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padfootagain · 2 months ago

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Love in Verses (XXIX)

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! It’s the poetry reading!!! Also, we’re getting some special guests in this chapter!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5237

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Anne Hathaway

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’ (from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme to his, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing in the centre of a noun. Some nights, I dreamed he’s written me, the bed A page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste. In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on, dribbling their prose. My living laughing love- I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head as he held me upon that next best bed.

Carole Ann Duffy, The World’s Wife

It was raining in Dublin that afternoon.

Andrew was nervous, to say the least. As he hurried into the bookshop that was hosting his poetry reading, he was questioning all of his life’s choices. If he was proud of his work, if he had been on a stage before, if he was used to talking in front of crowds… he still had dreadful nerves right before any of these events.

He tried to calm down, opening the glass door of the bookshop in a hurry. He was suddenly very aware that the rain must have made his hair look like a bird’s nest, and as he bent to enter the shop, he could feel himself taking up too much space.

He put these thoughts aside, forcing himself to smile as he walked across the shop, recognising his agent instantly as she was talking with the bookshop owner.

“Andy! This is Niamh O’Brien, the owner of the bookshop,” said Caroline, as Andrew shook hands with the fifty-something woman in front of him.

“It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for organising this,” Andrew smiled, his voice sounding a little hoarse as the stress was making his throat tighten.

“Oh, it’s nothing! It’s a pleasure, indeed! Thank you for accepting to come here, I truly admire your work,” complimented O’Brien, making Andrew nod and blush.

“Thanks,” he answered automatically, pushing the compliment away instantly.

“Alright, let’s go to my office so we can run through today’s event, and then I’ll give you a little time to get ready if you need,” explained the owner of the bookshop while they walked across the shop and to a small door at the back, near the Shakespeare section. “As I was telling Caroline, we have a large room upstairs for these readings, for seminaries, lectures… all those things. The response to the advertisement was very encouraging, indeed! We’re expecting over two hundred people today.”

Andrew nervously chuckled.

“I thought this was a small event…”

“I thought it would be! Poetry readings are not always the most popular events, sadly. But we had underestimated the popularity of your work, clearly! We have about two hundred seats upstairs, and we’re expecting a full house!”

“Wow… that’s grand,” Andrew grinned, digging his hands into his pockets.

They walked inside O’Brien’s office, and discussed some details about the afternoon around a warm cup of coffee.

“We have planned some questions after the reading,” O’Brien went on, sipping on her beverage. “Anything that we should… avoid or that you are adamant to discuss?”

“Erm… like… I reckon it’s best if you decide what questions are more relevant. I’m not going to discuss anything too private, though.”

“Too private?”

“Like… my personal life is private, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Of course. I can understand that.”

“Thank you.”

“We gave Caroline a few titles that we would really like you to read, if that’s fine by you. But I’m curious to know what are the other poems you’ve decided to share today.”

“Erm… yeah, totally! Erm… I’ve noted the ones you asked for, I’ll read them obviously. Then, I’ve just picked a few that I felt fitted your selection. I’m also going to publish a few poems next month, so I thought I could read three of these.”

“Oh, that would be amazing! Maybe finish the reading with these new ones!”

“Yeah, I thought I could do that. Do you prefer to read them before hand?”

“Oh, no, no! You’re the author, you choose what you read and want to share today! On the contrary, I can’t wait to discover them when you read them aloud!”

She grinned excitedly.

“Oh, now I truly cannot wait! Right, we still have about forty-five minutes before the reading begins, I’m going to help welcome our visitors. You take some time to get ready, and ask us if you need anything, alright?”

“Totally… yeah. Thank you.”

As soon as O’Brien had left the room, Caroline heaved a sigh, relaxing in her chair while she turned to Andrew.

“You’re ready for today?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Good… are your parents coming? I mean… they always come when the readings are in Dublin, I don’t know why I’m asking,” she chuckled, and Andrew enthusiastically nodded.

“Yeah, they’ll be here! Jon is off to Cork for a project he’s working on, but both my parents are coming.”

“Anyone else you’ll know in the crowd? Alex?”

“No, Alex is busy working on a music project with his new band at the moment. I… I have another friend who’s coming, though.”

“Really? Who?”

“Erm… Her name’s Y/N. We work together, actually.”

As she studied his features, Caroline raised a teasing eyebrow, a grin slowly creeping over her lips.

“And… is this Y/N nice to look at, too?”

“Caroline!” Andrew chuckled, rubbing at his cheek. “She’s just a friend.”

“She is at the moment, perhaps… but is she meant to remain just that?”

Andrew didn’t say anything at first.

“I can’t see the future, you know? I didn’t pass the exams in divination back in College.”

“Are any of these new poems influenced by her?”

Andrew cleared his throat, reached for the thermos of tea and honey he had brought for his throat.

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled under his breath. “I should read these again, just to practice.”

“Yeah, I bet you should,” Caroline laughed, taking her phone out of her purse to check her emails.

Meanwhile, Andrew read some of his poems again, just to remind himself of the pauses, the stresses, the intentions he wanted to add when he would read them out loud. About ten minutes before the beginning of the reading session, he checked his phone. His father had sent him a couple of texts, one to notify him that they were ten minutes away from Dublin, and another later on once he and Andrew’s mother were already seated in the bookshop.

There was another text from you as well, and Andrew’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Waiting for the reading to begin! Just wanted to wish you good luck, although I have no doubts you’re gonna kill it!

He started typing while Caroline was checking a few last-minute details.

Hey! Thank you again for coming today, it means a lot to me. I’ll try not to make too much of a fool of myself out there.

Your answer was almost instantaneous.

No need to thank me for that. I’m glad to be here.

You’ve got a full house btw! I was right to come here early, the room is packed. Some people are sitting on the floor, others are just standing. Apparently they’ve had to turn some people away, there was just no room left.

And I didn’t even know you wrote poetry, shame on me…

Andrew chuckled at that, not noticing that Caroline was talking to him. He was too busy answering.

Ha… thanks. Now, I’m going to die of stress before I can get up there and read.

Also, I hadn’t warned you, but all these people were hired. I’m only trying to impress you.

He realised there was a little bit of flirt in that last message, but he didn’t change it. Instead, he bit on his nail, eyes fixed on his screen while you typed a response.

Ha, that explains it then! You’re actually a rich egomaniac who is forging his success!

He chuckled.

Indeed, I am. You’ve read right through me.

Caroline frowned, but he didn’t notice either.

And I thought you were just a talented poet.

He blushed, tried to brush the compliment away.

Christ, I really am not, trust me.

“Andy!”

Andrew finally looked up, startled.

“Hmm?”

“It’s time to go, come on.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…”

“You’ll do just fine. You always do great in these.”

Andrew nodded, typing quickly one last message before he would follow Caroline upstairs.

Time’s up. I’ll talk to you after the reading, if you want to stick around a little.

You sent him one last encouraging text that he didn’t have the time to read, but that would make him grin later that night, when he would discover it, hours later.

For now though, he was walking inside the large room, after O’Brien had quickly introduced him, and he waved shyly while the crowd clapped for him. He settled in front of the mic stand, readjusted its height to fit his tall body better.

When he looked up again, he easily spotted his parents, first row, as per usual. They grinned proudly at him, and the sight made him relax instantly. He took one more second to scan the room quickly, and it was indeed packed with people, more than he had anticipated for such an event, that was supposed to be a small gathering.

His eyes finally landed on you, fifth row, grinning at him with genuine excitement. You gave him a thumbs up, and it made him grin, almost laugh. You were wearing a green shirt that was revealing your cleavage a little more than usual, he noticed that right away. He noticed how you were smiling, how your eyes were shining, how you seemed happy to be here.

He blushed, before finally speaking.

You were beyond impressed, to be fair.

Andrew’s deep, soft voice was lulling you into another world, another plane of existence, while you listened to him reading his poems. There was something unbelievably magnetic in the way he spoke, in the way he stood there, alone in a single spotlight, a hand in the pocket of his brown corduroy trousers, the other holding his book. He looked so handsome like this too, curly hair partially tied back, the rest let loose over his shoulders. His brown jacket matched the colour of his trousers, the black of his turtleneck was the same shade as his leather shoes. His glasses perched on his nose caught the light from time to time, but you were obsessed by the eyes beyond them, irises seeming brownish in this light. You noticed that he often looked at you as he spoke, or while he talked a little in between poems, explaining something about the text before he would read it, or sipping on his thermos of hot tea. You spotted the two teabag tags hanging from the grey bottle, and couldn’t refrain a fond smile at the sight. He liked his tea so strong, just like his coffee…

Behind him, across the white wall, there were pictures projected while he read, matching the poems. Sometimes short, silent films. You were particularly struck by the LGBTQ+ meaning on the black and white extract for Take Me To Church, the roughness of the themes for Cherry Wine, the dancers that moved behind Andrew’s frame for Movement. You were more impressed by his work itself though, by the beauty in the images he summoned, the sincerity he seemed to inject into each word, the gentleness he used to speak about love, the complexity of the feeling, too, and the way he talked about sex as an act of worship instead of pure lust, as a sacred act of loving. You loved every second of it.

Finally, he closed his second book, but pulled from it a few loose sheets of paper, and smiled at the crowd.

“We have only a few minutes left, and… erm… I thought I could share with you a few new poems today. They will soon be published in a poetry journal, but this sounded like the perfect occasion to finally… erm… release them into the world and… and… erm… to just, let them loose, I guess. The first one is called Why Would You Be Loved, and it is about… the despair that comes with love. With sharing something so absolute, and wondering why it should even occur to you, and why you should let yourself be engulfed in this kind of… erm… like… this kind of overwhelmingly strong feelings, that will probably hurt you an awful lot, in the end. So… yeah, I definitely thought that I needed to lift up the mood a little for this last part, and thus chose the most pessimistic poem I could find for you all. I expect a lot of smiles and giggles for this one.”

Everyone chuckled at that, and you weren’t an exception.

Although, you were most definitely not laughing when Andrew started reading. He seemed a little more nervous with this poem, you noticed how he was fidgeting with this piece of paper, how his eyes were shining a little more now, how his voice sounded deeper than before.

You listened, not realising that you were tearing up. But you were, you noticed it at last when a tear rolled all the way across your neck, tickling your skin.

His words echoed into your own pain, and you read in them his heartbreak after Samantha’s betrayal.

Why would you play it all on somethin' as hollow as trust?

What if you gave it all, to find that it wasn't enough?

Damn, you brushed your cheeks to dry them on your sleeve. This was echoing in your soul a little too much, a little too desperately…

The woman next to you was crying as well, you noticed the man before you rubbing discreetly at his eyes.

And then Andrew was quiet again. The applause was so loud, he looked up in surprise.

“Erm… thank you,” he smiled, nodding his head. “I… I have a couple more poems. This next one is called NFWMB, you’ll find out pretty quickly what that stands for. And it’s just… I had fun with the theme of the world ending, and I was reading a lot of Yeats too at the time, so there’s a bit of that in there. I just played with the… erm… like, the idea of having your partner being absolutely terrifying, and actually almost… thriving in that chaos. So, yeah…”

He cleared his throat, caught your eyes as he took a deeper breath before starting reading. And there was something different in his gaze, something so intense, it made you unable to look away. When Andrew looked down at his paper to read, his body was still slightly turned in your direction.

Your breath caught in your throat when he spelled out the title, when you realised what this was truly about…

Nothing fucks with my baby

You thought back about that afternoon with him, that conversation. That joke you made about being tougher than you looked; the way he had replied with a serious gaze, a firm tone, that you were tougher than you thought you were.

He looked up right after that verse, caught your eyes with his, and you knew then, you knew without a doubt that this was about you.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree

I'd wanna be felled by you

Held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies

But these words, they couldn’t be aimed at you… how could they? Was that what he thought of you? Was that… was that what he was ready to be and do for you?

You were struggling to breathe by the end of the poem.

Did that mean that he wrote about you?! That Andrew wrote love poems about you?

And not just love poems, but poems that showed you as some badass independent woman?!

Was that how he saw you? Strong like that?

“This is our last poem for today. It’s more of a tongue-in-cheek kind of poem. I played with the idea of using language to seduce someone. Especially in poetry, we use words in an aesthetic way, like… erm… like, I wanted to play with that idea of using poetry to lure someone in, in a way… like, using metaphors and beautiful turns of phrase to hide the fact that you just… want to jump their bones, basically.”

He smiled humorously, while the audience laughed and chuckled.

But then his eyes were back on you, and you noticed the way he blushed before he began reading.

He stole a few glances at you throughout the poem, and you almost liquified on your chair when he looked at you right after reading a certain verse…

Imagine being loved by me

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

You struggled to swallow when he kept eye contact with you while he repeated that verse, your heart pounding, head spinning a bit, and feeling your entire body react to his deep, suave voice speaking these words directly to you.

You could barely breathe by the end of it.

You didn’t pay attention while Andrew was sitting now with O’Brien, you merely clapped along, but couldn’t conjure up any logical thought.

You took a couple of deep breath, feeling your entire body on fire. And then, you were the one imagining things he could do to you as you stared at his hand while it reached the microphone O’Brien was handing him…

The questions offered an interesting insight on many of Andrew’s poems. He sounded passionate about them, about the political messages he wanted to carry, about the vision he had of love and sex and the honesty that he thought was necessary in poetry. You listened attentively, often agreeing with his views. When the interview was over, and the applause had quieted down again, O’Brien announced a short break, before Andrew would sign copies of his books. You weren’t sure if you ought to talk to him now, as people were walking out of the room, some to go home and some to wait outside to get their books signed. You had already bought both of his books, even though you had not read them, wanting to discover Andrew’s work while he would read it. So, you stood there awkwardly for a while, hesitating to walk up to Andrew even though he was now talking to a couple of people he seemed to know, or to walk out of the room.

You were about to listen to your anxious self and walk away to wait for him outside when he called for you.

He approached with a grin on his face, and you tried to ignore how everyone was staring at the two of you.

“Thank you for coming!” he grinned, and you offered him back the same happy smile.

“No need to thank me. On the contrary, thank you for inviting me! It was amazing.”

He looked nervous for a moment.

“You… you liked the poems, then?”

You chuckled.

“That… is the understatement of the century!” you joked, and Andrew seemed deeply relieved. “I loved it. You… your poems are so beautiful, and so deep and complex and insightful and just… amazing. Truly, absolutely stunning.”

