Heat

by ROGUEFURY

You don't expect to be pulled into a heated gravitation with Agent Javier Peña, and the more you both try to navigate your lives around each other, the clearer it becomes that your feelings go beyond the torrid desires you both are able to ignite in each other. Will the heat of your passions win out against the tribulations that threaten to pull you apart?

20. Chapter 20: Compromise

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of protected sex. Mentions of intercourse with different sexual partners, dom/sub play, size kink, dirty talk, rough treatment, demeaning language, unrequited feelings, angst, allusions to past trauma, psychological grief, resentful anger, and emotional turmoil. Harsh!Reader, Remorseful!Javi, Needy!Javi, and Frustrated!Javi.

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Chapter 20: Compromise

You'd been on cloud nine after your trip. The visits to the new field offices went great, and you were very happy with the competent, proactive staff that were running each, so by the time you arrived for the Department of State conference and security showcase in New York, you'd been feeling confident about things to come. It ended up being a fantastic opportunity where you'd networked and made great contacts, as well as secured a promising system for personal storage of network data – making the Bogotá Embassy one of the first in the world to have it.

So, finding out the love of your life, the infuriating hijueputa malparido that he is, came back unannounced like a tempestuous storm out of nowhere? Well, needless to say, you feel surly and wrathful, having to swallow every destructive impulse in your marrow in order to not run up to his office and beat the shit out of him. But then your pining thoughts betray you – reminding you that he had called to let you know he was back, and the hesitantly hopeful timber of his baritone hums in your mind the entire morning. It manages to cool your ire for now, but you still can't believe that he'd already bedded a young and eager member of his own staff, and it keeps your anger on a low simmer. A big part of you is still reeling from the surprising developments, though.

You'd grieved the unspoken breakup for months, had been left to swallow your misery and question whether all the words and declarations had even meant anything. In short, you'd had to move on. And just when you were in such a good place, the angst and anxiety were back, gnawing away at your stoic resolve. You wanted to hole up in your office, lay face down on the couch, and scream into the cushions. Instead, you spend the workday catching up on things – especially all the messages you'd intended to tackle the night before when the Javi bomb was dropped on you. Once you're up to speed, you make it up to you meeting with the ambassador to brief him on the success of your trip.

"Well, don't you look spiffy!" he greets you warmly and winks at you. "Getting the tongues waggin' in the building—"

"Sir, they were wagging long before me," you joke and settle in on the sofa across from him.

"Hah, well, that may be, dear. So, I heard great things, but fill me in on your takeaways."

You do, dutifully outlining things to him, and showing him the progress reports on other initiatives your department oversees to emphasize how revolutionary the new system DOS is sending your way will be. "—I believe all the agencies would benefit from the system. It would definitely cut down on the need for aimless file storage rooms. I know plenty of people who'd like to avoid the dust down in the archives," you remark affably, earning a wry snort from the glacial-eyed man.

"I'm sure," he remarks before leaning forward in his seat to confide, "You've done stellar, darlin'. I think there's tons of potential there. Which brings me to the next thing: I know you were miffed I sidelined your pilot program, but I think now is the time to put it into standard procedure," Crosby pauses when your eyes light up. "And, I think the first agency that should get up to speed on it is DEA, so that means dealing with some stubborn bastards, including the new country attaché, Peña."

You feel like this is a test, so you raise a challenging brow and ask, "Are said stubborn bastards aware of this coming requirement, sir?"

"Nope," Crosby drawls. "Which means you and Ellis have your work cut out for yah. If anyone gives you any major resistance at all, follow the chain of command. Take it to Peña first, and if he wants to be a contrary pain in the ass, you come to me," is his sharp-edged retort, softened by his confident grin. "I doubt you'll have any issues, though. Haven't picked up on anyone wanting to get on your bad side, missy."

You chuckle at that, nodding as you stand and remark, "There's always one somewhere, but I'll cross that bridge when it calls for it."

As soon as you exit the ambassador's office, you are buzzing with ambivalent anxiousness. Of course he'd want to launch the pilot back up with DEA. It was as if the universe wanted to grind your gears by having you be in close quarters with Javier on a professional level, which right now is the absolute last thing you need to happen. But then again…when Crosby had mentioned Javier, your heart had skipped a beat. You can't deny that…

On the flipside, Javier's morning had been absolutely shitty.

First it was the berating from the CNP general, Vargas, then Col. Martínez letting Javi know exactly what he thinks about him, and then having to rotate Duffy and Lopez out for the massive fuckup of getting made and carpet bombed on a national level by Cali. He was in no mood to entertain a hungry, intrepid agent vying for a shot at getting assigned to stake out the Cali Godfathers right now. So, he shot the agent down – saying there wouldn't be any personnel being sent to Cali any time soon. When he thought about it on the drive home, he couldn't fault the guy. Hell, he'd essentially done the exact same thing – had asked to be assigned to Colombia so he could hunt Escobar. Now, he was just some bureaucratic asshole; just a suit and tie with terrible coping mechanisms and a notorious reputation.

The next morning, he skips breakfast and chews on his nicotine gum in a tepid attempt to curb his smoking habit, even just a little due to all the added stress of his role. When he gets to the top of the staircase's landing that leads up to the floor DEA has their conference room on, he pauses at the sound of a melodious, effervescent laugh that echoes from the opening elevator in the foyer below. Javi turns just in time to see you come out of the crowded car to stroll across the polished floor towards the agency adjacent his department. It's only a few seconds, but to him, it's slowed down due to his awe of seeing you after so long. You're in a tailored ensemble that hugs your body in all the right ways, chic red tweed blazer and terracotta ruched blouse tucked into slim-fit black midi skirt with matching pumps – hair undulating around your shoulders as you walk and grin at something Ellis says to you as you both turn the corner and out of his line of sight.

He swallows the dryness scratching at the back of his throat and stalks up the rest of the steps, heat rising up his neck to flare across his features as he ducks his head and fiddles with his red paisley tie. The gum in his mouth tastes like regret now, so he dumps it in a trash receptacle on the way before he goes into his meeting.

An hour after your meeting, you come back to your office with Ellis, chatting away about lunch plans as you walk by your intern, Francesca, who looks up from her computer and greets, "Hey, director!" before returning to her typing.

"Hey—"

"Don't forget to go to lunch, Fran. You don't wanna end up eating from the vending machines!" Ellis drawls affably, steamrolling your greeting, so you snicker and pantomime behind him for her not to pay him any mind, to which the woman snickers.

"Let me grab my purse," you call out to Ellis as you rush into your office to set your folders down on your desk. The moment you see the coffee cup sitting there, taunting you with a reverie of memories in your mind that overflow into longing feelings, you vacillate. Dropping the files onto the edge of the desk, you pick up the coffee cup and rotate it in your palms before popping the lid off to inhale the fragrant aroma. "Francesca? Was anyone in my office?" you call out, feeling that coiling twist of outrage begin to wind you up.

"Nope! Just one of the cleaning ladies went in to clear the wastebasket," Francesca retorts as she pops her head in the door. "Something missing?"

You shake your head, feeling tangled up with your yearning and anger to speak, so you sip the coffee, replace the lid, and put it back down in a safe spot on your desk before grabbing your purse and meeting Ellis out in the office workspace. It isn't until you're nursing your soup at lunch with him that it dawns on you.

Every single time Javi left you a magical cup of coffee on your work desk, it'd been delivered by one of the girls on the custodial staff. That explained how no one ever remembered seeing anyone at your desk, or commented about seeing Javier Peña in the area. You want to fume, but you can't. It's brilliant, and you know exactly which of the ladies to suspect in being his partner-in-coffee-crime. You don't mention it to Ellis, and after lunch, you both go back into meetings, promising to meet up at the end of the day to discuss plans for onboarding DEA for your pilot program.

Javier had been hoping you'd strut into his office after his stunt with the coffee cup, but when you didn't, he grumpily succumbed to a much-needed smoke break. Unfortunately for him, he'd decided to go outside and get some air while he lit up, and ended up becoming the target for a very overzealous reporter from El Tiempo, who peppered him with questions about Cali, referenced his involvement with Los Pepes, and guilt tripped him on not going after the caballeros de Cali aggressively. Her words stick with him, especially when she says that by the end of the day, the Yumbo poisoning will be labeled nothing but an accident. Feeling completely lonesome, Javi can't concentrate on anything else when he gets back to his desk, so, he decides to do something very audacious.

After seeing the news, and watching the inspector declare Yumbo an unfortunate accident, as Carolina Álvarez had predicted, Javi marched out to the bullpen and with determined authority told Feistl he and his partner were heading to Cali. Knowing how risky it was to make that play in light of Stechner's bullshit 'plans' for the cartel, Javi internally smirks. He's ready to defy the bastard. He doesn't want to chance running into the motherfucker, though, so as soon as he gets back to his office, he grabs his things and heads home for the night, figuring it was about time he unpacked the boxes that were littering his apartment, and tonight seemed like a decent night to get lost in the monotony of it.

