Dance and Dense Denso

Summary: When Solana is disappointed that Domingo has to work, Mari and Angelina convince her to go to a party. Little does she know, Domingo is there too, conducting a bit of business, and god is she happy to see him.

Media: Better Call Saul

Pairing: Domingo “Krazy-8” Molina/Solana Salazar (OC), Nacho Varga/Mari Gálvez (OC) (mentioned)

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: ~5.5k

CW: Alcohol, descriptions of a panic attack, canon typical violence, guns, drug mention, suggestive dialogue, brief not SFW dialogue

…

“Take your glasses off, you can't see the glitter eyeshadow with them on!”

“If I take my glasses off, I won't be able to see, period!”

Solana flinches away from Angelina's hands as she tries to take her glasses off. Sure, they are slightly obscuring the sparkling silver makeup that covers Solana's eyelids, which Angelina had helped her apply with precision and care, but Solana really cannot see without her glasses.

Perched at the corner of Angelina's room, Mari clicks her tongue. “She's right, Angelina. Just because you refuse to wear your prescription doesn't mean that Solana has to take hers off, too.”

Angelina crosses her arms. “Fuck off, I don't look cute in glasses. But Solana does, so I'll let it slide. Even if it covers up my hard work…”

“Thanks for calling me cute,” Solana responds sarcastically, adjusting the oval shaped frames on her face. “I guess I do feel cute in this outfit, though. I wish Domingo was here to see it…”

Mari gives a small laugh. “You've got to get over this fear of going out without him, Sol. Nacho has to work tonight, too, and you don't hear me crying over it.”

Adjusting her lip gloss in the mirror of her vanity, Angelina agrees. “You really do need to be social without Domingo’s help. At least you have a boyfriend and he has steady work, even if it takes time away from you, be grateful for that.”

Solana smirks. “You could always get a boyfriend, too, Angelina. I know Tuco likes you a lot.”

With an exaggerated gag, Angelina clutches her chest, also quite dramatically. “I'd sooner be caught dead than with Tuco Salamanca. That's not even funny.”

Joining in on the teasing, Mari says, “I dunno, Angelina. You and Tuco really seemed to hit it off that time he came into the clinic with a stab wound.”

“No, we did not,” Angelina responds, frustrated. “All he did was scream at me. I was only nice because it's my job to be. Dunno what world you live in where that is considered “hitting it off,” Mari.”

Solana shrugs. “You never know, maybe that's just how Salamancas express affection. Don Hector isn't exactly the most personable man, either. And those twins don't talk at all.”

“I bet you a thousand dollars that if Angelina ends up getting a guy in the game, it'll be a Salamanca,” Mari says. “There are so many of them, I don't even know all of their names. Hell, there could be even more that will crawl out of the woodwork. And one of them is going to snag Angelina someday.”

Angelina rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Who says I'm going to have a cartel boyfriend like you two, much less a Salamanca? I'm going to end up with someone average and normal, just wait.”

The other two begin laughing, and she doesn't find it amusing at all. She huffs in frustration and slings her purse over her arm, then begins to leave her room.

“Well?” She asks, a rather snappy tone to her words. “Come on, we have a party to get to!”

Solana and Mari look at each other, and then at Angelina. She raises her eyebrows and mimes “hurry up” with one hand. They share a small laugh and then follow her out the bedroom door and then the front door, then to Solana's yellow Camaro. When they get in, they're assaulted with the sound of Molotov's aggressive track, “Que No Te Haga Bobo Jacobo.”

“Sorry,” Solana apologizes, turning down the volume. “Domingo always leaves his CDs in my car, and this is a band I can't help but listen to loud.”

“Nah, it's okay,” Mari says with a wave of the hand, “I love this band. Did you know their song, “Rastaman-Dita,” was written about Angelina?”

Angelina smacks Mari upside the head from the backseat. “Hey, I actually know that one, and that's not funny!”

