Hey everyone, I will be writing different one shots from tv shows or movies. I would be so grateful if you told me the character you want and an idea. You can request anything anonymously on the bio. Some characters I will be doing:
Rafe cameron
Jj maybank
Conrad fisher
Todd Anderson
Neil Perry
Carl gallagher
Jess mariano
Logan huntzberger
Dean forester
Stiles stilnski
Liam Dunbar
Masterlist
Please bear in mind that English it's not my first language, so im sorry for any mistakes
My main focus will be on Rafe cameron and a few other characters. Therefore, I would appreciate many ideas about Rafe. About the other characters, some might not be written if not asked. Ask and if i cant do it i will let you know! Ideas are appreciated more that anything! <3
late night boat drives with a group of kooks while singing karaoke, invites to almost every party if you ever wanted a distraction and most people knew who you were.
but the best one? rafe cameron.
you'd first met him when you were twelve. topper, a year older than you, had bought him home.
for years to come, you remembered the day perfectly. you were sitting by your mom, watching some random youtube video with her, when suddenley topp walked in. with rafe.
he was the most handsome boy you had ever seen in your life. messy blond hair, soft blue eyes and sharpening features, you was sure you'd faint on the spot. you yourself had hair so messy to this date it couldn't even pass as aesthetic with braces so big it almost covered your teeth. and yet when you smiled at him, he grinned pioitely back, then to your mother, and you almost thought you had a heart attack.
however, being siblings to your brother, you understoood that topper only hung out with one type of people, exempt from his family: spoiled rich assholes, which as much as you hated it, rafe was apart of.
whenever the pair would spend some time at yours, all you would hear was brags about beating up kooks and shit about girls. almost most of it you didn’t care for or couldn’t bring yourself to, but you soon realised that topper and rafe were probably the worst pair to be around on Kildare because they were exactly the same person.
you couldn't remember exactly why you hated rafe. you both were young, but all you really remembered was a loud blond boy with a permanent scowl and an ego the size of figure eight.
and after that, he just looked perpetually ugly in her eyes. their first real interaction, which she didn't even remember, ended with her calling him stupid to which his response had been to throw a teenis ball at her head.
from then on, it was war. you stole his sunglasses, poured gatorade into the driver's seat of his golf car. he replaced your phone wallpaper with a photo of a rat.
and at every single damn family barbecue, every beach day, every birthday party, uoi shifted towards eachother like gravity and immediately started arguing.
"you're annoying."
"you're ugly."
"your face bothers me."
"that doesn't even make sense."
"because you're stupid."
you hated how cocky and arrogant he was and you could tell he hated how you never backed down.
as you got older, the fights also only got worse. at thirteen, you punched him in the shoulder hard enough that it left a bruise. at fourteen, he laughed when you threatened him and got a bloody nose for it. fifteen, you got into a sceraming match so bad topper physically had to stand between you while he dragged you away.
everyone assumed that eventually you two would grow out of it. but you didn't.
hating rafe felt like routine. normal, because if you walked into a room and rafe wasnt there to ruin your mood, something felt off. you never noticed it happening, how the insults got softer and the arguments lasted longer because neither of you two wanted to walk away first.
admitting that would've been worse than admitting defeat. neither of you two had ever lost a fight. and especially not to each other.
the first time it happened, it was a mistake.
that's what you called it: a mistake, an accident and a lapse in judgement. something that definetly, absoloutely, could never happen again.
it happened after a party, where you'd been avoiding him all night and he'd spent the entire night pretending not to notice which would've worked better if you didn't hear kiara telling you that he'd been looking for you every five minutes.
by midnight, you was already irritated, and by two you both were standing outside, drunk and exhausted, throwing insults at each other just as they had been like since they were kids.
"you're insufferable."
"you've literally said that every week since we were twelve."
"because you keep proving me right."
"and you keep talking."
you rolled your eyes, and he grinned. irritated once again, you snapped, "what?"
