pascalispunkczechia

ANGST FICS

FLUFF FICS

HURT / COMFORT FICS

SMUT FICS

SERIES

HEADCANONS MASTERLIST

... and yeah lmao, other pedroboys here

"Baby? Want me to pour you some coffee into your travel mug?" you called from the kitchen.

Javier was in the bathroom getting ready for work while you packed his lunch. He hated it.

You didn't care. You refused to let that man survive on nothing but cigarettes and bad coffee.

No answer.

"Javi!"

Still nothing.

You smiled to yourself. Figures. Whenever Javier disappeared into his own head, the rest of the world stopped existing. And ever since you'd come back to Colombia, he'd been doing that more and more.

You walked into the bathroom.

He didn't even notice you. He was leaning over the sink, rinsing his face. After shutting off the faucet, he kept his eyes closed while reaching around for the towel.

You grabbed it before he could. "Looking for this, agent?"

One eye cracked open. "You spying on me?" he mumbled, taking the towel from your hand and drying his face.

"Obviously. It's not like I've got anything better to do."

He snorted quietly before hanging the towel back up.

"I was asking if you wanted coffee for the drive. In a travel mug. You didn't answer, so I figured I'd better check you hadn't drowned while brushing your teeth."

"A travel mug?" he grumbled, already reaching for his tie. "Cariño, I’m not climbing a mountain." He looked exactly like he always did at this stage of getting ready. White dress shirt. A tie you never would've picked but he somehow always managed to like. And boxers. The pants, for reasons you'd never understand, always came last.

"You say the same thing about the lunch I pack you every day." You stepped closer, gently moving his hands aside so you could fix his tie yourself. "And yet you still take it."

If Javier was terrible at one thing, it was tying a tie straight. "Feistl never lets me forget that lunch box," he muttered, letting you take over.

His aftershave hit you first. Then the smell of clean laundry. And underneath both… just Javier. Whatever that smell was.

"Maybe Feistl should remember you're his boss and shut up." You tried to sound casual. Not easy when the man smelled unfairly good. "Oh, and you've got water all over your tie again." You laughed. "Seriously, I'll never understand why you wash your face when you're basically already dressed."

"Don't question my system, cariño." He grinned. "Or the lunch stays here."

"You wouldn't dare. I'll make you take the coffee too."

He groaned dramatically. "Please don't. We've got coffee at the embassy."

"Yeah. Coffee you complain about every single day." You stuck your tongue out before smoothing his tie one last time. "There."

"Thanks," he said quietly. Almost like he still wasn't used to someone taking care of him.

"For fixing your tie? You know I'd always do a better job than you."

"Not just for that."

You looked up at him. Being so much shorter had one very specific advantage. Every time he hugged you, your face ended up against his chest, close enough to hear his heartbeat. Worth every sore neck. Your eyes met his. Brown. Warm. And suddenly your stomach flipped. Jesus. Ovulation really was dangerous. You reached up, brushing a few stubborn strands of hair back off his forehead. "You've been working way too much lately..."

He let out a quiet laugh. You couldn't tell whether he actually found it funny or if he was just exhausted. "Someone's gotta do it." His thumb brushed gently across your bottom lip.

"Mhm..." Your hands wandered down his chest. Over his stomach. Stopping just above the waistband of his boxers. You could already feel him starting to get hard beneath the fabric. "What if..." you murmured. "What if you just... went in a little later today?"

You didn't wait for an answer. Your palm started rubbing him through his boxers. Slow. Firm.

There it was. He was already getting hard. That didn't surprise you. Javier had never exactly been hard to turn on. His body always gave him away.

He leaned down and kissed you. Soft. Warm. His lips still tasted faintly of mint toothpaste. "I can't," he murmured against your mouth. "Crosby's gonna kill me if I'm late." Even so, he made absolutely no move to stop your hand. If anything… he leaned into it.

You smiled against his lips before kissing him properly this time, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

He kissed you back immediately, his tongue finding yours without a second's hesitation.

