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wonwoosthetic · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, can you do something for Javier Pena? Like with a fellow DEA agent and partner, and he's soft for them (not that soft cause that'll not be him anymore, but he helps them more and follows them on missions a lot). and like he and murphy talks about how much his "ways" had changed after meeting and getting together with her, and yesh like fluff fluff and fluff makeout cause I loved that in that one joel fic

Rugged and Soft

warnings – mentions of drugs and police stuff, but this is so freaking fluffy, mentions of sexy times towards the end but nothing explicit

word count – 11.3k (istg this always happens)

a/n: aaaaaaaaahhhh thank you soooo much for requesting this!!! I LOVED writing this so much😫😫 istg I’m in love with him and I hope I did the character justice ˙ᵕ˙ you’re absolutely right, too soft wouldn’t be him anymore but I still think he'd just adore his partner so much, so they'd get to see a different side of him, so I hope you liked what I came up with🫶🏼

requests – open ˙ᵕ˙

Javier and Steve were enjoying their last drops of alcohol and final cigarettes for the night on the balcony while you were helping Connie in the kitchen. While the two men were engulfed in a serious conversation about the possible next steps in their plan, Javi's eyes were daring to get fixed on your silhouette any second.

The sudden crying coming from the baby girl the Murphys had recently taken in caught your attention.

"Ah, crap," Connie looked down at her hands covered in water and dish soap, "Could you-" She knew, she didn't even have to ask you twice, you loved that little girl.

Without hesitating, you nodded, whispering a quick, "Yeah yeah, sure," and rushed out of the room to enter the bedroom where the crib for the baby was. Javier's gaze followed you as you exited, only coming back seconds later with the crying girl in your arms. He watched you gently bouncing up and down, trying to calm her down, petting her head with your delicate fingers as you swiftly moved around the room.

He could've sworn there was a sudden weird sensation happening in his heart- no, his stomach- no, his brain? God knows where. Something was happening in his body, and he couldn't help it. It almost made him panic not knowing what the fuck was going on with him, but it was quickly interrupted by a slap to his chest by his colleague.

"Eyy," Steve chuckled, "I know that look."

"What?" The Latino scrunched his eyebrows.

The blonde man nodded towards the living room on the other side of the window, where you were now sitting down, the little girl on your lap as you tried to make her laugh.

"You're getting soft, Javi."

Peña scoffed, taking a drag from his cigarette, "You don't even know what the fuck you're talking about, Gringo." But that only made Steve laugh more.

"I know damn well what the fuck I'm talking about." Taking a sip from his beer bottle gave the two men a second of thick silence. "You know, she changed you."

"Maybe," Javier, in his typical way, spoke quietly, using that deep and rusty tone you had fallen in love with - he may have tried to brush off his co-worker's comment, but both men knew there was much more to it.

Because what Steve had said was true. Everyone knew that. At least everyone in the apartment at that time.

At work, Javier Peña may still be that cold-blooded asshole, who may not have as many 'informants' as a few years ago but still continued using his charm as often as he needed to. He had changed, just no one there knew why.

But here, in the comfort of the Murphys' place, he was just Javi. A rough man with edges that got softened down, thanks to you. A man who once was a famous womanizer and bachelor in Bogota, now turned devoted boyfriend and partner who kissed the floor you walked on.

That smug grin never left Murphy's face that was starting to annoy Peña. "Don't say maybe. You know, I'm right."

Javier put out the tobacco stick in the little bowl provided, "And even if you are, she probably just changed the worst parts of me that needed changing in the first place."

He received a nod in response. "Wouldn't fight you on that." With one last gulp, Steve finished his beer. "She definitely changed you for the better. I'm just hoping you're not getting too soft now." Making Javier scoff.

As soon as his eyes met yours through the window, he immediately was brought back to all the small moments that had turned him into the man that he was now. Because yes, Steve was right. You definitely did change him for the better.

Javier heard you before he saw you. He always did. Those familiar steps of the same shoes you had been wearing to work for the past few years had branded themselves into his brain.

You were making your way to the shared office space of you, Murphy, and Peña when your eyes fell on Javi's back that was turned to the entrance. The full head of brown thick locks you'd recognize from a mile away.

His attention was fully on the board you had hung up on the wall, pictures of Escobar and his men plastered all around and red string tying in together every single piece of information you had.

"Good morning," you waltzed up behind him, not expecting him to turn around as he seemed to be somewhere else with his head. That explained your surprise when he mumbled a quiet,

"Mornin'," back to you.

You stopped right next to him, your eyes travelling around the board. "What are you looking at?" You wondered before you caught a mug on his desk from the corner of your eye. With a smile, you walked up to it, picking it into your grip to take a sip - at this point, the three of you had started to make this a casualty.

As soon as the, what you expected to be, hot delicious beverage hit your tongue, you were quick to spit it back into the mug, a groan of disgust echoing through the room.

"Oh my God, what the fuck!" The back of your hand came up to wipe your mouth clean.

Javi turned his head to glance at you and as soon as he saw you holding the mug, he moved forwards to snatch it out of your hands.

"Why the fuck are you drinking that?" He snapped at you, putting it back on the desk.

You still looked at him in shock, "Why are you drinking that?!" A quick look at the clock made you scoff, "Javi, it's 9am."

But he just shrugged, his arms crossing in front of his chest again as he went back to look at the board. "Long night."

Long night or not, you had never been a fan of Javier's very unhealthy drinking habits. You remembered even seeing him with a whiskey glass on the day you started working for the DEA in Bogota.

With a shake of your head, you moved to his desk, throwing yourself onto his chair before your hands were opening each drawer and cupboard.

Your hasty movements caught Peña's interest. "What are you doing?"

He didn't get an answer from you at first as you waited until you found what you were looking for. You were tired of his drinking at work. Outside of it, he could do whatever he wanted - he was an adult for God's sake. But here, in the DEA's office, at work, you didn't need to have his drunk ass as a co-worker.

"Blue, what are you looking for?" He got closer to you, the nickname he and Muphy had given you in your first week dropping from his lips easily.

With a relieved sigh, you stood up again, holding up the bottle of whiskey with a proud smile, "Say goodbye to this."

"Hey-" he tried to lean forward, hoping to get a hold of the bottle, but you were quicker than him, moving past him, already on your way out the door of the office.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" He called after you.

You turned around with a smile, "Pouring this down the drain. You're welcome!"

With a sigh, he lowered his head, shaking it and pinching the bridge of his nose.

At the same moment, Steve passed you, entering the small room with a frown, "What's she doing?" Directing his question towards Peña as he pointed at your disappearing figure.

"Giving me a fucking headache," Javier commented. His eyes found the mug on his desk again, another groan tumbling from his lips. Now he had to rely on that one cup for the rest of the day.

A soft chuckle almost escaped his lips at the memory.

"She threw my fucking alcohol away." Javier took a sip of his beer. "Only a few months after coming to the office."

Steve grinned, "Thank God. You'd be taking your morning shit with a shot of coffee and five of whiskey if she hadn't done that."

The following day, he remembered as clearly as he possibly could - how could he forget: the day that he felt the world shift. All because of one little word.

You basically skipped into the office, three cups of coffee from the shop around the corner of your apartment in your hands. Steve and he were already sitting at their designated desks, watching you and your million-dollar smile as you waltzed into the room.

"Good morning, my dear friends," you beamed at the men, settling everything onto your place, putting down your bag and taking off the jean jacket you had put on.

Steve smiled at you, slightly confused, "What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Not that it was a rarity to see you with a grin decorating your face, but it happened more than any of you would like to admit that any man in that building would ruin your mood early in the morning before you could even make your way into your shared office.

"They're finally open again!" You called out, placing a coffee cup each onto their desks. Javier smiled up at you radiating the positive energy around the room, something he had had to get used to once you started working with them.

"Who?" Murphy continued the conversation.

"The coffee shop! By my apartment. Remember? They were renovating the place, but they're finally done, and I'm getting my daily cup of coffee again."

"You mean liquid sugar?" Javi commented, earning himself a glare from you, almost making him smile. He got up from his seat, the coffee in his hands when he took a sip, interested in what the hell you may have put into his.

"Ugh," he immediately groaned at the taste.

"What?" Your big eyes locked onto his. He couldn't tell you what he really thought of it. He wasn't going to break your heart after you had just almost jumped around the room as you told them about the shop re-opening.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Dry."

The sound of your soft chuckle rang through his ear. Had it always sounded so angelic?

"You mean the way you're supposed to drink coffee, honey?" You patted his cheek before turning around to leave the room, on your way to get some files you had been looking for, not knowing you were leaving Javier frozen in place. That was a new nickname. He was used to 'Javi', 'jackass', 'senior' or 'idiot', but 'honey'? That was new.

With confusion written across his face, he huffed out a chunk of air he apparently had been holding, while Steve's eyes were trained on him, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"What the fuck just happened?" The Latino wondered out loud, not noticing that he was still standing up, still not moving, only entertaining Steve even more.

"What? You've never been called honey before?" He enjoyed teasing the man. It didn't matter in what context. Teasing Javier Peña was always fun, especially when you were involved.

Javi shrugged and shook his head, snapping back into reality. "Not by her."

And that made all the difference.

"I'm just saying." Murphy's voice made the other man realise they were still on the balcony and not in the past, even though he would've enjoyed dwelling in the memories a little more. "I see the way you look at her, and we don't need a soft boy in the DEA."

Javier scoffed, throwing his beer down his throat. "Says you, you blonde-haired, blue-eyed bitch."

