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?

22. Chapter 22: Alone

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex. Mentions of body worship, praise kink, cum play, size kink, acrimony, angst, depression, and slightly unhealthy coping mechanisms. Depressed!Reader, Distraught!Javi, Needy!Javi, and Hopeful!Javi.

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Chapter 22: Alone

It's hard not to be in a mood when you come into work the next morning.

After all, you'd spent the night before doing verbal gymnastics to curry favor with the two dense senators, only to feel like a fool – like a dancing monkey that didn't get it's moneda. But, when you poured yourself a cup of exquisite coffee from your office's nook, you couldn't help smile at the salacious recall of the rest of last night after dinner, when you'd bum-rushed Javi at his place, and had an amazing evening. Your thighs were still protesting while muscles you didn't know you had were aching warmly, and the dull soreness in your core had you being mindful of how tender you were.

Javi had positively ravished you. You'd spotted finger-sized bruises along your hips and thighs in the mirror this morning, felt the stinging tug of a moustache burn on the back of your trapezius when you stretched to slip into your blouse, and the spasms of your floor muscles, which have your cheeks flushing still, have you titillated. Not because they have you feeling over-stimulated and tingling, but instead because the fluttering contractions of your tense sinew has Javi's seed seeping from you more than normal. Really, you'd be embarrassed if you didn't feel so good in this post-coital state. The excitement of seeing him later tonight is like a cloying, pulsing tremor in your tummy, and it keeps you feeling aflutter all day.

By lunchtime, you're no longer stewing about the dinner with the senators. Instead, you spend it pleasantly catching up with the custodial girls, grinning as the conversation leads into them all gossiping in Spanish with you about the cute men in the building. Of course, one of the more wily ladies ends up pining brazenly for the new boss of the DEA, crooning, 'Me comería a ese papasote, pero solo le gusta las chimbas.' You bite your lip humorously when another scoffs and barks, 'Ese pintoso te daría picos, por lo menos.' Marisol shoots you a mischievous look, and you roll your eyes and shovel the piece of fruit from your cup into your mouth, chewing impishly.

You're tickled by the somewhat crude infatuation with your dashing, handsome lover, so you playfully agree with them and remark, "El señorito Peña está bien bueno, pero el gringuito compañero que tenía, Murphy, era bien guapo tambíen,"steering them along. They all fawn and agree before moving onto the next embassy stud, and you watch Marisol wink knowingly at you before smiling innocently.

She reminds you so much of your mother that sometimes you feel a pang of nostalgia. It's not that she looks like your mother, but it's the way her brown eyes crinkle or widen, smiling more with her jovial gaze than her amiable lips – that triggers your recall every time. Not for the first time are you finding yourself wondering what your mother would've thought about where you'd ended up in life. Would she be proud? By your age, she'd gotten pregnant twice, gave birth once, lost the other, and had been relegated to traveling in tow of her husband as he went from Naval bases in countries she'd had no hope of acclimating to.

You were unmarried, childless, and defiant. There wasn't any hope in any of those things changing, and you found yourself uninterested in anything but working at the embassy until you were uninterested in that too. But you'd made a life in Colombia, had family you cared about, friends you cherished, and now…you had a man you loved.

What would she have thought of Javi, you wonder, and seriously ruminate on it this time rather than just wave it off like you've done before; having been too scared to deliberate on it seriously. Javi was a wonderful man. He was caring, kind, and passionate. His heart was true, and his ambitions made him dedicated, tenacious, fierce. Fondly, you recall all the good times – how he'd make you laugh, or how he'd make you feel safe when you were so bewildered. Walking back to your office now, you can't help pine about his ability to blast through your stubborn guard – to find you at your weakest and want to protect you.

Unbidden, you remember how your grandmother had said your father would hate Javi, and as you sit at your desk, the meek smile tugs your lips at the thought that if he'd hate him, that means your mother would've loved Javi. Finally shaking your head free of the sentimental pining, you get back to work, cherishing just how alight you feel now.

While you continue to feel tingly and raw in the best way, Javi is having a truly tumultuous day.

For the life of him, he couldn't help feel guilty about the fib he told you last might. After all, he knew better than anyone how sideways things could become on a sting operation, let alone when you already have all eyes on you. Javier had no illusions about the dangerous shit that could be coming their way, but he was intent on having the DEA nail Cali, by any means necessary. He couldn't tell you that, though. Not without incurring your worry, or your wrath. Instead, he assuaged you, made you trust him in this, because while he absolutely intended to go after the cartel with fervor, he in no way wanted to lose you. As far as he was concerned, he was in control of that, and barring any monumental fuckup, no one would be rotating him back to the states this time.

No, he intended to leave Colombia on his own terms, if it ever came down to it. But he couldn't lie to himself. He is madly in love with you, and the thought of leaving without you is something he cannot abide, so Javier's already started thinking about what that means in the long run. Could he stick around in this leadership role beyond Cali? Would you two finally move to the next level and start a life together?

What if things fall apart here?

Annoyed with himself, he pushes the thought away and concentrates on the task at hand.

He's been staking out the location of Franklin Jurado, given to him not more than half hour before by Carolina. She'd made good on her assertion, and got him the man's address after having just asked her for the lead that morning at the coffee shop. While a car pulls up to the front of the luxury condo, Javi decides to check in with Feistl while the driver gets out and waits. Once Jurado trots out with his luggage, Javi knows this is his best shot at snagging the man.

Witnessing the man's forlorn wife seeing him off is something Javier catalogues and puts in his back pocket, hoping he won't have to exploit the leverage point, but intent on doing so if it's called for. He follows the silver Mercedes to the airport, and when he tails him into the terminal, Javier is thankful he's gotten into the habit of carrying his passport with him. Seeing he's heading for Panama, he calls Stoddard to expedite the arrangements of the private jet used by high-ranking embassy personnel.

By the time he's at the hangar and giving the orders to the harried pilot, Javi has completely forgotten his plans for tonight. And when the man refuses to transport him and signals to the other end of the tarmac where the CIA station chief waits next to a helicopter? All concerns take a backseat to this now pressing matter. His mind is on fight mode thanks to Stechner derailing his operation yet again – foiling his rush departure to Panama in pursuit of Jurado to instead put him on the spot to be at the beck and call of the two dense senators who were geared up and ready to go into the jungle.

He's absolutely livid, but stuck on this asinine field trip, even if he's totally not dressed the part. By the time they're trekking through the lush terrain, Javi is sweating through his dress shirt, leather loafers caked with mud and the heat making him ornery. Ornery… His mind idly wanders to the last time that word was used to describe him, and like a crack of lighting, his mind flashes with the reminder of your movie night plans tonight. Swearing to himself, he realizes how fucking far out he is and is unsure if he'll be able to make it back in time. So, in his now surly mood, he breaks off away from the annoying trio to try dialing out on his satellite phone. He knows it's a long shot, but at the very least he has to give it a try.

The damn thing is unable to dial out, and once Mills confirms he's not gonna get any kind of signal, he decides he'll just have to figure something out later.

However, all worries over salvaging his plans with you tonight are left at the wayside when he's confronted with the reality of why Stechner brought him out to sweat his balls off in the jungle in front of the senators. Questioning Mills on the inconsistency between the rounds and the guns found on the dead villagers they were passing off as drug-smuggling guerrillas ends up putting him at direct odds with Stechner once again.

For once, Javi has the advantage over the supercilious man, and he as much as tells him so.

"—They go home and tell everyone the war on drugs is a fucking stage show. And all the money they put in is pissed away. Even the hero said it's fucked up. What's that do to your plan?"

He levels Stechner with the goading charge and rhetorical before turning and leaving the man to stew. The smug satisfaction of seeing him displeased is a short-lived treat, though. Especially when as he walks back to the rustic gazebo the senators are eating their lunch at. Javi can't help hear your voice entreat him again.

"I really think you have to watch out for him, Javi."

So, when he ends up sitting at the table with the men, and Senator Toyle starts expounding on the needed assurances in order to justify sending 5 billion in an aid package to a country on the verge of becoming a narco-democracy, he's relegated to listening to Stechner give them the sales pitch. Javier knows it's a good pitch, and wants nothing to do with it. He sits there next to the bastard and hopes he won't ask him to cosign it. And to his guarded amazement, Stechner doesn't.

He wasn't prepared for Senator Martin to put him on the spot. "Agent Peña. What do you think? Is it true? Is a big win coming?"

Javi is reluctant, but he musters the will to answer the man in the most diplomatic terms he can cobble together, under the precarious circumstances. "Agent Stechner and I, we have a long-standing difference of opinion on just about everything…" he remarks in a lilting baritone, sobering into a firm musing as he adds, "But he and I can agree…a big win is coming."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them completely. He knows he's cemented the funding his department needs just as much as Stechner's, but the reality of what the other man intends to do with it has Javi feeling irascibly guilty.

So, it definitely incenses him when at dusk, as the men are approaching the waiting helicopter, the smarmy fuck has the gall to chime gloatingly, "Glad we're on the same page, Agent Peña."

It's unavoidable. Javier snaps at the man, shouting over the drone of the helicopter's blades, "So the whole surrender plan is about fucking fundraising. The Colombians get a check, and you get to play army men in the jungle?!"

"I'm thinking about the next battle, the one that really counts," Stechner shouts back to him.

Gesticulating emphatically, Javi thunders, "Which means you're willing to lose this one!"

"…The drug war?!" Stechner exclaims mockingly, snickering at Javier as he harangues, "Oh, come on, man! We lost it! You were there!" When Javi scoffs and broodingly stares away in a snit, Stechner can't help jab facetiously, "Ever stop and think that anyone that takes this as personally as you do is doing it wrong?"

Javier is dejectedly disgusted. Both with Stechner and himself, so the only retort he can craft under the weight of his acrimony is, "Fuck you!" as he stalks away to the waiting helicopter.

He doesn't hear the man's snide, "Yeah. See yah!" over the whirling of the propellers and the helicopters loud engines. Really, he's gone on autopilot, self-loathing flaring in him and belligerently beating him down as he rides back to Bogotá with the senators.

