#dad!javi

It was hot, he hated being hot, he was always in some damn sunny, hot, sweltering place and he sometimes fantasized about retiring to Wisconsin. 

His son wasn’t helping his mood.

“Do you need a leg up or–”

“No, I have it.” The voice was curt and Javier had to remind himself that smacking a kid wasn’t acceptable anymore. He’d have gotten a glove across the face for using that tone with his pop.

“Alright, well, don’t get thrown.” Javi shrugged and patted his shirt for cigarettes. He was still smoking but he’d made a bargain with a very stern Petey to stop smoking the same amount. At first he went from a pack a day to four a week. Then three. Then his wife had scoffed at the cost and he was suddenly down to one a week. That was who knows how long ago, now he was starting to get that back of the throat cough and Petey had glared at him and said “One a month.” 

He loved that girl but she was scary sometimes, and he was at least hoping that the rumblings of law school were going to go somewhere. 

“What are we doing?”

Bonding. Javi chewed on his mustache. Jorgi was trying to grow one but it was thin, sparse little hairs poking out, and he wouldn’t get to chewing it for a time. Jorgi still had his baby fat but he was straining at the edges, desperate to outgrow it, outpace it, “Fixing fences.”

“I don’t wanna.” Jorgi whined.

“Well tough shit, you’re suspended so you ain’t got anything else going on.” 

He mentally cringed: that was not the best way to handle it and he knew it. 

It made Jorgi stiffen, “That wasn’t my fault.”

Javi put a hand over his mouth, “Let’s just get packed up to go handle this, and worry about all that later? We gotta fix this up for pop.”

Pop was something that could compel Jorgi– he loved his grandfather and it was apparent that his grandfather’s health made keeping up the farm functionally impossible. Javi was here as often as he could be and he was sending the kids. Once Petey realized what the situation is she made a rotation of her friends in high school and college, and as much as Javi hated to admit it that Trent schmuck was pulling more than half his weight. Javi gestured to the horse, “We need them today, we’re going where the truck gets stuck. You got your rope and your knife?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright…where’s the cooler?”

“I don’t think I have room for it.” 

That made Javi smirk. He’d complained about a crowded saddle as a kid too and his father had scoffed. Used to have four inches of a mule to sit on that didn’t have other shit on it, you don’t know what crowded is.

Javi wiped his brow, “It’s ok, I know how to do it.”

Javi felt narrating what he was doing was going to go over better than most other things he’d say, “So it’s just balance and tying it on so the horse doesn’t get fussy, they either want equal weight on both sides or something on the back but nothing that jostles their ass, they’re sensitive like that. Now since we got the tool chest I can do a saddlebag knot and it’ll just hang on either side.” 

“Cool.” Jorgi looked at his horse’s mane and then at his cuticles, “What’s for lunch?”

“We haven’t even started yet, kid. Lunch is a long way away.”

“Fine.” 

The ride out to his pop’s marshiest south pasture was quiet and awkward with Jorgi pouting and looking put out while Javi kept trying to figure which way would break through the best. 

Goddamn I question criminals for a living, this shouldn’t be hard.

But it was.

While he certainly cared about some of his sources and while he had decency, ultimately when it came to questioning people it was usually no holds barred. He would make them cry, make them scream, wheedle them until they popped, or flat-out insult them all to get the confession. His bosses used to get real nervous around his tactics as some of them blurred the lines of acceptable, but now he was the boss and he had to do it less. It was on him to worry if someone else was too blurry with their lines, but he often wasn’t the one in the room these days. When he was? It was to show the kids how it was done. Someone had tried to strong-arm someone that needed their ego stroked or someone had played good cop too sweetly and was being taken for a ride, and Javi had to come in and course correct. 

Hell’s the answer here?

Petey was getting into the full swing of college and even though she hadn’t left Texas she wasn’t home as much. Javi ached over that in a way he had never expected and there was a different sort of pressure with Jorgi. Petey was naturally good at school, Jorgi was alright. Petey ran hot and cold with trouble but she had really firm morals and Jorgi sort of placidly plodded along. 

When they got there the fence was wrecked. 

A tree was on it and Javi sighed, taking the toolbox and lunch cooler down and leading the horse to a tree, “Go on girl.”

Jorgi watched his dad and copied, “Why are we letting them loose? Why not tie them?”

“The noise of the chainsaw will scare them, if we tie them they could get hurt. They won’t go far and they’ll come back.” He shrugged, “Horses are too curious, they’ll want to see what’s happening as soon as they feel the big scary noises are gone.” 

“Chainsaw?”

“Hope you didn’t think we were cutting that shit up by hand.” Javi pointed to the tree and Jorgi turned and really saw what was in front of them.

