tonibeltran

[tonibeltran]

JONATHAN BAILEY and MATT BOMER in Fellow Travelers: episode 2

[tonibeltran]

Jesus, if there was a way for Antonio to bottle up the sounds Roman sometimes makes when they kiss, he thinks he’d have fuel for years. He’s still thinking about it when Roman presses his lips softly to his temple, asking him about what stupid scenarios imagines often, or something. It takes his brain a second to catch up, content to turn to pure static when it’s in close proximity to Roman, but eventually it works enough for Antonio to reply, “What, scenarios like us dressing up as elves?” He frowns, thrown by the question. “Not really? That’s a very specific—” 

His face clears, then, as if the question clicks into place a second too late. Smiling up at Roman crookedly, he raises an eyebrow as he trails his hand downward, fingers eventually snaking underneath Rome’s shirt and brushing gently against the skin of his abdomen. For all intents and purposes, it’s a fairly innocent touch, but it mostly serves as supporting evidence to what he says next: “I don’t have to make shit up in my head like that very often.” He pauses, leaning in to press a kiss to Roman’s cheekbone. “I can work off memory just fine,” he mutters teasingly, trailing kisses down his friend’s jaw, fingers still tracing aimless patterns on Roman’s skin beneath his shirt. 

He hesitates only briefly before pressing a kiss to Roman’s neck, gentle, exploratory. “Think I could be happy getting to kiss you just like this for the rest of our lives,” he mutters the words as though they’re a secret, then drops a kiss to Rome’s collarbone before pulling back to meet his gaze curiously. “You don’t — do you need to take this slower?” He asks seriously. Antonio’s not sure how far Roman’s willing to take what they do, but he’s been working off Roman’s pace for over a month now. Happy to do it — but now he’s nervous he’s crossed some sort of line before Roman was ready to cross it with him. “Because we can.”

As nice and pleasurable as Toni’s idea of convincing Roman to do anything is, it also pulls a chuckle from him; one that quickly shifts into a moan as the kiss deepens, reminding him that despite the joke, there’s not much Roman Daniels wouldn’t do for Antonio Beltran, including fucking Christmas elf costumes. He doesn’t dwell on that in the moment though, focusing instead on the delicate pressure of their lips against each other, the feather-light, ticklish sensation of Toni’s thumb on his neck. His own palm splays out on Toni’s calf less hesitantly than times previously, and he wonders what things would be like if they progressed to the next level. If hands explored other places, if less clothing were to be involved…

But too soon (it’s always too soon) Toni breaks away, and Roman is staring at him with a starstruck gaze, pupils blown, soaking in the sight of the way the other man wipes his mouth, letting out a huff that’s half frustration, half lust. “Hm?” The costume talk brings him back to reality, and he shakes his head. “Not in a million years, mate. I’d rather get nerve damage in my left hand than wear tights.” Or whatever it is festive mythological creatures wear. Still, he places a kiss on Toni’s temple, to show he isn’t being completely serious in his claim, fingers of his still-working hand idling brushing through the guitarist’s locks. “Do you imagine stupid scenarios like that often?” He asks, mainly to continue to jest, but to also gauge Toni’s thoughts and feelings on the tempo that they were taking things, without actually having to ask him.

[tonibeltran]

He’s a little flattered and, frankly, touched, that Abel cares enough about him to feel sorry for him. Antonio’s never been one to believe he’s deserving of any sort of affection — Izzy gets a pass because they’ve known each other for ages, since before Antonio could speak English, even, and because she knew him pre-Elijah Falvey. Post Elijah Falvey, well. It’s not his ex-friend’s fault, either, not really. No one should be forced to feel any sort of way for someone — he’d accepted, for a long time, he’d never be enough for Elijah to love in any sort of romantic way. Somehow, he’d missed all the signs that maybe he’d never been enough for Elijah as a friend, either, not really. He doesn’t think, anyway. Hindsight’s usually 20/20, except for when he twists memories and feelings so often he’s not sure what’s true and what he made up in the haze of longing.

The point is, it’s hard for him to find himself worthy of anyone’s time, affection — even friendship, at times. It’s why sex has always been easier. Less commitment, less scrutiny. Easier to let someone like him for what he looks like, what he can offer in bed, than be disappointed in him as a person. It is, frankly, a miracle Roman feels any sort of way about him — still thinks, sometimes, that he’s making it up, despite how many times they’ve spent the night wrapped up in each other now — and he thinks the same about most of the friends he’s managed to make and keep throughout his life during and after Amethyst. Abel seems genuine in his affection for Antonio, in any case, for which he’s appreciative. More than Abel’ll ever know, he thinks. 

“It was a learning experience, yes,” he says, because maybe if he pretends they’re talking about Elijah instead of Roman, it’ll feel less like he’s lying, and he’ll feel a little less guilty about it. “I don’t know if — I wouldn’t call it — hm,” he tries to find the right words to express how real he thinks the whole experience might have been, in any case. Comparing what he feels for Roman now to what he felt for Elijah, then — it almost feels like apples and oranges. He wonders if that means he didn’t ever love Elijah, or if the love had just been so tainted by resentment and heartbreak it’d soured, even in its purest form. “I don’t know, actually. I just know it happened,” he shrugs. “Maybe that’s all that counts, right? It happened. And some things just need to happen to us, lesson or not.” He’s not sure he’s making any sense, but it’s about all he’s got for Abel at the moment.