Yawning despite yourself, you're looking up at the clock when you frown, realizing you've both spent quite a while holed up together. "We haven't been back to our offices since after lunch," you remark tiredly to Ellis as you close your laptop and roll your shoulders back. "I think that's enough for strategizing our plan of attack."

"Yeah, let's head down. I promised Anita I'd stop and pick up dinner tonight," he grumbles lazily as you both head out of the conference room and shuffle down to your department.

Once you both split up to enter your individual offices after walking by the empty workspace and vacant cubicle the intern uses, you're thinking about maybe picking up takeout too when you walk into your office and see an elegant sphere-shaped vase with short-stemmed red roses arranged in it, sitting pristinely on your desk. You don't even realize you gasped out loud, not until Ellis rushed in to check on you.

"What?! What happened—?" he pauses when he follows your wide-eyed stare and sees the lovely bouquet. "…Damn. He's good," is his musing as he whistles and puts his hands in his pockets.

You are not amused. As a matter of fact, you are aflame with anger now – stare becoming a blazing glare as you look at the roses like they're mocking you. Was he doing this to deliberately piss you off? Get a rise out of you? All the conclusions you jump to do not satisfy your rancor, and when Ellis pats your shoulder in an attempt to appease you? Well, you snap.

Javier is brooding as he rifles through the third so box of his belongings, shuffling the wrapped items in search for his favorite ashtray so he doesn't have to keep using empty coffee mugs to put his cigarettes out. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie hanging loose under his collar, the ends flap about as he bends down to grab the next box he thinks his glass ashtray might be packed up in.

The banging that comes from his front door has him whipping his head up and going on high alert, cop instincts kicking in. He's at the door with stealthy footsteps in an instant, and when he looks through the peephole, whoever just banged on the door has their hand held over it, darkening the view out. His gun is holstered on his dresser, but he decides if they're banging on the door, it isn't likely to be a hitman. Surely, Cali would have more clandestine ways of offing him, if that's really what their goal was. But really, they weren't crazy enough to kill the special agent overseeing the DEA, so with a rueful huff at himself, Javier unlocks the door and opens it.

He's disarmed to see you standing on his doorstep, looking absolutely fucking furious.

"Querida—" he croaks, in shock, just as your brows furrow sharply at the term of endearment whilst you hold up the round vase with the cropped red roses he'd bought and had Marisol deliver to your desk for him.

Before he can react, you forcefully shove the vase into his midriff and snarl disdainfully, "Take these puto roses and shove them up your ass—!" and give another hard shove, which causes the water in the vase to splash out and dampen the front of Javi's rumpled dress shirt.

He manages to juggle the vase from dropping and grabs your upper arm with agile reflexes. "Wait!" he exclaims and reels you back and into his apartment. The swiftness of his pulling you over the threshold has you teetering on your heels and almost falling sidelong into him as he shuts the door with his shoulder and plunks the circular vase to spin across the surface of the credenza against the nearby wall whilst he sidesteps to catch you in both his arms.

Your purse slinks and tangles at your elbow while you thrash in his embrace and hiss, "¡Suéltame, hijo de la gran puta malparido!" as you twist against him and push off to now use your purse as an instrument of retribution – swinging it to hit a stunned and sheepish Javi on his shoulder as you rail, "How fucking dare you pull a stunt like that, after what you put me through?! You think you can just waltz back into my life like nothing fucking happened!? Like I haven't gone fucking months not knowing if you were ok—thinking the fucking worst and then finding out you're perfectly fine and just decided you couldn't fucking bother to ever reach out?!"

Those big, brown, soulful eyes pin you in place from rushing to the door after your tirade, and when you just stand there panting from your ragged fury and adrenaline burning up in your veins, Javier hazards approaching you, despite the decent chance that you'll punch him in the face. "Cariño…you have every right to be pissed," he begins cautiously, and when you clench your hand around the purse strap, he hesitates before murmuring carefully, "If you want, do your worst. I fucking deserve it."

You still, eyes crinkling with hurt, lips pressing together so tightly they flatten out before you scoff and hit him with your purse one more time. "God damn you!" you scathe and recoil in your next swing to just chuck your purse across the room onto his sofa with a muffled thud before you feel your fury burn up in your temples. Clasping your hands over your face, you grind out irately, "I want to fucking beat the hell out of you—!"

Javi's hands cupping your shoulders have you stuttering your breath out. "I deserve it. I'll take anything—do anything to make you feel better," he husks and squeezes his hands from your shoulders down to your triceps, thumbs pressing soothingly into your bunched up muscles. "I'm sorry…there hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you – that I didn't miss you, and want to fix it—"

You yank away from him and slap his hands off your arms so you can glare fiercely up at his warm brown pools, your own eyes wild, hair in your face and lips set contumely in a sneer. Javier gets lost by how beautiful you look, staring murderously at him.

"You just left!" you exhale, throat tightening with your welled up emotion as he just stands there, looking lonesome and guilty. "And then you left me behind, wondering what happened. I—I had to move on, and then you pull this shit on me! When you've already been back to your usual fucking around – only now it's with your subordinates?!"

When you levy the charge, Javi's expression hardens, eyes taking on an edge while his lips scowl. It's then you realize he's cut his hair and gotten into the habit of combing it back and away from rizando along his forehead. He also looks healthier – well fed and not as tense around the eyes, cheeks filled out and looking even more kissable now. Your hearty inhale filters his scent, saturating your senses with his spicy musk that isn't clung to by smokiness like you remember.

Before you can keep cataloguing how good he looks, Javi looks down deprecatingly at the soggy spot on his shirt and scoffs. "I'm such a fucking asshole…"

Wounded by his self-loathing response, you jab, "If you know so, then why do you fuck with me like this?"

Hand on his hip while the other wrings across his eyes, Javi mumbles dejectedly, "I didn't mean to upset you, querida—"

"The fuck you didn't. You're a liar," you accuse, voice clipped and low as you add, "You wanted to rile me up—you get off on making me feel like this—"

Javier has advanced in a swift stride to grab you and pin you in place so he can bore his molten glare down into your tense features. "I swear on my fucking life, I don't ever want to upset you like this," he growls, pitch rough with simmering emotion as he rasps thickly, "I love you. I've never stopped loving you. Fuck, I probably never will, no matter how much I don't deserve you," he pauses when your hands grip at the sides of his dress shirt, tugging him closer. "Please…if you don't ever want to believe anything else I say, believe this one thing."

You are still so mad, but the heat of his words melts your armor, singes the integrity of your icy defenses, and has you yearning to just take all of your feelings and vent them. So, you pull him against you and relish how his hands encircle your form with possessive reverence just as you fist your hand into the back of his hair and tug him to meet your rapacious kiss.

Your mouths molding to each other is like a searing rush of sensations that you've never experienced with anyone else – igneous and right. The sweep of his tongue against yours – mouth tasting of coffee and mints – and the hungry growl in his chest from you pressing flush against him and seeking the friction of his tented bulge grinding against your womb, has you hot and needy. Your pulse is in your throbbing core, heartbeat racing and thrumming between your thighs for him.

"Mmph, w-want you so bad, amada," is his husky groan when he ruts you against the wall next to the door. "Need you—"

You shove him back so you can rip his shirt open as you cut in, "Have you even bothered to change the fucking sheets from the last time you needed someone, you fucking beyako." His breath catches in his chest from your tone and the fire in your eyes, and when he takes too long to answer, you card your fingers into the back of his hair and loop your other hand into his waistband so you can tug him close, earning a strangled groan when you slink against him and claim that delectable spot on his neck, just along the corded tendon, and nip hard before worrying the flesh between your teeth and suckling possessively. Javi shudders and clutches your waist, so, with a grunt, you release and hiss, "That wasn't rhetorical, Javier…"

His thought process hazes over from the obscene thrill that coils in his loins at your sharp tone and brazenness. Scraping it together enough to reply, he disposes of his ruined shirt and roughly tugs your tweed blazer off before he grouses, "Yes. I only ever lay on our filthy sheets, laced in your smell," and with a possessive hum, slides his hand up your skirt to rub his fingers over your soaked panties to trace the seam of your sex. You gasp and lull your head back against the wall when he nuzzles your neck and suckles a kiss over your pulse point. "You're the only one I want, querida. Te necesito…" he mouths down your throat to plant kisses over your collarbones, and you grip his shoulders as he starts working your blouse loose from your skirt. "Eres mi alma, mi corazón—"

You can't take it anymore, not when his warm skin in pressed against you, his heartbeat is pounding against your hands when you drag them down his broad shoulders, and his breath hitches when you gaze fiercely up at him. So, you shove Javier back enough so you can hurriedly undress yourself, and once you've snatched the last of your clothes off, tossed them to his floor and kicked your heels off, you stand in your nude glory as you unceremoniously yank at his belt, unfasten his slacks, and shove them down. Javier is floored, hard and throbbing while he follows your lead and kicks off what's left of his clothes before you both rush in a tangle of limbs encircling, hooking, wrapping or pulling the other close into his bedroom. He maneuvers you around the cluttered boxes haphazardly stacked along the wall adjacent the kitchen, punting one box out of the way from being in your paths. Once in the bedroom, his mouth worships the side of your neck, his hot skin rubbing against you as he encircles your waist and effortlessly steers you to the foot of the bed.

