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cheesybadgers · 2 years

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 16)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 9,337

Summary: In the aftermath of chapter 15, Javier returns to Laredo, reuniting with Horacio once and for all. Whilst they make up for lost time, questions about their future arise now they're at a crossroads, and after the phone call they had been waiting years for. Meanwhile, Chucho once again has some words of wisdom for his son.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort (with the emphasis very much on the comfort), romantic sex, religious themes and symbolism (including in a sexual context), PTSD symptoms including dreams/nightmares and insomnia, discussions of grief and parental loss, smoking, swearing, drinking.

Notes: Well, I did it, guys...Operation Happy Ending is officially happening after all this time and I am emotional 😭😩 Chapter 17 is going to be in a similar vein to this chapter, as 16/17 were originally supposed to be one chapter. But, you know me, I can't shut up about these two 😂 Chapter 17 is largely done, it just needs some more tweaking/editing but should hopefully be posted soon!

Thank you as always to those still reading/commenting/making moodboards/tagging me in inspo posts or just sending me lovely messages. It genuinely warms my heart ❤️

Oh and I’ve added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 16: Like a Prayer

The taxi pulled up in front of the closed steel gates, its engine left running whilst Javier retrieved his bag from the trunk and paid the driver. Once the car was out of sight, the tranquillity of the Laredo countryside re-emerged, a stark contrast to the chaos he had left behind.

Following a brief phone call, he was expected but had insisted on making his own way back. He wasn’t ready just yet for the small talk that a long drive would no doubt have prompted, more from his Pops than Horacio. Horacio posed an entirely different problem if they had reunited in public.

There was no greeting from the dogs this time, but as soon as he opened the door to the farmhouse, Javier was hit by the distinctive aroma of epazote.

Chucho was standing over the stove stirring a bubbling clay pot, but abandoned his station to greet his son.

“Pops.” Javier dropped his bag by the door and went in for a hug.

“Javi.” Chucho patted him on the back a couple of times, pleasantly surprised at Javier’s reluctance to let go straight away as was the usual custom. “Welcome home, Mijo.”

When Javier eventually pulled away, he inhaled with concentration etched into his brow. “Frijoles de la Olla?”

“Of course. I’m making enchiladas later to go with it, but yesterday’s leftovers are in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, I’m good for now.”

“Flights go okay?”

“Yeah. Although, I wouldn’t recommend the chairs in Houston for getting any shut-eye.”

“And how about you?”

Of course, Chucho was going to ask. Javier had been expecting it, even though he had no answer prepared. “I’m fine.” He could see from the look in his dad’s eye he hadn’t hit a convincing tone. “Well, er, y’know. Better than I was.” Now that was closer to the truth.

Chucho merely nodded in response before returning to the stove, not wanting to push it further. Between everything he had seen in the press, his conversations with Horacio, and filling in the blanks, he knew enough without needing to hear the specifics.

“You can say I told you so if you want.” Javier wasn’t sure where that came from. There was nothing in Chucho’s demeanour to warrant being defensive. He hadn’t pried or pushed or passed judgement. He hadn’t even asked what happened or why. And yet part of Javier would have preferred if his Pops had given him both barrels.

“I could, but what good would that do, hmm? I’m guessing you’re already punishing yourself enough as it is. I’m just relieved you’re home and safe. And I know I’m not the only one.”

“Where—”

“He’s been spending a lot of time in the fallow field; by the windmill. He’s up there now with Luna. Sol and Leo are with the ranch hands, but they should be finishing up for the day soon.”

“Right, thanks. I’ll take one of the trucks. See you for dinner?”

“I’ll leave some for you both to warm up.” There was a glint in Chucho’s eye as he tried to stifle what looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smirk.

Chucho’s shrewdness never faltered, no matter how much time passed. A fact that Javier, now rather warm-faced, concluded was both a blessing and a curse. He grabbed a couple of items from the farmhouse and climbed into the faded blue truck parked up in the nearest garage, butterflies taking flight as it hit him. He really was going home now.

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Horacio was hammering the last post on the lower perimeter fence when he heard an engine in the distance. He had needed to keep busy since Javier’s phone call, a nervous energy buzzing through him as he waited. Waiting was all he’d done lately, yet the last few hours were somehow the worst.

The bluebonnets from the spring were gone, but the weather was mild and more comfortable for physical labour than in the height of summer. Still, Horacio had become accustomed to wearing his Stetson when working outdoors, especially as he left his sunglasses somewhere back at Carlos Holguín and had never gotten around to replacing them.

Give or take a few days, it was a year since they had arrived here, and the months before Javier left for Colombia felt like a distant dream. As the beaten-up blue truck came into view on the crest of the hill, Horacio would have been forgiven for thinking he was about to wake up at any second.

Luna, who had been dozing a few minutes ago, was now barking at the incoming vehicle. Although the noise switched from a warning to a greeting once Javier killed the engine and got out.

Horacio waited patiently for Luna to receive her obligatory head pats and ear rubs, using the extra time to take in Javier’s appearance. The hair at the nape of his neck had grown to the perfect rugged length for Horacio to run fingers through, and untidy yet inviting stubble dusted his chin. His eyes were covered by aviators, but Horacio could see the exhaustion in the rest of his face and posture. However, the smile he gave Luna as he greeted her was different, looser, and more relaxed. Usually, the tension in his jaw was visible, like a vice clamping his mouth in place. But that was no more.

Once Luna was satisfied, Javier stopped and looked up at Horacio, neither moving nor speaking.

