A/N: Hiya! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my very self-indulgent Javier fic. I'm still wrapping my head around his characterization, but I hope you will love him as much as me.
Summary: Steve gets injured in the field. You end up as his 6-week-replacement.
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47206690/chapters/118942645
Chapter 1: Week One
“Six weeks? Fuck, Murphy,” Javier sounded exhausted already. He leaned against the desk as if needing some kind of support to process what he had just been told. The phone rested between his shoulder and ear as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“What do you want me to say?” Steve said from the other end of the line, “That I’m a victim of poor construction work? Connie’s already on my ass for getting up from the couch. She won’t let me go to work which, to be fair, is pretty reasonable since I can’t walk.”
Despite how frustrated Javier was, Steve was right. They had been so close to a win that both of them could practically taste the satisfaction of catching some bastard with a connection to the kidnappings that they were currently investigating, when Steve had taken one wrong step on a roof in the barrio. It had collapsed under him, and he had landed on the floor of some poor stranger’s living room. It had resulted in compensation for said stranger and a severely sprained ankle.
“This will set us back weeks. Messina’s already calling me into her office for a meeting later,” Javier sighed and let the hand run over his hair instead.
“Just talk to her, I’ll still be working from home.”
“You know it won’t do shit to sit on your ass with a pile of outdated files,” there was a pause, “I swear, if she sends me a replacement with no clue what he is doing, I’ll drag you into the office in a wheelchair if I have to.”
“You’re funny. Just— I’m not important. The case is,” Javier could hear Steve shuffle around, then he continued, “I have to go. Talk to the boss and try to be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
*
The meeting started five minutes ago, and Javier Peña was nowhere to be seen. You eyed the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick along as the silence between you and Claudia Messina dragged on. It felt awkward by now.
“I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute,” she said to you when it became too much to listen to nothing else but each other’s breaths. You weren’t sure if you believed her.
“I don’t have to be anywhere else right now. He can take all the time he needs,” you said through a polite but very fake smile. You were being transferred from your own unit to the DEA against your will. Messina had specifically asked for you due to your (successful) work on similar abduction cases, but you suspected that it was also due to a need for not being the only woman in the room anymore.
The fact that she was forcing you to be working with Javier Peña, woman to woman, didn’t seem to bother her. Javier fucking Peña, who was known for being a selfish, overly aggressive and ambitious man who treated women like notches on his bedpost. Despite his charming character and handsome looks, you were certain that this would be six weeks in hell, trapped with an arrogant man with a shitty attitude towards you and all you wanted was an equal.
You would have to put up a brave face as well as a fight for being taken seriously. It wouldn’t have been the first time in your career that you had to prove your worth to a mediocre male agent. The problem was just that Peña wasn’t exactly the definition of mediocrity; he was ruthless and, for the most part, got the result he needed. Word got around.
Seven minutes past, agent Peña walked into the office looking like he was too important to be here. He most likely felt that way too with the way he didn’t apologize for being late.
“Agent Peña,” Messina said, tone anything but kind, “Thank you for taking the time to join us.”
She then introduced you to him, and Javier looked bored with the conversation. You crossed your arms over your chest, refraining from rolling your eyes. He did give you a glance as she said your name but that was it.
“Look,” Javier said the first chance he got. You prepared yourself for what he was about to monologue about, “Murphy and I got this under control. I don’t need or want a new person on the team and in on the case, it’ll just slow everything down with how much I have to work just to brief them— her.”
“I’m from the Kidnappings and Missing Persons unit, jackass,” you made yourself a little taller. Javier scoffed.
Messina raised her voice, standing up from behind her desk, “I don’t care if you both end up killing each other as long as you finish this job first. Agent Peña, this isn’t a pick and choose situation. The parliament is in deep distress, and it needs you two to fix it. Lives are at stake, children.”
Ouch. She was right. Javier mirrored your stance as he was scolded but unlike you, he looked at the ground as it happened.
“I’ll brief her right now,” he eventually said, leaving the room in an instant and you guessed that you were supposed to follow.
