Waking up to weird sounds in the middle of the night is never a good sign. Some may think that there is a burglar somewhere in the house, others would run to the kitchen to get the salt in case of a demon attack. But not him. He did not get scared easily, he was part of the biggest fucking heist of all time for God's sake. What would the others think if he jumped at every sound the floor made?
Reaching his arm out he found the other side of the bed empty. It was still a little warm. Oh, nature's call must have reached his husband. Nothing to be worried about.
He pulled his arm back under the blanket to keep it warm and made himself more comfortable. Even with the curtains closed the light of the full moon helped him see the outline of every object in the spacious room, the faces of their little family were smiling down at him from the pictures on the wall. Still half asleep he turned towards the nightstand, turned the lamp on and checked the time. 1:26 AM. Martín decided to go back to sleep, Mirko was quite capable to find his way back to their bedroom, no need to wait for him. Turning the lamp off he laid down and pulled the blanket up to his neck. It was a rather unneeded action, and he knew it quite well since even in his sleep he clung to Mirko's warm body like an octopus, the blanket almost always ending up on the bigger man's side.
When he finally found a comfortable position the humming noise of a microwave reached his ears. There is no way he would be able to pick up the noises coming from the kitchen before the injuries but ever since he lost most of his sight in the Bank of Spain his hearing became better and better. Maybe he was unable to tell what someone's expression was without looking right at them but their voice and the way they spoke was more than enough for Martín to know what they were thinking. Getting used to seeing with only one eye - blurred images on the right side - was no joke. Not being able to read a sentence without help, writing and calculating equations when you couldn't see the numbers properly... Back then Martín felt like a fucking waste of time, a mockery of a human being. Even with Mirko - sweet, lovely, kind Mirko - by his side, he fell so deep into depression that he was unable to feel anything beyond rapidly changing rage and helplessness. He tried to get out of the hole life and he himself created exclusively for him but it looked impossible until that one specific day when Mirko turned on the TV to watch football - the last match of the season - and Martín was able to hear faintly the voices all the way back in their bedroom.
It was like a slap given by fate itself, a sign that things aren't that bad when you look at them from a different angle. With time memories change, blur together, at least that's what people say, but that one particular memory stayed with Martín through the years and he doubted that it will ever fade.
It was then when everything started to change for the better. The memory started to resurface and the fact that he was unable to fall asleep as fast as he thought made him unlock the lock on the door that held the precious and life-changing moment. He could still feel the rapid beat of his heart as he realised that with losing most of his sight he gained the ability to hear things differently. A stunned Martín sat on the bed, closed his eyes and listened. Through the open window, he could hear the birds singing a joyful melody in perfect synchronization with the tender wind, the peaceful sound disturbed by a lonely motorcycle passing by. Sitting on the bed in complete silence he finally heard that one voice he was waiting for. Mirko and his quite loud celebration as the Spanish team scored.
Chuckling to himself Martín stood up, his eyes opening on their own. Leaving the bedroom he made his way to the living room door as quietly as possible. Standing there he looked at the big guy with whom he paired up after the gang got out of the bank. Mirko was a blur in his damaged eyes just like everybody else, and still, his face was the only one that Martín could remember just as perfectly as Andrés'. Every little detail was burnt into his mind and treasured more than the gold they had stolen.
A minute passed, then two, and all of a sudden Mirko jumped up waving with his hands angrily, saying something Martín couldn't understand in quick Serbian.
„Please, tell me they're cheating,“ said Martín with a grin on his lips.
Not knowing about the other's presence, Mirko startled and turned around to look at Martín, surprise written all over his face. Football wasn't something the smaller of the two disliked but he never sat down willingly to watch it, he found it boring. Sitting around and waiting for the goal? No, thank you very much. Martín would rather do something pleasurable and then get informed of the result.
„The enemy, they are winning.“
There it was again, that strange realisation that Martín was able to tell what Mirko's face would look like. His voice was full of disappointment even though his face was a smudge surrounded with white light. Martín couldn't hold in – and didn't even want to – a wide, teeth showing smile. For the first time in a while, he felt happy, whole. He was almost blind but gained a different kind of sight.
Without letting his brain catch on he took the few steps that separated him from Mirko and holding his face kissed him with all the devotion he was unable to give before.
As the memory came to an end Martín realised that almost ten minutes passed by but Mirko was still nowhere to be seen and that the microwave was silent for a long time. This meant only one thing. Slipping out of the bed Martín made his way to the kitchen. He did not feel the need to put on anything, he had pyjama pants and let's be honest, Mirko only slept in single underwear. As he got closer he saw light seep out of the kitchen and heard voices. Not one to disturb a father-son bonding moment he looked inside just to see Mirko and Nikola both downing a mug of hot cocoa.
„I can't believe you two are leaving me out of the party,“ Martín stepped inside just to see the two jump in surprise, „Wow, I have never been this offended in my life.“
What would he give to have a camera with him? Honestly, anything. Martín didn't need perfect sight to see the fumbling of the two as they tried to get rid of the evidence. Their little Quito was just as quick-witted as his fathers, he drank the remaining drink as fast as he could while Mirko was scratching his beard while chuckling softly.
„Nikola had trouble with sleeping,“ said Mirko still with a smile on his face.