Javier took his aviators off and put them in the pocket of his pink shirt, which sat beneath a brown corduroy jacket. He needed to see Horacio unfiltered, and fuck, was that the right decision. His eyes roamed up and down, admiring the fact Horacio was dressed much like he had been that night in the guesthouse kitchen. Only with a few additions Javier certainly wasn’t complaining about.

“Hey,” Javier offered, his throat still husky from travelling.

“Hey yourself.”

They held each other’s gaze again, eyes swimming with a myriad of emotions that probably wouldn’t be unpacked for days, weeks, or months. But none of that mattered for now. Because this was it. They may have taken the long route and been thrown off course multiple times, but they had finally made it here.

It was a thought that seemed to occur to them simultaneously as they rushed forwards, closing the gap within several feet. Arms circled each other in a tight embrace, and lips fused together until they were forced to pull apart to catch their breaths.

“Nice hat, cowboy,” Javier teased, the brim of it jutting against him as he peppered kisses across Horacio’s nose and cheeks.

“You can borrow it if you want. What’s mine is yours, remember.” Horacio made to take it off, but Javier batted his hand away.

“Uh-uh, keep it on. It suits you.”

Their lips met again, reacquainting themselves with each other’s taste and scent as they clung together like they were one another’s life raft. And in so many ways, they were.

They soon moved to the back of the truck, which Javier had parked closer to the row of trees skirting the ranch boundary with the river bank beyond. They weren’t expecting anyone to come by this way, but it gave them extra privacy, just in case.

Not that they had got any further than wrapping themselves around each other, fully clothed, whilst resuming the kisses from earlier. There was a luxury in taking their time, savouring the rush each swipe of a tongue or gentle nip gave them after so long with no physical contact.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Javier murmured against Horacio’s mouth once they had simmered down.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Javier pressed his forehead to Horacio’s and let himself breathe, slow and steady. “I should never have fucking left.”

Horacio hushed him, fingers stroking through his hair. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Javier leaned into Horacio’s touch with a contented purr, the breeze a mere whisp in their hair every now and then and the trees above providing just enough shade. Neither spoke much, the silence comfortable and almost meditative. The perfect sleeping conditions, Javier thought as his muscles relaxed one by one. It was only now he noticed just how tight and sore they were. No wonder he had fallen victim to so many tension headaches.

The adrenaline that was vital to his survival back in Colombia had gradually drained away from his body, leaving behind a weary, aching shell. He curled closer against Horacio’s chest, arms encasing him and a soothing rhythm he never took for granted pulsing in his ear. Steady, grounding, home.

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Somewhere between Javier's dozing and waking, the light had faded, and the temperature had dropped, leaving behind a clear sky and a sea of stars. He hadn't meant to fall asleep for so long, but it was the first time in months he felt safe enough to let his guard down. And Horacio made the perfect pillow, apparently.

Horacio, meanwhile, had stayed awake, cradling Javier’s head against him, his fingers caressing unruly strands of hair. Perhaps it was Luna’s influence, but he saw it as his duty to keep watch over Javier, to reassure him the danger was over. To let his body and mind rest. Horacio might not have been able to protect Javier from whatever nightmare had unfolded in his absence, but he was here now.

It probably wasn’t as late as it seemed. But light pollution away from civilisation was scarce, giving the illusion it could be the dead of night any time after sunset. It was enough to lull Luna asleep across the front seats after Javier fed her the leftovers he had pilfered from the farmhouse fridge.

Whilst Horacio checked on her, he noticed a familiar item on the passenger seat next to Javier’s travel bag. “Handy this just happened to be in here.” He held up the offending item, knowing full well it was the same blanket Chucho had draped over him in the farmhouse.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“Well, driving out here with the means to keep warm suggests premeditation.” Horacio dusted off his most convincing authoritative tone but still had to fight the curl of his lips when he caught Javier’s eye.

“I can think of better ways to keep warm, to be honest.” Javier nuzzled himself against Horacio’s neck as they lay back down, now nestled beneath the blanket.

Horacio chased the scrape of Javier’s moustache, shuddering at the contact despite the extra layer of warmth they shared. “Shouldn’t we be heading back for dinner soon?”

“I don’t think Pops was expecting to see us for a while. He was gonna leave us some enchiladas to reheat.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” Horacio shifted to face Javier, their lips and limbs drawn together like magnets. Not urgent, yet fervid and thorough, like they were making up for lost time. So much time wasted when they should have been doing this.

Zips and buckles clinked under the blanket whilst shirts were shed above it, their breaths fogging fleetingly in the space between them now that the air was brisk.

As Javier rolled onto his back, Horacio followed, landing on top of him. However, the burst of movement made Javier wince before he scrabbled beneath him to locate the source of discomfort.

His hand re-emerged, holding his police badge like a loaded grenade. “I signed my gun back in on my last day, but I was supposed to give this to Messina. Never got the chance with everything else going on.” He ran his thumb over the blue and gold lettering, stifling a cynical laugh at how the word justice had lost all meaning. “I’ll post it back to DC tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I did it?”

“Did what?”

There was no holding a scoff back this time. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Horacio hadn’t expected this conversation to come so soon, assuming Javier wouldn’t want to talk about it. And Horacio wasn’t going to ask. But he slid off Javier, retrieving his jeans from the side of the truck where they had landed by chance. He didn’t put them back on but searched through the pockets until he found what he was looking for.

He wasn’t such a heavy smoker these days, but when it was just the two of them like this, it wasn’t a habit to be broken but an intimate ritual to uphold.

They slotted back under the blanket now that they were undressed and exposed to the elements. Javier accepted both the cigarette and the light Horacio held out for him. He took a much-needed drag and closed his eyes as he exhaled, his last smoke at the airport whilst waiting for a taxi a distant memory now.

