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?

31. Chapter 31: Ballad - Part 2

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (f receiving) and unprotected sex. Descriptions of dom/sub play, cum play, creampie eating, size kink, praise kink, rough sex, body worship kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, retaliatory behavior, violence, verbal assault, stress, poor coping mechanism, and being put professionally in compromising positions. Some Dom!Javi, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Possessive!Javi, Stressed!Reader.

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Chapter 31: Ballad – Part 2

As Javier makes the long journey back from the jungle with Christina secured into his custody, you're long asleep, having come home, taken a hot bath, and crawled into your bed alone. Your mind was whirring on Javi, and once exhaustion had pulled you under into heavy slumber, your unconscious took over – weaving a stress-dream that conflated every concern you had into a bolt of trepidation that unfurled around you. The feeling of anxiety pulling you under; the pressure of people counting on you while some unseen foe sabotaged your work; the awful terror of being chased by something in the darkness of a dimly-lit path. The cliché of stressful specters haunting you as you fall into the quicksand of your dreaming world. Most of it was incoherent, but then you're suddenly riding in the front passenger seat of a classic Cadillac.

The road before you is mountainous and winding – overlooking lush promontories off in the distance and a wide valley below under a cerulean tropical sky. There's a song melodically playing in the car, and you reach for the dial to put the music up before the rays of the sun catch in your eyes as they glare across the windshield. You finally look over and see your mother is driving.

She's bopping along to the song, fingertips thrumming to the beat of the salsa ballad over the steering wheel, smiling over at you before retuning her bright, easygoing gaze to the road.

Yo perdí lo mas querido cuando perdí a mi mama,
(Todo tiene su final)
Pero seguí pa lante y pa lante
(Todo tiene su final)
Has como yo nunca eche pa tras
(Todo tiene su final)

Turning to look into the backseat, you find your father is sat directly behind your mother. He's looking out his window at the scenic view, not paying the song any mind, seeming to be lost in thought.

The glint of something catching in the sunlight pulls your attention to look at Javi, who's sat behind you, after he reclines back and stretches his left arm sidelong over the spine of the backseat, causing the sun to flash in the face of his silver watch. He smiles at you, brown eyes gleaming with warmth.

Todo tiene su final, nada dura para siempre,

Tenemos que recordar que no existe eternidad

"¿Y que miras?"

You turn back to stare over at your mother. "I'm looking at them sitting in the back, Ma," you snicker.

She grins before looking over at you. "Who?"

You shift to gesture to the backseat, but then you look in the rearview mirror and see the backseat is empty. Confused, you turn and confirm Javi and your father aren't there anymore, and it makes you sad. You feel it sit heavy in your chest.

You've just turned back to ask her where they went, when you suddenly wake up with a jerky motion in bed.

Lying there, you try to process what that even was, brow furrowing as your eyes crinkle to keep the tears at bay. You turn your head to look at the alarm clock, seeing it's still early in the morning. With a frown, you roll onto your side and reach for the pillow laced with Javi's scent. You hug it and close your eyes, feeling a bout of melancholy, but unsure why the dream is tugging at your heartstrings. Sure, you rarely dream of your mother outside of the recurring nightmare of the accident, but this was light-years from that.

She was happy. Her smile, the way her eyes crested with mirth, and the calm she exuded are imprinted in your mind's eye now. It was how you always remembered her as a small child. But seeing that version of her juxtaposed with your father looking as he did the last time you'd seen him – wearing the dark blue guayabera and black slacks with his hair swept back – while Javi smiled at you, clad in the same outfit he wore the first time you'd interacted at the top of the stairs at the embassy? It had you pensively trying to decipher what it could all mean.

Then, your cell phone starts ringing on the nightstand, jolting you to sit up and reach for it.

"Hello?" you greet, voice still thick from disuse.

"Shit. Did I wake you?" Javi's hushed baritone rumbles in your ear.

"No. I'm just lounging lazily in bed. How did it go?" you retort as you shuffle up to lean against the headboard.

"Good. I found her and got her out. We just got back to Bogotá a little while ago," he tells you coolly.

You let out a relieved exhale. "Great. I'm glad it worked out," is your reply, running your fingers through your mussed hair as you ask, "What happens now? Do DOS officials escort her back to the states?"

He grunts before parceling out, "I'm taking her to Miami on the first flight out. Franklin has agreed to cooperate, so I'll likely be gone a couple of days."

Biting your lip to stifle any sound of disappointment from grunting free from your chest, you instead smoothly retort, "Can't help personally make sure her ass doesn't wander off into cartel hands again, huh."

His raspy chuckle fills your ear. "Pretty much. I also want to make sure no fucking around happens as far as Jurado's crooked bastard lawyer is concerned," he rumbles glibly, then drawls, "I hope Franklin can decode the ledger enough to outline the structure of the Cali operation. See who's on the take, how far up in the government they are—"

"You need to be careful, mi amor," you find yourself blurting out. "If these stooges are at risk of being exposed, they're liable to cause you trouble."

"I don't want you to worry, cariño. I'm prepared to deal with it. Numbers don't lie, so once we have the ledger decoded, they won't have any political currency," Javi assures you. "You gonna be all right on your own?" he jibes, tone becoming that impish husk you know too well means he's smirking goadingly.

"Hah, more than all right, chavón. Right now, I just need to get the pep to get up and do laundry—"

"I thought you were going to do that the other night after work?" he drawls amusedly.

"I was! But then it was rainy and cold, and I didn't get another chance to all week," you complain as you toss the blankets and snicker, "A certain special agent monopolized a lot of my free time, you see."

"Hmm, well I think not having the convenience of a washer-dryer in your apartment, you know, like the one at my place? Is more the cause than me monopolizing your time, guapita," he counters puckishly.

"You would think that," you chuckle and stretch back to lounge into the pillows you've just propped. "Yet another needed amenity to add to the list, I suppose."

"It would seem so. Anyway, I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can," Javi murmurs before purring, "I love you."

You can't help smile. "I love you too. Now hurry up and finish nailing these fuckers so I can have you to myself," is your saucy chime.

"Sí, patrona," he chuckles, huskily drawling, "Be good. Talk soon, querida."

"Good luck. Bye," you silkily lilt in his ear before ending the call.

Javier smirks and pockets his cell, eager to get the fucking show on the road.

He and Christina had made it back to the base in Medellín by dawn. The only time he wasn't at her side was when she'd gotten swept away by medical personnel there to take her vitals and examine her for possible injuries before ushering her to a private barrack where she could have a hot shower and change into some clothes they'd managed to throw together for her. Javier had taken that time to clean up and get into his current outfit, and once their ride was refueled for the trip back to the capital, they boarded and helicoptered back to Bogotá. Christina was picking at her breakfast, surrounded by guards in the holding room at the airport while he'd stepped out to a quiet corner to call you. Thankfully, the custom officials had arrived just as he'd ended the call to finalize her documents out and check them both onto the commercial flight back to Miami.

By the time they're both escorted to the private waiting area on the second level of the airport terminal, Javi's feeling pretty settled, all things considering. The guards wait outside, leaving him to coddle the distraught woman. He watches her reticently sit still, eyes closed and clearly uneasy. So, after some pacing and idle glancing out the vestibule window to the bustling terminal below, Javi feels compelled to assure her – to put her at ease. The PA announces the arrival of the aircraft destined for the flight to Miami, so he glances over at her and sees she's opened her eyes and is staring off straight ahead.

"In less than an hour, we're on that plane," he remarks and fidgets a little before deciding to sit in a seat that's part of the row of chairs behind hers. "Your husband knows. He'll be waiting for you," Javier adds, hoping that will help quell whatever she's feeling. When she says nothing and doesn't acknowledge him, he rumbles, "It's all behind you, Christina."

It was the wrong thing to say.

She snidely snickers, tone disparaging as she deadpans, "And you think I should thank you for that?"

Javi soberly tucks his chin down, realizing how cavalier that must've sounded to her. "No. No, I don't," he mutters contritely, glancing at the back of her head while he internally admonishes himself for being such an asshole.

"No, you think you're a hero, because you, what, executed a bunch of farmers to get me out so that my husband would testify for you?" she rhetorically accuses, flippant and berating.

Ruefully, Javi leans back in his chair as he declares, "I did what I had to do and I'm sorry for what happened to you."

When she turns and unsympathetically looks at him, Javier steels himself. The way her eyes water as she shakes her head at him unnerves him, but then, she sullenly scathes, "No. No, you're not. And you know it." She pauses to stare coldly into his eyes as she levels, "You're a piece of shit," before turning away from him and staring off in appalled disdain, internalizing all her misery and profound doubts about her future.

He has no retort. There's nothing he can say to refute it, because deep down, he feels deserving of the rancor. It sits bitterly in his stomach as he just absently grips his right hand to squeeze the knuckles of his left while he absorbs the seething hate he's now left stewing in.

It's the longest half hour of his life.

Once the flight is ready for boarding, Javier's security entourage retrieves him and Christina to escort them through the airport terminal en route for the gate. He's steeling himself for the three and a half hour flight when his cell phone starts ringing in his leather jacket's pocket.

"Yeah?" Stoddard is on the line, asking him if he's with Christina Jurado. "Yeah, we're about to get on the plane. We'll be in Miami—"

"Boss. Franklin Jurado was killed in lockup."

Javier stops dead in his tracks. He absorbs that like getting shot in the chest with a stun grenade. His mouth goes dry and his stomach drops, unable to shake the sudden bout of vertigo the news sinking in has him feeling while the entourage stops and turns to look at him.

"When?" he grouses, anxiety turning his blood cold in his veins and tangling around his ribcage while he tries to keep a stoic regard as Christina stares at him with bleary-eyed worry, frown shallowly etched in her fair features.

"This morning. Log shows he was taken out of solitary to the phone banks. Another prisoner shanked him in the carotid artery. He bled out before a medic could get to him," Stoddard elaborates in a tense tone.

That sends a chill down Javi's spine and has the tendons in his jaw reflexively trembling as he wars to keep his expression guarded. "Let me call you back," he mutters tersely and ends the call, staring at Christina for a grueling few seconds before he flicks his gaze at the men in the security detail and gestures for them to double back.

The main guy approaches him for a quick huddle, in which Javier declares that they need to get to a secure room immediately. Once they herd Christina back down the corridors to an interrogation room within the terminal, Javier sits her down, and struggles to find the words.

"What…what's going on now? Aren't we going to miss the flight?" she stammers, lip quivering and frame trembling.

He can see it in her eyes. She's disassociating, protecting herself; already knows something bad has happened, but it's his responsibility to voice it – make it reality to her.

"Christina. Something happened. This morning…" Javi pauses, swallowing around the panic welling in his chest. "Franklin was killed this morning."

Her blue eyes well over as a shaky sob catches in her throat before she exclaims, "H-How?! What—how could that have happened?! You said he was in protective custody—"

Javi rests his interlaced hands on the tabletop and leans forward to explain, "He was in solitary until the call came in to move him into protective custody, but before he could be transferred out as scheduled in the afternoon, he was taken to answer a call. It…it was a ruse to isolate him—"

"You fucking bastard!" Christina hiccups, disparagingly exhaling an unhinged laugh before dissolving into a flitting sob. "They killed him. As soon as they knew I was out, they put in the order to kill him," she hisses, cheeks getting blotchy as she starts to weep.

Javi feels the pang of guilt stake into his chest as he watches her start to quake with the onslaught of emotions. He's worried she'll start to hyperventilate, but then she's suddenly lashing out, screaming, "This is all your fault! You put the target on his back!" Christina barrels up out of her seat and rails, "Everything was fine before you fucking manipulated us to cooperate, and now Franklin's dead because of you! And you don't even care," pausing shakily to scoff at him before sneering acrimoniously, "Oh no, you get to go back to your life. To whoever the fuck you talked to that made you so happy while I sat here like a fool as our lives got completely massacred!"

Javier is sitting in the tempest of her verbal assault, outwardly keeping his features etched in an unreadable mask while inwardly wound up, unable to find a voice with which to deescalate her. Especially when she plops down dejectedly in her chair as she slams her hands down on the table before whirling away from him.

She buries her face in her hands as uncontrollable sobs wrack through her before she succumbs to the grief, bawling violently and wailing hopelessly. "I hope they take everything away from you," she rambles bitterly in between stuttered breaths as she hazards a withering look over at him from the corner of her watery vision. "You deserve to lose everything you care about and love. Whoever you were talking to while my life was ending? I hope you lose them and feel what it's fucking like, you son of a bitch—" her voice cracks when she can no longer muster the will, so she bows her head and scrubs her fingers into her eyes as she truly falls apart. "Just fucking s-stay away from me. I can't stand the sight of you!" Christina shouts at Javier before crumbling in on herself and folding her arms protectively around her head.

