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ebaylee422 · 9 months

Text

Landside

Billy X GF!Reader

Authors Note: We want a scared Dad Billy? Yeah we’re gonna get one.

AU Summary - This is if Billy didn’t ‘actually' die during Season 3. He’s been with the group for a year, even aiding them against Vecna Season 4. Everyone who fell victim to Vecna was trapped in the Upside Down, including but not limited to Barb, Billy (ofc), Bob, Chrissy, Eddie, Jason, etc You get the idea. They all still bear the weight of what happened to all of them. It’s like they were raised from the dead if you will. This fic takes place maybe five years later? So 1990-91 ish

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Unplanned pregnancy, family trauma, name-calling between friends. Fixing everything and any death post season 4, lots of Steddie and Ronance, Talk of body issues, pregnancy fears, fear of not being good enough, Physical violence in the form of threats or thrown objects.

Word Count: 7.8k

I come up from doing a few laps in the pool, stepping up the stairs. Billy walked towards me with a towel in hand.

“Looking good out there Ms. Y/L/N.” I smirk, taking the towel from his hands, dabbing at the water on my face and hairline.

“Thank you,”

“Perfect form, and that suit is marvelous.” he winks.

“Well your form is marvelous,” I say making him blush, “I mean, you are a great teacher, teaching lessons to the kids-”

“You know, I could uh. I could teach you if you like?”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well, I know all the styles.” he looked me up and down, opening a piece of gum. Setting his free hand to follow the strap of the bikini dangerously close to cupping my breast. “Free style, um Butterfly, and Breast stroke.” I watch him breach his soft lips slipping the gum into his mouth, accidentally dropping the towel in my hands.

“Oops.” I bend over, picking up the towel slowly. So he can see the arch of my back and the space between my bathing suit and breasts. “I didn’t know you offered adult lessons.”

“Well you know, I offer advanced lessons to a select clientele. Come to think of it, there's a good pool out at uh, Motel 6 on Cornwallis. Very quiet, you know, very private. Should we say tonight, 8 o’clock.”

“Wouldn’t this be the 4th time this week Mr. Hargrove? I don’t think there’s anything left to teach me.” I brush my hands on his chest toying with the whistle around his neck.

“Oh you see that’s where you're wrong I think there are plenty of things left to do. I just don’t think I’ve pushed you hard enough.” leaning into the tease, brushing up my arm leaving goosebumps even in the damp heat of summer.

“Well I need to-”

“It will be the workout of your life.” he cut me off,

“I will need your help deciding what to wear, you have such impeccable taste.” I ran my hand down my side over the hem of the swim bottoms, knowing it drove him crazy looking at the light trail of hair disappearing into my swim bottoms along my pelvis.

“A tease you are,” he pulls my waist to him, kissing me deeply for everyone at the pool to see how taken we are with each other. My fingertips dip into his waistband, distracting him while my tongue dips into his mouth, snatching the gum and pulling back quickly. "Oh a thief too, I see your game." I blow a bubble, smacking the gum and twisting out of his arms to hold his hands.

“Gotta hit the showers, California, perhaps a rain check? I’ll find you before I leave!” winking and popping the gum one last time, skipping to cool off from the hot sun in the women's locker room.

Grabbing a fresh towel and some soap from my locker I pull the curtain taut. Letting the water run over my suit, unsticking it with all the chlorine and sunscreen. Hanging it on the hook, tying my hair up and washing my body. Just when there’s suds' coating my eyes I hear someone pull the curtain open,

“This one’s taken!” I hide my body against the wall, trying to wash out the soap when the curtain closes again. Getting frustrated I vigorously put water in my eyes, hearing wet steps. A hand covers my mouth so I can’t scream, turning me around quickly to the haughty chuckle. Billy stands smiling wildly, “What do you think you're doing!” I smack at his chest, he shushes my protest, kissing down my throat creating a bee-line to my chest. Instinctively I hook my arms around his neck, looking down to see he’s also completely naked. “You're supposed to be working, go away.” I hum as he kisses the tops of my breasts.

“But your breasts are so amazing and all soapy. God, have they gotten bigger? My girls, all pretty and sensitive.” he whines on my neck, “and I know you didn’t just buy a suit I wanted, tease me with it. Not wanting me to fuck you, oh not my doll! What have you done with her?!” I laugh as he shakes me, hands on the middle of my spine.

“Okay well then it worked better than I thought, I guess actions speak louder-” he was hammering the spot on my neck that gives my stomach butterflies, “Billy-” I whine.

“Yes? Anything for you.” he looked up, with those gorgeous blue eyes pupils of black onyx swallowing the ocean with lust.

“B, I don’t feel too good...” I pout,

“Well then, let me make you feel so much better, huh? Let Billy take care of you. I'll make you feel better, and damn you smell so good, Indiana.” He doesn’t push my limits by forcing himself on me, just showering me with love in his way of physical contact.

"Billy-..."

"What hurts baby?"

"My back, and I'm nauseous." I hold onto him, playing with his St. Christopher’s necklace under the cool water.

"Well I could blow your back out for ya and buy you dinner afterwards. A nice corn dog and push pop from concessions?"

"You're not helping. You corn dog."

"Correction, it's horn dog." He blows a raspberry along my neck, correcting me.

“Billy! Someone will hear us!” I laugh, running my hand through his wet locks.

“Nope paid that one kid five bucks to scare anyone off, think his name is Ben. Maybe Benson?”

“There’s a teenager outside the woman’s shower room scaring people away so you can fuck me?”

“No, I locked the door and put one of the shower chairs under the handle!”

“Hmm, might take me a little more convincing.” I tease, pushing his shoulders down for him to kneel in front of me. He winks holding onto the backs of my thighs.

“God damn, doll.” He nuzzles his nose along the seam of my cunt, lifting one of my legs to hook over his shoulder. “So fucking wet f’ me, huh?”

“Yes...” I moan when he licks a trail from my entrance to my clit sucking the button into his mouth to roll it over his tongue. He looks up at me as two of his fingers split my folds curling them inside me.

“Shit Billy, ‘M close.” I pant holding the back of his head as he licks my cunt like his favorite ice cream flavor. He pulls off suddenly standing, retreating his fingers from my cunt to circle my clit.

“Want to feel you cum on my cock, doll. Get me there.” He commands, thrusting his swollen and leaky cock against my thigh. I grasp him, rolling in matching circles with my thumb along the tip.

My head thumps the tile wall and we giggle at the noise.

“You okay?” He holds me cheek in his free hand then threading his fingers into my soaked hair.

“Yeah, want you.” I whisper, kissing his lips with bruising passion. He takes himself from my hand lining up with my entrance. Holding my other leg against his hip now so I’m spread open for him. He puts my hand between our bodies above my clit,

“Rub your clit for me, not gonna last long in your pretty pussy.” I whimper at the thought, he kisses me deeply as he pushes inside. My walls have to re-stretch around his girth every time. My free hand accidentally scratches along his back as he pounds into me. He pants into my mouth as he picks up speed, I squeeze around him cumming with a soft cry of his name. That sends him over the edge. I can feel the first wave of his hot load as he pushes himself deeper inside.

Billy drops my leg, rubbing at my hip and holding me upright as we come down from our high. He kisses along my collarbone as he reaches for my body wash. We spend a few minutes in peaceful post orgasm, treasuring each other’s bodies before he speaks.

“Feel better, doll?” Billy whispers like an unspoken confession.

“A little, thank you honey.” I turn off the water after we clean ourselves off, he dries off by shaking out his hair like a dog. Pelting me with water droplets in the process.

“What?” He acts innocent as I dry my arms and legs, “I’m going back to the pool anyway.” He hands me a towel allowing me to dress moderately dry. Giving up his water after his guided workout, I take one sip before being hauled over his shoulder.

“Billy!” I yell as he grabs my bag from the hook, moving the chair from the door.

“What? I promised my girl some dinner!” He smacks my ass when he walks down the hall to concessions.

“Billy put me down, I’m too heavy!” I groan, getting nauseous from the pressure on my abdomen. He sets me down on the counter cutting the line completely, getting one of his close friends Heather’s attention in the process.

“Horseshit, you’re fucking light if anything and beautiful no matter what. You could turn green and I’d still do ya.” Heather and I audibly cringe at him.

“Regular for both of you?” she asks leaning over the counter

“Yeah, three corn dogs and a large coke with-”

“With mustard I know!” She goes to the single fryer, dropping them in.

“Have you tipped her today?” I ask him, pinching his waist.

“Ow, hey we both work here. I might as well give her some of my paycheck with the amount of food we trade.”

“Trade?” I raise my eyebrow in disbelief “Billy it is your responsibility as the straight white man to empower the women in your life. Be better.”

“Yeah ass-wipe, be a good civil servant and pay me.” Heather leans over handing me a paper cup of Coke with a straw.

