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13atoms · 4 years ago

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Grit (Javier Peña x F!Agent!Reader)

This is my first time writing for Narcos, but I really liked Peña as a character, so here we are. I might do a second part of this, let me know what you think!

Friends-to-lovers, set during s2, no smut but canon-typical nsfw. [4.9k]

You sighed, then coughed out a delirious laugh, as the news crackled through Murphy’s radio.

It had been yet another trap, yet another informant you couldn’t trust, yet another victory for Escobar. You, Murphy and Peña were sat in a tense little circle, huddled around Javi’s messy desk. The evening had lasted forever, a whole carton of smokes crumbled into the ash tray, each of you nursing headaches from clenched jaws, palms sweaty, tired of the endless threats from Steve to go and join the agents in the field.

Each stutter of noise on the radio had signalled a new round of tense glances between the three of you, notes scribbled down, short fingernails carving half-moon into palms.

Then, it was over. No fatalities on any side seemed a small miracle, but you knew Javi took no pleasure in hearing that the enemy hadn’t lost anyone either. Shot and bleeding and bruised, every bastard who had walked into that fight managed to scramble away. The transmission from the scene finished curtly, and you felt the three of you deflate.

“Fuck,” Peña muttered.

Murphy slamming his closed fists onto the desk painfully hard.

You exhaled, reeling from the whole evening, stretching back in your chair and wondering what the hell this meant for tomorrow.

“Again,” you sighed, hearing the other agents grunt in shared frustration.

Leaning forward you perched your elbows on the desk, throwing your notes away from you in disgust, letting your head fall into your hands. Your eyes ached, your very bones feeling unimaginably fragile as your muscles untensed and your heart fought to restore calm to your body. It was no good. Adrenaline like this would last hours.

Murphy grabbed his gun from the desk, kicked his chair away as he stood, storming from the room. When you looked up to Javier, worried about what the stupid bastard might do, he just rolled his eyes.

You had a sneaking suspicion that the three of you would be spending your pay checks on whiskey that night.

“Fucking hell,” you declared, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Peña gave a strange little laugh, shaking his head. He copied you, elbows on the table, letting his forehead fall heavily to his palms with the weary exhaustion which had plagued all of you since you first heard the name Escobar.

“What a shit show.”

You nodded in agreement, aching eyes closed. Each blink felt like it would scratch, the darkness of the office only broken by the shitty fluorescent light which created a tiny island of life around Peña’s desk. Everyone else was on the raid, or at home.

Sensible.

“We have to get him. One day. That bastard can’t run forever.”

Peña’s hum of agreement had no conviction, it was as uncertain as you felt, but you liked to imagine he really believed you.

You could feel your body giving up on you, so deprived of everything human for so long in pursuit of a man who always managed to escape back into the shadows. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, the muggy heat parched your lips, your head ached from the smokiness of the room and the sleep which evaded you more and more these days. Your skin felt dirty, no matter how often you washed, stained with guilt and the rivers of blood which ran through Bogotá. It didn’t matter how often Peña told you it wasn’t your fault: you knew your guilt, your sense of inadequacy, would weigh on you for as long as the Cartel was alive and operational.

He felt it too, the hypocrite.

The hunt had drained everything from you. Every ounce of softness and humanity. How long had it been since you were hugged? Since you knew a peaceful night’s sleep or a kind touch? Since you entered a room without imagining the ceiling joists falling under the force of a car bomb? You had slept with a gun nearby since you had joined the DEA here, thinking yourself paranoid. Now, you slept with the damn thing loaded.

“I had such a good feeling about this one,” Peña mused, more to himself than anyone else. You knew he would go home tonight filled with guilt.

Maybe he would take it out on some poor sex worker, fuck away his guilt and fear and frustration.

Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would call you, pretend the phone lines weren’t monitored as the two of you spoke in vague terms. Unable to discuss work on an unsecured line, desperate to hear something real from another human being, exchanging snippets of your shaking voices until one of you finally managed to find sleep.

With nothing else to discuss, the two of you would talk about yourselves.

You never knew how much was true. How much was omitted. You lied sometimes, out of instinct more than anything, and you knew Javi did too. People like you always did. Beneath it all, though, you got the strange sense that you were really hearing something honest about him.

In the deep grumble of his voice, his landline phone cord stretched to his bed as he took the distraction as a chance to drift off, you would hear something real about him. A story from his youth, some reminder that he was real and mortal, a complaint about an injury that wouldn’t heal, some grievance with a dry cleaner. Even the scratch of his stubble as he ran a hand over it sounded like a confession. A reminder you both had beating hearts.

Every word you exchanged, hitched breaths, waiting for reactions or hums down the phone to tell one another you were smiling.

That felt real.

You blinked, wincing at the horrid overhead lights, which seemed to flicker periodically, only when it would really piss you off. Javi was looking at you with concern, the deep lines of his forehead contorted over a raised eyebrow. His badge was in one hand – he’d been fidgeting with it for hours – but his over hand was extended towards you. Palm up, like he was offering it to you.

When you met his eyes you saw worry, mixed with sheer exhaustion, and tried to offer a weak smile.

Someone was moving in a corridor outside, and he waited for their steps to grow quiet until he spoke.

“Are you okay?”

He didn’t need an answer. The weak smile you offered felt like enough to make you cry, and he closed his open fist, nodded his head in understanding.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

He shared the same burden, the same burnout, pulling him to the ground with ten times the force of gravity, yet refusing to let him take a break in pursuit of these bastards.

“Go home,” he offered sincerely, raising that awkwardly hovering hand to clap onto your shoulder.

You closed your eyes. There was nowhere you wanted to be more than your own bed, but as you devoted a second to thinking about getting home, your body felt impossibly heavy.

“I’m exhausted,” you admitted, hoping Javi didn’t notice the tremble in your voice.

“You look it,” he agreed.

With a raised eyebrow and half-hearted glare you had him scrambling to apologise.

“I- I mean, you look lovely, doll. Always do. Just, shattered. I can barely see it –”

When you laughed, he realised you’d been joking, letting his head fall onto the desk braced by his exposed forearms. You glanced at the clock, realising it was gone midnight. None of you would be in the next day. You’d already gotten the time off, knowing the raid would run late.

They usually did.

Especially lately, everything the DEA did seemed to become an unmitigated disaster.

“Give me a minute, ‘til I can be bothered to walk to my car,” you mumbled, knowing Javi would understand your words.

You admired the mussed up back of his hair, looking worse-for-wear after a day of being tousled and pulled at by his twitchy hands. You wanted to fix the piece which was sticking straight up, but your arms felt too heavy to move.

Adrenaline was a funny thing. It left you jittery, pent-up, and yet completely stationary.

It would be fine once you moved, you knew. You’d forced your body through this gruelling pattern often enough.

You rolled your neck, moaning at the tightness in the muscles, and Javi looked up with that damn cheeky grin. He should be exhausted, but there he was, eyebrows raised, eyes gleaming with mischief. You groaned at him. That man could find an innuendo anywhere.

About to look away, you forced yourself to meet his challenge instead.

“I’m starting to see why you go to those fuckin’ brothels,” you drawled. “You think I could convince them to give me a neck rub?”

“I’m sure they’ll rub anything you want, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as one hand remained on the back of your neck, the muscle rock solid from hours in this stupid metal chair. He stretched out his closed fists and stood wordlessly, taking his place behind your chair like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were about to say something when he commandingly rolled your head forwards, tugging your collar down. When his warm hands found your neck, you gave him a rumbling, contented moan far better than the one which had piqued his interest.

For just a second you felt the slow movements on your neck halt, before he continued to clumsily kneed at the muscle either side of your spine. It hurt, his strong hands against all those tender spots, but it was the best kind of ache.

His hands grew gentler, rubbing softly for a moment, before he spoke.

“Better?” he grunted, and you found yourself scanning the room for something reflective, disappointed that you couldn’t drink in the image of Javier behind you.

“Better,” you choked out, your voice unnatural as you felt the closeness of his touch affecting you.

It had just been too long, you told yourself.

Fuck, you wanted him to do that to the rest of your back. Your limbs. Those strong hands learning your body. And more, if he wanted it.

He cleared his throat and stepped away, and you rolled your shoulders, starting to collect your notes and belongings to leave. Javi slipped his jacket on, adjusting the collar and shaking the arms into place, and you fought not to watch.

“That’ll save you some money from the ladies of the night,” he teased, his tone just a little flatter than it ought to be.

You knew him well enough to sense awkwardness in that rough voice.

“Who said anything about ladies?” you shot back. “Are there male prostitutes? Must be.”

Javi seemed a little shaken, less steady on his feet as he took a second attempt to kick his chair under his desk. He was squaring up papers and stationary as if that was all it would take to tidy the mess around his typewriter, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I haven’t met any,” he ground out, “so I’m not sure I can help you there.”

“And I thought you were a connoisseur.”

You were a little taken aback when he didn’t laugh, and the playful smile fell from your lips. You hadn’t realised how much you were waiting for his deep chuckle, his silence forming a strange missing link in your conversation. Looking up at him, you found him staring at your shoes.

“I’m just teasing, Javi,” you started to apologise.

“No, no. No worries.”

He cleared his throat, playing with the notebook, badge, and keys in his grasp. Passing them from hand to hand. He walked abruptly to the door, toeing it open with his shoe, one hand on the light switch as he waited for you. As you joined him, he looked down, that handsome face distorted with a slight frown.

Frowning seemed to come a little to easily to his features these days.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he rumbled, and you nodded gratefully.

He locked up behind you, and you felt a pang of guilt for ruining a perfectly good moment. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your neck, the callouses of his fingers, experienced with women and yet inexperienced in such gentle touches.

The two of you strode down the dark corridors, and you wondered if he’d always walked that far away from you. He was walking a few feet ahead, and it felt like miles.

“I really didn’t mean anything by it,” you apologised, mumbling in the hopes he might not reply.

“No, I… I’m not upset. It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

You hummed, knowing he could sense your dissatisfaction with his answer. You were too dazed to find the right words.

As you stepped out into the muggy evening air, blinking against the flood lights, both of you froze. There was some commotion in the parking lot. Someone in plainclothes detained by a guard and another man dead on the ground, riddled with bullet holes. You weren’t sure why, but even after all the violence you saw every day, the puddle of blood around him made you clench your jaw with disgust.

Peña stepped in front of you defensively. He usually treated you as just another officer, but off-duty his protectiveness always seemed to kick in. Tonight, you felt your heart clench in gratefulness, as he approached the scene carefully, fingers on his holster. You were too exhausted to keep up with the rapid conversation between Javier and the guards, only tearing your gaze from the dead stare of the body on the ground when Peña called your name. A third time. He waved a hand in front of your face, and you blinked rapidly, apologising as you focused back in on the moment.

You expected the off-white flash of his teeth, laughing at your slowness, some snarky comment about seeming slow, doll. His solemn frown, his concern, was more startling than the flash of his palm in front of your face.

“That’s it,” he told you gruffly, one hand wrapped lightly around your bicep, “I’m driving you home.”

You laughed, half in surprise, and he smiled wearily.

“You’re exhausted.”

Ignoring his comment, you frowned, words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

“Can you call me? Tonight?”

You knew it was pathetic. You sounded pathetic. You knew that.

He went to reply, and you found yourself unable to stop speaking to hear the answer.

“I just… I don’t know how I’ll sleep. I think… I want to hear your voice,” you stumbled.

Javier sighed, smiled slightly, gave a surprisingly bashful nod of his head.

“I’ll call.”

The two of you climbed into his car in silence, and you kept your focus on the moving dials of the dashboard as Javi crawled past the crime scene, joining traffic. The radio hummed quietly, indistinguishable from the noise outside, and you rest your head on the edge of the seat. As Javier drove you through the city streets you felt your energy return, as you knew it would. It always happened like this. You would be too exhausted to leave, be tempted to make a camp on the cool concrete floor of the office. Then, as soon as you were almost at your own front door, you would have the energy to run laps of the block.

You watched out the window, catching reflected glimpses of the flex of Javier’s forearms as he shifted gear, the columns of his neck as he shouted to other drivers, and deft way he handled the steering wheel.

Flashes of red and pink lights made you smile slightly as the car crawled through traffic. It wasn’t a part of town you’d visited outside of work, but you recognised the streets. Javi rolled down the window as you passed brothels, the darkness punctuated by flashes of beautiful women who cooed at Javi from their doorways. You refused to let yourself wonder how many he knew by name.

Then you wondered why you cared.

“Don’t want me to drop you off?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

You wondered if Javi had really taken this longer route on purpose, just to make a joke. From the smile on his face, you would believe it. He looked pleased with himself as you gave a groan, trying to hide your amusement.

“Any of them your type?” he goaded again, gesturing out the window, chewing his words.

You shifted in your seat, sitting up properly, blinking back a headrush as everything suddenly felt real again.

“None of them look much like John Travolta,” you noted, smiling as yet another gaggle of women gave the car flirty waves.