"But I'm not getting soft."

"And neither am I!" He argued back, making Steve snicker. He knew Javier wasn't actually getting THAT soft, but it was fun riling him up.

The two men let a few moments of silence pass, listening to the mumbles of your and Connie's conversation inside the apartment and hearing the cars drive on the dimly lit streets.

"How long do you think you'll be able to hide it?" Oh, what a good question that was. Of course, Javi knew what his colleague was talking about because he had been wondering the exact same thing. Multiple evenings and nights were spent raking through his thoughts. Was what you were doing even a good idea? How long was this going to last? Was it worth it?

He didn't even want to admit to some of the questions that had popped into his head as he felt like he shouldn't even be questioning this relationship. But since the two of you shared a workplace, it only seemed right. Right?...

Two agents were in no way supposed to be romantically involved with each other. For one, it would most definitely be going against HR regulations, and two, you'd be putting yourself and your partner in so much more danger than you or they were already in from practising this job. But it was worth it. God, was it worth it.

Javier had been happier than ever before. Calmer than before - at least when you were around him. But as beautiful and wonderful as this little bubble was that the two of you had been sharing for a good year now, there were a lot of complications you hadn't had to face yet.

The Latino leaned back against the railing of the balcony, putting down the bottle of beer on the little table next to him before lighting up his next, and hopefully last, cigarette.

"Fuck... if I knew. Probably forever."

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Oh please, you know you won't be able to do that."

With the amount of scrunching of his eyebrows that Javi had been doing all his life, it wouldn't be surprising to see early wrinkles at his yet relatively young age. "The fuck you mean by that?"

"The amount of times you almost got caught? By literally just about anyone in the office beside me? Maybe I'm talking about that." As amusing as it was to Steve, he also understood the seriousness behind the topic. He just wanted the two of you to be safe, and alert of the people around you, because it started happening more and more that either one of you would forget how suspiciously protective you could get of each other - more specifically how protective Javier could get.

"We haven't gotten caught in the past and won't get caught in the future." He simply answered, tapping the ash off the cigarette.

The blonde man crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Maybe. But maybe they'll start looking more into some of your antics," but quickly raised them in defence as soon as he caught the glare on Javi's face. "Just trying to keep you two safe."

"Oh yeah? What antics?"

Steve shrugged parodically, "Oh, I don't know, what about two weeks ago?"

The three of you were sitting in Noonan's office, right across from her, all in slightly more formal clothing than you'd usually wear.

You had announced to your partners that you had a lead on one of Escobar's men and wanted to discuss your possible ideas with the female ambassador. Let's just say the talk had turned into a slightly more heated discussion than you had planned.

"M'am, I understand your concern-"

"Well, I really don't think you do, Miss. Have I not made myself clear before?"

You nodded, continuing the conversation standing up, copying her, while the two men were sitting on each side of you, quietly listening to the two of you. "You have, Ambassador, but this is a real possible lead I have here."

"How do you know that? How do you know you can trust the information you receive?" No one was supposed to know about what you were doing to get your info. You weren't about to rat the other people out. Not to the ambassador, not to anyone.

"I have trustful sources-" A scoff coming from the older woman made you stop. "I-I just need your okay to continue-"

"And you won't get it."

"M'am-"

"Do you want a repetition of what happened in Mexico?!" The sudden raise of the woman made you shut your mouth. But not only that. Her words lingered around the room. A heavy statement. She knew she hit a weak point with that.

You lowered your head and crossed your arms as a defence mechanism while the men exchanged questioning looks.

'What happened?' Javier mouthed to Steve, but only got a headshake in return, so he directed the question to the ambassador.

"Ehm," he cleared his throat. "What... happened in Mexico? If you don't mind me asking, M'am."

The older woman leaned forward, her palms on the table and let her tongue swipe across her teeth.

She scoffed, "They don't know?" Clearly asking you.

After taking a deep breath, you shook your head, "They don't have to know."

The woman raised her voice slightly again, "They're not your co-workers, agent, they're your partners. They should, in fact, know about your lousy decisions in the past!"

"They weren't lousy!" Arguing with her felt like fighting with a parent, but currently, you were only getting scolded and barely listened to. Before she could interrupt you, you continued, now copying her tone, "My decisions were very well thought through! The problem was these stupid CIA agents that didn't know what they were doing, and it wasn't my fault that the Guadalajara were thousand steps ahead of us!"

"And what's gonna be different this time? How do you not know that Escobar isn't already ahead of you right now?"

"Because I have my informants-"

"You're starting to sound like Peña, careful," she warned you with a huff.

You took her change in attitude to take a deep breath, "You can't compare this to Mexico. What happened was completely differ-"

"Can somebody explain what the fuck happened back in Mexico?!" Steve interrupted your argument, losing his last amount of patience for which Javier was very thankful because he was just as curious and just as impatient.

Your eyes fell on the ambassador, but her hand was motioning towards you, not even batting an eye, not even interlocking glances with you. When you didn't respond, she looked at you, seeing your pleading expression, but she shook her head.

"It's not my story to tell."

You gulped. She was right. It was your story. But for another time. "I'll explain it later, this is more important right now."

"No, it's not because I'm not putting you anywhere close to one of Escobar's men."

A heavy chunk of breath fell from your lips as you looked around the room in frustration, ignoring Javier's glare and Steve's awaiting eyes.

"Then send Carrillo with me. You trust him. He can come with me," you proposed, about what the older woman seemed to think about for a second, but that was quickly interrupted by Javi's voice.

"I can go with her."

All three heads shot towards him.

"What?" You mumbled, the ambassador copying your confusion.

"What? No! Peña, don't get me wrong, but I would trust Carrillo more than you with her." As soon as those words left her mouth, you closed your eyes. She shouldn't have said that.

"Excuse me?!" Javier shot up from his seat in rage. The other man quickly followed him, ready to hold him back if anything was about to happen. "She's my partner! Not fucking Carrillo's!" You didn't ignore the possible two meanings behind the word 'partner'. There had always been a slight jealous side to your boyfriend, and unfortunately, you had found out that sometimes he had a slightly harder time containing it.

"Javi-" you tried, but he ignored you.

"I've been working with her for years, and you'd rather send someone from the Search Bloc with her?!"

The woman pointed a strict finger at him, "I suggest you watch your tone, agent." She warned him. "Carrillo has gone on undercover missions before. Successfully. So yes, I would much rather send him than you. Especially now after you just put on a show like that. What's gotten into you?" No one answered that question.

Javi huffed out in annoyance before turning to you, "You trust him more than me?"

That took you back. "W-...What does that have to do with anything?"

"Why did you suggest Carrillo instead of me?!" Now it was his time to raise his voice, earning him an eyebrow raise from the ambassador.

"Javi! It doesn't matter-"

"It fucking matters to me!"

"Guys-" Steve, who was standing behind you, tried to calm you down by placing his hands on your upper arms, but you brushed him off, continuing the fight with your partner.

"He has done things like this before, he'd be able to protect me if needed-"

"I'd be able to protect you if needed! Are you seriously questioning this now?!"

You opened your mouth again, but the loud voice of the older woman immediately shut you down and made you turn towards her.

"Both of you, stop it! Right now!" She took a deep breath. "What on earth is going on with you two?" Everyone stood quietly in front of her. She pointed at you, "Listen. I don't know what is going on in that brain of yours, nor do I understand your ways of picking these men apart psychologically. I understand and respect your devotion, but I won't be risking your life a second time." You opened your mouth, but she quickly motioned for you to be quiet. How fucking old did she think you were? But then again, you could only imagine that you looked like teenagers to her in this scene. "Now." She wiggled her finger between you and Javier. "You two. Clear up whatever the heck is going on between you two. I need you both with a clear head, not with... God, I don't even know. And you." Her eyes went to Steve, "Keep an eye on them. Seems like they're going through puberty again..." The ambassador mumbled the last part, only adding to her already disappointing, yet strict tone.

But you were not about to go down that quickly. "M'am-" you tried, but she had the upper hand once again.

"Out. I have a meeting in five."

You were gently pushed back by Steve while Javi walked beside you quietly.

The last call out from Noonan stopped you. "And if I find out that you met up with Escobar's man behind my back, I will not hesitate to send you back to the US, just so we're clear." Loud and clear. You didn't respond, but just kept on walking, a clear tension following the three of you out of the room. There was a lot to discuss.

Javi shook his head at the memory, putting out his cigarette, "Don't fucking remind me of that." He hated the way he reacted. He hated the fact that it happened in front of Noonan. But most importantly, he hated that you had kept something so significant from him.

After you had gotten back into the office, the interrogation began. You had to spill everything that had happened back in Mexico - back before you joined the DEA in Colombia. And let's just say neither Javi nor Steve was happy after listening to your story of being held hostage by the Guadalajara only days before they killed Kiki as their first target was planned to be you.

He wanted to forget everything you had told them, but he couldn't. As if your job wasn't already dangerous enough as it is, you were actually willing to go the extra mile, risking letting the same thing happen for a second time?! Just thinking about it made his blood boil.

"But I have to remind you of that," Steve stated with a sigh. "Because Noonan asked me about the 'tension' between you two. And why you were so against Carrillo all of a sudden."

"Fuck me..." Javi cursed under his breath, throwing his head back with a groan.

The blonde man scrunched his face in disgust, "Nah, thanks, I'll leave that to Blue." Getting a chuckle from the Latino, which made both of the men snicker together.

