A/N: shameless fluff, because everyone's been so kind about my 'Monochrome Morals' fic. so i thought i'd do something along a similar line, sort of meta like yknow miguel's thoughts on tulio, only with a happier tone. and, yknow...less meta. enjoy!
Miguel lived life to the maximum. He learnt by experience. He didn't talk about what he was going to do, or watch someone do it for him. He went and did it.
He chased the world as it went by, never sat back and let it turn before his eyes. Because that wasn't who he was.
He didn't watch, he did.
This applied to everything in his life, almost. His hopes and dreams, his travelling, every con he had ever tried - and failed - to pull, even what he wanted to have for lunch. The list went on.
In fact, there was only one true exception to this 'golden rule'.
Sometimes, when he knew nobody was looking - or, more likely, there was no one there to look - Miguel would pause for a moment. He'd stop chasing the world for a second, take a step back, and be still. He'd sit and he'd watch for a minute, he'd observe rather than diving head first into the situation. He'd just...watch. Because there was one thing that was just better that way.
Tulio dragged his hand over his cheek, his fingers moving to rub tiredly at the back of his neck. It was such a familiar gesture, so very Tulio.
Miguel leant his chin on his hand, resting his elbow comfortably on his knee. He'd grown to recognise those kind of gestures, the little motions and habits that were entirely insignificant to anyone else. He'd noticed them soon after the two had become partners, officially. Then Miguel had been able to recognise them, memorise them, and eventually come to love them.
It was comforting to pause like this, even just for a second, and watch.
Tulio's skin had darkened slightly in the sun, despite the almost constant cover of the trees. Back in Spain he could have almost passed as pale, but the warmth of Seville didn't even compare to the heat of the jungle. He'd started to develop more stubble, too, a darker shadow across his jaw. His fingernails scratched at it absent-mindedly as he looked down at his reflection in the pool below him.
Miguel wasn't the only one to notice then.
The dark haired man scooped the warm water into his cupped palms, splashing it onto his face and rubbing the dirt from his skin. That was something Miguel recognised.
Despite Tulio living what could only be considered on the streets, moving from place to place, the man had always kept himself relatively clean. Even before they'd been close. Tulio always washed his face when he could, always dragging his partner to the nearest source of water if they'd found themselves in a particularly stick situation and had had to escape through, let's say, 'non-conventional' routes. Such as drainage canals, for example.
Miguel huffed a soft laugh at that memory.
When he looked back, two blue eyes were eyeing him suspiciously. The blond smiled widely as the man straightened up to face him.
Tulio raised an eyebrow, as if expecting his partner to say something. He got no such response. Shaking his head, the Spaniard tried something else, raising his hand and making 'give' motion with his fingers.
"Clothes." He ordered fondly, "Now."
Miguel gave a dramatic sigh, rolling his shoulder as he pouted.
"God, you sound like my mother."
"And you stink like the rear-end of a swine." Tulio drawled, his brow creasing, "I can handle a lot of things, Miguel, but sleeping next to someone with monkey shit on their only set of clothes crosses a certain line."
"Well, it's not like you smell any better." The blond huffed stubbornly, even as he began peeling off his clothes.
"Charming." His partner droned, his hand motions becoming more insistent, "Clothes, please."
Miguel tried to act disgruntled as he yanked off his trousers, belt discarded to one side. He scrunched up the garment with the rest, underwear included as he planted the bundle in his partner's arm. The man smiled knowingly, nodding his approval.
"Much obliged."
Tulio dumped the pile to one side, beginning to peel off his own clothes. They were sticky with sweat, infested with whatever Hellish insects has managed to weave their way into the fabric. The pair had even taken to checking their shoes in the mornings, for fear they would find some unwanted guest inside.
"The clothes aren't the worst thing." Miguel said, leaning back against one of the trees, "Itchy as they are."
He got a non-committed hum in response, his partner already crouching over the water to scrub the offending garments. The blond tilted his head ever so slightly to get a better view of the man's naked body.
"It's my face." Miguel continued, "It itches terribly."
"Mnn. Yes, your face always has caused people discomfort like that."
The blond let out a bark of laughter, sitting up to glare at the bare back of his partner in offence. Tulio looked over his shoulder to flash him a grin. Miguel couldn't keep his smile down as it spread across his face.
