#making good progress tho.. gettin' there..

The last few weeks have been fine. Javier had thought maybe you’d pull back even more, but you seem rather determined to actually socialize with him. This past Tuesday, you invited him to go to lunch with you, then drinks after work on Wednesday, then lunch again on Friday.

Yesterday, he grew the balls to invite you to lunch.

He’s found that if he smokes enough cigarettes, he doesn’t have the urge to beg you to tell him what happened in New York, at least not as bad.

Maybe it’s selfish on your part, but you can’t not spend time with him. He’s competent at work, no nonsense, but outside of work, with you, on your totally innocent lunch dates, he’s sweet. His heart is so big, so kind, and you just want to witness it.

Javier thinks he’s seriously about to go crazy when Steve finally calls him back.

“Hey, man,” Steve sighs into the receiver. “Sorry I took so long callin’ back. This havin’ two kids shit is for the birds,” he jokes.

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine,” Javier replies as he sits down on his couch. “You’re busy. I get it. How are Connie and the kids?”

“Yeah, they’re good. Connie went back to work last month. Olivia’s finally adjusting to having Stevie around. It’s good. So… Our girl is back.”

Javier sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mhm. It was a whole thing; some miscommunication with the higher-ups. We fucking share the country attaché title,” he says, chuckling at the notion again.

“So… I bet you two are makin’ tons of progress,” Steve teases. “Gettin’ real busy.”

Javier sighs again, more annoyed this time, which has Steve grinning on the other line.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Steve laughs.

“It’s not like that,” Javier insists. “We didn’t have a condom, so we…”

Steve fucking guffaws at that. “Hand stuff, Javi? You settled for hand stuff over walkin’ two blocks to a drug store to get some condoms?”

“...It was oral,” Javier corrects with a grumble. “And she was… I don’t know. She seemed really… off. Something happened in New York. She won’t tell me yet, but it definitely fucked her up.”

“Well, it’s not like you told her about the shit that went down in Colombia while she was gone.”

Steve only receives silence in response.

“Well, have you?” Steve asks.

“...No, but that’s not even the point.”

“So what is the point?” Steve laughs.

“The point is that the next day, we went to lunch. She alluded to the fact that the previous night was a mistake. She pointed out we don’t really know each other anymore, given all that’s happened in our lives since we saw each other last. Plus, y’know, neither of us wanna talk about the last year, and she thinks if we can’t do that, things are bound to get messy and fucked up.”

Javier rubs his temple as he speaks, surprising himself with how much he’s saying to Steve, even if the two men were once as close as you could get.

“You were real fucked up when she left. Even more so as it became more obvious she wasn’t callin’,” Steve says, and Javier cringes as his friend recounts the events.

“Listen to me, Javi. That’s your girl. There ain’t gonna be another girl in the world who makes you feel the way she does, and she has a right to know. No one has to actually do anything about anything right this second, but you oughta tell the woman how you feel. It’s not fair to either of you if you keep it in.”

Javier scoffs softly to himself. He honestly didn’t expect Steve to say that. He expected some wisecracks and well wishes.

“When did you get so wise, huh?” he murmurs.

“I don’t know. I came back to Florida, had another baby, and my wife actually likes me again. You should try it.”

“What, going to Florida?”

“Making nice. Talking shit out. It helps.”

“Thanks, Murphy. Tell Connie hi for me, huh?”

“You got it, Peña. Just promise me you and our girl take these motherfuckers down.”

//

This morning, you and Javier sit in on yet another briefing. Some senators, Toyle and Martin, have come down to Colombia, claiming Americans want to know “if we’re going to win this.”

“We appreciate all the hard work everyone put in to bring down Escobar,” Toyle continues.

“And it’s especially an honor to meet you, Agent Peña,” Martin adds, and you can feel Javier cringe in the seat next to you. “However, cocaine continues to flow north, and Americans wonder if Colombians share that same enthusiasm.”

Javier glances at you, sharing a quick look of slight disgust.

Toyle continues speaking, saying, “Senator Martin and I wanted to see firsthand what’s at stake here, as well as how, and if, we can help.”

“If.” So fucking stupid. Americans don’t want cocaine flowing north? Then you have to cut off the head of the monster. That’s how you help. “If”? Fuck off. 

Crosby’s also visibly a little uncomfortable as he quickly wraps up the meeting, saying, “Let’s be sure to extend every courtesy to the senators while they’re here. Their mission is a priority; they ask, you answer.”

Just as he finishes speaking, you stand from the table and scurry out of the room, Javier right behind you.

“Hey, did you get that bank guy’s name yesterday?” you ask Javier on your way back to the shared office.

A computer glitch at a bank in Monaco revealed that one limited partnership had multiple accounts at the same bank, all of which led back to a bank in Bogotá. Yesterday, Javier went to the bank and got the name, just by threatening to put the bank on the Clinton List.

“Yeah,” he replies, opening the office door for you and shutting it behind him. “The guy’s name is Franklin Jurado. I’ve got a contact who might be able to get the address for him.”

You turn around and furrow your brow. 

“Contact?” you scoff.

So he’s already back to sleeping with hookers for information?

Javier sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s a reporter for El Tiempo. Carolina Alvarez.”

“Oh… Javi, I didn’t mean to–”

He shakes his head. “Hey, it’s fine.”