Mari laughs at Angelina's pathetic attempt at violence. “For someone who wants to have fun at a party, you're sure saying lots of shit isn't funny tonight. Plus, it's a compliment, that song is talking about a sexy blonde that stops the narrator's heart.”

“Yeah, yeah, and he also talks about her fucking the handle of a hammer or an axe,” Angelina snaps. “Good song, but it's not about me.”

Solana allows herself to laugh a bit at Angelina's expense, at least enough to get her mind off the fact that she's about to be at a party without Domingo. She only ever feels safe when she's with him, even being armed with a handgun and a knife tucked away in her purse. And Domingo isn't much of a fighter himself, so Mari and Angelina can't really comprehend why Solana feels like he's her personal security guard.

“Is this the place?” Solana asks, finally pulling up to a house with too many cars to count parked around it, lights and music emitting from the windows.

“Yep,” Angelina says. “Don't look so nervous, it's going to be fun!”

Shutting off the car, Solana sighs in defeat. There's no turning back now. “Yeah. Sure.”

The trio climbs out of the car, Mari taking a few gift bags from the back, and walks up to the front door of the house, where they're greeted by a brunette girl that they know from nursing school– Emily, the host of the party.

“I'm so glad you're here!” Emily squeals as she ushers the three inside. “Come in, come in! You guys look so cute tonight, oh my god! Angelina, did you put together these outfits?”

She beams at the acknowledgement. “I did!”

Mari glares at her. “You made suggestions and helped us put on glitter eyeshadow, not all of it was your doing…”

“Shush!” Angelina says, putting a finger to Mari's lips. “No more negativity from here on out! We're going to enjoy ourselves, okay?”

Mari nods and begins to head off in her own direction. “Yeah, I'm gonna go see if I can get whoever has control of the music to put something else on. Emily always had bad taste.”

Angelina waves at her as she departs, and says, “Okay! Have fun!”

She places their gift bags on a table with some other gifts. Then, she turns her attention to Solana, who looks and feels incredibly awkward. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she's looking around nervously.

“Sol, I'm going to get a drink. Do you want to come with me and get a drink?”

Figuring that alcohol might make this experience less horrible, Solana agrees. “Sure.”

Following her friend through the crowd, Solana's chest feels tighter and tighter as she bumps into more people, and as those people try to talk to her. She can only give a half-hearted, choked out, “sorry” in response to anything they try to say to her. Most of the people here are unrecognizable– she knows a few of them from nursing school, considering this is Emily’s birthday and she'd invited the whole class, but for the most part, they're all complete strangers to her.

“Here,” Angelina snaps her out of her anxious trance, offering her a drink, “have one. I watched the guy make it, it's safe.”

Looking at the pinkish-purplish cocktail in her hand, Solana takes it in her own and sips on it. “What is it? Tastes good.”

“I think he called it a Sicilian Sunset? Sunrise? I dunno, it's pineapple, lemonade, and vodka,” Angelina responds. “C'mon, drink more. You remember Michael from college? I think he's over there. I'm gonna go say hi.”

“Wait, Angelina don't–” Solana calls in vain, reaching out to her friend as she departs, “or do leave me. Okay. Cool.”

Once more, Solana shrinks into herself, trying to be as small as possible. For a while, she just stands in the same place, sipping on her Sicilian what's-it-called cocktail, but soon a loud group of people head her way, so she scampers off, back into the living room.

A positive thing is that she can see Mari, although Mari is just arguing with the DJ and Jessica, Emily's girlfriend, about the music. Angelina is nowhere to be found, and not even a trail of glitter from her dress and makeup could lead to her, as the trail has been stomped all over and smudged against the carpet.

Solana tosses back the rest of her drink without even thinking, surprised at herself for drinking it so quickly. Though she finds it impolite, she sees no other choice but to set her empty glass down on a random surface, as everyone else is. Everyone around her is joyful and excited, but Solana simply isn't.