They passed the cigarette back and forth several times until Horacio broke the silence. “If I had a good reason or something to lose, it’s what I would have done too. But…Javier, you really don’t have to do this now.”

“I know, but I want to. I think I need to.”

Horacio caught the pleading look in Javier’s eye, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else there, something he had seen flashes of before. The last time was here the previous Christmas, in the hay barn and by the fireplace. The first time, or at least the first time he noticed, was in Javier’s apartment the night Horacio returned from Madrid.

Horacio raised himself on his left elbow whilst his right hand stroked along Javier’s chilled skin.

“Did you ever meet Bill Stechner?”

Horacio expelled a sharp sneer, sending a trail of vapour up into the sky. “Unfortunately. Back in my SOA days in Panama and Fort Benning. When he was known as Mr Green. He was mostly an instructor for the Nicaraguan students. But he never missed a chance to lecture everyone on his favourite subject.”

He rolled his eyes at the memories of being stuck in a stuffy box of a room listening to Stechner drone on about the Cuban revolution. And that it was a civic duty to weed out communists at every turn.

“I bet that was…enlightening.”

This wasn’t the first time they had discussed their parallel histories involving the School of the Americas. In fact, it was one of their earliest icebreakers when Javier arrived in Colombia. Horacio attended multiple training courses courtesy of the SOA, at home and overseas. However, his path never crossed with Javier, who was required to complete the counternarcotics courses when he took the DEA transfer several years later.

During one of their first shared stakeouts, they talked of how they were looked down upon by the all-American soldiers for being police rather than military, and for being bilingual. They talked about how many of the classes were little more than propaganda and an excuse to further imperialism. A view that Horacio hadn’t expected from the latest gringo recruit to be thrown his way.

But then Javier always was an anomaly. Never in a million years did Horacio expect a DEA agent to become the most trustworthy person in his life. Let alone that it would be a longstanding friend and colleague who would be the one to betray him instead.

“Oh, it was.” The sarcasm dripped thickly off Horacio’s words, as he realised that the only real upside to the experience was the connections it gave him to senior members of the Colombian military. A relationship that would later come in handy both professionally and personally. “Why do you ask, anyway?”

Javier worked his jaw back and forth, gearing up for what was about to come. He took one last drag on their cigarette and explained everything. Even when his instincts told him to leave details out, he ignored his mind’s protest and continued anyway. Whilst Tolú was akin to a confession being extracted from him under duress, this was unprompted, freeing, purging.

Horacio said very little as he listened, the tension mounting in his jaw and the tightness gripping his chest more ferociously with each detail Javier revealed. Despite their surroundings, heat rose from his cheeks to his forehead and behind his pupils. A dense pressure hammered into his skull, threatening to overwhelm him if he gave it the release it was looking for. “I should have been there. I should have stopped those fuckers.” He closed his eyes to quell the sting, his voice shaking even as he attempted to tether it.

“Hey, come on.” Javier took hold of Horacio’s hand and gently squeezed. “There’s nothing you could’ve done that wouldn’t have got you killed. Or court-martialled.”

Not strictly true, Horacio thought. If he had been there and just happened to end up alone with Stechner, they could have gone for one of those helicopter rides Stechner was overly keen to promote. The ones used to intimidate captives that were usually one-way trips, unlike Gato, who had finally broken the pattern. But Horacio was confident he could make an exception for Stechner in the circumstances, so maybe it was for the best he wasn’t there after all. Although he made a mental note to buy Steve a drink – or several – the next time he saw him.

“I know,” Horacio conceded in the end. “I just hate to think of you dealing with it alone.”

“No chance with Steve and Trujillo around. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Someone needs to take care of you.” Easy banter was intended, but the rawness of Horacio’s voice and the delicate way he kissed Javier’s hand as though it was made of glass told another story.

Javier instinctively brushed his thumb over Horacio’s lips, allowing Horacio to capture it. “I know I should’ve told you everything. I’m sorry I shut you out whenever I called. I’m so sorry for all of this.”

Horacio hushed against Javier’s thumb. “Stop, it’s okay.” Another kiss, another brush of Javier’s thumb catching on Horacio’s bottom lip, followed by a more thorough kiss. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You deserved the truth then. And…you deserve it now.” Javier withdrew his thumb and moved closer until they lay face to face, nose to nose and heart to heart.

Javier wanted to do this as soon as he got here, but he couldn’t whilst he was still so clandestine. Whilst he was still carrying so much baggage. But as he had laid everything out in the open now, there was no reason to keep it in any longer.

He took a deep breath, his palm cupping Horacio’s cheek. “I love you. So fucking much, Horacio.” He moored his forehead against Horacio's, eyes closed to halt the glassy sheen misting his pupils. But it was no use. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner.”

Horacio caught the hitch in Javier’s breath, and attempts to swallow the lump in his throat were fruitless. “Better late than never,” he managed to get out eventually with a choked-up laugh that Javier matched. “I love you too, Javier. More than anything or anyone.”

It didn’t matter that the temperature had dropped further or that their clothes were tossed in all directions. The heat between them swelled and burned fiercely in their chests, spreading like molten lava through their limbs, all the way to their fingers and toes. A heat that had endured and grown over the years, shifting and transforming in ways they could never have expected. A heat that cut straight to the core, breaking them open and laying them bare. Forcing them to surrender, to sacrifice their mission rather than their lives, to give it all up for each other.

Horacio resumed his place atop Javier, once he had retrieved the strategically placed lube from the travel bag on the front seat.

“You really did think of everything, didn’t you?” Horacio rasped, his hand wrapped around their lengths whilst Javier’s slicked fingers probed and stretched in return.