He stared at you for a moment looking a little stunned by your words, blushing more and more. He nodded, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you so much. I’m glad you liked my work.”

“I really loved all your poems.”

You saw him biting the inside of his cheek, and he was about to speak again when he was interrupted by the woman he had been talking to a moment before. Actually, she didn’t speak to him, but he must have felt her approaching, and he turned to her with a warm smile.

“Oh, erm… This is Y/N,” Andrew started introducing you while a man was joining them too. “We work together at Trinity, I told you about her. Erm… Y/N, this is my mom Raine, and my dad John.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, hearing that Andrew had told his parents about you, but you quickly recovered and shook their hands, warmly greeting them.

“Of course! Andy has told us a lot about you, indeed!” Raine nodded, making Andrew blush. “We were thinking about going for a coffee while Andy is signing some autographs. Would you like to join us? We could all go for dinner after that!”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and looked at you with a careful expression, that seemed to convene the message that you shouldn’t feel pressured to accept if you didn’t feel like it. But you merely grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you politely declined a first time, but Raine insisted, and this time you accepted, excited at the thought of talking with Andrew’s family.

“Alright,” Andrew nodded, and he seemed a little uncomfortable but happy all the same. “This shouldn’t take too long, I’ll join you all when I’m done here.”

You ended up in a coffeeshop nearby, bought some cake and a coffee with Andrew’s parents. You were a little nervous, worried that they might dislike you, although you refused to dig into the reasons that made your heart quicken with dread. Your fears were unfounded though, the conversation went smoothly, and both of his parents were kind-hearted. His father was a little quieter than Raine, but you couldn’t help but notice how much Andrew and John were alike, both physically and in their behaviour. They made you laugh while telling you some funny stories from Andrew’s childhood, and you answered their questions about your life, your career. Andrew joined you about an hour later, and he offered for all of you to come to his flat for dinner. You didn’t want to intrude, but they all insisted, and so you ended up yielding.

Andrew was nervous, although he tried very hard to hide it.

The adrenaline from the afternoon had not waned yet, he was still a little high on it. The fact that his parents were now sharing some of his childhood stories with you wasn’t helping. It felt a little surreal, to have you talking with them, joking, laughing with his parents. You seemed to easily fit in though, and Andrew couldn’t help but draw the comparison with Sam, how she never quite felt at ease with his parents, especially his father, who was a little more reserved than Raine. But now John was deep in conversation with you, telling you about the days when he was a blues musician, the drummer of a band called Free Booze, and you laughed with him at his anecdotes.

“Of course, everybody was coming in with that written on the sign by the door of whatever pub we were playing at. And once they were inside they thought ‘might as well buy a beer’, and so we were often booked around town!”

You laughed at that.

“So cunning. Great marketing skills right there,” you joked, everybody laughing at the happy memories.

“Ha, these were back in the days,” John heaved a nostalgic sigh. “Then, we had Andrew, and… I had a choice to make. Being a gigging musician wasn’t paying all the bills every months, sometimes it was working well, but other times it was inconsistent. Having a second child, I had to give up on it. Besides, I didn’t feel like travelling around the country with my two lads at home.”

“Do you ever regret quitting music?” you asked, voice gentle.

“No, not really. It was not an easy choice to make, but music demands a lot of sacrifices. And I was certainly not ready to sacrifice my family for it.”

You nodded, humming in quiet agreement.

“So, that’s where your love for music comes from then?” you turned to Andrew, and he nodded with a smile.

“Yeah… grew up being fed a lot of blues, rock, soul music… stuff like that.”

You nodded, before Raine would draw the conversation to another topic. Andrew saw you sneaking a bit of food to Elwood, and he smiled fondly at the sight, his heart growing warm at the thought that you fitted so easily into his family, into his home. His parents seemed to genuinely like you, and you seemed to like them as well. By the end of the evening, you had learned a worrying number of silly anecdotes about Andrew’s childhood, you were planning to exchange recipes with Raine, and were setting a bet on the next win for the Irish Rugby team with John. It seemed easy for you to fit into the bubble of love that surrounded Andrew. Sam had never felt like that…

His parents were staying a little longer, planning on helping Andrew clean up, but they all shushed you when you offered to help. You seemed tired, Andrew could see it, and he knew you had classes early the next day. He offered to walk you back to your car, just so that he could steal a few minutes alone with you.

“Thank you for today, Andy! It was grood craic!” you grinned up at him as you both walked across the street towards your car.

“Thank you for coming. I hope my parents weren’t too obnoxious, especially while I wasn’t around.”

“No! Not at all! Your parents are lovely.”

“Yeah… yeah, they’re very nice people.”

“And now I have so much to work with to laugh at you… mister ‘I’m a bad boy because I climbed a rotten tree thinking it was a ladder, and now I have scar on my chest and I look like I was attacked by a bear!’”

You both exploded with laughter, Andrew shaking his head.

“Christ, don’t tell that to anyone, I’m begging you…”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

You reached your car, but lingered by the door, turning to him instead.

And God, you looked so beautiful like this, in your black jeans and green shirt… the lights of the lampposts shining in your hair. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the street was still damp, tainted with orange hues by the light.

He wanted to kiss you so badly…

“Andy… can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” he encouraged you, tilting his head to the side a little.

“I… I assume the poems you wrote in your collections are about Sam, as you were together at the time, but… the ones you added… the new poems you read at the end of the session… were they about her as well?”

Andrew’s heart started to quicken its pace until it was pounding. He nervously rubbed his palms together.

“Hmm… no. I wrote these after she left, so… they were not about her. They… they are about another woman.”

He intensely stared at you, silently trying to convey his feelings. That the poems were about you, about his desire for you, about how strong he thought you were…

He saw that you were struggling to swallow, heard that your breath was catching in your throat. He could have sworn that you were glimpsing at his lips…

But then you shook yourself, and looked away in a hurry.

“Well, good night, Andy! I’m gonna read the rest of your poems this weekend. I’d love to talk about it with you next week, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah! That would be grand, yeah. Sure… Totally!”

You exchanged a shy smile, before you would turn to your car.

And as he watched you drive away, Andrew wondered if you had understood him. If you knew that he had written NFWMB and Talk for you. And if you had, indeed, understood him… were you running away now? Had he made you uncomfortable? Perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen these poems after all, perhaps he should have kept them a secret, or at least, hidden their true meaning, hidden that they were about you.

He walked back to his home, helped his parents wash the dishes.

“Y/N is such a lovely woman!” Raine praised while Andrew was getting busy washing the plates.

“She is,” he nodded with a soft smile.

“Very smart, and with a lovely humour too,” John approved with a nod, putting the washed glasses back into the right cupboard.

“And she is very beautiful,” Raine added. “And single.”

Andy laughed, although he was blushing.

“Mom! Stop it! How do you even know she’s single?”

“I asked her!”

“You’re incorrigible…” Andrew laughed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying is that… she’s beautiful, around the same age as you, that she… has a strong career, a stable situation. And as your father said, she has a lovely personality, she’s smart… and you seem to have a lot in common. And she seems to be so nice, Andy. So very nice…”

“She is,” Andrew nodded quietly.

Raine looked carefully at her son for a moment, before speaking again.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Andrew said nothing, merely pressed the sponge against a plate.

“You know, we’ve never told you about it but… your father and I… we’ve never really liked Samantha very much.”

Andrew chuckled.

“I know, mom. It was pretty obvious.”

“She was… I don’t know. There was something off with her. I’ve never felt like she fitted into your world very well. Not that a couple should share everything! It’s very important that you both have hobbies of your own, some things that belong to you. But it’s something else entirely to show no interest in your partner’s life.”

“She made efforts,” Andrew answered, growing defensive out of habit more than conviction.

“She never came to your readings. She never read your poetry…”

“She doesn’t like poetry…”

“And I don’t know anything about music. I still listen to your father when he talks about it, still try to support him in the things he loves, even though I don’t understand it on the same level as he does. Just like your father supported me with my art, with me going back to university for a degree…”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“You’re right. She wasn’t like that with me.”

Slowly, Raine nodded.

“It’s good that you can see that now, son,” John patted Andrew’s shoulder.

“Hmm…”

“We really want to see you happy, you know?” Raine added, and Andrew nodded with a tender smile. “So… Y/N… for how long have you been writing poems about her?”

Andrew laughed, clearly uncomfortable now.

“Who said I am?”

“Come on now, I’m not blind. The way you look at her…”

Andrew blushed all the way up to his ears.

“Have you asked her out yet?” John asked, but Andrew shook his head.

“We’re both getting out of difficult break-ups… I don’t think this is the right time. I don’t think I feel ready for that. I… I like her a lot. I don’t want to mess it up because I’m trying to move on too soon.”

He didn’t tell them that he was in love with you. That he had fallen in love with you a little bit more every day for months now… that he kept on falling every time he looked at you, with every conversation and every new detail he learnt about you.

No, he didn’t tell them that. Instead, he merely cleared his throat.

“Anyway… I don’t think she sees me like that at all,” he added, but both his parents exchanged a look, and then chuckled fondly at their son.

“You can be so blind sometimes, Andy…” John shook his head.

“What?”

“She likes you. A lot,” Raine stated as if it was the most obvious truth on Earth.

Andrew blinked at her, his hands still in soapy water.

Did you? Did you like him? Really?

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furious-rogue-stuff · 2 years ago

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Chapter 40: Hopes

We’ve made it to 40 chapters! I can’t believe all the love and support Heat has received. For the special occasion, I made a moodboard in honor of what’s being affectionately dubbed ‘Narcos: Puerto Rico’ ☺️

And now, for the big showdown you’ve all been waiting for~!

🚨**There’s a big reveal in this chapter!**🚨

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 20,000+

Summary: The confrontation months in the making is foisted upon you. Will there be anything left to salvage after?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions oral (f receiving) and of unprotected sex. Mentions of diet and food habits, exercise routines, angst, past trauma, resentful anger, physical acting out and emotional turmoil. Allusions to toxic behavior, negative coping mechanisms, recurring relationship tropes, sexual frustration and judgment. Harsh!OFC, Remorseful!Javi, Needy!Javi, and Angry!OFC. **OFC name reveal** In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 39: Longing

Chapter 40: Hopes

Needless to say, your morning is highjacked by the news of Javier's portentous return, and you end up spending what little time you have before the big meeting briefing Devon on everything.

As you disclose to him what conflict of interest you have in dealing with the newly appointed DEA SAC, the usually congenial, kilowatt-smile having, six-foot-four teddy bear of a man looks the most serious you've ever seen him.

"Um…no disrespect, but everyone in the embassy heard about you two, and it sort of got around far beyond there, so I think the conflict of interest might be the least of your worries," Devon tells you and fidgets nervously in his seat.

With a forlorn sigh, you nod, and retort, "Which is why I'll need some time to think about what this will mean professionally for my post here. That's why I'm hoping in the interim, you could be the liaison with the DEA during any occasions where we'd have to interface directly with the SAC—"

"I don't think he likes me very much, though," he apprehensively grumbles, expression etching with tension at the prospect of having to be in Javier Peña's crosshairs.

Primly, you fold your hands over the desk, and muse, "Trust me, Devon. Javier Peña has no issue with you, or Noreen. Frankly, he'd be a hypocrite, and by that same token…so would I."

Frowning, Devon shakes his head. "I don't believe that. No one does. But he's intense and he unnerves me," is his honest retort, and you smile so brightly at that, that he hedges, "I mean, I'll do whatever you need me to!"

"I know you will. And he'll be on his best behavior with you. I'm sure of it," you tell him, thinking to yourself: Because if he isn't, I'll boil him alive—

"Good. I'll go and get everything ready for us then," Devon remarks before getting up and hustling to his meeting prep.

Sighing, you decide you need to break your coffee fast to get through the day, so you go downstairs to the on-site cafeteria to get some brewed courage to forge on.

You don't expect to walk out towards the main corridor and almost jump at the boisterous call of your name.

Turning, you scoff and shake your head amusedly when you spot the two swaggering partners coming over to greet you.

"Well, well, well – Nic Lopez and Shay Duffy. What're you two degenerates doing here?" you ironically chime as you smile at each and put your hand on your hip when you quirk your brow irreverently at them.

"Still a ball-buster, eh?" Agent Duffy snickers as he gives you a platonic kiss on the cheek hello.

"Of course," you singsong as you kiss Agent Lopez on the cheek, quipping, "Nice to see you two can't quit each other."

"Trust me, I've tried," Duffy jibes, earning a friendly punch on the shoulder from Lopez.

"Well, I'm glad you guys will keep busy here," you remark and sip your coffee.

"That's what we hear," Lopez remarks before checking his watch. "Shit, we gotta go report in. It was great seeing you again—"

"Yeah, and we'll be sure to report in to tech duty soon, sass-master!" Duffy cuts in brashly before shaking Lopez on the shoulder to tow him away comically. "See yah around!"

You chuckle and wave them off before resuming your return to your department's floor.

Meanwhile, Javi is rushing through his morning routine in the new space, pulling on his tie and working it around his shirt collar as he shoves his sock-clad feet into the nice and polished leather loafers that matched his dark brown belt. The bedroom was cluttered with his moving boxes and luggage, so he maneuvered around the chaos to sprint out to the living room and grab his wallet from the coffee table.

The sound of a car horn blaring out front in his narrow open-air marquesina had him growling as he rushed to grab his keys and other contraband he needed to pocket onto his person before snagging his light gray blazer and shrugging it on as he hustles to the front door.

Laying on the horn for good measure, Steve barks out of the open driver's window, "We're gonna be late, Jav!"

"Fucking hell, I'm locking up!" he shouts over his shoulder as he figures out the keys for the deadbolt locks to his front door and pats his person to make sure he didn't forget anything. "Keys, phone, wallet…shit. Hold on, I forgot my badge!"

Groaning, Steve drags his palm down his features impatiently while Javier unlocks the door and hurries back into the house. "Idiot. He's a completely flustered idiot…"

A few minutes later, and Javi is rushing around to the passenger's side and jumping in.

"So, this meeting'll be all the department heads, and their assistants. I haven't got an ASAC yet, and yours doesn't come in until Monday, so it'll be you and me reppin' today," Steve is telling him as he drives out of the neighborhood a few minutes later after he lets Javi get unflustered.

Javier is thankful for the distraction of hearing all the procedural crap that'll be taking up his first day. It stops his mind from panicking on what will happen when he sees you for the first time since he'd made a fucking ass out of himself on your doorstep.