A few called out male names, fakes names you presumed, and you saw the man beside you wince. You waved back, smiling. Javier groaned, thumping his thumb against the leather of the steering wheel.

“Travolta? Really?”

You laughed, the lightest you’d felt all day, at the grimace on Peña’s face.

“Yes, Travolta! I’d totally pay a Travolta look alike. You got a problem with that?”

“He’s too soft. No grit.”

“He seems nice!”

Truthfully, there wasn’t much time for films out here. Even less American celebrity gossip. But you remembered him being very popular before you left.

“You could pick up a Travolta look-alike at any bar in this damn city, they’d be falling over themselves. You certainly wouldn’t need to pay them.”

You gave a private smile at the hypocrisy in his voice, as he scoffed over the idea of paying someone for sex. As if he was short on women who found him attractive.

“Yes, but unlike any old bloke in a bar, if I paid they couldn’t fall asleep on me after two minutes.”

Even as the traffic picked up speed, Javi rubbed a hand over his face in frustration, groaning yet again.

“That’s fuckin’ depressing.”

You could hear the unsaid pet name on his tongue, a strange stutter to the rhythm of his sentences, and you wondered why he held it back. The drawl of doll or sugar when he spoke to you was as natural as breathing at this point.

“Yeah.”

The red lights of brothels were far behind you now, and yet Javi was still driving the wrong way, taking a longer route to your place. You bit your lip, looking straight ahead and wondering why he was stalling taking you home.

Hoping you knew the reason.

Javier suddenly shouted, clutched the steering wheel as a car full of young guys cut him off, one hand reaching out like a safety harness across your chest as he slammed the brakes on. As soon as his arm was there, inches from your chest, it was gone again. He was changing gear and honking his horn and swearing under his breath, and you were trying to process the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach. He apologised as he swung the steering wheel, taking a side street to avoid the car ahead, wary of the guns and middle fingers waved from the windows by young men still convinced they were invincible under the cover of night.

You exhaled shakily, blinking away sleepiness as you tried to process what had happened, frustrated at yourself for your slowness.

He seemed to remember himself as the car crawled past sleeping houses, the headlights sweeping across cobblestone, finally in the direction of your place.

“Sorry, darling,” he muttered, fingers tapping on the wheel irately.

“No problem. Can’t be careful enough, at the moment.”

He hummed and nodded, gave you a quiet sideways glance before training his eyes on the road again. One hand rested on the gear shift, curved around so his wrist brushed your thigh as you uncrossed and crossed your legs. He glanced towards you again, something so inconspicuous you hardly recognised it, and you wondered if he knew you were trying not to stare.

The brakes complained under Peña’s foot as he finally rolled to a stop outside your building, the night as quiet as Bogotá ever got. There were a few lights on in your block, the faint shouts of an arguing couple muffled as they drifted on the late night air, a baby crying, faint sirens. All reminders that you were yet to settle this torn city.

Javier cleared his throat and reached for the handbrake, cutting the engine but leaving one hand on the ignition. No doubt it was one of those habits which had saved his life once, and then he could never drop it. You felt the slight movement of the car as his foot finally left the brake, and you smiled privately at how overly cautious he was, ready for anything to go wrong.

He shook slightly at the gear shift, checking it was in neutral.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, if you want. To get your car. Or the next time you need to be in the office. Whenever you need me, doll. Just be safe.”

He swiped at his moustache nonchalantly as he spoke then reached for a cigarette, leaving it between his lips unlit. He pulled a lighter from his pocket one handed, poised to light it as you spoke.

“Thanks, Javi. I really appreciate it, you’re too good to me.”

He froze up, before slowly moving the lighter to the centre console of the car, dropping it into the tray there with a clatter.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he grumbled around the cigarette, but you smiled anyway.

Seeing his prickly exterior come out only meant he was protecting himself from being vulnerable. He looked up at your building, ducking to survey the height of it. You knew it was rougher than where he and Murphy had ended up, but you liked the community of it.

“We gotta get you moved closer to us,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head for show, and you huffed out a laugh.

“I’m fine, Javi. Thank you for the lift.”

As you reached for the door handle he seemed to startle, the bubble of calm inside the car burst as a rush of hot air and noise swarmed through the open door.

“I’ll walk you in,” he declared, stashing his gun beneath his jacket and pulling the keys from the ignition.

“It’s fine, please, you can call me tonight,” you insisted, your feet finally hitting the ground as you got out of the passenger seat.

When you looked back into the vehicle for a gentle goodbye, you were surprised to see something sad on his face. Something disappointed, lonely, enough to make your heart clench.

“Unless you want to come in?”

He was beside you in an instant, the car needlessly loud in the click as Javi twisted his keys in the door to lock it.

“You’ve had a long day,” he reminded you, one hand hovering insistently behind your lower back, refusing to touch or grow further from you as you approached the entrance to your building.

It felt like forever ago, the failed raid, the violence at your office, the feeling of being fused to that bruising-hard metal chair as your heart raced in time with the static of the radio. The memory of Javi’s hands on you had finally vanished for just a second, until he brought it right back.

“You have too, Javi,” you muttered, looking away as you found your key.

“I’ll sleep like a baby tonight,” he grumbled, feet heavy on the stairwell as you ascended to the second story of the building.

“No other plans?”

Your question was supposed to be light-hearted, both of you breathing more heavily as you reached the threshold to your apartment. Key in the lock, you turned to see Javi leaning against the wall as casually as if he belonged there.

“None,” he whispered, “I’m here as long as you need me.”

Who said I needed you?

His arms were folded, fists clenched, and you wondered if he was stopping himself from reaching out.

He followed you inside quickly, taking the liberty of sliding over every lock on the door before you had the chance to. You could see him mentally sweeping the room, craning his neck to look for anything which might make his instincts rear up. You crossed to the small kitchen counter, dumping everything you were carrying down, as he gently paced the small space. He stuck his head into the bedroom, the bathroom, just checking.

Somewhere deep down, you knew why.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Drink?”

Peña nodded, and you stepped back to let him raid the fridge himself, needing no permission. He’d been here enough times, though you couldn’t remember a time without Murphy. It was a different feeling, just the two of you. Calmer. Safer. You couldn’t meet his eyes as you moved around to switch on a couple of side lights. You knew you should eat, but you couldn’t walk back to the kitchen. Not while Peña was there.

The shouting had stopped, the baby had silenced, and yet you knew you wouldn’t sleep if you went to bed now.

Not a chance in hell.

You wondered if that was what Javier was doing too: distracting himself from the thoughts which would find him in sleep. By eating everything in your kitchen, apparently.

“I should cook for you, sometime,” he called, though his voice was quieter than you’d expected. Closer.

“You any good?” you teased, straightening up a stack of papers which would immediately slump into a mess again.

“Not really.”

You laughed a little, hearing his matching chuckle behind you. As you turned you found yourself suddenly between his arms, so close you could see the irritated red threatening the whites of his eyes. You wanted to stroke a thumb across those lines in the furrow of his brow, force him to relax until he turned back into the bright-eyed man you’d once known, who relished wasting government money on the finer things in life, and cheered like he’d won a star player when you were assigned to his team.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet here he was, still in front of you. The same man, beneath the exhaustion and the things he’d seen since starting this damn job. As you were examining the lines of his face, the dark circles which never quite managed to overshadow the beauty of his dark eyes, he was staring at you.

He gave you warning, time to move away or speak or – something. He told you what he wanted with heavy eyelids and a light grip on your jaw, in the slight shuffle of his body closer to yours. Then he kissed you, like it had always made sense. It didn’t feel like the first time, he felt familiar. The slight tickle of facial hair against your face, the tensing of his fingers, seeming to engulf your whole skull and guiding you to lean into him as he groaned into your mouth.

The sound of your lips separating made your eyes open, staring wide at Javier like he was a new man. His grip on your face slipped to hands resting on your shoulders as he watched you, waiting for a reaction, bottom lip between his teeth as he bit down a grin.

You smiled openly, only able to look at his face, and he matched you with a laugh. He pulled you with him as he walked backwards, dragging you on top of him as he sat on your couch, muffling your apologies with a kiss as you fell heavily onto his lap.

The couch creaked beneath him as your mouths met heavily, but if Peña had even felt the weight of you, he didn’t flinch. He was kissing you like the world was ending, like he had seconds before the two of you would be gone forever, and he was determined not to miss a second against your skin.

It had felt like that, you supposed. That you would be ripped from one another too soon. Countless times together you had been seconds from death, an inch from bleeding out, hours from being blown up. It could all end soon, the two of you swallowed in flames or a shower of bullets. Perhaps he was making up for each and every time you had called for one another across a soon-to-be crime scene, desperately glad to see each other unharmed.

Peña’s hand on your waist grounded you, dragged you back into the moment, and you poured everything you had into kissing him so hard his lips would be reddened for days. You wouldn’t apologise for the roughness of it – he was determined to bruise you in response, sharing the kind of desperation which couldn’t be expressed in any other way.

Finally his second hand found your waist, gently prompting you to sit up in your straddle across his lap, staring at this new glassy-eyed, wild expression he wore.

“I’m no Travolta,” he panted, the words ghosting across you face.

You sighed. No living that one down.

“He’s not got enough grit for me anyway,” you promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the aquiline slope of his nose, before strong hands guided your lips straight back to his.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #13atoms #javier pena x you #no y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena imagine #narcos fic #fic

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

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Impulse: The Beginning (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing much! Mentions of misogyny/sexism, tobacco and alcohol use, show level violence, swearing

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: BACK TO THE BEGINNING LADS LETS SEE WHERE THIS SHIT SHOW STARTED

*Spanish translation at the end of the fic*

Have you read Part 1 yet? // Masterlist // Next Chapter -->

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As one of only a few female agents in the DEA academy at the time, you had fought tooth and nail for your place from day one. Most of the men in your class thought you were useless and had campaigned on multiple occasions to get you taken out of the academy. This was mostly due to your success. You were a great agent already and were itching to get into some real action.

When the agency announced that they would be sending a couple of the highest achieving students from the graduating class out on a new placement program, you knew it was your chance. Incredibly, before you even got a chance to apply you were pulled aside by a professor and told you’d be selected. You were going to Colombia.

The fight in South America was all anyone spoke about. The tonnes they were hauling out was unmatched, it made Miami look like a small fry. A chance to go down there and help, maybe even take down some Narcos yourself, was one everyone dreamed of. Colombia alone had two of the biggest players, Pablo Escobar, and The Cali Cartel. Placement in that country would no doubt be the best learning experience you could ever get! Who knows, maybe you would be the one to catch Escobar!

It took a little convincing to your parents to let you go. They’d seen the news; they knew how dangerous it was and weren’t too keen on you going. Eventually, after a meeting with your coordinator they were convinced, you packed a bag and you flew down to Bogotá.

You were picked up at the airport and driven to the American embassy in the city to meet your mentor Agent Javier Peña. You hadn’t been told much about him other than he was from Texas and had been in Colombia for a while. Not a lot to go off. In your head you imagined some old cowboy, grumpy and hardened by the horrors of the world he had seen. He wouldn’t believe you when you appeared, would probably ask to have you removed immediately. You sighed, already resigning yourself to hate the man you were now forced to spend the next year with.

Your escort took you through the embassy, to the DEA’s office and promptly abandoned you at the door without another word. This was it. You pushed open the door and were instantly greeted by a cheery woman’s voice from behind a desk. Denise, according to her name plate, was filing her nails when you approached. She set the file down and smiled sweetly.

“Hey there, darling! What can I do for you?” Her voice had a strong southern twang to it, a quintessential southern belle with curled blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi, I’m here to see... Agent Peña,” You looked at that note in your hand to check you had the right person.

“‘Course sweetie, what’s your name?” She asked. You gave her your name and she told you to sit down in a seat opposite her desk for a moment while she called him. “So, you’re working with Peña?” She asked when she put the phone down again.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “What’s he like? I don’t really know what to expect,”

Denise giggled, “You’re certainly in for a treat darlin’. He’s something else,” You turned when her eyes watched someone through the window, “But I’m warning you now, don’t flirt with him,”

“I’m not-,” Your jaw dropped when the man in question walked past the window. Denise giggled, “Jesus Christ,” You muttered. He certainly was not the old man you had expected at all. He entered the room and you quickly shut your dropped jaw.

“Javier! Nice to see you,” Denise smiled at the man. You were shocked. Javier Peña was older, yes, but he was incredibly handsome. Tall, dark hair with dark eyes to match. He had a blue shirt on, unbuttoned just one too far. In such a professional environment it almost looked obscene. He smiled and your heart flipped.

“Denise,” Javier smiled charmingly at the assistant before turning to you, “who’s your friend?” Denise introduced you, “You’re the new kid?” He asked briefly looking you up and down, he shook your hand. Still a little dazed you smiled and nodded. “Quiet huh?”

“Sorry, uh it’s nice to meet you,” You pulled yourself out of your head, stumbling over your words as your brain caught up with what was actually going on.