“Stuff it dyke.” I gasp smacking him in the chest, “Ow!”

“Bite me lunkhead.” She fires back at him, they flip each other off like children.

“You two are terrible to each other.” I groan, sliding off the counter when she sets the bag down next to us.

“Hey Y/N, are you coming to the tailgate tonight with everyone?” She asks, tearing a twister with her teeth.

“Um, I don’t know yet. We’ll call you tonight if we can’t make it. Right Bills?” I look at him looking for a way out of it.

“No babe we gotta. We’re hosting the after party at our place with everyone. So I can keep an eye on Max.”

“Don’t go all psycho big brother on her, she’s in high school Billy.” They start to argue about what they were exposed to at young ages and with Max’s condition Billy argues she could be taken advantage of. I feel dizzy as they argue, leaning onto Billy’s shoulder for support.

“You can’t say shit because you are an only child, huh?” Billy pulls me closer by my waist, trying to have me side with him. “Doll, you okay?”

“Huh? Just got really sleepy, I think I should nap and pick up the apartment before we have a bunch of our friends and family over.” I kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah of course, you want me to walk you to the car?” Billy asks worriedly, pressing a kiss to my temple and hugging me tightly goodbye.

“No it’s okay, have a good shift guys. I’ll see you tonight!” I wave leaving the food and cola with Billy. I drive home quickly and pass out on the couch immediately blaming it on the Hawkins heatwave.

I woke up a couple hours later to dishes clanking together and whispered song lyrics. Stretching my aching muscles, I stand seeing a blanket thrown over my lap. Smiling, I walk into our kitchenette to see Billy with his Walkman on full blast, before he can see me. My stomach gurgles and I race to the bathroom, throwing up an empty stomach of Water and Cola. I sit on the floor for a moment dizzy, dry heaving a few times. Noticing I’d knocked over a box of tampons that were unopened. My heart drops as I try to piece together when I’d had my last period.

“Shit...” I scramble off the bathroom floor going into the bedroom with my purse with my planner and address book. By the book it could’ve been anywhere from 7 to 9 weeks ago. It’s not like Billy and I’s sex life isn’t consistent, and birth control wasn’t something I could feel good about. We agreed to use condoms and suffer any consequences if that happened. Last time this happened was in Highschool, Billy took me to the clinic and they gave me something called Danazol or something like that. Everything turned out okay then, but we were older now this really had consequences now if I was truly pregnant.

“Y/N? Where are you at doll?” Billy yells down the hallway, dragging his feet and hitting his hip on the hall table like always. I look at myself in my vanity mirror and quickly wipe my eyes clean. Running into the closet before he steps inside the room.

“Picking out my outfit for tonight!” I answer back, clearing my throat.

“Oh yeah?” Billy comes around the corner, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Does that mean my girl is gonna give me a little show?” He chuckles.

“Unless you wanna be late to the tailgate? Not again, hot stuff.” I turn out of his arms, looking in our shared dresser for pants.

“Ooo you should wear those black Levi’s your butt looks good in.” He thinks, always having the more trendy style out of the two of us.

“Okay what shirt? I don't want to get too hot.” I add taking the high waisted Levi’s out, with a tired huff.

“I’d say none because you’re already smoking-” Billy teases

“Billy please, you are the one who got me into this mess. Please help me.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for finding you the best thing in my life so violently attractive.” He pleads and pouts “Forgive me, and definitely that solid red crop you wear to the bars.”

“I wear that to show off my boobs and get us free drinks.”

“Exactly, you look great in it.” I scoff, grabbing the clothes and some fresh under clothes.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked him from the bathroom, happy he didn’t look too closely at my facial expressions. Billy has a way with prying things out of people, part of the endless Casanova charm.

“Hell yeah got and eight pack and Munson and that other tall dude are bringing the dobie. We are all set.” He goes on about the plans tonight as I get ready in the bathroom. Looking under the sink after I change my clothes I look for a spare test. Always having some cheap ones lying around for myself or friends. Hitting a particular box with my hand I take it out and go to pee. Setting it on the counter while adding a hint of makeup and volume to my hair.

“Almost ready, Bills.” I call out, waiting longer than three minutes. I close my eyes and flip over the test on the counter. Taking a deep steadying breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. My neck sweats as I slowly open my eyes, looking down. I gasp, loud enough it worries Billy.

“Babe?”

“Sorry accidentally stabbed my eye with the mascara wand!” I say the first thing that comes to mind, cringing as I hold my hand over my mouth.

“Okay we let's get going Indiana, we can’t keep my fans waiting.” He laughs, starting to open the bathroom door. I scramble throwing the test into the medicine cabinet and shutting the mirror.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Billy dips in for a kiss,

“You look beautiful.”

“I look like a sl-”

“No, do you like it?” He asks honestly, I nod my head. He’s matched with cut offs and a Def Leppard muscle tee. “Then you're perfect. Grab your purse doll. I’ll go start the car.”

I smile sighing in relief, wrapping the test in toilet paper and burying it in the trash. Locking the door behind us, Billy already has his new muscle car running. A 1985 Camaro IROC-Z in his signature blue color. The drive to the large run down lot where Star Court had burned down. Gives you shivers thinking about when I lost him for nearly a whole year. He has a hand on my thigh as he pulls up next to Steve’s burgundy BMW. Robin and Nancy immediately separate us, taking me away to get each of us a drink.

“Girls, Jesus hang on a second!” I laugh barely able to get my seat belt off before I’m dragged to Argyle’s Van.

“Hey there pretty ladies Johnny boy has the drinkies in the front seats.” He says as him and Jonathan’s head hang off the side of the out back doors. They are already toasted.

“Got any Coke?” I ask

“Which kind?” I hear a scruffy voice behind me, turning to see Eddie. I hug him tightly,

“Eddie!” I shriek, swallowing down tears in my eyes as Steve stands awkwardly next to him. I pull him into my next hug “Stevie! When did you morons get home?”

“Couple hours ago, Eddie just sold a few songs to a up and coming band in Texas?”

“Yeah, Pantera? Plus another to Warrant again, they should release their new album sometime this fall.” Eddie confirms a little smug,

“Wow good for you, babes.” I smack Eddie’s bare shoulder, feeling someone’s hands wrap around my waist and sniff my hair obnoxiously. “Billy...” I squirm feeling cold beverages in his hands.

“Hello gentlemen, see you’ve reunited with my lover.” His breath reeks of cheap beer already making my stomach turn upside-down.

“Sure have, wanna bum me a smoke like old times?” Eddie shakes Billy’s hand, Steve and Billy share a nod, still not fully healing their relationship quite yet.

“Go hang out with the guys, the girls and I are gonna mingle with some distant friends.” I encourage him, he gives me the ice cold coke he got for me before heading off with them.

“Okay Y/N,” Robin slurs a little, holding onto Nancy’s hand “now I wouldn’t say I’m an expert on breasts more a connoisseur.”

“Because you like judging people” Nancy laughs,

“Shush, baby. We’re all friends here but babes what are you doing differently? You look so hot, right now!” Robin holds her hands out like she’s trying to convince Nancy and I.

“Just a-” I freeze watching Nancy’s eyes narrow, like she does when she is trying to solve a puzzle. Damn Nancy Drew acting Wheeler.

“Just... What?” Robin asks a little loud, we both shush her.

“I’m late.”

“Late?” Robin looks at her girlfriend quizzically,

“How late?” Nancy’s eyes nearly burst out of her skull, Robin nods along with her eyes squinted.

“The positive kind.” You try to hint to both of them, Robin now bobbing along to the music as she drinks from her solo cup.

“Shit, does Billy know?”

“I took the test before we left, I don’t know what to do.”

“Does he want kids?”

“Yes, no? Shit maybe? We’re just in a really good place right now so I’m nervous.” I shrug, and Nancy hugs me. Robin turns around randomly and then runs towards Steve as he goes to get another beer.

“Everything will be okay, we’re here for you.” She takes my arm and we walk around mingling and chasing Robin away from the trunks with beer pong set up on them after she talks to Steve.

He walks back over to the guys, Billy is catching up with Heather when Steve whispers something into Eddie’s ear.

“Yeah right, I’m gonna school your ass when we get to my place.” Billy yells at Heather as she walks towards you and the other girls.

Steve clears his throat, Eddie looks at him oddly. Steve nods towards Billy, Eddie’s brows furrow as he sighs.

“Hey, Billy you're okay with Y/N dressing like that?” Eddie lowly wolf whistles, at the sight of her. Steve knocks on his head with his beer bottle.

“Um hello? I’m right here.” Steve rolls his eyes, Eddie knocks his shoulder, spilling his beer a little on his shirt. Billy laughs when Steve glares back, taking a long drag of his smoke and blowing it in the opposite direction of his friends.

“I picked out her outfit, I know how to fight. Y/N can wear whatever she wants.” Billy says, simply through his exhale.