"—It's standard protocol for each of us to have a driver. We'll be meeting 'em after the inter-agency thing. They're both newly-minted rookies from the Hato Rey barracks. While they haven't seen much action as cops, they know the island like the back of their hand, so one less hassle – trying to figure out our ways around," Steve is telling him as he makes it through the metropolitan traffic and onto La Avenida Chardón where the U.S. Courthouse and Federal building are.

It's an impressive campus from the avenue. Security is tight, but not as imposing as it'd been at the embassy in Colombia, and there was a mix of civilians, local and federal officials milling through the different buildings that flanked each other on the sprawling flat terrain. The U.S. courthouse was the bigger of the buildings, standing front and center. The FBI and ATF had their offices on floors near the top of the building. On the left of the courthouse was the newer Federal building that housed DOS and DOJ operations offices. It looked like a gleaming bar thanks to all the windows and the bright early afternoon sun glinting off the glass.

After a stop at the security office, Javier got his credentials for accessing the campus and several restricted areas of the building, and Steve murmured the lay of the land as they headed through the sleek lobby towards the interior corridors. For now, the DEA would be operating on the second to last floor of the building until their field office near San Patricio Plaza was ready for them.

Once they were in the elevator, Steve turned to Javier, and with a gesture towards the button to the last floor up, he'd given him a look that communicated, 'This is the floor she's on.'

His heart skipped a beat despite himself.

As they were getting off the elevator onto their floor, Steve was telling Javi about the other agency heads he'd already met.

"—ATF is cool. The guy has a lot of experience working dual-ops. FBI guy is another story," he mutters as they get to their department's entry. "Oh, and yes – everyone knows."

Javi doesn't even need to ask.

Spencer had all but crowed interestedly about how it was pretty common knowledge the last time he'd met with him, and told him not to be shy about using it to his advantage if he had to. It had made Javi's skin crawl, and if that's how he'd felt, he could only imagine how you felt about it.

After settling into his office, Javi and Steve met with most of the staff in the conference room. Everyone seemed eager, but experienced, so he felt at ease about that.

But when he and Steve finally went up to the big conference space where the inter-agency meeting would take place, he could feel all the looks sear into him.

Everyone in the room made it a point to introduce themselves, though, and the smug smiles and compliments did nothing to soften the recrimination that hung in the air.

However, when it was a minute until the meeting was due to start, Devon, Ellis, his deputy Kelsey, and you, walked in, and the tension in the air shifted.

After all, everyone else in that room knew what happened to Bill Stechner, and were not about to make an enemy out of you.

Watching you as you're politely greeting the officials sitting nearest you and Ellis, Javi holds his breath in anticipation of your gaze scanning across the long conference table to land on him.

You never look his way. Instead, you sit on the far end with Ellis, while Devon and Kelsey sit in the seats along the wall to take notes.

Once the CED comes in and kicks off the meeting, you are stoic and poised while introductions are made around the table. When it's Javier's turn to be introduced, you busily review something in your leather organizer. And when it's time for your introduction, you politely smile to the chief before nodding along to his comment about working seamlessly at an operational level throughout all departments.

You can feel Javier's gaze on you.

It boils your blood to be this close to him after so long, and not be able to jump up on the conference table and run at him in order to drop kick him into the carpet.

Still, even with your wrath seething on a slow burn, you'd appraised his appearance quickly when you'd entered the room.

His hair was longer than you'd seen it last, wisps begging for a finger-combing at his temples and at his sideburns. His clean-shaven face looked a lot more chiseled now, too, moustache perfectly trimmed as always, and shoulders broad as ever, but torso exuding even more definition under the better-fitting light gray suit blazer than you remember. Even his posture looked different, while his eyes were still those deep chocolate pools that gleamed chestnut under the sunny afternoon rays coming in from the windows. His collar was wrinkle-free, gold-and-blue jacquard tie straight and neat over his crisp shirt placket. You couldn't help noticing how even the top button of his collar was done, making it obvious how much effort he was putting into his appearance.

The last thing you wanted to do was sit there, itemizing all the ways he looked so fucking good, however.

So, annoyed, you'd kept your gaze from crossing his side of the conference room.

Mercifully, though, the meeting was more about pomp and circumstance this time around rather than real status updates, so once the chief thanks everyone, you're collecting your organizer and making a beeline for the door.

Glowering, Javier can't help feel disappointed. What did you expect, though?! She is in no way going to give you the time of day here…

"Agent Peña, Agent Murphy. You probably don't remember me, but—"

Snapping out of his internal admonishment, Javi acknowledges your deputy with a curt nod and drawls, "Sure I do." When the tall younger man blinks nervously, Javi outstretches his hand for a firm shake. It seems to relieve any awkwardness the other man had instantly, so Javi introduces, "Steve, this is Devon Williams. He used to work at the embassy in Bogotá too."

"Oh, that's great. Nice to meet you," Steve remarks as he shakes Devon's hand next.

"A pleasure," Devon remarks before detailing, "So, I know both your ASACs aren't in yet, so in the meantime, I wanted to let you both know I can set up any status reports you may need, and will be your point person on anything dealing with DIO's division."

As Javi and Steve chat with Devon – who also introduces them both to the deputy of the Telecommunications department, Kelsey Tate, you and Ellis were making a break for the elevator when the hot-shot FBI Special Agent in Charge called out to you from the wide corridor the conference room led out to.

"Shit, want me to wait?" Ellis whispers to you as the elevator doors slide open.

"No, it's fine," you sigh before quickly confirming, "So, pick me up at my place around 6 tonight?"

"Sure thing! See yah then," he chimes as he gets in the elevator, then presses a button to the floor his next meeting is on before drawling, "Good luck."

Politely and prim, you turn to wait for Anthony Bozzi to come over to you. The man was built like a strapping boxer, confidence hung like a winner's wreath around his strong shoulders, and his roguish features always had a bullish etch to them. They were chiseled and framed by his dark neatly-shaped beard. His thick hair was tamed back with gel, and his swaggering gait always gave you a Don Johnson vibe.

"What can I do for you, Agent Bozzi?" you chime professionally as he swaggers up and shoves his hands into his crisp-pleated black slacks.

"Ah, c'mon. Call me Tony," he huffs in his steely baritone with a charming smile before grousing, "I just wanted to thank you for getting Brenda sorted on that stuff."

"Oh, no need. I'm happy to help," you tell him, sensing this was just a ploy to strike up a conversation with you, so you begin to excuse yourself with, "Anyway, I won't keep you—"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you one more thing. Pardon my being nosy, and all," he cuts in, and at his prefacing, you begin to wonder if he'll have the audacity to say out loud what everyone in the building already knows. "But is it true your father is a Vice Admiral in the Navy?"

Totally having expected a different question, you sober and nod. With a wry smile, you confirm, "That's true."

While he goes on to tell you about how his own father had served in the Navy, you don't know that Javier is watching on from down the corridor.

"You should've called her, man."

Glaring over at Steve, who'd loped up next to him to impart that musing drawl, Javi mutters, "Who's that asshole again?"

Shaking his head amusedly, Steve retorts matter-of-factly, "That's Tony Bozzi, the Special Agent in Charge for the FBI. Don't let his friendly charm fool you. I hear he's a cutthroat motherfuck—"

"See you fellas at the party tonight!" the chief calls out as he swivels around them and gives a bossy salute as he goes.

"Party?" Javi mumbles and quirks a brow at Steve.

"Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention there's a 'Get to know each other and don't be hostile' happy hour thing at one of the nicer hotels later tonight," Steve responds, going on to suggest they drive over together.

But Javier's already stopped listening as he looks back at the elevator foyer that you'd been standing at to find you've already left.

Luckily for your temper, the rest of your day is so busy that you have no chance to seethe about Javier.

Devon told you how nice he and Steve were during your end of week debrief, so your rancor subsides, slightly.

By the time you're parking in your condo building's secure lot, you are wishing you could skip the happy hour, but know it'll only bring more unneeded attention. Taking the elevator instead of the stairs, you walk down to your corner, north-facing unit's door and unlock it tiredly.

You really love your apartment.

It has become your haven after all these months, and you find yourself lingering in the open-floor-plan space of your living room and kitchen as you divest of your purse while you click the answering machine to recite through any missed messages. The machine robotically announces the first message, and the time it was received.

"—Mija, I'm back from D.C. I'd like to see you. Maybe you can come over for dinner one of these nights? Give me a call back, as soon as you can."

Your father's voice makes you groan as you march down the hall to strip out of your work clothes and get ready for a quick shower. As you're tossing your blouse into the hamper, the machine announces the next message.

"—Nena, me and the girls are going to La Placita de Santurce tomorrow night. Wanted to see if you were up for going! Llámame."

Making a mental note to call Zoraida back in the morning, you're about to hop in the shower when you hear the machine announce there was one more message.

There's only dead air, as if the caller was mustering the courage to leave a message, before abruptly hanging up. The machine droned its end of message tone.

Huh, that's weird. You continue to undress, and once you're in the shower, your mind wonders, What if that was Javi calling?

Instantly livid, you rushed through the routine. By the time you reined in your temper, you wondered if it even could've been him. After all, you're pretty sure you'd only given Steve your cell phone number.

Discarding further thought about the matter, you went to your closet and picked out the outfit you'd been thinking about wearing. At first, you'd thought it might've not been appropriate for the happy hour, but after today? Oh, you'd make sure to look your best.

Meanwhile, as you got dolled up, Javier was pacing the corridor outside of the ritzy hotel ballroom.

The impulsive longing had him craving a double whiskey and a pack of cigarettes, but he'd be damned if he derailed months of gains for the fleeting taste of either numbing his senses.

No, he wanted desperately to be on his game when he finally managed to talk to you.

"Dude, you look like a creep, stalking up and down the hallway like this," Steve grouses at him when he comes back from the bar.

Grunting, he rubbed at the tension point between his brows as he muttered, "I feel like a fucking creep for being here…"

Frowning, Steve clapped his hand on his shoulder and nudged him along to enter the ballroom. "Listen, man. I don't think this is the best time or place for you to approach her," his partner is counseling as he directs Javi to the table he'd spotted as being the perfect exit out the terrace and swanky poolside bar. "Maybe just send her flowers or something?"

Javier can't help but snort gruffly as he drops into his seat, reminded of the last time he'd tried that maneuver. "Yeah, I don't think that'll work," he husks dryly as he sits back in his chair and stares around the glitzy room.

There's hors d'oeuvres set out along two banquet tables, appetizer nibbles consisting of an assortment of Puerto Rican fritters, and a bar on each side of the room that was serving only beer and wine. Clearly meant to be a networking happy hour, the room was filled with plenty of Federal building officials, as well as staff and executives from the Puerto Rico Federal Affairs Administration.

Twenty minutes into the thing, and after several meet and greets, Javier was anxious. Had he made a mistake by coming? Should he have just gotten your address somehow, gone there, and begged to talk to you before coming here? Should he wait and go there afterward? He didn't know what would be the best option, and the more he fretted, the more reticent he got.

While Steve struck up conversation with one of the ATF guys, Javi fanned his gaze over to where he'd noticed a couple of high-ranking officers from the Puerto Rican police force shaking hands with the CED and the FBI SAC he'd seen talking to you earlier. When he let his stare wander over to the entry to the ballroom from the hall, his eyes landed on you exchanging hellos with some of the officials from the public relations division.

His breath caught in his chest at seeing you in the killer white dress and patent leather nude pumps, hair full of volume and undulating in lovely waves that framed your face and cascaded down your back. Your rouged lips pulled into a chaste smile when you shook hands with what looked to be a comandante of the National Guard, and your lashes were curled in a way that it made your expressive eyes all the sultrier. It was all too much. He felt like he'd been hit by lighting and was now running several degrees hotter than normal.

And yeah, the fact he recognized that sinfully sexy Kathleen Turner-inspired dress from that damn movie only made his pulse race in his veins while heat pooled in his gut. Fuck…she's stunning.

He couldn't help fawn from afar. Not with how statuesque you looked in the timelessly sexy dress. The white of the delicate linen fabric accentuating your radiant complexion, the ivory satin buttons and the belt cinching your waist was a classy look, while the risqué-but-chic slit up the hem of the left thigh had several gazes lingering in your direction.

Of course, as usual, you seemed oblivious to it.

"Alright, kid. Just so you know, loverboy is sitting over by the terrace doors," Ellis is whispering into your ear now after he noticed Javier and Steve were present as he escorted you down to a table more towards the front of the room. "Whenever you're ready, say the word, and we're outta here."

Sighing, you sit and place your slim purse on the table so you can lean back in your chair and sip the sparkling wine you got from the nearest bar. "No, worst-case, I'll just grab a cab home—"

"Hey, signorina!"

You both turn to acknowledge Tony Bozzi as he appears to your right with a vodka soda in his hand as he takes a seat closest to you at the table-cloth-clad circular table.

"Agent Bozzi. Having a nice night?" you greet as he leans over to shake Ellis' hand.

"Hey, bud, would you tell her to just call me Tony?" he quips to Ellis.

"She's a stickler for keeping it professional, what can I say?" Ellis counters affably as he drinks his ginger ale.

"Booo, I'll just have to make her break her rules, then," Tony razzes before winking at you.

You peg him for being a brash guy who is putting on a more congenial veneer for your benefit, and you're not sure if that's because he's looking to be a get-over, a social climber, or something else.

While you all chit-chat about the people in the room, Javier caves at his need for liquid courage.

He goes out to the bar outside, and admires the melodic ebb and flow of the ocean just beyond the hotel's property while he's served a double whiskey, neat. Sure, it's helping quell his jealousy at seeing the barrel-chested, dark-haired and bearded man eye you like he was waiting for an in. But really, it's the burn of the alcohol incinerating his morose feelings that helps him not dwell on having to likely steal your affections away from some other guy and win your love again.

"There you are, Peña!"

Javi turns to see Ronald Mercer, the Chief Executive Director, approaching him.

"Evening, sir," he acknowledges before shaking hands with the man. "This is a much nicer setup than anything thrown at the embassy."

"I'm happy to hear. The Puerto Rican's are great hosts. Always friendly – and up for throwing nice parties," the man chuckles. "Listen, it's a big get to have you here. I was hoping you'd bear with me and let me introduce you to some of the officials from the Governor's administration? They're really keen on meeting the man who'll help them with their Mano Dura initiative."