“Let me show you round,” Javier chuckled, “I’ll see you later Denise,”

“See ya Javi,” She waved as you followed Agent Peña out of the office and down a new corridor.

“She’s cute. Is she your girlfriend?” You asked. Javier turned to you and shook his head.

“Never seen her before,” He smirked. You were glad he was walking ahead of you, as your jaw dropped. If he was like that with someone he had never met, what in hell was he like he was someone he liked?!

Javier took you around the office, showing the different places and meeting different people you would need to know. It seemed most people were exasperated by Javier; he was cocky and liked to get a rise out of people. He obviously didn’t really care for the bureaucracy of the job, much more an action guy than a paperwork guy. Despite your track record with these types previously, you got on well with Javier. He was easy to talk to and his confidence wasn’t arrogant.

You followed him around from room to room, making small talk about where you were from, how you’d been enjoying the academy and such. All the while you were trying to remember where everything was but ultimately failing. The place was a maze. Eventually you came to a small office tucked away in the corner of the building.

“And this, is where we live!” Javier said as he opened the room. The room was small, barely enough room for the two desks and row of cabinets inside. Behind one desk, engrossed in a manila file was a blonde man. He looked up when you entered, giving Javier a questioning look, “This is the Rookie,”

“Y/n,” You added. You were pretty sure he had forgotten your name, introducing you as Rookie to the last three people you had met.

“That's what I meant to say,” He replied, waving you off.

“Nice to meet you Rookie,” The blonde man grinned and chuckled, “Steve Murphy,”

“Nice to meet you sir,” You reached over the messy desk and shook his hand.

“Sir? I could get used to that! Bit of respect round here would be nice,” Steve laughed. “Steve will work just fine,”

“Or pendejo, he does respond to that too,” Javier added.

“Real funny Peña,” Steve snapped back. You chuckled. You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Javier chaotically cleared a space for you at his desk by moving a pile of paper from one surface to another.

“We’re moving out of here soon,” He explained, you nodded. He offered a chair, and a cigarette. You took both. “Did you have any trouble at the airport?” Javier asked. You shook your head.

“Nope. Bat my eyelashes and they don’t seem to worry,” You laughed to yourself. Javier raised an eyebrow.

“You get a lot of things done that way?” He asked. Your smile dropped quickly.

“No. I got here on credit, didn’t fuck my way to the top of that’s what your asking Agent Peña,” You said seriously, “Get that straight now. I’m just as good as any man, in fact I’m better. I don’t deal well with sexist assholes,”

“Out of line, I got it,” He threw his hands up in defence, leaning back on his chair. You turned to Murphy, who shrugged.

“All good,”

“Good,” you confirmed, “I don’t want you to think I’m rude, I just have to make it clear,”

“Crystal,”

The rest of the day was a blur, shipped about from one office to another getting badges and meeting important people. You were exhausted. Despite the copious amounts of coffee, you consumed, you had to force your eyes to stay open during the car ride home with Javier. You had been awake for more than twenty-four hours and added to the stress of a new job; you were ready to crash.

You said thanks to your mentor and dragged yourself up the stairs to your own apartment. You had only been inside your apartment briefly to drop off your bag earlier in the day. You could barely remember what it looked like.

The apartment was small and dark. There was a good-sized living room with a lumpy looking couch and a tv set. A small kitchen sat next to the entry door, separated by a half to the living room. Three doors came off the living room walls, one to a small closet, one to a tiny pink tiled bathroom and the last to a bedroom. The bedroom had a large window looking out over the street and the city beyond. There was a dresser with handles that were falling off and a double bed. The covers were old, and the colour had faded, the whole structure creaked when you sat down. The whole apartment seemed faded and old, but it would do.

You lay down, fully clothed, and smiled up at the ceiling. You had made it. You had done it! You were in Colombia, working for the DEA fighting Pablo freaking Escobar! You had succeeded beyond anyone’s expectation and you were excited to prove everyone who had ever doubted you wrong.

You hit the ground running the next day. Between moving the office to a new location, learning the ropes of the job, and catching up on ongoing investigations you felt like you never stopped. You had been home only to sleep for a few hours. You’d change your outfit, shower, and head straight back to work. You had quickly learnt that Javier was not going to be what you imagined your mentor would be, he was much more of ‘do as I say not as I do’ kind of teacher. In one week, you had already seen things that would have you kicked out of the academy if you were caught doing it. You had realised this experience would be much more of an experience to reflect on later than learn any real textbook things from day to day.

Friday was here. You knew you could get at least a few hours rest tomorrow, hoping that you wouldn’t be called in. You’d steadily been making your way through case notes, trying to make some sort of system so the immense amount of information through your desk wouldn’t get lost. You hadn’t noticed Steve and Javier call you, until Javier tapped on the desk next to you. You looked up.

“Rookie! Come on,” He motioned over to Steve who was waiting at the door, Kevlar vest in hand. You were going out on a raid!

“Seriously?” Your eyes lit up and you jumped up. You rushed to get your gun from the draw and raced after the two agents. Finally, you were getting to see some action. You were itching with excitement to finally be able to go into the field. All your training was leading up to this! A moment which for most agents didn’t happen for years! You ran to the courtyard and jumped into the backseat Javier’s truck

Javier fiddled with a radio on the dash until audible orders could be heard, barked through the walkie-talkie giving the plan for the raid. It was the house of a known sicario, not a big player in the grand scheme of things but they would have valuable information.

“When we get out there, you’re staying in here, got it?” Javier said once the orders were given.

“I don’t want to be left on the side-lines and watch! How am I meant to learn anything sitting in a truck?”

“You can stand outside the truck,” Javi offered. You

“Come on!” You begged, “Steve?”

“It’s not my call, Rookie,” Steve shrugged. You sighed.

“So, I’m meant to stand around and watch you have all the fun?”

“Quit whining,” Peña replied, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. You frowned and settled back in your seat, your excitement dying a little.

After a few minutes of driving through the city, the convoy stopped outside a large house on the corner of a street. Javier parked and the two men jumped out of the vehicle slipping on their vests as they did. You took a deep breath, calming yourself, before stepping outside to join them.

Men started piling out of the cars and taking their places cordoning off the area. Steve was the first to get stuck in, immediately walking over to the man you assumed was in charge. You followed him, just to hear how raids were set up. Not so you could get involved, of course.

“Where are you going?” Javier asked as you walked past him.

“With Steve?” You replied cautiously, motioning over to the blonde a few paces ahead. Javi raised a brow.

“Rookie…” He warned.

“Javier…?” You replied in the same tone, as if you didn’t know exactly what he was going to say.

“Stay,” He said firmly, holding his hand up like a command given to a dog. You frowned.

“I’m not a dog,” You argued, Javi grinned and patted you on the head.

“Good girl,” You scowled at him, making him laugh again before he walked away to join his partner.

“Jerk,” You called after him. You complied, reluctantly, leaning back on the hood of the truck and watching from afar. You knew that it was a dangerous situation and you didn’t have much experience yet; you weren’t going to be seeing any up-close action for a while. It was for your own safety and everyone else's.

But it was boring.

After a short while of preparations and what seemed a lot like just milling about. The team entered the building. Those who were left outside visibly relaxed. Now any superior officers had gone out of sight, the soldiers huddled in groups chatting amongst themselves keeping one eye on their post but mostly watching you.

None of them spoke to you, but you could hear them. They assumed you didn’t speak Spanish, like Steve, so spoke without a filter whilst within earshot. How attractive they thought you were, wondering about how you got your role and whether you’d show them how you got it if they got you drunk. It was disgusting, but not new. Men are the same world over, it seemed.

You leant against the hood of the truck and turned your attention to the matter at hand. You weren’t here to make friends after all. You were here to learn, here to work. If you couldn’t follow into the raid you could learn as much as you could from the outside.

Gunfire and shouting erupted from the building suddenly, making you jump in surprise. Nobody else seemed to take any notice, barely looking up. You watched intently following shadows in the windows. Then, out the corner of your eye you saw a man race from the building. You looked over at the men, still stood around, and back to the man from the building who had started to slow down, and nobody was chasing him. They didn’t see anything. This was your chance. Before anyone could stop you, you ran down the street after the escapee.

He spotted you instantly and began to run faster down the hill and around a corner. You kept up well until the corner revealed a large crowd of people between shops. Market stalls lined the streets and your target disappeared in the blink of an eye. You followed into the people, making sure to keep your gun down to avoid mass panic. You didn’t need more of a scene to let the guy escape

You skidded to a halt and looked around, immediately overwhelmed by the amount of people and directions the man could have gone. You walked to the middle of the intersection and looked left, nothing unusual, right, nothing. Your heart hammered into your ribcage as you tried to collect yourself. It was hard to concentrate under the sun. He couldn’t have gone far, you lost him for two seconds! Losing hope of a dramatic first arrest, you looked up another street, and couldn’t spot your target. You moved to slip your gun back into your holster until you turned and saw a man leant against a wall heaving for breath halfway back up the hill you had just run down. He thought he’d lost you.

You collected yourself with a slow breath and pursued the man again, this time slowly so you didn’t catch his attention. He hadn’t spotted you as you exited the crowd of the market and walked up the hill opposite side of the street, dipping your head so not to catch his eye. You reached for your gun, just ten feet away from him when he finally noticed and jumped up.

“Fuck!” You cursed out loud as you chased him once more. The steep hill made your legs burn, but unlike the man in your pursuit you could bare it. He was visibly flagging and by the time he reached the top of the hill he had given up and you had caught up.

You shoved him against the wall, keeping your gun to his back and leg round his to keep him still. Your heart was hammering in your chest, you laughed to yourself as the adrenaline swept you up.

“Te mataré,” The man spat at you, “puta,” You swiftly lifted your knee, kicking him in the balls making the man yelp. Was it necessary? No. But it felt brilliant.

“Shut up,” You replied. You smugly smiled until you realised you were now stuck. You had no handcuffs so had no way to move him. You had not thought this through at all. You looked around and to your surprise you had just run around the block and ended up on a few feet from where your chase had begun.

You watched the raid exit the house, dragging a few men in cuffs with them. You spotted Murphy and Peña, who quickly noticed that you were gone. You watched them look for you for a minute before calling out.

“Over here!” You called loud enough for the men to hear you. Murphy was the first to spot you and ran over quickly, with a few soldiers in tow.

“Thought we told you to stay by the truck,” He said.

“You missed one,” You replied. You removed yourself from your prisoner and stuck your gun back into the holster on your hip.

“Good job,” He praised you, clapping you on the back. “Bring him up,”

With handcuffs on, the two soldiers took the man into custody. You followed Steve back over to the trucks. You beamed with pride. You’re first ever arrest! You spotted Javier watching you as you approached, a smirk set on his lips and an eyebrow raised. Your pride wavered a little. Just as you got back to the truck, prepared to get berated by your mentor, a man in a green uniform stormed over to you. You dropped your smile quickly.

“Quien es ella?!” He asked, spitting out the words at Javier. “Porque esta ella aqui?” Despite him asking about you, the man never looked at you. His attitude immediately aggravated you and before Javier could open his mouth to reply you jumped in for him.

“Yo trabajo con Murphy y Peña,” You replied for him, a sarcastic smile on your face, driving home the point that you did understand what he was saying and that he couldn’t ignore you so blatantly.

“Carrillo this is Y/n L/n, Rookie this is Commander Carrillo,” Javier introduced you to Carrillo. Javier gave you a warning look, as if that was going to stop your temper. Carrillo looked you up and down then sneered.

“Eres un poco joven?” He turned to you. You scoffed.

“It’s a new placement programme the agency is trialling,” Peña jumped in again, “Don’t worry about it,”

“Oh, so my war is a place for you to test your kids huh?” Carrillo rolled his eyes, “Fucking gringos. I don’t want some girl here,” He waved you away, turning on his heel and walking away. You scoffed, anger taking over.

“Sir, with all due respect. Fuck you,” You called after him. Carrillo stopped walking, half turned back, shocked at the audacity of what you were saying, “If I wasn’t here that guy would have run off and it would have taken you another month to find him again. Personally, I think a thank you is in order,”

“Okay! In the truck, Rookie,” Steve finally stepped in, before Carrillo could reply. He grabbed you and pulled you out the way and back to the truck. Javier stood in the way of Carrillo, so he didn’t follow.

“What a jerk,” You grumbled as you slammed your door. You glowered in the backseat, watching Javier and Carrillo talk.

“About sums it up,” Murphy agreed.

“He looks pissed,” You commented as you watched Javier part with Carrillo and join you and Murphy ready to leave.

“He always looks like that,” Steve replied, making you chuckle. You were still nervous; you had completely stepped out of line saying that stuff to the commander. No doubt Javier was going to be just as mad. You picked at the loose thread on your shirt, staying quiet when Javier opened the door. “Good?” Steve asked.

“All good,” Javier replied as he shut the truck door. Steve started up the engine and pulled away from the scene.

