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?

36. Chapter 36: Pésame

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral and unprotected sex. Mentions of grief, guilt, destructive self-harm, hopelessness and self-loathing. Descriptions of rough sex, toxic coping mechanisms, and emotional trauma. Allusions to toxic family dynamics, angst, and triggering resentments. Some Protective!Javi, Sad!Javi, Bereft!Reader, Distraught!Javi.

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Chapter 36: Pésame

Javier doesn't hear from you for a couple of days.

He's called dozens of times, stopped by your place and knocked on your door with no answer, and covertly dropped into your department early one morning and found your office door shut as if you'd not been to work yet. Frustrated, he'd tried to be patient, but he felt a nagging concern. It stuck with him, and when he kept missing chances to check in with Ellis, he'd even broken down and asked Marisol if she'd heard from you. Practically accosting her first thing as she clocked into work, Javi had tried to hide his worry, but his eyes simmered with it and the set of his brow made it obvious. The kind woman had frowned and told him she hadn't seen you since lunch earlier in the week.

So, now truly worried, Javier had tracked down where Ellis was, immediately after.

Your friend, and deputy, was handling some final arrangements with the stateside linkup's diagnostics, so Javier found himself venturing down to the lower-level server room. It was a bit of a labyrinth – the lower level snaking off into corridors and hallways, so once he was off the elevator, he had a hard time finding his way. Luckily, he turned a corner and found Ellis talking to a tall, muscular and broad-shouldered ebony-skinned young tech lead with a goatee and a megawatt smile as he seemingly laughed at his superior's joke.

"Deputy Rose. Can I have a word?" Javier calls out as he strides over, not catching how the other man stares at him and becomes a bit nervous.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Ellis retorts and clears his throat before turning to his subordinate and directing, "Can you cover for me, Devon? Just in case, here are the logs." Once he hands over the bound manual tucked under his arm to the man, he waits for Devon to nod in deference to Javi before ducking out around the corner and back into the server room. With a weary exhale, Ellis hurries over and mutters, "Not here. Let's go up to my office."

Going stoic, Javi nods and follows the man back down the way he'd come, into the elevator, and up to the IT+IS department. Once he's ushered him into his office, he shuts the door and gestures in invitation for Javi to take a seat. Trying to break the tension, Ellis derides, "I'm sure you gave Devon a panic attack with how you came around the corner like that. He's been sweating getting in trouble for dating your staffer—"

To be polite, Javi sat in the chair in front of his desk, but he only waits for Ellis to sit in his before he refuses to hold back any longer.

Gruffly, Javier interrupts, "Listen, I know where your loyalties stand, and I have no illusions that you'd betray her confidence to help me out. But she's ignoring my calls, not at her place, and from what I can tell, she's not showing up to work, which is completely out of character for her, and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm fucking worried. And I can't pretend it isn't driving me nuts—"

"Oh…shit. You don't know?" Ellis croaks, shoulders slumping as he leans heavily back into the chair. When Javi's stare just gets flinty and he shifts to sit forward in his seat with an impatient gesture of his shoulder's squaring back – fidgeting hands curling into fists he presses into the tops of his knees – Ellis looks truly downtrodden. "She's in Medellín. Her grandmother passed away…"

Hearing that is like a blow he hadn't seen coming. Javi wilts backwards into the chair, heart dropping and sadness filling him up instantly. "When?" he asks, baritone low and heavy with his subdued grief.

Ellis didn't think he wasn't aware of it. But then again, he hadn't bothered to ask you. It had all happened so quick – getting your heartbreaking phone call, rushing over to take you to the airport, assuring you not to worry about a thing and making sure to help you get to the gate. He'd hugged you tight, and it wasn't until this very moment, seeing Javier look gutted and left to flounder in the woeful feeling he's trying to keep bottled up that he realizes something must've happened between you both.

Internally kicking himself now for not having immediately wondered why he'd been your first call rather than Javi, he sobers and answers, "The other night. She passed in her sleep. When she didn't answer the door the following morning, her sister-in-law went in and found her still in bed…"

Javier feels ravaged by corrosive guilt. He listens to Ellis tell him about having spoken to you briefly – mentioned the vigil and prayer services, and how Sunday was when the funeral would happen. But all he could think about was how devastated you'd be, and how his heart broke for you. How everything he'd been worried about ceased to have importance, and all he wanted was to be at your side, unconditionally.

You're utterly bereft.

The overwhelming sorrow comes in waves. Sometimes it's a manageable crest. Other times, you feel like it'll pull you under like a violent rip current – stealing your breath and making you want to go numb.

Right now, as you sit in the funeral home for the second day of the vigil – your eyes ache from crying, and you feel hollow. Every so often, someone new comes in to pay their respects, to come over and offer their heartfelt condolences, before sitting for the velorio. You vacantly think about how the most efficient thing in all of Colombia – the one thing that ascends bureaucratic ineptitude or corruption – is death. Funerals are the most swiftly arranged, courteously handled affairs. You wonder if it's due to tradition. After all, a typical wake and funeral in the states is a paltry event compared to the multi-day, austere-yet-reverent traditions and funeral rites undertaken in a velorio.

Your grandmother's will had insisted she did not want the typical five to seven-day affair for her services, however. It had made you crack a smile to hear her words read out on the matter:

—Please be considerate of working folk and abide by my wishes. I don't want a big fuss! Just please have white lilies, and enough picadera and hot chocolate so no one has any room to criticize.

You hear her voice in your head, and before you can stop it, you feel the tears overwhelm you.

Sitting next to you, your cousin rubs your back as you hunch forward to breathe through the bout of grief while your aunt pats your shoulder and soothes you with words of solace that mollify you. Your handkerchief is damp from how often you've wept, and you vacantly wish you could get your eyes to stop the torrent.

It hurts. The sadness burns through you as you look up and see your grandmother in peaceful repose. Her features are shrouded in the ethereal white veil draped over the casket, softened by the glow of the votive and continental candles arranged throughout the funeral parlor. Almost on every surface there are sprays and vases filled with flowers of all kinds and pastel hues. The parlor is fragrant with them, along with the whiff of hot chocolate and coffee some of the mourners indulge in. Your morose gaze lingers away from the lily-bursting wreath over the casket towards the queue of people waiting to pay their respects. A twinge warms your chest to see so many come from far and throughout the city to honor your 'Buela – to pray for her and genuinely be sad for the loss of her to the world.

You think of your mother then, and feel another bout of guilt and stultifying anguish roil through you.

Then, anger sets in.

It's raw and visceral, searing into your bloodstream and fueling something vicious in you. The fact that the sudden thought of your father triggered it should make it fleeting, but the feeling lingers defiantly in you as you stew about how you'd been unable to get ahold of him.

"—Unfortunately, he's indisposed due to being in an active training exercise in the Indo-Pacific. I will pass along your message as soon as communications are back online—"

Your anger blocks out the replayed assurance, convincing you that it doesn't matter. Him not being here doesn't mean a thing, so why bother caring.

But still…the little, frail part of you that holds out hope tries to cajole you. He could make it! Once he hears the news, he'll come straight away—

"Hey, why don't you take a break," your cousin coaxes in a gentle whisper as she rubs your back. "It's late, you can sleep in the resting room—"

"I don't want to sleep. You guys can go. It's fine," you dazedly murmur as you hide your features while you quickly dry your eyes and sniffle. "Someone has to stay—"

"C'mon, comadre. If you want, I can drop you off at the house? I have to pick up my sister to come by—" Miguel's volunteering as he leans over the back of your row, but your cousin gives him a death glare, so he falters and amends, "I-I mean, if you need anything, I could go by and get it—"

"No…I think I'd like to be alone, so going to the house would be good. If it's not too much trouble…" is your neutral, flat musing as you secure your purse to your shoulder. You aunt and cousin give you worried looks, so you sigh, "It's fine. I just can't…I'd like to be somewhere quiet and decompress."

Nodding in understanding, they hug you in turn, agreeing to come by the next morning and pick you up for the final day of the velorio before you nod vacantly and wander out of the parlor with Miguel, who leads you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. You let your mind wander as he drives, half listening to the salsa song on the radio, staring at your bare nails you'd picked clean of the red polish. The fixation in wanting to strip them of the glossy-red lacquer had helped you from coming apart on the plane ride from the capital. But now, the nails are as dull and bare as you feel.

When the car ride gets a bit gloomy, Miguel tries to make small talk, and you entertain it as best you can. You ask him about his pending trip to go and train for his job, and he's able to finish regaling you with the details just as he pulls up to the street and cruises to the front curb, in front of the rosebush-flanked closed gate.

Dusk is washing the neighborhood in tangerine and blush hues, so you get distracted by how pretty it looks before snapping your attention back to thank Miguel and give him a goodbye peck on the cheek before exiting the car. He waits chivalrously until you've unlocked the gate – which squeaks in protest when pushed wide. You get lost on the idle reminiscence of how that damned squeaking made it impossible to sneak out all those summers ago, snapping out of the reverie when you realize he clearly intends to linger while you get to the front door, so you smile humbly and wave him to go on.

Once he drives off, you let yourself deflate, now that no one is around to see it. Dejectedly, you close the gate after yourself, hanging the lock on the loop and feeling a bout of melancholy wash over you at the distinctive squeak of the jam catching just before it clicks shut.

It's been like that since you were a kid. You can hear your grandmother chiding your grandfather about needing to oil the joints. It's teasing and melodious, and you feel your eyes well over.

Pushing the flood of memories that threaten to tow you under away, you vacantly stare ahead at the front porch and the looming wooden door as you trail up the walkway pensively with your purse hung precariously on the slope of your shoulder, keys clinking jauntily in your hand. Stop being weak. Pull yourself together.

The admonishment is sharp, and helps stifle the needy, longing parts of you that are beginning to unravel like the hem of a painstakingly crotchet piece made of the most delicate yarn. You're feeling it tug at the seams of you – the thought of the emptiness that awaits and the writhing anguish you can't contain preparing to swallow you up, so you're just resolving to keep yourself together the few more steps and seconds needed to get into the house, when you hear the gate open with that damn squeak.

You turn with a wavering expression you intended to train into apathy, even though you don't feel the control to manage it, when your eyes fall on Javi.

He's standing just beyond the now open gate staring plaintively over at you, his rumpled dark blue suit tightening across his tense shoulders, expression etched in tentative worry while his soulful gaze takes in your drawn features and palpable sadness.

"Querida…" Javi rumbles in an apprehensive breath, worried he's overstepping his bounds, but the moment he sees your eyes fill with tears, he rushes to you when your sob catches in your chest as you run towards him.

It was instinctual – to seek his grace in your lowest moment, so before you realized it, you were across the walkway and clinging to him while his arms encircled you tight.

You crumble – burying your face in his chest and weeping while Javi literally holds you from falling to your knees in a sorrowful heap.

His heart breaks, lump lodging in his throat. Seeing you in so much anguish and unable to take it away from you – to protect you from it, makes him simmer with helplessness.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," you hitch out between shaky sobs, causing Javier's brow to furrow with his deep frown as you hiccup, "I-I was s-such a b-bitch—"

Hugging you tightly and consolingly rubbing your back as he presses fortifying, tender kisses to your temple and brow, Javi insists gently, "Nada de eso, mi amor," cupping the small of your back and coaxing you to lean into him and just regain your bearings while he assures soothingly, "You were not a bitch. Everything you said was true. But we don't have to talk about it now. Come, let's go inside."