Javier internally groans, but agrees to be the pet narco slayer – to be paraded to the officials, who fawn over what he did in Colombia and gush about being at his service if he were to need any help from the governor's office. He's heard it all before, of course, but he's charming and deferential, all while hoping he can maybe find a way over to where you're at, chatting with the people at your table.

But when the chief arranges an impromptu photo-op with the photographers that showed up from El Nuevo Día, Javi finds out too late in all the bustling about of the attendees in the room that he'd also corralled the other heads of departments to get in for one of the photos.

In the commotion of being roped over to the front of the ballroom, you didn't realize you would end up being just a couple of people away from standing next to Javier.

"Damas y caballeros," the photographer called out as he pantomimed for everyone to get in tighter for the shot. Swallowing all your acrimony so it wouldn't show in your stoic features, you stood tall and gave your best Mona Lisa smile while the man counted down before taking the photo. "Muy bien, y gracias a todos."

It was as your eyes readjusted after the camera's flash that you then smelled his spicy, warm musk as he sidled past the two officials who were chatting now while everyone else dispersed to return to the social networking around the room.

Before Javier could tap your shoulder, you walked off back to the table you'd been sitting at most of the night. Swearing under his breath, he was about to follow, when Steve signaled for him.

Once he crosses back to where his partner is, he gets pulled aside. "Hey, Connie just called me. She needs help getting the kids to bed," he tells him contritely. "You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah. I'll take a cab back to my place. Thanks," he assures Steve and pats him on the shoulder as they both head for the hall.

Agreeing to meet at Steve's the following afternoon so he could take Javi around the metropolitan area and point out places he'd already been briefed on, he gives him a hearty pat on the back and thanks him for all the help today.

Once he's seen Steve off from the impressive lobby of the hotel, he takes a beat to collect himself in the cool, air-conditioned space. Should he just give up? Call it a night and try again at some other point?

Frustrated, he scrubs his hand across his chin testily as he deliberates his options.

Figuring he at least needed to do another round in the room before he could leave when no one was looking, Javier turns to stroll back the way he came, when he looks over at the outdoor entry leading to the hotel's pool area and notices a silhouette of a white dress off in the distance, standing at the poolside bar.

Breathing a sigh of relief after being able to sneak away before Bozzi could try to circle back for another tedious conversation, you lean into the counter and smile pleasantly at the bartender while the soft breeze from the ocean caresses your dress and hair. Once he nods in acknowledgement, you gesture to a particular bottle of rum.

"Una Cuba libre, por favor," you're ordering, already retrieving the needed bills from your purse while the bartender makes your drink.

"Put it on my tab, please," a smooth baritone at your side instructs to the bartender in Spanish.

Your heart skips before your brain's able to fume at his fucking audacity.

Javier knows he's taking a risk. However, it seemed to be the best opportunity to approach you, thanks to the poolside bar being empty. So, he'd sidled up to the bar, downwind but next to you. Gaze guarded as he watched you order, and pining even more thanks to the sound of your melodious voice speaking Spanish. Not to mention from how the scent of your perfume on your warm skin heats his own blood. It's now or never.

But, before he is able to muster the words out loud to you – the ones that have been searing a hole in his chest for months, you snatch your purse up from the bar top, slap the bills you'd retrieved to pay for the drink down on the counter, and curtly order, "Please accept payment for the drink I ordered and nothing else."

Confused, the bartender tentatively places your drink down with a slow nod as you give him a pinched smile and snag the drink before turning to stalk away back to the ballroom.

Well, that went well. Annoyed with himself, he closes out his tab and stalks down to the terrace to enter the ballroom just in time to see you across the room back at your table.

Feeling exasperated, you chug your drink, daintily place it on the table, and give Ellis a clipped gesture indicating you were ready to leave.

"Shit, ok," Ellis croaks as he nods, and was on his feet by the time you rounded the table to exit via the hallway entry. He manages to gain on you when you turn towards the carport vestibule, and asks, "You sure you wanna leave like this, kid?"

"Like what?" you snap as you both exit the automatic sliding doors and head out towards the parking lot of the hotel.

"Like you're about to nuke a small city?" he tries to joke, but at your shoulders winding back imperiously, he amends, "Maybe it'd be better to just hash it out—"

"I have nothing to say to him."

"Ok, but maybe it would be good to hear him out so he can get it out of his system?"

"I don't care to," you hiss contumely at him, and Ellis' brows shoot up to his hairline, so you grumble, "Drop it, Ellis."

"C'mon, girlie. This isn't good for anybody—"

"I don't want to hear it, let alone deal with any of it—"

"Celina."

Pausing in your furious stride, you turn sidelong to stare guardedly at Javier.

With steel in his gait, Javi approached the short distance from the hotel's parking lot side entry, looking intent to speak to you while no one else is around out in the secluded lot from the main avenue beyond.

Having clearly seen you leave, he'd followed after as inconspicuously as possible, and had decided to gain on you both in the hopes that he could catch you before you left, but at seeing how speedily Ellis was trying to keep in step with your brisk stride, something in him had overridden his caution and spurred him to make his stand, here and now.

So, he unflinchingly walked over to you both until he was in front of you in the parking aisle nearest the barriers that overlooked the dark beach and ocean shore beyond.

His brown eyes were plaintive, and the overhead glare from the nearest lamppost cast him in a stark light.

Your eyes were blazing, expression a marble mask, but by the rigid set of your posture, he knew you were boiling over with barely-contained rancor.

Still, he just had to tell you.

"I know you're angry. I totally understand why you feel that way, and you have every right to be. I know there was so much left unsaid – not all of it great, but I need you to know that I meant everything I said to you that night," he rushes out in an impassioned baritone, hands at his sides clenching and unclenching nervously as he adds, "There hasn't been a day that's gone by where I haven't thought of you. That I haven't regretted how things were left between us. All I ever wanted was to make you happy – to protect you, but I failed and was too stupid to see I was just ruining what we had instead. I want to try to fix things – to win your trust back and prove to you that everything we planned was real. I still want everything with you, Celina. I love you—"

You slap him with all your furious might across his face.

The smack reverberates in the quiet, ocean-adjacent parking lot, and while your hand stings, it's not enough to chasten your pain as it has you unleashing in a vehement, exacting torrent, "You fucking manipulative bastard! How dare you say a fucking word to me after everything you've done, you son of a bitch?! 'I love you'?! You have the audacity to say such bullshit to me, after I haven't heard a fucking word from you in months?! It wasn't enough that you tore everything apart then?! What, you make it your mission to fucking drop back into my life out of the blue to make me feel like an insane, stupid idiot for ever believing a goddamned thing that ever came out of your fucking mouth?!"

Javier is stunned, the imprint of your palm scalding at his right cheek, eyes wide and woeful as he stands there, rendered mute.

You'd sensed Ellis flinch next to you with every venom-laced word you'd lobbed, and when you feel him gently touch your shoulder, you recoil away, withering gaze still fixed on your target and only becoming a wrathful glare now as you level Javier with, "Don't you ever come up to me again with any more of your puterías, you maldito mentiroso malparido!"

Then, clearly incensed and needing to get away before you hit true critical mass in your ire, you turn away and bark at Ellis, "I'm taking a taxi," before stalking away from them both.

In a state of shock and dismay, they watch you storm out of the parking lot to the bustling street traffic, where you flag a cabby down before getting into the backseat of the taxi to be driven away.

Completely nonplussed, Ellis turns back to look at Javi.

He sees a man torn asunder – utterly devastated by having hurt you so deeply than from having incurred your furious wrath.

"Shit…I, uh...you need a ride?" he finds himself asking while he fidgets in place.

When Javier just looks shellshocked and stares down at his feet, as if at a loss for what to do with himself, Ellis sighs as he taps his arm with the back of his hand before gesturing for him to follow as he rambles, "Alright, my car's over there. Just come with me before anybody comes out to see what the hell happened, or worse, that fucking Bozzi guy comes looking for her for a third damn time today."

Dazed, Javier follows, face flushed from suppressed emotion and pulse racing as his hearing gets fuzzy from how flustered, and utterly downtrodden he is, all at once.

It's an awkward drive out of the tourist district, to say the least.

Once Ellis manages to get Javi to tell him his address, and he is cruising on the highway for a quiet beat, though, he decides to throw the man a lifeline.

"Listen…she waited for you," he parcels out, careful with not speaking too much for you. At the stiff way Javier's shoulders press back into the seat, he sighs, confiding, "She never told me all the details. I was already gone by the time she decided to leave the embassy, but I heard her tell Anita she'd gone to your apartment, and when she found out you'd left, she held out hope that you'd come back. But, when you didn't…well, by then, she couldn't stay there, knowing what she knew."

His breath is ragged as he lets it out in a huff while he absorbs that.

Another heavy silence passes between them as Ellis drives on to take the exit into the downtown route shortest to get to Javier's gated neighborhood. He doesn't expect for the conversation to resume, and is about to reach for the volume dial on the radio to at least alleviate the tension with some music from the local classic rock station.

"I went back."

Hand returning to the wheel, Ellis glances over at Javier when he drags his palm down his face before cupping it over his mouth.

Shaking his head, he drops his hand listlessly in his lap, exhales, and unburdens himself with, "I went back, but she'd already moved out of her apartment – had quit and left the embassy, and it wasn't until I got back stateside that…anyway, I didn't know where she was, and no one I spoke to had her current contact info. It wasn't until a box with all my shit from her place got delivered that I knew for sure she was done with me…"

"She wasn't."

He turns to gawk at Ellis, who looks begrudgingly put out.

"Don't look at me that way, man!" he gripes as he turns off onto the avenue into the more residential area. "You think a woman would be that pissed if she didn't still care?"

Javi feels the ache behind his sternum subside as hope fills him up. Then he remembers how Steve had mentioned getting those missed calls back around the time you would've been leaving Colombia.

As if he can hear his loud thoughts, Ellis grouses, "She's a strong, fearsome one, and nothing made her angrier more than hearing what happened to you, and knowing that creep Stechner had been involved?" He grunts and scowls, pausing long enough for Javi to tell him the security code to engage the automatic gate to retract open since the guardhouse was vacant. Once he's driven through and let Javi gesture for the route he should take, he huffs a gruff sound. "Anyway…she wasn't done with you, and there was no way she wasn't going to eviscerate that guy for what he'd done," he pauses to shoot a sharp glare at Javi after he drives through the main entry to his neighborhood before turning down the block he'd indicated. Bitingly, he sneers, "Which, by the way, I'm super ticked off I had to find out via gossip what happened to her in Medellín."

Javier glowers. "She didn't want anyone to know—"

"I get her motives. Still…the fact that fucking prick had anything to do with it?! That he'd been harassing her the whole time? Did you know—?"

"I didn't until after. She had to talk me down from ripping that fucker's head off," he growls wrathfully.

Ellis grunts in agreement of the sentiment.

"Yeah, well…she always plays the long game."

At the flippant aside from the other man who was pulling onto the street his house was on, Javi's mind recalled something you'd said that had been a potential clue of that very assertion.

"…I have no qualms about making sure certain hostile forces get their comeuppance very soon…"

Astonished, he goes silent the rest of the drive that remained.

Meanwhile, you'd made it home much sooner, thanks to your condo building being just a relatively short drive from the tourist district of El Condado, and as soon as you paid the cab driver and exited the car, you'd keyed into the pedestrian gate and stomped your way through the frond-shaded-tropical-flower-festooned courtyard to enter the front lobby of the building. The night attendant greeted you pleasantly and informed you that your mailbox was full, so even in a snit, you'd thanked him, gone to your mailbox cubby, and unlocked it to retrieve the assorted bundle.

You were so angry still, though, that you took the long way up to your apartment, even though your muscles were still sore from the workout that morning, and your feet were killing you from the tall heels.

Ascending the stairs to the fourth story, you walked around from the south-facing side to traverse around the open-air walkway over to your doorway. The balmy night air sifting through the space did little to cool your ire – hand shaking as you opened your apartment door from the adrenalin rush of having blown your stack.

Once in your apartment, you locked the door, turned on the lamp by the side table where you drop your keys and mail onto, and stalk haughtily to your couch, where you sit and kick off your heels before cupping your hands to your forehead and lean forward to try breathing through your rage. So much for fucking de-stressing!

Your temples are throbbing, but after a few cleansing breaths, you manage to rein in your tempestuous anger and open your eyes to cast a tired glance about the perfectly cozy and appointed space before it lands on the little sideboard near the balcony doors, where you stored your booze away once you'd started your diet and alcohol fast.

Just as you get up from the sofa and begin to tiptoe along the cool tile floor towards it, your house phone starts ringing. Exhaling a groan, you turn and sprint to the narrow console table against the wall by the door where the cordless phone and answering machine sit.

Checking the caller ID, you grunt and answer the phone.

"Well, go ahead…tell me how immature and out of line I was," you grumble as you start to pace the space between your living room sofa and the console table.

"I'm not! I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," Ellis gripes, and you exhale, shoulders slumping as you hum.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, free hand absently combing through your hair as you keep pacing. "I just—I couldn't believe—ugh, never mind," is your growl before you center yourself and ask, "Were you able to get home right after without any more hassle?"

"Um…not right after, no. Actually heading to the house now," Ellis draws out, which makes you halt in your pacing. "I, uh, drove the poor bastard home…"

Outrage fizzles up quickly in you. "What?! Why?"

"Because! I felt bad for the guy, and he looked fucking miserable – the saddest, most heartbroken I've ever seen him, and I just couldn't skip away to my car and leave him in the parking lot looking like he was going to hop the barriers and walk into the ocean—"

The visual he's conjured is so pointed and harrowing that you feel a little lump catch in your throat.

"And anyway…I still think you two need to hash things out."

"Ellis," you grouse haughtily. "There's nothing to work out. N-Not…not after how I handled things tonight."

Your friend grunts neutrally before volunteering, "He was really broken up, kid."

Frowning, you idly wander the living room in a meandering loop as you murmur, "Not too broken up to have prevented it coming to this in the first place…"

There's a tense silence before Ellis sighs dramatically.

"He went back. But, by the time he got there, you'd already left."

Feeling like all your acrimony was doused and swept away with cold shock, you freeze and whisper, "He did…?"

"He poured his guts out, girlie. Really, I believe he didn't mean for things to have turned out the way they had. You guys just missed each other, like, literally – maybe by a couple of weeks—"

"Oh," you exhale in a reedy murmur, getting overcome.

