DISCLAIMER: Los Hombres De Paco and its characters are the property of Antena 3. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Through Episode 79 (Season Finale)
DEDICATION: Happy birthday, so_wicked!

I Don't Feel Like Loving You Today
By Misty Flores


It was official.

Silvia Castro did not just have the worst taste in men. Apparently, her bad judgment extended to women, as well.

Not that there had been any other women for Silvia but the current one, but it wasn't like she was planning on sampling the rest of the female population anyway. Not if this one was any indication of what they were like.

Then again, there was no one in the world like Pepa Miranda.

There was no one as beautiful. No one as charming. No one as utterly intoxicating, desirable and enchanting.

And no one was as IRRITATING.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

When Silvia Castro became upset, she got little splotches on her face that clashed with her hair. She hated that. They were impossible to hide against her pale skin. As a senior officer, she was of the opinion that looking like a blotchy red-headed strawberry was not professional.

The fact that more often than not it was Pepa that brought the infuriating little splotches out was quite simply... well... infuriating.

Another thing that was infuriating? The sullen, distant glare on a gorgeous but angry face the moment Agent Miranda decided she was no longer listening.

"Pepa," she snarled, fingertips snapping in front of the Agent, a desperate attempt to refocus her attention. "I'm actually ASKING you. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Lanky, strong arms crossed in front of her, and Pepa's scowl grew even deeper. "I was thinking, Inspector, that if we didn't move when we did, then we would have lost the suspect and the evidence."

"Without a warrant?!" Silvia raggedly ran her fingers through her hair, face flaming with unnerved anger. "Without backup? Do you realize what you did?!"

Pepa Miranda exhaled loudly and threw her head back, obvious signs of exasperation that was completed when she rolled her eyes childishly.

"Don't you dare do that to me," Inspector Castro snapped, tone low and dangerous. Hearing the warning, Pepa's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. "We may have the witness, Pepa, but now we may have the whole case thrown out because YOU weren't thinking!"

"Oh, so now I'm NOT thinking?"

"You never think!" Her voice rose before she could help herself, because honestly, did it really just not SINK into Pepa's dumb head?! "You know what this is like!? This is like when you brush your teeth at night and leave the ENTIRE sink covered in water!"

Pepa's angry expression faltered for half a second, uncomprehending, before she caught up. The expression grew stonier still. She nodded incredulously. "Oh, I see, so this isn't about evidence. This is about the TOOTHPASTE."

The sarcastic tone did not help Silvia's surly mood at all. "Yes." She nodded back patronizingly. "It's about toothpaste. It's about the fact that you think it's okay to put your dirty boots on the coffee table. Or the fact that you insist on SLAMMING every door you open. It's not a contest, Pepa!" Diatribe over, Silvia paused for breath, inhaling, as she studied Pepa's scowl.

And it wasn't. Why her lover was so fond of slamming doors was beyond her. Pepa could be a downright brute when she wanted to be, but was it NECESSARY to shake the entire house, announcing her presence each and every time she came home?

Apparently so. Apparently Pepa felt it was absolutely crucial that everything she do be loud and over-the-top, because Pepa wasn't electric enough that she had to shout and holler and hoot like a ...

Her lover's jaw ticked, a sure sign that she was annoyed. She huffed a loud breath and crossed her arms, waiting. "Go on," she spat dryly. "Anything else, Princess?"

Well, if she asked. "How about the fact that you never fill out your reports on time? Or the fact that you clean your gun on the kitchen table and then leave all the chemicals and crap all over it?"

"Oh, I see." Pepa's hands went to her waist, her boots shifted on her heels, fidgeting angrily. "So it's everything then. Everything I do is wrong, nothing is right, it all annoys you-"

"If you want to put it that way, then yes."

Dark eyes glittered at her. "You are the most infuriating, OCD … "

The insults could have kept coming, but Silvia wasn't in the mood to hear it. "That's enough, Agent Miranda."

The statement did its work. Pepa reeled as if she had been slapped, and the dark eyes glittered with actual resentment now. Silvia, delicate on the inside, still wasn't about to let go of her temper.

Not when Pepa and her hero-antics could have gotten her killed. AGAIN.