“Okay man but... Stevie over here did win in ‘84. Just saying.” Eddie says critically, through his teeth, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Hey fuck off Scarface.” Billy scoffs as Steve interjects, wrapping an arm around his very not sober boyfriend's waist.

“Look Hargrove, Eds is just saying Y/N/N has filled out a bit this summer and is getting a little unwarranted attention.” Steve points the neck of his beer bottle to the ex-basketball team, all a bunch of high school rejects still living in their parents basement as they get fatter and older.

“Oh come on, they’re too scared of me to mess with my girl. I came back from the dead remember?” Billy wiggles his spare fingers while oooing and ahhing like a ghost. Eddie laughs at that, knocking their beers together while Steve’s headaches at the idiocracy.

The sun sets and a majority of the adults who have to work in the morning leave. While a majority of the high schoolers stay together drinking the now warm beer, most of our group also sticking close together about starting college or jobs in the fall. Billy and I reunited shortly after to head over to the apartment first, Lucas and Max sat in the back seat of the car as I drove, being the only sober one.

“I totally could’ve driven, I only had a few beers.”

“And smoked a joint with the guys.” I add turning down the music,

“What can't I bond with my little sister's boyfriend?”

“I had one puff, I doubt I’ll even feel anything.”

“One puff was enough, you already drank tonight Lucas.” Max says kindly,

“Pfft you girls worry too much, right Sinclair?” Billy holds out his fist for Lucas to bump it. He laughs a little too hard when Billy tries to yank him forward.

“Don’t gang up on the only two women that enjoy your company.” Max scoffs at her brother.

“Whatever, you're up for some ball tomorrow Sinclair?”

“He can’t-” She’s cut off my Lucas explaining their plans

“Sorry Billy, it’s Max and I’s anniversary. We’re staying in Indianapolis for the night.”

“Aw how cute, please take pictures.” You fawn over them, you know exactly what Lucas has been through. That pain of losing your first love, knowing at a young age it was your last. Taking this second chance for all it’s worth every moment no matter how insignificant it is to others, is precious.

“Better wear protection Sinclair, or I’ll have to kick your ass for knocking up my sister.”

“Billy!” Max punches him hard in the shoulder.

“What Billy means is we want you to be smart about your choices, but we can’t tell you what to do anymore-”

“Just want what’s best for you, you’re good kids. We don’t need more children running around right now, we’re all still kids.” Billy cuts you off,

“Um, Y/N are you on birth control?” Lucas asks politely, We’d agreed when Lucas and Max got serious their junior year they could ask me and Billy anything. I didn’t want them to feel odd for their feelings or idiots for the things that aren’t taught.

“I didn't enjoy it, I use a diaphragm sometimes which is like a cup that prevents the sperm from going up into the cervix. Yet we mainly use condoms because the latter makes us both uncomfortable.” I put simply, shrugging. I look in the back mirror. Lucas is leaning his head on Max’s shoulder as she plays with his shirt cuff.

“It feels like your jamming your penis into plastic Tupperware surrounded by warm-”

“EW! Ew stop Billy.” Max covers her ears and starts singing to the radio. I turn it up for her, we pull up to our assigned parking. Others start filling up the parking lot shortly after making a b-line straight to Billy and I’s apartment.

“No, we had to pull off to the side of the road because we were lost, and exhausted!” Billy exasperates,

“If Billy didn’t finally just pull over, I probably would've strangled him over the armrest.” I add to the story of Billy’s and I’s recent across-country road trip to California.

“So what happened after you figured out where you were?” Will asks

“Not exactly we-”

“We were in the backseat when a Sheriff drove by. We couldn’t even get our pants you all the way before he knocked on the window.” Billy laughs, Eddie and Argyle join him.

“I pulled down my dress while Billy collected himself enough to ask the man, old enough to be my grandfather for directions.” I rolled my eyes, leaning against Billy. He wrapped his arm around me as he finished the story.

“He handed me a handkerchief and slapped me on the back because her lipstick was smeared on my neck.” He pointed right under his jaw,

“Yeah I’m the slut and he was the stud.” I scoff,

“It’s okay baby. He probably keeled over jerking it to the image of you in that sundress when he got home that night.”

“Ew.” I cringe, “Want another babe?” I ask taking his empty beer can away.

“No, I'm good doll.”

“Hey did you hear Carol Perkins and Tommy H. are expecting?” Steve nods, sharing to Billy and I, I stiffen in Billy’s arms thankfully his too tipsy to notice.

“Yeah no shit, I never really gave a shit about them after graduation. They were the kind of people you know in school and then end it. Figures they are one of the firsts to get knocked up.” Billy continues to blabber about how he doesn’t think anyone should have kids until they’re married or at least financially stable among other things. In front of all our friends, who Buckley has told everyone closest to Billy and I.

My stomach turns as I make eye contact with Steve. Him and Billy did work things out, my friendship with Steve and Steve’s serious partnership with Billy’s closet friend Eddie made a huge difference.

“I’ll be back..” I walk down the hallway past my spare bedroom where Robin is passed out as Elle and Max read a Cosmo next to her. I go into the bathroom and sit on the toilet trying to collect myself. There’s a knock and a call of my name. “Almost done.” I call out,

“It’s just me doll, are you okay?” Billy talks quietly, I open the door and he swoops me into his arms, “What’s going on? You’ve been weird all night.”

“I’m sorry.” I mumble in his shoulder

“Don’t apologize, I know you haven’t been feeling good lately. Maybe we should make an appointment or something?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He kisses me once, then twice.

“Do you want kids?”

“Is that why your acting strange, because of the pressure of having babies outta high school?”

“You didn’t answer my question...” I whisper looking at the ground trying to will tears out of my eyes

“No, I don’t think I do. My Dad was a shitty father to say the least, he thought having me would save his marriage but the abuse he gave to my mom only got worse afterwards. That’s too much responsibility.” He answers so assured and honest it breaks my heart.

Maybe a dog, someday but fuck kids. We’d be great Aunt ‘n Uncle to Max’s kids and anyone else who decides to baby-make.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why do you ask?” Billy asks nervous

“I heard about Carol at the grocery store and wasn’t sure how’d you react.”

“Oh Y/N I don’t give a crap about them. Not when I have you guys.”

“Hey, I think I’m going to say goodnight to everyone and lay down early.”

“Yeah? I can end the party if you need.”

“No, no. I can sleep through anything.”

“Okay doll, whatever you need.”

I go back out into the living room and slowly say goodnight to everyone, Steve, my best friend next to Billy, hugs me a little longer and a little tighter.

“Good night, honey. We’re here for you.”

“Yeah, always Y/N.”

“Thanks guys, love you.” I blow Eddie and Steve a kiss, Eddie dramatically falls backwards and Steve catches it to place over his heart.

Everyone else bids me goodnight as well, I run into Nancy and she’s waking a very grumpy very sleepy Robin.

“You leaving?” I ask her, Robin is practically curled around Nancy’s small frame leaning on her for support.

“Yeah Robs doesn’t feel good obviously.” Nancy shakes her head, placing a kiss on her partner's cheek.

“I’m never drinking again...” Robin groans

“Get home safe girls, call the house when you get there?” I hug both of them,

“Mike is driving us home since he’s sober, we’ll be okay.” She assures me, small towns were definitely non-conforming but we’d heard of other violence acts committed on same-sex couples in the bigger cities. No one ever deserved that.

Call me, if you need anything. We’re here for you too.” Nancy adds, saying goodbye to everyone as her, Robin and Mike leave.

I go into my bedroom and close the door, putting on my pajamas and removing my makeup. My stomach turns but I go to sleep anyway, a couple hours later I feel the bed dip and a warm arm wrap around my waist. It disappears a few hours later as Billy gets ready for work. Like always, I slowly wake up before he leaves, giving him a goodbye kiss. When he’s out the door, I race to the bathroom and puke my guts out. It’s like that enough of the morning I call out of work. Laying sadly in bed most of the day, until just before Billy gets home around 6. I wash my face and take another test, once again it’s overwhelmingly showing positive. I took this one and the other I hid in the trash last night and put them in my pocket. I conjured a plan on how to tell him, Billy Hargrove. My Billy, he comes home as I’m finishing the only dinner that sounded and smelled appetizing.

“Hey Indiana! I’m home.”

“Hi California.” I call back from the kitchen, plating the chicken and pesto for two. Well three...

How was work?” He kisses me on the cheek, smelling of coconut sunscreen and chlorine.

“It was okay, I had lots of lessons today. The boss is having me take a course on training babies how to swim. Guess it’s in high demand, and extremely important. Almost 45% if not more babies from birth to age four.” He tells me wide eyed, helping me bring the plates to the table as I grab him and beer and the ginger ale I’d been nursing for a couple of hours.

