#chucho means dog

[geerambles]

Taking care of my friends’ cat

His name is Chucho and he’s very photogenic when he’s not moving.

[wardenparker]

If You Were Mine, pt 1

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature. But this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.8k   Warnings: Mentions of sex work, smoking, food/alcohol, mentions of past Steve x reader, angst, yearning, the love in requited but they’re both idiots, there’s only one bed, Chucho is the best, this fic has a cockblocking dog and I’m ecstatic about it. Summary: When you and Javi are both suspended and deported from Colombia pending investigation, the truth about what got you into trouble and the onus of trying to decide what comes next hangs over you like a black cloud. Out of guilt - and maybe something else - Javi invites you to stay at the ranch with him while you wait for your hearings. And that’s when things start to get more complicated. Notes: Part one of two! I told Keri that I wanted to write a little wedding date one shot and it got wildly out of hand. And I’m so glad it did, because I love these two idiots.

“So, uh, call me when you land.” Steve Murphy looks decided unhappy, maybe a little nervous as he looks between you and Javi. It’s all out in the open now, the secret spilled, but he’s still not sure how his other partner feels about the revelation that had been the nail in the coffin for sending you back to the States. “Gonna miss you both.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” What had passed between you and Steve didn’t damage your friendship with him or change your working relationship in any way, although it had threatened to. Now, though? Now that everyone knows? You had no work at all. “I’ll let you know where I end up. Don’t know how long it will take me to get back on my feet.”

Guilt is a heavy thing, weighing around Javi’s neck as he shuffles and shifts his bag on his shoulder. You’ve been suspended indefinitely and he doesn’t know what that means for you. Although there’s a long flight back to Miami to talk about it.

The time is ticking by interminably slowly, but you swallow and give Steve a tight, brief hug. “We should go.” You’re on the same flight, so there’s no escaping having to talk to Javier, but you’re not looking forward to it. The whole thing has been a whirlwind.

Javi watches you hug Steve, wondering if there was anything there beyond what had been said. A drunken, sad night where partners decided to fall into bed together. The pang of jealousy is surprising and unwanted.

"Call me when you get back to Texas?" Steve claps Javi on the back and clears his throat, holding back the fact that he's actually pretty fucking emotional about the whole thing. Both of his partners being ejected from the country in one fell swoop isn't a good situation to be in.

“Get the bastard.” Regret laces his words, hating that he had worked so fucking hard and done so much only to be kicked off the team here at the end. He can feel that it’s close, Escobar is backed into a corner.

"Promise." One more pat to his shoulder and Steve is stepping back to shove his hands in his pockets. Colombia is going to be a hell of a lot more lonely without you and Javi here to keep him sane. Or, at least, mutually insane.

The call to board the plane comes over the airport speakers and Javi looks at you. “Looks like that’s us.” He murmurs, hating how defeated you look.

One more round of goodbyes and you’re picking up your purse to hand your ticket to the gate agent. You and Javi have seats right next to each other because the secretary who booked them had thought she was being nice, but the fact that you’ll have hours to talk might not be the best thing in the world. You don’t know yet. There’s a lot Javi doesn’t know about you still – after all, you’d only been in Colombia for a year. Less time even than Steve.

There’s a certain familiarity with storing the bags, getting settled into a seat. You are on the inside seat with Javier sitting on the aisle; but he wonders if you are comfortable with that. “Do you want to swap seats? Or are you good being by the window?”

"I like the window." It's a kind of meditation, but you don't know if he would understand that or not. "Unless..." You glance up at him from your place a few feet away. "Did you want it? I can deal with the aisle."

“No.” He shakes his head and steps back to allow you to move into the seat. “I’ll put your bag up.”

"Thanks." Your oversized tote bag goes to him and you keep only a book for yourself, knowing you won't be able to concentrate on much. The two of you settle into your seats as the other passengers file in and settle down around you. "So you're going back to Texas?" It's what Steve had said, so you figure it must be the case.

“Yeah.” Javi taps his fingers, wishing he could smoke but they had stopped that years ago. “Where are you headed?”

"I'll find a hotel when we get to Miami." There's nothing for you to go home to even if you did go back to your hometown, so you'll have to figure out how to start fresh. Your job experience is intensely specialized, but you'll figure something out.

“You—I’m sure they will call you back to D.C.” he offers quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to let you go. It’ll probably be some bullshit slap on the wrist.”

"Then I guess I'll find a place in DC if they decide not to kick me out on my ass." You shake your head and sit back, shrugging a little when you look over at him. "There's no guarantees in life, Jav. You know that."

“Give it a month.” He predicts with a very guilty conscience. Barely able to look at you. “You don’t want to go home?” He asks. “Visit with your folks?”

"Can't." The fact that he can't even meet your eyes stings more than it should, and you look out the window at the runway instead. "Sister says I'm ungrateful for not dropping everything and coming home when our Mom died, and Dad left when I was a kid. So a heartwarming family reunion isn't exactly in the cards."

“I’m sorry.” He winces slightly and swallows. “That’s– that's shitty. Not the welcome home I guess you imagined.”

"I kinda didn't think I'd be going back at all," you admit with another half-hearted shrug. "At least...if I did it would either be with a job or in a bag, ya know?"

A real possibility in the line of work that you’ve chosen. He musters the courage to finally meet your eyes. “Why did you do it?”

"Which?" The hammer had come down on you for two reasons, but he hadn't known about either of them. "Why did I get drunk and sloppy, or why did I get sentimental?"

“Whatever it was that made them send you home.” He doesn’t believe it’s all because of fucking Steve. There’s something else that he hasn’t been told.

"I'm surprised we got separate meetings, honestly." Sitting back, you tilt your head at him and wish like hell that you could still have a cigarette on an airplane. Or that they would hurry up and start serving alcohol already. "I went to Judy and Don Berna and tried to bargain for your safety," you tell him quietly. "After you told me...about everything. When it was getting bad. And Judy threw me under the bus right along with you." It had been an impulsive move, trying desperately to get Javi a grasp of freedom after getting in bed with Los Pepes, but it had ended up just backfiring spectacularly and getting both of you kicked out of the country instead. Suspended pending investigation, and then they had tacked on the charge of interdepartmental fraternization to boot. Steve got a slap on the wrist. You got a plane ticket.

“Fuck.” Javi squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Regret souring in his stomach and he desperately wishes he had a whiskey, or something to drink. “You shouldn’t have risked your career for me.” He responds, voice raspy with unspoken emotions. “I’m not worth that.”

"Too late now." He doesn't need to know why you did it. That you had developed feelings for him slowly but surely over the course of the year you had worked together and had been trying to talk yourself out of it unsuccessfully since you know he has no interest in you. "I did what I thought was right. It's not your fault that it bit me in the ass."

The doors to the plane close and Javi leans back in his seat. “Shit.” He hisses, shaking his head. “I'm sorry.”

"It's not your fault, Jav." It isn't. Not really. He didn't ask you to try to help him or involve you in any of the dealings with Los Pepes. In fact, he had actively warned you against it. "I made my decision and now I'm living with the consequences."

“I’m sorry I dragged you into my shit.” He slides his hand over his face and sighs, closing his eyes as the weight of the fallout from his mistakes bleakly shoves themselves into his face again.

"We're both adults, you didn't drag me into anything." Your own stupid sentimentality did that, but he doesn't need to know it. He doesn't need to know the details. "I'll find something new. Get back on my feet. The DEA isn't the end of the line for me."

“Come to Texas with me.” The offer pops out of his mouth, but in reality, it’s a good idea. It's not like there isn’t room at his Pop’s and that way you aren’t spending money you don’t need to until the DEA is done punishing you.

"You don't have to do that." When you look back up at him he looks surprised to even have said it and the small spark of hope that he might have meant it fizzles immediately. "Pity is worse than hatred, ya know."

“It’s not pity.” He immediately argues. “I just hadn’t – it’s a good idea.” He shifts slightly and turns in his seat to face you. “The ranch isn’t luxurious, but it’s comfortable.” For him, it’s home. “Pop has a spare bedroom that is never used. He’d probably be grateful to have more than my sullen ass to talk to.”

It's not that you don't want to say yes. To spend time with him or at least around him. To get to know his family and see where he's from. The problem is that you want to do those things for all the wrong reasons. "I don't know what help I'll be," you warn him, like reminding him that you grew up in a very different way than he did might somehow deter him. "But..." But you could have just a little more time with him before never seeing him again. You deflate a little, knowing that your only other option is throwing money at a hotel for a while. It's not like you can just knock on Connie Murphy's door when you get to Miami – she certainly won't want to see you. "If you don't think your father would mind too much? I'll stay out of both your hair."

“Nah, he won’t mind at all.” Javi promises. He had too many cousins or friends stay over when he was younger for the elder Peña to care about his house being used as a way station. “I’ll give him a ring when we land in Miami.” He promises. “Just so you know it’s okay.”

"Okay." Suddenly you wish you had a drink even more. More time spent with your partner – former partner? – before you let go of him altogether might be more than you bargained for. But still, you don't think you could pass up the chance. Even just a few more days. "As long as it's okay with your dad."

He relaxes slightly, shooting you a small, rare grin. “Okay.” He nods, feeling better about the entire situation. He wouldn’t want to leave you in Miami by yourself even if he knows you are more than capable. Hell, you’re a better agent than him and Steve, but he would still feel uneasy about it.

******

The flights are long, and you end up buying a new book in Miami just to have something to read on the way to Texas. Being back stateside isn't the triumphant return that Javier wanted it to be and his father didn't seem fazed at all by the idea of him bringing someone back to the ranch so you had nodded gratefully. By the time you land at Laredo International Airport you feel about ready to drop but Javi seems as near to relieved as you've seen him in months.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” The non-smoking rule in the airport had killed him, the idea that you couldn’t light up at the restaurants in the States had been irritating and he anxiously waits for his checked bag so he can hopefully get one before his dad shows up.

"You and me both." At least you'd been able to drink on the flights. A steady stream of scotch had kept both of you from getting too irritable.

He spots your bag first, a hideous maroon color that he had teased you about, but it’s handy for spotting it as the conveyor belt rolls around. Stepping forward, he grabs it and turns back to you. “That all you checked?”

"Yeah." You shoulder the bag before he can tease you about the color again and shrug. "Murphy said he'd ship me the rest of my shit if they decide to fire me." Technically you're just under investigation, but anything could happen. "It's boxed up at his place for now."

Javi nods, frowning slightly as he waits for his own bag. Wondering what prompted you to sleep with Steve. Not that it was his business, but you never seemed like you were interested.

"Here." His nondescript black bag swings around the carousel and you nab it for him, not mentioning that the reason you have such an awful colored bag is so you can actually recognize it. His stupid black bag had probably passed by you four times before you had even recognized it. "We, uh...we're waiting for your father to pick us up?" Surely that's enough time for a cigarette, isn't it?

“Yeah.” Javi guides you towards the revolving door and sighs as soon as the warm night air hits him. The airport was artificially freezing. “He should be here soon.”

"Is it bad that the heat is actually comforting?" Colombia might have varying climates, but you had gotten used to the damp heat of the jungles and busy sunshine of the city. "The office is always way too fucking cold."

“Why do you think I kept a jacket around?” He huffs with a grin, fishing in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. When he finds it, he pulls out the lighter and offers you the pack to take one if you want it.

Humming in thanks, you take a cigarette from the pack and easily lean forward so he can light it after he does his own. It's a practiced ritual, something the two of you have done a hundred or a thousand times before, and a calming one. The air is warm here but it's dry, and seeing that it's the end of the day you can tell it's going to start cooling off quickly. "So this is where you grew up, huh? The original hunting grounds, so to speak?"

He blows out the first, satisfying puff of tobacco and nicotine and chuckles. “You could say that.” He hums, looking out to watch as the last plane of the night takes off. Watching the blinking lights lift into the sky. “Got into a lot of shit around here.”

"I bet." It isn't hard to imagine him as a charming trouble-maker of a teen, talking circles around the adults in his life and pitching that signature Peña smile at anyone with a grudge. "A whole line of swooning country girls left behind you when you took off for bigger things." It wouldn't be that different from all the swooning women he had left behind in Colombia. After all, he has no idea that he brought one of them with him.

“One very bitter, jilted fiancée.” Javi confesses. He had told Steve about Lorraine but he hadn’t said anything to you about her. It had seemed wrong for some reason.

"No." You practically choke on an inhale of smoke and whirl around to look at him instead of watching the parking lot. "You were engaged?"

“Yeah.” Javi admits it wasn’t his finest moment, leaving her at the altar but it was better than the alternative. “I was.”

It casts things in a different light, to think of him that way, but you nod and pretend that you don't have a single care about it in the world. When you had thought of him as having no interest in marriage before, that had been a presumption based on what you had seen. Now, it seemed to have slightly more concrete evidence to support it. "She doesn't still live around here, does she?"

“Think so.” He rolls his eyes slightly. “Her husband Randy is some kind of investment banker.” He scoffs, never having much use for them. They are right up there with used car salesmen and pimps.

"Randy?" You snort at the name, letting it conjure images of either an idiot in a garish suit or else that actor whose last name you always forget from National Lampoon. "Sounds like she traded pretty far down. Might be glad to see you in spite of the break up." Imagining him with just about anyone hurts at this point, why not add insult to your own injury by picturing him getting back together with his ex?

“Doubt it.” He eyes you, waiting to see your reaction. “Left her at the altar with about a hundred of our friends and family.”

"Madre de Dios, Javi!" The Spanish curses are far more fun to use and roll off the tongue more often after having spent so much time in Colombia, and when you swerve to look at him with your cigarette hanging out of your mouth you nearly punch him instead of just shoving him in the arm. Your usual playfulness comes out when you're surprised, apparently. Even if that surprise is tempered with a bad situation. "That woman is gonna murder you if she ever sees you again!"

He shrugs, having accepted that as his fate a long time ago. “She’s moved on, got two kids with her husband. Better with him than me.”

"God forbid the great Casanova himself, Javier Peña, should ever settle down." You nearly huff when you roll your eyes, but a truck in the distance saves you the trouble. "Looks like your dad is here."

He doesn’t know why that comment makes him frown, but he tosses down his cigarette and grinds it under his heel. Annoyed that your off hand teasing has him defensive. “Can't wait to take a shower.”

"Can't wait to sleep without worrying about getting shot or kidnapped," you gripe before painting a smile onto your face. Is your work important? Of course it is. But they took it away from you and branded you the office slut when that title clearly already belonged to someone else, so you'll take whatever comforts you can get at the moment.

He can agree with that, although he never slept well anyway. There was too much on his mind in a constant stream of worry and regret. The pick up truck rolls to a stop and Javi steps forward to open the door. “Pop.” He greets his dad and then turns towards you for a proper introduction. Telling his father your name and that you are his partner, he looks back at you. “Chucho Peña.” He flashes a small grin. “Just call him Pop.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Chucho is jovial and friendly, offering you a hug immediately and getting borderline emotional to see his son after you-can-only-guess how long. He hushes you when you try to thank him, ushering you into the truck instead and promising you that he’s glad to have the company.

It doesn’t take long for bags to be thrown into the bed and for the three of you to be loaded up in the truck. “Thanks for picking us up, pop.” Javi knows he could have rented a car, but he doubts the counter is even open at this time of night and the one taxi service that Laredo has is notorious for not answering the phone after 10pm.

“Mijito, I’m not going to leave a beautiful woman stranded.” The elder Peña aims a wink at you and chuckles as he turns over the truck’s engine. “It’s been far too long since we had a face this lovely at home.”

His brows arch up at the flirtatiousness of his father. For a moment, it’s the perfect example of where Javi learned his smooth moves.

“Don’t look so shocked.” Chucho laughs when his son tilts his head and laughs straight from his belly to see your amusement when you snicker on the bench seat next to him. “Your mamá was much too good for me. I had to get her to stick around somehow.”

“Don’t believe a single second of that surprise on his face,” you tell the older man, still laughing. “The flirting is genetic in Peñas, apparently.” Not that he ever aimed it at you. As his partner you might as well have been completely sexless to Javi - a fact which bothered you far more than you would like to admit.

Chucho chuckles again and looks over at you and his son. He’s surprised that Javi had finally brought someone home. “Then I taught him well.” He teases.

The bench seat of Chucho’s truck keeps you tucked neatly in between the Peña boys for the drive home, and the warm air from outside the truck swirls around each of you while the radio plays ranchera and Javier’s father gives you both a rundown of how things are running on the ranch these days. The ride isn’t long, but it’s enough for Javi to get updates on some family members and such, and to find out that his dad’s got a new pair of dogs that he’s doting on.

“That sounds good.” Javi’s never been opposed to dogs and he knows that Chucho has been lonely the last few years. He hadn’t been able to come home often.

"They tend to get up early," he warns his son, laughing at the idea of his puppies waking Javier up when he knows his only boy is not a morning person at all. "Just so you know."

“Great.” Javi rolls his eyes and sighs. Not even one day to sleep in. “Don’t shoot the dogs when they wake me up, got it.”

“We’ll train them to make your coffee,” you tease, knowing that Javi before caffeine and nicotine is barely Javi at all.

“You’re worse than I am.” Javi reminds you with a grunt. He always treads warily before 9am around you.

“I am not!” The tease does make you laugh, though, and you end up shrugging in between the Peña men. “Maybe a little.”

Chucho grins, admiring that you have no issue with Javi’s sarcastic sense of humor. You’re good for his boy, he can tell.

When you pull up to the house it’s smaller than you expected at first but it’s obvious that the ranch house rambles on. Rather than being tall it is long, a sprawling thing that seems to carry on to room after room instead of room on top of room. It’s welcoming and homey, and the two dogs out front are most definitely the puppies that Chucho had talked about on the way here.

“Home sweet home.” Javi is conflicted, opening the door to the truck and stepping out. He turns towards you and reaches for your handbag so you can climb out.

“And with playmates!” The dogs perk up immediately upon seeing two new people, and rush over to you with tails wagging and tongues lolling from happy mouths. “Hi boys!” Without hesitation you’re on your knees in the dirt giving them all the pets and cuddles they could possibly want.

Raising his brow, Javi’s surprised at your enthusiasm for the dogs. Not like there was much time for animals in Colombia. “She’s going to fit right in.” Chucho hums in approval, getting the bags out of the bed of the truck.

“Shit, let me get those, Pop.” Javi hurries around the truck to take them from his father.

“Leave mine, Jav.” Scattering the dogs’ fur with kisses, you flash both men a smile before reaching to take your suitcase from Javi. “Sorry, I just…I grew up around dogs and I miss them like hell.”

“I’ve got it.” He insists, “The bedroom is going to be the first door on the left.” He tells you, imagining that you would be in the ‘guest bedroom’ rather than the old room Javi had grown up in.

“Second.” Chucho turns halfway to the horse with confusion on his face. “Have you forgotten where your room is?”

“No,” Javi shakes his head, now confused himself. “I thought you would put her in the spare bedroom.”

“Mijo…” The elder Peña furrows his brow in confusion. “Why would I put your girlfriend in a different room? You’re not sixteen anymore.”

Javi’s eyes widen, realizing the mistake his father had made. He thinks you are with Javi. That he’s brought you home to meet. “Pop—”

“Danny is getting married in a couple of weeks.” Chucho remembers suddenly. “I told him that you will be bringing your girl.”

“I don’t think that’s—” Standing up fully, you look between both men and clear your throat awkwardly. Javier’s father has made the jump - the assumption - that partner meant in business and in pleasure, and you’re the only woman in the world he hasn’t tried to fuck. “It’s not…” You should never have come here…

“Don’t worry.” Chucho doesn’t want to embarrass you; but he wants you to know it’s okay. “The boy has been charming girls into his bed since he was sixteen, I know what he gets up to. But he’s never really been one to bring someone home, so you’re special.”

“Less special than you think I am.” You mutter under your breath, looking to Javier for help in clarifying the situation without being rude.

“Pop…” Javi frowns slightly. “I think she’d be more comfortable with her own space. She didn’t, we didn’t live together.”

“The second bedroom is basically a junk closet,” Chucho admits, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t think you would be needing it.”

Shit. Javi knows you aren’t happy but he can talk about the sleeping arrangements when his father isn’t listening. “Okay.” He agrees, pointing you down the hall. “Last door on the left.”

Standing in that room with him ten minutes later is more awkward than the first time you had to go to a brothel with him in Medellín, finding that he knew the name of every girl there and discovering exactly how jealous that made you. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” you tell him without hesitation.

“Don’t be stupid.” Javi shakes his head. “We can share. Or I’ll sleep on the couch if that makes you uncomfortable.” There is no way he would let you sleep on the floor when you are a guest in his house. Or, technically, his Pop’s house.

“I’m not stupid.” Even if he doesn’t mean it, the offensive comment does make you bristle and you frown. “And I’m not uncomfortable.” Daydreaming is what you’ll be, but you’ll be damned if he finds that out. “Fine. We’ll just let your Pops think we’re sleeping together, if that’s what you would prefer.”

“He already thinks we are sleeping together, muñeca.” He reminds you, tossing his bag down on the bed and rubbing his neck. It’s awkward and he doesn’t want to think about why his father would think he was sleeping with you. “We are adults. It’s a big enough bed to share.” It’s not a king like his bed in Colombia, but he had shared a queen-sized bed with plenty of women before.

“Just tell me you don’t kick or talk in your sleep or anything.” You’ll just stay on one far edge of the mattress and find someplace else to stay ASAP. That’s all there is to it, you tell yourself firmly.

“Not that I know of.” No one has told him about shit like that, but it’s been awhile since he’s slept beside a woman. “I’ll even wear underwear to bed.”

“How noble of you.” You huff and roll your eyes.

“If you don’t care…” he chuckles quietly, wondering if you're annoyed or embarrassed.

“Poke me with that thing in the middle of the night and you’re gonna wake up without it.” Better that he should never know what your real reaction to his cock would be. Let him think you don’t want him like he doesn’t want you.

Javi frowns and looks away. “Don’t worry about that.” He grumbles, never happy with the idea of losing his manhood.

“Fine then.” Even with knowing that he isn’t interested in you, it still stings when he assures you that you are safe from his attention. Why are you the one woman Javier Peña won’t put his dick near and why do you still want him to so badly? It’s like a sick joke from the universe.

He can tell you aren’t happy with the current arrangement and he knows that he will be busting his ass to make sure the spare bedroom gets cleaned out. “It’s late.” He bites his lip. “I’ll shower and you can…settle in.”

“I shower in the morning.” He knows that. You’ve had plenty of long stake outs and hikes through the jungle and fuck only knows what else — shared hotel rooms where Steve always took the pull out couch and gave you the second bed. He knows you shower in the morning. But still, when you open your bag to pull out clean pajamas and your toothbrush, you pause. “Unless that would weird you out? Some people think it’s gross to sleep on clean sheets without showering. And it’s…it’s your bed.”

“Whatever you want to do, muñeca.” Javi murmurs quietly. He tries not to think about you in a shower, focusing on unzipping his own bag to pull out clothes. It’s late, so any unpacking would need to wait until tomorrow.

“Tomorrow, then.” You have a feeling you’re going to need a cold shower after sleeping next to him anyway. “And I’ll write your dad a check for having to call long distance. But I promised Steve I’d check in.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head and turns to look at you with clean boxers and his toiletry bag in his hand. “I’ll pay the long distance bill. Phone is in the kitchen.”

“We’ll figure it out later.” You tell him with a shrug, not wanting to think about Javi naked or Javi wet. Or Javi all clean and shiny crawling into bed with you. You’re never going to get any sleep tonight. “Now go so I can put my pajamas on. I’m still exhausted from that kid screaming all the way from Miami to here.”

“Yeah,” Javi winces. “The kid had a set of lungs on them.” He motions towards the bed. “Take whatever side you want.” He offers. “Not picky.”

The awkwardness of changing your clothes in Javier Peña's childhood bedroom is very real, but you stack your things up neatly in one corner and slip under the crisp, clean covers and put your head on one of his pillows without letting yourself wonder too often how many girls were in this bed before you. And for very different reasons.

He doesn't take too long in the shower, even though he's tempted to jerk off. Knowing that it will be awkward if he wakes up with his cock pressed against your ass. It's not like you would want that. You wanted Steve. Once clean, he steps out of the shower and towels off, swiping the deodorant under his arms and slipping on a pair of rarely used boxers to sleep in. It was better than sleeping naked, like he normally does.

Javi returns to you leaning half out of the bed petting one of his father's dogs that had nudged its way into the room while he was showering, and you're giggling like an idiot with all awkwardness forgotten at the way the sweet cattle dog is giddy to be getting so much attention.

Javi shakes his head, tossing his dirty clothes into the basket that is near the closet door and he does double back to open the door to the hallway so the pup can leave again. "Why do I feel like the dog's gonna end up in the bed?" He asks.

