#Carrillo

[sigurism]

Boyd Holbrook + Pedro Pascal (& Maurice Compte) Narcos 1.02 -The Sword of Simón Bolivar

#<3 #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #narcos #the sword of simón bolívar #1.02 #javier peña #pedro pascal #horacio carrillo #maurice compte #carrillo #my gifs #my edit

[garbinge]

For Old Time's Sake

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader Steve Murphy & Javier Peña & F!Reader For the @narcosfandomdiscord October Prompts. Day 1 - Day of Firsts: Create a fanwork about a canon character you’ve never written about/used before. Summary: Your first day in Colombia on the Escobar case and you end up running into an old flame. A little reimagined moment of Steve's first day in Colombia if you will! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Angsty. Javi being kinda lowkey jerky. A/N: Okay so this is my first time writing Carrillo and I feel like its wildly out of character/his voice/etc but we're out here TRYING okay. So excited for these prompts and hope to write for a good chunk on this list!

Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini

Your plane landed in the early morning hours, it was still dark out as you exited. Luckily there was no waiting on baggage or making your way through the crowd. When the DEA sent you out, they pulled out all the stops. It helped that you were top of your game at work, putting in the extra hours, sacrificing your social life. It basically meant you were eating, sleeping, and dreaming of work 24/7 but it brought you up as the highest agent in your division and because of that, it earned you the Escobar case. That and well, you had pretty well knowledge of Colombia since you spent your college years abroad there. 

This was the last of the luxury you’d experience from the DEA office in the states, however, and you knew that so you soaked up every ounce of it before you were now exiting the private plane, making your way down to the Ford that was waiting to take you to your accommodations. 

“Hola, senorita.” Someone in a suit greeted you and held the backdoor open for you. 

You smiled and placed your bags in the back, you knew that wasn’t what they were holding the door for, but you weren’t going to continue the special treatment. Quickly after dropping your bags, you moved to the passenger seat and waited for the driver to join you. After a few beats of silence they mentioned they would be taking you to your apartment so you could get settled but you disagreed and made them take you to the embassy. 

There it was, the habit that got you in this position, all work, no play. 

As you rolled into the embassy, you flashed your badge and quickly made your way in, stepping out as the car was still moving. 

“Muchas gracias.” You nodded to your driver who was panicking to brake. 

Two men in tan suits waited for you as you approached with your bags. 

“Peña and Murphy?” You stood staring at the two of them as they sized you up. 

“Yep.” Javier extended his hand out to shake yours. “Javier–Javi.” 

That was followed by the same gesture from Steve. 

“They were supposed to bring you to drop your bags off first.” Javi started to complain as he began walking inside the building.

“I told them to bring me here, I can drop my bags off whenever I go home. Wanted to meet the team and get briefed as soon as possible.” You spoke up, quick to keep up with both of the men who were holding the door open for you. 

As you entered the building you took in everything, making mental notes of every detail you thought would be important. The sign that listed each floor, where the bathrooms were, where each emergency exit was located. It almost made you miss the look Steve and Javi gave each other after you explained your eagerness to work. 

“I got myself familiar with all the notes on the plane but, I figured first hand accounts would be better. I know better than to believe everything that’s in the paperwork.” You spoke as you entered the elevator. 

“Yea well, things are–” Javier paused his sentence to think about what to say, how to describe what you were getting into. 

“A shitshow.” Steve interrupted him to finish the thought. 

Mentally you noted that Steve was the more honest one, not one to get flustered by the presence of a woman. He was likely married, or in some serious commitment, and whether that was with a woman or his job you respected it. You nodded with a smile, answering him briefly with a some response about how it isn't always with the DEA or something of that nature before your eyes moved back over to Javier to get a read on him. 

Before you could nail down a thought, the elevator doors were opening and the group of you were moving fast. 

“Weaver and Wisnicki, meet our new DEA special agent.” Javier introduced you by name. 

You were quick to let go of your bags and reach over to shake hands and correct the title he gave you. “Supervising Special Agent.” 

Steve let out a chuckle before continuing the greeting. “Javi what is it you called these guys? R.I.P? Retired in place?” 

You let out a chuckle, you weren’t going to shit on what these two did, you weren’t here for that and with the amount of time you spent at work, you needed to make friends where possible. 

“Hey, we all earn it.” You lifted your hands up in an act of innocence. “It was nice meeting you two.” 

As the group of you moved through the different sections of the floor you got introduced to other agents, the Mil group, and the ambassador. Each group introduction went well. By the end of your journey, Javier was suggesting you leave your bags at his desk before they drove you in to meet the Search Bloc, seeing as you were about to go on an intel mission with them in the next 5 hours. 

“Now we should give you a heads up.” Steve spoke up as the car you were in pulled into Carlos Holguin School. “Colonel Carrillo can be–”

“Walking up right now.” Javier interrupted as he put the car in park and exited the vehicle. 

Steve was quick to look up and see that the Colonel wasn’t walking up, it was just his men approaching to escort the lot of you in. 

“No he’s not!” Murphy yelled before turning to you in the back seat. “He can be a bit of dick. Apparently a common trait around here.” His eyes went back to Peña before he was exiting the passenger door himself. 

You smiled to yourself at that. It was enjoyable to you to see the back and forth between the two men. 

The silence overcame the group of you as you were brought to an office door, the plaque on the outside reading Colonel Carrillo was a little outdated in style, meant he had a few years on his belt. 

As the door was opened by one of the search bloc soldiers, Javi began speaking. 

“Buenos días, Colonel.” 

The minute a voice responded, you felt your gut flinch, if that was even possible, before it sunk. Your head was whipping up to look at the major, taking in his green uniform, the badge on his chest, and finally, his face. 

Javier and him were mumbling to each other as they shook hands, leaving you to take in who it was in front of you right now. 

It wasn’t so much nerves you were feeling, you would have described it more as shock. Which, shock felt a lot similar to a panic attack. The noise in your ears got fuzzy, there was a slight buzzing in the background and your face went blank. 

“You alright?” Steve cut through the fuzziness in your ears, luckily and brought you back to reality. 

“Yea sorry, just fucked up from the time difference and the flight.” You shook your head and masked the shock you were feeling. 

“I want you to meet our new DEA supervising special agent.” Javi spoke up, calling the attention to you now. 

His eyes met yours, and the smile that slightly curved on his face tipped you off that he recognized you immediately. You saw his mouth move slightly open and before Javi or him could say your name you were quick to cut them both off by speaking it outloud and move towards them, extending your arm to greet the man. 

If that wasn’t enough to get the point across to the Colonel, your next words would have been. 

“Mucho gusto.” You smiled and prayed he didn’t say or do anything that would give away your connection. 

“Mucho gusto.” He spoke back to you with a frown. 

“We’re gonna move out and get intel in about an hour.” Steve spoke up from the back. 

“Murphy.” Carrillo spoke up, his face hardening as he stared at the man. 

With the context you had just gotten from Steve, you now realized that what Murphy meant in the car was, Carrillo was a dick to him. If you weren’t in the middle of this clusterfuck of a situation, you would have smiled, maybe even chuckled a bit but your mind was still trying to wrap itself around what was happening. 

“We’ll get out of your hair, just wanted to introduce you to the fresh meat.” Javi smiled at you. 

“Wait.” Carrillo spoke up and your gut did that flinching thing again. “I’d love to know more about what this means for your team, Peña.” 

You heard Javi start to make a noise, it was something adjacent to stuttering. His way of not wanting to devalue himself or shit on you while you were in the room. 

“My title doesn’t really pull weight, it’s just for the paperwork. I’m basically going to be working closely with Peña and Murphy on intel and raids. Only difference is my signature gets added to the documents.” You spoke up, looking back at the men behind you as you spoke. 

“Have you gotten a tour of Medellin yet, special agent?” 

He was teasing you. When you met him in Colombia all those years ago, that was exactly what he did. Give you a tour. He showed you the plaza, the museums, the best restaurants you never would have found otherwise. And again, in any other circumstance you would have been amused, but mortified was more the right word to describe your emotions at the moment. The comment was more obvious to you than anyone else in the room. It helped that Steve and Javi were oblivious to everything that wasn’t Escobar related so they weren’t exactly picking up on what was happening. 

“She flew in this morning, her bags are back at the embassy at my desk, she didn’t even get settled before jumping on the case.” Javi spoke up. 

“I’ll have it arranged that your bags are picked up and brought here.” Carrillo wasn’t even looking at any of you anymore. He was rummaging through paperwork at his desk. 

When no one responded he looked up to be met with confused looks. His eyes jumped from Steve to Javi to you. “Paperwork, after the intel trip. Going to need your signatures.” 

“Right.” You said it was obvious the entire time. 

“Alright, I’ll make the arrangements and meet you all at 1300.” He went back to looking at his paperwork, ignoring all 3 of you. 

It took you a couple seconds to make your feet move but eventually you were able to and out of his office. Steve was now leading the way to where you would meet a few more of the Search Bloc crew and gather up gear for the trip you were about to take. 

Luckily, the intel mission wasn’t awkward at all. Carrillo put his professional foot forward, as did you and as you all waited in the room for all the Narcos to show up there was no more tense or nervousness in the air. He clearly picked up on you not wanting to out any of your past personal life to Steve and Javier and quite honestly, he understood that. Having more time to think on it and not being thrown for a loop in the moment, he felt relieved about it too. These were not exactly the typical running into your ex conditions, this was work, this was catching a drug cartel and their leaders, this needed to be as far away from personal as possible. 

That was what both of you told yourselves. It was what you told yourself on the way back, while you sat next to each other in the car, when Javi leaned forward to tell you that the restaurant coming up had the best arepas de choclo. You knew that, because that was where you and Horacio would go when you were craving late night foods. And it was what you told yourself now, as you all pulled back up to the Carlos Holguin School and the awkwardness came back over you. 

“I had one of my men take your bags to where you’re staying.” Carrillo said as the group of you gathered together on the dirt lot. 

“We would have taken them back, her place is on the first level where me and Steve stay.” Javi spoke up, his hands resting on his hips. 

“One last thing we gotta lug back home from the embassy.” Steve shrugged as he leaned over to shake Carrillo’s hand in an effort to say goodbye.

“Wasn’t a big deal, I have a few men working at the embassy, keeps communication smooth.” Carrillo wasn’t in the mood to argue with Javi on this so he was quick to turn to you. “You ready to get started on this paperwork?”

“Yea, I’ll meet you in your office, let me just debrief with my guys.” You spoke confidently, anything to throw both of them off.

 All Carrillo did was nod and make his way back to his office. You turned to Steve and Javi, your face solid and serious. 

“We’ll take care of following up on the intel.” Javi spoke up now, like he was in charge. 

“I’ll give you a call on what the next move is.” Steve was cutting Javi off, staring at him with a frown before moving his eyes on to you. 

You nodded once, then turned to Javi. “Call me fresh meat one more time and I’ll be sure you’re riding desk for the rest of this case and you’ll be the one staying late to run through paperwork.” 

It was harsh, but true. You were new, but you weren’t stupid. Regardless of anything, you pulled rank over these two, whether it truly mattered or not. There was no room for disrespect. 

“See you two in the morning.” You offered them a goodbye and made your way over to the main entrance. Steve’s laugh could have been heard from even inside the building, it was obvious he was making fun of Javi, of what you just said. It was good, set the tone amongst them. 

The walk down the hallway was long, your head was filling with tons of thoughts, of memories, your heart was beating so fast it was a surprise it wasn’t coming out of your chest. As your hand rested on the doorknob of Carrillo’s office, you took a beat, a moment to take a deep breath and exhale it out as the door opened. 

Carrillo was sitting at his desk, his green button up shirt that houses his name patch and badge was hung on a coat rack in the corner, he was at his desk with just his tan t shirt on, the only light illuminating the room was the outdoor lights from the windows behind him and the desk lamp that was showing the frown on his face as he shuffled through things on his desk. 

“Thanks for going along with it.” You spoke up, alerting him of your presence. The immediate thought you had was why you were starting the conversation with that. There were a million other things you could have said. 

His head shot up, he clearly had not heard you open the door or your heart practically thumping out of your chest. 

“It’s no problem.” He answered you. “I hope you set Peña straight.” He was standing up now, moving his hand to the chair across his desk offering for you to sit. 

“Set straight?” You were confused, as you made your way to sit down. 

“Fresh meat.” He said as he sat back down himself. 

“Oh, yea. That won’t be happening again.” You let out a chuckle, still fidgeting around in the seat trying to get comfortable. 

“It’s probably good you thought quick, what happened with us… it’s just more fuel to the fire for him.” Carrillo was leaning on his desk, elbows resting on the stacks of documents. 

“What did happen with us?” The question came out so blunt it even shocked you. 

“You went back.” It was said like it was so obvious. Like those 3 words were the answer to it all. 

“I sent you letters.” The vibe had definitely changed from just mere minutes ago. 

Carrillo didn’t say anything, he sat there silent, his face neutral like that would be enough of an answer for you. 

“It’s crazy how you can know someone for just short of a year, spend pretty much everyday with them, learn the most intimate things about them, and truly know absolutely nothing about them.” 

“What are you talking about?” He was annoyed, and because of the time you spent with him, you knew it was deflection, a way to get out of the conversation, but you weren’t going to let it go that easily. 

“You never told me you were an aspiring police officer.” You pointed to the badged shirt on the rack. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you told me you wanted to come to the states, study, learn about architecture, the details of the buildings that people are so quick to dismiss.” It was a pretty direct quote from a young Horacio’s mouth.

“I joined 4 months after you left. Things got bad here. After that incident where– where you got hurt. I couldn’t shake it.” He explained thinking back to one of the last memories of you here with him. It wasn’t one either of you liked to remember, you had a permanent scar on you to remind you of it more frequently, but in Carrillo’s case it looked like he had a career profession to keep the memory alive. 

“Why did you ignore my letters?” Your voice softened now as you came to the realization that maybe you could actually come to some closure tonight. 

“We should probably start on this paperwork, make everything ready for your team to move forward tomorrow.” He was taking a stack of blank documents and handing it over to you. 

“Why did you ignore my letters, Horacio.” You spoke his name with such pleading, not just because you knew it’d get him to answer but because you truly missed saying his name in that way. 

“It was too much.” He couldn’t bear to look at you as he spoke. “Loving you and giving my all to training, to the big picture, to Colombia.” 