“No, it wasn’t. No, it was rude. I’m sorry.”

You’re standing in the middle of the office, nervously pulling on the strap of your watch. 

Javier sighs and closes the distance between you and him. He looks down at you, and if you didn’t know him so well, so intimately, you might be a little nervous.

“Yeah, it was kinda shitty,” he concurs, somehow hiding how smug he feels by getting you to bend your neck back just to look at him. If he stepped just an inch closer, he’d be able to feel your breasts heave against his chest.

He must need to get laid, is all you can think with him this close to you.

“Well, I’m sorry,” you whisper, speaking with such a genuine tone that it’s a miracle Javier doesn’t sink down to his knees.

He looks up, over your head at some chip in the paint on the wall and takes a step to the side, not back, but to the side, just so he can stay in your space, but be less obvious about it.

“Gonna go meet her in a few minutes and see what she can do. Wanna come?” he offers.

You’d like to, but you’re feeling a little embarrassed after just assuming he was talking about a prostitute, so you shake your head.

“No, I’ve actually got a lot of paperwork. I’ve been slacking,” you say, and it’s only a half lie. You’re maybe two files behind, but it’s not enough to deny speaking to someone with information. “Just keep me in the loop, yeah?”

“Of course.”

And then he’s out of the office.

//

Javier meets Carolina at a café, pays for her coffee, and then it’s straight to business. 

“So there are all these cash transfers,” Javier begins. “All controlled by a man named Franklin Jurado.”

Carolina’s reaction to the name doesn’t go unnoticed by Javier.

“You know him,” he deduces.

“Of him,” she replies. “He served as a director at Interamericas.”

That’s it.

“The godfathers’ bank.”

Carolina nods. “Then he got a more important job.”

Javier leans forward, his elbow on the table. “Can you get me his address?”

Carolina nods, and now that Javier’s got what he needs, she feels confident enough to ask her question. 

“So what’s happened since I last saw you? Are you going to take on these men or what?”

Javier leans back in his seat and sighs. “I’m going to do my job.”

“And your bosses? Do they know what you’re doing?”

“No comment.”

“What about your partner? Your ‘co-attaché’?”

He rubs his thumb over his eye and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about his bosses, much less you, but with you, he feels this need to defend you to Carolina.

“She’s a good woman. Does shit by the book.”

“Obviously,” Carolina says.

Javier drops his hand and furrows his brow. “Obviously?”

“What kind of woman in her position wouldn’t play by the rulebook?”

To be honest, Javier had kind of forgotten about that for a while. When you first came to Colombia all those years ago, when Steve was still around, they’d talk about how they were going about following a lead, and of course, it entailed actions that weren’t totally DEA-sanctioned.

For a while, you took a back seat, and Javier knew why. So he talked to Steve, and they cooled it for a while, until you felt more comfortable. That’s not to say you’re a strict rule follower all of the time, but if you and Javier went to one of the godfather’s houses tonight and both fired a gun at his head, it’s obvious who would take the heat, and he’s not okay with that.

You’ve just started a new role in a building you were once all but kicked out of. To top it off, you hold the same title as him, the “hero” whom everyone can’t stop praising in spite of his wrongdoings. 

So, yes, obviously, you do shit by the book.

//

You’re at your desk, doodling on a notepad because you don’t really have anything else to do today. You should’ve taken Javier up on his offer to talk to the reporter.

That’s when Stoddard peeks his head in.

“Do you know where Peña is?” he asks.

You lean back in your chair and shrug. “Uh, he met with an informant. Then he called me and told me he was going to follow the lead. Why?”

Stoddard sighs, almost like he’s a little annoyed that you weren’t able to really help him. “The senators want to take a joy ride out to the jungle. Stechner’s gonna be there; it’s a whole thing.”

“Well, if they need to speak to a country attaché, I’m available,” you say, standing from your desk and rounding it, leaning against the front of it.

Stoddard hesitates before speaking, like he’s nervous he’ll hurt your feelings. “They asked specifically for Agent Peña.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else for you to understand. The senators want to talk to a man, and not just any man, the man who’s a hero for what he did in the Escobar case. What good is a woman in this situation? Even a woman who worked on the Escobar case, then spent a year investigating one of the godfathers of the actual cartel everyone’s investigating now?

Apparently not much.

“I’ll try to get a hold of Peña,” you say softly, and Stoddard leaves.

You can’t fault Javier for being a man, for the DEA deciding that he should be promoted instead of arrested. It’s not his fault. It’s the way the fucking cookie crumbled.

Still, you’re a little hurt. You and Javier share the same title. Javier’s location isn’t totally known, yet you’re here, in your office inside the United States embassy, but the senators want to take Javier on a joyride through the jungle. 

Sure, that’s fair.

You reach for the phone and dial the number for Javier’s satellite phone.

“Peña.” His voice comes in crackly through the phone.

“Where are you?”

“At the airport, following Jurado, trying to figure out where he’s headed.”

You lean back in your chair and sigh into the phone. “The senators want to take you on a jungle joyride. People are looking for you.”

In the airport, Javier furrows his brow in confusion while he keeps his eyes on Jurado moving through the crowd. “But you’re there.”