She feels more than hears him move back, and by the time she glances up, Javier is storming out the door and gone from her view.

Numbly, she continues to sob for a while by herself in the white box of a room until the officials who'd been part of her security detail come in and brief her that she will be flown privately to Miami to take custody of her husband's body and be placed in protective custody until other accommodations could be made.

Unaware of the devastating turmoil that's played out, you've spent most of your morning toiling away doing house chores. It helps center your thoughts and neglect fretting about the hidden meaning of your dream. Instead, you dedicate your energy to other things you've unintentionally neglected around your place. So, after putting on a gray baggy sweatshirt and loose drawstring trousers once you'd washed your face and brushed your teeth, you stay comfy and relaxed while keeping busy.

After setting several cycles of laundry to wash downstairs, you cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, watered your plants, dusted the furniture, swept and mopped the floors. You even made time to do some belated-spring-cleaning from your closet while the laundry was drying – arranging stacks of books and magazines you've read through into different piles for donation, and organized the shelves of clutter.

After unloading the dryers and hefting the heavy basket up the stairs to your place, you went to work folding and setting things over the unfolded ironing board in your bedroom, thinking about idle things you could do once you were finished with everything. You'd even taken down your curtains to wash, and are on the stepladder rehanging them up over your windows – thinking about maybe calling Ellis to see if he and Anita wanted to have dinner later – as you arrange them on the curtain rod by standing on your bare tippy toes to fluff the top of the drape when you dimly hear what sounds like your door being opened.

When it slams shut, you startle and hurry down the steps to sprint over to look down the hall.

You are taken aback to see Javi stalking intensely across the length of your apartment in a storming rush at you.

You're completely baffled and quickly unsettled by his heavy footfalls and how broad and angry he seems to be – until he's practically on you, and you see the haunted-yet-furiously-determined look carved in his features while something desperate flashes in his dark, molten eyes.

"Ja-Javi-?!" you stammer before he literally sweeps you up against him and kisses you with raw yearning, hands hoisting you up as he hastily takes you to bed.

You don't know what's happening, or what's come over him, but something deep inside you takes control, setting all your concerns aside and focusing on reaching for him.

With ardent desire, you pull him onto you and deepen the kiss, trying to anchor him, but Javier jolts back and stares dazedly down at you, brows knitting together as he impatiently yanks his leather jacket off and rears back to fling it away before he tugs you by the backs of your knees to the edge of the bed. You gasp in surprise and end up arching in pleasure when he shoves your sweatshirt up to expose your bare breasts before pursing his mouth over a studded nipple while his hands sharply yank your trousers down your legs.

"Ah!" you cry out when he suckles hard on your pebbled flesh and rips your panties off – tearing them at the hip seams before possessively palming his feverishly warm hand at your cunt. You bury your hands in his hair and tug as you moan from the fierce onslaught; desperate to make him feel as good as he's making you feel. "Javier—"

He suddenly shifts to haul your hips to the edge of the mattress before he kneels at the floor and buries his face between your legs. You whimper airily when his nose presses into your mound and he just breathes in your heady scent while his hands fondle a possessive track up your curves in order to palm your breasts. Before you can wrap your lust-hazed mind around what's happening, Javi roughly pinches your nipples and rolls them between forefinger and thumb as he nuzzles his face into your pussy and growls. His cock strains against his fly once your addictive, heavenly tang flavors his ravenous mouth, making it easy for him to get pussy-drunk and revel in devouring you with greedy need.

Your legs instinctually crane open when he drags his tongue up your weeping seam before he spears it into your molten cunt while he continues to tease your nipples with possessive flicks of his fingers. "Oh god!" you cry out and writhe, desperate for more and still beside yourself – trying to dimly figure out what's going on. "Please, please, Javi—"

He lifts his head up to stare with searing dominance up at you, which has your heart flipping in your chest. "Need this. Need you," he husks in a baritone octave you've never heard him use. His dark brewed eyes are blown out with urge, and the pitch of his tone has shivers going up your spine. "…Take it off."

You fumble to pull the sweatshirt off and discard it, hiccupping breathily as his brown eyes rake down your completely nude and flushed form before staring at your dripping pussy and burying his face there once again.

In the delirium of your arousal and overwhelmed, albeit confounded awe, Javier eats your pussy like his life depends on it. And to him, right now, it does. He's lost and wrathful, utterly and profoundly devastated by the last 24 hours, and the only thing he's desperate to hold onto for fear he'll splinter apart is you – being grounded in you.

His tongue plucks an orgasm so fierce from you that you sob, left to grip the bedding and ride his devilish appendage in mindless bliss. Even when you mewl a helpless plea of, 'Javi, por favor,' he refuses to stop, and you're trying to scrape your willpower together, but then his mouth purses over the hood of your clit as he plunges two fingers into your fluttering pussy, igniting you with desperate pleasure all over again.

Stardust glimmers in the backs of your eyes as he suckles and finger-fucks you into another incinerating orgasm that's left you a sweat-sheen, flushed and ruined mess on the bed, panting hungrily to keep your lungs filled with air.

Javier groans after he withdraws his fingers from your rippling sheath and sucks them clean. Your heavy lidded eyes stare up at him as he stands so he can loom over your boneless form and admire you. It burns him, stoking something feral and protective in him. His eyes covetously caress over every expanse of skin, sculpted curve and flexing sinew of your body before he leans down and rests his forehead against your midriff.

"Please, please, mi amor…" you breathlessly murmur, hands clumsily petting the back of his hair and sifting through the tufts of curls at his nape.

You feel Javi shiver and think he's going to come lie on top of you, but instead, he shifts up and away. For a few panicked seconds, you worry he's going to leave, but when you force your gaze to focus, you end up watching him tug and yank his clothes off. His boots bang against the side of the dresser after he kicks them off. He then snatches his watch off and tosses it carelessly on the nightstand, and shoves the remainder of his clothes off before he brusquely gets between your thighs and just shoves his cock into your aching sheath.

Even after the amazingly powerful orgasms he's already given you, every muscle resists the thick, ramming intrusion of him bottoming out in your pulsing pussy. "¡D-Dios mío, Javi!" you gasp, overwhelmed and feeling so full as he groans and grips one of your legs up and spreads you open for him by clutching the other to be pinned aside at the back of the knee.

With a squeeze of the calf muscle his hand is gripping, Javi starts fucking you with feral abandon. He looms over you and watches your awed expression blossom with rapture, eyes screwing shut to the ecstasy of his cock pounding head-on into that delicate pleasure clustered deep inside you. The way your mouth falls open and your shoulders arch into the bed while you moan is like a divine grounding point for him. Javier is no longer lost in the furious black hole he'd been sucked into less than an hour before. Instead, he's dialed in on a heightened level – present and basking in the moment as he rocks you with such pleasure that you whimper a needy cry and toss your head back in delight.

It's a sight that proves you are safe and his and not in danger of being taken away. That he's your anchor and focal point at the height of being the most alive you could be.

It's his salvation.

Your toes curl and your eyes flutter as you sob a breathless wail just as your orgasm hits and tears you asunder, leaving you a drenched, quivering and burning heap of melted sinew that can only grip the bedding hard enough that your nails hurt, as you stare up drunkenly at Javi like he's some kind of marvel you're unsure is real.

His cock is throbbing inside you to the rhythm of his beating heart, and you blink the dew from your eyelashes and gaze sultrily up at him. The way his shoulders are wound up and his chest broadens from every deep breath he's taking, and how dark his eyes are as they stare into yours has the clutch of your pussy soaking over with a whole new flood of arousal.

He can feel the heat of you thrumming around him, and the way you stare hungrily up at him is something primordial and heavenly, all at once. So, Javi paws his large hands down to cup your lower half and lift you effortlessly in order to make room for him to plant his knees onto the bed as he adjusts over you.

Once he's in reach, you yank him closer and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace so you both can kiss voraciously.

Javi breaks the kiss so he can cup your face and stare scintillatingly into your eyes as he grouses, "Sorry, I'm sorry—"

You shush him and nuzzle his cheek. "Nada de eso, mi rey," you murmur, pressing soothing kisses to his flushed features before whispering, "Need you to make me yours, Javi."

He stutters his exhale and starts worshipfully kissing you as he shifts his knees and adjusts to better rock forward into you.

The sensation of him nestling into the deepest part of you has you both moaning, reveling in the carnal splendor of belonging to each other like this. And when he pistons his cock into that ruinously wonderful angle with every pull and slam in and out of your silken pussy, you mewl and pivot your pelvis up, meeting his every thrust.

The way your knees dig for purchase into the sides of his ribcage while your nails half moon into his back is the perfect amount of pleasure-pain to unravel that pent-up knot loose in him. It sears up in him and has Javi pounding his need into you with so much fervor that his balls slap against your drenched perineum as you whimper at how it feels like he's spearing up into your womb. It's so lewd, yet so fantastic that he's fucking you like this – making you feel so right and tethered to him, that you climax right as his cock swells inside your clenching sheath. He shouts your name before coming rough and hard in you, hips grinding into you as he spills his seed in shuddered thrusts while you curl into him and moan before dissolving into reedy mewls.

Just when you think you're utterly disassembled and reeling with overcome delight, Javi pulls out of you and shifts to glide down your body while you pant and tremble in the afterglow of such soul-shattering sex. You smile as you feel his full, pouty lips brush a loving-yet-possessive path down your torso, thinking he's going to maneuver up and off the bed to get a damp washcloth and give you tender aftercare. But when he adjusts your splayed legs so he can fit his shoulders between them before looping his arms beneath you, you're on sex-addled delay – until you feel him bury his face in your pussy again.

"Oh—" you gasp, alight and awed as Javi licks into your cunt, curling a hand around your hip to grind his fingertips over the hood of your clit. "Oh my god, Ja-Javi, w-wait, you-you're—" is your enthralled protest, but the rest dies on your lips as he moans into your drenched heat and keeps licking and suckling your puffy pussy while it weeps your comingled afterflow.

You're so beguiled by his ravenous need of you that you're quickly spun up into a dizzying arousal that has you bucking with urgency for the roll of his tongue and the press of his lips before you cry out and climax again.

The salacious, debauched passion with which Javi claimed you this time has you high and flustered, as you weakly lay sprawled out on the bed. You feel him rest the side of his head against your inner thigh with a gruff, accomplished sigh, so you dreamily stare down at him and shiver when you see how heavy-lidded his eyes are as they flick to look up at you. Javi can feel the thrumming pulse of your femoral artery against his ear, taste your joint orgasms on his tongue, see the sinful heaven of your post-sex glow as it roses over your dewy skin, and hear your out of breath awe as you pant while you regain your senses.

Seeming to finally have his fill of taking you apart with exhilarating pleasure, Javier kisses a path back up your warm skin and settles to lie on top of you, looping his arms protectively around you and dissolving when you encircle him lovingly – enveloping him in your embrace. He nuzzles your damp neck and breathes in your sweaty skin once he's nosed into the hairline behind your ear. You sigh, completely fucked-out and content to lay like this with him forever.

But then that nagging little voice that is your reason starts needling you. What the hell happened?! He was going to Miami just this morning, and then he storms in here like a furious lion and dominates you like it's the end of the world?

Dimly, you want to ignore all that, but then you realize Javi's hugging you so tight to him – like he's afraid you'll leave, that he'll lose you. It's enough to snap you back into yourself, so you rub his back and pet the back of his hair, hoping it'll make it clear you're ok and not going anywhere. Still, his embrace doesn't wane in passion or protectiveness, so you hum a questioning sound before kissing the side of his head.

"Javi…what happened?" you whisper, continuing to soothingly caress his back while you start combing your fingers through the back of his sweaty hair. When he doesn't answer and just buries his face further into the crook your neck, you decide you need to shake him loose of whatever this is. "I mean, having you fuck me silly was earth-shattering and amazing, stud, but you've got me wondering," you croon silkily, expecting him to scoff or snort in shameless humor, but he doesn't. Instead, he grunts almost as if he's embarrassed with himself. So you frown; realizing you need to take the measure – to switch to the alpha now. You nudge your head into the side of his and murmur firmly, "Hey. Talk to me, Javier. Tell me what's wrong?"

