Chapter Text
“Hurry the fuck up, we’re late,” Javi mutters.
Javi broadens his strides to keep up with Steve, both pacing down the corridor towards Messina’s office. After an unnecessarily long breakfast consisting of overcooked scrambled eggs with cold coffee, and complaints by Javi over deciding what clothes to offer to Steve for the day (the blue one, alright?), the extra hours garnered earlier have dwindled into the typical rushed morning to the embassy.
Without knocking, Javi barges into her office and chucks the files containing their reports onto her desk. Immersed in her own world of responding to the letters she’s received from overseas, Messina looks up, unimpressed. As the two turn away, Messina utters a slight ‘ah’ towards their willingness to leave so soon. They both stop, dead in their tracks, looking at each other in defeated acceptance.
“Peña. Murphy. Just a moment.” Messina gestures towards the two empty chairs in front of her. “Have a seat, please.”
Javi prepares himself for the possibilities of what Messina might say to them. She might have forgotten about their incident earlier, but that doesn’t stop Javi from worrying about what scandals may arise. To show affection in a professional environment is one thing, but to be so open about it? Hell, a secret like that had no place in Colombia. They both settle into their seats, their backs unnaturally rigid over her request.
“Look, I wanted to remind you both that we’re being transferred this afternoon,” Messina says. “Don’t forget.”
“Of course, boss,” Javi replies. “Just started to pack things up in my apartment.” It’s true. Javi did have the decency to clean their mess and make a mental checklist of any misplaced possessions. Of course, he doesn’t want the following tenants to gain access to his credentials or worse, intel that he borrowed. Shit like that would be bound for grounds of termination, and Javi definitely doesn’t want to take that risk, because he knows that he’s better than that, unlike Steve, who needs several reminders even outside of his apartment not to do stupid things like that.
“Good. And you, Murphy?” Messina passes over to Steve, who is too distracted by the way Javi has his legs spread out proudly and the creases of his tight, tight jeans.
“Oh uh, I’ve been working on it,” Steve mumbles, rubbing his temples and directing his gaze back to Messina.
Her eyes suddenly narrow, noticing the blemish under his jaw that is bruised with purple, and is rather apparent compared with his fair skin. And Javi, as the perpetrator, the one who was responsible for that mark of his, almost swears out loud. It doesn’t take the average person to put two and two together to realise something suspicious is brewing between them. Messina, as an intelligent woman and as their attaćhe, remains aloof to this observation.
“You might want to cover that up, Murphy,” Messina advises, eyeing Javi as though wanting to pry open his mind and discover his true intentions, his desires towards Steve. As though she knows that it was him who did it. Javi attempts to pull off a somewhat impassive facial expression that beyond the naked eye, diverts any involvement with Steve’s mark. Steve tugs his collar up in response, unbothered.
“You’re both dismissed.”
Without hesitation, Javi leaves her office, no muttered thank you required, whilst Steve nods and heads after Javi. Steve eventually catches up to him, mirroring his rather stiff gait. There’s a weighty silence that ensues as they travel down the corridor. Before they reach their shared area, Javi ushers Steve to the side with his hand pressed against his back, allowing the other employees to filter by. Steve finds himself being stared down by Javi, face scowling and eyes fixed dangerously upon him.
“Listen, Murphy, we can’t risk being caught. If we are, we’re fucked. Is that understood?” Javi heavily breathes out. Sure, it was Steve who had initiated their confrontation in that damn cabinet room, to which Javi is glad that he will never step foot in again for the next few months, but there is partial fault to be found with him encouraging Steve to continue. But if there’s one thing that Javi cannot tolerate, it’s taking the entire blame.
“Oh, most certainly Agent Peña. Fucked, you say?” Steve teases. He winks, delivers a cheeky slap to his ass, and heads to his desk, leaving a very sullen and broody Javier Peña behind in the corridor. Javi almost finds his frustration dissipating into thin air as quickly as it had begun. How Steve manages to defuse any situation so easily with his tricks of his, he’ll never know. Javi instinctively takes out a cigarette, perches it between his lips, and ignites it with his lighter.
Carlos Holguin Police Academy
Javi glances at Steve with a look that silently communicates you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…, because the room they’ve been offered as ‘expected guests of the Colombian Police’? Well, it’s quite underwhelming. Metal frames laid haphazardly in the back, rolls of mattress foam on a desk and their bed? It’s a goddamn bunk bed, not even a proper bed, but it suffices nonetheless.