Before you let yourself get carried away after Javi picks you up and pounces with you down on his large, comfortable bed, you tangle your hands in his hair and coax him to stop nuzzling kisses long enough for you to demand, "I don't know where you've been, so if you don't have a condom—"

Riled, his dark eyes become molten as he snaps, "I'm clean. Got tested during my physical, and I wore a rubber with Katie—"

"I don't give a damn," you tell him imperiously and shove him in order for you both to sit up so you can shimmy backwards higher onto the bed. "…We've both been with other people, so it's best to be safe," is your admittance as you squeeze your thighs together and stare tensely at him.

He knows you're testing him. Seeing if he'll take the bait and pick a fight about your recent lovers – if he'd let his jealousy towards your sexual exploits roil him or wind his insecurities to lash out at you for being so demanding and snide.

Calmly but without umbrage, Javi retrieves a condom from the nightstand, rips the wrapper open, and lets you watch him ease it onto his thick, throbbing cock before securing it to the base. You admire his body, so strong and streamlined, expanse of his chest broadening under your alluring gaze as he snags his warm hands at your hips and hauls you towards him so he can nestle between your thighs. He worshipfully trail his hands along your supple skin before he seats his thumb over the hood of your clit, admiring how you breathily clench your knees around him. When he grinds the calloused pad of his thumb over your pulsing bud, you mewl and arch, one hand gripping his wrist while the other clutches at his chest when he starts edging you with his talented fingers.

Javi hums and bows his head to kiss your breasts before teasing your nipples with his hot mouth. The warm flood of arousal that slickens your folds has him humming in approval, flicking his gaze up to watch your features tighten with pleasure. Your panting picks up pace as he replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock rubbing up and down through your drenched folds before he slots it to the clenched dimple of your entrance.

When he splits you open on his throbbing need, you whimper out, "J-Javi," and writhe, feeling so full as he stretches you and has your inner walls tingling from the effort. His groan is husky and gruff as he strokes into you to the hilt and stills from your core fluttering around him.

"Tan tierna…so fucking tight and warm," he purrs against your jaw as he rocks into you and strokes something devastatingly good inside you, lighting you up and tearing a hearty mewl from your lips. He grips your hip and props himself up with a hand planted down into the bed under your arm. "Wanna make you feel good, preciosa," Javi groans when you loop your arm around his neck after a particularly deep thrust that has your pussy clenching around him while you cry out in pleasure.

"Ah-mmm, fuck me harder, Javi. Want to be y-yours—want to ache with you for days," you whimper and blush, arching when you feel Javi's dick pulse inside you.

He drags his moustache down your sloping muscle, soothing the prickly friction with his tongue and rough suckles of his mouth over your skin as he pounds his need into you – shoving a hand underneath you to pivot your pelvis at an angle that ignites you with ecstasy. Your cry out his name and cling to him as pleasure snaps free in the clutch of your pussy clamping greedily, desperately around him. You're so wild from the blinding bliss that you dig your nails into Javi's back and scrape your teeth into the side of his neck – over the same spot from before, and bite down, laving at his salty skin and mewling with pleasure.

Javi's cock swells at the wicked nip to his neck, and the pleasure-pain of your body milking him has him erupting, his spend filling the condom while he moans and tingles from the heat of your mouth worrying his delicate skin. Collapsing over you, Javi pants, struggling to regain his wits, but he eventually labors to carefully pull out and roll over to remove the spent rubber, tie it off, and dispose of it in the wastebasket by the bed. He exhales a cleansing sigh and rolls back to lie next to you while you recover, nuzzling kisses into your sweaty skin and getting lost in your heady, albeit comforting scent.

You lie in post-bliss, senses frayed raw from the incandescent feelings warring for dominance inside you. Javi takes your closed eyes and sensual repose as an opportunity to gaze covetously down at you. He brushes the backs of his knuckles along your cheek, feeling how flushed your skin is, and murmurs, "Being director suits you. Looked so stunning in the foyer...took everything in me not to walk up to you today."

That causes you to open your eyes and gaze bemusedly up at him. You want to harangue him – but the way his smoldering eyes soften when you furrow your brow in wonder at the fact that he is being completely genuine, has you teetering. You'd been so incensed at the sight of the roses that you'd marched up to confront him, found his office empty, and then stormed back down to do a lookup of his housing placement while Ellis tried to talk you down. Assuring him that you'd handle things without doing anything that would get you arrested, you grabbed your purse and the flowers, and set out on your mission. Ending up naked and in post-coital bliss with Javier had not been on the docket.

Timidly, you mumble, "Have anything to drink?"

Javi nods and kisses your temple before getting up and leaving your side to saunter out to the kitchen. While he's gone, you sit up and spot a throw folded on the ottoman of the leather chair tucked in the corner by the windows, so you reach for it, shake it loose, and wrap it around yourself before slinking to sit on the side of the bed. Your muscles protest at the nimble maneuvering, feeling warm but sore, pulled too taut and now throbbing in complaint while you try and regain your composure. You hear the clinking of ice in a glass as he makes you a drink, and you dimly stare at the curtain-drawn windows while you collect your thoughts, absently brushing your hair with your hand and combing it over a shoulder whilst you silently fret on what to do.

Coming back into the bedroom wearing only his fitted white boxers, with two drinks held in one hand and the bundle of both your discarded clothes in the other, he tosses the pile down and sits on the bed, handing you your rum and coke while he reclines sidelong to observe you. Sipping the drink for a few silent seconds, you find yourself sighing before you glance at him over your shoulder. "You look good, Javier."

His brows arch, expression softening at the pensive quality of your tone. "Thanks…the idle time was good. Spent it getting fed like a hog and sleeping like one," he muses coyly. "Trying to quit smoking…doing that nicotine gum," he volunteers, and you look back at him, surprised. "Doesn't do it for me every day, but anything to help me cut down…" he mutters and watches you nod gently and glance back to the curtains, as if you're unsure what to say. "You look beautiful. Fucking stunning, as always…" he compliments warmly, fingers itching to touch you, so he takes a pull from his whiskey instead before setting the glass aside without tearing his molten gaze from you. "I like your hair."

You laugh narrowly, smile not reaching your eyes as you turn to stare idly down into your glass. "I see you started combing yours," you razz lightly, and Javi's chuckle makes your heart flutter.

"Pops gave me shit about my 'mapo de rizos' not being the right look for a boss man," he offers and snorts to himself. When you just hum softly, he decides to speak plain. "I know you're upset, mi amor…don't hold back on me."

The sigh that escapes you is from the depth of your weary heart. You set your drink aside and pivot to face him sidelong, hand gripping the blanket tightly around yourself. The sight of him looking so bare, physically and emotionally, radiating with some wary hope that lights his dark brewed eyes after the way you spoke to him? Seeing the red hickey you carelessly bit into his neck much too high for any shirt collar to cover? It blooms cold shame in you. With a flit of your eyes from him back to the curtain-drawn windows, you scoff at yourself. "This…this is a mistake," is your retort. Your conviction wanes, and before you can stop yourself, you whisper, "I shouldn't have come here."

Javi is wound up by the shift in you – how you've become self-reproaching and sad. It hurts him more than anything you've said to him. Shuffling across the expanse of the bed to cuddle you in his arms, Javi murmurs into your temple, "As soon as I landed…I went over to your place," when he feels you stiffen, he pauses and strokes your hair away from your shoulder so he can kiss you tenderly there. "You weren't home…I called and left a message on the machine. I…I should've called you sooner than that. Regardless of—just regardless," he exhales, and then begins worriedly, "If you don't want to be with me—"

"I haven't been with you in months," you hitch out, your hurt welling up in your heart now. "I-I gave up…"

You turn in his arms to look up at him, and the sadness in those brown eyes stokes sorrow in your chest. They look like polished obsidian that you can see yourself in, and you're unable to swallow your feelings down.

"…I love you, Javier," you tell him, and cup his cheek before declaring, "But I can't do this."

