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mandomover · 2 years ago

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The Rookie

Part Four - An alcoholic debrief

You, Javi and Murphy discuss the roadblock and the aftermath in your own alcoholic debrief at, where else, the bar.

Warnings: Smoking, swearing, alcohol

Words: 3250ish

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You, Javi and Murphy are squeezed into a tight booth meant for two at the back of the bar. It's far too close to Murphy for your liking but it's outweighed by the spicy cologne and cigarette smell emanating from Javi, which soothes you like a balm so you'll put up with Murphy for now. The table is littered with empty bottles and an overflowing ashtray, smoke hanging heavily around your heads as you and Javi chain smoke your way through two packets of his cigarettes.

You really need to stop stealing his but he doesn't seem to mind, continuing to offer you one each time he sparks his own.

You've lost count of how many beers you've had, realizing quickly you couldn't keep up with Javi and Murphy who are well beyond your humber but that's probably OK considering Murphy would have had something to say about your consumption anyway. Your mom would be proud of him.

Murphy was silent on the drive back to compound, not looking at either you or Javi who had tried to make small talk. The anger rippled off Murphy in waves but you were silent, sure he would snap, and persuade Javi to hand you straight over to the ambassador.

You had gone to a debrief and while you thought your shaky hands and sweaty brow would have given something away, no one had questioned your gun or your actions. Javi had volunteered enough information on behalf of you to say your situation was similar to his in that the suspects had escaped on foot and you were grateful he was protecting you, although that was probably because as the Rookie under him, his reputation was at risk as much as yours.

You made your own way back to your apartment but Javi had insisted before you had split up that he would come and get you before heading to the bar and that is where you are now.

Murphy had sauntered in just a few minutes after you had and folded himself like a pretzel into the booth, sinking one of the beers on the table and sulking silently.

"Sorry about Florez."

He grunted at you and sank more of his beer. The more beer he drank, the more glazed over his eyes became and the more he opened up. You could get used to this version of Murphy. If you both drank as much as each other until you succumbed to the effects, you could tolerate him and you're sure he feels the same judging by his now tolerable demeanor.

You chat about the entirety of the road block, and the debrief you had just been to, and what steps you could take next.

Murphy glosses over Florez, citing it as part of the job and the easy manner in which he says this actually makes you laugh out loud.

"Having an officer die on you is not part of the job."

"It is when you've been doing it as long as me, Rookie."

"You're saying it though like this is a common occurrence."

"Might be while we're down here, people are gonna die coz of that bastard."

"But, surely you're compartmentalizing the fact that an actual human died in your arms?"

"Wow, big word for someone stupid enough to forget to bring their gun to a gun fight."

You freeze, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

This was it. The gun hadn't been mentioned until this point, and this is when you were going to be told you were done. Maybe thanked for your service, but expect to be extradited immediately.

"Murphy," Javi says warningly, his eyes as dark as night on Murphy.

Murphy shrugs, "Well if anyone else forgot their fucking gun you wouldn't be taking then out for drinks would you? But she's getting a pass?"

You gulp, nervousness planting itself firmly in your stomach.

"I've told you to drop it," Javi growls, his jaw ticking. "We need to work together and we're going to start behaving like a team, got it?"

Murphy throws himself back against the seat, eyeing Javi and you suspiciously, guzzling more beer in silence, and you clear your throat.

"Look, I know it was a stupid thing to do and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was a complete lapse of judgment, and professionalism, and I can promise you it'll never happen again. I can't believe I let you guys down tonight, I'm so ashamed of myself and I swear if you wanna turn me in I'll understand."

Why the fuck did you say that? You don't want to offer yourself up to being turned in. You need to fight to stay.

Murphy opens his mouth to speak but you continue on, not wanting to give him a chance to agree with your last statement.

"I know we all want to catch Escobar and stupid mistakes like this won't help matters, but if you give me a chance to prove myself, I'll make it up to you." You look from Javi to Murphy, "to both of you."

You eyes bore into Murphy's, imploring him to give you a chance and he rolls his eyes at you.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"I know, I know, but it really won't happen again. I'll be an agent you'll be proud to say worked alongside you on the biggest case in DEA history, I swear."

You hold your breath, waiting for either of them to speak. You sneak a look at Javi, who is watching Murphy, and when you turn back to him, he sighs, and sets his beer down.

"You fucking better." He fidgets with the label on his bottle, the wet paper curling away from the bottle slightly as he flicks at it.

"My old partner in Miami died on me. La Chica shot him when we were undercover. He was dead by the time I got to him but I can't lose any more partners. Especially not partners who are stupid enough to get themselves into trouble."

You shake your head, "You won't lose either of us. Definitely not from a mistake on my part. You have my word."

Murphy takes a moment, features hard and unforgiving, before he sighs, placing the bottle back down onto the table.

"Partners?" Murphy sticks out a hand to you and you slowly lift your own and place it in his, a firm shake bouncing up and down. Your gaze lifts to his, and his eyes look softer than they have done all night, a coy smile playing out on his mustached lips.

"Partners," you say firmly, returning his smile.

Javi, who's own grin has broken out across his features, claps you both on your backs.

"Great, now we're all getting along fucking swimmingly, can I speak?"

You stifle a giggle at Javi's scowl, and Murphy rolls his eyes again but Javi continues, "We have a few days off before we're back to work. Use the time to regroup and refocus. Me and Murphy are headed away for the weekend, but when we're back on Monday we need to hit the ground running. We have paperwork we're all expected to fill in, then we can look at the tips and see what's next."

You wait for Javi to show his hand, his retribution of your mistake, but as you spend the next few hours drinking and chatting, your mind and body ease slightly, no more mentions of the incident.

You participate carefully, never fully ready to relax entirely incase the second you do, Javi is quick to tell you you're done.

***

Murphy makes his excuses about needing to be home for his wife Connie and to prepare for this trip they're heading on with Javi, and leaves you and Javi alone in the booth. You relax more as you imagine this as your own alcoholic debrief. You're curled into the corner of the seat nursing a glass of whiskey, one leg dangling from the seat, while Javi has moved across from you, leaning on the table, one arm poised over his own whiskey as if he's scared it will disappear before him.

You aren't normally a whisky drinker but Javi keeps ordering two, so you keep drinking them as long as he keeps ordering them. You offer to go up and order for the next round but when the next round rolls round he insists you stay where you are and you are pretty comfy here. Alcohol will dissolve the day away anyway, regardless of what you actually sink so you're not too bothered about what poison you pick. You feel reasonably safe where you are; a hard feat in Medellin at the best of times but with your gun hidden in your bag by your thigh, all the pieces definitely together, and Javi's gun concealed under his tan shirt tucked into the back of his tight jeans, you feel safe enough to start to let yourself truly relax.

Risks of the job; always have that twinge of paranoia built in and the ability to suss exit routes no matter where you go. Before you talk yourself out of it, you need to get something off your chest.

"So," you start nervously, rubbing the rim of the tumbler with clammy hands. "Are you OK with me?"

"What do you mean?" Javi frowns.