The bathroom fell quiet except for the wet sound of kissing and the soft little moans slipping from his throat while your hand kept stroking him through the fabric.

God… you loved hearing him moan. Honestly, Javier's moans were one of the sexiest things you'd ever heard. Your grip tightened just enough to pull another one from him.

"Cariño..." He pulled back with a sigh. "You're gonna be the death of me one day."

You laughed.

His hands found the belt of your robe, slowly undoing the knot.

At the same time, your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, trying to tug them down.

"So impatient," he murmured with a grin. His eyes immediately dropped when your robe slipped from your shoulders.

Nothing underneath. Not even panties. Not because you'd planned it. You just slept naked and hadn't gotten dressed yet.

And judging by the look on his face… he definitely wasn't complaining.

You, however, were having a hell of a time getting his boxers off. He was already so hard that trying to pull them down with one hand was nearly impossible.

"Need some help, cariño?" Javier grinned, amusement written all over his face. For the first time all morning, he looked... lighter. No stress. No embassy. No work. Just him.

You loved seeing him like this. "No." You didn't break eye contact. You brought your other hand up, grabbed the waistband with both hands, and yanked. The boxers slid all the way down to his ankles. "There," you said with a smug little smile.

"That's my girl," Javier murmured. Now he was standing in front of you wearing nothing but the dress shirt and the tie you'd spent the last few minutes fixing. You already knew you'd be fixing it again later. He was already hard. Very hard.

"Mmm..." you teased, your eyes dropping briefly. "Good morning, sir." You kissed him again, wrapping your hand around his cock.

God… he was hot. Thick. Heavy in your hand. Your fingers barely fit around him.

Your thumb brushed over the head, already slick enough to tell you exactly how badly he wanted you.

A low moan melted into the kiss. Almost without thinking, his hips rolled into your hand, slowly fucking your grip while you kept stroking him. One hand slid up to your breast, giving it a slow squeeze before his fingers found your nipple.

The touch sent heat rushing straight through you.

His other hand settled on your ass, pulling you flush against him until there wasn't even the slightest bit of space left between you.

Your hand kept stroking him. Slow. Lazy. Your thumb glided over the head with every pass. "Javi..." you whispered against his lips. "Take me."

That was it.

"Fuck..." He breathed the word against your mouth, whatever restraint he'd had disappearing in an instant.

Your hand slipped off him as he hooked an arm under your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing. A quiet laugh escaped you as your legs wrapped around his waist automatically.

The bedroom was only a few steps away. It still felt too damn far. With every step, the head of his cock brushed against you, making you squirm in his arms.

He shoved the bedroom door open with his foot and walked straight to the bed. A second later, he was setting you down on the edge of the mattress.

Your feet found the floor again. Your ass barely stayed on the bed. You already knew exactly what he was about to do.

Javier dropped to his knees. His hands slid up your thighs before gently pushing them apart. "So... morning to you too," he murmured, his eyes fixed shamelessly between your legs.

You leaned back on your elbows. You wanted to watch him. You always did. Watching him settle between your thighs was almost enough to make you lose your mind before he even touched you.

Then you felt it. The very first flick of his tongue against your clit. Your head fell back instantly. "Oh... Javi..." The sound slipped out before you could stop it.

He'd barely started. Barely. But just knowing he was right where he loved being... and God, you knew how much he loved it... already had every muscle in your body tightening.

The teasing didn't last long. Within seconds, slow little kisses turned into something much hungrier. Much needier. Like he'd been craving you all morning. His fingers tightened around your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you while his mouth got to work.

Wet, filthy sounds filled the room as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just hard enough to make you gasp.

"Fuck... Javi..." Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer without even thinking about it.

He didn't seem to mind. If anything, it only made him groan against you.

Your free hand grabbed a fistful of the sheets. God… he was so fucking good at this. He never rushed. Not once.

His tongue stopped focusing on just your clit. Instead, he dragged long, slow strokes through your slickness from top to bottom before doing it all over again, each one making your hips lift helplessly off the mattress.