"It's not gonna be easy, you know?" Javier suddenly spoke, alerting Steve of his worries. He understood - of course, he did. But he had mentioned this to both of you from day one. He even remembered talking to Javi about that before you two were officially together.

He nodded in understanding, "I know. Just... try to keep it undercover. As best as possible. More like you did towards the beginning because you're starting to get more daring with the shit you're doing in the office. I wouldn't be surprised to find you fucking in one of the file rooms one day."

"Yeah yeah," the Latino brushed his friend off, his memory bringing him back to the older times. 'Like you did towards the beginning', but Javier had never been able to hold himself back completely.

Up the elevator, Javier walked into the hallway, on his way to the meeting you had planned with Colonel Wysession. The three of you were getting closer and closer to catching that bastard, you were sure, and now with some help, it just might be even quicker. Peña couldn't say he was looking forward to necessarily working closer with the Marine Corps, only ever trusting the division he was serving in, but he accepted what had to be done.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of familiar grunts. Too familiar grunts. Glancing to his right, he found the door to one of the file rooms slightly ajar. His hand reached out to push it further open, immediately coming to sight with a back he only know too well.

The corners of his lips curled up in amusement as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching you trying to make yourself taller by standing on your tippy toes to reach for one of the boxes on the higher shelves. The entertaining scene didn't last for long though when you suddenly managed to somehow move it with your fingertips, making it tilt towards you.

Javier reacted fast. His smile dropped, and with one big step forward, he was right behind you, his arms up as he caught the heavy box with his hands while yours flew up to cover your head with a gasp escaping your throat - for one, because of the weight almost landing on you, but for two because of the person coming into the room, catching you off guard.

"Jesus, careful, cariño." You recognised the rumble of a voice belonging to your... boyfriend? No, probably still too early to call it that. Fuck buddy? Nah, it was way more than that. Anyways, that's a discussion for another time.

"Sorry," you answered him, dodging your head and moving away from Javi, so he could lower the box and bring it to one of the tables by the wall. "Thanks," you patted his shoulder before removing the lid to find the multiple files you had been looking for.

"What do you need these for?" Your partner snatched one out for himself, opening it to take a quick look.

"Wysession asked me to get them. I don't know what exactly he thinks they could help with, but oh well," you explained, brushing off the dust that got caught on your clothes.

Javier scoffed with an eye-roll, "'Course he did."

You looked through some of the pieces of paper in silence before you felt a pair of eyes not leaving your form, making you look up. Your gaze interlocked with Javi's, but he just grinned at you.

You chuckled, "What?"

He shrugged, "Nothing. I just haven't seen you today yet."

You couldn't help the smile appearing on your lips, "Well," you closed the file you were holding, "You've seen me now."

With a smirk decorating his already unique features, he slid over to be closer to you, his fingers tracing one of the strands of your hair framing your face. "I have," he leaned forward just a tad bit more, his thumb holding your chin. You could feel his lips ghosting over yours for a second before he properly kissed you, making you smile into the kiss. For a moment everything was perfect. As soon as he leaned back again, freeing you from his touch, a pout appeared on your face, making him chuckle and glide his finger over your bottom lip. "You look beautiful today, Hermosa." Before you could say anything, he placed another soft, yet meaningful peck onto your lips, breaking it off again after only a few seconds.

"You're lucky there are no cameras in here," you commented, reading to pack everything together to leave the small room. Javier looked around, analysing the corners a tiny bit more.

"Maybe there are." Which got him a slap on his chest with the file you were still holding, making him chuckle and you shake your head. He turned around to the box, "Let's get these to Wysession." You couldn't even take his place as he swiftly picked up the box that would definitely be too heavy for you, along with the other one that was already on the table - you had managed to place one there as it had been kept at chest height, but you had still been out of breath after getting it out.

"Javi, s- I can carry them." Maybe it was true, maybe not, but you didn't want him to do the dirty work that had been assigned to you.

He walked past you, stopping and nudging his head to make you walk out of the room first. "I'm sure you can. But you shouldn't have to."

On your way to the meeting room, you had started talking quietly about what you could be doing that night, as your plans until then had only been to join Javi at his place, which was more than enough for him, but you were always up to do something more.

As soon as you entered the room though, the smiles on both of your faces fell once the Colonel opened his mouth.

"Peña," he started. "I don't remember asking you to get the files."

Steve eyed the two of you suspiciously, wondering what exactly the two of you had been up to, praying it was only about getting what Wysession wanted. You took a seat beside him, sending him a quick grin to say 'Hi'.

Javier stayed by your side, the chair right next to you already behind him to sit down after snapping back at the older man. "Yeah, well you know, I just thought I'd be a nice co-worker and don't let a lady carry all of this shit."

Wysession smacked his lips, "And I think that if a woman's strong enough to be a DEA Agent, she should also be strong enough to carry a box of files."

Both of your partners noticed the deep breath you had taken, trying to hold yourself back, knowing that arguing with that man in power was only going to get you into trouble. Javi placed his comforting palm on your thigh under the table, giving it a soft squeeze, letting you know he got you.

"And if a man's confident enough to order a woman to do such thing, he should also be confident enough to do it himself. Don't you think?" He sent the Colonel a quick wink before the subject was changed in the room, and all focus was on the task at hand. Well, maybe all but yours because your mind was still holding onto the words Javi had let echo through the room.

As a small 'thank you', your hand found his that was still on your leg, your fingers wrapping around his rough ones. He got you.

"But it's good," Steve commented all of a sudden. Javi crossed his arms when a surprisingly cold wind passed by.

Yet another frown made its way onto his face. "What is?"

"That you got her," the blonde nodded towards the living room, where you had changed your seat to sit on the larger couch, you back now towards the two men. "I was sceptical at first, I'm not gonna lie-"

"I know you were," Javier remembered the talk Steve had with you and him just all too well. During dinner, whereas Connie had to sit next to him, beaming as she tried to control her big smile, just happy for you two and ready to engulf you in the biggest hug possible, squeezing you until you were begging her to stop - you had that kind of relationship - Steve was trying to stay as professional as possible, knowing how serious the situation would get if it got out that you were dating. He was just trying to help.

"But," the American defended himself, "I'm still glad you didn't listen to me when I first told you not to get too close to her. She's doing the world a favour." The confusion on Javi's face made him continue, "She's changing the one and only Javier Peña." He slapped his shoulder with a smirk as he passed his colleague, earning him a scoff in return.

The Latino had enough fresh air, and dwelling on the memories made him want to get back next to you as quickly as possible, so he joined his colleague on the way back inside.

Connie was nowhere to be seen, probably in the bedroom, but you were still occupied with the baby on your lap, that seemed to be very close to falling asleep thanks to your fingers gently tracing the outline of her face. You were always so careful - not only with babies. Javier remembered the first time he ever saw you handling a gun. He wanted to shoot every person that gave you the okay to go out in the field with a hold as you had. The Latino had to teach you how to properly keep the gun in your hand, tightly enough to not let any idiot just smack it out of your grasp.

Even the way you would hold your pens at work, filling out whatever paperwork you had to do, was almost too gentle for Javi's liking. The first time he had met you, he wondered how somebody with a voice, so soft and sweet, could work in a surrounding like theirs. But you also had a hard side to yourself. It didn't show very often, but when it did... Lord help anyone that was around you.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Javi's body directed towards you and as soon as you looked up, your eyes locked. You sent him a welcoming smile, making him grin as he walked up to you, gazing down at the little girl in your lap. You had put your feet up, the soles resting on the cushion you were sitting on, to let the Murphys' surrogate daughter rest against your upper thighs.

He reached down to brush a hand over the top of your head, getting a soft moan from you as you tilted your head back to look up at him.

"Do you wanna finish my beer?" You whispered, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby.

Javi's eyes found the almost empty bottle on the coffee table.

"You don't want it anymore?" He wondered since that had been your only drink of the entire night, and you were usually able to drink more. You shook your head in answer, "'m too tired."

It was common for you to watch your drinking very carefully, always looking out for not drinking too much, but as Javier reached down to pick up the beer bottle, he remembered the one time you didn't. The only time until now when he had to step in. When he felt needed.

It hadn't been an easy day at the office - the exact opposite in fact. For Javier and Steve, the day was just too long, but for you, it had been exhausting. Physically and emotionally. Some CIA agents were visiting the embassy and thought it was very funny and entertaining for a woman like you to be a DEA agent, and they weren't holding back on commenting on it.

You had holden yourself back as well as you possibly could, but every person had a snapping point. And once you had reached yours, it earned you a warning from Noonan and getting excused from work early. Not knowing what to do with the extra time, and on the verge of letting tears of frustration go, you found yourself in a bar just five minutes away from your workplace. Alcohol was always an easy way to numb everything.

You had lost count after what you thought to be your fourth drink, but who fucking cared. I had a horrible day at work, I deserved this, you told yourself.

Your partners obviously noticed how on edge you had been throughout the entire day, and the glances and whispered comments from the other men weren't helping. They were planning on checking on you, but Steve had received a call from Connie, urging him to come home, leaving Javier to take care of his girlfriend. Once he arrived at your place and knocked on the door, an uncomfortable feeling spread in his stomach as you didn't open the door. He tried again and again, but after four minutes, he realised, you weren't even home. The agent tried to call you, only to get greeted by your voice message, making him sigh and shake his head. He thought and thought, trying to find a possible place you could be. With his car, he drove around the area, looking into parks and such, not really believing to find you there, but you never know. Most stores were already closed, so you couldn't be there either. The last possibility would be a bar - definitely not the first place he'd expect you to be, but not an impossibility. He stopped at every bar, taking quick glances inside and asking around before he finally arrived at the one closest to the embassy - he couldn't even explain the weight leaving his shoulders once he saw you hunched over the bar counter. If he didn't know better, he'd think you were asleep.