“Bottom’s mine,” Javi says reflexively, preferring the security offered by being grounded closest to the floor. Steve shoots Javi a quizzical look and chuckles lowly.
“Well, who would’ve guessed,” Steve says, grinning. “Bottom in most situations, huh.”
It takes a moment for Javi to register what he means, and when he does, he doesn’t bother arguing back. Just grits his teeth instead. On the bright side, it does spare him the effort of climbing down the ladder for a quick smoke outside and besides, his body still aches from how Steve had wrecked and ruined him earlier in bed. Steve takes Javi’s silence as a quiet yes.
“Aren’t ya gonna help me move around some stuff?” Steve asks, hands on his hips. Javi sighs, but rather than opting out for that smoke break he longs for, he feels a responsibility to help him. It is through combining their efforts that it would be mutually beneficial, after all.
“Fine, but don’t expect me to be quick at it. Especially with what happened this morning, you know,” Javi says, indicating with his hands the lower portion of his body.
“Alright then,” Steve says, amused by how much further he can push Javi to his limits before he comes bemoaning after him to take a break. Javi begins with grabbing the steel frame of the bunk bed and shifting it to the edge of the wall, allowing Steve to reposition the armchairs to the desk.
“A little help here?” Javi grunts, struggling to open a jar of thumbtacks on the desk, the top screwed on tightly.
"Give me that."
Steve snatches the jar from him, sweaty fingers brushing for just a second, and easily unscrews it with a flick of his wrist. Prioritising speed, however, causes a thumbtack to tumble out of the jar and prick Steve’s thumb. A dot of blood appears.
“Ah, fuck,” Steve grits out, alleviating his mild sting with a swipe of his tongue to lap off the excess blood. For some inexplicable reason, Javi finds that this turns him on oddly. Next time, if he has the chance to kiss him so hard that blood would smear around his mouth, god, he wouldn’t mind that at all.
*
After a few hours of manual labour, the both of them somehow manage to salvage their substandard accommodation into a more livable, cozier area to reside in for the months to come. With a few adjustments to the furniture and the mattresses set up, they still have plenty of work to do, but tonight, they decide to endure the brunt of their efforts for tomorrow. Javi lays at the bottom of the bunk, squeezing his eyes shut over the metallic squeaking of the mattress above as Steve tosses and turns about.
“Hey, Murphy. Quit your moving,” Javi groans, stuffing an extra pillow to his ear to stifle out the noise.
“So fucking uncomfortable man,” Steve sighs, unceremoniously flinging the thin blanket provided to the ground. Javi can picture Steve above, probably laying on his side, body flailed out in search for a comfortable zone in the mattress. There’s a break in his movement before Steve jumps down to the ground, the bunk bed frame swaying. Javi can hear his feet padding the tiles of the floor, and he dares to open his eyes, just a bit. Now, Steve sits by the side of his bed, his head tilted slightly, watching him intently.
“Come here,” Steve says, patting the space next to him. Javi forces his elbows to cooperate and pushes himself off the mattress, sliding next to Steve. And even though it is dark, he can still make out his blue eyes through the strip of moonlight that infiltrates through the semi-circle window, that familiar dumb smile lazily adorned on his face.
In the privacy of their own room, even sanctified by the authorities themselves, Javi has the freedom to do whatever he wants to Steve. Without the need to bottle up his feelings in front of everyone else, and without any judgement by what they might say to their close bond. Shifting closer to each other quietly, Javi brings his face unbearably close to Steve. Hand snaking down to the underside of Steve’s knee and approaching the softer skin of his inner thigh, Steve hums in delight, gripping his hand onto Javi’s nape for support.
“Does this,” Javi whispers, his fingertips digging into his thigh and leaving behind crescent indents, “make you comfortable now?”, his nose brushing against Steve’s and shoulders relaxing from his touch.
“Mhm. Don’t stop Javi,” Steve nods, his body shuddering. Javi gently nips the edge of Steve’s mouth and soon indulges in a lengthy kiss. Steve drags his hand from his nape, down his back, and to his calf. Steve wants to know every part of Javi, what makes him tick. And so, Javi dares to drag his teeth on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, staining their mouths with subtle red and a metallic aftertaste that lingers.