A quiet hum vibrated against your skin.

"Nuh-uh..." His voice was rough. "Stay still, cariño." Then his mouth was on you again. He tasted you like he couldn't get enough. Like he'd happily spend the rest of the morning between your thighs. His tongue slipped inside you, fucking you in slow, deliberate strokes before pulling back to lick you again.

Every lick. Every suck. Every stroke.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

And right when you were sure you couldn't take another second...

His tongue slipped away. His lips found your clit again. Then, without warning, two fingers slipped inside you.

"Oh... fuck..." Your whole body jolted. "Javi... slow down... don't stop... fuck... right there..." You weren't even sure what you were saying anymore. The words barely made sense between broken moans.

His mouth. His fingers. The way they worked together. It was too much. And somehow still not enough.

You were so close. Instinctively, your hips lifted, chasing his fingers, trying to take them deeper. The second you moved...

He pulled them out. His mouth left you too.

"Jesus... fuck, Javi..." The frustrated sound that escaped you was almost a growl. You'd been right there. "What the fu–" The words died in your throat.

He already knew. He'd felt how close you were. "I wanna be inside you, cariño," he groaned. He didn't wait for an answer. Didn't need one. He got to his feet without taking his eyes off you.

You started scooting farther onto the bed automatically, already making room for him.

"No." One hand stopped you. "Stay right there." His palm settled against your hip, keeping you exactly where you were. "Good girl." A crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I wanna fuck you like this."

His hands slipped beneath your hips, pulling you all the way to the edge of the mattress. Just enough. He lined himself up with you before dragging you down onto him in one hard thrust. No warning. No easing you into it. He filled you completely.

A cry broke free before you could stop it.

The head of his cock found that spot inside you instantly. The one he somehow always managed to hit. "Fuck..." he breathed. "You feel so fucking good." For a moment, he didn't move. He just stayed there, buried deep inside you, enjoying the way your body squeezed around him.

Then he started fucking you. Long. Deep. Pulling almost all the way out before sliding right back in. Slow enough to make you feel every inch. Then fast enough to leave you breathless. Then slow again.

The room filled with the sharp sound of skin meeting skin.

You'd already been hanging by a thread. This was all it took. "Javi... I... I'm gonna..."

He eased you the rest of the way back onto the mattress and came down with you. His body covered yours completely. One hand found yours. Then the other. He laced your fingers together above your head and held them there while he kept thrusting into you. His mouth found your neck. Little bites. Slow kisses. Dirty words whispered against your ear.

Every single one made your stomach tighten even more. You didn't have a chance. The orgasm hit you all at once. A broken moan spilled from your lips as your whole body went tight around him. Your back arched. Your legs trembled. One wave crashed into the next until all you could do was gasp his name.

The way you clenched around him was enough to snap the last bit of control he had left. "Fuck..." He fucked you through it, chasing his own release, driving into you a few more desperate times before letting go of your hands. He braced himself on the mattress and pulled out.

The sudden emptiness made you whine before you could stop yourself. Your body was still fluttering around nothing.

"Sorry, cariño..." he breathed.

You only smiled.

Neither of you had even thought about a condom. This was just how you did things. Kids weren't part of the plan. Not yet.

His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself a few quick times. A low groan rumbled out of him. The first hot streak landed across your stomach. Another followed. Then another.

You stayed exactly where you were, breathing hard, still shaking from your orgasm as you watched it spread across your skin before slowly slipping lower. God… that was so fucking hot. A tired little shiver rolled through your body.

Javier gave himself another couple of strokes, working out the last few drops before finally letting go.

Still trembling, you scooted farther onto the bed to make room for him.

He didn't need to be told. He climbed in beside you and immediately pulled you against his chest. He couldn't have cared less about the mess. Not on your stomach. Not on the sheets. He buried his face against your neck and let out a satisfied little sigh. "So..." he mumbled. "Pretty sure Crosby wouldn't buy this as an excuse for being late."