As the two of you walked down the hallway, none of you said a word to each other. You walked a few steps behind him, noticing how you could tell that he was fuming just from looking at the back of his head. He took long footsteps back to his desk, like when one would skip steps on a staircase, and his hand flexed by his side.
“Listen,” your name sounded cruel coming from his mouth. He stopped at his desk, resting a hand possessively on top of a pile of papers, “I don’t like this as much as you do but if we’re going to have any chance of winning this, we have to work together and you have to swallow your pride. I’ll brief you once, show you how I work around here and then we’ll get to work. Whatever I say goes.”
“Easy there, tiger,” you rolled your eyes. Did he seriously just tell you to swallow your pride? Your words came with an unfriendly smile, “I don’t think anyone would question your authority with how much you just pissed all over your work station.”
“Coffee,” he interrupted.
“What?” You replied.
“I need coffee for this.”
The break room was a sad excuse for one. It wasn’t much different than the one you usually spent time in though, rocking the aesthetic of something that was paid for by the state. The same yellowish wood cabinets of the mini kitchen, cheap chairs around a cheap table and not a plant in sight. The only wall decorations were a clock and a sign that told you to clean up after yourself.
Javier strode past the vending machine by the door, which you longingly stared at as you passed it too. You wouldn’t mind something sweet right now when there was so much venom in the air.
Javier started up the coffee machine. He reached for the cabinet doors to search for a mug, skipping several that were staring him in the face. You assumed that he had a favorite.
When he finally did find the right mug, you noticed him only grabbing one for himself. This sort of powerplay seemed childish, but you weren’t going to point it out and ruin your day even more. Instead, you just got a mug out for yourself.
“Did Messina say anything at all?” Javier finally broke the silence as the coffee maker made a gurgling noise in the background.
“Not much,” you told him, leaning your hip against the counter, “But I watch the news. I know you’ve been gathering resources from my unit too. Maybe this’ll work out in the end.”
Javier let out a humorless laugh but for the first time, he was actually looking at you. You tried not to shrink yourself under his brown, scrutinizing eyes.
“I know this isn’t ideal, Peña,” you continued with a little sigh, “But I promise you that I’m good at what I do, so tell me what you got. I’m professional. I’m hardworking like you, I assume.”
Javier’s eyes gave you a once over, the agent sucking his teeth. He looked like he was contemplating what would happen if he said no.
“It has been going on for a while. Way before it hit the news,” Javier finally let out. He turned to the coffee machine which had made a fresh pot, filling the room with the distinct smell that soothed any office worker’s mind. He poured himself a cup, hesitating for a moment before turning to you and filling your mug as well.
“Thanks,” you said genuinely.
He clicked the pot into its place, “It started small enough for the media to be indifferent, but the president’s spin doctor? Fuck, they won’t let that go that easily, they’re all doing spin themselves. Guess it becomes interesting when it hits too close to home.”
“I heard that he was taken out in the open,” you took a sip of the scalding coffee.
“Poor bastard was on his way home to his wife, dragged into a car and shot out in the outskirts of town, but with everything going on? Stripping the president of his way to good PR isn’t stupid.”
“So this isn’t actually abduction?” You raised a brow. Why were you here exactly?
“Steve and I are thinking things are getting worse,” Javier started walking back to his work desk. You followed him silently, “Those other people weren’t even considered as DEA-cases before this last one.”
“So they're moving up through the hierarchy,” you placed the mug on what you assumed was agent Murphy’s desk. There was a framed picture of two blonde-haired individuals on the desk, a man and a woman who were both smiling. The man looked too American to not be called Steve Murphy.
“Yeah…” Javier was underestimating you, because he trailed off for a moment when he realized you were catching on perfectly, “Yeah, exactly that. Fuck knows who is next.”
“But why DEA? This doesn’t sound like anything drug-related. Surely, Escobar isn’t repeating himself,” you slumped down into Murphy’s chair.
“That’s what we thought,” he replied after a sip of coffee, “We’re assuming that someone is keeping up operations outside La Catedral. Escobar will need reassurance that the extradition bill ban stays.”