"Are you going to report what I did?"

"No, cariño. You both summed it up pretty well. I don't need to tell you that what you did today was fucking stupid. I know you know that. And it won't happen again." He punches the sentence out and you squirm, heart hammering in your chest.

"We're a team, and we got each others backs. We'll take the weekend off, and when we come back, we'll work together, and bring this bastard down." Javi slams a fist on the table, causing a few abandoned bottles to wobble and clink against each other. Your eyes snap up from your glass, shocked at his candor.

You're selfishly grateful that seems to be the end of it, because you weren't ready to face the consequences of your actions quite yet, still keen to prove you're capable of working at such a demanding level and stop Escobar even though you know you don't deserve it.

Feeling more than tipsy now, you find yourself letting your guard down somewhat, speaking to Javi like you've been firm friends for years. It's a nice feeling, warm and fuzzy; you're pretty sure that's what it is, you've been too focused on climbing the ranks to have too many friends, trusting work more than you could trust yourself with 'gal pals'.

You talk about what life was like for you back in the states, before getting promoted to a position within Bogota and finally and most recently moving to Medellin and on the Escobar case.

Javi fuels you with cigarettes as you talk, despite your insistence you don't want to steal them, only for Javi to light one up, then use the tip to light another one before passing it to you. Nodding in encouragement, you ignore the intense vulnerability and tell him about your sweet family who still writes you letters as often as they can and how your little sister wishes she could be like her 'hero' big sister, despite feeling like a fraud most of the time.

In return he tells you about life in the force in Texas and how he misses it sometimes, how the mundane he had strived to be away from was maybe something he craves every so often too, tells you about how his career choice led to him moving out at 18, which pushed him further away from a life he was already discontented with, down a darker path where he often chases something that would make him feel alive but never really finding it.

His reputation and whispered words behind hands and hushed conversations throughout the office give you an inkling into some of the crutches he uses to chase his thrills but who are you to judge what he does to seek solace. God knows you drink yourself stupid most nights just to numb your fears and doubts, tonight only proving your own point.

"What are you thinking about cariño?" Javi asks.

The conversation is heavy and real, but you feel like this is the deepest and most honest conversation you and Javi have had together in the weeks you have known and worked with him, hell, probably the most honest conversation you have had with anyone in years.

If you don't look too closely, you might think this was just two old friends catching up over a few beers, not a means to an end after a catastrophic work day where one of your colleagues actually died.

You bite your lip before answering, carefully calculating the words to express yourself. You haven't felt this vulnerable with anyone in a while, but you've been plied with enough whiskey and beer to not think too much about it, so you spill your darkest fears to the man staring intently at you like you're the only person in the world.

"I'm just… scared." Javi's brown eyes study you carefully and there's something in them that encourages you.

"Scared of doing the wrong thing, not being good enough and disappointing my team, disappointing my family, disappointing myself and my unrealistic expectations. I try so hard to make sure I toe the line and do what needs to be done, but proving I'm the one capable of doing the job, I forget the small stuff. Small stuff like having my fucking gun in one piece, and letting a perp escape. He could have been the one to lead us right to Escobar."

Javi sighs, and absently traces the rim of the whiskey glass, taking time to process what you have just said.

"He was one tiny cog in this huge goddamn machine, and you're right, he may have been the one to lead us to Escobar."

Your face falls, shocked by his honesty, before he scrunches his face up, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. "I let Poison get away; he was the reason the fucking road block was set up, Dionel was just collateral but there'll be others like him, there's always others lurking in the shadows like rats. What you did- or didn't do- didn't specifically affect us capturing Escobar. I need you to forget about it. Don't beat yourself up about it either, there'll be others to do that for you."

Javi picks his glass of whiskey up and takes a hard gulp before rolling the tumbler with his dangling wrist, elbow propped tightly to his hunched form leaning into you.

"You are good enough, more than enough, and I feel good about knowing you're on our team. We need someone like you who has the guts and determination and skill, who isn't afraid of running after someone we don't even have a report on, despite not having their gun together, but you did."

You look miserably up at him and confess, "I didn't even realise it wasn't together until I pulled it out on him; that's how great I'm going to be on your team- didn't even have the sense to check and then it was too late and it could have cost someone's life if it had been a different situation."

"Yeah but it wasn't a different situation. You've got it out of your system now, it was only a road block, no one was supposed to get hurt, we were just the back up, but you saw an opportunity and even though it didn't work out, you still went searching for him after," Javi shrugs. "Wouldn't have done that if you didn't know you had the skill and brains to be able to handle it if you did catch up to him."

You furrow your brow and frown at him. "How did you know I went looking for him after?"

He flashes you a sloped grin, "I just know the way your brain thinks, that's why I think you're a great asset to this whole damn mission. Think there's something about you that can help us, even if you don't think you can Rookie."

You ignore his effort to try and appease you and still unconvinced you object, "yeah, but what if I-"

"Look, think about the bigger picture, I've been here two years and I'm no closer to getting Escobar than you are, and you only arrived a month ago. Everytime we think a door opens, there's a million more behind it closing."

He's saying all the right things to try and convince you that there are plenty more ways you could have fucked up worse, and somewhere in there you're pretty sure you heard him telling you you might be useful on his team. That niggles at your heart a little, reminding you to be proud of what you have achieved so far and how you're helping the DEA.

"Why are you protecting me? Why not ship me off to the ambassador?" you blurt out.

Javi sips his whiskey again before lighting another two cigarettes, handing one to you before he answers carefully and quietly.

"Because we need you. It was a reckless mistake, but as long as we don't mention it again, and nothing like that ever happens again, we'll be OK. You're going to do great here Rookie. You just need to believe in yourself and your ability."

You settle into a comfortable silence as you mull his words over. He didn't actually answer your question but you know you need to leave well enough alone.

As you sit sipping your whiskeys, you take the opportunity to study his tired features. His strong set jaw and furrowed brow make him look grumpy, but you feel like you know him enough by now to know he's not. He wears a hard mask whilst in work, showing a driven and ruthless character, protecting himself from hurt and disappointment and betrayal, but outside of work he seems to be tired and drained, his big brown eyes hiding pain within them.

You want to tell him it will all be OK but there is no point saying it when you don't quite believe it yourself. He is the one trying to make you feel better, but you feel like you owe it to him to make him feel like his efforts are making a definitive difference, everything he has done and everything he has given up to be here and all his decisions he has ever made, worth something.

You murmur so quietly Javi has to strain his ears to hear you over the loud chatter of the bar.

"There could be a million people standing at those doors ready to open them up and close them again, but it will just take one or two who have the commitment, passion, and determination in them to do what's right and what needs to be done to keep them open."

He cocks his head and simply stares at you, his bowed lips parted slightly, giving him a puzzled expression. You count one, two, three deep breaths, before he rights his head and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smile as he raises his glass to you.

@iamskyereads @kirsteng42

"Well alright then, let's go open those doors," he winks, slamming the rest of his whiskey back, grimacing as it hits the back of his throat.