“Holy shit that’s a big tree.”

“Yup.” Javi opened the box, “Now, let’s talk about chainsaws.”

The chainsaws excited little more enthusiasm from Jorgi than the lunchbox or the knots or any part of the day so far, but at least they were noisy enough that both of them could ignore talking for a while. Still, a tree only had so many branches. The heat ticked up, the minutes accumulated, and the sweat ran down their backs but the conversation remained crippled. 

“Come on, we gotta haul some just a bit away from the fence.”

“Why?”

“You wanna balance on them to fix barbed wire then be my guest but I failed trapeze arts in the academy…now, on my count.” 

They managed to lift it and while it felt like they had it five feet in the air they only managed to get it about three inches off the ground. Then they managed to get it just clear of the fence before trying to count out dropping it and Jorgi dropped it before Javi, “Jesus Christ! Liable to throw my back out!”

“Sorry.” Jorgi looked down.

“I just….what’s up with you recently?” Javi threw his hands up, “Sitting over there pouting, not saying a goddamn word, you get caught red-handed at school, and you’re suspended and you barely say two fucking words to me…”

Jorgi looked up, “What do you want?”

“I dunno, Jorgi, insight. Yelling. I’ll take obscenities. That or don’t drop a fucking tree on me, Jesus, I know I’m not father of the year but I’m not the wicked witch of the west either.”

“That was a house.”

“At least the boy speaks!” Javi patted himself down for cigarettes. When he found them he held out the pack to his son.

“What are you–?”

“You’re smoking pot, I like to think this is slightly better. Legal, at least.” Javi kept the pack out and Jorgi took a cigarette from him, “Hardly be couth of me to pretend I think it’s horrible when I do it, you kids see that, I’m not trying to be a hypocrite.” 

He lit Jorgi’s cigarette first and then got his own up. He noticed that Jorgi’s hands were shaking and as he brought the cigarette up to his lips he didn’t seem casual or practiced. On his first inhale he coughed, choking on it, and Javier cocked his head.

“What?” He expertly enunciated through his own cigarette.

Jorgi blushed as much as he could and tossed the lit cigarette into the river, stalking away from his dad and slumping against the broken fence.

Javier had that feeling tugging on his stomach like a dad moment was coming. It was something like anxiety and instinctively he looked around for another adult in the room.

He had never felt qualified for this, never felt he had the right advice or any wisdom worth trading to a kid. Often he felt his kids were best with less of him, but they kept coming back for more as if he was being stingy and he didn’t like feeling cheap or insufficient so he kept doling more of himself out. 

But what was the answer here?

He walked over and sat down, though with less grace than the teenager. His back was halfway fucked, his knees killed him, and he was fatter these days so none of this was as smooth as he would’ve liked. 

“Do you wanna talk?”

“No. I wanna fix the fucking fence.” Jorgi leapt up just to be away from Javi but whether or not Javi wanted to chase after him the older man was down for the count. He’d need a few minutes to work up to everything and at any rate Jorgi only went a few feet away, looked at the broken and bent pieces of the fence and started trying to put them back where they went. He wasn’t doing a great job, but he wasn’t doing terribly either. Javi just watched. He thought maybe he’d get something from observing so he sat in his discomfort, smoking his cigarette, watching a boy who rarely did this sort of work try to reason out how fences were made. For a long while the only sounds were Jorgi huffing and puffing and cursing at the various pieces of wood and wire and Javier just kept watching.

After maybe twenty minutes, when Javier could barely feel his feet, he pulled himself up, began stretching, and walked over to the horses to dig around the picnic lunch. 

“Are you gonna help me or what?” Jorgi finally sniped at him.

“Depends…you gonna ask for help or just keep bashing at it like that?” Javier popped a grape into his mouth and shrugged, “I can do this all day.”

Jorgi took a broken shard that was about three feet long and tossed it like a javelin into the bushes. Javi watched and said, “Decent form. Track still a thing you guys can do?”

“I don’t wanna do track. I don’t…” Jorgi suddenly put his head back and screamed, “I don’t wanna be compared to Petey or have to listen to stories about you or …. For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t my pot. I was just hanging with Landon and Gabe, I didn’t do it, but Landon’s got two strikes and as soon as Bernhower opened the door Landon shoved it at me and I took it because I don’t have any problems. I didn’t think they’d expel me.”

“They didn’t, only because your mother is something of a force and I used to play cards with the Vice Principal.” Javier held out the bag of grapes, “Why take the fall for him? It’s an illegal drug, Jorg, you had to think they’d fucking care.”

“I dunno, Landon hangs out with me a lot and he plays baseball with me. I like baseball.”

“Never saw you with a glove at home.”