“Seriously?” You were shocked.

“Oh no he hates you now, but he hated Steve for a while there too so don’t take it too personally,” Javier said, Steve chuckled. “You certainly know how to make a good first impression,”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“I’m a little worried you might be insane; I don’t think I would even say that shit to Carrillo!” Javier said, “But I will say you did a good job with that sicario so, I’ll buy you a drink to celebrate the occasion when we get back,”

Javier turned to look at you quickly, giving you a cheeky smirk. You grinned back. You’d done awesome today, a week into this placement and you’d already made an arrest. One bad guy off the street, all by yourself! You’d pissed off Carrillo, and while you were sure it would probably bite you in the ass further down the road, you had made an unforgettable impression and you couldn’t really bring yourself to care that he hated you.

That evening Javier kept his promise and brought you a drink at the bar after work. Sat with Murphy and Javier in a booth, listening as the two of them bickered like an old married couple, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“To Rookie!” Steve drunkenly called out, raising his beer up. “May you keep on ignoring orders and kicking ass!” You cackled with laughter and cheersed your teammates.

This was going to be a great year.

Next Chapter -->

See! I CAN be nice!!!

translations (as always i am learning PLEASE correct me if these are wrong!)

Te mataré - I will kill you

puta - bitch

Quien es ella? - who is she

porque esta ella aqui? - why is she here?

yo trabajo con Murphy y Peña - i work with Murphy and Peña

eres un poco joven - aren’t you a little young?

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!

tag list: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @lesbianlena @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick

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guessimwritingficsagain · 4 years ago

Text

Delightful, chapter Two (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing : Javier Peña x reader

Warnings : heavy drinking

Author’s note : This is going to be longer than I expected.

You were both silent in the car, except for the indications you occasionally gave him. Except you hadn’t been lying about the fact that you lived very close to the bar : the whole ride lasted about two minutes.

That didn’t deter Peña, though, who kept showing up when he could, and when he couldn’t he just sent someone else. Steve Murphy (you’d finally learnt his name) looked very happy to have to come here at two in the morning for a two-minute drive.

‘Is he bribing you ?’ You asked him once.

‘He’s doing all my paperwork for three months.’ He answered with good humour.

Which, shit, that wasn’t the answer you’d expected. It’d probably shown, because Steve softened and added :

‘Indulge him. He’s seen some shit, people he knew at the wrong place at the wrong time. He cares a lot.’

You nodded.

Next night was a slow one, and when a costumer, a really good looking one at that, got really flirty with you, you flirted right back - well, to the best of your abilities anyway, you were more than rusty in that department. It seemed to be enough for the guy, who clearly wanted to take you home. You were not opposed to that. Not at all. Except that when you closed shop, Peña was waiting there. You asked the guy to give you a minute and went to him.

‘I have a ride, tonight.’ You explained.

His eyes went to the guy and his eyebrows shot up. His answer was not one you’d expected.

‘Really ? That’s your type ?’

‘My type is not what this is about. He’s taking me home.’

Peña took his time assessing your ‘ride’, and the latter was obviously growing more confused, and, to your frustration, deterred by the situation as the seconds went by.

‘Peña.’ You snapped. That got his attention back to you, a thumb touching his lower lips pensively, a hand on his hip. After a moment of thinking, he conceded :

‘Yeah. Yeah, okay.’

You thought he was going to leave it at that but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

‘Didn’t think you were the missionary type, is all.’

And that, that undid you. Because though Peña had been a pain in the ass from day one, Peña had also been helpful, and caring, and you didn’t know what it was about him that got under your skin like that but one thing was sure : you weren’t friends. Two-minute drives three times a week didn’t count as bonding and him sitting on a stool, silent, until you closed the bar didn’t count as that either. He had no right to get this familiar with you. So you sneered :

‘You’re an asshole.’

He shrugged and lit a cigarette :

‘So I’ve been told.’

You turned around and walked to that guy you didn’t even remember the name of and hated yourself for listening closely to the sound of Peña’s car leaving.

The worst part of it all, though : Peña’d been right. The dude was boring and the sex, mediocre. So, out of spite, you didn’t tell Peña you were on holiday the next week. And holidays meant going out for drinks with friends, in a bar that was not were your worked. So you did just that. And you had a wonderful night, that first day off, and you got really drunk.

You woke up at 12 to someone pounding at your door like they were trying to kick it down. Still in your clothes from last night, a nice dress you didn’t like to wear at work because it drove you some unwanted attention but liked just for yourself, you opened the door to see Javier Peña fuming and angry.

‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were on holiday ?’

Your head was aching, and you weren’t in the mood because you needed some water into your system before you could face anything but he didn’t let you answer anyway and kept going :

‘I fucking showed up and you weren’t there. Drove here and you didn’t answer. Came again this morning and you didn’t answer either. What the fuck are you thinking ?’

You weren’t in the mood. You were hungover, you needed some water and maybe something greasy, and you weren’t in the mood.

‘I don’t need you to baby-sit me, I’m pretty sure that if someone had wanted to kill me they’d have done it in the month and a half you’ve been monitoring everything I do.’ You spat.

Later, you’d recognize you’d been unfair. You’d remember Steve’s words. Later, you’d realized you’d talked with the assurance of someone who doesn’t know what it’s like. Who doesn’t know anything about anything, even though you should know better because what got you there in the first place was seeing a man’s brain all over the concrete.

Peña din’t say a word. He turned back, and left. You didn’t see him for a long time after that.

———

Steve kept picking you up, from time to time, the bags under his eyes heavier every time you saw him. On a Sunday, he showed up in the clothes you’d seen him wear three days before, and he showed up at the beginning of your shift. He asked for a whisky and

‘Keep ‘em coming.’

‘What’s wrong ?’

He didn’t answer right away, instead shooting a hey man without heart at Emil, who answered with a little more energy, even though his little girl had kept him up all night the day before. Okay, the night of the living dead, then. Good thing you liked that movie.

When Emil got to the kitchen and with no costumer in sight, Steve finally asked :

‘You know what I did, on Friday ?’

You shook your head, suddenly on edge because of the tone of his voice. There was something breaking there. Then, with false casualty, he offered :

‘I beat the shit out of a dude just because he was snorting coke in an airport’s bathroom.’

You stopped everything.

‘Why are you telling me this ?’

You didn’t like the way your voice wavered, but the question was genuine. There were supposed to be boundaries.

‘Because Connie’s gone back to the fucking States and I heard bartenders were the best shrinks.’ He answered, downing his drink and motioning for another. You wondered if this was wise, letting him drink. But you figured you weren’t his mother, you figured he needed that. You figured you hadn’t seen your friends in forever, so much that Steve Murphy was starting to look like one.

You found a middle ground and settled, pouring him another whisky :

‘You’re not driving me home, tonight. But you’re crashing on my couch.’

Steve hummed in answer.

Later, when he had his arm around your shoulder to steady himself, laughing way too hard at a joke that really wasn’t that funny, you wondered at the irony of the situation : the state he was in, the man supposedly there to protect you was probably more like to shoot himself in the foot trying to aim at someone. When you voiced the thought, Steve barked a laugh :

‘I don’t even have my fucking gun with me, right now.’

And :

‘That reminds me. You fucked him ? Peña ? That’s why he won’t come anymore ?’

‘Fuck you, Murphy. I didn’t.’

He went silent for a while, let go of your shoulder to turn and look at you, feet unsteady. He would have been a funny looking sight if you hadn’t known what had gotten him in the state in the first place.

‘You know why I do this ?’ He asked, the very picture of seriousness. ‘This, I mean.’ He clarified, a finger waving from him to you.

You shook your head. He stopped walking, raised a finger, and, an air of gravity and wisdom about him that made you laugh because he burped.

‘I do this because it helps Peña sleep at night. So, in the morning, he’s not so grumpy. And he doesn’t drink all of the coffee. Because that coffee is shit, and it makes him grumpier. Seriously, that fucking DEA coffee …’

He started walking again, but you were kind of frozen. You knew you’d been unfair to him, but never stopped to think Peña had cared enough to potentially ask Steve to keep coming to get you. It’d been months, after all, since what you called The Incident just so you didn’t call it The Image you still dreamt about every other night and probably would for the rest of your life or The Image that popped up at random times during the day and reduced you to a shaking mess.

‘You comin’ ?’ Steve asked.

You jogged up to him.

‘That was a long time ago, why do you keep coming ?’

‘We identified the guy. Javi doesn’t wanna stop this until we catch him him or, you know, pull a bullet in him. Never too safe.’

Fuck.

After a beat, Steve added :

‘Though, I am pretty useless right now, right ? Considering I’m completely shit-faced.’

He laughed again and, a few minutes later, dropped on your couch and started snoring.

———

The place was really busy, so you didn’t have time to think about the fact that Javier Peña was sitting in a booth with Murphy, or the fact that maybe you owed him an apology.

Steve had gotten the first round. You were not watching if they needed a new one. No. You weren’t. You had not been wondering if Peña was going to get the second one. No.

He did. He got the second one. And he came straight to you. You gave him the beers, tongue-tied now that you had a chance to speak. You hated yourself, in that moment, but you as he was beginning to turn around, you let yourself go :

‘I’m sorry.’ You mumbled, grabbing his forearm.

He was looking at you, silent.

‘I’m sorry.’ You repeated, more strongly, squeezing his forearm.

He looked at you for a bit, sighed quietly and answered :

‘It’s okay.’

‘But it’s not.’ You shot back immediately. ‘You’re… You’re insufferable. And I felt like I could’t do anything on my own. But you know the risks. I don’t. You were trying to protect me, and I was a bitch about it.’

He put down the beers at that, and sat down.

‘I’ve seen people I care about get fucked because they were here at the wrong place at the wrong time. But here’s one thing I don’t wanna hear.’ He said. ‘I don’t wanna hear that my favorite bartender has been killed because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.’

He’d kept his voice light but you could feel how heavy the words were.

‘I’m sorry.’ You said again. Because that was all you could think of.

———

Peña started showing up at the bar again. When he did, he usually waited until you closed to walk you home. It wasn’t often, once every two weeks, but you liked it.

You were worried, though, because now that you knew what he did for a living, him not showing up could mean something had gone wrong. You’d never called Steve to ask.

One day, he did show up. It was late, you were dealing with some drunk asshole who couldn’t understand the word no. He put an end to the whole thing when he just sat down and asked :

‘Can you get me a shot of that good whiskey, babe ?’

That was enough to get the man off your back, and you were so relieved to see him you didn’t say anything. And then, the babe incident became a thing.

Give me a whisky, but not the crappy one, babe.

Yeah, I had a shitty day. You don’t wanna know about it, babe.

We need to put a second lock on your door. That neighborhood is shit, babe.

And, on one memorable moment,

I heard from Steve that your couch is a delight. I’m jealous I never got to try it. Mind if I use it tonight ? I’m fucking exhausted, and you don’t live exactly close to my place, babe.

You should have said something, but Peña was talking to you more and more, and you found that you kinda liked him, so you let him call you that. You also let him crash on your couch whenever he felt like it.

Which meant, all in all, that your couch was rarely unoccupied. You’d even finally gotten them toothbrushes, as months went by, a green one for Steve and a pink one for Javier. The latter had tensed when you told him, and you knew that wasn’t because of the color.

That man and his fear of commitment to anything.

One evening, as you were making a cocktail, the movements a force of habit, you heard a very familiar voice say :

‘So, this is where you’ve been hiding all this time ?’

You turned to see your friend Nick, standing on the other side of the counter. Nick and you had been friends for a long time, the type of friends that never really lose touch with each other, the type of friends you can call anytime. You finished what you were doing in a hurry (and maybe screwed up a bit on the alcohol but you figured the costumer would be happy to get some more than intended) and circled the counter to hug him.

You spent the evening catching up whenever you had time to spare. Nick was here on a business trip, and had asked your parents where you worked. He had a place to stay, but that didn’t prevent Javier from saying :

‘So, he’s taking you home tonight I guess.’

He was, in a way. You’d both agreed it would be nice to spend the rest of the night at your place to catch up. You answered :

‘Men and women can be just friends, you know.’

‘Not in my opinion.’

His answer stung. So you pushed, because the trashcan of denial was just that big :

‘Yeah, what about us ?’

His eyes were dark, heavy with something, as he answered :

‘Yeah, what about us, babe ?’

You’d known for a while you didn’t quite hate Javier Peña, but what you felt then, that was new.

Chapter one - Chapter three

Tag list :

@pedritobalmando

#javier pena x reader #Javier Pena imagine #narcos #Pedro pascal #delightful

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Nickname Drabbles

So I recently (like last night) reached 200 followers and that may not be a lot but it is to me! I’m so happy and love all of my followers and everyone who likes or reblogs my stuff. Seriously, I love you! Anyway, I figured I’d celebrate by posting some new drabbles! As per the rules, each one is exactly 100 words and ho boy was this one hard. Enjoy!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin:

“Ner ka’ra, can you pass me that?”

