Dating Paco Aguilar
Summary: Being with Paco, through every stage in his life
A/n: I just put every story/blurb in here that werenât meaty enough for their own postâŚso eat up
â˘It took weeks for Paco to open up when you first met him. He didnât trust easilyâtoo many betrayals, too much pain, but once he did, he was all in.
â˘Paco was dangerous, but with you, he was a shield. Walking through the barrio with his arm slung over your shoulder, no one dared look your way unless they wanted trouble.
â˘You and him always found peace within each others presence
You found Paco splayed across the couch, staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. You sat beside him. Slowly, he shifted, making room for you to lean against him. Without a word, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you close.
The silence was peaceful. His thumb brushed over your arm, a silent acknowledgment of how much he cared without needing to say it.
â˘Paco always made made sure everyone knew you were his, the way his arm would slide around your waist when someone stared too long. He didnât have to say much. Just one look, and everyone knew not to mess with you. He wasnât just guarding you, he was claiming you. Loyalty wasnât just a word to him; it was the foundation of how he loved.
â˘The second you and Paco had made it official, he started to bring you around his friends. And you were quickly integrated in, they saw you as one of them, the sister they never had.
Look who decided to show up!â Chuy called out with a laugh, elbowing Danny. âI thought you had her locked up at home, man!â
Paco rolled his eyes but couldnât suppress a grin. âNah, she can take care of herself, trust me.â
You slid into the booth next to Paco, and immediately, Danny, ever the joker, threw an arm around you like you were one of the guys. âMan, Pacoâs whipped!â he teased, earning a laugh from the whole table. âYou know heâs been like a damn puppy since she came around.â
Paco shot him a warning glare, but it was all in good fun. âShut up, Danny. Youâre just jealous âcause you donât have someone to boss you around,â he shot back, laughing with his friends, intertwining your hand with his, bringing it up to kiss the back of your hand.
â˘When Paco left to the military you were relieved, but nonetheless devastated.
You remembered the way Paco looked the day he left. Rigid posture, buzzed hair, jaw locked. He barely said a word when he hugged youâjust pulled you in so tight it hurt, his fingers trembling slightly at the base of your spine.
âIâll write,â he murmured against your temple as he kissed you. âPlease wait for meâ he pleaded looking into your eyes with fear and devotion.
You nodded, fighting the lump in your throat. âIâm yours.â You promised
He pulled back, eyes meeting yours, fierce and vulnerable all at once. âI love you.â
And then he was gone.
â˘Letter would arrive in bunches, sometimes weeks late. Writing about his anger, his longing, his dreams for the future. Always signing each one with âForever yours.â
Youâd sleep in the clothes that heâd left behind, the scent of him slowly fading as time passed. Still, you waited.Because love like Pacoâs didnât die in the desertâit burned hotter than ever.
â˘Whenever Paco came back home, you would make the most of the little time you had together before he had to leave you again.
Making his favorite meals, spending time with his family. Sneaking away to quiet secluded spots, sharing a beer talking about your plans for your future, together.
You would take Polaroids together, and of each other, hoping that time would stand still. Staying up all night talking or dancing, (and more ;P) not wanting to waste any moment together. And when sleep finally caught up to you two, you would be wrapped in each otherâs arms, at peace.
â˘Youâd think it would get easier every time he left, but it never did.
You stood, wrapping your arms around him, holding on trying to keep him there with the strength of your grip alone. He held you even tighter, fierce, desperate.
When he finally pulled back, he kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips, like he was engraving it in his memory.
âIâll come back to you,â he said. âAlways.â
And then he was gone, boots echoing down the steps, leaving your heart half full and half breaking.
â˘By the time he had finished his time in the military. He made it his mission to marry you. You two had gone through thick and thin with each other. He wanted to grow old with you. He wanted forever.
⢠He had joined the LAPD, wanting to put a stop to the violence that he once lived by. Some nights, youâd find him sitting on the couch, quiet and thoughtful.
Paco didnât say much when he came through the doorâjust tossed his keys on the table with more force than necessary and sat heavily on the couch, still in his uniform. His shoulders were stiff, arm wresting on the back of the couch, jaw clenched tight, like he was holding something in, like if he spoke it would all fall apart. You didnât ask what happened. You didnât need to. You could see it in the way he sat on the edge of the cushion.
You eased down beside him, sliding your hand on his leg until your hand settled over his chest. He didnât move, but the hitch in his breath gave him away. You rested your cheek against the warm fabric of his sleeve, feeling the tension under his skin, the slow thud of his heartbeat beneath your palms. Giving him space to wrap his head around whatever he was thinking.
He finally let out a breath, shaky and uneven. âItâs like Iâm always two steps away from becoming that same bastard I used to be, every step i take, im haunted by the pastâ he said, barely above a whisper. â⌠I donât know if Iâve really changed, or if Iâm just pretending.â
You gently turned his face toward you. âYouâre not pretending,â you said, brushing your thumb over the scar on his brow. The one you knew he got long before he ever wore a badge. âYouâre fighting every day. Thatâs more than most ever do.â
He leaned forward until his forehead rested against your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him fully this time, fingers sliding up into his hair. He let himself go quiet in your arms, body slowly relaxing, piece by piece, like he could finally fall apart knowing youâd be there to hold what was left.
âI still see you,â he murmured after a while, voice low, raw. âBack at that busted-up party on Whittier... Remember? That night Smokey got jumped and I was bleeding from my eyebrow, talking shit like I wasnât scared.â
You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing the nape of his neck, grounding him. âYou were furious. Bleeding all over your shirt, swinging at anyone who looked at you wrong. But when you saw me, you just... stopped.â
He let out a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. âYou grabbed my face, told me to âshut the hell upâ and âlet you clean me up before the cops cameâ.â His eyes lifted to meet yours now, softer than they had been all night. âYouâve always pulled me back. Even then.â
You leaned in, your lips brushing his temple, slow and warm. âyouâve always let me. Even when you didnât know how.â
His hands came up to your waist, grounding himself in your touch. It was love aged like scars, layered with years of grief, loyalty, survival. âYouâve seen every version of me,â he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. âThe broken kid who thought dying young was the only way out. And now this...â
Your hands cupping his face like they had so many times before. âAnd I still choose you. Every time. Not because youâve changed, but because you keep changing. And you let me change, too.â
His lips met yours then, a promise sealed in silence. And in that moment, it wasnât about who he had been or who he might still become. It was about you and him, right here, always choosing each other, again and again.