Nodding against his chest, you lamely reach into your purse for the handkerchief and hastily scrub your face before looking up at him with your teary, red-rimmed eyes. He cups your cheek and leans down to rest his forehead to yours before he takes your keys and leads the way to the porch. Once he's opened the screen door and unlocked the carved wooden door, he ushers you through the threshold.

The house feels like a cavern now.

It's dark from all the windows being shut, aside from a faint flicker of light coming from down the hallway that's spilling out from one of the farthest bedrooms. So, Javier finds a light and switches it on, bathing the living room and part of the hall in its illumination while he takes your purse and sets it aside with the keys onto the table before guiding you to sit on the couch. The day's heat lingers in the shut-in space, begging for the windows to be cranked opened so the early evening breeze can filter through. He's about to turn away to close the front door and crank the nearest row of windows open when you hold onto his hand pleadingly.

Javi stares down at your tear-filled eyes, damp lashes and flushed cheeks, plush bottom lip trembling with the effort to not burst into wailing tears, and it makes his chest feel tight. So, he crouches down in front of you and caringly pets your hair from your face before caressing his warm hands over your cheeks, sweeping his thumbs to brush wayward tears away. You stare into his deep brown eyes before he leans in to brush his lips over yours. Your breath catches in a flutter from your staccato breathing before you lean into him and let him comfort you with soft kisses. He hums soft, mollifying sounds as he feels you become docile in his embrace, palms caressing you lovingly. You let out a shaky exhale as you rest your hands on his broad shoulders. A few seconds of his doting affection helps the terror you'd been anxiously anticipating ebb away.

When your breathing evens out, he shifts to sit next to you so he can properly wrap his arms around you and let you lean heavily into him.

He scents your hair and holds you protectively while you cling to him, getting lost in his natural musk entwined with everything that comforts you about his masculine smell.

The soft material of the black dress you have on bunches against his palm when he rubs your back, distracting him to think about what he could even say to console you. There's nothing he can think of that could possibly convey his condolences to you when he knows how deeply you loved your grandmother. Still, he struggles to think of something to say, but then, you let out a weary, distraught sigh.

"I didn't get to say goodbye again."

The pang of grief is like a jab to the ribs, leaving him feeling inadequate and unable to alleviate your pain. It's too immense, and the hurt rooted in your hushed lamentation has Javier wishing he could steal it all away. "I'm sorry, querida," he hoarsely murmurs into your hair before nuzzling you and squeezing you tight. "I'm so fucking sorry—"

You hiccup a bitter little laugh after having to quell the instinct to admonish him for swearing in the house. Where she could hear him and not approve.

It all comes apart then. The dam of your emotional fortitude breaks, and in the violent flood, everything gets swept under as you're seized by a vehement anger you can't control or even comprehend.

"N-No, no—why are you sorry?!" you snap as you reel back from his arms and lash out to stand on your heeled feet. Javi stares hesitantly and thinks you're furious with him, but then he sees how your emotional walls are falling as you begin to cry and rail, "You've done nothing to be sorry about! You've just been wonderful no matter how horrible I've been—so wrapped up in my own selfish nonsense t-that I didn't even r-realize," your voice breaks, so you cup your hands over your face and weep, "I didn't realize I would lose her! I didn't notice how tired she was getting…I wasn't here for her—"

Javier's eyes sting with the burn of tears he's biting back from spilling over through sheer will as you struggle with your grief, but when you seem to be on the verge of hitting critical mass in your tirade, he ends up flinching when you suddenly snatch your heels off in flustered upset and chuck them with clattering bangs against the far wall down the dimly-lit hall as you seethe, "I should've been here! After everything I've put her through, I should've been here for her," you sob and fist your hands in your hair before crying, "What if it's my fault?! She was so fucking scared and it was too much stress—"

He realizes you're referring to having been abducted, and his stomach drops. Unable to stand seeing you tighten your fingers punishingly into your scalp as you wail self-flagellating blame, Javier rushes to you and tries to console you – to sway the tempest of your devastated anguish into calm, but you wring away from him and keen as if you're containing a feral scream. He pleadingly murmurs your name over and over, as if trying to rein you back from the precipice he's afraid you're about to fling yourself off of, and when you press your curled fingers distressingly into your eyes and let out a pained whine, Javi wraps you up in his embrace with possessive care, hushing your frustrated whimpers, as he holds you.

Just as he thinks he's got you anchored, you try to reel away with a scalding exhalation and hiss, "I can't bear this! Not again—not again," before your voice cracks when he firmly holds you to him and presses pleading kisses into your hairline, temple – anywhere his lips can reach while murmuring insistent pleas for you to calm down and trying to keep you from lashing away.

"Please, mi amor. Don't push me away. I know it's too much, but I don't want you to hurt yourself—" Javi's supplicating in a strained tone as you keep trying to pull away like a wounded animal desperate to curl into a ball in a cold, dark corner.

His words seem to strike something fragile in you, though, because you turn your distraught features up to him and see how scared he is. It hurts you so much to know you've made him feel so viscerally afraid. And before you can catch your hiccupping breath, the sorrow flares like a flame over kindling and catches fire, morphing into an inferno of self-hatred and rage.

"I c-can't—can't stand it!" you rail and cling to the lapels of his blazer, completely unhinged in your tumultuous emotions now as you shakily whimper, "I can't fucking bear feeling like this! Please—please, I need to feel something else. I'm so fucking angry—"

In your manic state, you clung to Javi and pressed your forehead to his, and when he could feel your hysteria winding up to become another frenzied lashing out, he pulled you close and kissed your heated features. Your tirade stuttered in your chest as he buried a hand into the back of your hair and anchored you with his strong grip before he kissed your lips, grabbed the small of your back and pressed you against his broad chest.

The base desire to be overtaken from this hysteria into gratified, grounding carnality has you wilting into his embrace and frantically cupping his face to kiss him back.

A tremulous mewl catches in your throat when Javi squeezes the nape of your neck and his hand at the small of your back gropes over your ass before hiking up the back of your skirt when he deepens the kiss. You're suddenly adrift in this new feeling, and yank on his blazer in desperate need to remove the barriers between you both in order to be pressed against his skin. Longing to seek his powerful body and be consumed by it.

Breaking away from his mouth, you bury your hands in the back of his hair and crane your neck back to his voracious suckling kisses as you beg, "Oh my god. Javi, please, I n-need you. I can't—can't stand it—c-can't handle being this way—!"

It's then he hastily wrestles out of his blazer and flings it away before grabbing you up and yanking the collar of your black dress down to expose your chest to his possessive grazes and nips. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch into him, gasping as you feel the ridge of his cock rut against the heat between your thighs while he takes you to the nearest soft surface – the couch. Javier hastily shoves the coffee table out of the way with a well-placed shove of his foot that causes it to slide across towards the closed windows before he presses you down onto the sofa. His mouth never stops tracing covetous kisses down your neck while he places you on the cushions and maneuvers so you can stretch out under him.

You moan when he drags his mouth from your clothed nipple to the delicate spot under your jaw. He snakes his hands between your bodies so he can rub your pussy through your now drenched panties with one while he hurriedly unfastens his belt and undoes his pants with the other. Your head swims in the lustful mire his plunging you into, feeling primal and overcome.

His thumb grinds over your clothed clitoris and ignites molten need from the seat of your core, making you ache and throb for him as you fist your hands in his hair hard enough for Javi to grunt.

He fumbles with getting your panties rucked to the side thanks to you bucking impatiently up to sit, and demandingly start yanking his gold and blue jacquard necktie undone before tugging hastily at the buttons of his dress shirt.

A primal urge is let loose in him when you mouth the side of his neck and press yourself against his body after he grabs at your dress and manipulates it down from your shoulders. It's how you're practically latched to him, hands digging into his muscles, mouth grazing hungrily along his skin before your teeth catch on the flexing corded tendon of his neck.

The beastly desire he tries to keep at bay snaps into that feral, dominant avarice to possess you and take you like you yearn to. You're out of control, demandingly frantic with your need to be controlled. Javi feels it when he yanks you back from suckling his neck, hauls you from sitting on the edge of the couch, flips you around and manhandles you to be on your knees on the floor. He sees it when you gasp in heated surprise and arch back as he strips the dress from your body and nudges his forehead against the back of your head in unspoken command for you to submit. And he relishes it when you flatten out over the seat of the couch as he snatches your soaked panties off and roughly sucks a kiss into the side of your neck.

Your head is filling with furious hunger that has you buzzing and shivering, mewling to be utterly possessed and taken apart by him – desperate to stay in this limbo of burning passion he's redirected into the sinew of your core from where it'd threatened to raze through your chest.

The wanton ache of your dripping cunt pulsing with need when he drags his fingers through your folds has you shamelessly arching and groaning for more. His receding fingers earn a whine before dazedly, you sense the shift of him kicking his shoes off and shucking his disheveled dress shirt from his torso before he steals your breath by yanking you back by your hips, spreading your knees apart to plant on the terrazzo floor before he cracks the palm of his hand down over your ass.

Wearing only your black bra now, your breasts bounce and jiggle in the cups with how you rock forward and toss your head back at being spanked so. Your face burns from your pussy clenching hard and cloyingly drenched over with a flood of arousal as you moan and writhe. Javi rewards your delicious reaction by crowding you and lining up his thick, throbbing cock against your slit from behind before he thrusts into you to the hilt on a rough groan.

The savage delight that claws up from your core at being taken like this has you moaning an elated sound he's never heard you make. And when he punches his plunging stroke deep into you now, you bow your head and beg, "Yes! Please, oh please," choking on a gasp when Javier starts to fuck you rough and hard while he fiercely concentrates on making you feel swept up and enraptured. It's a compelling force – his need to take your self-destruction away and fill you with pleasure, making him feel fiercely intent in grounding you in the exhilarating state of being overwhelmed by only him, as he plucks you apart with filthy vigor – intent of driving you into a state of ecstasy.

The heat in the stuffy room has your head spinning and amplifies the delirium of your arousal, making you entuned to the fever of your flesh being pressed together, breaths ragged and cries of pleasure incandescent as sweat beads your skin and the obscene squelching of Javier's cock fucking your silken cunt fills the space. It's rapturous, and your addled senses vibrate from the feel of his strong, commanding hands gripping you as if he's molding and willing the kinetic energy inside of you to bend to his dominion. He's holding you so tight, that you feel sheltered and alight, all at once. You moan his name and shiver from how this thought spins you up with delight.

A delight that thrums under your skin and anchors you back to the carnal thrill of being fucking railed by Javi. You feel so good being stretched and grabbed – feeling the press of his fingers and the dig of his cock laying claim to you inside and out.

Javi can feel it – how you clench and flutter around him, and can see how lusciously you're arching and rolling your hips back to meet his slamming thrusts.

But after a particularly rough pound into you that makes you whimper and grip the cushion in front of you tight, Javi yanks you to straddle back over his thighs as he loops his arms around you and swears gruffly, "Fuck, I'm being too rough—"

"No! N-No, please, no, don't stop—feels too good, please, Javi. Please, mi amor, fucking use me. Just fuck me until I can't feel anything else but you," you sob entreatingly and nudge your head into his with feral longing. "I can take it, I swear! Please m-make me yours—"

Your reaction and fevered words stoke something blazing in him, ardent and beseeching as he fists his hand in the back of your hair and dominates you with his kiss. It turns you into a pliant bolt of sinew he unspools and makes his, shifting you easily from being pressed backwards against him one minute to now being held in his arms as he forces you to face him and straddle his lap. You whine when he roughly rips your bra off your torso in order to free your breasts to his hands before he pinches your nipples and watches your mouth fall open on a reedy cry. He lunges forward to lick and suck each in turn, possessive mouth on each pebbled bud. When you cling to him and moan, Javi pinches one nipple with his fingers while he pinches the other between his teeth with lascivious gusto.