“Yeah, but–”

Jurado just started walking toward the desk, buying a ticket. Javier can’t be on the phone and miss hearing what country this guy’s going to.

“You got this, cariño,” he says before he abruptly hangs up.

Javier catches on to the fact that Jurado is heading to Panama, so he heads to an airfield.

When he gets there, there’s a blond man standing near one of the planes.

“I’m going to Panama,” Javier tells the man. “I need you to radio ahead and tell my partner and the DEA office–”

The man shakes his head. “I’m afraid this plane can’t take off. New orders.”

Javier furrows his brow and shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

The blond man points across the way.

Fucking Stechner.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not looking for that kinda trouble.”

Neither am I, Javier thinks as he stomps across the field toward Stechner.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demands as he approaches Stechner.

Stechner just fucking shrugs. 

“Orders are orders. You heard the ambassador. Our friends at the senate,” he says, nodding over his shoulder at Toyle and Martin, who are inspecting some tactical vests, “want the down-low from a real-life hero. I’m guessing that’s you.”

It’s all Javier can do not to start shouting expletives at Stechner. Instead, he just shakes his head in annoyance and confusion.

“Why me? I’m busy. My partner–”

“The senators don’t want eye candy; they wanna talk to you,” Stechner interrupts.

If looks could kill, Stechner would be lying on the ground from how hard Javier is glaring at him right now.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Stechner,” Javier responds, his voice low and intimidating.

Stechner doesn’t say anything for a moment. He looks down at the ground, then says, “You wore the wrong shoes.”

//

The helicopter ride is fucking painful. Javier’s got Toyle in his ear, shouting, “Is that the Rio Negro?” Javier just shrugs, points to his headphones as if to say he can’t hear him.

This fucking day.

Stechner’s across from Javier, unsuccessfully hiding how fucking smug he’s feeling about ruining Javier’s day.

God, he wishes you had blown off your filing bullshit and come with him today. It would’ve made his day a whole lot more bearable.

Granted, the senators would surely throw some sexist comments your way, so maybe it’s for the best. He’s not quite that selfish.

Once they land, Stechner acts like this is a fucking field trip for the senators, and Javier feels like a reluctant chaperone. Stechner explains that agricultural laws prevent the burning of the area after Martin asks why that hasn’t happened in response to the spike in trafficking.

“Oh, yeah,” Toyle chimes in. “They got chiquita bananas down here. Big contributors.”

This is seriously being looked at through the perspective of fundraising?

Stechner leads the group toward a small camp where a bunch of dead bodies are piled up. There, they meet Captain Mills, the advisor for the mission. Javier recognizes the carnage as guerrillas, but Stechner claims they don’t know if they’re FARC or traffickers.

Stechner shows the senators a gun, and Javier can’t help but notice that the guns and magazines all point to these bodies being those of guerrillas.

‘Could be FARC or traffickers.’

Fuck off.

“Who’s ready for lunch?” Stechner asks.

The senators are eager, but Javier is sick to his stomach.

//

Stuck in the boring office, the phone rings a little after you have lunch. It’s Feistl.

“Hey, boss. Checking in. Peña didn’t answer.”

Of fucking course they checked with Javier first.

“Yeah, he’s following the money man,” you reply, rubbing at your temple. 

This fucking day is giving you a goddamn headache, and it’s only 11:00 in the morning.

“Oh, the journalist panned out?”

“Mhm. How’s Cali?”

“Eh, it’s slow, but Calderón seems like good police.”

If that ends up being true, maybe the day’s not so shitty after all.

“Alright, sounds good. You and Van Ness keep your eyes open. Don’t let any shit get past you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything by the book.”

He hangs up, and as you put the phone back in the cradle, you sigh.

You could probably go home after lunch, and no one would notice.

//

In the jungle, Javier’s trying to get reception. To check on Feistl or Van Ness, or even just ask what you had for lunch. He just needs to talk to someone without fucking evil intentions.

“Those things ain’t going 25 feet down here.”

Javier turns around and finds Mills. This guy didn’t seem so bad. Not a saint, by any means, but at least not an ignorant asshole.

“Thanks,” Javier mutters, then adds, “Hey, you DOD?”

“So they say,” Mills responds as he takes a step closer. “I’m part of the military assistance package. Still ID as a Marine, though.”

“CIA?” 

“Oh, fuck, no,” Mills says, screwing his face up in disgust at the suggestion.

Javier asks for a cigarette, and Mills obliges, even lights it for him.

“Where you from?” Javier asks as Mills lights the cigarette.

“Last place, Pendleton. Had me teaching Saudi soldiers how to jump. Shit’s harder than it sounds,” Mills replies as he sticks his lighter back in his breast pocket.

Javier chuckles softly at the joke, then sighs.

“Family?” Javier’s not totally sure why he’s asking if Mills left a family behind. It’s not something that’s usually at the forefront of his mind, but something in him really wants to know.

Mills nods. “Wife, a son, and a daughter. They’re safe at home, back in San Diego. You?”

Javier shrugs. “Dad in Texas.”

He loves his dad, he does. But at 37 years old, the only family he can supply when asked is still just his dad… He finds himself longing for more, just momentarily. 

“So it’s really that bad down here?”

If they’re taking guys like Mills down here, it must be.

“Yeah,” Mills replies, speaking softly. “With paramilitary, FARC, traffickers… Hell, us… Some hairy shit down here.”