I’m not good at that, Abel admits, and Antonio’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Less over the admission, and more over the intensity of the words that follow. He listens carefully as Abel continues to confess most of his life is lived off the opinion of others, and Antonio huffs a little in amusement when his friend finishes. “Yeah, no, no one’s good at that,” he points out. After a pause in which he takes in Abel’s words thoughtfully, he continues, his tone gentle but steady. “You know, Abel, not caring isn’t something you just wake up one day and decide to do. I think it's more about learning how to place people's opinions in their corresponding place, y’know?” He picks at the corner of the menu in front of him as he elaborates, “It's not about — shutting everything out, it’s — it’s choosing which voices matter. Letting others motivate you can be powerful, sure, I get that, but it’s easy to get lost if you don’t know what’s driving you deep down.”

He smiles, a little soft and knowing. “There’s always going to be noise, right, people who want to shape you, intentionally or not. But I promise — and like I said, I know this from experience — their approval can’t do the work for you.” A pause, in which he takes another sip of his coffee. Then: “And if it’s all you rely on, it might feel a bit empty after a while.” Antonio leans forward, his gaze intent. “So maybe it’s worth asking yourself: what do you actually want? If you can figure out a few things that are yours and yours alone, all the other voices, well. They might start to matter a little less.”

He reaches across the table to give Abel’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, you’re allowed to be a work in progress,” he leans back with a small smirk. “It doesn’t make you any less capable. You’re one of the smartest guys I know, Abel — and that’s got nothing to do with what anyone else thinks.”

Visibly, Abel deflates when Antonio admits that nothing serious is going on, that whatever he had going on didn’t actually work. Somewhere along the line, Antonio had graciously adopted Abel - though looking back, he wasn’t sure he’d given the other a choice. Abel was likeable enough, had several friends growing up, and had several now - but whenever he stopped to think about the fact that he’d never let anyone in enough to actually become best friends with anyone, it left him feeling empty. Toni, at least, was kind enough to humour everything Abel was, and he eventually grew to idolise him. It was hard not to - they didn’t usually get too deep with each other, so it was a surface level observation, but Abel viewed Toni as incredibly put together. It was shocking to find out that he couldn’t find a person to settle down with, all things considered.

Abel knew he was awkward, but he could be comforting when need be. It came with his job, grown used to keeping it together for others until he had the luxury of being alone to either deliberate over a situation or just break down altogether. This wasn’t the same as sharing horrible news with a child far too young to understand their life was about to change forever, but he still felt for Antonio all the same - and most of the time, Abel still felt far too young to deal with half the stuff adults had to, anyway. Heartbreak was all in the same category. “His loss.” He said in solidarity, a gentle half-grin appearing. “Was it a learning experience at least? Or… not even worth it? I have to admit, I’m surprised. You are glowing and all still - you’re a very handsome man, Toni. Makes me a bit nervous for the rest of us, actually.” A joke, but as Abel said it, his face visibly changed as he took in the meaning of his words. Should he be concerned? Probably - the dating scene was terrible nowadays, and he was already terrible at it to begin with.

The last thing on Abel’s mind then is food. He’d been hungry moments before, but he can’t help but feed into Antonio’s advice. Which is common for them - leaning forward in his seat and everything. Toni delivers his words kindly, being more than patient with Abel as he tries to placate him - though he knows his company doesn’t view it that way. Abel can’t help but feel a bit juvenile sometimes when they’re together. “I’m not good at that.” He blurts out, though he doesn’t mean to. It feels like a crack at his chest, whenever Abel admits to something that would make him seem… lesser, for a lack of a better word. He’d been raised to be perfection, and had fought for that title his whole life, always falling slightly flat - it stuck with him his whole life. How could he not care what people think? “Handsome and smart. Jesus - my complex is coming back.” He teased, rolling his eyes with an easy smile to show that he meant no harm by it. It was a nice moment between the two of them, before Abel was word vomiting onto Antonio’s lap without realising it. “I’ve never learned how to not care, I guess. It feels like if I don’t have someone’s opinion goading me on, I have nothing to work towards, that’s all.” It sounded a lot sadder when he worded it like that - blinking in shock at his own confession, cheeks flushing of his own accord afterwards. “Sorry. Bit much, that - it’s a work in progress.”

[tonibeltran]

Antonio’s lips twitch a little in amusement at her question. “Best thing to do when I get high,” he jokes. “And my bookshelves are starting to look a little bare to me.” Mostly because he’s just added two more to finish aligning the walls of the rec room, so that one’s really on him. Besides, his Pride and Prejudice collection sits in its own special bookcase, tucked behind other innocuous decor, so no one finds out what his actual favorite book is. Not that he has anything against Jane Austen — clearly — but he learned a while back that being a hopeless romantic gets him nothing but heartbreak and disappointment, so he’d rather people didn’t know that about him, if he can help it. Even if he is more hopelessly romantic nowadays than not.

“It’s mine too,” he admits about the book, because Phoebe doesn’t know all the people in his life, anyway, so who’s she going to tell? “I’ve got several copies of it. All different cover iterations,” he grins slightly. “Still trying to convince myself spending two hundred grand on a first edition is a stupid idea,” he admits, because it is, despite how badly he wants to say fuck it and do it anyway. He doesn’t come from money — so despite how frivolously he spends it on the people he loves, he still has a hard time spending that egregiously on himself, even while having the means to. 