While he's flying back in abject defeat with the two clueless men, you're unaware of any change in plans, so you go to happy hour with your team and enjoy some downtime fostering camaraderie with your staff over beers at Mr. Ribs. Francesca even stops by, and after some hushed chitchat in one of the corner tables, you are quite pleased with her side project findings.

"Alright, enough chatter. You have a drink, on me, and relax," you tell her wryly. "Oh! How'd that presentation go for your class?"

"Eh, not so great. I'm just not artsy or savvy on that stuff, so I had to rely on my group-mates, which you know how that can go," she grumbles and deflates. "It's my weakest subject. I'm going to have to do some kind of extra credit report."

"That sucks. What kind of extra credit?" you ask before sipping your drink and waving at Ellis to come bring an appetizer your way.

"A 'look in the creative process' with an artist," Francesca huffs comically and flails in her chair. "Except I don't know any artists, and really, I don't have the time to peruse galleries and museums! I'm going to see if I can just ask to write a report on local art or something."

"Ah, that extra credit thing?" Ellis remarks as he slides into the empty chair next to you and serves the plate of empanadas. Francesca dramatically sighs and nods. "I'm sure you'll find a cool artsy dude to flirt up—"

You elbow him in the ribs. "Just because that's how you've gotten through life, doesn't mean she has to follow your lead," you quip and shoot him a pointed side-eye. "Anyway, eat up!" you chime and check your watch. "Oh, let me go settle the tab, then we can leave you all to party your little hearts out," is your joke as you get up and wink at her.

Soon, you and Ellis are calling it a night and saying goodbye to the team after you've paid the check, and once you're in his car, you make a disappointed sound and shake your head at him. "What?! What'd I do?" he complains as he drives to his place, with you riding shotgun and dramatically tisking at him. "What'd I say?"

"That crack about Francesca just flirting a dude up?" you counter, and when he just densely gapes at you, the urge to swat him is strong, but you refrain. "You can't say stuff like that to a subordinate, let alone an intern. It's not appropriate."

"Oh, c'mon, I didn't mean anything by it!" he whines and frowns when you shake your head, as if to say, 'That doesn't matter,' so he sorely asks, "Do you think I offended her?"

"No, but I just think you should avoid making any jokes like that. You never know what someone will take the wrong way," you explain, and when he seems a bit bewildered, you punch him in the arm. "Hey, quit pouting, Rose. You can continue to be an ass with me—"

"Oh, har-dee-har! I just might go complain to HR about how mean you are to me, seeing how you're my superior," he teases in a sardonic grumble as he squints and adds, "You're much too familiar, director!"

You laugh, feeling carefree and silly. "Ok, so, the other reason I'm giving you a hard time about the comment?" you begin, and when he grunts intently, you tell him, "Francesca isn't interested in men."

"…Oh. OH—Oh man! Really?!" Ellis incredulously pipes. "Wait—how come you know that, and I didn't?!"

Smirking, you sneer, "Because she volunteered it in conversation. She asked me if there were any cool dance clubs I would recommend, and I told her about a few before she said her girlfriend was coming to visit and she wanted to take her on a Colombian date night."

"Wow, and she wasn't nervous when she brought it up?" he inquires, tone curious, as he pulls onto the avenue leading to his apartment block.

"Not at all. It's the 90's, Ellis," you chuckle at him. "And really, if she felt nervous about anything around me, that would concern me more. I don't ever want anyone on our team to feel stressed or afraid to work in our department," is your musing murmur as you dig in your purse for your hairbrush so you can quickly fluff some volume into your thick tresses.

Ellis catches you preening in the visor mirror as you stow the brush and retrieve your lipstick next. "Getting dolled up for your boyfriend?" he singsongs teasingly and grins when you purse your lips and pretend to ignore him. "So, should I call him Peña? Javier? Javi?" he annoyingly goads, and you huff and slap the visor closed as you cap your lipstick and drop it back into your purse. "Oh, c'mon! I've never seen you so smitten over a guy—"

"He's a man, and fine – keep teasing. You're just gonna incur his flippant, surly wrath if he catches you giving me a hard time," you jibe sarcastically before pressing your lips together and popping them.

"Oh-ho! Well, I'll be sure to only hassle you when he's not around, then," Ellis chuckles as he finds a spot in front of his apartment. Once he's parked, he can't help smile over as he croons, "Any rules for what I can and cannot say around him?"

"Yes. Do not mention Luke, like, ever. Not unless you want to end up with a scowling, seething grump," you tell him in a serious tone, even though you're already snickering as you add, "And no asking about intentions! I know you wouldn't dare—"

"Booo, I would. I think that's a totally reasonable question to ask," he counters, big brother energy radiating off of him now. "Especially after all the back and forth he's put you through," is his mutter, but he scoffs when you glare pointedly at him. "Fine, I won't bring it up. Anything else?"

"Just the obvious: No mention of our work to him. He won't disclose stuff either. That also means if anything does come up by happenchance, you and Anita should keep it to yourselves," you remark thoughtfully.

Nodding, he turns the car off and leads the way to his and Anita's apartment.

With the travel tote you packed this morning before work and your purse in hand, you follow him over the sidewalk towards the entryway walkway. You're trying to mask the giddy excitement – the anticipation of being with Javi in such a new scenario. One you've fantasized about more times than you'd like to admit. The tote held several changes of clothes, travel-size toiletries, some odds and ends any girl would need, and a pair of flats. After all, you'd promised him you'd come prepared the next time you went over to his place. The next time you'd come over and spend the night with him. Yep, this would be the first time you stay over at his place in your entire on-again-off-again run.

You try not to let the glee plaster goofily on your face as you and Ellis walk through the manicured garden leading to his front door. "Honey, we're home!" he calls out after breezing through the door and holding it open for you. "Set your things down on that chair, kid, and get comfy—"

"I'll be right out! Just pulling something out of the oven," Anita calls out from the kitchen, so you deposit your things on the chair in the entryway corner and hustle to the kitchen to help her. "Hey! Oh, can you grab that mitten? This one is too thin," she chirps as she tries to fuss with the heavy dish.

Swooping in with the needed mitten, you exchange it out for her and then step back so she can maneuver the dish out of the oven while you shut the door for her. "How're you doing?" she greets in Spanish as you move in to kiss on the cheek.

"I'm good, you?" When Anita makes a goofy face as if to say, 'Exhausted,' you frown. "Hope you didn't spend too much time cooking on our account," you retort affably and help move some things from the counter for her to stow the roasted chicken dish to the back of the stove.

"Oh, please," Ellis replies as he walks in and kisses Anita on the lips before whirling to go to work making drinks. "I don't know what you said, but it sounded all humble, so you just hush and relax," is his glib remark as he reaches into the cabinet for the booze. "What're you girls in the mood to watch tonight? Trevor sent me a couple new action flicks, some indie stuff—"

"Ay, no action. I'm in the mood to laugh," Anita chimes in and gives him a vivacious hip bump as she passes him to get to the opposite cabinet. "Oh, will that work?" she turns and asks you, eyebrows quirking inquisitively.

"That works for me—"

"And your date?" she teases, bouncing her brows at you.

You purse your lips and scoff, leaning into the counter's edge. "Yes, I'm sure he'll like to laugh, too," is your snippy drawl, impishly adding, "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if he just sips his whiskey and keeps me cuddled up next to him."

Anita squeals in delight and starts asking you a flurry of questions in Spanish, and after a few minutes of you both dishing in the girl talk, Ellis frowns and grumbles, "C'mon, you're excluding me and it's no fair."

You snicker when he hands you your drink. "You really wanna know about another man's idiosyncrasies?" When he nods and leans into the opposite counter while Anita giggles and heads back to the stove, you slyly muse, "Well, I was just saying how big he is—"

"AH! NO! What the fuck—don't tell my wife about another dude's size!" Ellis protests comically and grunts sulkily when you laugh.

"She asked, though!" you counter in between giggles, and Anita turns and gives Ellis her angelic smile while he sputters.

"For shame, m'dear wife! You cut me deep," he dramatically laments and hilariously scoffs, "Ugh, fine, you just better not show her any naughty photos or tell her weird kinky stuff about him—"

You fling a dish towel at him and exclaim, "Oh my god, what kind of obscene weirdo do you think I am!?"

"To get back to the topic," Anita diplomatically intervenes before smiling and winking at you. "Have you measured how big he is—?"

"Anita!"

You laugh hysterically while Ellis turns red from mortification while his wife just giggles innocently.

Sobering enough to stifle your brazen mirth, you chime in an analytical tone, "I don't need to measure it. Based on all previous data, he's of a length, width and girth that surpasses normal sizes and all previous samples—"

"By 'previous data,' you mean past lovers, right?" Ellis can't help razz while you sip your drink. "Shit, so he's bigger than Samson—"

"Ellis Yancie Rose, you promised not to mention him!" you interrupt admonishingly and wag your finger at him. "And yes, I meant all the past dick I've gotten—"

"Booo, crass talk from such a pristine lady!" he chortles and pretends to be offended when Anita finishes at the stove and goes to sidle up against him. "Oh no, you are much too naughty for me, tonight, chica—"

She bats her lashes at him and lilts, "I thought you like it when I'm naughty?"

He blushes and squeezes her waist affectionately. "I love it, but not in front of my boss, dear," he whines goofily and showers kisses into her neck when she giggles irreverently at his expense.

You find the dynamic endearing and sweet, so you enjoy watching your friends be affectionate while you look forward to being just as lovey-dovey with Javi.

But then, when 8pm comes and goes and Javi hasn't arrived, you start to feel tense. And when it's 45-minutes later and he's still not shown up or called, the ignoble feeling that wells in your chest is stultifying. Embarrassed, you tell Anita and Ellis to just sit and have dinner while you rush to the hall and dig for your cell phone in your purse. Dialing his satellite phone, you frown when the line doesn't even ring before it beeps a sound to indicate the signal is out of range. Hanging up, you don't even bother calling his office, knowing he must be away on some kind of last-minute business.

Could something have happened? If he'd known he was going to be indisposed, he would've called you – would've said he had to cancel.