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah but it means they’re moving me to nearly full-time since those lessons are more important than just the summer. I start working at the Hawkins Rec Center in a few weeks.” He says with a smile hidden by pesto

“Wait, you got a promotion?!”

“Yep, don’t have to go back to the shop this year. I can just teach lessons and couch at the high school.”

“Billy, that's amazing!” I reach out and take his hand,

“I can’t wait, but I’m a little nervous about teaching kiddos so young.”

“You're great with kids Billy.”

“I wasn’t-”

“You’ve changed, you and Max had a lot of unresolved issues. Things have gotten a lot better the past couple years. For christ’s sake she is here for dinner at least once a week if not more. Not even Susan can say she sees her daughter as much.”

“Thanks, how was your day?” He kisses the top of my hand all suave and romantic,

“Haven’t been feeling to good but I think I’ll get better in a couple months...”

“You go to the doctor?”

“No, I took a test yesterday and today.” I swallow the bile rising in my stomach

“If you didn’t go to the doctors-” I cut Billy off, running to the bathroom and clutching the toilet bowl. He follows, then helps by holding my hair and rubbing my back. “We should go to the ER, you didn’t even drink yesterday.”

“It’s okay-”

“No the hell it’s not Y/N! You’re throwing you guts up and you’ve-”

“Billy...” I hold out my hand for him to help me up, flushing the toilet before washing my hands. Tears fall down my cheeks,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell...”

“It’s not that.” I strain to find the two words, hiding my face in my hands.

“What’s going on?”

“Promise we can talk about this?” I turn to him dizzy, I take his hand in mine and go to sit down on our bed.

“We can talk about anything, Y/N.” He pushes my hair out of my face. I reach into my sweatshirt pocket and turn over the pregnancy tests. Tears continue to cascade down my cheeks as Billy freezes his expression is unreadable. He swallows hard taking the tests.

“I’m pregnant.” I tell him wetly, wiping away tears so I can see him better. He stands, throwing the tests down the hall with a clatter. Hard enough I jump at the sudden action. Hands running through his hair, irritation now bursting through the seams.

“What?” He scoffs

“I’m pregnant, Billy.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” He paces the foot of the bed, working himself up “How long? How long did you keep this shit from me?”

“I-I found out last night.” I explained standing close to him.

“Yeah? Is that why you’ve been all weird and shit around me? You were hiding this?”

“Nooo, no Billy. Please.” I try and reach for him,

“Don’t ‘No, Billy’ me. Is this why you don’t want to go on birth control? Just trying to trap me?” His voice gets elevated as the questions continue, he pushes off my hand like he’s been scolded with hot water.

“No, I love you.” I cry, holding onto myself

“Do you? You know I don’t want kids, Y/N!” He gets in my face words booming through the house and my ears and I gasp. “What the fuck?” He storms out the room, hearing him knock into the table in the hall with a groan before there’s a crash and bang. I run out, he’s thrown it across the hallway creating a dent in the drywall and breaking the legs of anything that was on top flung or stepped on.

“Please don’t push me away!” I raise my voice, trying to walk over the mess in my bare feet.

“Did you even think, to consider how I felt?”

“I am trying to understand but you're yelling and throwing things around. Are you blaming me for this?”

“You’ve got some nerve, it takes two Y/N. You won’t make me do shit, now move.” I find him in the living room collecting his wallet and keys.

“Billy, please-” I beg him standing in front of the door, he moves me aside with a strong hand.

“No, I’m leaving. I can’t do this, this is the one thing.” He spits at me, fire exploding behind his eyes.

“If you leave, I’ll never forgive you!” I call to him, my voice raw and overwhelmed with emotion.

My mind begging and pleading for him to shut the door and engulf me in his arms. Tell me everything will be okay, that he loves me and we’ll get through this.

“It’s too much.” He fums, the door slams shut behind him, shaking a picture off the wall.

I hobble over to it, defeated, it’s one from the California trip. Billy had given the camera he borrowed from Jonathan to an older surfer to take a photo of us at the beach in our wetsuits. My hair is tied back, smiling at the camera with a teeth filled grin. While Billy looks at me and smiles, eyes dopey with exhaustion but something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Joy. The glass from the frame has shattered and scratched it, splitting the two of us by our hands. I hold it close as I dial the only people I can trust,

“Yello, Munsington household or Harrinuson if you like that better.” Eddie answers the phone, with his infectious bravoto.

“Hi Eds.” I sob out in relief.

“Y/N, honey. What’s-” His voice deepens immediately in concern,

“I-I told him, he left. He left me.” I weep into the receiver, trying to collect my thoughts.

“Okay, hey do me a favor unlock the door and turn on the TV? Distract yourself while Steve and I get there.” Eddie tells me calmly, ‘What’s going on?’ I hear Steve interrupts.

“Okay. I’ll try, I’m so sick Eddie.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Eddie asks, ‘Is that Y/N/N?’ Steve interrogates still faint on the line.

“No, I’m just puking.”

“Is there blood or anything strange about it?”

“No...” I cry louder

“Hey-hey,” Eddie gets my attention again, “that’s good. Remember what I said, Steve and I are getting in the car right after I hang up.”

“Okay Eds.”

“We’ll be there soon, Sweet Girl.” Steve takes the phone from Eddie who barks ‘Steve where are my keys?!’

Hang tight, I’ll be right there. Everything's gonna be fine.” Steve assures both of us.

“Yeah...”

“We’re on our way.” Steve hangs up the phone, staring at his metal head boyfriend with a single shoe on untied and the other in his hands as he tears up the entire living room looking for his keys.

“Eds?” Steve stands by the landline hands on his hips.

“Hold on Steve, I gotta find my keys!” Eddie holds out his shoe pointing it at his boyfriend as he moves to the kitchen table.

“Eddie.” He scolds in a boisterous manner enough to make Eddie look at him

“What?!” Eddie yells, looking at his boyfriend to find him jiggling Eddie’s car keys in his hand,

“Get in the van-.” He motions him to the door,

“Why’d you let me tear up the apartment?”

“It was kinda funny, give me a reason to make you help me clean it when we get home.” Steve throws the keys to Eddie going to the passenger side.

“I haven’t even put my shoes on.”

“I doubt your shoes will have any impact on us kicking Billy’s ass.”

I hear a single knock at the door before a flurry of dark curls and onyx eyes enters the apartment, behind him a tanned honey colored pompadour with equally syrup eyes enters. I suck in a breath, watching them look around. Steve goes to where I’m crouched in the living room, cleaning up the glass from the picture frame. He immediately engulfs me in his arms, not saying a word as I squeeze him a little too tight.

“Hey, shhh. I’m here, Sweet Girl. I got you.” He holds me tight, his caress of my hair like an affirmation he’s molding to my skin with each rub.

“Shit Steve where is she, he tore up the hallway-” Eddie walks with untied shoes to Steve practically hoisting me in his lap as I cry, he holds one of the positive tests.

Hey, Y/N...” Eddie accidentally steps in the pile of glass swept together, he finishes the job with a broom and dustpan. My breathing steadies a bit more with them here, I’m not alone.

“I'm sorry, I don’t have anyone else to call.”

“Hey now, none of that. Don’t apologize, you’d do the same thing if Eddie knocked me up.” I chuckle at Steve pinching his bicep, feeling relieved by the minute.

“You’d make a great mom.” I breathe deep trying to make the joke back,

“So are you.” Steve kisses my temple, swaying us in the living room. His words sink deep as I hide my wet cheeks and snotty-nose into his shoulder.

“Um, I don't know if you want your pee stick but I found it in the entryway.” Eddie sits criss-crossed in front of us, setting the test down like an offering in front of me. Taking a minute to finally tie his shoes, as if he hasn't tripped a billion times since leaving the apartment.

“Gross Eddie, it’s just called a pregnancy test.” Steve chortles straightening out his leg to kick the other in the thigh.

“Ow! You’ve hurt me deeply Stevie, I twas trying to lighten the mood. Also that pasta is the freaking bomb.” He swats Steve’s foot away when he nudges him again. Noticing a change in mood again, instead of sadness it’s anger.

“It made me sick, that’s how the conversation started...” I mumble against Steve,

“Wait am I going to get sick from eating some?” Eddie asks alarmed

“No stupid she’s having morning sickness, keep up.” He squints at his boyfriend as if to say ‘read the room’.

“Are you PMS-ing babe? You’ve been awfully mean-” The metal head pouts,

“Shush this is about Y/N.” The King with no crown points his finger angry,

“No, I love it when you two bicker like you’ve been married for 50 years.”

“One day with this one is a whole year’s worth of irritation.” Steve sticks out his tongue playfully at Eddie shaking his head.

“I wonder what 5 minutes of pleasure with me is then.” Eddie blows a kiss and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ew stop being in love in front of my unborn child.” the silence is a pregnant as you are.