Strutting across the floor until he came to a halt to your right, taking a seat on one of the barstools, he could hear the slight mumbles and hums coming from you. Since you you had your head down, resting on your arm on the top of the counter, you hadn't realised who had shown up, only when you suddenly felt the warmth of a palm on the back of your head, you dared to look up.

"Javi?" You squinted, trying to find out whether your eyes were playing a trick on you or if the man was actually sitting next to you.

He smirked at your dishevelled hair, trying to brush it cleaner with his fingers, "Hey," he spoke quietly and thanks to only a few people in that bar sitting far away from you, you were able to hear him clearly. "What are you doing here, Hermosa?"

You straightened your back slightly. "I think I'm supposed to be asking you that," the words lulled out of you, showing him just how drunk you actually were.

"How much have you had to drink?"

Uncontrollably, you started turning on the barstool, moving from side to side by pushing against the counter. You shrugged, "Two... or three..."

"Drinks? Or shots?"

"Maybe four," you continued to sing, "Or... six? Idontknow..." the last part just stumbled from your lips.

Javier shook his head with a sigh, "Jesus... alright," he got up from his seat, his right hand reaching for the drink in front of you. "You don't need that anymore."

You immediately noticed his movement and tried to stop him, "Heyyy," you whined out. "I wanted to drink that."

"No you didn't, come on," he tried to get you off the stool, but you were barely helping him, much rather just gazing at him with a pout.

"B-... But you drink too when you're frustrated," you commented.

He got you to stand up on your feet, his right arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. "Yeah," he nodded, "But you don't wanna be like me."

"And what if I do?" Your fingers started tracing his chest, covered by that white short-sleeved button-up you have come to love so much.

"Trust me. You don't."

Somehow, he managed to get you into the passenger seat of his car, securing you with the seatbelt you tended to forget to put on sometimes, before rushing to the driver's side and getting the car to start. He knew he wouldn't want you to stay at home alone tonight, so he was already planning his overnight stay at your place: getting you out of the car again, out of your clothes, maybe, if you weren't too tired, under the shower real quick, knowing how much you hated going to bed unshowered, and then into some pyjamas and under the covers to let you sleep off whatever alcohol was left in your body - which was currently still too much, he could tell.

You had closed your eyes but weren't sleeping, listening to the engine of Javier's car when something came to your mind. You abruptly shot your eyes open, "My car!"

He nodded, "I'll go get it tomorrow, don't worry." His comforting hand found its usual way to your upper thigh, resting there until you put your hand on top of his.

A few moments of silence passed before a deep sigh fell from your lips, clearly laced with frustration. Stopping at a red light, Javi turned his head to look at your side profile, almost catching himself smiling as he took in the soft glow of red elevating your features. God... what were you doing to him. His thumb started rubbing gently up and down your thigh.

"I hate men," you suddenly blurred out.

He couldn't help but to chuckle, taking your hand with his to change gear and continue the journey home. "I know, amor, I know."

"Not you, though," you quickly added, resting your head back, but turning it to look at him, "Not you."

"I know," he smiled, taking a quick glance at you and patting your leg.

"And Steve," you continued, only making him shake his head with a smirk, "I could never hate Steve. Or you. But everyone else... no. I hate them," you continued to lull out every word, not sobering up in the slightest with every added statement. "I hate Escobar. You know, how much I hate Escobar?"

"I can imagine, sweetheart," he commented, earning him a moan of disgust from you. "What?" Javi looked at you in concern as you shook your head.

"Don't call me sweetheart. It makes me sound like an old married woman."

He chuckled, "In Texas, it's very common to call people that are close to you that."

"Still," you fought back, starting to play with his fingers in your lap, "Use your Spanish words you always call me."

"You like the Spanish names more?" To which you nodded, not even trying to hide the big grin on your lips. "Alright, muñeca."

"Muñeca?" You smiled, "What does that mean?"

"You're half Latina, you should know that," he teased, pulling into the driveway of your apartment complex.

You opened your mouth, "Oh yeah... I should know that..." Dazed in your thoughts, you didn't notice the snicker from Javier as he exited the car to get you from your side.

A chuckle almost tumbled from his lips at the memory, thinking back to how hard it was to get you to change into more comfortable clothing and into bed because as soon as he had put you onto the mattress, a sudden rush of energy rushed through your body. What a night...

"You wanna go home?" He wondered, lowering himself slowly onto the sofa down next to you, careful to not disturb the baby that was daringly close to falling asleep.

A yawn was his answer, but a nod from you also followed. "Yeah," you patted his thigh gently. "I'm just gonna take Olivia to Connie."

"Olivia?" Javier asked you, his eyes following your fingers that were still drawing along the sides of the baby's face.

You nodded, "Connie said she's been thinking of naming her that. I think it fits. A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl." The sudden soft smile that appeared on the baby's face made you copy the expression, beaming at your lap. "Oh my god," you gasped, making the man next to you chuckle. "Do you think she understood me?"

"I doubt that, muñeca." His arm had found its way to lie comfortably behind you, his thumb rubbing your shoulder.

You shrugged, "Who knows, maybe they do understand us, but just can't communicate." As soon as the infant opened her eyes, you smiled brightly at her. "Right, sweet girl? You know how beautiful you are." Tapping her nose to make her grin.

At the exact same moment, a sudden flash blinded you and your boyfriend, and the baby apparently too as her cries rang through your ears. Looking up, you caught Steve standing in front of you, a polaroid camera in his hands, smirking proudly at you and your partner.

"Steve!" You called out, shaking your head along as you tried to soothe her again, "Well done, dad."

"Fucking idiot," Javier cursed out as you got up to bounce the baby up and down, hoping to calm her down.

"Javi!" You hissed at him, shielding the small ear closer to him. "Not in front of the kid!"

"Cariño, she can't understand us."

"You don't know that." Were your last words before you left the room to join the other woman in the bedroom, handing her her surrogate daughter back. That left Javier and Steve yet alone again.

"Great job," the Latino sarcastically complimented the other agent, who was grinning at his hands.

"So worth it though."

"What? Making your kid cry?" Javi scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, until Steve lifted up the polaroid picture he had taken, showing it to his partner. It was perfect. Javier and you sitting comfortably on the couch, looking down at your lap where you had held the little girl. Both smiling. Both happy. He didn't notice you leaning into the arm he had draped over you, but it was clear to see in the picture.

Peña cleared his throat as he stood up, brushing his hands over his jeans. "Keep it." But Steve shook his head.

"Nah man, that's for you two."

Javier pushed back his outstretched hand, "It's fine."

Before the blonde man could start an argument, you came back into the living room, your eyes immediately on the two. It didn't take you long to see what Steve was holding.

"Oh my god!" You smiled with bright eyes, jogging over to your partner, and snatching the picture into your own hands. "It's so cute. Look!" You showed it to your boyfriend even though you knew he had already seen it. He shook his head, but Murphy was quicker than him.

"Keep it," he told you. "One of the only pictures I've ever seen where Javi actually looks decent."

"Hey!" You hit his upper arm with the polaroid before looking down at it again with a grin that was so wide, Javier could've sworn it almost reached your ears. "But thanks," with a shy smile and a nod, you thanked your co-worker, who copied your actions. "I just said goodbye to Connie by the way," you directed your statement to the man next to you.

"You're going already?" The blonde American wondered, walking back into the kitchen to place the Polaroid camera on the countertop.

You nodded, "Looking after your kid tires you out. But you wouldn't know that." With the sarcastic smile you sent him, you disappeared into the hallway. The two men followed you quietly.

Javier took your jacket off the hook first, waiting for you to turn your back to him so he could help you slide in. Steve leaned against the frame of the walkthrough, eyeing the couple smugly.

"Well, at least I now know who not to call when we need someone to look after her," he teased you, knowing it would offend you since you had a reputation for being good with kids.

"How dare you," you gasped, pointing a finger at him, which made him laugh out loud. Javi shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders to turn you towards the door, ready for the night to finally come to an end. He pushed you forward until you had no choice but to push down the door handle and open the front door of their apartment.

You turned around, "See ya tomorrow!" Calling out to your other partner.

Javier did the same, adding a, "Say good night to Connie and Olivia for me." Getting a confused look at the mention of a 'Olivia' in return.

You spent the car ride to your boyfriend's place comfortably reminiscing about the evening, asking him about what Steve and he had talked about on the balcony, but only receiving 'nothing important, just small talk back. He had asked you about your conversations with Connie in return, wondering what you had discussed. What he didn't expect was to hear all of the gossip from your co-worker's wife's work, having to remember names he had never heard of before, which suddenly seemed very important. But he enjoyed it. He could've listened to you for many more hours but had tired yourself out from talking, immediately shutting quiet as soon as you had arrived.

Javier didn't waste a second before he took off his clothing, immediately heading for the bathroom to take a shower and call it a night. You followed him, brushing your teeth while he was washing his body, and switching positions as soon as he was done. He put on a pair of thin pyjama pants you got him, that he usually only put on out of courtesy since you both knew they'd come off during the night eventually - either because of you or simply because that man gets too hot for his own good while sleeping. You had thrown on your pyjama set, consisting of satin shorts along with a matching strappy top and went back to the bedroom, where your boyfriend was already waiting, having thrown himself onto the mattress, his feet still on the ground by the side of the bed.