"That's fine, Redhead," Pepa snapped, too angry to care about formality. "You insult me. Okay, but when I talk back - you pull rank- "

"Yes," she said snidely. "I pull rank. Because someone has to remind you that there are rules."

"Yours are the only ones that matter, is that it?"

Pepa always had a way of saying things that felt like a sickening sucker punch. Frozen, furious, Silvia sucked in a lungful of air and swiveled on her heel, grabbing a clipboard from her father's desk.

Turning around, she issued a cold smile.

"An Iranian diplomat is flying in today," she began, tone hard and formal. "You're to pick him up and escort him to the Embassy. Go over there. Wait for him. Make sure he gets there safely."

She held out the clipboard with the information. Pepa stared at it strangely, hostile expression fading momentarily for genuine befuddlement.

"Babysitting. You're sending me out to be a chauffer?!"

Silvia's smile was plastic and sweet. "Be glad it's not processing passports. Maybe some time off the street will give you time to remember procedure before you start shooting up crime scenes like James Bond."

Her lover's nostrils flared like an angry bull. Good. Silvia did not shy away from the intense look. Her palms were sweaty, her heart was beating ridiculously fast, but her expression was mute.

Divorcing her lover from the officer before her was damned near impossible. Silvia had never been able to push reason away from logic where Pepa was concerned, and rationally she understood that forcing her rank over Pepa was not completely ethical.

But Pepa was the love of her life.

And that wasn't rational. It had never been rational.

Dark eyes bore into hers.

The sound of the door opening broke her out of her trance, and Silvia felt a shiver of annoyance roll up her spine when she turned and glared at the intruder.

Seeing it, Gonzalo Montoya grimaced, hovering in the doorway. "Silvia, Pepa… sorry to interrupt, but… you're yelling and everyone can hear you-"


But she was interrupted by a loud Sevillan. "Montoya." Pepa's eyes flickered briefly to hers, brow rising in challenge.


With a wide smile that reminded Silvia of a demented clown, Pepa offered an entirely too friendly smile at Silvia's ex-boyfriend, and Pepa's not-so-secret-admirer. "You doing anything right now?"

"… No, I was just sitting outside and-"

Pepa's lips widened into a wicked grin.

Silvia's mouth parted in silent horror. Her girlfriend reached forward and snatched the clipboard from her hands.

With a spring in her step, Pepa glided to the dumbstruck Montoya and closed her fingers around his tie. "Let's go pick up a diplomat," she drawled.

Frozen in her fury, Silvia watched as Pepa threw her a triumphant glance, and dragged the perpetually lovesick Montoya after her.

Infuriated and now jealous to boot, Silvia tried to calm herself with a deep breath.

When that didn't work, she shut the door and kicked the trashcan.

Pepa Miranda had had more than her share of women, but Silvia was the only person she ever truly loved.

She had loved her for as long as she could remember, even back when they were kids, and Silvia was a nerdy little bushy-haired skinny redhead with a scolding complex and a holier-than-thou attitude. Christ, Silvia had annoyed her then.

Almost as much as she annoyed her now.

"Pepa? Pepa?"

The touch of a masculine finger against her hand caused her to jerk, breaking her out of her brooding. Pepa rediscovered Gonzalo Montoya's handsome face staring at her, a small smile working its way up his thin lips.


With a hesitant dip of his head, he motioned to Pepa's working hands. She had been semi-consciously ejecting the cartridge of bullets from her pistol, and jerking it back into place with a hard snap. Over and over again.

"I don't think that's the best thing to do at the airport," he noted helpfully.

Sucking in her breath through her teeth, Pepa thought about snapping an appropriate acidic line, but found she didn't have the heart. Lips pressing together mutely, she shrugged carelessly and snapped the cartridge back into the gun.

Sliding the pistol back into her holster and shifting to draw the lapel of her leather jacket over it, Pepa settled back into the passenger seat of the cop car. Head leaning back against the head rest, she offered him an apologetic lift of her brows and then glanced out the window, idly searching for their charge.

"Sorry," she muttered. She heard Montoya shuffle, take a sip of coffee.

"Sounded like some fight."

Releasing a bittersweet chuckle, she turned to eye the Inspector. He flashed a friendly, sympathetic smile. Licking her lips, Pepa shook her head, and gave up holding it all in.

"I just… sometimes I just hate women, you know?"