Crushed by the hollowness with which you murmured that, Javier can't hold your gaze, eyes falling to your jaw as he exhales the tension from his body. Then, he surprises you by intensely staring back into your eyes as he rumbles, "Please, give me another chance, querida." You wilt a little at that, so he gathers the courage to stare into your eyes resolutely now as he promises, "It's going to be different this time. I'm not a field agent anymore. I'll be here in the capital full-time. No more getting roped down into the fucking muck—"

"You pushed me away. After you said you'd never push me away again…after you promised you wouldn't risk any more of yourself."

Javi's stare deepens on you when you hide your turbulent gaze and shift away from him.

"I…I moved on, Javier. I spent weeks waiting, and then Steve told me you were fine and…you never reached out to let me know anything. There was no way for me to think I'd ever see you again after what happened. It was maddening—the most upsetting fucking thing, and when my stupid mind would twist up with worry I'd just…I decided you'd pushed me away and didn't care to even let me know whether you were dead or alive," is your halting, labored stream of consciousness, tinged with ambivalence and mistrust. Fidgeting, you lean back on your arm and shakily exhale before telling him, "I had to put it behind me, so…I did."

He reaches for your hand and encircles your wrist when you shy away. "I couldn't disclose that I was coming back to anyone. Steve didn't even know until the day before I flew down here. I never meant to hurt you—"

"I've been with other people. Luke and I were together…and I saw an old flame when I was in New York," you tell him firmly, defiance goading in your tone. "That's because I thought I meant nothing to you and you were out of my life forever. But, if you never intended to actually push me away, then why did you spend your first work night here getting laid – fucking one of your office girls, no less?" you interrogate, tone challenging as you yank away from his touch.

His jaw sets and his eyes flicker with frustration, but he answers, "I got drunk and took her home from the bar…it was meaningless. And," he pauses to hold your gaze with authority as he confesses, "I was drunk when I got laid at the party my buddies took me to when I got back to Laredo. And she definitely meant fuck-all to me—"

You scoff a withdrawn sound, shaking your head cynically as you get up from the bed and round it to go collect your clothes from the pile on the floor. Javi internally swears and curls his fists to press into the bed before he bounds up and follows you so he can try and coax you into staying.

"I'm trying to be honest. Please, just hear me out, cariño," he insists in a rough baritone and tries to pull you over to sit on the bed with him again, but you refuse, shrugging his hand away as you rifle to collect every article of clothing you were wearing when you arrived at his doorstep. "I know I don't deserve it, but I'm begging you to give me a chance—"

"I don't trust you, Javier!" You erupt, whirling on him and clutching your clothes to your blanket-wrapped form, eyes stark with your anger. "Your intentions mean nothing to me when I spent all this time thinking the fucking worst! What else could you possibly say to change that now?!" is your emphatic screed, holding his lonesome-yet-burning gaze before you exhale in frustration, and turn to toss the blanket away and start getting dressed. "I was stupid…shouldn't have come here," you grumble to yourself as you yank your panties on and snap your bra over your shoulders before fastening the clasp at your back. As you yank on your blouse and skirt, you seethe, "You really expected me to just be a fucking mind-reader and wait for you—to just listen to you now and fall back in like I can just switch that part of myself on like that—?!"

"I understand if you need time," he cuts in, boldly entering your personal space, and when you don't slap him silly, he adoringly brushes your tousled tresses behind your ears for you. Disarmed, you get lost in his tender touch and the husky pitch of his baritone becoming gravel as he grouses, "I just…I want to prove it to you. I'll do whatever I need to do to get you back."

Your anger is wholly defeated at that, leaving you to grip your blazer in your hands and hesitate, but you can't just fall into him and melt. Bowing your head and pulling his hands away from your face, you shake your head and sigh, "It's not that simple."

"Why not? Why can't it be, if there's still something—" Javi's frustrated reply gets tighter in his throat when you suddenly break away from him and rush out of the bedroom in overwhelmed stress. He follows you and watches you snatch your heels from the floor in the living room and stalk over to grab your purse. Overcome and patience splintering under his fear of this being final – of having no recourse to win you back, his temper flairs, and he hollers, "Fuck—just talk to me!"

Stilling in your advance to turn from the couch, he watches your shoulders slump. "What else do you want me to say?"

When he doesn't respond and just watches your shoulders wind back, Javier stills as you whip around to stare furiously at him.

"What else do you want me to say?!" you yell, hands gripping your blazer, purse and shoes at your sides as you shake with your anger and snap, "What have I not said already to you that makes it hard for you to understand how I fucking feel?!"

"All of it."

Stunned by his rapid, unflinching husky response, you stare back at him and are at a loss for words.

So, you laugh. You laugh out a scathing, bitter sound as you sit on the couch and ruefully shake your head while you yank on your heels and hastily shrug on your blazer. "You fucking sunovabitch—"

Javier is at your feet and kneeling down to box you in with his arms leaning into the sides of the cushion your butt is planted on before you could even finish scathingly cursing him. His broad, bare torso and corded arms bracket any chance of storming off, so you have no choice but to stare into his brooding features and get lost in his intense, brewed coffee eyes.

"You love me," he tells you, eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he presses, "You said you still love me. I fucking love you. So…why can't it be as simple as starting over?"

Your heart swells in your chest until you feel like you're robbed of your breath by the weight of it. When your eyes only quiver and your lips soften in defeat, he forges on.

"Just tell me what I have to do to make it right. I'll do anything," he moves his hands from boxing you in to looping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Corazón…I swear to god, I'll do anything to fix it, to win your trust, make you feel safe again. All you have to do is ask of me."

Your heart is now an overly ripened fruit that is falling apart in its perch while your soul tries to collect it from dissolving, as your mind struggles to retain control. But then, the answer flies out of you, unbidden.

"Rewind back to when we were in the car and you promised me you wouldn't risk anymore of yourself, and then you did, and left."

Javi is taken aback. The defiance in your eyes wanes as you sigh and nudge him back so you can stand. He swallows thickly, and shifts, standing and letting you get up and pass him while you absently brush your tousled hair behind your shoulders and amble pass the nice furniture and expansive main room of his apartment towards the door. When you get to it, though? You hesitate – hand on the knob while you waver on just leaving without being clear.

"Javi," you turn and look at him, knowing how dangerous to your resolve that is, but feeling it's important that he read your decisiveness from your expression. "There's nothing you can do to fix it. And…and we're not in the same places anymore. You're the head of your agency, and I'm a director now," you state purposefully, adding, "We have to work together, so the little surprises left on my desk? That's over."

You hold his gaze, and yes, the fact he's standing there practically in the nude is insanity to your stubborn will, and when you've decided that should be enough of a clarifying position to stake with him, you go to leave.

"If our departments are working together, I expect to see you at meetings, not your deputy," Javi says in what you can only discern as being an instigating rumble. When you do a slow turn and glare at him, he actually puts his hands on his hips and stares you down smugly. "Unless you're concerned that I can't remain professional? Or is it you're worried you won't be able to—?"

You don't know why that incenses you all over again, but it does, and the fact he's saying it to you in just his tight boxers, with his tall broad frame of golden-tanned skin, muscles corded and sinewy, dark chocolate eyes teasing, and that trim little moustache curling at the corners from how his full lips tug up into a musing smile? It all sets a little fire of desire in your core.

"…First off, I honestly cannot take you seriously while you stand there in your skivvies, trying to get a fucking rise out of me," you sneer snippily before crossing your arms and leaning your weight on one hip, arching your brow challengingly before cuttingly huffing, "I'm not the one fucking my subordinates, so any comments about my level of professionalism coming from you are fucking laughable, if not galling."

Well, that wiped the smug look off his face. "…Fair point," he mutters, licking his lips in deliberation as he eyes you contemplatively. "So…Miss Director of IT+IS, if I go throw something on, can we talk more about work?" Javi tenaciously proposes and arches his brows at you.

He expects you to scoff and maybe berate him some more – at least he hopes you will so it'll keep you from storming out, but instead, your expression cools, and you get pensive, as if ruminating over something. Then, you walk to the credenza and set your purse aside and nod at him. He's floored and decides to make haste before you change your mind, so he goes to his bedroom, throws on a pair of navy joggers and a white crewneck shirt before emerging from the room with your discarded drink glasses. You're standing by the sliding door of his very narrow balcony and peeking out of the vertical blinds at the courtyard below when he strolls to the kitchen. Faraway gaze clearing at the sound of him to your right, you glance across at him and see he's refreshing your drinks, so you walk back to the living room's seating area and settle into the nice leather armchair next to the comfortable camel-colored suede sofa.

You're staring over at the stacks of half-opened boxes along the far wall when he hands you the glass and sits at the end of the couch that'll seat him as close to you as possible. You can't help snicker and face palm. "We did this in reverse…should've just sat down and talked first—"

"That's boring. We like to live dangerously, bravita," he quips charmingly, and you shoot him a terse look, so he sips his whiskey and shrugs at you.