“Yeah, just not hairy enough for the truth to make its case.”

Javier cocks an eyebrow, as if daring Mills to tell him he’s wrong.

He won’t.

“The magazines on those bodies are 7.62 millimeter. That shit goes in an AK-47.”

Javier nods at his own words, another dare to tell him he’s wrong. 

“The fancy guns, they chamber in a 5.56.”

He shakes his head. It’s a fucking shitshow.

“This whole goddamn thing is staged. Those are the bodies of guerrillas. Fucking peasants, not traffickers.”

Mills looks over Javier’s shoulder.

Fuck.

“You know your guns.”

Fucking Stechner.

“I’m gonna head down,” Mills murmurs as he steps into the brush. 

Fucking traitor leaving Javier alone with Stechner in the goddamn jungle.

Javier sighs and stares at a rock on the ground. 

“Y’know, it’s not very original, Stechner,” he mumbles without looking at the other man. He sighs and turns his body as he adds, “Even for the CIA.”

Stechner shrugs, all nonchalant. “Well, you know… Sometimes you gotta make the truth a little more plain. You know how it is, Peña.”

Doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Well, how’s this for truth?” Javier starts, his voice rough and gravely. “They go home and tell everyone that the war on drugs is a fucking stage show, and all the money they put in is pissed away. Even the hero said it's fucked up.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “What does that do to your plan?”

//

Javier sits at a goddamn picnic table next to Stechner with Toyle and Martin across from him. Everyone’s eaten, but Javier can’t stomach the thought, given how today’s going.

Toyle wipes his mouth and says, “I’m gonna level with you gentlemen. Signing off on sending a five billion dollar aid package to a country that’s on the verge of becoming a narco-democracy would be a bad look for Martin and me in the Senate.”

Stechner’s determined to get this funding and leans forward in his seat. “All due respect, Senator, what you’re looking at today is a petri-dish for the next Castro, and this one is fed by narco-dollars.”

Jesus, that’s harsh.

“In all sorts of countries,” Stechner goes on, “there are dictators with anti-America hard-ons.”

Stechner takes his glasses off, almost like he’s trying to appear more genuine, and Javier’s doing all he can not to roll his eyes.

“Colombia is perfectly situated to help us in both Central and South America. The right American footprint here, and we help secure a stable Colombia, and it becomes a beacon of hope for the region.”

Oh, he’s so fucking full of it.

Toyle nods as he takes in Stechner’s words. “Well, the only way we get Americans behind sending a multi-billion-dollar aid package to Colombia is if we get a no-fucking-around victory down here.”

“Look,” Stechner sighs. “The Colombian government is months away from dismantling one of history’s biggest drug cartels, and without firing a shot. That means no body count, no dirty hands, nothing. Now, I can’t imagine the American people won’t like that.”

Javier looks off to the side, clearly uncomfortable.

Martin looks in Javier’s direction, obviously eager to hear from the “hero.”

“Agent Peña, what’s your take? Is a big win coming?” Martin asks, and Javier suddenly feels like he’s back in the first college class he took, where he got cold-called: prepared to answer, but he’d probably rather die than share his opinion right now.

“Y’know… Agent Stechner and I have a long-standing difference of opinion on just about everything,” he says, chuckling softly, hoping to make it sound better than it is. “But he and I can agree that a big win is coming.”

Martin and Toyle seem to like that answer.

//

As the helicopter lands and Toyle and Martin head toward it, eager to get back to their five-star hotel rooms, Stechner shouts at Javier.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, Peña.”

Javier’s had it. The helicopter is loud enough to cover his shouting, so he takes advantage.

“So the whole surrender plan is about fucking fundraising! The Colombians get a check while you get to play army man in the jungle?!”

He can’t fucking wait to tell you about this bullshit.

Stechner scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m thinking about the next battle. Y’know, the one that really counts!”

He can’t be serious.

“Which means you’re willing to lose this one!” Javier shouts, speaking with such infuriation that he's even surprised himself.

“The drug war?” Stechner laughs. “Come on, man! We lost; you were there! God, you ever stop and think that maybe someone who takes this as personally as you do is doing it wrong?”

Javier’s done. He’s had it up to here and then some. And to top it off, he can’t go home to you and plant his head in your lap while you stroke his hair. This is some fucking bullshit.

He starts walking toward the helicopter, but not without shouting over his shoulder for Stechner to fuck himself.

//

Finally back at the hangar, Javier has cell service again. He calls you, and you sound annoyed.

“Hey. So Jurado didn’t stay in Panama,” you grumble into the phone. “Regardless, the Panama DEA said if we don’t have a warrant, we can’t hold him.”

Javier is ready to bang his head against the hood of his car. This news is just the fucking cherry on top of his shitty day.

“Fuck. Does anyone know where he went?”

He can hear you shuffling some things around. You must be on your way out.

“Nope,” you sigh. “And I tried to go myself to explain, but there weren’t any goddamn planes available. At least, that’s what they told me. I don’t think the aviation people like me.”

“Great, so he could be anywhere. Fuck!”

“By the way, I’ve been on the phone with Feistl and Van Ness a bunch today. They’re supposed to be getting back tonight.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m on my way back.” He leans his back against the car door and sighs, then adds, “Jurado’s got a wife in Bogotá. American. I wanna put a tap on her phone. What do you think?”