"He's a good boy," you insist with the most dedicated talking to a puppy voice you can possibly manage.

He rolls his eyes, but it's not in annoyance. Even offering to pet the pup when he comes over to curiously sniff Javi before rejecting his affections to return to the woman who is just basking in his presence. "I'm sure he is."

"You gonna come snuggle up with us, MacGyver?" Javi's father has a habit of naming his dogs after television characters, and these two are no exceptions. MacGyver the cattle dog jumps excitedly before bounding up onto the bed and wiggling right up next to you. "See, Jav? He's a sweet baby."

He sighs, but doesn't protest as the dog wiggles happily and licks you repeatedly as you giggle. You laughing and enjoying doggy kisses is much preferred over the depressed moping that had come with your suspension. He doesn't blame you, his moping just isn't as obvious. "The 'sweet baby' better not hog the bed." He grunts, lifting the covers to get in beside you. Maybe having the dog between the two of you would be a good thing.

"He won't," you promise, even though you have no idea what this dog's sleeping habits are like. You do know that getting cuddles from a dog is the best and happiest you've felt in months, so you're just going to accept it and let the good boy snuggle up to you. "See? He's my snuggle buddy."

“I see that.” It’s impossible to be jealous of a dog and Javi isn’t that ridiculous. His watch and wallet set down on the nightstand, he sits up in the bed and reaches down to pat him a few times and scratch behind his ears.

MacGyver might be the happiest dog in the world right now, and you laugh again before settling down. Tucked down under the blanket with a sweet dog between you and some distance from everything that has happened today, things don't seem quite as helpless as they did this morning. "Thanks for this." As ridiculous as everything is, it's thanks to Javi that you have a place to sleep tonight and a soft place to land. It's not his fault that sleeping in the same bed as him is your own personal hell.

“No problem.” Javi nods and then thinks about something. Hopping out of the bed. “I’m going to get some water.” He tells you. “Want some? So you aren’t searching in the middle of the night?”

"Sure. Thanks." As long as he's offering, you're not going to turn it down. Especially since a tour of the house was waiting for the morning.

“Be right back.” Javi disappears down the dark hallway, sure of his footing and the layout of the house he had been born and raised in.

The light in the kitchen at the end of the hallway is still on, illuminating the large room where Javier's father is babysitting a pot of milk on the stove with Matlock halfway through destroying a chew toy at his feet. "Javi?" He barely turns around. "Need something, mijo?"

“Getting some water.” He knows his Pop has a problem sleeping most nights. It’s gotten worse since his mamá passed, the warm milk helping the older man settle down. “Don’t want her trying to find the kitchen in the dark and tripping.”

"Probably for the best," Chucho chuckles. "Can't find where MacGyver went, she might trip over him in the night."

“Dog’s curled up to her like they are best friends.” He snorts, walking over to the cabinet next to the sink where the chipped glasses from his childhood still sit on the shelves.

"Well, damn." That makes him laugh a little harder, and he ends up leaning back on the counter a little with a contented sigh. "Might be for the best." He can't resist needling his son a little. "Keeps the moaning to a minimum if there's a dog in the way."

“Pop.” Javi groans, feeling like he’s fucking fifteen again, being teased about Mary Louise from his class. Of course his dad had known about the groping and experimenting in his barns after school, but there’s no chance of moaning with you.

"I'm not wagging a finger at you, mijo, I just don't want to be woken up in the middle of the night." He laughs, taking his pan off the stove to pour its contents into a mug. Normally he carries it back to his room to sip while he reads, but it's so nice to have his son in the house again. "She seems nice," Chucho commends. "And she's a knockout, to boot."

Javi grunts, aware of how attractive you are. He moves over to the sink and fills the glasses halfway with cool well water. “She’s a good woman.”

"Hell of a lot sweeter than that Lorraine." Chucho remarks sharply, but he shrugs immediately after. "But that's just a first impression. I'll get to know her well enough soon. Y'all stay as long as you want or need to. It's nice to have life in the house again."

“Thanks Pop.” He means that. Both of you need a place to lay low and rest. Once he gets you into your own bedroom, the uneasiness will pass. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

"Night, son." The nod Chucho gives Javier as he ambles from the room comes with a pat on the younger man's shoulder, and soon enough Javi's father has disappeared out of sight with Matlock right at his heels.

Javi sighs, carrying the two glasses of water to the bedroom and contemplates going outside for one last smoke. Pop doesn’t condone smoking in the house, a rule set by his late wife and Javi respects it. In the end, it’s the hassle of brushing his teeth again so he doesn’t accidentally breathe cigarette breath into your face if he rolls over during the night, that convinces him not to. “You two look comfortable.” The dog is halfway sprawled over you, greedy for your pets and praise like he was a lap dog.

“I miss having a dog,” you admit with a sheepish, sleepy grin.

He hands you the water for your side and nods. “Grew up with dogs out here.” He knows that it’s common, but there hasn’t been time for a pet with the work in Colombia.

Even a single sip of the cold water is refreshing, and you put the glass down on the nightstand beside you with a hum. “There were always a lot of animals around when I was growing up. Dogs, cats, the horses, a goat for a while, a bunch of chickens…” You shrug a little and settle down under the covers with the dog still sprawled out over you. “Guess I missed it more than I thought.”

“Goats are funny things.” Javi chuckles as he gets back into the bed. The door is still open to let the dog out when he wants but he’s not worried about it. “We used to have some that would fall out, stiff as a corpse.”

“We had one that did that whenever my sister got near it. Funniest fucking thing in the world, it made her so mad.” The memory makes you giggle a little, but you’re also pretty punchy from being tired and upset all day, so you scratch lazily behind MacGyver’s ear and blow out a breath. “We should get some sleep.”

“We should.” Javi pushes down and twists his body so he can turn off the bedside lamp and plunge the room into darkness. “I know you are tired, muñeca.” He murmurs as he wonders how long it will take him to fall asleep beside you.

“Mmm.” You are, but you doubt you’ll do anything tonight but pet the dog and stare at the wall. His age-old habit of calling you ‘doll’ seems so much more intimate when it’s said in a shared bed and you can’t do anything about it. Masturbating four inches away from him on the same mattress is out of the question. “Night, Jav.”

“Night.” Javi shifts, settling into the bed and sighing softly, tucking his arm behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. The next few days until that room can be cleaned out will be interesting.

******

The most interesting part, unfortunately, was finding out that the old guest room bed hidden underneath ten years of clutter was broken in two places, making it completely unusable. After more than a week of pulling things out of that room, you and Javier had stood in dusty clothes and looked down at the frame in defeat, deciding to deal with it when you got back from your hearings in Washington, which would begin after the next weekend. A few more days in that bed together with the dog between you wouldn’t kill you — although you were increasingly frustrated at this point — and you would be in DC for however long they saw necessary. After that? After that you would know if you were headed back to Colombia or another field office. Or if you still had a job at all.

“At least we have Danny’s wedding this weekend.” It will be an opportunity to see a lot of family, although there has been a steady stream of visitors to the ranch after word got out that Javi was home.

“Right.” Wincing slightly, you nod and sit back in the chair you parked yourself in when MacGyver came bounding into the house to demand attention. “I should probably make sure I have something other than jeans to wear to that.” The idea of shopping for Javi’s cousin’s wedding is vaguely outlandish, but you’re not sure you have much of anything in your bag from Colombia that would be appropriate.

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m wearing jeans, I don’t think you’d be out of place.” He honestly doesn’t know if he’s ever seen you in a dress outside of work.

“I think the ghost of my granny would rise up and smack me upside the head if I wore jeans to a wedding.” You laugh at the image and sigh, pushing up from your seat. “C’mon, sweet boy,” you coax the dog. “Let’s go see what’s left in that suitcase that I haven’t unpacked.” Over your shoulder, you throw Javier a familiar smile. “Maybe I have something from that undercover stint I did a couple of months ago.”

His brows rise and he stares after you for a moment. That undercover stint had not been family friendly and he had tried so hard to ignore how good you looked.

“What?” When Javi’s reaction is the opposite of what you were expecting, you stop halfway down the hallway and turn. “Too inappropriate? I might not even have anything with me, anyway.”

“It was…a nice dress.” He comments, shaking his head. “It will look good.” You would be the sexiest woman there, though that wouldn’t be hard when everyone else is either family or lifelong friends. His problem is that every person there believes that you are his and he will be fielding ribald jokes all day.

“Wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed to be seen with me.” It picks at you in a way you haven't expected, that he has just let everyone believe you’re together. Even Chucho is still convinced of it and at this point there is probably no telling him otherwise. Every subsequent night you spend in his son’s bed is proof to him, even if you sleep with the door cracked open and the dog between you, and have never shared physical affection in any way.

“Never be embarrassed about being seen with you.” He frowns, wondering where that comment came from. You’re a good looking woman and know that. You got hit on all the time, the men around the embassy and the members of the Bloc. You are probably the one embarrassed to be seen with him. “You call Steve?”

“Yeah.” It’s awful when he bristles at you like a cat with its fur standing on end, but since you have no clue what you did to deserve it this time, you just turn into his room to look at what’s left in your suitcase. “He’s gonna hang on to my stuff until I know if they’re transferring me or outright firing me.”

“I’m sure he misses you.” The close proximity to you is starting to gnaw at him. The ache in his cock matches the hollowness in his heart. Reminding himself that this isn’t what you want, he sighs at the broken bed, putting on his gloves again to toss the ruined item into the large pile of junk that’s been amassed to take to the dump.

“Sure. I mean…that’s what you do with friends, right?” Rummaging in the bottom of his closet, you come out of your suitcase with a little black dress and a pair of stylish high heels that you’d bought for the op, using it as an excuse to get something nicer than what you wore for work everyday. Telling yourself that you’d kept them on the off chance that you ever got asked out on a date. “Are these okay?” You ask, appearing in the guest room doorway a second later. “I have some colorful jewelry so I won’t look like I got lost on my way to a funeral.”

“Whatever you want to wear.” Javi doesn’t know much about women’s fashion besides how to peel a woman out of her dress, but it seems fine to him. “You will look good.”

"Okay." It was an attempt to engage with him, to maybe hear an anecdote or get encouragement, but he's closed himself off again. It just makes you want to shrug it off and walk away so you go back to his room to put the clothes away and grab your book off the nightstand. You'll go read and get out of his hair for a while. Clearly spending so much time around you is grating on him.

Javi sighs again when you walk away, watching you and he can’t help the way his eyes tip down to your ass. It’s a nice ass. Making him frown when he remembers Steve saw it. He’s never been a jealous man, but fuck if he’s not jealous of that fucking hillbilly right now.

Finding Chucho out in the garden shouldn't have been a surprise, but when you flop down on the porch swing in back of the house with your book and look up to see him smiling and waving from the herb pots, you still startle a little. "H-hey Pops." You wave back awkwardly and silently congratulate yourself on being dumb enough to accidentally trade one Peña for the other. There's no escape though, because if you flee Chucho's presence you'll just have to explain yourself later.

“Mija.” Chucho notices the unhappy look on your face that you quickly decide to suppress. “My son giving you heartburn?” He asks, swiping his hat off his head to wipe the sweat. “I keep telling him that he does not have to be so glum all the time.”

"It's nothing, Pops, I promise." The last thing you want is for him to be thinking that you and Javi are having relationship problems when you have no relationship to begin with. "I'm just a little anxious." Good. You'll go with that. He knows the hearings are coming up anyway.

“They would be fools not to take you back.” Chucho grunts, although he keeps his opinion on whether you should go back to himself. “If they don’t, you can stay here as long as you want. Javier likes you here.”

"The standards are different for me." It's bullshit, but it's true. Being a woman, you have to out perform every single one of your male coworkers in order to just keep your head above water. And you had let yourself get sentimental over Javier - the one man in your universe who never seemed to care what you thought of him in the first place.

“They know that one day you will be telling them that you are carrying Javier’s baby.” Chucho huffs, shaking his head. “Stupid men believe women cannot carry a child and do a job. Even though women are stronger than men.”

"That—um—" To hear that from his father flusters you beyond imagination, and you nearly vibrate in a very uncomfortable way. "That isn't...Chucho that's not...Javi and I don't have that kind of relationship." You hate feeling like you're lying to the man when he's been so incredibly kind to you. Maybe it's better that he knows the truth. If you're not Javi's girlfriend he might not want you here — and that's something you need to know.

“Not now.” Chucho huffs. “When the boy gets his head out of his ass and decides to make an honest woman out of you, he will want babies.” He leans against the railing and smirks. “He’s actually good with the bebitos.”

"No, that's not what I—" You stop though, tilting your head slightly in confusion. "I've never seen him look anything but terrified in the presence of babies or small children."

“Really?” Shock turns to amusement and Chucho nearly doubled over laughing. “He said he was going to pretend he knew nothing.” He gasps as he chuckles after a long minute. “Mija, Javier is the oldest of all the cousins. He was changing diapers before he was eight. His tía swears he was the only one who could get Danny to stop crying.”

"Really?" The idea of Javi taking care of any kid is unexpected to you, and you hate the way it warms through you. The way it makes you yearn.

“He is a good boy, a bit stubborn.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “But throw a baby in his arms and the boy would light up.”

"Not in Colombia." You shake your head a little. "Our other partner...he and his wife had adopted a baby while she was in country with us. I don't think I ever saw Javi go near her."

“Olivia.” Chucho nods. “Javier blames himself for what happened to her mother.”

"Sometimes the best thing we can do is work toward the best solution for a bad situation." Sweet little Olivia is with Connie now, and although you don't know what will happen between Connie and Steve, you know that baby will be loved and looked after. That's all you can really hope for sometimes. Love and care.

“That is a good way to look at it mija.” He nods, looking back out at the garden. “You will be good for him.” He promises you. “Everything he’s ever told me about you is true.” He reaches over and pats your hand before he turns back to go down the porch steps and back into the garden.

He's talked about you? Maybe Chucho just means the things that Javi has told him since you've been in the house, you really can't be sure. The best you can do is try to push it out of your mind and open your book.

******

Once the bed frame and mattress are tossed, Javi strips down and climbs into a cold shower. Groaning at the refreshing feeling of the water as it calms his overheated skin, he leans against the wall. You are upset at him, and he wonders if he can take you into town for a meal or something to get you to forgive him.

It's been almost an hour before Javi emerges again, looking very much like himself in that blue shirt with the pinstripes that makes him look taller and crisp, clean jeans. The dogs are the first to notice him, woofing excitedly and jumping up onto the porch to get dusty pawprints on his thighs before you can even turn around.

Javi snorts and shakes his head as he scratches the dog's ears. “Do you want to go into town?” He asks casually. “Get a drink and a meal no one in this house cooked?”

Though the voice in the back of your head wonders if he's asking out of guilt, it does sound nice to get out of the house and you had started feeling hungry about a half hour ago. Cleaning the guest room had been a bigger task than either of you expected and you're pretty sure you skipped lunch most days by accident. "Sure," you nod, plucking your bookmark out of the back cover of your book and saving your page for later. "Sure, that sounds nice."

“Okay.” Javi nods and shoves his hands in his jeans. “I’ll — you go get ready and I’ll get the truck keys from Pop.”

"Okay." You nod in return and disappear back into the house to wash up and change into clean clothes. That black dress is the only nice piece of clothing you managed to pack, but the jeans you routinely wore to the office were decent looking and several of the blouses that you had brought back to the States were nice, soft, floral things that you had bought in Colombia. So when you reappear a little while later in clean clothes with your face washed and hair tamed, it almost feels like the date you know you're never going to get with him.

“Ready?” Javi pops up from the rocker and he swallows harshly at the sight of you all cleaned up. He’s going to need a double in order to not say something stupid. “Got the keys.”

"Okay." Yeah, this feels exactly like getting ready for a date, and you seriously hope that wherever he's taking you has a liquor license because otherwise you're gonna make an idiot of yourself. "Where are we going?"

“There’s this bar in town.” Javi saunters down the porch steps and out to the truck. “Looks like shit but they serve the best damn food.”

"That's usually how it goes." You follow him out to the truck and hide your surprise when he opens the door for you. The dogs are pouting from the front door to see you go but you settle back in your seat when he climbs behind the wheel. Town isn't too far of a drive and it isn't like you've never been alone with Javi. You've just been alone with him a hell of a lot more since getting suspended from the DEA than you ever were when you were active agents.

“Wings are good, but the chili rellenos are probably the best in town.” Javi throws his arm on the bench as he backs the truck up to turn it around. “And add it to a burger? I used to live off of them when I was a sheriff’s deputy.”

"A chili relleno burger?" The idea has you nearly drooling, but you tilt your head at Javi as he starts to drive. "You were a deputy? Seriously?" As much as you know him as a law enforcement officer, he's so prone to break the rules that imagining him as a small town cop just seems so unlikely.

“Yep.” He shrugs and continues to guide the truck down the long drive from the house to the road. “A million years ago when I got out of college.”

"I wanted to be Secret Service." There's no reason to tell him this, but you find it rolling off your tongue anyway as the truck rumbles down the dirt road. "I started the process and ended up with the US Marshals instead. The DEA is where I went afterward. We worked a big joint operation with the DEA in LA and they offered me a transfer for my good work." Sometimes you wonder what would have happened if you had never taken that transfer at all, if you had stayed with the Marshals, but it's too late to do anything about it now.

“No shit?” Javi is impressed, looking over at you with a grin before he hums. “No damn wonder you run laps around us.” He had always admired your work ethic. It was one of the reasons he had kept clear of you, wanting to make sure you weren’t smeared by his reputation, although the joke was on him since you were fucking Steve.

"Yeah." You nod your head and shrug like it doesn't matter, because to some degree it doesn't. After all, Javi had been DEA for far longer than you. "Doubt they'd take me back, though."

“They’d been fools not to.” Javi sighs. “I think they will. Maybe some shit hole assignment for a few years. But you’ll overcome that.”

"You'll get to go back to Colombia. I know you will." For some reason you're certain of it. Not only because Javi tends to overcome his own shitty hardships pretty well through charm and perseverance, but because he's a damn good agent. He worked that case against Escobar longer and harder than anybody and he damn well deserves to get to go back.

“Doubt it.” He frowns and shakes his head. “It hurts not being there. Knowing that they are close to getting the bastard.”

"You will." Your hand rests on his arm on the back of the seat and you give it a supportive squeeze. After all, regardless of what else you feel for him, he's your partner. Your friend. "I can feel it."

“Thanks.” Javi sighs again and tries to shake off the glumness. “Maybe after Escobar is caught…you can figure out what you are doing with…Steve.”

"I really wish you would stop bringing that up," you tell him, letting your own sigh loose. "It was one time, we were drinking, and it was a mistake. That's all. He missed Connie and I—" He doesn't need to know, you remind yourself sternly. "I let it go too far."

He didn’t know that. He had assumed that it was something more. At least more than once. “I’m sorry.”

"We were never going to tell anyone." It feels like an explanation is warranted, since you snapped a little, and you sit back in your seat. "I don't know what happened. Somebody found out and it got back to the higher ups." Stupidly, you shrug. "Sometimes you do shit you shouldn't have for dumb reasons. That's all. He's my best friend, and it shouldn't have happened."

“I thought you two were having— that it was something more.” He admits, shrugging slightly. He doesn’t want to admit that he was jealous. He’s not your best friend.

"You thought we were having an affair." You swallow a sigh and wish you had brought your cigarettes. "It wasn't that. We just...neither of us could have what we wanted, so sometimes when that happens you make the dumb decision to cling to whatever is closest."

“Why couldn’t you have what you wanted?” He catches that and frowns slightly. Wondering what you couldn’t possibly get.

"Doesn't matter now." He's perceptive as hell as an agent, but shit sometimes Javi is oblivious. And the last thing you want is to make shit awkward between you by admitting that you want him and pretty much always have. Since you met, at least.

He frowns and wonders why you are being cagey. Unless it was someone in Colombia that you had left behind. “Well, I’m sorry.”

"You didn't do anything to be sorry for." It's not his fault that he doesn't want you. It's not like he sat back and consciously decided not to be attracted to you. That would be kind of insane, to be honest.

“No, I did.” Javi snorts. “Spent so much time making sure no one thought you would sleep with me, I didn’t notice you and Steve.”

"You made it very clear that you didn't want to sleep with me." And it fucking stings that he would be so casual about bringing it up. Maybe dinner was a mistake. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

“Oh I wanted to sleep with you.” Javi snorts. “That’s why I made sure everyone knew I wasn’t.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “There was a betting pool on how long before I fucked you when you showed up.”

"You–I–there was a what??" There is no way to disguise the shock in your voice, and you probably should have taken a breath before you opened your mouth, but you're too dumbstruck for logic at the moment.

“Yeah.” Javi shakes his head in disgust. “Bastards, every one of them. Acting like it was just some kind of game. That you weren’t an agent and just another worker at the brothel.”

"Okay, but–" Your mind is spinning a little and you reach to shut off the truck's radio, hoping that it will help you think a little more clearly. "But you–you said that–Jesus fucking Christ this can't be happening..."

“You didn’t know?” Javi looks over at you and wonders why this seems to be rocking you so harshly. “Even the damn ambassador had a stake in the pool.”

"No I didn't fucking know!" And right now it feels like it's going to drown you, the disbelief and the frustration crashing over you in equal measure. "And Steve sure as fuck didn't know. Otherwise he should have fucking said something instead of sleeping with me."

What the fuck does Steve have to do with it? Javi frowns and shakes his head. “They all talked about it in Spanish. You know he can’t fucking understand half of a conversation on a good day.”

"He can't even order in a restaurant." Which was a source of endless amusement, but it doesn't answer your biggest question. The one that has you turning to watch him while he drives with exhausted curiosity. "So...you were protecting my reputation? Is that it?"

“You’re a good agent.” Javi insists. “If they thought you were fucking me, they wouldn’t give you any of the respect you are due.” It’s bullshit and completely wrong, but it’s what would have happened. “So I just….acted like you were a man.”

That makes you groan, and you cover your face with both hands as he drives. “Fucking, of course you did.” That certainly explained a hell of a lot, even if you’re not thrilled about the answer. He had done it out of respect, knowing that you couldn’t get both. Meanwhile, you would have gladly taken the option to be banged like a screen door in July.

You don’t sound happy about his decision as you groan and he is utterly confused. “Sorry?” He practically asks it, unsure why you are annoyed. You know how men act.

"You didn't do anything wrong." In fact, he did less wrong than you had originally thought, which makes it so much more difficult to be mad about.

“You sound pissed.”

"I'm surprised." Pissed is the wrong word, although you're not exactly excited to find out after the fact that you didn't have a chance for entirely different reasons than you thought.

Silence falls in the cab of the truck and Javi feels you shifting beside him as he drives. It’s probably that it was kept from you, he decides. You never like being kept in the dark, but he had never shared anyone’s proclivity for locker room bragging. The awkwardness and discomfort of the whole situation makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells, until eventually you shift one too many times and can’t stand it anymore. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you murmur, staring out the window.

“Oh.” Javi is shocked you would feel that way, but he guesses it’s not too much of a stretch. “I thought you didn’t care. You never seemed to think I was anything but a manwhore.”

The times you had teased him about it or made side comments were very definitely not your finest moments, and if you could fold up into a pretzel in this truck as he pulls into town, you would. “Of course I care.” This is barreling dangerously close to a confession, but you don’t know what else to say. The idea that you don’t care about him is absolutely the furthest from the truth.

He had thought that you were judging him for how he spent his time and who he slept with. There had seemed to be an edge of disdain to your barbed comments, so he had assumed that you hadn’t approved. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Javi huffs. “I’m not sleeping with anyone.”

“That’s…technically not true.” And the realization makes you huff at your own ridiculousness and even roll your eyes. “You’re just actually sleeping with me, not the euphemism.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “And the dog.” He reminds you, MacGuyver deciding that his favorite sleeping spot is between the two of you. Javi slept on the edge of the mattress most nights.

“I love that dog but he is a bed hog.” It’s sweet, though, and has kept you from doing anything stupid, which you have to stay grateful for.

“So it’s not just me?” Javi grunts. “I’m almost falling off the damn bed by morning.”

“We’re both sleeping on the edge and MacGyver’s got the whole bed to himself.” A half-laugh makes it out of you as he pulls up in front of a nondescript building and you shake your head. “This it?”

“This is it.” Javi puts the truck into park and shoots you a grin. “Just say no to the Hellspawn Boilermaker.” He advises you before he climbs out of the truck.

“Why would you tell me that?” You’re out of the truck and onto the sidewalk in an instant and throwing him a pout. “Now I have to know!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He cautions, striding up to the door and holding it open for you.

Inside is dimly lit and a little on the loud side, with plenty of people drinking and just as many eating while the jukebox plays and the pool tables in the corner stay active. It’s a hole in the wall for damn sure, but an inviting one. “Do you want to sit at the bar?” Javi asks, spying a small table in the corner of you don’t.