He's tangled up with shame and dealing with the slow burn of his guilt, so it takes Javi a minute to muster the courage to shift so he can look at you. When he does, he's disarmed by how gentle and unguarded your expression is. He feels so unworthy of it right now, so he begrudgingly lets you go so he can shy away as he scrubs the back of his palm along his mouth absently. When he suddenly can't meet your gaze, you shimmy close and cup his jaw before caressing your thumb along the span of his cheek.

Javi leans into your touch and exhales a tense breath out of his nose before steeling himself.

"It's all over. Everything fell apart…Jurado got killed in prison," he sullenly blurts, and when you tense, he looks up into your eyes. "His wife…it was bad. I—I don't know…" Javi's voice falters, getting thick with tangled emotion, and he's suddenly feeling the most loathsome he's ever felt, stripped and emotionally raw. He feels suffocated by the turmoil and the doom of impending failure.

But then you sit up and wrap your arms around him, unabashed and fierce as you tell him imperiously, "You will not do this to yourself. I will not let you tear yourself apart over this, Javier. Do you fucking hear me?"

His tense grunt catches in his chest, and before he can rationalize it, he buries his face in your chest and just…breathes while he encircles you with desperate longing. You hold him tight and nuzzle the crown of his hair, feeling him breathe through the overwhelming stress he's trying to shed. It's something you think resembles a mild panic attack, and the more he breathes and concentrates on being in your arms, the more the tension eases from his shoulders. Eventually, he becomes pliant and relaxed in your embrace, so you kiss the top of his head and susurrate, "We don't have to talk about it any more."

He lifts his head to rest it on your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "I can't avoid it. First thing Monday, I know Crosby is going to pull the plug on all of it—"

"Crosby flew out of the country end of day yesterday," you cut in earnestly, and he leans back and stares in confusion at you. "Him and his wife went to Tennessee to see their son, Gavin. His wife had their kid, so Crosby is not who you have to worry about right now," is your assured musing as you affectionately trace your fingertips over his brow and fan them across his forehead to pet his wild wisps of hair back for him. Javi exhales and closes his eyes, soothed and feeling centered by your doting grace. So much so, that you're able to coax him to lay down in bed so you can keep brushing your touch over his chiseled, handsome features.

His back hurts and his shoulders ache from the raid the night before, so he's more than content to lie still in your comfortable bed, with the pillows propping his head while you press gentle kisses to his temple, cheek, between his brows. Your heart hurts for him, but you will keep that hidden, ignoring it just as you're ignoring your sore muscles and debauched post-coital state. None of it matters to you right now when you just want to protect Javi from his own self-critical disdain.

After a heavy silence, Javi lets out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry," he hoarsely mumbles and turns his face to rest his forehead against your cheek. "I fucked it up. I…I didn't see it coming, so it's on me—"

"What didn't you see coming?" you ask, tone so no-nonsense that he opens his eyes and gives you a hapless, puppy-dog look. "Explain it to me," is your insistence as you run your fingers through the hair behind his ear.

He's a bit disarmed, so it takes him a minute to collect his thoughts and shift to recline sidelong so he can look at you intently as he parcels out his thought process. "The fact they killed Franklin within hours of me securing Christina out of captivity means there must be a leak somewhere. No one outside of my team was supposed to know about the operation," he explains, and you give him 'the look' – the one he's learned to spot when you hear something you thought was a given but because he clearly hadn't considered it, you want to mask your reaction from him. "What, what do you want to say?" he presses, brows furrowing and dark-brewed eyes staring intensely at you.

You hesitate and shift awkwardly as you keep brushing circles behind his ear. "Javi…I don't want to forecast something you know now—"

"I want to hear it. Tell me," he insists and stills your hand from coddling him with its mesmerizing stroking of his hair. "Don't hold back on my account," is his tenacious rumble.

Pursing your lips, you feel a little too bare – literally – so you grab a pillow and hug it, then go into your assessment. "You said Search Bloc wasn't involved. So right there, that makes me think you went with those right-wing paramilitary outfits…which means AUC," you pause, and when he doesn't refute it, you continue, "That means, your C.I.? It was the same one you passed information to—that then gave intel to Los Pepes. That's why you went to Medellín. Even if they didn't have a back channel alliance with Cali, you brought that woman out of the jungle. The moment she was registered with the embassy—that they began processing her documents to travel back to the states with you? That would've been flagged and passed to any number of crooked officials on the take."

Javier absorbs that, and doesn't feel any better, but then you sigh before setting the pillow aside so you can shuffle closer and really spell it out.

"Franklin was killed in custody – U.S. custody. That means correction officers were bribed to take him to the slaughter and duck out while the hit was carried out. So, tell me: how the fuck were you supposed to prevent that?"

His eyes widen and jaw relaxes. Shoulders slumping, Javi can't help scoff at your assessment of things before huffing flatly, "Well, shit…"

"Exactly. This is a bigger problem you were never going to solve for. Not within the parameters you're forced to operate in. Franklin Jurado didn't have a chance. It's not your fault that he didn't cooperate when he had the opportunity to," you declare with analytical objectivity and caress your hand along his shoulder before gliding up to cup his cheek. "The system is corrupt on both sides. The grift is always in. You are not going to change that with this mission. It takes an entire society to choose to fix it, but at a hefty cost…so, I don't want you to lose yourself thinking this is your cause, Javi."

Unbidden, his mind replays something his father had said before he left Laredo. "…don't try to change it. More likely, it'll change you."

When his gaze flickers self-consciously away and his expression becomes crestfallen, you think you've gone too far, and are about to apologize, but then Javi lets out a heavy exhale from the depths of his soul and unburdens himself. "I—I know, but I can't let it go. I have to try…and I know it's worth it. I just…today, I had to face what it would be like to lose everything, for real – not like the last time in Medellín, and…" he pauses and looks in your eyes as he croaks, "I don't want to lose you like that, but I've done so much shit in order to take down Cali, it's only a matter of time until that comes back on me and I get what I deserve—"

"What?!" You are so shocked by this morose outlook of his. "Where is this coming from? You're not going to lose me," you adamantly refute and wrap your hands around his nape, feeling soothed when he loops his arms around you and hauls you up into his lap so he can hold you. It means this isn't something deep-seated, so you press, "Why would you think that; that you deserve any of that to happen?"

Burying a hand in the back of your tousled hair, Javi pulls you close so he can center himself before divulging everything that happened with Christina.

You listen, hearing how aggrieved and irate she'd been, and after he mentions the things she specifically said to him, sparing no detail, Javi leans back and looks into your expression, expecting to see your eyes flare with understanding and empathy – like he's seen come over you countless times before.

Instead, he's taken aback when he sees how furious you are. Clutching his shoulders, you rear back and harangue, "Is that bitch still in custody?!"

Javi blinks at you before retorting bemusedly, "She should be halfway to Miami by now. I had them fly her on the private plane—"

"If I ever see her, I'm going to rip her fucking head off," you tell him ferociously, expression seething as you vent, "Who the fuck does she think she is, talking to you like that?! She's the stupid twit who married into a cartel's operations, but she wants to project her bullshit life and idiot-ass decisions on you?! She's fucking lucky I can't get my hands on her, because I'd beat her fucking ass—"

Nonplussed, Javi marvels at your wicked temper, and realizes dimly that he's never seen you this angry towards someone else. Usually, he's been on the receiving end of your anger, so seeing you get this enraged over someone you've never even met kind of impresses him, albeit also puts everything in some warped kind of perspective for him.

"—You really let that dumb bitch make you feel some kind of way about your life?!" you're scathing now and tucking your chin angrily down to glare at him, and Javi can't help his brows quirk upwards and look helpless. "I swear to god, Javier, you ever let someone else make you feel bad like this, and I'm kicking your ass too. Why the fuck would what that bitter, salty bitch have to say while she lashes out like a fool ever matter to you?!" is your charge now, before you huff and go to scurry off of his lap as you indignantly mutter, "Some stupid gringa puta pendeja bruta anormal de la vida, wishing fucking evil on you. Fuck her—!" Javier reels you back, and when you look at him, he's fucking grinning at you. Outraged, you scathe, "Is this funny now?!"

"No! I just…shit, it's fucking hot seeing you get this fiery and have it not directed towards me, for once," he shamelessly rumbles and licks his lips while his eyes crinkle in that soulful way that warms your blood. "It's a good thing she's in protective custody—"

"Yeah, as if that fucking matters. The bitch can get got, clearly. She's lucky I don't outsource ass-whoopings!" you slash acerbically and shove at his shoulders. "And I mean it. You are to never let anyone speak to you like that. I don't fucking care if they're God come to earth!" you declare as you fussily cup the hinges of his jaw and emphasize your point by tugging him forward so you can press your forehead to his and growl, "¿Me entiendes, mi amor?"

Javi is buzzing with pride, lit up with brazen delight. "Fuck yeah, I understand," he purrs heatedly and brushes his nose cheekily against yours before stealing a peck on your lips.

You grunt bossily, dominantly tangling your fingers into the back of his hair and tugging to possessively bring him to meet your passionate kiss, which becomes wanton with desire before you break it, suckling on his bottom lip and hissing, "Show me that you understand, then."

"Fuck," he groans, feeling arousal zing down into his cock at your taunt. "Any way I want?" Javier husks and caresses you worshipfully as you provocatively lean mischievously out of reach of his lips, clicking your tongue as if you're deliberating over his petition.

Coquettishly, you cup your hands to glide down his shoulders and squeeze his deltoids as you purr, "I'm a total mess, my joints are jelly, and I'm still tingling from before, but sure…what do you want to do to prove it, hermoso?"

He doesn't even need to think about it. "I want to eat you out from the back," Javi shamelessly tells you, smoldering eyes narrowing impishly at your little gasp and blushing cheeks.

You bashfully giggle and grin when he mercilessly kisses you while his hands guide you to undulate over his lap so you can feel how hard he is for you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you melt into him as he starts brushing tender kisses along your jaw, nuzzling you when you sigh lusciously and nod your consent.

Just as he pivots up onto his shins and picks you up to shift you both in bed – eyes scintillating with the promise of sinful worship of your body, his cell phone starts ringing from his leather jacket's pocket.

"Fucking hell," Javier growls and flops back onto his heels before carefully setting you down on your back to the bed. "…I gotta get that, querida."

You pout goofily and kiss his cheek before flattening out on the mattress and unlatching from his strong frame, but not without cheekily pinching his ass as he clambers over you to bound up from bed and head for his jacket. He shoots you a bossy, amused grimace as he tugs his underwear on before yanking the phone out of the jacket and answering it.

"Peña," he barks into the phone and impatiently scratches at his mussed hair as he idly paces towards the door.

"Boss. Are you in the capital?" Chris Feistl is asking. "We finally got in touch with our C.I. Gotta brief you on something big."

Pressing the heel of his hand into the center of his forehead moodily, Javier grouses, "Yeah…I'll be at the embassy in an hour. There's a lot of shit we need to start back on square one on too, so tell Stoddard to secure the conference room and I'll meet you there."

While he's talking, you retrieve your silk robe and slip into it, then gather your tousled hair and pull it up into a messy bun. Once he ends the call, Javi turns to see you comically waddle to the edge of the mattress before huffing and flopping down onto your side. "Give me a minute, and I'll make you something to eat while you shower—" you're chiming in a silly sigh as you shake your legs out and try to force some strength in them after the marathon railing Javi gave you.

Smug, Javier snorts and sits next to you so he can affectionately caress the hourglass shape of your side. "I don't really have much of an appetite right now, preciosa—"

"Zip it. You're going to eat, because I know you don't bother with it when you're running around, being secret agent man," you clamp your hand on his forearm and give it a playful squeeze. "Don't fight me on it, stud."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes sardonically. "Fine, but you're going to shower with me, mi gatita malvadita," he caveats and leans forward to kiss your lips tenderly while you snicker at the silly new pet name he's seemingly appropriated from Sasha: my wicked little kitten.

The bossy look he gives you has you relenting amusedly. After all, it's a stipulation you're more than happy to acquiesce to, and once you're both showered, you fix him something to eat while he quickly gets dressed.

After he's fed and properly sated by you relentlessly hugging and kissing him until you decide he can leave, Javi promises, "I'll be back tonight, corazón."

"Alright, be careful. I love you," you murmur before pecking him on the lips.

"Love you too," he husks and reverently cups your cheek in a loving caress before he heads out.