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buckstaposition · 4 years ago

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (3)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie 👋

tags&warnings: spoilers for season 3, wonky timelines & odd pacing, drinking, swearing, mentions of sex work, mentions of canon-typical violence, Miss Salome is back!, some mild domesticity, partial nudity, a lil’ bit of sexual & romantic tension, soft&protective!Javi today tomorrow and forever

words: 8906 🙃🤡🙃🤡

summary: “The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation.”

Author’s note: Thank you SO SO much everyone who read, reblogged, and commented! It means so much to me and I want you to know that I read those comments and reviews at least every other day

Also this chapter was originally going to feature more as I was planning to move into the actual plot of the season, but then it just got longer and longer and I wanted to keep it under 10k words so that has all been moved to the beginning of ch4 instead. Anyway, remember it’s okay to take breaks in between, stay hydrated, and enjoy!

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

beautiful moodboard made by @huliabitch

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

He made a habit of checking in with Miss Rivas regularly, usually on Wednesday evenings. It was late enough in the week for her to have gathered something to tell him, and for him to need interactions beyond dealing with pissy bureaucrats and the chorus of 'yes boss'es from his agents. That and he made the conscious choice to never bother her on Thursdays, seeing as how often she'd come back from a work day in the double digits, only to rise again with the sun on Friday mornings for her frequent trips back to Medellín.

On this Wednesday, his self-imposed cigarette embargo inside his office combined with a slow and frustrating day had led him to go back to his apartment at an uncharacteristically early hour. He threw his jacket, wallet and keys down on the table, then loosened his tie and grabbed a beer from his fridge. He took a slow pull from the bottle, allowing himself to slump a bit against the kitchen counter. This apartment, while never what he would call a home, was still a sanctuary of sorts, even if most days he only came here to sleep and change clothes. He finished about half the bottle before clicking the bent cap back on haphazardly and placing it back in the fridge. He checked his watch and decided that a shower would, if not make him feel better, at least wash off the stale dryness of the embassy complex's aircon.

His hair still damp, he exited the bathroom about half an hour later. He padded across the floor barefoot, shuffling around the few rooms a bit, pulling on a clean t-shirt and preparing a small meal in the kitchen. He didn't have much except for the usual staples, chosen by how easy they were to prepare and by how effectively they would fill his stomach, rather than for any considerations of taste. The only thing he allowed himself to indulge in was the selection of fresh fruit he picked up at the street market down the road. By the time he'd gotten something in his stomach it was nearing seven. Javier reckoned she would be home by now and would have had enough time to settle in. He grabbed his fruit plate and trudged over to his wall-mounted landline phone. After placing the plate on the low side table, he dialled the satphone's number and waited for the line to connect.

"Agent Peña, good evening!" The sound quality was much better than with those tinny phone cells. It allowed him to hear how pleased she sounded as she greeted him, and how slightly out of breath.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Rivas. I can call back later?" It occurred to him that she might be in the process of making dinner herself.

"Oh no, it's alright!" He heard the shuffling of steps and the hum of music in the background. "Hang on, let me finish on the landline, then I'm all yours." She must have set the satphone down right next to her stereo system. He could hear music more clearly now, still distant like not all of it survived the transmission, but distinct enough to make out a string section paired with electric guitar and words in an unfamiliar language.

"Interesting music selection." He mused as she came back on the line.

"Huh? Oh yes, Angelika let me borrow some of her tapes. Newly historical contraband from behind the Iron Curtain." She laughed quietly, and Javier thought of how for some of his former CIA colleagues, that might have been reason enough to drag her in for an interrogation. He sneered at the notion, glad it was no longer relevant. "Not that I understand anything, but that's why music is called the universal language, I suppose."

"Your German friend." Javier hummed thoughtfully. He'd had to look up what that Stasi remark meant, embarassingly enough. Despite the added information included, he'd been made to change it to 'Calí KBG' in his preliminary report on the matter.

"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't convince her to help more. It's half the way she was brought up and half fear. I guess the thought of going up against a powerful drug cartel and helping the American government at the same time is just a bit too much. And with her and Julio now trying for a baby she just really doesn't want to risk it, you know?"

"It's okay." Javier said reflexively, allowing himself to sit on the floor by his phone, his back against the wall. Angelika Florez-something-long-and-German-with-lots-of-umlauts that he wasn't even going to attempt to pronounce worked at the Calí phone company and would have been an invaluable asset, but then again she'd already placed herself in danger by allowing Diana to relay what she knew. Javier wasn't going to force anyone to become an informant. "Anything new on your end?"

"New corner office."

"Nice."

"Oh, very." He heard more soft rustling over the line, as if she was moving around, and then some light clicking noises that might have been a large window or door being opened. "Miguel Rodríguez did stop by yesterday. Unannounced, of course. Cut into my lunch break."

Javier straightened, the hand with a piece of orange sinking back down from his lips. "Oh? What did he want?" Unfortunately it was nothing he could be nailed down for. The Rodríguez brothers did own that bank and had every right to be there, every once in a while.

"Wanted to talk about the tax evasion scheme I devised. I swear, there's nothing rich people hate more than paying their taxes!" Her huff made him laugh softly, despite everything. "Nothing of substance to report, sadly."

"We'll get them." Javier promised. "With your help, they'll go down like a bag of rocks in water."

She hummed, tapping her nails against the phone casing absently. He could hear the light click of it over the line. Javier let himself enjoy the reprieve this unassuming silence offered.

"I've been wondering," she started again after a moment, pensive, "how you met Gabriela. Was it when she was still at the brothel or after?"

Actually screw reprieve. Javier felt like all his blood was now rushing to his ears and neck. "Umm..." he said, eloquently. "W-why d'you want to know?" And hadn't the other woman told her that detail, since they apparently shared everything? He had made it until now in forcibly not dwelling on what exactly this 'everything' would entail.

"Sorry no, that came out wrong. I was just wondering if she'd ever been in any way involved in your... work. I'm sorry, this isn't... I just- I worry."

Javier exhaled slowly, thinking back on the night he'd chanced upon the stunning redhead at a bar. He hadn't planned on it becoming a regular thing, and then before he knew it, the sporadic nights he spent with her were the only thing removed from the stress of his job. "No, never."

"Dammit."

That was... not what he'd expected. He frowned a moment before it dawned on him.

"You're worried that by involving her when Maritza asked you for help you put her in danger."

"...Yes." She sounded glum now, not pleased and at ease enough to attempt to joke with him like before. He hated it.

"Hey, it's alright. Nothing happened to her." At least to her. At least one person had come out of that nightmare mostly unscathed. It was something to be grateful for. "They're gone now. Escobar and his men are gone. She's safe."

"Thank you, Agent Peña. I just-" Her voice sounded so small, suddenly. He frowned, plate of fruit long forgotten. "I couldn't bear it if I lost her, too. And while I didn't live in Medellín for all of it I ...you hear things."