He hums noncommittally at Phoebe’s explanation of where she’s been — hell, maybe they had met at Caffélicious, and he’s just making up false memories — and nods, impressed. “Seems like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” he tells her. “Can’t think of a better place to work when you’re a writer, though, right?” He gestures around them, surrounded by shelves and shelves of all kinds of books. “You like it here?” 

Counting down the days until Halloween is over, Phoebe’s boss at the bookstore already has the boxes of Christmas decorations out in the storeroom, prepared for the sudden switch-over once it hits November First. Not that she cares either way, not feeling festive in either the spooky or the cheery way. But at least after the rave on Thursday — her Dorothy dress nicely hung up in her closet — she has no other plans than to curl up on the sofa with some beloved classics.

It’s like her thoughts are being read when she catches Pride and Prejudice placed on the counter, and her head snaps up to enthusiastically chat about one of her favorite novels of all time. She is slightly taken aback when her eyes meet Antonio’s, but then again, in her opinion, Jane Austen is for everyone. 

“Hi! Doing some light reading?” She nods towards the pile of books on the counter as she begins to ring them up. “This is my favorite.” She mentions as she picks up the classic novel as she begins to ring it up. “Oh, was that where we met? I don’t go there much, normally it’s Caffélicious where I’m killing time. But yeah, I have a couple of ‘school hours’ left for my creative writing seminar, and a few other things…” No point putting it out in the universe, in case she jinxes it, “And here just for some extra income, y’know? What about you?” 

[tonibeltran]

Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Antonio watches as a cacophony of emotions make their way past Lea’s expression — he can’t pin down every single one of them, but somewhere in between absolute panic and confusion, there’s something like a spark of heat when he acknowledges Antonio’s deliberate-not-deliberate touch, which he can definitely work with. Whether something happens or it doesn’t, he supposes he’ll at least be able to go home knowing he tried, and he’s just deep enough in the throes of longing when it comes to his best friend that he’s willing to count that as a win. 

He takes another sip of his drink, humming contemplatively at Lea’s reply about being called picky. “I did say only a little picky,” he points out teasingly. “And I only said it to be able to call you attractive, by the way,” he tilts his head and offers Lea a small smirk, making sure his voice is low, filled with intent that leaves little room for interpretation. He’s about to follow that thread through — maybe make another stupid innuendo to get this conversation moving in the right direction (that being the direction Antonio wants it to move toward, of course) — when Lea suddenly switches from English to Spanish almost as easily as if he’d been speaking it the entire time, and Antonio can’t help the jolt of excitement that rushes through him.

It’s been a while since he’s had someone to speak Spanish to. He used to speak it every single day, on account of his daily phone calls to his parents. Misses the way it rolls off his tongue, the way it reminds him of a little piece of home, of who he was before all of this. Before the fame, before Elijah, before Harrison — before something inside him twisted itself into a shape that no longer fits in there, not really, but still manages to exist uncomfortably, anyway. It’s his own fault, really, the fact that it’s been so long without him speaking it — has been ignoring his father and the rest of his family back in Mexico since his mother’s death, for reasons that only make sense to him when he’s drunk. The blatant hypocrisy of such a thing doesn’t hinder his ache for it, however, so he’s all but thrilled when Lea decides to speak to him in his mother tongue. 

The accent’s different — would be, considering their Spanish originates from different parts of Latin America — but it’s still Spanish, and Antonio still leans into it excitedly, like a kid on Christmas morning. He’s sure it shows blatantly on his face, too — but he’s not too preoccupied about that. “Nada interesante. He estado trabajando — escribiendo y componiendo, igual que en Tejas, igual que en California,” he shrugs easily at the information divulged, then snorts a little at the next implication. “Raro es ciertamente una manera de ponerlo. A veces siento que este lugar es exactamente el mismo, y otras veces siento que es completamente diferente.” A pause. “Y a ti, ¿si te gusta vivir aquí? ¿Y a tus hijos? Es que se me hace tan pequeño, ¿no?” Or maybe he’s just outgrown Blue Harbor, since the last time he’d been here. Maybe a place is only as big as you allow it to be.

For all the strength he claimed to hold a second prior, the moment Antonio’s tongue emerged to coat his lips Leandro’s gaze fell to them. His own lips absentmindedly emulating the other man. It was a split of a second - a minuscule moment not many would pay attention to - yet he felt watched. There was something about Antonio that made every strand of Lea’s hair stand on the edge. Like a drug placed before a recovering man. It - no he - was incredibly intoxicating without effort. Flushed as he was, it took another moment for Leandro to process the words Antonio spoke, missing all intent behind their purpose, “Huh?” he uttered almost stupidly, the tease easily went over his head but he chuckled just the same. Leandro had never questioned his own sexuality. It seemed absurd to do so when he had everything he needed and wanted at his side. Throughout the years he noticed things though, his own wandering eyes when he was lost in thoughts, for example. Never something to alarm himself with, his thoughts never went beyond acknowledging different things. A side effect of being human he used to tell himself. Their mortal bodies and minds were weak and easily susceptible to the devil’s temptation. It happened to the best of them, which is why not all those who follow Jesus are considered prophets. Leandro never claimed to be holy, but he did his best to live life as close to biblically appropriate as he could devotedly follow. Leandro wondered if he was allowing the place to take hold of his thoughts. He wasn’t ignorant enough to believe the club itself was the culprit for his sinister thoughts - there was certainly an entire male figure besides him to blame for that - but the longer they remained in their seats the harder it became to clear the fog. There was also the quick familiarity despite the years gone by, and the ever present taunt in Antonio’s voice. Lea found himself loosening the planks that held him up. He leaned an elbow against the bar top, doing his best to ignore the jolt that traveled up his leg - certainly, he was too on edge? Mistaking innocent movements and losing all sense or thoughts. Get a grip. Intoxicating wasn’t sufficient enough for the demon beside him. Allowing his eyes to part from Antonio for a brief moment, Lea signaled for the bartender, finding himself rather parched.  “I don’t know.” he said, attempting to sound nonchalant and at ease as he gave a lazy shrug, “My life right now is very much running with the flow. Lo que sera, sera, and all that.” Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, he didn’t think. It was easier this way. He had lived most of his life following a specific set of rules, being in places he was told to be in, talking about things he was trained to talk about. But while that all seemed suffocating now, at one point it had been the very thing that made his days worthwhile. He just hasn’t known how much of his devotion was attached to the woman that he loved.  “Picky?” he asked incredulously, shaking his head as he chuckled, “I think you must have mistaken me for someone else, there, Toni. I am but a simple man with simple wants.” Or so he tried to be at least. There was no need to mention all the troubling thoughts that haunted him. Times like then and there. “Pero, gracias,” he continued, the compliment despite its teasing nature, made him grin. In an attempt to change the subject for some much needed buffering, he asked, “En que te has ocupado desde volver? Debe sentirse raro, ¿no? Regresar aquí después de tanto tiempo?” 