He pressed his lips together and hissed knowingly. "Tell me about it."

"They just… it's like you have to be a fucking mind reader to figure out what they want. And Silvia is the worst!"

He ducked his head, managed a short nod.

Resigned to her bitterness, Pepa shook her head. "She's crazy! She's insane! I mean, how am I supposed to KNOW things bother her if she doesn't TELL me? I'm just supposed to FIGURE it out… who the hell does she think I am, a psychic?"

"She definitely doesn't think you're a psychic."

The tone caused a sharp jerk of her head in his direction. "You dated her." Mid-sip, he choked on his coffee, startled at the flat observation. With good reason, she guessed. Silvia said she had never loved Montoya like he wanted, but he had definitely loved her. Maybe still did. And they would have had a baby together. He would have been the father of Silvia's baby, had it lived.

It was stuff they never talked about. Things were complicated enough as it was.

But Pepa, frustrated and rattled, needed to vent. And she sure as hell wouldn't talk to Lucas about this. Things were fucked up enough in their family without reminding her niece's husband that he used to be married to her sister-in-law, also Sara's aunt.

Her smile shifted into as gentle a smile as she could allow, under the circumstances. "Relax, Montoya. I'm not going to fucking shoot you. I'm just saying… you know."

Under her laser gaze, Montoya squirmed in his seat. "Well I don't know," he muttered, eyes out the window. "We never got to … I mean… she never loved me like -" he cleared his throat, now past awkward and on to uncomfortable. "You're different."

Pepa frowned, processing that statement.

"You know I used to call her cold." She glanced up, but Montoya's eyes were not on her, but on the steering wheel, as he spoke. "I told her once that she wasn't capable of falling in love, and she agreed."

Pepa's lips pressed together, but she kept silent, focused intently on the Inspector.

"I think the reason she reacts so furiously to you is because she's never loved anyone like she loves you, Pepa." His head shifted, brown eyes locking on hers. "You should keep that in mind."

There was a warning in his tone. Pepa's mouth pulled into a bittersweet smirk.

"Don't worry, Montoya," she said, quiet and even. "We may piss each other off, but I'm not going anywhere." This time, it was her gaze that met his intensely. "Silvia's gonna be with me for as long as she wants me."

A long, long time.

Montoya looked away. He got it.

Restless and stir crazy, and now sitting in awkward silence with Montoya, who was only here to piss Silvia off anyway, Pepa once again grabbed hold of her gun and ejected the chamber.

Glancing idly at the commuters, Pepa frowned when she noticed a man in a black jacket and baseball cap, reading a newspaper.

"Montoya," she began, reaching for his sleeve with her free hand to get his attention. "Check that guy out." Montoya looked. "What's weird about him?"

Montoya, observant and a good cop, immediately scowled, studying the man.

"His jacket," Pepa said, too impatient to let him figure it out for himself. "It's 90 degrees outside and he's wearing a jacket." It was an irregularity that didn't make sense.

"So are we," Montoya argued, ever the devil's advocate.

"Sure," Pepa agreed. "Because we're hiding guns."

When he glanced at her, she held his gaze, willing him to understand. Because he was sharp, he did.

"Let's go check him out," he breathed, and Pepa slammed the bullet chamber down back into her magnum with a loud crack, reaching for the door handle.

"Silvia, my love, you can't be serious!" Don Lorenzo, the ever ballsy and temperamental commissioner of the San Antonio precinct looked old and frustrated as he glanced up at her from his desk. "You can't be asking me to suspend Maria Jose."

Only her father had ever used Pepa's given name. "Papi, just for one day. She ignored protocol! She deserves some sort of reprimand-"

"And I gave it to her, with that assignment!" He nodded resolutely, head ducking back down as he began to scribble on some files, a blatant attempt to get rid of her. "Hija, please. I'm very busy."

Silvia's eyes narrowed. Bending over the desk deliberately, she placed her palm on the papers, blocking him from writing any more. "What's going on?" she asked suspiciously. "A month ago you would have jumped at the chance to suspend her for something as silly as filing the wrong report."

He exhaled a noisy breath. "Hija..."

"She ignored protocol. She almost got herself and Curtis killed-"

"Yes, that's true. And she made the arrest we needed and gave us the first real lead we've had in months-"

"She destroyed the crime scene!"