Ellis seems to sense it, so, he aloofly informs, "Well, I dropped him off at DD-5 on Los Robles in that Floral Park neighborhood. Bet he'll be there, licking his wounds, maybe even crying himself into a whiskey bottle…"

Forlorn, you feel your heart ache at the thought.

Javier was not fairing any better, when he thought about how upset he'd made you.

After Ellis dropped him off, he'd shed his blazer and tie before dejectedly organizing the clutter of boxes in his bedroom to be against the wall and out of the way, at the very least.

He wasn't sure he should bother unpacking them.

The doubts that clawed their ways free had him questioning every decision, leaving him spiraling while he aimlessly walked through his two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow picking up after himself from the whirlwind rush he'd left in his wake that morning. The pitter-patter sound of the light drizzle that kicked up with the drop of a gusty breeze was thrumming against the metal crank windows as he wandered about.

The sound was quite soothing, helping him distract his mind from the roiling mess of his tempestuous thoughts.

Gingerly touching his cheek after tossing clothes into the hamper, he finds it's still tender, but not as hot as it'd been after your slap.

His mind flashes to how furious you were, and a pang wells in his chest before he can stop it.

It's replaced by the twinge in his stomach that has him huffing and kicking off his shoes into the open sliding door closet before he lopes glumly out of his room.

Having skipped partaking on any of the nibbles at the hotel, he wandered to the galley-style kitchen with the bar top counter that looked out at the empty dining room space and the living room beyond, in search for something to hold him over until the morning. While he went, he took the whiskey bottle out from the top cabinet next to the fridge and placed it aside on the counter before retrieving one of the bevel glass tumblers from another cabinet.

He was opening the pantry cupboard he'd hastily shoved the groceries he'd purchased the night before, grabbing a bag of plantain chips from the shelf, when he heard a knock on his front door.

Immediately going on high-alert, Javi left everything on the counter and approached the door cautiously. After peering out the vertical-stacked square block sidelight and seeing a familiar silhouette, he idly scrubbed his palm over his mouth tensely.

Unlocking the two deadbolts, he opens the door, and confirms it's you.

You turn towards the door and meekly stand there just sheltered out of the drizzling rain thanks to the concrete awning covering the front entrance stoop. He can tell you're warring with internal conflict by how creased your eyes are, and how your hand wrings around the strap of your purse hung on your shoulder.

After hanging up with Ellis, you'd felt so guilty that you'd rushed to put your heels back on, grabbed your day-to-day purse, and replaced all your important items into it from the slim one, grabbed your condo and car keys, then breezed back out the door. You didn't even take umbrage at the fact he strategically fed you Javi's address, even threw in the security code for the gate, because he knew you so well. No, you were glad for it, and used the drive over to regain your emotional grounding point and stamp down the upheaval of before.

As soon as you'd pulled up to the curb in front of the blue-and-white-painted cement house with the open-air carport garage and wrap-around backyard-and-side brick fence on the corner, you'd stared at the front door and warred with your emotions, however.

It had already started drizzling, so intrepidly, you decided you needed to get it over with before the heavier rain shower rolled through. At least that was the excuse to get out of the car and march up his front walkway to the door.

Javier's shocked, albeit cautious expression makes you frown, so you steel yourself and just get on with it.

"Look, I…I overreacted tonight. That was completely inappropriate, and I had no right to behave like that," you rush out in a firm tone, body language easing in rigidity when you see his shoulders relax and his tense features soften. "I'm—I'm sorry. I should've handled it better, and there is no justification for taking my anger out on you like that—"

"You don't have to apologize," Javi husks ardently before adjusting his weight onto his opposite foot in order to gesture with a nod of his head in invitation as he rumbles, "It's starting to rain. Would you like to come in?"

You hesitate, looking back as indeed the drizzle becomes a rainfall that doesn't look like will let up for a while.

Pressing your lips together, you idly comb your hair behind your ear before hedging, "I didn't come here to intrude, Javier—"

"You're not," he assures steadfastly, cautious about not being too pushy that it'll trigger you into wanting to leave, so he murmurs, "I appreciate that you came all this way. So…it'd mean a lot if we could just talk? I, uh, I'd like to try and, I don't know…"

At him grasping for the right thing to refer to it by, you sigh and coax reservedly, "To hash things out?"

Javi nods, relieved. "Yes—Yeah, exactly," he retorts in a raspy baritone before stepping aside and holding the door open for you.

Deciding to just stow your reluctance towards even being there – feeling the way you do – you accept his invite by walking in and wandering through the entry and into the main space. It's a sparsely decorated house designed in the current minimalistic, modern style that had become the rage in the early 1990s in the metropolitan area of the island. The kitchen was to your right, and the living room was straight ahead while a short hall to your left led to the laundry room and marquesina entry.

"Sorry, I don't have any rum. I just grabbed stuff from a colmado nearby last night," Javi is remarking as you take yourself to the living room and sit on the wide-cushioned gray sofa. "I, uh, know you're not a big whiskey drinker—"

"It's ok. I've actually been on a diet; a liquor cleanse," you volunteer as you place your purse on the light wood grain coffee table with the block legs. When Javi dithers by the bar top counter, you snicker and assure, "I've already broken my liquor fast for the night, so just a glass of water is fine."

He nods and quickly goes to grab the glass tumbler he'd left on the counter before getting the water pitcher from the fridge. Once he's got that and a glass of whiskey for himself, he comes over and hands the water to you.

Your fingers brush briefly as he sits in the retro-looking swivel chair adjacent you on the sofa. "Not very good at sticking to that stuff, I guess," he jibes in response, referring to you both ending up at the bar earlier, and when you pause in taking a sip of water to give him a sharp look, he clears his throat and corrects, "I mean, I've been cutting back, too. Just hard to stick to it…" when your gaze softens and you nod before taking a sip from the glass, he adds, "I quit smoking."

Surprised, you cup the glass in both hands, resting them over your tucked knees. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Haven't broken down and had a cigarette since before Christmas," he remarks before taking a sip of his whiskey.

You nod, smile reserved as you place the glass down so you can cross your legs, pretending you're not teeming with frenetic nerves.

Javi knows it. He knows your guard is all the way up, and you can't just turn that part of yourself off. Not when you're trying to protect yourself and keep any perceived threat locked away from the fragile parts you can't keep compartmentalized and detached from.

So, after swallowing the rest of the whiskey in his glass, he sets it on the table while it burns down into his gut and gives him the courage needed to step into the lion's den.

"Celina…I don't know what to say. Where to even start," Javi rushes out, leaning forward to pleadingly look you in the eyes. "Everything that happened – I never meant for you to get caught up in it. I—it fucking kills me that I hurt you. That you were stuck to deal with the fallout…thinking I just left and stayed gone. I'm sorry," he pauses when his voice begins to tremble, but at the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, he forges on, "I should've called. Should have told you I was coming back. I made so many mistakes, but the biggest one was not having the courage to tell you—"

"Javier."

He pauses then, brown eyes focusing intently on you when you sit forward and brace your hands to your forehead in a hassled manner, like you're desperately trying to collect yourself and not fly off the handle.

A tense few seconds of silence pass, and just when you let out a heavy exhale, he expects you to finally lose your temper – to really let him have it. He ends up being surprised when you sigh and sit back to look at him.

"I can't lie to you. I was blindsided, and furious with you—with what you did and how you did it. I questioned everything you ever said…got upset with myself for ever believing anything you'd promised. But when I found out what really was going on? I felt lost," you're telling him, voice cracking before you divert your gaze away towards one of the windows across the way. When you feel like the tangle of emotion has dissipated, you continue in a hushed tone, "Everything that mattered – my work, my career at the embassy, all the hopes I had for my life. It all just fell apart. I felt like everything was a lie."

Javier watches your lashes flutter as you fight back the welling of tears, and is thunderstruck when you look over at him now with all the emotion in your wide, watery eyes when you wring your hands together and devastate him with the last thing that he'd ever expect you to say.

"It…It was the most scared I'd ever felt, and I felt so lost, and then I felt so guilty, because I realized that was how you must've felt."

Heat rises to your face as the emotion overcomes you, making you flustered and wanting to be far away from him – to not let him see you at the verge of falling apart.

"Querida—" Javi begins to croak hoarsely, but before he can move over to comfort you, you've grabbed your purse from the table and rushed to your feet to try and make a hasty exit.

"I'm sorry. I have to go—" you're in the middle of flustering out in a tremulous breath, when Javi gains on you and herds you away from the door to instead be tucked against him.

You flinch, recoiling away to stare up at him when he embraces you with his hand at the small of your back while he cups your cheek to swipe away the errant tear that escaped your eye.

"Please, mi amor. Don't go," he susurrates, heart aching when your breath stutters and more tears fall to roll down your cheeks. "I don't want you to ever feel guilty. Just—we can start over. Everything we wanted is still possible. I meant everything I said. I want it all, with you—"

Brow furrowing stubbornly, you wipe at your cheeks as you push away from him while you cut in, "What're you doing here, Javier?!" Anger welling up in your chest when he gives you a confused pout, you snap, "Why are you even here?!"

He realizes what you mean – what you're truly asking, which is, 'Why did you come to Puerto Rico?'

Staring at you intensely, he decides to go for broke while warring with the impulse to just wrap you up in his arms.

"I came here for you."

Astonished, you stare at him like your incredulous mind is trying to decipher his true motives – to detect the lie.

So, with an assertive tone, Javi declares, "I went back to Colombia. You'd already left – had moved out of your place, and no one had heard from you since you'd left your cousin's, and they didn't have a way to get in contact with you. Fucking months went by, then Steve gets the job here, sees you're working at the Federal building. The moment he told me…the moment I knew? I made the call to take the job here the next day."

When you still, purse clutched in your hand as you stare in stunned disbelief, Javi slips his palms around your hips to hold you close. "I came here to be with you, Celina. I don't give a fuck about the job. If you want, I'll quit tomorrow," he grouses, tone becoming velvet over steel as he adds emphatically, "I'll do whatever you want, go wherever you want – do whatever you need me to do to prove you can trust me. All that matters to me, is you."

Speechless, you stare into his soulful, dark chocolate eyes in the lowlight of the entry by his front door.

The weight of it all steals your breath, and before you've stopped it, the walls within you come crashing down.

Dropping your purse to the floor, you toss your arms around his shoulders and kiss him.

Love-struck, Javi groans a yearning sound as he pulls you into him and kisses you with sheer hunger, mouth claiming yours while his hands grip you against him to pin you to the wall so he can hike your dress up and you can wrap your legs around his waist.

Feeling the urgent press of his arousal seeking the heat between your thighs after so long has you shivering and mewling, heat rising to the apples of your cheeks as Javi trails possessive kisses from your mouth down to your jaw before grazing his hot mouth against your pulse.

"Wanted this. Wanted to pick you up and feel you against me," he growls as he worships a scintillating path down your neck to the swell of your breasts that're pushed together from how desperately you're clinging to his shoulders. "You had to wear this sexy fucking dress—"

"Javi," you gasp when he grinds his clothed erection against your core, which makes your pulse throb in your clit and arousal drench your panties.

"Fuck, I need to taste you, baby," he husks as he adjusts you back onto your wobbly tippytoes in the heels before he fondles a needy path down your curves and drops onto his knees before you.

"W-Wait, Javi," you stammer in a panting whine when his hands eagerly slip up your thighs to push your dress up so he can reach the waistband of your panties and pull them down your hips. When he halts in the task and stares up at you with those puppy eyes, you fluster, "I—It's been a while for me."

He looks surprised, which for some reason instigates a scalding wave of annoyance that has you snippily scoffing and snapping, "What?! You might've spent all fall and winter fucking your way through all the girls back in Laredo, but I haven't been with anyone! Not that I'm obligated to say if I've been with anyone else. Knowing you, though? You probably screwed your new office assistant here too already, huh?"

Javi snorts contrarily at the accusations before running his hand testily through his hair, gripping the tufting curls at his crown with a snarl. "Not in the least, querida. I haven't been with anyone," is his impassive grumble. When you don't seem convinced and your pursed lips sneer dubiously at him, he drawls, "Nope. All I've done is jerk off like a fiend. Probably have the lady at the drugstore back home thinking I'm a fucking creep with how much tissue and KY Jelly I go through—"

You snicker and stifle a giggle into the back of your hand as you deride, "Ay, por favor, like you didn't do that while we were together anyway. Even if it bothered me, there's no point in fibbing—"

He gives you a narrow stare as he grouses, "I'm not. And fine, I'm always hard up, but I'm serious. All I want is you, and it wouldn't matter if you're seeing someone else—"

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't care?" is your challenging question, adding, "You really wouldn't be bothered if I've been with another guy? If I was seeing someone? Your track record would say otherwise—"

Hands firmly sculpting back up your dress to pointedly press your hips against the wall, Javi pins you in place with his smoldering stare as he starts to tug your panties down while he rumbles hotly in response, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't care if you were with every asshole I saw leering at you today. Hell, even if you were with that prick with the beard. Because right now, all I care about is that you're with me now, and all I wanna do right now, is eat this pussy until you come on my tongue."

An excited shiver courses through you as if you were a tuning fork that had just been struck. It buzzes into your core and sets cloying desire to tingle into the clutch of your now tingling cunt, making all sass and snark scatter in your mind as you watch him peel your panties down your legs before he helps you remove the sullied garment, then takes your heels off for you.

"This fucking dress," Javi gravels in a thick husk, almost reverently as he pushes the hem up to expose your thighs before he presses worshipful kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. "I've fantasized about you in this dress for months—"

"R-Really?" you simper, but end up hiccupping a breathy sound when he finally makes it to your mound and nuzzles into you.

He feels arousal throb beseechingly through him at the heavenly perfume of your womanhood he's been missing for months, the panties he'd swiped being a poor substitute to the real thing. The heat and headiness of nosing the soft curls of your mons and feeling your warm skin diffuses a wave of comfort and want through him, making him hum covetously.

"I rented that movie a while back. Ever since, I pictured you in this dress, letting me do this," Javi tells you unabashedly as he shifts your leg over his shoulder so he can lick a luscious swipe up through your folds.

"Oh my god!"

The airy whine you let out is as rich as your divine scent, and just as sweet as tasting your wet pussy after so long.

You arch against the wall at a particularly lascivious lick that preceded him flicking the tip of his tongue in that libidinous way that melts your nerve endings down with pleasure. Alight from it, you mewl, "Javi!"when he presses his lips over your clit and groans, making you tingle and writhe as your toes curl from how amazing he's making you feel.