You can't help roll your eyes and take a long gulp from your drink, but it doesn't do anything to mellow your anxiety. Huffily, you drawl, "Anyway," and emphasize that you're not messing around with a sharp arch of your brow before you declare to him matter-of-factly, "There's something that happened after you left. Before I tell you, I need you to promise that you're not going to act out, confront or retaliate in anyway."

Expression etching seriously, Javi sets his glass on the coffee table and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Baby—" he cuts himself off when your eyes narrow admonishingly, so he grunts, "Yes, fine. I promise."

Taking another long pull of your drink before setting the glass down, you find yourself starting to absently wring your hands in your lap, so you shake them loose and force yourself to lean back into the soft leather of the chair. "Remember when you mentioned that there were people at the embassy that you needed to watch out for?" Javi's eyes sharpen, and his back straightens at the recall. "Well…I know who you were referring to now."

His hackles rise at that, and you can see the fiery ire light in his dark brewed eyes. "What happened," he growls, and you watch his hands clench as he sits back and presses them into the tops of his thighs now.

"Stechner not-so-subtly let me know he'd listened to our calls, and basically made an unspoken warning that I stay in my lane," you tell him, trying for unbothered.

Javi, however, is very bothered now. "That slimy fucking bottom feeding piece of shit," he rails and buries his face in his hands as he growls at himself, seething and close to hitting critical mass at flying off the handle. "Did he fucking confront you?!" he bites out, fisting his fingers into his hair exasperatedly, and when you don't say anything immediately, he drops his hands brashly to his knees and his narrowed gaze flits to you.

"He said it when we were alone in the elevator. It was all but a minute of him enjoying the sound of his own voice," is your assurance, and you frown as you add in a clipped tone, "You promised. No macho bullshit, Javier—"

His hand slams down tempestuously into the armrest of the couch and he snarls, but the bewildered look you give him manages to cool his ire. "He had no fucking right to talk to you—to threaten you. I can't just let that stand, querida—"

"Oh, you will! Because you're not going to compromise yourself or me again," you snap harshly and stand, looming over him as you gesture with the slice of your hand to emphasize, "Not a fucking option, do you understand me? I can handle myself, and will, on my own time. I'm only telling you so you know where things stand with that smarmy bastard and keep your wits about you."

The way you become this clearheaded, albeit ruthless tactician as you lay down the law while dressed in your now-slightly-rumpled ensemble and in those killer heels has Javi shamelessly staring up at you in awe – attraction pulsing in his gut as pride expands in his chest. Your eyes lock with his smoldering depths, and against your stubborn will, you find yourself sitting back down instead of going for your purse and the exit.

"…So, since I'm already here, I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you that Crosby is letting us restart the pilot program, and he's given me a directive to onboard DEA first," you remark commandingly and cross your legs before continuing in a business-like drawl, "That means I expect your cooperation in aligning and coordinating the appropriate resources and clearances to do so in a timely and efficient manner, Agent Peña."

The glint in his dark eyes as he leans back and crosses his arms with an air of composed confidence is ridiculously attractive to you, and you have to internally chide yourself at fawning over him. But then he smirks and purrs in a canela-dipped tone, "Have your deputy call my deputy and make the arrangements, mi directora."

You don't know if you want to kiss him or slap him after that, so you scoff instead and go to stand and strut over to collect your purse from the credenza. Giving the lovely red roses in the vase an appealing glance, you turn around and lope to the door. "You'll have a meeting on your itinerary in the morning," you state coolly before opening the door and murmuring, "Have a good night," and then sauntering out without an appraising look back at him.

When the door clicks shut, Javi has to suppress the urge to rush after you. He doesn't want to push his luck. After all, the fact you left without screaming at him or beating him like a piñata was huge, so he's going to bide his time and think things through for winning you back. His father's warm, raspy voice was in his head, cheering him on and inspiring him to keep at it.

Just prove yourself to her again…she's worth it…don't louse it up!

With his mantra, Javier empties his glass of whiskey in a swallow and reclines backwards with a charged breath, staring up at the ceiling and hoping to earn your unabashed love and grace once again. He absently brushes his fingers over the hickey you left on his neck, wincing at finding it feeling tender. Had you done that on purpose? He can't help wonder, especially when he showers and gets dressed the next morning. His reflection in the bathroom mirror shows bemusedly back at him after surveying how his shirt collar is not high enough to conceal the mark.

While he grumbles to himself as he pops a nicotine gum in his mouth, grabs his suit jacket and heads out his door, you're arriving early to the embassy, on a mission. You easily find your target coming from clocking in for the day, and when she sees you standing in the hall with a moody scowl – arms crossed and heeled foot tapping impatiently, Marisol feigns innocence as she ambles over.

"What deception. I cannot believe you were sneaking around behind my back—" you grumble crossly, and when she scoffs amusedly, you pout and whisper, "If he asks you to do anything else, I want you to decline. We are not together—!"

Marisol takes your arm and leads you to a more private corner. "Ah, why're you being so stubborn?" she whispers, frowning at you. "Yes, he's been a bit of a cad, but he turned that around after meeting you," is her emphatic murmur – eyes widening when you huff and try not to scoff disrespectfully while your features etch with consternation. "Ay, cansona, don't give me that look. He's a sweet man, no matter what his reputation may be," Marisol muses, and the way she looks at you imploringly has your anger waning, especially when she declares sincerely, "That man is enamored with you, so don't be so tenacious and let him romance you."

Your cheeks flush as you stubbornly remark, "Just…please keep this to yourself. I'm…well, I'm worried that people talking could be very bad for him…for us."

The look Marisol gives you is warm and reassuring as she pats your arm and lets you know she's kept it secret the whole time, and planned to continue to. She even smiles and winks at you as she giggles, "He was so cute when he came up to me with the flowers, looking all bashful and afraid of putting me out," and when you crack a smile, she whispers, "Just have patience with him. All men are a bit thickheaded, after all."

With a promise of meeting later in the week for lunch with the girls, you bid Marisol a nice day and head up to your office, feeling a bit rueful. Her silly, irreverent cajoling to give Javi a chance aside, the kind woman always reminded you of your mother in these little heart-to-heart moments. You're pretty sure it's her eyes and easygoing demeanor, as well as her sardonic wickedness. The reminder makes you idly wonder what your mother would've thought about Javi, and it makes your heart heavy. That, combined with the fact that it seemed like everyone important in your life had an opinion about this whole thing – and it was decidedly in favor of Javi – made you whimsical suddenly.

Your grandmother had asked about him every time you'd call and speak to her, unsatisfied with your evasive answers on the topic, and last night was no different. Especially when she wore you down into confessing he was back in the capital after getting promoted and sent back to the embassy. And your cousin? She was incorrigible when you called to congratulate her on the engagement, only for her to brazenly declare that she expected you to bring a plus one, and said plus one better be the stud, Javier.

It was already bad enough that you'd gone to his apartment like that, only to force yourself to leave so you could shower and spend the rest of the night fitfully rolling around in bed. Your anxiety had kicked into high gear, fretting that maybe someone from the embassy would've seen you parking in front of his building, marching up with fire in your eyes and those roses in a death grip in your hands. But worst of all, you worry if you'll slowly drive yourself mad agonizing about your conviction remaining intact under the powerful allure of your desire for Javi.

Derisively, you can't help internally stew about it all as you ride the elevator up to your floor. And when you waltz out to strut into your department, you catch Francesca as she's coming back from setting a pop of coffee to brew. "Morning, director!" she cheerfully greets as you come over to her corner just outside of your office. "Oh, you have a few memos I haven't had a chance to drop off at your desk," she mentions and rifles through the papers before handing them to you.

"Thank you. How's the project coming?" you ask as she opens her laptop to get back to it. "Remember, if the tedious office assistant busy work gets to be too much, you let me know. This project is way more important than getting coffee started," you pause when Ellis whistles as he comes into the department and trots through the workspace to make a beeline to his office, so you add as he passes, "Since coffee making is supposed to be Deputy Rose's office chore, not yours—"

"Ahhh, c'mon! Fran always chips in with that if I'm running a few minutes late," Ellis exclaims while he backpedals the rest of the way to his office. "Thanks for taking care of it this morning, Fran."

"Hah, you're welcome," she chirps and turns back to answer your previous question. "So far, so good. It's a lot of data, and some of the coding is tricky, but I think I'll crack it," Francesca muses and rights her elegant wireframe glasses to sit higher on the bridge of her nose.

"Excellent. Let me know if you need to brainstorm anything," you remark and continue on to your office, already skimming through the memos.

Before you've sat down at your desk, though, Ellis breezes in, shutting your door so he can slink into the chair in front of your desk and whisper, "Well? Everything alright and copacetic?"