There it was. The most truthful thing he might have ever said to you. You knew he loved you but deep down, you always knew he loved his country. The two of you fell in love as he showed you the sights, it was written in your story for it to come down to this.

“If I had to lose you to someone I’m glad it was to her.” You managed to make a joke, just being happy that he had been honest with you. 

He smiled at that too. Now that things were a little more settled, a little less awkward, you began rummaging through the papers, filling out reports and findings, signing pre-typed notes for approvals and compliance. About 20 minutes went by when Carrillo was clearing his throat to get your attention. 

“I’m glad you’re here to fight this fight with me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The firmness in your voice came back over you, your eyes glaring at him.

He got flustered a bit, neither of you having been in a situation where flirting, romance and charm weren’t the leading tones of your conversations. 

“I just came here for the best arepas de choclo in Colombia.” A smile grew on your face and his was soon to follow. 

He was quick to stand up and grab his jacket, which was hanging next to his badged work shirt and place it on. 

“Well I guess I better not disappoint.” He was nodding towards the door. “For old times sake? I believe that’s what they say back where you’re from.” 

You stood up and grabbed your own jacket from the back of the chair and made your way to stand in front of him, dangerously close to him, you could feel the slight breeze of his breath on you as he waited for some verbal response from you. For old time’s sake, if that was the excuse he needed to justify going to get food with you, you’d take it. To be honest if that was the excuse he needed to do anything with you, you’d allow it. Little to your knowledge, but those 4 words would end up being all the invitation either of you needed to revisit old times in the next five months, whether it was your favorite restaurant, your apartment, his house, even a couple times in his office. 

So you stared up at him, at the eyes of the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago, and despite them looking a little more dark and unruly now, you smiled and opened your mouth to speak. 

“For old time’s sake.” 

#Narcos #Narcos Netflix #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Horacio Carrillo x Reader #Carrillo x Reader #Steve Murphy #Javier Peña #narcoctober

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home. 

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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

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Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

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It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty Seven (Final Chapter)

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~1,100

Start from the beginning    Previous Chapter 

Masterlist Read on AO3

Eva sat in the front seat of Horacio’s truck, looking around with interest. There were cars parked in uniform lines on either side of her, each of them pointed at a huge screen.

The weather was just this side of too hot, one last burst of heat before the rainy season. Above, the moon shone high and full, illuminating the field and surrounding forest. The field was tucked away from the road and all the streetlights, leaving them in near darkness that was cut through with the pre-show animations.

She had no idea who Peter Fonda was, or what it meant to be a ‘hired hand’, but Horacio loved Westerns and that was enough for her. She didn’t care that it would be dubbed in Spanish, Eva was just glad to be out and about.

Coming back to Colombia was like surfacing from underwater and taking a huge breath. She was finally back in the home she shared with Horacio. Finally back in their bed. It didn’t matter that Horacio got right back to work or that Eva still couldn’t find a job.

She was home.

Finally.

The door opened and Horacio dropped into the passenger’s seat with an armful of candy and other treats. Eva stared at the bounty, surprised, “We’re never going to eat all that.”

He lifted a brow, “I’ve seen your snack platters, Eva.”

The man had a point.

“I withdraw my statement.”

Eva carefully arranged the snacks on the console between them, making sure to group them by category—salty, sweet, sour, savory. Picking up a small cut of diced fruit, she got comfortable and dug in.

“Carlos asked us over for dinner,” Horacio mentioned casually.

“Oh?”

He nodded, “He got a new grill and wants to test it out.”

Eva chuckled around a bit of mango, “Should we bring a hose?”

Turning a little in his seat, Horacio’s mouth lifted in half a smile, “He said he has one, We’ll keep it at the ready.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Eva said as she picked up at box of sour candy and slid her thumb under the cardboard.

He was quiet a moment, watching her pick through the candies to find a red one. Then, “He said something else, too.”

She looked up in question and murmured an intrigued, “What did he say?”

Horacio’s earnest expression and the way he was watching her intently set her back a step. He looked nervous, almost worried. She reached over and touched his arm, finding it trembling, “What did he say?”

His palm laid atop hers, “That I was taking our relationship for granted.”

Stunned, Eva shook her head, “I don’t think…”

He cut her off, “I have. A little. I was so...confident that you were mine from the very beginning.” A hand waved away Eva’s soft ‘I was’. He took a breath, “I made a lot of decisions for you. I pushed you too hard. And, I am so grateful that you didn’t tell me to fuck off.”

Eva laughed soundlessly, “Oh, I wanted to a few times.”

“I know,” Horacio drawled, with humor. “I deserved it.”

She sighed, “It was...an impossible situation.” A pause, “Was. Its not impossible anymore. This,” she squeezed his arm, “this is an easy thing.”

Horacio smiled, “You’re right. And, I’ve been so focused on my work, and then Mexico happened.” He drew a breath, “Then…”

Eva shivered as his hand drifted across her gland. Her throat tightened around the still too fresh feeling of their bond.

“So,” he rasped, “I have something for you.”

He reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out a small deli box. Eva smiled when he handed it to her, that smile growing when she recognized the logo on the top. They had been back to that restaurant a few times since returning from their trip. The food was as good as she remembered it.

“I had them make that special. For the occasion.”

Thumb pushing open the top, Eva almost laughed at the little cake inside. Oblong and golden brown, the homemade Twinkie sat on a bed of chocolate shavings. The sweet smell of fried dough reached her nose, telling Eva that it was going to be absolutely delicious.

When she looked up to thank Horacio, he was also holding a box. This one was considerably smaller, fitting in to the palm of his hand. Eva’s breath caught and the weight of what he was doing settled over her.

“I know this is late,” he said, “But, I—ah—I wanted to give you this.”

She took the box from him and opened it. Her eyes watered when she saw what was inside. Blinking away the tears, Eva plucked the ring from its velvet cushion. Set in silver, the oval sapphire was flanked on either side by small, glittering diamonds. Eva slid it on her finger, turning her hand so that the stones glinted in the dim light.

“Its perfect,” she croaked around all her love for him.

Horacio let out a relieved breath, “I’m so glad you like it.”

“I do like it,” she replied, leaning over the console to kiss him. “How did you even get this? You’ve been at work, or with me the whole time we’ve been back.”

His smile was shy, “I actually bought it in Mexico. While we were...apart.” He took a steadying breath, “I told myself that I would give it to you when I got you back.”

All the tears Eva had been holding back burst forth with an ugly sob. She sniffed loudly and reached for him. Eva held him tightly to her, buried her face into his neck, and breathed in tobacco and vetiver.

“I love you,” she breathed, pulling back to kiss his forehead, his cheek, his lips.

Horacio smiled into the kiss, “Let me take you home.”

“We’ll miss the movie,” she murmured, “Look, its already starting.”

Eva was right. The title screen had just faded away and music was swelling through the little speakers. He didn’t even glance in the direction of the screen, “We’ll catch another show.”

“You promised,” Eva reminded him.

A sigh, “I did promise.”

“You did.”

Licking his lips, Horacio made a noise of resignation, “Alright, I promised you a movie, and we’re going to watch it.”

“My first movie,” Eva replied, holding up a finger.

“Yes, yes. Your first movie,” he conceded, “But, the second we get back…” He let that promise hang in the air between them. Then, “Eat your Twinkie.”

Eva picked the Twinkie out from the box and broke it in half, “You want some.”

Horacio shook his head, “Even homemade, it will still be too sweet.”

“More for me,” she shot back primly.

He slung an arm over her shoulders, “Anything you want, Eva. Its all yours.”

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #a/b/o dynamics #maurice compte #AU

[mlmxreader]

Alone Together At Last | Horacio Carrillo x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Yeah, I think my request might‘ve been swallowed.

No worries though!

I requested a Carrillo x gn!reader fic where his sir kink sorta slips out. Reader responds to something he says with a "yes sir" as a joke but he goes just a little bit feral… hehe

Also, a prompt!

"You gonna be good?"

summary: Carrillo doesn’t usually have days off, he rarely takes them, but he’s awfully glad when he finally does and when he’s finally got you all to himself. 

tws: biting, grinding, Sir kink, praise kink 

word count: 1087

MINORS DNI 

Finally, Carrillo had a couple of days off, it wasn’t much but at the very least it was something and it actually gave you a chance to spend some time with him privately; a chance to actually be alone together, to drown in the presence of each other without having to worry about someone walking in, without having to worry about him being pulled away from you after a phone call. A chance to be alone together. A chance to stop missing him so fucking much all the time. You would visit him when he was at the office, but that… that was never enough; it was not enough to sit in some cramped and humid room at opposite ends, hardly being able to know that he was there, never to touch him, never to kiss him unless he was going somewhere, unless he was leaving. But now you didn’t have to worry about that, when you woke up with your head on his shoulder, able to feel the warmth of his flesh on your face as you realised that one hand was on his stomach, able to feel it rise and fall gently as you slowly became more awake; he had one hand on your bicep, keeping you close as the other laid on his stomach, just out of your reach. The warmth of the late morning was starting to creep through the curtains, a golden haze peeking through the gaps in the thick red; the sound of the radio playing quietly on the other end of the bedroom. You couldn’t stop yourself from humming along to ‘Dr. Feelgood’ by Mötley Crüe; you never could resist the likes of them, even going so far as to gently tap his stomach, drumming your fingers on his soft and warm skin. 

Carrillo grumbled, but made no effort to move as he opened his eyes and looked at what you were doing, daring to smile a little when he caught the sound of the song. “Can you stop? Some of us are trying to sleep, tigre.” 

“Yes, Sir,” you laughed quietly, ceasing to drum his skin. He almost missed it. “Sorry.” 

A soft growl escaped him as he made a move to get you beneath him, slowly and lazily pinning you down with his forearms either side of your head as he tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows. “What did you just call me?”

“Sir,” you breathed out, putting your hands on his chest as you dared to smile, but when he ground against you, you couldn’t help but to whimper quietly. “Fuck…” 

Carrillo didn’t hesitate, pressing his face to your neck and pressing an open mouthed kiss to the skin before he bit down, tugging at it and sucking it into your mouth, the vibrations from the growl that escaped him echoing across the flesh in his mouth. Leaving the marks from his teeth imprinted on you when he pulled away and bucked his hips against you. “Say that again.” 

“Sir,” you could feel it in your stomach and within your bones, a bubbling excitement that made you bury one hand in his short hair, the other at the back of his neck as you desperately tried to keep him close, hoping he would keep biting you. “God, please, Sir… don’t stop.” 

“You gonna be good?” Carrillo asked hoarsely, his voice still groggy and thick with sleep as he dared to lick at where he had bitten you. “Huh?”

“Yes, Sir,” you nodded, so fucking eager and so fucking needy as you rolled your hips against him, desperate for more. Needing and craving more. “I’ll be good for you, Sir.” 

“Good,” he praised softly, sinking his teeth into the next spot, the one right next to your throat that always made you so fucking weak for him. Knowing exactly what he was doing when he moved one hand down between your bodies and rested it on the waistband of your boxers. Your skin was so warm, and the taste of it when he bit and sucked and licked at it was more than intoxicating; if he could have, Carrillo would have spent eternity like that. 

Biting and licking and sucking at your neck, grinding against you and revelling in the way that you called him Sir; he could have stayed like that forever, but when you started begging for his touch, he had to pull away, he had to leave that sweet paradise so that he could look into your eyes, could see the way you were already pleading for him. So well behaved. So good. 

“Behave for me,” Carrillo started, gently running his finger from your temple to your jaw before tenderly taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your head back against the soft pillows so he could get a better look at your eyes as he smiled. “Be good for me, and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded… understand, tigre?”

You nodded, which got you rewarded with a soft slap to your waist and a sharp reminder to use your words. “Yes, Sir, I understand. I’ll be good. I’ll behave.” 

“That’s it,” he praised softly, daring to press a kiss to your forehead. “Be good and keep using your words. Keep telling me what you want, what you like - and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for it.” 

“Yes, Sir,” you swallowed thickly, almost gulping audibly as your breath hitched in your throat for a moment, excitement getting the better of you for just a split second as you kept your eyes on him. Fuck, he could ruin you and the only thing you would do in return was thank him. “Please, Sir, I want you to keep biting me and to keep grinding against me - please. Sir.” 

“You’re so good for me,” Carrillo praised gently as he ground his hips against you, daring to sink his teeth into your neck once more, doing his best not to smile when you shuddered and whimpered out a beg for him to keep going. 

“Please, Sir,” your voice was ragged. “I’ll be good.” 

The morning, as it turned out, was going to be more fun than Carrillo had first expected and had first thought, but he couldn’t wait to see what would happen; sure, it was late in the morning, far later than he usually got up on most days, but he had you all to himself at last. He could finally be alone with you, you could be alone together at last. 

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo imagine #horacio carrillo #carrillo x reader #carrillo x you #carrillo imagine #carrillo #colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x you #colonel carrillo imagine #colonel carrillo #narcos fanfiction #narcos x reader #narcos x you #narcos oneshot #narcos one shot #narcos imagine #narcos netflix

[loboazul16]

Attacka on @macithemaci >:3c hehe

#my art #artfight #artfight 2023 #team werewolves #my oc #carrillo #digital art #art #rivero ily mUAH

[adesertdaydream]

Is there gonna be a sequel for sacrifices? I know reader said she doesn’t want to be office jockey so I feel she would quit the US government and try to become a resident of Colombia and become a housewife. Would that happen?

I’ve considered this and written some blurbs but embarrassingly haven’t polished anything up to post as of yet. It’s funny because I kind of always imagined reader as someone who would want to figure out a way to manage becoming a mother and still find a path to have a successful career. When I was writing the series I tried to portray the reader as ahead of her time in a lot of ways. Someone who didn’t necessarily want to be locked into one box but sought to take on multiple roles in what was essentially still a male dominated field. I tried to highlight the similarities I imagine Carrillo might have seen between himself and the reader. Sacrifices was a cute way to imagine a softer Carrillo and what getting swept up in a romance with him might look like but it was also about how I would imagine him being someone who wanted a parter, and how reader felt the same. I think after an adjustment period reader would choose to carry on with her career. Maybe after the events of season 3 and Cali going down she and Carrillo would feel free to chase other dreams but while there was still work to be done? I don’t think either would want to just walk permanently, working until the job was done would just be to ingrained into their very personalities. Maybe after Colombia, reader takes on another assignment and the family moves out of the country? I’m sure with his skill set Carrillo could do plenty of contract work to keep himself busy and somehow I also picture him wanting to be a very hands on dad. I think watching Lucy grow would be something that never got old for either of them. Thanks for your interest in this series though! I won’t lie, I wrote it purely for my own enjoyment so I will never stop being flattered when others also enjoy it was well!