You speak exactly zero Mando’a, so he calls you all sorts of things. Cyar’ika, mesh’la, but his favorite is ka’ra. He will not tell you what any of them mean, but to be fair, you’ve never asked. You knew they were affectionate terms, but the secrecy made them all the more precious to you.

As for your nicknames for him, you called him bucket head a bit when you’d first met. And that progressed into Mando, and when you learned his name (and some Mando’a), you called him Din’ika and eventually, ner vencuyot.

Marcus Moreno:

“Sugar, get in here and give me a hand.”

Marcus was careful with nicknames in the beginning. His late wife was his dear and his darling, so he won’t use those. However, he manages to give you a series of sweets related nicknames. Sugar, honey, pumpkin, and even muffin on rare occasions.

You call him a few things. My hero is one he thinks is funny. Babe, which he likes because it’s classic. And then your favorite, which he thinks is simultaneously funny and mildly annoying. My perfect disaster, often just disaster. It’s only used for the right moments, though.

Max Phillips:

“Well isn’t this a surprise, my love.”

Max is a very affectionate man, so get ready for lots of nicknames. His favorite? My love. He likes that one because he’s always assumed no one stays with him because they don’t know if he loves them. He also, when he wants to be annoying, calls you his pretty little blood bag.

You called Max Dracula while you two were still friends. Once you two began dating, you stuck to more typical nicknames. He likes it most when you call him your moonlight, and will sometimes call you his sunshine in return.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

“Call me Fish one more time, I dare you.”

Frankie is all about nicknames! He didn’t get to pick Catfish, but no one picks their stupid nickname, it’s bestowed upon them when they do something worthy of a dumb nickname. He calls you Sparky for a while, because that’s your stupid nickname. But when you start dating, he’s a babe or baby man, through and through.

You, obviously, call him Fish/Catfish for years. When he’s being annoying, you call him Fishie or Goldfish. Once dating, he becomes dear or babe, but Fish still comes out when he’s really misbehaving.

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

“What’s up darlin’?”

Jack is a southern boy! That means southern nicknames! Even before you start dating, he calls you darlin’, just because he thinks you’re cute. But he amps it up for when you’re officially together. Hon’, doll, peach, and sugar are his go tos. He’ll still call you by your agent name, Cosmopolitan, or Cosmo, when you’re at work.

You, like him, use agent names at work. He’s Whiskey when you’re on the job, but when you aren’t, he’s your lover boy in public, your casanova when he’s being overly flirty, and your dear most other times.

Ezra:

“Darling songbird, have you found my book?”

Ezra’s a hopeless poet, so he’s all over lengthy and beautiful nicknames. In the beginning, he called you his partner, and that progressed into wildflower and songbird. After admitting his feelings, he began adding typical nicknames to his unique ones. You end up with darling, dearest, and precious tacked onto your pre-existing nicknames.

For your poet, you stick to mostly mundane ones. You met him post amputation, so when you’re friends, he’s stumpy. But romantically, he’s your sun, your gem, and after a while, he becomes your everything and, for simplicity, your dear.

Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey:

“Persephone, I’m going out.”

Ah yes, Dio, who claims he’s tough and doesn’t do nicknames. In public, he’ll call you by your name. In private? Oh my gods, this greek mythology nerd calls you Persephone. Straight up, it doesn’t matter if you’re male, female, non-binary, he’s gonna call you Persephone. Despite refusing to admit he listens to or enjoys Elton John, he also calls you Tiny Dancer on the regular.

As for you, you stick to the theme. He’s Hades sometimes, usually right after he calls you Persephone, but you often call him babe, dear, and just plain old Dio.

Javier Peña:

“Cariño, where are you?”

Javier is a Spanish nicknames kind of man. You came from the US and speak as much, if not less Spanish than Steve, so Javier could literally call you anything. In the very beginning, when he thought you were privileged, he called you princesa, but that changed quickly to dulzura when he realized he was wrong. Now, you’re his cariño or his amor.

Because you speak no Spanish, you call him various things in English, and none of them are kind in the beginning. But then he becomes Javi, and then sweetheart, and finally, mi corazón.

Maxwell Lord:

“Doll, I’m in a meeting.”

Yeah, so, even before dating, you’re his doll. It pisses you off while you’re still his PA, but then he begins to genuinely call you doll, like when you give him his coffee in the morning. It grows on you, and by the time you’re dating, he won’t call you anything else.

As mentioned, you weren’t as open with doll, and had taken to calling Maxwell dicklord behind his back. But then, after starting to date, you learn he grew up in a spanish speaking household, and you do research and he becomes mi cielito.

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justmemewriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Sister (Javier Peña x reader) - Part 17 - Colonel Pinzón

"Good morning, my love," Javi woke you up the next morning.

You opened your eyes, but closed them immediately after because the sun was shining in your face.

"Ugh," you groaned. "Can't we just stay in bed?," you asked Javi and snuggled closer t him.

Javi put his arms around you and gently stroked your arm. He then lifted his hand and caressed your face gently placing a kiss on your lips.

"I wish we could, mi amor, but we've got work to do," Javi reminded you.

"I know," you said and sighed. "I just wished we didn't."

"Me too."

Suddenly, there was only silence. Neither of you wanted to say anything or move, because it was rare for you to have moments like these together where you could just enjoy each other's company.

"You know what?" Javi asked you.

You sleepily lifted your head and turned to look at him.

"We should take a trip," Javi suggested.

"A trip?" you repeated.

"Yes, a trip. Not right now, of course," Javi clarified.

"Maybe we could take a few days off in a few weeks and we could forget all about Escobar for just a little while."

"That does sound really intriguing," you admitted. "But you know just as well as I do that the son of a bitch Escobar would still be on our minds the entire time because we still haven't caught him. Also, Steve would kill us if we left him doing our work on his own."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Javi sighed.

"But, let's make a deal then," you suggested and held out your pinkie. "I promise that you and I will go and leave this shitty place as soon as we catch Escobar to go somewhere."

Javi intertwined his pinkie with yours and started grinning.

"So, where would you like to go then?" Javi asked you deep in thought.

"Hmm. Honestly, I don't really care as long as our trip involves you, me and a whole lot of us being naked." Javi chuckled in response. "Obviously."

"What do you think?" you asked Javi. "Anything come to mind?"

"I don't know," Javi admitted. "Somewhere warm with a beach."

Suddenly, there was a knock on Javi's apartment door.

"You guys ready soon? We need to get goin'," Steve yelled.

You and Javi both groaned as you were both still laying in his bed.

"Well, maybe somewhere your brother can't bother us," Javi stated annoyed. You just shook your head and laughed.

You loved your brother with every ounce of your heart, but it was true though. He constantly interrupted moments that you and Javi shared.

It was already pretty rare for you to be able to have them in the first place. You really didn't need to constantly be interrupted by your brother.

—

After Steve scolding you for taking so long to get ready, you were finally on your way.

Things were about to get very different and that very soon.

Now that there was no more 'la catedral', the next stop was Carlos Holguín.

You were currently driving to the old police academy that had been repurposed as ground zero in the search for Escobar. If someone asked you, it was exactly stuff like this that showed how many people wanted to have Escobar caught and put behind bars. Or dead. To many that didn't really matter anyways.

"So who is it that we're gonna have to talk to once we get there?" you asked your two partners in the front seats of the car.

"Colonel Pinzón," Steve answered. "From what I've hard he is a big fan of the US, so we hopefully won't have a problem with him"

"Just because he's a fan if the US, doesn't mean that he's a fan of us," Javi answered Steve. "So play nice."

"Did you hear that, (Y/N). Play nice," Steve warned you jokingly. You just scoffed.

Yes, there were times where you could lose your temper but never without reason.

"Haha, very funny Steve," you said sarcastically. "I'm just a very passionate person."

"Some people call it passionate, others call it aggressive and crazy..."

"Oh, shut up," you said and laughed.

Once the three of you arrived at the building, two officers led you to the office of Colonel Pinzón. One of them kept looking at you weirdly which is why you gave him your best 'fuck-off'-face you could manage.

The two officers opened the door to Pinzón's office and you entered. You took a seat next to Steve and waited for someone to start talking. This was just one of the moments where you preferred to be a bit more quiet since Pinzón gave you a weird vibe.

"Agents Peña and Murphy, it's very nice to meet you. And who's that? Did you bring secretary?" Pinzón asked and you honestky couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

You sighed. Yes, it wasn't everyday that you saw a female agent working for the DEA, but it also wasn't news either. People should've gotten used to it by now and honestly, you were quite sick of those sexist comments.

Deciding to have a little fun of your own you said "Oh yes. García is the name. I'm just here in case one of those two here needs something. Like a coffee. Or a foot rub," you joked. The man laughed, now seemingly understanding that you also were an agent. "I should suggest that to my secretry," Pinzón answered and laughed.

"Jokes aside, I'm agent García. It's a pleasure to be working with you, Colonel," you introduced yourself and shook his hand.

"Likewise," he answered.

"Let's get straight to it then," Pinzón continued. "As a courtesy to your government, I'm allowing you to participate in this manhunt. But... I set the limits and all decisions rest with me. If this condition is unacceptable, take it up with the president," Pinzón said as he stood up and started walking out of his office. You, Javi and Steve quickly followed him.

"Of course, Colonel. I hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot," Javi answered.

"Not at all. Every operation needs a well-defined hierarchy," Pinzón stated as he led you to a different part of the building.

After a bit of walking you reached a room in which there were two desks with dozens of stacks of papers and files on top of them.

"I hope this will be an adequate space for you to do your work." he said and looked at you for confirmation.

The place you had been given was an absolute dump, but of course you weren't allowed to show that, so you just nodded with a slight smile on your face.

"What, you're talking about this? This-" Steve started, but you quickly hit him with your elbow to stop him from continuing his sentence.

"This is more than adequate," Javi continued for him. "Gracias Colonel." And with that Colonel Pinzón left.

"Ow, what was that for?" Steve whisper-yelled at you.

"You, of course couldn't shut your mouth again, so I had to stop you some way," you answered.

"But this place is a dump. How are we supposed to work here properly?" Steve questioned.

"Honestly, i don't know, but seeing that they've assigned us to that shit hole, they already don't like us much, so we should just try and get on their good side." you told him.

"(Y/N) is right. Working here isn't going to be a piece of cake. We can count ourselves lucky if they share any intel with us at all." Javi continued.

"So what if they don't share their intel with us. We just gonna leave then?" Steve asked.

"Well, I have my ways of getting information," you said with a smirk on your face.

"And that would be?" Javi asked you with a dubious look on his face.

"I'm a woman, Javi. And as a woman I have certain assets that I can use to my advantage. Let's just leave it at that," you said and chuckled.

"Wait, I thought only Javi slept with others to get information," Steve said which might have been intended to be a joke.

"Gross, I don't sleep with them. I occasionally just get them drunk and flirt with them, and bam: they tell you everything you want to know," you said and shrugged.

"I have to say, I don't like the sound of that at all," Javi said with a stern look on his face.

"Oh c'mon. It's just for work. And we all profit from the information," you answered, but Javi kept the stern look on his face.

"Oh baby, don't be mad. You're still the only one for me," you said and winked at him. Javi just chuckled.

"Wait? How many times have you done that?" Steve asked you.

"Hmm. I guess I used to do that quite a lot," you answered and saw Steve looking at you weirdly.

"Well, you try being a woman in the DEA. Nobody tells me anything," you continued.

"Alright. I'm not judging," Steve laughed.

After a moment of silence, you decided that it would be a good idea to start sorting through the files. Maybe there actually was something useful. You looked at one of the files and looked at its date.

"Guys?" you asked. Javi and Steve looked at you with confused looks on their faces.

"This one's from 1962," you told them and threw it in the corner.

"Oh god," Steve stated and ran a hand through his hair.

"(Y/N), with this mess you might have to do a whole lot more than just flirt." Steve told you which earned him an angry look from Javi.

"I was just joking," Steve said nervously.

"I hope it will stay a joke, because this is just crap. But if it comes down to it, it'll be our last resort." you said and shrugged.

Hopefully the next days were going to be a lot more successful.

#javier peña imagine #javier peña #narcos #steve murphy #narcos imagine #narcos x reader #javier peña x reader

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sirtadcooper · 4 years ago

Text

Javier Peña and the Brown-Nosed Bear

Fandom: Narcos Category: Gen, Humour, Crack Relationships: Javier Peña & Steve Murphy Characters: Javier Peña, Steve Murphy Word Count: 1,900+ For: @djarsdin and @javierian.

Warnings: Swearing, drug mentions, crack (as in a silly idea) treated far too seriously, period inaccuracies, food, McDonald’s.

Summary: Javier Peña is not having a good day so Steve Murphy brings him a McDonald’s Happy Meal to cheer him up.

Notes: This makes no sense. The Happy Meal menu is from the UK in 2021, the toys are from 2018 and the boys are in the 1980s. But just go with it, for me, pretty please?