Hearing you say his name like this is a triumph. It's so overawing after so long without your grace and passion. He's painfully hard, cock throbbing with how worked up he's getting just from going down on you – convinced that if you so much as begged in that needy whine you let slip from your lips when you're close, that he might come in his pants.

When he draws circles over your clit with velvety undulations of his tongue, you keen and buck against his mouth, chasing bliss you've been starved of while Javi revels in having you again.

He feels your thighs quiver in his grip as you rock your pussy to ride the zeal of his mouth, completely enraptured by his ravenous desire.

So enraptured, in fact, that he's surprised when you mewl a reedy cry of pleasure and card your fingers desperately into his hair, tugging on the strands at his crown when he sucks on your clit and drives you into an incandescent orgasm.

He manages to keep you from folding over him when your legs give out, and when you exhale a ragged little flustered sound, he hums a soothing rumble as he licks your climax like it is rare honey that he doesn't want to miss a drop of. Then, he nuzzles a path up your body and affectionately crowds you so you can cling to his frame while you lull your head back along the wall as you regain your bearings.

Your eyes flutter when he admiringly brushes his fingertips along your flushed cheek before tucking some strands of hair from where they're clinging to the perspiration at your temple. And when the lustful haze clears from your vision, you see how handsome and pleased he is as he scrubs the back of his hand across his moustache all the way down to his chin while he gazes at you with something fiercely self-satisfied glinting in his dark brown eyes.

Javi is surprised when your brows knit together just before you grab the front of his shirt and yank him down to meet your possessive kiss. Floored, he goes to pin you against the wall, but instead you assertively redirect him backwards as you begin to tug at his shirt buttons.

"Mmph, querida—" he grunts in between the torrid making out while you maneuver him to backpedal to the living room.

When he backs into the side of the sofa, you silence his protest by shoving him backwards onto the cushy surface, thanks to the momentum of his knees catching on the plush curve of the armrest helping him topple with a grunt.

You clamber over it as well in order to hurriedly straddle his lap and hastily unbutton his shirt while you resume kissing him with passionate desire.

The tangy and whiskey flavor of his mouth has your head spinning as you tug his shirt open before kissing luscious fire down his neck and chest. As you do so, you let your eager hands wander down to his belt next. As they descend, you marvel at the differences in touching his torso now from the last time.

Javier's pectorals are firm and chiseled under your plush lips, and his torso was far more defined than you remember – abs etched and tummy taut so impressively that it was clear he hadn't been idle all the time back on the ranch. And when he hastily yanked his arms free from the shirt to shed the constrictive tightness of the fabric at his back being pinched into the couch, you internally swooned. The definition of his arms and the span of his shoulders had caught your eye earlier in the day, but to see him sans the suit now confirmed all your suspicions. There's no doubt…he's been working out.

You wanted to see the rest of him, so you kiss along his jaw as you swiftly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his light gray trousers.

His breath hitched when your touch skimmed over his clothed erection, making him squirm and arch under you as he simultaneously rushed to undo the sturdy, albeit delicate-feeling buttons at the front of your dress. You hum in approval and nuzzle that spot just under his jaw that makes him weak with need as you shift to straddle him while freeing his erection from its white cotton confines.

Jolting from the direct contact of your nimble touch over his throbbing cock, Javier stammers, "F-Fuck," and grips your waist.

You lean back to see he's unbuttoned the dress all the way down to where the belted waist stops and blocks further progress until it's undone, so you deftly shimmy your arms out of the sleeves and adjust the cant of your hips while you rush to unclasp the front closure of your nude-toned bra.

Enraptured by your toned physique and supple skin, Javi ends up staring at your perky tits and peaked nipples just as you straddle yourself right over his crotch and lean back down to kiss him torridly.

His scent is masculine and warm, with a hint of musk that clings to his skin, making you yearn to press your nose into his neck. Breathing him in after so long has you grazing your teeth over his pulse before suckling a possessive kiss into his skin.

Javi groans out, and it's so starved, that you undulate your hips over him before burying a hand into the back of his hair to guide him to meet your lips, kissing him with ravenous delight.

Oh fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck— he's gritting out in his head at how amazingly soft and warm you feel against his bare skin, getting flustered when you plant your palms over his broad chest and deepen the kiss with a lustful grind of your pussy against his hard-on. Truly, it's taking all of his control to not get overwhelmed and worked up while also staying grounded in the lustful desperation of being consumed in the tempestuous desire scintillating between you both.

You're unaware of how wound up he is, being completely out of practice in spotting the tells, and frankly too preoccupied with how good it feels to rub against his cock while your tongue licks against his in the torrid kiss.

Oh, dammit—forgot, I'm not on the pill! The worry flashes across your mind, and you groan frustratedly at it as you suckle on Javi's bottom lip before reluctantly breaking the kiss.

Panting against his jaw, you're just about to ask him if he has a condom, when Javi's breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens, and you finally notice how taut his pectorals are under your hands.

The groan you'd made was practically a starved whine to his aroused senses, and combined with how you pulled on his bottom lip? It made a spike of pleasure snap months of pent-up desire loose, and before he could rein it back, feeling the heat of your pussy rut flush against his cock had him overloading with hyper-sensational arousal. He couldn't stop it.

With a choked, harsh grunt, Javi ground out, "Oh fuck—!" before he stiffened under you and his hips arched involuntarily up, breath catching in his throat as he writhes against the uncontrollable jerks of his body blitzing out against his will.

You still against him and stifle a gasp at the feeling of warm fluid surging against your mound and inner thighs.

Javier's skin burns with a mortified flush that radiates up his neck and scalds his face as he clenches his jaw and swears wordlessly in flustered, embarrassed frustration.

Incredulous, you lean up from being prone over him and stare with disarmed awe down at him, as you murmur, "Did you just…come?"

The way he practically turns red in the face as he bashfully cups his hand over his eyes in shame while the other caresses nervously along the length of your thigh is all the answer you need, but Javi scrapes his thoughts together enough to grouse, "Jesus fucking Christ…"

It makes quite the sight for you. Muscles tense and sculpted, skin flushed hot with his embarrassment, full lips parted and panting raggedly, and his hand trembling on your thigh now. Well, I'll be damned…

"Huh. I guess you weren't lying, after all."

The saucy, silky drawl of your teasing statement was accompanied by you tracing the defined contour of his oblique to the flat of his taut abdomen in a soothing glide of your fingertips, while you also patted the hand that he has on your thigh placatingly as you sigh, "You could've given me a heads up—"

Gruffly, he lets out a surly scoff before exhaling and dragging his palm from his eyes up to his forehead and through his hair testily.

The sight of you naked from the waist up, with your hair tousled, and giving him a look that was sultry and provocative – albeit endearingly amused, was enough to make want simmer hotly through him all over again.

"Couldn't get in a word edgewise, not with the way you were kissing me—" is his surly grumble he trails off on when you cock your eyebrow sardonically at him.

The way he's scowling up at you now instigates you to goad him. "No need to be so ornery," is your faux-admonishing lilt as you showily sit up on your knees and remain straddling him while you busily tuck him back into his underwear and zip his trousers shut, then lift your sexy dress' skirt in order to flaunt the damp, sticky stains of his cum seeping into the light material before remarking, "Oh, well. You shouldn't have started something you couldn't finish – well, finish together, anyway—"

Smoldering from your teasing, Javi suddenly sits up and manhandles you against him before clambering off the sofa.

You yelp in surprise as you hastily wrap your legs around his waist and hook your grip to the back of his neck as he effortlessly carries you out of the living room to turn down a back hallway that leads to his bedside-lamp-lit bedroom.

"Who said we're finished?" he growls as he stalks into the large room, just before he tosses you onto his plush bed.

You let out an airy giggle as you land, but the way he looks at you while he rushes to get his clothes off makes a deviant thrill tickle down into your core and leaves you buzzing from the hot wave of arousal that tingles warmly into your pulsing cunt.

Javier sees your breath quicken from your excitement, so while he strips his undergarments off, he orders in a low octave, "I'm not finished with you, querida, so take that fucking dress off. Now."

Something depravedly gleeful curls free from you as you sit up and shake your head defiantly, giving him an exacting look, before you counter, "Come take it off of me."

That primal desire to dominate you burns a streak up through him at your words, so with his agile reflexes, he grabs your ankle and yanks you down the bed. You gasp out in excitement as he brusquely tugs the belt of your dress loose before working each of the asymmetrical placket's buttons undone with deft fingers, all while possessively kissing your breasts.

Neither of you care how sticky you are from the earlier snafu, and frankly, you're aching so bad for Javi to be inside you now that any and all thoughts from before are gone from your mind as you arch into his mouth when he sucks hard on your nipple.

He groans from your hands burying greedily into his hair while he moves to suckle on the other studded nub and discards your dress blindly to the floor behind him before he picks you up and climbs onto the bed with you.

"Nnngth!" you whimper when he nips lightly on your pebbled flesh before he lays you down on the bed and settles eagerly between your thighs.

The smoldering, molten look in his eyes as he gazes down at you in your nude glory makes you needy and bold, so you lean up to hook your hand to the back of his neck in order to tug him down to meet your yearning kiss and pull him to be on top of you. Feeling his broad frame and warm muscles press into you is rapturous, sheer bliss in of itself, and you relish how good it makes you feel.

Javi revels in it too, enjoying your supple form and passionate kiss as his hands fondle and caress your curves covetously.

When he slips his touch between your bodies to dip two fingers inside your wet pussy, you gasp into his mouth and arch, knees impulsively hiking up to clutch at his hips. The feeling is new but familiar all at once, thanks to how long you've been without him, and when his thick digits curl and brush that erogenous spot you can never reach with your own, you grip your fingers into his back and whimper for more.

The way your cheeks flush and your mouth falls open on a moan while your eyes flutter shut at him grinding the pad of his thumb over your hypersensitive bundle of pleasure is too much for him to linger in just touching you now. So, he recedes his fingers and quickly uses your arousal to slicken his ramrod erection before dragging the head of his cock through your drenched folds.

Feeling it notch at your dimpled entrance while his big hands scoop under you in order to hold you into alignment has your breath flitting out of you while you gaze lusciously up at him. His eyes are dark pools of coffee that glean an earthy cocoa from the shade-less table lamp that casts a yellow illumination in his bedroom, and for the first time in too long, you reach your fingertips to caress affectionately across his brow before you skim them up to his forehead to brush his long wisping curls back from his sweaty skin.

Javi lets out a soothed exhale as he bows his face to nuzzle you lovingly, and you savor it while you loop your arms around him to clutch at his back just before he thrusts into your clenching heat.

"Mmmph!" you whine, feeling your muscles protest and strain from the thick of him filling you in one fell swoop.

At your leg hiking up with a jerk from how hard you arched, Javi shifts to hook his arm under it while he slips his other hand to cradle the small of your back so he can adjust how deep the next thrust goes. He swears gruffly at how warm and tight you are when he sheaths to the hilt into you, groaning into your neck when your nails nip into his lower back.

"Feel so good…missed feeling you," Javi husks in a gravelly timbre before suckling kisses into your neck and up your jaw. "Gonna take it slow, preciosa."

You exhale a little mewl and grip your hands at his lats when he starts rocking slow and deep into you.

The way your silken walls flutter around his cock has him setting a toe-curling pace soon enough, though, and his mouth trailing delectable fire across your senses as he kisses you with hungry desperation has you enraptured.

The tempest of passion being spun up in you burns pleasure through you, making you moan, "Javi, p-please—need it," when he starts quickening his pace and letting the ferocity of his need amplify the pounding of his thrusts.

At your moan, he grunts possessively and shifts so he can hold you against the bed and really fuck you hard now.

The debauched sound of warm colliding flesh weaves around the squelching of him slamming through your drenched cunt and the buildup of your moans falling into rhythm now. Javi can feel how your thighs are beginning to tense and the way your walls are fluttering tighter around him, so he starts rutting against you every time he slams home, which causes his pubic bone to grind into your clit with just the perfect amount of pressure that wreaks pleasure through you.

"Ahh, Javi!" you cry out and writhe under him, hands clutching at his back just beneath his shoulder blades while your body bowls up into his as you fall apart from the blazing orgasm, gushing your climax so hard that Javi groans in accomplishment above you.

Watching you come enchants him, truly. He missed basking in your climax – how your features glow from exertion and bliss as he prolongs your pleasure. It's like an elixir for his parched soul, being able to drink in how beatific you become from his sinful triumph in making you reach rapture.

It makes him feel worthy once again.

You're a sweaty and warm panting heap when you come down from the aftershocks, eyes heavy as they stare up at the undulating ceiling fan you hadn't noticed before while Javi nuzzles into the crook of your neck and breathes in your heady perfume.

Once your pulse has calmed, your throbbing flesh feels how rock-hard he still is inside you.

Realizing this is what he meant about taking it slow, you kiss his shoulder before limberly hiking your legs up and pivoting to roll you both until you're able to straddle his hips while he stretches out under you with a flustered look on his handsome face.

"Cariño—" Javi begins to rumble when you roll your hips and undulate to grind down on his cock salaciously before squeezing your floor muscles around it. His hands grip your thighs as he arches and moans, "Dios mío, b-baby. Mmmph!"

His cock throbs inside of you as you start to ride him, and it feels so amazing that Javi's hands desperately snap up to hold onto your waist as you hum alluringly and rut down on him before clenching your sheath tight again.

The way he moans makes you feel alight and wound up now, so you hold onto his wrists and really start fucking yourself on his perfect shaft, feeling spun up by the power of dominating him and knowing how much he needs you to make him come.

"I want it, Javi. Give it to me," is your throaty purr as you plant your palms over his broad chest and squeeze his pectorals, earning a tight growl from him just before you order, "You're gonna come inside me this time, beautiful boy—"

"Oh Jesus Christ!" he groans, raunchily overcome by how fucking hot this is and how sexy you are, and how desired you make him feel.

However, he's unable to accept shooting his load again without making you come one more time.

So, he surprises you by shifting up to wrap his arms around you possessively before pivoting so that he's balanced up on his knees while his hands hold you to set a desperate, unabashed pace of fucking you. All you can do is blindly reach back to hold onto the top of his headboard for leverage as you rock roughly into him, other hand clinging to the back of his shoulder and neck as you both work each other into an incandescent passion, moaning and gasping, falling into the abandon of getting lost in coupling with fierce desire now.