#sacrifices #horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo #carrillo #narcos fic

[denorteanorte]

Municipales de Vicente López: el STMVL acordó 80% de aumento al básico hasta mayo

Tras lograr el adelanto de la paritaria 7 meses el Sindicato de Trabajadores Municipales de Vicente López acordó con la intendencia un aumento salarial del 80% al básico hasta mayo, una cuota por mes. También se incrementarán 100% las horas extras; y acordaron que la ayuda escolar por hijo sea por encima de lo que paga la provincia. El acuerdo estipula, asimismo, -informó al STMVL, que conduce…

View On WordPress

#carrillo #pirillo #PRO #STMVL #Vicente López

[suckaysuamigos200]

este dibujo lo hice por el cumpleaños de la triste de doblaje Regina Carrillo Quién es conocida por ser por ser la voz de Sid Chang (2ª voz) en The Loud House y Los Casagrande, Cecil Sudo en Wizard Barristers: Hechiceros, barra de abogados, Angela en Stranger Things, Amami Sato en Komi-san no puede comunicarse y Pometarou en Detective Conan: Hanzawa el Culpable.

en gabby's dollhouse fue la voz en español latino de la protagonista de la serie que ama mucho a los gatos y jugar con sus amigos felinos gabby Girl

le deseamos un gran cumpleaños 🎂🎉.

*. ☆ﾟ 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 ☆ﾟ.**. ☆ﾟ 𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 ☆ﾟ.*

I made this drawing for the birthday of the sad dubbing actress Regina Carrillo, who is known for being the voice of Sid Chang (2nd voice) in The Loud House and Los Casagrande, Cecil Sudo in Wizard Barristers: Wizards, Bar, Angela in Stranger Things, Amami Sato in Komi-san Can't Communicate, and Pometarou in Detective Conan: Hanzawa the Guilty.

In Gabby's Dollhouse she was the voice in Latin Spanish of the protagonist of the series who loves cats and playing with her feline friends Gabby Girl.

We wish you a great birthday 🎂🎉..

#artwork #birthday #carrillo #cumpleaños #cute #doodle #drawing #dreamworks #happy birthday #regina #netflix #doblaje #doodlen #regina carrillo #gabbys dollhouse #gabby #girls #gabby girls #Gabby’s Dollhouse #my art #art post #art tag #art

[jaayflaco]

#Carrillo

[hellspart-timer]

the best thing about finally finishing Narcos is that I can rewatch it again and just be at awe with the scenes (but mainly to oogle at Javi, Steve, Carrillo, César, and Eduardo) 😌

#Narcos #Javi #Steve #Carrillo #Cesar #Eduardo #yes i’m (unfortunately) unashamed about it

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 23)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,675

Summary: It’s been more than a year since Madrid and even longer since the chaos of Colombia. As they settle into a new life in Laredo, their past no longer holding them back, Javier’s career change helps him reconnect with his roots whilst Horacio’s plans for the future of the farm and ranch start to take shape.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut (including leather/cowboy kink and power dynamics), grief, parental loss, religious themes and symbolism, discussions of period-typical prejudices/violence/politics/legislation, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Well, here we are at the final full chapter 👀 No one is more shocked than me that I've made it here tbh 😂 For so long, it felt like finishing this fic was an abstract concept, but somehow, I persevered!

I don't really know what else to say right now, other than, an epilogue will (all being well) be posted on Friday 1st March...exactly 3 years after I posted chapter 1. Don't ask me how 3 years have passed, because my brain cannot compute lol.

The epilogue will be much, much shorter than this chapter, but I think it rounds their story off nicely and I can't wait to share ❤️

Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who may read this at some point in the future. As always, comments/flailings/key smashes etc. are greatly appreciated 😊

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's plenty to choose from for this one…in fact, I had to split my trivia post into two as I ran out of space, oops lol).

Chapter 23: Desde La Frontera

As the faded blue truck pulled up in the front yard, the moon sat full and high, casting a pale glow over everything beneath it. A key turned in the lock of the sleeping cottage, the silver hue from above illuminating a convenient pathway, negating the need to switch on a light.

Javier shrugged off his boots and jacket in the kitchen with a weary sigh and deposited his keys in a dish on the table. The hand-painted ceramic bowl had been sent with love from Madrid as a housewarming gift, along with framed artwork of the city they left behind that hung above their bed, a bottle of olive oil, a small jar of saffron, and some homemade turrón.

It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Señora Romero, the café or their apartment. For all of the unanswered questions they arrived in Spain with, it became their safe haven. Although they were under strict instructions not to leave it too long before visiting again, and who were they to turn down good company and an endless supply of hot, fresh churros?

The rustic limestone cottage had less square footage than the farmhouse next door but was over two stories rather than one. A decked porch ran along the perimeter with wooden chairs and plants at the front, facing a complex of outbuildings and stables. A swing seat big enough for two resided at the back, looking out onto a medium-sized garden with a chicken coop and the rolling farm fields and river bank lying beyond.

The front door opened into a hallway where boots, coats and hats were tidily stored – at Horacio’s insistence – which led to a spacious kitchen/dining area and an adjoining utility room with a door to the garden on the other side. A second hallway branched off the kitchen towards a lounge with a centrepiece stone fireplace and a staircase up to two bedrooms – a master and a smaller spare – and a bathroom.

Whilst the interior still needed some work, fresh coats of paint – off-white for most of the rooms with splashes of eggshell green in the kitchen – and the exposed ceiling beams restored with an oak oil stain gave the place a new lease of life.

The wall clock opposite the kitchen window ticked past 3:00am. Fuck, no wonder Javier felt so beat. He manoeuvred his way upstairs, slow and careful, to avoid the creakiest boards. They may have stripped and waxed the floors, but that apparently didn’t cure the squeaking of the well-worn wood underfoot.

He must have succeeded on this occasion, as it wasn’t until he got to the top that he was met with Luna’s wagging tail. He whispered a greeting to her and rubbed behind her ears until she returned to her sleeping spot beside Sol and Leo, who hadn’t even stirred. Sometimes, the trio would bed down for the night here. Other times, it was just Luna. Rarely, it was none of them now that they had two new rivals for Chucho’s affections next door.

Kira was a six-month-old Great Pyrenees, her thick coat a solid white with pale tan patches. Fuego, a male copper red and white Border Collie, was a couple of months older and already chomping at the bit to get amongst the cattle. Although they both still had to undergo a lot of training before they would be put to use on the ranch, Javier and Horacio got the distinct impression Chucho enjoyed being kept on his toes again.

Javier finally reached his destination but gave himself an extra few seconds to take in the view.

Horacio was nestled beneath their sheets on his stomach, his torso rising and falling in a calming rhythm that Javier was convinced could have lulled him to sleep if he wasn’t standing up.

He undressed, throwing every item of clothing straight into a rattan hamper in the corner of the room, keenly aware he needed to shower but too tired to do anything about it now.

Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed, basking in Horacio’s long eyelashes, rough stubble and unrulier-than-usual hair that was tantalisingly close to becoming a head of curls if he didn’t get it cut soon. Not that Javier was complaining.

He tried to be restrained and let Horacio sleep, but he was only human.

A faint groggy sound came from Horacio’s throat as delicate lips met his forehead, his lashes flickering until they couldn’t resist any longer.

Javier hushed as he gently crawled on the bed, draping himself over Horacio and kissing the nape of his neck. “Sorry it’s so fucking late. Just go back to sleep.”

“You’re making that difficult right now.” Horacio arched his back in response to the warm breath tickling his bare skin as Javier’s mouth worked between muscular shoulder blades.

“Shouldn’t be so irresistible.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No. I’m not.” Horacio twisted around far enough for Javier to slide off his back and onto the mattress, allowing them to properly embrace. And so Horacio could put his own mouth to use.

That was as far as it was going for the night, though. Horacio had an early start in the morning, and Javier didn’t want to fall asleep before they could finish.

“Did it all go okay?” Horacio asked once they had got comfortable.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, there was a delay with the paperwork, as usual. But once we were on the road, it was fine. Heavy traffic around San Antonio, but I almost had the I-35 to myself on the way home.”

“And the family?”

“Exhausted and drained, obviously. Fuck knows when their hearing will be. But at least they’re together again and safe for now.”

Javier wasn't only clueless about the date of the hearing, he couldn’t predict the outcome of it either. That wasn’t his remit. By the time the Torres Fuentes family were in front of an immigration judge, he would have helped countless more families and individuals like them. Their circumstances weren’t always the same, but their options were just as limited.

Not all days – or nights – were like this one. Sometimes, Javier would be on translation duties on the frontline of the border, triaging and directing people towards help, whether it be medical attention, food, water, toiletries, a change of clothes, a shower, or a bed for the night. Or, more than likely, access to a lawyer. His and the fleet of other aid workers for charities, not-for-profits and NGOs would be some of the first non-threatening faces new arrivals would see once the INS was finished with them, and that wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly.

Other times, he would deliver bond money to detention centres in exchange for someone's freedom, help people fill in forms and paperwork, or run community outreach sessions, reminding people of their rights. He had even hosted several families at the guesthouses for a night or two until safe transportation could be arranged for travel onward to relatives or sponsors elsewhere in the States. Flights were usually not an option for most due to a lack of papers, so the preferred method was long car journeys split between drivers like Javier. No two days were ever quite the same because no two stories were ever the same. There were commonalities, but subtle nuances and complications came with the territory of human lives.

“You did everything you could to help them.”

“I know. Just makes you realise how fucking…fragile it all is. And how fucking lucky we are.”

There was no denying luck – and money, of course – played a role in Horacio securing a visa and the Holy Grail of a green card for being an investor in the States. But Javier had also utilised an old contact at the US Embassy in Bogotá to expedite Horacio’s application. Her name was Colleen, and she had, with great reluctance, helped him secure visas for several informants in the past.

The silence over the line when Javier had uttered Horacio’s name was long, loud and awkward. But just like with his informants, she didn’t ask any questions and did him one last favour on the proviso she never heard from him again.

“We are. And I’ll never forget that.” Horacio’s palm connected with Javier’s cheek, flecks of moonlight highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted, too.”

A soft chuckle filtered through the shadows. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you, though. I know you’ve gotta be up early.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m glad you did wake me. Once I’ve done the usual rounds, I’ll probably be in meetings most of the day. So, I won’t see you until late.”

“Better make the most of you now, then.”

Lingering kisses followed, but they knew it was fruitless to fight the fatigue.

“How’s everything going with the business plan?” Javier asked once he had accepted defeat.

“So far, so good. I want to go through everything with your father again before everyone arrives. Just to make sure he’s happy with it all.”

“I’ve, er, got it on pretty good authority he is.”

Horacio rolled his eyes. “I know. But it’s his money invested in this place as much as ours. And it’s not like I’m the expert.”

“Not yet. And he trusts you. They all do. You’re no longer a new face around here, remember.”

“I know. But I’m still learning the ropes, and I’m not the one in charge anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

There was a suggestive edge beneath the drowsiness in Javier’s voice. If Horacio looked hard enough through the darkness, he would have seen a quirked brow thrown his way.

“Well, I still have my moments.”

Javier mumbled a lazy hum of agreement. “I’ll say. But don’t worry about tomorrow, okay? You’ll be fine. Trust me.” He managed one last kiss for good measure, even though his eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

A muffled “I do” was pressed into the shell of Javier’s ear as he flipped his body around, his back cushioned against Horacio’s chest. Calloused fingertips weathered by hard labour nowadays rather than a trigger found their home resting on the curve of Javier’s stomach, eliciting a meditative sigh from both as they huddled down.

It didn’t matter that one of them would be up soon with the dawn chorus while the other might be called away past the midnight hour. Because they knew how lucky they were, not only after all they had been through but compared to so many who crossed the border to start a new life. And it was impossible to take that for granted.

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For all that had changed, wall-to-wall meetings and stacks of paperwork were two guaranteed constants to remain. No matter the career path Horacio chose, he was apparently destined never to escape their clutches.

The morning and most of the afternoon – with a short break for lunch – had been spent poring over business plans, maps and spreadsheets with Chucho, his accountant, Miguel, and the ranch and farm managers, Marco and Félix.

Horacio was still adjusting to being the least qualified person in the room again. But the fact that he was even privy to such meetings in the first place was a privilege not customarily afforded to ranch hands without much experience under their belts. It was hard to gauge what others thought about his…unique position here. But he was also an investor whose name, along with Javier’s, was on the title deeds of the farm. Even if people didn’t know about them, it stood to reason that he would be consulted about any development proposals.

Between his money and the safety net of his connections – whatever some may have speculated the precise nature of those were – to a well-respected ranching family, Horacio, so far, hadn’t had too many problems. Not even when shadowing or attending training courses off-site, and he was surrounded by heavy Texan drawls and the type of man who had the propensity to make his feelings clear with his fists – or a gun – if he found out a fellow rancher shared a house and bed with another man.

But the odd off-hand comment had made Horacio wonder if they knew more about his past employment than he realised. In which case, perhaps in their eyes, getting on the wrong side of the former head of Search Bloc wasn’t a wise move.

Regardless, this was what he had signed up for. And for all his investments and networking, there were no cutting corners in ranch and business management, beef production, animal science and equine studies. The Peñas were far from the only family business in the industry, and most had grown up a lot more hands-on than Javier. Horacio could never have leapfrogged over them even if he had wanted to.

By late afternoon, the meetings were done for the day – although there would be plenty more to come – leaving Horacio and Chucho to check on the pregnant heifers. The calves weren’t due until early April, another month away and just in time for Horacio’s birthday. But it was all hands on deck between now and then to ensure it went as smoothly as possible. Their main job today had been to weigh the expectant mothers, who, thankfully, all turned out to be healthy and on the right track.

Broken shards of light bounced off the ranch’s steel fences and gates as Horacio and Chucho sat on the farmhouse porch enjoying a well-earned break, the sun’s heat beginning to show glimpses of what it was capable of during the summer months. Bluebonnets blanketed the fallow fields, and the saccharine scent of yucca blossom travelled on the early spring breeze.