She pulls her cell phone from her pocket and flips it open, scrolling to Domingo's name in her contacts list. No matter how much she wants to hit call, she knows she can't be calling him at work, and he wouldn't be able to hear a thing from her end, anyway. Flipping the phone shut again and putting it away, Solana gives a defeated sigh and leans against the wall.

Something doesn't sit right with her, though. It feels like there are eyes on her, and not just from the general crowd, but from one person. Like someone is hunting or stalking her. Perhaps it's general paranoia, perhaps it's the alcohol, maybe even a combination of both, but it speeds up her pulse and makes her nauseous, so she pushes through the crowd to get to the bathroom.

Weirdly, Emily's downstairs bathroom is huge, and there are people hanging out in it like it's any other room. She doesn't care, though, and heads over to the toilet. She kneels near it, bare knees freezing against the tile, and she paws at her chest, unable to tell if this panic attack is just crying, or if she'll actually need that toilet to throw up in.

After some time, she manages to shake away the nausea, and shuffles from the toilet and leans against the shower door. Tapping her fingers on the tile, she keeps her eyes shut and continues to breathe, swallowing down any sobs that want to come out and letting the tears flow as they please.

It takes a good ten minutes for her pulse to stop racing and the crying to stop, but once they do, Solana feels well enough to stand up. She climbs up off the floor and heads to the large vanity mirror, making a face at the sight before her. That beautiful makeup Angelina had done is completely ruined, and it's all over her face. Solana sighs and takes her glasses off, then rinses her face in the sink, taking care to scrub off the stray glitter.

Once she's done, she has a fresh face with a few specks of stubborn glitter remnants, and puts back on her glasses. But before she can even turn around, her ears catch the sound of a familiar voice. A deep, masculine voice, speaking Spanish…making a deal.

Rushing around the vanity, Solana sees none other than Domingo in the corner of the bathroom with a couple of lower-level dealers, selling to a few of the partygoers. After they make their trade and Domingo pockets the cash, he nods in the direction of the door to send his dealers away. He then begins to leave the bathroom himself, and Solana almost knocks him over with a hug.

“Solana?!” He exclaims, instinctually wrapping his arms around her. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm so glad you're here, oh my god,” she says with her face pressed into his chest, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Seriously, Sol, you're at a party. By yourself. What the hell has gotten into you, eh?” He gently moves her face from his chest and holds her jaw in his hand, looking at her with soft eyes.

Solana sighs. “I'm not here by myself. Well, I wasn't. I came here with Mari and Angelina, but Mari's just arguing with people and Angelina ran off and I started having a panic attack and, and–”

“Shh,” Domingo shushes her, running a thumb over her cheek to brush away a piece of glitter. “You're okay. I'm here.”

“But what if you weren't?” Solana asks, her voice threatening to break. “I'd be in here the whole night, crying my eyes out even more than this.”

He tilts his head. “You could've called me. I would've dropped this deal– hell, I would've dropped anything– for you. I'd take the heat from Tuco later. We look out for each other, yeah?”

Solana sniffles and nods. “Yeah. We do.”

Domingo smiles and moves his hand down her body, reaching her hand, and grips her fingers between his. Solana returns the smile and gently squeezes his hand.

“You wanna go back out there and enjoy the party, now that I'm here?” Domingo asks.

“Yeah, I think I'm ready. I should at least say happy birthday to Emily.”

As they exit the bathroom and head back for the living room, Domingo asks, “Who the hell is Emily?”

“The host of the party. She was in our nursing class, and she invited everyone that was in it, including me, Angelina, and Mari. I didn't want to come since you wouldn't be here, but…you ended up here anyway.”

“Hmm. Well, I don't know about no Emily or birthday party, I just know Tuco sent me and a couple of guys here to sell because, according to him, there were some guys here that like to overpay for drugs.”

“Well, did they overpay?” Solana asks, though she typically doesn't ask Domingo about his work.

He laughs. “Yeah, they did.”