Did he forget?

The question cleaves into your chest, spreading the icy hurt that you've been trying to keep at bay to now start eroding your confidence. Distraught, you slip your phone back into your purse and return to the dining room.

Javier is pouring over intercepts looking for any clue as to where Jurado could've gone after arriving in Panama when he gets the call from Feistl about having confirmed sights on Gilberto Rodriguez. He's absolutely floored, so when his agent tells him to just say the word and they can get the head of Cali right now? His mind goes into warp speed.

"No—just sit tight. Do you have the coordinates of his location?" he immediately asks and snaps his fingers to get Stoddard's attention.

"We're in a swanky suburb—followed Pallomari to a house and saw him waltzing around outside just beyond the garage security door. We're in—one sec," Feistl rushes excitedly over the sound of a map being hastily unfolded while Van Ness mutters and is mumbling the street address. "It's in Santa Monica on a narrow road. Not a lot of neighboring houses around."

"Good. That's great," Javier retorts firmly before gesturing for Stoddard to come grab the phone as he instructs, "Now, I need you to pass the details to Stoddard and just keep staking the place out from your current position. I'm going to get things aligned here for a plan of action. Once I have something, you'll hear from me, got it?"

"Yes, boss!" Feistl curtly responds, so Javier passes the phone to Stoddard.

"Get their location, and I want aerials, traffic maps – anything we can get our hands on from a 50-mile radius without having to ask another agency for help," Javi is ordering as he grabs his blazer and shucks it on in a hurry before storming out of his office with a parting, "I'll be back."

He's in his SUV and driving over to Col. Martinez's door before he's fully compiled his plan in his head, but he's confident that the man will not be able to refuse his offer. So, when he's at his doorstep, staring the scrupulous colonel in the eye, he hits him with the pitch.

"You want to go after Gilberto Rodriguez?"

Col. Hugo Martinez had proven himself to be a man of staunch convictions who knew the realities of the world around him – who was willing to navigate the politics of it without losing sight of his goals. And this? The prospect of taking down the head of the Cali cartel, well it has his attention, so he invites Javier into his home.

The two men have a lot of differences, but they're both pragmatic enough to set them aside. And, they do – spending a good hour discussing the challenges of doing the kind of operation Javier is suggesting.

"We'll need the best men," Javi remarks and exhales the smoke of his cigarette while Martinez reclines in his chair with a grunt. "I know you only recruit the best, but something like this? It's going to call for the most incorruptible officers. Men who are willing to play the shell game—"

"I have the best ones in mind. However, there's still the matter of Capt. Calderón…" Col. Martinez muses before leaning forward in his chair and staring Javi dead in the eye. "Are you prepared to stand in the fire that's going to rain down from above if we do this and it isn't a success?"

"Yes," Javi states without hesitation.

"Good. Now…will you be ready for what unseen fallout comes if we are to succeed in the operation?" Martinez asks sagaciously.

Javi can't help snort. He stubs his cigarette out as he mutters, "If we catch Gilberto Rodriguez, it shows Cali's not untouchable. It'll rattle any of Cali's political flunkies and make it all the more tempting to flip on them. So yeah, I'm willing to deal with anything the comes my way, as long as that bastard sits behind bars," he pauses to quirk his brow and add flippantly, "And no, not bars in a prison of his own making."

Martinez snickers. "Good. Now…let's get started."

Dinner is long over, and you are absolutely ashamed as you sit on the couch now, sitting all alone while the comedy plays on the TV. Ellis and Anita tried to cajole you throughout dinner that maybe Javier was just running late, or had something very important come up and just wasn't able to call yet? The more they tried to cheer you up and assure you that your worries were unfounded, the more detached you became, so once they'd cleared the table, you'd gotten up and wandered to the living room. You didn't know what to do with yourself. Anger was radiating in your temples while hurt welled in your chest, and it was taking all of your willpower not to just dissolve into overwhelmed tears.

Here you were, sitting on a loveseat all by yourself, after having pined and delighted at the prospect of being cuddled up with Javi – of showing him off to your friends.

Of feeling like you're in a normal relationship – that you were an ordinary, in love couple.

Instead, you're watching the silly slapstick comedy with heavy eyes while you deliberate if you should just call a taxi and go home.

"Dammit…ok," Ellis suddenly growls and haughtily presses the pause button on the VCR remote before pivoting in the sofa to face you while Anita frowns and whispers for him not to say anything. You're blinking with disarmed confusion at him in the dark, and the look in his TV-screen side-lit eyes makes you still as he snaps, "Nope – screw that. This is bullshit. You don't have to sit there all quiet. C'mon, go ahead and vent. We're here for you, and if you want me to verbally beat Peña up, I will—"

"Ellis, you sound ridiculous," Anita nudges him demandingly and frowns before getting up and going to sit next to you. "It's none of our business, but I hope you know that if you want to desahogarte, that you can," she murmurs gently to you and puts a reassuring hand to your shoulder.

You sigh and divert your gaze. "I'm just…I don't know if I have a right to feel put out. He could've been pulled into something big – maybe something big went down with a case—"

"He has a fuckin' phone, girlie," Ellis tersely offers, and Anita shoots him a glare, so he softens and rephrases, "Look, all I mean is he had these plans set for a couple of days. If anything derailed them, then he should've called to let you know."

"His satellite phone is ringing like it's out of range," you offer, but instantly feel lame when Ellis stifles a skeptical grunt. "Do you know how hard I'm trying not to fly off the handle right now?" is your sudden sneer, which quells Ellis's discontent. "I do not want to feel like a fool. But that's all I feel like right now, so, until I hear from him, I have no other recourse than to swallow my anger and not jump to conclusions. He's not a field agent anymore, but he's not a pencil pusher. He's going to be hands-on if something massive is about to go down," you rage, and it's almost like you're admonishing yourself as you add, "If I don't hear from him before midnight, then I can be furious and rip his head off, but until then, I just need to relax."

Anita squeezes your shoulder and smiles. "I think that's a fair compromise," she remarks soothingly and glances at Ellis as she lilts, "Fix us some stiff drinks, cutie?"

Ellis blushes, but smiles at the pet name, so he sings, "Coming right up!" as he hops to it.

While you're partaking in several well-needed drinks and laughs as the movie is resumed, Javier is just getting off the phone with Feistl and Van Ness. Limiting his orders to just telling them to be ready to meet him at the airport first thing Sunday morning, he hung up and continued reviewing the maps Stoddard pulled for him while his deputy was on the phone with the private plane pilot. This time, the man was willing and able to fly the DEA country attaché to his specified destination, and would be at the hangar at 0500 on Sunday to ferry Javier to Cali.

By the time he's back in his Ford Explorer, Javi is drained. He hasn't eaten all day, and was pretty sure he was dehydrated from sweating his body mass out in the jungle. It takes all his concentration to keep his eyes open as he drives to his place, and only once he's driving down the parking garage's ramp and using his access pin to lift the security barrier does his mind flash yet again with the stark reminder of his plans. Well, his now missed plans.

"FUCK!" he thunders at himself and speeds down into the garage to park in his designated spot and proceed to rifle trough his things in search for his satellite phone. It rolled onto the floor of the passenger side's seat, and as soon as he snags it and tries to dial, he finds it dead – drained of battery. He grapples with his exasperation and snarls as he grabs his blazer and all the maps from the seat next to him before storming out of the SUV.

By the time he's upstairs in his apartment, Javi is barreling towards the phone, but before he starts dialing, he checks his watch. His heart sinks into his gut. It was 3am.

Crestfallen, he drops the phone back into the cradle and sits heavily into the sofa so he could bury his face in his hands and huff irately at himself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—you fucking idiot. Why didn't you call her at the airport?!" he growls contumely at himself before wringing his hands over his frustrated features. The sound of the air-conditioning kicking on stirs him from his faraway glower to listlessly sink back into the sofa.

He has no chance of seeing you before the sting operation on Sunday. Not with his covert Search Bloc planning session tomorrow, and this kind of fuckup was something he felt he couldn't just call and apologize for – not after how hard he'd worked to regain your trust this far.

Javier is surly and miserable as he forces himself to his feet to stalk into his bedroom in order to strip before getting into the shower. By the time he's sprawling out on his bed, he's sullen, stomach growling at him and tension wringing its seething way through his muscles. So, he gets up and force-feeds himself with a hastily slapped-together sandwich and chugs down a double of whiskey before pouring another and washing the last of his measly dinner down. He wishes he could drink himself into a stupor, but decides against it once he glances over at the roses on the credenza. They're looking a little wilted, so he fills a glass with water from the tap and pours it into the circular vase they're in.

Looking at the once vibrant red petals and feeling even guiltier for some reason, Javier decides he'll just have to make time in the morning to go to your place and grovel. You're reasonable to a fault sometimes, however, so he hopes that by explaining all the insanity that happened today, that you'd forgive him and understand just how monumental things were.

The whiskey goes to his head, so he realizes it was a dumb choice when he was as dehydrated as he was, so he chugs down a cold glass of water and grumpily trudges back to his bedroom. As he lies back on his bed and lets the cold air ripple over his tired form, he dozes off with that hope floating into his subconscious with him.

Meanwhile, you're properly drunk and rivetedly watching the 3rd movie you'd cajoled Ellis in popping into the VCR. It was long past midnight, so you decided Javier was completely on your shitlist now. Never mind that there's a little part of you fretting over his wellbeing. What if he's hurt? Maybe something happened? But you just gulped down your drink until you hit ice, not interested in fixating on him anymore. For their part, the Roses keep you company. Eventually, though, Ellis had fallen asleep only a few minutes into the opening scene of the romantic comedy, and Anita nudged him to get up and go to bed.

With a loud yawn, he mumbles, "Help yourself to whatever, kid," before shuffling out to the hall towards their bedroom.

"Goodnight," you call out to him and meekly whisper to Anita, "I'm sorry, I should've just gone home, but…I don't want to be alone."

"Nothing to be sorry for!" she whispers back convivially as she digs into the linen closet and produces a blanket and pillow for you. "Here, move to the bigger sofa—"

You accept the bedding, but shake your head and just flop the pillow onto the end of the loveseat and curl up on it. "No, this is better," you sigh and sleepily smile as you continue to watch the movie. "You've seen this one before?"