"You have plenty of evidence!" he said immediately, and Silvia jerked up and closed her eyes, flushing angrily. He noted the expression, and sighed, deliberately putting his pen down and regarding her frankly. "Do you want to know what's changed?"

Silvia's glare deepened, but she nodded.

"Now that Lucas has gone to Interpol, I need a cop like Pepa. She's crazy and impulsive but I need that kind of cop on the streets. The one that takes risks."

Risks. Like going into a warehouse guns blazing to catch a cop killer. At the risk of herself. Her life. Regardless of who loved her.

This job was dangerous enough, and now her father was actually telling her that he had designated that Pepa's purpose? The new Lucas?!

She shook her head, disgusted and frightened. "So that's it," she breathed. "You're just going to let her go and do whatever she wants until she wrecks her career like Lucas?"

Her father pressed his lips together, frowned.

And then a terrible thought came to her. Something horrible and frightening and it wouldn't go away. "Oh God," she breathed, horror registering on her face. "Is that what you want? You want her to get herself killed?"

"Silvia, no!"

"Do you hate the fact that she's with me that much?!"

"Silvia!" Her father pushed out of the chair and came around quickly, reaching for her. But Silvia wouldn't have it. Not from her father. Who had always hated Pepa. Who had called her abnormal. She flung his hands away. "Of course not, darling!" Again he reached for her, bring his strong arms around her, trying to draw her into his embrace.

"Stop." She couldn't stop shaking her head, unable to believe her father capable of something so horrible. "Would you really be so against-"

"Silvia. Stop talking nonsense, and listen to me."

She had been conditioned to the gruff commands of her father. Her mouth immediately shut. Feeling fragile, Silvia lifted her head and offered her father a scathing glare. The intensity behind the look must have shocked her father, because he literally froze, blanching. But still he came forward, grabbing hold of her shoulders and with a trembling smile, forced her to stare into his eyes.

"My love, I told you before. I want nothing but happiness for you and Pepa. If she is who you want… Then that's it. But how I treat Pepa as…" he grimaced, trying to sound out her relationship to Silvia, "… your … yours," he settled for, cheeks flushed red, "Is not how I will treat her as an officer in my precinct. I will protect Pepa. I won't let what happened to Lucas happen to her. But hija, that also means that I'm not going to punish her just because you want me to!" His smile widened into an incredulous grin. "Listen to yourself, honey!"

At the careful, loving squeeze, some of the emotional cloudiness lifted away, and Silvia swallowed and remembered her sudden entrance and her infuriated rant to her father. Her not altogether honorable demand that he punish Pepa for... for what? For annoying her?

God, this was ridiculous. SHE was ridiculous. And her FATHER of all people could see it.

Embarrassed beyond belief, Silvia managed a sheepish smile. "Dad?" she began tentatively. "Can we please just forget this entire conversation?"

The relief on his face would have been comical had Silvia not been so embarrassed. "Of course, my love." He drew her into his arms, and she squeezed him hard. "You'll see," he told her, pressing a kiss against her temple. "She'll come back from this mission and it will have all blown over. Pepa will see she's wrong. You'll see."

She sighed raggedly and offered an optimistic smile, walking with him to the door and allowing him to open it for her.

"Sure," she agreed, and discovered she could laugh at herself a little. Was this what love reduced her to? A petty tattle-tale?

Besides, Pepa was probably bored out of her mind in a car, waiting for a diplomat on a delayed flight with Montoya who, Silvia knew, had always semi annoyed Pepa with his obvious crush.

There was nothing to worry about.

Her father frowned, glancing out of the open door. "What the hell?!" he breathed, and then pushed out the door.

Frowning, Silvia followed, and her heart nearly stopped beating at what was the center of the commotion on the floor below them.

Pushing through the gaggle of officers was a trio. Montoya, gripping the handcuffed arm of a man in a black shirt. On the other side of him, with a furious scowl on her face, was Pepa.

Or what could have been Pepa.

If her lover had somehow managed to get herself STABBED.

"Oh my GOD," Silvia whispered, and scrambled for the steps, furious all over again.

Once the adrenaline had faded, Pepa had been left with the weak dizziness that came after, thanks mostly to the knife wound in her arm, which had begun to pulse with throbbing pain.