Unbidden, his mind flashed to the brothel on 23rd street in Envigado, all the women executed, La Quica putting bullets through their brains because one of them had been brave enough to call the Search Bloc and DEA on him. He thought of Helena. He thought of the dozens more who had the violence in their lives compounded tenfold because they'd dared to defy the narcos' terror. And often enough, through him. Sometimes the guilt ate Javier alive.

"Hang on a moment." He said, already heaving himself up and striding over to the kitchen, grabbing his unfinished beer from the fridge, then doubling back over to the bar and grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Mixing the two was probably not a good idea. As much as drinking in general. He didn't care right now. Javier tried to be a better man than he had been, but there were times when he slipped.

He poured himself a glass of the liquor as he sat back down and snatched the phone receiver back up from where it swung against the wall.

"I'm back." He announced simply and took a swig.

"I shouldn't have brought it up." She sighed long and drawn. "I'm sorry for... I suppose I just wanted to make myself feel better. That if something had happened to Gabi it wouldn't have been my fault, too. I didn't think- I cannot begin to imagine, Agent Peña-"

"It's alright." Javier said, reflexively. The beer bottle was just one generous sip away from being empty now. His fingers played with the rim of it absently as he stretched his legs out in front of him, the tumbler of whiskey at his side.

"It's not alright." Miss Rivas insisted, sounding even more distraught. He hated that, too.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is what it is." He scrubbed a palm over his face, rubbing at his burning eyes. The alcohol was beginning to swirl through his bloodstream. It helped, he supposed, that there was a sort of artificial distance through the telephone line. Otherwise the next words would likely never have left his lips.

"Can I tell you something?" Javier Peña wasn't a religious man, but there were times when he saw the sense of a confessional.

"Of course." Her voice was just the slightest bit shaky. "Should I get myself a drink, too?"

"If you want." He threw back the last bit of beer, following it up immediately with a gulp of whiskey, then pressed the still cold bottle against his flushed neck. He hesitated a moment, listening intently to the shuffling and rustling on the other end of the line. He felt his shoulders tighten and draw up, let his head fall back against the wall with a soft 'thud', his fingertips tracing the rim of the glass until he heard her soft affirmative.

This was not a time to let shame hinder him. Hell, the fact that he paid women for sex was the first thing she ever knew about him.

"You should know that I have a kind of... reputation." Javier began slowly. Like she didn't know that already. Like she couldn't guess. Like maybe this illusion where he could make this a confession instead of a confirmation was somehow more dignified.

He'd gotten the idea a few months into coming down here. Or rather the idea had found him in the shape of a lovely, doe-eyed brunette who'd introduced herself as 'Aurélia'. And Javier had been hungry and lonely, his shame at his ruined wedding fresh and the frustration of running after leads into empty corners even fresher. And he doesn't even remember how he ended up inside her room, and while under no illusion that what was about to transpire was merely a business deal, a service rendered and compensated for, he'd found himself talking. Javier wasn't a talker, but she'd been so sweet in the way she carded her slender fingers through his hair and let him ramble on, probably wasting her time.

"That's who you're here for?" Javier remembered still, with such distinct clarity, how her fingers had stuttered against his scalp. Javier had lifted his far-too-heavy head from her comfortable bosom and peered up at her, wondering whether disclosing all this had been a mistake. What kind of idiot walks into a brothel in Medellín half drunk and says he's a cop looking to take down Pablo fucking Escobar plus associates?

"They come here sometimes. Those sicarios I mean." Aurélia had said, resuming her caresses. Sweet girl. Sweet, sad girl who kissed so softly.

"Oh yeah?" Just his luck. "Not tonight though, hopefully." Suddenly he wasn't quite as drunk or tired anymore.

"Not tonight, no. At least not that I know of. Anyway, it's not- I shouldn't tell you this." She'd tilted his head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. That girl could kiss like she was in love with you.

That was that. Four days later he'd come back, with a proposal wrung from his superiors. Any information that could lead to the capture of one of the Cartel's sicarios for a generous chunk of solid American cash.

"Aurélia?" Miss Rivas asked in a voice as if she was running calculations. "With curls or with a birthmark?"

"Umm, birthmark." A mole on her left cheek, just under the eye, like a rococo lady in every period piece about the French, except real.

"Oh! Catalina Vasquez!"

"You know her?" Of course she knew her. Apparently Medellín was actually a damn village and not a city of millions.

"Yeah, the family lived just down the street growing up. I used to babysit them sometimes, her and her younger sisters."

Javier hummed, unsure of how to reply. He pinned the receiver between his head and shoulder and shoved the freed hand up under the collar of his shirt to rub at the tension in the back of his neck.

"Sorry for interrupting, do go on."

It had taken some convincing. A whole lot of planning, too. But by the end of it he had one of Gacha's sicarios in custody. A large, brutish man who'd nicknamed himself 'Cobra'. Low-level and not especially bright, as it turned out, but not completely worthless. Javier had gone back to the brothel that night to give Aurélia her reward, and then he'd come back again the night after, when the high of success had worn off and he'd craved being kissed again like it meant something. Only, she'd been gone. Left without a trace, her erstwhile colleagues unwilling to divulge the whats and wheres and whys. Frustrated and anxious and in no small part betrayed, he'd drowned himself in a willing bottle blonde who could do extremely interesting things with her mouth. And that was that, the start of a career and a reputation. Not that he ever expected to be 'serviced' when he was there in a professional capacity. But when they offered, he found himself too weak to refuse. And they almost always offered. For whatever reason.

Professional pride perhaps.

"What happened to her?" It had been years but he had to ask, just on the off chance.

"She took your money and cut loose, moved to the coast and got a job at a baker's. Last thing I heard she was married and had another baby on the way."

"Good. That's ...good." He'd wondered, all these years... "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"For listening. For letting me ...unload." For lifting a bit of guilt and uncertainty off of me. "Just... you don't have to do that. So thank you."

A short rustling, the squeak and groan of a chair, then: "I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, Agent Peña."

Javier released a sigh, deep and weary, and set aside his glass and the bottle that was significantly lighter than it had been. His mind was somewhere in that soupy stage now, floating aimlessly on some sort of thick fog. It dulled the creeping pain in his back that told him he was too old to be sitting on the floor now. He mumbled something indistinct, rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear the haze.

"Well, in any case, now you know." He'd only need to tell her about Lorraine, Helena, and Carillo, and he'd have shared all of his major sins. Huh.

"What are you asking for?"

Absolution. "A verdict?"

"I have no intention of judging you, Agent Peña. Not for this. You acquainted yourself with all the working girls in Bogotá and Medellín, and I married a man I did not love and stayed with him for years."

"That's hardly the same."

"Isn't it?" Her voice was soft and rueful, brimming with words not ready to be spoken quite yet. He sensed it, and agreed, and therefore decided that it was time to cut this heart-to-heart off here for both their sakes.

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe, in a way." He was way too drunk for this. He shouldn't have drunk this much. Where had his threshold gone? It's like he'd spent years tempering his liver for nothing.

"Well then, I'll let you know whether or not it'll be worth for you to come down to Medellín next weekend. Sleep well. And drink some water before then."