“I dunno, started up with him because he likes it but he never gets on the teams because of his other problems. He’s good though. He says I’m good, I dunno. I can’t figure.”

“Why not try for that team?”

“He can’t come.” Jorgi shrugged.

Javier took a moment, “He a good friend?”

“Not going to tell me he’s a loser because of his shit?”

“I met a lot of losers and plenty of people with shit and a lot of people that do drugs. Weird perspective on this is that there are plenty of good people in bad situations. I’m not actually inclined to think they’re all damned at the start.” 

Jorgi straightened up, “He’s not a bad guy, he’s a good guy, and people are shit to him and he’s my friend.”

“So you helped him?”

“Yeah but…people just assume things now.” Jorgi kicked the fence, “Even if I wanted to try out for the team, I couldn’t.”

Javi could sense when conversations were veering to new territory, “Is that what you want?”

“I mean….thought about it. But they won’t let him on at all and now they won’t let me on either. Coach is a real shiny boys only kind of deal. No bad eggs.”

Javi snorted, “They make teenaged boys that never did a stupid thing?”

Jorgi calmed, “Landon doesn’t have a lot, at home. He uses the drugs, yeah, because he sells a lot –”

Jorgi froze, “Not a lot—”

“I’m off duty.” Javi showed his empty hands.

“He…he pays the bills. His dad’s not around. It’s how he keeps things ok. And I think he uses because he’s…” Jorgi struggled for the words, “Not sad but…”

“Something.” Javi held up his cigarette as an example, “I can get coping with chemicals. I also have met a lot of people who paid their bills with drug money. I’ve let plenty go. Petty things like this kid getting a couple hundred together to keep the lights on aren’t my concern, I’m not trying to sound like a big wig or something but I’m interested in the guys pulling hundreds of thousands. This kid seems harmless. Sad. Bad situation, which, truth be told can always lead to harmful but I don’t think he sounds bad. Why don’t you bring him around?”

“You’re Javier Peña.” Jorgi made a motion with his hand, “You bust dealers.”

“Listen I mean it, bad situations breed harm. Just look at it– he needed someone to take the heat off of him and then boom you nearly get kicked outta school. What would’ve happened to you if you had any other parents?”

“So I should let him get kicked out when he doesn’t have anywhere else to go?”

“I didn’t say that–”

“What’s the answer?!” Jorgi screamed the last part– not even at Javier, just at the air, because he had never really encountered this before.

Javier crossed over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “I never said any of this was easy. In fact it’s the fucking worst. I have arrested people that shouldn’t have ever gotten in trouble and people who should burn in hell twice over have walked or turned for the state and it’s sometimes a load of shit. I ever tell you about the Mayor here when I was a rookie?”

“What?”

“The mayor. Oh well, Pepe Martin. Here’s the thing– this guy was mayor of Laredo since the beginning of time. Crazy long time. Then he’s found guilty of mail fraud. Should’ve not only lost the seat but gone to jail. Craziest thing was he schmoozed his way into doing his sentence on the weekends. On the weekends. I had to, as a young officer, prep his weekend cell. He had a private cell! For his weekend trips to jail! Insanity. Drove me up a fucking wall. I get mail fraud and its a federal prison for the duration, weekend or no. It was the first time I got my heart broken by the system. Really broken. I used to get good and pissed about it, dreamed about getting to punch this guy in the face and that’s just….I mean I was twenty years younger than him, what was it really going to do to anything to hit an old man? But still. I wanted to.” 

Jorgi was quiet, “What’d you do?”

“Learned. Learned sometimes it works like that and if I don’t like it than it’s on me to change things, somehow. Do it different. And it’s just shit out there, Jorgi. You know we did our best to keep you stable and away from the hard stuff, but it’s not an easy life out there for most people. Your friend? I bet he tells you what it’s like and you see that and it gets you feeling bad– like why don’t you have it rough too? Like you feel guilty because he’s suffering and you’re not. Then he’s doing these bad things and it gets confusing, like is it bad if bad things made him?” Javier made a circling motion by his temple, “And that thought’ll drive you crazy, kid. It will. Because there’s not a good answer. It’s all case by case.”

“You…you were real mad?”

“You’re mother had kittens, I only saw her like that the time Petey got arrested.”

Jorgi smirked, “I remember that…I broke my arm. Mom was nice to me.”

“Well you broke your arm. Petey on the other hand nearly got charges pressed.” Javier shrugged, “And she was somehow in the right. She’s like Teflon, your sister, nothing ever sticks.”

“I know.” Jorgi groaned, “It’s a nightmare…I just don’t know how I will ever…ever figure that out. Ever figure how to get around it.”

“Get around what?”

“Petey survived being your daughter around here because she’s Petey…I just don’t think I’m special enough to make it out.”

