By the Night

"Come on, man. It's just a couple of drinks."

Carrillo can hear the thump of the music before they're even out of the car and wonders yet again why in the hell he'd agreed to this. Agent Peña had been particularly determined to drag him out into town tonight, stubbornly countering every excuse Carrillo made in an attempt to get out of going until he was gritting his teeth in frustration. He'd conceded only after thirty minutes of arguing, and he'd done so only to get Peña to shut up. That asshole had something else planned, Carrillo was certain of it.

"Why are we here," Carrillo questions as he glances up through the passenger side window at the bright, neon pink sign that reads El Místico.

"We're just here for a drink," Javier replies quickly, already halfway out of the vehicle. Carrillo scoffs.

Just a drink, my ass, he thinks, because Peña's brought him to a dance club all the way on the other side of the city. This was not just drinks.

Going out for an occasional drink with Agent Peña was one thing; they typically talked about work, and work only. Carrillo would have one, maybe two drinks, and then he would leave and go home. Peña would usually cover the tab, because he usually drank more. This was just how things worked between the two of them. It was simple and didn't cross any kind of professional boundaries.

This was something different, though, and he's not a fan of it.

"Are you coming, or what?"

Flashing a quick glare at Peña, Carrillo reluctantly gets out of the car. The music is even louder, now.

"I'm not going to pretend I want to be here," Carrillo quips as they make their way towards the door. Peña merely grins, clapping him on the back.

"You say that now, but we'll see how you're feeling after the night is over."

Carrillo rolls his eyes, not amused by the certainty in Peña's tone as they enter the club. The moment they do, Carrillo is struck by such a strong smell of smoke and alcohol that it almost instantly makes him miss the cool night air outside. The place is packed with people, nearly all of whom are up dancing to the almost unbearably loud music. Peña is grinning like a cat who's caught a canary, face lit up by the strobing neon lights, and Carrillo is extremely tempted to hit him. Javier was the one who was a fan of places like this, not him. Sure, he'd enjoyed a wild party or two in his time, but he'd been younger then, and he'd long since lost interest in Colombia's nightlife.

"Isn't this place awesome?" Javier questions, hollering over the music that's making Carrillo's teeth fucking rattle as they sit down at the bar. He doesn't answer.

"I found this place a few months back," Javier continues. "It reminds me so much of one of the clubs I used to frequent back home. I fucking love it, but I really only come here on special occasions."

"Why have you brought me here then?" Carrillo questions as Peña flags down the bartender, ordering a few shots of Antioqueño for them both.

"Are you serious, man?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't," Carrillo answers flatly, downing one of his shots. The alcohol burns from his throat all the way down into his chest, but he doesn't mind. It's a welcome distraction from the music.

"Wow," Javier huffs out with a chuckle. He leans back against the bar, running a hand over his face as he continues to laugh. Carrillo raises an eyebrow, completely lost as to what Peña finds so damn funny. He's about to open his mouth and ask, but the moment he does, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He immediately goes tense, hand going for the pistol that's holstered on his side out of instinct. Carrillo's got his fingers wrapped around the grip, on the verge of drawing it, when a voice suddenly booms in his ear.

"Hey, Major Carrillo!"

"For fuck's sake Riano, keep your voice down, will you? We don't need the entire club knowing we're cops."

Carrillo relaxes, settling his gun back down in its holster upon recognizing the second voice. He turns around on the barstool as the hand planted on his shoulder is pulled away and comes face to face with two of his fellow officers. His close friend and right hand man, Trujillo, grins sheepishly, doing his best to keep an obviously drunk Riano upright.

"Sorry boss," he says, somehow still managing to sound soft spoken, despite the fact that he's basically yelling. They all are. "I forgot he was such a lightweight."

"You know he'll find no sympathy from me when he has a hangover at work in the morning."

That makes Trujillo grin even more.

"Ten-four, boss. I know," his second replies as he slings Riano's arm over his shoulder. Riano is slurring out a whole mess of garbled words that make little sense, and what does make sense is not very friendly. Perpetually calm and collected, Trujillo takes the cursing in stride as he deposits an incredibly shit-faced Riano onto a barstool that's one down from where he sits. Carrilo watches in amusement, but it only lasts so long as it takes for Trujillo to sit down next to him before he's turning back to Peña to question him on what the hell is going on.

"Have you figured it out yet," Peña asks with a smirk.

Carrillo hasn't. He doesn't have a clue what the fuck is going on, why Javier has dragged him here to this club, or why he had apparently invited two of his most trusted officers and closest friends along as well.

Javier chuckles again and with a quick gesture, he hails the bartender over. He flashes her a charming grin, one she's quick to return.

"What can I get for you, Javi," she asks in a low, sultry tone as she leans forward against the counter top in front of him. Peña takes a moment to look her up and down, undoubtedly appreciating how low cut the top she's wearing is.

"My dear Rosa, would you please tell my clueless friend over here-" Peña claps him on the back and Carrillo can't help but scowl, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. He definitely should not have agreed to this.

"-what day it is," Javi finishes, brandishing an overly amused and smug face as he finishes speaking. Trujillo is grinning as well, now, and Carrillo is getting more irritated by the second. It's not often that he's left out of the loop, and he feels like he's on the outs of a particularly funny inside joke between Peña and his men.

"You want the date," the bartender questions as she stands up straight again, sending Carrillo a sour look that very plainly says she was expecting a far different answer from the flirty DEA agent.

"It's April 18th."

Realization hits him like a truck. Javier bringing him here to this club, the drinks, the presence of Trujillo and Riano, it all suddenly makes perfect sense and holy shit how could he have forgotten what day it was?

"You rat bastards," Carrillo growls with an amused shake of his head as he downs his second shot. Trujillo chuckles next to him and Carrillo doesn't even have to look Peña's way to see the triumphant look on his face.

"See," Javier chimes, "I told you it was a special occasion!"

"Go fuck yourself, Peña," he shoots back, giving the agent a small smile to let him know he was joking. He’d be lying if he said he wasn't touched by the fact that, even through the chaos and constant grind of trying to deal with the narcos, they had remembered this.

"Believe me, Carrillo, in a place like this, I won't have to. And neither will you."

There's another wave of laughter, and Carrillo is about to come back at Peña with a retort of his own, but he's cut off by Riano. He's on his feet again, practically climbing over top of Trujillo with his drink raised in the air. Miraculously, whatever he's drinking stays in the glass.

"To Carrillo!" he shouts, slurring the first couple of syllables. Trujillo smiles, raising his own glass. Javier follows suit.

"Happy birthday, Carrillo!"