Chucho stirred a freshly made pot of tea and filled two cups to the brim, sliding one across a wooden table towards Horacio, who accepted with a nod of thanks.

“So, do you think it went okay today?” Horacio asked after a quenching sip of tea.

“Better than I expected, to be honest. Félix worked for Ciro and Malena for many years. I wasn’t sure he’d take to new ownership. Or if he’d even want to stay. But he seems to be on board with the idea of expansion.”

“What about the rest of the workers Ciro and Malena employed?”

“A few moved on or retired. But most don’t care who’s in charge as long as they're getting paid.”

“And what about here? Have many left or cut ties since…” Horacio trailed off, hoping he had done enough for Chucho to follow his train of thought without saying it out loud.

“Not many, no, Mijo. And only the ones I’m glad to see the back of.”

“Not many?” Horacio scoffed into his cup, sending ripples across the surface of his drink. “So, still some, then.”

“As I said…only those I don’t want the ranch to be associated with anyway. It's no loss if they can’t keep their noses out of my family’s business.”

The thing was, Horacio and Javier had everything to lose if the wrong person found out. One phone call was all it would take for the police to be banging down their cottage door. After all, that had happened to plenty of others like them in Texas. It had happened to plenty of bars and restaurants that ended up either raided or burned to the ground, the owners and patrons harassed, arrested, beaten to a bloody pulp, or worse. But Horacio couldn’t bring himself to say any of this to Chucho, so he took extra time swallowing his tea instead.

“From what I’ve heard, the majority see you’re a hard worker. You’re willing to learn the ropes. But you’re not afraid to get stuck in or take the lead if needed. You’re professional with the contractors. And you’re trusted to do a good job. That’s worth a lot around here – a lot more than gossipers. I may not know what it’s like for you both...but I do know not everyone’s like them.”

A smile reflexively spread across Horacio’s lips. “My Mamá said similar back in Manizales.”

Chucho mirrored Horacio’s expression. “She sounds like a wise woman.”

“She is.”

“And proud of you. As I’m sure your father would be. Starting over again is never easy, but what you and Javi have done here…I'm proud, too.”

“Thank you. Me too, to be honest.” Horacio let out a brief huff. “When Javier told me what he wanted to do, it was like the final piece slotted in place. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.” He shook his head this time at how blindingly obvious it was once Javier said it out loud. “But I think he needed to leave to be able to come back again.”

Chucho hummed into his tea. “That’s the thing about the past: you can’t outrun it. And once you let it walk alongside you, I think your path becomes clearer.”

For the second time that afternoon, Horacio could scarcely believe his Mamá and Chucho hadn’t met yet. But he was looking forward to the day that would change.

“A few years ago, I never thought this could be my life. Or that I wanted it to be. But now, even though it’s not easy work, and the hours are long, and I’m starting from the bottom of the ladder again, everything just feels…” He broke off, searching for the right word.

“Simple?” Chucho supplied.

“Yes. Simple.”

After Horacio finished his tea and saddled up Coco ready to help move the herds into the barns before nightfall, he didn’t mind that his legs were stiff from all the sitting in chairs he had done today. Or that the last thing he felt like doing was wrangling contrary cattle.

He didn’t mind that it would be more of the same at the break of dawn tomorrow and a long road ahead of grafting and proving himself. He didn’t mind that he wouldn’t catch up with Javier until they shared a late dinner once Javier had driven back from Austin. He didn’t mind if complete strangers couldn’t stomach what they got up to behind closed doors as long as they were left alone to live in peace.

He didn’t mind any of it because they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

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No matter what profession he worked in, it was rare for Javier to take a weekend off. He’d accepted a long time ago he wasn’t the 9-5 type, and leaving it all at the door once he clocked off had never been an option. But a new batch of aid workers and volunteers had arrived in the last few weeks. And once Luz, his boss, got wind of an upcoming birthday in the team, she insisted Javier finally use up some vacation time.

Luz Díaz was someone Javier could call a friend as well as his boss these days, especially in light of their parallel circumstances. While Luz was an aid worker on the border, she lived with Carla Moreno, the daughter of a dairy farmer several miles to the south. However, unlike Chucho and Elena, their parents, whilst not hostile, preferred to brush their daughters' relationship under the carpet wherever possible.

When Luz accompanied Javier to the guesthouses with a new family one afternoon, she had first crossed paths with Horacio. Until then, Javier had played his cards close to his chest, never knowing whether it was safe to trust anyone. But it hadn’t taken Luz long to put two and two together – or for her to realise she could share her secret in return.

Birthdays had held no real significance for Javier since childhood. But his Pops was determined to invite him and Horacio to the farmhouse for dinner that evening. In the meantime, once Javier had escaped work by mid-afternoon, he headed home to freshen up and grab a drink. It may have been late October, but the Texan heat was a stubborn son of a bitch, and was still hitting the mid-90s several times a week.

A neatly written note was pinned to the fridge that read In corn barn, so Javier took a UTV and headed across the farm. It was quieter now the harvest was over, and the cattle from the ranch had grazed on any leftovers. The herds were back next door, allowing bales of corn stalks to be gathered up and stored ready for use as bedding for the livestock on chillier winter nights.

The latest calves had thrived since April and only had two months left before they would be weaned off their mothers. Usually, several were sold at auction, but they had kept hold of them this time due to the extra space. Now the harvest was out of the way, the next step was to clear the lower fields and build a new gate linking the ranch with the farm.

When Javier arrived at the barn, Horacio was unloading the last batch of bales off the trailer.

Horacio paused for a second when Javier came into view, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you get that?”

“It was on the passenger seat.” Javier gestured to the parked UTV. “Does it suit me?” He tipped the brim of a Stetson to match the one Horacio was already wearing.

Given the similarities between their outfits, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking Javier was an employee. They both wore belted dark blue jeans – Horacio’s more mud-splattered – brown boots and plaid shirts with rolled-up sleeves – Horacio’s brown and white and Javier’s green and red. The most noticeable difference was Horacio wore a white bandana around his neck whilst Javier’s shirt collar was wide open, his neck on full display.

Horacio silently lifted the side of the trailer back up and locked it now that it was empty. He shrugged the protective gloves off his hands one by one and flung them into the cab of his truck.

He followed Javier into the barn and closed the door, but his attention was on the wall opposite. A long row of hooks was hung across it, where various pieces of equipment were kept, including overalls, brushes, and a wide range of horse tack.

On the last hook was a coiled lariat, which Horacio picked up and stood facing Javier several feet away. He threaded the rope through the Honda knot until he held a loose loop in his right hand, his hungry gaze fixed on Javier as his wrist built momentum over his head in measured circles.

Before Javier could react, the tip of the rope found its target, tightening around his waist, his feet involuntarily taking him forward as Horacio reeled him in. Even when they were chest to chest and breathing hard, Horacio didn’t let up his grip on the rope.

“You know it does,” Horacio eventually rasped at the shell of Javier's ear.

Javier shivered at the timbre of Horacio’s voice, the earthy scent of the land combining with the heady musk of sweat, remnants of mud and dust still visible on his face and arms. “Someone’s been practising.”

“Well, it is a special occasion.” Horacio tugged on the rope, pressing their bodies together until his lips found Javier’s neck, stubble scratching along his jawline, finally brushing over his mouth.

Javier took the bait, responding with a full kiss, distracting Horacio enough to drop the rope. Then it was all bets off as his hands journeyed over Horacio’s back, first dipping southwards, palming his ass through his back pockets, then northwards to remove the bandana and roam under his shirt. But something made Javier pause mid-way.

He looked at Horacio for an explanation but was met only with a coy smile.

“Happy Birthday.”

Javier’s brow quirked suggestively of its own accord. “I thought we weren’t doing presents.”

“I can take it back if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Now, shut up and drive us home.”

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No sooner were they back at their cottage than Horacio straddled Javier’s lap on the couch, teeth nipping as they grabbed handfuls of fabric or skin.

When Javier made to unbutton Horacio’s shirt, Horacio stilled his attempts. “Not yet.”

Instead, his mouth ghosted over Javier’s as his fingers slid down to his belt, unbuckling it unhurriedly and deliberately.

Their laboured breaths filled the silence, the rich scent of earth and woodsmoke heavy on their senses.

“Touch yourself,” Horacio finally said, his order clear, voice steady.

It was all Javier could do not to come on the spot. But he managed to exhale through his nose, his lips pursed as he wrestled back a semblance of control.

He let his right hand slide down to his zipper, which he knew Horacio had left closed on purpose. He gradually unfastened it, his palm disappearing out of sight.

A hitched breath and tensed thighs let Horacio know Javier had made contact even before Javier’s wrist began to twitch.

For several strokes, Horacio merely observed, drinking in every detail of Javier’s face, each jaw movement and shuddered breath, their eyes locked together as Javier took himself in hand.

Horacio couldn't hide that he was more than a little affected by the show beneath him, so he upped the ante, his fingers seeking out the buttons of his shirt, popping the top one first, then the second, third and fourth.

He stopped there, giving Javier another sneak peek of the surprise he had planned for more months than he cared to admit. He could see Javier had noticed the tantalising glimpses of brown leather drawn tightly against bare skin and could feel Javier’s motions speed up.

The remaining buttons followed, allowing the shirt to fall over the broad expanse of Horacio’s shoulders until it hit the floor.

“Fuck.” Javier’s hips spasmed, slamming against Horacio’s crotch in the process and triggering a chain reaction of panting. “Shit, Horacio. Where did you – how –”

Javier was cut off by a finger at his mouth and a soft hushing sound.

Horacio pressed a digit to Javier’s lips until it was engulfed by wet warmth. “Keep going.”

As Javier’s tongue swirled and his cheeks hollowed, he set back to work, building up friction along the shaft and over the head. It was like a switch flicked in Horacio during moments like this when he was all smoky rasps and concise commands. It was the closest Javier had ever got to experiencing Colonel Carrillo first-hand, and nothing was as intoxicating.

When Javier was being regarded and instructed so intensely, he had no choice but to submit. Anything to please the force of nature who made him come harder than he ever had done in his life. And so, he kept going, fist clenched around his cock, edging himself with each edict echoing in his ears.

Running across Horacio’s chest below his pectoral muscles was a leather strap linked to another one on either shoulder that crisscrossed over his back, his biceps restrained by matching cuffs. The leather was a worn cognac brown with intricate stitching, decorative studs and buckles like the vintage cowboy belts the harness appeared to be made from.

“You like it?”

Javier’s free hand hypnotically reached up to Horacio’s torso, fingers tracing each detail of the leather in between cupping Horacio’s pecs and tweaking his nipples.

“Beautiful,” was the only word he could muster. It was by far the best birthday present Javier had ever had. Although, if he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Horacio was trying to make this his last one.

Horacio was conflicted between watching and needing more, so he compromised by subtly rocking against Javier’s inner thigh whilst continuing his role as a voyeur. Knowing his voice alone could get Javier off was a power trip Horacio never grew tired of, even after all these years. In fact, since his career change, it had become more arousing because being in charge was a novelty now.

He brought two fingers to Javier’s lips again, which were taken greedily without the need to be told.

“Good, that’s it, and another.”

All three digits rested on Javier’s tongue as Horacio probed back and forth with increasing vigour, leaving no doubt what he had in mind as a string of saliva connected from mouth to fingers when he finally withdrew.

Horacio transferred his glossy hand straight to his chest and across his nipples, flicking the pad of his thumb over each bud just the way Javier liked to lick them.

When Horacio looked back up, Javier was tugging in a frenzy, his breathing ragged and fraying at the seams, dangerously close to it all being over.

Horacio reached out to stop Javier’s wrist, leaning closer until his lips brushed against his ear. “Not before I’ve ridden you.”

Javier immediately extracted his hand from his jeans with a huff of frustration, resenting Horacio almost as much as wanting to be fucked. Every man had his limits, and his were rapidly being reached.

With both hands free, he alternated between hot, smooth skin, the textured leather and cool metal. He slid his fingers beneath the harness, imagining all the positions he could manoeuvre Horacio around.

His hands travelled down to Horacio’s ass, pulling him further into his lap as their mouths crashed together at long last. From glutes to thighs, Javier embraced each one until he met resistance under the denim of Horacio’s jeans.

Javier ran his fingers over it a few times. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Javier growled as he lunged for Horacio’s belt and zipper, both men making light work of removing his jeans.

Whilst Horacio stood up, he took the opportunity to undress Javier and reach over to the drawer beneath the nearby coffee table. He rummaged around until he retrieved what he was looking for and stashed it on the sofa.

There was no holding back now as nails raked over hot skin and tongues connected, rough and harsh, their cocks jutting between their stomachs. Javier’s hands glided over and under the leather straps, descending beyond until his palms massaged Horacio’s cheeks apart, wider with each circular motion, his knuckles teasing up and down the cleft.

The tremor that ran through Horacio was enough to cause Javier’s arm to stretch across the sofa until he located the bottle of lube, expertly flipping the cap open and pouring liberally.

He alternated between his middle finger and thumb in a corkscrew motion, letting Horacio stretch around him, Horacio’s forehead dropping to Javier’s shoulder, teeth grazing flesh as he held their cocks in his fist.

It wasn’t long before Horacio lowered himself, steadily taking inch by inch. He initially held still, experimenting with nudges up and down as he braced his arms on the back of the couch.

A winded noise escaped Javier’s throat as Horacio sunk deeper with more force this time, gyrating his hips until he found a rhythm.

Javier was torn between the mass of muscle and leather at his fingertips but settled for clinging to the front of the harness, pulling Horacio further onto his cock.

A strained grunt left Horacio’s throat, prompting him to re-adjust so his feet were planted flat on the sofa cushions, the change in angle plunging him to new depths. He paused, giving them a chance to catch their breaths. And then, without further warning, Horacio squatted down.

The echo of his ass hitting Javier’s thighs was enough to make Horacio do it again. And again, over and over, the slap of skin on skin louder each time.

One of Javier’s hands scrambled aimlessly around for an anchor, eventually finding the couch’s arm where Horacio’s Stetson had landed earlier in the proceedings.

Javier snatched hold of the brim and brought it towards them, depositing it on Horacio’s head. “Keep it on.”

Horacio was powerless to refuse when it made Javier’s cock twitch and pulsate, massaging Horacio’s prostate as he bounced at just the right angle, his own length sliding up and down the plains of Javier’s chest and abdomen.