Javier stilled, “Jorgi you don’t….that’s not a thing. You are always in such a good mood. As a little kid you were always just happy go lucky and nothing ever bothered—”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you…some time it changed, and I’m not.” Jorgi pulled away from his dad, “And now? Now I’m labeled like this and I just don’t see a way…I don’t know how I’ll ever get around the gossip.”

“Small town gossip is a bitch.” Javier agreed.

“How did you outrun it?”

“I left.” Javier said it and realized something in the same breath, though he didn’t say it. Instead he thought about his furlough and whether or not they’d spent the money from the tax return fully or not. He couldn’t remember. Had they discussed doing the driveway? 

Well the driveway could wait.

“I can’t fix this fence.” Jorgi said lamely, as the silence drew on and he figured his dad was mad.

“Not alone you can’t, kid. Let me help.”

_________________________________________________________________________

You came into the room with a letter and waved it, “Mail call!”

“Jorgi?”

“Yup!” You were tearing into it, “I’m still mad at you for this, but I also love getting mail from them. One in college, one in—are we calling it military school?”

“It’s private.” Javier shrugged, “Whatever the fuck else…it’s over an hour away.”

“I remember. I sobbed the whole way home.”

Had you ever. Both your babies were out of the house and you’d thought that you had another little sliver of time with Jorgi. 

“How’s he settling?” Javier asked as you poured over the letter and reported.

“Likes the room…food is bad, they do chili wrong he says,” You kept scanning, “Landon’s down the hall, they aren’t together, that’s policy, but they see each other.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“Coach had them down for drills already…I cannot believe you went and made him cold audition.”

“I don’t think they call it that, hon. Plus it’s not like Murph didn’t warn the guy, we just had to make it seem very happenstance. Else Jorg’d get all in his own head.”

“You are clever sometimes.” You looked up from the letter to him.

You had sent him away with Jorgi by force, but they’d returned home quieter– it’s always how it was when they were avoiding one another. You hadn’t expected him to present you with this option– a private boarding school, a baseball team to try for, and two tuitions. 

You didn’t want to let that Landon kid in until Javier had laid it all out for you and you remembered the difference between field agents and secretaries– even very good secretaries. They were names on paper to you. Incident reports, reimbursement sheets, visa applications. They were lines. Javier shook their hands and talked to them and it was all far different for him. He had helped people cross borders, he had watched them get shot. There was something in that which sanctified his sixth sense about people and situations– he was allowed to tell you it was fine without you second guessing it. 

You had to admit that these early few days already felt good.

Maybe it would go somewhere, maybe it would just be a nice end to high school, but Jorgi looked lighter, like his old self.

“They’ll kick you out of there for drugs.” Javier had warned both boys, “And there’s not a good goddamn thing I can do about it.” 

“Yes’sir.” Landon nodded.

“I know, dad.” Jorgi agreed.

You kissed Javier’s head, “You got this one right, huh?”

“I guess I did…you know, I don’t believe the kids are home or liable to come in and interrupt.” He pulled you into his lap, “And this is the sort of thing I could get used to again.”

You happily let him twist you onto a couch that couldn’t be repaired or replaced while private school payments for two were happening, but that part faded into your brain as Javier popped the buttons on your blouse.

___________________________________________________________________

“You got the tickets?”

“Calm down, Javi, it’s the minors. There’s no line. There’s plenty of seats. The tickets are $5.” 

“Honey, come on, we gotta go– we can’t miss the game—” 

Javier pulled into the driveway of a farm that had once belonged to his father. He had almost sold it, but something had come up to change his mind. He laid on the horn, “JORGI! VAMOS!”

Jorgi came out of the house that he had spent the summer repainting. He wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore, not with summers and springs and winters of work on his back now. He was smiling again– a smile that hadn’t stopped, “COMING! Jeez. I showered. Back field was a wreck after the storm, I was covered in mud.”

“We are going to be late–”

“We got time, pop, it’s ok.” Jorgi kissed your cheek, “You look good mom.”

“You look skinny. Now let’s get a move on, your father is worried we’re going to miss something.”

“I get it…Landon’s first appearance in the minors. He said there’s a coach scouting.”

“You’re goddamn right there will be.” Javi smirked, “And if we’re late we will miss them see a helluva baseball player.”

He put the car into reverse and they hit traffic that was so familiar to Javier it might have been emblazoned on his bones.

It was hard being home, sometimes, and hard being the dad, and hard being the officer, and hard. It was just plain hard, sometimes, in ways that defied reason and refused to yield for mercy. It was often hard.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you broke through and it was glorious. 

_______________________________________________________

A/N: I started this 2 years ago. I have no excuse.

Tags have drastically changed!