Feeling bowled over and a bit wrung out from the physical and emotional whirlwind, you manage to waddle back to your bedroom, change the sheets and blankets, then collapse under a fluffy throw on the plush duvet and take the nap of all naps. You sleep so long that the next time you wake is at the sound of the door being unlocked before it yawns open. Groggily, you stretch and rub at your eyes to clear the sleep from them so you can look at the alarm clock. The apartment is dark until Javi switches the hall light on and comes into the bedroom with a bag of takeout from the tapas place you both like held in one hand.

"Shit, baby. I didn't mean to wake you," he rumbles as he sets the bag on the dresser and comes to sit at the side of the bed to lean over and kiss your forehead.

You snicker, "It's alright. I need to get up. I guess someone ran me ragged today." Javi chuckles, and you smile as you sit up and lean heavily into him once he encircles your waist and noses into your mussed hair. "Did your guys have something good to report?" you ask softly after stifling a yawn into the back of your hand.

"Pfft, fuck no," he deadpans, so you grunt and sit up to look into his resigned expression. He lets you shimmy up to sit next to him, and at your questioning hum, he decides to confide the latest problem in his operation. "So…their C.I. is this guy who works as the personal security systems head for Miguel Rodríguez. My guys gave him a codename – Natalia – for the official record. They did that to throw off any suspicions that it was anyone actually within the Cali inner circle, if it were to ever leak," Javier is explaining. He pauses to wring his hand down his face, a telltale sign he's frustrated. "The guy went MIA all day yesterday. Then, he called them today and said Cali knows we have an informant; that they even referenced the codename Natalia."

Frowning, you brush up against him and loop your arms around his torso. He sighs and leans into you, resting his head against yours. "What're you going to do? Pull the C.I. out?" you ask.

Huffing through his nose, Javi shakes his head. "It's not that simple. He's given us Miguel Rodríguez's new location, so we need to come up with a plan to raid the place, but he said they're all paranoid and on high alert, so we can't risk it right now," he tells you, grousing, "If we were to pull Salcedo out now, the cartel would know he was the informant and go to ground. We can't risk that."

You flatten your lips out and hum, nuzzling into the side of his neck to hide your pensive expression. "You have that kind of time?" you can't help ask, though.

"Not in the least, but we can't rush this now either. Not when we have fuck-all ways to decode the ledger currently…" he grumbles and gets aggravated with himself, so he wraps his arm around you and gives you a tender squeeze. "Think I'm done bitching for the rest of the day, bravita. Let's have dinner?" he charismatically changes the subject and nudges you playfully before kissing your cheek when you snicker and affectionately scratch at his side.

"Mmm, are you going to serve it to me, boss man?" you purr and bat your lashes flirtatiously at him.

"I will, under one condition," he retorts smoothly, and when you hum for him to name it, he drawls, "Put on that sexy fucking nighty? The silky one?"

You can't help grin, especially when he lays it on thick by giving you his big brown puppy-eyed look. "Aww, que dulzón," you chuckle and kiss him lusciously on the lips before murmuring, "Strip down to your skivvies, and we have a deal."

Javi smirks ruggedly, totally fine with that.

Once you wiggled into the burgundy baby doll and lounged into the propped pillows on the bed, you delightfully wait as he struts back into the bedroom with the takeout plated and balanced like he's had experience waiting tables – able to balance two plates in one hand while he holds two drink glasses in the other. His broad, golden-skinned physique is on display in all his glory thanks to having nothing but his gray boxer-briefs on. My god, this man is going to be my undoing, you can't help think in a pining sigh.

When he hands you your plate and maneuvers to settle into bed next to you, you can't help lilt affectionately, "I really could get used to this."

Javi smirks, hands you the glass, and clinks it with his. "Good."

And, to a degree, you totally do get used to it.

You and Javi spend the weekend together, where he repeats this wonderful treatment of serving you in bed almost every meal, either before or after he's fucked your brains out. Not to be outdone, though, you manage to wrangle him into a nice hot bath and full-body rubdown each night, dotingly caring for him and easing his aching, sore muscles with talented prowess.

This honeymoon period extends into the workweek, and you're both so settled that it's hard to worry about the doom and gloom of what will happen once the ambassador returns. At the very least, Javi was able to apply some pressure stateside to push the Colombian government to not make any drastic decisions for a few weeks, suggesting that doing so could sour the officials in charge of dispensing impending aid funds from the State Department. It was a gambit, but for now, it seemed to cool Botero's jets, so Javi and his guys were able to explore other options.

By the time Wednesday morning rolls around, you and Javi are dialed into this routine, so when you each get a reminder that your bi-weekly status report is scheduled for today, you're both buzzing to have an excuse to see each other in the middle of the unusually hectic day.

"—Oh! By the way, Trevor sent me a new batch of movies, so do you guys wanna come over Friday night? We can have a movie night redo," Ellis is remarking affably after detailing all the updates for your upcoming meeting with Javi.

Reclining in your chair, you beamingly smile. "I'd love that. I'll ask him. Hopefully he'll be free," you chime convivially as you organize your desk before gathering your folder.

"And hopefully he doesn't stand you up this time," Ellis singsongs, and you throw a paperclip at him. "I'm only kidding!"

"Want me to bring anything over?" you change the subject as you pull your compact mirror out of your purse to check your appearance.

Ellis can't help smile, glad to see you so content and smitten. "Bring whatever he likes to drink. I got the rest handled," he snickers and does the finger guns at you. "Anita's going to make that chaufa rice you like—"

You gasp excitedly. "Really?!"

"Yep! She's been craving it, so she's getting all the ingredients and going to town," he chuckles as he checks his watch. "While you're in that meeting, I have a touch-base with Devon about the CIA station chief's resources. I'll let you know how that goes."

"Cool. See you then," you remark as you get up and strut off to make a quick stop before heading up to the DEA department.

For his part, Javier is having to keep his guard up around his staff to not make it obvious just how better his mood is, considering how fucked the agency's actual day-to-day is currently. He just can't justify looking like a content man when his professional life is pretty much in tatters, with his field agents feeling on pins and needles over the impending fallout that's to come if they can't take down the Cali cartel.

He'd spent his morning clearing tons of operations across all the DEA field offices, and another chunk of time hearing the latest status from Chris and Dan on what was happening within the cartel's inner circle. Security was doubled, staying edgy and much too paranoid to make any moves against them right now. Seemingly, though, in his paranoia, Miguel Rodríguez was keeping quiet while his brother still lobbied for the surrender deal. The narco killings had pretty much ceased, or at the very least, weren't spilling out into the general public to end up with negligent collateral damage. He figured that was something he could at least point to as a positive, if confronted—

"Boss, got a sec?" Stoddard pops his head into the doorway, and Javi checks his watch, seeing he has a few minutes to spare before your meeting, so he waves him in.

You arrive by elevator and waltz into the department, greeting a few people you pass before you look ahead and see that Stoddard and Javi are in conversation in his office. Deciding to hang back, you stroll idly over to the suspect board that takes up most of an entire alcove wall in the bullpen. You remember seeing a similar one in the old DEA department, back when Steve and Javi were hunting down the Medellín cartel. This one, however, seems much larger, outlining the structure of a more versatile organization. It comprises the fours capos along the top, with lines delineating their networks, known associates, and what it's suspected each manages. You can't help notice that some suspects don't even have photos as you skim the board with mild curiosity.

"Director! Sorry to keep you waiting. The boss is ready for you," Stoddard approaches you and gestures for you to go on ahead as he hustles by, seemingly sent off on some very important errand.

Smiling, you stride over on your spool heels and in your belted navy pencil dress, entering the office and finding Javi rummaging through his drawers for something. He's wearing a nice charcoal suit and a burgundy jacquard contrast dot patterned tie over the crisp dress shirt you ironed for him this morning. "Good morning, Agent Peña," you greet with serene charm.

Javi flicks his gaze to you and can't help smile broadly at the sight of you holding two coffee cups in your hands while balancing your folder to be pinned against your chest by your left forearm. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he tells you in a hushed rumble as he stands and frees your right hand by grabbing the coffee cup you hold out to him. "And, you're psychic," he remarks as he pulls the chair out for you before returning to sit behind his desk.

"Oh?" you chime and set your folder onto your lap to balance your cup between your hands onto it while he takes a long drink of coffee.

Exhaling a pleasant sigh, he grunts in the affirmative before elaborating, "I got a bag of coffee candies when I bought these yesterday," he taps at the nice box of fancy chocolates sitting on the uncluttered corner of his desk. "Which, I got as a thank you for your intern. I thought I shoved them in a drawer, but now I can't find 'em. Will she like the chocolates I got, at least?"

"Oh, she's going to love those," you chuckle warmly and have to suppress the fawning look you want to give him. "She should be in soon," is your unspoken suggestion; that he can pass the gift to Francesca sometime today.

"Great," he retorts before leaning conspiratorially over his desk to drawl, "So you know, it's taking every ounce of self-control I have not to kiss you right now."

You feel the apples of your cheeks radiate with your blush. "No te pongas atrevido," is your airy admonishment, arching a chiding brow at him all the while you're fighting the sly smile tugging to crest your plush lips. "I distinctly remember an agreement about keeping professional while at the embassy—"

"Well, I'm only saying I want to versus actually doing it, so, I think that counts as behaving," he remarks in a honeyed tone before adding with a soulful look, "It's an exploitable loophole in the agreement—"

"It most certain is not," you contradict and make a casual gesture to the surroundings as you laconically counter, "Your office is a proverbial fishbowl. One much-too-friendly glance or overheard come-on, and the gossip will spread like wildfire through the building."

Javi obstinately raises his brows and purses those delectably pillowed lips of his. "Tan terca," he sulks in a faux huff before taking a long drag from his coffee cup.

You snicker, despite yourself, and set your cup on his desk so you can open your folder. "Would you like to hear how your team is fairing, or not, querido?" is your smooth musing, one that becomes a sultry purr when you draw out the term of affection.

The heat that warms his brown eyes and softens his features is priceless.

With a grunt, he leans back in his chair and absently chews on his bottom lip before rumbling, "Yes, by all means, mi directora."

Primly, you sit back and toss your hair behind your shoulders before clearing your throat and smiling at him with your eyes as you start detailing the latest on his team's progress.

While he's listening intently, Javi can't help stare. Really, he truly can't help it. You look so in your element, confident and poised. He finds it infinitely sexy. It also helps that you're telling him a lot of great feedback about his team.

Handing over a copy of the status to him, you detail, "I think your team is on target to complete the pilot ahead of schedule, which to me indicates a real aptitude for it. Once we complete the program with them, we'll be sending out a survey to assess their feedback."

"Wanna go out for dinner tonight?"

You willfully purse your lips and glare at him. "Are you even listening?" is your sassy murmur, trying hard not to crack a smile at his infuriatingly handsome, smirking features.

"I am, and it sounds like my team has come a long way from being pains in the asses, so it saves me the trouble of cracking skulls," he tells you in a velvety chuckle and finishes his coffee with a smooth hum before pressing, "So? I shouldn't need to stay late tonight—"

"I might, though. My team needs to figure out the onboarding for Medellín," you cut in and wrinkle your nose at how he pouts at you. "Are you going to be free Friday night? Ellis invited us to his and Anita's place for dinner and movies," you offer conspiratorially after leaning forward in a way that any outside observer would think it's just you shifting to disclose something top-secret to him.

"I have a check-in with the deputy ambassador end of day, but nothing else that should keep me late," Javi retorts coolly before smiling as he wryly quips, "And I definitely will not miss it this time."

"Hmph, you better not—" you amusedly begin to jibe.

"Uh, um, 'scuse me, guys—sorry to interrupt!" You and Javi turn to look at Ellis as he vacillates in the doorway, looking very frazzled as he says your name and hastily blurts, "—Something's going on at security. They're not letting Francesca up, and it's kind of devolving into a whole thing, so we need to go straighten it out."

"What?!" you exclaim, perplexed as you look over at Javi before standing as you ask, "What kind of thing?"

Sparing a tense glance over at Javier, Ellis strides towards you and confides, "Garner, the head of security, is saying her visa is no longer valid, and they're refusing to let her up, regardless of her clearance."

"That doesn't even make sense! If her visa was really expired, we would've been alerted, so—" you pause your verbal stream of consciousness and tense as a foreboding feeling trickles down your spine before you turn to look at Javi and put your guard up as you parcel out, "I-I'm sorry. I gotta go handle this—"

"I'll go with you," Javi states as he stands and grabs his cell phone from the desk, pocketing it in his blazer. "Maybe I can help. DEA has a little more pull than you guys. No offense," he quips, trying to lighten your mood.