"Oh fuck—Javi!" you gasp out and writhe in his lap, notching the head of his cock to grind into your clit and earning his growl of approval.

He licks a possessive swipe up between your tits and groans when you paw your hands into his hair for leverage and buck forward. Your arms drape around his shoulders as you unabashedly kiss him and suck on his bottom lip for more of his dominance, grinding your pussy along the length of his straining cock and gripping the hair at the back of his head with needy vehemence.

Javi takes your hips and angles the cant of your pelvis just right to be speared down onto him in one deft stroke, unearthing a throaty cry from you as you curl into him and get lost in being disassembled by him fucking you with ferocious zeal now.

Your cunt is a molten vise, getting silkier with every pound of his cock into it. He can feel you on the edge of being torn asunder by your orgasm, so he braces his back against the hard wood of the sofa's upholstered base and kneads his fingertips into the swell of your ass as he feels you start to ripple and clench hard, so he moans your name and growls in filthy promise, "You'll take it, and let me have it all, cuz you're my good girl. So good that I'll keep you like this for as long as you want—"

You whimper and mouth messy kisses along his jaw and neck as you cling to him like he's your lifeline, and when he wraps his hand firmly around your nape and bucks up hard into you, he nestles deep into that divinely ruinous part of your aching cunt that has you seeing the universe behind your eyes.

Your sheath clamps down and floods over with your incinerating orgasm as you wail his name and fall apart.

Dissolving into pleasure and ecstasy, you mewl inarticulately as you ride him through the zenith of your climax. With your eyes screwed shut as you're bouncing in his lap in the sweaty, naked throes of your euphoria, Javier gets off on how enraptured you are and how your hands cup the back of his neck so you can lean blindly forward and seek his lips, his cheeks – all the warm and flushed parts of him you can devotedly shower kisses over.

But it's when your eyes flutter dreamily open and you give him a dazed, enchanted smile that Javi's control crumbles.

He wraps you up against him and uses the couch for leverage to push up and balance you with your legs wrapped around him so he can hammer his surly need into you. The angle has him grinding into your clit just right, which spins you up into a prickling build up all over again, just as his cock strains and swells inside you and his balls pull up tight against him.

You toss your head back when Javi pounds you into a titillated state that has you gushing your sudden climax all over his apex as he fills you with welling bursts of his seed. His groan comes out a broken husk as he buries his face against your neck and susurrates, "I love you. Love you so much—let me stay. Let me be yours."

Your eyes brim with enthralled tears from his words, and you curl into him lovingly, nodding and kissing him with yearning fervor.

All the remaining energy in your sinew is spent in cuddling and nuzzling his sweaty features, and Javi's just as exhausted, but he manages to shift down to the cool tiled floor and drapes his arm under your head so he can tuck you against him as you both stretch out in disheveled heaps in the middle of the living room floor.

The slick heat between your thighs and the heavenly sensation of being against the cool surface while you radiate warmth is a welcome combination of stimuli. You're still tingly, and the sensation of his spend seeping out of you makes you shiver as you hook your leg over Javier's hip and nestle against him. He holds you and recovers his ragged breath while he feels you settle docilely next to him, with your lips grazing his chest softly.

You lie like that for a while, your mind filled with fog. It's only when Javi strokes the sweaty hair at the back of your ear with gentle reverence, and your tender scalp lances with pain from being yanked by you in your frenzied state, that you start to fall back into yourself.

Taking his hand and stilling its ministrations, you caress it to cup your cheek instead as you shift to gaze up at him.

In a hushed, tremulous voice, you tell him, "I'm so sorry…I'm sorry for being out of control…that you had to see that—that you needed to deal with me, after I've been so undeserving of your love—"

Javier says your name, cutting you off with the gruffness of his baritone, as he declares, "—I don't ever want you to think that, or feel like you have to hide and suffer alone. I'm here. I will always be here for you. No matter what. Do you understand?"

Awestruck, you nod, feeling relieved yet overcome by his unwavering grace, and when he kisses your forehead, you melt and cuddle into him. He rolls onto his back and tucks you snuggly against his side as you both relax in silence for a bit.

"…Are you uncomfortable? If being like this hurts your back, we can move," you mumble after a while of staring at the ceiling, and tilt your head against his shoulder so you can peer up at him.

"Actually, the cold floor feels good. What is bugging the shit out of me are my clothes being all tangled at my ankles," Javi rumbles and glances down his body when you sit up and gape for yourself.

His trousers are bunched up and tangled with his underwear acting like an elastic cinch while his leather belt is pinned under his ankles. The sight of his gray-sock clad feet wiggling against the restraints of his bunched clothes makes an effervescent laugh burst from your chest before you dissolve into a fit of giggles at the absurdity, and when you look at his silly features, quirked in a feeble grimace, you laugh harder and bury your face in his neck to submerge your guffaws.

Relieved to assuage the grief and anchor you into the moment of silly levity, Javi kisses your shoulder affectionately and smiles when you sit up to dutifully help get him free of the entanglement.

He's just finished pulling up his rumpled trousers after standing, when you gasp, "The door was open!"

Glancing backwards with a snort, he looks down at you still sat on the floor in the nude, and smirks when you pull your knees up against your chest bashfully. "Shit, I gotta go to the car and get my duffle, too. Think the whole street will be watching me?" he derisively drawls as he picks up his dress shirt and shrugs it on.

Blushing, you picture dozens of peeping eyes leering from cracked windows at a cockily strutting Javi as he skips and whistles jovially to his car. "Luckily for you, you're a consummate sinvergüenza and that sort of thing won't faze you," is your sardonic jibe as you snatch up your dress and drape it to cover your frontal nudity as you murmur tenderly, "But hurry back?"

Retrieving his keys from his blazer, Javi chivalrously swoops it over to cover your shoulders before crouching to kiss you softly on the lips, and nodding in agreement. He goes out and hurries back to you, leaving the front gate open and closing the front door firmly behind himself before securing the lock. When he turns, he sees you wearing only his blazer as you open some of the windows a crack so the evening air can filter through. You've maneuvered the coffee table back into place in order to reach the windows, and are currently on your tippy toes turning the crank to open the tallest pair. The jacket is several sizes too large and makes you look slight, stirring that primordial, hardwired protectiveness in him and making his heart brim over.

You catch him staring, and feel a wistful longing expand in your chest, so you walk over and take his hand, leading him down the hall and into the bedroom you stay in. Once he sets his duffle down, you both strip and go take a shower together. When a flustering bout of sadness hits you, he soothes you under the warm cascading water and helps you get through it.

He rubs your back and lets you sob against his chest until you've gotten it all out and can take a deep breath without having it stutter out of your lungs. After you've dried off and gone back to the bedroom, you are emotionally drained, so Javi helps you put on your nightgown, and tucks you into bed before going to shut the lights off. The door clicking shut stirs you from the light doze you'd started to go into, and the hiccup of panic subsides when Javi slips under the covers behind you and settles in to spoon you lovingly. His warm body and gentle kiss to the back of your ear calm you, so you stretch your legs and curl backwards into him as you clasp your hand over his after he's placed it to rest at your womb.

In the serene cooling air of the room and the soft nocturnal sounds coming from outside, you feel him lull, but can sense he's still awake, so you mumble, "Did you eat anything?"

Javier nods and nuzzles the back of your neck, before murmuring, "I ate at the airport. Are you hungry? I could get you something—"

You shake your head and squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I'm fine. There's food brought in throughout the day…picada, pastries, coffee, hot chocolate…" you answer detachedly before sighing. "Did Ellis tell you I was here?"

He grunts affirmatively before retorting softly, "I'm sorry for everything, cariño. The other night…you were absolutely right. It incenses me that I wasn't there for you—"

Rolling over to face him, you loop your arms around him and shake your head dismissively. "No, stop that. You didn't do anything wrong, Javi," you whisper and hug him tight. "But…can you spare being away from the capital right now? Won't you need to go back—?"

His exhale is testy as he tucks your head under his chin. "Don't worry about that. We can talk about everything later, mi amor," he assures smoothly and kisses the top of your head.

Nuzzling his chest, you relent and let out a bone-melting sigh as you close your eyes and let his warm scent and rhythmic heartbeat lull you into slumber. Javier easily falls asleep soon after once the exhaustion of everything weighs into him.

The next morning, you both wake up around dawn, and in the cool morning tranquility, you tell him everything that happened. Really, you pour everything out of you while Javi strokes your hair and listens. You tell him from mundane trivialities of insisting on lilies throughout, to the daunting task of dealing with the will and the estate, to being heartbroken at the thought of having to go back to the family crypt in order to lay her to rest, alongside your mother, grandfather, and uncle. You weep, and he comforts you with assurances that you won't have to deal with it alone.

When you regain your composure, you change the subject to pragmatic planning – agreeing to return to the capital together, how to handle the back and forth you'll have to undertake until everything with the estate is resolved, what will happen with work. Javier internally frowns at the thought of you feeling distraught and overwhelmed, so he ushers you both to get out of bed and prepare for the day, wanting to distract you away from the heaviness of impending obligations. At having to deal with burdens foisted upon you while having to reel from the loss of a profoundly loved person and pillar within your life.

By the time you're both dressed, Javi leaves you to finish brushing your hair so he can retrieve his shoes from the living room.

You find him a short while later in the kitchen, in mid-prep of filling the coffee kettle. At seeing your wavering expression, he pauses and realizes you're overcome by the fact he's handling it at all – that he's touching your 'Buela's timeless appliance. You manage to rein your aggrievement and swallow the lump in your throat as you march to the cupboard to retrieve the coffee cups.

"They're going to be here soon to pick me up. Do you want to ride all together?" you query thickly before clearing your throat.

Javier sets the kettle to heat on the stove and goes to you, encircling your waist from behind and nosing the top of your hair. "Sure, that's fine. Whatever you want, querida," he replies coolly and comically grunts a startled sound when the rooster in the neighboring house starts crowing loudly. "Maldita sea, I will never get used to that—"

You giggle and turn in his embrace to snicker into his neck. "Aren't you from a ranch? How'd you get away with no roosters crowing you out of bed?" is your cheeky inquiry as you lean against the counter and smile up at his wry smirk.

"Easy – we didn't raise chickens!" is his snarky retort as he squeezes your waist affectionately and steers you to sit at the table so he can prep the coffees the way he remembers you make them from last time.

Once he serves you a cup and joins you at the table, he lets you gather your thoughts in silence while you sip the brew. It also lets him recall how tense he was – sitting in the rental car parked at the corner of the street, waiting for you to come home. He hadn't wanted to just show up at the funeral home, and while he'd waited, he thought of every single mistake he'd made the other night, and had resolved to tell you everything that was going on. Seeing you get dropped off, he'd exited the car and steeled himself, not knowing what to expect or if he was crossing a line by being there.

Looking at you now as your faraway gaze sharpens and your eyes soften on him, Javier wants nothing more than to protect and cherish you. So, he reaches his hand over to lovingly clasp around yours.

You smile and rotate your hand so you can squeeze his affectionately. "I missed you," is your soft whisper, weighed down by your emotion.