You purse your lips and furrow your brow. "Yep…copacetic. Straightened things out," you remark aloofly as you recline in your chair and muse, "And told him about the pilot program launching back up with DEA first. He said for you to coordinate a meeting with Stoddard so we can discuss logistics."

Ellis impishly squints at you, as if he can read your aura and is trying to suss out the lie. "Well then, good thing I'd already coordinated something with him on the way up," he drawls before bouncing his brows comically at you. "Meeting's after lunch. I got the resource sheet ready to go too."

Wrinkling your nose at him, you deadpan, "Such a nerd."

"Pffft, hey, I'm just good at my job," he snickers and wiggles the end of his tie at you goofily.

"Hah, that, you are," you chuckle and try not to beam, since you had told Javi the meeting would be on his itinerary by morning, but you figured he'd be booked up, and that you wouldn't have to see him so soon after the torrid hookup at his place.

You try not to fret during idle periods, as the clock counts down to the meeting. But when you're in the ladies' room after lunch to touch up your lipstick, you find yourself preening in the mirror, fluffing your hair, fussing with the flouncy bow of your vintage burgundy Georgette blouse's neckline, and turning to make sure the hem is neatly tucked into the back of your black pencil skirt before slipping your tailored blazer back on. When you peek at the slim rose-gold-faced watch on the leather band you have on your wrist, you gasp at the time and hustle out of the bathroom.

Javier was having a pretty shitty morning so far. First thing was signing off on all the paperwork required to send Van Ness and Feistl on assignment to Cali, then it was hearing that two U.S. senators from the Appropriations Committee would be coming down on a "fact-finding mission" – which likely meant ass-kissing and carting them around, so when Stoddard handed him his daily itinerary and he saw your name and Ellis' on the list for an after-lunch conference meeting in their department, he figured he'd at least have seeing you to look forward to.

He and Stoddard enter the conference room to find Ellis Rose already in there, but no you. Regardless of how irrational it is, Javier instantly gets sulky, but manages a stoic regard as he shakes Ellis' hand. He catches the man's discerning glance and realizes he's clocked the hickey on his neck, but makes no sign of acknowledging it at all. Javi's not surprised, since he'd spent most of the morning already feeling people's stares, as if the hickey was your brand – his scarlet letter to wear with pride.

"The director should be on her way, so would you two like a coffee while we wait?" Ellis offers, jovial as ever as he gestures to Stoddard and muses, "You can vouch to him – our coffee is awesome."

Snorting despite his present company, Stoddard nods and shrugs at Javier, so he relents with, "Anything that'll help me not fall asleep while you try to sell your program to us."

"That is definitely not what's happening in this meeting."

Javi turns to see you in the doorway, and he'll be damned if his heart didn't all but jump and palpitate at the sight of you. The outfit you have on accentuates your hourglass figure with alluring chicness, the blouse color looking so good on you and matching the pop of cherry-red rouge on your plush lips. It takes him a dim second to realize you have the ceramic loops of two mugs in each hand hooked nimbly around bent fingers, which helps you seamlessly carry and divvy up each to be placed on the conference table while Ellis closes the door behind you. While you do so, you appraisingly scan your cool gaze over at Javi, impressed with how good he looks in his slate-gray suit, crisp white dress shirt, and green-and-black striped tie – hair brushed debonairly back from his forehead and handsome face already shadowed with incoming stubble.

"Apologies for being tardy. But the coffee is really good," you muse as you sit with your own mug and smile placidly. It takes all your imperious power not to let your gaze linger on Javier, especially at the bawdy hickey his shirt collar is unable to conceal on his corded neck. "So, just to be clear, Agent Peña, we're not here to sell you on anything. Fact is, the ambassador gave us the directive to onboard the DEA onto the program," you declare in an even, no fucking around tone that Javi quirks a brow at while his arousal heats his blood. "We really hope the process will be effortless, with your cooperation."

Ellis takes that moment to parcel out the printouts he's made, remarking, "You'll see we've taken the liberty of ascertaining the appropriate resources on your team that we think would be the best candidates to start with."

Javier holds up his chart and sees the highlighted members, their occupation within DEA, and what the timetable given for each to complete the training would be. Two names stand out on the chart to him, so he places it down and slides it back. "Van Ness and Feistl are on assignment, so they're unable to participate. While we're at it, I don't think any field agents should be part of the onboarding. It's not an efficient use of their time," he remarks in his own commanding baritone, business-like, but unflinching.

It makes a little spark ignite in your core. You sip your coffee, and Stoddard glances around before taking a long sip himself while Ellis retrieves and arranges something tucked at his side.

"That may be the case for assets in the field, but not all of your agents are 'actively' on assignment," you remark curtly and surprise Javi by pulling open the laptop that Ellis has just slid over to you with a long cord attached to the side of it, projecting what's on your screen on a monitor that's across from him. "According to our data, the majority of your agents in Cartagena, Barranquilla, and Medellín are mostly riding their desks currently. Yes, they're still networking and meeting with contacts, but that definitely is not at an output that would justify their abstention from the program," you declare and pull up a spreadsheet of logs for each field office mentioned, and all the agents listed reporting to each. "But, we're willing to compromise," you muse, take a sip of your coffee, and continue by pulling up another log, where you've outlined a member from each field office with the lowest hours on assignment. "These assets could be designees for the program. And if it's not a one-guy-doing-the-work kind of thing they want to sign up for, the other alternative would be rotating assets into accelerated versions of the program," is your diplomatic assurance as you close the laptop and the monitor goes dark.

How the hell you could come this close to verbally dressing him down in front of both your deputies and get him this turned on is beyond his comprehension, but then, here he is, enamored and finding no damned rebuttal under your elegance, not daring to challenge your commanding demeanor. Realizing he hasn't taken a sip from his mug, Javi does so now, and the deliciousness is undoubted as his taste buds fall over in awe. He's tempted to ask if you stole the coffee grounds from Don Gilberto's, but decides you might nuke him in his spot for referencing something so intimate between you two.

"Stoddard," he addresses the man and glances authoritatively at him as he drawls, "I want you to look this over – especially in regards to the resources at the other field offices. For now, I'm fine with onboarding those who're onsite at the embassy, minus the two agents I've already referenced."

Nodding, Stoddard collects the documents and makes detailed notes of Javier's orders, all while Ellis can't help be the only one to catch the electric look that charges the air between you and Javier before you tap Ellis' arm and muse, "I think setting up bi-weekly status reports with Agent Peña will help us keep him appraised of his team's progress. Could you help arrange that?"

Clearing his throat, Ellis can't help break the weirdly sexy tension that he's aware of while his counterpart Stoddard seems oblivious of by declaring in a singsong, "As you wish, m'director."

Javier tries to suppress his grin when you squint murderously at Ellis and deadpan, "Deputy Stoddard, do you get to be a smartass with Agent Peña as much as Deputy Rose here thinks he has leeway to?"

With everyone turning to look at him, Stoddard pulls at his collar and jokes, "N-No, but then again, it's still early, right, sir?"

"Never happening," Javier laconically muses once he stands with his mug and chugs the rest of the coffee, making a content sound before he rounds the conference table and drawls, "Have that to me by the end of today, would yah?"

"Will do, sir," Stoddard nods while he and Ellis exchange deputy-commiserating looks while you stand, open the door and hold it in attempt to let Javi have the right of way.

He surprises you though, by holding up his empty mug and tilting it side to side. "Could I trouble you for some more?" he asks, and his brown eyes crinkle softly as he adds, "Best coffee I've had in a while."

You can't help smile and nod before gesturing with your hand for him to follow your lead. He does, and while the two deputies remain in the office to hash out the finer details, you both stroll down towards the main workspace in your department to the alcove you've stationed the cabinet housing all mugs and supplies for the stainless steel coffee maker that sits on the prominent perch. To Javi, it looks like a pretty fancy piece of equipment – definitely not the Mr. Coffee machine he'd bought for his dad when he was too impatient to prep a coffee kettle every morning.

As you pull the carafe free and pour some of the steaming brew into his mug for him, you covertly admire his smoke-free warm scent – admiring the spicy cologne that's mingled with the smell of his aftershave and soap, as it saturates your senses in the best way. Javi can't help flick his soulful gaze interestedly over you as he murmurs, "So…will you and I be the ones meeting for these bi-weekly status reports?"

"If schedules permit, I suppose that could be arranged, Agent Peña," you retort in a smooth, silky tone that goes down as good as his coffee did earlier. You return the carafe to the warmer, stealing a glance at him when he grunts amusedly and goes to drink from his refreshed mug. "Is your preference to meet in your office?" you ask, knowing you're playing with fire by suggesting it, but really – it's the courteous, professional thing to do, right?

"That depends," he begins in an offhanded tone before he leans close enough to whisper huskily, "Whether your office door locks or not."