Javier glanced at the clock mounted on the oppsite wall. When the hell had it gotten this late? No wonder his ass was numb and his back was killing him. There was a moment when the strangest words were just hanging on to the tip of his tongue, ready to plummet off. That it would always be worth it to see her. Even just to take a turn about a park with her and the kid. Javier swallowed thickly. Gathered his professionalism and detachment.

"Until then, Miss Rivas. Good night." --- --- --- The phone rings insistently in a way that tells him it's been at it a while. Javier sighed while sliding the glass door of his office shut behind him. He hadn't planned on being all but ambushed by one of Stechner's CIA stooges under the guise of 'inter-agency liasing', and that was after getting caught up with a lenghty presentation one of his newly transferred agents had prepared for him. Feistl, he'd said his name was. The presentation was full of good ideas, too, just too involved. Javier had told the guy as much. If you can get your point across with ten words there's no point using fifty.

Javier picked up the receiver, one hand rubbing at the dull throbbing that was just starting to build in his temple.

"Peña."

"You're still at your office? It's past eight, you should go home." He smiles despite himself, and the chiding tone.

"Got delayed." He offered by way of an explanation. She harrumphed softly.

"Not that I'm not delighted to hear from you, but what's the occasion?" She rarely called him, he usually called her. She certainly didn't call on Thursday nights because when she wasn't preparing to drive up to Medellín she was usually exhausted enough at this point in the week to turn in early.

"I hope you're sitting down."

Javier perched himself on the edge of his desk where it wasn't piled high with reports and mind-numbing paperwork awaiting his signature. "I am."

"They're having a party and I've been invited. Friday next week. They'll all be there; Santacruz is apparently coming down from New York for it. The chief accountant, the money launderer, everyone. And their wives, or other-"

Javier's foot slipped a bit where he'd foolishly leaned a significant percentage of his weight on it. He caught himself as the desk gave a loud groan, slipping a bit on the linoleum floor. He righted himself quickly, sitting more firmly on the edge of the desk.

"What do you know?"

"Apparently there's going to be some sort of important announcement, but no one knows what it is, not even Miguel. Gilberto called it. All I know is that all four of them will be there, as well as everyone important in the organization. And then some. Likely every politician and law enforcement official in their pocket. Other cartels, too, but I don't know who exactly-"

"Miss Rivas, stop." Javier said firmly. Her voice had gotten that rambling, frantic quality that wore thin its natural pleasant rasp. "That's plenty. This is..." he twisted around and fished for his desk calendar, grabbing the nearest pen to circle the day, "This is huge. It could even be just the break we need."

She was silent for a moment, only her long, deliberate breaths crackling over the line. "You think so?"

"I think regardless of what it is, if it's important enough for a gathering this big, then yes."

"I don't suppose you could raid the party and arrest them all just like that?" She mused.

"Only in my dreams, Miss Rivas." He allowed himself a second to picture it: surroundig what was no doubt a very large and fancy property, riding in like the cavalry, the dumbstruck faces as the Gentlemen of Calí and their associates realized their luck had run out, clapping the handcuffs on them - he'd want to do it himself, hear the gratifying click of metal on metal that would wipe the self-satisfied smirks off their faces.

The warrants for the Calí godfathers existed, that wasn't the problem. The problems started with finding the location, circumventing their no doubt expert security, getting the lot of them without anyone escaping... Then there was the trouble of getting a search warrant for the property, even if they did know the address, and it was going to be a whole lot more complicated if the guy who signed those warrants was at that party himself. Then there was the fact that for all the valuable intel Miss Rivas had provided already, it wasn't nearly enough to nail the godfathers beyond what their army of slippery attorneys could weasel them right back out of. What they really needed was for someone to talk. Someone who had been there for longer and knew the operations of the cartel more intimately than Miss Rivas ever could (or than he would want her to, if Javier was being honest). The mysterious money launderer perhaps, or the chief accountant. Either would be good, both would be better - then again, the immunity deals that usually came with these kinds of cooperations didn't sit too well with Javier.

"Hell, I don't even have a plus one. Do I really have to go? I could pretend to be sick." She sighed and scoffed, and muttered something about not having anything to wear.

"I think you know." And if these people didn't know his face (and would put a bullet through it on sight) he'd gladly offer to be her plus one, if only to keep her safe. He hated knowing she'd be all alone there, among the wolves. It didn't make what he still had to ask of her any easier.

"Yes, I know. Miguel called me the 'third corner of their finance trifecta'." A bitter laugh, not that Javier needed that cue to know. He could tell from her voice alone how much she despised it. "In any case, now you know, so you can make whatever arrangements you need. I'll see you tomorrow?" Ah yes, about that.

"I'm afraid I can't make lunch. Urgent meeting called by the ambassador." Urgent and useless, but when the new president and minister of justice wanted a briefing he had to oblige. "Sorry."

"That's alright. Dinner then? My aunt will be in the hospital overnight."

"I'll see what I can do." There was just one more thing. "Miss Rivas?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing to wear a wire? To the party?"

"Well, I was thinking a cocktail dress would be more appropriate-"

Javier scoffed. "You know what I mean." He could picture her grin on the other end of the line, pleased at her little joke.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I suppose I might as well, seeing as I'm not getting out of this-"

"Thank you."

"Best bring the necessary ...equipment with you. I need to go dress shopping this weekend."

He promised that he would. He promised to call as soon as he knew when he'd be in Medellín. And he promised to go home for the day as soon as they said their good-byes.

He intended to do just that; he only needed to file away some things first.

"Boss?" Another one of the new transfers poked his head in after knocking. Why was he still here at this hour? Javier struggled to recall his name.

"Yeah, what is it, uh..." He did feel bad about it, too. A little bit at least.

"Van Ness, sir."

"What is it, Van Ness?"

"Duffy just faxed this over." Van Ness leaned further into Javier's office, holding himself steady on the doorframe, and handed him the flimsy sheet of paper. "They've gotten a lead through Cornerstone."

--- --- ---

Dinner instead turned into an apologetic phonecall during a meeting break and then a red eye flight out to Medellín. Then there's another meeting at the Search Bloc home base with Colombian National Police representatives and the only high point of it is that he briefly sees Hugo Jr who looks well. So by the time Javier finally starts out to Envigado it's lunchtime again. He makes it there just slightly after.

He walked up to the small house, past the flowerbeds on the windowsills, and knocked on the door. That side of the house was south-facing and it was a hot, cloudless day that has him sweating in his suit in no time. He's just about to knock again, thinking perhaps the first time he'd been too soft to be heard so as not to disturb the aunt who must be resting after her overnight stay at the hospital, but then he hears the quick tap of feet and the door is yanked open by an out-of-breath Diana. "Hey."

She was wearing a wide smile and cut-off denim shorts with a simple blue cotton blouse and her hair was loose and much longer than when they'd first met. It seemed like no time at all had passed since then when in reality it had been close to a year now.

"Hi," Javier breathed, "Sorry for the delay."

She waved it off. "Come on in, I saved you a plate." She turned and walked back the short and narrow hallway. Stop gawking at her legs.