“Wherever.” This is his town - his place - and you are flexible as long as he feels comfortable. You’re going to be in your head the whole dinner now that you know he used to want you anyway, so you truly couldn’t care less.

“Let’s sit at that table.” He would rather not answer a dozen questions on being home. So he guides you over to the small table.

A waitress notices you quickly enough, bringing over two thin menus and taking your drink orders while simultaneously making it obvious that she finds Javi extremely attractive. Not that you can blame her, but she is awfully blatant about it. What if you were on a date or something?

Javi studies the menu quickly before setting it aside and leaning back, reaching for the ashtray. He has been dying for a cigarette and needs one now.

"So this is an old haunt?" The menu is nothing surprising - basically barbecue and some house specialties, but it all sounds damn good.

"Pretty much." Javi smirks slightly. "We all used to drink underage here, back when that wasn't horrible." He explains. "Then most of us became solid citizens. Half the police force in Laredo used to come here."

"Boilermakers for all?" You guess, shooting him a grin.

Javi chuckles and shrugs slightly. "I'm surprised that it wasn't offered when we ordered our drinks. Wonder if they still do it. It was a tradition."

"When I was in the Marshals, we used to do these awful tequila bombs after missions." For better or for worse, you haven't had one in years. Although it almost feels like a sentimental memory now, it was more like hazing back then. "Thank god we could get good tequila in LA. If I had tried that where I grew up, it would have been cheap shit and bad beer and tasted even worse."

He chuckles again and nods. "This is a habanero infused whiskey with a shot of pickled jalapeño juice dropped in it, all dropped into a glass of Budweiser. Have to drink it all in one shot."

"Ugh." The grimace on your face is immediate, but still you're laughing. "So the kind of thing Milgroup would make their boys drink and tell them it's a Colombian specialty?"

"Yep." The waitress swings back by, dropping off drinks and lingering for just a moment, so Javi picks up his whiskey and looks up at her. "You still offer the Hellspawn?" He asks curiously before he downs the shot in one toss of his head.

"Only to people brave enough to try it," she simpers, clearly meaning dumb instead of brave, but not wanting to put him off.

Javi smirks and looks over at you. "Give us two and a basket of cheese fries to cool down with." He orders.

"We're both going to do the barbecue burger." There isn't even a debate on that – the burger boasted cheddar cheese, thick cut bacon, house barbecue sauce, and onion straws with house-made pickles on the side and that has both your name and Javi's written all over it like a neon sign. When the waitress nods and walks away with your menus, you sit back and laugh at his expression. "You didn't think we'd both gravitate toward the same thing? That's the quintessential burger for us."

"I expected you to go for the chili relleno burger." He admits with a small grin.

"I thought about it." You really did, especially since he had mentioned it on the way here. "But...onion straws. You know I'd probably climb through the jungle in high heels for anything having to do with fried onions."

"That is true." He frowns. "Haven't you already run through the jungle in high heels though?"

Only once, but it had been early on and Javi had made you out to be something of a legend for managing it. "Yeah, so I know what a pain in the ass it is."

"I wouldn't want to find out for myself." He picks up the glass of water that had been delivered with the other drinks and takes a sip. "Word of advice, don't try to drink water after the Hellspawn. Makes it worse."

“Noted.” Although that has you morbidly curious, you don’t ask questions. He ordered the cheese fries, that’s what is going to happen after the drink of doom.

The jukebox starts to play and Javi looks around the bar again. Noting that not a lot has changed over the years. "So we just need to get through Danny's wedding." He broaches the subject. "I'm sorry, but I think pop has told the entire family that we are together. So expect questions and tales about the wedding that wasn't."

“Why didn’t you ever tell them that we aren’t?” It is such a point of curiosity and frustration that you need to ask. As much as you don’t want to upset him, you need to know why he never just told his family that you aren’t his girlfriend.

He sighs and shakes his head. "It's–" He doesn't want to admit that he had talked a lot about you with his Pop, giving the man the impression you were very important to him. Because you were. "I don't know." He admits with a shrug, figuring that it was easier to say that than to admit that he wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with you.

“Bullshit.” It is, and you’ll call him out on it any day of the week. There’s apparently shit he’s been hiding from you, but this isn’t going to be on that list anymore.

He frowns, lips curled unhappily and he reaches for his cigarettes again after crushing out the one he just finished. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" He demands, shoving the cigarette between his lips and flicking the zippo open.

“The truth.” Your beer is going to be empty pretty quickly at the rate you’re drinking it, but fuck it. You’re annoyed after everything that got said in the truck. “I’m not gonna get mad, Jav, whatever it is. But I just found out you’ve been keeping shit from me and you’re lying about this and I hate being lied to.”

"I haven't lied." Javi shakes his head, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag off of it before blowing the smoke up into the air. "Not to you. And I've kept plenty of shit from you." It's not the best argument but you don't let it go, just staring at him and waiting for your answer. He sighs and catches the waitress's eye, lifting his glass to indicate he wants another drink and sighs again. "Because I didn't want to tell them you weren't my girlfriend."

“But I’m not.” The lackluster explanation has only made you more confused, and you drain the end of your beer with your eyes pinched closed. “You just don’t want them to know you’re single? Jav, I would have given you shit about it but I would have played along. You could’ve just asked. I get having an invasive family.”

"I don't give a shit about that." Javi scoffs and shakes his head. Looking away from you in embarrassment. "You– you're the closest I've been to a relationship since Lorraine." He admits quietly, shrugging one shoulder. "It's kind of nice."

“Lorraine is…the fiancée you left at the altar?” If you’re the closest he’s been to a relationship since that, he’s even worse at them than you thought.

"Yep." Javi huffs and leans back when the woman brings over his next drink.

"Those Hellspawns are almost ready." She tells him with a wink.

He nods but he doesn't watch her walk away, finding your eyes again. "Talked about you enough that Pop thought...well, he thought I was hesitant to admit we were dating."

“You talked about me?” All of this is news to you, but at least you can keep your voice down with that no one is looking your way. “Like…before you told him I was coming here?”

Javi frowns again, picking up the new glass of whiskey. "Of course I did." He tells you. "You didn't ever talk about me?"

“I don’t talk to my family.” They don’t want to hear from you and you don’t want to fight with them, so it was just easier to avoid by not calling. “The people I talked to most were you and Steve.”

He rolls his eyes, aware that any conversation with Steve about him wouldn't be a good one. "I–" He tosses back the drink and shakes his head. "It's nice, okay?" He hisses. "Fucking normal. I feel normal. Imagining that we– that you–" He breaks off and slumps back. "I'll tell them."

“He wanted me to tell you.” The words come blurring out of your mouth like you had tried to swallow lava, and it’s immediately too late to take it back.

"Tell me what?" Javi barely pays attention to you, clenching his jaw as he thinks of how to break it to his Pop that the woman who is 'perfect for him', isn't even someone he's ever kissed.

The waitress comes back, this time with a tray with six items on it. Two shot glasses, two whiskey glasses and two beer glasses. The makings of the Hellspawn. "Here we go."

With the moment broken, your sudden burst of bravery deflates and you sit back, very nearly pouting sullenly. “Right. Let’s just drink.”

"Okay." Tessa sets the tray down and smiles at Javi. "You know how this works right?" She asks, sure that he might be the most handsome man she's ever seen. "Drop the jalapeño juice into the whiskey and then drop both glasses into the beer." The glasses of beer were only half full, making sure that it's not too messy. "And those cheese fries are coming right up."

“Can’t take the barely legal waitress home if you’re still fake-dating me,” you mutter after she walks off, feeling bitter at your own stupidity at this point.

"What?" Javi frowns, confused at what you are talking about. "I– her?" He shakes his head. "I haven't even looked at her."

“Until twenty minutes ago in the truck I was under the impression that your rule was anybody but me, so I’m still adjusting,” you tell him curtly before dropping your drink together with determination and putting the concoction to your lips so you can’t say anything else stupid.

"Fuck you." Javi drops the juice into the whiskey and glares at you before he picks up that glass to drop into the beer. "I always wanted you. Still do." He picks up his own drink and starts to down it.

It isn’t until your glass is down – the foul drink being oddly tasty at first but soured by the mood that you find his eyes again. “I slept with Steve because I was depressed that you never looked at me twice.”

Javi grimaces and coughs slightly at the burn of the capsaicin in the drink before staring at you. "Probably because when I looked at you, you were walking away from me."

“He told me to tell you.” You repeat, wishing you had another drink to down, like maybe you could drown yourself in them. “Said you deserved to know. So there. I’m telling you.”

"So there?" Javi reaches for the water out of reflex. "Like I was expected to know you wanted me to look at you when you scoffed every time I left the office." You knew where he was going, what he was doing. He hadn't hidden it. You had made your feelings about his affairs very clear.

“Shockingly,” this time your sarcasm is aimed at yourself. “I didn’t handle being in love with you very well. Being jealous of every other woman in Colombia grated on me just a little.”

The water is halfway gone when Javi realizes his mistake. The burn of the peppers in the whiskey immediately increases and he feels his tongue start to burn. "Shit."

“Shit?” Not having registered the drink or the water or any of it, you sigh only so you don’t scream and squeeze one hand into fist as hard as you can. “Forget it. Never mind. I’ll get my shit out of your Dad’s house and find a hotel tonight. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Eyes watering, Javi squeezes them shut and prays that the fries come quickly. "H-hot." He wheezes after a moment of trying to speak but being unable because of how bad his mouth is watering.

“Wha—oh!” When you finally realize what happened – remembering what he said about water making the drink hotter and realizing that he had half of his glass – you are up and out of your seat in a heartbeat to go straight to the bar for a glass of lemonade or juice or even tomato juice. Anything with acid. The confused bartender gives you a glass of tomato juice with lemon and says he’ll put it in your tab in the same breath that you’re thanking him and bringing it back to the table.

Breathing hurts and Javi's trying not to inhale too much as you rush back over with the glass of juice. Shoving it into his hand as he greedily starts to gulp it down in an effort to quell the burning of his mouth and esophagus.

Acid helps heat. Carrillo told you that once when you had dinner with him and his wife and got in over your head with his wife's fantastic and incredibly spicy salsa. It won't cure him instantly but it will help, and now you're sitting at the table feeling like an idiot for getting mad about his reaction when he was in pain.

Once every drop of the juice is gone, Javi sighs, setting it down and cursing himself for being so unnerved by you and this entire situation and he had fucked up and done exactly what he had warned you again. "Thanks." He grunts, reaching for a napkin to wipe his mouth and wishes he had another beer to wash down the taste of the tomato juice.

"Sure." The awkward shuffle of two people who can barely look at each other is mercifully interrupted by the waitress arriving with the plate of fries and two more beers, and she takes your glasses away silently after reading the tension between you.

"So." Javi takes a large swallow of his beer. "Let me lay this out. I made sure not to hit on you so it wouldn't ruin your reputation. And you were mad at me for not hitting on you?" He asks, finally glancing back over at you.

"Not...technically?" Thank god there's food to concentrate on right now and you can be justified in not looking at him. "I was jealous and frustrated. Not quite mad."

"And I'm jealous that you fucked Steve." He confesses. "When I found out, I figured that was why you never seemed to like me."

"He was upset about Connie and I was upset about you." You poke at a few cheese fries with your fork and try not to curl in on yourself. "I said your fucking name in bed with him Jav, it's not like I'm not fully aware that I fucked up."

"Oh don't tell me that." Javi winces, his own fries halfway to his mouth. "I– that's– ouch."

"I just said I fucked up." You point out. "I did. And we both knew it. That's why he told me I should tell you."

"You have told me." He murmurs, shoving the fries in his still overheated mouth. "And look like you want to be anywhere else but here."

"I'm not chomping at the bit to be rejected, that's all." There is a difference between wanting someone and you just admitting to being in love with him, and you are absolutely as fully prepared to be told that he doesn't feel the same way about you that you have been the whole time. It's just that now he actually knows the extent of how you feel.

He never thought you were dim witted. Out of the three of you, Javi had personally felt you were the smartest agent there. Yet you still have not made the connection despite all the pieces being in front of you. "And you are here because I could not admit that you and I aren't together."

A long moment of silence passes between you before you close your eyes and sigh, feeling even stupider than you had a minute ago. "...fuck."

Javi doesn't say anything. Letting the moment hang between you. If you want to clarify, to ask something, you can.

"I honestly can't decide which one of us is more of a dumbass," you mutter, wiping one hand over your face. "Probably me, honestly. But fuck..."

"Did you work with Los Pepes?" Javi snorts, shaking his head. "I think that honor would go to me."

"No." The shift at the table is only your awkwardness, and you gulp another breath. "But I did go to them to beg them to let you out of your agreement, so I guess I'm specifically a sentimental dumbass."

"You shouldn't have." Javi insists. "They would have just slapped you on the wrist for fucking Steve if that hadn't come out. You would still be there. In the hunt for that bastard."

"Well, I did." The things you do for love apparently include tanking your career. "You had been there a hell of a lot longer than any of us. You deserved to see it through."

"Apparently not." Javi grumbles, shaking off the sense of disappointment. "That's life though."

"I'm sorry." It's not as though you made it worse, but you certainly didn't make it any better.

"It's not your fault." Javi knows he has no one to blame but himself. "I'm sorry." He is the one who is ultimately responsible for you being sent back to the States. He is the one who needs to apologize.

"You didn't make me go to them. For that matter, you didn't make me get drunk and stupid with Steve, either." You sigh, shaking your head. "I did what I did for my own dumb reasons and you have nothing to apologize for."

"You felt like you had to protect me." Javi hums quietly. "You put your career on the line for me."

Picking up your beer, you stare into the golden bubbles for a second before nodding. “The shit we do for love, right?”

"You don't love me, muñeca." Javi shakes his head. "You don't know all the things that I've done. You think you love me.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” You tell him flatly. “You don’t have to feel the same way, and you don’t have to be my friend, or even my partner. But you definitely don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

That shuts him up. Staring at you for a moment before he frowns, nodding at the truth in your comment. "I am– I am not a good man."

“Does that immediately disqualify you from deserving every morsel of happiness?” Some people might say that it does, but you’ve never believed that.

"I will let you down." He sighs softly, revealing his worst fear.

"How do you know that?" Considering you haven't actually asked him for anything, the possibility is extremely miniscule. The worst he can do at this moment is tell you no, and that's what you're fully expecting. So it can't be a let down at all.

"It's what I do, muñeca." Javi snorts. "My mother, Lorraine, Helena, Oliva, Horatio, Steve, you, I let everyone down."

"And you don't deserve a chance to redeem yourself ever?" That makes you put your drink down again, and actually hold his gaze across the table. "I can't decide for you, Javi. I never thought in all the time I've known you that I actually had a chance at all, so you telling me 'no' is exactly what I expect. But if you want to give whatever this could be a chance, you very literally know where to find me."

“Don’t turn this into me rejecting you.” Javi shakes his head and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. “This is me protecting you.” He insists. “Don’t you see that?”

"I'm not trying to pick another fight." There has already been plenty of that for today. "If forgetting we ever had this conversation is what you want, that's fine. I'll smile pretty and play your fake girlfriend at your cousin's wedding, and I'll get myself out of your hair just as soon as Washington decides what to do with me. Seriously, Javi. It's fine." You've dealt with plenty of heartbreak in your life. Javier Peña won't be the first or the last person to break your heart, but you're a big girl. You'll carry on.

Javi frowns, unhappy with your answer but he can’t blame you. He’s pushing you away. “It’s not smart.” Javi shakes his head. “We’ve been drinking.”

"Fine." Despite the fact that you can feel your heart breaking in your chest, you just shrug and fold your hands in your lap under the table. "The dog takes up the whole bed anyway."

“Muñeca.” Javi murmurs quietly, his dark eyes fixed on you. Sighing softly when you won’t look at him. Hating how much you look like he’s crushing your heart.

****** To say the meal is tense is a bit of an understatement, but you pick up your book for a few hours when you get back to the house and mercifully find that Chucho has had some friends over to play poker tonight so no one is paying much attention to you or to Javi. It's just you and the dogs for a while before you figure it's safe to go to bed, seeing as you haven't seen hide nor hair of Javi since you got home.

The barn has always been a place where Javi has been able to think. The monotony of manual labor helps clear his mind and just work. Even after years away, he knows how to clean out a stall and lay fresh bedding. So the animals are getting it tonight instead of tomorrow morning? What’s a few hours when he can exhaust himself instead of going inside and begging you to let him touch you. To burn off this need that is clawing under the surface and threatening to overwhelm him.

"Looks like it's you and me, bud," you tell MacGyver, placing a kiss between his ears and shutting the bedroom door temporarily so you can put on your pajamas. It takes just a couple of minutes before you pop the door open again and crawl under the covers to give him your undivided attention. Five or ten minutes of devoted petting before shutting your eyes is good for the soul, and maybe tonight you won't end up crying yourself to sleep.

By the time that Javi closes the barn door, it’s late and every muscle in his body aches. Sweaty and needing another shower, he quietly makes his way into the house and into the bathroom. He can’t climb in the bed filthy, that wouldn’t be fair to you. Quickly showering, he wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way to the bedroom.

The dog is snoring soundly but you barely managed to stop the tears when you heard him start up the shower across the hall. With your eyes closed and the blanket pulled up to your chest you hope you look convincingly asleep, just trying not to get into another argument before sleeping.

Pushing the door open, Javi stops, listening to hear if you are still awake. “Muñeca?” He whispers softly. “Are you awake?”

It's better not to answer, you decide quickly. Better to let him think you've already drifted off so he can just settle in and fall asleep. For that matter, maybe pretending will actually help you fall asleep.

He sighs softly, unsure of why he even bothered. You hate him now. Moving over to the dresser, he pulls out a pair of boxers and slides them on. Easing his way into the bed so he doesn’t wake you, he fights for the tiniest piece that he can squeeze onto, pushing the dog over. “I wish you knew how much I love you.” He murmurs after a long moment of staring into the darkness. “How much I want to be with you.”

It's too late to say anything now, but at least you're facing away from him so he can't see that you're tearing up all over again. Of all the men in the world, you had to go and fall in love with an emotionally closed off idiot who talks to you when he thinks you're asleep. And you know for damn sure it's love because you catch yourself thinking it's cute.

“You’re going to be reassigned somewhere else.” Javi whispers. “You’re too good of an agent not to be. And if I’m– if we are together, you won’t take it. You’d give up your career for me. Again. And you’d hate me for it.”

Barely suppressing a sniffle, you squeeze your eyes shut facing the windows and say nothing. You don't move and don't make a sound, listening to him pour his heart out when he thinks you can't hear him.

“Every damn day I want you. Crave you like you’re the purest fucking cocaine that has ever come out of Colombia.” He sighs. “I’m fucking tired of jerking off in the shower, imagining how you would feel, how you would sound. But I can’t touch you and lose you. I can’t, muñeca.”

A tear actually escapes this time, damn him and his sentimentality, but you don't move to wipe it away or even flinch. His confessional is his alone. You're not supposed to be hearing a word of this.

“If it takes you hating me to keep you safe, to keep from hurting you, I’ll do it. I’ll sacrifice my own happiness for you. Anything for you.”

A sob nearly shakes you, and it takes biting your lip to keep still and silent. Thank god for MacGyver, that dog could drown out anyone with the sounds of his sleeping. He's trying to protect you. And as noble as that is, you'd rather have him than safety any day of the week.

He had imagined it would be cathartic to confess this to you. That it would be a weight off his chest, but it’s not. He doesn’t know why, but the hollow ache is still there, the weight pressing down on him. “You asked me why I didn’t tell my family that we were together.” Javi has to add one last thing and then he will bury these feelings. “I wanted to imagine what it was like for a while. Pretend that you are mine. So I could go on without you when you leave.”

Biting your lip, squeezing the pillow, muffling your mouth with your hand, none of it could possibly be enough this time. With those words out of his mouth and the raw sob that wracks through you, the best you can do is hope that he doesn't feel the bed shake - or maybe that he isn't looking at you while he's talking. Otherwise the ruse of being asleep is completely useless at this point.

“Goodnight, muñeca.” Javi whispers again, feeling the dog shake the bed. “I always called you ‘doll’ because you are precious to me.” He closes his eyes and sighs, turning towards the door so he can try to sleep even though he knows he won’t.

______

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña

Summary: After Javi's surprise on the Peña ranch, you had already had the best night of your life. Little did you know, your night was just beginning.

Word Count: 4.9K (This is as short as it's ever gonna get, this is just who I am)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up), creampie, praise (oh boy, does Javi tell you what a good job you're doing), semi-public nudity?? (not really, but you'll see!!), mentions of eating/food, mentions of alcohol, mentions of loss of a parent, you and Javi being absolute goofballs and being lovesick idiots

A/N: SO. I finished Chapter 8 and went to go walk my dog, and the song "Would That I" by Hozier came on, and it 100% is the inspiration behind this mini chapter. I literally came up with the idea for this chapter and wrote it in less than 24 hours because Javi and Osita live in my head rent free at all times being the cutest two idiots to ever exist. Enjoy this fun lil bit, it's honestly probably my favorite thing that I've written for this series so far!!!

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“I’m not sure if cold, post sex and first I love you’s is the way that your dad intended us to eat these enchiladas, but holy shit are they delicious.” You and Javi laughed, finishing the last bites of the enchiladas verdes Chucho had packed for the both of you. It probably would have made more sense to eat dinner almost an hour ago when Javi had first taken you out to watch the sunset in the back of his truck, but, no offense to Chucho’s enchiladas, having the most romantic sex of your life followed by Javi telling you that he loved you for the first time seemed to take higher priority to you. 

“These ones are actually pretty good, I will give him that. Thank God he’s finally starting to get better at cooking, a few months ago his food was practically inedible.” Javi shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand as gathered both of your cleared paper plates and forks, tossing them into the empty paper bag Chucho had sent them with. 

“Actually? I didn’t know he had come such a long way in his cooking career in such a short time.” You snickered, pulling some of the blankets laying at the edge of the truck bed over you as you scooted yourself closer to Javi, laying your head against his chest as you snuggled next to him. Pulling you closer, Javi wrapped his arm around you, fingers tracing gentle circles along the back of his sweatshirt you were now wearing. 

“Actually. He never cooked until my mom died. One day he called me while I was still in Colombia and told me he had found one of my mom’s recipe books and was gonna teach himself how to cook. When I came home, he insisted on making me dinner every night so he could show off whatever he was learning. I ate a lot of sandwiches after he fell asleep the first few months I was home.” 

“Well despite the terrible food you had to eat, that’s actually really sweet. Glad I came around when I did so I only have to reap the benefits of his good cooking and not suffer along with you.” You giggled as he squeezed you before giving you a playful shake wrapped in his arms. “Can you cook at all, or is this a warning that you’re gonna subject me to your awful cooking too?” 

“I can cook enough. Not a good cook by any means, but definitely not my Pops a few months ago. Can do more than Kraft Mac and Cheese, I’ll tell you that much.” He smirked, poking fun at the first meal you had made. You sat up, giving him the biggest stink face you could muster without bursting into laughter.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, don’t act like you wouldn’t have eaten an entire second pot if I hadn’t made one for you, Mr. Literally Will Literally Eat Anything Under The Sun In World Record Time.” 

“If I seem to remember correctly, you weren’t doing a lot of complaining after I ate, Osita.” He winked at you as you nudged your elbow into his side before he grabbed you, rolling you over and playfully wrestling you into the pile of pillows and blankets beneath you. “C’mere, Hermosa.” He wrapped his arms around you as you giggled and squirmed beneath him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. You kicked your feet as he kissed at your neck, his mustache ticking you with each peck of his lips. Using all your might, you were able to roll over on top of him, straddling his lap as he lay on his back, breaking free of his grasp.

“Can’t get me that easy, Peña. Wrestling was the only way I got anything from my brothers for the first ten years of my life.” You smirked as you leaned down to kiss him as his fingertips gripped into your hips, pulling you further on to his lap. 

“Could think of worse ways to lose a wrestling match.” Javi’s face smug as he gestured to how you were sitting on top of him, letting out a quiet groan as you started to grind into his lap, feeling him already half hard beneath you. “Careful, Hermosa. Not gonna be so nice if you’re gonna try to play dirty.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to make the next move. 

Still bent over him, you kissed up his neck and jaw before nipping at his ear. “Last time I checked, you liked it when I played dirty.” Your whispers left jaw slack, pressing up into you, his dick already straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Fuck me.” He murmured under his breath as you began to grind harder into his crotch. “You wanna play dirty, baby? I can play fuckin’ dirty.” You could see the lust filled in the dark pool of his eyes, biting down on your lip, already feeling the slick pooling between your legs with each sway of your hips. “You already wet for me, baby?” 