You sigh and lean against the edge of your desk. It’s not totally legal to put a tap on the wife’s phone, but you and Javier need her husband’s cooperation, and fast. It’s probably your only option to get to him within the timeframe you need.

“You motherfucker. Okay. I’ll talk to Stoddard before I leave. See you tomorrow.”

And then you hang up. 

It’s not as much of a surprise as he’d like it to be that he’s disappointed you hung up before he could ask you about your day, who you had lunch with since he was gone all day, if you missed him.

He’s totally gone for you, and he’s getting okay with it.

//

When he gets back to the office, the light is off, and you’re gone. He knew you would be, but he can’t fight away the tightening in his chest.

He pores over some more files, looking for any available information on Jurado, when the phone rings.

“Peña.”

“Boss, it’s Feistl.”

Fucking Feistl and Van Ness were supposed to be back at the embassy an hour ago. No call to the office about a plane being delayed, so Javier’s been in the dark.

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

Feistl ignores the question, and when he speaks, Javier swears he hears a hint of awe in the younger agent’s voice.

“Sir, I’ve got eyes on Gilberto Rodriguez.”

That’s the best news Javier’s gotten all day. He sighs in relief at one good thing finally happening today, and his knees almost buckle.

“You’re looking at him right now?” he asks, his voice low like he might come in his pants from how fucking relieved he feels to finally get some good news.

“Just say the word, and we take him down,” Feistl answers. “What’s the move, boss?”

//

With Martinez on board, Javier now just has to inform you. It’s late, but he’s sure you’re still up.

He knocks on your door and waits for you to open it. When you do, you’re wearing a thin tank top and pajama shorts, and that puts an even bigger pep in his step.

You open the door to a fucking giddy Javier Peña. So giddy looking, in fact, that you don’t even berate him for knocking on your door at fucking midnight.

“Javi?”

“Feistl and Van Ness put eyes on Gilberto Rodriguez. Tonight. They called me an hour ago. I just spoke with Martinez; he’s in.”

You open your door wider and let Javier inside.

“So what’s the plan?” you ask as you head into the living room.

Javier follows you and loosens his tie as he talks.

“Feistl and Van Ness have reason to believe the captain in Cali is on the take, but we can’t really do the op without them. No more unilateral decisions, right?”

You nod as you both sit on the couch.

“So, that’s why I roped in Martinez,” he continues. “He and his guys are going to go head to the actual house while we go with Calderón and his men, make it seem like the DEA fucked up again. Then we’ll head over with Calderón, hold him there until we get Gilberto.”

“I take it we’re delegating the actual logistics?” you ask softly, leaning your head against the couch cushion.

He nods. “Martinez wanted to handle it.”

“Hm. How was the jungle?”

Javier shrugs and leans into the couch beside you. 

“Humid,” he replies. “It’s a fucking fundraiser. Stechner showed Toyle and Martin staged carnage. Dead guerrillas that they tried to pass off as traffickers, but the guns and magazines were a dead giveaway. Fucking stupid. All in the name of ‘making the truth more plain.’”

He scoffs and shakes his head. 

“How was filing?” he asks as he turns to look at you.

“Boring. I should’ve gone with you, but I felt weird after implying you were meeting with prostitutes again,” you admit, speaking in a soft tone as if that will minimize your embarrassment.

Javier lets out a deep breath and shakes his head. 

Steve’s words from that phone call are ringing in his head.

“To be completely honest with you, I haven’t done anything since our first night back,” he whispers.

You swear your heart might have just sunk to the pit of your stomach. You had kind of been hoping, even if confirmation would make you jealous, that Javier would sleep with someone else. Just so you could know for a fact that he was moved on, so you should try to be too.

“Why?” you whisper back.

Your faces are inches apart, both resting on the couch cushions, the fabric soft against both of your skin.

“Because if it’s not with you, I don’t need it.”

‘I don’t need it.’

‘If it’s not with you, I don’t need it.’

Seriously? After the last few weeks of the two of you maintaining a friendly distance?

“Javi…”

He shakes his head, just slow enough that it’s not offensive that he’s telling you to shut up.

“Just let that… Let me say that,” he whispers. “I need you to know that. I know I’m still dragging my feet and everything, but I want you to at least know that.”

You inhale deeply, then nod. Your forehead leans forward, and it rests against his own.

Javier swears he can feel his heart stop. 

“We’re gonna figure ourselves out,” you whisper, your eyes shutting because you can’t look at him, not right now, not like this. “But not tonight. I don’t wanna fuck up this arrest. We need to be strong, clear-headed partners on this.”

He nods, his skin rubbing against yours. “Mhm.”

Your hand that was in your lap moves forward, subconsciously searching for his, even with your eyes closed.

With Javier’s eyes still open, he caresses your fingertips with his own.

“Wished you were with me today,” he whispers, now holding your fingers with his, not quite hand-holding yet.

You flutter your eyes open. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Mhm.”

“Yeah, well, Stoddard very delicately made it clear that it was a boy’s club meeting, so…”

Javier scoffs and shakes his head in disapproval. “They must not have read your file. It’d show you’re twice the agent I am.”

“Twice?” you laugh softly. 