"Is someone tired?" You teased him, walking up to him to lean down and brush some of his hair away from his forehead.

He huffed out a big chunk of air. "Sometimes Steve talks even more than you."

"Hey, you've never complained about me talking."

"No, but about Steve's." His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your giggles, filling his stomach and heart. Your fingers continued playing with his hair when a thought popped into your head.

"Where's your wallet?" Letting your eyes travel across the room to see if you could catch sight of the leather object.

"Why?" His hand found yours, holding onto it as he pushed himself up to sit with his other one. Javi gently dragged you in closer to stand in between his legs that he had parted to make room for you. Instead of answering him, you just showed him your open palm, sending him a quick smile along with it.

He nudged his head towards his nightstand, where the purse had been placed on. You reached out to grab it. His gaze was fixed on you and your hands as you opened it, placing the object you had been holding into one of the compartments.

"Here!" You showed him your masterpiece. You had put the picture Steve took of you two into the see-through slit in his wallet, and you seemed to be very proud of it. Javier couldn't help the chuckle coming from him. He got the purse back into his grasp.

"Gracias, corazón."

"You're welcome," you smiled back at him, intertwining your fingers with each other behind his neck as he threw the wallet back to where it had been before his hands rested on one of their favourite spots - your hips. Brushing them up and down your sides, he gazed up at you, who was already looking down at him.

"Have you been frowning a lot lately?" Your sudden question took him by surprise, making him unknowingly scrunch his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"Like now!" You giggled, running your right thumb between his brows to decrease the tension. "Don't do that. You'll get wrinkles."

Javier lips slightly curled at your concern. "I think those come with age, mi amor. But you wouldn't know that." Adding the little comment you teased Steve with, hiding it in a compliment and making you grin.

"Come one," he motioned for you to get on the bed while he lifted the covers, so you both could get comfortable underneath them. You scootched in closer, so your faces were only a few inches apart.

"Aren't you tired?" You wondered, feeling his arm wrap tighter around you to pull you in even tighter and place a sweet kiss on your lips. You let your fingers brush through the locks at the back of his head, getting him to close his eyes and sigh. The tension was leaving his entire body just with those simple touches of yours. The magic hold you had on him made you grin. You loved having this effect on him. You knew you had it. It was in intimate moments like this that Javier would let himself completely relax underneath you. And that happened multiple times. Whether it was thanks to your voice, your touch, or simply your being. You relaxed him.

The two of you shared a few moments in silence, in which you had moved closer to him, he now on his back, your cheek resting against his shoulder, his hand brushing up and down your sides and back while your fingers were resting on his chest. But there was one question playing on the tip of your tongue that you just couldn't hold back anymore.

"What do you think of Olivia?" His movements on your body stopped for a second, almost making you gulp, but he played his surprise off and continued rubbing your back.

"I think... she's... a baby?" Making it sound like a question. A snicker fell from your lips, and you teasingly nudged his hips with yours.

"Nooo, that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, hermosa?"

You sat up straighter, pushing yourself off his shoulder to look at him, his hand still on your back.

"Just," you shrugged, "In general. What do you think... of her... as a baby, I guess."

Javier noticed the slight shyness in your eyes when you let your gaze wander around, not really interlocking with his. He smirked at the realisation,

"Are you asking me how I feel about kids? Like having kids?"

You quickly looked at him, "No. No, I wouldn't do that. I know you." His confused look made you continue. "I know who you are." Suddenly, your voice became much quieter than before.

"And who am I?" He copied your tone, turning this conversation much more sensual than you had planned for it to be. You didn't miss his hand travelling lower down your body, brushing over the curve of your ass, down to your leg to throw one over his.

"Javier Peña," you simply answered him.

He nodded, "That's my name."

The unamused facial expression of yours would've made him laugh if he didn't find the situation more serious than he would've liked to admit. Something about this felt important. Very important.

"You know what I mean," you tilted your head, avoiding his gaze by tracing his collarbones with your finger, your eyes following it.

"I'm afraid I don't, mi amor." The nickname still made you tingle. From the moment he first used it up until that moment - the feeling continued to be the same. You felt loved. You felt wanted. You felt needed.

You let out a soft sigh, looking down before back up again. "I don't know... you're just... Javier Peña. The cold-blooded DEA agent-"

"Is that all you think of me?"

"No," you quickly added, "Of course not. That's just who you are to other people. To me, you're... I don't know... nice?"

"Nice?" He chuckled, making you do the same as you hid your face in his neck. You could already tell this question was a mistake, but you continued, distancing yourself from him, placing your palm on his chest

"What do you want me to say? You're so sweet and bubbly?" You both laughed in synch, his arms wrapping just a little tighter around you. "You're not, Javi! You're rough but soft around-"

"I swear to God if someone calls me soft one more time-"

"Who called you soft?"

"Fucking Steve." You laughed out loud at his confession. Your hands cradled his face, placing a few pecks on his cheek until you reached his lips.

"Aww, my sweetie is getting soft." This earned you a pinch to your thigh, making you jolt up and chuckle even more.

"That's what you get for saying shit like that," he commented with a subtle smile, catching your lips with a kiss, almost making you moan by the force of it.

You patted the side of his face gently. "No, no, don't worry. That just wouldn't be you anymore. I'd hate that."

The man smirked, "So you admit that you like it rough?"

"Javi!" You smacked his chest, but he caught your hand and pulled you in for another kiss.

"Just admit it, cariño," he mumbled against your lips.

"Never, Peña," you giggled.

He stole a couple more kisses before releasing you. "Alright, then back to your question." His hands rested on the side of your legs while your finger traced invisible lines on his chest.

"Nooo, please. Let's just forget I ever asked."

"You want me to forget you asking me if I want kids?"

You gasped, "That was not my question!" But he just continued to look at you. A few seconds passed, and no one said anything. Until you broke the silence, finding it slowly become unbearable where you left off. "But-"

"There we go," he proudly smirked. You shook your head with a smile.

"If I was hypothetically asking. Your hypothetical answer would be...?"

"Why are you worrying so much about that all of a sudden? Hypothetically speaking." He seemed genuinely interested in hearing your answer to his question.

You shrugged and thought for a while before dropping your hand down, finding his fingers to play with now. "You didn't even think twice about it when you found Olivia. It seemed so obvious to you that Steve would take her." Ah, there it was.

Javier took a deep breath. "Yeah... I guess so." His eyes focused on your intertwined fingers for a split second before looking up again. "For one, because he and Connie have been married for quite a while, so, you know, it seemed fitting. And second, because... well... I'm not exactly a-"

"Family person." You answered for him with a nod.

"Right," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, not at you, almost in shame. You could hear another heavy breath escaping his lips. "But you are." And his eyes were back on you again. Regret and fear. Maybe even uncertainty. That's what they showed. You were sure of it.

"I guess," you shrugged.

"You're great with kids. Of course, you are," he assured you. By now you knew that if there was one person that knew you better than anyone else, it would be Javi. The multiple nights you spent venting your problems onto him - past, present and future possible problems. Even before you shared a bed. That's how you bonded. Shared fears from the past. Regrets you didn't want to go through again. He knew you like the back of his hand. You weren't yet sure if you could say the same thing about him.

"Yeah..." you placed his hands in front of you, looking down. Hands that have killed. But also hands that have brought you love and pleasure. And oh, the many more things those hands could do. "But you're not."

Javier didn't nod or shake his head. He just kept his gaze on you. He didn't know what to say or how to react. Was it too early to have this conversation? The two of you were close to sharing your second anniversary together, so he guessed the time had to come at some point... right? He had admitted his love for you a long time ago, he could admit this too.

"What do you want?"

His question made you look up, "Hm?" You wondered, slightly confused by what he had meant.

"In the future. What do you want? And be honest," he squeezed your hands assuringly.

You gulped. "I think that changed when I came to Colombia, you know?"

"Then before that. Before you knew about all this shit here. What was the future you dreamed of?"

You let the question linger in the air for a second before you opened your mouth with a smile. "I really wanted to be a mom. I always thought I'd become a young mom, to be honest. But then I found my way into law enforcement and I knew I couldn't have both... But I think I'd still want that. I really loved my mom growing up. She did a great job raising me and my siblings, so I definitely know I'd have someone to look up to in that sense." He continued listening to you attentively, his hands moving along your skin gently. "I want a house. A white house preferably. With a big garden. Maybe even a farm or something. Animals. Especially cats. Maybe a dog... I don't know... I'd decide on that when the time comes. But... yeah... kinda do want kids." Javi didn't miss the change of tense when you spoke about wanting to become a mother.

"Alright," he nodded, placing his hand on your cheek to pull you in for a kiss. You moved your lips along with his, fitting perfectly like usual. You separated yourself from him, your hand back on his chest.

"That's all you have to say?" You chuckled a bit at his response.

Javier's hand came to your neck, his fingers tracing your skin. "Yeah." He nodded, definitely not understanding what you had meant.

"So, I'll just say whatever, and you go along with it?" You smiled at your partner, slightly amused by his opinion on the subject, yet not fully believing it.

He shrugged, "If you want a family with a house and pets, who am I to deny you of that?"

"But that's not how it works. That's not how a relationship works."

"And how does a relationship work, mi amor?" He wondered, pushing himself up to put you underneath his body, holding himself up with his arms on either side of you.

"You're supposed to say what you think of something, and then I say what I think of it, and we'll try to find a middle ground and settle on that," you explained, knowing you had his full attention.