Now back in the living room, Domingo continues to hold Solana’s hand, and the two stand close to each other, observing everyone else. Off in the distance, Mari has taken a break from arguing with the DJ and Jessica and is instead having a seemingly passionate discussion with Jessica, Emily, and a couple of other old classmates. Across the room, Angelina is comparing her tattoo to one that one of their classmates has.

“Oh my god, Hannah actually got that tattoo?” Solana laughs. “Very similar tribal butterflies on the bicep, what a pair.”

“Are you glad you didn't agree with Angelina to get a matching one?” Domingo asks.

“Definitely. You know, it's funny, Angelina used to sort of bully Hannah, ‘cause she wasn't good with surgical stuff and wanted to work in a nursing home, and Angelina is the opposite. I don't think Hannah ever actually realized Angelina was being mean because she was doing it passive-aggressively, but it's pretty funny they ended up getting nearly the same tattoo, and Angelina’s acting all friendly with her over it.”

Domingo looks a bit shocked. “Wait, Angelina of all people was mean to someone? Didn't think she had it in her.”

Solana laughs. “Yeah, well, you don't know much about Angelina. It's funny to get her mad. Like earlier, Mari and I were joking that she should get with Tuco, that she would end up with a Salamanca, shit like that, and she was soooo mad. Oh, and Mari told her that “Rastaman-Dita” was about her, and she got offended. Getting that little girl mad is comedy gold.”

“Why is “Rastaman-Dita” offensive to her?” Domingo asks with a scoff. “I mean, when it comes to you, I definitely feel that “cada vez que te miro se me para, mi corazón, se me para,” you know what I mean? I think it's a compliment to be the subject of that song. Probably.”

“I guess Angelina is sad she doesn't have someone whose heart stops every time they see her. Or gets hard over her blonde hair.” Solana finishes her statement with a little giggle.

“She'll find someone to sing along to that song with someday,” Domingo sighs, shaking his head. “I'm thirsty. You want a drink?”

Solana nods. “Yeah, sure. I'll show you to the bar.”

This time, Solana doesn't feel awkward as she weaves through the crowd– she feels proud and safe with Domingo’s hand in hers. Having led him to the bar, Solana looks up at him as he orders from the mixologist.

“Just a beer for me,” he requests. “Sol, what do you want?”

She scoffs at him in disbelief. “Only a beer, Domingo? Really? I want the, uh, Sicilian what's-it-called.”

He nods in her direction. “You heard her. Sicilian whatever.”

The bartender nods and quickly mixes up Solana's cocktail, then slides a bottle of Modelo to Domingo.

“Enjoy.”

They take their drinks and nod at him, then head back out to the living room. At this point, Solana's ears pick up that the music has changed, and what's playing, out of everything that could possibly be playing, is Molotov's “Dance and Dense Denso.” This has to be Mari's doing, thinks Solana, though she's not complaining.

The aggressive, energetic music does stir up the crowd a bit, though. People truly take the lyrics to heart and it becomes a bit more like a rock concert than a birthday party in that living room. Random bodies bump into Solana and Domingo, making the former spill a bit of her drink on her shirt.

“Watch where you're going, asshole!” she snaps at the guy who ran into her. Despite the fact that he's much bigger in stature– and likely social status– than she is, she still insults him.

He looks down at her with a strange expression, somewhere between mocking and lustful. “Sorry about that, sweetheart. I got your drink all over your shirt, I didn't mean to. Maybe you should take it off, it's all ruined.”

All Solana can manage to do is glare at him, her heart pounding as she realizes this is the guy that was watching her earlier– she was right. She tenses up, frozen in place with fear.

Of course, Domingo overhears what the guy just said, and steps between Solana and the stranger. Domingo is a fair bit taller than Solana, but he's still smaller than that guy, yet it doesn't intimidate him at all.

“You don't fuckin' talk to her, or touch her again, alright?” Domingo says to the stranger, setting his beer down on the table, pointing directly at him. “You go near her again, and you ain't gonna like what happens.”