“Have you looked into this?” You wished that you’d had some sugar for your own coffee as you drank it. A part of you didn’t want to ask for it, because Peña didn’t need a reason to bully you about not being a real adult.
“Here’s the kicker,” Javier looked proud of himself. He gave you a little smirk, drawing out the anticipation, “The abductions and killings are all of people related to the politicians who are against the ban of extradition. I bet they’re going to ensure that the ban stays a ban.”
You grimaced.
“He’s an evil motherfucker,” he added, “It won’t be pretty, cariño, the next coming weeks.”
“I work with cases of missing persons, cariño,” you bit back at the condescending name, “Trust me. I do ugly for a living.”
Javier held up his hands in surrender.
“So what’s our plan moving forward?” You asked instead of commenting.
The DEA agent walked to a long filing cabinet which was placed against the wall and had seen better days. Organization was a foreign concept to these two men, you figured, because stacks of papers were scattered on top and notes with scribbles of hurried handwriting were sticking out from its drawers. You made a mental note to attempt to create some kind of system, most likely when Peña wasn't around.
He returned to your desk with a tower of beige folders, some stamped with classified information. The stack landed on the table with a thump, almost knocking over your coffee if you hadn't been quick to rescue it.
“Start reading,” he ordered, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, “I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?” You called out, already undoing the rubberband on the front of the first folder.
“Out.”
*
A few days of this dynamic passed. You read as many files through as your brain could handle, occasionally writing something down on a notepad, whilst listening to the sound of Javier tapping away on his typewriter.
None of you said much to each other. You had short conversations about who was getting coffee, and you volunteered more than a few times to get a break from having your eyes glued to paper.
In the middle of your pushed-together desks, an ashtray slowly filled with half-smoked cigarettes and the hours dragged on with nothing ever really happening. It felt a little ridiculous to think that Javier had been angry that you had no time to catch up on him and Steve’s work, when you had had nothing but time these last few days. Despite this, you knew it was only a matter of when before something new would happen.
You blamed it on the boredom, but you would also sometimes find yourself looking at agent Peña over the top of your reading material. He had a crease in his forehead whenever he concentrated, which made him look slightly older than what your initial guess of his age had been.
“Eyes on the file, cariño,” he had said at one time with a smug look upon his face, and you had muttered something about having wanted to ask him if he’d like a refill of his mug. Then you had left the room with red cheeks, and completely forgotten to scold him about the nickname.
Now, it was Thursday afternoon. The two of you were in your usual spots, time going by as slowly as ever. You were alone in the bullpen, but there was the faint sound of people buzzing about in the building.
You threw the latest folder onto your desk with an exasperated sigh, then leaned back into the office chair and scratched along your scalp. It made Javier look up with an unreadable expression.
“What?” You asked simply, flattening your hair again.
“You done?” He nodded towards your pile of papers.
“You know, I’m beginning to think that you just wanted to keep me busy, so we didn’t have to talk.”
Javier made a sound at that. You smirked back at him.
“Not the case,” he eventually replied.
“Right, but word goes that it could’ve been the case,” you rested your hands in your lap, watching him not react at all to the revelation that people spoke about him behind his back. He knew.
“There’s words?” He didn’t even try to sound surprised.
“Plenty,” you weren’t going to tell him that you were specifically referring to him being an asshole serial romancer.
“I thought you said that you were professional, meaning you wouldn’t believe gossip about your colleagues,” there was something teasing about his tone.
“Oh, fuck off,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “How am I supposed to know what to believe when you don’t want to speak to me?”
Javier removed his hands from the keys on the typewriter, “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, not sure what he was playing at. Then you sat up a little straighter, “Where are you from? It’s not Colombia.”
“Laredo, Texas. Next question.”
“Age?”
“Old enough,” he went on before you could continue your rapid fire questions, “Unmarried, no kids, and I like long walks on the beach.”
“You’re funny,” you said.
“You sound like Murphy,” he noted but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. You weren’t even sure if Javier actually liked his partner but you hoped he did; if agent Peña compared you to him, there was no reason why he couldn’t like you too. It would make everything easier.
“Easier on the eyes though,” he added when you hadn’t replied as quickly as before.