"And what would the middle ground on this be? No kids, kids, only one. There is no middle ground here." You didn't really think about that. He was right. But who would be the person to give in now? Even if you hadn't decided that yet, Javier had already made his decision a while ago. "If you want that. I'm gonna make sure that you'll get it."

You shook your head, your fingers finding the brown locks by his neck. "But that's not you."

"Says who?"

"You-"

"I never said that," he argued. "I never said I didn't want a future like Steve's." His statement surprised you. And he couldn't lie, it was hard for him to admit. Javier wasn't used to showing this side of himself. But if anyone got to see him like that, it was you. "It's definitely not made for me, that's for sure. And I don't really think that it's very smart to have small kids running around in a country like this while you're hunting down drug lords and whatnot every day. But just because I didn't think that life was for me, doesn't mean that can't change."

His words let the shiver move from your head down to your toes, filling your stomach with butterflies and your heart with desire. You never expected to hear words even similar to these from Javier. To be fair, there hadn't been many times where you thought of having a potential future with kids with your boyfriend - it always seemed so clear to you that as soon as you gave yourself to him, you had to let that dream go for good. But here you were, underneath the man you had come to love, gazing into his big brown eyes while he poured out his entire heart to you. You knew he meant every word. Every single one. And maybe it was still a little too soon to truly think about this subject intensively (or maybe not), but God, you'd be lying if you said your want and need for him didn't grow even bigger than you could've ever imagined.

You nodded up to him, biting down on your lips to hide the smile that would've been way too bright for this moment. "Okay." You whispered, pulling him down to you to let him know that maybe you had now just given him a simple and short answer, but Lord, you meant it.

Javier grinned at you, "Okay."

You weren't going to get to work on it right away. But maybe one day. Maybe one day this conversation would repeat itself and right afterwards you'd find yourself moaning his name out into the world as he made sure that you got what you had always dreamed of.

That wasn't the Javier Peña everyone else knew, but it was the Javi that you knew and loved. Just the right amount of rugged and soft to make sure you knew you were loved in every way possible, but also protected and safe.

He smirked down as he noticed your need to pull him closer. Once again, your lips met, making you melt right into the sheets underneath you and moan into his lips when you felt his hand riding up your torso underneath your silk shirt.

"Now, what was that about you not liking rough?"

"Javi," you scolded him with a chuckle as you felt a rush of heat rush up to your cheeks, but definitely also through your body. His hot breath tickled your neck as you started working his lips against your skin, making you sigh heavily.

"I think I'm gonna have to prove you wrong on that, muñeca," he whispered against your ear, making a grin when you pulled him back to face you, not even giving me a second to think before smashing your lips against his.

Javi didn't mention the sensation that filled his body back at the Muphy's place when his eyes found you with that little girl. He'd let you know about that once the time was right.

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#javier peña #x reader #Pedro pascal #javier pena #imagine #one shot #imagines #fluff #smutty #narcos #netflix

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steppin-on-the-last-train · 1 year ago

Text

cowboy like me

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: As a part-time criminal and a full-time escape artist your first priority was always to keep people at arm's length. When you meet someone who also knows what it's like to live from day to day, you're not so sure you want to let her slip away.

Foreword: Title taken from the Taylor Swift song cause it’s evermore season y’all

The first time you met the Black Widow was aboard a train heading south toward London.

You sat, facing the window and watching the people mill about the terminal outside. Your cheeks were still red and wind bitten from your commute to the station. The car was almost full now, most everyone dressed in Manchester United jerseys and hats and the like. You blended in just fine among them. Another fan headed home after the match with a scarf and an old pair of trainers.

You rehashed the details of your current mark in your head like a mantra. Jameson Harris. 42 Malcolm Rd. Wife was Anna Harris. Two children, Marcus and Emily.

“All aboard. The 5:00 train from Manchester to London is off in three minutes,” the conductor announced from a speaker overhead. You could barely hear it over the excitement of the crowd. A little boy ran screaming down the aisle, his mother giving a futile chase.

In the set of seats facing you two men about your age sat down. They were clearly drunk, laughing like hyenas and shoving each other in a manner that bordered on real anger. At least one of them smelled like heavy smoke.

“Hey, mate,” the tall, lanky one with a bad neck tattoo waved at you. “How about that game, eh?”

You grinned widely as if you had one too many drinks coursing through your veins. “Fucking wild.” You stumbled over the words as if your tongue didn’t sit correctly in your mouth. “Best match of the season, if you ask me.”

The other guy, fitter and dark-haired took out a lighter and a cigarette. He lit it and pulled a huge drag. The exhaled smoke blew right into the face of a passing attendant.

She coughed stiffly into her hand. “Sir, there is no smoking allowed onboard. I am going to have to ask you to step out or please put it out.”

“Are you talking to me, sweetheart?” You averted your gaze, scrolling mindlessly through the contacts in your phone. If the woman was looking for a hero, you were a false beacon of hope.

“Yes. Now, please. There is truly no smoking allowed in the car.” The acrid stench of nicotine once more assaulted everyone misfortunate enough to be in the general vicinity.

The man took a deep breath and stood. Elaborately he stubbed the cigarette out on the back of his seat, little bits of ash flaking into the air. The attendant moved on and he dropped back into the chair. “Fucking cunt,” he swore loud enough to cut through the din.

You closed your eyes to shut out the cloudy winter light intent on piercing your retinas and the jerky movements of the other passengers, high off the energy from the match. You swore you would take a break after this job. You had made that exact same promise to yourself last week in Bogota, and the time before in Cairo. No, you wouldn’t stop. Just as relentless as the blood rushing through your veins, stopping would be tantamount to death.

“Excuse me.” A voice caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. Innocence dripped from the words like honey, and you could tell the woman’s voice was pitched up from her normal tone. “Is anyone sitting here?” A slender hand gestured at the seat next to yours.

You pushed yourself up from the slouch you had been lounging in, feeling self-conscious. “No. Go right ahead,” you answered, cockney accent shining right through. She was pretty, you noted; about your age as well. A hitch tugged at the back of your brain. An evolutionary alarm from living your entire life on the move. This woman was not to be trusted. Underneath the wide eyes and the girlish smile was a viper coiled to strike.

“Thank you,” she said, looking quite small against the backdrop of the raucous train car.

A wolf whistle pierced the air, looking for trouble. The bloke who had been smoking flashed a predator’s grin at the blonde beside you. “Where are you traveling to all alone now, girlie?”

You watched the exchange from the corner of your eye. Why did conflict seem to follow wherever you stepped foot? The woman merely glanced up from her book, unwilling to feed the fire.

“Oi. Why don’t you go ahead and look at me when I’m talking to you? I know you can hear me.” The train had begun to depart, ushering in a wave of quiet to the car as passengers settled down. The demand was impossible to ignore. Even as parents hushed children and drunkards passed out in increasing numbers, his voice only gained intensity.

“This train is headed for London, is it not?” She asked, face as innocent as a blank sheet of paper.

“Hey Jack. She’s a witty one,” he said, slapping his friend on the chest. The woman flicked her gaze at you. Your attention wandered to her like a moth to a flame. You stomped down on any inclination to help her. You weren’t going to lose this game of chicken.

“Sweetheart.” The man so called Jack joined in the instigating. “How about you come home with us, eh? I’ve got a real nice flat. I bet you’d like the bedroom.”

“No, I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me to the bathroom right now?” The dark-haired one surged forward, grimy hand outstretched toward the woman. Caution gone with the wind, your arm darted out on its own accord. You intercepted his wrist, tugging harshly enough for him to stumble closer to you.

The blonde’s eyes widened and she shrank in on herself in her seat. You saw right through the act. An elderly man with a newsboy cap across the aisle watched the altercation like a deer caught in headlights. You prayed he wouldn’t call for help.

The entire damn point was to not draw attention to yourself. Today though, electricity charged the air with biting energy. The presence of the mystery-shrouded person beside you drove you past the gates of reason.

You squeezed the man’s pinky until you heard the crunch of bone pushed too far. He screeched like a cat. “Go and find yourself another seat. I don’t care if the car is full. You’ll throw yourself out the rear if you have to. Don’t let me see your fucking face again,” you whispered in his ear. The words leapt flaming from your tongue.

Eyes wild with adrenaline and the courage of alcohol, he swung at you with his free fist. You caught the clumsy punch, seized the man by the wrist, and snapped it clean. He screamed, turning the heads of the other passengers. Your gaze swept like a searchlight through the crowd, promising more hurt to anyone who might even think about interfering.

He crashed back into his friend’s lap before staggering to his feet. His sniffles and shuffling footsteps echoed through the silent traincar. “Go on,” you directed his buddy, who wasted no time before similarly scrambling from his seat. A final burst of dauntlessness flared up your throat. “What the fuck are you all staring at me for?” You broadcasted to the intrigued onlookers.

Half of these people weren’t sober enough to remember this in the morning. For those who did, you would be a completely different person the second you stepped foot off this godforsaken vehicle.

“Thank you,” the woman said, sickly sweet.

“Don’t mention it.” You admitted beating up assholes wasn’t an entirely cumbersome task.

“I feel obliged now to ask what your name is,” she continued.

You raised your eyebrows, turning in her direction. “What about stranger danger? How do you know I didn’t just stop them so I could be alone with you?”

“How do you know I needed your help?” She batted the question back at you.

“Touche.” You knew she didn’t. But she had indeed wanted to keep her cards close to her chest at the expense of you revealing yours. You offered a hand. “I’m Sam.”