This, all of this, was inspired by @djarsdin’s tag “someone get this man a happy meal” under this already dryly funny post by @javierian. This is for both of you. :)

Any Spanish is from Google Translate so please forgive me if it’s wrong.

(One-shot.)

Javier Peña and the Brown-Nosed Bear

Javier is staring blankly down at a page, cigarette hanging loosely from one hand as he cups his chin with the other. The typewritten words are blurring and he’s read the same paragraph countless times now, in limbo, unable to get any further.

A small red box, having evidently just been thrown in his direction, lands with a soft thud right under his nose. Javi jerks back with a start, blurry black and white suddenly replaced with bright red and… yellow? Javi blinks, his tired eyes finally focus — it’s a McDonald’s Happy Meal.

“There,” says Steve, “now cheer the fuck up.”

He sets two soda cups down safely on the desk and throws himself down onto his chair with enough force to send it rolling backwards a few feet. Identical Happy Meal box cradled lovingly on his lap, he rolls the chair forwards with his feet until he’s close enough to his desk again to put his boots up on it.

Looking over, Steve nods meaningfully at Javi’s paperwork.

Javi follows his gaze. “Shit.”

Javi’s half cigarette has been dropping flakes of ash onto his page. He swipes the tiny flakes away with the side of his hand — when only faint grey stains remain on the crisp white paper, he rests the still lit cigarette on the rim of the ashtray and leaves it sitting there, hazy wisps of smoke rising into the air.

“You look like shit,” Steve comments needlessly around a huge bite of a chicken burger.

Javi grimaces, rubbing at his tired eyes. He feels like shit, he doesn’t need to be told, thank you, he wants to say. Instead, he says aloud, “How’d things go with your C.I.?”

Chewing noisily, Steve shrugs. “No shop talk over dinner. I’ll tell you later. Eat up.”

With a pointed look, Javi sets the paperwork aside. Perhaps he will try to finish it again later, perhaps tomorrow, or even better still it may find itself in Steve’s annoyingly sparse inbox.

Opening the red and yellow box, Javi finds a bag of fries and a box of chicken nuggets. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was — as soon as the scent of fried fast food hits his nostrils his mouth starts to water. He glances at the clock — well after four in the afternoon. Last time he had checked it was just before one.

“Oh — almost forgot.” Steve plunges his hand into his jacket pocket. First he places a tiny tub of ketchup on Javi’s side of their desk, then a wad of napkins an inch thick.

“Your kid joining us?” Javi asks, meaning the excessive collection of napkins, but concentrating on pulling the lid off the ketchup dip.

Steve, halfway through his chicken burger already, adopts an enigmatic expression. “I’ve learned to be prepared.”

Javi is absolutely ravenous — the chicken nuggets and fries after almost a day’s unintended fasting are heavenly.

They both eat in companionable silence until—

Crunch!

Javi looks up from his food, takes a moment to register what’s in front of his eyes. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a carrot stick.”

“What’s it doing in a kid’s meal?” Javi asks, and then, more to himself, “Why am I eating a kid’s meal?”

“One — it’s healthy. Connie and I are watching what we eat right now and trying to keep in shape.” Javi can think of other ways two married people could keep in shape, but hasn’t the chance to voice his opinion as Steve carries on, “Two — shut up, it’s tasty, ain’t it? And three — I thought it might cheer you up, you’ve been a real downer today.” He doesn’t use a finger to emphasise each point, rather a wiggle of a carrot stick with the end bitten off. Javi decides instantly that he doesn’t like that.

“I’m touched,” he says dryly, dipping a fry in his sauce. He really is touched by the kind thought from his partner, but the kind thought is wrapped in so many layers of hillbilly bullshit that it’s hard to find the words to express that. He leaves his gratitude unsaid, veers the conversation away. “How did you order all this, anyways? Your Spanish isn’t that good.”

Steve appears offended, which Javi knows to mean that he isn’t offended at all. “Hey, I know the words for ‘drug dealer’ and ‘cocaine’ and ‘gun’.”

Javi peers into his red and yellow box — only a plastic bag with something black inside remains. “I don’t see any cocaine in here,” Javi mutters under his breath, deliberately loud enough to be heard.

“These carrot sticks are better than coke, believe me,” Steve says, shoving another piece of carrot into his mouth with a triumphant grin as if that proved it.

Javi shakes his head, sips on his soda. “Lying bastard.”

Steve’s expression gives nothing away.

“I just pointed at what I wanted. Took me a few attempts but I got there in the end. How do you say carrot sticks in Spanish? Just, you know, for future reference.”

“Palo de mierda,” Javi tells him with a straight face, without hesitation.

“What?”

“Palo de mierda,” Javi says again, unrepentant — he holds in a breath, hoping that Steve doesn’t catch on. He needn’t have worried.

Steve repeats it a few times, committing the phrase to memory. Javi stuffs a whole chicken nugget in his mouth before he can laugh.

They lapse into silence again — or as silent as it can be when one of them is crunching on raw carrots.

Chicken burger and carrot sticks finished, Steve wipes mayo off of his moustache with a napkin. A few minutes later when Javi reaches for a napkin from the pile as well, Steve looks very pleased with himself.

Javi starts tidying up, collecting the leftover rubbish from his desk and putting it inside his red box. Only his soda remains to be finished.

“Nice,” Steve says and Javi looks up — he’s got a little stuffed penguin toy in a plastic bag. “My little girl’s gonna love this.”

Javi reaches into his box and pulls out a bag too — it’s a black thing with a brown nose and tummy, some kind of stuffed animal he doesn’t recognise. He turns it over — there’s a card inside.

SLOTH BEAR, it reads.

“Here you go,” Javi says, lifting himself out of his chair to reach across their desk made out of two desks. He holds out the sloth bear in its plastic bag for Steve to take — but Steve doesn’t make a move, just stares at Javi like he’s sprouted an extra head that’s just told him the sky isn’t blue. Catching his look, Javi asks, “What? It’s for your kid.”

“No, no, man, that’s yours,” Steve says, shaking his head along with every ‘no’.

Javi doesn't retreat, just shakes his outstretched hand as if to tempt him — the little bear in the bag jumps up and down and the plastic crinkles noisily with the movement. (Javi hasn’t thought of the Serpent tempting Eve in the Garden of Eden for a long time.)

After a few moments of them staring stubbornly at each other, bear in a bag suspended between them, Javi falls back into his chair with a huff. He looks down at the bear in his hands. “What am I going to do with this?”

Steve rolls his eyes and lifts up his hand, fingers wiggling to beckon Javi — or the bear — to him.

He gets the bear — it flies across the desk and slaps him on the cheek with some force, bouncing off of him and to the ground. Steve bends over in his chair and it rolls back slightly as he strains to reach the bear where it has landed. He straightens, the bear clenched securely in his fist, and fixes Javi with an outraged look. “What the hell?”

Javi takes a drag of his half-finished cigarette, blows out the smoke. “It’s a tiny stuffed animal, Steve, it can’t feel a thing.”

“He’s got a brown nose.”

“He?” Javi mutters to himself, but is talked over.

“He’s got a brown nose, d’you know what that means?” Steve points at the bear’s pale brown muzzle, just in case Javi hasn’t noticed — he has noticed, he just doesn’t see why the hell he should care.

Steve’s expecting an answer — Javi rolls his eyes, feebly attempts, “He — it — has been using a sun bed wrong?”

“No, it means he’s your mascot,” Steve declares with childlike glee.

Javi blinks in the face of Steve’s unaccountable delight. “You’re losing it, Murphy.”

“He is. Think about it — how much brown-nosing do you and me have to do on a weekly basis? It’s a fuckton. I can handle it fine because I am calm and collected and an excellent people person — but you? You look like you’re constipated the whole time — quit flipping me the bird, man, I’m serious here — and the big cheeses know it, Javi, they’ll start taking a real dislike to you. But this bear is an expert, look at him, it’s all over his face. You take inspiration from him and he’ll show you how to brown-nose like the best of them.”

Steve holds out the bear in the bag for Javi to take. The three of them stare at each other — Steve with a look of ridiculous seriousness, Javi with straight-up disbelief, and the bear with the blank expression of the fucking inanimate.

“Kiss my ass,” Javi says, and in one swift and graceful movement he’s out of his chair and heading for the restroom. His knees protest after sitting for most of the day but he’s not fucking stopping. He has to get away from this maniac. “I’m going for a piss,” he throws over his shoulder as he disappears into the corridor.

When he returns several minutes later Steve is gone — but the brown-nosed bear is unwrapped from its plastic bag and nestled in between his outbox and his pen pot.

Javi sighs, but the bear stays.

TWO DAYS LATER

“Ambassador Noonan wants to see us about my C.I.,” Steve tells Javi, almost apologetic, as he puts the phone back on the hook.

“Both of us? Great,” Javi says, the final word sounding chipper but dripping with sarcasm.

They both head for their desks, collecting I.D. badges from drawers and putting their coats on. Steve fiddles with his hair — which makes very little difference, Javi thinks — and picks up his car keys. “I’ll drive,” he says, and goes on ahead.

The brown-nosed bear catches Javi’s eye as he turns to leave. He pauses despite himself, mutters, “Fuck it.”

He puts the bear in his pocket and follows Steve out of the building.

In the meeting, every time Noonan says something that will needlessly halt their progress in catching Escobar, Javi squeezes the bear hidden in his pocket and tries to look less ‘constipated’, as Steve succinctly put it.

Steve’s C.I. will get them a small step closer to Escobar but a small step is better than none at all. Noonan is pleased, grants them some extra funds and manpower to follow the C.I.’s lead. In all, the meeting goes much better than usual — they leave with more than they arrived with.

Javi and Steve are descending the stairs to the underground parking lot together when Javi says, “Palo de zanahoria.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“Palo de zanahoria. Carrot sticks. In Spanish.”

#narcos #javier peña #javier pena #steve murphy #narcos netflix #mcdonalds #djarsdin #userjoanne #javierian #*mine #*fanfic #javierian we have never interacted i don't think but please accept this crackfic for you <3 #i'll hopefully post this to my ao3 too

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dindjarindiaries · 5 years ago

Note

May I request prompt 41, Overhearing they have feelings for you, with Javi? It would make my week!

character: Javier Peña

prompt: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you (via this list of clichés)

warnings: honestly I think just some swearing

rating: R

masterlist

It’s been a slow week so far at the embassy. You, Steve, and Javier have been sitting at your clustered group of desks together for so long that you’re beginning to copy each other’s mannerisms. It’s a suffocating feeling to be stuck inside the office, knowing that there’s so much chaos going on outside—and not being able to do anything about it.

You can tell it’s been getting to Javier the most. He’s been smoking more than usual, and you often hear his heel tapping against the ground in an anxious manner. The way he flips over the pieces of paper contains a strong hint of aggression, as if his fingers are yearning to do something much more exciting but have to force themselves to remain calm. Javier’s always been fond of field work, which is just one of the many things you’ve learned about him over the years at the embassy.

Though you’re close with both your partners, it’s no secret that you and Javier have bonded the most. Steve always had Connie, but you and Javier didn’t have anyone else, and naturally you started to fill in that gap for each other. It’s never been anything more than some laughs, beers, and necessary venting sessions, but lately, you’ve been craving more. You’ve tried to suppress the feeling, though, because you know it’s not allowed. It’s always been one of those strict, unspoken rules to never be with another agent, since it puts you both in a dangerous position should the “other side” find out. So, you constantly found yourself swallowing your thoughts, trying to ignore the subtle compliments Javier always tosses at you and the tight shirts he often dresses in.

But that’s not the only reason why you’ve been pushing down your feelings. You’re also afraid of getting hurt. Javier’s been open enough with you to reveal his past, including leaving someone at the altar—and so you know commitment is an extremely difficult thing for him. His rendezvous with his informants is enough proof of that. You’re someone who would want a real relationship, one aiming for the long-term, and you believe Javier just isn’t ready for that yet. On top of that, you’re almost certain he doesn’t feel the same way about you. Flirting is just one of the many ways he teases you, and you figure it’s all a part of his act of friendship.

While your bored brain thinks of Javier, you find yourself looking up at him. His dark eyes are squinted as they focus on the transcript he’s holding in one of his hands, and his other hand rests against his forehead as a lit cigarette rests between his fingers. You can’t help noticing the bags underneath his eyes, and you feel your heart tug in concern. You’d typically dismiss it as a result of his long nights with informants, but—being neighbors with him in the apartment building—you know he hasn’t been having any informants over for quite a while, now. With all the slow work, too, you know he’s not sticking around the embassy at night.

Unable to contain your concern any longer, you start to speak out, but get cut off by the ringing of Steve’s phone. All three of you look over at it, and you and Javier give Steve earnest looks to get him to answer it. He picks up the handset, balancing it between his ear and shoulder as he straightens out the papers he’d been reading.

