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grecoisms · 5 days ago

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title: sobremesa (10/20)

pairing: lalo salamanca x female oc

rating: M

chapter summary:

“You had a favorite subject?”

“Math”

“Why?” Christ hated Math because his teacher was an ass.

“Had a talent for numbers” he said, winking.

It was incredible for Chris that Lalo had an answer to everything.

“ Remember. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

Stephen King ; The Shawshank Redemption

From the start, Mom was trying her best to be brave.

But Chris could see through her mask.

When frightened, Mom had a habit of tapping her thumb on her ring finger. Chris first noticed the tick at the vigil, when Uncle Tom went to talk to her. His voice was low, his jaw was set. Grim, he would not meet Mom’s eyes. After the funeral, they did not did not see him again. Is Uncle Tom angry , Ella asked, not noting how Mom bit her tongue before answering. But Chris did. It was another habit of Mom. Something she did before trying to soften the blow. Telling Ella, face drawn – I’m sorry, baby, he won’t call for a while .

For a while was something adults liked to use instead of never .

Mrs Sill, for instance, always said to him: Chris, you should not speak for a while. His head teacher often threw him a disappointed look when he raised his hands, asking yet again something completely “unrelated to the lesson”.

To be honest, not many teachers liked him. Milo and he made a list with bullet points. They called it Reasons Teachers Hate Chris .

The list was the following:

Chris asked too many questions. – He was just curious. Wasn’t that the point?

Chris could read fast, but not read things aloud – The words would merge into a line and then disintegrate as he read. The only teacher who noticed this and did not ask him to read was Miss Irmans, the Geography teacher. (Because of this, and the fact she taught him about General Sherman (the 275-foot-tall tree!), he thought she was the bestestest teacher in the whole school. Possibly the world.)

Chris�� handwriting was “ugly as a sin” – Chris was left-handed. The quote was taken from Mr. Grant, verbatim. The comment hurt.

Chris once activated the sprinkler system – In his defense, he was just showing Milo how to make fire by hitting two random rocks together. The fire alarm was way too sensitive. At the end of the day, he liked to think of it as something borne of honest enthusiasm.

Chris once took a lizard to class – Nepomuk, the beautiful sagebrush lizard, who Chris christened during recess, jumped on Mrs Sill five minutes into Math Class. Chris was standing in front of the whiteboard. The lizard jumped right onto Mrs Sill’s head. First, she was screaming at the lizard. Then, she was screaming at Chris.

Chris’ father died – You may think that made you sympathetic. But pity was more the word for it. Pity and apprehension. As if Chris had carried something nasty to school in his backpack after his father had died. Milo wagered this was because adults were older, and were closer to death, and Chris reminded them of their morality. Or was it mortality?

Christ didn’t mind the dislike. Not really. But he felt awful when they called Mom on the phone.

And they always called her if he got in trouble.

When he was the source of trouble.

Yes , in Mrs Sill’s cyanide-blue office, Chris was made to stand in the corner behind a doorlight, watching as his teacher called his mom, mouthing the words; Yes, I’m afraid he is still struggling.

Easter Monday, a month ago, he looked up the word in the dictionary. Children’s Thesaurus. Even though he did not feel like a kid anymore.

to struggle (verb), having a hard time doing something.

Hard time . Sounded bad.

Now, mid-May afternoon, Saturday, with the arms of the sun licking shadows onto the kitchen, watching this stranger wash the plates at the sink while humming a tune, Chris wondered if Lalo ever had a hard time doing something.

“You liked school?”

Humming still, Lalo didn’t answer right away. He finished rinsing the plates and stacked them onto the dish rack. One after the other, he stacked them – neat and slow. Then, while reaching for the dishcloth, he finally turned.

“Liked school?” he sounded puzzled. A smile was playing on his lips. As if Chris sitting at the kitchen table, homework open, phone ready, was the single most amusing thing he had ever seen in his life.

To Chris, it seemed like Lalo was always smiling.

He had a lot of smile-types though.

Smile-categories .

The smile he threw at Chris now was mild. Smile in the making.

“Nah” he said at last, shaking his head. The light seeping through the slim-small windows caught the grays in his hair and turned them silver. The smile shifted into a grin – so wide it turned the sides of his mouth tight. “Thought it was a waste of time.”

Chris grinned back. Today, he found out that Lalo was not a bad person to hang out with. That he was, in fact, fun . Ella and he – they could just about ask anything from him.

“You had a favorite subject?”

“Math”

“Why?” Christ hated Math because his teacher was an ass.

“Had a talent for numbers” the strange man said, winking.

It was incredible for Chris that Lalo had an answer to everything .

“When did you start having gray hairs?” asked Ella, after Mom left and they finished cleaning the table.

“Ay, enana , after I did not eat my veggies.”

“No, reallyyyy .”

“Huh, lemme think… Bit before I turned forty.”

“How old are you, Lel -, sorry, Lalo.”

