Actually Really Sweet - Blog Posts

santiago garcia- love at first sight

Summary: Will and Benny bring over Frankie and Santiago for dinner. For Santiago, it’s love at first sight. (~3k)

Contents: no smut, fluffy and fun, fem reader, sexual implications and jokes, this whole thing is group banter and flirting with Santiago, reader had one night with Benny a long time ago

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You almost kick the four of them out of your house. Almost.

Will had immediately picked up a football that your nephews had left at your house, thrown it to Benny, and broken a lamp.

Benny had made himself a cold cut sandwich and eaten half, even though he knew you were making them a huge welcome dinner.

Frankie got the other half of the sandwich. He’d apologized, but he’d still eaten it.

And then there was Santiago.

When Benny said he was stopping by for the night, you were thrilled. He said Will might come. Great. And surprise, two other guys are coming by too.

Everyone was welcome, you’d said. You had a spare room, an office with a pullout couch, and a living room sofa. You knew how to cook for an army ha ha fucking ha.

Francisco Morales, who is tall and shaggy and adorable.

Santiago Garcia, who is not as tall, in no way shaggy, and looks at you like you’re covered in gravy, and he’s going to eat you all the way up.

You kick them all out into the backyard.

On his way out, Santiago dares, he dares, to pretend he doesn’t have enough room to get by you while you’re at the stove. Has to lay his hand on the small of your back to squeeze by.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

You tap the wooden spoon on the side of the spicy corn you’re frying. You point it at him. “You’re not fooling anyone, Garcia. Keep your mitts to yourself.”

He grins. He tilts his head like, you don’t want that. We both know it.

You jump when Benny’s big hand lands on your shoulder. “Oooh, sweetheart, that smells amazing. Gonna finally put some hair on Pope’s chest with that,” he says.

You look Santiago up and down. “You smooth like a Ken doll?”

He licks his lips, chin tilted up slightly. “Not everywhere.”

His dark, brown eyes lock onto yours. You look away first. Damn.

Benny reaches out and shoves Santiago’s shoulder. Half good-natured, half a little too hard.

“I told you not to flirt with her. She’s already doing all of this for us. She doesn’t need you slobbering all over the back of her neck.” Benny reaches for a roll, fresh from the oven, and you smack his hand. He hisses and shakes it out. “Be nice or I’ll tell Pope how you and I met.”

You shoot him a warning glare.

“I want two rolls before dinner,” Benny says, always angling for more food.

“No, you wait like everyone else.” You slide the basket further away from him.

Benny pauses, then looks at Santiago. “We had sex on prom night. We weren’t even each others’ dates. Which is also why she’s off limits to you. The four of us have a strict bro’s before-“

You clear your throat. “Rethink the end of that phrase, Miller Two. Or you’ll be eating saltine crackers on the side of the road.”

Benny grins. He puts his hands up and backs away.

“Out, both you,” you say.

Benny leaves, but Santiago slides up next to you. He stops short of actually touching you, but you can almost feel his body heat. The scent of him makes your mouth water.

“Let me help you,” he says, smooth and even. “I’m a good cook. I promise.”

Knowing he probably won’t leave you alone, you give him the spoon. At least this way, he’ll be occupied. “Stir that. Don’t burn my corn,” you say.

“I’d never let anything bad happen to your corn.” He stirs slowly, watching the pan. “I hope I get to eat a huge helping of your corn later. I’m sure your corn is fucking delicious.”

Corn should not be sexual.

But you guess Santiago Garcia never met a word he couldn’t make sound like an orgasm waiting to happen.

He shoots a glance at you from the corner of his eye.

Yup. He knows what he’s doing.

With a huff, you check the double-ovens. You’ve made not one, not two, but three pot roasts. And mashed potatoes. And stuffed onions. And the corn and rolls.

You figured four grown-men back from the jungle would ensure no leftovers. Also, you were glad to see Benny and Will alive and mostly uninjured and this was how you expressed happiness.

Although Will seemed to wince when you hugged his middle. You’d interrogate him later.

Of course, you were glad Catfish and Pope were alive and well. You’d only heard about them until today, but you almost felt like you knew them.

Or rather, Frankie seems to be everything you’d heard.

Santiago is a whole other kettle of… corn.

At least he works in silence. He puts in a little more salt, stirs, turns down the heat.

And then he just watches you.

Watches you take the roasts out of the oven and cover them to rest. Watches you check the onions.

“Stop doing that,” you say, gesturing to the glass-fronted cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. It was your grandma’s and still holds her good dishes. “Do you know how to set a table, or do you eat all your meals with a plastic spork?”

“It’s metal actually,” Santiago says seriously.

You almost laugh. Santiago’s eyes light up when he sees you unable to control a smile. He scratches the stubble on his chin, the sound making your stomach flutter.

“I’ll get Will to help. He’ll make sure everything’s in order,” Santiago starts to leave, but turns back. “Hey, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of Benny. You and he still…”

You roll your eyes. “Just set the table, Spork. Do something civilized.”

Santiago smiles. It almost makes him look harmless. “Don’t worry. For the right woman, I’m completely domesticated.”