"Yes, have you?" she asks as she sits back down and stifles a yawn.

"No, but I've heard about it," you murmur, transfixed by the story. It is eerily reminiscent of a silly dynamic from your past, and the fact it's set in New York City mostly in the late 70's and early 80's hits a lot of nostalgia in you, making you fondly think back on your wild youth. On the days you trotted around and felt invincible, empowered by your own moxie and wit, and daring to flout expectations. You'd had fun, spent wild nights drinking while others were snorting their party favors, and went home to a warm bed without much of a care to keep you up. Let alone a man to tangle you up with raw longing and heartache.

Right now? You missed those days terribly.

By the time Billy Crystal is professing his love for Meg Ryan, you look over and see Anita conked out. Once the credits roll, you tiptoe to her side and gently wake her. "Ellis is going to be a pain if he wakes up to find us both snoring out here," you derisively whisper as she yawns. "Pa la cama."

She obeys and kisses your forehead as she gets up and heads down the hall. Once alone in the living room, you shut the remaining sources of light off and curl up under the blanket on the loveseat. You pass out, exhausted and drunk, utterly content to sink into unconsciousness. At some point, you stir to the sounds of movement in the kitchen, but you roll over and drowsily bury your head into the pillow. It isn't until the smell of breakfast sizzling across the air that you wake up and peer over the blanket to see it's a bright, sunny Saturday morning. You grunt and curl back around to glare at nothing in particular, but then the smell of fresh coffee tickles your nose and resurrects you completely.

Ellis and Anita are whispering when you turn the corner into the kitchen. "Hey, kid! Sleep well?" the jovial man chimes as he dutifully preps a coffee mug and hands it to you cheerfully.

Waiting to reply until after your first sip, you smile. "Actually, yeah. All the booze and movie-watching helped knock me out good," you remark as you stifle a yawn. "Thanks for putting up with all that…crap last night. Aside from being a loser, I had a nice time—"

"You are not a loser," Anita snaps and wags her spatula at you. "Now go sit. Breakfast is almost ready."

Once she's properly stuffing you with a delicious breakfast while Ellis tops off your coffee, you three chat amiably, and you're actually feeling a little carefree again once you and Anita tease Ellis about the rom-com he was incapable of staying up for. Then, a ringing sound starts chiming from the front door, muffled in your purse.

Your expression shutters in, and you angrily let it ring until it ceases.

"Well…he's ok, then," Ellis remarks, and Anita kicks him under the table. "I mean, he's probably feeling like a prick for standing you up—" Another kick under the table hushes him.

"It doesn't matter," you muse evenly and get up to take your plate and mug to the sink. "I'll get a taxi and head home—"

"Not a chance. Just let me get dressed and I'll drive you," Ellis volunteers and gets up as well, and just when you start to protest, he defies, "Nope, don't even start! I'm giving you a ride."

While you're ruefully acquiescing and going to get your things, Javier is at your door, knocking again and straining his hearing to pick up any signs of you moving around in your apartment. He'd called your cell phone and gotten no answer, so he tries dialing your home phone. It rings incessantly, and he hears it through the door but doesn't hear any sign of life inside. When the answering machine clicks on, he decides to hang up rather than leave a message. Disappointed, he leaves in a hurry, wondering if he should just go to Rose's place and see if you're there? You must've just slept over, which means you'd probably waited up for him all night.

Aggravated all over again, Javi stalks through your courtyard and heads to his car. His mind was in a thousand places, but worrying about you was on a slow burn with his self-loathing grinding into him just how incapable he was of not fucking things up with you. She's never going to trust you when you can't even fucking call her and let her know you're standing her up.

Wound up, Javi gets in his SUV and drives off en route to Search Bloc headquarters in Bogotá, deciding he'd just have to try again when he was back in town after the sting operation. As he's arriving for his meeting with Col. Martinez and saying his hellos to Trujillo, Ellis is pulling up to the front of your complex's entryway.

You collect your things and give him a small smile. "I'm sorry again, but at least you now know why I hadn't told you about us earlier," you deprecatingly quip.

Ellis frowns, genuinely upset by that. "Listen, whatever his excuse is, you don't have to be the one to feel bad. Also, don't ever think you need to keep stuff bottled up. I'm here for you, regardless, and will have your back, kid," he tells you earnestly and holds your gaze.

Unable to repress the impulse, you surprise him by pulling him in for a bear hug, and squeeze him tight. "Thanks for everything," you hitch out. "For always putting up with me—"

"Hey, c'mon. We put up with each other, you dork," he jokes and gives you a platonic shake. "But, if you really want to thank me, I've been craving your lasagna for like, a week now."

You burst into giggles and nod, kissing him on the cheek and promising, "And you'll get one." Collecting your things again, you hop out and tell him goodbye before watching him drive off while he offers you a backwards wave.

Able to not hide your body aches now, you loosen your shoulders and amble at a lethargic pace up to your apartment. After you let yourself in, you deposit your purse on the side table with your keys and then drop off your travel tote into your bedroom before deciding you need a long, hot, steamy bubble bath. The second time you pass the phone in the hallway, though, you notice the blinking display showing there's one new voicemail waiting for you. Miffed, you decide to ignore it, and draw your bath. The water was soothing, heating your sore muscles and letting you bask in the relaxing numbness that comes when you just lay back and drift in the bathtub.

You wake up a little while later when you almost drift below the waterline, so you lightly slap yourself on the cheek and huff while you pull the tub stopper loose and climb out. At the very least, you feel docile now, aching muscles and tender sinew no longer straining as much as you move. So, when you stand in the hallway in your robe and stare at the blinking red 1 on the machine, you decide to just listen to it.

The voice that plays when the machine finishes reciting the date and time the message was received is not whom you expected it to be, however.

"Well, my sweet ketsele! I'm a bit jealous that you're not home so late on a Friday night. Are you out having a sexy time? You'll have to tell me all the details when I'm in town. Oh, yes – guess who's coming to Bogotá in a week? Your's truly, of course. One of those exhibitions I neglected to tell you about? It's for my latest installation, and a very interested benefactor wants me to show at a gallery there, so I hope you're free and can come by? I'll call you again soon to give you the details. Love you, krasivaya."

Befuddled, you clutch at your silk robe's sash and lean into the wall next to the phone in order to replay the message and listen to it again. Why? Because you simply cannot believe Sasha was working on art again, let alone had a complete installation that he'd be touring with. And showing said installation here, in Colombia? What were the odds?! Knowing your friend and flamboyant past lover, you can't help but wonder if there's some ulterior motive to his coming all the way here, when he's always been notoriously reclusive when it came to leaving New York City.

Deciding to get to the bottom of it, you go to your nightstand and find your address book. It's going to be a long-distance call, but you believe it worth the expense, so you dial Irina and sit on your couch while the line rings.

To your chagrin, the line rings but goes unanswered, so you sigh and hang up. Before your mind can run amuck, the sound of scratching comes from the balcony doors, so you hop up and let in the little cat. "Hello, missy," you greet and pet her, smiling when she yowls and makes her way in like she owns the place. Quickly setting out some tuna and water for her, you decide to spend the day catching up on chores.

It's hours later when you finish folding linens and are about to work on your ironing for the week that you think of Javi. You're so annoyed with yourself that you scoff and make quick work of ironing your blouses before forcing yourself to do your least favorite chores around the house.

Once your abode is spick and span, you and the kitty cuddle up on the sofa together. She's not usually a lap cat, but she must sense your loneliness and decides to coddle you. And the fact you're showering her with pets while letting her curl into your warm tummy seems to help motivate her kindness. She also helps prevent you from succumbing to the impulsive desire to call Javier.

And really, what would be the point in calling him? Just to yell and complain? You simply don't have the strength. Not when you're so demoralized with yourself.

This is explicitly why you did not want to fall back in with him.

Truly depressed now, you find yourself falling asleep on the sofa with the cat purring serenely next to you.

When Javier lands in Cali the next morning, his thoughts are on the mission, completely focused on getting Feistl and Van Ness up to speed on the plan of action. It's an audacious plan, and the two agents are game for it, especially if it'll stick it to the crooked CNP captain that had swindled them of their big Pallomari bust.

All goes according to plan, and really, it isn't until Javi is pulling up behind the chicken truck that his heart starts racing and the little voice inside of him laments, You should've called her…

The adrenaline keeps him sharp, senses heightened and hyperaware, so when he's standing over that trap door with his weapon drawn on Gilberto Rodriguez, the triumph doesn't immediately hit him. No, it isn't until he and Trujillo grab the Cali boss and haul him out of the hidden space and tote him out that elation springs up in his chest. And the look on Col. Martinez's usually stoic features – the pat he bestows on his tactical vest-clad back? Well, it's all the making of a victorious high he's never felt before.

But then, of course, things go sideways. Calderón hotwires his vehicle and gives them the slip before he gets to a phone and radios every single CNP agent that's on the take to ambush them. Luckily, Martinez and Javi had anticipated something like that happening. But once they're idling in the vehicle while a group of CNP officers cuts off their advance to the waiting plane intended to ferry them back to the capitol with their prized capture in tow, Javi wonders if he's underestimated things. And, not for the last time, he regrets not having told you he loved you before going off on this raid. After all, no operation is perfect or free of risk, and something this big had the potential of veering into danger.

Fortunately, Martinez is an authoritative man who commands a level of respect that cannot be impeached, otherwise he wouldn't be sitting on the plane right now, looking down at the landing strip at the Bogotá airport slowly come into view as they descend. And the pride he feels when Gilberto Rodriguez actually tries to intimidate him is too much for him not to make a snarky comment about him needing to smile for the cameras. "—You're gonna be on TV," he'd jabbed before shepherding the man from his seat and out the side door of the small plane to the waiting media frenzy.

Everything from the perp walk from the plane to the CNP maximum-security jail was a surreal sequence for Javier. It really wasn't until he was back at the embassy and descending the stairs into the DEA department that it hit him. He's sure the showering of praise and the boisterous clapping from his staff helped drive it home, but it wasn't until he was walking into Crosby's office that he knew for sure.