Nothing matters but his pleasure. Nothing matters but your pleasure. The feeling of his hands caressing you like he's a sculptor working with clay. The feeling of your body undulating like a sinewy haven he's sinking deeper and deeper into.

All that matters is how you make each other feel right here and now.

And when you both reach the zenith of it all, you're flung off the precipice into soul-shattering delight together, climaxing and giving yourselves over to the wracking throes of achieving bliss with each other once more.

You wordlessly cry out as you come, and Javi husks a groan with you, bowing his head into your chest when he shudders and squeezes you close as he fucks his cum deep enough that you feel the decadent bloom of his seed filling you in the seat of your womb. The rapturous delight fills you both up, and you nuzzle kisses into his temple and cheek before he affectionately hums. He tilts his face up to rub his cheek against yours before his full, adoring lips kiss yours languidly while you both come down from the blissful high.

Javi leans back exhaustedly onto his haunches and pants raggedly when you loop your arms clumsily around his shoulders and slacken relaxedly in his embrace with a dreamy sigh.

Before he runs the risk of collapsing in a heavy heap on top of you, Javi lays you on the now rumpled bedding before kissing dotingly along your heated features, grunting approvingly when you hum softly and distractedly comb your fingers through the back of his sweaty hair.

Shifting up once he feels the last of his energy begin to fizzle out, Javi groans when he pulls out and watches your comingled climaxes honeying your now tender flesh before pearly rivulets weep free from your pussy. You shiver at the sensation and squeeze your warm, slick thighs together while you stretch out tiredly now just as he flops onto his back next to you.

There's a comfortable lull, where only the sound of the fan rotating at a low ambient hum while it undulates the cool night air in the room across your heated skin reins, whilst you both catch your breaths and lie in post-coital bliss.

Then, Javier breathes in a cleansing inhale before huffing it out in a sated exhale.

"Fuck…I could really go for a cigarette right now."

For whatever reason, his pleased and cool mutter bursts the bubble.

Completely unaware, though, Javi leers sidelong at your bodacious form, cataloguing how tighter your tummy and more toned your arms are when you suddenly pull yourself up to sit with your knees tucked up against your chest.

Christ on the cross…you did it again. Just got right back into bed with him, is your recriminating sneer at yourself as you stare about his large bedroom.

Adjusting to lounge on his hip, propped up by his elbow, Javi gazes warmly at you, admiring how the yellow lamp light makes your dewy skin glow before he realizes your features are guarded – eyes faraway.

"Querida," he murmurs as he sidles closer and kisses your bare shoulder, which stirs you out of your self-reproachful thoughts to blink and glance meekly over at him now. Thinking you're getting skittish because of how raunchy you both are now after the salacious sex, he quickly mutters, "Be right back," before rushing off the bed to the bathroom entry adjacent his side of the bed. The sound of the sink running, then the wringing of a towel precedes him coming back into the room in his nude glory before he flops back down onto the bed with you.

However, before he can cozy up to you with it, you snatch the washcloth from him, scamper to the foot of the bed, sweep up your discarded dress and then scurry into his bathroom, before clicking the door shut.

Bemused, Javi is slow to realize what's happening. Shit. Shit-shit-shit!

Hurrying to grab a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase, he pulls them on as he hastily rushes out of the bedroom to intercept you as you make your exit out of the bathroom's hallway door.

You've just turned the corner and rushed to the living room while you swiftly buckled the satin belt of your dress when you hear his footfalls, so you retrieve your bra and speedily yank it on to fasten it shut before you shove your arms into the sleeves and rapidly work the buttons up the placket shut as you sprint to the entry to get your panties, heels, and purse left discarded on the terrazzo floor.

"Celina, wait!"

Javi's gained on you before you were able to get to the front door.

Shrugging away when he tries to herd you back to the living room with him, you sigh, "Javier, I have to go—"

"C'mon, don't leave like this," he coaxes as he loops his arms around your waist and gives you a plaintive look. When you relent and just fidget from one foot to the other, diverting your gaze from his, he assures, "You can tell me exactly everything you want to say. Yell at me. Curse me out and tell me exactly how fucking stupid I was. I know I was, but if you need to get anything off your chest, you can. I want to hear you—want you to feel heard. Anything you need, I'll do it. I want to earn your trust back, corazón. You don't have to go—"

"I can't do this again, Javier."

Frowning, he lets you wriggle from his embrace so you can yank your panties on and shimmy them up under your dress before you slip your heels onto your feet.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. Shouldn't have kissed you or gotten so carried away—" you're muttering as you adjust your dress, when your rambling lamentation skids to a halt from how he puts his hand over the one you'd been scooping up your purse with from where you'd set it on the adjacent bar top counter.

"This is not like last time," Javier vehemently declares, eyes molten with his conviction when you stare up with disarmed surprise at him. "I know I've fucked up enough times now that you'd be justified in never forgiving me, but I need you to know how much what we had mattered to me. How it still matters to me. You're everything I want, so…I'll wait as long as I have to, until you're ready," he professes, other hand coming up to caress your cheek as he begins to husk, "Celina, I love—"

Your eyes sharpen as you shake your head and take a step back, dismissing, "No, please, don't. I don't wanna hear that, Javier. I-I can't hear any of that right now." I can't fall back into this and get stuck in the vicious cycle again—

At seeing how your words wound him and earn a woeful frown to etch his features, your heart aches, and you can't help scoff at yourself before amending, "I just need time to think about everything."

Javi exhales, reluctant, but nods in appeasement before insisting, "Ok, but you don't have to run off from me, you know—"

"Javier. I got the news you were not only back at the DEA, but assigned as the Special Agent in-Charge here all at the same time, then had to go into a meeting with you looking fresh as a fucking daisy and I couldn't run up and punch you like I wanted to. Then, you followed me around that godforsaken stupid event like a persistent puppy, accosted me in the parking lot with your proclamations, and just fucked me silly after throwing me in a whirlwind about what happened almost half a year ago! I think I'm entitled to run off and regroup on how I feel," is your imperious harangue, hands snapping to your hips as you impatiently glare at his stunned, dopey look before you deadpan exactingly, "Fair?"

Jesus, when she puts it like that…

"Yeah, that's fair," he concedes and crosses his brawny arms over his chest, then grumbles glibly, "You skipped the part about slapping the shit out of me—"

"Yeah, well, I apologized for that, you jodón," is your snarky sneer as you eye him stubbornly while you watch that sly smile tug across his full lips, making it clear he'd just been goading you. With a huff, you dismissively grab your purse now, and turn to amble off to the door as you gripe, "Ugh, you're fucking incorrigible—"

His hand gets to the door handle before yours, but this time, it's to chivalrously open it for you.

"I can't help it. Not when you look so sexy when you're sassing me," Javi drawls in that velvety timbre that makes heat zing through your sore muscles.

Wryly, you roll your eyes, and are about to just walk out, but then you pause, turn to him, and kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Peña," is your silky murmur, enjoying how his expression softens with a doting smile.

"You too, Reinosa," is his warm chuckle.

Snickering, you turn to exit out to the cool night air and strut down the wet walkway, but pause halfway when Javi calls out, "Hey." You turn and raise your brows curiously, so he smirks and purrs, "Since you're in that dress, you gotta say the line." The girlish scoff you let out is irreverent and punctuates the amused way you roll your eyes, so Javi needles, "C'mon. You just gotta."

Unable to help yourself, you put your hand at your hip and give his broad, muscular frame a once over before you toss your tousled hair sultrily. Then, with a bat of your lashes, you do your best Kathleen Turner impression as you smile and drawl, "You're not too smart, are yah? I like that in a man."

Javi grins so broadly that his boyish dimple appears in his cheek, and you shake your head amusedly before resuming walking to your car.

"Fuck me," Javi wistfully hums to himself as he watches you get in and smile at him from the driver's side window before you turn the car on and drive away.

He ends up locking up and going to bed hungry but satisfied as he stretches out in the nude under the ceiling fan, surrounded in the sheets and bedding that smell of you.

He sleeps so soundly in the sex-laced scent of his bed that he's startled groggily awake by the pounding knocks coming from the door that leads out to his open-air carport. Rolling clumsily to the side of the bed with the digital clock perched on the nightstand, he blearily sees it is almost 11am.

"Ah, shit…" he grumbles as he forces himself to sit up and crawl over to get his sweatpants on. A few minutes and more impatient knocks later, Javi lumbers tiredly to the door and unlocks it. "Alright, fuck. Lay off," he snaps as he opens the door for Steve before turning to stalk back and towards the kitchen. "I know, I know – I overslept. Just let me set the coffee to brew, then I'll go get ready—"

"Holy shit, Jav," is Steve's deriding scoff as he enters his partner's abode and sees the signs that he had company last night: The two crystal tumblers left on the living room's coffee table, glinting guiltily in the early afternoon sun coming from the window. "You don't have anyone back there, do you—?!"

"No," Javi snaps as he fills the coffee pot with water from the sink.

"Uh-huh," Steve deadpans as he surveys the scene, hands in his jean pockets and shoulders rolling back under his light blue polo shirt. "Guess you had fun at the party, then?"

Muttering under his breath, Javi sets the coffee maker to brew and walks around the counter to stride past Steve en route to the back hallway. "Quit fishin', hillbilly—"

"Just hurry up and shower the sex funk off yourself so we can go! I promised Connie we'd all go to Old San Juan for dinner tonight," Steve calls out after him as he lopes over to the sofa, but before he goes to sit on it, he cautiously eyes the cushions before shouting, "Did you already screw on the couch?"

"Fuck off, Steve!" is the response he gets before a bathroom door is slammed shut down the hall.

Deciding to play it safe, Steve sits in the opposite side chair and picks up the TV remote to check the weather forecast while he waits.

You, however, are relitigating the entire previous day's sequence of events as you lounge grumpily in your bubble bath, after having slept peacefully once you got home, and woke up feeling guilty about how good you felt when you shouldn't be already emotionally moving into the 'we're totally back together and going to make it work' phase.

Submerging under the suds, you hold your breath and let your mind clear. No more thinking about it.

Bobbing back up with a sigh, you lean back against the tub and continue to soak while you sulk.

…You didn't use any protection…

The anxious pang makes your pulse race for a few beats before you take a cleansing breath in, then let it out slowly through your mouth.

Once the warm water cools and the bubbles become frothy suds, you get out of the tub and get ready for your day.

The weekend comes and goes, and so does most of the work week without much fuss. In that time, you're busy overseeing a massive digital onboarding effort at the federal level while Javier hit the ground running on overseeing things – including one of the first coordinated task force raids.

It was a big operation that would involve hitting several puntos, or drug points, around the metropolitan area.

Steve had given him the lay of the land – shepherding Javi to all the notorious spots gangs operated out of, to where they'd likely distributed to local dealers from. Most of the targets were located in public housing divisions run by the local state, often located just a stone's throw away from the affluent sections of the capital and bustling tourist areas.

Reluctantly on Monday, Javi had met again with the rookie who'd been assigned driver duty for him. He didn't like the idea of not driving himself, but figured he had to deal with it in the interim.

The young cop was eager and jovial, always bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when he picked up Javier and escorted him to and from. Today was no different.

"Buen día, Agent Peña!" is the cheerful greeting he gets when he climbs into the unmarked Ford SUV police vehicle.

"'Morning," he greets, favorite aviators on and coffee thermos already going to his lips as he settles in. After taking a long sip, he placatingly makes conversation by asking, "Have any plans for the weekend?"

"Ah, yes! Me and my brothers are going to Vega Baja to la, eh, the beach?" the young officer parcels out in his rough English, dark expressive brows furrowing when he waffled on the right word.

"Kike, you can just stick to Spanish if it's easier," Javi assures in Spanish, smirking when the rookie pouts.

Unlike his usual custom of being flippant and sarcastic towards his peers, and straight up standoffish and aloof with his subordinates, Javier didn't have it in his heart to quash the exuberant, albeit excitable energy from the scrappy-yet-jovial rookie. Sure, his enthusiasm had been a bit disarming the first time they'd met – "Hello Agent Peña! I am Enrique Torres, but my friends call me Kike. Eso es Ki like 'Key' y Ke como 'Keh', so Keykeh!" – but the more the kid persisted with his fastidiously congenial greetings and intrepid efforts to engage Javier in conversation, the more he wore him down into friendliness.

"No, sir! I want to get my English better," Kike insists, nodding curtly as he drives. "But thank you, sir."

"Alright. So Vega Baja has nice beaches, then?"

"Yes, sir! Very nice. All Puerto Rico has great beaches, but we go to Vega Baja for the food too," the brown eyed man with the dark curly-hair explains as he navigates the traffic expertly, not even batting an eye at drivers who cut in and out of lanes without putting a turn signal on or really following the norms of the road. "There is a great kiosko we go to for frituras en La Boca you should try!"

Javi lets out a humored grunt before asking, "Where would you go if you wanted to take someone out?"

"Ah, depends on how nice you want," Kike muses, navigating towards the entry to their destination. "If you want to dance? Plenty of clubs in Isla Verde. A nice dinner? Anywhere in Hato Rey or El Condado."

Javi sets his thermos in the cup holder within the center console so he can pull out the map from the glove compartment and visually assess all the areas he's mentioning. "What about somewhere nice that's right on the beach?" is his query as he traces the map with his finger along the metropolitan area's coastline.

"You got a hot date, Agent Peña?" Kike cheers in his goading tenor, brows bouncing conspiratorially at Javier in such a way that he snorts and shakes his head at the kid. "Bueno, there are nice places in Dorado, but not really right on the beach. Most places on the beach are chinchorros—"

"What's a 'chinchorro'?" Javi asks, internally bewildered once again by another colloquial term he's never heard of. He'd had to learn so many terms, sayings, turns of phrase, and coded slang in Colombia, but a lot of it luckily resembled things he'd grown up hearing amongst his Mexican and Tejano friends. But there was a lot of Puerto Rican-isms he'd never heard of before, and selfishly, he wanted to be friendly with Kike so he'd have a go-to translator for all of it. Among other very useful reasons he'd found for keeping the kid around.

"Eh, it's like, como se dice…a shack? No, like a kiosko that is rustic and not very fancy, you know? Those are on the beach, and most people go to drink and eat for a little bit. A pitstop?" Kike strings together, and when Javi just gives him a deadpan stare, he huffs and says in Spanish, "It's where you'd go on the weekend to shoot the shit with friends over appetizers, have drinks, dance, and head back on the road to try the next spot. There are a ton of spots like that in Loíza. Some are made of cement and have balconies or terraces that overlook the beach, though."