“I very much doubt that,” you say as you watch him open your back door to call for Will.

Although, he’d been the only one to take off his boots at the front door without being asked. Something your mother always says to watch out for. Means a man has good manners and is thoughtful.

But what does she know? Your father hogs the bucket of popcorn at the movies and leaves empty water glasses all over the house.

But he’s still completely and utterly devoted to you mother. Still brings her flowers. Still pinches her butt when he thinks his kids aren’t looking.

Will nods to you when he walks in the kitchen. His blue eyes see everything. He silently asks if you’re okay. You nod back.

“So, you gonna let this guy stay for dinner?” He claps Santiago on the back.

“He wasn’t the one who broke a lamp.” You give Will a pointed look and he nods in apology.

Santiago opens your grandma’s cabinet and starts taking out plates. The porcelain barely rattles. He’s quick, but careful.

His muscled shoulders flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches in for the bowls. The flowered china should look ridiculous in his hands, but he treats the set of dishes with as much care as you do.

By the time you realize you’ve stopped everything and you’re just standing there, watching him, Will is already smirking, tongue working around the front of his teeth. He picks up the stack of plates, shaking his head.

They clatter slightly.

Santiago points at Will. “Ay, be fucking careful. These look like antiques.”

You have to turn so they don’t see you melt into a puddle of steaming hot goo. Thoughtful, just like your mother said.

You corral Santiago and Will into helping you bring everything to the big, oval table in the dining room. They sit on either side of you.

If you thought it was chaos when they’d arrived, dinner is a 3-ring circus. The serving platters never hit the tablecloth. They inhale everything as soon as it’s passed around.

It’s very gratifying. You’d complain about them chewing with their mouths open, but you don’t because they’re complimenting you between every single bite.

“You guys are like a pack of dogs,” you say. “I mean that as a compliment.”

“She prefers animals to people,” Benny says to Santiago.

“The four of us have seen people do things animals wouldn’t,” Santiago says, breaking into a roll and slathering butter on it. “Hell, we’ve lived dirtier than dogs.”

Frankie points at Santi. “Correct. I have a picture from Afghanistan. Your socks were so gross, they stood up by themselves.”

Your face dissolves into disgust. “No. That’s horrible. This is a dinner table, Frankie.”

“Sorry, mom. Ma’am,” Frankie goes completely red.

There’s a beat of silence before everyone breaks out laughing. Even Frankie, though he looks like he’s in physical pain.

“In Frankie’s defense, we always kind of thought of you like Will and Benny’s family,” Santiago says. “Although now I know that you and Benny used to date-“

“What the fuck did you just say?” Will says, his jaw tight, blue eyes zeroing in on his brother.

Santiago’s face goes slack. “Oh shit.”

Benny’s fork clatters onto his plate.

“Careful with the china,” you yell at him.

“Sorry,” he says, then turns to Will. “We didn’t date. We just…” he motions with his fingers.

Will’s face looks like manslaughter, “no. Don’t tell me anymore.”

Santiago leans in. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You mime slicing your neck open with your thumb. His face relaxes again, amused.

You turn to Will, seeing how spooled up he is about the revelation that you and Benny had been more than friends once upon a time.

“Will? What’s the dumbest thing you ever did before you were 20?” You ask him.

His jaw works back and forth, his fork swiping through the food on his plate. “Couldn’t really say.”

“The dumbest thing I ever did was your brother, Benjamin Miller,” you say.

“Hey, why do I get hurt in this?” Benny says.

“Shh,” Frankie hushes him.

“It was once, the night we met, and it never happened again,” you say, passing Will the bread basket.

He takes it with a grim look. “We’re going to keep on pretending it never happened.”

“You’re the one who brought Loud Mouth Garcia to dinner. Can’t even keep a secret. How the hell were you ever Delta?” You say to Santiago.

“Persistence,” he says, brown eyes sparkling at you, “I’m a persistence predator.”

Benny clears his throat. “Hey creep-o-saurus-rex, pass the pot roast.”

Santiago picks up the dish and holds it out to Benny, his eyes still on you. “T-rex wasn’t a persistence predator, Benny.”

“Whatever, quit looking at her like you want to eat her out at the dinner table,” he mumbles, scooping food onto his plate.

Will takes a roll out of the basket and beans it off Benny’s head.

“I’m still gonna eat that,” Frankie says, reaching down where it landed on the floor and picking it back up. “Damn good meal.”

You take a moment to look around at this table full of ridiculousness. It’s almost like an out of body experience. Two guys who are like your brothers. One guy who apparently needs a mother figure so badly he’s willing to settle for someone younger than him.

And Santiago Garcia.

You’re going to have a hell of a hard time sneaking him into your room later. Never mind that you can tell he’s going to make you come your brains out at the top of your lungs.

Will taps your foot under the table. He grins at you. “You missed us. Admit it.”

You act like you’re not sure. “I was having a really nice day until you and your chucklefuck friends showed up.”

“We can get hotel rooms. We don’t want to put you out,” Frankie says, his lost puppy eyes working exactly how he’d intended. “You’ve already done enough.”

“I want you all to stay. Trust me,” you reassure him. “I have 2 dozen eggs in the refrigerator for tomorrow morning and big plans for french toast.”