You laughed, running your fingers through his hair, now damp with sweat. "Yeah... maybe don't test that." The last aftershocks were still rolling through your body.

He laughed quietly, the sound rumbling against your skin. Then he wrapped his arm around you a little tighter, like he wanted to keep the rest of the world as far away as possible, and pressed one slow kiss to your shoulder. "Mmh..." His lips brushed your skin. "For now... Crosby can go fuck himself." He closed his eyes, letting you curl even closer against him.

Yeah. He'd be late for work. Neither of you cared.

Thank you so much for reading ♡

💌 @idknananchimaybe @pascalispunktexas @mothmanuwu @pascalispunkbr @reasonablyluminousquill @justmasblack @indiegirlunited @saralovesjoelmiller @picketniffler @canonisoptional @katyispunk @daltoncharm @kirsteng42 @borinquenasoy @cuteanimalmama @negramurguera @senoratess @misstokyo7love @suestormnotcheatingversion @lizette50 @grxnde-dwt @harriedandharassed @somedayheaven @ladyofmidlo72 @bardot49 @scarlettval2 @goonersquad101 @loveoverpride @fckyeahsaltandpeppercurls @javierarchieve @ningaispunk @shadowqueen2024

I swear I didn’t think it was a big deal. It’s a towel. You use it, it gets wet, you throw it on the bed, it dries. That’s how men have survived for centuries. Apparently, I was wrong.

She comes out of the bathroom, hair wrapped up, face still pink from the shower, and stops dead at the foot of the bed.

There it is – my towel. Damp. Spread proudly across the sheets like a crime scene.

She blinks. Once. Twice. Then looks at me. “Javier.” That tone. The calm-before-the-storm tone.

I’m halfway through buttoning my shirt. “Yeah?”

She points. “What is that?”

“A towel?”

Her eyes narrow. “A wet towel. On the bed. Again.”

I shrug. “It’ll dry.”

She gasps like I’ve just admitted to a murder. “It’ll what?”

“Dry,” I repeat, deadpan. “That’s what towels do. It’s literally their job.”

“On the bed?! You think our sheets are a dryer now?”

I try not to laugh. Mistake. The corner of my mouth twitches, and she catches it instantly.

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

“Baby, come on. It’s a towel, not a–”

“NOT A WHAT, JAVIER?” She’s marching toward me now, dripping water onto the floor, towel crown slipping dangerously to one side. “Do you know how many times I’ve told you? Do you?!”

“Three?” I guess.

“Seventeen!” she snaps. “Seventeen times I’ve said ‘don’t leave wet towels on the bed,’ and you look at me with that same smug little–”

“–handsome?” I offer.

She throws the towel from her hair at my face. “–face!”

It hits me square in the chest, damp and warm.

“Okay, okay,” I laugh, catching it before it hits the floor. “You win. No more towels on the bed.”

She crosses her arms. “You said that last time.”

“I mean it this time.”

“You meant it last time too.”

I take a step closer, lower my voice, put on the Peña charm that usually gets me out of trouble. “What can I say? I’m a slow learner.”

Her eyes flick down, lips twitching despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

I grin. “But you love me.”

She groans, turning away. “Not when you ruin my sheets, I don’t.”

♡ ── ♡ ── ♡

Later that night, I get out of the shower, towel around my waist. I look at the bed. Then at her.

She’s watching me like a hawk.

So I walk back to the bathroom. Hang it up. Nice and neat. “Happy?” I ask.

She smirks. “Ecstatic.”

♡ ── ♡ ── ♡

Next morning, I reach for a towel after my shower. Nothing. The rack’s empty. “Cariño?” I call.

She answers sweetly from the kitchen. “Yes, love?”

“Where are all the towels?”

“I hid them.”

“You what?”

“Consequences, Javi.”

So now I’m standing in the bathroom, dripping, wrapped in a hand towel that barely covers anything, contemplating my life choices.

Maybe next time I’ll just buy more sheets.

thank you for reading!