Nodding, Javi wonders whether you'd ever want to go with him.

When Kike finally pulls up to the barracks, he parks and joins Javier on the impromptu training exercise he was about to watch the Comandante of the municipality oversee.

As he approaches the area of the barracks where field drills are run, he spots Duffy and Lopez already there, talking to one of the sergeants.

"Agent Peña, this guy is connected," Kike whispers to him as they approach. "Brother-in-law works in La Fortaleza."

Nodding, Javi approaches the group, getting prepared for quite a stressful day.

You, on the other hand, are just getting out of the shower after coming back from your early morning jog. Going into your bedroom to retrieve an outfit for the day, you let your mind reflect on the whirlwind of a week that had kept you preoccupied from thinking about what happened with Javier.

Tugging on your sleek navy trousers and tucking in the silky indigo blouse, you go to the dresser mirror and let down your hair from the bun in order to brush it out while you think. He's behaved. Hasn't dropped in or cajoled you into talking. Things here are not the same as the embassy, so it wouldn't be as taboo for people to know about us…if we wanted people to know, anyway. Well, know that we're back together...

Ellis had peppered you with questions when you'd gone over for dinner at his and Anita's place Saturday night, having let Zoraida know you would be having a lowkey night rather than going out with her and the girls, but you'd simply told him you needed time to process everything. That you had to reflect and recalibrate your thoughts towards the entire situation.

Sagely nodding, Ellis had hummed along, as if totally agreeing with you. And then he'd pulled out that morning's newspaper – which was already folded and tucked to the article that used a photo taken the night before – with a smug smile before drawling, "Well, this is definitely worth putting in a scrapbook, girlie."

The group shot was in black and white, but you could practically feel your umbrage all over again as you saw just how close you and Javi were standing from each other. He looked so freaking handsome though, so the outrage fizzled before it could really take hold.

Later that night, you'd been in your nightgown, sitting on your bed reading the article and trying not to let your gaze wander back to Javi in the photo, when your cell phone had rung on the nightstand next to you.

"—Ketsele! I just read your email. I'm packing a bag now and am on my way—"

"N-No, don't do that, Sasha! Everything is fine. I'm so sorry. I-I just needed to vent," you'd sat up and crisscrossed your legs as you explained, "When Ellis told me, I was so furious, that I needed to just write my rage out—"

"Ok, well, please tell me you stuck to just venting…?" Sasha had fished, voice a drawn-out question teeming with concern.

"…Not really," you'd sighed, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before divulging the entire sequence of events to him. Once you'd exhaled and slid down into your pillows huffily, you'd grumbled, "All right, let me have it…"

A terse pause had been your answer, until Sasha had dramatically sighed, "You love him."

It wasn't something you could deny. So, you didn't. And after discussing all your concerns, he'd told you quite earnestly, "Well, when I come back down to visit, if you haven't murdered him out of sheer exasperation already, I'll make sure to let him know I will make him disappear if he fucking hurts you again—"

"Oh stop," you chuckle dismissively before redirecting the conversation by inquiring how things were going with him, asking about Marc, and asking about how his father was doing.

Afterwards, you felt a little better.

Nevertheless, you still had so much swirling around in your mind, one none more pressing than a concern that you'd too quickly disregarded while blinded by your lust.

However, it hadn't been until the next day, when you were picking up a few things at the local El Amal to stock up on some pharmacy essentials, that you'd wandered down the feminine hygiene aisle and paused at the at-home pregnancy test section. Grabbing a few and tossing them into your basket, you recited a mantra to yourself from the time you left the drugstore to when you were pacing the length of the hallway, waiting for the time to elapse so you could check the results.

It's been months since you've menstruated, and it's unlikely anything would happen if you're not ovulating. This is just to be sure, and you're just being cautious.

It didn't ring true until you returned to the bathroom vanity, checked the test and saw that there was no blue line in the square window of the applicator. Not pregnant.

You'd breathed a sigh of relief, and stored the other two test kits in the towel closet's top shelf with the travel toiletry case and hand towels.

You're probably not able to get pregnant anyway, is your dour thought as you dab the spritz of perfume between your wrists and stare vacantly at yourself in the mirror now. Snapping out of your melancholic daze, you force yourself back into the closet to grab your black kitten heel pumps when three swift knocks sound loudly down the hall from your front door.

Perplexed, you check the time on the clock at your nightstand before rushing on bare tippy toes down to the door. You look through the peephole and let out the tense breath you'd been holding before you unlock the deadbolts.

When you open the door, your father stands tall and imposing while dressed fairly casual in his gray slacks and white guayabera. His leather shoes are polished and match his dark brown belt, and although he's not in uniform, his posture is still regal as if he were.

"Well, nice to see you're in one piece, niñita," he grumbles haughtily as his gaze hones in on you fighting the impulse to roll your eyes at him. "You never answered my message—"

"Pá, come in," you sigh as you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek before ushering him through the threshold. "I won't even ask how you got in the complex without a key or security code—"

He surveys how nice and tidy your apartment is from the previous time that he'd visited as he states, "Oh, when you first moved in, I bribed the superintendent to give me the gate security code for the pedestrian entry."

Shaking your head, you close the door and eye him cynically. "Why am I not surprised…" is your deriding deadpan.

"Hm, this place has come far. You moved a few things around," he's remarking as he lopes around the open-concept space to look out at all the pretty potted plants on the balcony, glancing at the Laguna del Condado that makes up the greater part of your condo's northern view.

"Yes. The landlady took her dining room set up to Fort Lauderdale, so I moved the table and chairs that used to be here to where the dining table had been. I like it better. Lucked out with getting this place, and with nice furniture to boot," you're remarking as he strolls back over and hums a musing sound. "I'm sorry about not calling back. I've just been busy. I meant to call earlier this week, but it turned hectic," is your excuse now once he's glanced appraisingly down the hall towards the bedrooms and single bath, as if expecting a secret to reveal itself. He grunts neutrally in response to you, and strolls through the open space of your entry towards the tall kitchen counter. "I have some time before work. Would you like something to eat? Some coffee?"

Perking up a bit, he leans on the countertop. "Sure, if you're having something," he replies in his cool baritone, smiling when you waltz around into the kitchen to retrieve a clean cup before filling it with dark coffee from the cafetera. His eyes soften as he remarks, "That looks familiar."

Snickering, you place his cup on the counter before topping your mug from earlier with fresh café. "I prefer it over the newer machines. And it's better for brewing just a couple cups worth," is your retort as you set 'Buela's old coffee kettle to the back of the stove before you get a small pan out from the cupboard. As you seamlessly retrieve butter and two eggs from the fridge, you ask him over your shoulder, "How was your trip?"

He sits on one of the padded stools on the dining side of the counter top. As he does so, he notices the folded newspaper issue Ellis gave you left at the side of it, but glances over at your back after he's picked up the coffee cup while he answers smoothly, "It was fine. Nothing worth boring you with. I'd rather ask about you."

Humming, you crack the eggs into the now buttered and sizzling pan before discarding the shells into the trash and retrieving the salt, pepper, and cumin from the spice rack adjacent to the stove. "Oh? You really want to hear about 'all that computer crap' I do?" is your sarcastic musing as you sprinkle the salt and pepper onto the eggs before glancing over your shoulder when he grunts an unamused huff at you.

"I can always count on you remembering the littlest slight—" he begins to remark before noticing you're uncapping the cumin and now dusting just a smidge over the eggs. Expression relaxing into a charmed smile, he rumbles, "You remembered."

Tending to the eggs with a spatula, you turn sidelong and squint wryly at him. "Of course. I remember everything, just like someone else I know," is your chimed musing. "You're the only weirdo who likes cumin on his eggs," you teasingly snicker as you grab a plate in preparation to slide the entire serving onto it.

"No, you have the other half," he insists, so you serve only one egg and pass it over to him before placing the other on a similar plate. "Weirdo y que weirdo…" he grumbles comically as he takes a long drink of his coffee.

Chuckling, you gesture towards the small dining table in front of the balcony doors and suggest, "Go sit, those chairs are more comfortable. I'll bring the cubiertos."

A few minutes later, and you're both sitting at the small square glass table with the cushioned seated, wrought-iron dining chairs.

The moment should've been pleasant – a nice respite between similar people who are so much alike, that they rarely have moments where their similarities don't repel each other. But you sense he has an ulterior motive for dropping by, and he knows you're biding your time until he reveals it.

"This is delicious, tesoro."

"Thanks."

"I thought only a weirdo like me liked it with cumin, though," he jokes dryly before sipping his coffee.

"Unfortunately, I inherited your weirdo-ness, it seems," you drawl simply, then finish your last bite.

He chuckles before dabbing his mouth with his napkin, dark trim moustache impeccable as he gives you a wan smile now.

"So, I saw your picture in El Nuevo Día the other morning."

You pristinely dab your napkin at the corners of your lips while you hum in acknowledgement.

"You looked very nice. Albeit, a little preoccupied," he fishes inconspicuously, piercing gaze honing in on your expression now as you hum noncommittally. "I heard from one of the cabinet officials in the governor's office that the feds have sent down lots of new heads of agencies to take on the Mano Dura initiative," is his tactically questioning assertation. "Even implemented a last-minute shakeup in the DEA leadership down here—"

And there it is.

"Yes, they decided to have two SACs for the Caribbean division," you reply conversationally as you sit back in your chair and finish your coffee before placing the empty mug down with a clank on the glass table, drawling, "But you already knew that."

Grunting evenly, your father crosses his arms and stares you down now.

"Should I be concerned that this agent – Peña – was resurrected from the DEA self-sabotage trench he threw himself in, to come down here, after everything?"

His assertive question is teeming with displeasure, but he's trying to keep reserved; to appear unruffled, but the accusatory edge still bleeds through to you.

Giving him an aloof smile, you query, "Let me guess: You invited the official out for a round of golf so you could interrogate him? I hope you didn't forfeit your handicap for the intel—"

"I don't like your frivolous tone, Celina," your father mutters in a mild baritone as his arms tighten with impatience across his barrel chest. When you defiantly stare at him, he exhales his terse energy, then amends his tone by evenly explaining, "I did not ask too many questions then, because I wanted to respect your privacy, and knew how important to you it must've been for you to reach out to me for help in the first place. But that doesn't mean I didn't have him looked into—"

"Pá," you draw warningly, eyes narrowing now as you slap your napkin down on your empty plate. "You had no right—"

Assertively, your father leans forward and braces his big hands around the corners of the table in order to quell his temper as he grounds out firmly, "You are my only child. And no matter how much you don't believe it, I love you with all my heart. Your happiness and safety are important to me, and the fact both were compromised by that man—"

"Is absolutely inaccurate! And even if it was, it's none of your concern," you exclaim forcefully and push your chair back in order to swiftly snatch the dishes and utensils up so you can busily march them back to the kitchen to place them in the sink with a clatter. "You cannot use sentiment to guilt me into telling you any more than what I've chosen to confide with you!" is your berating remark as you turn back to see that he's followed after you and is now glowering at you from the front of the tall kitchen counter, which pits you both literally on opposite sides.

He sees how angry you're getting, so he sets his jaw and shakes his head ruefully before quelling his impatience, and pressing, "Mija, I'm really trying here. But this?" he emphasizes when he picks up the newspaper and holds up the section it's already folded into, which displays the photograph from the ballroom – where you and Javi are just shy of being near one another – before continuing, "It concerns me. I don't want you ending up collateral damage—"

"You mean you don't want my name out there reflecting negatively back on you," is your bitter charge as you cross your arms and stubbornly stare him down.

You're surprised when the wind goes out of his sails at your accusation.

He tosses the newspaper onto the counter and stares openly at you before contending, "Celina. I was wrong for having said that to you before. I let my anger get the better of me, and was callous. But I do not want history to repeat itself. We lost so much time…I lost too much time for letting my disdain for what happened cloud what really mattered."

Fighting the tremble of your lip as he stirs deep emotions to rise up in you from how earnest he's being, you walk around the kitchen counter and go to him, surprising him when you loop your arms around to hug him with genuine feeling.

"Javier is not responsible for what happened to me. All he ever did was go out of his way for me – protected and respected me like no one else ever has. I—" you pause your hushed assertion when your voice cracks, and once you've cleared the lump from your throat, you assure, "He isn't someone you need to be concerned about, so please don't go after him."

Your father exhales noisily as he holds you tight and kisses the top of your head.

"Is he here for you?"

"Dad. Please, just…don't worry, alright?"

Sighing, he decides to let the topic go…for now.

"I should get going," is his grumble as he steps back and kisses you on the cheek before heading to the front door. "I'll be on the island for a bit, so maybe you can come to the house for dinner? I could have the chef make whatever you'd like—"

"So Camille is around, then?" you mutter as you accompany him, raising your brows acerbically when he pauses at the open door. "I'd rather just come over when she's not around—"

He grunts in disapproval, but answers, "We can coordinate something around when she goes to visit her sister, perhaps."

Appeased, you smile and hug him goodbye as you retort, "Ok, then maybe I can do a Colombian night? Cook everything I miss and that you like?"

"Pandebonos, even?" your father asks, and perks up when you nod smugly. "Your abuela made them the best."

Agreeing, you smile when he kisses your cheek again, and promises to call to let you know a day that will work out.

Before your father is able to stride away towards the elevator that's around the bend in the open-aired corridor, you call out, "Pá." When he turns to look back at you inquisitively, you smile and tell him, "Te quiero."

Stern countenance softening with affection, he answers, "Te quiero mucho, tesoro," before continuing on his way.

You feel better once you've rushed back into the apartment to finish getting ready for work, and find yourself letting hope fill you up.

Everything you'd been keeping at bay seems less of a burden now, and as you drive to work, you allow yourself to be open to not having all the answers yet. Because even though you're ambivalent still, you are willing to let grudges go and feel your way through things. To drop your walls a little and allow yourself some grace.

Unaware of the whirlwind you were about the get swept into, or how much your life will change yet again from the series of tumultuous events to come, you set out on your day with a hopeful new outlook towards what's coming your way.

________________

Read Chapter 41: Enchantment

Spanish-English Glossary:

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Nena = Girl

Llámame = Call me

El Nuevo Día = One of the main newspapers in Puerto Rico

Damas y caballeros = Ladies and gentlemen

Muy bien, y gracias a todos = Very good, and thank you all

Una Cuba libre, por favor = A rum and coke, please

Puterías = Bullshit