, and they’d never had this argument before, not exactly, but it felt familiar in the way it felt dangerous. He felt his mouth go dry.

Then, magically, he got saved; Feistl’s eyes flicked over to catch something happening behind Van Ness’s back, and a mischievous smile touched his lips. “Oh shit. Pay up.”

Van Ness turned. In the back corner, Peña had just gotten up, followed by a tall brunette.

What do we do now? Van Ness had asked Peña only ten minutes ago, or maybe it had been Feistl, he couldn’t remember, it was funny how he couldn’t even remember, but anyways, Peña had said nothing. Just downed his drink, stood, and made his way to the back corner where a couple beautiful women were sitting at a table all to themselves.

Van Ness had bet that he’d go for the blonde, Feistl the brunette.

As they watched, Peña started making his way through the crowd, followed by the brunette, followed by—“You pay up,” Van Ness said—the blonde too.

At the door, Peña opened the door for the two women like a gentleman, returned Van Ness and Feistl’s little waves with a cool kid’s nod, and disappeared back into legend. 

Van Ness looked at Feistl, shrugged, and swapped five-dollar bills with him. 

“Guess that’s what you do now, huh,” said Feistl.

“Guess so.”

The two of them eyed each other, Feistl taking a swig of his new beer, Van Ness having nothing to do with himself at all but sit there, feeling unaccountably cheated. He had wanted things to go back to normal, and they had, and now he didn’t want normalcy anymore.

“You want another drink?” Feistl said. 

“No,” said Van Ness. It wasn’t at all what he said, but the way he said it, that made his partner’s expression get a little tireder, a little warmer. His brown eyes were wise; Van Ness missed the early days, when he thought the new rookie was stupid. 

He almost missed that Feistl was speaking, only maybe by now it wasn’t Feistl, it was Chris. He couldn’t be sure, and he thought another aguardiente would’ve helped. It was probably Feistl.

“Dan,” Feistl said. “Don’t.”

“It’s what we do now,” Van Ness said. He felt a little lightheaded.

“What’s what we do now?”

“What we want to do.”

Chris—it had to be Chris, by now—looked at him like he’d just pieced together a fresh, cartel-sized new lead, only a really fucking weird one, ‘cause whatever it was, it seemed to entrance him and amuse him and hurt him and piss him off all at once, and also, somehow, he was smiling. A small, forgotten kind of smile, but still noticeable. To Dan, at least, who noticed all his smiles.

Slowly, after a second, Chris said,“You do know that you don’t have to work a hundred hours of unpaid overtime and catch a cadre of internationally wanted drug lords just to have the thing you want, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“Sure, I know that. Everyone knows that,” said Van Ness “But I worked a hundred hours of unpaid overtime and I caught a cadre of internationally wanted drug lords, so I damn well better get what I want.”

He had aimed for sweeping and gruff and masculine on that last part, but ended up petulant; the difference was doubt. As always. It didn’t help that Chris had stopped smiling.

Chris said, “I wouldn’t want to drag you anywhere.”

He didn’t say it mean, but Dan flushed anyway. Dark bar, hard liquor, he could’ve gotten away with it, too—could’ve figured his way out of the conversation and fled on back to his shitty little apartment for the night. But it wasn’t his shitty little apartment he wanted to fall asleep in.

“I’ll follow you,” Dan said.

And he did.

.

.

.

[ my narcos fic masterlist ]

.

.

.

blame it on the alcohol? no, blame it on the @axreliono.