"I missed you too," Javier murmurs and raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your palm before he declares, "We'll get through this, corazón."

It's everything you needed to hear in that moment.

As you're both finishing your cups a short while later, your ride shows up and knocks on the front door, so while you rush to go get your shoes on, Javier goes to the door and answers, clearly surprising Miguel, your tía and prima. They all warmly greet him, however, but it's clear to him that when you'd shown up alone earlier in the week, they'd not dared ask about his reason for being absent. He smoothly blames work for holding him up, and when you emerge from the hallway with your heels on, but looking a bit frazzled, he grabs your purse and keys, realizing you'd forgotten where you'd left them, and hands them to you before chivalrously escorting you out the house once you've exchanged hello kisses on the cheek with everyone.

He rides up front in Miguel's car while you sit in the backseat with your aunt and cousin, who whisper to you about how good he looks in a dark suit and tie. You smile flatly, because you agree, but don't want to think about why Javi's wearing a black suit and tie. Your own black pleated dress feels stifling – as if much too snug, so you fuss with the collar the entire drive to the funeral home.

The stress and anxiety build as you all exit the car once Miguel parks, and even though you've made this trek now several times, that foreboding panic starts to brew up in you. Javi takes your hand and gives it a fortifying squeeze before leading the way for you, and you cling to his arm, feeling relief overwhelm you at having him by your side.

It's a painful reminder for Javi. He'd not been at a funeral since his mother's, an experience so dauntingly soul crushing that he'd sworn off ever going to another funeral again for as long as he lived. But, here he was, and no matter how much he compartmentalized it, he felt grief fill him at the sight of all the people there, praying and viewing in silence in collective payment of respect to your grandmother. Sadness clung around his heart at how you fought not to break down into tears, and he found himself biting back the emotion stirred at the sight of her in repose under the soft veil. His mind replayed every moment he'd shared with her, and now his heart hurt at the thought that he didn't get to ask her for her blessing to marry you. That he wouldn't get to spend more wonderful moments with her and you, like he'd hoped and fantasized about.

It's a long day of mourning, and save for a few breaks to get refreshments or decompress out of the main parlor, he spent the bulk of it at your side, with his arm around your shoulders. Javier consoled you when you would sob, held you close when you needed his shoulder to hide your face in, and whispered to you whenever he thought you needed a break. Every once in a while, though, whenever someone new came from the outside of the building into the parlor, you'd crane your head up and around to see who it was before your eyes would wander dejectedly back into a faraway stare. He came to realize that you seemed to be expecting someone, and every time came up disappointed.

It wasn't until the end of the day, when you'd both gotten dropped off, and you'd wandered off to unlock the gate, that your aunt had whispered that they'd been trying to get ahold of your father, but hadn't been successful.

You never mention it to him, though. Not after you shower, nor in bed that night. And he doesn't ask, not even the next morning when you're at your most resigned. He senses you're making peace with the disenchantment, and are walling yourself off to the pain that's yet to come. Today is the day things move to the cemetery, and your final goodbyes happen, and everything in you is revolting – seething with rancor and denial.

Having opted to drive to the funeral home together in Javi's rental, you are able to hone all the control you can muster without the pressure of being at your best around family.

"I just want to fucking scream and break things," you confide crossly as you sit in the passenger seat, gripping the hem of your elegant black frock and bunching the material impulsively after he's parked and you'd made no overture towards being ready to exit the car.

"I know," Javier rumbles and squeezes your shoulder before caressing his hand up the sloping muscle of your neck to knead his fingertips along your nape. "And, while I'm sure it won't be much of a consolation, later – if you want – you can slap me around—"

You snort and press the back of your hand against your nose to stifle a sniffle. "Christ's sake, Javi!" you snicker and suppress your lopsided smile when he cups your shoulder again. "I don't ever want to slap you around, you dork. Let alone to amuse or make myself feel better," is your surly huff before you pout and lean forward to rest your forehead to his. "I'm going to be a horrible mess…I'm sorry in advance."

"Nothing to be sorry about," is his soothing assurance, eyes softening as you blink back a crest of tears that dampen your lashes. "I love you," he murmurs tenderly and brushes his lips gently over yours before caressing your cheek.

"I love you too," you whisper and kiss him before gesturing that you're ready.

The final viewing day is a mass that precedes the last prayers and blessings. You're in a bereaved daze throughout it, and Javi is your rock – at your side, leading you up for the procession, and supporting you every step of the way.

You see Ellis and Anita at the back of the packed parlor and sob, feeling truly touched that they came all this way for moral support. They take turns embracing you, and once the procession heads out to the cars to begin the pilgrimage to the cemetery, the Roses ride with you and Javi. You're able to vent the last of your anxious energy, and by the time you all make the trek through the cemetery to the family crypt, you think you might be able to get through this without falling to pieces.

But when the priest says the last blessings and places your grandmother's urn next to that of your mother's, you lose all composure and begin to weep inconsolably, and Javier's arms and unflappable strength are the only things keeping you from crumbling to your knees under the weight of your grief.

It's brutal, and Javi holds you through the end of the ceremony, feeling horrible and upset at catching you forlornly searching around the crowd of mourners for a sighting of your father, but coming up empty. When it's over, and the bulk of the mourners say the final farewells and well wishes to you and the family, Javi leads you back to the car. Some close family and acquaintances agree to come by the house for a little bit, so you end up going on autopilot after that. The drive there is heavy, and the cloud of despair hangs over you from the time you arrive and go into hostess mode to when you sit for an hour vacantly greeting people who stop by to pay their respects, bring you food, or giving their condolences.

Javier nurses the beer Miguel handed him while he tells him about flying out for his training on Tuesday, and watches you humor one of the neighbors who'd come from across the street to offer, "Mi más sentido pésame," along with a homemade dessert that your aunt dutifully takes to the kitchen for you.

You're just giving her your sincere thanks when the house phone starts ringing. Everyone goes quiet when you sit up straight in your chair and stare in direction of it, but make no movement to answer.

Intrepidly, your cousin rushes over, and answers before going very silent. She spares a glance your way when she greets your father, unsure of what to do.

The phone is at her ear for only a few more seconds before you've stormed over furiously and yanked the receiver away from her and raised it to your own to snap, "Why aren't you here?! After everything, you couldn't even respect her enough to be here?!"

"Tesoro…I'm sorry, I just got the news—"

"We've been calling you the whole week! I even reached out to that corteja you call a wife, and for what?! For you to be utterly unreachable?! That's how much you give a damn about anything other than your stupid post? What about your oath to your family?!"

"Listen to me, mija! I know you're upset. However, it was out of my control. I would've been there if I could have—"

You cut off your father's resonant and even tone to slash, "Acabo de sepultarla," letting your hard declaration of 'I've just entombed her,' weigh your fury before you level him with, "This is the last time I'll ever have to bury a family member that was more of a parent to me than you ever were, so be sure to never count on me being at your goddamned funeral."

You slam the phone down and turn on your heel to storm out of the room and out through the backdoor in a furious exit that leaves everyone tense and bewildered. Javier swears solemnly under his breath and puts his beer down to chase after you, hearing your cousin and aunt apologize on your behalf to the guests as he rushes out. He finds your heels discarded by the backdoor before he spots you out in the sprawling yard, aways from the house's back patio, tucked out of sight behind one of the mango trees. Really, he only spots you when he catches the sound of your sobs, and when you don't respond to him calling your name, he crosses through the yard and goes over to you.

"Hey, c'mon. Come here," Javi croons as he gets close and you turn away in exasperated upset. He patiently coaxes you around so he can pull you into his arms and hug you. "It's ok, mi amor. You don't have to run off and hide from me."

"I'm so ashamed," you sniffle and bury your face in his chest. "She would've been so upset with me for speaking to him like that! B-But he just makes me so angry – always has an excuse, no matter how important something is. His warped priorities always come first," is your venting tirade as you cry, and Javier doesn't know what to say to it, so he consoles you by holding you to him and nuzzling the side of your head while you wear this outburst out. Sobering and frustratedly scrubbing at your eyes, you murmur lowly, "I hate being so weak…"

"You're not weak," Javi assertively presses and tips your face up by curling his hand under your chin. "And you don't have to justify anything to me. Not to anyone else, either," he insists as he cups your face and brushes your tear streaks from your cheeks. And with a deadpan sneer, he drawls, "So, if you want to sit under this tree until everyone leaves, we'll do that—"

"Javi, s-stop being silly," you snicker and hiccup, frowning at how he had to get his shoes dirty from the dewy grass and moist soil thanks to having to rush after you. "That's a level of bratty even I can't get away with," you sigh and lean against him.

Chuckling, he kisses the top of your hairline, and mutters, "Wanna be a malcriada in the shed, then?"

You scoff in amused outrage and swat his chest before giving him the most dazzling smile. It's the first time he's seen it since your last fight, and he buzzes with pride when you caress his cheek and stand on your bare tippy toes to kiss him chastely.

Once you're able to steel yourself again, Javi takes your hand and leads you back to the patio, and you wipe your muddy soles clean on the rug before sliding into your heels and returning into the house. You find that your explosive exit cleared most of the visitors, save for Miguel's family, your aunt and cousin, and the Roses, so you apologize to everyone and thank them for being there to lend you their kind, caring support.

After you resume playing hostess for a bit longer, you see Ellis and Anita off to take the taxi they hailed so they can catch their evening flight back to the capital for an early morning doctor's appointment she has. That departure allows for everyone else to make their exits, and once it's only you, Javier, your aunt and cousin, you all discuss short-term plans for taking care of the house. They assure you they'll come by and be responsible for the garden and house getting tended to in the meantime. You are thankful as you hug and kiss them goodbye, but as soon as you close the door, you're overcome by melancholic upset, so you're very quiet while you go around cleaning up the cups and plates from the impromptu gathering.

Javi helps you, and decides to let your reticence play out without trying to cajole or cheer you up. He recognizes that you're emotionally drained and now compartmentalizing it all. It's what he does when there's nothing left to do with himself, so he respects it and makes sure to allow you the space to do it.

When you wander into the bedroom and start to kick off your heels and strip your dress, he comes in and sits on the bed to get his shoes off. He doesn't expect you to walk around and kneel at his feet in only your black lingerie and take them off for him, or how you scowl at the dirt he got on them as you dutifully wipe them clean with a tissue before you set them aside. Once you stand, you gaze at him lovingly as you clamber forward to straddle his lap.

You work his tie undone and off while you stare into his dark brewed eyes, and after you've unbuttoned most of his shirt open, you kiss his bare chest before trailing a path up to his neck and jaw. He groans and keeps his hands on the bed, wanting to let you set the pace.

Reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra before discarding it to the floor, you press soft, luscious kisses over his pillowed lips, then caress your hands down his torso to unfasten his belt and work his pants open.

Airily, you whisper as you pull the shirt tails from his pants and help him shrug out of it, "So you know…you being here? It means a lot to me. I…I don't think I could've made it through without you, Javier."

His expression softens, and he cups your cheek gently. "Yes, you could've—"

"I don't think so…but regardless, I'm grateful, so…thank you, for being here with me," you susurrate and kiss him again, with a sultry yearning this time.

Javi deepens the kiss and wraps his arms around you, letting his passion speak for how hearing that makes him feel.

You both make love and get lost in each other after the emotionally tumultuous day, so much so that it's late when you muster the energy to go shower together. It's serene once you settle down in bed together after you watch him pack for both of you like the sweetheart he is.