He smiles. “Three times?”

“You’re silly,” you murmur, smiling.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“That smile,” he says, and he says it so fondly, your heart might soar out of your chest.

Your smile softens into a more peaceful one, and you’re suddenly very aware that your foreheads are still resting against each other.

“I like yours, too,” you murmur.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

You bring your hand up, and your thumb presses against his plush bottom lip. Javier tries to hold back the hitch in his breath.

“This,” you whisper. “Pouty and plush and soft. It’s like the real you.”

He can’t help himself, not when you say shit like that while gently pressing your thumb against his bottom lip.

Javier presses against your thumb with both lips, a soft kiss.

It doesn’t stop there. You’re not stopping him, so he’s taking the reins.

He closes his lips around your thumb and pulls it deeper into his mouth just by sucking on it.

You’re both surprised you haven’t said anything yet, and even more surprised that he’s still sucking on your thumb.

You can feel his teeth gently edge your skin, gentle and careful. His tongue is warm and soft beneath the pad of your thumb, and you can’t help but want more, despite all the reasons you have to do the smart thing and take a step back.

Just having your thumb in his mouth is sending tingles down your spine.

With your foreheads still pressed together, you’ve got a close-up view of just how erotic this is.

He’s not asking for anything more here. He just wants to suck on your thumb.

“Javi…”

His name is a whisper on your lips. It’s neutral; you’re not asking him for more or less. You just want to make him aware that you’re aware of the situation.

Javier moans softly around your thumb and meets your gaze, your eyes only inches apart. He loosens the suction of his lips around your thumb, and the digit falls out of his mouth, dragging his saliva down his chin.

He catches your wrist, gently holding it in his hand. Then he brings it closer and kisses the inside of it. He does it a few times, like your wrist once did him a great favor, and he needs to show his gratitude.

You just keep on sitting there and letting him. It’s a little strange, but you just can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop. 

He then kisses your knuckles… All 14 of them.

Finally, you move your forehead from his, dropping it on the top of the couch cushion, still just watching him, letting him kiss your hand.

Apparently, Javier can’t handle the loss of contact because he drops his head and nuzzles his nose against yours.

He fucking nuzzles against you.

You bring your hands to the back of his head, gently carding your fingers through his hair, and you swear you hear him whimper.

“Y’know, I wanna try,” he whispers before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

You can’t think about the half-assed kiss right now. You can’t, because what the fuck did he just say?

“The fuck does that mean?” you ask, your voice louder than a whisper but not quite a normal speaking voice.

“It means I’m getting old, and I really want to not die when we go arrest Gilberto, but I’ve gotta run outta luck someday, and–”

“Yeah, but it’s not happening anytime soon,” you interrupt, sitting up straighter now and dropping your hands from his hair.

The very notion that Javier could die as soon as tomorrow makes you sick to your stomach. You won’t even entertain the idea, no matter how much of a reality it might be.

Javier sighs and drapes his arm over the couch. “I’m just saying, I already screwed this up once. I’m too old to drag my feet, cariño,” he murmurs. 

“So, what does ‘try’ mean?” you ask, completely bewildered, but you figure starting there is as good a place as any.

“I don’t know,” he admits, and you swear you might shoot him. “I just know that I want to talk to you, even about the bad shit I’ve done, and I wanna hear about your bad shit when you’re ready. I’m saying I want to try at this, and I don’t care how slow we take it, but I want to do it.”

In all honesty, Javier’s about to scream from all the anxiety bubbling in his chest. He really wanted you to hear that, and with the emotional day he had, maybe he isn’t thinking clearly, but he’s wanted to say that since you put a Band-Aid on his papercut last week, and he’s felt it for longer. Maybe even before you left.

He doesn’t really do this. He’s not really confrontational where his feelings are concerned; he’s avoidant.

“You know I’d do anything for you?” you whisper. 

Javier takes both of your hands and brings your knuckles to his lips. That’s his response. Because maybe words aren’t enough in this moment.

Then he carefully lowers his head until it’s in your lap.

You’re tense at first, completely surprised by the action, but eventually, you relax, and Javier can feel the muscles in your thighs loosen. 

When you bring a hand to his head, and start gently stroking his soft hair, Javier thinks he might be in heaven.

taglist: @person-005 @spectralgalaxygauntlet @idknananchimaybe @marty-mccunt @saralovesjoelmiller @kirsteng42 @upintheclouds95 @hystericalanduseless9

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Noon. That was when he told you the night before as he kept stalling you from leaving. Every time you were ready to push open the car door, he had something else to say. You agreed to noon just to appease him so you could run and hide in your dorm.

You pulled on your long pea coat and stuffed your textbooks into your canvas bag with the leather straps. You hiked it up on your shoulder and slung your pocketbook from your other. You stepped out into the hallway and wobbled on the heels. You clung to the handle as you kept yourself upright.

“Wow, you look special,” Gina remarked as she peeked through the kitchen door.

“Um, thanks,” you pulled your coat closed and buttoned it, “it’s… new.”

“It’s cute,” she said as Lisa came to peek through the doorway as well.

“Where are you going?” the second girl asked.

“To study,” you said as you carefully made your way to the heavy door that led to the stairwell.

“Oh, study, huh?” she teased, “can’t be alone then.”