Now the hat was in place, Javier's hands sailed over Horacio’s thighs, pausing as he made contact with the leather band around his right thigh. He couldn’t believe Horacio had not only remembered their dirty talk the morning after Trujillo’s wedding but that he had brought Javier’s fantasy to life. And it was better than even his wildest dreams could have imagined.

A part of him wanted to remove the garter just so he could re-attach it. But he was mesmerised by the way the leather stretched around Horacio’s thigh as his pelvis pulsed back and forth, up and down, and round and round.

His fingers gravitated south, landing where the two men joined together. “Fuck,” Javier choked out, rubbing in circles around the wet rim, feeling the thrumming heat of his own cock, and wishing he had a better visual of them moving as one.

“Lie on the floor.” In complete contrast, Horacio’s cadence was calm and in control, like he was directing his horse.

Javier did as he was told, his body cushioned by a thick grey, black, and ivory Zapotec rug.

Without hesitation, Horacio sat atop Javier’s thighs with his back to him, presenting the perfect view as though he had read Javier’s mind. As he re-seated himself, he reached behind, spreading his cheeks wider as he sunk lower.

A strangled whimper was drawn from Javier’s chest as he raised his head for a closer look once Horacio started to move. He ignored the strain in his neck and replaced Horacio’s hands with his own, each palm cupping and squeezing, pushing forward, fingernails clawing, urging his rider to go faster.

In response, Horacio deepened the roll of his hips and balanced his hands on the rug beneath them.

They had picked it out on a trip to San Antonio the previous year, one of their first joint purchases for the cottage. And now they were finally christening it, surrounded by an array of décor and furnishings they had chosen together since. For their own home, an unthinkable notion in the not-so-distant past. Yet here they were against all odds.

Javier grasped the latest addition to their household, pulling Horacio by the harness in all directions as though he was the jinete (horseman) steering the reins rather than the steed being mounted bareback. But Horacio was the one wearing a Stetson. The one in the saddle daily, strengthening and toning his muscles even more than they already were, and Javier could already feel the difference.

He let go of the harness, his fingertips skimming Horacio’s voluptuous upper arms, rump and thighs, caressing the tight leather cuffs, pressing the sharp chill of the buckles against fiery skin until a shockwave rippled through Horacio and straight to Javier’s cock.

As Javier’s hips involuntarily bucked, their rhythm faltering in a chorus of moans, Horacio was beginning to regret not utilising a belt or one of the lariats from the barn as restraints on Javier’s wrists. But he changed his mind when he felt a crisp slap across the ass like a quirt used with overzealous force. But unlike the horses – with whom he was always gentle  – Horacio had no objection to the sting left behind.

In fact, it only spurred Horacio on, his ass lifting higher with each strike, building momentum, one hand stimulating his own cock in tandem.

Javier could feel rather than see Horacio jerking off, and his pelvis began to automatically plough upwards again, trying and failing to keep in time when he was this far gone.

“Horacio,” Javier breathed out, his tone pleading, desperate and wrecked.

“Tell me what you need.” Horacio wasn’t going to make it as easy this time. If Javier wanted something, he would have to use his words.

“I need you on all fours.”

And so Horacio dismounted, willing and waiting to give Javier everything he asked for, a complete 180 in a matter of minutes.

Javier wasted no time and fell in place behind Horacio, lining himself up and propelling forwards with a rough thud, nails digging into hipbones hard enough to leave marks.

As Horacio took himself in hand once more, Javier slowed to bask in a bird's eye view of his cock disappearing and reappearing, his thumbs spreading Horacio wider to get a better look at where they became one. It would have been easy to take it for granted by this stage, but he never did, not when they had been forced apart by circumstance and geography so many times before.

Whilst Javier was distracted, Horacio threw back his hips, causing a hiss of pleasure that inspired him to do it again and again, his ass pounding against Javier’s groin.

Javier drove forward in retaliation, pulling Horacio towards him with a firm jerk on the harness, a dual wave of groans unleashing each time Javier manhandled him, the thick leather straps taut against Horacio’s clammy skin, hopefully leaving imprints from the force.

Javier yanked hard enough to raise Horacio up on his knees, cementing them back to chest, teeth, mouth and moustache going to town as Horacio craned his neck to meet the onslaught.

“Do you know how fucking good you look like this? How…fucking…beautiful?” Javier’s declaration was broken up with each thrust as he resumed movement.

“It’s all for you,” Horacio purred between lip bites. “Your own cowboy to play with.”

With a muttered “Fuck,” Javier pushed Horacio back down on all fours, toppling his Stetson to the floor, one hand gripping at the harness, the other at the nape of Horacio’s neck, his fingers fondling the gold chain that complemented the silver one at his own breast.

His hips hammered forward, no holds barred, as an all too familiar pressure built and threatened to consume him any second now. He glanced down, transfixed by his own fluid motions, entranced by how well Horacio held his cock, how Javier had tamed a once wild bronco who would have thrown off any other rider a long time ago. But not him, never him, so maybe he was more of a vaquero than he thought.

A combination of the visuals, the leather against his skin, and the tight heat squeezing and releasing around him took its toll. Javier let out a wounded gasp as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his muscles tensing from head to toe as he watched his cock spasm and fill Horacio up.

As liquid warmth painted Horacio's walls, his wrist jolted and shook, sending him over the edge. He felt an extra weight on his back, the harsh scrape of teeth and words of encouragement at his ear as a hand took over from his own. Just the right pace and force, just how he liked it, just enough to make him coat Javier’s fingers, vision blurred, back arched.

They didn’t move as the room came back into focus, letting their lungs and heart rates return to baseline. Before Horacio could collapse to the floor, Javier slowly pulled out, smearing glistening fingers around Horacio’s fluttering hole, mixing it in with his own release. His tongue swirled and lapped from behind, making Horacio tremble on his knees until they buckled, and he could take no more. 

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The spark of a lighter and deep exhales of smoke were the only sounds to be heard for several minutes as they lay recovering in bed, the hard floor downstairs proving too much for their aching limbs, even with the rug for protection.

“So, are you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Oh, come on. You know fucking well what.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well…no. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Surprised you haven’t guessed. In fact, I kinda thought it was you dropping a hint.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was one of your old magazines that gave me the instructions on how to make it. And it’s not hard to get access to leather around here. The saddlers the ranch uses are well-stocked in almost everything. They don’t need to know what it’s being used for.”

Whatever Javier had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. When moving into the cottage, he had cleared out his old bedroom. Hidden in the depths of his wardrobe, beneath several layers of clothes, was a pile of magazines he never had the heart to throw away or burn, one of which was a Cowboy and Rodeo Special of Drummer.

Javier blew out a low chuckle as he passed their cigarette across the bed. “I wish I had been dropping a hint. Although…looks like you did fine without my influence. Always the dark horse.”

"Hey, they're your magazines, not mine."

"You read them. Cover to cover by the sounds of it."

"Just making up for lost time when I was younger."

"At least someone's getting use out of them. So, you ready for your first rodeo, now? Based on this afternoon, I'd put in a good word."

"Very funny."

Although, whilst Javier was, of course, joking, there were plenty of men like Horacio who did compete across Texas – without hiding who they were as well. He imagined Horacio would rather die in a stampede of raging bulls than partake in such a competition. But nonetheless, it was an appealing fantasy for Javier to indulge in from time to time.

His fingers traced patterns over Horacio’s thigh where the leather garter remained even after the harness and cuffs had come off, the leftover scent of sweat and semen on their skin fusing with the tobacco in the air. He had taken great pleasure and care in removing those; however, when it came to the garter, Javier placed a ring of kisses where the leather sat but left it in position.

“You liked it, then?”

Javier gave Horacio an incredulous look as though the answer spoke for itself. But there was a hint of uncertainty behind the question, and it was only fair to provide reassurance. “I loved it. A lot. I don’t really do birthdays, but you’ve certainly made this one memorable. So, thank you.”

"My pleasure," Horacio murmured mid-kiss. "And it definitely beats my birthday."

"That wouldn't be hard."

The first few hours of Horacio's birthday were spent helping deliver calves and bedding down close by the expectant mothers every night for the following two weeks. He barely saw Javier other than at meal times, and it took multiple showers to wash the pungent barn aroma out of his hair.

“Hadn’t we better shower soon?” Horacio said with reluctance once they pulled apart. “Don’t wanna keep your father waiting.”

Javier leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Yeah, we should. I’m starving now we’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Do you want to do the honours?” Horacio gestured towards his thigh.

“Keep it on.”

Horacio could tell from the wicked glint in Javier's eye he wasn’t joking. “You do know I have to work with your father? And look him in the eye.”

“Oh, come on, he won’t even notice. Not everyone checks you out as much as me, y’know. Especially not my Pops. And…” Javier sat up and swung his leg across Horacio’s thigh until he was straddling him. “It is still my birthday, remember.”

Despite such brazen tactics, Horacio met Javier’s mouth again, groaning gently as Javier’s teeth pulled on his bottom lip. “Fine. As long as you can keep your hands to yourself through dinner.”

“I’ll try my best.”

He could make no such guarantees after dinner, though.

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It took another week for the temperature to cool by several degrees, just in time for the residents of Laredo to visit neighbouring pumpkin patches, carve out Jack-o’-lanterns and go Trick-or-Treating.

By the time Javier had finished work and picked up some groceries, Chucho was busy in the lounge blanketing a table with a white lace cloth before arranging two extra tiers on top decorated with papel picado. Nearby trays were full of items ready and waiting to be placed on the ofrenda, including a Talavera pitcher of water, pan de muerto, a plate of salt, fresh marigolds, Calaveras, and a familiar wooden box.

Chucho looked up at Javier, who stood in the doorway with a cardboard box. “Ah, Javi, good timing. Pass those here.”

Javier held out a batch of fresh buñuelos delivered straight from Desde La Frontera. “Need a hand?”

Chucho looked at Javier with pleasant surprise. “Please, Mijo.”

Between them, they transferred everything from the trays to the table, Chucho directing where each item needed to be placed.

When it came to the wooden box, Chucho sat on the sofa to open it.

Javier watched silently from a few feet away, an ache forming in his chest when he saw the photos spread out on the furniture. But he pushed past it and sat in the adjacent armchair.

He looked closer at the pictures and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. “This needs to go on it too,” he said.

Chucho glanced up to see Javier clutching Mariana’s poetry book.

“Of course. She can tell us how much she liked Madrid. Which reminds me…”

Chucho stood up and disappeared into his bedroom before reappearing with a card in his hand. “I always keep it by my bed, but it belongs on here.”

Chucho was holding an old prayer card of La Virgen de Guadalupe. “Abuela Rosa gave it to your Mamá for her quinceañera, along with these. ” Chucho lifted a string of rosary beads from the wooden box. “I think she cherished the card as a reminder of our ancestors. Even though your Abuela disapproved, your Mamá had her own ideas about Guadalupe.” He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head with fondness.

“How do you mean?”

“Back in the '60s, Guadalupe became the mascot for the farmers’ union protests – the ones your Mamá marched on. She liked to think of her as someone who helped those in need. Do you remember her reading stories about the Aztecs? And Guadalupe, La Malinche and La Llorona?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Javier blinked, keeping his eyes closed for a fraction longer than was customary. The memory was fuzzy around the edges, but he could feel the warmth of his mother lying beside him on his bed, a book between them as she read aloud tales of their ancestors. Once he started getting drowsy, she would sing to him or stroke his hair and kiss him goodnight, the comforting sound of her favourite telenovelas drifting through his bedroom door as he fell into a deep sleep.

When he was even smaller and couldn’t sleep after his older cousins convinced him La Llorona had been spotted in Laredo the previous night, his Mamá soothed him with the advice she had been given by her mother to always pray a Hail Mary and an Our Father whenever near water before making a sign of the cross for protection.

However, Javier also remembered during the first few months after she was gone, he would have nightmares about La Llorona. Except in those dreams, his Mamá had taken on the appearance of the wailing spirit, and her ghost roamed along the banks of the Rio Grande, screaming for him. But no matter how hard he tried to get closer to her, she would move out of reach until he woke up screaming.

“There have been so many versions of those stories since the days of the Aztecs, who knew Guadalupe as Coatlalopeuh, Tonantzin, or Coatlicue. La Llorona as Cihuacoatl. And La Malinche as Malinalli or Malintzin, or La Chingada. Some of those stories say they are all one and the same. And that the conquistadors made Guadalupe the Madonna above the others. Your Mamá saw Guadalupe as a symbol of hope, a mediator between the Aztec and Catholic religions, uniting all the different parts of us and our roots. The light and the dark, the old world and the new, the conquered and the conqueror, the obedient and the rebellious, the eagle and the snake, the Mexican and the American.”

“Never thought of it like that when I was younger. But it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Chucho stood up and placed the prayer card on the altar.

“D’you think it’s possible, though? To unite it all, I mean.”

“I think we have to try as much as we can. And learn to make peace with it when we can’t. But I know it’s not easy.”

“Mexico didn’t seem far enough to run when I took the DEA job, even though it was never home. So, Colombia it was.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh at his own confused logic in hindsight. “But when we were in Manizales, I kept thinking about all the stories you told me about our family history – in the US and Mexico. And it just…hit me I was needed right here on the border. So, thank you, Pops.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me of my roots.”

“Your Mamá helped out a lot here, but she always wanted to do more. And she would have done a whole lot more if she’d had the chance. She’d have fought for yours and Horacio’s rights too, I’m sure of it. I had a feeling you’d take after her one day.”

“Better late than never, right?”

“Right. She’d be so proud of you and your work, Mijo. And so am I.”

A customary exchange of nods filled the silence that had become a trademark between father and son over the years when words seemed inadequate.

Chucho cleared his throat and turned to make one final check everything was in its rightful place on the ofrenda. “I think we’re about ready if you want to get Horacio.”

Javier headed next door with his Pops’ words – and his Mamá’s – echoing in his head. He thought about all the tangled threads that had run through him his whole life like the river he grew up on the bank of. It was ironic he could walk across bridges from Laredo into Mexico and back again, a confluence of his heritage. Yet there was always a gap that wouldn’t close. A gap those who insisted on his name meaning shame with a n rather than rock with a ñ wouldn’t let him close. All of the contradictions and dualities he had tried to reconcile, assuming in the past that he was expected to pick one or the other but never feeling qualified enough, resigning himself to an eternal conflict he could never win.