"You wound me, Tulio." He huffed out, trying to act offended as he leant back against the tree once more, "I was talking about my beard."
"Miguel, I think an itchy beard is the least of our worries right now."
"But it's so irritating!" Miguel whined, drawing out the word with a pained expression, "It's like having my jaw rubbed into Altivo's behind!"
Tulio had straightened up now, having finished his washing. He'd pulled his wet shirt over his head, letting it cling to his skin as he slung his trousers and waistcoat over a nearby branch.
"Mnn." He hummed, "Fascinating."
"I'm serious!" The blond cried, watching his partner hang up his garments to dry as well, "It's terrible! I can't cope!"
At this, Miguel put the back of his hand to his forehead, swooning as if in a dramatic theatre scene. He fell back against the tree trunk, his face an expression of despair.
"Help me, Tulio." He whined, "I fear I will die of beard-rash!"
Cracking open an eye, the blond saw the look of frustration his partner sent him. He smiled as Tulio rolled his eyes, moving back towards the pool. Miguel folded his hands behind his head, content to continue his watching.
His dark haired friend had busied himself with some other task, crouching by the water as his hands moved rapidly before him. The soaked fabric of his shirt hung off him in torrents, making the man seem even thinner than he already was. The outline of his spine could be seen, his damp ponytail failing to hide its form curving down his back.
Miguel found himself straightening up as Tulio finally stood, turning to approach his partner. The blond was almost disappointed that the oversized garment the man wore hung to his thighs, obscuring anything of a particular nature from view.
The blond sat forward, cross-legged and unashamed as his partner moved to sit in front of him. The bowl of strange goo and the ancient - though now clean - machete that Tulio held finally came into view as he got himself comfortable on the jungle floor.
Miguel took the items in before raising a hopeful eyebrow at the man before him.
"If I slice your face," Tulio said firmly, holding up the large blade between them, "It's on your head. Are we clear?"
"Crystal." The blond laughed, a smile cracking open across his face once more.
The taller of the two nodded, lowering the machete.
Miguel went back to his observing then, leaving his partner to work. He supposed this was the best time to sit for a moment and watch, what with him being forced to keep perfectly still. Tulio's firm swats to his arm made sure of that, every time his shoulders shook with a snigger.
It was pleasant, the blond was reminded, having his partner's full and undivided attention on him. A quiet moment to watch the man concentrate, take in the determined crease in his brow and slight squint of his eyes as he focused on applying the slime to Miguel's jaw.
It was something very few - if anyone - would ever see up close; Tulio concentrating on a task, without the underlying panic of him having to think of something in a hurry. No pressure, just focus. Miguel could follow the man's eyes, watch his nose crinkle ever so slightly as he made the first slice across the skin with the ancient sword. It didn't hurt, but the blond knew it wouldn't.
Miguel could see his partner relax, become more confident in his work after successfully not drawing blood on his first try. His fingers were firm when turning his partner's head, making sure he was at the right angle to shave, but they were never rough. That was Tulio, though, wasn't it. Firm, with his harsh words and bouts of bitterness. But never rough.
And Miguel always liked that, knew he always would as he watched his partner wipe the blade on his shirt, cleaning off the goo and hair before he continued.
Miguel would always like Tulio.
The dark haired Spaniard swiped his tongue across his finger - something that the blond did not miss in the slightest, though it brought him out of his daydream effectively - using the digit to wipe some excess muck from his partner's cheek. Tulio sat back then, leaning on his hands as he rested his weight behind him. He observed his work, the pleased grin on his face and nod of approval making Miguel's heart flutter.
"Better?" The man asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Much." Miguel chuckled, his hand already moving over his now smooth jaw, coming to his chin to scratch at his usual beard. Even that had been trimmed, back to how he liked it. It seemed he wasn't the only one who noticed things about his partner.
A frustrated curse brought the blond back to his sense. He lifted his head, eyebrows raised in question as he looked to his partner.
"Great." Tulio huffed bitterly, though there was a smile hidden behind the words as he gestured to the smears on his shirt, "Now I'll have to wash this again."
Miguel couldn't help his laughter.
A/N: i have nothing to say, i just though this was cute. thanks for reading, and i hope you enjoyed this drabble!