Santiago groans. “You’re going to put me into a coma. But before I go, please, marry me.”

Benny whistles under his breath. “Never heard Pope say the ‘M’ word before.”

“Dibs on Will for the wedding party,” you say, looking at Santiago out of the corner of your eye.

“Okay. I’ll take Benny and Frankie,” Santiago says.

You eye his plate. “Did you like my corn?”

“Fucking loved it.”

You hear chairs pushing back from the table. You and Santiago’s eyes break apart.

“I’m taking my plate outside. You two are making me nauseous,” Will says.

“Right behind you,” Benny picks up his plate and the dish of pot roast.

Frankie looks torn, but eventually gives in and stands too. “Give us a holler when you’re done.” His face gets pink. “Not like done, doing anything. I don’t think you’re going to do it right here. But it’s your house. If you want to.”

Will sighs. “Catfish, quit while you’re not even ahead.”

Santiago stretches his arm out on the back of your chair as the other guys make a quick exit. His fingertips brush lightly against your arm.

“So,” he says, “were you just giving Will and Benny a hard time or are we really doing this?”

“I don’t know. Are you all talk? A flirting for sport kind of guy?”

You’d gotten that impression of Santi, from some of the stories you’d heard. But in person, he doesn’t strike you as shallow or fake. You always trust your gut about people. And your gut says to trust Santiago.

“I’m not flirting. I’m not hunting,” he says. “I’m just, talking to the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

You can’t breathe for a few seconds. Those words, smooth and warm, his serious eyes and the corner of his mouth still raised in half a grin.

Santiago’s hand brushes your hairline at the back of your neck, then settles onto your skin, ever so slightly massaging your muscles.

“Will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? Away from these ‘chucklefucks,’ as you so lovingly said.” His fingers wind their way down, into the collar of your shirt, where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Well, to be clear, I was also including you in that group. But, yes, I’d love to go out with you.”

Santiago looks visibly relieved. Something about his confidence, how it’s both real and also a complete front, makes you want to hold onto him. Keep him.

His fingers pull back. He brushes his knuckles over your chin. Before you can do the same, feel the scrape of his five o’clock shadow on your fingers, Frankie comes bounding back into the dining room.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he rubs his hands together nervously, “do you have any ketchup?”

Your happy mood disappears. You glare at Frankie. “You tell Benny that if he puts ketchup on my pot roast, I’m never cooking for him again. Also, don’t let him make you do his dirty work, Frankie. You’re a grown man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie says with a grim smile. “What about the potatoes, though? For me. Not for Benny.”

“Fine. Refrigerator, top shelf,” you roll your eyes. “I always thought Will would’ve kept you guys in line.”

Santiago leans back in his chair. He looks at home already. “Will doesn’t like to interfere. Man of few words. Benny got all the talking in that family, not that I need to tell you that.”

It’s a little bit amazing to you, that he can sit here in your house like he’s been here a million times before, talking with you like you’re already together, about men you both know, but under very different circumstances.

His dark eyes sparkle at you, looking you over. “I used to think you were pretty, in the pictures Will or Ben would show us. You looked happy. It was nice to see someone having a normal life while we were over there, not being normal. It was good you sent that stuff, pictures and food and whatever.”

“Oh yeah? And who was sending you photos, and whatever?” You ask him.

“Mostly the Playboy Corporation,” Santiago grins. “I’m kidding. No one, actually. My family sometimes. No one like you.”

He’s so sweet you can’t believe this is the same guy you’d heard Will and Benny talk about for years. The smooth talker. The face man. Pope, who probably wouldn’t ever settle down.

No, this is a man who’s wanted to settle down for years. He just wouldn’t settle for less than exactly what he wanted. Which, it seems like, is you.

“Hey.” You give in to your number one urge and run your fingers through his black and silver curls. “How about I ask the guys to clean this up, and you and I go out for dessert? There’s a really good ice cream place downtown.”

Santiago’s face lights up like the fourth of July. “Only if we can get it to-go. We can sit in my truck and neck afterward.”

“Deal. We can ask Frankie to babysit the other two,” you laugh.

His hand finds yours, his fingers linking through and raising your hand to kiss your palm.

“Think we can still do this in ten years?” He asks.

“Do what?” You ask, confused.

“Go out for dessert, just the 2 of us, and leave the kids at home with Frankie.”

“Wow, you really go all in, don’t you, Garcia?” You smile.

“For you, yeah,” Santiago says. “I’ve worked my ass off, for what feels like every day of my life. This is the one thing that’s ever felt easy. Love at first sight.”

Your heart flutters, then drops right in front of him. You can’t help it. He’s right. Like he knows you feel it too, he leans in, like he can’t wait for this first kiss.

His soft lips press against yours.

And bang! There’s a huge crash on the table as mashed potatoes fly everywhere. Onto your clothes. In Santiago’s hair.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Will shouts from the kitchen.

A football sits squarely in the dish of potatoes.

“We’re not bringing them home any ice cream,” Santiago says, but he’s all smiles anyway, pulling you in to finish what’s still a perfect first kiss.

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