[tonibeltran]

[ 171 SYCAMORE DR, BLUE HARBOR, IL ]

Located in Oak Gardens, this four-bedroom, three-and-a-half bath home is the picture of suburban luxury. Built around five years ago, the house was designed to embody a modern farmhouse style, featuring tall, exposed ceilings, rustic wood finishes, and a carefully curated mix of clean lines and traditional touches. Equipped with the latest appliances, the home combines functionality with its open, airy aesthetic, creating a welcoming yet polished atmosphere fit for those who appreciate both space and elegance.

[ THE BELTRAN HOUSEHOLD ]

Since moving in, Antonio has made several adjustments to reflect his tastes. He hired a stager to bring a sense of warmth and personality to the neutral palette by incorporating rich greens in the kitchen, calming blues in the bedroom, and other soft hues throughout the house. Antonio also converted the basement into his personal recording studio, allowing him to compose and work from home without the need to commute — a practical touch that accommodates his profession as a lyricist and composer. One of the smaller bedrooms serves as his “rec room,” a space he’s set aside for relaxation and reading, as well as a place to unwind privately with a smoke, where his cat, Moon, isn’t allowed access. The main living area is anchored by a large, plush couch, which Antonio chose with comfort in mind, ensuring it was supportive enough for both relaxation and, well, intimate endeavors. A weekly housekeeper helps keep the expansive space tidy, and a gardener maintains the neatly manicured front lawn, allowing Antonio to focus on his work. Despite his efforts to personalize the space, the home’s grand scale often leaves him feeling lonely, an emptiness he finds difficult to shake. While he admits it might make a perfect family home for someone else in the future, he jokes that his basement conversion may pose a minor challenge to that dream.

[tonibeltran]

ANTONIO: Lo único que se está metiendo a mi casa es mi gata y lo que queda de mi dignidad, Leandro. ANTONIO: Una buena lloradera nunca le hizo mal a nadie. ANTONIO: That guy sounds like a dick. ANTONIO: Okay, but there are ACTUAL demons in Buffy, Lea. No demons in Hill House. I do not get your logic. ANTONIO: Was Lilith not also a demon? ANTONIO: DEMONS, LEA.

LEA: Sigue ahi, Antonio LEA: Yo no quiero oir cuando se te meta algo en la casa LEA: Sigue por ahi LEA: PEOR! LEA: Tu quieres que en vez de ponerme a relajar yo me ponga a llorrar? LEA: Are you unabl LEA: Alright, alright. I'll keep those comments at bay. But if you do want more knowledge... LEA: I've just been told I'm a great parent by this guy who's just recently reentered my orbit, so I think I'm more than a little qualified to offer advice LEA: 😌 LEA: I will definitely not be watching the Hill House Haunting, I can't even pretend to lie about it, but I will give that Buffy Slayer a try LEA: The closest thing to a vampire I've hears is Lilith and even she was made from dust and dirt LEA: Anything I should watch out for?

[tonibeltran]

Shaking his head, Antonio wraps the rest of the Snickers bar up — bit less than half of it left now, anyway — and tosses it on the coffee table, relieved that Moon’s never been interested in human food. “I’d obviously hire a professional Santa Claus,” he says with exaggerated seriousness, his gaze sparking with mischief. “I’d just be another elf. We could have backstories, even. Elves having a sordid affair,” he waggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly. At Roman’s mention of refusing media training, he can’t help but huff a fond laugh, adding, “Right, but he didn’t have the means I do to convince you,” he points out, his voice dipping. “Y’know. These means.” 

He leans in, closing the distance to capture his friend’s lips in a deep, lingering kiss, his tongue grazing Roman’s lower lip teasingly. His hand slides to the back of Roman’s neck, fingers threading through his hair, holding him close with an intensity that borders on possessive. Roman’s hand on his leg sends a thrill through him, igniting a rush of warmth where the touch lingers, the innocent contact somehow feeling more electrifying than any other touch he’s known before in far less innocent scenarios. He behaves, though, focuses on Roman’s lips, thumb stroking affectionate circles against the nape of his neck. After what could be a minute or ten or twenty, for all he fucking knows, he pulls back slightly, and he takes a slow, self-satisfied swipe of his own lip, savoring the taste of Roman that still lingers. “Now imagine that,” he mutters teasingly. “...but in a costume, Rome.” 