“I wasn’t waiting ‘til we got back to the guesthouse.”

“And yet we’ve been here for hours.”

Javier added an extra finger and was met with the quivering gasp he was looking for. “Just think of it as extended foreplay.”

“So, you were trying to seduce me, then?”

“Like I need to try.”

Horacio kept his fist around them, swapping steady strokes for shallow, teasing thrusts. “Tell me what you do need, Javier.”

For several glorious seconds, Javier’s only response was to arch his back and make the most of any friction he could get. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close. “I need you to fuck me ‘til I can’t think straight.”

With that, Horacio re-adjusted, sinking down inch by inch and groan by groan. There he held still, basking in being filled with a throbbing heat and feeling Javier’s shaky breaths beneath him.

Javier’s hands shot up to Horacio’s hips, but Horacio lifted them back and above Javier’s head, pinning him against the truck in one fell swoop. And still, he didn’t move up or down or from side to side; he simply anchored Javier in place.

Time slowed to an agonising pace for Javier as the release they both needed was within touching distance. So near, yet so far as he was balanced on the precipice. It was so close he could taste it on Horacio’s lips and fevered skin. He could smell it in the warm breath they shared and the lingering scent of Horacio’s aftershave mixed with fresh grass. But the longer this went on, the less patience he had. He wanted to chase it, run to it, let it consume and devour him, allow his mind to be reduced to a blank slate.

But he couldn’t. Each time he attempted to buck his hips upwards, the muscle in Horacio’s thighs responded and secured Javier down even tighter. The fingers laced between his own gripped harder, their palms fused together, one indistinguishable from the other.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just let go.”

Javier didn’t know if it was the words themselves or the man whispering them into the crook of his neck between scattered kisses. But it was the vocal permission he needed. The catalyst to still his hips and allow the fight to go out of his hands and arms.

With each passing second, Javier was rewarded with Horacio clenching and unclenching around his cock in almost imperceptible spasms. It was just enough to light the fire in Javier’s belly, the flames licking enticingly at his synapses before they were gone again.

It was the most exquisite agony Javier had ever experienced, and the urge to rebel bubbled under the surface of his skin. But he resisted. He didn’t want to disappoint Horacio. He needed Horacio to know he trusted him to the hilt. That he gave Horacio permission to take control. That he wanted him to.

No sooner had Horacio squeezed around Javier than he stopped once more, gauging when to ease off from the speed of Javier’s breathing. Or the way his bottom lip pouted as a sigh or a moan rumbled up from his throat. And sometimes, not moving was for Horacio's own benefit, the sight of Javier so pliant and at his mercy too tempting to resist.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Horacio praised as he leaned forwards. He captured Javier’s mouth, the change in angle causing sudden movement that had them swallowing each other’s whines.

Javier was torn between lapping up Horacio’s words of affirmation and needing him closer in any way possible; he didn’t care how. Before he could stop himself, he pushed upwards, breaking free of Horacio’s hold, but only to bring him into his lap. He was expecting some resistance, but Horacio went willingly, seemingly sharing the same visceral need for more skin-on-skin contact.

With cool metal pressed between their chests, they gripped at each other’s backs and shoulders for balance, Horacio’s legs wrapped around Javier and their foreheads connected.

It could have been minutes or hours they held each other, Horacio bringing them to the edge and back again and again. And Javier let him, never once bucking upwards or pleading for more. Trusting Horacio to give him what he needed, to take care of him and relieve the burden of all decisions and actions.

Javier’s hands mapped Horacio’s bare skin, noticing the extra muscle in his arms gifted to him this past year on the ranch. His fingers paused over Horacio’s right shoulder, skirting over the blemished scar and down to the centre of his chest. Javier held his palm in place until he felt a rhythmic thrum dancing in time with his own pulse.

In return, Horacio brought one hand to Javier’s chest, clutching at the chain around his neck, needing to feel the defined edges of the cross to ground himself. To remind him that this was real and not another vivid dream he would wake from to find he was alone.

“I want you to keep it,” Horacio whispered, the fragile timbre of his voice cutting through the laboured breaths he was trying to keep in check.

“What? But you said—”

“It’s yours, Javier.” I’m yours. “It was always yours.” I was always yours.

No words could form on Javier’s tongue. A small part of him still wanted to protest that he didn’t deserve it. That it had too much sentimental value to Horacio and that Horacio’s father would disapprove from beyond the grave. But those irrational doubts were overridden by the knowledge that this wasn’t just Horacio giving him a family heirloom. He was giving him his heart, a gift not easily or carelessly given where Horacio was concerned. So, Javier did the only thing he could; he accepted it.

His mouth covered any part of Horacio he could reach. It was his way of saying thank you, I accept, and I’m yours in return. A message received loud and clear by Horacio.

Their faces nudged against each other, lips, noses and chins scraping over coarse bristles, their wanton panting signifying it couldn’t last much longer.

But instead of increasing his motion, Horacio completely stilled. He kept them clasped as close together as possible, his length bobbing against Javier’s abdomen in sync with their breaths. The concept of time had no meaning; all they knew was the heat of each other, the simple logic of their bodies joining as one after too much time being forced apart.

Javier’s head lolled back, overwhelmed by the intensity and novelty of being surrounded so thoroughly by Horacio. His eyelids fluttered open as he looked to the heavens above. Maybe he was delirious, but the night sky had never looked brighter in all the years he had gazed up at it. It was as though he was seeing it for the first time again, only now with new clarity. A long overdue acceptance. A realisation that it wasn’t his to command and never had been. That his present and future weren’t written in the stars, but they were right here, in front of him. On top of him, under his skin, in his heart and soul, and on the verge of ecstasy.