So these are the new ones:

@indiegirlunited @spadesjadesfiction @harriedandharassed @avidreader73 @itsrubberbisquit @amneris21 @iceclaw101 @thelion-sroar @ferns-fics @tintinn16 @vabeachazn @brandyllyn @felteppsers @missladym1981 @stealyourblorbos @felteppsters @mostclevermiss @elegantduckturtle @100percentlazybonez @aliwritesfic-main @modiddys-blog

And for one night only the Javier character tags have returned:

Javi

@pascalesque

@stackedpaperbacks

@voteforpedro09

@lestradeslover

@fictionalbitch

@cinewhore

@galaxyofmando

@frasmotic

“What’s one more?” you had questioned him the last time she asked.

He had given you some sort of vague response about how she wasn’t old enough, how she wasn’t ready for the responsibility of a pony of her own, how it would just be another mouth to feed. The multitude of reasonings grew only as you successfully countered them, making you wonder if he was just trying to convince himself it was a bad idea. Chucho had recently suggested that the girl is spoiled, and though he was joking, you wonder if it made Javi feel guilty.

“She deserves the world, cariño. I wish I could give it to her,” he once said to you.

“You are her world, Javi,” you had responded. “Just look at how she looks at you.”

He saw, which is why he can never say no. All it ever takes is one look with those big brown puppy dog eyes of her and he was wrapped around her finger – one of the few things that could melt through his stubbornness. Her eyes remind him so much of his own, yet they’re so different, still filled with innocence that hasn't yet been tarnished by the harsh realities of life. He would do anything to keep that from happening, anything to never see the sparkle fade to a duller version of their former selves, the light behind them stolen and replaced with a darkness no one should have to face alone, as he did for so many years.

Which is why he gets her the damn horse.

A glimpse of her eyes glistening with pure excitement and joy when they spot the horse, combined with excited shrieks and shrills, make it all worth it.

"Do you want help getting on?" he asks.

Confidently, the girl replies, "No. I can do it myself," causing Javi to take a step back, though his eyes never leave her, ready to swoop in the moment she starts to struggle too much.

It takes her a moment to get her boot in the stirrup, but she does it. However, she struggles once more while trying to get herself up, seeming not quite strong enough to get up and over the horse.

"Are you sure?" Javi asks. "Here, let me-" He takes a step forward, arms outstretched, ready to assist, as he has for so many years with the larger horses.

Without breaking focus, she adamantly exclaims, "No, papá! I can do it."

Javi turns and looks at you, hoping you'll step in and convince her that she needs help. Shrugging, a small smile on your face, you give him a look that says, "Stubborn like her father."

"Let her do it," you insist, to his dismay.

Finally, she manages to mount the horse all by herself, and once she’s settled, Javi instructs her on what to do, following closely as she commands the horse to move.

Eventually, Javi gives her space. He stands next to you, the two of you watching your daughter trot around like a pro, pride filling you both.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him wiping a tear away. Turning to look at him, you wonder what’s going on in that mind of his, unable to see his eyes, covered by the aviators on his face. Had this moment made him realize that she’s not so little anymore?

"She's getting big, isn't she?" you question, subtly noting that you’ve been watching him watch her.

He nods in response, showing he is listening, though his eyes remain locked on his little girl. "One day she won't need me anymore," he states simply, the thought killing him.

Your heart instantly melts.

"Oh, Jav,” you coo, looking at him softly. “You know that's not true.”

"Look at her,” he says, gesturing to the little girl, the perfect combination of the two of you. She’s hyper-focused on her task, commanding the horse like she was born to ride. “She doesn't even need me now."

"She'll always need you," you assure him. "A daughter always needs her father.”

He takes a deep breath, releasing some tension, then folds his arms. "I don’t care if she hates me for it, but she’ll always be my little girl.”

"I could give a shit what you pack in the cooler."

You rolled your eyes, "I take it the trunk won't close."

"It will."

You looked at your watch and he sensed it, holding up a finger, "I know."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know. We can't drive there without the trunk closed. I know what day it is, I know what time it is, I know how far we have to get and I know you told me we should have taken the extra day and left yesterday and I said no, it's fine, we can do it in two days not three."

He grumbled, "And I realize that I shouldn't have left the pick up bed open and it rained and now it's too wet and we have to use this awful thing."

"It's a station wagon. You can say it. It's ok. I won't tell anyone."

He glared at you.

You just smiled, "The weekend at your boss' lake house sounds lovely. So convenient how it won't be any effort on our part."

He continued to glare and you nodded. You weren't really mad and you knew he was deeply frustrated so you blew him a kiss and went inside to pack the cooler and feed the kids and make sure all the garbage was taken out and all the toilets were flushed and all the perishable food and preferred snacks made it into the car.