"That's not necessary." He tried to deflect, toeing off his shoes near the door and loosening his tie and shirt collar, just the top button.

"Nonsense, unless you've eaten?" She looked over her shoulder before turning into the small kitchen.

"I haven't, no." Javier conceded, following behind. It wasn't exactly spacious, a round table squished to one wall with just enough space for three chairs. Little Salome sat at one, drawing with an array of colorful crayons. She acknowledged him silently before going back to her drawing and Javier sat down.

"Coffee?" Diana asked over the hum of the microwave, already pulling two mugs from a cupboard.

"Please." Javier stretched his legs out as far as he could without becoming a tripping hazard. "How's your aunt?"

"Resting now. She's been better recently, but overall she's been declining so I don't know-" She gave a helpless shrug, then brought over the mugs, shortly followed by the steaming plate which she set in front of him. He'd learned a while ago that even the most minute resistance was futile anyway. Besides, he actually was really rather hungry. Catering wasn't a priority for the CNP.

He waited until she sat down in the chair opposite to start eating. They talked quietly, not exactly smalltalk, but nothing too heavy either. It was strange sort of almost-domesticity if one looked over the fact that he was being snuck in like a teenage delinquent boyfriend whenever the aunt was out or asleep (which was fine by him as he had no desire to meet the woman whose only daughter he'd gotten killed).

"So how does that whole wire situation work in real life?" Diana asked after she'd cleared away the dishes (and physically slapping his hand away when he moved to help).

"Well it's... there's a literal wire, a microphone on one end, and a recording device on the other. And a battery." Javier began haltingly.

"And it needs to be concealed under the clothes, obviously."

"Obviously."

"Hmm, I see. How big?" She sat back down again, brushing a hand through Salome's hair affectionately. "And how do I secure it under the dress? I need to know these things so I can pick out one that'll cover it all, you see."

Javier nodded. "Did you want to leave soon? Because I was thinking it's probably easiest if I just came along."

At this, she seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. "You sure?"

He sipped the last of his now tepid coffee and nodded again. "Yeah, let's go buy you a dress."

"There's no need to buy me a dress, Agent Peña." He recognized that tone by now, how testy she got at any allusion of charity. It was an ingrained reflex that he knew better than to be irked by.

"The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation." He stood to put the empty mug in the sink before she could beat him to it, then returned to the table, standing behind the seat he'd previously occupied and gripping the back of it. "Besides, more of American taxpayer money is spent on worse things." Like Stechner's salary, he thought. She gave him a look that said they'd have more words on this, probably when they reached the checkout, then stood, saying she'd go say goodbye to her aunt.

Javier nodded, watching her leave. A little noise caught his attention. Salome still didn't speak much, but she knew how to make herself known nonetheless. "What is it, Miss Salome?" Javier stooped to get closer to eye level with the kid. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and held up a scrap of the paper she'd been drawing on.

"Oh, what's this?" She shook the paper insistently in her tiny fist, an adorable frown creasing between her brows, as if miffed that he was being slow. And it's... he's gotten more relaxed around the little girl by now, but it still always lingers that he's part of the reason she's an orphan, and traumatised into a selective mutism that apparently even the average counselor or child psychiatrist doesn't quite know how to deal with to boot, that leaves him with a lingering apprehension that manifests in the kind of awkward hesitation that now has her scrambling off the chair and patting his leg as she holds the paper up for him to take.

"Want me to take a look?" He bends and takes it gently. Is answered by a sort of long-suffering sigh. The scrap is barely the size of his palm, covered in colorful blobs of red and orange and yellow and blue, pink and green and purple swirls in between.

"Very pretty." He decrees and attempts to hand it back just as Miss Rivas is poking her head back the room.

"Can you please grab the car seat?"

"Huh?" It's not very eloquent, but then again he's engaged in a game of impromptu reverse tug-of-war with a toddler. "She's coming with?" She's also pushing the paper back at him again, pouting.

"Yes of course she is. The car seat? It's on the shelf behind you." There is no argument to be had with the women in this family, so he doesn't even attempt it, just straightens and looks for the car seat which is indeed in the described spot. "And that drawing is for you so just take it."

"For me?" It's still clutched in his hand, and Salome is heaving a huff as if to say 'Duh. Idiot.' His throat feels tight all of a sudden. "Well, thank you very much." He makes a show of tucking it very carefully into the pocket of his suit jacket, then turns to retrieve the car seat. Together they make their way out. It takes a moment to set up the car seat in the back, another to wrestle the stroller into the trunk, but eventually they're on their way downtown.

--- --- ---

They have entered a world of ruffles. And sequins. For a moment Javier thinks he's having flashbacks to Lorraine's endless sessions discussing bridesmaid's dresses all those years ago. He exchanges a look with Miss Rivas, her expression stony and tense.

"Alright, quick in and out. If at all possible, I want to be out of here again before Salome wakes up." Javier nodded, tightening his grip on the stroller handles. Salome had dozed off in the car on the drive over and was now out cold, not even stirring throughout the transferral from car seat to stroller. Javier eyed the sea of satins and gulped, then turned to the woman at his side. "What's your plan?"

"I'm going to find a shop assistant." She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting over the masses of racks.

"Good plan." Javier mumbled. He had an inkling that they'd be here forever if they attempted to brave this ocean of dresses alone.

"Right, you can..." she trailed off as her eyes fixed on a woman some feet away, her head just bobbing up from between two racks where she was rearranging some very bright red and very small garments, "...um, wait by the changing rooms?"

"It's fine." Javier replied, starting to push the stroller in that direction. If nothing else he figured he could function as a temporary clothing rack or something. On instinct, he scans the perimeter while Miss Rivas elucidates to the shop assistant what she is looking for and the younger woman, perhaps in her mid- to late twenties, snaps her fingers in triumph before announcing that she has 'just what you're looking for' and starts marching away. They follow her like ducklings from rack to rack, and a good ten minutes later they have an armful of cocktail dresses of varying lengths, cuts, and colors. It's the kind of brutal efficiency that even Search Bloc could only dream of, all in the petite shape of this eager retail employee with a side pony.

"Let me know if you need help." She chirps as she deftly deposits them in the changing room area before returning to her other tasks.

It's an almost enclosed space, five curtained cabins in an open half-circle arrangement with a long-ish bench in the middle and some tall mirrors on the spaces between. He wheels the stroller beside the bench and sits a moment later, so that the both of them are facing the changing room where the shop assistant had hung up the dress selection. Shrugs off his suit jacket, then drapes it carefully over the sleeping child to block out the light and muffle the noise of shoppers. Miss Rivas looked at him expectantly, one hand on the curtain that was half drawn.

"What?"

"You're gonna have to show me how to put on the wire thingy." She jerked her head towards the changing room. Javier gulped, the implication dawning on him. Looked at the stroller helplessly. There was nothing but an effectively timed baby snore and a twitch of one little ladybug-socked foot.