Once he's back under the covers with you, Javier closes his eyes contentedly when you snuggle against him and doze off with a soft sigh.

That's why when he wakes up a while later and finds himself alone in bed, he gets bewildered and shifts up to get his bearings. Worried, he exits the bedroom and strains his hearing, wondering if maybe you're in the kitchen getting a glass of water, but then the flickering glow of candlelight coming from the bedroom at the end of the hall grabs his attention. He soundlessly lopes to the door that's now wide open, and his eyes adjust to see that you're sitting on your grandmother's bed and looking across at her little altar with her santos and rosary that're illuminated by the four continental candles you have placed strategically around it. Your back is to him, and you shift to lean over and place the picture frame you'd been holding next to the set of photos adjacent the altar.

"Hey," Javier murmurs, and you startle and pivot to look back at him. "Sorry. I woke up and you were gone, so…" he mutters lamely, and you soften and wave him in. He hesitates at the doorway, though. After all, he's never been in this bedroom, and a lifetime of old school manners is telling him it wouldn't be right, but you hold out your hand to him. Yielding to wanting to be close to you, he enters the room and takes your hand, letting you tow him to sit next to you on the bed.

"The first night, I slept here. I wanted to be close to her. To feel like she was still here…and her scent made it easy to fall asleep," you murmur as you caress her pillow thoughtfully. "When I was little, and I was hiding from doing chores in the backyard, I'd sneak in here and play with her santos. She would find me, and rather than be mad, she'd sit with me and ask me what they were up to. I'd make up adventures and have them tell her…" Your reminiscence becomes rich with fondness and heavy with emotion as you blink the tears from your eyes. Javi squeezes your hand, and you push the sadness away to sidle close to him and rest your other hand on his pajama-bottom-clad thigh. "Years later, she told me how she wanted me to keep them once she passed. Now, I just…I keep wishing I could go back, and sit here and talk to her about the silly stories I came up with for each santo," is your reedy musing and you look up into Javier's eyes.

He brushes his fingertips along your jaw before fanning them through your hair to tuck the rogue strands behind your ear. "You still can. She's still with you, always. Sometimes…every once in a while, when I'm really lonely, or homesick, I feel like my mother is with me. I'll suddenly remember things I completely forgot about from when I was a kid. Thing's I haven't ever thought of, and she's always part of them," Javi rumbles hopefully and smiles when your eyes crinkle with wonder.

Heart feeling full, you lean into Javi's side, and let him wrap his arm around you while you rest your head on his bare shoulder. He glances at the photos on the altar table and notices some he hasn't seen before. One of your grandfather as a young man posing in front of his counter, wearing his work belt with all his tools nested in it. Another is a dual frame with your mother sitting in a garden, surrounded by pretty flowers. The other frame is of your uncle with his shirt sleeves rolled up and a wily grin on his chiseled features as he leans back against a banister of an apartment balcony. And the frame you'd just put down on the table was a picture of your grandmother holding you as a little girl in short overalls and a puffy-shouldered shirt. You were sat on her lap, with shiny barrettes in your hair, and you were both smiling beamingly at the camera, and he can make out what looks like the front porch as the background.

He notices a very small frame tucked furthest back on the table, and squints to make out the image under the faint light, and recognizes the tall and broad-shouldered man in the dark blue guayabera to be your father. At least what he must've looked like in his mid-twenties, and it suddenly strikes him why you were so incensed with him on the phone.

Your grandmother had never stopped caring for him – praying for his well-being and wishing him the best, even after everything that happened—

"I know it's probably not the best time, but…can you tell me why you changed your mind? About the apartment?" Your pensive querying pulls Javi back from his thoughts. "What happened at work?"

With a weary sigh, he presses his nose into the top of your head and tries to organize his answer, but then gets frustrated with himself and decides to just divulge it.

"There was an emergency conference call with the embassy leadership and the Samper government. Crosby caved to a bunch of their demands, and when I pushed back, we took the call off-record and in not-so-many words, he told me to get ready to roll over on Cali and to start salvaging my career for when I ship back to the states…"

You absorb that quietly, so much so he wonders if you're going to slowly lose your temper, but then you shift and lean back to look into his eyes.

"So then…your plan is to nail the cartel before they can make you roll over, right?"

Javier blinks at you, astonished. "Yeah…pretty much," he husks and slumps his shoulders when you nod and wrap your arms around his torso so you can nuzzle into his neck. "…But if we blow it, then…well, then everything we've been planning—"

"But, you're not gonna blow it," you intercede in a cool, musing manner and kiss his throat.

"Querida—" he begins to dubiously mutter, but you sit back and exhale dramatically before dotingly running your fingers to comb the curling tufts of hair back from his forehead so you can trace your touch along his furrowed brow affectionately.

"Javi, just tell me you're going to do everything you can to ensure you're not going anywhere, and that's all I need to believe it," you tell him assertively and caress the backs of your knuckles along his cheek, pursing your lips in faux-grouchiness as you grumble, "We're gonna lose out on that awesome amazing apartment, but something else will come along."

He feels thunderstruck with how relieved and in awe he is of your ability to rationalize and be infinitely understanding when he'd fretted worriedly that you would react quite oppositely. You see his incredulous reaction quirk his features and crease his eyes, so you peck him on the lips and pull him along to follow you out of your grandmother's bedroom to return to the bed down the hall. Once tucked back under the covers together in the darkness of the room, you sigh and kiss his cheek.

"Are you ready? Your guys are prepared for what you're going to have to do?" you ask him, and feel him stretch out the tension in his back.

"Yes, they've been prepping, we have a plan pretty much ironed out, and that's what I'm going to go with, whether Crosby gives me the go-ahead or not…"

Your lips press together worriedly, but he doesn't see it, so you're able to feign aloofness before remaking, "So then, I should meet with him after you do, in order to give him the good news, bad news, good news sandwich of the linkup being a success, Ellis leaving, and being on the verge to complete the pilot program on-time?"

He snorts and drawls, "Yeah, I think so. Because then a short while later, you and I will be going into his office to give him notice of our relationship."

You chuckle warmly and snuggle into him. "Oh, indeed. And after, the embassy will erupt with the gossip and I'll be vilified for locking you down—"

"Yeah fucking right. Everyone will lose their shit that you'd get involved with me, and I'll have even more dirtier looks glared my way for sure," is Javi's snarky retort.

Laughing brightly at the silly mental image of you both walking through the lobby with all eyes on you in varying degrees of resentment, envy and astonishment, you suckle a kiss into his neck and declare, "It'll be nice to be able to have all the coffee dates we want, at least."

Smirking broadly, Javier nuzzles your jaw cheekily so that his moustache and scruff graze your skin and makes you squeal before you retaliate by peppering kisses all over his smiling countenance.

The next morning, you are lighter, but still a bit pensive as you prepare to leave. You clean and put fresh linens and towels up, and make sure to check the fridge for any perishable items you'd like to use and spare having to toss when spoiled next time you're in town. Spotting several casserole containers on the bottom shelf, you pull them out and get a lump in your throat. It's the last of your grandmother's homecooked carne asada, white rice, and red beans.

Javier comes into the kitchen after having packed the bags in the rental car to find you on the verge of tears while staring at the last opportunity you have to ever eat your beloved 'Buela's cooking. He feels a heavy sense of déjà vu, recalling how he'd horded the last few meals his mother had cooked by freezing them, and would get furious if anyone touched the containers, until one day he came home and his father had heated every single one up and had them set out on the kitchen table for him and Javier to eat and honor her.

"There's no way I'm letting this go to waste," you say around a sniffle before turning to him and looking as if you're asking for silent permission.

Nodding, Javi comes over and tells you what his father had said to him: "She wouldn't have wanted anything else but us to pig out on her delicious cooking."

It was the sweetest, most irreverently endearing thing he could've said, and it touched your heart. So, you heat up the food, and soon, you're both sitting at the table, enjoying the hearty and delicious meal together.

Once you've finished and cleaned up, you secure the house and lock the front door and gate before getting in Javi's rental to head to the airport. Your heart and belly are full, and with him at your side, the grief has subsided enough to let you long for peace and seek it with the man you love.

Your hopes are double fold now, knowing what's at stake for Javi, and you plan to be his support. To give him the grace and comfort he's bestowed you with in your lowest time, and help him strive to succeed.

Javier's head is in the game too now that he knows you trust him and are willing to ride this out just a little longer.

The days leading up to the Crosby being back at the embassy are filled with his team doing recognizance, planning for every contingency. However, he's learned time and time again that nothing goes according to plan, so he wallows in the stress of it when he's alone.

You, on the other hand, keep him afloat during the times you're both together, and he takes solace in it, even when you're frazzled with juggling work and all the responsibilities you now have back in Medellín. You've secured a lawyer and an accountant to help you sort through everything, and you speak to your relatives almost every day to get updates on the house. Your aunt suggests that you consider selling it so you can save for when Javier proposes to you, which makes you roll your eyes and want to bang your head against your desk. Especially since the thought of selling the home you have the most important, fondest memories in – that means so much to you and has been the cornerstone of your mother's family for decades, is not something you can seriously entertain.

You're telling Javi so while in bed the night before you're both due to meet separately with the ambassador, since you're both on edge and unable to sleep. He listens to you, hand idly petting your hair as you vent. And once you're done and tearily nuzzle his neck, he consoles you before agreeing with you – that selling the house shouldn't be a financial decision. While you absorb that, he is just about to daydream what it would be like for you and him to move into the lovely abode and live out your days there together, when he blurts, "—What about if you keep it in the family?"

Thanks to the block-out curtains not being drawn completely shut over the windows, Javier can see your furrowed brow when you sit up before he remarks that Miguel had mentioned he and your prima wouldn't get a house until he was back from his training, so she was living in his apartment in the meantime. Having been there to get ready for the wedding, he saw firsthand how it was a small, cramped bachelor pad on a 5th floor walkup. Definitely not the ideal place to start living together as newlyweds, let alone start a family in.

"Would you be ok with them living in the house?" he asks, timbre low and musing as he caresses his palm along the contour of your hip and thigh.

Your eyes well, but then a pensive smile softens your features as you lean down and gaze into his dark eyes in the semi-penumbra of the room. "Yeah. That actually makes me happy – knowing they'll enjoy it and take care of it. Having trust that I won't ever have to worry about it not going to good people," you ruminate out loud, and when he cups your cheek, you smile and joke, "I'll have to let her know we've christened the place for them already."

Javi laughs. "I don't think it works like that, guapita," he chuckles charmingly before leaning up to brush his lips over yours.

You grunt humorously before curling into him to cuddle. "So…you're meeting with Crosby early in the morning," is your musing murmur as you loop your arms around his torso.

He lets out a weary exhale. "Yeah. Not sure how it's going to go, so…I might not be able to let you know right away," he tells you in a hushed tone before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Humming in understanding, you lie awake for a while, cuddling him and worrying silently while he stares out at the sliver of night sky peeking through the sheer curtains.

At some point, though, you must've drifted off to sleep, because the next thing you know, you're stirring awake to the sound of hangers rattling in the closet. You roll over in bed and see Javi's finished pulling on a tie to be looped under his shirt's collar. Slinking up to sit, you admire his broad frame in the early morning light, and smile when he yawns into the back of his hand before pulling his gray blazer out and simultaneously slips into his dress shoes one by one.