💌 @idknananchimaybe @pascalispunktexas @mothmanuwu @pascalispunkbr @reasonablyluminousquill @justmasblack @indiegirlunited @saralovesjoelmiller @picketniffler @canonisoptional @katyispunk @daltoncharm @kirsteng42 @borinquenasoy @cuteanimalmama @senoratess @misstokyo7love @suestormnotcheatingversion @lizette50 @grxnde-dwt @harriedandharassed @somedayheaven @ladyofmidlo72 @bardot49 @scarlettval2 @goonersquad101 @loveoverpride @fckyeahsaltandpeppercurls @shadowqueen2024 @ningaispunk

Javi’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk into the room. Record player’s running in the corner, some old vinyl he dug out of a box earlier that afternoon. He hasn’t moved much since he put it on. One elbow on his knee, fingers rubbing slowly over his mustache like he does when he’s thinking.

You lean against the doorframe for a second. “You been sitting here the whole time?”

He glances over. “Maybe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Javi shrugs a little. “Just thinkin’.”

You walk over and stop in front of him.

His eyes follow you automatically. They always do.

“You do a lot of that lately,” you say.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t argue.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair.

Javi exhales quietly and leans into it before he even realizes he’s doing it.

“Easy, Peña,” you murmur.

He huffs softly. “You’re the one standin’ there messin’ with my hair.”

“You like it.”

“Didn’t say that.” But he doesn’t move away.

Your thumb brushes along the side of his neck. “Still in your head about Colombia?” you ask.

He looks at the floor for a moment. “Sometimes.”

“Hm.” You nod a little. Then you step closer until you’re standing between his knees.

Javi’s hands settle on your hips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. They stay there. Warm. Solid.

“You’re here now,” you say quietly.

He looks up at you. “I know.”

Your fingers brush his cheek. “You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

For a second he just watches you. Then his grip on your hips tightens a little and he pulls you closer. Then stays like that. Doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t pull away. Just breathing slow, his hands steady on you. After a moment he murmurs quietly, “Stay a minute.”

You smile a little. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

thank you for reading!

💌 @idknananchimaybe @pascalispunktexas @mothmanuwu @pascalispunkbr @reasonablyluminousquill @justmasblack @indiegirlunited @saralovesjoelmiller @picketniffler @canonisoptional @katyispunk @daltoncharm @kirsteng42 @borinquenasoy @cuteanimalmama @negramurguera @senoratess @misstokyo7love @suestormnotcheatingversion @lizette50 @grxnde-dwt @harriedandharassed @somedayheaven @ladyofmidlo72 @bardot49 @scarlettval2 @goonersquad101 @loveoverpride @fckyeahsaltandpeppercurls @javierarchieve @shadowqueen2024 @ningaispunk

I’ve seen this scene approximately one billion times. In the show. In screencaps. In edits. In GIFs. And somehow, I never noticed that the photo is RIGHT THERE behind Javi in his office !!!!!

And the way he keeps it there is so painfully Javi. It isn’t properly framed. It isn’t sitting on his desk where he can look at it all day.

He just casually tucked it into the corner of the official presidential portrait behind him. Like he wants a piece of home nearby without making a big deal out of it.

He doesn’t need to keep it directly in front of him. Maybe looking at home all day would only make him miss it more.

But he still wants it there. Close enough to know he has it. Right behind him.

I’M FINE. THIS IS FINE.

And because the photo is behind him instead of facing him on his desk, everyone who walks into his office can see it. For someone as private as Javi, that feels strangely personal. He’s quietly letting people see this tiny piece of his life outside the DEA. His dad. His home. Their ranch…

Maybe everyone else noticed this years ago.

But somehow, after three years and more Narcos rewatches than I could ever count, I’m only seeing it now. And yes, I feel slightly embarrassed.

BUT I’M ALSO SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT. Javi Peña keeps a photo with his dad in his office.

Three months ago, Javier Peña accidentally stole your table. It wasn't exactly his finest moment.