The stranger scoffs. “And who are you, her little boyfriend?”

Out of seemingly nowhere– at least, for his typical behavior– Domingo grabs the man by the shirt and slams him up against the wall, rattling the picture frames above him. The man tries to struggle, but Domingo has him pinned, and moves his arm sideways to press against the man's throat.

“Keep going, and I'll fuck you up, understand?” Domingo states, an unusual aggression to his deep voice. It suits him, Solana thinks as she watches in awe.

“And what else are you gonna do, hermano?” The man asks sarcastically, regardless of his current position.

Using his free hand, Domingo lifts up his shirt to reveal a handgun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. His hand wraps around the grip, as if he'll pull it out any moment, and his eyes become intense, boring directly into the stranger's face.

He laughs. “What are you gonna do, shoot me? In the middle of the party? All to do what, impress your bitch of a girlfriend?”

It all happens so fast– Domingo whips out his gun, but he doesn't shoot. No, he smacks the guy in the face with the gun, sending him tumbling to the ground. As he lies on the ground, clutching his bleeding face and screaming in pain, Domingo kicks him in the ribs a few times, then stomps on his hand. The sound of its bones crunching can be heard even over the music and partygoers. For one last good measure, Domingo even kicks the guy in the head, which knocks him unconscious.

Solana clasps her hands over her mouth in shock, dropping her drink and shattering the glass on the floor, though nobody else in the crowd seems to notice nor care what's happening. He'd really taken the lyrics, “come on get rowdy, come on get bloody, come on get sweaty, hit somebody” to heart. Domingo slides his gun back into his waistband, pulls his shirt back over it, and turns to Solana.

“Domingo, I…I can't believe you just did that!” She exclaims with pride and excitement. “Holy shit!”

He smiles a cheesy, big grin and blushes, scratching behind his head. “Well, I have always wanted to be your hero…”

Tilting her head to the side, Solana smiles. “Domingo, you'll always be my hero. C'mere, you've got blood on you.”

She pulls his face closer with both hands, then wipes away the small specks of blood that had splattered on his face when he pistol-whipped the stranger that had bothered her. Then, she holds his face in both hands and pulls him into a quick kiss.

“You want to enjoy the rest of this shitshow, or go home?” Domingo asks. “I kinda wanna go before someone notices what I did…”

Solana waves a hand. “We can stay, they can get over it if they see. That guy was an asshole anyway. No one will care.”

Looking down at him, he's now passed out on the floor. Domingo feels a bit nervous over this. “Maybe we should move him somewhere else. You know, like we do with, uh, the usual guys…”

With a sigh, Solana agrees. “Fine. Let's drag him off to a closet or something.”

Even though they're in plain sight, Domingo bends down to grab the strange man from under his arms, then starts dragging him into the hallway. Solana opens the door to a random room– a walk-in closet where people have hung their jackets and bags– and Domingo slumps the unconscious guy against the wall.

Both of them hurry back to the living room to make sure no one notices, and at this point Mari is screaming at the DJ again since only one track from “Dance and Dense Denso” was allowed to be played, and Angelina is pouting in a corner. Deciding that their friend could use some help, the pair cross the room to reach Angelina, who looks up at them with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, hey. Domingo, didn't know you were invited,” she says, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the side of her hand. “Did Solana call you?”

“No. Heads up,” Solana says as she tosses her car keys to Angelina.

“What’s this for?” She asks, twirling the ring of the keys on her finger.

“I'm going home with Domingo when I leave,” Solana replies. “You and Mari can take my car home when you guys go, just be sure to bring it to work tomorrow.”

Angelina tilts her head. “You really trust me to drive your car?”

Solana nods. “Yeah, but like I said, bring it to work so I can have it back. Why are you crying, by the way?”

She furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms. “I'm not. Shut up.”

“I mean, it does look like you've been crying,” Domingo says bluntly. “What’s up?”