“So Robin wasn’t just drunk blabbering last night?” Steve rubs his warm hand along my back,

“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’, the silence overwhelms all of us until Eddie gets uncomfortable enough to speak.

“You don’t have to right this second but, you wanna tell us what’s going on?” He fumblingly asks with a concerned smile. I relay all of what happened tonight along with a few more tidbits.

“Billy hasn’t ever explicitly told me he didn’t want kids. So I wasn't expecting him to be excited and have everything figured out but he just left me.”

“Jesus Christ, you talk to anyone else?” Eddie wipes a hand over his forehead, I shake my head. Steve has been tense since I started talking about what Billy said.

“He say where he went?” Steve asks with deathly calm, I shake my head twirling the test in my hands.

“I know where he is, and I’m gonna kill ‘im.” Eddie stands up, taking out his car keys.

“No Eddie!” I whine,

“Munson, where the hell are you going?” Steve stands beside me,

“To talk some sense into this asshole, I love you I’ll be back-” He kisses Steve before running out of the complex.

“Don’t get arrested!” Steve yells out, turning back around to me. “How about you get cleaned up? I’ll clean up out here and we can watch a movie together on the couch like old times.” He offers, holding my arms and massaging my biceps to encourage laughter.

“What about the drywall? And the kitchen-”

“Y/N/N. I’ll call Wayne in the morning, I’m sure he’s got the tools from patching up the trailer. And I’ll clean the kitchen so you don’t get sick again because of the food aversion.”

“You’re stubborn...” I pout, moving over the broken pieces of wall and furniture in the hallway.

“Nah just enough to not take shit from you and Henderson.” He laughs, picking up the trashed things in the hall as I enter the bathroom.

Turning on the shower to warm up a few seconds allows the room to fill with steam. The first thing I see in the mirror is me, hazy and weak. Too weak to handle side effects a a little blue pill, to weak to stick up for myself and yell back, too weak to fix things. The mirror fills with steam as quickly as I fill with dread. I start undressing only able to see my body from a upper preview. For weeks I thought I was bloated, stressed out from my job and not working out. The normal protective pudge of my stomach has a small softball size curve that doesn’t move like the rest of me. It’s hard to suck in, and more prominent when I full relax. I don’t feel scared for myself, but scared of what I can offer. Alone, I’m barely able to remember to drink water but always remember to do the dishes before bed to make breakfast easier to have.

Lamenting through my own thoughts, I shake them away. There’s doctors to talk about this kind of thing, that’s what they’re there for. Support groups for mothers who don’t know what to do. The kids have taught me a lot but none of them except Erica were even under ten when we’d first met. When it’s your own child, it’s a whole different ball game. There will still be a team surrounding me even as the opponents team boo’s and hollers. Now it’s a waiting game to see if my pitcher is with me.

I like to think Billy is a good man, not by any means by himself. Repaired as many relationships as he could, hate who he was before. He thinks before acting but I’d seen that look before, anger is normally a response to a much deeper and complex feeling. Fear, frustration, sadness. He’s been taught his whole life that the answer is to push those other things away, make room for hate, bigotry and self preservation. While I grew up in a different way, in a different world. Built for me to fail, built for me to resent motherhood as the only outcome for my life. The only thing a woman is good at, but doesn’t receive the credit for only the blame and the hard work it takes. To be loved by the things you can create but not the person you are. Billy is just as scared as I am, but I will not be the one to fix this. I will not be alone.

Masterlist

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #dad!billy x mom!reader #billy hargrove x gf!reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #Fix it fanfiction

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porcelainseashore · 4 months

Text

Ghosts from the Past (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This chapter is a lot more dialogue-heavy to set up the scenes for the next ones. It was originally going to be angstier, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Oops. I hope you still like it though.

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Baptism

Outside the embassy, Leon hailed for a cab to get to the bar. The journey there was in complete awkward silence, except for the occasional question raised by the cab driver, who quizzed you on why you were headed to such an unsavory place. Somehow he could tell that Leon didn’t quite belong and cautioned about certain areas being unsafe for tourists. Leon just snorted in response, while you laughed inwardly at the irony of his cover story, where he was meant to be your American tourist friend embarking on a Eurotrip.

To be honest, it really wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Berlin was a smaller city and felt safer than New York. However, you still carried around that Swiss Army knife Leon had won and given to you back in the day wherever you went, just in case. You ran the tip of your finger along its metallic surface in your pocket. The world could be cruel to little girls after all.

As you exited from the cab, you were greeted by a lively, eclectic neighborhood, sprinkled with night markets, kebab and shisha shops, independent art spaces and late night bars. The buildings were noticeably more rundown than Mitte, the district you had traveled from, and the community a lot edgier. With both of you now dressed casually, you had no problem blending into the midnight crowd.

You swung open the doors of an unmarked establishment and found yourselves shrouded in thick wafts of cigarette smoke upon entering. Leon frowned, coughing as he swatted the air in front of him. Even though you were used to smoking being allowed pretty much everywhere in Germany, your eyes still watered as you pressed up against and squeezed past the mass of bodies in the dimly-lit, dingy bar. The smell on your clothes and hair would take days to get rid of later. It was noisy and chaotic, with nearly every inch of the space occupied by chatty, drunk customers, some more boisterous than the others. You were lucky to find a small, rickety table with two precarious-looking stools at the extreme corner of the room.

Setting your coat and day bag down on one of the stools to claim it, you folded your arms, turned to Leon and remarked, “So… an agent, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whiskey first. Then, we’ll talk.”

You rolled your eyes at his standoffish reply, wondering what his problem was. After all these years where he had led you to assume he was dead, and with the circumstances both of you had found each other in, this was the kind of attitude he took with you? A prickling feeling of agitation grew in your chest as you pushed past him, storming towards the bar in annoyance.

Upon approaching it, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you saw that you knew the bartender who was on shift tonight. He usually popped a little extra into your drinks whenever he sensed you had a shitty day. Tonight was no exception.

“Zwei doppelte Kurze Whiskey.” (Two double shots of whiskey.) You raised two fingers at him to spell out your order.

He grunted out an acknowledgement as he got to work, filling two empty glasses with the fiery amber liquor, one glass topped up significantly more than the other.

“Macht er dir Probleme?” (Is he giving you any trouble?) He asked, without looking up from pouring the shots. It seemed like he had noticed your little commotion with Leon from just before.

“Aktuell nicht,” (Not for now.) you answered guardedly.

At this point, Leon had caught up to you, watching as the bartender placed the glass with more whiskey on the counter top in front of you and the one with less before Leon.

Leon huffed at the slight and shook his head. “I’ll take the bottle too.”

The bartender eyed him suspiciously as he plonked the whiskey bottle on the counter loudly, like there was an unspoken competition going on between them.

“Here,” Leon mentioned coolly, sliding a couple of euro bills along the counter to pay for all the drinks. “Keep the change.”

You sighed at the childish display before you, giving the bartender an apologetic look as you took your glass without a word, and settled in at the small table you had informally reserved earlier. The people around you were far more interested in drinking than any conversation you were about to have. Occasionally a fight started, but those responsible were easily cleared out by the staff.

There should be no issues with privacy here, you thought, as you downed your first round of drinks simultaneously with Leon.

The sharp alcohol burned your throat, warming you from the inside. You noticed Leon wincing as he brought the glass to his cut lip, finishing its contents in one clean gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Did he get hurt in the field? You wondered, but chose not to question it, instead pouring yourself another shot as Leon did likewise.

Frustrated by the ongoing silence between the two of you and Leon’s seeming reluctance to speak, you decided to break the dead air, stating sarcastically, “Anything else you need before we get started? Room service? A hot bath, perhaps?”

He threw back another shot, twisting his lips into a wry smile. “Hm, don’t tempt me.”

“Leon, what happened? All these years… I thought you had died.” You were getting tired of this game and wanted an honest exchange for once.

“I did,” he replied softly.

“Huh?”

Averting his gaze quickly, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter.”

But you wanted answers. You needed to know what had been haunting him too. “It does to me.”

You reached out to him cautiously, but just as your fingers ghosted the back of his hand, he moved it away, his voice turning cold as ice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s been a long time-”

His reaction took you by surprise as you interjected defensively, “Yeah, I can count.”

A long time? If anyone should be able to comprehend that, you were more than qualified.

“I’m not the same guy you used to know back then,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“And I’m not the same girl you knew either,” you countered, in a mixture of anger and confusion. He was talking to you like he was blaming you for something. It wasn’t fair and you weren’t going to put up with it anymore. “Stop avoiding the question, Leon.”

“Still as stubborn as hell though,” he muttered.

Your blood boiled at his non-answer. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” You seethed, raising your voice. “I mourned you. The past 7 years. I heard nothing. Your parents heard nothing.” You emphasized each point, taking another shot afterwards to calm your nerves. Your face scrunched up in response to the harsh bite of the liquor. “And now this?”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the empty glass in his hands, before hesitantly responding, “I got out of Raccoon City. Then, the government asked me to work for them.”