American chocolate tastes like shit. He was never a fan of the stuff growing up, but upon his move to the States, Roman definitely has a sour opinion on it. But when Toni offers him a secondary bite, he takes it. Because whatever the other man wanted to give him, he'd greedily take it. No matter what it was, as long as it was Toni's.

The bite this time is slightly smaller, noses brushing against each other as he closes the distance, free hand not leaving where they're happily resting on Toni's leg, fingers aimlessly running up and down the limb. "You dress me like a fucking elf, we're done." Though there's no bite to it; Roman couldn't imagine life without Antonio Beltran if he tried. "Would you have a big, fluffy white beard do you think? Can't say I find that prospect very attractive." He muses, absentmindedly, huffing out a laugh. "I'm still marking the words of our previous manager who swore on his life he'd get me media trained." Memories of those days are easier to reflect upon now, sharing them out loud no longer a daunting prospect, as if recognizing the existence of what happened could raise the dead, so to speak. A fitting train of thought, for Halloween.

[tonibeltran]

Antonio keeps his opinions on the term boyfriend to himself, lest he sound as pathetic as he usually does to his best friend. Truthfully, there’s probably little else he wants as badly right now as to be Roman’s boyfriend, despite how juvenile the term might seem. It’d be like — proof, or something, that this is real, that it’s happening, that they’ve crossed the threshold successfully from friends to lovers. 

Besides, it’s clear there are more pressing matters at hand right now than whether or not Roman is his boyfriend or not, all things considered. Izzy tells him about her visits to a fertility doctor — meds, hormones, the whole nine yards, and he can’t help but feel the same immeasurable fondness in his chest for her that he usually does, except maybe tenfold, at the idea of her finally, finally getting what she’s always wanted: a child. “Izzy,” he grins widely, brings her in for an embrace. “Fuck, I’m so, so happy for you,” he presses a soft kiss to her hair before pulling back, feeling like his grin might just break his face. 

Antonio can’t help the laugh that escapes, full and unrestrained. “Jesus, yeah, whatever you need,” he says of her asking for his help. “You think you’re going through this on your own? Not a chance,” he says, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m in. No question, alright?” After a pause, however, he tilts his head, curiosity lighting his expression. “How exactly does one go about shopping for a sperm donor? Is it like online dating? Or am I about to see you flipping through a catalogue of profiles at my kitchen table?” Another pause. “Do we — send out applications or something? Racists assholes need not apply, and all that,” he’s grinning, a spark of playful mischief in his eyes, but then he softens, leaning closer.

“Seriously, though, I mean it,” he adds, his tone gentler. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’m here for every step.” He gives her hand a warm squeeze. “I want this for you as much as you do, Iz.”

He was looking at her the way he'd always looked at her; it reminded her of the way the parents of her students looked at their childrens' artwork - a mix of pride and love that would seem unreasonable to any onlookers, but made perfect sense to them. Izzy never felt worthy of that look, but she did her best to live up to it. And she was sure she looked at him the same way.

"Just friends, huh? I've heard that one before," she smirked. "Maybe we're too old for terms like boyfriend to apply, anyway. As long as you both know your boundaries and expectations for things like monogamy and whatnot. You don't want any miscommunications on that front just because you chickened out on having the conversation."

He pulled back and she almost got concealer on his nose. She laughed softly at his expression. She should have known better than to phrase it like that, and to spring it on him like this, but it was too adorable when his eyes popped out of his head.

She shook her head, still smiling. The hope of it all was negating the terror of it lately. She wondered how long that would last. "No, no... not, um... not yet. But I have been seeing a fertility doctor. I'm on all the meds and hormones and vitamins and whatnot. I didn't want to say anything until the chances looked better, but, um... everything looks good," she said, unable to stop beaming despite the fear that still choked her heart. "They're saying I can start looking for a donor anytime. And you don't have to if you don't want to, but I wondered if maybe... you might help me choose."

[tonibeltran]

Antonio wonders when he’ll be able to look at Roman and feel anything other than stupidly enamored. Pretty quickly, he concludes it probably won’t be anytime soon, what with his only reaction to Roman stealing the first bite of his chocolate bar being nothing but a quiet huff of amusement. He takes the next bite of the Snickers, humming contently at Roman’s words as he chews. It’s hard to think of his best friend finding anything adorable, let alone him, but he’s pleased enough by the bit of information he leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips once he’s swallowed.

Pulling back only slightly, he holds the Snickers between their faces, offering Roman the next bite silently. “I might have you dress like an elf,” he says of Roman’s Christmas speculation, smirking slightly. “Turn the whole place into Santa’s workshop.” He doesn’t point out that his next celebration technically starts tomorrow, for Dia de los Muertos, because that would probably involve boring Roman to death, ironically enough, and explaining why Harrison Morrey is not, in fact, a part of his altar, and moreover, why his mother is. “I’ll get you in a costume yet, Roman Daniels, you mark my words.”

The casual intimacy will never fail to make Roman’s heart skip a beat. He lifts his chin up, a ghost of a smile on his lips as Toni reaches down to kiss him. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He promises, though as grumpy as he was, he was unsure if it was worth all the hassle just to ruin the evening of a few unknown children. He adjusts himself on the couch, prepared for Toni to join him, frowning when the other man heads into the kitchen instead, only deepening when he returns with a chocolate bar for himself, and not Roman.