“I said shut up!” Angelina whines, burying her face in her hands. “I'm just alone and unloved, and I'll die alone and unloved!”

Solana and Domingo look back and forth to each other, and then at Angelina again, and begin slowly backing away. This is clearly something she needs to work out on her own, preferably when sober. They leave it for Mari to sort out on the drive home, or perhaps another partygoer would be nice enough to ask what her problem is.

“Damn, I just realized we lost our drinks in that whole thing,” Domingo comments. “Want me to go get us more?”

“Yeah, sure!” Solana says. “I'll just have a beer this time.”

He smiles and winks at her as he walks back towards the bar. “You got it. I'll be right back.”

While Domingo goes to get the drinks, Solana taps her feet against the floor. She replays the event of Domingo beating up that guy in her head, and finds herself not only impressed and honored, but aroused. She's never seen him do something like this, or even heard of him acting out in such a way. It's like a new side of him has been revealed, and she likes it. A lot.

“Here you go,” Domingo says when he returns, snapping Solana out of her trance as he hands her a bottle.

“Thanks,” she responds before taking a sip to quench her literal and figurative thirst. “So, uh, do you want to find somewhere more…private? I'm sure there's a room around here with less people in it.”

He looks skeptical. “I dunno, even the bathroom was full of people, Sol. I don't think we're getting any privacy here.”

Solana crosses her arms and taps her nails against the bottle in her hand. “True. I guess we just…spend time out here. Standing. Drinking. Bored.”

Domingo smirks at her. “You could always dance for me.”

Her entire face turns pink, and she shakes her head. “Yeah right, you know I don't dance.”

“There's a first time for everything,” he responds. “You could even dance with me.”

“The songs playing are not songs for couples to dance to,” Solana scoffs. “They're barely songs for a single person to dance to. Unless I can get Mari to convince the DJ to change it up again.”

Seconds later, it turns out they don't have to ask Mari to do anything, because the DJ announces to the party that he'll be playing a song for Emily and Jessica, as well as any other couples, to dance together to. And then, to her delight and surprise, Santana's “Smooth” starts playing.

“I didn't picture this as something Emily would want to dance to,” Solana remarks. “But it's good, so… fine, I'll dance with you. You win.”

Domingo smiles at her and places his nearly-empty bottle of beer on a table, and Solana does the same. They then grab each others’ hands and Domingo pulls her out into the bigger part of the living room, where everyone else is dancing. As the song plays, they do a simple but fun little number, with lots of laughs and awkward smiles as they trip over their own feet. When Rob Thomas sings, “my muñequita,” Domingo does too, looking directly into Solana's eyes and sending butterflies through her entire body.

While they share a dance, they also look around for the unpaired Angelina and Mari. Mari is dancing by herself in a sea of couples, but Angelina is still in the corner. Perhaps a romantic song isn't the best thing for her fragile, single psyche. Solana feels slightly guilty for not staying to talk it out, but a drunk Angelina is more difficult to get through to than a sober Angelina, and even sober Angelina is a task herself.

When the song ends, Domingo twirls Solana, and she's quickly pulled back into his arms. The two begin laughing and share a quick kiss before letting go of each other and waiting for the next song.

“Excuse me,” says a high-pitched, feminine voice over the microphone, “we're actually going to take a second to let the birthday girl open her presents!”

As the crowd around them cheers, Domingo whispers to Solana, “who is that?”

“Jessica, Emily’s girlfriend,” Solana answers. “Guess we're opening presents. Can't wait to see her reaction to our gifts. We really knocked it out of the park, trust me.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Domingo asks with a laugh. “Why? What did you get her?”

“It's more about what Angelina got her. She panics with these things because she always waits until the last minute. See, I made Emily some homemade chocolate strawberries and bought her a set of nice earrings. Mari got her a new purse, and it wasn't cheap. Angelina? Well, she threw in an eyeshadow palette she just happened to never have used before, a bracelet that an ex gave her, and a fucking Los Pollos Hermanos gift card.”