"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave." As previously stated, there is no arguing with the women of this family, especially when they're right, so he resigns himself, dives for the case that holds the machinery, and stands. Miss Rivas stepped aside, drawing up the curtain after a furtive glance around. "We're both adults."

"Yeah." Javier agreed, his throat tight. At least these cabins were decently sized or they'd be squished in there like sardines in a can.

Javier turned away to give her some privacy, fiddling with the wire instead, pretending it had gotten more tangled than it was. At her soft confirmation that she's ready he turns around, making a conscious effort not to look... anywhere really. At least she'd only chucked her top; the shorts are still on.

"Agent Peña, I would assume that you have seen women in their underwear before." She sounded amused, and clearly more relaxed about this than he could ever pretend to be. He gives a terse nod, making his eyeline give a wide berth until his gaze lands squarely on her face where a bemused smirk just barely masks something more uncertain.

"Sorry, there is a real dearth of female agents or this would be much less awkward." Javier stepped closer, holding the wire in his hands like the world's flimsiest shield. She's right of course, the sight of a woman's brassiere hasn't been new to him since he was a teenager sneakily perusing clothing catalogues in his bedroom after dark. Hers isn't even... it's... functional, off-white, unwired and unembellished, and reveals just the edge of a tan line, something he quickly drags his gaze away from. The problem is of course, that the path his eyes take is further down her body, suddenly snagging on a raised line down at the very edge of her ribcage on the left side.

"What's this?" His thumb drags across the raised skin instinctually. It's a thin, straight line of scar tissue, around half the length of his index finger and sitting right on the lowest rib. Diana gasped softly and he snatched his hand away like he'd touched one of the electric fences back on the ranch. "Sorry."

"It's fine, it's just a scar." She took a steadying breath and retraced the path his finger had just taken on her skin with her own, pensive. "I got caught in a shootout on my way home when I was home for summer from university once. It's just a graze." Just a graze that would have been more than that if it had hit just a few inches to the side. Javier felt faint at the thought.

"Do you have any?"

"Huh?" His brain is lagging on something, hence the eloquent reply.

"You said you get shot at a lot in this job. Ever been hit?" She ducks her head a little, looking up at him through her lashes from where she's leaning back against the wall. "Come on, I showed you mine, you show me yours." It's clearly a joke, and one she obviously regrets as soon as the words are out, judging by the pained expression that comes right after the statement.

"Just one." Javier said, tapping his leg about a handwidth above the knee. "Went right through. Apparently missed the main artery by less than half an inch."

"Hmm, " she hummed, "Looks like we're both lucky then."

"Yeah," Javier agreed, his voice soft and low, "lucky."

The changing rooms really were not cramped, but with two fully grown adults inside, they were just about spacious enough. They stood barely an arm's length apart, mirror to one side and thick faux-velvet curtain to the other. Javier felt heat prickle from the base of his neck downwards, and he wasn't even the one with half his chest out. He'd only rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare.

Her hand brushed over one gently, curling around his wrist and startling him out of whatever feverish reverie he'd zoned out into.

"So," she trailed her fingertips further down, over his knuckles and the wire slung around them, before tapping against the small black cylinder that housed the recording device and battery, "does this thing get hot?"

Pull yourself together and be fucking professional! "It shouldn't."

"Right, well let's get it on then."

He handed her the microphone end first. Explained ideal placement, the closer to the face the better. This was a modified necktie bug, small and discreet, secured against the skin with tape if necessary. She took it, pinned the mic to the strap of her bra, high up on the shoulder. The wire itself was long enough to wind around her torso once with some slack. The slim casing that held the battery and recording device she tucked into her bra for now. Listened intently as he explained how to turn the device on and off.

"I'll keep this on for the rest of the day, just to get used to the feeling." Her smile was a bit wobbly as she spoke.

"Yeah, that's ...uh, a good idea." Javier fidgeted a moment, not sure what to do with his hands. "Right, I'll leave you to your-"

She gripped his hands just as he was about to turn and leave. Alarmed, he stilled. Watched he lip wobble and the rims of her eyes redden under furrowed brows. "Hey, what is it?, What's wrong?"

She heaved a deep and shaky breath that ended in an even shakier laugh. "I'm sorry I'm just... I'm scared."

"You don't have to do this if you don't feel safe." Javier was quick to offer. "You've helped us so much already."

She swallowed hard. "No, I do want to! Do this, help you. I want to bring them down! Besides, I'm going to be there anyway, so it would be a waste not to-"

She was trembling now, unaware of her own body's reaction until it was brought into sharp relief by his large warm hands on her shoulders.

"Hey," he said, thumbs rubbing gently at her collarbones, "It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

She knew, realistically, that there was only so far he could carry a promise like that, but her nerves calmed nonetheless. It was silly, really. This relationship was just a professional alliance, no matter how many deep secrets they'd shared with one another. Officially of course they couldn't ever be associated, at least as long as any of the 'Gentlemen' of Calí still roamed free. And yet, she trusted him.

"I know. I'm sorry." She babbled, nerves imploring her to externalize her anxiety through words. "I came to you; I wanted this... want this. I'm in. I'll try to be brave."

He squeezed her shoulders gently. "You're one of the bravest people I know." And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Because deep down he didn't want her to be brave. Helena had been brave too, and what did it get her?

"I'm just… I'm tired of being afraid." She steadied herself on him, hands gripping his biceps now.

"Sometimes being afraid is what keeps us alive." He murmured, bringing one hand up to tilt her face to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe, okay? Whatever I can, I promise. I can't have you on my conscience as well." The last part was whispered so softly that she barely caught it, but she nodded, pulling herself together and schooling her breathing.

"Thank you." She squeezed her hands once and let go. Javier searched her face for a moment longer, thumb brushing over her cheekbone absently, before he remembered himself and drew back.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "yeah I'll be fine."

"Okay." Javier breathed, straightening, hand going for the curtain. "I'll wait outside."

Her answering smile was still shaky, but not quite as much so.

When Javier ducked out of the changing room his first glance is towards the stroller, where Salome is still napping peacefully. His second glance is directed towards the shop assistant sorting through the returns rack, directed there by the woman's disapproving huff. It's not the same one who helped them pick out dresses, but a slightly older woman, one who carries the gravitas of authority derived by experience with her.

"Did your wife need help?" She quips while untangling garments from hangers. Out of all that's happened over the past quarter of an hour or so, this is what really makes Javier's ears burn.

"Yes, with the um... zipper." He stutters, wishing for the first time that day since leaving the base that he could have a smoke.

"Hmm," the shop assistant resumed her folding, "You would not believe the kinds of things people get up to in there." Her disapproving stare moved to the stroller where Salome was still blissfully asleep under his blazer. He snatches the garment away guiltily, but Salome doesn't even stir, just slumbers on cutely. At last, the woman's eyes soften.

"Yes, well... call me or any of my colleagues if you need further... assistance."

"Thanks." He clears his throat and sits as she sails off with an armful of clothes. Miss Rivas poked her head out not a second later.

"I'm sorry, your what?"

At least she was laughing again, even if her eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and watery.