It would have been nice in the wake of the brawl she had been in with a would be terrorist to be able to sink into the arms of her beloved and be grateful to be alive.

Her girlfriend, however, entertained no such thoughts. Instead, Silvia Castro looked like she wanted to try and finish what the terrorist guy had started.

"OUCH!" The abused flesh was exceedingly tender, and in no mood to be big about it, Pepa jerked back and slapped at the offending molesting fingers. "Okay you did that on purpose!"

But her doctor was offering no sympathy. No, her doctor looked pretty damn pissed. "Oh, a little poke hurts, but getting stabbed is what? A picnic?"

Glaring at her lover, Pepa shut her mouth and pressed a harsh breath through her nose, resettling with a wince back on the stool.

Fine, let her torture her. Pepa wouldn't give Silvia the satisfaction of caring.

Silvia's white lab coat brushed against her forearm as Silvia pressed lightly against Pepa's knees and forced her legs apart. When Silvia drifted in between them, Pepa's jaw flexed, brown eyes darting to Silvia's intensely focused face, and then glancing away.

Gloved fingers poked again at the open wound, digging underneath the flesh and fitting the torn skin at her bicep back together.

It hurt. Pepa exhaled raggedly, gripping the edge of the stool with her free hand, eyes on the line of Silvia's chemicals.

"SHIT, Pepa," Silvia breathed, and Pepa hissed again when a harsh swab of alcohol soaked cotton pressed into the open wound, making the entire area erupt in flaming pain. "What if this had been more than just a flesh wound? What if he had cut a tendon!?"

Oh, God. The last thing she needed was another round of 'What-if' with the world's most dour Doctor.

"I'm fine," she bit, and ground her teeth together when Silvia glared at her and again pressed the fucking cotton against her wound. "Look, that guy had a gun-"

"And a knife!" Silvia snapped. Swiveling in the vee of Pepa's thighs, Silvia reached for the needle and thread on the counter. "God, Pepa! Do you go LOOKING for trouble?!"

"YES!" Pepa snapped, unable to help herself. "I'm a cop! I look for trouble! That's what I'm supposed to do!"

"You were SUPPOSED to deliver a diplomat!" Silvia snarled back at her, and then unceremoniously pinched her with the needle. When Pepa stiffened in pain, Silvia's brow lifted, daring her to cry out.

Such a fucking gentle little nursemaid. "And what am I supposed to do?" she asked, voice shaky from the pain. "Just ignore everything else?"

For once, Pepa had logic on her side, but Silvia rarely listened to logic when she was furious. No, no, the little redhead instead just liked to focus on what made sense for HER, and to hell with the rest.

The needle moved in and out, without local anesthesia, not because Silvia was petty enough to ignore it, but because Pepa would have rather felt the pain.

Pepa never wanted to feel numb.

"You could have been killed."

The words were said quietly, so softly Pepa wasn't sure if she heard them at first.

Dizzy from loss of blood and in pain from her girlfriend's jerky ministrations, Pepa only offered a grumpy chuckle. "Wouldn't that have been great for you? No one to put their feet on the coffee table or slam the doors."

The fingers against her wound jerked, and she yelped, eyes flitting to meet Silvia's.

Her girlfriend cut the thread from the last of the stitches and pushed out from between her thighs, dropping the needle against her tray with a clatter. Confused, Pepa watched as Silvia yanked off her gloves and locked the door, closing the blinds.

"Take off your clothes."

Sure she had misheard, Pepa stared dumbly. "What?" But Silvia was already shrugging off her lab coat, letting it slide to the floor as she began to pull on her own dress. "Silvia..." she began thickly, reaching for the counter for support. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"We're putting this fight on hold." Silvla's head disappeared behind fabric before the dress was slipped off, and Silvia was walking toward her, hands reaching behind her to fumble with her own bra clasp. "And you're going to make love to me."

The straps loosened, the breasts fell free, and Pepa, who loved Silvia with everything inside her, was shocked, aroused and nearly weak with emotion. Silvia's fingers went to the elastic of her thong next, and it soon was sliding down her legs, kicked away by Silvia's heels.

"Silvia..." she breathed, and then Silvia was in her arms, slender hands gripping her shoulders, and crystal eyes staring up at her with such sweet adoration. Her bare breasts pressed against her own, and Silvia leaned up on her tiptoes, face moving so close to hers, Pepa could feel her breath on her lips.