Look, just because he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth doesn’t mean he should be excluded from receiving treats himself. 

“Isn’t that the point of the holiday?” He asks, leaning over to take a bite of the Snickers just as it unwraps, because fuck it, sharing was caring, chewing for a moment, swallowing the candy clump and continuing. “But look…just because it’s not my thing doesn’t mean I actually want to ruin it for anyone else. I actually think it’s adorable you’re into it, as ridiculous as I find it.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, before reaching out to rub Toni’s calf, the concept of just being able to touch him is nothing short of thrilling.

“It does make me think what levels of insanity you get up at Christmastime, though.”

[tonibeltran]

i apologize if it's a little too much just a little too soon / but if the conversation ever were to come up / i don't want to assume this stuff / but ain't it love? / i think i'm in love / and he laughs at all my jokes / and he says i'm so american / oh god it's just not fair of him / to make me feel this much

[tonibeltran]

ANTONIO: Lea. If that's true, this "dark energy" and these "dark presences" are running a couple decades behind. I'm sure I'll be dead, then, before they catch up to me. ANTONIO: I promise nothing's going to come chasing after you if you watch Haunting of Hill House. It's not even about demons. Just a big fat metaphor for grief. ANTONIO: Does a grumpy British man count as an attachment, because if so I'll take whatever else is thrown at me ANTONIO: They are good kids. Excited to see them on Halloween. ANTONIO: And I wasn't kidding when I said kids are probably not in the cards for me anymore, Lea. > ANTONIO is typing... ANTONIO: Can we drop Could you imagine me Are you going to take me up on my viewing suggestions or are you going to end up watching your Jesus movie?

LEA: Did no one ever tell you, when you start watching these things, it's like inviting dark energy and presences into your space? LEA: The vampire I can understand a little, it's nothing but fiction but the rest? LEA: You should really be more careful, you never know what can attach itself to you. LEA: Thank you! LEA: They are really good kids aren't they? LEA: I think maybe we're still too early on the juvenile delinquency front, but in the moment I can rest easy LEA: I wasn't kidding when I said kids change your whole world. LEA: Don't push the opportunity aside just because you can

[tonibeltran]

Antonio’s laugh is soft as he feels Roman’s lips brush his. The answer to his question sits on the tip of his tongue, heavy and warm and altogether too early to say out loud. What did Roman ever do to deserve him? He’s certain he doesn’t deserve Roman — the thought of the opposite being even remotely true throws him. If Roman only knew — Antonio’s here because he can’t imagine being anywhere else, simply because it’s Roman, and that’s all he’s ever had to be.

“‘S not about your arm, you idiot,” he says, eyes still glassy, voice pitched low to keep it steady. “It’s the thought of you having to go through all of this on your own. That’s what gets me.” Objectively, he knows Roman’s had Ophelia, of course, but it does little to quell Antonio’s guilt. He brushes his thumb across Roman’s cheek, a ghost of a touch that lingers for a second longer, their foreheads meeting in a gentle press of solidarity. Roman’s teasing almost pulls him out of it, but Antonio grounds himself in the steady pulse of Roman’s breath, in the closeness of this moment, one he never thought they’d share but aches to hold onto for as long as he can.

“I mean it, Rome.” His voice dips softer, steady and sure. “You’ll never have to face any of this alone again. Not as long as I’m here.”

The moment holds, their foreheads still pressed together, and Antonio feels a quiet vow wrap around them, a silent promise he’s made to Roman and to himself. He’ll be here, by Roman’s side, through everything. And as he pulls back just enough to meet Roman’s gaze, a smile touches his lips — I love you, I love you, I love you stuck almost tauntingly to the roof of his mouth — before he closes the distance between them in a soft, gentle kiss once more.

> END OF THREAD.

Roman can feel his stomach swoop when Toni utters words he never thought either of them would have admitted out loud. Thoughts that made Roman feel like a terrible person, that only fuels the flames of his darkest mindset. Harry was a great loss, of course he was. But the idea of losing Eli (despite all the shit he put them through in the last half a decade), or Kaya, or fuck, Toni…

He can’t speak, doesn’t trust himself to, just watches as Toni is brave enough to touch the scars, tensing, discomfort washing over him. Not at the guitarist’s actions, but the overall sensation. Seeing him clearly touching him, and not feeling it. A reminder that he was broken.

And he had the opportunity to be fixed.

“We made it out.” He finds himself whispering, pushing the words out with force, mouth feeling like it had been coated in molasses, like the sentence physically couldn’t get out. They had made it out, and they owed it to Harry, to their families, to honor that. Who was Roman to deny the opportunity of a second chance?

(Or well…sixth chance, as it may be.)

Roman is glad that Toni doesn’t try to pretend to understand what he’s going through, even though he’d let him. He’d let Toni do anything to him, if he wanted. A dangerous admission, but true nonetheless. “No,” He murmurs, shaking his head sharply, but not at Toni’s confession — that was for a discussion for another time — “What you say is not irrelevant. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I…I wouldn’t talk to you about this, if I didn’t value your thoughts on it.” And the only other person who wasn’t on his medical team who was allowed an opinion on Ophelia. 