Domingo scoffs and shakes his head. “Wow. At least the eyeshadow isn't used.”

Emily is now in the center of the room, sitting on a fancy chair brought out just for her to open presents with. Jessica and another of their friends, Ashley, start bringing over the gifts, and Emily begins opening them. One by one, she gushes over each present– somewhat of an overly sweet, saccharine tone is in her voice, so it's not entirely clear if she actually likes these things or not.

Then it gets to Solana, Angelina, and Mari's gifts.

“Oh my god, no way!” She says as she opens the box of chocolate strawberries Solana made for her. “I love all the food you make, Sol. And these earrings are so cute! Thank you so much!”

Solana blushes and waves a hand, mouthing “no problem.” Domingo smiles and playfully nudges her shoulder.

“She liked yours,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, and she'll like Mari's, too. I'm just waiting for the reaction to Angelina’s.”

As Solana predicted, Emily goes on and on about the bag Mari bought her. When she grabs Angelina's gift, Solana and Domingo look over to Angelina, who is still too busy wallowing in her own sorrow to care if Emily likes her present or not.

“And this one is from Angelina! Let's see…” Emily begins, digging through the bag and pulling out the old bracelet first. “Oh! This is…cute! What else is here…”

Next is the eyeshadow. “I've actually always wanted this palette! I honestly didn't even know they still made it, but…thanks!”

Jessica peers into the bag, and makes a face. “There's one more thing, Em.”

After taking out the last item, Emily looks at the gift card like it's something she's never seen before. She holds it out and inspects it.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Thanks for, um, this! Next present!”

Solana shrugs. “Didn't go as bad as I thought it would. Can't believe she actually wanted the eyeshadow.”

“Yeah, I’m honestly kind of sad she didn't get upset,” Domingo says.

“Shit, my present is somewhere else, sorry, Em.” Jessica stands up and heads off towards the hall. “I'll go grab it.”

Solana's eyes shoot open and so do Domingo’s. They look at each other wordlessly, hoping and praying that this present isn't in the closet where they'd thrown that guy's body.

“Oh my god, what happened to him?!” Jessica's question in the form of a scream pierces the air.

Emily gets up, although begrudgingly and with a look of annoyance, and goes to meet her girlfriend. From the hallway, she can be heard saying, “What happened to who– oh shit!”

Without even having to say it, Domingo gives Solana a look that conveys, “we need to get the fuck out of here, now,” and she nods. They squeeze through the crowd around the door and slip out, then rush to Domingo's car. As he fumbles with the keys trying to start it, both parties are laughing in a mix of genuine humor and nervousness that someone might come out, knowing it was them.

“I really hope you beat that dude's ass enough that he won't remember us,” Solana breathes as she leans back in Domingo's passenger seat.

He scoffs as the car turns over, and the tires screech when he pulls out of the driveway. “He won’t remember his own name, don't worry about it.”

Solana laughs again. “Good. You know, that whole thing really impressed me. Like, a lot.”

Though it's hard to tell in the dark, Domingo blushes. “It really did? You don't think it was unnecessary?”

“Not at all. In fact, I would've liked it if you did even more.”

His eyes widen at this. “Really?”

“Really. Like I said, it impressed me.”

The way she uses this word, “impressed,” makes Domingo think she means something different, like “impressed” is a euphemism for another, more…explicit thing.

“Uh-huh. Are you still, um…you still impressed, Sol?” He asks, a playful smirk on his lips.

This time, she blushes. “I-I…well, yes. I am.”

His grin widens. “You gonna show me just how “impressed” you are when we get home?”

Solana bites her lip and looks away. “Maybe…look, just…you know that song by Deftones? “Be Quiet and Drive.” Yeah. Do that. Preferably a little faster…”

Understanding that Solana, while bashful about it, wants nothing more than to be home already to show him how “impressed” she really is, Domingo speeds up.

“You got it.”