"Make love to me, Pepa," she demanded, and then her mouth was on hers.

It was almost terrifying, how even just the press of Silvia's lips against Pepa's could send her into such an overwhelming tailspin. Her heart jumped inside of her, arousal jolted between her legs, and Pepa's helpless groan were all indications that Silvia affected her like no one else.

Her gorgeous lover kissed her so desperately, tongue sinking deeply inside her mouth, sliding against hers and curling around like Silvia was afraid to let go. Pepa understood, she understood completely.

Because she wasn't dead. She was alive. She had come home to Silvia, and maybe it hadn't sunk in yet. Maybe Silvia needed to feel her mouth against her, her fingers inside her, to make that real.

Pepa would gladly give her whatever she needed. Silvia was already panting. In the cold lab, her skin was prickling with goosebumps, and still Silvia looked feverish, forehead tilted against hers as she fumbled between them for the buckle to Pepa's pants.

Pepa's bicep burned, but her arousal burned hotter, and her strength did not fail her when she reached around her lover's slender body to palm Silvia's ass, lift forcibly. Pale thighs gripped her waist as Pepa long fingers moved between them, rubbing against coarse hair and wetness, tripping against Silvia's clit on her way to sinking inside.

"I love you," she whispered, watching with hooded eyes as Silvia's head fell back. Silvia was already moving into a heated rhythm, rising and falling with her fingers.

Pepa's stitches were bleeding, and she was gritting her teeth in agony, but Silvia coming apart in her arms was heaven.

She stayed inside, even when her limbs began to tremble, eyes shut tight as Silvia's arms gripped around her neck and she pressed wet, desperate kisses against Pepa's mouth, her cheek, her jaw, her ear... anywhere she could reach.

Then Silvia lifted off of her, gripped her belt buckle and yanked it out of its clasp.

Later, Pepa's arousal still shining on her lips, Silvia waited exactly two minutes for Pepa to recover before taking one look at her ruined stitches, declaring the truce over, and launching into a monologue about Pepa's pig-headedness and stupidity.

"I can't take it anymore."

The announcement was made by their niece after nearly ten minutes of angry glares and silence at the dinner table.

Not complete silence. Silvia had noted with a hostile glare that Pepa had taken extra care to slam everything in sight; from her glass to her silverware, shooting her pointed glances every time she did.

Silvia had been so involved in making sure she was still furious with Pepa she found herself momentarily struck dumb by her niece's outburst. Struggling to put aside her fury at her lover and instead try to concentrate on her niece, Silvia attempted a concerned smile.

"Sara? What's wrong honey?"

"What's wrong?!" Sara looked oddly frustrated, head swiveling between she and Pepa so quickly she was in danger of whiplash. "Do you realize what you two put the precinct through every time you fight about nothing?!"

Startled, Silvia shot Pepa a helpless glance, but her lover just shook her head, obviously just as clueless.

"Seriously?!" Sara flushed the deepest shade of red. "You two have the weirdest relationship I've ever seen! And I'm married to my ex-uncle who isn't even here!"

Pepa's lips quirked, like she was trying desperately not to smile.

The expression was infectious.

"Oh, now this is funny?! A minute ago you guys were shooting each other death glares and now you're laughing?" Her poor niece shoved away from the table and stood up. "I can't handle it. I don't get it. You two love each other like crazy and yet when you get into a fight it's like the entire precinct turns into a battleground. And don't think everyone doesn't know you two had sex in the lab today."

The smirk that had been sneaking its way on Silvia's face stalled immediately in favor of a mortified stare. "What?!"

"You're LOUD!" Sara sniffled, and had already reached the coat rack, grabbing her jacket.

Horrified, Silvia's head fell into her hands. "Oh my God."

"Well, you did scream, Silvia."

Silvia jerked up, and noted with a flush of irritation, her girlfriend grinning from ear to ear. "I'm going to kill you."

"What? That was your idea!"

"You drive me crazy!"

"STOP!" Sara's screech made her blink, reminding her of her niece's presence. "Do you even remember what you were even fighting about in the first place?"

Pepa sniggered, and the chuckle was so out of place, Silvia found herself chortling in response.