He walked into the little café a few blocks from the U.S. Embassy looking like he'd been awake for three straight days. His tie hung loose around his neck, his sleeves were rolled unevenly, and the stack of DEA files tucked beneath one arm looked heavy enough to ruin anyone's afternoon.

Without so much as a glance around the room, he dropped everything onto the first empty table he found. Coffee. Files. Newspaper. Then he sat down. What he never noticed was the small handwritten card tucked into the sugar holder:

Reserved

Not officially. Just for you. Everyone in the café knew that table belonged to you.

Carlos, the waiter, looked up from the espresso machine, spotted Javier sitting there, then looked toward the front door. He knew exactly who would be walking in within the next few minutes. A grin tugged at his lips. He decided to let fate handle this one.

You arrived less than a minute later, backpack hanging from one shoulder, already pulling your book from the front pocket. You smiled at Carlos.

Carlos smiled back.

Then you turned toward your usual table. Your smile disappeared.

Some stranger had claimed it.

You stopped beside the chair and waited.

Surely he'd notice someone standing there. But he didn't. He calmly turned another page of his newspaper.

You cleared your throat.

Nothing.

"Uh... excuse me?"

Not even a glance.

You waited another couple of seconds before finally reaching across the table and lowering the newspaper just enough for him to actually see you.

He looked up slowly. His expression wasn't irritated. It was simply the face of a man whose patience had been exhausted hours ago. "Yeah?"

"I think you're sitting at my table."

He blinked once before glancing around the café, as if the answer might be sitting somewhere else. "There are plenty of empty tables."

"There are," you agreed easily. "I'm not saying there aren't."

When he looked back at you, there was a faint crease between his brows. "So why this one?"

You rested a hand on the back of the chair opposite him, still making no move to sit. "Because this is where I always sit."

He glanced around the café again. A couple of people looked over for a second before returning to their own conversations. Nobody stepped in. Nobody confirmed what you were saying.

Eventually, his attention returned to you. "You don't have an assigned seat."

"No..."

"Then I don't see the problem."

You smiled, patient enough that it almost seemed to confuse him. "The problem isn't that there are no other tables. The problem is that you're sitting at the one I come to every afternoon."

He studied you for another moment, clearly waiting for you to give up and pick one of the other empty tables. "You really gonna make a thing out of this?"

You smiled. "I don't think I am."

"No?"

"No." You rested your hand on the back of the chair. "I'd just like my table back."

He looked around the café again before meeting your eyes. "You keep calling it your table."

"I do."

"But it isn't."

"Officially?" You gave a small shrug. "No."

His expression didn't change. "So why are you acting like it is?"

"Because everyone here knows it's mine."

He let out a quiet breath through his nose. "Funny. Nobody mentioned that."

"I thought the reservation sign might."

"What reservation sign?"

"The one you're covering."

He frowned immediately, following your gaze to the tabletop. "I didn't see one."

"You couldn't." You leaned forward, slid one of the thick folders a few inches aside, and revealed the small handwritten card hidden beneath it. "There."

For a second, he simply stared at it. Then he looked back at you. "Well..."

"You buried it."

"I guess I did." For the first time since you'd walked over, he looked lowkey embarrassed. Not enough to admit it out loud. Just enough that you noticed. After a brief silence, he looked back up at you. "You could've just said something."

A quiet laugh slipped out before you could stop it. "Hello? I've been standing here saying something for a couple of minutes."

Before either of you could continue, Carlos finally abandoned his role as an innocent bystander. "She's right, señor."

You both turned toward the counter.

Carlos was grinning without the slightest attempt to hide it. "That's been her table for months. We don't even ask where she wants to sit anymore."

Javier slowly closed his eyes. "Of course." He let out a tired sigh before gathering the files back into a stack, folding the newspaper under one arm and reaching for his coffee. As he stood, he shot Carlos a look. "You could've warned me."

Carlos shrugged. "I would've missed the entertainment."

Javier muttered something under his breath as he carried everything to the neighboring table.

