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Miles dips his nose between the silky, soft petals, and takes a deep breath.
Not the best idea. FUCK pollen, he thinks as he pulls away and sneezes.
Grunting as he wipes his nose, he puts the roses aside. He checks over his materials — ribbon, scissors, band-aids (his mami’s recommendation). Perfect.
He takes the first rose, as well as the scissors, and begins cutting the thorns. Careful and slow, but not too slow or he’ll be late for his date.
It takes him about ten minutes to repeat the process for the rest of the roses, and by the end his hands are bloody. So he washes them, puts on the band-aids, wonders if his mami will kill him for using up the 10-piece band-aid package, and shrugs, as he grabs the ribbon and wraps the flowers’ stems with it, making a cute little bow with the ribbon and some embroidery thread he had to ask his mami for.
Setting the bouquet aside, he walks to the kitchen and finds Rio closing the basket with food she prepared for him. He smiles, feeling a bit bad for lying. He told her he needed the picnic basket for a day with his friends, after all.
“Gracias, mami,” Miles grins, trying not to think about that issue, and hugs the woman, who laughs and kisses his cheek.
Rio then caresses his cheek. “No hay problema, mijo, tell your friends I said hello. They’re good kids. Maybe you could invite them home again, that boy Pavitr is great for chit-chat.”
“Ah! Yes, of course, mamá. Pav also thinks that.”
With that, he takes the basket, the bouquet too, his mother kisses his cheek some more, and lets him leave.
Almost.
“Also pull your dress a bit down, Miles! ¡Se te ve todo, niño!”
“¡Perdón!”
…
Miles does not. He likes the dress right over his thighs.
Though he does wonder if it’s too short when he walks out of the portal and Miguel, who’s waiting a few steps away in the futuristic city’s street, looks at him in shock, up and down, and soon looks away as he puts his hand over his head. Breathe, Miguel, breathe.
With a laugh, Miles walks to him, and shyly pulls the bouquet from behind his back.
“You actually did it…”
“I raised them at home! They’re like my sons! I mean, they’ll probably die in a few days, but anyway. Happy very-late Valentines.”
“Sappy,” Miguel jests.
“Sappy,” Miles agrees. "Very."
Then Miguel switches his own basket to his other arm, and takes Miles’ hand before they start walking.
One would think Nueva York doesn’t harbour any good places for a picnic. Miguel has thought beforehand, and, after taking a cab, they arrive at a park. Miles steps out of the car the second it is close to the ground, and chuckles as he hugs Miguel’s bicep. Who knows if he’s bewildered over the sensation of being in a flying car, or if it’s just that Miguel’s biceps look very good in that shirt. It must be a size too small.
The grass is fresh. The air feels relatively good. The trees’ shadow is not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. Overall, Miguel had a very good pick.
Miles immediately set the basket down by the moment they chose a comfy spot, and took a blanket to spread it across the grass. As they both sat, Miguel took a few sandwiches, looking at Miles sheepishly. Miles glared hard.
“You can’t fool me, those aren’t homemade.” Miles smirks, as he takes a bite out of the cheese and ham sandwich. “Knew it.”
Miguel smiled, a bit embarrassed. “And I’m sure you didn’t make yours either.”
“But they ARE homemade.”
“By your mother.”
“My point stands.”
“True. Maybe I should just eliminate homemade stuff from our picnic date.”
“What do you mean– hey, don’t eat them all! Migueeeeel!”
Miles can’t help but laugh as Miguel takes a sandwich out of his basket and begins chewing on it, perhaps a bit too eagerly. He smirks.
“Your mother makes so much good stuff.”
“I know.”
“She made you too.”
“Only ‘good’, then?”
“Gosh, Miles, you want me to be sappy? I’ll be sappy. Pretty, magnificent, fascinating, lovely, handsome, good-looking… Hell, I could keep going.”
Miles snorts. “That’s better. But I think those apply to you too.”
“No, they do not.”
“Yes, they do.”
“On a much smaller scale.”
“On a gigantic scale.”
“Not at all- mmh-!”
Miles smirks as he places his hands at each side of Miguel, leaning forward and kissing him softly. The man falls silent and just kisses back, and by the time they separate, he looks drunken.
“Shut up.”
“Si, señor.”
“Jeez! You’re down bad.”
