Work Text:
*
It starts like this.
Nacho is sitting in the kitchen of Lalo’s rental in Albuquerque with a beer in hand, watching Lalo clean the dishes and hum along to some Madonna song playing on his radio.
After a long day of work back at the restaurant, Lalo insisted they have dinner at his place tonight. He didn’t explain why, but Nacho has the firm suspicion his boss is just starting to get bored to death.
He doesn’t really want to think about the other theory; that Lalo has finally decided to try and seduce him the old fashioned way. Nacho isn’t stupid enough to have missed the way he acts with him when they’re alone together.
And it would be lying to say Lalo’s blatant interest doesn’t give him a thrill each time. What can he say, the heart wants what the heart wants. (Though he isn’t quite sure his heart is the real culprit in that case.)
Nacho sits still on his chair and tries hard not to roll his eyes when Lalo looks over his shoulder to offer him a knowing smile while Madonna sings about feeling like a virgin everytime her lover is around.
He would probably be charmed by this whole act if only he wasn’t so aware of Lalo’s flippant temper. If only Lalo was just some random guy he met at the bar and not a literal cartel prince with a history of being a little bit too much trigger happy for his taste.
There are so many ways this night could go wrong. Nacho’s not particularly eager to find out, but it’s not like he has a choice anyway.
His thoughts are abruptly cut short when someone rings at the door.
Eyebrows furrowed, Lalo tosses the rag in the sink then turns the radio off, clearly not expecting anyone at this time of the night. He glances questioningly at Nacho. Nacho just shrugs and tightens his fingers around the neck of his bottle, in case of.
Lalo leaves the kitchen to go investigate, one hand hovering over the gun tucked in his belt. Nacho holds his breath until he hears the front door opens and Lalo squeals in delight. “¡No lo puedo creerlo! Ignacio, come over here!”
With a sigh, Nacho abandons his beer and walks to the living room, already anticipating some last-minute fuck-up by one of their dealers. He almost freezes on the threshold when he sees Lalo, a giant smile on his face, with his arms draped around the shoulders of two very familiar individuals.
“Look who just showed up!” Lalo says, squeezing his cousin Leonel’s cheek. Leonel who doesn’t react and just stares at Nacho with cold-dead eyes. “¡Oh, chicos os he echado tanto de menos!”
Awesome, Nacho thinks dryly, after greeting the twins with a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. Just what he needed tonight. Three Salamancas in the same room with him instead of one. He’d choose Lalo batting his eyelashes at him like a teenager in love over Marco and Leonel’s murderous glares any day.
“But wait a minute,” Lalo frowns suddenly, looking at his cousins like he’s just remembered something. “What are you guys doing here? Aren’t you still supposed to be in Mexico?”
The twins exchange a quick look before Marco turns to point at the calendar fixed on the wall and more precisely the date; June 1st. Lalo’s eyes widen in surprise. “Ni modo… Really?” He lets out an astonished laugh, “You two came all the way here so we could go clubbing?”
Nacho blinks, taken aback. Clubbing? Did he hear that well?
And then his eyes catch on the pins attached to Marco and Leonel’s jackets, and his stomach does a little twirl because… What the fuck?
Lalo notices his confusion. “Me and my cousins got this little tradition going on.” he explains, waving a hand as if to say ‘no big deal’. “Every June 1st, they come with me to the club so we can have fun all night.” He chuckles and shakes his head fondly. “And you guys always remember, eh?”
Marco and Leonel both answer with a nod.
His brain on fire, Nacho is still processing. It’s not really a secret to anyone that Lalo is gay but never in a million years Nacho would have imagined his cousins overtly showing him their full support.
Hell, he’s seen those guys cut snitches in half with their axes. Those same guys who are now apparently fervent allies to the community.
He looks at the rainbow pins again and has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep the nervous laughter from coming out of his mouth. Well, shit.
“Of course, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to,” Lalo pats him on the back. “Dinner was nice, but you can go home now.”