Only after he'd settled down did you pull your chair out and sit. "Thank you."

He unfolded the newspaper again before answering. "I wasn't trying to be nice."

"I know."

He lowered the paper just enough to look at you. "So you don't have to sound so pleased about it."

"I'll try."

He gave a quiet shake of his head before disappearing behind the newspaper again.

The café gradually slipped back into its normal rhythm.

You opened your book. A page. Then another. Barely half a minute passed before you glanced sideways again. "You know..."

This time the newspaper lowered only an inch. "What now?"

"You picked the worst table in the café."

He sighed. "Why?"

You nodded toward the window. "The sun."

He followed your gaze. "It looks fine."

"It does."

His eyes returned to yours. "So what's the problem?"

"It won't stay there."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"In another ten minutes it's going to be shining straight into your eyes."

He glanced back toward the window as if checking whether you might somehow be wrong. "I'll survive."

"I'm sure you will." You looked back down at your book. "I just figured I'd warn you before you spent the afternoon squinting at your paperwork."

He watched you quietly for a moment. "You always this helpful?"

You smiled without looking up. "Only after people steal my table."

For a second he simply looked at you. Then, despite every visible effort not to… the corner of his mouth almost gave in. Not quite a smile. More like his face had considered it for half a second before deciding he wasn't in the mood. Then he unfolded his newspaper again.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the afternoon.

–––

The next afternoon, Javier came back. This time, he walked straight past your table and sat down in the chair beside it like he'd already made up his mind.

The afternoon after that, he did the same thing.

A few days later, you got there first. Without really thinking about it, you left the chair next to you empty, you didn’t block it with your backpack.

When Javier walked in, he spotted it immediately. He didn't wave. He didn't ask if anyone was sitting there. He just walked over and sat down.

A few days later, he beat you to the café. When you walked in, your chair was empty. It was as if he’d been making sure no one took it for you. You smiled to yourself, set your bag on the floor, and sat down as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Neither of you ever mentioned it. You never thanked him for saving your seat. He never admitted he'd been doing it. Somewhere along the way, it had just become part of the routine. And neither of you saw any reason to question it.

–––

Three months later, the routine had become so normal neither of you questioned it anymore.

Most afternoons, Javier was already there by the time you arrived. Sometimes he was buried beneath paperwork. Sometimes he looked like he'd slept. Most days he hadn't.

You'd bring your book. He'd bring another impossible stack of DEA files. Carlos would place two coffees on the table without asking because, at some point, he'd simply decided Javier drank the same thing every day.

Neither of you remembered when the conversations had started. One day you'd commented on the terrible music playing through the café speakers. Another day he'd complained about embassy paperwork. Somewhere between those conversations, silence had stopped being awkward. It had become comfortable.

–––

"You know," you said one afternoon, closing your book halfway, "I still think it's funny."

Javier didn't look up immediately. His attention lingered on the report in front of him for another few seconds before he finally lowered it just enough to meet your eyes. "What?"

"The first thing you ever said to me."

A faint crease appeared between his brows. "I've said a lot of things."

You smiled. "'There are plenty of empty tables.'"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I was right."

"You were so annoyed."

"I still am."

"I noticed."

He studied you for a moment over the edge of the file before giving a quiet shake of his head. "And yet..." he said, "you keep coming back."

You couldn't help smiling. "So do you."

For a second, neither of you said anything. Javier held your gaze just long enough to admit defeat. "Fair enough."

Carlos chose that exact moment to appear beside the table, coffee pot already in hand. "Your usual?"

Both of you nodded without a word.

Only after Carlos wandered back toward the counter did Javier lean back in his chair again. His eyes drifted to the novel resting beside your coffee. "You always have that book with you."

You looked down at it before looking back at him. "It isn't the same book."

"It all looks the same."

You stared at him in exaggerated disbelief before placing a hand over your chest. "That," you declared, "might be the most offensive thing you've ever said."

One of his eyebrows lifted. "I called you territorial over a table."