“I’m gonna be late,” you kept your chin down.

“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gina said as you opened the door and stepped out.

“I didn’t know she had anywhere to go,” Lisa’s trilled and her voice slipped into the hall just before the wood slid back into the frame.

You exhaled through your nose and braced the railing for your slow and treacherous descent. As you got to the bottom, you teetered and pressed yourself to the wall as two girls came through the door. You watched them flit up the stairs and scurried out into the spring air.

The weather was as bitter as before. It smelled like wet grass and mud. The sun beamed down warmly and made you sweat in your jacket. You gripped the strap of your bag and cleared the single step to even ground.

“Honey,” the voice drew your eyes up from your boots and you blinked. 

The sheriff stood by his cruiser as he watched you. He didn’t wear his uniform, instead a pair of grey slacks and pure white button-up under his usual leather. He smiled and came to the end of the walk as you hesitantly closed the gap. Your heel caught in a crack and you stumbled. He caught you and gave a soft laugh.

“You okay?” he asked as he held your elbow in one hand and his other went to the small of your back.

“I’m fine,” you righted yourself and parted from him, “just didn’t see the crack.”

“Here,” he tugged on your heavy knapsack, “let me take this.”

You let him, unsure what to say. He was early. Your watch assured you he was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Your own timing was purely habit as you hated to keep others waiting.

“Thank you,” you squeaked as he put the bag in the back seat.

“So, can I see it?” he asked as he shut the door.

“What?” your brows knitted in confusion.

“The clothes,” he said lightly, “that is what you’re hidin’ under there, right?” he pointed at a large round button on your pea coat, “it’s too warm to be wearin’ all that.”

“Can I wait… until we’re at your, um, place?” you clutched the round collar of your coat anxiously.

“Oh, for my eyes only, huh,” he teased with a wink.

“No, I just… can we go?”

“Course, honey,” he brushed by you and opened the front door, “get in.”

You sat and pulled your legs in, hooking them around the edge of the seat stiffly as you crossed one over the other. The door closed and you picked at the metal clasp of your pocket book and chewed your lip. Why were you doing all this? You were an adult, he said it himself, you could say no…

You glanced around, his sheriff’s hat sat on the dashboard and you shook your head. No, you couldn’t. He was a cop and your discomfort wasn’t a reason to be uncourteous. Your mother always told you to push yourself out of your safe zone. She hated how you always held yourself back because you were scared. It was difficult enough to get you out of the house and into a dorm.

Once he was in the car, there was no turning back. You coudn’t lie about feeling sick or claim a forgotten study group, you were on your way and suddenly you were filled with panic. What if he wasn’t taking you to his house? Did that star on his hat really mean he was a good person?

“Um,” the syllable slipped from you nervously.

“What is it, hon?” he asked as he gripped the grooved wheel.

“Um, I don’t…” you stuttered as you searched for words. You couldn’t let him know what you were really afraid of, “so, uh, I would’ve thought that… you have a wife?”

His brows flicked up as you peeked over at him. He pushed his bottom lip out and hummed. He clicked his tongue and sighed.

“Well, I did,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to talk about it too much. She, er, she’s married to my deputy now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t…”

“It’s all over now,” he shrugged, “you know, I’ve moved on. We’re both happier for it.”

“That’s… good, then,” you murmured.

“Must be, I met you,” he smiled, “huh?”

“Well, I…” your hand shook and hid it up your sleeve, “I don’t know, I’m a bit young, aren’t I?”

“Young?” he said, “you don’t act it. You’re a lot more mature than lots of ladies I know. The way you carry yourself… you work hard I can tell. I don’t see your age, just a good woman.”

“Hmm,” you pursed your lips tightly.

“I mean it,” he insisted, “you got character beyond your age.”

“Thank you, but I… I don’t know,” you picked at the cuff of your coat.

“You brought your books?” he said, “must’ve. That bag sure is heavy. I got a place for ya all set up.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be workin’ on supper, I hope you don’t mind the noise,” he drawled, “you know, I don’t cook often so I might be a bit… lost.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” you offered, “really, it’s… too much.”

“I wanna, honey,” he said, “ain’t it special? A fellow cookin’ for his lady?”

“Uh, oh,” you frowned, “sure.”

“And you can turn the radio on if you like,” he continued, “it’s new.”

You nodded and listened meekly. Every argument you had for him was quickly shot down. He was so good at telling you how you were wrong or what to do while making it feel like good advice. Each demand, each want, was presented as common sense. It was impossible to argue with him because deep inside, you couldn’t argue with yourself. 

While your gut told you something was off, your head assured you of your paranoia. You didn’t know any better, did you? You didn’t know how these things worked, how men and women got along, so of course it would feel strange to you. But he knew and he was so confident about it, he must be right.

📚

Lee’s house was nice, just outside the city limits. It reminded you of the suburban homes you passed on your way to high school in your hometown. You only ever lived in an apartment with your parents and so found the place extravagant compared to boxy until attached hallways noisy with troublesome neighbours.

He led you onto the porch, the wood painted white, and opened both the screen door and thicker wood one ahead of you. You were forced to brush against him as you entered. He was quick to trail you, the screen snapping shut behind him. He hung his leather coat and tugged on the back of your collar as he plunked down your bookbag.