He thought about the people who crossed the invisible line in the earth every day, the one that instantly changed their identity and status whether they liked it or not, dividing and flattening their humanity into stereotypes and insults. The one that caused mothers separated from their children to cry like La Llorona and be condemned for finding themselves in desperate circumstances through no fault of their own. The one that led to Operations Hold the Line and Gatekeeper building walls and deploying an army of la migra, as Border Patrol were often called, to keep people out.

Maybe it was Javier’s recalcitrance, but the more the US government tried to put up borders – despite not thinking twice about violating those belonging to other countries – the more at ease he felt without them. After all, Texas had been part of Mexico in the past, as well as its own republic, and he had spent more than enough of his life trapped by self-imposed borders and walls already.

To be in a place like Laredo was to live on the margin of two countries and cultures, not one or the other. He was Mexican American, a Tejano. He had shared his heart and bed with women and men. Horacio was a closely guarded secret and a naked truth; they lived in the shadows and in the light. He was making a difference, yet it was a drop in the ocean of an ever-expanding problem. He regretted so much of what went down in Colombia, but not that he went in the first place, not only because of Horacio but because it brought him full circle. It brought him peace. It brought him home.

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As the clock struck midnight and welcomed in Día de los Difuntos, the ofrenda was aglow with candlelight, and the fresh scent of copal filled the farmhouse.

Horacio stood over the altar, his gaze fixed on the image of him in his Papá’s jacket, his father’s usually stern expression relaxed and…proud. He had never really allowed himself to think of that word before. But as the veladoras flickered and swayed across the photograph his Mamá had insisted he kept, he could no longer ignore it.

Beneath the photo lay the golden pendants, temporarily removed from Horacio's neck for the festivities, a glass of his Papá’s favourite rum to match the one in his hand, and a plate of tamales.

“Not bad for a Colombian.”

“I guess I had a good teacher.”

“After dealing with a son determined not to follow in my footsteps, it makes a change to find someone more willing.”

Horacio’s eyes landed back on the photograph of him and his Pops before shifting to one of Mariana in her element at a Chicano civil rights march with a toddling Javier by her side, a bittersweet smile taking hold of his lips. “Funny how it works out.”

“True. But as long as it does, that's the main thing. Even if it’s not what you expected.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“What are we toasting?” Javier asked as he came in from the kitchen with two glasses of his Mamá’s mezcal of choice, passing one over to Chucho.

Chucho gave a nod of thanks and raised his glass. “To endings and beginnings. And reunions.”

The next couple of hours were spent telling stories, reminiscing, remembering. Welcoming the past into the present, letting it know there was still a future.

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Chucho retreated to bed first, leaving Javier and Horacio to finish their drinks by the fire, which had burned down to its last mesquite log.

After placing their empty glasses in the kitchen, Javier stopped by the ofrenda on his way back to the sofa. His eye caught the selection of sugar skulls on display, each delicate design bearing the name of a departed loved one. Although, there were, in fact, two each for Mariana and Eduardo.

Javier traced his finger across the one which read Mariana Rosa Reyes Estrada, a pair of arms gathering tightly around his waist simultaneously.

“I never knew her with this name. She left Estrada behind in Mexico. Before she married, she was Mariana Reyes. Then she took Pops’ name ‘cos that’s the gringo way. And to make all the paperwork easier, I was just a Peña, too. But Pops likes to welcome her home with her Mexican and American names. In case she gets lost, he always says.” Javier released an affectionate chuckle at the expense of his Pops’ superstitions.

“He told me when he asked for my father’s full name.” Horacio smiled into Javier’s shoulder as he reached towards the skull that read Eduardo Horacio Carrillo Acosta.

He repeated the same motion across the shared part of his and his Papá's name. “The CNP prefer you choose one name when you enlist. So, of course, we all followed suit – Mamá included. And she left Sierra behind when she changed her papers.”

“Seems like we all have to leave parts of ourselves behind one way or another.”

“True. But if we’re lucky, we find them again somewhere down the line.”

Javier hummed in agreement as a trail of kisses soothed at his neck.

“When was the last time you did this, by the way?” Horacio asked as he traced idle patterns over Javier’s stomach.

“Día de Muertos? Fuck…I can’t even remember. When I was in Colombia, I always came home for Christmas – but not before. Pops never made a big deal out of it, but I could tell he was disappointed.”

“I’m sure he understood. And at least you’re here now.”

“I know. I think I just needed to do it in my own time.”

“Same here. So, thank you. To you and your father.”

“For what?”

“Letting me be a part of it. I think it’s something I’ve needed to do for years.”

“Horacio, of course you’re a part of it. You’re a part of the family.” Javier’s fingers found Horacio’s, lacing them together with ease above the belt of his jeans. “Tú eres mi familia.” (You’re my family)

“Y tú eres mía.” (And you’re mine)

“I was thinking about tomorrow…well, technically, later today. I, er, wondered if you wanted to watch the parade downtown. Then maybe head over to the cemetery with Pops. It's fine if it’s too much. I get it. I just thought maybe –”

“It’s okay.” Horacio cut him off, turning him around until they were face-to-face then forehead-to-forehead. “I’d love to.”

As the last embers of mesquite turned to ash, they knelt in front of the soft glow of the ofrenda, fingers connecting with their silver cross encased between their palms. A final attempt to welcome home those who had shaped so much of their children's lives, even in their absence, and sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

------------------------------------------------------

Echoes of drumbeats filled downtown Laredo by late afternoon, accompanied by a rainbow of papel picado along every street and a sea of Catrinas and Catrins. Children and adults alike wore masks or calavera face paint and marigolds in their hair, the intricate details of their costumes no doubt requiring months of preparation.

Food and drink stalls had seemingly popped up overnight, selling everything from pan de muerto, pozole and tamales to alegría, gorditas, marranitos and champurrado. It was impossible not to get swept from stand to stand, and fears of Javier and Horacio being scrutinised by anyone they happened to bump into were soon allayed. The hustle and bustle of the festivities made them anonymous yet at one with the city, as they were all here for the same reason.

Floats, dancers and puppets passed through the main roads, a spectacle Javier hadn’t witnessed in years. As a teen, the last thing he felt like doing was celebrating when it came to his Mamá’s passing. She wasn’t supposed to have gone so soon. But nowadays, he could appreciate the care and respect involved in honouring the dead. He could look back on the precious memories and not feel the need to push them away. He could accept the duality of grief and love, not as contradictions but as two sides of the same coin.

As they followed the procession at the end of the parade, making their way towards the cemetery to meet Chucho, Javier caught Horacio’s eye with a silent question. One that Horacio answered with a firm nod, reassurance that they were still on the same page.

So much had changed since Horacio was last here for Día de Muertos, not least of all the fact Javier was with him this time and had since met his family. And Escobar was dead, of course. His Papá was no longer a choking force around his neck but a warm presence that sat more comfortably on his chest. Not weightless, but manageable now.

Although darkness had fallen by the time they arrived at the cemetery, a sea of candles and lanterns lit the gravesides like an endless night sky, each one guiding the way home, even if just for one day. The celebrations from earlier continued, some families singing, drinking and eating. Others prayed or sat with blankets and hot drinks, telling stories and keeping memories alive.

Chucho had been busy when it was still light, clearing out dried flower stems and polishing Mariana’s headstone. Now, fresh marigolds were arranged around the candles, their strong fragrance carrying across the cemetery.

They were greeted with pats on the back and a glass of mezcal. A lowkey toast and short prayers were all they had planned, preferring to save the rest for the privacy of home.

“I just wanted to say thank you. To both of you for coming.”

“Any time, Pops. I’d forgotten how beautiful this place looks all lit up.”

“It reminds me of Día de las Velitas back in Colombia. People light candles and lanterns at cemeteries like this. Not that I could bring myself to join them after Papá.”

“There’s still time.” Javier held Horacio’s gaze through the flickering half-light, making the most of the only gesture he could give in public.

“I know.”

“It’s quieter here usually. A nice place to think. And she’s always been a good listener. So, if you ever need some breathing space, I’m sure she’d be all ears.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Horacio mirrored Chucho’s soft smile before laying down a tasteful wreath of marigolds he’d bought from one of the street vendors on their way here.

Javier watched with a growing warmth in his chest as his past, present and future collided once again. A first meeting of sorts, even if it wasn’t how it should have been. Even if it was built on memories and traditions, on prayers and stories, it was still real.

------------------------------------------------------

Slivers of silver reflected off the dark waters beyond the farm’s boundaries, the stars above shimmering like distant fireflies. Southern Texan Decembers were mild, but there was a chill to the air after sundown, especially by the river bank. However, it was nothing a blanket or two couldn’t fix.

Horacio was propped against a mesquite tree with Javier sitting between his legs, one blanket beneath them and the other draped over them. Coco stood watch nearby, her reins looped around a branch as she chomped on her favourite treat of apple slices – a reward for tonight’s extra work.

They shared a flask of Manizales’ finest coffee between Horacio lightly massaging Javier’s scalp and temples. It had been a hectic few days, from Chucho roping them into Las Posadas preparations to the farm being short-staffed in the past week due to seasonal colds and flu and the border seeing a higher influx of crossings in the build-up to the holidays.

Apart from a Christmas dinner or two, they weren’t expecting to take much time off over the festive period, but tonight was all about them. They had miraculously managed to escape work on time before driving to Desde La Frontera for a meal that was starting to become an anniversary tradition.

Javier played with Horacio’s hands, pressing kisses into his knuckles and pausing over his left wrist. “You like it, then?”

“Very much.”

“I know it’s not quite a garter or harness, but…” Javier trailed off, his shoulders and abdomen shaking in tandem.

“The strap’s the same colour, though.” One of Horacio’s hands snaked along Javier’s form, tickling at the waistband of his jeans enough to make him squirm.

“Oh really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. But it does suit you.”

Of course, Javier was banged to rights. He had spent considerable time picking out the watch, knowing Horacio preferred something digital – for pinpoint accuracy – and practical. Horacio had never got around to replacing his old one that was stopped by the ambush, so it was a long overdue replacement.

But if it also happened to be a gentle reminder of certain escapades every time he looked down at it, well...that was an added bonus. As was the thought of Horacio wearing Javier’s gift buckled around his wrist every day, the strap tight enough to leave a mark on his sun-kissed skin.

“Likewise with your present.”

“I dunno about that. I think you wear it better.”

“You’re the homegrown Texan boy, not me.”

“You’re the fucking cowboy, not me.”

Horacio’s fingers on his right hand took a firmer hold of Javier’s hair, coaxing him to turn around and abandon the flask he had just brought to his lips. “Technically…you own part of the ranch and farm. So, it’s about time you had a Stetson.”

Their lips met over Javier’s shoulder, still warm and tingling from the coffee.

“Fair point.” Javier picked up the flask again and downed whatever was left before it went cold. “We got any more of this, by the way?”

“Not ‘til next week. I told Alejandra to bring as much as she can fit in her luggage.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of suitcases to choose from.”

“I know. I’m not sure your father knows what he’s let himself in for.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he knows from when my cousins and I were kids. And he gets to play host, so he’ll be in his element.”

“He’s already given me a list of groceries to pick up on the way back from the livestock auction in Hondo.”

“When’s that again?”

“The day before my family arrives. Not ideal timing, but couldn’t really say no to more experience.”

“You still shadowing Gus Montoya?”

“Yeah, he’s been in the trade since he was 16, and he’s one of the best in the business now. I thought I should be involved before we start buying the new Santa Gertrudis and Longhorns for this place next year.”

“The paddocks are gonna be in these lower fields here, right?” Javier gestured towards a recently cleared stretch of land with the newly installed gate separating it from the ranch next door.

“Yes. It’ll be easier to move everything back and forth without disturbing the other fields. Then, once the new herd’s settled in, we can expand the stables, get in some more Morgans and Quarter Horses. Maybe diversify the cover crops for next winter.”

“Sounds good.” An unseen smile had spread across Javier’s face, the novelty of listening to Horacio talk ranch business not having worn off yet. All those years he tuned out whenever his Pops did the same, yet he never tired of hearing Horacio’s plans.

“It keeps me out of trouble.”

“Shame.”

“That’s not until next year, though…” Horacio trailed off, his lips devouring Javier’s neck, nibbling until Javier wriggled in his hold.

“Well, we better make the most of this before your family arrives.”

Horacio hummed in agreement, his mouth still buried in Javier’s shoulder. “Especially as there’s a quick turnaround before New Year’s.”

“True. I take it Felipe and Juana are still okay to come?”

“I forgot to tell you – I spoke to him earlier. Juana’s feeling much better now the morning sickness has passed. And with Cali gone and FARC taking up more and more CNP resources in the jungle, it’s mostly turf wars between the smaller gangs in Medellín. So, Martínez authorised his leave, and they’re flying out on the 30th.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s all good on the Miami front as well. They arrive the same day, late afternoon, once Connie’s finished her shift and Steve’s picked Olivia up from his parents’ house.”

“Okay, good. So, everything’s sorted then.”

“Not quite…I still need to clean out the guesthouses. Don’t think our old one’s been done since the Navarro Vega family left.”

“At least it’s still getting used since we moved out.”

“Yeah, well, I guess someone always needs it. Especially with IIRIRA coming into force. So many more fucking deportations. So many people taking bigger risks ‘cos they've got no choice.” Javier exhaled harshly through his nose.

He ran his fingers over his moustache and chin, pressing his thumb into his jaw and resting his face in his hand. “It’s starting to feel like the old days again.”

“But it’s not, Javier. You’re on the other side of it all this time.”

“It’s not just the border, though, is it?”

“What isn’t?”

“Legislation that could have us arrested for fucking in the privacy of our own home.”

“We’ve always been careful.”

“We thought we were careful back in Colombia, Horacio. And look where that got us.”

Javier didn’t think about those days much anymore if he could help it. Neither man did, except on specific dates or bad days if they were unlucky. But it was hard to shake the sense of paranoia in light of what the laws of his own state had to say about his sex life. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine someone like Mia Domínguez spying on them through a long lens, waiting to catch them out.

“True. There’ll always be a risk. But people like us have always existed under the radar. And we’ve been here over a year now, remember. Anyone who’s got a problem with us has already made their feelings perfectly clear. The rest either don’t know or don't give a fuck. Our story doesn’t have to end like the one you showed me in The New Yorker.”

