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Steve tilted his head back against the headrest, inhaled the rich mountain air on the next breeze and swore he could taste it on his tongue. It was getting late, the sun sinking behind the hills, though its rays had long since been extinguished by thick, billowing clouds rolling across the sky.
The dashboard of the truck was warm against Steve’s socked feet, Javier’s gruff command of no shoes on the dash followed only because he didn’t have the energy to argue. His legs ached absently from long hours stretched like that and a knot was forming in the small of his back. Despite that, one of those rare winds that made you feel alive had persisted for most of the day, gusting through the open windows of the cab and saving them from the worst of the dry heat.
Craning his neck from side to side, Steve cast a glance at Javier whose hand was slung outside the window while a cigarette burned low between his fingers. His partner’s next exhale sent a puff of smoke into the air, some of the whisps stolen back on his next inhale, causing Steve’s lips tingle with the urge to kiss him just for the feeling of the nicotine filling his lungs.
The truck was perched on the edge of a cliff, on a steep road that weaved up the side of a mountain. It was a treacherous spot and all it would take is one speeding vehicle to turn just a little wide and they’d go tumbling over. The thought shouldn’t cause the same thrill he gets from a chase, but Steve had long since stopped trying to understand his instincts.
They were supposed to be trying to take a breather – get away from it all. Steve isn’t exactly sure how this constitutes taking a step back, not with the way his mind is wondering how many sicarios are hiding in the city below them or with the bloody memories that flit across his eyes every time he blinks.
He isn’t going to complain, not with the way Javier seems so content to be there.
Steve eyes the darkening sky, can spot the way the horizon has grown a little hazy and it’s obvious one hell of a storm is brewing, the rain falling in thick sheets somewhere in the distance. Licking absently at his lips and taking a swig of the warm beer sitting loosely in his grasp, he curls his nose at the stale taste.
Javier, when he looks over at him, has his eyes fixed on that same spot. Christ, Steve hasn’t ever seen him so intent in his life and he almost feels bad when he murmurs, “weather is comin’ in Javi. Should probably head home.”
His partner startles, brows furrowing when he meets his eyes, “I was hoping we could stay,” his voice his gruff with disuse, a comfortable silence hanging between them for the past few hours. “Watch the storm play out.”
Steve stares at him for a long moment, can’t quite bring himself to get excited at the prospect of another couple hours when his stomach is beginning to grumble at him, and his muscles have started tensing up from hours in the same position. He was tired and they only had this one day off before a slew of stakeouts – he wanted to curl up in bed and he wanted his partner’s arms wrapped around him, even if he could be an ass that stole the blankets more often then he shared.
He was going to suggest they head back anyway when Javier’s words stopped him dead, his gaze back on the slowly building show before them, “my dad and I,” he murmured. “Whenever the clouds would start to gather, we’d both be watching the skies all day long. It’d make us to our chores faster obviously, but we were always waiting for a storm to build, hoping for one.”
Javi rarely offered up pieces of his life from before – before Colombia, before Escobar. Some days, it felt like he’d always been here, haunting the halls of the embassy and slowly infusing himself into this country’s people, an immovable figure that might never leave. Steve figured out quickly that asking him directly only got one-word answers and the occasional side eye like he wasn’t quite sure how much of himself to give.
Steve wanted to say everything – give me everything and I’ll do the same for you. He knew better of course, knew to cherish these moments when Javi’s tongue was loosened by old nostalgia and he found himself not tired in the least anymore, “yeah?”
His partner’s lips twitched, and he absently flicked his cigarette away, “yeah, we wouldn’t say anything. My old man would sit himself down on the back porch and I’d get us a couple of beers to last us the next little while and we’d…wait.” Javier’s eyes had grown distant, watching the memories in his head. “It’s like…when the rain starts and the thunder begins to rumble, everything goes still, just for a little while. Christ, I can still remember the storms that would make my bones rattle from how loud they were, the way the lightening strikes would reflect in the little pond at the edge of the property.”
Steve stared at the man next to him, the smooth timber of his voice as he spoke lowly about those moments like they were a secret, practically lulling him into a sense of comfort. Despite himself, a lump formed in his throat as he watched the way Javier’s other hand clenched into a fist around the steering wheel.
“I miss it,” he whispered finally, and Steve didn’t have to think too hard to know he wasn’t just talking about the storms.
No, Javier’s voice was filled with such longing, that it made his heart ache for him, made him want to pull him into a hug and remind him that one day – this would all be over. He’d be back on that ranch with his dad and Steve hoped he would be right there beside him.
Reaching over the center console, Steve placed a gentle hand on Javier’s thigh, “Alright, we can stay a while longer.”
They both pretended the tear slipping its way down Javier’s cheek wasn’t there.