With heads resting together and fingernails sunk into flesh, their intertwined form spasmed and trembled. Relentless torrents of white-hot pleasure surged through every nerve ending in their bodies until they almost blacked out. A release that wasn't just needed now, or even for the last year, but far beyond that. One they feared to even dream of in case they tempted fate or pushed their luck. But now it really was over. And they were safe, together, home.

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Sunlight was beginning to creep in through the gaps in the curtains when they stirred, slow and feline movements beneath the covers where they lay tangled.

Neither wanted to be the first to break the spell but nature called, and Javier unravelled himself from Horacio with a grumble.

Horacio watched Javier make his way to the bathroom with a hand cradling the base of his neck. His head tilted from side to side to shake out years, if not decades, of knots and tension.

Once Javier returned, he continued to stretch his arms and neck with a grimace.

“Did I injure you last night?”

“No, it’s been like this for months. Although…last night probably didn’t help.”

“Well, I’m not sorry about that.”

Javier climbed back into bed and hovered just above Horacio’s lips. “Neither am I.” The gap was closed as they shared a kiss as unhurried and lazy as their morning.

“I can help now, though.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that, then?”

“Lie on your front, and I’ll show you.”

That was a proposition Javier couldn’t refuse, so he shuffled onto his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow his head rested on.

Horacio took his turn in the bathroom and came back with a bottle in his hand.

Javier tried to read the label, but it was no use from this angle. The mattress dipped behind him, and he was greeted with warm thighs braced on either side of his body.

The lid from the mysterious bottle unscrewed. “This might feel a little cold at first.”

As the oil drizzled across Javier’s back, he tensed at the icy contact. “No fucking kidding.”

Horacio leaned forwards for a second and smirked against Javier’s neck. “Just lay back and relax. I’ve got you.” Much like the night before, his words glided into Javier’s ear with a smoothness that matched his ministrations.

The sweet scent of almonds drifted through the bedroom, filling Javier’s senses and encouraging him to close his eyes. “Where did you get this stuff anyway?”

“I was running some errands in town yesterday. Thought you might need this when you got back.”

“So, I guess I’m not the only one who thought of everything.”

Javier lay his head on the pillow and let Horacio work in silence, bar the odd contented hum or sigh as thumbs pressed deeper and circled over trigger points. The more Horacio worked, the looser and lighter Javier’s body became, his lips gently parting as his jaw muscles finally took a break. He tended to forget just how much tension he carried there, the ache suddenly palpable as he unclenched his teeth and relaxed his face into the pillow.

By the time Horacio was finished, Javier was boneless yet sore. But he could rotate his neck further than he had been able to in a while, and the dull throb that had become a permanent fixture at his temples was no more.

Somewhere in his blissed-out state, Javier was manoeuvred into the shower. The heat gradually eased his aches and pains as Horacio washed away the massage oil with deft, soapy hands.

Horacio's thoughts floated to the aftermath of Diana Turbay and their first weekend together after Madrid. He felt compelled to replicate the level of care Javier took of him, not to erase what had happened because what was done was done. But as an expression of gratitude for the lengths Javier was prepared to go to. To protect Horacio. To protect them. It was an acknowledgement that Javier was just as prepared to walk away from his duties as Horacio if the price was too high. If the price was each other.

Once the soap was rinsed off, Horacio’s caretaking didn’t stop there. This time, he was on his knees, with Javier’s arms braced against the cool tiles and his ass cupped in Horacio’s hands. He worshipped ravenously with his mouth, tongue, and fingers, squeezing Javier’s cheeks further apart each time Javier whimpered, squirmed, or backed up against him. He didn’t care about the deluge of water cascading down on him; the only goal Javier’s pleasure, which he chased further by turning Javier around.

Fingers pulled and gripped wet strands of hair as Horacio mouthed at the sensitive flesh of Javier's inner thighs, burying his nose in dark curls, feasting with aplomb. As though this was his real mission and what he was put on earth to do. And Javier took it all eagerly.

It was over too soon, Horacio swallowing all Javier had to give until his writhing ceased, any remnants of tension ebbing away like an outgoing tide. The warmth of the water was replaced by the warmth of shared body heat and soft towels, by breakfast in bed and the luxury of time.

When they finally emerged from the guesthouse later that morning, Javier borrowed Chucho's typewriter. He drafted and re-drafted his resignation letter several times before slotting it into a manila envelope along with his badge. He drove downtown to the nearest post office, needing it gone now his mind was made up. Now there was no going back.

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It was two days into December when the news came. Javier and Horacio were lounging on the porch swing at the back of the guesthouse when Chucho’s voice called across the courtyard. There was a phone call for them.

“Steve?”

“It’s over, Javi. He’s dead.”

Even though Javier heard and understood Steve’s words perfectly, it was as though he was processing them on a delay. He held the receiver against his forehead as he took a much-needed deep breath.

Arms slotted around him from behind, followed by a chin resting on his shoulder and warm breath skimming across his neck. The chest now pressed against him heaved a sigh of relief so hard it reverberated through Javier's body.

“Javi, can you still hear me?”

Javier’s free hand gripped Horacio’s as he brought the receiver back up to his ear. “Yeah, sorry. Loud and clear. Thanks for calling. You okay?”

“Me? Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” The exhaustion was evident in Steve’s voice, and Javier could tell he was distracted by whatever chaos was happening around him. “Shit’s just been crazy lately. I don’t know what fuckin’ day it even is, to be honest.”

“So, business as usual, then.”

“Well, what d’you expect when my partner runs off into the sunset?”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Wish you coulda been here though, Javi.”

Javier took longer than usual to swallow and had to clear his throat before he was able to respond. “I know, man. Me too.”