“I wouldn’t be the only one. You practically panic whenever I hold your waist and just now you were rubbing your face on my muscles, don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Miles frowns. “I hate you.”
“Sure, love.”
They roll their eyes at the same time, then smirk as they continue eating, Miles laying his head on Miguel’s shoulder and pressing wild little pecks on Miguel’s Adam’s apple at least once every two minutes. Bickering like dumbasses is practically routine for them, and honestly? Miguel swears he’s never had that much fun up until now. Just when he had given up on it, Miles just appears and makes him happy again. He can’t help but feel relief.
He gets lost in thought, thinking of good memories, as he holds Miles close to his body.
The boy catches on quickly, leaning to kiss the man on the cheek. “What’s on your mind, Miguel?” He asks, softly, as he shakes off breadcrumbs from his hands before holding Miguel’s face.
The latter smirks, and returns the kiss. “I was thinking you and Gabi would’ve really liked each other.”
“You know maybe she’s still somewhere out there, right? I don’t doubt what you saw, I just think… Maybe that’s not all. Maybe there is a way.”
“It’d be a dream come true.”
Silence befalls them, but they feel at peace. Miguel gets comfier, laying down, the side of his head pressed against Miles’ lap, and he closes his eyes, enjoying their silent bonding. As for Miles, he looks down at Miguel, and his fingertips brush Miguel’s face, but then soon he’s distracted.
“What is it? You have this grin on your face and it tells me something’s up.”
“You’ve got mayonnaise.” Miles chuckles, not able to keep it to himself, as he cleans it from Miguel’s cheek. The man lets out a soft laugh.
There’s more silence. This time, Miguel is falling asleep. How could he not? Miles is just so intent on helping him relax. His hands are so slim, but they feel like heaven when the boy massages his scalp. He sighs, overjoyed, as he opens his eyes a bit to peek at his lover. Miles catches him in the act, quickly leaning down and giving him a peck on the lips.
Then his hands dive down Miguel’s head, down to his neck, gently touching him, adoring him.
He jumps a bit when the man jolts at a certain point, surprised.
“... You did NOT.”
“Let’s… not talk about that.”
“No, I heard that! You laughed!”
Miles feels like he just made the biggest discovery ever. Fuck the conquest of America, this was a million times better.
“I can’t believe you did that. You being ticklish is not something I expected.”
“And something I knew you shouldn’t kno– Miles, no!”
Aaaand he’s unstoppable now. With this new piece of information, the boy immediately begins testing which places feel ticklish to Miguel. The moment he pokes his abs, the man is laughing again, begging him not to, and his laughs are joined by Miles’ the moment Miguel decides it’s payback time and begins tickling him too.
“Okay, okay! My belly hurts!”
“Mine does too, Miles, you little brat.”
“I had to! It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!” Miles retorts between laughs, with a few tears in his eyes.
They giggle a bit more before, testing the waters, Miles lays his head on Miguel’s lap now.
Once it seems like they’ve calmed down, Miles chuckles. “I can’t promise I won’t tell the guys.”
“No, please don’t. The moment either Hobart, Pavitr or Gwen find out I’m going to die. Don’t tell Peter either.”
Miles pouts.
“Fine, they’ll be able to hear that laugh nobody but you and Gabriela have ever heard.”
“Oh! Then no! It’s my special treasure! You’re mine!” Miles immediately jumps up, wrapping his arms around Miguel’s neck.
“You’re mine, too.”
They both laugh, this time more quietly, before reaching for another kiss. Miles is indeed panicking soon over how Miguel squeezes his waist, bringing him close, but he feels comfortable in his embrace. Their kiss grows into a slow, tender make-out session, lasting for a few minutes… Until Miguel opens his eyes the second he hears a camera go off. Glaring aside, he rolls his eyes when he notices Miles was just taking a selfie.
“Really?”
“Really. I miss you when I’m in my universe, love.”
Miguel chuckles. “Alright. Send it to me.”
Miles giggles, and presses on the home button, looking for his message app, and Miguel watches the screen over his shoulder.
“What even is that background?”
“It’s a moose!”
“I mean, yeah, but why do you have a moose as your phone background?”
“I like mooses!”
“...Fair enough.”
The conversation dissipates between little laughs, and soon Miguel feels his own phone vibrate in his pocket when Miles has sent the pictures.
This must be what heaven feels like.