All eyes were now on him. And not all of them were happy about what he'd achieved. The berating from the ambassador notwithstanding, Javier wasn't totally ready for the rancor amongst the officials who should've been glad they'd apprehended the head of a major syndicate responsible for innumerable crimes. He'd also not been totally prepared to see Stechner lurking in the back of the room while he and Crosby listened to all of the government officials argue about whether to set Rodriguez free or not. His relief that President Samper declared that Gilberto Rodriguez's arrest would stand, saying that he will abide by the same legal process as any other Colombian citizen, is short-lived when he looks in his folder and sees the handwritten note.

YOU BROKE IT, YOU BOUGHT IT. ASSHOLE!

Needless to say, he knew exactly who wrote it, but Javier couldn't help feel unnerved by the implied threat. He'd looked around, feeling as if there were daggers being glared his way from all corners, in the shadows. And worse of all, he couldn't help feel that nagging worry that his actions today would trickle down to you in some way. Would Stechner dare create problems for you to get back at him? Did the contemptuous man have it in him to interfere with you just to twist the knife into Javier? The fact that he wasn't sure sent a cold chill into his chest, but he had no time to dwell on that anxiety. Not when he's being paraded out to represent the U.S. in front of the international press.

The Attorney General had sheer disdain for him now, and the Defense Minister who'd remained neutral were both relegated to introducing him and standing on the podium with him while he gave his statements to the press. They flanked him to his left, while the CNP generals stood to his right. Javier could feel the lenses on him, and the little anxious itch in his breastbone warred with his stubborn resolve as he stated what he need to before intoning, "Questions?"

One of the people who had the most questions was you.

Shocked and frozen in front of the TV in your living room, you watch the press conference, completely disarmed. Not ten minutes before you'd been putting away your groceries when Ellis had called you on your cell phone and demanded, "Turn the news on right now!"

Listening to Javi declare – no, promise that they would capture the other three godfathers, gave you chills, and all the anger and rejection you'd been feeling for the last day dissolved under you staunch pride and concern for him now. Once he ended his interview and the news transitioned the graphics to the wanted posters for the other three Cali godfathers, you'd called Ellis back.

"—I know you've heard from Nador or Benson by now, so I want you to tell me every detail. What happened during that operation," you demand to know, and reluctantly, Ellis tells you what the fellas heard.

Your heart is in your throat as he recounts how they'd had to do a shell game style sting operation, and when he tells you about the crooked CNP cops who'd attempted to stop them from getting on the plane? You were shaking, becoming extremely overcome with how absolutely treacherous things really were for Javier.

"—Look, I know this changes things, but I…I'm worried about you being around him if shit this cutthroat is his day-to-day. I don't want you getting caught up in it," Ellis is telling you in a solemn tone.

"You sound just like him," you find yourself sighing in a deadpan. "I'm a big girl. I know the risks, and I will handle anything that comes my way. I don't need you to worry, ok?"

"Hmph. Well in any case, he's got one hell of an excuse for missing movie night, kid. Not sure you can be too mad at him now," Ellis drawls amusedly, and you scoff and wish him a good night, telling him you'll see him in the morning.

The anxiety eats at you though, as you stare down at your cell phone, and let the worry build up.

Javier, meanwhile, is demoralized.

After Col. Martinez had stopped in his office to tell him the fucked up news – how General Vargas had dirtied him up and taken him off the force – he'd told him something he'd not expected to hear.

"You did everything right, Peña. But now you're all alone."

It felt like a block of molten lead had dropped into his chest before welling in his gut. The sense of betrayal and resentment swirled bitterly in him until it settled into stone-cold fury. If he'd been gunning to get Franklin Jurado before, with the exasperating turn of events against Col. Martinez, Javier knew he had to get the finance man as his Ace in the hole at keeping Gilberto Rodriguez imprisoned, let alone nailing the other three heads of the cartel. He knows he's pushing the line with Stoddard and those wiretaps, but at this point, he doesn't give a damn.

But when he looks at the suspect board and walks over to draw an X over Gilberto's face, the bitter taste settles in him and has Javi suddenly feeling defeated – utterly drained. So, he tells Stoddard to have all the Jurado tapes on his desk by morning before he grabs his blazer and exits the building via the stairs, looking to avoid any more attention or praise. Javier goes on autopilot as he drives the short distance from the embassy to his apartment building, and once he drives down the ramp and punches in the code to raise the security barrier, he feels a whole new pang of guilt tangle around his heart.

He's so completely downtrodden by the cruel loathing of his thoughts that when he parks his SUV and cuts the ignition, he ends up just sitting there, staring off at the wall with the painted number for the parking spot directly in front of him. Huffing, he glances up at the rearview and sees his brooding, dejected stare looking back at him.

In that moment, Javi felt completely alone. He was adrift in the tempest, and could no longer trust anything around him. It was a hollowing realization, and it made him numb, so he vacantly found himself ejecting his seatbelt and lumbering to exit the car.

It's only dimly that his hearing picks up the echoing of rushing footfalls coming from across the garage, down from towards the parking ramp. He turns and stills in his spot when he sees you sprinting down and nimbly rounding the security barrier as you amble down towards the garage's elevator. You're in a pair of jeans, wearing a slouchy peasant blouse and leather flats, and Javi is dumbstruck by how beautiful you look – features expectant and hair flouncing about as you run.

You're flinging your purse across your shoulder and ignoring the palpitations in your chest when you hear the closing of a car door.

"¿Querida?"

Skidding to a halt, you turn and see Javi standing next to his car twenty yards away. He's still wearing the suit he had on during the press conference, albeit rumpled, and he was looking at you like you were some kind of mirage. You don't know why that strikes such a chord in you, but the next thing you know, you're running across the garage and throwing your arms around him.

Javi catches you and embraces you with desperate longing, breath stuttering out of him as you grab his face and kiss him imploringly. He kisses you back and wraps his arms tight around you before you bury your face in the crook of his neck and exhale a reedy sound. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, so you try to take a calming inhale and only succeed in having the air hiccup in your chest.

"I-I saw the news," you mumble and feel him tense. "I heard about everything that happened…"

Disarmed, Javi just holds you before he buries a hand in your tussled mane to caress your hair. His mind is racing, but he manages to take a cleansing breath before squeezing you reassuringly. "C'mon. Let's go upstairs," he musters in a guarded baritone before nudging you along, arm looping around your waist as he escorts you to the elevator.

Once you're inside and the doors slide shut, you look up at Javi and search his features as you caress your fingertips along his brow when you sense how distraught and wound up he is.

"I'm sorry for standing you up on Friday."

Your eyebrows knit together at his hollow tone, and when he just gives you a hesitant look, you step back from him, a bit incredulous. Something riles in you at that – at how disconnected and obtuse what he said is, and before you can check the impulse, you shove him at his chest and shout, "I don't give a fuck about Friday! I care about you, once again, keeping things from me—about you going into dangerous shit and not telling me!" You pause when he just looks at you like that completely did not register to him prior, so you hiss and angrily start swatting and smacking him, unleashing all your frustration as you snap, "You didn't even think about telling me you were going to be personally running a sting operation?! After everything that's happened before?!"

Javi is fending off your blows, but he's kind of content to let you vent, and your smacks are just sheer exasperation more than true, focused violence. He's willing to take it – feeling deserving of the litany of swears and reproaches you're going to hammer into him, but once the elevator dings and the doors slide open on his floor, he grabs your arms and thwarts any more smacks before firmly folding them down and herding you in a hurried stride to his apartment's door. You're features are scrunched up in fury as you bite your lip to stop yourself from flying off the handle and stifle your rage long enough for him to key into the door and sweep you in before he shuts and locks up behind himself.

"Goddammit, Javier!" you erupt now, whirling around and flinging your purse off your shoulders to lob it at him. The leather cross-body bag sails past his head and hits the door behind him. Javi cringes, but stands his ground as you assail, "Are you fucking incapable of keeping a promise to me?! How do you think I would've felt if something had happened to you and I had to find out from the fucking news?!"

You are raging, breath ragged and eyes wild, so it takes you a beat to realize how defeated Javi is as he stands before you. His brown eyes are crinkled with abject sadness – expression etched in conflict while his usually broad shoulders are slumped. Instantly, your anger is shed from you like chainmail, and you are left raw and upset at seeing him just resigned to your wrath. It makes your heart ache in the heaviest way, and you can't help swallow the sob that wells in your throat before you go to him and wrap your arms beseechingly around his shoulders.

His grunt stutters from his chest and he returns your hug with fervor, burying his face in your neck. "I'm sorry…so fucking sorry…I didn't…didn't…" he's whispering hoarsely, and it takes all your effort to not just shatter in regretful hurt at how haunted he sounds.

"Nada de eso," you susurrate and rub his back, soothing, "Just forget it. We can talk about it later."

Turning to nuzzle the side of his head, you kiss his sideburn, and Javi just melts into you. For a long moment, you just hug him and pet the back of his hair while he leans into you and holds onto you for dear life. You can smell the cigarettes, the musk of sweat that clings to his hair, and the hastily spritzed cologne on his collar, so – with little effort – you pull Javi along to his bedroom and start undressing him. He lets you, eyes staring with veiled yearning at you as you toss his blazer to the ottoman before unclasping his watch and divesting him of his badge, weapon, wallet – anything weighing down his person to be placed on his dresser prior to undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. You surprise him, though, when you pull your blouse off over your head and toss it aside before toeing your shoes off and unfastening your jeans.

"B-Baby…" he stutters huskily once you're unclasping your bra and sliding it off your arms before returning to yanking his belt loose and working his trousers open.