“Listen, I gotta head back to start packing. There’s an early flight to Miami tomorrow morning I’m hoping to make, but we’ll talk properly soon. Before I go, though…put Carrillo on a sec.”

Javier passed the phone behind him, shrugging his shoulders in response to Horacio’s quizzical look.

“Colonel?”

“Trujillo?”

“I got a shot, Colonel. And I took it.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to compose himself, his hand grasping at Javier’s even harder than it already was. “Never in doubt.” He hoped Trujillo could hear his smile down the line, even if he couldn’t see it. “You did Colombia proud, Trujillo. Never forget that.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Colonel. So, thank you. For everything.”

“And thank you for doing what the rest of us couldn’t.”

It was jarring for Horacio to be addressed by his rank again. Almost like someone calling him by the wrong name, despite the fact he’d worn that one with pride for a long time. But a title was just that; he knew it deep down, even though he would probably have to keep reminding himself for a while.

Their conversation was brief, with few words necessary and even fewer words able to convey how they felt after all these years. It was far easier to joke about the drink Horacio definitely owed Trujillo now.

Once Trujillo and Steve said their goodbyes and the phone was placed back in its cradle, they tightened their embrace but didn’t move, silently letting the news work its way through their bodies. It was as though someone had twisted a pressure valve in their heads that had been locked for years, triggering a chain reaction that left them dizzy and needing to sit down again.

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They returned to the porch swing, Horacio reclining against Javier’s chest as they celebrated with a small glass of one of Chucho’s most expensive whiskeys. Not only was the whiskey Chucho’s suggestion, he already had measures poured for them by the time they got off the phone.

“I knew he could do it.”

“If it wasn’t gonna be you, it was gonna be Trujillo.”

“I’m glad it was him. He’s got his whole career ahead of him. He can do whatever he wants now.”

“So can we, Horacio.”

“I think it’s more a case of us knowing what we don’t want.”

Javier huffed and tilted his head. “True. But it’s a start. I know I want to sit here with you until the sun goes down. I know I want to have a nice dinner and fuck your brains out tonight.” He nibbled playfully at Horacio’s neck until Horacio leaned further back with a suggestive grunt of approval at Javier’s plans. “I know I want to spend Christmas here again.”

“And then what?”

“Haven’t thought further ahead than that, to be honest.”

“Do you want to stay here in the long term?”

“I…don’t know. Pops isn’t getting any younger. Although, don’t tell him I said that. But I don’t think he’s done with this place yet. You seem to have taken to ranch life, by the way. Better than I ever did. I think you might be Pops’ favourite now.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and scooted his foot along the floor in retaliation to Javier’s teasing, causing the swing to lightly sway. “It wasn’t so bad. It was good to keep busy and feel useful again. To have a routine. Maybe one day, if you were serious about sticking around here.”

“People would talk. About us.”

“I’ve lived here for a year, Javier. I’m sure they already talk.”

“True. Everyone knows everyone around here. It’s one of the reasons I left in the first place. I know we’ll have to face the music one day, but…not yet.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to face Colombia yet, either.”

“Won’t the CNP expect to hear from you soon?”

“Yes. Protocol dictates I’d have to attend a medical review to rule whether I’m fit to return to duty. But that won’t be necessary.”

Taking a leaf out of Javier’s book, Horacio already had his resignation letter drafted, including a request for compensation for an injury sustained in the line of duty. He had approved plenty of similar requests from his men, so he knew the drill and was confident his claim would be successful.

“What about your family back home? Won’t they want to see you?”

“Eventually. I know I can’t avoid them forever.” Or avoid telling them about Javier, more like. “I just need some time first. Even if it’s only a few months. Or a year, I don’t know. I don’t care as long as it’s just you and me. No offence to your father.”

“None taken. He gives us our space, but I know it’s not the same. I want it to just be us for a while too.” Javier tilted Horacio’s chin upwards and kissed him, slow and tender.

Horacio responded in kind, temporarily distracted from what he planned to say next. He licked his lips; to steel himself and savour the heady combination of Javier and whiskey. "When I was in Madrid, I imagined us living there one day."

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“Maybe. But only if it was something you wanted too.”

Javier looked out across the plains, vivid memories of his late-night conversation with Steve sitting on the same porch swing springing to mind.

“I was always so desperate to get out of Laredo. Thought leaving was the answer to all my problems. But running away just created new ones instead.”

“Tell me about it.”

Javier realised he’d put his foot in it too late. “Shit, sorry. And hey, come on, that was different, and you know it. No one was trying to kill me when I left here. Well, Lorraine probably wanted to for a while.”

“No, it’s fine. But although it felt like running away to me, like I was letting people down, like I was a coward…” Horacio trailed off, caught unawares by the traces of self-flagellation that remained. “I knew I had to do it. Maybe you need to do this too. Maybe it’s what we both need.”

“It wouldn’t always be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Us being like…this. We’ve only shared the guesthouse for a few weeks at a time. We didn’t live together in Colombia. It’d be a big step.”

“Yes, it would. But it wouldn’t be until next year. And Madrid wouldn’t have to be forever, either.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.” Javier’s eyes locked onto Horacio’s as palm met cheek. “I want to build a home with you, Horacio. Wherever that happens to be. My future is your future.”

Their lips met again, Horacio’s hand finding its way into Javier’s hair as they sunk into it, only pulling apart when necessary.

“Madrid it is, then?”

“Madrid it is.”

------------------------------------------------------

The days following Escobar’s death were something of a blur. If they switched the TV or radio on or picked up a newspaper, there was one story. Funnily enough, neither Javier nor Horacio required a blow-by-blow account of any of it. People Chucho hadn’t heard from in years suddenly called or conveniently stopped by the ranch. A couple of plucky journalists attempted the same tactic but got no further than the front gate.