When you toss the blanket aside, he turns to peer at you over his shoulder, tension easing from around his eyes at the sight of you in the slinky nighty and with your hair tousled as you stretch your arms over your head before standing to affectionately loop your arms around his waist once he's shrugged his blazer on. Javi's shoulders relax as you lean into him.

"I love you, Javi," you tell him softly, heart open and hopeful. "So…come home to me. No matter what happens."

He turns in your arms and caresses his hands along your shoulders before cupping them to tilt your face up to him. "I will. And I'll do whatever I have to, to make that happen," he declares in that velvety murmur that soothes you into closing your eyes and sighing, rubbing your cheek against his palm. He leans down then and kisses you with the ardor of his promise still bright on his tongue, and you swoon as you cling to him and want to manifest it all into fruition. When he breaks the kiss, you clutch your hands to anchor at his nape as he rests his forehead to yours, feeling suddenly overcome and afraid to part. But then he affectionately nudges his temple to yours and prompts you to open your eyes. Once you do, and his dark brewed depths gaze into yours, Javi husks, "I promise it, querida. I love you so much, and I'll do what I need to so nothing can affect us anymore."

You nod and hug him, not trusting your emotions as a knot in your throat already threatens to choke you up if you try to speak.

Javier hugs you tight, inhaling the soft scent of your hair and relishing how you turn your face into his neck and kiss him there.

Getting ahold of yourself, you lean back and wryly busy yourself with straightening his red tie for him, admiring the interesting print of emerald-cut shaped gold and blue reliefs as you adjust the knot and smoothen out his collar.

"You really know how to get me all verklempt, don't yah," is your irreverent lilt, batting your lashes up at him as your hands glide down the length of his tie.

"If that means 'horny,' then yes. Yes, I do," he quips with a wicked smirk, absolutely puckish glint warming his dark eyes as he squeezes your waist.

Snickering and tousling his hair playfully, you pull away and smile when he pouts and goes to brush it back in front of the dresser's mirror before clasping his watch onto his left wrist. You pull on your fluffy robe and catch his leering smirk in the mirror when you turn. So, you strut over and swat his butt before letting him hoist you up for some nippy kisses along your neck and jaw.

"Buena suerte, agente," you purr lovingly, smiling when he exhales out of his nose and purses his lips derisively at you before he slides his palms down to cup your ass and herds you against him.

"I'll need it, baby," he quips before giving your derrière a squeeze.

When you both finally have to part ways, he kisses you goodbye at the front door.

"Love you."

"I love you too," you murmur and let him stride off towards the elevator, feeling that pang of worry, but you bury it when he enters it and shoots you a wink before the doors slide shut.

His words stay with you all morning, helping quell your worry and chasten the anxiety you have towards the unknown before you both. They become your security blanket as you get ready for work, commute to the embassy, and breeze up to your department for a very busy day ahead of you.

You spend the first couple of hours in your department meeting with your team leads to finalize your progress report for the ambassador on the pilot program, and once that's squared away, you ask Jackie Espinosa to chat with you in your office.

Once you've shut your door and she's sitting in front of your desk, you retrieve a laptop from your unlocked drawer and pass it over to her as you explain, "So, one of the first things I want to do immediately, is to implement the program loaded on this computer into the system. It'll help monitor data usage and log access credentials."

She gives you a brilliant smile and narrows her eyes keenly as she muses, "Ah, I knew you'd have something in mind for that. Based on what Deputy Rose warned Devon – about the CIA resources who got onboarded for the pilot."

"Indeed. And, full disclosure, Jackie: You are the only person I'm sharing this with. Ellis and Devon are not in the loop, and I want to keep it that way. Your background in programming models and database infrastructure make it plausible for us to even implement this, so I want you to oversee it," you explain as you fill her in on the finer points – the ones you'd emphasized Francesca build in, and the ones you added on.

"Consider it done! I'll work on it today and have an update for you tonight," she declares confidently before hugging the laptop to her chest and leaning forward to ask, "Is there some specific reason you don't want the fellas to know?"

You nod and confide, "Ellis is leaving in a few weeks, and frankly? I don't want any possible political or bureaucratical fallout to taint his exit process here, so I want him to have plausible deniability," you state frankly to the smart-as-a-whip young woman with the sassy pixie cut and bold brows, adding, "And Devon has to work on his poker face, so since he's overseeing the training with those CIA resources, I wouldn't want to put him on the spot knowing we're implementing this expressly to track their activity."

She nods, pursing her expressive lips before inquiring, "Do you think there'll be fallout? I mean, it's totally smart to build this in, so I don't get why anyone would complain. But, is there some reason we could get dinged over this?"

"Not a legitimate one, no. But don't worry. If by chance we ruffle feathers, I'll take the blame. I'll make sure you're covered," you assure before going into more detail about your future plans for the department once Ellis leaves the embassy and Jackie assumes his role.

While you're wrapping up your discussion, Javier is on his way to meet General Serrano.

He'd spent the morning beseechingly stressing to Crosby on the seriousness of the leak, the likelihood Botero could be involved, and how time was of the essence. Not to mention hammered home how his C.I. was in danger if action wasn't taken before the leak in the government found out his identity and told Cali. The ambassador was having none of it.

Not only did he tell Javier that he is to turn over his files to the Minister of Defense's investigators, but he implored him to pull out his informant while he still could, assuring he could sign off on the paperwork and have the Marines at their door in twenty minutes.

"—No, we do that…Miguel disappears and then we're done," Javier insisted, curtly emphasizing how dire that would be with his brooding scowl while turned around in his seat in order to face the ambassador.

"You're already done," Crosby denounced with stern austerity, glacial eyes boring into Javier.

So, with a defiant glower, he'd stood from the chair and flippantly drawled, "I thought you said I have until 5p.m."

Crosby had sighed before leveling Javier with, "What's more important to you, Agent Peña? Getting Miguel Rodríguez…Or your C.I.'s life?"

It was an impossible choice. Of course, Javier did not want to risk Salcedo or his family, but the thought of letting Rodríguez go further into hiding was unatonable to him. Not after everything the Cali godfathers have wrought – all the collateral damage and corruption they've propagated. And certainly not with everything he has at stake.

So, he'd lied to Chris and Dan.

When they'd insisted it was time to cut their losses and get Salcedo and his family out while there was still a chance, Javier and lied, saying that Crosby wouldn't go for it. Hell, he'd become such a good liar after all these years of coercive strategizing, that he even told them, "I asked." Sure, it ate at him, and it was something that would only gnaw away at him deeper later on, but he needed his guys to keep their eye on the ball and have a stake in it. They cared about Salcedo and felt responsible for how deep the man had gotten – how close already he'd come to being tortured and killed by his twisted bosses, so he was banking on them being far sharper and intent on nailing Miguel Rodríguez than they'd been the last time.

It's what he's telling himself as he marches up the staircase to meet with General Serrano on the veranda overlooking the courtyard where his most elite forces are doing drills.

While he details his plan to the man, you're entering the ambassador's office with Ellis in tow.

Crosby definitely looks like a stewing bull while sat behind his desk, so you put on a dazzling smile as you enter and greet him jovially as you and Ellis take your seats before his desk. After some catch-up chat, in which the ambassador mournfully gives his condolences to you and tests your ability to keep a stiff upper lip, you thank him and manage to segue into other topics. "—And how's Nancy doing?" you're asking now, making it a point to default to informalities for the first time in your entire tenure.

With a knowing look, Crosby smiles broadly at you before retorting, "She's doing much better, darlin'. Thanks for asking."

The three of you share in some pleasantries before you update him with, "—The linkup with stateside was a success, sir. Everything is up and running, and so far, we've had zero issues."

Crosby is very pleased to hear about it, but then he beats you to the punch on the next bit of news you'd intended to segue into. "—And I take it you're here due to your jumping ship in a month's time, eh?" he's remarking glibly as he eyes Ellis and leans forward with his hands interlaced over his desk.

"Yes, sir. Although I assure you, I'm very happy here!" Ellis responds emphatically before pulling out his copy of the sonogram photo to hand it over to Crosby. "But, this little guy is on the way, and we'd like to be somewhere a little less, uh, tumultuous. The opportunity in San Juan is also pretty amazing, sir," is his affable elaboration while Crosby looks fondly at the sonogram and nods in understanding before handing the photo back.

"Congratulations, son. That's fantastic news! I'm very happy for you," the ambassador genuinely remarks before looking at you as he gravels coolly, "You let me know if there's anything I can do to help in the transition. I assume you already have someone in mind to slide into the job?"

"Yes, we do," you reply before detailing Jackie and Devon's promotions, and the timeline for when Ellis will be officially leaving the embassy. You then give Crosby the good news about completely the pilot onboarding on-time, and hand him your progress report on the effort.

"Well, darlin', it sounds like you're gonna show up all the other departments at the bi-annual," he chuckles affably and grins when you roll your eyes at him. "Now, just for that, I'll make it a point to tout to everyone how much better of a director you are than the rest of 'em—"

"And that's more than a fair trade, as long as we get the budget increase for our department next year and don't have to fight anyone for merit," you chime blithely, smiling at the man while Ellis snickers.

After you've bantered a bit on the topic of the big meeting in a couple of days, you answer some of his follow-up questions before you all chat amiably. And while you're warmheartedly looking at the pictures of his newborn grandson he's proudly passing around, smiling ear-to-ear while he gushes about how happy his family are, Javier is on his way to the Minister of Defense's office after getting Serrano on board with his raid plan.

He'd driven to the Palacio de Justicia and multitasked making several calls on his cell phone, some of which involved ordering his guys to get Salcedo briefed so they can then tag along with the Search Bloc forces to Cali, updating Stoddard to keep his day blocked out so he could monitor things from his office, and reaching out to the reporter from El Tiempo to meet him at the same café they've rendezvoused at on prior occasions.

He knows it's a risk to loop her in before he's got anything concrete on the leak, but Javier doesn't want to spare a single opportunity in dismantling all the cartel's leverage if the raid is a failure. After all, he's playing with fire here, and while he marches up the palatial steps to meet Botero, he strategizes how he'll go about walking the tightrope. And by the time he's sitting across from the Minister of Defense, playing the role of the intrepid embassy official kowtowing to the political pressure, Javier finds the motivation to manipulate the man easily. All he has to think about is being one step away – a precarious leap away from nailing the whole lot of them, and how a life with you is waiting for him on the other side of that leap.

Without batting an eye, Javier tells Botero that they had a lead on the current whereabouts of Miguel Rodríguez, and nonchalantly mentions he's already got his men preparing for the raid on the Hacienda Buenos Aires luxury condominium. When the other man balks, Javier uses his leverage: "Well, we can't waste any time. You want to catch him, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Botero promptly retorts.

With complete even keel, Javier counters, "This is the best option. If we do get him, you get the credit. I promise." He then pockets the slip of paper he'd been handed as he coolly stands and makes his exit, with a parting, "Thank you, sir."

The entire trip from said office down to the plaza that housed the quaint café he was meeting Carolina at was fraught with his anxiety pounding in his veins, so when his cell phone rings in his pocket, he retrieves it with deft agility before answering curtly, "Peña."

"Your message went through. Botero's the leak. Miguel's on the move," Feistl dutifully lists.

Javi pauses in his stride just outside of the café entrance, feeling all that pressure evaporate at the confirmation of his suspicions. "Good. Keep me posted on stage two," he responds smoothly before ending the call and loping confidently into the café and right up to the table Carolina is sitting at before leaning over to kiss her hello on the cheek, taking the seat across from her.