You hesitate, worriedly knowing Javi getting involved on your department's behalf will definitely stand out in all the wrong ways.

"Well, I am interrupting your meeting, so it would be a good pressure tactic," Ellis offers as a tiebreaker, and glances between you too.

With a determined look, you nod, deciding it's a minimal risk. With a stop off at your office to leave the folder and grab your purse, you set off to get to the bottom of things.

Once you three arrive downstairs at the security office, you find Francesca flustered, almost at the point of tears, blotchy-skinned and trembling anxiously as she sits in what you would consider to be a vestibule-style holding room that separates her from the front desk. Flashing your embassy badge, you curtly give your name and ask for Phil Garner, the head of security at the embassy complex.

The stout man meets you and tries to usher you into his office, but you insist, "Seriously, Phil. What's going on? You got my intern sitting there like she's a shoplifter!"

"I understand, but we're just following protocol. Her badge got flagged at the security counter, and when we pulled her up in the system, it showed she no longer has a valid visa—"

"She was literally here yesterday, Phil. So how the hell does that even make sense? It has to be a clerical error of some kind," you cut in, fierce and sharp-eyed as you argue while Ellis is assuring Francesca through the glass that they're sorting it out.

Javier knows Garner pretty well, so he covertly gestures over your shoulder with a sidelong tilt of his head for him to huddle to the side with him as he suggests, "At the very least, you could let the director talk to her and calm her down. She's turning red as a tomato in there."

Phil nods and signals for his guard to let you and Ellis into the room while he and Javi talk about possible ways to rectify this.

"I'm so sorry, Francesca!" you're emphatic as you hug the anxious young woman and assure, "We're going to sort this out. It has to be some clerical thing—"

"That's what Wayne said at the security counter, but then when he looked me up, it said my visa is expired?! What does that even mean? I have a month left in the semester, so is that going to affect my school?" she's stammering in a nervous chatter.

"No way, Fran. We'll get this fixed. It was likely someone stamping the wrong form, you'll see," Ellis offers and squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

You ask her to explain every single thing that happened once she arrived at the embassy. As Francesca does so, you glance out the glass wall and see Javier with his hand on his hip and impatiently gesturing with his other at Phil and what looks to be some kind of official from the Form Processing department who'd just arrived. You can somewhat make out him telling her there needs to be some kind of remediation to give Francesca a temporary waiver to move freely at least, but the official keeps shaking her head at Javier. They both just keep insisting what he clearly doesn't want to hear, and you suddenly feel like there's something amiss.

He looks over and catches your worried gaze, so he says something to Phil that shuts the man up and has him nodding before he goes to get you from the room. Once you stride over to where Javi and the official are, you try to keep your cool as she tells you that Francesca was flagged anonymously as a candidate for expulsion from the country.

"…So let me get this straight. You're telling me, that out of the blue, someone anonymously put in a complaint about her, and that is enough cause for you to pull a student's visa without any prior notice?!" you scathe cuttingly and level the sallow, glowering woman with an icy look that has Javi thankful you're not directing it at him. "I want to speak to your superior and sort this out. Phil, in the meantime, what are the options here? She cannot be held like this," is your imperious, no-nonsense insistence.

"Well, she needs to apply for a revalidation of her visa, but that could take weeks to approve, and technically she can't leave the embassy—"

"Let's pretend that I'm not going to accept that, and that I'm going to unleash holy hell for both of you if you try to hold this girl and ship her stateside without any cause," you interject with a disarmingly exacting tone that flares awe in Javi as he is relegated a mere spectator of your vehemently calm dressing down of these two people. "If I call the ambassador and get him to fax his personal exception to allow her to be released into my custody so she can at least get her affairs in order, are either of you going to fight me on that?"

"No fight from me, director," Phil surrenders.

The official hesitantly seconds, "N-None from me, but unfortunately I don't have the clearance to sign off on that—"

"That's fine," you cut in before turning to glance with a cool, professional air at Javier as you civilly state, "I apologize for the inconvenience, Agent Peña. I'll be sure to reschedule our status report at a time of your earliest convenience, and I appreciate you trying to lend your assistance in this matter. I don't wish to monopolize any more of your time."

Javier reads you loud and clear. "No trouble at all, director. Good luck," he retorts smoothly before shaking the official and Phil's hand, then offering you a curt nod in farewell as he turns and breezes out of the security office.

He spends the rest of the day wondering what the hell happened while you have to end up getting Ellis to reschedule the rest of your appointments in order to personally resolve the issue. You manage to get ahold of Crosby, and without any qualms, he faxes his exemption sign-off and makes the calls to essentially give Francesca a stay until the Form Processing department can justify the invalidation of her visa. The poor girl is overwhelmed and scared, so you talk everything through with her, counseling her to try and get her things in a place that if she did need to leave suddenly, it could be prepped for you and Ellis to help ship everything to the states for her, worst-case scenario. You also suggest that she speak to her professors and see if they can allow her to submit final papers, or take exams early.

"—I'm more than happy to speak to anyone at the school on your behalf and stress that this is not your fault," you're telling her now as you drive her home to her dorm.

"That would be great," she exhales, but you can hear how downtrodden she is. "Do you think there's a chance it won't get resolved in my favor?"

"The fact they can't justify it…" you begin to answer, but then trail off before amending, "It's best to be prepared, though. Luckily, you're close to the end of the semester anyway, so aside from being an absolutely ridiculous inconvenience, if you can get your professors to cut you a break, it might not be so bad—"

"But wouldn't it affect my ability to apply for a visa for next semester?" she worries.

Submerging your frown, you reassure, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

You drop her off and insist that she call you so you can go to the university and vouch for her, and once she's in her building, you drive back to the embassy, feeling dejected as you ruminate about the suspicious turn of events. Once you park and walk into the building, you try to shake the stress off, but can't help feel resentful and angry at the clearly broken system.

When you enter the workspace of your department, you can't help frown at the empty cubicle that used to be Francesca's. Her laptop is stored in your desk while a box with all her knickknacks sits on your couch. You go to sort through it to make sure all her belongings are accounted for, when you see the box of chocolates Javi had on his desk nestled on top of her cardigan sweater that normally hung on the back of her chair for days when it got nippy in the office.

Your heart feels heavy at the sight, and just when you plop your purse down onto the couch so you can reach into it for your cell phone, someone knocks on the sidelight of your office.

"Bad time, director?"

Turning, you have to douse your quick flare of disdain towards Bill Stechner, as he smugly stands in your doorway and slips his hands in his slacks pockets.

"Station chief. No, not a bad time," your tone is pure frost as you stride casually to your desk. "How can I help you?"

"You mentioned getting some status reports on the resources on my team that are in your pilot program. I figured I'd stop in and see whether I could grab those. If you have them, that is," the smarmy man snidely drawls as he leans his shoulder into your doorjamb.

"Actually, I do," you retort with the smoothness of an icepick as you pluck the report from your files and turn swiftly to offer it to him. "Not bad. It would almost seem like they're naturals at it."

Stechner offers you a facetious smile. "Happy to hear it," he drawls and takes the report from you. "By the way, I've been hearing great things about the system you've implemented. Hopefully, you'll be able to get the Medellín linkup running soon too. Inter-office setbacks not withstanding, of course," he lobs with conniving aplomb before smiling and tucking the form he's rolled up into the interior of his jacket.

You knew it, so you can't help counter, "Nothing that won't get sorted out soon."

"Oh, I don't know about that. User error or not, setbacks involving the visa process are notoriously tedious and time-consuming. Definitely the kind of thing that even with the ambassador putting in a good word, it won't expedite things," he drawls with a cunning, knowing look before goading, "Anyway, you have a good night," and then strolls out of your office.

Seething with vicious rancor, you haggle over the merits of running out and kneecapping the bastard. You had a sinking suspicion that this whole incident was a form of sabotage. It's clear to you now that this was the surreptitious man's way of payback for scuttling the majority of his resources he wanted to be part of the pilot program. You're just managing to suppress your impulses for revenge when Ellis rushes into your office.

"Shit, how'd it go?" he asks, referring to things with Francesca.

"Close the door."

Disarmed, Ellis shuts your office door and watches as you kick your heels off in a flare of temper and stalk around to your desk as you begin to rifle through it for something. "Uh, did I miss something?" he chortles before sitting on the edge of your desk to watch you look for what he realizes is your stationary with department letterhead. "Gonna write a stern letter to someone?"

"No. I want to write letters of recommendation for Francesca in case this doesn't work out," you hiss before slamming the stationary onto your desk and glaring at him, muttering, "And, I'm going to Medellín to do the linkup in person, so do me a favor and start looking at itineraries between now and next week. Whatever works best for our schedule, just go ahead and lock it in with the team there."

"Oook…you're not gonna tell me why, are you," he worriedly crosses his arms and frowns at you.

"Nothing for you to worry about. It just needs to get done, and I want to be there to see it through. Doing it remotely is hellish and not an option anymore, as far as I'm concerned," you tell him, pausing in your angry sulk to ruminate over something. "Also…I need you to give me a phone number."

"Who's number?"

While you give him the details, Javier is in his office, hoping you'll call him so he has an excuse to go home and meet you there.

The idea of going to your place and waiting for you hadn't appealed to him, hearkening back to when he'd waited that harrowing eternity for you to come home after the Danvers episode. The only thing that shakes him free of the forlorn feeling that starts to well in his chest from recalling that awful experience is the thought of how ferocious you'd been today.

Javi has always admired that, and frankly, it always awes him how you could intimidate anyone without being vindictive or mean. You were just someone that commanded respect, and he'd be lying if he tried to deny that it hadn't been a complete turn-on to see you in your boss lady element.

He's fondly replaying how you'd looked at him like a self-assured leader in the security office when his satellite phone starts ringing. Scowling, he begrudgingly answers it with a curt offer of his surname, as per his standard.

"Hey, man. I've been on assignment. Just got back and heard about what happened," Steve's raspy drawl fills his ear, and Javier relaxes. "The whole thing's fucked up."

"Yeah, that's my assessment of it as well," Javi laconically drones before rubbing the tense spot between his brows. "Assignment, huh?"

"Yeah. Spent a spell in the Everglades, trying to infiltrate some drug runners who were moving coke – aka big time shit," he sarcastically quips, earning a wry grunt from Javi. "Anyway, I wanted to check in. Make sure you weren't getting ready to hang fuckers upside down by their heels—"

"Absolutely not. That would be downright un-American, Steve," is his cavalier deadpan, which gets a dry chuckle from his former partner. "How're things with Connie and the kid?" he warmly queries.

"You know Connie. She's good. Olivia's getting ready to go to pre-kindergarten, which terrifies the shit out of me," Steve sighs. "Aside from work, things are real good, I guess."

Javi hums thoughtfully at that, becoming a bit pensive. "Hey…while I have you, I was wondering something," he haltingly muses, and when Steve grunts for him to continue, he rubs at his cheek before forging on. "When you decided that you wanted to take the next step. That you wanted to…that things with Connie had gotten serious? How did you make that move? I mean, did you just know and went for it? Or did you two decide on it together before you made the move—"

Steve cuts in on his rambling, gruff tangle of questions with, "Holy shit. Are you askin' when I decided I wanted to marry her?" When Javi sets his jaw and leans back tersely in his chair with a huffy grunt, Steve chuckles rambunctiously, "Is this for real?! Are you finally going to make it official? Get down on one knee—ask her to marry you—?"

"Christ. Just forget it," Javi grumpily huffs and feels like a flustered idiot as he impulsively rubs at his moustache before pinching his bottom lip admonishingly. "I wasn't looking to get my balls busted—"

"C'mon, Jav. I ain't bustin' balls. I'm just genuinely amazed here," Steve insists in that wily tone of his. "So I take it things are really good, then?"

Tersely, he sighs and decides to relent. "Yeah. They've been great, actually, all things considering," Javi retorts musingly. "And fine, sure… I've made it no secret to you that I wanted to make it official with her—"

"Jav, I'd specifically hassle you cuz I knew how uneasy any mention of getting married would get you, so don't bullshit me now," Steve cuts in sardonically. Javier rolls his eyes and scoffs, so his friend continues, "I asked her dad for permission to propose to her and for his blessin', and then I took her to the bowling alley we first met at, got her a beer, and got down on one knee."

"…That has to be the lamest proposal I've ever heard, Steve," is Javier's laconic derision.