One of the journalists had got wind of Judy Moncada’s 15 minutes of fame in the Miami Herald and wanted Javier to go on record. The article was published a few days after Javier left Colombia; however, it took longer to appear in the Laredo press. Luckily for Javier, his local ‘hero’ status meant few people bought it. Judy was nothing more than a desperate, washed-up criminal in their eyes. But there was a strange, conflicted part of Javier that would always be grateful to her despite everything.

Phone calls to Miami and Medellín revealed Steve and Trujillo had similar weeks. Not only did Steve have to answer questions about Escobar’s final moments, but he also had to defend his former partner. And fend off accusations from less respectable publications that he was in on it all too.

Meanwhile, Trujillo was Colombia’s new hero. He already had an offer of a promotion from Captain to Major bestowed upon him, which had Horacio smiling into the receiver again when he heard the news.

The only escape they had from the media circus was getting stuck into the jobs that needed doing on the ranch. Which was business as usual from Horacio’s point of view, but it was more of an adjustment for Javier.

But he figured he should at least try, which was why he found himself up to his eyes in paperwork alongside Chucho.

They sat at the kitchen table surrounded by neat piles of forms and invoices, stacks of files and bookkeeping records. To an outsider, it might have looked like disorganised chaos. But Chucho had been doing this for so long, and he knew where every scrap of paper and figure was recorded should he ever need to refer to them. The trouble was, Javier didn’t.

He had been leafing through a folder full of livestock inventories for the last 10 minutes, unable to find the previous month’s figures and rapidly losing patience. “You do know you can employ someone to do all of this for you.”

“I do. But even Miguel is allowed time off. Plus, I like to keep an eye on everything each month. It comes with the territory when you own a business. And I’d have thought you’d be used to boring paperwork by now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I am," Javier mumbled as he searched through the folder until Chucho put him out of his misery, locating the missing inventory in less than a minute.

“Let’s get you some more coffee.” Chucho got up to pour two fresh cups but kept his gaze on Javier. His son seemed to be lingering even when he wasn’t being particularly helpful and would clearly rather be doing anything other than this. Which usually meant only one thing.

"Thanks." Javier accepted his refreshed cup and took a long sip to try and stimulate his senses.

“So, Madrid.” There was no point beating around the bush any longer. And there was only so much of Javier in this mood Chucho could take.

“Erm yeah. Well, in the New Year, anyway. It’s not a permanent arrangement, but we both need a change of scenery. And Horacio liked living there, so…”

“You don’t need to ask for my permission or approval, Mijo.”

“I wasn’t.” Except that’s exactly what he was doing, and of course, his dad could see right through him. “It’s just…I, er, didn’t know if you wanted us to stick around. For the ranch, I mean.”

Just as Chucho had suspected, then. “You and Horacio will always have a home here, but I don’t expect you to stay put all your lives. You’ve closed the book on a painful chapter now that monster is dead. You need to give yourselves time to heal and open a new one together. In peace, out of the spotlight and the media’s glare. And on neutral ground. Pass me the rest of those.”

Chucho gestured casually towards the remaining files piled on the table as if he hadn’t just imparted the exact words of wisdom Javier needed to hear.

Javier transferred the files across the table, a question now burning on the tip of his tongue. One he hadn’t dared to ask until now. “So, did you see that article?”

“Yes, I saw it. Didn’t think much of it, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only you know the truth about what happened over there, but I know the truth about you, Mijo. Even when you think I don’t.”

“It wasn’t all lies, Dad. It didn’t go down like that, but…it still happened and I was involved.”

“I’m sure you were, but it wasn’t the presence of lies I was talking about. It was the absence of truth. Your truth. And when it comes to protecting the ones you love, it might not be easy or free of consequence, but it’s the simplest choice of all. And you made it.”

It was the second time in the last year that Javier’s vision had blurred whilst in this kitchen, thanks to his father, although he fought back the tears more effectively this time. Just. How his Pops always had the right words up his sleeve when Javier was so often monosyllabic, he had no clue. Maybe it was something that would come to him in old age.

“I know I’m not as young as I once was,” Chucho continued, almost like he had heard Javier’s last thought, “but I’m not done with this place just yet. And it’ll still be here waiting when that day does come. I know you’ve never taken your share, but—”

“Pops, no. I’m not taking it.”

“I’ve always set the money aside for you in case you changed your mind.” Chucho finished his sentence, ignoring Javier’s usual protest. And he wasn’t going to stop there, either. “It would give you chance to get back on your feet. Take your time to figure out what you both want. Just think about it, Javi. That’s all I ask.”

Javier had never liked taking money from his father. Not least because the medical bills had already done enough of that in his Mamá’s last few months. As soon as he received his first police paycheck, he insisted Chucho kept everything from the ranch.

But as his attention left the paperwork and fell on the view of the guesthouse through the kitchen window, even Javier had to admit it would be stupid not to re-consider.

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In the first few weeks after Javier’s return, he and Horacio established a nocturnal routine in which they were both awake at an ungodly hour. Sometimes it was bad dreams rearing their heads again. Often, it was Javier being unable to sleep and his absence from the bed disturbing Horacio.

This time, however, it was Javier’s turn to wake alone in the darkness, blinking several times to clear the sleep from his eyes. He assumed Horacio was in the living room or kitchen. But as he adjusted to his surroundings, pale moonlight cast a silhouette at the foot of the bed.

“What’re you doing?” Javier croaked, his voice still thick with slumber. Although as he sat up, Horacio’s outline became sharper.