“No mustache either,” you said with a slight grin, not about to show that you were taking his flirty attitude seriously.
That made him laugh. It felt like such a victory, a step closer to acceptance. You laughed too.
When the giggles died down again, a comfortable silence came over the both of you. You busied yourself with stacking the files that you had finished reading and Javier lit a cigarette as you both went back to work.
*
That conversation had seemed to loosen up some of the tension between the two of you, and by Friday afternoon, you had continuous conversations that lasted more than three words. Your chest felt a little lighter than just days earlier, and whilst you had been so certain of Javier Peña’s nature before, you were starting to doubt if the rumors were true.
You found out that Javier did indeed like agent Murphy, because he frequently mentioned him in passing comments about previous missions. It seemed like he often visited Murphy and his wife Connie to eat dinner with them at their home (mostly on Connie’s demand but it might have had to do with him eating nothing but takeout).
Additionally, you found that despite Javier’s efforts to stay hard-working and productive during these long days of waiting for something new to happen, even he experienced a certain amount of cabin fever. The cigarettes were piling up.
Personally, you had finished Javier’s assignment of catching up on what he had called light reading. This meant that you had moved on to the neglected filing cabinet instead, working with your back towards Peña as you sorted through notes and documents without having the authority to look at any of them. It made it that much harder, so you simply settled on arranging everything into alphabetical order.
When you had reached H in the alphabet, you felt Javier’s eyes in the back of your head. You decided not to say anything, quietly swapping out the old tag on the front of the drawer with your new one, until a crumpled up piece of paper hit your shoulder.
You turned around, “Seriously?”
“I’m going fucking crazy here,” he told you.
You bent down to pick up the ball of paper then threw it back at him, but unlike you, he had every chance of catching it in his hands and he did.
“You know, you could help me,” you noted but it only earned you the paper ball thrown back at you. You didn’t catch it.
“You’re terrible,” he snorted as the paper hit the floor in front of you.
“I’m not terrible, I’m just not ten years old,” you once again got it from the floor, weighing it in your hand for a moment before tossing it towards him in an overhand throw. He caught it again.
“I bet I can throw and aim better than you,” he was challenging you, clearly not accepting your reluctance to throw things around the office building. Unfortunately, you could never say no to proving an overly confident man wrong.
“No way,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “Pick a target.”
Javier reached for the wastebasket next to his desk, dragging it to the middle of the room. It wasn’t too far from where the two of you were sitting, but still far enough to be a challenge.
“Ladies first,” he said after tearing off a piece of paper from his own notepad. He crumpled it in his hand, handing you the newly made paper ball after.
“Don’t go easy on me,” you said before tossing the ball effortlessly into the wastebasket.
Javier whistled, then nodded towards the basket, “Damn. Well, that needs to be moved further away.”
It seemed that the DEA agent wasn’t just competitive in his field but also when it came to office games because soon you were writing down scores. You would never admit that it was a relief to do something drastically different, especially not when you earned a nudge to your shoulder from him as a way of showing respect, but seeing him not be so serious was fun.
“Alright last one,” you said as you balanced on one leg on a wooden chair that you had gotten from the break room. There was a desk between you and the wastebasket, the both of you having had to add to the challenge with each throw since you were desperate to outshine each other.
“Go on then,” Javier was standing on his own chair to get a better view.
“A pro cannot be rushed,” you teased and you didn’t have to look at Javier’s face, but only listen to the sound he made to know that he was rolling his eyes. You raised your arm over your head to take aim, lifted your chin slightly.
Behind you, someone cleared their throat. You froze.
“Agents, I see you’re getting along after all,” it was Messina. Javier was already off his chair, and you followed suit a few seconds after. Messina didn’t look very impressed, “There’s been another incident, but don’t let me stop you from your important work here.”
“Sorry, it won’t happen again, Ms.,” you blurted out, earning a glare from agent Peña. He was probably not one to admit to his mistakes.
“Come on, both of you, we’re going to the conference room,” she turned on her heel.
“Suck-up,” you heard Javier say as he passed you on the way down the hall. You decided it was his way of telling you to stand up for yourself more.
