Wash 1

The sun hung low over the city, casting a hazy golden glow over the crumbling apartment complex. On the rooftop, where rust-streaked railings barely held together and water stains mapped the cracked concrete, Teddy was up to his elbows in soapy water. His hands, pruned and raw from hours of scrubbing, worked methodically over the fabric, wringing out shirts, socks, and underwear that weren’t his. Piles of wet laundry sat beside him, waiting their turn, while neatly folded stacks of crisp, sun-dried clothes rested in baskets along the far wall. A line of freshly washed garments swayed in the warm breeze, the only serene thing in the midst of his exhausting routine.

He sighed, shifting his weight as he dunked another shirt into the sudsy basin, burying himself deeper into his endless work. His back ached, and the scent of detergent clung stubbornly to his skin.

Then, without warning—

A weight crashed onto him from behind, nearly sending him face-first into the soapy water. Teddy yelped, flailing for balance as the weight shifted against him.

“Damn, Miguel!” he hissed, heart hammering. “Are you trying to drown me?!”

Miguel only chuckled, his arms slung lazily around Teddy’s shoulders as he balanced himself on his back like an overgrown child. “You looked so lonely, cariño. Thought I'd help.”

Teddy stiffened. The deep timbre of Miguel’s voice always did something infuriating to his nerves. It was effortless, like silk rolling over gravel, and that stupid,

cocky grin of his practically dripped with mischief.

Miguel smelled like warm leather and cheap cologne—

an unfair contrast to the overpowering detergent Teddy was drenched in.

Teddy shoved at him. “Get off me! If my mom sees you—”

Miguel hummed in amusement, not moving an inch. “Oh, right. Your little secret.”

Teddy’s face burned. “This isn’t funny, okay? If she finds out I’m paying you to date her—”

Miguel leaned in closer, his breath tickling the shell of Teddy’s ear. “Then what?”

Teddy swallowed. He didn’t have an answer to that. Mostly because his brain short-circuited every time Miguel got this close.

Suddenly, Miguel’s grip tightened, and before Teddy could react, he was pulled downward, his back hitting the rough rooftop floor with a soft thud. Miguel was on top of him now, his arms braced on either side, his body pressing down just enough to steal the air from Teddy’s lungs. His dark eyes burned with something unreadable—something intense, dangerous, and far too familiar.

Teddy’s breath hitched as Miguel slowly lowered his face toward his, his lips parting slightly, teasingly. The space between them vanished, heat radiating off Miguel in waves. It wasn’t just desire—it was something deeper, something desperate.

But just before their lips touched, Miguel stopped.

Teddy wasn’t responding.

He wasn’t leaning in. He wasn’t giving in.

Miguel’s expression darkened, shifting from longing to something cold, something resentful. His jaw clenched, and his grip on Teddy changed—no longer teasing, but possessive. His hand slid down, brushing over Teddy’s ribs, tracing past the curve of his stomach, lower—

Teddy jolted, struggling now. “Miguel—”

Miguel ignored him, fingers dipping inside Teddy’s shorts. Teddy’s pulse pounded in his throat as he thrashed, but Miguel was stronger, fueled by frustration, by something

he couldn’t name.

Then, in one sharp yank, Miguel tore Teddy’s underwear off.

The fabric flew through the air like a ridiculous flag of surrender, pink with little boba drink

patterns, before landing—

Right on Sylvia’s face.

Sylvia shrieked in shock, flailing as she ripped the offending garment off. “WHAT THE HELL—”

Teddy scrambled upright, his entire face blazing red. Miguel, still kneeling over him, only blinked in momentary surprise before his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

Sylvia, horrified, held up the underwear between her fingers like it carried the plague. “WHY—HOW—”

She squinted, and then realization dawned. Her gaze flickered between Teddy and Miguel, still tangled together on the rooftop floor. Her mouth fell open in exaggerated disbelief. “Oh. My. God.”

Teddy leaped to his feet. “IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!”

Sylvia, very much ignoring him, chucked the underwear across the rooftop in disgust. Miguel, moving fast, caught it midair and stuffed it into his pocket, his expression unreadable.

Sylvia smoothed her skirt, clearly trying to regain her composure. “Ugh, whatever. Men are weird.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and struck a pose. “Anyway! Boys! I have a date tonight. With the most handsome man in town.”

Miguel’s smirk faltered slightly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Teddy watched as Miguel shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting all his life choices that led to this arrangement. But Miguel was getting paid for it, after all.

Sylvia tilted her head, suddenly scrutinizing him. “Wait a second... what’s that bulge in your pocket?”

Miguel patted his pocket where Teddy’s underwear was now hidden, his smirk returning. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Teddy nearly choked on air.

Sylvia narrowed her eyes suspiciously before shaking her head. “Ugh, whatever. Come on, my handsome darling. We have a date.”

Miguel hesitated for half a second before shooting one last glance at Teddy. And in that brief moment, something unspoken passed between them. A quiet plea. A truth that Teddy stubbornly refused to see.

Then Miguel turned and left, following Sylvia down the stairs.

Teddy, still bright red, groaned and dunked his face straight into the soapy water.

The underwear was still in Miguel’s pocket.