He lets Toni pull their faces closer, heart skipping a beat at the casual intimacy of their noses brushing together, a reminder that they could just do this now. He laughs — wet, hoarse — at Toni’s determination, and just the fact that, for the first time in a long time, he isn’t alone. Of course, Roman always had Ophelia, his ride or die from day one, but there’s a comfort in having someone who went through the experience, to share the burden. Roman doesn’t even in it to argue with him, because he finds himself craving the support, knowing that if the roles were reversed, he’d fight the fucking gods to make sure Toni had an easy life. “What did I do to deserve you?” He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lifting his left arm to wipe at Antonio’s eyes. “Oh, c’mon mate. Don’t hit me with the waterworks. It’s an arm. I have a perfectly good one already.”

[tonibeltran]

[ MYERS BRIGGS - CAMPAIGNER (ENFP) ]

This personality type embodies vibrant enthusiasm, creativity, and idealism. Their mind is a constant whirlwind of ideas and possibilities, each one more exciting than the last. They approach life with an infectious energy that draws others to them, using their charisma and genuine interest in people to become a natural connector and an inspirational force. With boundless curiosity and an insatiable appetite for new experiences and perspectives, they possess an openness that, combined with a vivid imagination, allows them to see potential and opportunity where others might not. They’re not just dreamers, though – they’re dreamers on a mission, driven by a deep-seated desire to make the world a better place.

[ MORAL ALIGNMENT - NEUTRAL GOOD ]

A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with the law but does not feel beholden to it. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

[ LOVE LANGUAGE - QUALITY TIME ]

Quality time is a love language that prioritizes spending intentional and meaningful time with a partner. Those whose love language is quality time deeply value undivided attention from others, feeling profoundly impacted when spending meaningful, uninterrupted time together. Whether through deep conversations or shared experiences with a loved one who is fully present and engaged, quality time communicates that they are a top priority and deeply loved.

[ ENNEAGRAM - THE HELPER (TWO) ]

When Twos are healthy and in balance, they really are loving, helpful, generous, and considerate. People are drawn to them like bees to honey. Healthy Twos warm others in the glow of their hearts. They enliven others with their appreciation and attention, helping people to see positive qualities in themselves that they had not previously recognized. In short, healthy Twos are the embodiment of “the good parent” that everyone wishes they had: someone who sees them as they are, understands them with immense compassion, helps and encourages with infinite patience, and is always willing to lend a hand—while knowing precisely how and when to let go. Healthy Twos open our hearts because theirs are already so open and they show us the way to be more deeply and richly human.

[ TEMPERAMENT - SANGUINE ]

The sanguine personality is characterized by a cheerful disposition, lively energy, and a generally positive and optimistic outlook on life. Sanguine individuals tend to be highly social, extroverted, and enthusiastic, often possessing a contagious sense of humor that makes them the life of the party. They are usually creative, imaginative, and tend to be very entertaining. Overall, sanguine individuals are warm-hearted, buoyant, and carefree, bringing lightness and joy to their environments and interactions. Despite their potential challenges, they have a unique ability to rebound from disappointments with their resilient optimism.

[tonibeltran]

Halloween was one of those holidays Antonio could truly partake in, as a child. Growing up without much, celebrating holidays tended to take a backseat, but Halloween was easy and affordable. Homemade costume, cheap plastic bag from the grocery store, and he was on his way to collect as much candy as possible. He remembers, vividly, being in awe of the wealthier neighborhoods, with their inhabitants handing out the good stuff, not any of that nondescript candy that came in variety packs. Nowadays, he’s happy to be one of those wealthier houses, eager to stock up on full-sized candy bars and sweets to hand out to wide-eyed, excitable children. And if he sneaks more of said sweets than necessary to a kid in a homemade costume, cheap grocery bag in hand instead of the usual store-bought bucket, well. No one has to know.

He’s just finished saying goodbye to the latest horde when he hears Roman yelling at him, making his distaste for this whole ordeal known. His lips twitch in amusement as he closes the front door and makes his way back to the living room, humming noncommittally as Roman prattles on about eating the rest of the candy so no more children will come round. He stops as his knees hit the back of the couch to lean downward and snake his arms around Roman’s shoulders from behind, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his friend’s face. “You’d make it through half a bag before barfing, I’m sure,” he teases, letting his lips brush gently over Roman’s jaw before pulling back with a smile. “It’s almost nine,” he assures Roman. “I’m sure they’ll all be heading home soon. It’s still a school night.” 

With one last affectionate squeeze, Antonio straightens up and heads toward the kitchen, casting a glance at the bowl to see how much candy is left. Enough to feed maybe three or four hefty hordes, he muses. Should be enough for however many children are still loitering around the neighborhood. He takes one of the Snickers for himself, then saunters back to the living room and plops himself down on the couch with Roman, settling in beside him and wrapping one of his legs over one of Rome’s. As he unwraps his Snickers, he adds, “Thanks for not glaring at the kids from behind me, by the way,” he meets Roman’s gaze affectionately, though a small, teasing smirk coats his lips. “I’d rather not be known as the house that scares kids away next year.”

— toni's house, halloween night. ft. antonio beltran ( @tonibeltran )

Roman's never seen the appeal of Halloween. He can't recall it ever really being a thing in his youth — one of those things where American trends hadn't quite reached over the pond in the same quickness they did today — and then during university, hated 'having fun' (according to Harry) and leaned into that assumption of himself.

Now, here he was, forty-one years old, watching his best-friend-turned-something-more (and really, they needed a conversation on labels or whatever) excitedly greet children at the door, showering them in sweets, as the shop owner stubbornly remains on the couch, with his branded scowl on his face, arms crossed over his body as if to exude how unimpressed with it all he is.