Horacio was kneeling on the floor, hands clasped together on the bed, and his head bowed. Until now, that was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I haven’t seen you do that in years.” There was no judgement in Javier’s tone; it was merely a statement of fact. Now that he thought about it, the last time he had witnessed Horacio praying was in Cartagena.

“I stopped for a while; I don’t know why, really.”

“What made you start again?”

Horacio expelled a light huff. “Your father, actually.”

“Pops?” Now, Javier was intrigued, and he sat up further to give Horacio his full attention.

“He showed me the box for your mother’s altar. She was beautiful.”

“She was.” A hoarse, strained sound came out of Javier’s mouth, strangely caught off guard by his own emotions even after all this time.

“We had a home altar when I was growing up, but that was for prayer and worship. It wasn’t specifically about remembering my father. Looking back, we didn’t talk about him much at all. We all grieved in secret. I used to wait until no one was around to look through photo albums. Or sneak into my parents’ room to see my Papá’s uniform. My Mamá left it hung up for about a year.”

He didn’t like to touch it too much, not wanting to dilute any traces of his father still left on the fabric. But over time, he couldn’t help but notice it smelt more like his Mamá’s perfume than anything else.

“Pops builds an ofrenda every Día de Muertos, but he used to keep it up for weeks. Just in case he’d say because she was always running late.” He snorted, thinking about how typical it was that of all the traits he could have inherited, it had to be that one. “How was he this year?”

“Quiet. He visited the cemetery but said he was getting too old for big crowds.” Although Horacio suspected it was Chucho’s kind way of allowing him to avoid being left alone on the ranch for the best part of two days and nights. Or alternatively, being eaten alive by gossip mongers without Javier there to deflect any of the attention.

Still, Horacio was lucky enough to catch glimpses of the local festivities whilst running errands on Chucho’s behalf. It was the least he could do, given his suspicions. Downtown Laredo was adorned with decorations of every colour, and Horacio had never seen it so busy. Rows of papel picado were hung across streets bustling with preparations. Food stalls stood alongside artists offering prints and calavera face painting. Florists sold marigolds with queues around the block, and bakers tempted passers-by with pan de muerto fresh from the oven. If circumstances had been different, he would have happily stuck around for the full celebrations.

“But he cooked the same amount of food as last Christmas, so that kept the ranch staff and your neighbours fed for the week.”

“Sounds about right. Did he get the buñuelos?”

“Of course.”

“They are fucking good, to be fair. I loved that diner when I was a kid. We drove passed it on the way from San Antonio when you first got here. Haven’t been for years.”

“You looked happy in the photo taken there.”

“I was. We were.”

“I saw your father praying in front of it, on the ofrenda. That night I prayed too. To be closer to Papá, I suppose, I don’t know. I’ve been dreaming about him for months, almost like the dreams were telling me to reconnect somehow.”

“Makes sense. Does it help?”

“It’s early days, but I think so. It helped when you weren’t here. When I didn’t know if you were safe or…”

“When you were in Madrid, just after the attacks on the CNP, I knelt with Trujillo and…I prayed with him. For him, for them, for your return. And when I was on my way to 9th Street, and I didn’t know if you’d – if you were –” He cut himself off to swallow down the lump resting at the base of his throat. “I hadn’t prayed since I was a kid. Too many bad memories and so much fucking shame everywhere. I was already drowning in enough of that. Didn’t need any more. But for you…it just felt…right.”

Horacio looked up at Javier, cursing the gloom of the bedroom but knowing without it, he might not have heard that confession in the first place.

It wasn’t enough, though, and he rose off his knees to climb across the bed, but Javier was already moving to the floor.

They met next to the bed, the rug cushioning their knees as Horacio cupped Javier’s face and brought their lips together.

Javier caught their palms between their chests, enveloping Horacio's fingers with his own. Their gaze landed on their linked hands and travelled upwards until chestnut met charcoal, the moonlight reflecting a new, unspoken question across their pupils.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Javier let go for a second and lifted his hands to the nape of his neck, lowering the chain he often slept in. He re-fastened the clasp before placing his hands back where they were, only this time, the silver chain and cross were secured between them.

Now they were on their knees, streaks of light illuminated their forms, and they could see each other more clearly. Their breathing was uneven, the nervous energy between them undeniable as they took another first step together.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Javier confessed in a low whisper.

“It’s okay. Try some deep breaths first.” Leading by example, Horacio drew several slow inhales and exhales, and Javier followed suit. “And try clear your mind. Let it go wherever it takes you. I’ve got you.”

Javier couldn’t pretend he was a natural. And it took a few attempts to stop his mind from wandering or feeling waves of self-consciousness lapping at his feet, but after several minutes, it was as though a fog had cleared.

With their eyes closed and heads bowed, foreheads touching, they gave themselves over to a different higher power. Taking comfort and guidance in each other, in the memories of those they had loved and lost. They reclaimed a ritual steeped in guilt, shame, and sin for too many years. A ritual that had encouraged them to beg for forgiveness where it wasn’t required. No longer seeking absolution, their union was a sacrament of its own. They each other’s church, the cross a symbol of their commitment and devotion.

Their lips met in a silent amen, their hands now free to worship bare skin with praise and reverence as though they were praying the Rosary. Javier’s mouth kissed over fading scar tissue; he the priest and Horacio the altar. Each cry of pleasure was a hymn or psalm only they knew, their bodies the bread and their blood the wine as they found sanctuary in their shared embrace. Taking communion afterwards as a nicotine flame passed between them. One sacred act followed by another until they fell asleep, still recovering and healing from all that had gone before, but more at peace than they had been in years.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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