Chapter Text
A dark night in the pueblo of Los Ángeles, California.
“Ah, mi capitán! A little late to be arresting innocent villagers, isn’t it?” The grumbling voice of his enemy behind him startles Monastario.
Zorro. Mierda [shit]! How had he know what Monastario was up to?
Pushing his hostage into Garcia’s hands, he swivels around and raises his sword. Another fight just to end like all others, with Monastario the loser. “Take him to the carriage! I will take care of Zorro.” He squints his eyes, attention on the man before him, determined to finally take him down.
The man in question, barely visible in the low candlelight, moves away from the window and attacks, swiftly trying to move past. Their swords meet, Zorro’s brown eyes glimmering as he speaks. “You always say such things comandante, yet here I still am.” With a grin he parries Monastario’s strike at his thigh.
Rapid counterattacks follow in such a succession that they lead Monastario to move backwards, the back of his thighs hitting the wooden table.
But Monastario is used to being driven in corners.
“Know you will not escape me this time, señor Zorro! I have this whole building surrounded. You’d better drop your sword now, while I am still feeling merciful.” He smirks, striking Zorro’s sword before sliding over the table, turning around and with a kick of his foot, sends it tumbling into Zorro.
The adrenaline runs through his veins and his world is narrowed down to only his opponent. The haze of the fight is overly familiar, and yet, he never feels more alive than when he is with Zorro.
Zorro stumbles backwards, just barely keeping upright. “Now now captain, you musn’t lie. I’ve never seen men such as you capable of mercy.”
His swords glints as it rushes through the air and now Monastario is the one to stumble backwards, he only barely manages to parry the strike to his face.
“Well, you will see there is much you do not know of me. When I finally have you arrested, you will get to know me better. ESPECIALLY MY SWORD!” Monastario counterattacks, trying to gain the advantage by speed while blocking the door. He needs to keep Zorro here, so that he won’t sabotage the mission!
“A tempting offer,” the man answers while blocking Monastario’s rapid – almost desperate – swings, “however, I must decline. I do not believe we are fit for one another.” Zorro is wearing a sly grin, almost flirtatious.
Monastario scowls, angry with Zorro’s jabs. Sweat lines his forehead and he puts all his force into his next attack where the fox leaves a gap in his defences, but alas, he forgets his own – and Zorro sidesteps him and pushes him into the corner of the room. Tripping over his own feet he collapses against the walls and stills when Zorro’s blade touches the underside of his chin.
“Perhaps some other time,” Zorro finishes.
Monastario growls. “GARCIA! Where are you, you idiotic!-“ Wherever the buffoon is, it’s too late.
Zorro has already sprinted out of the room, slamming the door in his face when Monastario gets up to run after him.
“GODDAMMIT GARCIA! Get over here and QUICK!!” He rounds the corner, following after the sounds of Zorro’s footsteps. He skids to a stop in a hallway with three rooms at the end.
Which one did Zorro take?
He bets on the one with the window, and yes, he’s in luck today. Zorro lands on the ground after the leap from the first floor, running into the direction of the carriage.
Garcia, of course is only now making his way into the house.
Leaving the carriage with their hostage unguarded.
Monastario represses the urge to facepalm as he descends, climbing along the wall and dropping the last bit down. The trap they set for Zorro is failing horrendously.
Monastario can only watch as outside the garden, their hostage escapes, running off as all of his man forces try to unsuccessfully catch Zorro, and Maria- he really has to improve the training schedule because this is just getting embarrassing.
Zorro fights them all off, almost effortless, smooth as ever and probably gone into night within minutes.
But then he turns back to the house.
Strange, but Monastario has no time to question it as he finishes the climb down and runs to intercept the other man. Perhaps his horse is on the other side of the building?
He follows Zorro back inside the house. Suddenly the man changes directions and slips into an dead ended room. Monastario can hear the footsteps of his own personnel nearing them from the front.
There are no windows in the room, nor any other escape routes, and yet. There is no singn of Zorro.
Monastario stands there, panting as he surveys the possible hiding spaces. A bed, long curtains, multiple cupboards and ... The closet seems the best guess, the only space big enough to hide a man of Zorro’s size.
Got him! He throws the door open and swipes through the clothes on their hangers – and then he’s falling sideways and turning, landing on soft and hard angles with a gloved hand on his mouth muffling his startled yelp.
He blinks in the darkness, becoming aware of the small space that must be part of some enlarged closet or cupboard behind the original one, and most importantly, the warm chest against his back.
His stomach swoops sitting there between Zorro’s thighs, held tight against the other man’s chest and caged between his arms, Zorro’s gloved fingers at his lips. He flushes as he realizes how this must look…
No, don’t think about such things!
He struggles against Zorro’s grip and tries to shout for his men, but that only makes the situation worse: Zorro’s breath flows over his ear in a whisper and he freezes at the contact. “Lo siento [I’m sorry], mi capitán, but you have to keep quiet, de acuerdo [okay]?”
Even Zorro – the suavest man in existence – sounds ill at ease.
Sitting completely still, Monastario feels his heart almost beat out of his chest as he grows uncomfortably warm.
They’re touching everywhere and he can feel Zorro’s chest rise and fall with each breath, his scent washing over Monastario as his troops thunder obliviously past the room.
He smells like leather and metal, but also, surprisingly a soft perfume that’s familiar… Monastario tries not to breath to obviously, lest he be caught sniffing a known outlaw.
It’s much too intimate, even if they had been friends, and he can’t remember the last time he’s been so close to anyone. The comfort is relaxing, Zorro’s warmth all around him, his breath at the back of his neck. Monastario’s face burns with shame at his own enjoyment over the situation – Santá Maria [holy Maria] he needs to control himself before he does something embarrassing like leaning into Zorro. He feels a mild panic rising because surely – if Zorro and him stay in this position much longer – the other man will notice how he really feels about this situation. And then...
He scowls. NO, he needs to get away, and now-
Zorro startles as Monastario’s teeth clench down on his fingers, a startled breath in his ear as he quickly pulls his hand away from Monastario’s mouth: “Mierda!”, switching his hold to bring a knife against Monastario ribs instead.
“Let me go, diablo [devil]!!!” Monastario hisses, finally breaking free and crawling to the doors in front of them, collapsing against it. El Zorro [the fox] lets him, but keeps his knife pressed against Monastario’s chest, still leaning against the other wall of the cramped closet. “Alright, but don’t you try anything, señor! I do not wish to be arrested.”
Now that there’s some space between them, Monastario regains his senses. He can barely see Zorro in the half-dark. The closet is only one step deep at most, and he’s still sitting between Zorro’s feet – but it’s better than in the man’s arms.