... If he secretly finds Toni's enthusiasm endearing and extremely attractive, well, that's a secret he's taking to his grave.

"Please tell me that's the last of it and you can finally turn off your porch light!" He calls as the door shuts once more, finding that he is weirdly on edge on hearing the doorbell ring again, eyes peeling from where the latest episode of Buffy is on pause to the entrance. "I'm willing to break my vegetarianism and eat the leftover Haribos so you wouldn't be technically lying to the kids about being all out."

[tonibeltran]

Antonio’s mildly surprised the path from his house to Roman’s hasn’t somehow imprinted itself as footprints on the sidewalk, despite the impossibility of such a feat. They’ve both taken the very same route to and from each other’s homes multiple times since Antonio’s arrived in Blue Harbor, a fact that he’s now sure hasn’t escaped the neighbor situated comfortably between them. Nathan’s good people — from what he can tell, anyway. Antonio hasn’t gone sniffing into much of his personal life, so he could very well be mistaken, but for the most part he minds his own business and is content to snark with Toni about the HOA and some of their other neighbors once in a while, which happens to be the bare minimum in Antonio’s ‘He’s An Okay Guy, Roman’ book. 

It’s during one of his usual treks to Roman’s house that he spots Nathan sorting through his mail, and before he knows it he’s standing beside the other man, frowning distastefully at the Halloween decorations being set up over the house across the street. He’s less concerned about the decorations themselves and more concerned about the way their neighbors seem to be speaking to the workers, as if they weren’t the ones doing all the fucking work. God, he hates some of these people. 

Glancing at Nathan when he asks his question, Antonio shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “Fucking beats me,” he admits. “I’ve never spent Halloween in Oak Gardens.” Halloweens in Blue Harbor back in his youth were mostly confined to the university, and truth be told, he does not remember them. He gestures over to their fantastically loud, fantastically pompous neighbors across the street. “But if they speak to everyone that way, I’m sure they have more reason to be worried than any of us.”

He kind of hopes someone does egg their house, actually. For the laughs. At the mention of Linda, Antonio can’t help the exasperated sigh that escapes him. It’s like a Pavlovian response — he thinks he’s a patient person, for the most part, but Linda sure likes to test that theory often.

“Linda could use a new hobby,” Antonio says, his voice tinged with a wry amusement. “Like minding her own business. But hey,” he smirks, giving his neighbor a mock-serious look. “Don’t forget the approved pumpkin-to-gourd ratio. You’re allowed two pumpkins max, but they have to be perfectly round and orange — no ‘mutant varieties’ or white pumpkins.” Antonio hums, skimming through the email they’d received in his head. “Oh, and the scarecrows,” he adds, grinning lazily. “You’re required to use only HOA-sanctioned hay stuffing — too much straw, and you’re ‘creating a fire hazard,’ too little straw, and you’re ruining the aesthetic.” A beat. “I heard last year someone had the nerve to dress theirs in a flannel shirt that wasn’t HOA-approved plaid,” he nods seriously. “Bet Linda had a field day with that one.”

➥ location: nathan's driveway ➥ status: closed starter for @tonibeltran

The suburbs had never called to Nathan with any particular appeal. It'd always seemed to quiet, too slow, and the prospect of being surrounded by the kind of conspicuous neighbours who weren't living practically on top of you, thus had to go out of their way to stick their noses into your business, made him wrinkle his nose. Between London and New York, city life had etched itself into his bones and become an immutable part of him. And yet here he was.

Oak Gardens was repentance; a fact which would remain undisclosed to anybody else, since he was hardly willing to admit it to himself. Another hard nail in the coffin of his beloved New York lifestyle. The most unfortunate thing about it was that it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Its air of exclusivity gave his house an almost secluded feel and the neighbours he'd so dreaded were in fact quite tolerable. Well, those either side of him at least—the members of the HOA were another matter entirely—and, in a boredom-induced twist of events, Nathan himself had become the nosy one.

(His sister, Ivy, would argue that he'd always been nosy, so this wasn't much of a change, but she wasn't here therefore couldn't say shit).

"Should I be concerned about trick or treaters this year?" He'd been getting the mail when Toni passed by and the pair of them stood, watching as a couple of workmen slung Halloween decorations across the house across under the careful direction of its inhabitants. It didn't seem the sort of street where a house was at risk of getting egged, but he knew there were degenerates in every community, after all Nathan and his brothers had been those very degenerates). "Or should I be more afraid of Linda from the Homeowner's Association coming down on me for not covering my house in... regulation spiderwebs or whatever it is they want."

[tonibeltran]

ANTONIO: I resent and refute that. ANTONIO: Hey! Let me know what you think about it if you do. Though I do still recommend Hill House. ANTONIO: Looking forward to seeing the way your brain works. ANTONIO: Well, even if they are spoiled from all angles, they're good kids. Can't deny that. It's clear they're growing up in a loving home, which I think is all that matters. ANTONIO: That, and the fact that they're not juvenile delinquents.

LEA: It's a brain rot is what it is, Antonio LEA: But I guess it's appropriate during this Halloween season LEA: Maybe I too will give it a try LEA: Jajajaj okay maybe so 😄 LEA: I'll let you know what I come up with LEA: They are! Lupita more so, but I think Diego's just apechao de mi LEA: I am the spoiler, actually. Guilty as can be. LEA: Must be a side effect of growing up in foster but Sol's parents do help a great deal