Manuel looks at the figure in the interrogation room and sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s tired as fuck after an entire day of work and the guy sitting there it’s like the cherry on top of a really, really awful cake. He opens the file with the guy’s profile and shakes his head, somehow, he’s already tired of seeing his face.

His partner smiles at him, pats him on the back and tells him to hurry up before it takes any longer. “You want to go home, isn’t it?” Luciano asks, already done with his shift. Manuel glares at him.

“Why are you even a cop?”

He gets into the room before hearing Luciano’s answer and stares at the guy he’s so tired of seeing. “So… we meet again, Prado.”

“Hey there, you’re my favorite cop.” Prado bats his eyelashes at him and sprawls himself all over the table as Manuel cringes at his manners. “This is like… the third time?”

“Exactly, anyone would think you should know how to avoid the cops by now, isn’t it?” Manuel raises a thin eyebrow at him and Miguel laughs.

“What if I just want to see your face?”

“What if I don’t want to see your face?”

Miguel pouts.

“You’re such a spoilsport!”

Manuel wishes he could throw himself out of the window. “Just talk, okay? About whatever the fuck did you do this time.”

“What if I don’t talk?”

“Then we’ll stay here all night.”

Miguel’s smile is the most terrifying thing Manuel has ever seen. And next time he knows, Miguel is standing by his side and whispering some nonsense in his ear. He makes him shudder a little.

“Well, I’m not really busy tonight.”

He’s clad in Armani and it’s like a walking cliché. Luciano has known him since they were both kids, since they were too small to even walk. He even knows how Martín looks on diapers.

And he also knows, they could have had so many things before their paths diverged. Now he knows, he couldn’t have done a thing to change the way things are know, because Martín is a big boy and Luciano isn’t his caretaker. And they are both capable of making their own choices.

Even if Luciano doesn’t really like where they stand now.

“You know,” He says, a drink on his hand as they both sit outside an old bar in a shady alley. “You just robbed a bank and I’ll have to report that. It’s my job.”

He looks at Martín from the corner of his eye and catches his smooth smile. Idiot is drinking scotch, like he had class or something.

“You do your job, I’ll do mine” Martín smiles at him and Luciano puts down his drink, and it’s a challenge. He knows, Martín knows. Their entire relationship is based on knowing.

“We’ll see if you catch me at the end of the day.”

And with a fickle of his lighter and cigarette’s smoke, he’s gone again.