“I know.”

Javier had been in two minds about whether to share it. But Horacio insisted he was the one to be read to for a change, preferring to hear the evocative imagery of the wild American landscape from the mouth of a Texan. The parallels were undoubtedly there between the glossy magazine pages and elements of their lives – but luckily, not all of it rang true for them.

“For a start, they were sheepherders from Wyoming,” Javier added with a tone of defiance.

“Exactly. Completely different.”

“Yep.” Javier exhaled loudly, his mind already returning to his previous stubborn thought. "But it’s the same government smoke and mirrors shit all over again. The same fucking hypocrisy. If it's not chasing people down the river or letting them die in the desert, it’s drug shipments they made easier to transport here in the first place. Or you’ve got couples like us crossing over looking for safety, only to run into fucking sodomy laws. It’s never gonna stop.”

It was the same sleight of hand tactics Javier had seen before. Legislation made thousands of miles away would claim to solve a problem whilst exacerbating it on the frontline. Whether it was drugs or human beings, they proved time and time again that they couldn’t be contained by a border or a statute book. Whether it was Border Patrol or the DEA, choppers would fly over the river at night, fruitlessly chasing traffickers despite the extra budget. If the usual border crossings were out of bounds, people would risk more remote or treacherous spots to try their luck.

It wasn’t unheard of for them to emerge from clusters of trees like the one they were sitting in now, drenched and shaking from the cold and dehydration. Or for Javier to be ready and waiting with towels, a change of clothes, a hot shower, or food and drink. Some would present themselves willingly to the authorities, others would disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. If anyone ever asked, Javier had seen and knew nothing.

“And neither are you. Look at all the people you’ve helped already. You might not be able to save everyone, but you’re making the difference you always wanted to make.”

Horacio coaxed Javier to face him again, cupping his jaw and rubbing a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Estoy orgulloso de ti.” (I’m proud of you)

Javier closed his eyes, basking in Horacio’s touch and closing the gap between them. “Y yo de ti.” (And I of you)

Easy kisses followed – the kind that were grounding and familiar, safe and timeless.

They rode back to the cottage with only the moon and stars guiding the way. Horacio clasped Coco’s reins whilst Javier held onto his waist from behind, making the most of the idyllic evening spent alone. Because even here, they knew it couldn’t always be like this. But despite all that life would throw at them in the years to come, they would be there for each other, to grow and change, to sail in the same direction, even if not always in the same boat. To make peace with the past, to live in the present, and to look to the future on their own terms.

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Burnt oranges and yellows filled the stone fireplace, the crackling of charred mesquite wood accompanying the dulcet tones of Elvis on the turntable. A fresh pine tree stood in the corner opposite a set of bookshelves, its white lights and a row of candles on the mantlepiece casting a soft glow across the lounge.

By next year, they would have to re-think the room's layout as the shelves were almost out of space. They had transferred all of their old books, records and tapes when they moved in – two poetry books in particular taking pride of place – which now sat alongside newly purchased or gifted titles from the likes of Fernando Vallejo, E.M. Forster, John Rechy, Gloria E. Anzaldúa, Alejo Durán, Linda Ronstadt, K.D. Lang, Vicente Fernández, Walt Whitman, Pedro Almodóvar and Gregg Araki. And no doubt there would be further additions to their collection on Christmas Day.

Luna was the sole canine guest tonight, her bond with Horacio somehow stronger again since Kira’s and Fuego’s arrival. Sol and Leo had grown increasingly fond of their new playmates in the last few months, so it was often the three of them in the cottage nowadays. Horacio hadn’t discussed it with Chucho, but he hoped she would stay with them permanently – and see out her retirement years – once the new cattle were in place.

She lay in her favourite chair, fast asleep with her head on the armrest and oblivious to their return home beyond a drowsy wag of the tail, before resuming her dreams.

“You had a good day, then?” Javier asked from the comfort of Horacio’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other as they gently swayed to the music.

Horacio let out a contented hum of approval, burying himself against Javier’s shirt, breathing all of him in. “It was perfect.”

“It was.”

“Although…I think there’s one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Your present.”

Javier’s chest shook, and something that sounded remarkably like “You fucker” was sworn against the crook of Horacio’s neck, followed by a sharp nip of the teeth.

“It’s only fair.” Horacio tried to keep an authoritative edge to his tone. But it was far from convincing when he ended up laughing as much as Javier.

“Actually…it’s only fair if you wear your hat too.” Another neck bite, accompanied this time by a trail of kisses along the open collar of Horacio’s red plaid shirt, shoving the bandana aside for easier access. “Deal?”

Horacio’s back arched involuntarily, the rumble threatening to escape from his throat tempered into an elongated sigh instead. Not much of a win, but he’d take it. “Deal.”

And so Javier fetched the Stetsons from the coat hook in the hallway whilst Horacio switched records once Elvis had finished.

Javier lowered Horacio’s hat into place, encouraging Horacio to do the same with his.

“Satisfied?” Javier asked once they resumed their embrace, the cumbia beats of Lucho Bermúdez now replacing Elvis.

Horacio’s fingers slid from Javier’s waist to the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward until their lips met and the brims of their hats jutted together. “I am now…cowboy.”

They let another vinyl play before undressing, every movement sensual and considered as they removed boots and unbuckled belts between slow, thorough kisses. With hats relegated to the couch for now, Javier untied the silk bandana from Horacio’s neck, teasing smooth fabric along the nape and tossing it to the floor, revealing faded tan lines from the unforgiving summer months. Buttons from their plaid shirts were next, followed by jeans and underwear, chestnut lost in charcoal as they stood bare in each other’s arms but for the silver and gold pendants.

Neither felt the need to give into temptation, not yet, at least. Instead, they put on another record and danced, hand in hand, skin against skin, soul against soul. Because they were never in a rush anymore; now they had all the time in the world. Now they were home.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[classichorrorblog]

Predator (1987)

#Horror #Horroredit #Scifiedit #Predator #John McTiernan #Carl Weathers #Elpidia Carrillo #Arnold Schwarzenegger #CHB #Quotes #1987 #80s

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty Five

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~3,300

Start from the beginning    Previous Chapter  Next Chapter  

Masterlist Read on AO3

Three days.

Eva had been in that house for three days.

Mostly, she sat in the armchair and watched the TV with Alexei. Josh, eager to please his friend, had it brought in from somewhere. She’d managed to find a channel with telenovelas (although not her telenovela) and happily explained some of the major plot devices to a dubious Alexei.

During commercial breaks, Eva did what she could for him, although he was further along in his healing than she anticipated. He could walk, if slowly. His range of motion was almost at a hundred percent. And, he was itching to do something other than lie around all day. Eva felt for him. She was also itching to do something. Escape, mainly.

She just couldn’t find her opening.

If it wasn’t Juan at the door, it was another man named Xavier. They rotated on twelve hour shifts at six and six. Eva could only assume it was the same for the man at the door. If that weren’t enough, Myra had a habit of stopping in at regular intervals, claiming that she was checking on her ‘patient’.

She would come in, ask Alexei how he was doing. Sometimes she would give him a small bit of news from town. Every time, she ignored Eva. Which was fine. Eva didn’t much feel like making small talk.

Alexei didn’t seem to sleep. At least, not deeply. He dozed now and again, sometimes falling into a light slumber that lasted maybe twenty minutes. Even then, he startled at the smallest noise. She had to be very, very quiet if she wanted to work on getting the cuff open.

There were no pins like the one Horacio had taught her to use, just a pair of scissors that she’d disassembled. They were small enough to fit into the lock, but not so small that they could catch the hooks to loosen the cuff. It was frustrating work made even more frustrating by the fact that she never got more than a moment to herself.

Eva felt like she was being constantly watched—by Alexei, by Myra, by Juan and Xavier, by Josh. She couldn’t even breathe without someone noticing. It was starting to stress her out, and Eva needed to be calm about this.

After another round of failing to unlock the cuff, Eva tossed the scissors aside and started to look for another tool. The bathroom was full of gauze, and antiseptic, and all kinds of medicine, but little in the way of long, thin, tiny pieces of metal.

Sighing, Eva stood and dragged the chain along behind her into the bedroom. Alexei was snoring softly and the TV was on mute. The room was quiet. Suffocating.

Crossing to the window, Eva looked out onto the street. No one was on an afternoon stroll. No children played with brightly colored balls. There were no street vendors with fruit. It was empty. Barren. Lonely.

Which was kind of weird.

This was a new development, looked like a nice place to live. There should be all kinds of people putting in offers for the available houses. The street should be busy with cars going to and from work in the morning. But, it wasn’t. There wasn’t even a mailman.

“Napping the day away, Alexei?”

Eva turned to find Josh sauntering into the room with a grin. He looked markedly improved. The shadows under his eyes were gone and he’d taken the time to put on a suit. His jovial attitude was as natural as it had ever been, which meant he had some kind of good news to share. Good news that may not bode well for Eva.

Alexei stirred and opened his eyes, “I was having a beautiful dream of kicking your ass.”

Josh laughed, “You’ll get to live out that dream in a few months.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied. Then, “Been in this bed too fucking long.”

Sitting nearby, Josh gave Alexei a sympathetic look, “You’re right. How do you feel about a little field trip?”

Alexei lifted a brow. Eva held her breath.

“Got a new med for you.”

A groan, “Not another experiment.”

Josh held up his hands, “Its just a protein modifier. It’ll help with your muscle tone.”

“A fucking walk would help with my muscle tone, Josh.”

Eva, who had been standing across the room listening to them argue, finally saw her opportunity, “He’s right. He can’t sit here all day watching TV.”

Josh glared at her, “Are you a doctor, now, Eva?”

She shrugged, “Seems like common sense to me.”

“Leave her alone,” Alexei groused. “She’s been putting up with an injured man for three days.”

Angry, Josh stood and paced towards the door, “She’s the reason you’re injured.”

“Diego is the reason I’m injured. Which reminds me, where are you with tracking the man down?”

Josh crossed his arms, “I’ve had men at his apartment. He hasn’t returned. I think someone tipped him off—maybe the complex manager.”

Eva tried to keep her breathing steady while she listened for any small detail that could tell her where Horacio was and what he was doing. If he wasn’t at the apartment, where was he staying? With Javier? Were they anywhere close to figuring out where she was? How long would that take?

“So, you’ve lost him.”

“I haven’t lost him,” Josh sneered, “He’s just being sneaky.”

Alexei rolled his eyes and looked at Eva, “You’re coming with me on the field trip. I need someone with common sense along for the ride.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“I don’t think you have a choice. Get the chain off her and bring me my cane.”

Josh, who had never taken an order in his entire life, stood up.

Stunned by the strange turn in their dynamic, Eva stood back and watched Josh do as Alexei asked. He left the room and came back with a cane, then pulled a set of keys from his pocket to unlock Eva’s cuff.

Free for the first time, Eva tried to act natural as she reached for her clutch. Josh caught her arm and tugged her towards the door, “You won’t need that where we’re going. Out. Let me help Alexei get dressed.”

Dismissed to the hall, Eva stood awkwardly near the door while Juan waited at the top of the stairs. He was still wearing a bandage from where she’d hit him. It was clean, at least, no residual blood. She hoped he wasn’t going to hold it against her. Seek revenge, and all.

She tried to smile at him, “Uh, sorry about your head. And your arm.”

Juan looked away briefly, “Its fine.”

“Cool,” she replied, not knowing what to make of his response, “Cool.”

The door to the bedroom swung open, Josh waltzing through it with a pleased expression, “Let’s go!”

Behind him, Alexei moved along with his cane. Slow. Steady. Eva had to squash the urge to move to his side and assist. He’d probably rebuff her, anyways. Even injured as he was, Alexei was still a proud man. Together, they followed Josh down the stairs and out the front door to where the car was waiting. Same car, different driver.

Alexei got in the passenger’s seat and Josh climbed into the back with her. Eva would have rather sat next to Alexei. He would have, at least, made conversation. Instead, she was stuck with Josh practically bouncing in his seat with anticipation. Just watching his boyish glee made her stomach turn over.

The drive was very, very short. A matter of a minute and a half. The neighborhood was more or less sitting in the back yard of a warehouse. Eva stared at the brutally minimal construction, the complete lack of any character. From the outside, there was no way to tell what went on within.

It had to be the factory.

Eva turned her head left and right, staring at the cars around them. She looked at every face, hoping to see Horacio looking back at her. He knew where the factory was, knew Josh was staying somewhere nearby. He could be prepped right now to bring her back to where she belonged.

No luck.

“So this is where you’ve been working?” Eva couldn’t help but to ask.

Josh shook his head, “The main plant is about ten miles from here. This is where I do my experimental work.”

Eva felt her heart drop. Horacio knew about the main plant, but there was no telling if he had any idea about the magnet location. A ten mile radius could take weeks for him to work through to find her. It was looking more and more like Eva was going to have to get away from Josh, herself.

The car pulled to a stop in the back near a pair of large loading docks. Inside, massive fans pushed the air towards a ventilation system that was far more advanced than it had any reason to be. Not for simple manufacturing.

Josh strode ahead of them with purpose, making his way towards a supervisor’s office. The supervisor rose to greet him, speaking in heavily accented English. Eva listened to the conversation with half a smile, wondering if Josh had made any attempt to learn the language or if he demanded all his employees speak in his native tongue.

“The samples are ready, yes,” the supervisor assured him. “In the spare office, like you said.”

“Great! Thank you. Wonderful work, as always.”

Eva nearly laughed at Josh’s flamboyant enthusiasm before she caught herself with a light cough. The supervisor glanced at her in curiosity, but seemed to know better than to comment. Josh had him well trained, already.

The spare office was exactly like it sounded. Spare. A desk, some chairs, and a few filing cabinets. On the desk was a black case and a sharps container.

Alexei sat heavily in one of the chair, “Alright, let’s do what we came here for.”

Josh waggled his finger at him, “You just rest there for a minute. There’s no rush.”

“I’m going to miss my show,” Alexei grumbled with a pointed look.

Eva covered her smile with her hand. She worked to school her expression and couldn’t quite manage it. Was her life this ridiculous back in Louisiana? Was Josh?

He opened the up the case and began sorting through its contents with a frown. “Oscar, get Michael in here,” he ordered. Then, louder, “Michael!”

After a moment, the supervisor peeked his head in, “Its, uh, Miguel, Dr. Moore.”