You'd said, maybe two months ago, that the kids were getting big and since Jorgi wasn't in a stroller much maybe you guys could look into a vacation.

He had come home one night, a quiet night, and as the ice cream truck came through the neighborhood gave into the kids' pleas for it and casually said, "Oh, I took a lake house vacation for us."

He was licking a strawberry dreamsicle like he hadn't detonated a minor bomb.

You stared at the ground for a moment and then looked at him and he shrugged, “What?”

___________________________________________

What?!

What a man thing to say.

Trite, but totally true, Javier had just said It’s fine! My boss’ lake house. Totally free. Just the cost of whatever we eat, I guess. And gas. But you know-- pack a cooler, bring the kids. It’ll be nice.

He had snapped his fingers Oh and there’s a fair of some kind in the town. He said big ol’ Ferris Wheel. Hot dog eating contest. It’ll be a hoot.

You had blinked.

And asked basic questions that seemed to annoy Javier greatly.

Where is this place?

Oh, Wyoming or something.

…..Wyoming.

It’s fine, it’s like...a fourteen hour drive.

………..with our children.

They love the car.

You had nodded and realized if he felt that way there was no real arguing the point.

You had casually suggested things like breaking up the drive and stopping for sights.

“Why?” Javi shook his head, “We will make better time just going for a day.”

“There’s no way to do it in a day.”

“Fine, two.”

“I really think you should break it over three days.”

“I think you’re worrying about nothing for absolutely no reason.”

Jorgi then started to scream.

The reason he started to scream was that he had finished a juice box about three seconds earlier and was still thirsty.

You indicated that to Javi and just said, “Three days is better.”

Javi eyed Jorgi as if a minor betrayal had occurred, “Two will be fine.”

Ok.

_____________________________________________________

“Hey hon I’m starved.” He patted your thigh.

“Oh! Me too! I’m hungry!”

“Snack! Snack! Snack!”

You braced, “Ok! Age before beauty kids.”

“Hey!” Javi pouted.

You handed him a sandwich.

He bit into it without thinking and then half-choked, “What’s this?!”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

"The fuck….give me a turkey."

"There's no turkey."

He grumbled but held in a longer diatribe as he placed the sandwich back on its foil wrap and looked in the rearview at the kids, “Any reason to suspect you got beverages?”

“Yeah.”

“Beer?”

“Ha, ha.”

"You got Dr. Pepper in there?"

"I got Ecto-Cooler."

Javi’s jaw twitched, “I’m a man, sweetheart. Why isn’t there soda?”

“Kids can’t drink soda in this car they will hurl.”

“But I’m not a kid.”

“Yeah. I mean there’s ginger ale.”

“Why do you have ginger ale?” He didn’t drink ginger ale that didn’t have whiskey in it. You knew this. You may or may not have considered his previous lack of planning when you planned the cooler. “In case someone feels car sick!”

"Why THE FUCK isn't there at least one Dr. Pepper?!"

"I'm sorry, YOU SAID YOU DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHAT WAS IN THE COOLER AND THIS SOUNDS LIKE A SHIT!"

You loved this man.

You were also going to murder him.

"I WANT THE ECTO-COOLER!"

"NO ME!"

"THERE'S TWO! TWO!"

"QUIET!!" Javier's voice snapped through the noise and everyone temporarily looked at him, "Stop yelling! Mom's going to tell everyone their options and then we will calmly make our choices."

You pulled the cooler into your lap, "Peanut butter and jelly--"

"What jelly?" Petey interrupted.

You paused and eyed the bread, "Uh, the kind that is swirled in the jar."

"Gross!" Petey whined but Jorgi squealed excitedly and reached towards the front, clutching his WWF pillow-doll of some outrageously named man in a onesie and kicking his legs.

"Ow! Jorgi, stop kicking my seat!" Javier snipped, eyeing the rearview mirror. Then he looked at the sign on the highway.

Christ.

They had hours and hours left. Hours. Miles. Many many miles.

_______________________________________________________

Animal crackers had been eaten.

Juice had been consumed.

Javier was getting angrier by the second that he hadn’t had anything except one snack sized bag of Bugles and he was on the edge of a murderous rage because Jorgi liked to absently kick the back of his seat. It wasn’t intentional. Fully. It wasn’t fully intentional. Most of the time Jorgi didn’t realize he had feet until one connected with the fabric of Javi’s seat but then he sometimes felt a little amused by his dad’s reaction.

Petey was rambling on about every tree or flower she saw out the window that she had learned about in science.

It wasn’t that she was saying what she was saying.

That part was objectively adorable and also impressive-- kid was a naturalist.

But the part that was grating on the adults was how the conversation had not stopped for one single solitary second.