„Because of the moon, papá! It's too bright.“
Martín started to open his mouth but shut it just as quickly because, damn, the kid was right. If it bothered even him he couldn't imagine what it was like for Mirko and Nikola. Instead of thinking about an answer he walked to the fridge and took out the milk. Getting a glass from the shelf he poured some for himself than turned to the other two and offered them some more.
„Drinks, check. We need snacks and what party doesn't have some music?“ grinned Martín.
Realization downed quickly and Nikola started to squeal in happiness.
„We're having a party!“ shouted the little boy, „Tatá, can we have the pizza from dinner?“
Mirko laughed and hugged both of them and with his strong arms around the two he picked them up in a bearhug. The only problem with that was the glass that Martín was still holding, the milk pouring on Mirko's head and finally arriving to the floor thanks to Lady Gravitation. Nikola and Martín burst out in laughter while Mirko put them down. He shook his head just as the two wanted to get away from the mess and the milk that got stuck in his beard splashed all over the place.
„For fuck's sake, Mirko, you're not a bear but a dog!“ shouted Martín still trying to stop laughing.
„Oh, papá said the F word!“
At this Mirko mimicked a bear standing on his hind legs, holding his arms in front of him with his fingers curled like claws. Trying to roar as a real bear didn't work out as well as he thought it will but the others still understood the message. Nikola ran around the kitchen island trying to get as far from his father as he could while Martín stood his ground. He put down the glass with the remaining milk and straightened his back like the commander that he was.
„I wouldn't try that if I were you, Helsinki,“ he said in a low tone.
„Really?“ asked the Serbian.“Try me, Palermo.“
They looked at each other for a moment than all hell broke loose. Helsinki, still acting like a wild bear, launched at Palermo who quickly got out of his way and shouted to Nikola:
„Run for cover, Quito, activate plan Budapest!“
There was no need for more words, little Quito saluted, shouted „plan Budapest“, and ran out of the kitchen up to his room to make a fort out of his bed. The two adults didn't stop their act either. They kept circling around the island, one on both sides. Helsinki growled louder so Nikola would hear it too and once the boy was on the second floor he launched into attack. With milk making the floor slippery it was easy for him to catch Palermo around the waist. Using the smaller man's speed for his own advantage he pulled his husband towards himself until they were back to chest, ass to crotch. Helsinki's Achilles heel was Palermo's neck, he loved to bite or, like now, kiss the soft skin. His lips travelled upwards until he left a soft, tender kiss behind the other's ear, making the smaller one of the two shiver. Not one to give up easily, Palermo pushed back then with a strong pull tried to get out of the arms holding him prisoner. When that didn't work he decided on a different tactic.
Turning around in Helsinki's arms he embraced the bigger man and pushed his right leg between the others to make them slip with him on top but just before he could give the first push Helsinki leaned down and bit the soft skin where neck met shoulders. It wasn't painful enough to draw blood but more than enough to make Palermo go limp in his arms. He got him. That one spot was like a button on the Argentinian, you only needed to push it right in order to get the results you wanted.
One strong arm left Palermo's waist and travelled downwards right into the pyjama pants. Helsinki caressed the soft skin right above the hardening erection, not yet touching. Panting, Palermo opened his eyes, when did he close them, he had no clue, and looked right into blue ones.
From there, things went smoothly. Sex was a well-practised activity between the two, they communicated their needs without hesitation and gave whatever the other desired. Having a 3-year-old awake in the middle of the night made some things impossible but dawn was still far away. Lips met, hands caressed, backs arched, legs trembled. Moans and whispers got muffled but for Palermo, they were clearer than anything ever.
Quick sex always made them desire more, this time was no different. Lidded eyes stared into the other pair, one of each of their hands were covered in cum.
„So, plan Budapest?“ Murmured Mirko, their lips so close to each other that Martín could feel each little puff of breath.
„Best idea I had the whole day,“ Martín answered with a smug one-sided grin on his face, his arms coming up to embrace Mirko around the neck, careful with his sticky hand. The bigger of the two only nodded and smiled. A very good idea indeed.
„Quick romp in the kitchen. Was this todays „boom, boom, ciao“?“
„It's past 2:00 AM, mi amor. We already said „ciao“ to yesterday,“ Martín thought aloud, „Why don't we help Nikola to fall asleep than have a proper, long „boom, boom“, hm?“
Mirko couldn't help but laugh. After the heist the other members of the gang were concerned, they found the idea of the Serbian and the Argentinian leaving together a real nightmare, especially Tokio, who called Palermo a crazy fucker who didn't deserve to break someone as loving as Helsinki. Even the Professor had his doubts and asked Mirko to have a private conversation with him. They talked about the past, about what happened in the Bank, and about the future Mirko was envisioning. At first, the Professor just listened letting Helsinki speak his mind but then he made the other listen. Of course, he cared for both Palermo and Helsinki, he didn't want any of the two to get hurt so he told the whole truth about Andrés' and Martín's involvement with each other. How they planned everything, how Martín was there for Andrés through thick and thin. Only when he finished their story did he realise that it was not his to tell but realised with surprise that Helsinki knew. Palermo told him everything.
The Professor, the gang. Only if their family could see them now, living in this house surrounded by beautiful land, having a son who will be just as badass as his relatives.
„Boom, boom, it is.“