NINIK

The apartment is quiet for once. No radio. No paperwork spread across the kitchen table. No phone ringing every twenty goddamn minutes. Just rain tapping softly against the windows and the low hum of the fan somewhere in the apartment.

And Javi looks exhausted. Not just tired. Exhausted. The kind that sits deep in his bones. You notice it the second he walks through the door. His shoulders are tense under the jacket, tie already loosened like he got annoyed with it halfway through the drive home. His hair’s messy from him running his hand through it too many times and there are dark circles under his eyes that definitely weren’t there a few months ago.

He shuts the door behind himself with a tired sigh. Then he sees you sitting on the couch in one of his shirts and something in his expression softens instantly. There he is. Your Javi.

“Hey,” you say quietly.

“Hey, hermosa.” His voice comes out rough and low.

You can tell immediately it was a bad day.

He tosses his keys onto the counter and stands there for a second like he forgot what he was doing. Like his brain’s still somewhere out there instead of here with you.

Then you open your arms toward him without saying anything. And god. The look on his face almost breaks your heart.

Because Javier Peña is not a man who lets himself fall apart easily. He carries everything alone even when he shouldn’t. Keeps it all shoved down under sarcasm, whiskey, paperwork, and stubbornness. But with you? Sometimes he lets go.

Javi walks over slowly before practically collapsing onto the couch beside you. The second your arms wrap around him, he exhales hard through his nose and buries his face against your neck.

Neither of you says anything for a minute.

You just hold him. Your fingers slide slowly through his hair while he stays pressed against you, one heavy arm around your waist. “You eat today?” you ask softly after a while.

He groans against your shoulder.

“So that’s a no.”

“I had coffee.”

“Javi.”

“And a cigarette.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “That is not food.”

“Depends who you ask.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

He finally smiles a little. Tiny. Tired. But real.

“There he is,” you mumble.

His thumb rubs lazily against your hip underneath the oversized shirt you stole from him three days ago and still haven’t given back. Not that he minds. Pretty sure he likes seeing you in his clothes more than he should.

“C’mere,” you whisper.

He lets you pull him down until his head ends up in your lap. Honestly, seeing DEA Agent Javier Peña like this would probably shock half the people who know him. No gun in his hand. No sharp attitude. Just tired brown eyes watching you while your fingers scratch gently through his hair.

Outside, thunder rumbles quietly. Inside, Javi looks dangerously close to falling asleep.

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask.

His eyes drift shut. “No.”

“Okay.”

Another silence settles between you. Comfortable. Soft. The kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

Your fingers move from his hair down to his face, lightly tracing the stubble along his jaw. He leans into your touch automatically without even realizing it. That does something stupid to your chest every single time. “You know,” you murmur, “you’re very clingy for someone who acts tough all the time.”

One eye opens slightly. “Am not.”

“You’re literally using me as a pillow right now.”

“You should feel honored.”

You laugh quietly.

And there it is again. That tiny smile.

God, you’d do almost anything to keep that look on his face. “You wanna know what I think?” you ask.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I think,” you continue dramatically, “that DEA Agent Javier Peña deserves one calm evening where nobody shoots at him, nobody calls him, and nobody makes him leave this couch.”

“Hm.” His eyes close again. “I like your thinking.”

“Good. Because I’m serious.” You lean down and press a soft kiss against his forehead.

His arm tightens around your waist immediately. Needy man. “You smell good,” he mumbles half asleep.

“That’s because I used your soap.”

“That explains it.”

“You saying I normally smell bad?”

“I’m saying you smell better today.”

You gasp dramatically. “Wow. Romance really is alive.”

That earns you an actual laugh this time. Quiet and rough and tired, but real enough to make you grin instantly.

Javi opens his eyes again just to look at you for a second. And suddenly he gets that expression. That softer one. The one he only gets when he’s looking at you like you’re something he still can’t fully believe belongs to him. “You know that thing you do?” he says quietly.

“What thing?”

“This.” His hand lifts slowly, fingertips brushing against your cheek before settling behind your neck. “Making this place feel normal.”

Your chest aches a little at that. Because sometimes you forget what his normal looks like outside these walls.

Blood. Stress. Cartels. Dead bodies. Fear.

And then he comes home and melts into your arms like he’s been holding himself together all day just to make it back here. Back to you.

You lean down and kiss him softly this time. Slow. Careful.

Javi sighs against your mouth like he needed that more than oxygen.

When you pull away, he chases after another kiss immediately. Then another.

Until eventually you’re both smiling into it.

“There he is,” you whisper again.

“Hm?”

“My favorite DEA agent.”

He groans quietly. “That line was terrible.”

“You loved it.”

“I tolerated it because you’re pretty.”

“Wow.”

“You started it.”

You laugh again and he watches you like the sound alone fixes something inside him. And honestly? Maybe it does a little.

♡ ── ♡ ── ♡ 

After a while, you convince him to actually eat something. Barely.

He complains the entire time while standing in the kitchen beside you, one hand around your waist while you make him a sandwich like he’s a giant grumpy housecat that wandered in from the rain.

“You know,” you tell him while handing him the plate, “most grown men can feed themselves.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to watch you boss me around.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says before taking a bite, “you’re obsessed with me.” Unfortunately for you both, he’s right.

♡ ── ♡ ── ♡ 

Later that night, the rain gets heavier.

Javi ends up stretched out on the couch with you half laying on top of him, his fingers drawing lazy lines along your spine underneath his shirt.

The TV’s on but neither of you is really watching it.

He looks calmer now. Still tired. Still carrying too much. But calmer. And right before he falls asleep, he presses a sleepy kiss into your hair and murmurs quietly: “Thanks for taking care of me, cariño.”

Like it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do.

thank you for reading <3

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