“Can you guess?” Lalo replied, but Ella was already dragging him across the living room by the arm. To Toto, in the hutch.

“Do you like rabbits?”

“¡ Por supuesto !”

The rabbit was strangely alert as they held her up. Mouth curling into a careful sort of smile, Lalo took Toto in his arms. A funny sight. A small fleck of fur in a big set of hands.

“How old is she?” Lalo asked after inspecting the rabbit’s eyes.

“Eleven” Chris interjected. “Like me”

Lalo held up the squirming rabbit to his face.

“¿ Eres una chulada viejita , no ?” he purred.

Then, looking at Chris, he added.

“You look older, capitán. ”

It sounded like a compliment. It sounded like an invitation to ask more.

“Where did you learn to cook so well?”

“My abuelita taught me.”

“Who?”

“My grandmother.”

“Does she live near?”

“She used to.”

“What’s her name?”

“Elvia Adela”

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have a lot of cousins”

Lalo kind of dodged this question, Chris noted. But that was okay. Each time his mobile phone buzzed with a text from Mom, Lalo pretended not to notice though the sound was loud so it was impossible not to. Chris knew that Lalo knew. That Mom was checking on them. Checking whether Lalo was reliable. But he didn’t make an issue out of it.

For this, too, he was cool.

“How many cousins?”

Lalo’s mouth twitched. So did his mustache.

“ Demasiados . Too many to count.”

He was still holding the rabbit, petting it absentmindedly.

Chris narrowed his eyes.

“Do you have rabbits?” he asked, feeling Ella straighten next to him.

Lalo leaned down to them.

“You two keep secrets?” his voice was hushed.

They nodded.

“Pinky promise?” Lalo asked, holding out his little finger which was longer than Ella’s and Chris’ little finger linked together.

They shook on it. First Ella, then Chris. That seemed enough.

“I don’t have rabbits” Lalo’s voice turned to a whisper. “But I have horses.”

He could not believe his ears. Turned to his sister to see if she bought the story. And sure enough, Ella’s eyes were as round as dollar coins.

“What, like… real horses?” Chris was still skeptical. Horses cost a lot of money.

“Real horses” Lalo nodded sagely. “Around five.”

Ella grabbed his wrist again.

“Do you braid their hair? What color are they? Oh and –”

And so on.

So many were the questions and answers that Chris had nearly forgotten to write to Mom every half an hour. The day, like Lalo, was fun.

They watched Cinderella during which Ella asked Lalo if he could braid her hair. Lalo refused outright, saying she should ask her mother first because he might mess up her hair. Then after the movie, Lalo made them food again: rice pudding with honey and cinnamon – they were just about to eat when the phone rang.

Lalo’s.

He motioned them to eat as he stepped outside the kitchen, his Spanish lilting, short, like the call itself. It was over within three minutes. Chris was counting the time on the clock above their heads, his eyes following the cat whiskers as they turned round and round again.

When he came back, Lalo seemed smug.

“ Jefe, ” He had a different name for Christopher in store. “When you finish, we go to clean the garage a bit. Save your mamá some time, huh?”

Chris frowned into his pudding which was very sweet.

“Why bother?” he mumbled. “We don’t go in there.”

“I can come!” chirped Ella, in tandem with his protest.

There it was again , Christ noted. The strange smile. This smile of Lalo’s did not reach his eyes. Not really. Chris saw it first yesterday: when Lalo talked with the policemen when they wanted to see the house. When Chris said goodbye to Tim.

Lalo was still smug, but the smugness had some strain in it. A shadow.

He turned to Ella first.

“ Muñeca , your dress is too pretty. Your mom, huh , she’ll kill me if I get some dirt on it. Now – he gestured towards Toto in her hutch before Ella could open her mouth to protest – what you will do is feed that pobrecita and then find those gel pens you told me about and put them in order. So when I come back, we can color the book on your desk together. ¿ Va ?”

Tempted by the prospect of coloring animals together and not alone, Ella agreed.

Lalo turned to him next.

“I have a surprise ready,” he said evenly. “And we need to make space in the garage for it.”

Chris felt his pulse quicken. His eyes darted toward the window. The sunny street behind the glass.

Was someone here?

If anything strange happens, call me.

Mom, frightened, reluctant to leave.

Do you understand?

As if reading in his mind, Lalo spoke before he could even glance toward the general direction of the phone.

“Chris?”

He nodded as a reflex.

His phone was not on the table.

Did he leave it on the sofa while watching the movie?

“Christopher.”

The older man’s voice was still light but it did not bear any objection. It was impossible not to look up into his face.

“Your mamá” Lalo’s eyes were densely dark, like a pit. “She knows about the surprise. It’s a car. She and I… we talked about it.”

That sounded odd , but perhaps Mom forgot to mention it.

“Wanna call her?” Lalo continued airily. “Even if she’s busy, she’s gonna pick up.”