This man read you like a book- like he had every fucking page memorized. “Mmmhhhmm.” You nodded, feeling how soaked the fabric of your sweatpants already was as you felt your clit rub deliciously against Javi’s dick, hard and heavy underneath you. 

“I know you are, dirty girl. Want me to touch you baby? Want me to make you come before I fuck that perfect pussy again?” You nodded again, frantically shaking your head yes at his filthy words as you worked yourself against his length. He laughed to himself, shaking his head as he watched how blissed out you already were rubbing against him. “Too bad.” 

You paused, shooting him a confused look. “What do you mean, too bad?” 

“You know exactly what I mean. You wanna play dirty, I will too. You wanna come? You get yourself off like this.” He gave you a subtle nod of his head, gesturing to how you were sitting on top of his lap. 

“Are you serious? Javi, c’mon, please.” You rolled your eyes at him as you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to play off how desperate you already were for him. 

“Rules are rules baby. Fight dirty, play dirty. C’mon pretty girl, I know how needy you are, how wet that pretty pussy is for me.” He mewled as he toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers brushing against your skin. He dug his fingers into your hips, slowly pushing them back and forth against his lap, encouraging you to pick back up your pace brushing up against his dick with every motion. “There you go, hermosa. That’s my girl. Just like that, baby.” He praised as you found yourself rubbing harder and harder against him, slick coating your thighs. With his length, it wasn’t hard to feel how big he was, making it easy to find a sweet spot that brushed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves as you rocked your hips back  and forth over him. 

“Javiiiii, fuck.” You whined, feeling the heat build at the base of your spine as your clit rubbed harder and harder on his covered cock. 

“That’s it, Osita. Doing so good for me, baby. God, you look so fucking pretty riding me like that, C’mon, I know you’re close sweetheart.” His praise had you climbing towards your high, each time you ground your hips into him had you closer and closer to coming undone. His name fell from your lips, moaning as he was gripping your hips again pushing you deeper into him. 

“Javi, I’m so close. Fuck, fuck fuckkkkkk.” You whimpered as you felt the euphoria rush through you, gushing, feeling your pussy throb from the intensity of your orgasm. You slumped into him, face falling on to his chest as you caught your breath. 

“Such a good girl, Osita. My good fucking girl. Did so good for me baby.” He whispered in your ear as hand his hands along your body, trembling at his touch. “Still want me to fuck you, dirty girl?” 

“Yes, holy shit, yes.” You moaned. “Please, I need you so bad Javi.” He helped you pull your sweatpants down, kicking them off your feet as you straddled back over Javi, sitting on top of his thighs. Slipping your fingers under his waistband, you pushed the pants down, revealing his dick, already red, precum leaking from its tip, leaving a stain on his sweatpants. You lifted yourself up, slowly sinking down on his length, each inch splitting you open with the sweetest stretch. Even without his fingers to warm you up, you were so wet that you took him easily, feeling yourself bottom out on his cock as Javi let out an audible groan. His hands reached around, giving you a light smack on your ass before his fingers kneaded into your flesh. You began to raise yourself up and down along his length, swirling your hips as your hands tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt that you were wearing, ready to take it off. His hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could get any further. 

“Keep it on. Fuck, I love seeing you in my clothes.” He bit down on his lip as you nodded, rubbing your hands up and down his chest as you threw your head back, drunk on the way his dick felt hitting against that sweet spot inside you. The hair around his base rubbed against your clit, making you whine as you picked up your pace. “Jesus Hermosa, fuck me. Taking me so well. My sweet girl.” His voice was thick and raspy between his heavy breaths, his eyes glued on your every move as you rode him. 

Suddenly, you felt him shift. Sitting up with his back pushed up against the truck, he wrapped his arms around you pulling you in so you were chest to chest, foreheads pressed against each other. You could feel him thrust up into you, his cock punching that magical spot that made the heat at the base of your spine creep up your back. “Javi, fuck baby, you feel so good. Fuckkk.” You tugged at his thick curls, burying your face in the crook of his neck, the scent of his sweet and spicy cologne clinging to his sweatshirt. 

“I know, hermosa, I know. Fuck, you’re so wet and tight, baby. Gonna give me one more? Soak my dick before I fuck you full of me again?” You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his back as you felt yourself snap, screaming his name as pleasure ran through every inch of you. You could feel how tight you were clenching around his cock as you came, his thrusts pounding deeper and faster into you. It didn’t take long for him to meet his own end, only needing a few more pumps before you felt his seed spill into you, leaking down your thighs and into his lap as you slumped into each other. 

“Fuck, Osita.” He whispered between his labored breathing, lifting his head off your shoulder, smiling at your blissed out face. “Jesus, I fucking love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav. Super romantic with your dick still in me and your cum dripping down my legs.” You giggled, still sitting in his lap. 

“It’s fucking hot, is what it is. Fuck me, you’re so sexy. What the fuck did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful woman who fucking loves me like you?” 

“God, you’re so sweet. Get your dick out of me before I start crying again, you menace.” You both laughed as you shifted off of him, grimacing at the mess you had left behind in Javi’s lap. “Do you have any towels, or leftover napkins? Sorry, I made a fucking mess. So much for those showers before we left.” 

Javi paused for a moment before a sly grin crept across his face. “Ostia, can you swim?

You raised an eyebrow at him, very confused by his question, considering you were surrounded by a gigantic, grassy field. “What? Yes, of course I can swim? Why are you asking me that? How is knowing if I can swim helpful right now?”  

His smile turned giddy, smirking at you as he shimmied his sweatpants back over his legs. “C’mon, get in the truck.” He slid himself off the back of the truck bed, standing up and outstretching his hand toward you. You quickly pulled your sweatpants back on too, following behind him as he helped you out of the truck and picked you up to put you in the passenger seat. 

“Javi, what the hell are we doing? Are you gonna go throw me in a trough or something? Listen, I love those cows, but I am not gonna be happy if you toss me into a bucket full of dirty cow spit water.” You crossed your arms at him, waiting for a response. 

“You’ll see.” He winked at you before shutting your door, hopping over to the driver’s side and starting up the car. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled, still crossing his arms at him. He reached over the center console, giving you a quick kiss before pulling away and shifting the truck into drive. 

“I’m a very lucky man, indeed.” You finally shifted out of your playfully grumpy demeanor, melting as Javi stared at you, his sweet, puppy dog eyes making your heart explode every time they landed on you. You turned up the radio as Javi pulled away, heading the opposite direction that you came from, his headlights shining on a thick patch of trees at the end of one of the pastures. Driving a little deeper into the wooded area, Javi put the car in park, leaving you even more confused than when you left. He smiled at you as he shut off the ignition, hopping out the door before coming around to your side, helping you out of the car. 

“God, I thought driving me out to the middle of the field was bad, but taking me out into the woods in the pitch black? You really never are beating these serial killer allegations, I’m afraid.” 

“You’re the worst, do you know that?” Javi shook his head as he grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him as he began to walk through the trees. 

“I’m just saying! Listen, if you really wanted- Hey! Hey! Put me down!” You squealed as Javi picked you up, flinging you over his shoulder as you pounded your fists against his back, kicking and giggling with each step he took. God, was he strong. He carried you like it was nothing, laughing to himself as he watched you try to wriggle your way out of his fireman hold. Letting out a huff of defeat, you slumped further into him, staring at the ground as he took each step. 

“At least I have a good view of your ass from here.” You snickered as he continued walking. 

“You really like my butt, don’t you?” He laughed, rustling you in his grasp, still flung over his shoulder. 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you are built like a God, Javier Peña. You’re very much proving your point right now carrying my fat ass through the woods.” 

He stopped, setting you down so you were facing towards him, placing his strong hand under your chin before tilting it up towards him. You gazed up at him, a surprisingly serious look spread across his face. “Hey. I love your ass. I love your body. Every curve, every single bit of you. Okay?”  

“Okay.” You softly replied, pulling you in tighter as he kissed the top of your head. “So are you gonna tell me where the hell we’re going, or are you just gonna keep carrying me through the woods?” 

“Turn around.” He nodded his head, gesturing behind you. As you spun around, you saw the moonlight sparkle off ripples of the pond in front of you. Rocks and tall grass surrounded the edges, water from a small stream flowing from behind the reeds into the pond. An old, worn wooden dock sat at the end, hovering over the first few feet out into the water. You turned back around to look at Javi, now smirking at your pleasant surprise with his most recent mystery. “I was out here every day as a kid in the summer. Nothing much, but it was deep enough to swim in. Haven’t been back here since high school, probably.”

“Is this where you’d take all the ladies to woo them with your swimming skills?” You joked, giving Javi a nudge as he stared around the pond. 

“No.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Just me and my friends, sometimes my cousins when they came over, if I was lucky.” 

“Well, I feel very honored to be the first lucky woman to get to see this secret pond.” You replied, slipping your sweatpants off your waist, leaving your bottom half exposed. Javi’s jaw dropped for the second time today watching you strip yourself of your clothes. “What?” You looked at him as your sweatshirt came next, dropping in a pile next to your pants, leaving you fully naked in front of him. “Aren’t we getting in?” You tilted your head at the pond, smirking at Javi who was now speechless. 

“You sure?” He said, gulping as he looked you up and down, your soft skin glowing in the moonlight. 

“Would I be standing here naked if I wasn’t?” You shrugged your shoulders as you raised an eyebrow at him. “You gonna swim in your sweats or am I gonna keep standing here like a naked idiot waiting for you?” Before you could say anything else, Javi’s clothes were on the ground next to yours, leaving you both bare, hidden amongst the secluded trees. This time, you grabbed his hand, running as you pulled him to the end of the dock, abruptly pausing as you got to the edge. “Are there like, weird things in here? It’s deep enough to jump in, right?” 

“Hermosa, just get in, you’re fine.” 

“Okay, but like-” 

“Osita, get in or I’m gonna push you in.”  

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“You know I fucking will.” 

“Ugh okay, okay! Just promise me-” 

“1…” 

“Javi, wait-” 

“2…” 

“I’m being serious, don’t you do it! Javier Jesús Peña, I swear to God-” 

“3!” 

Before you could finish, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, swinging you back and forth, throwing you over the edge of the dock, limbs flailing as you splashed into the water. You peeked your head up, running your hands over your face as you watched Javi laughing hysterically. You flung your hand against the water, trying your best to splash him as he still stood at the edge thoroughly amused with himself. 

“I hate you, I hope you know that.” You grumbled, splashing him again. “Hey, wait, where are you going?” You shouted as you watched Javi turn around, making his way off the dock. It wasn’t long before you regretted asking the question, as Javi quickly turned around, getting a running start as he launched himself off the edge, drenching you as he drove into the water, making waves that splashed against you upon his entrance. You swam there for a moment, waiting for his head to pop up somewhere next to you, when suddenly, you felt something wrap around your ankle, making you absolutely screech at the top of your lungs. You swam as fast as you could back to the edge of the dock, clinging to the edge as you heard more hysterical laughter behind you, turning around to see Javi cackling to himself as you panted breathlessly, waiting for your heart rate to return to a semi-normal pace. 

“Holy shit, I didn’t think I was gonna scare you that bad, Osita.” He came down from his laughter, looking over at you hanging from the wooden planks still trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?” He swam closer to you, now seeming like he felt a little remorse for what he had done. 

You took a few more deep breaths before letting go of the dock, looking back at him. Now only an arms’ length away from you, you swam full force towards Javi, wrapping your body around his, trying to wrestle him in the water. “You are an absolute jerk, you know that?” You grunted between your giggles as Javi grabbed you back, spinning you as you thrashed in the water, splashing it in his face before he grabbed your face to kiss him. Your legs locked around Javi’s hips, arms wrapping around his neck as his slipped behind your back, pulling you closer, feeling weightless in the water. He drew away for a moment, taking one of his hands to caress your face, rubbing his thumb along your jaw. 

“I forgive you, I guess.” You smiled as you sat there for a moment, taking in every detail of his face. His messy wet hair, his chocolate brown eyes, the way his mustache shifted above his lips as he smiled, everything about him that made you love him even more than you thought you already could. The way he looked back at you made you feel like there wasn’t anyone else in the world who could ever love you more. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi.” 

He brought you in closer, placing another gentle kiss on your lips. He pulled away again, this time with a look of panic washing over his face.

“What? Are you okay?” 

 “Was that your foot?” 

“My feet are wrapped around your waist?” You looked at him curiously. 

Trying his best to keep calm, Javi swam you both closer and closer to the shore, still carrying you with him as you stepped back on to land. This time, it was your turn to laugh at him, suddenly realizing why he had gotten out so quickly. “Not big and brave now, huh?” 

“At least I didn’t scream like you.” 

“Oh shut up.” You giggled as he set you back down, now sopping wet and shivering next to your pile of clothes. “Any way to explain to your dad why the hell we’re both coming back soaking wet?” You grimaced as you started to pull your sweatshirt over your wet body.

“We’re not.” His face smug as he followed suit opting to only put on his sweatpants, leaving him shirtless as you both headed back through the trees. 

“So…. What? You’re just gonna ask your dad to close his eyes and ignore us when we come back inside?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion looking up at Javi as he reached down to grab your hand as you walked. 

“No. To be honest, Pops is probably already passed out in front of the TV, but of course, you can’t walk through the front door without going past him. We’ll just sneak in through my bedroom window and he’ll be none the wiser.” 

You stopped for a second before laughing at him, continuing to walk as you shook your head. “Sneak in? What are we, 16? I know you said you’ve never brought any girls down here before, but I have a very hard time believing this is the first time you’ve snuck a girl into your room, Javier Peña.” 

“Only a few times.” He looked down at the ground sheepishly as you squeezed his hand. 

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Jav. Wouldn’t be my first time sneaking in either.” You admitted, your cheeks turning slightly red at your admission. 

“Really?” He perked up. “You don’t strike me as the type, but do tell.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You just seem like such a rule follower, maybe it’s the teacher in you.” He shrugged as you rolled your eyes. “What’d ya do?” 

“Fair, I guess. I was 17. One of my friends was having a party at her parents house while they were on vacation, and being the rule follower that I am, I asked my parents and they said no. I was so mad because it felt like they always let my brothers go out and have fun and I never got to. So, once everyone was asleep, I snuck out, rode my bike all the way to my friends house, got drunk out of my mind, which is part of the reason why I can never drink vodka again, and by some miracle, was able to ride my bike back home. When I came in through the side door of the garage, my brother David was in there, already waiting for me. He told me that he could hear me singing at the top of my lungs halfway down the block. He took pity on me and helped my drunk ass up to bed and never told my parents. He’s always been my favorite brother. Then, I pretended to have the stomach flu for the next 3 days to cover up for my hangover.” You both laughed as you finished your walk up to the truck, Javi opening the passenger door for you as you stepped in. 

“No vodka, duly noted. You trying to tell me your singing gets even more obnoxious when you’re drunk?” He smiled as you buckled yourself in. 

“You love my singing, don’t lie. But um… maybe… Just a little. You’ll just have to deal with my sober serenading for now, sorry.” You smirked at him as you shrugged your shoulders, Javi laughing to himself as he shut the door behind you. 

……….. 

As promised, you spent the rest of the ride to the ranch windows down, blaring “Go Your Own Way” from Fleetwood Mac, noting that even though Javi had put on the album not long ago, you were a bit distracted to actually listen to any of the songs. If it was anyone else, Javi would have rather been caught dead than singing along to anything, regardless of song, album or artist. But lucky for him, you weren’t just anyone. You were his everything. Javi was sad when you’re singing came to an end, lowering the music as you pulled up to the house, trying to remain as quiet as possible to not wake up his dad. 

“Too bad you don’t have the James Bond soundtrack in your car, I feel like we’re on some sort of secret mission right now.” You whispered, trying to close the truck door behind you as quietly as possible. 

“C’mon, you dork.” He replied, taking you by the hand and leading you around the edge of his house. You both tiptoed along the wood siding of the house, Javi leading you before stopping under one of the windows, slightly cracked open, pushing out of its frame. “Alright, if I lift you up, can you push it the rest of the way open and climb in?” 

“Sure thing, Agent Peña. What number do you want to be, since you clearly can’t be 007, that one’s already taken. I don’t think they’ll let you be the next James Bond with that ‘stache.” You mumbled, stepping in front of Javi as he got ready to lift you up. 

“Will you just get in the window, please?” He scoffed, squeezing his hands on your hips, getting ready to hoist you. 

“Fine, fine, just say you wanna be lame and move on. I’m ready.” As Javi shot you up, your fingers wrapped around the edge of the windowsill, humming to yourself as you shimmied yourself in. 

“Bada boommmm, bada booommmmm, bahnanah.”  

“Are you seriously singing the James Bond theme song right now?” Javi looked up at the window as you pushed open the rest of the pane, now looking down at him. 

“Yeah, at least one of us should have a little fun with this. You need my help getting in?” 

He hadn’t even answered your question before he was already halfway through the window, pulling himself through and landing on the floor.  

“Showoff.” You grumbled to yourself as he closed the window behind him. Wet and uncomfortable in your clothes, you stripped them off of you, drying yourself off from the towel you had left on Javi’s bed from your shower earlier. Javi did the same, shedding his sweatpants and throwing them next to yours before you both crawled under the covers, curling into each other. You pulled the comforter up over you, nestling against the warmth of Javi’s body. Laying your head on Javi’s chest, Javi ran his fingers through the ends of your hair, still damp from your swim. It wasn’t until you hit the bed that you realized just how exhausted you were, barely keeping your eyes open, your eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Javi?” You asked, looking up at him, your voice low and soft, letting out a quiet yawn. 

“Yes, Osita?” He peered down at you, fingers still twisting through your locks. 

“You really love me?” 

He chuckled warmly, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I really do. Con todo mí corazón. (With all my heart.) Get some sleep, Hermosa, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

He paused, waiting for you to respond. 

“Hermosa?”  

The only thing he heard after that were your sweet snores humming against his chest, you already sound asleep in his arms. He gave you one more kiss on the head before pulling you closer, shutting his eyes as he whispered one last goodnight.  “Buenas noches, Osita. Soy un hombre afortunado. Tienes todo mí corazón para siempre. Te amo.” (Good night, Osita. I’m a lucky man. You have all of my heart, forever. I love you.)

..........

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

[pimosworld]

Pairing- Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary- Javier gets a dog

CW- Angst,Fluff,lots of fluff, adopting a pet, shameless flirting, Chucho being adorable, Javi talking to a dog a lot.

WK-3k

A/N- This is my first time writing for Javi so be gentle. This wasn’t an ask but someone really wanted a Javi beagle fic and it spoke to me since I work at a pet hospital. Please enjoy this adorable one shot. This is for you @keylimebeag

Not beta read

My shelter

Life in Laredo was fine. 

  Javier had his father, his health, plenty of things to do around the ranch to keep him occupied. It was also a plus that he wasn’t being shot at everyday. 

  It was fine. 

  He tries not to seem ungrateful for his life, especially in front of his dad. He always worked so hard to provide for him and his mother. He was so proud, telling everyone in town his son was going to take down Pablo Escobar. 

  He didn't miss the way people treated him when he moved back home. He was not a celebrity, nothing special…just doing his job. At least that’s how he felt. Now everyday was the same, get up at the crack of dawn, feed the animals,have breakfast with his pops,do whatever project was assigned so that he could feel useful, have dinner and go to sleep. 

Sleep wasn’t usually easy to come by these days. 

  Rinse and repeat, day in and day out. 

  Tonight is going to be one of those sleepless nights. He’s been nervous  all day, smoking more than he’d care to admit. None of his daily tasks seemed to quell the oncoming anxiety. His dad is making dinner and even that is setting him on edge. The clinking of the plates, the scraping of the pan. 

  Chuchos has been treating him like a scared animal in a cage all day and he wants to tell him to lay off but he can’t. 

  “I think you need a companion.” 

  “What!”Javi looks up from his plate at his dad. 

  “Ms. Valencia said that could help with ptsd.” Chucho scrapes the remaining carnitas onto Javier’s plate even though he had said he was done. 

  “Listen pops, I don’t really need Ms. Valencia’s advice on ptsd or help finding a companion right now.” 

  Chucho sighs and looks down at his plate, moving the food around with his fork. “I mean…like a dog or something. I’m not trying to play matchmaker.” 

  Javier points toward the window. “I have plenty of animals to keep my company.” 

  His dad laughs, easing some of the tension of the conversation. “Well son they can’t come inside or go on walks. It was just an idea.” 

  “Thanks but I’ll be fine with the cows. You’ve been… spending a lot of time with Ms. Valencia.” 

  “Don’t change the subject Javier.” He stands to grab his plate but Javi ushers him to sit and heads to the sink to start the dishes. “Thanks for doing those son…I’m gonna head out, don’t wait up for me.” 

  Javi smirks as his dad throws on his coat and fixes his hair in the reflection of the toaster. 

  “You kids be safe.” Chucho waves him off before closing the back door. 

  ****

  After another long sleepless night, Javi decided to head into town. He was just going to the market to pick up a few things for dinner and stop by the hardware store for longer screws to fix the fence so the cows would stop getting out. 

  He’s driven by it dozens of times, somehow he’s never had a reason to go inside. He really shouldn’t go inside. He’ll never hear the end of it from Chucho. Laredo Animal Protective Society free adoptions. Maybe he’ll just go in and look. 

  There’s a few dogs playing in the small yard next to the building, all happily wagging their tails as they follow him along the fence. He can’t imagine how there's any dogs here at all with how cute they all look. He’s not even inside and he’s already a goner. 

  ****

  The bell chimes at the front door and you have to cease petting the senior cat October or Tobi for short. Despite it being free adoption day, you didn’t have very many customers so you’re excited to maybe help make a connection. It comes as a surprise when you enter the front lobby and see the last person you would expect to be at your job. 

  Javier Peña 

  Even with his back turned you can still make out that stance. He’s standing with his head cocked to the side as he reads the information board. 

  He hears you shuffle in and turns to greet you. His shy smile puts you at ease, knowing his reputation it was a relief to see him a little nervous. 

  “Welcome to LAPS, are you here for our free adoptions?” 

  Javi can see your mouth moving as you approach him, but he’s not entirely sure he heard a word you said. Your disarming smile and bubbly charm has him feeling something he hasn’t felt in quite some time. 

  Maybe his dad was right. 

  You’re patiently waiting for him to respond as he stands there dumbfounded. You don’t seem intimidated or annoyed by his presence as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. 

  “I’m ugh…not entirely sure what I’m looking for.” 

  “Well let’s start with something easy then. Are you a dog or cat person?” You turn towards the kennel doors hoping he gets the hint to follow you. 

  “A little of both I guess, but I’m here for a dog.” Now that the words have left his mouth it starts to feel a little more real. 

  You clap your hands together and lead him into the doors on the right. “The dogs are this way, we try to keep them separate so the cats can relax.” You turn to him and smile again, he’s not sure how every single person that walks in here doesn’t leave with a pet if this is how you treat the customers. 

  You pass a few cages that are marked in various colors, he silently follows you as you explain what the colors mean. Some are already adopted and others are just boarding. A few of them are getting acclimated to the shelter or waiting for people to come get them because they’re just lost. He hasn’t really looked at any of them, too focused on the way your blue scrubs hug your curves. 

  At the end of the cages are some long runs, a beautiful German shepherd is in the first one. Jesse James is his name, he’s 4 years old and very excited as he puts his large paws on the front of the door. 

  “He’s a sweetheart, his owners couldn’t afford his knee surgery so they surrendered him to us. Unfortunately he needs another surgery so keep that in mind.” 

  Javi thinks he’s nice, but that’s a lot to take on. Plus he already has large animals to take care of.

  The second run has an elderly looking golden retriever Audrey is the name on the tag, you stop to open the door as she gingerly makes her way towards you wagging her tail. Your soft voice as you crouch down and greet her has his heart practically melting. Her face is golden and graying in some spots. 

  “She’s twelve…so I don’t know if  she’s a good fit for you.” You answer the silent question on cue as if you can read his mind. 

  “What’ll happen to her, if no one takes her.” The timber in his voice cracks slightly at the prospect. 

  You look up at him while Audrey enjoys your soft pets and see the heartbroken look in his eyes. 

  “Oh…this is a no kill shelter. If no one takes her she’ll just live out her life here with us.” You stand and close the door and she slinks back to her plush bed. “We have to do free adoptions occasionally when space gets limited.”

  The final run has no tag on the door. A small beagle comes to the front as you open the door. He looks young but not a puppy. You step aside and let Javi crouch down to greet him. Javi scratches him behind the ear and is rewarded with small licks to his face. 

  “Hi buddy, you want to come home with me.” He barks once and wags his tail and Javi has all but made his decision. 

  It’s adorable the way Javi coos at the small dog, you can’t help but look at the way his jeans stretch when he crouched down to say hi. His black shirt is taught over his muscular frame and a sliver of skin just barely shows as he leans forward. 