“Nadia,” she replied, conceding the handshake. Her palms and fingers were lined with ridges of calluses.

“That’s a pretty name.” But not one that belonged to her, you thought.

She was so close now. The setting sunlight streamed through the window and coaxed the vibrance from the green of her irises. You stopped yourself from lingering there too long. You imagined all the people who had lost to her siren’s call before.

You cleared your throat and broke off the staring match. “Can I ask what you’re doing in England? Excuse me assuming that you’re not from around here.” If she wanted to play this game, you didn’t see the harm in joining in.

“I’m visiting a friend.” Her American accent drew attention. Odd for a thief or a spy or whoever she was to forgo language assimilation. “What about you, Sam? Did you grow up here?”

“I did. Never been out of the country meself.” Lies to you, but truths for Sam the football fan.

“Got anyone special at home?” She smirked, looking up at you from a downturned face.

You scoffed. She was messing with you. “No. Not for me. I like to keep available. You never know when an opportunity might come around. I’m not usually one to let a good thing pass me by.”

“And what makes a special opportunity? How do you know one when you see it?” How fitting that smoke still lingered in the air.

“I guess,” you started slowly. “Some people just have this spark about them.”

She wet her lips. “Do you think I have it?” If some people sparked with electricity, she certainly blazed with the sun’s heat.

The corner of your mouth lifted in a smile. You rolled your eyes with playful mirth. That was all the answer she needed.

Good thing as soon as the train pulled into the station in London you would get your ass as far away from her as possible. And with any luck, as the moon eclipses the sun your paths would cease to cross for a very long time.

—

Prime Minister Jameson Harris had an expensive taste in liquor. You were alone in his house, save for a half dozen security agents scattered about various entryways. Tonight you doubled as the man himself while he and his family had been whisked away to another secure location. You owed a friend in MI6 a favor, so you played the sitting duck amidst rumors of an assassination plot. Just another average night.

You snagged a crystal bottle of mystery alcohol from the shelf. Twisting the cork off with a pop you smelled it experimentally before taking a swig straight from the jug. Mister Harris had a fine taste in whiskey indeed. You rounded a giant mahogany table and sat, polished leather squeaking in protest.

The study lights weren’t overwhelming thanks to the dimmers you had spent way too long fiddling with. In addition you had lit a couple of candles. The room had smelled too much like mothballs and stale paper for your taste.

You raised the whiskey bottle in a toast to an imaginary gathering. “Long live the United Kingdom. To the prosperity of humankind. May all mutant scum drop dead,” you pronounced with the fanfare of a juvenile king. No one had stuck around to tell you your birthday, but you still had a good year or two before you were of drinking age. That much at least, you knew.

You didn’t follow politics, not keen on allying yourself with a particular nation, but the anti-mutant sentiment reached you anyhow. Hate and fear for you and your kind served as a rallying point for human leaders. They ceased pointing their guns at each other and instead set their targets on you.

Bottle in hand, you stood abruptly and turned toward the giant bookshelf behind you. Classic novels, history collections, and political theory publications lined the entire wall. You traced your fingers down their spines. You had to stay the night here, but thought it may be wiser to resist the call of sleep lest you don’t wake in the morning.

You pulled a relatively thin volume down. Between the stealing and fleeing and occasional strong-arming you didn’t have a lot of time to read. Tonight, you could start playing catch up with The Scarlet Letter.

You meandered back toward the desk. Glancing up, a cool breeze rushed at you from an open window. Your stomach dropped, heavy with an iron pit. The curtains flapped in the wind, taunting you for letting your guard down.

You set the whiskey and the book down on the desk and instead wrapped your hand around the slick steel of a pistol hidden beneath. “Show yourself,” you called in the voice of Jameson Harris. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you for breaking and entering.”

The study was by no means cramped for room, but even still there were few places to hide. You cleared the room in less than a second before realizing the door was ajar too.

You stalked out into the hall, only to find a guard passed out on the floor. You dug your fingers into your temple. Someone was clearly amusing themselves with the game they were playing. Even so, a chill ran down your spine. You weren’t used to being the rat in the maze in these situations.

Outside the study, the rest of the house was blanketed in darkness. For you, the absence of light made no difference. You could see just fine with the barest hint of sunshine. From above the bannister, you peered down the sight of the gun at the foyer. The ground floor lay still, as if holding its breath. The security guard posted at the front door sat slumped against the wall. You couldn’t tell if the dark spot pooling beneath his body was born of shadow or something much more sinister.

A cold hand on your shoulder jolted you from your search. Before you could turn around, meticulously sharpened steel carved a grinning line across your throat. You clamped a hand around the wound, panic fluttering in your chest like a trapped canary. From the corner of your warping vision you saw a figure, wrapped in a shawl of shadows. The light from their eyes waited eagerly for the one in yours to wink out.

You stumbled, choking on your own blood. Pink froth bubbled from your mouth, burning with the chase of death. Your attention slipped and you shifted from the body of Jameson Harris and back into yourself. Well, almost. What you imagined you might look like without the lizard eyes and cobalt blue skin of a freak.

Beneath your palm your skin grew unnaturally warm. The waterfall of blood ceased its torrential flow. Slowly your skin sewed itself back together. You sighed in relief. You knew you could heal, but had never tested your powers to this extreme.

Behind you a voice muttered in Russian, “What the fuck?”

You stood straight up, flicking blood absentmindedly from your hand. Surprise gripped your heart. Standing in the corner, as still as a statue was the girl from the train that had brought you here. Nadia no longer looked the picturesque part of a wonderstruck American teenager visiting London. Blonde hair, that you now decided had definitely been dyed, lay neatly down her back in an intricate braid. She wore a black form-fitting tactical suit. Not military issued, you thought.

You blinked and found yourself staring down the muzzle of a pistol. You raised your hands in surrender, assuming the form you had been posing as on the train. A familiar rush raced from the top of your head to the ends of your limbs as your skin reformed itself. “Remember me?” You asked, spitting out a glob of blood and exposing red-stained teeth.

She cocked her head ever so slightly and just a moment of opportunity presented itself. You lunged for the gun while she grappled with the fact you’d been three completely different people in less than a minute. You let yourself shift back to your common appearance and vaulted across the floor. Muscles wound tight, you straightened your torso and kicked at the weapon.

Snapping back to reality she snatched the gun away just in time. You stood before she could re-aim and cut at her wrist. The gun clattered to the floor and you kicked it further down the hall.

You craned your head to avoid a viscous elbow to the nose. Sweat began to build along your hairline and drip down the back of your neck. You didn’t fight often, preferring to run into the foliage rather than confront the enemy and run the risk of being caught. You missed the rush.

She fought like a dancer. Momentum built from a lunge forward charged a stinging jab at your ribs. You pushed her two steps back and she went for a low sweep at your legs. You moved so fast you could hear the rush of cloth through the air, the sound of a fist soaring at your gut. A knife appeared in her hand, opening a surgical gash along the length of your tricep.

Hot blood ran down your arm. You weren’t sure what the limit of your healing factor was, but as the cut refused to close, you realized you might have spent it for tonight.

Your heart thundered in your chest. You couldn’t lose, no doubt that if she caught you she wouldn’t hesitate to snap your neck and unload an entire round into your head, just in case. But you had to think five steps ahead even as a boot came flying hairwidths from your face and lightning fast slashes struck at any spot you left unprotected.

She flipped herself and suddenly you were flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. You pulled air back into your spent lungs, gasping as your fingers dug into the floorboards. From the corner of your vision you saw her bolt for the discarded gun. Panic flared through you and you sprung yourself up, tackling her off course.

The both of you crashed through the bannister and went soaring onto the ground floor. She managed to maneuver herself midair so that she would land on top of you. The impact shot up the knobs of your spine, your head whipping painfully against the cool floor. Her shoulder dug into your collarbone, breaths coming in steady little exhales. You lost your focus for a split second, the pain radiating from the back of your skull overwhelming everything else.

Involuntarily you transformed into your natural appearance, attention split in so many ways you couldn’t hold onto maintaining your looks. You grit your teeth and shoved the woman off of you with all the strength you could muster, which admittedly beat the strongest of humans even on your worst days. She flew back and smashed into a side table, residing lamp tumbling down and shattering on the floor.

You hurdled over the staircase railing at the halfway point and cleared the rest of the steps in one bound. You normalized your complexion, hoping the dark had shielded you from her seeing the momentary exposure.

You scooped a gun up from the ground and whipped around, catching her at the top of the staircase. Strangling the grip, you tensed the muscles in your forearms and leveled it at her chest.

“Where’s Harris?” She asked, voice as harsh as the blade caught in her fist, still drip, drip, dripping with your blood.

“A safe place. Somewhere far away from pretty women with sharp objects.” Your pointer finger ghosted over the trigger. A voice in the back of your mind urged you to pull it. Return the favor.

She arched one eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re good.” You’d never tell her, but even with your enhanced strength and agility she’d had you on the ropes the entire fight. If you had so much as breathed differently you were sure the roles would be reversed right now.

“But not good enough for you,” she finished. Even as she bowed completely at your mercy her expression gave nothing away. A long time ago, you thought, she sculpted her face from marble, and the mask had been cemented in place since.

You lowered the gun. You weren’t a killer anyhow.

Blood crusted under your fingernails and in the lines of your palms, your shirt was starting to stick to your skin. You slid it over your head and tossed it on the floor, well aware of the woman’s lingering gaze.

You turned your back on her and strode into the bedroom, stealing a new shirt before locking yourself in the bathroom.