"Hey, give me a break! It was about the sentiment, and Connie said yes, so," his former partner chuckles. "You got a ring yet?"

"Fuck no, I don't have a ring," Javi mutters in a hushed tone into the phone. "I'm just…fuck, never mind—"

"Well, whatever, bud. All I'll say is, I expect to be your best man, so don't let me down," Steve gravels tauntingly.

"Goodnight, Steve," he obfuscates flippantly instead. "Give Connie my love."

Once he hangs up, Javi can't help ponder things further, wishing suddenly he could get advice from a comforting, familiar source.

Huffing at himself, he decides to do just that, so he grabs his cell phone and makes a long-distance phone call.

"Peña residence."

"Hey, Pop. Hope it's not too late," Javi greets tentatively.

"Ah, mijo! No, you caught me before I made it to the recliner. How are things?"

"…They're ok. I, uh, I'm sorry for not writing you. It's been busy here," he mumbles before shaking his head and deciding to not be such a dummy and just get on with it. "I was actually wondering if I could ask your advice."

His father sagely hums, intrigued. "You sound like you need it. Go ahead. Shoot."

"Well, first off, I took your other advice, and got her back…" he can't help drawl.

"Oh, that's great news, son. I'm happy to hear it!"

Javi stands from his desk in order to pace, which he does on impulse; unable to stay still while on the phone, especially when he's prying out his stream of consciousness and working through it out loud. "Yeah, well, I've been thinking…and we've been talking about making plans together," Javier pauses before huffing deprecatingly and getting to the point. "I don't have a great track record here, Pops, so I guess I was wondering what you think would be the smart move?" he asks and idly runs his hand over his hair.

"Smart usually doesn't have anything to do with it, mijo," Chucho chuckles. "Do you love her?"

"Yes," Javi declares, without hesitation this time.

"Well…is she still not the 'marrying kind'?" his father rasps.

"I—" Javi pauses, realizing you hadn't really discussed that since that initial conversation. "I don't know. We haven't explicitly talked about that since we've worked things out."

"But you have been making plans together?" Chucho inquires musingly.

"Yeah. We haven't disclosed our relationship at the embassy yet. There's a lot that has to happen before we do that, but…we've talked about getting a place together," he tells his father and drops down to sit on the leather sofa, staring pensively out at the empty bullpen and workspace outside of his office. "How did you do it? I mean, when you asked Ma?"

Chucho lets out a fond sigh. "Oh, that was made simple for me. Your mother asked me if I thought I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her. I said I could, so, she smiled and said, 'Well then, we should get married some time before then.' I saved up my money, got the ring, and asked her soon after that," his father regales tenderly, which settles a warm tickle behind Javi's breastbone. "It's different for everyone, son. But you both should probably get on the same page before you get yourself all wound up over it," he can't help rasp amusedly.

"Hmph. Yeah…there's that," Javi laconically mutters as he loosens the knot of his tie. "Thanks, Pops."

"You're welcome, mijo," Chucho drawls, but can't help tease, "Glad that at the very least, I still have a chance at nietos."

Javier groans and drags his palm down his face. "Well, on that note, I gotta go," he drones, earning a wry chuckle from his father. "Cuídate, Papá."

"Tú también, mijo."

Feeling unflustered now that he's talked to his father, Javier looks at his watch and decides to head down and make sure you're ok. He finds you furiously typing away at your laptop, wearing those eyeglasses that help ease the strain on your eyes from staring practically unblinkingly at the computer screen. Your department is vacant, and the dull hum of vacuuming coming from the offices across from yours is the only other sign of life, so Javi knocks lightly on the sidelight of your door.

You glance up and find him standing there, and the serene smile that softens your features has him feeling punch-drunk. He notices your discarded heels on the floor at the foot of the couch, and he can't help grunt curiously. "Everything all right?" he murmurs before striding over as you eagerly save your work and shut the laptop.

"Yeah…just a little aggravated still," you mutter and tidy up your desk to quell the impulse to jump out of your seat and tackle him with kisses. "I'm sorry about the hassle of all that—"

"No hassle. I just wish I could've helped more," Javi reassures with a velvety drawl and casually slides his hands in his slacks pockets. He sees the box is still on your sofa, so he rumbles, "Ellis mentioned you took her home."

With a forlorn sigh, you remove your glasses and rub at the pressure point at the bridge of your nose. "Yeah. That really sucked," you grumble, fretting, "I don't think it's going to get resolved fast enough to not impact her plans. I just—" you pause, deciding you don't want to mention Stechner's involvement, or let him know about your suspicions on his underhanded motivations, so you clear your throat and huff instead, "I just want to fix this."

Sitting on the corner of your organized desk, Javi grunts in understanding. "I know you do," he rasps softly and gives you a soulful look with those molten chocolate eyes of his. "Wanna spend the night at my place?" he proposes in a low murmur, smiling as he adds cockily, "I'll make my stir fry."

You crack a smile and shake your head sardonically at him as you store your laptop in your drawer and lock it. "It's too late for all that—"

"Have you eaten at all today?" he can't help turn the tables on you, giving you a lopsided smirk when you have to coax your features into coyness. "Uh-huh. C'mon, gatita, let's go—"

You swat his arm with faux-snippiness and purse your lips at him. "Quit it, you," is your hiss as you grab your keys. "We have appearances to keep up—"

"Yes, ma'am," he wryly draws out as he goes to grab the box in order to carry it down to your car for you. "Although, I can't make any promises when it comes to behaving in the elevator," he teases as he lopes out.

Snickering, you retrieve your heels and put them on, shoulder your purse and tote, then shut your office light and lock the door before falling into step to the foyer with him, where he presses the button and smugly winks at you. You scoff and fight the wily smile that's quirking your lips as the elevator arrives.

Once you both step in and the elevator doors slide shut, Javi steals a kiss from your lips while he balances the box under his arm, keeping it pinned in place to his hip while his free hand cups the small of your back. You get lost in the warm, comforting smell of his cologne and natural musk, reluctant to part from it even when the elevator dings your arrival to the garage level.

Impishly, he pecks you on the cheek and lopes out like nothing once the doors slide open. You can't help snicker, amused and ridiculously fond of his hunky swagger.

Unbidden, your heart flutters, and for a moment, all the stress that you're carrying inside you is quelled. So, you follow his lead, ignoring the foreboding worry that still loiters in the back of your mind.

Dutifully storing the box in the back of your hatchback for you, Javi gives your waist an affectionate squeeze before letting you slip into the driver's seat. You smile as you watch him strut off to get into his SUV across the parking level, and once he's in, you drive off and see he's not far behind the entire drive out of the embassy complex and the short distance to his apartment building.

After you descend to the ramp, put the security code, then drive down and park in the visitor's spot, you take a moment to worry whether you're making the right decision about not telling Javi about Stechner's latest scheming behavior. Part of you doesn't feel right about keeping anything from him, but the objective side of you knows Javi will be furious and liable to confront the man, regardless of whether it plays into his hands or not. You've had to practically bellow at him the last time – when you'd showed him the note Stechner left you, so you can't help think that if he knew Stechner was pointedly retaliating against you? That he went out of his way to mess with Francesca's visa just to prove he can sabotage you, personally and professionally? Javier would surely blow his top and tear all obstacles in his way asunder in order to put his hands around the man's throat.

Just as your fretting starts to tangle you up, Javi pulls into his spot, so you submerge the angst before it can settle over your features and exit your car.

He chivalrously takes your tote from you and puts his other arm around you to escort you up to his apartment.

"Wanna hear something funny?" he husks as you get into the elevator and presses the button to his floor. Grunting curiously, you nod, blinking up at him. "So, Stoddard comes into my office before our meeting today to tell me that he heard something a bit scandalous might've happened between one of the guys you have running the training and the girl in records management on my team," he tells you and gives you a faux-stern look as you gasp. "Oh, yeah. Super scandalous. He wasn't sure if you were aware or not, so he wanted to give me a heads up, in case you brought it up during our meeting—"

"I've heard nothing!" you exclaim, nonplussed. "How is this funny?!" you snap and put your hand on your hip as you lean against the polished elevator wall.

"Ah, because I then told him that was something I needed him to counsel our staff on, and told him he had to immediately go give her a verbal warning before anymore gossip spreads," he tells you with a devious little smile before taking your hand and towing you down the hall to his door after the elevator opens and you just gape at him, astounded. As he unlocks his door and holds it open, he drawls, "Told him that he should discourage the staff from fraternizing at work—"

"Oh my god," you scoff at him. "You freaking hypocrite!" is your comical jeer as you saunter into his place and toss your purse onto the leather chair before whirling on him when he locks the door and chuckles smugly. "And what exactly is this gossip?!"

"So, your guy, Devon? I guess he and Noreen – from my records management division – worked late in one of the conference rooms this week, and got walked in on while he had her perched on the edge of the conference table with his hand up her blouse. She had her legs wrapped around his waist, lipstick prints all over his mouth and neck. They seemed to be 'indisposed,' as Stoddard put it," Javi regales with unabashed humor as he puts your tote aside and pulls you over to sit on his lap after he plops down onto his comfortable sofa. Your expression is priceless, so he bounces his brows at you when he adds, "Luckily, it was a colleague of hers that walked in on them, but you know the embassy. It's a fucking sieve for gossip."

"I can't believe it," you laugh and cover your hand over your mouth, baffled. "I never would've thought. Wow," is your amazed chuckle. "Oh lord, can you imagine what it would be like if everyone knew about us?"

Javi pouts. "I can, and have, but someone doesn't want to get 'indisposed' with me at the embassy—"

"Bien gracioso," you snicker and lean sidelong into him. "Guess I'll need to tell Ellis so he can have a talking to with Devon."

"At the very least suggest he lock the fucking door next time," Javi jokes, and you laugh and nuzzle his neck. "Alright, you lean back and relax while I make dinner," he rumbles and kisses your cheek before settling you to recline into the comfy sofa.

Melting, you stretch your tired bones and kick your shoes off, merrily watching Javi get to work in the kitchen.

Once he's plated a hearty helping of rice and steak stir-fry into a bowl, he hands it to you and sits next to you, content as you eat and chat more about the unexpected love connection between both your teams.

Then, after you both have your fill, Javi leaves everything to soak in the sink and herds you into the bathroom to strip and take a quick shower, where you both unwind after the long day under the warm water before drying off and moving to the bedroom. He surprises you when he thwarts you from going to the dresser for a nighty and instead tows you to the bed. Pulling the covers back, he sits you on the edge, and sits to brush up behind you so he can start massaging your shoulders.

You hum in appreciation, dipping your chin down and giving him access to kneading the muscles in your upper back and easing the tension out of the sinew at the nape of your neck. Dreamily, you let the towel fall to drape around your lap so you can plant your hands sidelong onto the bed when Javi caresses his warm hands down your back, sculpting his palms down your sides.

When he brushes a soft kiss to the back of your neck, you shiver. "Mmm, I could get used to this," you breathily murmur.

He chuckles, grabbing your lotion bottle and dispensing some of the silky cream into his palms. "Just easing the tension, baby," he quips, and you snicker as you cheekily lean back into him. Javi thinks about mentioning having spoken to Steve and his father, but decides you've had too much of a stressful day to get into a heavy conversation the mention of the topic he'd conversed with them over would certainly lead to.

So, he works on massaging the smooth, fragrant lotion into your supple skin, working you into a sensual trance that before you know it, leads to him stretching you to lay on the bed so he can knead his thumbs into the small of your back. You sigh, relaxed and pliant under his hands. Pleased, Javi discards the towels and shuts the lights off before tucking you into bed and spooning you lovingly.

It's sheer serenity, and the next thing you know, you're waking up the next morning feeling utterly refreshed. Relaxed and cozy in bed with Javi pressed up against you.

After stretching, you feel him brush up against you, warm and pulsing. A wiggle of your derrière confirms it's definitely the hard length of his morning wood nestled against you, and you can't help rub against it.

He grunts interestedly and encircles you tighter to him before rumbling a wordless purr behind your ear. You reach backwards to card your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as you grind back into him with a sultry little mewl of desire.

A fondling hand between your thighs and a nip to his jaw later, and you're having passionate sex, the kind that's yearning and hungry, but delectably tender as you rock into each other in your spooned positions. You love being enveloped in his embrace, curling backwards into him and moaning his name over and over as he fucks you from behind and groans huskily into the side of your neck.