“Fuck, that’s new,” Steve hisses, smiling in such a wicked manner that Javi never wants to forget. “Liked what you saw earlier, didn’t you?”
Javi shuts him up with another hard kiss.
By now, they’re both caressing each other’s legs in search of the tiny electrical sparks it provides, Javi playing with the hairs atop Steve’s thigh. Javi slithers his hand towards Steve’s crotch and to his surprise, Steve captures his wrist.
“Nuh, not today Javi, sorry. I’m tired,” Steve yawns. Javi knows that sometimes things don’t need to get so heated up in every moment. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries so soon. Perhaps tomorrow will prove a better opportunity, once they complete their renovation of the room, of course. Javi flops his head back onto his pillow, turning to the side, but Steve gently shakes his shoulder.
“C’mon. Move to the side, Javi.”
“Steve, you’re not gonna fit. There’s barely any room for the both of us.”
“I’ll make it happen. Move. Over.”
“Fucking hell, Steve.”
It’s a tight fit, but both of them manage to tuck their knees in and get as close as they possibly can. There is no air conditioner, comfy blankets, or smell of coffee wafting in the air. The amenities of Javi’s apartment, not taken for granted, are sorely missed by them both.
Javi dreams that night. Dreams that he's on a raid with Steve, engaging head-to-head with one of the sicarios behind a concrete wall. He fires blindly into the open area, a series of bullets are exchanged, and one of those bullets whistles by him just by an inch. But fuck, it decides to ricochet and puncture Steve right below his tac vest. Steve lets out a wounded, sharp cry, clutching at his lower abdomen and face contorting in excruciation as Javi scurries over to his side.
With both hands, Javi desperately applies pressure to the wound site to staunch the bleeding. He has to stop to wipe his hands onto his jeans, slippery and slick with blood. Javi mutters into his handheld transceiver, requesting backup, but no one is there to respond. Instead, a staticky noise buzzes intermittently. Blood courses and rushes through his ears, his surroundings become blurry, and everything seems to fall apart. All that is left is the collapsed figure of Steve, his face pallid and eyes fluttering shut. He's gone.
*
Steve awakens to find a trembling Javi in his arms. His head is tossing and eyebrows are furrowed as he mutters nonsensical phrases in his sleep. Fuck, he's having a nightmare. Steve feels helpless, unable to do something, anything, to comfort him. So he threads his fingers through Javi's hair, whispering affirmations and reassurances that everything will be fine. And when Javi does wake, who breaks out in a cold sweat and breathes heavily, Steve pulls him in closer so that Javi's back seemingly melds into his chest.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry," Javi says, wiping his brow with his hand.
"Sorry for what?" Steve asks, concerned. He hasn't done anything wrong through what he's seen, so perhaps Javi is opening up to him. Letting him fully see him at his worst, raw, cracked, and flawed. "Javi, you don't have to apologise for anything."
"For waking you," Javi confesses, turning around to face him. Steve notices how his pouty lips quiver, his eyes wandering erratically over him as though checking to see that he is real, and his heart almost breaks as he witnesses Javi being reduced to a small, broken man. "Fuck... I thought you were gone... you were—"
"Listen Javi, I'm here," Steve reassures him, guiding Javi's hand to his chest to feel his steady heartbeat pulsating, alive and well. Steve cups Javi's face with both of his hands, and Javi disguises his sob as a ragged, scathing cough. "I'm here."
"Shit, I know. I can't lose you, Steve," Javi admits. Steve understands, being so accustomed to this notion. Both being DEA agents, it's a reasonable fear to have, just by observing how easy it is for people to lose their lives during this violent time. The soldiers being raised here, at this academy? Easily expendable. But Javi? He's not one of them, and never will be. Steve feels the urgency to protect Javi, before that judgement and nerve that he possesses becomes lost.
"You're not gonna lose me, alright?", Steve says, kissing his forehead. Javi buries his face further into his neck, exhaling as Steve rubs his shoulders to calm him down and stop him from overthinking and jumping to conclusions. Steve doesn't know if he can keep that promise, because fighting with Escobar is equivalent to risking their lives. But what they do have is their comfort together, at the bare minimum.