You push his pants from his hips and slink down his body to take his shoes off for him and help him out of his trousers and socks before sidling back up against him as you caress your hands up his torso and hook them behind his head to guide him down to meet your luscious kiss. You're just in your ivory-lace panties while he's in his black boxer-briefs, arousal simmering in both of you while you break the kiss and gaze up into his dark, smoldering eyes. His skin is warm, almost feverish, so you nudge him affectionately and murmur, "Come, mi amor," before you take his hand and guide him to his bathroom, where you turn the shower on and let the water get hot while you finish shedding the last of your clothes. Javi's gaze is heavy and warm on you as you step out of your panties and unselfconsciously slink up against him again to pull the waistband of his boxer-briefs off his hips and tug them down. His breath catches, so you glance up at him through your lashes as you lean forward to brush an open-mouth kiss to his sternum before you take his wrist and pull him to get into the shower with you.

Javi is overawed and eerily calm now, and he can only attribute that to you and your magnanimous grace – your tender love and resolute devotion as you take care of him. You soap up his back, massaging into his aching muscles and using the hot water to ease the tension away. He sighs into the cascade and has to brace his hands on the tiled wall in order not to dissolve while you wash his hair and draw soothing circles into his scalp. It's doting and gentle, but the strength of your touch anchors him, and by the time you're rinsing the suds from his dark locks, Javi is snapping out of his stupor. The hungry, needy look in his dark eyes sends a flutter down into your tummy and has your pulse thrumming tingles into your core.

He surprises you by wordlessly grunting for you to turn so he can soap your back up for you. You hum a serene sound when his big, warm hands skate down your back and massage your sinew. His thumbs press into the tension in your lower back before his fingers glide around your waist to knead up your sides. You feel his erection skim your backside while he massages his hands over your flat belly to map a path up to your chest to fondle your heavy breasts. The hum you let slip from your lips has want tangling in his gut, so he glides his hands down to your hips and along your supple thighs. The exhale he puffs against your nape has arousal slickening your center and making your already throbbing clit pulse, especially when his fingers dance up your thighs and rub teasing circles along your mound.

"You can never know how much you mean to me, querida," Javi confides in a husky baritone that raises heat to the surface of your skin.

Turning in his arms to face him, you cup his cheek and stare openly into his damp features before you smile and brush his wet, flopping tendrils away from his forehead. His soulful eyes soften before they flutter shut from your fingertips caressing lovingly along his brow, down his temple, and over his cheekbone.

You trace his jaw sensually. "You are such an idiot sometimes," is your sarcastic sigh, and you're grinning when he opens his eyes to give you a befuddled puppy dog stare. "I do know, because I feel the same way, Javi. I love you," you tell him devotedly before brushing a chaste kiss over his full, semi-pouting lips.

Said lips quirk into smile against yours when he pulls you flush against him and grinds his ramrod cock along the dewy valley between your thighs, earning a gasp from you before you retaliate by grabbing his ass. He grunts a cocky sound and unceremoniously turns the showerhead off without sparing a glance at the knob before he literally herds you out of the shower while growling, "Out, before I have my way with you in here."

You stifle a giggle and grab a towel before brazenly tossing it over his head and going to town drying his hair for him, then nimbly yanking it to and fro as you dutifully dry his body while he huffs and fidgets at your audacity. "Here," you lilt and cheekily tuck the towel low around his hips before grabbing a towel and hastily drying off before wrapping it around yourself, then flounce out of the bathroom to prance into his bedroom.

Javi chuckles and follows you, looking completely prepared to pounce on you when he walks in and catches you pulling the comforter back. However, you turn and imperiously summon him with the crook of your finger and a tilt of your head that tells him to sit on the bed. Deciding to do as he's told, Javi plunks down on the side of the bed and exhales a calming sigh after you climb in to sidle up behind him, pulling your towel off and using it to affectionately spot-dry his sopping tendrils at his crown and the back of his head. Then, you toss the towel away so you can loop your arms around his shoulders and just hold him like that while you nuzzle the back of his ear and brush soft kisses into his heated skin.

He rumbles wordlessly and leans back into you while his hands caress backwards up your thighs. "Cariño…mmph," he mumbles when you suckle his earlobe and rub your palms over his broad pectorals, forcing him to stretch his back and expand his shoulders.

"I've got you," you murmur and kiss his cheek when you shift your hands up his chest to plant at his deltoids and knead them. He groans and dips his chin down as you work your expert touch to his shoulders. "We don't have to talk about anything. Just relax for me, hermoso," is your direction as you press your thumbs and roll them into his corded muscles in his upper back.

Dopey smile curling his lips, Javi hums, feeling like he's putty in your hands. "Fuck me…if I relax any more, I'm gonna fall asleep in your lap," he tells you in a surly purr before letting out a satisfied sigh when you get a particular knot loose in his lower back.

You plant a kiss in between his shoulder blades and wrap your arms around his torso before sidling your legs on either side of him. "That's fine," you retort impishly and give him an affectionate squeeze when he grunts wryly. The cold air in the room has you starting to shiver, so you relish his warm skin by pressing flush to his back and holding him for a bit before humming, "Want to lay down?"

He nods, so you shift backwards and get under the covers while he yanks the towel from his hips and drops it next to where you tossed yours before he climbs into bed and slides up next to you. You expect him to want to spoon. Instead, Javi lassoes his arm around your waist and hefts you up to lie on top of him. You squeak in surprise and straddle his hips before propping yourself up to twist your lips in a silly sneer at him while he feigns innocence and just tucks the covers snuggly around you both. He then tangles his fingers into your damp hair and pulls you to lie down so your head is on his shoulder and he can just hold you for a bit.

Sighing, you kiss his sloping muscle while his other hand strums languidly along the line of your spine. You can feel his hard length nudged between your womb and his lower belly, and try not to fixate on how hot and achy you're getting – or on the urge to shimmy your pelvis until you can nestle him to sink his thick cock into your throbbing pussy. Just when you feel yourself get wet at the thought, Javi nuzzles you and exhales a pensive breath.

"I didn't tell you because I knew how worried you'd be."

You still, taken aback by his discerning admittance. When you don't respond, Javi lets out a tense huff, and proceeds to tell you everything.

He tells you absolutely everything that happened, and unburdens himself of what happened after the press conference. You listen, hand soothingly caressing the side of his head, fingers combing and drawing circles behind his ear while he expels his stream of consciousness. He feels safe, and with you in his arms, he's no longer lost and adrift in the sea of turmoil the day had plunged him into.

You can hear the tumultuous guilt and anxious worry that's been tangled up in his chest finally let go and leave him, and when his hands clutch you to him more firmly, you caress your hand to brush back his tussled curls from his forehead before skimming your fingertips tenderly over his brow. You feel his grip relax, so you keep tracing your touch over his forehead before gliding your fingers over the aquiline ridge of his nose and over his full, pillowed lips. Your firm touch then guides him to turn his face so you can brush affectionate kisses along his now-relaxed features.

"…Martinez said I'm all alone now," is his bass-heavy whisper, and he diverts his gaze from you, so you sit up to pin him with your fiery, dazzling stare.

"You are not alone. Whatever comes next? I'm with you," is your fierce musing. When his eyes become molten and the set of his mouth softens, you smile. "And, I will protect you," you declare irrefutably to him before cupping his cheek and huffing, "Sure, I can't put on a cute little tactical vest and go with you on your insane raids, but I have no qualms about making sure certain hostile forces get their comeuppance very soon…"

Javi's brown eyes flare at that, and he sits up to eye you keenly. "…What does that mean?"

You know you've said too much, so you shrug innocently and bat your lashes. "Just a general statement," you chime aloofly and nudge him back into his pillow before attempting to distract him with kisses as you wander your teasing touch down between your bodies.

"Querida—" Javi begins warningly, eyes narrowing suspiciously at you when you scoff. His questioning dies on his lips though as you hitch your hips and angle his cock to nestle between your folds so you can grind wantonly along it. "Ah— fuck, oh, that's not fair," he groans and writhes at your soaked pussy warming his cock while you grip his wrists and keep them pinned down so you can keep control of the pace.

"What's not fair is keeping me in a constant state of frustration with you," is your silky hiss, and you punctuate your point by angling your pelvis to finally rut down on his length with a sultry moan.

Javi arches and swears, "Fuck," while he stares ardently up at you and gets riled up by your seductive, playful look as you suddenly contract your floor muscles around him. "D-Don't ever plan to do that, baby. I swear—"

"Yeah? Well I don't plan on being the last person to know what the man I love is doing," you growl and undulate your core over him, riding his cock now and squeezing his wrists for emphasis as you groan, "You're still pushing me away w-when you keep me in the dark. It hurts—"

That triggers something in Javi, and he sits up and yanks you close, arms embracing you passionately as he presses his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry," he husks, and when your stare shies down, he nudges you to look into his eyes again as he implores, "Please, querida. I need you to believe me. I never want to hurt you. It…It fucking kills me to know I've hurt you in any way…"

You melt at that and wrap your arms around him to bury your face in his neck. "Javi…I love you so much, but if it happens again…" your voice breaks, so you press your lips together and rein in your emotion before continuing edgily, "If you're just not in a place where you can keep me close without hiding things from me, then I can't keep doing this."

Tensely, you brace for him to tell you what you're dreading. That he can't make any more promises to you, or that if that's how you feel, then things were at an impasse between you. But instead, Javi shocks you by picking you up and bringing you down on the bed. You let out an involuntary squeal and blush when he looms over you and stares down at you with a fierce look that settles prickly fire in your womb. His eyes are focused, expression intent as he suddenly rolls his hips and punches up into you with a thrust that drives his cock home into you.

"I'm not going to lose you, s-so, anything you ask of me—mmm, anything you n-need me to do, I'll do it," Javi professes as he keeps rocking into you. The apples of your cheeks burn and your eyes are gleaming with unshed tears as he makes love to you with conviction, and just when you're sure he's kneaded into your heart forever, he grouses in a canela-smooth murmur, "You're the most important thing in my life, querida. Te amo hasta mi alma…will love you forever."

It's like he's knocked every wall down – torn all your defenses asunder and captured your heart, only to give you his in return. You're overcome, utterly bare to him now while you weakly suppress the tremor in your bottom lip as your exhale stutters out of you before you pull him down to meet your yearning kiss. His mouth claims yours, tongue sweeping in to steal your very breath as he possessively pivots so you can hike your knees up and plant them at the sides of his ribcage, deepening the angle of his now-pounding thrusts. You gasp in his mouth when he keeps hitting that devastating pleasure point inside you that has you writhing in delight.