“Go on then,” he said, “let me see it, honey.”

You closed your eyes and steeled yourself. You forced a smile as you undid the first button and slowly turned to him. You unhooked each until the coat fell open and you let it fall down your arms. You quickly swept it up and he took it to hang beside his own.

He faced you and gripped your shoulders as he looked down at you. You shied away as his eyes roved down your body and you took a step back as you crossed your arms.

“They’re a bit tight,” you said.

“You look mighty fine,” he slithered, “look like they fit just nice.”

“Erm,” you rocked on the balls of your feet.

He smiled and knelt to untie his shoes. You unzipped the boots and stepped out of them, stretching your arches as before you brought them flat. You pushed them beside his shoes as his strong cologne tickled your nose.

“Just in here, honey,” he waved you through a doorway, “come on.”

He went back to grab your bag and pointed you in ahead of him as he returned to you. He went to the sofa and dropped the bag on the cushion. 

“You can get settled in,” he sidled away from the coffee table, “the radios there,” he gestured to the console table along the wall, “record player too.”

“Thanks, I should be fine,” you neared and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I’ll be through there, in the kitchen,” he peeked over at another door, “you need anything, just holler.”

“I will,” you twined your fingers through each other, “thank you.”

He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lingered on the other side of the table, “you do look nice in that,” he looked you up and down again, “you don’t even need the stockings with how warm it’s gettin’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled and brought your fingers to tap your lip, “guess I should get started.”

You reached for the flap of your book bag and slid out a heavy textbook. You sensed him watching you before his feet slowly turned away and he strode from the room. You opened the book and flipped through the pages mindlessly. 

-charlie, probably (made by pip for space game. Saved it in advance knowing it was spoilers for this episode lol)

I’m pretty sure tasting the colour pink is just peptol bismol

Charlie has reached a new low 2 episodes after the pizza image, somehow

“Despite all my rage i am still just a rat in a cage” -thorin

Alex’s nickname on the fanserver sure is real awkward now

Charlie is a weeb. next up, the sky is blue

I mean. If YOU gained god powers don’t tell me you WOULDN’T watch every anime in existence

The biggest tonal dissonance between the art and the music i’ve ever seen

-art by cam

Cant believe zephi is cg’s friend from work

NO TEARS. ONLY YOGA

My therapist: calm voice CG isn’t real he can’t hurt you. Calm voice CG:

Even the void is not immune to capitalism

COMPETITIVE YOGA

GAY PANIC TIME, THE FRIEND FROM WORK HAS ARRIVED

Vinny is phoenix wright 

Junior is denied playing with dogs by virtue of not being in the show. Shame.

Thorin being left alone with zephi, this could only end well. Just look how minerva ended up!

Vinny straight up admits he’s willing to kill a dog

“Ezra, yay or nay about val’s area” 

Miss Charlie steal yo girl

“I fucked your girl shitlips” -charlie, probably

Maybe ONE day the space jam scenario will see the light of day

Welcome to FUCK IT

The local mall cryptid returns at last

Two legends make a triumphant return: junior no last name and the gazebo

Junior nolastname can legally swear

Chuck. 

How dare you make me sad over one piece jokes

Just Starbucks

After months of CG and grace being the best goddamn dynamic in the show despite it being ENTIRELY noncanon they GET TO FUCKING INTERACT IN THE SHOW

Alex’s hyena laugh my beloved

Paul blart flesh mall

Do not investigate the meat

Yugo wasn’t dead, he was just put in gay baby jail for a nap

-cam

ALEX BE DROPPIN HOT BARS THO

Tommathan 

Hailey gets struck by the apollo ball

Yknow. A proposal. As a friend. She put a ring on it. As a friend. 

Tommy and angalena h*ld h*nds

Sometimes ur just so depressed you dont realize ur girlfriend proposed to you in a romantic way

Perhaps, just once, the girls will not be fighting

TACTICAL STEALTH EZRA

“It’s like i’m a WEBSERIES CHARACTER” -hailey looks directly at the camera

DAD TIME

Dads havin a good dad talk. I’m just vibin to this music

“The surrealism of it made me nearly scream”

Daily reminder that percy blackwood punched a kid at sunday school

Things gettin spicy in this mattress store ;)

Val averts thine eyes, at the disappointment of the fans

TOES TIME

Kingdom hearts called, it wants its belts back

Dmp would be instantly solved if junior hadnt been demoted to mall cryptid. Bitch been on screen for like 5 minutes and he’s goin full cinemasins on CG’s ass

Jesus canon to dmp

Junior decided to test god, he fucks around and finds out

CG throwing a temper tantrum and ripping apart his dolls like an angy 5 year old

(bitch), CG edition

THAT’S IT YOU’RE GOING TO SPENCERS

Eternal gazebo time

HOLY SHIT???? People go to malls to SHOP???

oh wow! [eldritch screeching] my favourite pokemon!!!

HAIR SWOOSH GANG

Oh noooooooo my two favs are talking whatever will i dooooooooooo

Yall are really just gonna shove doc’s corpse into a pretzel box huh

Charlie just progresses more and more into being comically small and sad

Rip the mall announcer, lost to the parking lot. We barely knew you

Charlie is a basic bitch, we been knew

Yeahhhh no cg sure as hell aint human. No human being would reasonably wear THAT