  “What’s his story?” He catches you checking him out briefly when he turns around. He’ll have to send some flowers with his pops to Ms. Valencia as a thank you. 

  “She was roaming the streets a few weeks ago. She’s past her waiting period for someone to claim her.” 

  “Oh so you’re a lady.” You chuckle at the way his voice changes as he properly addresses her. “Hola cariño, cómo te llamas?” 

  “She doesn’t have a name just yet.” She barks twice in his face and he lets out a hearty laugh. “She likes to bark, I hope you don’t mind.” 

  “No one out at the ranch will complain.” He says it mostly to himself as he’s all but confirmed that he won’t be going home empty handed. 

  ****

  “Well let’s get your paperwork sorted out.” He’s muttering half phrases to her in English and Spanish as she rolls over for him to rub her belly. “I promise she’ll be here when we’re done Javier.”

  It’s not just the way you say his name but the fact that he doesn’t remember even introducing himself. He looks up at you then and notices your name tag. The name is vaguely familiar but he knows he’d remember your face. 

  “Have we met before?” He asks as he stands and closes the run door. 

  You laugh as you make your way towards the front, knowing he’ll follow close behind. 

  “Yes Javier Peña we’ve met before.” 

  A slight panic falls over him as he tries to rack his brain for any memory of you. You’re grazing your fingers along the cages as you speak softly to the other animals. 

  “I’m sure I’d remember if we met.” That flirting tone that you knew to be the real Javier makes an appearance as you round the corner to the front desk. 

  “I won’t hold it against you. I was a few years under you and I guess you would call me a late bloomer, but I hate that term.” You nervously bite your lip as you slide him the paperwork for the adoption.

  He feels a little bad that he didn’t remember you. He had blinders on back then, only had eyes for one woman before he left for Colombia. He wants to ask you out for coffee, maybe even go to lunch. He’s still hesitant now having to approach women in a proper manner. When women practically throw themselves at you it’s hard to remember how to court someone. 

  You gasp and skip to the back before he has a chance. You return with an arm full of stuff and set it on the counter. 

  “We just had some donations so you’re in luck Javier Peña.” He doesn’t normally like when people use his full name. It makes him feel old and official, but he loves the way it rolls off your tongue as you lick your bottom lip, a nervous habit he’s noticed during your interaction. “ Food to last a few weeks, toys, and a leash. Perfect way to get you started.” 

  It does feel perfect.

  “I’ll go get your girl. You’ll have to tell me when you come up with a name.” You wink at him and disappear behind the doors again. 

  ****

  His new companion is sleeping comfortably in the passenger seat of his truck. She stirs occasionally when the road gets a little bumpy but relaxes almost immediately. 

  The setting sun shines through the passenger window and she lifts her paw to cover face. He chuckles to himself at the human-like gesture as he reaches over and scratches behind her ear. 

  “Never thought I’d have a partner in crime again.” She lifts her head and barks at him. “You’re just as talkative as my old partner, Steve.” She speaks again, her hearty boisterous bark echoing in the cab of the truck. 

  She sits up as he drives down the path leading to the ranch. Her soft pants and excited tail wags as she takes in the sight of all the farm animals has him feeling a sense of contentment. 

  “Steve is no name for a lady, cariño.” She paws at his arm and lets out a small whine. “How about Murphy?” She barks twice in his face as he parks his truck in front of the house. 

  Steve is gonna love this. 

  ****

  Chucho drops a piece of meat on the floor as Murphy hurriedly scarfs it down. 

  “Dad, don’t feed her your food, she has her own food.” Javi looks at Murphy as she licks her chops. 

  “I didn’t give her anything son.”  Chucho slowly dips his hand below the table to feed her another piece. He holds his hand up to shush her as he saunters off to the hallway to enjoy her treat. 

  Javi rolls his eyes as she returns from the hallway and lays down in her bed near the back door. She looks outside and lets out a puff of air as she buries her head under the blanket. 

  “I’m glad you took my advice, Jav.” He looks up at his dad smiling to himself while he finishes his meal. 

  “Technically I took Ms. Valencia’s advice.” His dad scowls as he shrugs his shoulders, standing to gather his plate in the sink. 

  ****

  “You named your dog after me!” He can hear the girls giggle in the background as Steve shoos them away. 

  “Not exactly, she’s tolerable and I like her company.” He stares down at the dog, perched at his feet while he stands in the kitchen at the receiver. 

  “If you missed me that much you could’ve come visit.” 

  “Ha,ha very funny.” It’s true he did miss his partner, Murphy is turning out to be a wonderful replacement. 

  “I’d like to meet this girl that convinced you to get a dog.” His teasing tone is clearly evident over the phone. He briefly mentioned you so he’s not sure how Steve could even pick up on his obvious crush. 

  “Goodnight Murphy.” 

  “Are you talking to me or the dog?” Connie can’t disguise her laugh on the other end, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. 

  “The girls and Connie will get to meet your namesake the next time you come to see me.” 

  They say their goodbyes as Javi hangs up the phone. Murphy lets out a long drawn out yawn and Javi agrees it’s definitely time for bed after a long eventful day. Her first night not sleeping in the shelter, it pains him and warms his heart all at once knowing she won’t ever have to go back there. 

  “Let’s go to bed Murph.” The pitter patter of her feet follows him down the hall to his room. He places her bed in the corner and strips off his clothes. She hops up onto the edge of the bed before he has a chance to tell her no. 

  “Your bed is down there cariño.” She rolls over exposing her belly as she nuzzles further into the blankets and he knows it will be nearly impossible to tell her to get down. 

  “Fine, but just tonight.” He doesn’t even want to address the fact that he spent most of his day talking to her, he wonders if she can even understand him. 

  It won’t be until much later that he realizes how peacefully he slept that night. 

  ****

  Javi stretches his tired muscles as he takes in the soft morning light peeking through the window. He doesn’t immediately register how comfortable he is or well rested. He’s usually up before the crack of dawn so he knows it’s much later than he’s used to waking up.

  The edge of the bed is empty save for the small indent where Murphy laid all night. Her bed is empty as well and the door is slightly ajar. Panic sets in as he throws back the blanket and pulls on his sweats forgoing a shirt to look for his companion. 

  You said she was roaming the streets when she was found and he hopes she didn’t decide to run off in the middle of the night. Despite requiring opposable thumbs to open the door, he can’t think straight until he knows she’s safe. 

  He’s calling her name throughout the house as he takes note of the kitchen being gently used. There’s a small plate next to the food bowl of untouched kibble with some leftover scrambled eggs. 

   Chucho 

  It’s the first morning since he’s been home where he really takes in the sight. His dad is at the fence with the calves and Murphy is sitting beside him. She’s looking up at him as he explains something to her as if she can understand him. 

  He points out to the pasture and she looks out and barks at the small calves running to their mother. Javi is very glad he took that step and brought her home because more than one person seemed to need her presence in their lives. 

  He should call and thank you. 

  He heads over to his truck to pull out the paperwork from the adoption. It’s really the only way he has to contact you so he hopes it’s you who picks up the phone. 

  He slams the truck door and sees Murphy running toward him full speed. 

  “She’s excited to see her papa.” Chucho exclaims as he sends a wave to his son. “I’m going to feed the rest of the animals. I'll catch up with you later.” He winks at Javi as he lumbers off to the barn. 

  ****

  His hands are a little shaky as he dials the number to the shelter. Murphy is laying on his feet beside the table as she drifts off to sleep again, probably having been awake for hours with Chucho. 

  “Laredo Animal Protective Society.” Your sweet voice comes through the receiver and he’s nervous and relieved all at once. 

  “Hi, it’s Javier…Peña.” You chuckle a little on the other end. 

  “I hope you’re not sick of her already.” 

  “Oh no, not at all…Murphy loves it here.” He looks down at her as she rolls over exposing her belly again. 

  “Murphy? I’m guessing there’s a story there.” 

  “Ya there is…I’d love to tell you over lunch or dinner.” Murphy barks and he nearly drops the phone. 

  “I think that bark means dinner, and I’d love to hear it Javier Peña.” 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[yanaleese]

◈ A la chica que nunca amé ◈

Querida ████ ██████ M̳̳̼̟̮ͨ́ͫ͜͠͠͞͞E̳̳̼̟̮ͨ́ͫ͜͠͠͞͞I̳̳̼̟̮ͨ́ͫ͜͠͠͞͞J̳̳̼̟̮ͨ́ͫ͜͠͠͞͞A̳̳̼̟̮ͨ́ͫ͜͠͠͞͞,

Podía recordar la pluma goteando en mi sangre, con mi nombre pegado al pie de la página. El acuerdo, aunque engañosamente simple, era el vínculo entre tú y yo. Era peculiar, cómo un heredero como tú tenía una letra terriblemente aborrecible. Hasta el día de hoy, nunca encontraré una letra tan abismal como la tuya.

Pero comparada con tu supuesta "belleza" que todos mencionaban, era mediocre, mundana. Tomaban tus tropiezos como un juego de niños, cuando en realidad se trataba de una enorme laguna en la educación de tus familias. Tenías mucho que aprender. No estabas preparado, por mucho que quisieras estarlo. Fue una pena que tuvieras que comprometerte conmigo.

Bueno, independientemente de ese hecho, la posesión es la posesión, ¿no? No importaba si era mi hermano, mi familia, o tú - todos ustedes eran ollas a presión; anhelando el pico de la perfección.

Especialmente esa cosa llamada mi hermano. Es lo que más recuerdas, ¿verdad? La forma en que protestaba y ladraba como un chucho codicioso, la mirada cariñosa pero repugnante que me dirigía y la forma en que sus piernas temblaban de lujuria incontrolada. Era como si se mantuviera a sí mismo como un amante con el corazón roto. Fue más que vergonzoso, y el hecho de que tuvieras que tolerar semejante decepción, es digno de felicitación.

Bueno, veamos el lado bueno. Mi T'Abuelo disfrutó de tu complacencia. Aunque tu familia era nueva, inexperta y estaba en ruinas, le sacabas un buen partido: hacerle quedar bien, que pareciera que tenía corazón. En particular, ése era uno de los rasgos definitorios de esta familia: fingir bondad a cambio de dinero.  Considéralo una bendición disfrazada por no saber nada mejor, ████. Como dicen, la ignorancia es felicidad.

Pero como todo el mundo, querías saber más. Al principio te enamoraste de una máscara, pero más tarde, trataste de encontrarme por mí. Bastante estúpido de tu parte, impresionantemente. Comparado con la mayoría, eras humano. Más humano que cualquiera en esa maldita familia. Si tan sólo nunca me hubieras conocido. Si tan sólo nunca me hubieras buscado. 

Sí...

A la chica que nunca amé, ojalá nunca me hubieras amado.

En todo y lazos sangrientos,

Ƙɑɾʍɑ վՏɑҍҽӀօ Տɑղցɾҽ

<>

NOTAS:

T'Abuelo = Apodo dado al abuelo de Karma. Su nombre comienza con T. Chucho = Significa perro en el argot salvadoreño. Se refiere a los perros sucios, que se portan mal y que son callejeros. También puede referirse a personas codiciosas. sɪ ᴛɪᴇɴᴇs ᴀʟɢᴜɴᴀ ᴘʀᴇɢᴜɴᴛᴀ sᴏʙʀᴇ ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ, ɴᴏ ᴅᴜᴅᴇs ᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴsᴜʟᴛᴀʀ ᴍɪ ʙᴀɴᴅᴇᴊᴀ ᴅᴇ ᴇɴᴛʀᴀᴅᴀ.

NOTES:

T'Abuelo = Nickname given to Karma's grandfather. His name starts with a T. Chucho = Means dog in Salvadorian slang. It refers to dirty, misbehaving, or stray dogs. Can also refer to persons who are greedy. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ qᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ, ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ɪɴʙᴏx.

[p-rtyboy]

† Chuchospanlexic

Pt: Chuchospanlexic /end pt

Gender related to, or best described by, the Spanish word "chucho", meaning "mongrel" or "mutt"

† Coined on 03.30.2024

† Colors based on dogs ❄️ chucho + [span]ish + lexic

† Tagging @lexicarchive

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 22

Summary: Javi gets a sweet surprise.

Word count: 1100

Javi tossed his briefcase into the backseat and loosened his tie. He waved goodbye to one of the receptionists who was also getting in her car, and slid behind the wheel. He was getting used to the forty-five minute commute to and from work, but some days were better than others. The traffic had been a mess that morning due to some road construction on several streets downtown, and he hoped the workers had already knocked off for the day.

As he drove, he switched idly between radio stations. On the way to work, he often listened to NPR to catch up on the news, but going home he preferred music. He’d found three stations that played stuff he liked, which was way better than his choices in Laredo.

When he saw the sign for Blue Ridge Ranch, he clicked off the radio and slowed the car. The transition from the road to the drive needed some work and if he wasn’t careful, the car would bottom out in the big pothole that had started to form. He made a mental note to ask the landlord to have it repaired. He also had to slow down because there had been several times one of the kids or Coco (who Chucho had claimed was “sad” that Javi had moved away, even though apparently she hadn’t cared when he lived in the apartment) had darted across in front of him; once he’d even come bumper to nose with a loose horse, a huge part draft named Emerson with a penchant for unlocking stalls and gates.

He parked under the carport and took his briefcase inside. Linus stretched and meowed once, then plopped back down on the back of the couch. Javi gave the cat a quick scratch on the head on his way to the bathroom. As he stepped out the back door, Coco flew across the side yard and slobbered all over him.

“Where’s Cassidy?,” he asked her as he bent down to ruffle her fur and rub her ears. It was a rhetorical question, not just because the dog couldn’t talk, but because there was only one place Cassidy would be at this time of the day: the barn.

He found her leaning against the fence that stretched across the back of the turnouts, watching Cricket roll in the dirt. He stood next to her and rested his arms on the top rail. “She does like to roll, doesn’t she?”

Cassidy laughed. “There’s an old saying, a horse is worth a hundred dollars for every time it can roll completely over. She did it five times one day, and accounting for inflation, that means she’s worth at least five grand.”

“Not bad,” Javi said. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She always put it into a neat ponytail or braid in the morning, but by the end of the day, it was starting to fall out.

“How was your day?,” she asked.

He sighed. “Same old, same old,” he said. “Two meetings that should have been memos, and a stack of paperwork an inch thick. How about you?”

She turned around so her back was to the fence. “Pretty good, actually,” she said. “The vet came out. You’ll be happy to know that the mare we picked up at the auction last week isn’t pregnant.” She paused and looked shyly at him. “But I am.”

Javi just stared at her for a moment, wondering if he’d actually heard what he thought he’d heard. As a huge, goofy grin spread across Cassidy’s face, he realized that he had. “Are you serious?,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah, I kind of suspected it but I went to the drugstore today and picked up a test.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a test stick with a bright pink + mark on it. “I have an appointment with the doctor on Friday to confirm and find out how far along I am, but yeah, we’re having a baby.”

Javi wrapped his arms around her, speechless.

“Hey, Mr. P,” called a voice. He looked over Cassidy’s shoulder to see Alex, a fifteen year old who’d gone from missing school half the time and getting D’s and F’s to a solid B average and almost perfect attendance. He was thriving in the new program and Javi couldn’t have been prouder. Alex came out to the ranch two days a week after school and almost every Saturday.

“Hey, Alex, what’s up?” Javi called back.

“Not much,” Alex said. “I finished doing up the stalls, Miss Yates. Anything else you need?”

“No, you can just hang out till your ride comes,” Cassidy said. “There’s carrots in the feed room if you want to hand out treats.”

“Cool,” he said. He stole a glance at Javi’s hands around Cassidy’s waist and smirked. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” Javi said. When Alex had disappeared around the corner, he leaned down and kissed Cassidy’s forehead. “So, should we move the wedding up?”

Cassidy made a face. “And deprive my momma of the indignity of watching her daughter walk down the aisle in a maternity wedding dress?” she laughed. “Oh, no, baby, I am going to waddle up to the altar even if I need a wheelbarrow to carry my big old belly.”

Javi chuckled. “Well, you can do a combination wedding/baby shower, I guess,” he said. “Make things easier on everyone.”

“No way,” Cassidy retorted. “I’m getting two gifts out of everyone. Mom can host the baby shower, and Monica can host the bridal shower. I’m milking this for all it’s worth.”

Cricket ambled over to them and shoved her head in between them, her warm, sweet breath washing over them. “Are you jealous?” Javi asked. “You’re going to be a big sister, what do you think of that?” The mare snorted, blowing bits of half-chewed hay all over them.

“You had to ask,” Cassidy said, laughing as Javi wiped at the blobs of green that covered his nice white dress shirt.

He didn’t care, though. No shirt was worth more than the feeling he got, standing here with the woman he loved, the woman who’d just told him he was going to be a father. The sun was shining and they were surrounded by happy horses and happy kids. It was a long way from the streets of Colombia, but there was nowhere he’d rather be than right here. It had taken him a while, but Javier Pena finally felt like he was making a difference in the world.

[flinnybillymoonexplosion]

giggles

My boyfriend and I are rewatching Game of Thrones...

We are in the second season.

He knows I ship Sansan.

When Sandor saves Sansa form the mob, he asked me what did he call her. I said “little bird”. He giggled.

Whenever we have a Sansan scene I say the word “little bird”, and he giggles.

I even started to call him “little bird” because he giggles!

Whenever any character says something like: “I would kill for you” or “I would die for you”  and I say “Don’t say it! Do it!! Do it like Sandor, who killed some men in order to save Sansa without saying anything to her and not doing it for anyone but her!”,  my boyfriend giggles.

Whenever Sansa says something clever or sassy or I say something in her defence, he giggles!

What I want to say is that I think we might have another Sansan shipper... and that I am very proud that he’s starting to appreciate Sansa for what she is.

That’s all.

[luziflor]

I made a dog blog that I hope to use to post the rescue dogs info (and maybe make a little store out of one day).

It’s called “hushchuchito” (Hush Chuchito, hush puppy). Because my southern latina ass always thought it was cute that both sides have a food named after dogs.

[candela888]

How to say "dog" in the Romance Languages of Europe and Latin America, as well as some surrounding Non-Romance Languages. 🐕🐶🐕

Words for “dog”:

Europe:

Spanish 🇪🇸🇮🇨: perro, can, gua gua, chucho, lomito, peludo

Asturian/Leonese 🇪🇸: perru, chitu

Basque 🇪🇸🇫🇷 (Non-Romance): txakurra, txakur, or

Portuguese 🇵🇹: cão (cachorro means "puppy' here)

Catalan 🇪🇸🇦🇩: gos, ca

Galician 🇪🇸: can

Aragonese 🇪🇸: can, cocho, gos

Occitan 🇫🇷: gos, can, chin

French 🇫🇷🇨🇭🇧🇪: chien, toutou

Breton 🇫🇷 (Non-Romance): ki, chas

Corsican 🇫🇷: cane, chien

Italian 🇮🇹🇨🇭: cane

Friulian 🇮🇹: cjan, čhan

Sicilian 🇮🇹: cani, cane

Sardinian 🇮🇹: callelleddu, cane

Romansh 🇨🇭: chaun, tgaun

Romanian 🇷🇴🇲🇩: câine

Aromanian 🇬🇷🇦🇱🇲🇰🇷🇴🇧🇬: cãne, cãni, cheli

Judaeo-Spanish/Ladino 🇧🇦🇪🇸🇬🇷🇹🇷🇮🇱🇫🇷🇵🇸🇲🇦🇪🇬🇷🇴🇲🇰🇷🇸🇦🇷🇵🇹🇧🇷🇭🇷🇺🇸🇮🇹🇩🇿🇲🇽: פירו (pyrw), cian

Latin America (& some of the Caribbean)

Spanish 🇨🇴🇨🇺🇲🇽🇵🇷🇸🇻🇩🇴🇨🇷🇨🇱🇵🇪🇬🇹🇵🇾🇦🇷🇺🇾🇪🇨🇧🇴🇻🇪🇳🇮🇭🇳🇵🇦: perro, can, guauguau/guagua, lomito, peludo

Portuguese 🇧🇷: cachorro (describes an adult dog, filhote or cachorrinho would be "puppy", cão is way less used in Brazil than in Portugal)

Haitian 🇭🇹 (Creole): chen, toutou

Papiamento 🇦🇼🇧🇶🇨🇼 (Creole): kachó

Jamaica 🇯🇲: daag (Patois, Non-Romance), dog (Jamaican English, Non-Romance)

Guyana 🇬🇾: dog (Creole & English, Non-Romance)

Sranan Tongo 🇸🇷 (Non-Romance): dagu

French/French 🇬🇫🇲🇶🇬🇵🇩🇲🇱🇨🇭🇹(Creoles): chien, chyen, chen, toutou, chenes

Mexico 🇲🇽: firulais

Nahuatl (Non-Romance): itzcuintli/chichi

Yucatec Maya (Non-Romance): peek'

Tohono O'odham (Non-Romance): gogs

Tepehuan/O'otham (Non-Romance): gagoox/gogóóxi

Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Mexico 🇬🇹🇸🇻🇭🇳🇲🇽: chucho

Garifuna (Non-Romance): aunli

K’iche’ (Non-Romance): tz'i'

Q’eqchi’ (Non-Romance): tzi’

Miskito (Non-Romance): yul

Quechua (Non-Romance): allqu, allcu, alkho

Aymara (Non-Romance) anu

Asháninka (Non-Romance): otsiti

Guarani (Non-Romance): jagua

Kriol 🇧🇿 (Non-Romance): dog, daag

Mapudungun/Mapuche (Non-Romance): trehua

Zapotec (Non-Romance): Bi'cu', Beco'

Bribri (Non-Romance): chìchi

(Languages that are Indigenous to the Americas are flag-less in this list due to being older than these countries)

[dolly-on-the-dotted-line]

Interlude: Altar

It's only the biggest day of your life

Rating: 18+ (for consistency)

Warnings: Big Angst, Heartbreak, Betrayal, Discussion of Potential Child loss.

A/N: Here it is. The big one. This plotline could have gone so many ways, but I settled on straddling the fence between a few different ideas and leaving it open to interpretation a bit. It’s been so interesting seeing people’s different takes on Lorraine, and I actually had to try quite hard not to demonise her too much just to avoid a quick fix. Ultimately Bug is not a reliable narrator (because she's overwhelmed, angry, and in love with Javier) but hopefully, I struck the right chord with this option.

Laredo, Spring, Age 26

“I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” you laugh gently, keeping your back turned to him as you place the final pieces for the ceremony into the basket labelled ‘church’.

He was already an hour late for his own wedding breakfast, but you knew it couldn’t be helped. Chucho said Lorraine had probably called early and he’d have been over there ever since.

That’s if he’d even come home last night at all.

Javi had been hanging on her every whim whenever he’d had the chance to come back from base, and you were sure this morning would be no different, wedding day or last-minute night flight notwithstanding. 

“I can’t fucking do it, Bug. I can’t and I won’t.” 

You expect his response to be light, jovial even. Some last-minute nerves, cold feet, call it what you like. Surely everyone has a small moment of hesitation on their wedding day, and this was just his; a conventional practice on a distinctly unconventional day. A day you were all holding your breath for. 

But this isn’t that. In fact, nothing about him is normal right now. 

When you finally turn to look at him you see he’s practically insatiable, barreling through the place like a dog off its leash. He’s pacing back and forth, throwing his hands in the air only to catch his face in them a second later to seemingly hold back a scream.

He’s all dressed up and looks better than you’d ever want to admit. You hadn’t given yourself room to consider how he would look on his wedding day. Now you remember why. 

“Javier, what is going on?”

More pacing, more frustrated gesturing before he finally manages to settle himself against the counter, bracing against the worktop. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers headily under his breath, entirely lost in his own panic. 

“Javi!” you yell, and his head snaps up to face yours.

It’s your mother’s voice that comes out then and you hate it, but it gets his attention.

You know the way he looks at you then is something that’s going to stay with you forever. He’s helpless, panicked, totally out of sorts as a result of whatever is going through his head right now. You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s hurt, and pain, and fear, all rolled into one, and if he grips his fists any harder he’s going to cut the skin.

“She’s not pregnant.”

Of all the things to hear him say on his wedding day, you never expected that. 

“Wh- what are you talking about?”

“She’s not pregnant,” he breathes again, his voice hoarse already. He must have been shouting. He must have just been with her. 

Say something. Anything. 

“What do you mean she’s not pregnant? Is she okay?” 

“She’s absolutely fine, trust me.” 

You can’t get your head around the way he delivers his reply. It’s not sarcastic, exactly, but it’s not totally sincere either. You’re suddenly very aware that there’s a lot more going on than you’re privy to understanding. 

“Javier, when did this happen? Just now? Shouldn't she be at the hospital or something?” 

“No. It’s not like that.”

“Well, I need some kind of explanation about what it is like, please. What’s happening right now?” 