Eva’s hand, which had been covering her mouth, moved to cover her eyes.

“Whatever,” Josh retorted, “There was supposed to be four vials in this case. I only see two.”

Miguel squeezed awkwardly past the driver and held up his hands in supplication, “Yes, sir. The, uh, product, did not come in.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed and his frown deepened, “Why?”

“There was an accident on the highway. Our truck was overturned,” he answered. “I was told that you were aware.”

“I am obviously not aware,” Josh muttered, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking about it.”

Miguel, sensing danger, put his hands together and said, “I am sorry.”

Josh looked at the man for a few seconds in anger, then waved him away, “Have them ready for me by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

Miguel scuttled from the room while Josh set up the two vials and syringes, saying, “Honestly, you can’t find good help in this country.”

Alexei rested his hands on his cane and fixed Josh with an annoyed expression, “Does this mean that we came here for nothing?”

Josh’s brows lifted, “No, no. You’re still going to get your shot. Eva will just have to wait for hers.”

Eva was all surprise, “I’m getting a shot?”

“Yep!”

Alexei rolled up his sleeve, “Why is Birdie getting a shot? Is she injured, too?”

Josh circled the desk with the vial and syringe in hand, “I guess you could say that.” He drew the medicine in to the syringe, “I know that you’ve noticed Diego forced the bond on her. You can’t be too weak as to miss that stench.”

Alexei’s eyes met Eva’s with the barest hint of sympathy, “I noticed.”

Eva tried not to convey anything with her expression—positive or negative. She leaned into old habits and made her expression neutral and passive.

Josh chuckled, as if he’d made a particularly funny joke, “Can’t have her smelling like a dirty drug dealer, can I?” A pause while he administered the injection, “I’ve got a lovely little cocktail that should eliminate the bond entirely.” With a happy smile, he added, “Its new!”

Alexei looked shell shocked, “That’s impossible. You’ll kill her.”

Throwing the syringe into the sharps contained, Josh replied, “Nothing is impossible with the right formulation, Alexei. I think I’ve found something that will do that job nicely.”

Eva had never been more grateful for a car accident in her life. But, deep down, she knew it could only provide a slight delay in Josh’s plans. As soon as he got his hands on the new batch of product, he would be bringing it to the house to test on her—and, God help her, if he was anywhere near successful. Even if she didn’t die from the shot, itself, Eva would die from the force of the bond breaking apart.

Alexei noticed her vague panic and started arguing with Josh about how dangerous it was to perform that kind of procedure outside of a clinical trial. He spouted off facts Eva didn’t even know he had picked up over the years, relaying his points in words she had absolutely used in the past.

“And,” Alexei concluded, out of breath, “there is an easier way to fix this problem.”

Red faced and frustrated, Josh made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Alright. Let’s hear it. What is this better way?”

“We kill him,” Alexei said, simply.

Eva felt her heart constrict at the suggestion. She held it back by the skin of her teeth.

Josh paused, as if the thought had not occurred to him, “You think it will be that easy? To kill Diego?”

Alexei nodded, “We have something he wants.”

“So we, what, lure him into a trap and put a bullet in his back.”

“I’d prefer his head.”

“Good point,” Josh acknowledged. He looked at Birdie with an assessing gaze, “You think he’ll go through all that trouble just to get you back?”

Eva, uncomfortable, replied, “He can get an accountant anywhere.”

Alexei groaned and put his head in his hands. Then, after a long breath, looked up and said, “She’s his bonded omega. It doesn’t matter if he wants her, or if he needs her. If Diego is going to have any kind of sanity, he’s going to get her back. That’s how it works.”

The room fell into silence while Josh thought about Alexei’s proposition. His mouth screwed up in thought and his eyes settled into the middle distance. Alexei watched Josh with a focused look, possibly trying to will the other man to agree with him.

Across the room, Eva crossed her arms and hoped Josh would side with Alexei. Best case scenario, Horacio got information as to her whereabouts. At minimum, it would buy her time that she might not have had otherwise.

“Alright,” Josh said after taking his time to seriously consider what Alexei was saying, “I guess we’ll have to extend an olive branch to him.”

Alexei, looking at little relieved, said, “How are we supposed to do that when you can’t even find the man?”

Josh smiled, “I have some contacts in the area. Locals, you know? I’ll give them a little incentive to get me information.”

Humming doubtfully, Alexei replied, “You haven’t tried that already?”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy making that protein modifier for you,” Josh shot back, defensive. “I haven’t even heard a thank you.”

“Thank you,” Alexei murmured dryly.

“Honestly,” Josh bit out, “I work day and night to get our life back together and this is how you treat me?”

Alexei lifted his chin, “I got shot in the head, Josh.”

Josh drew back a little, “Yes. I know. Thank you for not dying.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eva stood there during this whole exchange, growing increasingly confused. She was used to their arguing, but actually resolving the issues between them was new. In the space a few minutes, they had gone from being at each other’s throats to...whatever this was.

She didn’t like it.

Alexei pushed to standing with a tired groan, “Are we done here?”

Josh nodded, “Yes. I suppose we are.” Then, “Myra’s making a nice gumbo for dinner—just like home. What do you say we eat downstairs tonight?”

Eva did not get to eat downstairs. As soon as they were back in the house, she was pushed back into Alexei’s room and chained for safekeeping. This time, she didn’t mind it so much because she finally had something more precious than gumbo—privacy.

With care for how she disturbed the chain behind her, Eva picked up her clutch, intending to find a spare hair pin in its depths. What she found, other than money, lipstick, a scarf, and Horacio’s spare lighter, was a gun.

How could she have forgotten? Fucking how?

For three days, she had the ability to fucking shoot someone, and Eva had fucking forgot about it.

She was an idiot. An absolute idiot.

Cradling the weapon against her chest, Eva decided that she needed to use it wisely. She only had the advantage of surprise once, and there were a lot of variables to work out to make sure she used that advantage efficiently. A gunshot was going to make sure everyone in the house, and possibly the neighborhood, paid attention.

Eva stopped—what if she wasn’t in the neighborhood?

What if she waited just a little bit. For the next field trip. For the next dose of Alexei’s medication.

She could get out of that warehouse quick-like, and then the highway was seconds for her running feet. It wouldn’t matter who chased her, someone would see. Someone would stop.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Eva carried the gun into the bathroom and closed the door. She then lifted her shirt and (after double checking the safety) tucked the gun into her bra. Turning side to side, she examined the way the fabric fell over it, hoping that everyone would be a little too busy to notice the slight hump between her breasts. Wanting extra security, she pulled the scarf from her clutch and draped it beneath the collar of her shirt.

There. Much better.

Later, Eva curled up in the armchair with TV muted and Alexei half asleep. She stared out the window towards the warehouse, calculating the distance in her head. The angle of the house and the height of the window weren’t much more than guesswork, but Eva thought she could make it if she hauled some serious ass across the road.

The next day, she would keep careful watch to see when the traffic was the most dense. From there, it would be a matter of working to manipulate Josh into letting her out of the house for even a few minutes.

Pressing her hand to her chest, Eva felt the weight of the gun. The metal was warm from her skin and strangely comforting. She could do this. She could do this.

Alexei stirred, half awake. Eva watching him turn over restlessly. She would need to sleep, too, if she wanted to get away safely. Knees to her chest, Eva closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was at home, in Colombia. She tried to pretend that the fan was going at top speed above, that Horacio was laying next to her, and that tomorrow she would wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of him puttering around the kitchen.

#horacio carrillo #narcos #carrillo #a/b/o dynamics #au #Shadow and Veil #Maurice Compte

[mlmxreader]

Corazón | Horacio Carrillo x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Carrillo x male!reader

Carrillo finds out the reader is queer and has a massive crush on him when he’s crashing on the reader‘s couch one night and overhears him talking to a friend on the phone. Now, Carrillo knows he’s queer but has been terrified of confronting those feelings, for obvious reasons, but he’s just human and the most handsome man he’s ever laid eyes on just admitted to finding him hot. So…

I think the prompt "He's so hot and he's sleeping on my sofa and I don't know what to do" fits well for the phone thing.

summary: Carrillo isn't queer, he knows he's not queer... but goddamn, he can't get over the sacred mornings and the holy nights.

tws: swearing, smoking, pining, queer denial

For a while, Carrillo had been crashing with you and staying at your place, mostly due to the fact that his own home was being fixed up - something to do with insulation, he didn’t really care - and he needed somewhere to stay, partially because he had a soft spot for you; he could have stayed with Javier, who lived a lot closer. He could have stayed with one of his men, who he wouldn’t have cared if they had to pay an arm and a leg to get them both to work in the morning. He wanted to stay with you, and this was just the perfect opportunity. The perfect chance and he wasn’t sure if he would or could get another in his life. Every day, waking up to see you pottering around the kitchen, was a goddamn treat; the fact that he got to see you at your most handsome, groggy and just woken up, drinking a black coffee and smoking a cigarette as you got your things together for work. All morning breath and still half-asleep. Carrillo lived for that moment; even if he was always sound asleep when you got home from work, he loved seeing you in the mornings. There was something so sacred, so blessed, about mornings.

Still, if anyone had asked, Carrillo would have told them that his interest in you was purely platonic; you were just friends, only friends. He convinced himself of that at all costs. Just friends, only friends. He wasn’t queer, there was no way he could be queer; sure, he had queer friends and he loved them, but he wasn’t queer himself. No. Not Carrillo. No… but then, those mornings when he saw you shirtless, when he saw you with sweat on your back, your voice so thick with sleep that it was too hard to ignore. Those mornings when he saw you and he couldn’t help but to feel his heart thunder as his hands shook slightly and he licked his lips; those mornings when he saw you and he had that fleeting thought of what if run through his mind. Those mornings. Those beautiful, sacred mornings. Sometimes, those what ifs made him groan under his breath as he thought, if only for a moment, what it would be like to know you as something other than a friend. Something different. Something… warm and soft and loving. Kisses. Hand holding. Hugs from behind.

God, those beautiful and sacred mornings meant so much.

Even the nights, if he was awake, were so blessed and so holy that he couldn't ignore them. The nights when you were too tired to make it to the bedroom and ended up falling asleep on him. The nights when you were so hungry that you woke him up by getting something to eat, only to flash him the smile that made his knees go weak and offer him a bite or two. The nights when he was so tired he couldn't bring himself to speak, but would still come up behind you while you were cooking and he would hold you close and press his face against the side of your neck.

Those holy nights.

But there was still no way that he was queer; he had never been attracted to men before. He had never thought of other men the way that he did you, and surely that meant that he couldn't be queer. Carrillo knew that he couldn't be queer; he had never had any of the experiences that his friends did, and surely, if he was queer then he wouldn't suddenly be attracted to a man he had known for so long… right? Surely, if he was queer, then he wouldn't suddenly be looking at your stomach when you stretched and your shirt rode up a little. He would have been doing it for a long time if he was queer, right? And surely, if he was queer then he wouldn't suddenly be needing to push his hips up as his breath shuddered while he watched you wander around in the house in those fucking grey jogging bottoms without a shirt. Surely, if he was queer, he would have been doing that for as long as he had known you. He would have been feeling those things for you for all those years… right?

Still, as he laid on the sofa, a pillow behind his head as he kept one hand on his stomach, the other propped up behind him, he couldn't help but to smile; you had thought that he was asleep, judging by the way that you crept around.

"Yeah, I dunno, man," you sighed. "What if he hates me for being queer? I mean, you know that… certain people 'round here don't take kindly to queers."

"Nah," came the crackly reply, "you're gonna be alright. This is Carrillo! He's known you for years, and you know as well as I do that he's got queer friends and he loves 'em. He isn't one of the ones that you should worry about."

"I dunno," you frowned. "Do you think he knows I'm queer? Like, is it even worth telling him?"

Carrillo grumbled softly, not loud enough to disturb you, as he smiled and even dared to let out a quiet laugh; sure, he felt bad that you were panicking about how he would react to him being queer, and he didn't mean to make you feel so unsafe in his presence.

"C'mon," you sighed. "He's so hot and he's sleeping on my sofa and I don't know what to do - what do I do, Javi?"

"Tell him. Tell him you're queer and that you have feelings for him, for fuck's sake."

You turned around, facing away from him as you leaned on the counter and sighed, frowning a little. "Do you really think things would be alright? I mean, what if he… what if he doesn't feel the same? Do you think we can still be friends?"

"Yeah, of course," Javier replied, "these things happen."

Carefully, with all that military training put to good use, Carrillo dared to creep over to you, sneaking up behind you and slowly putting his arms around you, pulling you back against him as he buried his face against the side of your neck, only daring to growl out a handful of words, "tell Javier to fuck off."

"Javi, I gotta go," you breathed out. "There's, uh, there's a really, really hot Colonel who wants my attention."

Javier told you he loved you, and wished you the best of luck before he hung up; all your attention on Carrillo, you whimpered softly when he bit at the soft flesh of your neck. You leaned into him, into his touch as you put your hands on his and sighed heavily.

"Horacio…"

"Si, mi tigre?"

That nickname. The one he always used for you, the one that he always insisted that only you could be called and that only he could call you; you could even remember when he had nearly torn Javier's head off of his shoulders for uttering it. It made you smile as you hummed softly.

"What are you doing?"

"I… I'm not sure," Carrillo admitted quietly. "I just… I think you're really fucking handsome, (y/n), and I… I wanna be with you, romantically."

"Fuck," your voice went slightly horase as you turned around, letting him pin you between his body and the counter. "Horacio, please don't tease me…"

"I heard what you said to Peña," he hissed. "Do you really feel that way about me?"

Slowly, you nodded, putting your hands on his chest as you let out the softest of sighs. "Of course I do…"

Carrillo smiled, daring to press a kiss to your forehead as he kept you so close. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his own. "Do you… do you want to be, uh, I'm not sure how you wanna say it, I mean-"

"Boyfriends?" You asked, and when he nodded, you grinned. "Si, si mi amor."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #colonel carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo #Horacio Carrillo imagine #Carrillo #narcos fanfiction #narcos x reader #narcos oneshot #narcos imagine #narcos

[loboazul16]

been drawing my ocs :]

pretty proud of these hehe

#my art #my ocs #original character #reference #digiral art #emilio #carrillo #THIS IS TECHNICALLY A CLUBBED PENG THING BUT IM NOT TAGGING IT FJDKLSFJKLDSJFKLDS