When your orgasm hits, Javi prolongs it by rubbing ruinously over your clit with his talented fingers while he bucks into your rippling heat until his climax burns through him and blooms heat into your core. It's exquisite, and you both end up basking in the post-coital bliss, feeling grounded and settled.

By far, it's the best way to start your day.

Going through your morning routine, you agree to come over to his place after work before you kiss each other lovingly and set off to tackle your hectic schedules.

After your morning meetings, Francesca calls and asks for help speaking to the dean at her school, so you have Ellis reschedule a few appointments so you can meet her and make the rounds. The recommendation letters and Francesca being so well-liked by her professors help secure the accommodations you'd suggested, and once you've met with everyone, you treat the exhausted girl to lunch at a nice café just off of campus.

And now that you're away from the embassy, you're able to pull out her laptop and ask her to confirm a few things regarding the top-secret assignment you'd had her working on for you through the bulk of her internship. She's happy to show you the progress, and make suggestions for how to complete the code, but is curious when you ask if she thinks the function you want to add will hold up.

"—I think so, but why would you want to collect that?"

"Because I have a feeling someone is trying to exploit the system we've just implemented by trying to backdoor in via the pilot program. If that's the case, this will help me track any anomalous activity. Among other things…" you disclose to her, and she nods, showing you a patch to achieve what you're looking to track.

By the time you drop her off to her dorm – providing her with her boxed up belongings from the office and smiling when she beams at the box of fancy chocolates – 'They're a 'thank you' gift from Javi' – you feel a little better, but nowhere near over being angry.

You're feeling like you weren't able to do enough to rectify things. It continues to stress you out, and your mood doesn't improve when you return to the embassy and find out that while her visa has been fast-tracked for revalidation, there's no way it will clear in time for Francesca to salvage her stay to the end of the month. Aggravated, you have to swallow your fury and focus on the rest of the workday before you call her and give her the news after your last meeting.

Javi gets home in the evening to find you wearing a housedress and studying something on the laptop sat in front of you on the coffee table. He can smell the delicious aroma of dinner waiting on the stove for him while you're sitting lotus style on the floor, with your back against the sofa, rapt in what you're reviewing. It must be top-secret, because as soon as he drops his keys, wallet, and phone to the credenza and lopes over, you swiftly shut the laptop and set it aside. He doesn't get a chance to ask about it when you clamber up from the floor and practically launch yourself at him, kissing him with ravenous hunger. Enthralled, Javi picks you up and carries you to bed, where you tear at each other's clothes and fuck rapaciously.

It's completely wild, stress-relief sex – something Javi is very well-versed in, so he's more than happy to be that release for you, especially when he gets to surrender to your fierce, feral side.

Mind-blown and dazed after being ridden by you like your life depended on it until you both got off practically in unison, Javier dopily smiles up at you when you sigh and lean forward to worship him with doting kisses.

Once showered and in your fluffy robe and slippers, Javi lets you sit him back on the couch while you saunter over on aching muscles to serve him dinner. His stare is pining as he watches you putter around in the kitchen, in search for a pasta strainer. When you crouch down to look in a lower cabinet, you can't help wince at the protest of your muscles.

"Ugh, I could've really used a nice, long soak in a hot bath," you lament on a sigh as you find the strainer in the opposite cabinet from the one you'd just shut.

Grunting derisively, Javi decides to lope over and help you. "I always let you set the shower to scorching hot," he jibes and sidles up next to you so he can hold the strainer while you dump the pot of noodles in it in order to drain the warm water out in the sink.

"Hah, exagerado. The water's not that hot—"

"Baby, it's scalding as fuck sometimes. We come out pink as lobsters," he sneers comically, and you giggle after bumping your hip into his with a scoffed sound. "I'm serious, and you can't deny your idea of bathing involves being boiled or steamed alive—"

"Oh, cut it out," you snicker as you toss the noodles in with the delicious hybrid of Puerto Rican Bolognese you made, expertly stirring it all together before artfully scooping some in a bowl for him. "I just really prefer a nice hot bath sometimes, and tonight is the kind of night I'd love one, but your dumb apartment doesn't have a bathtub," you complain goofily and smirk when you feel your pajama-bottom-clad stud grunt and purposely lean into you so he can peer over your shoulder and watch you plate another serving for yourself.

"Fine, your place's bathroom is better, but you have to admit my living room is bigger—"

"Yes, but my bedroom is larger and I have more closet space than you—"

"And no air-conditioning, or a convenient in-apartment washer-dryer," he drawls, squeezing your waist affectionately to move you out of the way from the stove so he can pick up both bowls while you scoff and retrieve the forks and drinks. "I also have the better location, the in-building perks, secure parking—"

"But no nice balcony to have any plants, and no bathtub," you counter as you both move over to sit next to each other cross-legged at the coffee table to have dinner.

Exhaling noisily through his nose, he shoots you a soulful leer before smirking and remarking aloofly, "Then maybe we should get our own place together, one that checks off all of our boxes."

You pause the stirring of your fork and glance over at him while the butterflies of something effervescent and longing begins to flutter in your tummy. His stare is dark-brewed, deep and warm and intensely admiring you as he tilts his head in an almost teasing gesture as he hikes his brows in an expressive, unspoken taunt.

"Yeah…maybe we should," you confidently muse and go back to stirring your pasta, smiling when you feel him minutely tense, as if he hadn't expected you to agree. "And in a location that's close to Don Gilberto's, but not as far out as my place. Oh, and pet-friendly," you add to the list, and pop a forkful of spaghetti into your mouth.

The searing wave of pride that settles in his chest has him feeling charged and buzzing as it crests up into his eyes and softens his handsome features. "Alright. We'll start looking," he remarks coolly before digging in to his serving of dinner.

Needless to say, you're both in such a good mood, feeling settled and anchored in something hopeful and full of possibility.

After stowing the leftovers and washing dishes, you both contently head to bed, where you make love and fall asleep cuddled in each other's amorous embrace.

As you both get ready to head off to work the next morning, you confirm your plans for a couple's movie night at Ellis and Anita's, and once he's kissing you goodbye before you slip into your driver's seat, you can't help feel giddy. After all, you're looking forward to spending time with him amongst your closest friends. Doing the things normal, non-covert-couples do with other couples on a Friday night.

Javi's looking forward to it, too.

His father's advice is pinging around in his thoughts throughout the day, stirring him to plan for maybe having a deeper conversation with you about future plans – not just talking in generalities. Apartment-hunting as a couple was something he's never done before, and really, he can't help feel a little anxiety about what it will be like, especially when he's got so many other things juggling in the air. Professionally, shit is a mess. And no matter how much he wants to pretend it shouldn't dictate your plans together, it most definitely does, so Javier figures you both have to talk through exactly what you both want, sooner rather than later.

Heading into his meeting with the deputy ambassador, Javi expects to hear updates that will only make his timetable worse, but instead is surprised to hear that Crosby won't be returning for another couple of weeks. His wife, Nancy, had ended up needing to get an emergency procedure done, and while he was a tough and badass Navy man, Crosby was not about to leave his wife to recuperate alone. So, the deputy ambassador would strictly be punting major decisions back and keep things afloat in the meantime, which was the reprieve Javier was not expecting, but was damn glad for.

While he's counting his good fortune of not having Crosby around, you're exasperated to not have the ambassador available to help reverse things with the visa issue. On top of that, Ellis tells you that the travel ban is still in effect, so he isn't able to coordinate a trip to Medellín for the linkup…at least not in an official capacity. So, you decide to put in for a couple of days of time off – that way you can drive up, do the linkup with your team at the field office there, then visit with family and help with the wedding prep. You're eagerly putting in for the time before you realize that you didn't consult with Javi before doing so.

The fiercely independent part of you scoffs. This is your work. Javi runs off to do shit without consulting you all the time. You can't wait for the ban to lift, not with a deadline looming and shit to do for your cousin's wedding. If he doesn't like it, then tough, is your testy thought. Still, it bugs you a little – gets added to the growing list of things you decided to keep from Javi strictly because you want to handle things the way you want without hearing his contrary dissent.

Shelving the worry, you head to Javi's to change out of your work clothes and wait for him so you can both head over to Ellis and Anita's together. You stop on the way to get a bottle of his favorite whiskey and one of that amazing Chianti to take over with you.

Javier arrives maybe half hour after you and finds you busying yourself by sorting the laundry from the hamper to be tossed into the wash.

"You and laundry," he snickers as he waltzes over and pecks you on the lips before stripping his blazer and undoing his necktie. "Leave that. I'll do it later—"

"Just admit that you like it when I clean up after you," is your ribbing retort as you abandon the sorting and flop onto his bed to watch him get dressed. You're already in a cute long-sleeve violet turtleneck top and black pleated skirt, so you get to watch him strip out of his suit and into a pair of gray Levis as he snorts and shakes his head contrarily at you. "C'mon, admit it," you heckle as he pulls on the chambray cuff-sleeved button up he just pulled off of a hanger before shrugging his sculpted arms into it and yanking it over his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, sure, fine. I like it," he relents as he deftly buttons the shirt closed and tucks the hem into his jeans before zipping them up and grabbing a dark leather belt to loop them with. "But you're also a weirdo that loves doing laundry," is his tease as he leans over and steals a kiss before fastening his belt closed and going to grab his boots from the closet.

"Says the dork who's content to stack piles of laundry all over the place – shoving them in corners or stuffing them in the machine like a slob," you razz and hop off the bed to retrieve a pair of flats you think will go with your outfit once he's moved to his dresser to brush his hair.

Amused, Javi purposely crowds you from behind and starts relentlessly nuzzling kisses into the back of your neck as he herds you out of the bedroom once you've slipped the shoes on. "I'm not a slob. You're just a neat freak," he counters smugly and suckles a daring kiss into your jaw, since the turtleneck shields your neck from his puckish lips.

You gasp and swat at him to stop before whirling in his arms and pinching pressure points just under his armpits. "Tan jodón," you scoff derisively before fiddling with his shirt collar and smiling when he paws his hands over your ass. "You have to behave tonight. No groping me during the movie-watching—"

"Look who's talkin'. You just keep your hands to yourself, gatita," he challenges charmingly, patting your ass as he kisses your lips. "Now, let's go, before I just take you to bed and spank this sassy ass for fucking teasing me," he growls provocatively and gives you a sexy, smoldering look that makes you tingle.

With the bottles in hand, you arrive at Ellis and Anita's no more than 15 minutes later. The married couple greets you both jovially and ushers you in to their cozy abode. In no time, Ellis is pouring drinks for you both and chatting while Anita sets the table for dinner. You help her plate the delicious food and carry it out while the guys talk.

"Did she tell you yet?" Javi can't help query at Ellis while you all settle in at the table.

"About?" Ellis blinks and looks between you guys.

You elbow Javi playfully. "With all the visa craziness, I hadn't gotten the chance, chavón," you snipe amusedly at him, and Javi just chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey. "So, Stoddard reported to him that Devon and Noreen – a resource from Javi's team that's part of the pilot – were caught fooling around in one of the conference rooms," you tell Ellis.

"What?!" your deputy incredulously gapes and balks over at Javi. "For real?!"

"Yep. I told him to give Noreen a warning," Javier retorts before digging into the savory Peruvian-inspired dish. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"Thank you! Family recipe," Anita chimes brightly and drinks her iced tea. "So? Does that mean you have to reprimand Devon?"

"Well, I don't know about a reprimand, but I do think Ellis needs to sternly warn him about the gossip and needing to be more discreet," you remark musingly before taking a bite of chaufa and swooning from how tasty it is.

"Me?! I'm giving the warning?" Ellis whines and crosses his arms.

"Yes. Javi's deputy did the warning on his end, so my deputy should do the same," you smoothly retort before wryly adding, "Plus, it would be some real hypocritical shit if I was chiding him, after all."

Javi blows a raspberry and puts his arm around the back of your chair. "Very hypocritical, director," he drawls glibly.

Anita laughs, and Ellis grunts in defeat. "All right, but I'll have to squeeze that awkward discussion in sometime before you leave for Medellín for the linkup," he offers casually and takes a drink from his glass. You feel Javi's arm minutely tense behind you, and you internally swear and squint your eyes scathingly at Ellis. He's on delay in comprehending when he remembers you mentioning how Javi had been terse about you wanting to go to Medellín despite the travel ban when you'd brought it up to him previous. "Oh, uh, yeah—sorry," he lamely blurts, and you want to facepalm.

Instead of getting all gruff and surly, Javi surprises you by simply glancing at you and rumbling, "When would you be going?"