With a sigh you stopped holding a normal appearance and shifted back into your innate form. Staying in shape had become easier as you’d grown and fully navigated your powers but the process still ate up much of your concentration. Exhaustion slogged endlessly at your mind.

You eyed your arm which had thankfully stopped actively bleeding, but the flesh still gaped open in a deep red valley. You pulled all the cabinets open, coming up with a roll of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Catching your lip between your teeth you washed the stinging wound, a hiss escaping as you flushed it out. You wrapped the bandage tight around your arm, ripping the extra with your teeth.

Methodically you cleaned yourself up. Filling your mouth with cold water from the tap, the sour coppery taste flushed away from your tongue. Then you scrubbed at your face, neck, and chest, trying hard to ignore the blue ridged flesh of an aberration. As the adrenaline started to drain from your system, the realization that death had been seconds away from stealing your life weighed on your mind like a wet blanket.

You scrubbed harshly at your hands until the water ran clear and then some. Staring at your reflection you slowly recomposed yourself. Freakishly red hair gave way to a more muted color, the yellow in your eyes faded to white, and bit by bit, the blue scales that cursed you with this power overturned into ordinary skin.

You curled your lips into a careless grin lined with a protective amount of cockiness. The great Mystique smiled back at you.

There you are, you thought.

The first time you had ever lied you were small and alone and desperately hungry for food. You had stolen a loaf of bread from a baker’s cart and bolted around a corner before shifting into someone else. When the seller asked you if you had seen a child run off, you looked him in the eye and told him no.

You weren’t sure how that one little lie had consumed you until there was no you left. Every morning you woke up and put on a charming show at the cost of further warping the person you ought to be. You’d die in your castle of lies, alone and bitter.

You walked back out into the hall, finding your attacker right where you left her. She stared down at the pool of blood staining the wood floor as if maybe she had imagined the entire ordeal.

“Unfortunately for you, I am still here,” you said. Unease churned in your stomach. Perhaps she was simply lying in wait, like a predator crouching in the tall yellow grass. “Made quite the mess though, don’t you think? The Prime Minister might have to look at new flooring.” You cringed as you stepped over the dark, coppery smelling spot. The warm light from the study spilled out into the hall. You walked into it, boldly turning your back on the woman. “Come on. I know you have questions.”

You leaned against the desk, next to a little bobble head of a dog. She walked in a few moments later, looking infinitely more at ease than she had in the hall. The knife had disappeared from her grasp. You saw right through the veil, having constructed a similar one in the privacy of the bathroom.

“So you’re not Jameson Harris, and you’re not Sam from London’s east end.” You shook your head, flicking at the toy. “Then who are you?” She stopped a respectable distance away, standing with her shoulders back and chin high.

You told her your name. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done that truthfully. Yet this stranger managed to coax it out of you with one question. Faith was a funny thing. “And you?” You asked, tracing the curve of her jaw with your eyes.

“Romanova. Natalia.” She told you so almost robotically, as if the name was reserved for other people to use against her. As if she did not have the right to define herself.

“Nice to meet you, Natalia.” You took another sip of the whiskey before offering her the bottle. She eyed it suspiciously. “It’s not poisoned, I promise. It’ll get you damn drunk though.”

She took the bottle, fingers brushing yours momentarily. “I prefer vodka,” she said, drinking as if she’d been denied water for the past week. She passed it back, staring at you as if searching for something. “How?” She asked, your expression denying her any plausible answer.

“How what?” You asked, failing to suppress a growing smirk.

“The disguises.” The firm line of her lips told you she wasn’t entertained by your antics. “You’re wearing some kind of suit, are you not?” You could imagine the gears turning in her head, trying to explain the impossible.

You slid yourself back until you sat fully on the desktop. “Nope. Fanciest piece of technology I own is a little flip phone,” you said, tracing the smooth lip of the desk with your fingertips. “And I don’t wear tacky suits.”

“I’m offended,” she said lowly, not sounding the slightest bit bothered.

“Don’t be. The whole dark assassin thing suits you,” you said, waving your hand. “Not me though. I mean, could you imagine me in a skin tight suit?”

“I wouldn’t sell yourself short. I think you could pull it off.” She raked her gaze over you and heat rose to your cheeks.

You transformed into an exact copy of her, inspecting your hands in wonder as if she wasn’t standing an arm’s length away. “You’re right,” you said in her voice. “I do look good.” You threw a toothy grin her way before shifting back with a woosh.

Realization dawned on her, green eyes brightening. “You’re one of them,” she said.

“Yep.” You swirled the alcohol around, watching how the light played off the bottle. “One of them.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just I’ve never—I’ve never met a mutant before.” She seemed awestruck at the revelation. You were so used to being met with fear and disgust.

“I’m sure you have. Especially with all of the traveling you do,” you said. You remembered the window, still propped open from earlier. “Those of us that can try to blend in with everyone else. Take any street in a big city, for example. If you walked around for a little I guarantee you’d pass at least one of us.” You gazed up at the night sky, dotted with a billion brilliant stars. The estate sat well removed from the city and its hungry lights. “Most of us learned pretty quickly how to adapt, how to stay safe and hidden in the crowd,” you explained.

“And those of you who can’t?” You looked over your shoulder at Natalia, so curious yet so far from innocent herself.

“We go underground to survive. Or run the risk of being killed, or worse.” You’d heard the rumors. Missing mutants spawned stories. Stories of various governments and other organizations abducting your kind for experimentation. A shiver crawled down your spine.

“Sounds like a lonely way to live.”

You slammed the window shut with more force than necessary. “Takes one to know one.” You guessed people in her life were nothing more than fleeting moments either. “My turn,” you said. “What’s got you sneaking around in the middle of the night, attempting murder on the British prime minister?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said as if speaking to a child. She took another long drink, fingers twitching at her side as a nervous tic. “What’s got you sitting in his house playing body double?” Her voice had taken on a defensive edge.

“A friend,” you replied smoothly. “And money, of course. Turns out protecting politicians pays almost as well as stealing from them.”

“Well I’m not a sellout.”

You narrowed your gaze. “No, you just slit throats because you’re told to, then.” Natalia furrowed her brow. “Unless you’re telling me you got bored and picked up a new hobby.” She stayed quiet, your words seemingly falling on deaf ears. “What?” You asked. Her lips were slightly parted. She stalked closer, eyes flickering over your face. “Hey, hey,” you stuttered, tripping over your feet as you backpedaled.

You huffed as you slammed into the wall. She reached out, so close now you could feel her breath on your face. You froze, heart thundering in your chest. She cupped your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing your flaming skin.

“Your eye,” she whispered as if it were something holy.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“It’s yellow. They weren’t different colors before.”

You broke out of her hold, forcing yourself not to run to the mirror on the wall. The frame was a golden oval, hung in between a family portrait and a pair of framed university degrees. Sure enough your right eye had slipped back. You blinked and it fixed itself, but the damage was done.

“I should go,” you muttered, staring at the floor and beelining for the door. Too much alcohol and too little sleep and this was what you wound up with.

Natalia snagged your wrist and held you from taking off. You knew if you pulled away she’d let you go. You untensed the muscles in your back and let her spin you around.

You tilted your head down and met her in a slow kiss. She had you hooked and you didn’t care. You couldn’t think straight, the taste of her lips clouded your head like a powerful drug.

You threaded your fingers through her hair and undid her braid while her hand wandered down to your belt. You pulled back, breathless. “I’m not looking for nothing here,” you insisted, even if only to try to convince yourself.

“Me neither,” she agreed. “One night.” She kissed your neck and a low grunt wound its way up from the back of your throat. “You’ll never have to see me again.”

You didn’t know why a pang wracked your chest still her words. That was the plan, after all. You knew you weren’t cut out for more than tonight. And with the way Natalia dragged her nails down your back, you guessed she wasn’t either.

“Bedroom,” you demanded, stepping out of your pants that now lay pooled around your ankles. You stumbled down the hall, blinded by her body as she lost her suit, and deafened by the way she panted your name between desperate kisses.

God, you were screwed.

—

You didn’t sleep, knowing you’d lose grip on your appearance if you did, but with each passing minute you found it harder and harder to stay awake. Natalia lay pressed into your side, so close that you could feel her heartbeat in your ribcage. Her body radiated heat, not the kind that made your face flush with infatuation, but the kind that felt like finally finding shelter after an eternity in the freezing rain. Her breaths wound in and out as if she were sleeping, but you knew she couldn’t. No. Someone who led her life had to be hardwired to never let their guard down.

Finally, after catching yourself almost dozing off for the tenth time you peeled back the covers and forced yourself to leave the confines of the mattress that seemed intent on sucking you back down. Goosebumps immediately rose along your skin, but you didn’t dare to glance back at bed and the woman feigning slumber. You stood and stretched, working the stiff muscles in your back and shoulders. Don’t look back. You followed the trail of hastily removed clothing down the dark hall and back to the study, candles still alight.

You buckled your jeans and grabbed your bag, lingering by the door. Don’t go back. Hastily you rummaged through the desk drawers, finding a pen and pad of paper. You scribbled down the address of a PO box that you checked quarterly along with a note that read, For another one night.

A/N

If you didn't catch it, R is a shapeshifter like Mystique from the X-Men. I wrote this piece with the intent of having it serve as the first chapter in a longer story. I wasn't certain of the amount of interest in a series though... I fear Tumblr may be drying up some.

Let me know if you'd like to see more and I can post up the second chapter, otherwise I'll leave it be as a one-shot.

As always, thanks for reading and just a reminder, my requests are open.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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