While he's confiding what he's just confirmed about the Minister of Defense being in cahoots with the Cali cartel, you're back in your office, reviewing some of the logs on the stateside data transfers that occurred while you were out.

You're noting large downloads that occurred at irregular intervals from several servers in the building when the intern from the Correspondence department knocks on your door with a confidential package. "Good afternoon, director! Just need your signature," she calls out, fumbling with the clipboard that was tucked under the parcel.

Rushing over to help her, you quickly sign for it and thank her before asking her how she's been. After all, she was pretty chummy with Francesca, so you'd seen her around – partaking in coffee breaks with your former intern in her cubicle. Once she hustles back to her delivery cart to resume her rounds, you shut your office door and walk over to your desk to open the package in privacy.

The label tells you it's something you've been waiting weeks for, so you take your time opening it and sifting through the contents of documents. And the one right on top is exactly what you needed – that confirmed all your suspicions and gave you the precise leverage—

A knock on your door derails your plotting thoughts before the door is opened a crack and Jackie pokes her head in. "Hey! Are you free to chat?"

Collecting everything from the package and placing them in an unmarked inter-department envelope with a string button before slipping it into your work tote, you wave her in eagerly. "I am. Come in!" you affably call before setting the box aside on your storage sideboard. "What's up?"

Jackie dutifully closes your door and rushes to your desk to plop down a transcript that could only be decipherable to a handful of you in the department. "You were right. Look at this!" she hisses and points to data points. "I uploaded the program, then did a patch to see retroactive usage—"

"Whoa, you already finished the upload?!" you marvel and sit back in your chair. She nods vigorously and begins to fan through the stack to illustrate a pattern that you see matches the data logs you'd just been looking at. "…So then, it's as I suspected."

"Yes, and look here," she whispers and indicates a series of codes. "These are ID credentials from stateside. From what I can tell, someone there has been back-channeling intel through to someone with credentials from the pilot. However, to access this kind of data, they needed a Top-Secret clearance, which none of those resources from CIA have," is her elaboration before leaning back and letting you skim through the info. "What should we do?"

You glance up at her, and lean back in your chair. "Can we look into where in the embassy this was accessed from?" you ask instead.

While Jackie and you go down to your secure workspace in the server room to investigate further, Javier is back in his office, reeling.

Carolina had given him a big score with her analysis of the financial records. However, he still needed more to have Botero dead to rights for laundering Cali cartel money through the campaign, and right now without someone to decode the ledger, he didn't have it.

And now? After getting a call from Feistl that everything was on track, followed up by another call from him less than 15 minutes later that Salcedo had gone back into the building suspiciously? He felt like he'd swallowed lead. He had to reluctantly give Chris the go-ahead to infiltrate the building, deviating from the raid plan. The next thirty minutes were some of the longest of his life. His temples were pounding, and the cigarette he nursed was doing nothing to quell his simmering anxiety.

But when his cell phone rings, and Serrano confirms he had Miguel Rodríguez in custody? The bone-deep relief that washed over him had him wavering on his feet. And when he asked about Salcedo, and been assured that Feistl had secured him from the building to the rendezvous point to meet his family, Javier felt absolved before a surging sense of triumph welled in his belly.

He felt so high on it that the first thing he did after he relayed the info to Stoddard so he could get things secured for Salcedo's security detail, was rush back to his desk and pick up the phone to dial your office, figuring with this win, he could throw caution to the wind and give you the amazing news over the work line. But then a knock at his sidelight has him pivoting to glance backwards over his shoulder. He's perplexed to see Carolina Álvarez there, asking him to chat.

Feeling a sense of trepidation needle up his spine, Javier hangs up before the line has finished ringing and gestures for her to have a seat before he maneuvers into his desk chair. She levels him with the news that she'd been wrong – that the transactions did not prove the Cali had laundered 6 million dollars into the Samper campaign. Instead, she details that the money never left the campaign, meaning it was a campaign contribution all along, orchestrated by Santiago Medina, who'd acted as an intermediary between the campaign and the Cali cartel.

Utterly floored, Javier thanks Carolina and assures her this should be enough to hold the government officials involved – no matter how high they go – accountable. He's grabbing the financial files and sprinting up the Crosby's office before he's even finished kissing the woman goodbye on the cheek, and is barging in with insistence. The vehemence in him has him surging forward with his evidence, zealous in his convictions.

"—We got Miguel Rodríguez."

"You got him?!"

"He's on a plane back to Bogotá right now," Javier declares soberly. "It'll be all over the news in an hour."

"Couldn't let it go, could you?"

The foreboding, rhetorical question isn't enough to derail Javi. It doesn't sink in to him, so he forges forward with the documents in his hand. "Sir, there's another piece of this that you need to know."

He lays all his cards on the table to Crosby, detailing how Santiago Medina funneled millions of Cali cartel's money into the Samper campaign, emphatic that the Samper administration is compromised, and without putting the corrupt politicians in jail with the Cali godfathers, nothing will change. It isn't until the ambassador gives him a hard look before dejectedly retrieving a tape recorder from his desk drawer that Javi feels something seriously amiss.

"The voice you're about to hear, is the voice of the man you just mentioned, Santiago Medina…talking to Gilberto Rodríguez. On the phone," Crosby remarks as he puts a cassette in, and presses 'Play' before standing back.

Javier feels utterly gutted and torn asunder by what he hears.

And the cold realization that engulfs him has him pressing 'Stop' on the recording before he glowers at the ambassador. "How long have you known?" he croaks gruffly.

"It's complicated."

He can't help the scoff that filters out of his chest as everything deflates in him.

"The point, Agent Peña, is you're right. But in this case…it doesn't matter."

"You're not going to do anything," Javier grouses, visibly affronted by the realization.

"Samper's a good friend to us," Crosby retorts.

Incredulous, Javi picks up the recorder and holds it like it's an object representing betrayal. "So that's it. They bought…" he can't help disparagingly scoffing before adding, "The president."

"And for now…they get to keep him."

Distraught, Javi puts the recorder down on the desk and turns to advance to the door, completely beside himself. But then he pauses and turns to stare at the ambassador before cynically deadpanning, "We never had a chance."

Crosby has no retort. And Javi is hollowed out as his fury turns inward and eats away at everything, all he had been cultivating in himself: The hope, the pride, the sense of justice—

The pursuit of being worthy enough to be with you. It was all gone.

You're unaware of what's transpired. Instead, you're like everyone else.

You find out about the successful raid and capture of Miguel Rodríguez when you and Jackie return to your department close to the end of the day, and are jubilant, practically bursting at the seams with the impulse to run up to Javier's office and jump into his arms – protocol be damned! But you imagine he's in the thick of it still, dealing with all the bureaucratical things involved. And when he doesn't call, you feel validated in not throwing caution to the wind, imagining him getting all the accolades he deserves from Crosby and the DEA leadership stateside for an artful takedown of the notorious heads of the cartel.

Sitting in Ellis' office and watching the coverage on the little television he'd pilfered from God knows where, you smile brilliantly as he plops down next to you and pulls you into a fierce hug. You'd already given everyone the ok to go on and celebrate with the rest of the floor in the breakroom, where spirits of all types were broken out of their hidden cubbies and shared for the impromptu gathering while you waited giddily for Javi to call.

When the reporting coverage keeps going on and on, but you don't see Javi do any press conference like he'd done when he'd caught Gilberto Rodríguez, nor receive a call from him, you figure maybe something happened with the informant, Salcedo.

That sobers your glee, and keeps you grounded as you grab your things and head home to wait for him.

You don't know that while you're driving out of the embassy's compound, Javier is standing in the bullpen of his department, staring broodingly over at the Cali cartel suspect board.

The space is quiet and vacant, with the bulk of his staff having fucked off to party on the 'successful capture' while he'd hidden in his office away from the good-natured 'congrats!' pats and ovations.

As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to celebrate.

And, as if to further grind the lonesome, stultifying loathing he feels deeper, Stechner lopes in just then, looking ever smug, as he acerbically drawls, "This your celebration? Kind of a downer. I was hoping for some alcohol."

If not for the soul-crushing blow he was still reeling from, and the self-loathing dejection seething through him, Javier would've ripped the man's head off his body.

After everything he's done to you, there was a time he would've exacted retribution on the bastard without a regret. But now? All he can muster is a resigned, abject scowl as he mutters, "How long have you had them?" He then looks over at Stechner as he clarifies, "The tapes Crosby played for me?" When the usually supercilious man just puts his hands in his pockets and balances his weight from foot to foot glibly, Javier deadpans, "Let me guess…it's complicated."

"How about, uh…I tried to warn you?" Stechner drawls before scoffing at Javier's disdainful sneer.

As the man pontificates to him about cutting corners to get to the head of the line, and what mattering being what one does once you get there, Javier feels cold acrimony fill him. But when Stechner has the audacity to wax complimentary to him about being the agent to put cuffs on two Cali godfathers – as if that's a single point of pride, Javier starts to shut himself down from taking umbrage.

But when the sanctimonious asshole picks up the red marker with a tap on the desk before holding it out to him, saying conciliatorily, "Go on. You've earned it," Javier gives him a cold glare and swallows every impulse he has to take that marker and shove it down Stechner's throat. Instead, he turns dismissively and stalks away from him.

He goes into a bit of a fugue state after that, and doesn't snap back into himself until he's staring at his own reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. The fluorescent lights above head hum too loud, and cast his features in a drawn, harsh light. He runs the tap and splashes water on his face, feeling like he could jump out of his skin, and tries to rein the feelings crawling through his veins and making him sick of the man he sees staring back at him.

You, for your part, have spent the time waiting for him to come home practically crawling the walls, and are teeming with anticipation as you pace the living room of his apartment. The TV is on the news, but you're only half listening to the broadcast. They keep repeating the top story that's captured the entire country for the last few hours, and when they show the news conference footage of Miguel Rodríguez being perp-walked in front of the cameras, you keep looking up at the screen, as if this time, you'll catch a glimpse of Javi.

Wringing your hands impatiently through your hair, you finally flop down into the couch and huff at yourself, forcing your antsy attention to focus on the news story when it discusses the daring way CNP caught the Cali godfather in mid-transit to his next hideout, when you hear a key slip into the lock of the door.

Javier walks in with his gray blazer flung under his arm as he shuts the door behind him, and is seemingly on delay when he doesn't immediately register that the news playing on the TV is suddenly shut off until he's turned and blinking at you when you exuberantly jump up from the couch and sprint over to throw your arms around his shoulders.

"Javi! Oh my god – you did it! I'm so proud," is your gushing exclamation as you hug him and gleefully nuzzle into his neck. "Are Chris and Dan alright? And your informant, Salcedo? Everything ok—?"

Your rambling, excited questioning comes to screeching halt when you pull back to smile beamingly up at him, and finally see how drawn and guarded he is.

He manages to force a tepid nod before detaching himself from you in order to drop his keys and cell phone to the credenza before tossing his blazer distractedly to drape over the back of the leather chair as he breezes by you.

"Javier, what's wrong?" your shaky murmur makes him stall in his retreat to the bedroom and has him aching in a way that makes him feel lowly and lost. So much so, he doesn't realize he's cupped his hands over his face and let out a withering exhale. You pad over to him and are at his side as you caress his back, pressing, "Hey, talk to me. What happened?"