Nacho blinks again. Screw the cartel and Gustavo Fring. This is probably the craziest, most exciting thing that has happened to him since he moved to New Mexico. No way he’s ever missing that. He shakes his head and answers, “I’ll go with you.”
*
After blasting their ears off in the car with his own rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Lalo insists they try that new underground nightclub he’s seen an advertisement for on the road.
The Delirium is packed tonight, bodies pressing against each other on the dance floor and leaping in rhythm with the music. Nacho follows the others as they slip into the crowd, Lalo weaving through it with ease like he owns the place. His smile is wild, his eyes glowing. It’s clear he hasn’t had that much fun in a while.
Like two scary, silent bodyguards, the twins stay close to him as they make a bee line for the bar. Lalo orders them some Cuba Libre before he shrieks, “¡Oh, me encanta esta cancion!” and rushes to the dancefloor.
Nacho sits on a barstool and watches Lalo start moving to the catchy beat of a famous Abba song. The show is a sight to behold. Lalo shines like a single star among a dark night sky and of course, quickly manages to draw every clubbers around him like a magnet. Nacho ignores the weird twinge in his chest when he sees Lalo slides his arms around the neck of a shorter, younger man and laughs at whatever he’s whispering in his ear.
Someone taps Nacho on the shoulder. He jumps and whirls around on his seat. Eyes as lively as a roadkill, Marco just hands him his drink.
Nacho thanks him and downs the cocktail in one swig. The liquid rushes through his veins, a burning and pleasant sensation. Feeling slightly better, he turns to observe Lalo again. Their eyes meet during a brief, intense second. Then Lalo flashes him a strange grin before he looks away and dives back into the music, body swinging graciously like he was born for it.
The skinny guy sitting right next to Nacho suddenly leans over. “Is that your boyfriend?” he asks in an interested tone. His breath smells like candy floss and rum. His appreciative gaze travels up and down Lalo’s body and Nacho feels the sudden, bizarre urge to punch him in the face.
He clears his throat instead, "That’s uh, my boss.”
“Well fuck,” the man says with a surprised laugh. “A boss bringing his own employee to the club! Is he hiring by any chance?”
You don’t wanna work for him, trust me, Nacho thinks as he presses the cool tip of his glass against his lips to mask his wince. “Don’t think so, no.”
“What about Funk and Punk over there? You know them?” The guy glances at Marco and Leonel, who are standing close by and staring at them with an unreadable expression on their faces. He bites his lip and offers them a suggestive little wave. “Strong and silent. My favorite type.”
Nacho feels his stomach constrict in fear. Oh no. He reacts one beat too late. The man has already left his seat and made his way over to the twins, poking curiously at the pins on their jackets. From where he’s sitting Nacho can’t make out what he’s telling them, but it’s obvious this stranger has no clue who he’s dealing with. He racks a hand across his skull and sighs deeply. Well… What happens at the gay club should stay at the gay club, right?
The lights suddenly dim to a darker shade as the upbeat music switches to a cheesy ballad. Nacho squints his eyes and try to find Lalo among the crowd. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he decides to swallow his pride down and forces himself onto the dance floor.
Someone ought to warn Lalo about the impending threat his beloved cousins are posing on a random clubber’s life.
He’s working his way through the wall of sweaty bodies glued to each other when a hand reaches out of nowhere and closes around his wrist.
“Feeling lonely, Nachito?” Lalo chuckles as he drags Nacho closer to him. He’s grinning from ear to ear and his hair looks disheveled, as if someone has run their fingers through it over and over again. Nacho has to physically restrain himself from brushing away a strand of dark hair off of his forehead.
“Some guy is trying to hit on Marco and Leonel.” he says, averting his eyes.
Lalo laughs. “Are you worried for him?” He tilts his head and wraps his arms around Nacho’s waist. “It’s not the first time it happened, you know.”
“Whatever,” Nacho shrugs, feeling his skin heat up. “I’m not his babysitter.”