Your eyes flash with a silent warning, but you keep your body language and features calm as you remark suggestively, "I suppose you would want to be in a space that isn't incased in glass so your subordinates don't see you typing on a laptop with your pointer fingers," and pause to arch a smug brow as you maneuver easily around him when you add, "But I don't see why you'd need to be concerned with the security of my office, Agent Peña. Regardless, thank you, and have a pleasant afternoon."

Javi watches you lope away, eyes mesmerized by the sway of your hips in the slim skirt and the poised pose of your blazer-clad back, desire burning like a beacon in his chest for you. Taking a drink from the mug, he decides he'll just have to use it as an excuse to come down and visit your department. He's thinking of all the other excuses he could use to pursue you covertly when he enters the DEA bullpen and strolls through towards his office. Katie is speaking with one of the analysts when he passes, and Javi has to divert his gaze when he catches her staring in his direction, so he internally swears and is thankful that her name was not on your list of trainable resources. He's not sure how to deal with the woman, but mercifully she's kept her distance and not made any waves, even though he was pretty sure it'd made the embassy gossip rounds, seeing how you were able to throw it in his face last night.

While he stalks into his glass-partition-framed office with no lockable entry door, you're back in your office, pacing the side of your desk as you agonize about how in the hell you're going to keep all of this up. It's undeniable, and no matter how much you want to ignore it or steel yourself to it, your heart was skipping beats every time Javi spoke or even looked at you, and the fact that he seems compelled to keep pursuing you – to hopefully win you back or just wear you down has you feeling riled.

Why were you fighting this again?

Annoyed with yourself, you march out and into Ellis' office, surprising him as you shut the door and angrily cross your arms as you glare at him. "That was a disaster, right?"

He comically blinks before dramatically leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers as he arches his brows at you. "Are you kidding? You wore him the fuck down. It was awesome," Ellis purrs deviously. "You showed him who the alpha is today, and from the looks of his neck? You showed him last night too," he chuckles knowingly, and you narrow your eyes at him and scoff disparagingly before feigning annoyance from the mere suggestion, let alone the veiled allegation. "C'mon, give it up, girlie—"

"The disaster I was referring to was just—just all that tension! Tell me it wasn't obvious," you bemoan and start to pace his office, so miffed by how you feel right now. "It's going to be so obvious every time we're in a room together—"

"It wasn't obvious, honest. Really, I only picked up on it because, well, I know about it, but Stoddard? He was clueless. I think most people are and will stay so, unless he stares at you with hunger in his eyes for too long…" Ellis muses and shrugs, but your mortified stare makes him sit up and assure, "It was only for like, a few seconds, when you were hitting him with the facts in the logs."

Feeling the apples of your cheeks radiate with your blush, you scoff and go to sit in the chair across from him before moodily leaning your folded arms on the edge of the desk and resting your head hopelessly on them. "…You'll have to do the status reports with him," you mumble flatly.

"Nope."

You pick your head up and stare at him. "But—"

"Nope," Ellis repeats glibly and shakes his head. "You're the one who suggested it, so it'll look weird if you send me to do it. You're also heads of departments now, so really, your communications should be direct, one-on-one like."

Frowning, you hate that he's absolutely right. "I just want to go into my office, crawl under my desk, and curl up until the earth swallows me up," you tell him, bewildered.

Huffing empathetically at that, Ellis stands and sits in the other chair in front of his desk, resting a hand on your shoulder as he mutters, "Seriously, kid. If you feel so strongly still…why are you so gun-ho about fighting it? He's clearly head-over-heels for you—"

"I'm literally going to lose my temper if I go into every single damn thing, Ellis," you grumble, absently running your fingers through your hair as you add, "Everything is different now. We can't sneak around like before. There are too many eyes on us, and if the gossip around him isn't already amped up enough, just imagine the chatter if our relationship got out."

"Devil's Advocate? The only reason the Katie thing got around is because her coworkers saw her leave with him. Neither of them talked about it, but all it took were some nosy typists to spread it—"

"How is this not just proving my point?" you cut in, irritated.

"Because, you managed to hide it from everyone. You were dating a Mil Grouper, for Christ's sake, and he didn't ever figure it out," he lobbies, adding, "And, really, if people find out—who cares?"

You're flabbergasted. "I care! Do you think that won't affect me – or our work? I also don't want to compromise everything we have going on now, or cause trouble for him," you murmur tensely, sitting back in the chair and feeling defeated all of a sudden. "He just got back, and not everyone is happy to see him back, let alone promoted into a leadership position. I'm sure people are just waiting for him to have one failure, one reproachable offense, to justify sabotaging him," is your tirade, Stechner's face and smarmy smile flashing in your mind's eye.

Deciding it's best to not argue with you further, Ellis pats your shoulder and drawls, "Well, I trust you, kid. I just want you to be happy."

Softening at that, you goofily pout. "Thanks," is your mumble before clearing your throat, shaking out your head as if it clears your previous brooding, before asking, "So, I saw a memo that some senators are coming?"

Ellis nods and fills you in. While you learn about the hoop jumping that awaits you, Javi is reading the latest developments from the Cornerstone operation. He was really craving a cigarette, but was trying to hold the impulse at bay. However, when he goes to take a sip of coffee, he finds his mug has run empty. And then, he's thinking of you – how sexy you looked when you tactfully caught him unprepared, how good you smelled when he leaned in to whisper to you, and how sultry your gaze got for a split second before you feigned aloofness and walked away. His thoughts are prevented from going down a naughty path when Stoddard knocks on the corner beam of his office and asks if it's a good time to go over the post-meeting notes. Once the man is done recapping things for him, however, Javi's only question is, "Did you and her deputy align on when those status reports are happening?"

"Yes sir, although I had to caution that your schedule tends to be fluid, so there might be weeks where we may need to shift things to accommodate both yours and the director's schedules," Stoddard explains, which pleases Javi, since he hadn't been sure if you'd intended to foist Ellis on him instead.

"That's fine," he remarks and looks at his watch. "If there's nothing else—"

"Actually, sir, there was an update to the meeting schedules for the rest of the week. The ambassador has asked that you be present at the introduction meeting with the two senators, so I had to move some things around for you," Stoddard cuts in and adjusts his glasses, waiting for Javi to glare at him murderously.

Instead, Javi sighs and inquires, "Who else is gonna be at that intro meeting?"

"Just agency heads, sir. The emphasis seems to be on budgetary matters for inter-agency operations, but word is they want to dig in on socio-political concerns in regards to the drug trade," his deputy tells him, so he nods and finally succumbs to his urge to smoke, reaching for the pack of cigarettes he keeps on the side table by the sofa in his office.

As soon as Stoddard leaves for the day, Javi debates on what to do with himself. He savors his cigarette as he deliberates whether to go home, head to a bar, or…

Glancing at the empty coffee mug on the table, he decides he definitely needs to return it, so he stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray, grabs the mug and goes to quickly rinse it out. Most of the offices in the building are empty, the sound of distant vacuum cleaners working in ante-halls the only specter of life on most floors. When he saunters into IT+IS, he notices most of the desk lamps are off, save for a light he can see coming from around the bend on the other side of the workspace area. Curious, Javi walks over and peeks around.

The office door is ajar enough to let the overhead light spill out into the narrow corridor that leads from the intern's desk to yours and Ellis's offices. He wonders if you accidentally left your light on, but then you pace over into his view, holding a file and reading as you walk the length of your office, turn, and lope back around. You've shed your heels and the blazer, clearly wanting to be comfortable as you absorb the information you're poring over voraciously. After a few seconds of staring, Javi approaches silently and knocks gently on the sidelight of your door.

Jumping and whirling, you stifle a startled squeak when your eyes lock on him. "Sorry! Didn't mean to catch you by surprise," Javi rumbles, dark eyes gleaming in the light of your office as he steps in and leans against the door jam.

Your heart rate is still racing as you take him in, sans-blazer, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his striped tie crooked and pulled back from his collar, hair a little mussed from his fingers running through it idly. His smile is warm, tempting, and it takes all your willpower not to yank him over and kiss him silly. Spotting the mug held in his hand, you snicker and raise a delicate brow at him, musing coolly, "I don't think you need more coffee at such a late hour, Agent Peña—"

"C'mon…we're alone. You really gonna commit to keeping that up all the time?" he remarks flirtatiously and lopes into your office, plunking his mug on the little side table before he makes himself at home on your couch. "Huh, your sofa isn't as comfortable as mine—"

"Javier," you cut in warningly and toss your file onto your desk so you can put your hands on your hips and glare admonishingly at him. "You should probably go back to your office couch, then. I'm a little busy—"

"Have you had dinner yet?" he asks as he reclines on your couch, crossing his ankles and folding his hands behind his head.