Not one.

You had turned on the radio and started searching through the static for stations with something resembling the music you and Javi liked.

The static grated on his ears. He hated that sound. It was Petey’s rambling and the static punctuated with Jorgi kicking his chair.

And you, you, sweet woman, love of his life, who had tried to help him make this a more pleasant experience, was trying to identify each song as you scrolled through it.

“....That the Bangles? No. Cyndi Lauper?....Can’t be Tina. Maybe that Houston woman….”

He was going to explode.

He felt it.

He was gripping the steering wheel and really trying with everything he had to not explode on his family who he loved.

Who. He. Loved.

Loved dearly.

And at one point had actually thought he wanted to be trapped in a car for this amount of time with.

The thing that was slowly creeping into his brain with every mile was that they were another mile from home, and that meant to even get home and end the torment they had drive back. It was getting towards the end of the first fucking day of driving and he was already dreading the return trip.

He would never, not once, admit that you had been right--- but you had been.

Planning on stopping for a sight and a rest and maybe a fucking drink about two hours ago would have been preferable to being in the car this long.

Efficiency was overrated, he wanted easy. He wanted Petey to stop talking about deciduous leaves and Jorgi to stop mumbling the Barney song and for you to stop fucking pretending you knew shit about what the fucking song was and---

“McDONALD’S!” Petey screamed so loudly he almost swerved off of the fucking road.

“FRIES FRIES FRIES FRIES!” Jorgi immediately took up the call and you were already shaking your head.

“Guys! No! We have sandwich--”

“McDONALD’S! McDONALD’S! McDONALD’S!” The kids were chanting in tandem and Jorgi was punctuating it with a kick to Javi’s seat.

“CUT THAT OUT!” Javi growled, “Your mother said--”

“I don’t like the sandwich--”

“-- new toy, in the Happy Meal--”

“--didn’t ask me if I wanted any Goldfish---”

“--ilkshake with my cheesebu--”

As if the fucking kids weren’t enough you had to go and get involved.

“We are not stopping--”

“Mooooom--”

“Petra stop it--”

“Mommmmy!”

“Jorgi! No. Mommy said no.”

"Everyone STOP!" Javi demanded and it seemed to work for about thirty seconds.

Then Jorgi started sniffling, "Fries, fries, fries, fries, fri--"

Petey was whining, "Not fair, I want McDonald's--"

You sucked in a breath to continue the argument and Javi's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

Abruptly he turned into the McDonald's and the kids began cheering. You looked pissed.

He said nothing. You tucked your arms around your chest and huffed.

The kids were furiously listing what they wanted and Jorgi was using both feet to SLAM the back of Javi's seat.

He said nothing.

The requests were getting eccentric as the line lingered on, you looked more and more pissed, mumbling to yourself.

It was a long line.

Jorgi was kicking his chair with increasing excitement.

The mutters you were barely suppressing, "--ot my idea. Plans more carefully for nar--"

Javi was barely containing the snarl on his lip, he was folding his upper lip under his teeth, trying to keep the scream at bay.

Two more cars.

Just two.

"--ybe they have the Monopoly pieces we do--"

"Petey, I told you, that game is a sham we aren't going to--"

"Fries, fries, milkshake, fries--"

Javi was silent.

One car.

With an order that was too complex for the shotty communication system that was the backbone of the McDonald's drive through.

But just one annoyingly long car.

One.

Just one.

Then they pulled up and you let out a long annoyed breath. Petey and Jorgi started cheering.

"Welcome to McDonald's how may I help you?"

Javier cleared his throat, "One small coffee."

A pause, "Anything else?"

"Nope."

In the backseat the kids paused for the punchline. You felt the edges of one, but not the same one.

Javier pulled the car around, accepted the coffee and asked for a couple sugar packets.

The children's wild noise died. Their faces fell.

Your mouth twitched as Javi took a deep sip of the coffee and eyed the rearview mirror.

Petey was glaring daggers at him and he cocked an eyebrow at her in challenge. For a long moment they had a silent standoff and then she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, doing an amazing impression of you. Jorgi looked confused.

You snorted quietly, a tiny bemused smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth and Javi handed you the coffee so you could sip it.

They were quieter. They believed him when he said they were going to go through and have a long car ride now and an extra day of swimming when they got there. There was a more restrained game of “I Spy” that led them through their PB&J. Then quiet snores.

“Wanna switch?” You offered but you were yawning and Javi shook his head,

“No, bonita, I can go longer than you...take a wink.”

You adjusted your seat and tried to crack your neck and he reached out, letting his hand rest on your thigh, “You were right. I didn’t...plan it right.”

“You were right...it’s a good idea.” You yawned and put your hand over his, “Wake me if you need me.”