When he sinks into the seat at the kitchen table, your heart truly and utterly breaks at the way he collapses in on himself. Your own emotions already high as a result of the day, you check your tone, take a deep breath, and try again. 

“When did you find out?” 

“This morning, when I got back. I don’t know how, when, it happened exactly. She’s been very vague.” 

“Did you not notice?” you stammer, the anxious note of your voice returning against your discretion. “She’s your… your fianceé!” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know. I’ve been in DC, I’m barely ever here. She just always said it was fine. Everything was fine.” 

You try and do the math in your head, between the phone call to now. But even though it’s adding up, it’s not really making sense. 

“She said she wanted to tell me in person, instead of over the phone. That’s why she waited. But I think she’s known for a while.” 

Worse yet, then, other people must have known, too. Not Chucho obviously - he’d have been on the case in a second if he did. But her parents, surely, her friends. Maybe this is what you missed when you were away so long, too. You’re out of the loop. Or maybe this was just everything that was wrong with a town like this. 

“Javier…” you breathe, feeling the lump rise in the back of your throat.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Was she ever?” You whisper, under your breath, letting it creep out before you can catch it. A cruel thought, but you can’t hold it in. "Was she ever pregnant?"

“What if she lied?” He whispers back in reply. Not a question, really, but a statement. A realisation that sinks so low in your belly you don’t even know how to fathom it. 

“She wouldn’t, surely,” you offer quickly, but you’re convincing yourself as much as him.

The two of you stand, five feet apart, and wrestle with the reality of a conversation that can never leave this room. The fact that you’re having it at all is more than either of you can really handle right now.

“Surely not,” you reiterate, but it’s meaningless, dry. “Did you… ask?”

“Did I ask my fianceé if she was faking the pregnancy that resulted in the shotgun wedding we were having today?”

His tone isn’t as harsh as you expect. It’s open and accurate. How does anyone ask that question, point that finger at the person they’re supposed to love the most?

“I’m not that cruel. And worse, what do I do if the answer’s yes?” 

Whether or not he loved her was a question you couldn’t concern yourself with. Has he, at some point? Yes, you're sure of it. And in this instance, to care for and respect someone enough to have done what he was going to do, to line up your future around what’s purely best for them? That’s love if you’ve ever seen it.

In finding out that might have been all for nought, you can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now. Your empathetic capacity doesn’t run deep enough to understand it. 

Instead, you opt for what you do know, and that’s obvious. The fact this wedding was never his choice. 

“Did you have doubts? About any of it?”

He nods wearily. “Something like that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He lifts his head from his hands for the first time and splits you in two with the look he gives you now.

“Why do you think?" he sighs, an ultimate resignation.

You can taste the guilt in his words, and it cuts like glass. He kicks the kitchen table, hard, rattling the spread of the wedding breakfast that he never showed up for. 

“What the fuck am I going to do, Bug? What the fuck do I do now?” 

You bring your hand to his face, steadying the raging tide of his breathing, trying to hold him in place with just the slightest touch.

“This is never what I wanted,” he whispers, breathless, tired. “I wasn’t doing it for her. It was never for her."

You press your hand closer, firmer, grabbing hold of the side of his neck now to steady him however you can. 

“You know this is never what I wanted,” he continues, eyes starting to gloss over ever so slightly. 

“When she told me this morning, I knew, I knew what I wanted to do. I’d have been polite about it, thanked her for the time, wished her the best, paid for the medical bills that I assume have been outstanding for, what, weeks now? If that’s even what happened. I’ve been gone for months. I don’t know the first thing about it.” 

“Javi, you can’t blame yourself-,”

“-but I never stopped thinking about you. You know that right? You must know that. You know what this was, and I was just going to pack up that part of myself, the part that’s all yours, and put it away, and ship it off to wherever you were and leave it with you. And the rest of me would just stay here, and do the right thing." 

It’s his fingers that are gripping now, catching at your waist, unable to hold the words back now that they’re flying loose. 

“I’ve been silently begging for an excuse, I know that. I think she knows that too, really. But what kind of man am I if I don’t go out there today?”

“A good man, Javier! A good man. You are a good man no matter what.” 

“How do I mourn a baby I might never have even had? I’m only 26. I don’t want to do this.”

His head crashes into the plane of your shoulder and he shudders with adrenaline, fisting his hands into the fabric of your skirt. 

“Bug, baby, please- ” 

“What?” you coo, your voice barely a whisper next to the tight thrum of his voice. “Anything, just talk to me.” 

“Don’t make me go out there and do this. I cannot do this.” 

“Then don’t,” you whisper recklessly, without hesitation.

Before Javier even has the chance to lift his face from your shoulder, you hear Chucho push open the screen door and hurry inside.

“Can somebody please tell me what’s happening? Javier, we were supposed to leave ten minutes ago, you’re going to be late-”

Without turning toward his father at the doorway, Javi up looks to you, his gaze holding you at a standstill.

The decision’s yours, you realise. You curse every piece of yourself, mainly for not knowing what to do, but above all for knowing this can never truly be a platonic conclusion. There’s nothing objective about something like this. How are you meant to say no to him when he’s looking at you like this, asking for a way out?

Above all, you curse yourself for knowing that you’d put that part of yourself away, forever. But here it was, begging. 

“The wedding’s off, Pa. Call it off, right now, please.” Your eyes don’t leave Javier’s as you calmly call back to your father. 

The look in Javi’s eyes is indescribable: relief, panic, gratitude, all rolled into one as he sags back against you and breathes an unending sigh. 

“What happened?” asks Chucho, absolutely stunned. There are a hundred questions on his lips you can see he’s bursting to get to the bottom of it. But when he sees his son, crumpled and defeated, that’s the only one that matters. 

“He’ll explain in the car, Pa, just please tell them he won’t be coming, and then get him out of here.”

Chucho is immediately on board, no questions asked, moving to pull Javi stoically from your grasp and ushering him to the door. 

“I’ll call Frank from town. What should I say?”

You take a deep breath, reigning in your tongue to avoid saying something you don’t necessarily mean right now. 

“Tell them that Lorraine can explain however she wants.”

You lift Javi’s head from your shoulder and grab him to you, holding him so tightly against your chest that it hurts. 

“Thank you,” he mouths against your shoulder, and the two men leave the room without another word. 

You’re sitting on the porch swing when she pulls up. She calls you by your name, your real name. It sounds mucky coming from her. 

“Hello,” you offer back, not hiding the way your gaze lingers on her as she makes her way up the steps and comes to sit next to you.

She looks stunning. Not at all like she’s been left at the altar on her wedding day. 

“I suppose you know all about what happened.”

“You could say that. Although, he barely got a word in, really. I’ve never seen him so upset.” 

“I knew he’d be like this,” she sighs, laying her head against the palm of her hand. 

“Oh, you knew, did you? Well, that’s just fine then.” 

“Look, Bug, I know-” 

“Lorraine," you cut in harshly, ready to let it all go. "I have never been rude to you, at least not to your face. Whether I liked you or not was irrelevant, because I always thought, at the very least, you made him happy. And I know that you have done, more than once.” 

You pause and muster every inch of flat honesty you can manage in the wake of a hundred shortcomings you could throw at this moment. 

“I would have been happy for you for the rest of your lives together. I would have come to Christmas, birthdays, Christenings. I’d have loved that child as if it was my own and then some. I wouldn't have let a single part of me be angry, or hurt, or resentful for the fact it was going to be you that got to spend your life with him because he would have known. He would have known I was lying. And I couldn’t have lived with that on my conscience. So it would have been real. I would have learned to make it real. For him.” 

You reach for another cigarette from the pack that’s usually reserved for the glove compartment of the truck, but has been glued to your hand all afternoon. 

“I did all that. In a matter of months. I resigned to change my life, forever, for him. And for you, too. I would have learned to love you, too.”

You push off the swing seat and take an ungainly stride over the decking, standing to brace yourself against the bannister and collect yourself. 

“And now, it doesn’t fucking matter. He’s gone. And if he ever does come back, he’s not going to be the same as he was.” 

You glance back to meet her eyes, the look on her face both delicately soft and unwaveringly firm. 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she replies eventually, “losing him.”

Holding back the scoff you feel balancing on your tongue, you turn to face her fully, propping yourself against the pillar. You ask the question before you can hold it back. 

“Was it real? This time? Your plan to get him to stay.” It scratches, and you don’t regret it. The look in her eye tells you she was waiting for the question. It wasn’t going to come from anyone else. 

“It’s not like it was at school, changing my mind every five minutes. I promise. I didn’t know what I was doing then. I was just punch drunk in love with him. Everyone was.” 

“That’s not an answer,” you sigh, coldly. 

“I thought I was. Showed all the signs. He did the right thing so quickly. I thought it all made sense, it just felt right.  When things didn’t go as I expected- I couldn’t believe it. I knew he was only here for that baby. I couldn’t keep him here if not for that.” 

The thought of the intimacy between them is the worst part, it always has been. The way you know he’ll have filled those boots so easily: fiance, husband, father. Sharing his concerns, his fears, his hopes with her.

You were sick of yourself and the jealousy and had been for months. And you had no right, you knew that. 

And yet, for the first time, maybe, in some fucked up way, you understand her. Having him, losing him. He’s been a flight risk for years, you knew that better than anyone. You couldn’t keep him still when he was a couple of states over. When you were having the time of your lives. 

For the first time, you can see the pieces in her mind. You don’t agree, but you sure as hell understand. There are a hundred ways you could have made him stay. If it came down to it, you’d do just about anything to keep him too. 

Not this, though. Never this. 

“It wasn’t a lie. I was waiting to tell him in person. Really, I’d rather not have told him at all. It was a matter of time.”

“Talk about choosing your moment,” you sigh.

“I could have waited,” she cuts, suddenly rilled, overwhelmed. “I could have waited until after 1pm. And what then? He’d still be here.”

“And you’d be living a lie.” 

“You can’t imagine what that’s like, just waiting to lose him. Once I got him back I had to at least try. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let him resent me forever. I know what kind of person that makes me. I know you’ll all hate me just the same.” 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person. I don’t think anyone is an objectively bad person. But this was really… not great.”

“Are you going to tell me to stay away from him?”

“Me? No. I’m not going to tell anyone what they can or can’t do.” 

“Well, are you going to tell him the truth? That I knew? Months ago I knew.” 

You consider it for a moment, the power you hold in this narrative.

You’d already had too much say in how today’s proceedings had gone, you didn’t want any more. At this point, it’s damage control. The satisfaction of a straight answer, or the impact of knowing he’d been taken for a ride by someone he trusted. That would include you, too, now that you’re liable. 

“No,” you eventually decide. “Never. He’d never recover. To be perfectly honest, Lorraine, the doubt is already there. It’s enough. I don’t think he’ll ever really come back from this.”

“If I told it right I could ruin him in this town, you know that.”

Despite the nature of the words, it isn’t a threat, it’s a fact. Her parents would write it out one way or another, however they felt was best for their little girl. Javi wouldn’t be here to defend himself, and Chucho wouldn’t try if it wasn’t what his son wanted. 

“He was kind,” she adds, “even this morning, even when he was angry. But I knew as soon as he walked out that door he’d never be the same again.”

And she was right. As much as you hated to admit it, she was right. 

His softness, his unshakeable desire to do right by everyone, simply because it was what came naturally; someone was always going to be the one to push it. You just hadn’t expected the joke to go so far. 

“If it was going to take a baby to keep him here, it was never what he wanted. He needed a reason to stay, now he has the opposite. He’ll blame himself no matter what.” 

She sits with that for a long moment, and the two of you rest in a pallid silence. It isn’t comfortable, but there's something original about blatant honesty. It provided a relief you couldn’t get elsewhere. You were bonded with this woman now. Your would-be sister-in-law. 

“Do you love him as much as he loves you?”

You’re stunned by her blatancy. On her own wedding day, too. 

“I love him more,” you croak, feeling your eyes start to spill over quietly.  

“I never saw you as a threat, you know. Even back then. I never questioned it, really, beyond the obvious. And then when the wedding was happening, I wondered again, will she, won’t she - and you didn’t. I appreciate that you never over-stepped the mark. I can’t say I would have done the same if I were you.”

You make a noise that resembles a sarcastic 'Thanks'. 

“Well I guess you get to live with that now, don’t you,” you huff quietly, your voice thick to the brim with emotion. You stand to head inside, having said everything you could ever want to say.

“What should I do now?” she calls after you just before the door swings closed.

She’s asking, truly, for advice.

“Spin the story whichever way you like, Lorraine. You know he’d want what’s best for you. Even today he wanted what’s best for you, and I think that’s what you got. You’re the one that has to stay here. I don’t think he’ll be back.” 

You let the door close, take a seat in the sunroom, and watch as she walks away for the last time.

You don’t think you’ll be back for a while, either.

Playlist Recommendation

Taglist

@furious-rogue-stuff

@athalien

@sara-alonso

@vanemando15

@chronic-nosebleed

@mashomasho

@hnt-escape

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Drabble: Alone Time

I had a Javi x Eva thought. Here it is.

Javier Peña x OFC named Eva, from What Spring Does To The Cherry Trees verse.

Postcoital talk but nothing graphic.

Taglist: @chronic-nosebleed, @flora-screeches, @harriedandharassed @stevie75, @a-trial-run-on-paper, @mswarriorbabe80 @paulalikestuff @pazizz @apascalrascal @tanzthompson, @lovesbiggerthanpride

When winter comes with its long, dark evenings and the guest cabin becomes too cold, even with the wood burner flaming at full capacity, Chucho starts to visit friends and relatives in town more and more often. At first, Javi and Eva don't pay it any attention, only reap the benefits: alone time that they use for loud fucking.

After a while, though, it's Eva who brings it up. Tangled up in post-coital rest, she notes that Chucho's been away quite a lot recently.

"Yeah?" Javi's all pumped out, brain sluggish and uncooperative.

"He never went into town once during the entire summer," Eva remembers. "Is he always like this during winter?"

"Not that I know. What's your point?"

"My point is that he's getting out of our way. We can't be in the cabin, so he's giving us room to... do this."

Realization dawns on Javi and he blinks as his mind puts two and two together. The thought of what Eva means by this, however, occupies his thoughts with more emergency than the idea of his father as a matchmaker.

"You mean..." He rolls over onto his side, bumping into Eva and dipping down to catch a nipple in his mouth as his hand slides down her stomach towards the apex of her thighs. "...this?"

"This," she acknowledges with a little sigh, hands connecting with his skin in sweet caresses. "Javi... I can't, not again."

He murmurs something affirmative but gives her other nipple the same treatment as the first before pulling back. As he does, the headlights of Chucho's pickup truck hits the wall of his bedroom, and he grins at Eva.

"Should I go thank him for getting out of our way...?"

Eva does not need words: a single look tells Javi that if he breathes a word of this to Chucho, she'll make sure he falls in front of a moving tractor.

They lie still and quiet and listen to Chucho entering the house, using the bathroom, walking around before going to his own bedroom. When silence has descended over the house, Eva sits up and stretches.

"I'm gonna grab a shower."

"I'll come with." Javi's already out of the bed, excited at the prospect. Eva gives him a look that makes him throw up his hands.

"Nothing untoward," he promises with a boyish grin. "Just want to wash your hair, rub your shoulders..."

"Yeah, sure, that's the only thing you want to rub."

"Give me a chance," he implores her.

Naturally, Eva surrenders to those sweet, puppy dog eyes.

[hellbubu]

This post is properly tagged, of you see something you might not like, block the tag.

"No importa cuantos hayan, el resultado es el mismo (It doesn't matter how many there are, the result will be the same)." Reminds me of the line in JJBA's part 5 second version of the second OP.

He's an icon, he's a legend and he is the moment.

"Lo va a traer como si es el chucho que se escapó de la casa (he's trying to bring him back like he's a dog that escaped)."

It happened because you were side characters.

Guy worries so much. Bless him. Also, Rock Lee took Tsunade's sake.

The fact that Kimimaru actually waited for him to take his medicine. Lee got drunk! Kimimaru's reaction kills me.

"They should send him to battle drunk, then."

I think you mean fucking cool.

Paleontologist hate him. Click here to find out all of his secrets.

I really want to say deus ex machina...

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Pedro Pascal’s Characters

updated: 09/10/2021

Fic Ratings (read warnings in fic for details):

(G) General Audiences

(M) Mature

(E) Explicit: only suitable for adults

-> fake dating Drabbles with all the dude’s  <-

Home (M)

It’s been a long day year for Javi and all he wants is to go home.

Leave the light on (G)

Sleeping with the lights out seemed like a thing all the people do. So you told him how you struggled with it, after you almost fell asleep at a stake out he made sure you would feel safe from now on. 

switch (E)

When your new hot neighbor turned out to be no other than Javier Peña, the Agent that would join one of your Departments with you as his Superior, things should get a little more complicated. But somehow they didn’t…

Missing you (G)

A gala from the American embassy in Bogota lets you finally run in the man who you left without saying goodbye almost two years ago.

mix up (E)

A mix-up with the building's laundry was all it took to get what you always secretly wanted.

late night calls (E)

It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier. 

Night shift (E)

Meeting Javier during one of your nightshifts at the hospital turned into falling in love with him. But working different shifts can be challenging, yet you somehow make it work.

Whiskey, Cigarettes and Condoms (E)

You are working in a shop and your most interesting customer is the hot guy who buys XL Condoms every single week. Until he stopped.

Don't you want me (M)

6 years passed since Javier made the one decision he wished he could take back. What happens when he meets the one woman he ever truly loved?

Decisions (G)

You find your boyfriend cheating with one of your friends after getting home from work and call the person you always call when shit hits the fan.

Drabbles:

answering machine (G)

It's been two years since you heard Javier's voice. That didn't mean you weren't talking to him.

-> inevitable (series; M->E)

All your life you thought that there was no way the prophecy would come true. That was until you answered a distress call from a certain Mandalorian.

firsts (G)

Din knew it was the best for the kid to go with the Jedi. But on his way back to… he didn’t really know where, there was only one person he would allow to see how sad he really was. 

saved (G)

Being saved during a battle by a Mandalorian might have been faith for Alana and her little daughter Leila. 

my girl (E)

A Mandalorian crashing into your backyard and ruining your business might have been the best thing that ever happened to you.

Watch me (E)

You try to tease the Mandalorian after taking a skinny dip in the lake. He’s not having it.

drabbles:

one day (M)

One day you would get Din out of his armor to swim with you. Today you succeeded... partially

Happiness (G)

Din finds happiness. And his son finds his old armor.

prompts:

" I know we're not together but I might die today so I'm going to kiss you just in case there is no later" (G)

thots:

Din been jealous (E)

The baker’s daughter (E)

Mydra never thought she would end up in the local brothel, but after her father died, and she was too young to take over his business as the local baker, she found herself agreeing to what was proposed to her. So she lived at the local brothel, watching the girls and boys work, observing, until one day she finally would be ready to let one man be her first. That she would form somewhat of a friendship with the Prince of Dorne was as surprising to her as it was to him.

My flower (E)

Falling for the Prince of Dorne after he took you in, letting you work as his maid, was not something you (or him) planned. But when he found you sleeping in his bed, wearing his cloak, you were about to find out that maybe it wasn't just you who had fallen in love.

One step ahead (E)

When you took the job you knew that he might be there. Breaking up with him because of your ego was a mistake. But you were here to do your job. Weren’t you?

Drabbles:

caught (E)

It was a hot day in Sunspear. With the Martell family gone for travels, you wanted to sneak into the royal pool to cool down. Never thinking that maybe you weren't as alone as you thought.

and then the world stopped (E) Part 1 Part 2

Vic wasn’t unhappy when she moved with her husband to Washington D.C. She was happily married, had a new job as a teacher and was trying to get pregnant. But after a year of trying still nothing has happened. She didn’t know that just one accident of the nanny of one of the children in her class was about to change her whole life.

two lives (M)

Dave never planned to cheat on his wife. He never planned to fall in love with another woman. He never planned to live two separate lives. And he never planned to be attending the funeral of the love of his life after their mission went wrong.

second chance (G) (sequel to two lives)

7 months passed since Dave found out the woman he loved didn't die. Would she ever remember him?

disobedience (E)

Working as the babysitter for Dave York’s daughters came with all kinds of benefits. You didn’t mean to become one of those people. The typical cliche of the babysitter sleeping with the father of the kids you were watching but there was something about him you couldn’t stop thinking about. This is also how you found yourself at the only place he told you to not ever visit him, wearing nothing but a coat. The CIA offices.

private show (E)

Monica was struggling to give her two daughters everything they deserved. When Dave York walks into the Diner she worked in one night and offers her a job at his strip club, things begin to change…

Dance the night away (E)

He didn’t look like he could dance Salsa. But oh how wrong you were...

strictly professional (E)

AU: You were tired of handling your boss' affairs. Not because that wasn't part of your job. No. Because you wanted to be his affair. His only affair. And you had a plan for how to get there. Even if it meant blackmailing your boss Dave York.

unusual love(rs) (E)

When your husband Frankie proposed seeing other people while he’s gone for work you were hesitant at first. Until you found just how much he liked the idea of you with another man…

-> love(rs) (E)

Frankie is home and he hasn’t stopped thinking about the video you sent him. Now he wants to watch live. And participate.

found (G)

Dave and you had been friends for 20 years. You watched him get married to another woman and become a Dad, ignoring the constant heartbreak it was causing you cause you were in love with him. Four months after his death you receive a postcard with cordinates. What would you find?

to die for (G)

The man who broke your heart comes back to protect you from the man you were falling in love with.

one wish granted (G)

You could have wished that the man you had loved all your life finally would love you back. It was him granting the wishes after all. Instead, you wished you had never met him. That you really didn’t remember him maybe was the punishment Max deserved most.

Paris (G)

Maxwell Lord left after everything that happened with the Dreamstone. But a little part of you hoped you would see him again.

changes (G)

On your way to your last day at work before you start a new job you almost got ran over by a dog (and a boy). Thankfully a handsome stranger is there to help.

Neighbors (M)

After breaking up with your fiancé you find yourself moving back in with your brother and his daughter just outside of the city. Marcus Moreno is his neighbor and he really does take his neighborly duties to heart. Including taking care of mowing the lawn when your brother had to leave for work for a while.

Yes, Mr. Moreno (M)

With Missy moving out of the house to go to college Marcus felt more alone than ever before. When he met his daughters college roommate at a diner in the middle of the night he made a decision Missy could never find out about

-> Yes, Mr Moreno - The first time (E)

Marcus takes Alice home. She stays the night.

Going back home Masterlist (series)

Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Distraction (G)

Meeting a single Dad on the plane back to the states was maybe just the distraction you needed to get over your fear of flying. 

Nap Time (E)

Sometimes you and Frankie just need to have some alone time when the kids are napping.

Drabbles

Guy’s night (M)

You let Frankie decide how he wants to end his guy's night...

throwback (G)

Teenage you had bn head over heels for Frankie Morales. What happens when when your best friend takes you out on a double bind date almost 20 years later and your date is no other than Frankie?

Friday's at Frankie's (G)

After a week gone for work you come home to Frankie and his daughter

drabble about Frankie taking care of you when you have cramps

-> Sunday Morning (M)

You wake up in Frankie’s arms on rare quiet Sunday morning.

prompts:

you're sick, and we can't kiss, and it's , fkn, torture (M)

Max Says... (E)

Max remembered your aniversary and planned a trip to New York City. You gifted him the one thing he always wanted. Allowing him to use his mind control on you.

[danniburgh]

Past Grievances & Turning Points (a RushBit mini-series) part 1

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: You just moved with Javier, but you can't live your life wearing his clothes, so the two of you start a road trip to your house in Albuquerque in which you take the time to tell him everything he still needed to know about you.

Word count: +4k

Chapter warnings: mentions of violence

A/N: This is canon RushBit after the main story; i had such a hard time getting into this for some reason, but finally here we are, im so excited for this side of the story, really <3

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

gif: @fuckyeahjavierpena

“Javier,” you whispered in his ear again, he shifted slightly and let out a sigh when you ran your hand through his hair “Javi, baby,” you called, he hummed in response and you smiled “breakfast’s ready.”

Javier let out another unintelligible hum and your smile widened, you left a kiss on his cheek and left him there to wake up if he had gotten or not the message; you walked out of the room, made sure to let the door ajar so at least some of the smell of the food you and Chucho had made together woke him up fully and made your way back to the kitchen.

“Still asleep?” Chucho asked when he saw you walk into the kitchen, he was already sitting and eating, Pepe sitting next to him whining for a bite, you nodded and sat next to him.

“He has a lot to make up for.” you teased, Chucho grunted a smile while you poured maple syrup on your pancakes.

“At least he doesn’t get those nightmares anymore, Florecita,” he said, cutting a piece of his sausage and dropping it to the floor for Pepe to eat “ya, ten, perro necio.” (cut it, here, stubborn dog)

“Lucky him.” you muttered with a piece of pancake inside your mouth.