"Nothing. It's nothing—" Javier begins to dismiss and wrings his hands testily down his tired features, but can't seem to muster looking you in the eye. "It's just been a long day—"

You hold steadfast in your spot and place a hand on his chest so that he can't bolt from you. "Please, mi amor, don't shut me out again. Not like last time," you whisper, and you feel him get rigid under your touch, so you beseech more forcefully, "Please, Javi…don't wall yourself off from me."

He looks at you then, and the morose upset teeming in his dark eyes sends a sharp pang of hurt through you.

The look in your eyes? And how your expression blooms into worried sadness cleaves into his heart, and before he's registered it, he's pulling you into his arms and falling apart.

You're beside yourself when he practically crumbles into you and wavers on his feet, and you muster the gumption to lead him to the couch before you both end up heaps on the floor. Wrapping him up in your embrace, you hold him tight and rock him soothingly as his breathing becomes irregular and he trembles against you.

Tears sting at your eyes as he unravels shakily against you while he repeats, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," over and over in broken, lonesome croaks that get husky from the tangle of emotion welling up in his throat.

You shush him tenderly and start combing your fingers through the back of his hair as you soothe, "It's alright, querido. Let go. I've got you. I'll take care of you," and nuzzle adoring kisses to his temple, the top of his head – everywhere your lips can reach. He finally starts to calm when you murmur, "I'm not going anywhere, Javi. No matter what, ok? I love you."

It's a quiet while until Javi pulls himself together and steels himself again before he leans back and angrily wipes at his eyes before scrubbing his hand across his nose tersely. The way he turns away from you to hide his features reminds you of that time he'd broken down in front of you. He'd been agitated and wrung through with self-loathing then too, but this time feels much more serious, so you cuddle him.

You wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder. He lets you, but doesn't look at you, feeling much too ashamed to.

"It was a fucking mess…"

His voice is so low and hoarse, but you dare not say anything, for fear that he'll clam up and turn whatever this is inward on himself more than he already has. So, you are patient as he takes his time collecting his bearings to unburden himself.

"…Salcedo almost got killed. His family almost got slaughtered…I lied to keep my guys focused on getting him to cooperate in catching Rodríguez instead of risking pulling them out safely and tipping the cartel off…I gambled with their fucking lives, and for what?"

Your heart is racing, but you only tighten your embrace around him.

"Rigged…fucking rigged the whole time, and I could've gotten them, and my guys fucking killed, and none of it would've mattered…none of it matters now—"

"Javi," you whisper and reel him back, desperate to get him off of this precipice he's teetering over. He shakes his head and rubs his palm across his face, snarling at himself. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to—"

He shies away from you and off the couch then, storming over to his blazer to hastily dig into a pocket for his cigarette pack and lighter. "I've said enough anyway," he hisses as he fishes a slim cylinder from the pack and lights it, taking a long pull before tossing everything onto the coffee table and letting loose a harsh exhale of smoke. "Only brought me back so I could be a goddamn sap. Told me as much, and I didn't want to fucking believe it. But it's undeniable—can't fucking pretend now. I was nothing but a fucking fool—just the pinche maldito desgraciado of always. Never meant to do anything to make it stop…" he pauses before something echoes in his mind, and he disparagingly repeats it under his breath before taking another pull from his cigarette. "Always helps to have a hero on board."

With exasperation, he exhales a cloud of smoke and cuts his berating sneer off, hoping the burn of his inhale will break his acrimonious feelings apart before they form on his tongue. When the loathsome weight of them scalds him like lancing disdain boiling forth, he wrings a hand through his hair, snarling in contempt, and seething, "Everything – all of it, doesn't amount to shit—"

You're suddenly on your feet and tugging him around to face your angry expression. He's disarmed by it, and haplessly stares at you when you snatch his cigarette away and irascibly grind it out into the glass ashtray on the coffee table before grabbing him by the front of his crooked tie and rumpled dress shirt.

"Now you listen to me, goddammit. You're NOT gonna wallow in whatever the fuck this is in front of me, you hear me?! I'm not letting you grind yourself down. You wanna vent? DO IT! But do not just take this misery and swallow it down," you ferociously harangue and pull him close. "Be mad and angry at the right target, not at yourself," you mutter as you emphatically stare into his overawed expression.

Javi doesn't even know where to start.

You see it written on his face, so you tow him to follow your lead down into the bedroom, where you sit him on the bed and dutifully take his shoes off for him before removing his tie, belt, watch and wallet. And once you've divested him of said trappings, you take off your lavender silk blouse and remove your skirt so you can sit comfortably on the bed and pull him into your waiting arms.

"One thing at a time, amado," you assure him softly and feel him lean gratefully into your embrace with a drawn-out exhale. "Firstly: You made a choice based on factors that were before you. Salcedo is fine, and so is his family, right?" When he nods against your shoulder, you muse, "Ok, now secondly: I told you before. There are things you cannot control. Your goal was to take down the Cali cartel. It is not your job to make sure they stay in prison. There is an entire system at work, one that's existed long before you where things are the way they are. Only the people who are beholden to that system are able to force it to change. So, if they don't stay locked up because of it? That is not on you."

Javier deflates against you, feeling so weary, so you sigh and rub his back as you level him with, "Thirdly: Nothing is over until you decide it is. Have you decided it is?"

Pulling back to stare at you, Javier feels lost for what to say. His brow is furrowed woefully, but his scowl dips into a frown before he mumbles, "It's being decided for me—"

"No, it's not. If it was, you wouldn't be here right now. They'd have forced you to ship out and mailed your shit after the fact," you insist, giving him a lopsided smile as you counter spiritedly, "You're the boss. You just got a big win. Are you done? Is there more you need to do to stick the final nail in the coffin for the cartel?"

Bemusedly, he thinks about it, and you watch as something dawns on him. "No…I'm not done," he rumbles, gaze focusing keenly now on yours. "But, there's so much wrong here. I can't guarantee it'll amount to anything, even if I keep going—"

"Javi, just do what you think is right. Whichever way it turns out, that's what matters: that whatever you do, you can walk away able to say you did everything you could, and can keep your head held high knowing so," you tell him ardently and cup his cheek with loving grace. "I believe in you, chavón."

He exhales a wry scoff at that and leans into your touch. "You shouldn't, though," he blurts in an unfiltered admittance that has him bowing his head in moroseness. "Nothing I've done has amounted to anything worthy of it—"

"Your job is not you."

Javier is taken aback by your unflinching rationale. He looks up at you with those molten, dark brown depths, and he leans forward, resting his forehead to yours and encircling his arms around you. Breathlessly, he murmurs your name and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling overcome.

"I believe in you, Javier. I love you, and you're worthy, dammit, so…quit being contrary with me," you drawl silkily and kiss his cheek, brushing your nose affectionately against his before nudging your temple into his in a show of flirty dominance.

Pulling you into him, Javi takes you down to lie on the bed with him as he begins showering you with reverent, grateful kisses.

You don't push him for details, don't seek a play-by-play of just what the hell happened to have him taking a win like it's the biggest loss ever. Instead, you help him undress, and once he's shed his clothes, he strips you of your pastel pink bra and panties before he glides down your body to get lost in the sensory bliss of burying his face in your pussy.

No, you do not press him for a complete rundown of what transpired, figuring he'll tell you once he's regained his composure and stability.

And really, with how he devours your tingling cunt, greedily driving you into orgasm so he can keep licking into you until you're trembling and writhing on his tongue? You see free to give yourself over into chasing the soul-shaking, divinely ruinous desire he stokes in you while he plucks climax after climax out of you. By the time you're a quivering, slick and warm mess, Javi climbs back up your wrecked form and nips possessively at your sloping muscle as he guides his cock to press into you.

Javi gets lost in the passion of being yours and taking you over the zenith of scorching pleasure over and over again, completely insatiable for it and wanting to erase the world from his thoughts. The carnal ferocity of his lovemaking has you crying his name and clinging to him as he fucks you into oblivion, where only your ecstasy centers him and gives him purpose. And when you dig your nails into his back after he has you seeing the universe glittering in the backs of your eyes from hitting the cluster of pleasure nestled inside you, Javi reaches his release – fucking his cum so deep in you that he shouts in triumph as he drives home into you one last time. His features melt into sheer bliss before he collapses on top of you and buries them heatedly against your neck, gasping heartily to regain his ragged breath.

You're both sweating, pulsing heaps, basking in anchored relief as you come down from the high. And after a calm quiet filled with only your recovering breaths and slowing heartbeats, Javi murmurs something against your neck, and you struggle to clear the fog from your mind to make sure you heard him right. "What?" you mumble tiredly.

"I said, I'm going after the accountant," he rasps, voice a rough bass against your jaw.

Dimly, you lie there and try to muster the brainpower to engage some form of recall. Then you remember why he'd had to chase after Franklin Jurado. The accountant.

"…He's the only way to decode the ledger, and if we find him, I can make sure he goes on the record. Those bastards stay in jail, and anyone who helped them will go down with 'em," Javier is telling you in a stream of thought, and you have so many questions, but you bottle them up. "I have to try…can't just walk away without making sure I've done everything I could…"

You absorb that, idly caressing your touch along his warm, sweat-beaded back. When he doesn't say anything else, you nose into the side of his head, just above his ear. "Alright, then," is your soft, musing reply.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and lets out a pensive sigh. Then, he adjusts to roll onto his back before pivoting to sit on the side of the bed. You think he's going to close himself off completely now, but instead, he outstretches his hand to you before glancing sheepishly over his shoulder.

Javi watches your eyes crinkle with affection before you take his hand and let him pull you over to sidle up against him. He kisses the top of your head and braces his arm around your waist before leading the way to the bathroom, where you both share a hot, soothing shower together in comfortable silence.

By the time you're both in the dark of the cool, air-conditioned bedroom, nestled under the covers with each other, you contentedly rest your head on his chest and fall fast asleep. After all, you feel settled, knowing you've given him the love and support he deserves, and seemingly have quelled whatever self-destructive wave that had overwhelmed him.

You don't know that Javi is wide awake, staring up at the ceiling into a void of his own making. One where he replays his failures and fixates on the betrayal of being set up to fail by people that should be on his side – that should be striving towards the same goals he's doggedly worked towards this whole time. The more he reflects on it, the more sordid he feels about it all.

And, the easier it becomes for him to compartmentalize the doubts while using the anger he feels as motivation towards this new goal.

In this moment, he doesn't realize he's set himself on a path to derailing everything he's worked towards, nor that it will lead to a fallout of unsalvageable proportions for the life he's started building here with you.

Instead, all he knows is that he will see this hunt through, doing whatever it takes to walk away from it at its conclusion with his head held high.

---

Spanish-English Glossary:

Velorio = Wake; veiling ceremony where people sit vigil

Picadera = Snacks; finger foods

Comadre = Godmother, but is sometimes used towards a close family friend; someone trusted

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

Nada de eso, mi amor = None of that, my love

Mi amor = My love

Sinvergüenza = Puerto Rican slang for someone shameless; a scoundrel

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Maldita sea = Damn it

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

Tía = Aunt

Prima = Cousin (female)

Mi más sentido pésame = My deepest sympathies; My deepest condolences

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Corteja = Puerto Rican slang for mistress, or an escort

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Acabo de sepultarla = I've just entombed her

Malcriada = Bratty woman; spoiled woman; naughty woman

Santos = Saints

Guapita = sassy/foxy/daring/testy (female)

Buena suerte, agente = Good luck, agent

Pinche maldito desgraciado = Fucking damn wretch

Amado = Beloved (male)

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

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