“Murphy,” he answers, taking the handset back in his hand as he looks between you and Javier. You don’t break your stare for fear of missing something—anything—that the people on the other end of the line could be providing. You sense it as soon as you see Steve’s eyes widen, and he reaches for a pen and piece of paper to scribble something down. Your gaze shifts to Javier, and you both exchange a look of shared surprise and excitement. Finally, your mind cries out. We got something!

Steve continues listening, getting out a quick thank-you before he hangs up the phone. He immediately stands up from his chair and claps his hands together.

“We’ve got a location on one of Escobar’s associates,” Steve informs you, causing you and Javier to rise as well. “And Carrillo’s got a driver in custody.”

“Oh shit,” Javier mutters, putting his cigarette out and beginning to open his drawer to reach for his gun.

Steve says your name. “Messina wants us to get the associate,” he continues. “Peña, Carrillo wants you in on the interrogation.”

Javier freezes at that. You’re still doing what you need to, grabbing your gun and making your desk neat. You also stop, however, when the voice of Javier suddenly speaks so sternly that you feel every muscle in your body tighten up tensely: “No.”

Steve raises his brow at Javier. “No? What the fuck do you mean ‘no,’ Javi?”

When you look to Javier, you’re surprised to find him staring straight at you, and confusion fills you as you raise an eyebrow at him. You swear you see a flash of desperation in his dark eyes as he switches his gaze over to Steve. “I need to talk to you.”

“Right now?” Steve scoffs. “Javi, we haven’t had shit for a week, and now you decide—.”

“Please, just get in the fucking office, Murphy!” Javier’s voice has never wavered quite like that in front of you before, and you feel a pit grow in your stomach as you wonder what could possibly be going on with him. Steve must be feeling the same way, because he makes his way silently into the soundproof office sitting just a few strides beyond your desks, and Javier follows him inside. You hear the door close and you sigh heavily, hoping it’ll ease the nerves you’ve suddenly gained at Javier’s unusual behavior.

You still, however, hear voices drifting from near the office. When you look back at it, you see that Javier had closed the door so hard that it didn’t actually close—and the door is open just a crack. If you go stand by it, you’ll be able to hear what Javier’s saying, and hopefully you can make yourself calm down before the risky mission you’re about to embark on. Trying to stay as light on your feet as possible, you creep closely to the door, waiting to stop until you’re just able to make out what’s being said.

“… don’t understand, Javi,” you can hear Steve saying with frustration. “We’ve been sitting here all damn week waiting for somethin’, and now that we’ve got it, you’re bein’ picky about what to do! You’ve been the antsiest out of all of us!”

“I’m not being ‘picky,’ Murphy!” Javier exclaims back. “Listen, I—I got my reasons, okay? But I need you to let me go on that mission with her.”

You raise an eyebrow at the mention of your name. “Why? ‘Cause you’re mad you’re not out in the field?”

“No, no, I just—fuck, Steve, I told you, I got my reasons!” Javier sounds more flustered than you’ve ever heard him before, and that pit in your stomach makes itself known once again. “It’s gonna be dangerous where you are, and I… I gotta be able to keep my eye on her.” Javier had said the last part so fast that you almost didn’t catch it, but when your brain processes it, your heart starts to pound against your chest. An eye on me? Why?

You can hear Steve sigh loudly. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. You’ve been workin’ with her for how many years, and you still don’t trust her?”

“It’s not about trust, Steve! Fuck.” Javier’s frustration is evident, and you try to tune out the roaring of your blood in your ears as you wait for what he’ll say next. “I just need to be there. With her.”

“Why, Peña? You know damn well she doesn’t need you. So, why? Why are you tryin’ to convince me of this?”

“Because, Steve, I love her, alright?”

Your heart nearly stops on the spot. He… he loves me? I couldn’t have heard that right. There’s no way.

There’s silence. “Javi… this ain’t fuckin’ funny, man. Don’t joke about that.” Steve, obviously, can’t believe it, either.

“I’m serious, Steve. On my life. Is it not fucking obvious?” You release a breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding, still unable to believe what’s happening.

“Fuck, Javi. Fuck.”

“You’re telling me.” You hear Javier let out a heavy sigh before he continues. “I know, it’s bad, and I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, Steve. I’ve barely been able to sleep at night, thinking about what could happen to her. And I can’t let her go out and do something this dangerous without being there with her. Imagine you having to do this with Connie.”

Steve’s silent for a moment, and you hear some pacing around the room. “Damn, Javi, I never took you for the type. But… I’ll see what I can do. Alright?”

There’s more silence, and then you hear Steve start walking towards the door. He suddenly stops, and you hear Javier’s voice next. “Thank you.”

You try to move, but you’re frozen to your spot, so when Steve comes out of the door, he nearly runs right into you. His eyes widen at your close presence, likely realizing that you’ve just heard everything that’s gone down.

“Give me a minute,” you say, pushing past him to head inside the office before Javier can leave. You close the door behind you—effectively this time—and see Javier leaning against the wall with one arm crossed over his chest and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. At your presence, he looks up, his dark eyes changing from desperation to surprise.

“What’re you doing?” Javier questions. “Aren’t you supposed to be—?”

He’s cut off by you walking over to where he is, unable to do anything else other than kiss him with all the passion you feel in your heart. Your body melts against his, your stomach soaring at the relieving feeling of his mouth on yours. Once he gets over his initial shock at your rash action, Javier begins to respond, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your hands brush through his thick hair, coming down to press against the back of his neck as you crave even more of him. His hands brush up your sides in a gentle yet fervent manner, stopping once he reaches your ribs. Eventually, you find yourself needing to breathe, and you pull away from him with a lingering gaze. Javier rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes for some sort of explanation.

“You need to learn how to close a damn door, Peña,” you tease, giggling as you speak. Javier’s cheeks turn red, and you smile as you leave a few kisses along his jaw. When you lean back again, your gaze locks into his. “I love you, too.”

Javier can’t contain the smile he shows back down at you, and—just like you before—he can’t think of doing anything else other than kissing you again.

#flustered/soft javi nation r i s e #javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier peña #javi peña #narcos #asks #requests

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ohcaptains · 5 years ago

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all he had;

pairing: javier peña x female reader warnings: strong lang, angst? sexual innuendos; they talk about choking each other does that count? words: 2k+

a.n: anyway, this is what happens when you give me a free evening and two cups of coffee. i am vibrating.

---

“Thought you weren’t going to turn up” Steve Murphy hollered, grinning as he stood up from his seat. The bar that he’d chosen to meet at was crowded and cluttered; filled to the brim with patrons. It had taken all the luck in the world to nab this table, which was why he was so thankful that y/n had turned up – people were beginning to glare at his lonesome self taking up a table that was meant for four.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry” y/n yelled, slipping through members of the public. Half an hour late, that wasn’t bad by her standards. Once she’d reached the table, Steve had pulled her into a hug. “Get here okay?” he asked, looking over her. His partner cleaned up nice. “Yeah, got a cab.” “You’re brave.” “Well, I didn’t really feel like walking and you know, drunk driving, illegal” “Oh yeah, right, forgot about that”

y/n glanced down at the table. “Where’s Peña?” she wondered, thinking nothing of it. Steve smirked. “At the bar” “Okay, Imma go say hi” “Tell your man to hurry up, otherwise I won’t have this table for much longer.” “My man?” but before Steve could reply, she’d gotten lost in the crowd.

It took a second, but there he was, eagerly trying to get the bartenders attention in the crowd. She hurried over, holding her bag against her tightly clothed frame. He was wearing her favourite shirt. Bright red and daunting, whenever he wore it, she knew she was going to have a good day.

When Javier felt a soft touch at the small of his back, he immediately turned around. She smiled brightly in return, slipping into the small gap at the bar. Her hand slipped around him as he turned and he instinctually took it, looking down with a raised brow. “Now, what time do we call this missy?” She laughed, fingers fidgeting in his delicate touch. He looked happy, tired, but happy. His smile lines near his eyes pleasantly creased, moustache recently trimmed, and shirt just ironed. He looked good, but then, he always did. That was Javier Peña. “Hey, this—” she let go of his hands to motion at her figure “—takes time.”

Javier looked down at her. The tight baby blue top was one he hadn’t seen before, but then again, why would he of? It wasn’t exactly cut out for work with its low top and high hem. Her jeans were just as deliciously tight, hugging her in ways he wished he was doing. “Yeah,” Javier nodded, pulling his eyes up to hers. She was waiting eagerly, and she scorned herself for it, but Jesus, can’t a girl dress to impress occasionally? Her work clothes were depressing her. “I’m sure it does” He finished, earning a lick of the lips and taunting smile in response. He let his eyes linger again, before standing up straight and heaving in a sigh. “What you drinking?”

“Nothing right now—” y/n joked “—what’s taking you so long?” “Oh really funny, It’s busy,” Javier replied in the same tone. Their banter seemed to balance on a fine line. Once he’d gotten a few drinks in him, he’d sure it would be considered flirting, but he promised himself that if things got out of line, he’d leave. Sure, his partner was beautiful, and sure, he did catch himself daydreaming about her more often than not – the curve of her hips, sight of her bright smile, the warmth he felt when she’d leaned over him just this morning to get a better look at the paperwork he was reading and you know, that one time she’d bitten into a churro and made the most heavenly sound that he thought he was going to faint right then and there.

Jesus Christ. He needed to deal with these feelings somehow. But that didn’t mean that he could make a move. That would be breaking about a million protocols, and while Javier wasn’t somebody to follow the rules, he knew the fallout would be something biblical.

“Move” y/n spoke, nudging him out of the way with her hip and thigh. She leaned on the bar, eyes trying to find a bartender while she played with a dangling strand of hair. Javier stood to the side of her and watched. With her back arched and top riding up with the curve of her body, Javier could swear he could see the top of her underwear.

“Javi, what’s everybody drinking?” he heard in the abyss. Snapping up to the sound, y/n was watching him, the bartender was watching her and Javier’s face bled red. She smirked, raising a knowing brow. Caught you. “Um—” he itched his jaw “—two jacks and coke and a gin and tonic.” “Make that two Gin and tonics, thanks.” She grinned, turning back to the bartender and he walked away with a nod, but not before lingering a little longer.

y/n turned to him with a look of achievement. “Nice work, although I’m sure you’ve just set women’s rights back about ten years” he commented and y/n grinned, before suddenly laughing a loud belly laugh, clutching her chest, making him feel like a famous comic. Javier watched in awe at the movement. The way she threw her head back – the sound she made. A cackle, unending it seemed.

A thing inside of him began to grow, blossoming into something, anything and whatever it was it was there because of her. For a split second, it was the pair of them laughing at his shitty joke together and it seemed to heal him a little. “It works though, otherwise you’d have been waiting for hours.” Javier was so lost that he couldn’t voice his response, so he just shrugged, not able to contain his shit-eating grin.

Once they reached the table, Javier could sense Steve’s brooding comment. It came as soon as they sat down. “Get lost?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “They were taking forever, but y/n used her…womanly powers to get the bartenders attention, wouldn’t you say that’s fair y/n?” he grinned, leaning back in his chair and turning to y/n. She was innocently sipping her drink. “Whatever could you mean Peña?” she teased, her voice delicate and high pitch. Javier simply shook his head at her, not ready for what the night had in store for him.

Steve had left for the night. About twenty minutes ago, he’d said his goodbyes and departed, but not before sending Javier a wink like he was doing him a favour. Javier had shaken his head at his partner, silently letting him know to drop it. He should have never confided in the man, after all, it was just a little crush.

Now the pair was sitting at the table, laughing over a story Javier was retelling. Smoke billowed around the pair in a cloud, shadowing them from overlookers. Whatever Javier was saying wasn’t particularly interesting, but y/n didn’t seem to think so. She was listening intently, noticing his little quirks. Like how, whenever he thought back to a memory, he’d turn his eyes to the left and itch his jaw. Or whenever he found something funny, he’d always clutch the left side of his chest. Always his left.

They were a little drunk now. Tongues a little looser, so when y/n said, “I really like that shirt on you,” and reached forward, touching the loose fabric around his neck, she didn’t feel any sense of embarrassment. Javier looked down at the movement, feeling his skin set alight. “I think I’ve already told you that” She added, going to take her hand back, but Javier took it in his. Her breath caught in her throat.

Peeling his eyes away from her Javier studied her fingers leisurely, taking in her golden rings, the softness of it all, imagined feeling them on him, around him, touching his jaw, clutching his neck and he spoke “You have…” he trailed, voice thick with whiskey and buried feelings. “s’why I wore it,” and he finally looked at her, catching her chewing on her bottom lip, getting rid of her lip gloss. Damn, he wanted to do that.

“Wanted to impress you.” “Yeah?” y/n quickly quirked. She slid her chair closer to him, leaning in his direction. Javier let his eyes linger on her spilt cleavage, still holding her hand. “Ditto” y/n replied, leaning a little lower, arching her back a little more. The air was electric and Javier stifled a smile as he moved her hand closer to his lips as he replied, “Consider me impressed” Before placing a soft, longing kiss on her knuckles. “Let’s dance” “Okay,” she replied, all but a messy puddle on the bar floor.