"Nngth—mmm, Javi!" you keen out when he groans and suckles a rough path down to your neck as his strokes quicken at the feel of your rippling sheath beginning to flutter. His fingers dimple into your thighs as he grinds his pubic bone into your clit and sets you aflame with the coarse friction of his curls rubbing into your sensitive bundle of pleasure. Your fingertips squeeze into his back as you go taut and shout, "Javi!" and come apart in his arms.

"Yes, mmph, yeah—j-just like that. Come for me, preciosa. Feel so fucking amazing," Javi is rambling in a pitched grouse as he prolongs your orgasm by rocking at a bruising pace into your silken heat before you whimper and cling desperately to him just as you climax again and drench him with your slickened ecstasy. "Oh f-fuck," he hoarsely gasps, his thrusts stuttering in rhythm at the feeling of your powerful orgasm wringing your molten sheath to clamp around his throbbing cock. "Dios mío misericordioso—oh, Jesus Christ—!" Javi chokes out gruffly just as you wrap your legs around him and moan when you feel his cock swell inside your fluttering cunt. He moans your name just as he reaches bliss, pumping pearly spurts of cum into your quivering walls and radiating thick warmth to bloom in your core.

His face is burning when he keeps rocking shakily into you, burying his lusted groan into your hot skin and nuzzling your hair as he bottoms out one last time and his strength dissolves from his frame. The powerful release fills his mind with a charged fog, making him dazed and sated as he lies on top of you.

Having Javi's broad, toned body drape heavily over you is one of your most favorite feelings, and combined with the throbbing ache in your pussy and the flutter of your hungry walls trying to keep his seed inside you? It's flung you into a state of nirvana. Dully, you feel like you're floating in your post-coital bliss. It's a sensory high, one where you're tingling at the feel of his breath puffing against your jaw, the press of the now-disheveled sheets enveloping you limbs, the smell of your comingled sweat and the crispness of the soap that clings to your skin. Dazedly, you lick the taut cord in his neck and shiver at his spiced, heady taste, and mewl softly.

"Oh, Javier," you sigh wistfully and suckle languid, lush kisses into his neck while you caress his warm back and splay out your legs so all his weight anchors into you now. He grunts exhaustedly, so you nip at his skin and purr, "Oye, sabes que eres el amor de mi vida…"

Javi's breath hitches sharp in his chest, and the drowsy lust haze is cleared from his senses at you telling him – not asking, whether he knows he's the love of your life. His pulse races, and the blush flares to the tops of his ears as he incredulously leans up on his propped arms to gaze down at you. Your heavy-lidded, captivating stare becomes alluring when you smile serenely up at him and caress his cheek.

"And you're of mine, querida," Javi replies is velvety purr before unabashedly capturing your lips in a pining kiss.

It's everything you could want to hear him say. You are enamored and alight, completely buzzing with thrill. So when he pulls out and gets out of bed to dutifully retrieve a warm washcloth to tend to you with doting aftercare, you melt into the sheets. Javi is just as punch-drunk in love with you, and swears you look like a glowing goddess in his bed, albeit a beautifully wrecked one.

Sidling up to you while you lounge in sensual repose on his rumpled sheets and pillows, Javi traces the swell of your breast, skimming his touch lightly over your nipple and watching with delight how even such a ghosting caress has the delicate peak pebbling for him. You sigh and languidly brush your fingers across his shoulder. "You going to tell me what's on your mind?" you whisper softly, and when he huffs wryly, you reach up to pet his hair, and smile when he relaxes and closes his eyes so he can relish the affection. "I told you, I can practically hear the gears working when you're thinking all pensively," is your silly musing, to which he grunts, so you caress his ear before sighing and whispering, "Never mind, it's fine—"

"Things are just…they're only going to be more precarious now. I've made more enemies with this arrest…and if they're willing to cannibalize honest, incorruptible people like Martinez, I just…I worry now that this shit is not going to go the way I planned," he's volunteering in a rush now, telling you candidly his concerns. When you just listen and keep caressing his hair, he wilts and muses, "I've got Stoddard doing an illegal wiretap on the Rodriguez's money man. That's enough to get us in serious trouble…and now, I'm gonna have to keep pushing it, since we don't have any more leads."

He expects you to be appalled – to sit up and harangue him for doing something so reckless yet again, after he'd promised he was not going to be doing any such thing this time around. Instead, you tug on his shoulder and give him an expectant look, so he shifts to lie down next to you, thinking you're going to pin him down before you scold him. So, when you just sit slightly up on the reclined pillows and wrap your arms around him to pull him to cuddle into your chest, Javi lets out the breath he hadn't realized he was keeping welled up and goes pliant in your embrace, dissolving into you as you just hold him.

With a kiss to the top of his head, you murmur softly, "How important is the money man? Does he have any leverage you can use to get him to cooperate?"

He's astounded by your easygoingness, but finds himself answering, "He has a wife. She's a gringa, and she's in a luxury condo here in the city. Jurado…Franklin Jurado left her behind to go on some trip. I was following him – shadowed him all the way to the airport, and was on my way to Panama when Stechner pulled that shit on me. We lost track of him…"

You hum, rubbing pacifying circles into his broad back as you think. "Is he your only way to nail the Cali Godfathers?" you ask, feeling him tense, so you hug him tighter and whisper, "Do you trust me, Javi?"

"Completely," he replies without hesitation and shifts against you in order to stare into your calm features. "I just don't want you getting involved in all this—"

"How am I involved? I'm not looking for the guy," you counter persuasively, pursing your lips at him when his handsome features pout wearily at you. "You're not alone in this. I'm not going to ever repeat this to anyone else, so you don't have to worry. At the very least, I can be your sounding board, no?"

Javi snorts and shakes his head sardonically. "So, it'll just be me, telling you about my day," he drawls, leaning cheekily into you when you nod pleasantly and loop your arms around his shoulders before shimmying to lounge more comfortably into the pillows. "And you're not upset…?"

You sigh and rest your cheek to his. "I had a suspicion you could potentially end up taking…radical measures," you tell him musingly, and adjust to cuddle into his chest when you add, "As long as we trust each other, you keep me in the loop, and you stay safe? I'm fine with it."

He's bowled over, feeling both relieved and mystified by your sensibility over the whole thing.

"Just, promise me, for real this time, that you won't keep things from me," you find yourself suddenly ordering before you shift to roll him onto his back so you can drape over him and size up his reaction. He blinks at you and sets his jaw while his dark brewed eyes intensify on you. "I mean it, Javier. I don't want to hear ever again that you kept something from me because you didn't want me to worry or to be involved. The next time you're running off to follow an asset, or heading a sting operation? Meeting with a sketchy politician or a crooked official? I expect you to tell me," is your adamant command, albeit one you're giving naked and after getting railed by the man you're demanding this of, but your expression is no less fearsome.

He weighs your ultimatum, brows relaxing as he folds his hands behind his head to stretch out under you with a ruminating grunt. "I promise, bravita. But, you need to promise me something too," he tells you and gives you a stern look, so you sit up and nod for him to continue. "When I call you? You need to answer the phone, regardless of how pissed off at me you are," he grumbles, suppressing a smirk.

You remember your cell phone ringing in your purse yesterday morning, and being so angry that you'd ignored it while sitting at Ellis and Anita's table. Flushing with shame, you frown, genuinely upset with yourself now. "I'm such a bitch…I yelled at you for not telling me what was going to go down today, and I didn't give you a chance to tell me," you lament woefully and bury your face into his chest huffily.

Javi's smirk dissolves into a scowl. "You're not a bitch," he insists and tips you chin up so you have to look at him. "I'd only planned to apologize for Friday night and tell you where I was…but I wasn't going to tell you about the raid on Cali."

Your lips press together ruefully at that. "All right…well, I promise," is your retort before you lean up and kiss him on the lips.

Appeased, Javi gives your waist an affectionate squeeze before he rumbles, "I'm starving. Want something to eat? I can make us some sandwiches. Got a pack of Postobón in the fridge."

You smile and nod before sitting up and pulling the comforter up around yourself to ward off the chill of the air-conditioned apartment. "I'd help you but, some irresistible man ravished me and I feel weak now," you chime comically and wink at him.

"Pfft, yeah, sure, atrevida," he quips and taps his bent forefinger under your chin teasingly before he ambles out of bed and tugs on a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, sardonically shaking his head and smirking as he drawls, "Such a silly, sexy little thing."

You snicker and watch him lope out of the room, leaving you to snuggle into the pillows and glance around. You notice the different piles of clothes scattered into what seem like strategic spots in the room, and hum curiously. His glass ashtray is filled with stubbed buds, the nicotine gum packet tucked next to it on the nightstand farther out of reach than the cigarette pack and lighter. You can hear him fiddling around in the kitchen as you ponder things. The thought of Javi being so close to the action – as invested as his field agents even, makes you want to fret. But looking around the cluttered room and sensing how stressed out he is has you setting your concerns aside for the time being. You want to be his respite – his safe space and anchor, not a burden.

It's what you're telling yourself as a new mantra when he comes back in with a plate with two sandwiches stacked on it, and the necks of two soda bottles held by his deft fingers before he holds them up to you so you can take one and make room for him. Once he's settled on the bed next to you, he presents the plate and muses, "I know I said I'd make you dinner next time you came over, but this is not what I had in mind."

You smile and kiss his bare shoulder as you sidle up to share the meal off of the plate. "It's fine, babe. This looks tasty," you tell him congenially before munching away on the sandwich. Your delighted hum gives him confidence to bite into his own, and while he's chewing, you squint at him tentatively, as if you know what you're going to say next is going to annoy him. "Mmm, so…I can't stay the night—"

Javi grunts a displeased sound and sets his sandwich down as he licks his lips before scowling at you. "C'mon, you said you'd have changes of clothes with you next time—"

You narrow your eyes peevishly at that, and pointedly swipe your thumb to wipe the bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth before licking it clean and sniping, "Well, I had packed a tote-full of clothes and things for Friday, and then someone stood me up."

