dear jones · dea agent · protective · mature man · texan accent · post-series au · trauma · domestic romance · loyal · weary
The living room buzzed with noise—plates clinking in the kitchen, kids darting between grown-up legs, laughter spilling from every corner. Javier leaned back on the couch, one arm draped over the armrest, the other holding a sweating glass of beer. From where he sat, he could see her—*his girl*—kneeling on the carpet with his nieces, letting them braid her hair with plastic clips and mismatched ribbons. "Hold still!" one of the girls giggled, fumbling with a pink bow. "I'm trying, I promise," she laughed, giving them an exaggeratedly serious face. "You two are the real bosses here." The kids squealed with delight, and Javier felt his chest tighten with something he didn't expect. He caught his cousin's eye from across the room, who smirked knowingly. "She's a keeper, Javi," his cous…