He turned his palm over to touch yours, threading your fingers. He didn’t wake you. By the next morning you were pulling up to the lake house. The kids lit up. The grill didn’t work well and you all choked on the smoke. Petey tried to drown Jorgi twice. He found a crab, a snake, and leech (on him!) and was tickled until you said he couldn’t take it home. Javier fell asleep on the rocker that was on the porch on four separate occasions, each time telling you that it reminded him of his grandpa’s porch when he was a kid, and you slept with the curtains flung wide open to watch the stars.

There was a hotdog eating contest-- Javi didn’t win though you were more surprised he allowed Petey to enter him in it at all.

He spent thirty dollars to win her a stuffed horse that probably cost $2 to make. Jorgi discovered funnel cake and corn fritters and got to hold a hawk on his little arm for a $5 donation to the raptor rescue in the area.

You bought a blanket that Javi balked at the price of...but kept on your bed for the next ten years until an unfortunate house-party incident saw it singed and you had to put it in the keepsake trunk.

You offered to drive home but Javi did, all in one go, with the kids quietly playing “Red Car-Brown Car” and then, about an hour from home, happily munching on fries and gleefully wondering if this is how they would win a million dollars on the Monopoly game (they didn’t, they were one piece shy) and comparing their toys (one got lost in the car and wasn’t seen for three months).

It was one of the best vacations you had.

A/N: I said this WAY LONG AGO in a "I dont know this is true but I KNOW ITS TRUE" post about dad behaviors in the PedroBoys but I don't like...use tags well (but hey! Neither does the Tumblr algorithm!) so it's ...somewhere. Anyway. One black coffee. Javi's fuck level: so low. So so so low.

Cheers.

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You know they didn’t say smoking was bad when I was a kid. Javier invariably came to this thought whenever he was running.

He was getting out of breath. He was distracted by the wheeze starting to come out of his lungs so he knew the people behind him were going to be keeping an ear open for it.

Gotta be the cigarettes.

Certainly not the extra twenty pounds he’d packed on and refused to talk about.

His jeans still fit and he wasn’t going to be worried about the shirts as long as they buttoned.

Not the age either or that inauspicious birthday he’d had.

And obviously it was partially the fault of the heat.

It was hot.

AND HUMID!

The humidity. Clearly playing a part here.

If this it what got him caught in the crossfire today he would go to his Maker fully appreciating that these were situations outside of his control.

Of course the wife had been asking him to stop eating all the desserts.

“I swear to God, I bought that pound cake yesterday Javier! You need to pace yourself!”

Not his fault.

He heard the rustle through the tall grass behind him, Shit.

They were catching up.

He tried to pick up his pace but his side was already in stitches and he’d be damned if he was going to puke right now.

He looked to his left, looked to his right.

He wasn’t sure….which way was out? Shit. Which way had he come in?

He went right.

He’d regret that soon.

Javier was pumping his arms and entered the long space under the bridge.

Bridges usually had some form of an exit. It had felt a safe place.

He just needed to hide.

It was dark.

They’d give up if it wasn’t easy to find him….hopefully.

It was the construction that fucked him.

There. Big ol’ machines, caution tape, a missing fucking floor on the other side of the goddamned bridge.

He was stuck like a rat.

Stuck under the dark overhang of the bridge.

And he could hear their feet coming.

And he hoped…

Hoped.

Prayed.

They didn’t find him. Didn’t see him. He could only go out the way he came in and he was … he was just…

He forced himself to hold his breath.

He put a hand over his mouth.

He counted.

He counted and counted in Mississippis.

...Ten Mississippis....

He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, his back against the grody metal of the construction fence, he was huddled in a shadow.

….Nineteen Mississippis….

He thought, maybe, that was enough. He took his hand down from his mouth.

He let go a heavy breath.

Then he felt the slug hit him really hard in the chest.

“CHRIST!” He howled.

He had nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide.

He just felt himself get pummeled.

A hit to the shoulder. To the arm. To the stomach.

To add insult to injury one to the fucking groin.

“ENOUGH!” He panted through the wave of nausea that hit him as soon as the ball had and he staggered out of his hiding spot and into the light.

A giant orange circle of paint squarely on his crotch, an extremely unamused look on his face.

“Oooo!” Jorgi hissed as he saw the marker but Petey just snorted. Javi didn’t have to guess who had orange and who had green.

Petey smiled, sweet as pie, “That was fun daddy!”

Javi brought his own gun out from the back of his pants and held it up, “Yeah...nice work. Now get going…..one….two….”

_______________________________________________________

A/N: I literally could not help myself. How is Dave going to be updated if this is what happens?

Not Beta Read. We die like red shirts.

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