“Is that another of my shirts?” you heard from one side as you cut another piece of pancake, you lifted your head to look at Javier, still rubbing sleep off his eyes as he walked inside the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you replied, Chucho asked for the syrup in a mutter that you had learned to identify in the two weeks you’d been living with them, “why?” you asked, handing the bottle to him.

Javier sat next to you with his plate in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, you looked at Pepe, that sat between you, looking at Javier.

“Just asking.” he said, shrugging as he blew slightly to his coffee.

“I need clothes.” you commented, stretching over your plate to reach for a napkin, Chucho called Pepe to give him another piece of sausage.

“We can go buy some later.” Javier replied with another shrug, you frowned with a slight smile on your face.

“Why? I have my stuff,” you told him, Javier looked at his dad pet Pepe and rolled his eyes, not having really listened to what you said “Javi, I need to go back to Albuquerque.”

“What?” he almost choked on the sip of coffee he was drinking, his brow furrowed. You raised your eyebrows “why? what happened?” he asked.

You looked at Chucho with your mouth slightly agape and a flabbergasted smile on it, the old man looked at you, shrugged and kept on eating.

“My things, Javier,” you enunciated, “I gotta pick up my stuff if I’m gonna live here, I can’t live dressed in your clothes.” Javier relaxed visibly.

“You look good in my clothes,” he leaned back on the chair with a small smirk on his mouth, you threw him your balled napkin and he chuckled, “fine then, when do you wanna leave?”

“First thing tomorrow.” you replied, sipping from your own cup of coffee.

“A’right, we leave tomorrow.” Javier leaned forward and picked up his fork.

“Wait, you're coming with me?” you asked him, Javier didn’t look at you, he cut a piece of sausage. Pepe huffed at the smell.

“Who’s gonna help you pack?”

--

You yawned again as you carried your small bag on your shoulder; you shivered slightly when you walked out of the house to put the bag inside the truck because of your dampened hair making contact with the chilly morning air.

You looked up at the early morning dark sky and closed your eyes as you breathed in the sweet smell of the night dew resting on the little patches of grass around the house; there was something about the few late nights and early mornings you had spent with Javier there, something you hadn’t given yourself the time to put into words or expressing to him. Something that made you feel like you belonged there, like that was your space in the world, in that ranch with the man you loved, his dad, a big dog and the mooing of the cows that could be heard once in a while. You fit there.

You heard Javier’s heavy steps as he walked out of the house and you turned around to look at him as he closed the door.

“Could you make more noise, honey?” you teased with a low voice, Javier rolled his eyes at you and you looked at the boots he was wearing, you shook your head and smiled at him as he walked towards you.

“All ready?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist, gently tugging you against him, you smiled and nodded, “good,” Javier leaned to leave a soft kiss on your lips; your breath hitched at the deepness of that soft kiss, when he broke the contact to look at you, you let out a heavy sigh that made him smile. “I’ll drive.” he whispered, and you nodded again in response.

Javier slid his hands away from you and you bit your lip once he turned to walk around the truck and get inside; you did the same, buckled your seatbelt and shifted on the seat to look at him as he turned on the ignition; you scoffed as he backed the truck slowly through the driveway, wondering if he would be able to endure the thirteen hour drive.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with half a smile, reaching for the seatbelt on his left side, you shook your head and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You look good today.” you muttered, leaning forward to turn on the radio, Javier let out a chuckle and gripped the steering wheel. A song you didn’t know but was sung in spanish started on the radio and you folded your arms on your chest.

“We’re using the two-eighty-five?” he asked as he turned on the main street, you hummed in response “and then where, we go through El Paso?” you turned to look at him.

“El Paso? no way, that’s extra forty-five minutes,” you huffed “we keep on the two-eighty-five basically until it ends,” Javier groaned “then we turn on the route sixty-six and we’re basically there, the house is on the outskirts.”

“You’re helping me drive, right?” he teased, you laughed.

“Of course, you big baby.” you replied with a smile on your face, Javier scoffed and kept driving with one hand, dropping the other softly on your thigh.

“I was thinking,” he let out as he turned again on the main highway to leave Laredo, you hummed in response as you unfolded your arms, lowered the voice of the radio and took his hand with yours, admiring the little wrinkles of his knuckles, “if we’re gonna live together, we should build our house.”

“What?!” you almost shrieked, Javier let out a chuckle.

“Well, you didn’t think we were gonna live with my dad forever, did you?” he glanced at you.

“Well…” he gripped your hand tightly and you reciprocated the grip, the thought made you nervous; it was another step, that, although it was very obvious, it also seemed enormous in comparison to what it had been happening since you arrived at Laredo “I guess you’re right.”

“You sure?” Javier asked, having turned again to start driving through the highway, he looked at you for a few seconds before looking back at the road.

You wanted to nod, you wanted to say yes and unbuckle your seatbelt and shift on the bench seat and kiss his cheek until your lips were numb; but at the same time the thought of a physical representation of your permanent stay there frightened you. Not too long ago Javier had told you he wasn’t sure about feeling resentment in the future. He had told you he didn’t know if some day he would wake up and decide he hated you.

Javier looked at you again and tightened the already tight grip on your hand; he was the man you were leaving everything for; your body and your heart and your instinct were telling you to leap and jump onto whatever he wanted to do with you, onto whichever plan he had already made in his head, into the brick castle he was building on a cloud.

But your mind, that one was betraying the very sentiment that had driven you to Laredo in the first place; it didn’t know. It wasn’t sure.

“I mean…” you muttered, Javier said nothing, waiting, expecting, “yeah.” you let out, your eyes glued to the windshield and to the early morning sky, still dark, purple with the reflection of the sun slowly arriving.

“Amor, you don’t sound very convinced.” Javier chuckled out almost nervously, glancing at you once again. He wanted to stop the truck, he wanted to pull over and turn off the ignition and turn fully to you and ask you what was going on; he wanted to study your face and hold you close to him until you mouthed and voiced what was going on inside that head of yours. He hated not knowing what you were thinking.

“I think I’m just nervous,” you said, lifting the entanglement that was your fingers around his and kissing his knuckles softly. You didn’t want to overthink it; you had made a decision, you had decided to stay with him for as long as he had you. And, if he was planning on building a house and building a life, it felt like he was thinking about something permanent. “have you thought where?”

Javier let out a short sigh and decided to not ask about your thoughts anymore; he knew you would say you were fine because it was your default response. So he decided to go in the direction you were leading.

“Right there in the ranch,” he muttered; you smiled at him, Javier looked at you briefly and recognized that smile as one of disbelief, “I’m serious, there's a piece of field on the opposite side of the paddocks, we can build there.” he said, shrugging.

“Chucho’s gonna let us do that?” you asked him, Javier slid off his hand of your grip to scratch his jaw and nodded.

“He’s the one who offered the land.” he replied, you covered your mouth with both hands and frowned; your throat closed at the thought of him having that very same conversation with his father and Chucho just offering his own property for you and him.

“You talked to him about it?” you asked him, your voice slightly muffled by your own hands, Javier huffed and nodded with a smirk on his face.

“Why you’re not buying what I say?” his smile widened, you shifted on the seat as closer as the seatbelt let you and reached for his hand.

“It just doesn’t sound familiar to me.” you muttered with a tight lipped smile, playing with his fingers.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, you let out a sigh and turned to look at him; Javier eyed you and the road back and forth for a few seconds.

“Well, I haven’t received that kind of affection from my parents, y’know?” you let out, Javier nodded, he gripped your hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing your skin with his dry, soft lips, tickling it with his mustache, “Idunno, feels foreign even when I’m seeing it happen before my eyes.” you explained, Javier kissed the back of your hand and let his and yours rest on his thigh.

“Pop can be a hard man sometimes,” he said, his voice deep with some emotion you could barely see in his eyes “but he loves very openly.”

“Like you.” you muttered out, Javier smiled and shook his head a couple of times.

“Maybe,” he replied, “I haven’t asked yet.” he teased.

You wrinkled your nose at his response and he chuckled. You leaned to raise the radio volume again; a grupero song that you recognized immediately was barely starting on the station, making you groan and change it.

“What?” Javier asked while you pressed the forward button to fish for another station.

“That fucking song,” you muttered, “it’s about fucking Felix Gallardo.” you said.

“He has a song?” Javier questioned, you turned to him and narrowed your eyes.

“He has several, that one is the newest,” you mumbled, settling for a pop station that was playing some new song by Mariah Carey, Javier scowled at it and you leaned back on the seat “I don’t know why they’re playing it in the fucking radio.”

“Maybe stations don’t know.” he shrugged, you scoffed.

“I can tell them, it’s shockingly obvious.” Javier chuckled at your reply and you tightened the grip on his hand as hard as you could.

“Hey!” he complained, sliding his hand away and stretching his fingers “sorry.”

“Yeah.” you let out, crossing your arms on your chest and setting your eyes on the view outside, Javier groaned lowly.

“Amor,” he called out, you shook your head, “I would know why it makes you so angry if you told me, y’know?” he tried to reason, you looked at him and then looked back at the road; the sun was rising in the morning sky and the, yellow, orange and scarlet tones of the sun telling the night sky a temporary goodbye were reflecting on the puffy clouds above the fields.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, feeling his hand searching for yours. You unfolded your arms once again and took his hand, knowing there was one last thing about you he needed to know and that was long overdue, a talk you had promised since the first time you spent a night together, since the first time he had held you inside his arms when you told him half trues and blatant lies. Knowing there was just that one thing to get over with so your chest didn’t feel as constricted as it felt when you talked about it. “you really have to know.”

“I’d love to hear it,” he muttered softly, brushing your knuckles with his thumb “and we have time.” he whispered, trying to lighten the mood inside the truck, you huffed and let out a heavy, audibly sigh.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you mumbled, biting your lip and looking at him, the soft, recently born sunshine that was taking over the sky slowly reflected on his skin and made his deep, brown eyes glimmer; Javier looked back at you and raised his eyebrows, expecting, ready to listen. “alright, I think I told you I was a desk agent, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, when was that?” he asked, you let out a chuckle.

“Uhm, since I was out of the academy until almost the end of ninety-one,” you replied, “when they sent me down to Juárez,” you tried to recount the time, Javier groaned and you laughed silently, “yeah, around five years.”

“Really?” Javier let out, you nodded “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed “I was in the New Mexico office, mainly focused on intel and trying to put my masters to good use,” Javier hummed and played with your hand “wasn’t so bad, had the chance to go on some raids,” you muttered, “we were just looking for low life dealers, whoever controlled which town, y’know, the usual.”

“And when you told me they sent you to México as a punishment,” he started, you looked at him, “was that the truth?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “that was true, I tried to cut a deal with some idiot distributor for intel.” Javier huffed.

“That doesn’t end well.” he let out, ripping a low chuckle out of you.

“It really doesn’t, the shithead got caught, he said my name in the interrogation room and by the next week I was crossing the border with a suitcase and I think a cardboard box with files,” you laughed, Javier grinned, “I barely knew any actual spanish.” he frowned.

“Really?” he asked, you nodded, Javier tutted his lips “well, you learned it good.” he teased.

“I had to,” you said with a shrug “see, by this point the mexican government had finally figured out Felix Gallardo was still running his business from jail,” you explained, Javier hummed in response, sliding once more his hand away from yours and patting his chest to reach for his sunglasses that hung from his shirt, “and there was this whole deal with the plazas and no one really knew who managed what, so basically they sent me to study the area’s main supplier,” Javier shook his sunglasses to open them and put them on, the sun was starting to reflect on the windshield, “if I wanted to do my job right I had to learn the language.”

“How long did it take you?” Javier asked, you shifted on the bench seat to tuck your leg under the other.

“Around a year with intensive help from…” you stopped suddenly, Javier turned to you with an eyebrow raised, he looked at you and noticed the way your head tilted, he put his hand on your thigh, “from Marcos,” you muttered, “he taught me.”

Javier only hummed in reply, he didn’t know if he should ask you about him; he groaned to himself and felt your stare, he was sure you also remembered the way he had asked if you were fucking him for intel all those months before that felt like a lifetime; you gave him a chuckle.

“I didn’t fuck him,” you whispered, drawing a chuckle out of him, he shook his head before you fell onto a brief silence that he swore he could cut with a blunt knife “I just got him fired.”

“Baby,” he started, you shook your head, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, “he still lost his job.”

Javier sighed, his thumb started drawing slow circles on the covered skin of your thigh.

“You talked to him?” he asked, you let out a slow whine.

“Yeah, I tried to apologize,” you said, remembering how you worked yourself up for three days in order to have the courage to dial his number and talk to him; you closed your eyes and took Javier’s hand, “he didn’t even know it had been because of me, so…” you felt your chest constricting, Marcos’s surprised, hurt voice still echoing inside your head, “let’s just say that bridge there is burned.”

Javier tried to reassure you in the only way his body knew how, he gripped your hand and tried to bring you closer to him; you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” his voice came out soft and sweet, you huffed; cherishing the way he was slowly voicing stuff he knew would make you feel better.

“I guess it had to happen,” you replied with a soft shrug, “we spent years together, I learned a lot from him,” Javier hummed appreciatively and you smiled, “we were sent together down to Guadalajara,” you told him, looking out to the Texan road, wondering where exactly were you driving through, “we had to focus on Sinaloa too, we had just learned they had this, weird, sort of partnership with Juárez,” Javier nodded once, “and a fucking rivalship with Tijuana.” you chuckled tiredly.

“What a fucking mess,” Javier teased, you nodded and stretched to place a kiss on his cheek, Javier smiled, “that must’ve been hard, amor.”

Javier tried to imagine himself in your place; he had been there for a couple of years before being sent to Colombia; a small taskforce to look for the missing Agent Camarena, he didn't like it. He felt like the violence and the way the narcos were destroying his parent’s country, and his, in a certain way, felt too personal. He didn’t know if he would’ve come out alive if he had been stationed there instead of Colombia.

“It was,” you replied, stirring on the seat to tuck your other leg under you, “the amount of hours we spent trying to analyze interactions between those three cartels still haunts me,” you tried to joke, Javier scoffed, “if I compare it to how Colombia was…” you reflected, Javier hummed warningly, “in my experience,” you smiled and clarified in the same tone he hummed, Javier chuckled, “for me, México was crazier.”

“I imagine,” he said, you looked at him trying to read his face from up close; in the last two weeks you had spent in his house you had re-met him. It was like he was another man with the same essence; he was relaxed, talked more, his sense of humour came out at all times and you had lost count of the times he had made you laugh until your eyes teared up and your belly hurt. It was like being in a relationship with a man you barely knew but had a deep, meaningful love for. He turned to you and smirked “what?” he asked.

“I love you.” you whispered.

Javier smiled at you and, with his eyes skilfully on the road, leaned down to leave a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you too.” he replied and you left another soft kiss on his mouth, Javier turned to look at the road.

“We should look for something to eat,” you said against the skin of his jaw, he chuckled, “I’m gonna be hungry really soon.”

“We definitely don’t want a hungry flower around here.” he teased, you swatted gently at his arm with a feigned frown.

“I just wanna have energy to keep telling you about México,” you said, Javier nodded, “where was I?”

“Rivalry with Tijuana.” he recalled, you opened your mouth and mouthed a soft ah, nodding.

“So, to make the story short they all wanted to kill each other.” you told him.

“Sounds familiar.” Javier let out growly.

“Right? why can’t they be diplomatic?” you joked, making him chuckle, “Tijuana had thrown a bomb into one of Chapo’s houses and that was a whole ‘nother mess,” Javier blinked heavily at the word bomb and you winced when he gripped your hand tighter, “you get it,” you muttered, he nodded, chewing the inside of his mouth, “so Sinaloa responded with a shooting and killed a lot of people, family of Gallardo,” Javier looked at you in disbelief, “yeah, cousins and one of his aunts.”

Javier said nothing, he kept driving normally but you could feel the way his respiration had become faster, you wondered what he was remembering after what you had said.

“It all escalated very quickly, mind you, this was ninety-two, I spent my birthday in a hotel room in Guadalajara,” you chuckled.

“Why?”

“The cartel knew we were in town, they were trying to track us so we moved hotels for a while.” you replied with a smile on your face while the memory of a small, supermarket store-bought cake with a hard frosting and one single candle painted itself inside your head.

“Who’s we?” Javier asked you, you rolled your eyes.

“Marcos and I,” you told him, Javier groaned in feigned anger and you laughed at him, “he sang me the mexican happy birthday.” you bragged.

“They’re called las mañanitas, Flor.” he chuckled, making you laugh harder at the tone of his voice.

“Yes, that,” Javier shook his head at you, “we had to move to Culiacán, though,” you let out, sitting up straighter at the sight of a gas station, “we had the tip that el Chapo had moved because of all the violence, so we followed him too,” you pointed at it, “can we stop? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” Javier changed lanes so he could drive into the gas station and parking next to a pump, you reached for his left hand and took it to look at his watch, you’d been driving for around five hours, the both of you sighed at the same time and he turned off the ignition, “can you get me some sunflower seeds? I’m gonna fill up the tank.” he asked when you reached for your bag that rested on the truck’s floor, you looked at him as he opened the door and got out.

“Sunflower seeds? a’right grandpa.” you teased, opening the door, Javier laughed silently, watching you as you hopped off the truck, closed the door and walked towards the store.

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[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 24

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N:  the problem with Ernesto’s murderous plans is that they tend to only have a 50% success rate.  Art is by @lunaescribe​ and @swanpit​​

***

“... And you killed how many Villistas?” 

“Ah, I lost count. At least thirty.”

“Five, more like!”

“Shut up! Maybe some were just wounded, but I killed no less than twenty of Villa’s bastards, at any rate.”

“Sí, sí, and then you wounded Pancho Villa himself. One would think that with such a warrior among us, getting through the Zapatistas on our way here would have been a child’s play. I didn’t see you hit a single one. Did you forget how to shoot in the meantime?”

“Ah, shut up. They fought better, is all. Everyone knows Zapata and his followers are twice the mad dogs as everybody else, and I did hit one!”

“Your own shoe doesn’t count, pendejo.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“You’re so full of--”

As an argument broke out, Héctor watched Gustavo sigh and fall back a few paces with his horse. His attempts at buttering up the soldiers to get any sort of useful information had amounted to nothing, when they hadn’t straight-up started an argument like that one. The only question he was able to get a real answer to was why Commander Hernández hadn't allowed them to spend the evening and night in Santa Cecilia before setting off. 

“Ay, he won’t hear of it,” a soldier had replied. “He heard of a battalion that was decimated like that - they stayed in a village overnight, but turns out it was chock-full of traitors and they called their friends in during the night, and the men were slaughtered before they could grab a gun. So he’s paranoid about that.”

The expression that crossed Gustavo’s face for a moment, that of a man who just sucked on a lemon, had been enough to tell Héctor that was very much something he had hoped to pull off in Santa Cecilia. Unaware of that, the man - “call me Chucho”, he had said - had added: “It’s a myth if you ask me, more likely all of them just got sick of this shit and deserted.”

“Can’t blame them,” someone had muttered only a couple of paces behind Héctor, only to be immediately shushed by no less than ten of his comrades. 

“Shut up, idiota!”

“You want the commander to nail you to a telegraph pole or what!”

“He’s off ahead scouting anyway,” the man had muttered, and promptly fallen in a sullen silence. Morale was low, Héctor had quickly realized; he had been aware of the fact the war was not going all that well for the Federal Army, but this was the first time he saw its effects on the troops. All things considered, he got the distinct feeling most of those men didn’t want to be there a hell of a lot more than Ernesto had. 

Only that Ernesto had seized his moment to escape, and they were still stuck.

“-- shoot that cigarette off your mouth from a hundred paces, and if you don't believe--”

“Amazing, think you can hit the men attached to the cigarettes every once in a while, too?”

“If what you're asking is a bullet through your brain--!”

“Brain might be a big word there…”

“Shut your mouth, Nachito!”

As the argument continued, Héctor did his best to tune it out and reached into his saddle bag for the water. They had been warned the water rations were scarce and he had been trying not to drink too much, but they had been riding under the sun for hours, he’d been sweating half his body weight, and there seemed to be no moisture left in his mouth. At least the sun was starting to get lower at the horizon, evening not too far away.

Héctor wondered how they’d spend the night. Would they make camp? Just sit around fires, rifle in hand, and try to shut their eyes for a few hours before they kept marching on? Surely someone would stand guard, were the revolutionaries really going to catch up as Gustavo seemed to think they would? Would there be a battle? How many would come? Or would they decided a few men off Santa Cecilia was not a big enough loss to bother--

“Water?”

“Huh?” 

Héctor looked up to see a man riding next to him, holding out a flask of water. He seemed about his age, maybe a little younger, an attempt at a mustache on his upper lip and an uniform almost as ill-fitting as his own. He tried to smile, grimaced at the heat, and awkwardly avoided his gaze at the same time. 

“You, uh. If you want water.”

“Ah. I’m getting mine, don’t worry. I don’t want to take your ration.”

“... Right,” the young man muttered, and kept riding by his side. Héctor took a couple of sips from his flask, just enough to make his mouth feel a little less like an entire desert had moved in, and glanced back towards the man. He seemed to hesitate, but as Héctor rather expected he finally spoke again. “So you are, uh, a novice?”

“I… I was, I suppose. I suspect leaving the parish to join the Federal Army means that’s going to lapse,” he said, trying to smile like the idea was funny. The man didn’t seem amused, and Héctor cleared his throat. “... My name’s Héctor, by the way.”

A nod. “Alejandro,” the man replied. “Look, me and the others - several of the others, we… I mean, back there, when the commander shot the gringo-- I mean, the priest, I would have never,” he finally blurted out, holding onto the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

Ah.

Héctor had barely looked at Father John’s body on the cobblestones, focused as he was on the fact that man had Miguel, but the mental image had still been lingering in the back of his mind ever since they left. The pool of blood, the way it got into every crack, the sticky warmth of it through his robes when his knees hit the ground. 

Some men had taken him away to get him help, he knew, and the Federales had allowed it, but Héctor had no idea if any help would even be possible. He was probably dead, for trying to reason with someone utterly unreasonable, for trying to save Miguel. 

He found his martyrdom, at last.

Something in Héctor’s chest ached; the gringo was not a simple man to get along with, easy to despise and quick to judge, but he had tried to do the right thing and he did not deserve a bullet for it. Perhaps taking note of his pained expression, the young man fidgeted. 

“Maybe God will save him,” he murmured, and swallowed. “I… we wanted to ask… do you think God will curse us for this? For shooting down one of His servants?”

Why ask me, Héctor almost replied, but then again it was the sort of question one would ask to a priest and he was the closest thing to one those men had at hand. Part of him wanted to believe God would indeed curse them, all of them, Huerta’s damn Federales - but as he looked around himself now, those men who’d seemed to terrifying looked so tired, dirty from days of travel, many of them young and probably wearing their uniforms no more willingly than he did. 

How many had been taken the way they were in the first place?

“There is no mercy in war,” he remembered Ernesto saying when he was found out and they confronted him. “They die or you do. On and on, day after day, until you forget you’re looking at humans because it gets easier if you get that detail out of your mind.”

“... The Church says that as long as there is regret, all can be forgiven,” he found himself saying instead. Alejandro nodded, but he looked far from reassured and just fell silent as they rode on towards the top of a hill they were never going to get past.

***

“Those bastards were supposed to come through San Luz!”

Arms still aching and palms burning from the friction with the rope, Sofía made it down the belltower and to the churchyard just on time to hear the frustrated shout. Right before the church were maybe twenty men and women on horses, all of them armed, being filled in on what had happened by a few very confused bystanders who likely had no idea what was going on but were relieved that these new visitors were not Federales at least.

As Sofía approached with quick steps, the man turned his horse to face her. “Gustavo--” he began, and trailed off. He blinked. “... You’re not Gustavo.”

Sharp as a knife, this one. Nice to see we’re in good hands.

“Gustavo went with them. He told me to call for you,” she added, pointing up to the belltower, where the bell still swung slowly. “He said I should tell you to follow the trail.”

The man seemed taken aback, then he nodded. “Very well. What direction did they--”

“They took the road west, through the hills.” 

Imelda’s voice rang out suddenly, causing several heads to turn. She was riding an aging horse that had belonged to her family for years, but that was not what made Sofía raise an eyebrow.

The robes were gone, replaced by a gown and a blouse, a belt at her waist with ammunition and the pistol they had taken from Ernesto’s room. Her head was uncovered, her jaw set; the man stared at her a few moments before he tilted his head in recognition. 

“... Sister. I was hoping to meet you again in better circumstances than this.”

“José. You probably already gathered as much, but the Federales that took our men outnumber you, at least three to one. I assume you could use an extra pair of hands.”

“We could,” one of the women spoke up. She spurred her own horse closer to Imelda, a rifle slung over her shoulder. Her hair was braided back, showing a still healing cut on the side of her head. “How much practice did you get with that pistol?”

