Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader -> You meet Peña at a coffee shop but after time passes, he finds out your secret.
Disclaimer: fluff, angst, mentions of guns, mentions of death, illusions to smut, swearing
You had met Javi one late night in the coffee shop. You were getting the place cleaned up for the morning. Isabella, a regular customer, was sat in the corner with her nose burried deep in her research. The old man who'd you come to know as Pops - a name he told everyone to call him by - was finishing his book closer to the counter. It had been a promise he made to his wife. To read a little, at least, while she was gone. That way they'd have something else to talk about when they met again. Jośe, the young boy who'd run through the door every couple of hours in need of a coffee for his mama and a small cookie for himself, had just left, rushing out of the door going ten miles an hour.
"Good book, pops?" You asked and he looked up and smiled.
"Excellent."
"Good." You smiled.
Just as you placed the empty cups from different tables by the counter, the bell above the door rang out. "You open?"
You looked over your shoulder. "Yeah. For a couple minutes."
"Great."
He rushed over, you moving the dirty cups from the counter.
"What can I get for you?" You asked in English.
"Coffee. Decaf."
"Coming up."
Then it hit him. "How'd you know I was American?"
"What?" You looked to him as you changed the filter. "Oh, uh, just a guess."
He nodded and looked around, suddenly being met with Pops.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sweet."
You smiled and waved to Pops. "Have a good night."
"Night."
"Nice Spanish."
You smiled. "Thanks. I've lived here long enough, I should know."
"I'm Javier, by the way."
You smiled back and gave him your name which he repeated. It sounded nice.
"So, how long have you lived in Columbia?"
"A couple years. Yourself?"
"Same."
The conversation ended soon enough when his coffee was paid for - he had something important to get back to.
But the next night, you were closing up again and he came in. In fact, for the following weeks, he came in around the same time every night; just before closing.
He started conversations with Pops who would tell Javier the meaning behind all his books. He actually started taking a couple of night classes at the local college. His wife always told him he needed to socialise more.
She was a people person.
And Javier would sit there and listen. Pops, clearly, was a man who demanded respect with a single look. Something, over the weeks, you realised Peña had, too.
During the week, you had heard rumours about Javier. About his job.
But it was never something you asked him about. You knew more than to ask an American in Columbia if he was working for the government.