"Next week. I'll do the linkup, then spend a couple of days running around to help with all the wedding stuff," you answer, feeling a bit of relief when he just hums and takes a drink from his glass.

"If it wasn't for the deadline, we could just wait until the ban lifted, but that doesn't seem to be happening any time soon, with everything going on—" Ellis' ramble abruptly hits a speed bump when Anita covertly kicks him under the table. "—Anyway! We got tons of movies to pick from for tonight. My brother, Trevor, is in media distribution out on the west coast, Javi, so he's always sending me the latest movies," he goes on to gush as you finish eating. "What're you guys in the mood for? We got action, dramas, a ton of comedies—"

"I'm in the mood to laugh," you tell him as you help Anita clear the table.

"I'm good with whatever," Javier remarks good-naturedly and nods his thanks when Ellis tops his drink off.

Genre decided on, you four end up sitting in the dark and viewing the first selection – a Robin Williams comedy. Javi enjoys it mostly because of how much you laugh and snicker goofily into his shoulder.

This? Being with you on the loveseat, with his arm around your shoulders with you snuggled up into his side? He never knew before how content something so simple could make him feel. It also is nice to share in the levity with others.

He chuckles when Ellis is putting in the next comedy and you're arguing with him about some of his previously atrocious movie selections. "—Oh my god, you should've seen the stupid Patrick Swayze movie he made us watch!" you heckle while Ellis insists it was a fantastic flick, even while Anita shakes her head imploringly at Javi, assuring him it was not. The next movie is one you're all laughing at, the hilarity of the mismatched couple dealing with the hell of sinking their combined fortunes into a proverbial money pit of a house being surprising zany and filled with tons of slapstick comedy. But, it's when your friend puts in the most ridiculous premise of a movie you've heard of in a while into the VCR that Javi delights in your snarky repartee with Ellis. "—So, this is The Terminator, who is an undercover cop, passing himself off as a kindergarten teacher?" you can't help give the synopsis as the upcoming attractions play.

"Yep!" Ellis chirps and puts his arm around Anita as she cuddles into his side, under a fluffy throw.

Javier vaguely knows the reference, but says nothing as he leans back in the loveseat and wraps his arm around your waist. "Sounds like I'll be having to seriously suspend my disbelief for this one," he jokes, and you snicker, looping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

The movie has its laughs, and you enjoy having Javier chuckle or snicker into your hairline as he gives you an irreverent squeeze every once in a while. The next movie Ellis chooses once the credits roll is really hysterical, and you find yourself laughing effervescently at the eccentric wedding planner who's making the father of the bride utterly miserable. You don't expect the movie to end up pulling at your heartstrings a little when Steve Martin reminisces about watching his daughter grow from the small little girl she was to the convivial woman she is at the end. Javi looks at you from the corner of his eye and sees how your eyes gleam with a faraway emotion. It strikes him as a veiled longing, but then you turn your face to nuzzle into his neck, and heat wells in his chest.

Once the movie's ending theme plays and the credits scroll, you look over at the clock on the wall and decide to call it a night.

"Those were great picks," you tell Ellis.

"Yeah, the cop one was especially ridiculous," Javi seconds, snickering, "Although, I think the kids account for all the funny parts."

"I'm kind of glad my students aren't as young as that. I don't know if I could keep a straight face if they were constantly talking about boys having a penis and girls having a vagina," Anita laughs while she turns the lamp on.

"Pfft, right? That movie was free birth control, as far as I'm concerned," you joke as you slip your feet back into your flats.

Javi is taken aback by that, but doesn't let on to it, instead cataloguing it for later.

Gathering your purse, you and Javi thank Ellis and Anita for a wonderful time, promise to do it again sometime soon, and wish them a goodnight before strolling out through their courtyard to his car.

You feel a little sentimental after that last movie, so you're not aware of the stolen glances Javi's giving you as he walks you to the side of the car to open the door for you, nor the few while he drives. It isn't until he's stopped at a traffic light that he looks over at you with a glint in his eye you can't quite read that you sense he's ruminating with something.

"When were you gonna tell me you were going to Medellín?"

Despite yourself, you fidget in your seat as you retort, "I told you about it last week—"

"You said you needed to go. There was nothing planned then," he cuts in with a terse mutter, eyes back on the road once the light turns green. "You told Ellis not to say anything—"

"No, I didn't. I'd mentioned how cagey you got about it when it came up last time," you amend, feeling a bit defensive, for some reason. "And anyway, I was going to tell you, but we've both been busy. I wasn't keeping it from you."

Javi stews on that before remarking, "There's been plenty of time for you to mention it. The fact you didn't—"

"I didn't because, frankly, I've not been in the mood to justify things to you. Not after the last few days I've had," you interject curtly and cross your arms in the way that signals to him you're getting peeved. "It's not a big deal, Javier."

"Why can't you do the linkup remotely like the one you did last week?" he questions as he turns down the avenue towards the block his apartment building is on.

"Because that was a pain in the ass process that took double the time," you answer crisply before crinkling your brow and glowering at him. "Doing it in-person is going to be infinitely easier, and I told you I have to help run errands for the wedding—"

"Yeah, but that can wait, can't it? No reason to be traveling while the ban is still in effect—" Javi mutters and spares you a glance when he sees your shoulders wind back. "What? What is the problem with waiting?"

"Because I don't want to wait?" you counter imperiously before snapping, "I don't get on you about your itinerary every time you go off somewhere, so I don't like you grilling me like I'm doing something wrong—"

"I'm not grilling you," Javi insists, glaring sidelong at you as he drives down the ramp to his building's parking garage. "Look, I know you're pissed off about what happened with your intern, but I don't see why you're suddenly wanting to rush to Medellín when shit is still so volatile—"

"Because I have things that are very important to me that I want to get handled!" you huff, getting very irritated with him now. "What is this – is your work the only shit that matters? Is only what you do important enough to give you leeway to go wherever, at the drop of a hat?"

Javier pauses after he rolls the window down in order to punch in the code for the security gate. "What? No! I didn't fucking say that," he grumbles, puts in the sequence, and drives down once the arm lifts. "I'm only wondering if something happened for you to now be so goddamned gun-ho about going next week—"

"Yes, something happened. A deadline that's always existed is getting closer, and I want to get this done so all the work I've poured into this system amounts to something," you cut in, tone cavalier and on edge. "I have a lot riding on it being successful, and it really means something to me, seeing as Ellis and I have spent fucking years lobbying for it. And now that I'm so close to getting it fully operational, you're questioning me like I'm just planning a frivolous trip to the middle of a warzone—" you're detailing snippily all the while he zoomed down the ramp and pulled into his parking spot, and once he puts the car in park and turns the engine off, Javier grips the steering wheel and intends to just listen, but then you misrepresent his point of view, so he whirls on you.

"Ok, you want the truth?" he barks before leveling you with, "No – I don't think any of that is important enough for you to violate a travel ban. Shit here is day-to-day fucking dangerous, and I don't want you going anywhere if you can help it—"

"You don't think my work is important?"

Javi pauses in his tirade when he sees how wounded you are, even though your tone didn't waver in it's icy monotone.

"Fuck, no—that's not what I meant to say—" he begins to correct, but you turn away.

"No, it's what you think, though," you accuse in a murmur. "You don't think my work matters."

"Querida, that's not true," he husks tensely and reaches for your shoulder, but you shy away. "I didn't mean it like that—"

"Do you know how fucking scared and worried I always am when you go off to god-knows-where without ever consulting me, or even bother fucking telling me before you fuck off on your dangerous operations?!" you verbally lash now, glaring at him as you shout, "I have never made you feel like what you do doesn't matter or isn't fucking important, even if it's something I don't think is worth the risk—that it could lead to me losing you. Do you know how much that fucks with me? How crazy that makes me feel?!"

Javier doesn't know what to say, and when he just glowers helplessly at you? It makes your heart hurt, so you turn away, scoffing in exasperation.

"You're not the only one dealing with shit. Having to contend with fucking sabotage or the threat of losing everything," you seethe in a sullen tone and angrily unbuckle your seatbelt as the hurt and stress of everything begins to wear you down. "I'm not just sitting here waiting for you to succeed. I have my own plans, and I've worked hard to get here. My work means something, even if you don't think any of it matters—"

Contrite, Javi insist, "I don't think that, mi amor. I just—I just don't see the urgency—"

"I think I'm going to go home," you announce as you rub at your forehead in frustration.

"We're already home," Javi grouses and puts his hand on your shoulder. "Just come upstairs—"

"No, I want to go home to my place," you tell him despondently before opening the door and adding, "I just want to be alone right now."

He feels a spike of distress twist in his gut at how upset you sound. "Baby—"

You're rushing out of the car, keeping your expression turned away from him so he doesn't see how hurt you are as you exhale, "It's fine. I'm just gonna go."

Shutting the door, you sprint to your car and get in before Javi can try and stop you. You hear him shout your name, but you concentrate on pulling out and driving off, only sparing a glance at the rearview once you're heading to the garage's exit ramp.

You see Javi standing in disarmed disconcertion in the reflection, looking tense and bewildered. He gets smaller and smaller in the rearview, and your eyes brim over with tears as you drive away from his building, feeling horribly guilty and overwhelmed by the dueling sense of betrayal you have.

In a depressed daze, you make it to your apartment complex, park, and mope across the courtyard up to your apartment. While you're crawling into bed, stripped and feeling hollow in your chest, Javier is pacing the length of his apartment, smoking a cigarette and bewildered. He's trying to piece everything together, to understand just why the conversation took the turn into an argument like it did.

She's fucking stressed, you asshole, the harsh, self-flagellating part of him irascibly sneers.

Stubbing the cigarette out into the ashtray with a furious huff, he sulks by propping his elbows on the counter and running his fingers angrily in his hair before pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and snarling at himself. You told her the things she cares about weren't important enough—after having to lose her intern so suddenly, no less. You're a fucking asshole.

Upset now, Javier pours himself a glass of whiskey and chugs it before hissing from the burn. She asked to be alone, so just give her space, then apologize, his reasonable, albeit hopeful, conscience insists, so he begrudgingly pours himself another double before downing it in a swallow and drops down on the stool in order to wait for the buzz to kick in.

Once it does, Javi decides he'll tell you exactly how he feels, be honest about how uneasy it makes him when you're so stubbornly willing to go off on impulse the way you do – without regard for yourself. How it makes him anxious, and spurs him to want to make you reconsider.

How much he yearns with the need to protect you.

And, he decides to profess that he wants more than just to find a place together.

That he loves you, and sees himself spending the rest of his life with you.

He doesn't know how unsustainable things will become in the weeks to come, and how it will change everything in his life, but for now, his goal is to make the most important thing in his life an even higher priority.

His goal is to prioritize you, and prove what matters to you matters to him. So, he crawls drunkenly into bed and passes out on the thought of doing just that, first chance he can.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Yo perdí lo mas querido cuando perdí a mi mama, (Todo tiene su final), Pero seguí pa lante y pa lante, (Todo tiene su final), Has como yo nunca eche pa tras, (Todo tiene su final) = I lost the dearest thing when I lost my mother, (Everything has its end), But I continued forward and forward, (Everything has its end), Do like I do and never slide backwards, (Everything has its end)

Todo tiene su final, nada dura para siempre, Tenemos que recordar que no existe eternidad = Everything has its end, nothing lasts forever, We have to remember that there is no eternity

¿Y que miras? = And what're you looking at?

Guayabera = Traditional Latin American button down/formal dress shirt worn by men; usually worn by men to look distinguished

Mi amor = My love

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Sí, patrona = Yes, madam/ boss lady/mistress

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

¡D-Dios mío, Javi! = Oh my g-god, Javi!

Nada de eso, mi rey = None of that, my king

Gringa puta pendeja bruta anormal de la vida = American bitch dumbass stupid idiot of life

¿Me entiendes, mi amor? = You understand me, my love?

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

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Mi gatita malvadita = My wicked little kitten

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

Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl

Que dulzón = What a sweetheart

No te pongas atrevido = Don't get bold

Tan terca = So stubborn

Mi directora = My director (female)

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Nietos = Grandkids

Cuídate, Papá = Take care of yourself, Dad

Tú también, mijo = You too, my son

Bien gracioso = Real funny

Exagerado = Exaggerator

Tan jodón = Such a pain in the ass; Such a fucker

The song referenced and translated above is "Todo Tiene Su Final" by Willie Colón and Héctor Lavoe.

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