The chortle turned into a chuckle. The chuckle turned into laughter.

The laughter became unmanageable.

"She's annoying!" she wheezed, shoulders shaking with mirth, flinging a napkin across the table to the fiercely irritating love of her life.

"She's annoying!" Pepa snapped back, and the hysterical tears now began to leak from Silvia's eyes.

She tried in vain to wipe at them, ducking and laughing as Pepa sent an ice cube her way.

"There's something seriously wrong with you both," Sara pronounced, sounding judgmental and ... annoying.

Eyes flitting to Pepa's, Silvia arched an eyebrow. Her beautiful girlfriend understood immediately what she wanted.

Three. Two... One.

Silvia dug into her plate, grabbed hold of a handful of spaghetti and in time with Pepa's perfect throw of garlic bread, lobbed it in Sara's direction.

The image of their dumbstruck niece with a piece of limp noodle sticking to her chin was priceless.

"Oh my GOD!" Sara shrieked, jerking out of shock and dashing for the table. "I'm going to KILL you guys!"

"Pepa!" she shrieked, scrambling to her feet. "Help me!"

After wiping off her make up and any lingering spaghetti sauce, Pepa looked like herself again.

She studied herself in the bathroom mirror, noted the white bandage covering the softly throbbing wound on her bicep, and with a thoughtful frown, reached for the same towel she had just tossed toward the hamper.

She was so absorbed in wiping excess moisture from the sink, Pepa didn't notice she was no longer alone until slender arms came around her waist, and the warmth of a feminine body pressed into her from behind.

A smile of loving affection floated across her lips, and Pepa glanced up to discover through the mirror Silvia holding her firmly, mouth pressing a kiss into the back of Pepa's bare shoulder.

With a grateful sigh, Pepa reached up and smoothed her fingers against the arms embracing her, leaning back slightly to allow the shorter woman to tuck her chin just against her nape.

"Do you even remember what we were fighting about?" came the muffled question.

Shivering slightly at the feel of Silvia's mouth and hot breath against the most sensitive part of her neck, Pepa managed a crooked smile.

"Does it matter?" she asked airily. "I'll probably annoy you again tomorrow. It'll come back."

Silvia faltered, shifted to lift her head. When their eyes connected through the mirror, Pepa's smile held no malice. Untangling the fingers gripping together just underneath her breasts, she gently lifted one palm and brushed a kiss across the knuckles.

Silvia was still for a moment, before she issues a heavy sigh and pressed her mouth again to Pepa's shoulder, shifting her grip to slide fingertips carefully against the length of Pepa's bandage.

"You know I'd rather you live to annoy the hell out of me than try to figure out how to live without you."

Pepa held her breath. She could feel Silvia's heartbeat, bumping up against her back.

There were no guarantees. Not in their line of work. Pepa understood that. Rationally, she couldn't promise Silvia a damn thing, because she couldn't stop being who she was, any more than Silvia could stop being herself.

It didn't stop her from pushing back slightly, giving her enough room to turn against the sink, and allow her beautiful redhead to sink into her embrace. Smoothing hands over shoulders, Pepa reeled her in, until they were holding each other tightly.

Let the world try to tear them apart, she thought.

"You asked what the hell I was thinking," she began softly, murmuring into soft red curls, "this morning, when I arrested Mendoza with Curtis."

Silvia's fingers wrapped carefully around the muscles of her biceps, up and down against Pepa's skin, skirting carefully against her wound. "So? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about you," she said honestly. Silvia's fingers stopped moving. She lifted her head, looked into Pepa's face, eyes searching hers carefully. "I'm always thinking about you," Pepa admitted, and managed a crooked smile. "So don't you worry, Redhead," she said, voice husky with emotion. "No matter what I do, I'm going to make sure I come home to you."

Moisture glittered in Silvia's eyes, and she was beautiful. Pepa's mouth twitched.

"And maybe I'll put my feet up on the coffee table," she continued, and Silvia blinked. "Or maybe I'll clean my gun at the kitchen table - but not before I slam a few doors-"

Her cocky smile was eclipsed only by Silvia's exaggerated roll of her eyes, and then her lover shut her up the best way she knew how: with a smile, a caress, and a kiss.

The End

Return to Los Hombres de Paco Fiction

Return to Main Page