He winces at the reminder and grumbles, "I'm sorry, hermosa…"

You take a swig of your soda before exhaling a content sigh. "It's ok…so, if I spend the night, I'll have to leave early to go home and get ready for work," is your compromise. "Set your alarm for me?"

The pleased twinkle in his eye softens his features as he nods and pulls you close to kiss your cheek. "Done deal."

Once you both finish eating, he takes the dish and the empty bottles back to the kitchen and returns to pull a shirt from his middle dresser drawer, smirking as he tosses it over to you before he goes to set his alarm clock. You smile and pull the faded blue t-shirt on, amused at how it hangs like a tent on you while Javi shuts the lights off and gets into bed with you. Pulling the covers over you both, he tucks you into his side and kisses you before he settles into a comfortable recline into the pillows, with your head resting on his shoulder. The sigh you let out is tranquil, and he smiles as you rest your hand over his chest and start to relax against him.

In no time, you both doze off, the stress and angst of the day and all the turbulent emotions having worn you both into an exhaustion neither of you had anticipated. When you wake up to the beeping of his alarm clock around a quarter to dawn, you curl into his back and spoon him more, even though he grumbles wordlessly and reaches over to shut it off. Settling back down with a noisy exhale, Javi affectionately squeezes the hand you have tucked against his chest. He feels your lips brush his nude back, so he grunts and rolls over so he can cuddle you.

"Mmph, you're so warm," you mumble and nuzzle his chest.

"And you're friolenta, which is perfect," he chuckles gruffly and kisses the top of your head. "C'mon, bella. Time to get up and get in the shower," Javi croons and rubs his warm palm down your back to caress along your bare derrière cheekily.

You protest with a whine and nose his neck, relishing his warm skin before you suckle a kiss there. "I hate Mondays…" is your terse mutter as you loop your arms around his torso.

"Same here, Garfield. Now, c'mon, let's get out of bed," he quips sardonically and sits up, which tows you along to the side of the bed with him, since your grip around him doesn't falter. He scoffs, "Alright, I'll get the shower going, but when I come back, you better be out of bed."

You yawn and slink into the warm spot he's vacated and curl up as you nod tiredly. He snorts and heads to the bathroom, stifling his own yawn as he runs the shower and stretches his back before scratching at his stubble-darkened features while he saunters back into his bedroom. Javi finds you drowsily sitting at the side of the bed scrubbing at your eyes and absently brushing your bed-hair down. His dry grunt quirks your bleary stare over at him, and when you see him cross his arms and raise a haughty brow at you, the purse of your lips in involuntary as you grumpily stand and stretch your arms over your head dramatically.

"I'm up, I'm up, chavón," you grouse and pull his t-shirt off before shamelessly trotting naked over to impishly slink by him in the doorway. His eyes are smoldering over your supple curves as you tug on his waistband and tow him with you. "Vente, malcriado," is your saucy lilt, and Javi is more than happy to go into the shower with you.

How he manages not to take you against the wall while the cascade washes over you both is a feat he doesn't think he can keep up for long, so he kisses the shell of your ear before getting out of the shower to brush his teeth and shave. You smile into the cascade and bask in the warm water slowly waking you up while he glances at your exquisite, soapy and wet form through the fogged glass. He smirks when you catch his stare and flirtatiously wink at him.

"Such a coqueta," he drawls as he struts out of the bathroom in just the towel he's got wrapped around his trim waist. Your heart skips a beat at that.

A few minutes later, you step out of the shower and quickly dry off before wrapping the towel around yourself and sauntering to the bedroom for your clothes. You find them laid out on the bed, and smile to yourself as you get dressed quickly. Loping out of the bedroom, you find Javi dressed in a pair of tan slacks, brown loafers and a crisp dress shirt with light gray etched pinstripes under the draped dark tie with mottled gold-rimmed spots that hangs loose around the collar while he's at the stove tending to something frying in a pan. Completely taken by the simple domesticity of having your handsome lover cooking breakfast – feeling a wonderful sense of déjà vu from the last time he made breakfast for you, the butterflies in your womb inspire you to watch him for a few seconds longer before you saunter over and caress your hand along his back.

He smiles and glances over at you. "I don't have everything I need for the huevos rancheros, so I'm making an omelet," he tells you charmingly as you glance at the tasty-looking offering he's currently folding over.

"Making one for you too?" you ask as you lean your jean-clad hip into the counter next to the stove and watch him.

"…Nope—" he tries to nonchalantly muse, but you narrow your gaze and cross your arms.

"Then we can share," you tell him rather than suggest before you push off the counter to go get something for you both to drink. You see him shake his head musingly at you in your peripheral while you're at the fridge, so you chime, "Don't even play. You're eating if I am, chulito."

He grunts and plates the omelet before setting the pan aside and grabbing two forks. "Fine, controladora," he rumbles and smiles when you offer him a glass of juice and pleasantly lean against the kitchen counter across from him in order to admire the meal. "So, you're gonna pack a bag and come spend the night, right?" he queries before sliding the plate closer to you and gesturing for you to taste first.

Once you've popped a piece into your mouth and hummed at the deliciousness, you remark, "I literally bought groceries yesterday, so…" when he frowns, you gripe, "Hey, I didn't know I was going to stop shunning you. Sue me."

He snickers and chews his piece before he starts fiddling with his collar. "Ok, fine. I'll come stay over at your place this week," he retorts and watches your eyes smile as you drink from your glass. "But my place is way closer to the embassy, so eventually it makes more sense for you to spend the night more here—"

You sigh and set your glass down before sauntering over and grabbing the ends of his tie, starting to adjust them for him. "When does the provisioner stock your kitchen?" you ask as you straighten his collar and start to make his tie for him, tying a neat knot and evening the ends so they lie straight over his shirt before you smooth the tips of his collar.

You're so close that Javi can smell his soap on you, and it turns him on beyond belief. "Usually on Thursdays," he answers in a grouse and lets his hands rest at your waist as you primly finish fussing with his tie and stare alluringly up at him. "I know it's a bit messy, but I'll get around to straightening stuff up for next time you stay over," he tells you sweetly, as if that might be a pet peeve.

Smirking, you brush your hand over the hair at his temple, smoothening it out for him before musing playfully, "It's fine, Javi. Just maybe make some room in your closet for me? Or even part with a drawer?"

The pride that swells in his chest at that makes his pulse race and heat rise to his cheeks. "Definitely, preciosa," he husks and captures your plush lips with his, relishing how you loop your arms around him and lean into his broad frame to deepen the kiss.

Coyly, you both stow your lust and finish sharing your breakfast omelet while you chat about what your day is looking like.

"—I'm pretty sure Crosby is going to dog me some more, but I plan on listening to the Jurado tapes first thing," he tells you with a dismissive shrug while you place the now empty dishes into the sink. "I'll call your cell phone if I'm going to be late."

You nod and suggest mischievously, "Want to have a coffee date after lunch? Meet at my department's fancy machine?"

He beams at that and gallantly spins you from the sink to lean into him as he encircles his arms around you. "The director? Inviting me to coffee, within embassy territory, no less? I'm honored," he teases, so you swat his bicep lightly and snicker at him. "I'll never turn down that coffee, or you," he murmurs before pressing luscious kisses along your lips.

The shiver of delight that warms your core has you nudging him sassily so you can backpedal into the living room, grabbing your purse he recovered and tossed onto the leather chair the night before. "Ah-ha, suavón, just make sure you behave and are nothing but professional when you come down to my department to mooch coffee—"

"How's it mooching if you invited me to a coffee date?" he counters amusedly and smirks when you purse your lips derisively at him. "You know, you're sexy when you're worked up—"

You scoff, but your smile is infectious as you shoulder your purse and give him a flirty hug and a peck on the lips. "Quit stalling me, sir," you quip and smile when he leads you to the door with a chuckle. After he opens the door and caresses your waist, you slink up and kiss him lingeringly on the lips, before nuzzling his jaw and murmuring, "I love you."

Javi's blood runs hot at that, making him crackle with besotted pride. "I love you too," he tells you in a hushed purr against your temple before tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll see you later, querida."

You smile and go to strut off, but Javi hazards a parting pinch of your ass, earning a squeak and an admonishing glance over your shoulder at him as you struggle to suppress your grin. Once you're in the elevator, you stick your tongue out at him just as the doors slide shut.

Javier chuckles warmly at that and closes his door, going to grab his matching tan blazer and the rest of his belongings before he heads out to stop at the building's management office before work. When he strides back to the door, he glances at the credenza where the red roses are sitting in their vase in the morning sun, glass gleaming at him and making the soft red petals looks extra delicate now. Grunting at himself for getting distracted by the mundane sight, he heads out the door and goes onto his first day back post-successful Cali operation.

He doesn't know that all the strife and acrimony triggered by said success will bring him to the brink, and threaten the delicately crafted harmony between you both. Instead, he just looks forward to every moment he can share with you.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Moneda = Coin

Me comería a ese papasote, pero solo le gusta las chimbas = I'd be all over that hunk, but he only likes the good-looking pieces of trade

Ese pintoso te daría picos, por lo menos = That handsome man would make out with you, at the very least

El señorito Peña está bien bueno, pero el gringuito compañero que tenía, Murphy, era bien guapo tambíen = Little mister Peña is real hot, but his little gringo former partner, Murphy, was real handsome too

Desahogarte = To vent; unburden yourself

Pa la cama = To bed; go to bed

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

Nada de eso = None of that

Mi amor = My love

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Canela = Cinnamon

Te amo hasta mi alma = I love you to my soul; "I love you soul-deep"

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Dios mío misericordioso = Dear merciful God

Oye, sabes que eres el amor de mi vida… = Hey, you know you're the love of my life…

Gringa = Female American

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Friolenta = Sensitive to cold (female)

Bella = Beautiful

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Vente, malcriado = Come, you brat (male)

Coqueta = Tease/Flirt (female)

Chulo/Chulito = cute guy; little cutie

Controladora = Controlling woman

Suavón = Smooth talker; Smooth guy

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