Imelda met her gaze. “Not much. I’ll have to hope what practice I could get will be enough.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I die. Not the first or last.”

The woman smiled. “Very well. We’ll need someone to tell us what men not to shoot, after all, in case Gustavo can’t,” she added, and turned to look back at the man she’d called José. At this point, Sofía suspected she may have been mistaken in her assumption he was the leader there. “They can’t have gone very far, with the supplies and carts they took. We can catch up with them. Gabriel, you and I go ahead to dispatch anyone guarding the back of the column. If we don’t take them by surprise we’re fucked.”

“Well, you heard her, everyone. Let’s get going!”

As they kicked the flanks of their horses to get moving, Imelda looked back, and her gaze met Sofía’s. “... Sister,” she said, “I should mention this marks the end of my novitiate.”

Something gripping her throat - don’t die out there, she wanted to say - Sofía managed a smile. Trying to talk Imelda out of her plan, she knew, would be absolutely fruitless. “About time,” she said instead. “Go take back your stupid fiancé.”

The smile Imelda gave was sharp, telling her clearly that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not that Sofía had doubted that even for a moment. 

“You can be certain I will,” she said, and kicked the flanks of her horse, riding off.

“Ay, a novio,” one of the men muttered as he rode past. “And my heart breaks already.”

We had enough heartbreak as is for the day, Sofía thought, but said nothing. Instead she turned away from the galloping horses and let her gaze wander across the parish grounds. A few men were running off to grab what horses and hunting rifles they had and join the rescue party, but no trace of Ernesto. He’d returned, she knew, but no one had seen him since. 

Where in the world is that idiota hiding now?

***

Following the trail left behind by the column of Federales - the imprint of hooves, the wheels of carts, the cigarette butts they left in their wake - was easier than finding gonorrhea in a brothel.

Well, at least Ernesto supposed it was; he wouldn’t really know, as he had never in his life had gonorrhea or needed to resort to a brothel for pleasurable company in the first place. His good looks and charm had served him well enough with men and women alike, as Juan could testify.

Except that Juan was dead, shot like a dog in the middle of the plaza, what little color he had on his face draining away along with the blood; Ernesto had not seen it happen, but he could imagine it all too well each time he closed his eyes against the merciless July sun. 

Juan could never testify anything anymore, nor roll his eyes or start a lecture whenever Ernesto said something outrageous. He was far enough from Santa Cecilia that he could barely hear the bell anymore, but its toll was still ringing in his head, in every thudding beat of his heart. 

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I want them dead.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks, or so he told himself. Ernesto kicked the donkey’s flanks to make the stupid animal go faster, the reins of the other clutched tight in his hand, and wiped his forehead, teeth clenched hard. He clung to his fury, allowed himself to bare his teeth in something resembling a smile as his gaze fell on the caskets of wine. Holy wine, plus a special ingredient courtesy of the parish’s old rat problem.

He would see them dead. He would see them writhe and suffer, and he’d let them know it was by his hand; Juan would probably disapprove, that stupid stuck-up gringo, but he was no longer there to talk him out of it. He was no longer there to disapprove of him, and someone had to pay for it. How gracious of God’s church to provide the means to make it happen. Perhaps it was his will, after all, and who was he not to help along divine will?

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina, Juan had said.

Todo modo. Todo modo. Todo modo. 

Ernesto let the words echo in his head until they drowned out all noise from the bell, or perhaps it had stopped ringing, or he simply got too far for its sound to reach him anymore. He pressed on through the dusty path and up yet another hill until finally, finally, he saw it just below: a long column of men who were not long for that world. A few men at the back were looking up towards him, surely there to guard against rear attacks. But they saw no rebels there: only a priest, far more charming than the one they’d shot dead in Santa Cecilia.

Ernesto stared for a few moments, and finally let out a long breath, relaxing his frame. He wiped sweat off his face, opened his eyes, and smiled. A real smile, not a grimace; the easy, charming expression that got him in the good graces of men and women alike oh so quickly. 

Who would refuse a blessing in those difficult times? Who’d turn away a friendly face? Who wouldn’t accept some holy wine to wash down the dust and dirt? With some luck, it would be the last thing they’d do before they got to confess their sins to San Pedro himself. 

Good luck explaining away the murder of a man of the Church, Ernesto thought, and got the donkeys moving down the hill as quickly as he could. No turning back now, not anymore.

The thought did cross his mind for the briefest moment - what if they see through me, what if they recognize me - but it hardly even registered. At that point he was one deserter among thousands and he’d left his battalion as it headed north, with no plans to go back down towards Oaxaca. Chances any of those men came from his battalion were vanishingly thin, he thought, and to be fair he was almost entirely correct in that assumption. Just almost. 

Ernesto de la Cruz kept clambering down the hill on top of his donkey, with the smile of a friendly priest eager to deliver a very special blessing to the heroes of Mexico.

***

He wasn’t there, either. The slippery bastard wasn’t anywhere.

Santiago kicked his horse’s sides again, hands clenching on the reins. He had gone off ahead, ostensibly to scout for any sort of possible ambush, but truth be told it was only an excuse to be alone with his storming thoughts for a time. 

He already knew there would be no ambush: the idiots were still waiting for them in San Luz, or had given up waiting and were drinking themselves into a stupor, which was just as likely. A few more miles, and then they could circle back to take them by surprise in the middle of the night.He’d toyed with the idea before, but it was not the current plan: he and his men were expected in Yucatan within days, which left them short on time. 

But it was… tempting, nonetheless.

We could get some scum out of the way. And maybe de la Cruz is hiding there, or passed by. Someone might know something. Someone might talk.

Santiago closed his eyes and lifted his head, letting the sun beat down on his face. It had been a scorching hot day when he had found Alberto’s body, too, shot in the back of the head and left to feed carrion birds by the monster who’d greeted them that morning with a smile before they went off on patrol together. 

It should have been Santiago out on patrol with Ernesto de la Cruz  that day. It was his turn; it should have been him to fall face down in the sand with his brains blown out. But he’d pulled a muscle in his back the previous evening, riding felt like having hot rods pushed into his spine, and Beto had offered to take my place. 

Said I owed him a drink. What wouldn’t I give to pay back that debt.  

Monster, the gringo had called him. What sort of beast, he had said, but the idiota knew nothing of monsters and beasts that must be put down for everybody’s safety. He, at least, didn’t feign friendliness. He didn’t hide behind a smile. He warned before he shot, stated his terms and delivered on his promises.

If it made him a beast himself, very well; perhaps he was. Perhaps trying to take the child had been a step too far - but he’d sooner be a lion than a snake hiding in the sand. 

I cannot turn back anymore. No way to go but forward. 

But first, San Luz. If he’s there, I’ll smoke him out.

Santiago Hernández stopped his horse on a rocky outcrop and reached into the saddle bag to pull out his map, so he could work out the best route back for a quick attack. He opened it and studied it under the merciless sun, waiting for his men to catch up

It took him a while to realize it was taking them much too long.

***

“Oye! Come here!”

“There’s a priest!”

“We’re getting blessed, muchachos!”

“And we’re getting wine!”

“... Huh?”

As word travelled fast up the column, causing men to halt their horses and turn, Héctor glanced around in confusion. He looked over at Gustavo, but he seemed about as lost as he was at the notion of a random priest walking into marching Federales to offer blessings and wine. Where did he even--

“He says he’s the parish priest of the hole we just left,” someone added, and Héctor’s blood ran cold, something clenching in his stomach.

No, no, no, no. What is he doing here? They were looking for him. They’ll kill him.

“Padre Ernesto?” Francisco, a young cobbler who’d been taken with him that day, blurted out. Sidling up to Héctor, Gustavo elbowed him in the ribs. 

“What’s going on?” he growled under his breath. “Why is he here, and why did you get almost as pale as the gringo just now?”

“I…” Héctor swallowed, unable to force words out. Gustavo didn’t know, and this really was not the time to explain him everything. He needed to get to Ernesto immediately, warn him to get away while he still could, so he ignored Gustavo’s questions and spurred his horse to go back, towards the end of the column. The men there were already starting to gather, dismounting their horses… and passing around caskets of wine. 

Héctor braced himself for the moment someone would cry out in recognition and every man present would turn against Ernesto, but there was no such cry; the men were none the wiser as they talked and laughed, took the wine and kept gathering, all semblance of order gone. 

Above all, Héctor heard a familiar voice.

“... And once I realized I had entirely missed your arrival, well, I had to catch up with you,” Ernesto was saying, all charm and smiles as he helped unload the caskets of wine. “I couldn’t let my parishioners leave to serve this country without giving them my blessing, you understand. And you, of course, it is the least I could do - careful there, it’s heavy…”

It was like an impromptu party, but it was soon clear not everyone was simply in the mood to celebrate. Héctor did his best to approach, but he got knocked back by several men gathering around Ernesto. 

“Padre!”

“Can we have your blessing, Padre?”

“I have not had confession in months--”

“Haven’t heard from my family since March, I don’t know if they are well, pray for them--”

“What happened to that other priest-- the gringo, we did not--”

“Our commander lost his temper, a man of God, I would have never--”

“We would never--”

Ernesto turned to the men, and his smile wavered for only a moment. But then it was back, full of understanding. “... Padre Juan was a man of principle who did not always know when to hold his tongue, but he is with God now,” he said, and Héctor’s stomach sank. So he hadn’t made it. He was dead, and Ernesto showed no sign whatsoever of being affected. 

“His soul is safe, and I know he would want me to take care of yours,” Ernesto was going on, and he lifted his hand to impart a blessing, speaking loudly to be heard by all. He spoke in near-perfect Latin John Johnson would have been proud of, giving everyone present absolution before crossing himself. Many of the men mirrored the gesture, relief plain on their faces. Alejandro was among them, looking close to tears.

The blessing done, absolution given, Ernesto smiled and spread out his arms. “Now, let us all drink the blood of Christ and--”

“Padre!” Héctor finally cried out, pushing his way to the front, and Ernesto’s gaze turned on him. His smile grew even wider. 

“My child!” he cried out, and pulled him into an embrace. “Ah, what a relief, having reached you on time to absolve your sins and give you the Lord’s blessing!”

Face smashed against Ernesto’s shoulder, Héctor barely managed to whisper. “What are you doing--” he began, only for Ernesto to turn his head and almost snarl into his ear, his voice so full of seething fury it made Héctor’s heart skip a beat in his chest. 

“Saving your scrawny ass so I can kick it myself. Don’t drink the wine, none of you. Tell the others.”

“Wha-- Ernesto, wait, they’re--”

“Not a drop,” Ernesto hissed, and pushed him off before anyone realized they had spoken to one another, patting his shoulder with a laugh. “Go to the others, tell them they have my blessing and that the parish will look after their families,” he added, and before he could add another word Héctor was almost ejected from the small crowd, reeling. 

What does it mean? What has he done to the wine?

He looked around to see Alejandro taking one of the opened caskets, saw the wine flowing and men drinking. Héctor wanted to stop him, tell him not to - he was not a bad person, he could tell; many of them were not bad people - but he knew he couldn’t do so without alerting them all, and in the end he had to back away. 

Guilt twisted in his gut, but he knew he had to ignore it and move quickly. The wine was being passed around so fast, and he had to warn Gustavo and the others not to drink it before it got to them. Regardless how tempting it was not to tell Gustavo, of course.

No one has recognized him. Maybe it will be all right. Maybe whatever plan he has is going to work. Maybe it will make them pass out, no one needs to die, Héctor thought, and with one last glance towards Ernesto - he was positively holding court now, men around him laughing at something he said or crossing themselves and asking for a prayer - he ran back to where he left the others from Santa Cecilia, trying to reach them before the wine could.

Whatever Ernesto had done with it, he knew none of them wanted to find out the hard way.

***

What got Santiago to lift his gaze from the map and realize his men really should have caught up by now was a very distant sound, one he did not recognize at first. He put away the map with a frown, focusing, and for a moment he thought what he heard were distant screams. It made his blood run cold and his hands clench on the reins. 

Had his men been attacked? Could it be? Was there an ambush - had he walked right past the enemy without realizing as much? Heart hammering in his throat, Santiago spurred his horse to trot back, straining to listen… and finally he realized what he was hearing were not screams. 

Well, they kind of were, but those were no cries of distress; there was a rhythm to it, all voices rising up together and then falling, then rising again, like… singing? Was that bunch of idiots singing at the top of their lungs?

Have they all gone mad?

Stunned and furious at the same time, Santiago kicked his horse’s flanks to spur it into a gallop back the way he had come. He knew those men’s discipline was almost non-existent, but that was ridiculous. He would see them punished for it, he’d make them march through the night, he--!

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Soon he was close enough to hear the words and, after turning a bend, he could see that the sorry excuses of soldiers he’d been leading were off their horses and standing around or sitting in the dirt, drinking and singing like they were off duty in a damn cantina. 

He opened his mouth to shout at them, demand to know what was going on in their empty heads, but another voice rose up loud and clear and Santiago’s own voice died in his throat. 

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano..."

He knew that voice; he heard it before in the barracks, at campfires, whenever a comrade picked up a guitar. He never missed a chance to sing, turning each break in a performance. 

Alberto had found it endearing; he’d found it annoying. Now it made him feel as though the sweat on his skin had turned into frost.

Still atop his horse Santiago turned slowly, very slowly, towards the source of that voice. He had not expected the priestly robes, and he’d had a beard when he’d last seen him, but he would recognize that despicable face anywhere; he’d dreamed of it almost every night, grinning down at him as he kneeled over Beto’s body.

And now he was there. 

How or why he had come to be there, let alone in a cassock and singing along with his men as they guzzled down wine, Santiago had no idea nor he cared to know. All that he knew, all that mattered, was that he was there within his grasp, and that he would never escape again. 

Santiago Hernández bared his teeth, and reached for the pistol at his hip.

***

BANG.

The gunshot was distant, reverberating through the hills, impossible to mistake for anything else. It made Imelda’s blood run cold, but she didn’t slow down; her horse was in full gallop, right at the heels of José’s own - which, come to think of it, looked an awful lot like Ernesto’s own missing horse - and she spurred it to go a bit faster, just enough to sidle with him. 

“Was that one of yours? Did you prepare an ambush?” she yelled to be heard through the rushing wind and beating hooves, knowing full well what the answer was but still hoping against hope to get at least some explanation for the gunshot. 

José shook his head, his expression grim. “No such thing. There may be insubordination among them.”

“Does it happen often?”

“All the time. But we’ll only know when we catch up,” he added, and spurred his horse again. Imelda could only follow, and hope for the best.

If he gets himself killed, she thought, I’ll have to kill him again.

***

The gunshot was deafeningly loud, and close enough to make Héctor cry out - him, and several other men - and the singing to stop abruptly. There were confused cries, men jumping on their feet and dropping their cups of wine to reach for their own guns, turning around wildly to find out who’d shot.

They didn’t have to look far.

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

Still on top of his horse, pistol raised in the air, Commander Hernández stared at Ernesto with enough hatred to make Héctor tremble. He was vaguely aware of Gustavo and another couple of men from Santa Cecilia talking to him under their breath, asking what the hell was going on, but Héctor was unable to speak, dread gripping his throat. 

He found him. It’s over.

He wanted to cry out for Ernesto to run, to do something, but there was nothing for him to do and he could only stand there, staring in horror. Ernesto had stilled, realization beginning to dawn on him that he’d been recognized, and that he was trapped. 

The soldiers around him were not quite as quick to grasp the situation. “What--”

“Commander, we, uh, can explain--”

“Shut up, all of you, and seize that traitor!”

“... Sir, that is Padre--”

“That’s no more a priest than I am, idiots! It’s the deserter we’ve been looking for!”  the man screamed, and leaped off his horse, pistol still in his hand. “ SEIZE HIM, I SAID!”

“Qué?” Gustavo blurted out somewhere on Héctor’s right, and it seemed that sentiment was prevalent among the Federales as well, most of whom kept staring at their commander as though he’d suddenly started speaking Portuguese. 

Then Ernesto tried to run, and all hell broke loose.

Héctor had gone hare hunting once, out of sheer curiosity, watching from the sidelines and not really doing much. The pack of dogs, all of them friendly mutts, had seemed comically clumsy, wagging their tails and snuffling about, seemingly more interested in playing than hunting… until a hare had burst out of its hiding spot to run away, and suddenly the entire pack had pounced. The chase had been brief, the screams unbearably loud, the outcome bloody, and Héctor had felt queasy as the owner of the dogs lifted the prey, grinning from ear to ear while his dogs went back to goofing off.

“This,” he had said, “is why you never try running before even the dumbest dog pack.”

Now Héctor watched Ernesto make the same mistake, and again the dogs pounced as one. The hare had no chance of escape that day, and neither did he now. 

“STOP HIM!”

“Got him, I got him!”

“Get your hands of me, hijos de--”

“Agh! He bit me!”

“Get him over here!”

If any of the soldiers had doubted Commander Hernández’s words and still believed him a priest, Ernesto thrashing and screaming insults to their entire lineage - through the flea-ridden Spaniards who’d forced their way between their great-great-great-great grandmothers’ thighs and all the way down to the Garden of Eden - probably took care of it. 

As Héctor stared, petrified and not knowing what to do, he was dragged in front of the commander and forced on his knees, arms behind his back. Hernández put the pistol back in its holster, walked up to Ernesto, and grabbed a fistful of his hair to force his head back. 

He gave a cold, too-wide smile that still did not reach his eyes and said something Héctor could not hear. Ernesto’s scowl turned to shock for a moment, and then his features twisted in fury. He screamed and tried to rise up to throw himself at Hernández, almost made it, but too many men were holding him down and he was pushed back in the dirt. Orders were barked and they began dragging Ernesto away from the rest of the still confused soldiers, off the path and towards a small grove of trees and shrubs. One of the men carried a long rope. 

They'll see me hang, Ernesto had told them after being unmasked, and God, he'd been right. “No, wait!” Héctor cried out and tried to run, but something gripped his arm, pulled him back. 

“Stay here, idiota,” Gustavo hissed, his grasp on Héctor’s wrist tight enough to cut off the blood flow. He glared. “Won’t let you become a martyr on my watch, you’re insufferable enough as is. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. Did you know about him?”

“I can’t let them kill--”

“Did you know!” Gustavo barked, and Héctor fell silent, his expression probably speaking volumes. Gustavo groaned, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “A Federale right under my nose and I never knew. Por Dios, José is never going to let me hear the end of it...”

“Gustavo, let me go, we have to help him--”

“Help is coming, idiota. Stay here.”

“But--”

“Help is coming,” Gustavo repeated in the forceful way of a man trying to will something into reality. “At least that damn liar delayed their march. Any moment now--” he trailed off when a sudden noise reached their ears amidst the confusion and exclamations, harsh and unmistakable - retching. Soon followed by another such sound, and another. And another. 

One by one, the men around them began looking very, very sick.

***

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastards--!”

Ernesto’s insults got him precisely nowhere, and his attempt at fighting off the men dragging him away was about as useless. Too many of them, too strong, his wrists already tied behind his back before they shoved him on his knees in the dirt before the cabrón who had somehow recognized his face.

When said cabrón stepped forward and grabbed his hair to yank his head back, Ernesto clenched his teeth to hold back a cry and glared up at him. Who was he? Dimly he knew he must know him, he looked vaguely familiar - something about the mustache, the unusually thin bridge of his nose - but he still could not put a name to the face the way that bastard had somehow put a name to his.

Unaware of his thoughts, the man sneered. “Ernesto de la Cruz - so the rat comes out in the open at last. What’s the reason for this masquerade? Did you think these robes would save you? They will not. I shot down a true priest today. Or was the gringo an impostor, too?”

Our commander lost his temper, one of them had said. 

That beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!

YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!

With a wordless scream, Ernesto strained against the men holding him down, against his bounds, wanting nothing more than putting his hands around the man’s neck and choke the life out of him. He almost managed to stand, but the weight of several men was too much and he was thrown back down in the dirt.

“You, take him and follow me. Rojas, get enough rope to hang this bastard. Quick.”

“Yes sir.”

No no no no no!

Ernesto struggled, but to no avail. Bound and overpowered, he was easily dragged away from the path by the small group of men - towards shrubs and trees, where they could hang him by the neck and leave him to feed carrion birds. They would not give him a clean death, he knew. No fall, no broken neck. They’d string him up and… and… 

“Let me go!”

“Oh, as you wish.”

The men threw him down on the ground, and with his hands tied there was nothing sparing his face a painful impact. Ernesto ground his teeth to stifle a cry, only for that cry to be forced out of him when a kick in his side threw him onto his back. A knee pressed on his chest and the man leaned down, all his weight on Ernesto’s sternum.

When is the damn poison going to work?

Maybe the parish got scammed and that wasn’t poison at all. Wouldn’t that be a laugh, a fake priest dead thanks to fake poison. 

As he struggled to breathe, Ernesto blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked up. Seen up close there was something startling in the sheer hatred in the man’s gaze, and it caused Ernesto to still a moment. The soldier, John’s murderer, sneered once again. 

“Tell me, traitor,” he all but snarled. “Do you even know who I am?”

Don’t make him mad, part of Ernesto’s brain said, but the rest clung to the hope the poison would start working soon. Make him waste time.

“Should I?” he spat. A fist connected with his face as soon as the words were out, causing his vision to swim. Blood ran down his face from a split lip, went down his throat. Somewhere above him he saw the rope being thrown up over a branch, one end already tied in a noose. 

And then, before his eyes, the blade of a knife caught the sunlight.

***

He didn’t even recognize him.

Of all the ways Ernesto de la Cruz had wronged him, that somehow was the final straw, the worst possible slap to the face. He’d murdered his best friend since childhood and ran off, leaving him to obsess over revenge for months on end - unable to sleep without seeing his face or Beto’s body in the sand, or both - and now he dared say he didn’t even know who he was.

Ah, but he’d know. Before he died, when he allowed him to die, he would know. 

“I know who you are well enough,” Santiago snarled, and pulled out his hunting knife. “A coward, a traitor, and a murderer. You’re a Judas, and you’ll die as Judas did - and everyone will know why!”

De la Cruz tried to squirm beneath him, still dazed by the blow but all too aware of the blade of his knife. Santiago sneered, held the knife to his throat, and watched him grow still. There was terror in his eyes, unmistakable, and he savored it like a sip from a bottle of fine wine. 

“Ay, you’ll wish I made it this easy for you.” The blade slipped beneath his collar and ripped down through the cassock, baring his chest. 

De la Cruz tried to squirm again, this time with more urgency, eyes wide. “Stop!” he rasped.

Santiago smiled. “Why? Have you recalled my name?”

“I have done nothing to you. I--”

“Liar. I should take an eye for that,” he snapped, and brought the tip of the knife’s blade to rest right beneath a widened eye, drawing the tiniest drop of blood from his skin. “Think again, you Judas. Think of the day you deserted. Someone was with you.”

“What…” Ernesto de la Cruz paused and finally, finally, Santiago saw his expression change - from terror and confusion to realization. Of course, that must have jogged his memory: the two of them had barely shared a few words, but he must remember Alberto. And wherever Alberto went, Santiago followed.

Until, of course, de la Cruz had sent Beto someplace where Santiago could not follow.

You took him away.

Something ached in his chest, and all of a sudden Santiago felt ridiculously close to tears. But he had him now. He would see him die, Alberto would be avenged, and he would finally feel better. He had to feel better. He could not contemplate feeling the way he did forever.

“Thiago,” de la Cruz choked out, and he scoffed. Of course, even now, the self-absorbed bastard couldn’t be bothered to remember anyone’s name. 

“Santiago,” he snapped, and leaned in so close their faces almost touched, pressing the blade a little harder on Ernesto’s skin and causing another pinprick of blood to well up. “But it matters not. You know whose name I want you to remember, sí? That of the man you killed.”

De la Cruz swallowed. “Alberto,” he managed. “I-- I didn’t want to kill him. I swear. I only wanted to get away, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I... he would have stopped me, he--”

“And so you shot him like a dog!” Santiago screamed, causing that disgusting coward to wince. He pulled back, knees still pressed against his sternum, keeping him pinned down. The grip on the handle of his knife was so tight it ached. And he even had the galls, this bastard, to lecture him for shooting a gringo! 

“You left him dead to feed scavengers, and you really thought I would let it stand! You really thought I wouldn’t hunt you down like the beast you are! Tell me, did you kiss him the way Judas kissed Christ when he betrayed him?”

A shudder beneath him that may have been a sob. “P-por favor--”

“Oh, you’re begging now?” Santiago gave a loud, ugly laugh, and pressed the blade against Ernesto de la Cruz’s chest. “Very well, traitor. Go on and beg,” he said, and began to cut.

He did beg, but only for a few moments. For a good while, all he could do was scream.

***

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