True. She would pick up immediately, fearing the worst. Bad news. Again!

I’m afraid he is still struggling …

Silent, Ella’s eyes were darting back and forth between them.

“No” Chris’s throat was tight. “I’ll help.”

One moment he was still watching Lalo tapping his fingers on the table as he finished his bowl, the next, he was trailing him to the narrow corridor leading to the garage. In the half-dark, he caught the outline of the bracelet on his ankle, blinking blue, like a toy and blinking fast, because Lalo was lithe on his feet.

“Ta-da!” his voice boomed as he opened the door.

Better to get this over with , Chris thought though he lingered at the door for a moment.

Inside, it was just as he remembered. Air sweet and sharp with the smell of oil around, space slightly cooler than the house. A cramped space. Small and gray and sad .

“See those boxes? We need to move them closer to our side.”

Lalo was unfortunately pointing the boxes on the left. The Box included. He nearly winced .

“What’s up, capitán ?” Lalo followed his gaze, sharp. “See something strange?”

“It’s…” how to explain? “My d-dad’s stuff is in there.”

Silence.

Chris looked down, toeing the hard concrete with the sole of his shoe.

His chest felt strange - like someone had put weights on it.

“Is he dead?” he heard Lalo ask, and his voice was almost… curious?

He nodded.

“Recent?”

He shook his head.

“More than a year?”

A nod.

Lalo hummed. Chris could also hear him moving, see him crouching at the edge of his vision.

“You want me to move it – or do you want to do it?”

His head snapped up.

Sure enough, Lalo was crouching right before the box, hand hovering just before the letter ‘M’. His face was dimmed again.

“It needs to be moved either way, Cristóbal. Somewhere seguro . You can start with it. Might make the rest of the work easy.”

He pointed towards the other side, to the space between the jam shelf and the stairs. Intact.

“There.”

“C-can we… can you help?” the words tumbled out of nowhere.

There was no smile this time. Only a blank expression and a black gaze.

Then a nod. Once. And Chris felt a relief so great he felt faint.

Motioning him closer, Lalo had some instructions.

“You listening?” and only when he was sure he was, he continued. “I’ll see how heavy it is first, but when we lift it, make sure you crouch. No lifting when you are still standing ‘cause it’s gonna fucking hurt. Show me your grip.”

And he checked how strong it was.

“ No está mal ” he hummed and then waved Chris away to test the weight of the box.

Heart thundering, Christ watched as Lalo reached under it.

And noticed, for the first time, that he was left-handed.

Like him.

That made the weights on his chest a bit lighter.

“Okay, it’s not bad” Lalo thumbed his mustache before grabbing the box again. “ Ándale – crouch down!”

Despite Chris being slow (partly because Lalo kept navigating in half-Spanish) they didn’t have to stop (not even once!) not even when he made the wrong turn and almost crashed into the camping boots.

It was true, what he said. Once they put the box away down, it was easier. Once he caught his breath, it was easier to talk, too.

“T-they said he was drunk” he blurted out.

Lalo was already focused on the next step: eyeing the rest of the boxes. Keen on finishing the task, probably. Mom was like that.

But when he spoke, he saw Lalo tilting his head back. Saw his eyes narrow.

“He crashed his car near the train station, up North. They said he was drunk.” the weights on his chest reappeared. “Mom wouldn’t tell me if that’s true.”

Lalo’s gaze was a heavy thing.

“I lost my papá early too,” he said, almost softly. He was watching Chris through half-lidded eyes as if stuck in a thought. “I was nine when he died.”

This was such a coincidence that Chris forgot his sadness for a second.

“Your dad died?”

“ Sí .”

“Did he…” It felt wrong to ask, but this was Lalo, and Lalo had an answer to everything. “Did he die in a car crash like my dad?”

This time, however, Lalo’s face did something real strange – it was not his strange smile. In fact, he did not smile at all.

It was more like his face folded on itself and closed off to show a shadow instead of a man.

He is angry with me, Chris thought with panic, but then Lalo broke into a grin again.

“ Nah ” he smiled the shade away. “He was just careless .”

Careless… what does that mean?

“Come on, capitán ” Lalo put his hand on his shoulder and shook it a bit. “We gotta move the boxes but we can talk while we do it.”

“O-okay!” he was eager to talk and happy that Lalo wasn’t angry, after all. That was good. Great, even. “Did you move a lot of boxes when you were young?”

“Tons” Lalo's laughter reverberated from the walls. “Now… how about a game?”

“A game?” repeated Chris as he followed him to the boxes.

“Yeah, you see…” Lalo brushed his hair back from his face before crouching. “You know so much about me already, but I don’t know anything. You think you could help me out, jefe ?”

“Oh… sure. Ask away!” said Chris and crouched to help Lalo with the boxes and his questions.

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x oc #better call saul fic #bcs #my writing #yes. this is a chapter about lalo manipulating the SHIT out of children. as one would.

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