"And somehow this is worse."

A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. It was barely there. Short enough that someone sitting across the café probably wouldn't have noticed it.

You did. Your eyes lifted from your coffee almost immediately. "What was that?"

Javier looked back at the report in front of him as though nothing unusual had happened. He reached for his coffee instead, taking an unhurried sip before finally answering. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You laughed."

"I did not."

You watched him for another second, waiting for even the smallest crack in his expression. "You absolutely did."

He lowered the cup again. "I breathed."

That only made you smile wider. "No," you said, leaning back in your chair. "That was definitely a laugh."

"I think you're imagining things."

You tipped your head toward the counter where Carlos was wiping down the espresso machine. "I have a witness."

Javier glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at you. "Carlos doesn't count."

"He absolutely counts."

He let out a quiet sigh, more resigned than annoyed, before shaking his head. "I liked you better when you only argued about furniture."

You looked at him over the rim of your coffee. "I still argue about furniture."

"Now you argue about everything."

"I'm keeping things interesting."

For a long moment, Javier said nothing. He simply studied you with the same thoughtful expression he usually reserved for reports he didn't trust. Finally, he gave the smallest nod. "That's debatable..."

You laughed quietly into your coffee. "You're in a better mood today."

"I'm really not."

"No?" You tilted your head. "You've smiled twice."

His eyes narrowed just a little. "I regret both."

You took another sip of your coffee before looking back at him. "Good."

Another quiet silence settled between you. Outside, traffic rolled past the café windows. Inside, cups clinked against saucers while someone argued softly in Spanish near the counter.

Javier rubbed a tired hand over his face, then let it rest against his jaw for a moment as he stared down at the paperwork scattered across the table.

"Tough day?"

He didn't answer straight away. His eyes stayed on the report in front of him, though it was obvious he wasn't reading anymore. Eventually, he exhaled through his nose. "The usual."

You gave a small nod. "You don't have to tell me."

"I know."

The conversation drifted back into a comfortable silence. You reached for your coffee while Javier absentmindedly straightened the stack of papers he'd barely touched all afternoon.

After a while, without looking up, he spoke again. "You coming tomorrow?"

Your eyes lifted from your cup. It was such an ordinary question that it almost slipped past you. Casual. Offhand. As if he hadn't given it a second thought. Except three months ago, he wouldn't have asked at all. "I usually do."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he looked back down at the table. "Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

Before either of you could say anything else, Carlos returned with fresh refills. He placed one in front of Javier, the other in front of you, then glanced between the two of you with a knowing smile. "See you both tomorrow."

Neither of you commented on it. Carlos disappeared again, leaving the two of you alone with the quiet that had become so familiar.

You wrapped your hands around the warm mug for a moment before looking back at Javier. "So… same time tomorrow?"

Instead of answering immediately, he took another sip of his coffee. His eyes stayed on you over the rim of the cup for a second before he finally set it down. "There better not be anyone sitting at my table."

You couldn't help raising an eyebrow. "Your table?"

He didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed. "You heard me."

A quiet laugh escaped you. "You really stole my table."

For a moment, Javier simply watched you. Then, before either of you had time to think about it, the words left his mouth. "And somehow you still ended up stealing me..."

Silence settled over the table. He froze almost immediately.

You stared at him. For the first time since you'd met him, Javier Peña looked like a man who genuinely wished he could take his own words back.

"I meant..." He cleared his throat, suddenly finding his coffee far more interesting than your face. "My afternoons."

You let him sit with that explanation for a second before a smile slowly spread across your face. "Sure you did."

"I did."

"Mhm."

He gave a quiet shake of his head, muttering something under his breath as he reached for his coffee again. Whatever he'd said disappeared into the rim of the cup before you could make it out.

You decided not to push him any further. Instead, you hid your smile behind your own coffee.

Neither of you mentioned it again.

But when you walked into the café the following afternoon, the chair beside his was still empty. Waiting for you, just like it always was.

Thank you so much for reading ♡

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