"Sorry, next time I'll be sure to clarify that you are my confidential informant and we're taking down the world's biggest drug cartel together." He retorts, and she breaks out into a wide grin accompanied by a snorty burst of laughter.

"Well, if you put it like that it sounds almost romantic." Now it's his turn to snort. "I do actually need help with this zipper, though."

She stepped half out of the little alcove, clad in a floor-length, wine-red halter gown with intricate beading all over, and a slit so high it makes his brain short-circuit. Which causes him to just stare at her dumbly for a long moment, even after she's already turned to present the high back of it.

"Agent Peña?" She throws over her shoulder, somewhere between amused and slightly concerned. He jumps and strides over, fingers fidgeting with the zipper tab until he gets a decent grip and starts to pull it up the rest of the way.

"Uh, no I meant down." Her voice is as strained as he feels. He pulls the tab down, desperately trying not to focus on the skin being revealed as he does. She releases a relieved breath when he's done and turns, stepping back inside the changing room.

"Thanks."

"This one good?" He asks with a non-committal shrug, nodding towards the dress without really looking at it.

"No, I think I do need to be able to breathe. And also I'd like to be able to walk without flashing everyone. I do work with these people, after all." She smiled, one hand on the curtain ready to draw it back shut. "I'll be quick with the rest, but you can take Salome for a turn if you want, maybe have a smoke outside? We can meet back here or by the registers."

They both look at the little girl's sleeping form simultaneously, watch her eyes move rapidly under her lids as she is lost in dreams.

"Thanks, but it's alright. I can stay in case you need further...help."

It really isn't long after that. She hurries, but they also make light conversation while she tries on another five or six dresses. She doesn't come out with most of them but narrates all their flaws very entertainingly. Javier once again enjoys how forward she is, not censoring herself in the least as she complains about everything from odd sizing to itchy material to unfortunate placement of embellishments.

"Okay, last one." She announces and then draws back the curtain with a flourish and Javier... just gapes. The dress is midnight blue, so dark it looks almost black until light hits the silky fabric and reflects off of it. The color compliments the deep bronze tan of her skin like it had been chosen specifically for her. It's slim-cut, body-hugging and high-collared with thin spaghetti straps and subtle beading on the bodice. A tasteful slit goes to just above the knee and the hem brushes just over the tops of her feet.

"I think this will work."

'Oh it definitely works.' Luckily Javier's mouth is currently too dry for these words to slip out, so he just nods, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Great! Let me change back real quick and let's get out of here."

He's just adjusting his suit jacket to lie over the still blissfully sleeping toddler like a blanket when Diana steps back out, back on her shorts and top.

"Looks like the American taxpayers are in luck. It's discounted." She said as she read the tag, then draped the blue dress over the top of the stroller. "Twenty percent. Not bad."

Javier snorted. Took the other dresses and hung them up on the returns rack. Grabbed the stroller handles and gently set the vehicle in motion. Salome stirred a moment, then bunched a chubby hand in the fabric sheltering her from the chilly air-conditioning and settled back down. Diana's gaze is soft upon her niece, and soft still when she raises her eyes to meet Javier's.

They make their way down to the registers, walking from the top floor of the department store downwards, weaving around racks and shelves and other shoppers. Javier is pushing the stroller, Miss Rivas at his side where possible, her hand loosely hooked into the crook of his elbow again as she likes to do. It's two floors down, as they traverse the men's section, that she suddenly sidetracks, half disentangling herself, half pulling him over to a wall display. Neckties. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Since we're here already." She shrugs, like that explains everything. It doesn't. The eyebrw remains up and quizzical.

"Explain."

There's a dangerous glint in her eye as she lets her fingertips glide over the assorted fabrics.

"Gabi said you only have ugly ties." Has she now.

"She's only seen two!" Javier protests without heat. She eyes him critically, eyes the tie he put on this morning at the asscrack of dawn for his damn meetings. He has half a mind to argue that he didn't feel like dressing up all pretty for some pissy general at half past four in the morning.

"Was this one of them?" Though truth be told perhaps his tie selection is a bit... outdated. This one is several brownish tones in a very 70s pattern, if he's being honest.

"No?" But this one was also one of the old ones that had been gifts from Lorraine he'd never gotten rid of.

"Then you have three ugly ties." There is no arguing with this woman. So, he submits. "You'll have to make announcements on national television sooner or later; you'll need to look decent."

"I'm not arguing, am I?" He figures what's the point. What's the worst that could happen. And she knows she's won, too. Gleefully starts peering through the selection before them.

"Is this revenge? For this?" He motioned to the dress still draped over the stroller, his meaning clear between them. Is this for making you go to a party with the world's most powerful drug bosses with a wire up your boobs.

"No." She lied, picking up a solid charcoal tie and holding it up to his collar. "Of course not."

She picks out four, two solid and two patterned.

By the time he parks the car back on a side street in Envigado Salome is awake and very grumpy. A snack of peach slices and crackers mollifies her somewhat, but just enough to get her in the house and distracted by her toys before throwing a fit. Javier carried in the car seat and then the stroller, after Diana's signal that the coast was clear, and lastly he grabs her shopping bag and stuffs the last item on his itinerary for this visit inside, before he forgets again.

"Another coffee?" He wants to, he really does, but if he ingests any caffeine now he knows he won't sleep until well after midnight. So he shakes his head, apologetic. He's tired, sure, but he'll power through until he reaches his hotel (and then promptly collapse on the bed there.)

"I have one last... I brought you something, just in case." He hands her the bag, and she looks at him quizzically. Until she looks inside, that is.

"What's this?" She holds the garment up in question, turns it in her hands a a few times. Javier clears his throat.

"Bulletproof vest."

She gulps. Pales imperceptibly, eyes flitting between him and the vest.

"You really think this is neces-"

"Just in case." He insists. It probably wouldn't- it's a newer model, thinner and more discreet than the tac vests they use out in the field, but likely still too bulky to be hidden under her normal work clothes, even though she favors looser cuts. He takes it from her gently, motions for her to put her arms up so he can lower the vest over her head and do it up at the sides. Explains how it needs to be secured tight to the body so it doesn't shift.

"It won't work under my normal work clothes." Miss Rivas frowns, hands smoothing down over the front of it, calculating. Probably going through her wardrobe mentally. Doing an admirable job of not letting fear grip her again like that earlier hiccup. "It's too bulky."

"No, you're right." Javier conceded, hands still at her sides where his fingers are hooked into the clasps of the vest. "You should still take it. Who knows when it'll come in handy."

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

Author’s note cont’d: this is the song Javi is hearing over the phone in the first scene btw

youtube

learn about bugs and wires here (though I do admit that I am playing a bit fast and loose with this here ;)

this is what I based the first dress on:

and here’s the final dress:

and yes, I hate about 90% of the ties they have him wear in the show and that is how that bit came about. Sorry to throw Lorraine under the bus a bit there but I’m sure they were fashionable at the time :/

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#narcos (tv)#narcos #narcos fanfic #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#like gloss tag #javier pena x ofc #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #my writing #multipart #series #part 3

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