“I’m warning you, I’m an absolute state on the dance floor” y/n went, giggling as Javier took her hands again once they reached the crowded space. “Somehow I don’t believe you,” Javier went “Just, put your hands around my neck,” he began, causing y/n to snort a laugh “Not like that oh my gosh,“ He laughed, letting her hands relax around the back of his neck “Unless you’re into that.” “There have been many times where I wanted to strangle you Javier, I promise you that,” y/n laughed, rolling her eyes “Now what?”

“Now this” and Javier slipped his hands to the small of her back and pulled her into him. Chest against chest, they watched each other intently, now closer than they had ever been before. y/n watched his lips. “I could get used to this” Javier whispered, pulling the pair into a slow sway as y/n smiled up at him, but not before looking down at their connected bodies. y/n had so much to say. She wanted to tell him that she knew, or least had an inkling about his infatuation with her. The longing glances, the comments, the lingering touches, the late-night knocks on her door, shuffling in and saying ‘hey, I’ve got a new theory’ before they spoke about anything but.

It wasn’t like she didn’t feel the same. Javier Peña had a unique charm, one that snatched her up as soon as he’d laid eyes on her. It was just that she didn’t let it get any further than that. A schoolgirl crush – she’d deemed it – but she wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Not when he was holding her like this and definitely not when he rested his forehead against hers. y/n settled into the gentle intimacy of it all. She’d heard the chatter, how could she not? Javier Peña wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, not with his flirtatious persona and reputation around town. Why did he have to make it so difficult for her?

“Javi” she whispered. Peña simply nodded his head. “Me too” and that was all that needed to be said.

The next morning at the office, Javier tried not to think about it. He shoved it into the corner of his mind – never to be thought about again. He recognised what a simple dance meant to him, yet he also recognised that he could never act on it. It had been stupid, just a stupid mistake, a drunken act, something he’d think about in ten years and chuckle at the sheer hilarity of it all. Perhaps one day it wouldn’t mean as much to him as it did right now. He sure as hell hoped so.

“Peña?” a smooth, alto pronounced. He turned to the sound and smiled at its source. There she was. Standing about a metre away from him, she’d chosen to wear a yellow blouse and it was like he was looking into the sun. “You there?” she laughed, edging closer. Her perfume, a sweet, fruity scent wafted into his nose and he nearly cried. It was the same perfume. Steve looked up at her “He’s been like this all morning, think he’s broken,” and his partner kicked his chair “or hungover.”

y/n watched Javier. He was still looking up at her from his lumpy desk chair, fiddling with a pen he’d stolen from her desk a couple of days ago. Before he’d put a name to his feelings for her. A simpler time perhaps, back when he could daydream about her without the looming reality weighing him down. Her own brain, foggy, remembered last night. Settling her hand on her waist, where his own large fingers had rested, she tried to read his eyes. It seemed that he was closed off again, or at least, she knew not to bring it up to him. “Yeah,” she spoke softly. She was drowning in his eyes. Why did this all have to be so hard?

“Broken…” she whispered “…or hungover” and there it was. The feeling. “You guys get up to anything after I left?” Steve wondered. Javier tried to remember that there was no love in wartime, but fuck, it sure as hell felt like that was all he had.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #mine #leah writes #(this isn't v good)

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blackssuunn-mandoandyodito · 4 years ago

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Tabaco y Brea part 4

Pairing:Javier Peña x f! reader

Rating:T? IDK WHAT THE RATINGS ARE

Words: 2.0k

A/N:enjoy this because everything gets intende after

Warnings: eating? swearing, banter, use of the word gringo, fluff. If you think I'm missing something let me know.

Summary: soft moment between the boys and reader.

Part one part two part three

Connie must be a saint if she has put up with this idiot for years.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

This is probably the tenth time you ask Steve this, but judging by how he fidgets with his hands and rolls his marriage ring every single time, he's not sure about his answer, even though it's always the same. You can see his nervousness as he sits in front of your desk again.

"I've told you I am! Could you quit it already?"

To say your relationship with him developed a lot in the last few weeks is an understatement. You started to like him the second he helped you with paperwork but now that you know him more you realize he's a perfect balance that you and Javier needed. He's as crazy as you are, maybe even more, but at least he doesn't get to screaming match with either of you two.

Not yet, at least.

Your partner doesn't seem to have accepted him completely still. Every time you're working on your desk with Murphy, Javier huffs and rolls his eyes. Each time you try and include him in your new dynamic, he waves it off and says he has "better things to do". He narrows his eyes and presses his lips together when the two of you laugh about some idiot joke Steve said and a voice at the back of your head tells you it has something to do with the things Helena said to you, but you shrug it off. Diving too deep into those thoughts will only make things worse.

Despite this, you and Javier haven't fought so much the last couple of days, Steve interfering when things start to get heated. He stands between the two desks holding his arms up towards each of you as if either of you were about to jump the other. It's a funny visual, needless to say. He's the tallest of the three, so he towers above your heads and tries to calm you down.

Despite this, you can't help being a little protective over him.

"Steve, we're going undercover, not shooting our way in"

He's a little hotheaded himself, that much you've realized from the stories he has told you about his job in Miami. And you may be quick to go into fight mode, but only when you see there's no other option. Javier, surprisingly, is the calmest. Who would've thought?

Steve groans, exasperated. He lets his head fall back and grabs at his hair, pulling slightly. Javier snickers at his reaction.

"Relax gringo, she's just pushing your buttons"

Well, he's not entirely wrong. Steve lifts his head to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You give him a sheepish smile and shrug.

"I might be, but your Spanish is shit and we need to speak a lot in it for this mission"

At that, Javi loses it, throws his head back laughing and grabs his belly with both hands, stamping his feet at the floor. You snort, trying not to laugh at the offended look Steve is giving you, his cheeks red with embarrassment and his arms crossed over his chest.

A glint of mischief appears in his eyes accompanied by a half sided grin.

"I will be staying at the hotel, remember? You and Javi are going to the dance club"

Javi doesn't seem to give a shit about his comment and keeps laughing his ass off.

You're not sure if Steve had realized about your feelings, he hadn't said anything directly to you yet. He made comments insinuating it, teased you about the "lust-filled" eyes you'd give Javi in the middle of an argument, but he had never asked you or mentioned it straight up. If he had, you couldn't help but think how ironic it was that everyone that got semi-close to your relationship could figure it out so quickly and Javi hadn't in the nearly two years you've been partners.

You feign annoyance by letting out a groan and hitting your head with your desk, but the truth is a knot makes its way in your stomach at the mere thought of going to a dance club with Javi.

"He doesn't even know how to dance!"

"Hey! I do know how to dance!"

He does, you just like teasing him about it. He demonstrated his skills pretty well at your first year's Christmas party, with one of the good-looking girls that the soldiers from the academy invited. It was an initiation of sorts for both of you, at one of the officers' houses close to the base. After dancing with almost all of the girls there, the soldiers dared Javi to take shots of Aguardiente and he was too happy to accept. Hours later, he was sick as fuck and spent the night throwing up at the communal bathroom. He woke you up as he started dry heaving, and you stayed with him until the sickness passed and took him to his room, all sweaty and green. You don't think he remembers a single moment of it.

Steve shakes his head, smiling. You smile too.

"Yeah, two-step, you good Texan boy. That doesn't come in handy this time though"

Javi gives him the finger by way of answer. You break down in laugher, covering your mouth to lower the noise. Javi may be skeptical about Murphy, but they banter like an old married couple already. At least their dynamic isn't as explosive as yours, theirs is easier going.

"You're gonna enjoy yourself one way or another Bera, don't play dumb" Javi says, amusement dripping from his voice. You shrug with a barely concealed grin in your face. Steve frowns at you.

"What do you mean?"

Javi turns to look at him, shaking his hands in front of his face.

"She goes there every weekend she can!" he raises his arms over his head and you have to bite your lip to not start laughing again "She takes the bus on Friday night, which is a 7 fucking hours long trip and stays there until Sunday night and leaves for another 7 hours long trip. And she goes to the salsa clubs, so she's familiar with the zone"

Steve looks at you with disbelief plaguing his eyes. You smile cheekily and extend your hand towards him. He grabs it and you pull him forward, making him bend over the desk and get closer to your space.

"If you saw the way they move Miami" you whisper, "you'd understand why I flee from here every chance I get"

Salsa in Cali is different from any other place you've been in. They move more the half down part of the body, they dance faster than others, sexier. Not for nothing they have the Cali Fair in December, where many salsa artists start their career.

Javi clears his throat and you let go of Steve immediately, blushing. He frowns at Steve and he just sits back down in front of you, adjusting his shirt. Thank God he didn't use suit every day, you hated when every agent wore one. The three of you stuck with jeans and t-shirts. Steve was apparently the polo shirt kind of guy, which was fine by you. Bogotá was mostly a mild weather city, but this time of the year was the worst.

"So what's the plan again?" Javi asks. He had been distracted since you came back, and you understand why. The whole issue with Helena was not something he would forget easily, though after you helped him everything went smoother and she acquired the visa request pretty quickly.

You extend your hands in your desk and do a show of being done with his attitude, but he knows it's just to bother him.

"We're supposed to arrive and book rooms for one night." Steve frowns, seemingly not liking that idea "the club is close, so we will have to set up the base there and communicate with you through walkie talkies. If anything goes sideways," you point at Murphy, "you have to act the fuck up and run to save us" He chuckles.

"You make it sound so easy" Javier sighs. You wish Murphy could go with you, but unfortunately, the new Siboney Club doesn't let any man or woman that goes alone inside, and you can't go with him instead of Javi, he would stand out like a sore thumb. The club is not so far from the Comuna 3, and you're guessing that has something to do with why they're meeting there. Murphy will be 6 minutes away, so everything must be okay with him and the other soldiers as back up if anything goes wrong.

You hope it doesn't.

"You want some?" Javi asks as he extends you a wrapped bundle of meat empanadas. He had left to go to Salomé earlier, returning with a sour look and bags of food hanging from his arms.You figured he had stumbled upon Alexander, Cata's grandson, whom he doesn't like one bit. He didn't say anything but came into the room mumbling under his breath about a"stupid pretty spoiled bratt".

"Give them to me!" You shout as you jump to grab them. Both men laugh as you move all the papers and unwrap them in your desk. You probably shouldn't be eating there, the smell will spread all over the office and you'll have to deal with it all day.

You stop caring as you take the first bite. Steve gives you a funny look, his eyebrow raised. Then you realize he most likely has never had one and shove the bundle towards him.

"Pick one," you say, grinning at him. "And I assure you life will be different from now on"

He looks at you, doubtful, but grabs one nothingless. Javi stares at everything with amusement glinting in his eyes. His chest fills with warmth every time you get enthusiastic for something as simple as food. Every day he hopes you will stay that way, untainted by all the shit you have to go through in this job, and tries to take the hits himself.

As Steve takes the first bite, you can practically see sparks fly from his body, licking his lips as he represses a groan.

"This is fucking great" he says once he swallows. You pump your fist in the air.

"Of course it fucking does. It's Colombia, Murphy, live a little and try new things."

He bows to listen to you. Javi can already picture how you're gonna get him to try the craziest things just as you got him too. Mild jealousy invades him, but he shrugs it off.

You start eating, letting out obscene sounds at every bite you take. Heat rises from his chest and he turns around to read the reports you last wrote and check everything's fine. He can't concentrate though, his mind wandering to places he shouldn't allow at every groan you make.

Steve stands up from his chair, leaning over your food and extending his hand to take another one. You bat his hand away and pull the bundle closer to you.

"Give me more!" He demands, pushing your arms away. With quick reflexes, you wrap them up again and throw them to Javi, and he catches it mid air with an amused smile playing at his lips.

"Leave my food alone!"

"You have to share!"

"Go buy your own!"

You wrap yourselves in an easy banter about food, Javi chuckling from his desk as he looks at the two of you. The way you act so loose around Steve sets him on his nerves, but he's willing to try and accept this if it means you'll have an easier time around here.

"Leave her alone Murphy" he finally says, command evident in his voice. Both of you turn to look at him, and you smile as he gets uncomfortable from the power of both your stares. Despite this, he doesn't yield.

Steve falls back into his chair without looking away. Now, Javi grabs the bag again and hands him a different bundle of empanadas.

"I figured she would want you to taste them," he says, nonchalant. Stunned, you take your own food as he hands them back to you and returns to read the reports.

You turn to look at Murphy with your mouth open. He only smiles and winks at you.

Now he's sure he understands what the thing between you two is about.

----

Taglist:

@fioccodineveautunnale @storiesofthefandomloversreblogs @thisisthe-way @marydjarin @synystersilenceinblacknwhite

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal x you #narcos #narcos fanfic #reader insert #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing

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