You caught the drift of what he was implying when he stressed the word ‘asked’, like it wasn’t by choice. But you didn’t understand what hold they had on him.

“That’s all you need to know.” Placing his glass back down on the table, he took a swig from the bottle itself this time. The few sentences he gave you had taken a toll on him.

“Why? How did they-”

“The rest is classified,” he snapped through gritted teeth, as a form of warning not to push it any further.

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, realizing that you weren’t much closer to understanding him and what he had gone through.

“Why did you join Silje’s company?” Leon questioned out of the blue, his tone filled with resentment, so much so that you bit your lip in reflex as guilt seeped into your heart.

“After you… die-disappeared, I-I didn’t know what else to do.” You cast your eyes downwards, your voice choking up with emotion as the memories you had suppressed came flooding back, like a gaping wound in your side.

“I had to leave. Everything just-” you paused, clenching your fists so hard that you could see the imprints of your fingernails against your palms. “-reminded me of you.”

At this, his stony gaze faltered slightly and a look of despondence slowly spread across his face.

“You could have gone anywhere else, but you just had to choose her, didn’t you?” He uttered somewhat accusingly. “You really shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“A bit too late for that,” you argued. Did he think you couldn’t hold your own?

“You can still walk away,” he offered.

Shaking your head, you peered back at him defiantly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he retorted bitterly, his brows etched together in a frown. “Look at how that turned out.”

Your mouth ran dry, and it felt as if you had been given a tight slap across your cheek.

So this was what it was all about? He still faulted you for what happened in the past? The most troubling thing was that you had nothing to say to that. You truly held yourself accountable for whatever that had gone wrong.

“Is this why you want to get rid of me?” It came out as a bare whisper.

He shrugged impassively, unable to meet your eyes like he was hiding something. “It’s just better this way.”

Your mind was going round in circles as you were put on the spot. However, something inside you kept rebelling against what Leon had to say. You couldn’t abandon him again. Not like this, even though he claimed it was the better route to take. Didn’t he once tell you to trust him to make his own decisions? Then, he should offer you the same courtesy. You weren’t about to throw in the towel and give up now.

So instead of running away like he expected you to, you pushed back. “No.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I said no,” you repeated again resolutely. “We have a job to do. I’m helping you to infiltrate this base whether you like it or not.”

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he brooded quietly in the corner, but he continued to hear you out.

“Once that’s done, we can go back to our own separate lives if you want,” you stated. “Just like how it was.”

A fair compromise. Although deep down you hoped it wouldn’t mark the end of your interactions with Leon. Well, you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

After a while of considering your suggestion, he agreed warily, “Ok.”

His gaze was impenetrable while both of you drank in silence. At some point, you decided to call it a night, since you had an early start with him tomorrow to go over your next plan of action. It was drizzling when you came out of the bar, the water droplets falling on your face like a baptism of a new chapter. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it.

As Leon called for another cab to take him back to where he was staying, you left without a word, walking on your own to the nearest U-Bahn station. He watched you until you were just a tiny speck in his vision, lost amongst the sea of people and glowing street lights.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Leon were standing in front of the dining table of his service apartment, a mess of papers sprawled across every surface. He rested his curled fingers under his chin, eyeing the diagrams and notes scribbled on the sheets like a hawk, analyzing them for any obvious patterns.

He picked up a report that you had drafted recently. “So Silje told you all of this?”

You yawned and sipped at the instant coffee Leon had offered you when you had arrived. It was a couple of hours earlier than when you were normally up, as you’d have to head over to the theater to train after this meeting. You had pushed away whatever thoughts you had resulting from the conversation with Leon last night to the back of your mind, in favor of professionalism. Afterall, it wasn’t your first rodeo pretending things were fine, and neither was it Leon’s.

“Some of it, yes. Though in her own way of speaking in riddles,” you explained. “The rest I had overheard or tailed her without her knowing.”

“Are you sure you weren’t spotted?” It sounded like a mixture of concern and him questioning your abilities, the latter of which irritated you a little.

“If I was, would I still be standing here?” You stated brusquely.

“Fair enough.”

You pointed at the blueprint map again, tracing the outlines of your markings with your fingers as you explained, “From what I gathered, the site has two main sections beyond the theater space. The upper levels are easily accessible, but shaped like a labyrinth. I haven’t explored everything yet, but if my gut feeling is right, I would say that the entrance leading further down might be all the way over here.” You tapped at the red circle with a question mark drawn on the map.

“The lower levels are only accessible via keycard. Obviously Silje has one, but there must be others too,” you reasoned.

“That said, I’ve seen her bringing in the same man more than once. Business type, probably in his 60s, speaking German with a Swiss accent.” Then, you proceeded to describe his outward appearance in further detail.

“Silje always passed him off as being part of the company board. I doubt it though,” you shrugged.

Leon hummed in response, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward, as if he was trying to hold back a smile. It was the first sign of approval he showed you since you had reconnected.

As he thumbed through the rest of the papers, he cocked his head to the side, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly. “One thing I don’t get from this is why she’s confided in you.”

You nipped your lip, swallowing anxiously, as you were afraid of disclosing what you might have committed yourself to.

“She wanted to offer me a gift,” you whispered.

“A gift?” He tensed up noticeably at the word. “Did you accept?”

“Um… yes?” You replied uneasily, but tried to persuade him that nothing else had happened yet. “She only told me it would come soon.”

The drumming of his fingers on the table stopped abruptly, as he gripped the edge of it, clenching his jaw as he spoke, “Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“I-I thought it would help,” you stuttered, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his mood.

“What exactly has Bergmann told you about this case?” He hissed.

“That Silje was suspected of harboring some bioterrorists.”

You flinched as he cursed a second time loudly, before muttering a quick, “Excuse me for a minute.” With that, he darted out of the room into the hallway to make a call.

So here you were, left alone without answers again. The secrecy surrounding the entire mission and Leon’s erratic behavior was starting to grate on you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Past the hallway, out of sight and earshot, Leon had connected with Hunnigan on comms.

“Leon,” she greeted. “Any news?”

“Our old friend, the Plaga,” he stated. “Seems like our suspicions might be right.”

“You have the source to back that up?” She asked out of habit, even though she already knew the answer.

“I went through the documents. I’m not 100%, but it’s close.”

He detailed an abnormality that stood out during the investigations. “A few days ago, some people on site experienced temporary psychotic episodes where their veins turned black, but reverted back to normal after.”

“That’s aligning with whatever intel we’ve already picked up. It could be a new strain of the Plaga,” he concluded.

Hunnigan nodded. “We’ll require a sample for the labs when you’re in the base. Anything you need me to do?”

“Run some files on any surviving Los Iluminados members. Focus on trade routes with Germany,” he requested. “The informant mentioned Silje entertaining a particular ‘business partner’ on a regular basis.”

“On it.” She typed away furiously at a computer keyboard off-screen.

“Another thing,” Leon commented. “Why wasn’t the informant told about the real nature of this situation?”

“That was under Bergmann’s discretion.”

He scoffed derisively. “She’s putting her in danger. The informant has no idea what she’s risking here. Silje just offered her the ‘gift’ and you and I know what that means.”

“Leon, you know the rules,” Hunnigan sighed sympathetically. “We don’t really have much say in this jurisdiction.”

“What do you mean? She reports to HQ!”

“Yeah, and they’ve given her free reign,” she explained, without batting an eyelid.

“In-fucking-credible.” He rolled his eyes.

“You need to press on. The informant has the best chance of getting you in,” she reasoned, giving pause and contemplating her next choice of words before speaking. “I would suggest not getting too attached to her.”

“I’m not,” Leon deadpanned, despite the look on Hunnigan’s face, like she didn’t believe him.

“At the rate this is going, she may not be around long enough to do her job,” he clarified.

“You know we have a cure for that,” she rebutted. “The girl will be fine.”

He pursed his lips, changing the subject. “Hm, just send me the updates later.”

With that, he shut off his comms device and headed back into the living room, only to be accosted by your snide remark, “Let me guess, another convo that’s classified?”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Not quite.”

“Whatever Bergmann has been feeding you is bullshit,” he began. “We’ve been suspecting that the theater is being used as a front for developing a new batch of bioweapons they’re about to ship into the US.”

Your eyes widened at the newfound information. The whole time you had assumed that Silje was just providing a safehouse, not a full-on experimentation chamber. But with the recent events that had occurred, you should have considered it earlier.

“So the labs must be underground.” He thumped the pad of his index finger on the sketchings of the lower levels of the site on the map. “And they’re not just hiding people down there.”

Casting over a solemn glance, he revealed, “I’m telling you this, because you need to be careful.”

“And stop making deals you shouldn’t be making,” he warned.

You let the words sink in. “I see,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks, I… appreciate that.”

