Another day, another night // Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Another day, another night Part 1

19 days. That's what he'd agree on.
19 days of playing the babysitter for the daughter of some high politician while they take care of her parents on their trips from meeting to meeting during a civil war.
19 days he had to endure your presence in the way to luxurious safe house they organized just to keep your standards met.
19 days until he would have returned the favor towards the task force that was once required.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"
"Fuck..." you press your breath through your teeth as you stop in your tracks. His voice cuts through the night like a knife the way it always does when you're trying to sneak away, sending shivers down your spine.

And just like each time before you decide not to back down this time.

Barefooted, your shoes dangling from your fingertips, you stand next to the hood of his car, frustration slowly boiling up inside of you. It's the fifth time this week he denies your attempt to sneak out of the safe house to attend one of the parties in the nearby town.

And it's only fucking Wednesday.

"Hey! ¡Te hice una pregunta! (I asked you a question!) Answer me!"
Determined long strides quickly bring him closer to you as he raises his voice even more. His brows furrow deeply, accentuating the intensity that blazes in his eyes, burning like smoldering embers.

The audacity to treat you like a child. Again.

"I don't owe you an answer. I'm old enough to do whatever I want to!"

Don't back down this time. Walk. Leave. Provoke.

"And that's where you're wrong, niñita." (little girl) Standing right behind you he drops his voice. You don't expect him to be this close. Too close. He reaches out for your wrist and expertly spins you around, forcing your back to meet the door of the drivers seat with a soft thud.
Your eyes are glued on his, but you didn't miss the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, not fully pulled up to the point he usually wears them. His black shirt, thrown over his torso in a haste ends just a few inches above the grey fabric, exposing a small amount of his toned skin.
"You can't treat me like that. If my dad finds out-" The sound of his flat hands quickly meeting the edge of the door right next to your face, trapping you between him and his car, interrupts your words. Pulled by an unknown power, your eyes slowly move down towards his parting lips.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The way you press your lips into a small line and swallow. The subtle move of your chest as you try to hide the way you take a deep breath.

The corner of his lips twitches upward unintentionally, just to be forced back down after he realizes what just happened. Bringing his lips close to your ear, his voice drops low again. "If your dad finds out you tried to sneak out again just to get drunk and get groped by some random bastardos, I'll be the least of your problems."
He looks back into your eyes, his stubbled cheek barely brushing against yours as he pulls back.
Oblivious to the real reason why and the reaction it will bring out of you, his body forces him to whisper, yet he manages to carry the seriousness of his words. "Get back inside. Vámonos." (Let's go.)

You're used to get what you want, no matter the cost. New designer clothes? Take daddy's card. New pet? Your mother will choose one with you. A trip to Hawaii or Paris for two days with your friends? They make sure all of you will have enough money in your pockets.
And right now, you either want to go to that party, or he'll have to make sure that your evening plays out in this shithole the way you want to. But you never talked back to him until now, the respect towards him too high from his sheer appearance and your little knowledge of his career.

His right hand leaves the car and slides down on your shoulder, digits softly applying pressure until your body starts to get in motion. But you push against it, pressing your shoulder blades against the cold glass behind you."No."

"¿Qué?" (What?) He extends the single word longer than necessary as the low grumble leaves his chest. The close proximity big enough not to touch, but small enough to feel the vibration in your own chest.
"I said no."

That's new.

Once again, his brows furrow, creating deep lines of contemplation across his forehead. A mixture of emotions flicker in his eyes as he slowly withdraws his hand from your shoulder. The tension in his jaw becomes palpable, his muscles tightening as he clenches his teeth in a moment of restrained frustration. Inhaling deeply, he runs his fingers through the strands of his hair and takes a small step back, creating a physical distance between you.

For a brief second, you quietly celebrate your quick victory. Your lips curl up into a satisfied smile as it seems that he finally got the message, that you don't need him to be around all the time and, more importantly, don't want to be stuck in this house any second longer.
Using the gap he created, you slip past him, your eyes already glued on the gate in front of you and your mind filled with thoughts of how exciting this night could get.

"Ya terminé de jugar este estúpido juego contigo." (I'm done playing this stupid game with you.)
Reaching out for you again, his arm snakes around your waist and he pulls you back against his chest. Lifting you up, his muscles flex and his grip tightens around you.
"Alejandro! Let go off me!"
With your grip tightening around your shoes, you punch your fists against his arm. But he doesn't care. Like your punches don't even reach the nerves in his arm to let him feel the impact over and over again. Even the kicking of your legs feel useless, his strides still unwavering moving forward.

No correcting step to the side.
No repositioning of his arm.
No change in his breathing.
"Shit."

It almost punches the air out of your lungs as he throws you down onto the couch, still hovering above you with his hands planted on the back of the couch right next to your head.
His eyes narrow again as he leans closer, his face only inches away from yours. You've been close to him over the past few day, but this time his smell was intoxicating, coating every single nerve in your nose and down to your lungs with a soft tingle.
His voice is nothing more than a low grumble as he parts his lips, his eyes glued on yours. "Escucha atentamente, I'm not gonna repeat myself once more." (Listen closely) He inches closer until his nose is almost touching yours. Suddenly, he has a different effect on you than just being the annoying babysitter.

"I agreed to look after you to return a favor and if you're trying to make this more difficult than it needs to be, I won't hesitate to tie you onto a fucking chair. ¿comprendido?" (Understood?)
"Understood?" His yell makes you flinch and he can't help but back off a little in surprise. You've never been scared of him and it would never be his intention. The soft nod of your head eases the tension between you and he responses with a quick nod himself as he backs off completely to lower himself down next to you.
The silence that hangs in the air is deafening, the weight pushing down on your shoulders as you let yourself sink in the couch until you can reach the small coffee table with your feet. Seconds tick away as you sit there in silence, both of your breaths not even loud enough to be noticed by the other one. Hearts beating too loud in your ears.

He senses the unease that pulls on you. This was not the way he wanted this to go.

Reaching over your legs, he grabs the remote of the TV and puts your favorite show on, before he gets up and walks into the kitchen to get both of you a bottle of beer. With both bottles in his hands he returns and sits back down next to you, not even looking at you as you hands you one.
"Thank you." you mumble, although you don't even like beer. The thought of a cold cocktail, the ice cubes swirling inside of the colorful liquid as you pour down the sweet drug consumes your mind, but you're way too confused to start another fight.

Sipping on his own bottle, he occasionally watches you holding the bottle between both of your hands. What a waste. "It will get warm if you keep holding it like this." His voice is soft again, softer than you remember it from the days you've already spent together.
Your eyes are still glued on the TV as you extend your hand with the bottle in your hands towards him. "I don't like beer." His eyes narrow slightly at your words, but he too, isn't in the mood to start another fight. "Didn't know that. You want something else?"

You shift a little, rotating your body towards him but with your eyes still on the TV as you lift up your legs from the coffee table and place them on his lap.

"Could use a little massage."