A hopeful glint flicker in Lalo’s eyes. “So… you came here to dance then?”
They’re standing so close to each other, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, but it almost seems like the world around them has completely dissolved. “Not really, no.” Nacho replies, though he sounds unconvinced himself. “I just wanted to warn you.”
His breath catches in his throat when Lalo’s palm finds the small of his back. Lalo begins to move them both from side to side, following the slow tempo of the song. He leans in and his lips caress Nacho’s skin as he starts to sing softly in his ear, “Where did you heart go… Did you put it on the train… Did you leave it in the rain…”
A storm of different emotions swirls inside Nacho’s guts, from total bafflement to slight arousal. After a few seconds of hesitation, he brings his hands to Lalo’s hips and lays his head on his shoulder. They stay like that for a while, swaying gently.
Towards the end of the song, Lalo lets out a dreamy sigh, “Ah, George Michael… ¡El hombre màs sexy del mundo!” His lips curl into a teasing smile and he adds with a wink, “After me, of course.”
Nacho can’t stop the mortifying giggle that escapes his lips. He immediately snaps his mouth shut and looks up to see Lalo's eyes widen in glee. “Qué lindo,” Lalo says, beaming like a kid on Christmas and poking him on the cheek. “You should do that more often. It suits you.”
Nacho huffs and shakes his head, shying away from Lalo’s gaze. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manage to tear the smile off his own face. Great. Just fucking great. Now it’s like it’s stuck there forever for the whole world to witness.
Nacho never had someone fluster him like that before. This sudden realization makes the whole situation even more insane than it already is.
He clears his throat and crosses his arms on his chest. “Uh, I think I’m gonna head back to the bar now. See what your cousins are up to.”
Lalo holds him by the waist. “No, no, no, come on!” He pulls him closer. “We’re just starting to have fun! Plus it's George Michael again.”
Nacho has always considered himself a pretty open-minded guy, but this is definitely his limit. He shakes his head firmly, “I am not dancing with you to this song.”
Lalo shoots him a look that would make anyone else piss their pants before he throws his head back and starts singing at the top of his lungs,“I want your sex! I want your love! I want your sex!”
And he keeps going on and on until Nacho gets so embarrassed he does the first thing that crosses his mind in order to make him shut up, which is grip Lalo by the collar of his shirt and smash their lips together.
*
A few weeks later, Nacho wakes up to find Lalo in the kitchen with a boxcutter in one hand and a small UPS cardboard box in the other.
He leans against the door frame, curious despite himself. “What’s that?”
“A gift, apparently.” Lalo answers with a grin, setting the box on the table. “From Marco and Leonel no less.” He sighs and rolls his eyes fondly. “These boys, I swear… It’s not even my birthday yet!”
He cuts the box open. Nacho watches his eyebrows dart up in surprise as he pulls out a seemingly banal looking coffee mug from it. “So?” he asks with a frown.
Silent, Lalo turns the mug over so that Nacho can read the inscription printed on the front. It’s only one sentence, in rainbow colored capital letters;
NOBODY KNOWS I’M GAY.
Nacho rubs a hand against his mouth to smother his laugh. Lalo looks down at the mug again. “Yeah, I know. A bit over the top, eh?”
There’s an amused smirk on his face, but Nacho notices his eyes are shining with pride.
“It’s kinda sweet actually,” He manages to say between two cackles. “I guess they’re just trying their best to make you happy.”
For some reason, the thought of the twins entering a gift shop to buy a silly little present for their gay cousin cracks him up even more.
He imagines Fring would have a field day with that if he knew.
Lalo pours himself some coffee then takes a seat, propping his feet up on the table and leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. He’s about to bring his new mug to his lips when he catches Nacho staring. “What?” he says, oblivious. “What’s wrong?”
Nacho ignores the fluttering in his chest and just offers him a smile. “Nothing.”
God, he really wished he had a camera on him.