“The minute you feel something is off, or your veins start to darken, you contact me straight away and get the hell outta there. Understood?”

“Ok, I will,” you promised.

On the one hand, you were grateful that Leon had the courtesy to inform you about what you were getting into, but on the other, you were scared of what was to come. You had heard about the Terragrigia Panic and the B.O.W.s that devastated the floating city a year ago. The gruesome scenes were splashed across the news for weeks. Would the same happen here?

As if he could read your mind, Leon placed a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. “I won’t let them get you.”

“I trust you.” You said it as if it was clear as day.

His eyes bore into yours and his hand made its way towards your cheek, but stopped short in midair, a hair’s breadth away from touching your skin. Then, it fell to the side as he turned away, like he was ashamed of what had just transpired.

You cleared your throat in awkwardness, trying to recall the next point on the meeting agenda. Ah yes, Till.

Till was a fence you got to know from the parties you frequented. He was a friend of a friend of a… you got the idea. At first, you bought your drugs from his minions in the clubs, but then became a regular client of his the moment you started your informant career.

“As requested, I’ve arranged a meeting with Till.” You grabbed your day bag from the seat you had left it on. “He operates out of a nightclub that has a pretty strict door policy. So you’ll have to look the part.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

You sighed, unsure of how this would go down. “Um, your usual black get-up will do,” you mentioned tentatively. Unzipping your bag, which unveiled a sneak peek of its contents, you peered back at him. Here goes nothing. “So are you a more of a latex or leather kind of guy?”

What you would have given to permanently capture the look of shock on Leon’s face.

“Are you fucking serious?” He blurted out.

Perhaps you should make the decision for him then. Giving him a once over, you identified a common theme with his casual leather jacket and fingerless gloves.

“I’m guessing leather,” you discerned, rummaging through your bag for a studded harness and tossing it over to him.

He caught the chunky material in his hands, looking at it with apprehension whilst shaking his head.

Fishing out a translucent, black crop top, you displayed it in front of Leon as you walked over to him. “Maybe over this and a pair of leather boxers.”

He grimaced. “No.”

Well, he sure wasn’t making your job easy. “I’ll be doing most of the ass-kissing at the door,” you argued. “You just have to wear this and keep your mouth shut.”

Please go along with it, you prayed. There was only so much magic you could pull to get him in at the club door.

Examining the outfit you had picked out for him gingerly, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

At least he wasn’t protesting any further.

“I’ll meet you there at 4 in the morning on Sunday,” you reminded him. “You’d better have something substantial to trade with.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” he grumbled, to which you snickered in amusement before departing for the theater.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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wordsinhaled · 10 months

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oops i saw that video of ferdie watching ads and my brain was all “wake up new dreamling meetcute just dropped” and really ran away with me and became a ridiculous sappy improbable thing

AU where dream is the model in an ad and hob is traveling for an academic conference. he’s watching tv in his hotel room late at night and sees this ad with dream in it. it’s some silly and forgettable TV commercial but the man in it may possibly be the most gorgeous person hob’s ever seen in his life? anyway hob can’t sleep, partially because he’s nervous for his panel the next day, partially because he’s stuck on Gorgeous Guy From the Ad and feels incredibly silly for it. it was a two minute appearance. matthew really is right that hob needs to get out more if he’s crushing on people in random TV commercials now

so he goes down to the lobby bar to get his mind off of things. it’s late and the bar is deserted - the bartender is about to knock off for the night in maybe half an hour. hob orders a club soda and is reviewing his papers when someone slides onto the bar stool next to his. hob is about to be slightly irritated that someone is In His Bubble at this late hour, when he looks up and sees it’s The Guy. the guy!!!

it’s the fucking guy from the ad he just watched, and somehow he looks even more beautiful in person, and hob is like, oh, okay, the stress of academia has finally gotten to me and i’ve lost it because there is just no fucking way

it’s such a ludicrous coincidence that hob sets down his pen and just starts laughing. the way you laugh at things that aren’t actually amusing, because it’s the middle of the night, and everything’s just a little fuzzy around the edges?

“is something funny?” says mr. walking wet dream from the TV, in a voice like slow-melted chocolate, and also with the kind of curiosity in it that makes hob realize he’s being totally socially inappropriate

“no—no, i’m so sorry. it’s just—god, am i dreaming? because you’re here, but i swear i just saw you—upstairs. well. not like—i mean. in an ad on the TV?” (completely not helping himself in the smoothness department)

the breathtaking stranger’s lips quirk up in a sardonic smile. “ah, yes. that.”

“that?”

“unfortunately, you are not dreaming. i did indeed feature in an advertisement several years ago. as my sibling dearly loves to remind me on every possible occasion, lest i let myself forget for even a moment.”

and hob expects the man to leave in a huff, or something. he goes back to his papers, dream orders himself a gin & tonic, but they’re watching one another in each other’s periphery until finally dream says, “i must admit why i sat beside you this evening. i noticed you were reading marlowe…”

to hob’s great surprise this stranger soon doesn’t feel like someone he’s just met. hob talks about his teaching post and the conference and the paper he’s presenting and the panel he’s on tomorrow, and how (“shhh, you mustn’t tell anyone”) his co-panelist tomorrow is an absolute pill so he’s dreading it. he finds himself sharing more easily than he expected in a way that you only can in the kind of liminal space that is an empty swanky hotel bar at midnight. they’re angled toward one another on their barstools so that maybe their shoes knock together or their ankles brush occasionally in a way they both pretend is accidental, and hob does his level best to be calm and collected about it

he learns his stranger’s story over several gin & tonics. dream’s ‘real’ name is morpheus. he wants to be a published author, studied creative writing. his father is the head of a major media/entertainment/publishing conglomerate and dream used to work for the company. when dream said he wanted to pursue something totally different (essentially… be a starving artist) his father saw it as a betrayal, and trapped him into continuing to work for the family for years on the promise of getting him the connections to publish his first novel or help him get funding to stage his first play… provided he could “actually” finish the manuscript

in the meantime his father had dream doing bit parts in forgettable commercials and made for tv theatre productions, partially as humiliation for daring to want to leave. (i really want him to be in a hair commercial where he broods about in silky black robes…) eventually dream lawyered up and severed ties. his father retaliated by setting up a kidnapping attempt on his own son that someone else conveniently took the fall for, and so on…

anyway - to make a long and tragic story short, now morpheus goes by dream, moved cities, has started his life over mostly estranged from the family, and he’s actually working on his novel - but he’s in town for a friend’s funeral and is staying at the hotel too

at the end of this story hob goes, “bloody hell. i’m sorry, my friend,” and it’s a bit over-familiar, isn’t it, for someone you’ve just met at a bar, even if you’ve just shared half your secrets. so hob is all, oh god oh god ohgodohgod, i’ve scared him off now—

then dream is all, “your friend. is that all you’d like me to be, robert gadling?” and he’s Looking at hob like he’s caught hob out in a lie. and hob’s breath is just… gone… gone away somewhere… and he has to admit that he may still barely know this man but there’s nothing he wants more than to know him in every way possible

and maybe they both go up to hob’s hotel room, and when hob kisses dream for the first time, cradling dream’s face in his hands, it’s more tender and intimate than it has any right to be and hob is just. flabbergasted because fuck. he just met this man and it feels like he could be content just to kiss him for hours and hours and hours. ok? like this is some accidental soulmates energy. their first time is slow and thorough after falling asleep curled together on top of hob’s covers and waking up in the blue hours before dawn

ok basically just my favorite thing is dreamling finding one another in very unlikely circumstances and having a Connection asdjfjf

#the sandman #dreamling #long post #this absolutely got away from me but that’s ok

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plumsliva · 2 months

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Oop forgot to post this one Just a sketch I did to illustrate my writing :p If you want to read it then there you go:

Pitch darkness without any hint of the existence of anything living, gives way first to bright light, and then to the yellow space of Zone 0. There is only one word in his head: “Off”. The sound of flowing liquid plastic immediately fills the ears, deafening, confusing, irritating. The Batter exhales, feeling how the Puppeteer’s threads immediately permeate his body, wrapping around his bones, merging with the nervous system, flowing through his veins...

- To control my body, press the arrows on your keyboard, - The words themselves come out of his mouth, saving the Player from wasting time searching for the right buttons.

He feels a tugging sensation in his limbs, which indicates that his patron has taken the "hint". The baseball player circles the yellow metal and then stops, looking in what is presumably the direction the Puppeteer is looking at him from. Strange. But that doesn't bother him. To be honest, there's very little to alarm him. But what happened next was new to him.

"Can you hear me?"

A smooth and flowing whisper fills his head, crowding out all other thoughts. The Purifier even shuddered from the shivers that ran down his back. What is this? Is the Player talking to him? Just in case, he looked around, making sure that he was completely alone in the location, before answering.

- Yes, - The Batter answers briefly. The question does not require a long rant.