He looks so inviting – stretched out like that, broad frame dwarfing your loveseat-styled sofa. Eyes narrowing at him, you cross your arms haughtily and mutter, "…No, not yet—"

"We could go to that tapas place," he suggests smoothly, baritone like honey as he purrs, "Maybe have a nightcap after?"

You feel the butterflies bloom heat in your core, pulse throbbing between your thighs excitedly. So, you roll your eyes and stubbornly turn to sit at your desk to tidy it up. "Don't you have other things to do, like unpack? Grocery shop? Ironing?" you list off as you finish organizing things and slap the file you'd been reading from on top of a neat pile.

"My building has a provisioner who stocks the kitchen for me weekly, and a dry cleaning service on the main floor. But yeah…there's still a few boxes I gotta unpack," he humors you before crooning, "C'mon…let me take you to dinner."

You scowl and look over at him. "I told you, I'm busy—"

"Uh-huh, you're gonna organize your desk all night, guapita?" he challenges charmingly, smirking as he sits up and quirks a goading brow at you.

Annoyed by his handsome face and ridiculous sex appeal as he taunts you so successfully, you stubbornly lean back in your chair and dryly lilt, "No, I'm going home and washing my hair."

He blows a raspberry at that and stands, slipping his hands into his pants pockets as he strides towards your desk. Then, he sits on the corner that's free of clutter, hums, and smiles over at you before he drawls, "Need any help with that?"

Yep, you are hitting your limit with him now, and you're either going to pounce on him, or berate him – both, which are horrible scenarios, seeing as you're still at work. So, you swivel your chair, snatch up your discarded heels, and yank them on your bare feet before standing to strut by him, collect his empty mug from the side table, and flounce out of your office. Javi sighs and rubs his fingers over his lips to suppress his frustrated grunt before sprinting up to follow you.

The interior hall leading towards the conference rooms is dimly lit, but he's able to retrace his steps from earlier in the day, and finds you at the little alcove. You've just set the mug back in the cupboard and are pointedly giving your back to him as you arrange some things to be neater for the following morning.

Javi exhales and lopes closer so he can murmur reluctantly, "Look…I wasn't trying to annoy you."

"Oh? Then what were you trying to do?" you ask in a feigned conversational tone as you empty out the spent coffee filter from the machine into the tall trashcan tucked against the counter.

Huffing at that, Javi chews on the inside of his cheek before deciding on the right thing to say. Just when you think you'll have finally defeated him – and your desire – for the day, he takes a few steps closer so he can whisper over your shoulder.

"Trying to win you back."

The hushed baritone of his tone was huskily tinged with hope. It was a lit match thrown on the thirsty kindling of your want for him, so, you slowly turned to stare up at him and see the hunger in his eyes. The inferno of desire ignites ardently in you, and before you register what you're doing, you've snagged at a rolled up shirtsleeve and tug him along to a dead space corner where a copy machine used to be. It's completely hidden from the main workspace, and unless someone was on a mission to head to the supply room that was tucked just around the side, no one would think to walk in that direction.

Javi's floored when you pull him close and stand on your tippy toes to brush your lips tenderly against cheek, nose grazing his before you're staring sultrily at him through your curled lashes and whispering, "I'm not looking to play games, Javi, so there's no point in trying to win me back."

The sparsely lit corner cast you both in shadow, but you could see his soulful eyes flicker with something incandescent before he murmurs, "Fine, then…I want to earn you back." He watches your eyes soften as you hesitate and lean back against the wall, so he presses closer and cups your cheek, causing your breath to hitch prettily. "We can start over. Let me take you out on dates. We can take it all slow—as slow as you want," he husks, and you sigh, diverting your gaze. "Tell me you're not feeling this. That it's just me, and—and I'll leave."

"Do not put this all on me again," you hiss, eyes flashing with upset as they bore up into his. "I've already told you how I feel—"

"Yeah, well, tell me again," he grouses before leaning in and kissing your neck. "Tell me, querida," he whispers and kisses your jaw.

You were tingling from the moment he walked into your office, and now? You're panties are soaked through, body aching for him. Aggravated, you swat him on the shoulder, and when he flinches back from you, big brown eyes crinkled and full lips pulling into a frown, you huff as you grab him by the front his shirt and tug him down to meet your passionate kiss.

Javi's quick to snap out of his wonder and encircles you in his arms, kissing you with a fervor that has you curling into him and parting your lips to his ravenous tongue. You're inundated with his now-smoky scent, tasting the remnants of cigarette and coffee in his mouth while you lace your fingers into the back of his hair and hum when he pulls you against him.

Before you get torridly carried away, you snap out of the lustful haze and pull back, gasping and blushing when he grunts and nuzzles you affectionately. "Javi—"

"I know…I know, we can't. Not here," he whispers back, huffing in frustration as he steps back and lets you slink down his body, feeling how aroused he is and making your own dull ache pulse with longing between your thighs.

Feeling flustered, you manage a dim nod, but don't immediately move away from being in his loose embrace. Meekly, you glance up and see how surly he is with desire, and you can't help crack a smile before reaching up to trail your fingertips along his jaw to then trace them gently over the hickey on his neck, just above his rumpled collar. "I'm sorry about this," you whisper, but your silly smile says otherwise, especially when you add, "I didn't mean to mark you for all the office to see."

Javier chuckles, the sound velvety and warm as he steals a peck from your lips and mutters, "You sure you didn't do it on purpose?" He smirks when you scoff. "I'm only teasing. I know you did," is his musing remark, to which you swat him and shove him back imperiously.

"You could've had a black eye instead," you barb, arching a challenging brow as you purr, "I could remedy that for you right now, if you keep it up."

Instead of shrinking back, Javi smirks, takes your hand, and kisses the backs of your knuckles. "I wouldn't mind it, as long as it came with the promise of a date," he charms, tone gravelly as he gives you the look that always melts you down from anger to allure.

"We've spent enough time being idiots," you mutter and nudge him back to stride off in return to your office.

Pulling a face, Javi grumbles and follows, arousal starting to rile him up. By the time he reaches your office, you're back in your blazer, keys and purse in hand as you lock up after yourself. He's debating on whether to push his luck – whether he should propose to walk you to your car? Would that only annoy you? He really thought there was a moment there where he had a chance—

"Tomorrow night…the little café, around 9pm."

Stilling, Javi stares at your back, totally wondering if he's hallucinating, but you turn and gaze at him, eyes guarded, semblance cool – self-assured. His enthralled look is priceless, so you wink at him and strut off, exiting your department and heading for the elevator.

A dopey smile crests his handsome features, and once he's heard the ding of the elevator and the doors shut, he exits your department and heads for the stairs, going up to collect his things from his office before he bounds out to the foyer to ride the elevator down.

The little café. The place he took you for your birthday. He was exhilarated, feeling exuberant at having convinced you to give him a chance.

Driving to his place, Javi is resolute about not lousing this up. Not when you were literally giving him the time of day tomorrow, so once he gets to his apartment, he finishes unboxing his things, gets rid of the clutter, and proudly plunks his glass ashtray on the coffee table while he continues tidying up. While he ends up stretching out on his bed, laying on the bedding he'd made love to you on the night before, you're getting home and second-guessing yourself.

Was it a moment of weakness that had you proposing a time and place for a dinner date? Were you just appeasing him? By the time you strip and shower, washing your thick tresses while you pensively deliberate, you can't decide what motivated the proposition, but the longer you ruminate over it, the less worried you become.

By the time you're curling up under your covers, you decide that this is a trial run. Just a test drive to see if you and Javier can spend an evening together without letting carnal desire call the shots. You will always be attracted to him sexually, but you're unsure if you can lower your guard and allow for feelings, both of the heart and mind, to open up to Javi again after everything that happened. Really, part of you is afraid that you don't really know him anymore, and that you're just longing to fall back into a relationship that doesn't exist as it was – that you're going to find yourself falling into something that is wholly unsustainable.

Deciding not to jinx yourself, you let your fitful thoughts mellow out and slowly doze off, hope an endangered flower that's blooming in your heart and seeking out the grace of Javi's love and devotion.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Hijueputa = Son of a bitch; sunovabitch

Malparido = Bastard

Caballeros de Cali = Gentlemen of Cali

Querida = Affectionate term for a female, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Puto = Fucking; male whore; slut

¡Suéltame, hijo de la gran puta malparido! = Let go of me, you fucking son of a bitch damn bastard

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Rizando = Curling (hair)

Amada = Beloved (female)

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Te necesito = I need you

Eres mi alma, mi corazón = You are my soul, my heart/my love

Tan tierna = So tender (female)

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Mapo de rizos = Mop of curls

Mi amor = My love

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Canela = Cinnamon

Mi directora = My director (female)

Cansona = Tiresome girl; annoyer

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

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