"May I ask a question?"

Once again, the human's voice causes his brain to stop and focus all its attention on the words that crawl through his mind. Don’t rush, don’t fly by, don’t skip. They crawl, slowly-slowly, like a snake warmed by the rays of the sun on a bright hot day.

- Yes, - The Batter’s lips spit out a monosyllabic answer again, but very soon they complement the lonely word with others, - But don’t forget about the mission.

#off game #off fanart #the batter #let's see if it works without art tags

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marchtooctober · 7 months

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It's been long since i last posted! Since we still have another two weeks before the next chapter, here's a one-shot to keep us company. Enjoy 😉

It had been raining the whole afternoon, something that was missed off by the weather forcast. The ever-ready Loid marched the road to the subway with his umbrella.

"I guess I have no choice..." He quietly mumbled as he decided to go by one of his shortcuts to cut off his time of travel.

With quick but careful steps, he walked through isolated alleyways. Nothing seems to be out of ordinary until he passed by the old closed-down shop.

"Yor?!"

"Loid?"

By rare instance, he ran into Yor who was taking shelter from the rain.

"You're taking shelter here?"

"Yes. I didn't bring an umbrella. I didn't know it will be raining this afternoon." Yor replied.

Loid thought that Yor would be home by now that's why it surprised him to see her. He wondered how she ended up there.

"My work at the hospital ended later than usual so I got off just now. How about you? How long have you been stranded? How did you ended up here?"

"Actually, I wanted to borrow some books from the library so I went there but it was already closed. And then it started to rain before I could make it to the station."

"Maybe we should get going. Anya is probably home by now. We have to go home quick and prepare dinner. Let's hurry so we can still catch the train." Loid said with a glance on his watch.

"But I don't have an umbrella."

"We can share mine."

Yor stared at Loid with widened eyes.

"Share? But..." Her voice trailed off.

She thought if by agreeing to it would mean intrusion of Loid's personal space. Is the umbrella even big enough to cover them in the first place?

Loid must have noticed her hesitation.

"Don't worry, it's big enough for us." He said in reassurance.

"W-Well then..."

And so the two of them stepped out of the shelter and carefully walked the drenched street. Loid held the umbrella while Yor held his briefcase. At first they were able walk just fine but Yor is slowly walking out of pace.

It finally dawned on her that their closeness under the umbrella is making her uneasy.

She knew that there's nothing wrong with sharing an umbrella together. But she wondered if it is a mandatory thing for couples to always share an umbrella, despite only doing this for the first time. They are a couple, though a fake one at that. Yor told herself that she ought to get used to having to share and doing things together. That this is also part of a married couple's normalcy.

While Yor thought of all these things, Loid tried to keep up with her walking pace. In doing so, he could not avoid brushing against her shoulder. He did not think too much of it but he thinks that he is still fine with this proximity. So far, he's been able to match up with Yor. But when they reached the end of block, Yor suddenly took a wrong footing on the cracked pavement and almost tripped. In a flash, Loid's hand grabbed Yor by the shoulder and pulled her close.

"Oops! That was close! Be careful on your steps."

"T-Thank you, Loid. And I-I'm sorry!"

The sudden gesture certainly saved Yor from being hurt and drenched but it did no good to her current state of mind. She was about to combust from anxiety and embarrassment. She could feel the pressure of Loid's hand despite her thick coat. Loid again noticed her reaction.

"Are you o-"

Loid was cut off by a low rumble. Then came a sudden gust that blew the rain against them. The rain poured stronger.

"Let's stop there for a while."

"Okay."

They hurried to the turn of the street where they stopped outside the nearby establishment. They were barely sheltered but it was better than walking in the strong downpour. Loid kept his umbrella open to add protection from the rain. Then he turned to Yor.

"How are you, Yor? Are you alright? You look feverish."

The man didn't know that Yor's feverish countenance had nothing to do with fever at all. The few minutes they spent close together under the umbrella felt longer and Yor was relieved to be freed from the queasy feeling she had to endure.

"No, no, it's nothing! I'm fine... How about you? You've been holding the umbrella for me. Aren't you drenched?" Yor tried diverting the question.

"I'm okay. I'm not that wet."

"It seems like we're stuck again... How about if I go home first? I can just run all the way-"

"No, Yor! You can't risk getting sick. It will be safer to wait for a little while." Loid protested and thought for a moment if Yor really meant to run all the way home.

"But no one is with Anya."

"Anya is with Bond. They are probably having fun together watching cartoons. Besides, she can be more independent than you might imagine." Loid reasoned, trying to convince himself too at the same time.

"I hope so."

After that, silence ensued and only the rain can be heard. The rain is giving no sign of faltering. Loid and Yor start to feel the dampness through their coats. The both of them are rather confident on their own that they won't get sick even if they dashed out in the rain. But so as to not worry the other, they opted to stay put.

Quickly, more and more people took shelter with them. And as the place became more crowded, Loid and Yor had to adjust closer until they're practically stuck together. Yor felt the agitation coming back again and Loid also realized his own uneasiness.

What felt like an hour was only a mere span of fifteen minutes. It's been only fifteen minutes since Loid and Yor walked through the rain under the same umbrella.

It was only a short time. But they both knew that it will take more than a strong downpour to wash the memory away.

#spy x family #sxf fanfic #yor forger #loid forger #sxf #loiyor #loiyor fanfic #twiyor #yeyeyey #i still hate rain and flood right now but I'll surely love a rainy day chapter focusing on loiyor 🤩😍

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thewritingginger · 1 year

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;) Alphabet - Ran Haitani pt. 2

Wow! It’s been a HOT minute since I’ve posted I’ve been in a rut lately but I’m trying to work myself out of it :)

In the mean time here's some spicy Ran HCs for your Tuesday

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Letters: C, E, G, O, U Warnings: 18+, GN! Reader, Talks of sex

Enjoy ~

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Ran’s cum is usually pretty thin & not a lot comes out

If he’s on a business trip/ too busy to get off w/ you or by himself he might produce more

He enjoys cumming inside his partner, if they want him to, but he really likes painting his partner with his seed

Spraying it onto their belly or onto their used hole feels more territorial to him than filling them up

Isn’t afraid to eat his cum out of you oop

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Ran has a fair amount to experience

Most of them are one night stands or short term flings

He does have long spells w/o action cuz work gets in the way and it can become more of a hassle than fun to get laid when he is trying to work—also not to mention boi would probably prefer taking a nap over the risk of having a meh lay with a one night stand

But all that said, he knows enough to get you off and listens well enough to become a pro at working your body

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

As we know Ran is a little chill boy

Of course he, if in a serious relationship/ is down bad, he will slow things down and make love to his partner

But if something happened like knocking heads or stumbling he just laughs it off and gets back to business

He never wants his partner to feel bad when you should both be feeling good

Also he can have a playful streak

Especially during foreplay/ the initiation of sex

If you’re ticklish, he might use that against you

He might say some cheesy/ silly shit

“So cute I could just eat you up, Baby,” he says as he is kissing and playfully biting down your torso and sides, or your inner thighs towards the space inbetween

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Loves lazy licking on his partner

He could honestly spend a while between your legs

If he catches you lying on the couch he might strip off your pants and get to work between your legs for the fun of it

He is part of the does it for HIS pleasure gang

Of course tho he does love seeing your lips wrapped around him

He’ll sink far into whatever seat he is in��the couch, his office chair, ect— with his hand gently caressing your hair as he watches you work yourself up and down his shaft with that lazy smile of his

He also praises you, both while giving or receiving 😉

“You taste so good, Baby”

“Stop? Is my tongue too much for your sensitive body? I’m sorry, Sweetheart but I have no intentions of stopping till you come on my tongue.”

“Just like that. Good Girl/Boy.”

“You are so good for me, knowing just what I like, huh.”

Honestly on nights he wants to get off but is too tired, he loves opting for oral/ using his hands

But he loves it as a “main course” any time, any day

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a teasing mother fucker

It’s not always in a hyper dominate way during sex

He finds it much more fun during foreplay—he’ll do it out in public if the mood strikes him

“Careful, Baby, keep looking at me like that you’ll let everyone you’re dripping in your panties for me.”

If he put a toy in you before y’all left the house he likes you turn it on when you least expect it

Once when you were out to dinner with him and the guys he had you squirming in your chair, trying hard to hide it. He just put his hand on your thigh and leaned into your ear,

“You all right, Sweetheart? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Then he just laughed when you gave him a glare

Hope you liked that!

If you want to see more, let me know

Feedback & Interaction is always appreciated :)

💛 ~

~ Masterlist ~

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #ran smut #tokyo revengers ran #tokyorev ran #tokyorev ran haitani #tokyorev ran haitani x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran headcanons #x gn!reader #*nsfw #*nsfw alphabet

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cheesybadgers · 2 months

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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.

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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

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