"nothing."
"then stop fucking staring."
"make me."
that was the worst thing he could've said, and the worst thing you could've heard, becaus eten seconds later, you was kissing him.
or maybe he kissed you. neither of you had ever agreed on that part.
all you knew that one second you were fighting and the next you was walking him into an empty guest room. you remembered how he tasted too much like alcholo, but something about kissing him was so addictive you didn't stop. both of your hands were everywhere and you very distinctly remember thinking this would've been eleven year old you's dream before rafe turned into such a spectacular asshole.
but afterwards was the real disaster. rafe sat on the edge of the bed, trying to catch his breath while you stared at the ceiling, the feeling of his lips on yours still present.
you could tell he, too, realised that you had just crossed a line neither of you could uncross. so naturally, "this was a mistake."
"obviously."
"never happening again."
"yeah." there was a pause. "good."
"good."
you guys didn't even make it two weeks. so after that, it became a secret one. a stupid one, the kind everyone probably knew about (the one where you ignored topper's knowing looks) except them. you'd spend the day arguing, and the end tangled together at night, laying against his chest and listening to his heartbear while his hands ran through your hair, breath heavy on your temple. you'd tell each other it meant nothing, then get jealous over things you supposedly didn't care about.
none of that even meant to happen. friends with benefits had rules, atleast thats what topp told you. feelings weren't part of the deal at all.
you've always been good at leaving first. you can tell it's one of the few things rafe hates about you: you never slam doors, never make scenes and never, ever beg people to stay.
you just go, quietly, acting like they never mattered enough for a goodbye.
but the worst part about this whole thing is that you know rafe knows you better than anyone. he's the same boy who met you at eleven, before all your guards were up, so he know that it's a lie. he knows you care too much, knows every careless shrug and slightly-forced laugh is calculated which is probably why this whole situation is way more complicated than it should be.
"you leaving already?" his voice follows you across the room, and yet you don't turn around, hiding your face in the darkness as you nod. "it's barely midnight."
you grab the bag from the counter. "and?"
silence. you can feel him staring, imagine the expression on his face. "you've been weird all week."
you laugh coldly. you can't help it. "that's rich coming from you."
when you finally glance over, he's leaning against the kitchen island, jaw tight and gorgeous eyes fixed on you. and for just a second, even if you're so dizzy from the way he fucked you, he looks nervous. it's so strange its almost laughable: rafe cameron never looks nervous. it almost makes something twist painfully inside your chest.
"did i do something?"
you nearly laugh, again. that's the funny and heartbreaking part: he genuinely doesn't know, has no idea, that you spent years teaching him exactly how much he could take from you that now you're surprised he keeps taking. "no." lie.
"then what's wrong?"
everything. nothing, in between. the fact that you probably know more about him than his own mother. which, given, isn't probably that difficult, but still.
he calls you when he's drunk. he calls you when he's sober. you can identify his fottsteps without looking and he looks for you in every room and yet this all supposedly "means anything".
if it meant what you so desperately wanted it to mean, he would've said so by now.
years, it's been fucking years. years of almosts, years of pretending, and you are so tired. "nothing's wrong, rafe."
there's silence until he sighs, voice dropping, "hey." you hate whenever he does that.
"don't act like you care."
his forehead creases, before it disappears, all smoothened out. "there it is."
you blink. "what?"
"i was wondering when we'd get to this."
"the fuck are you on about?"
"you know, the part where you pretend you're above all this."
the words taste sour in your mouth: "i'm not pretending anything."
"right." he nods mockingly, the same way he always does when he's angry. "because you've always been a fucking saint, haven't you?" there it is: rafe, holding that metaphorical fucking knife, twisting it exactly where he knows it'll hurt. "go ahead, baby. tell me how terrible i am. tell me how i'm the bad guy and you've never wanted this."
"that's not what i'm saying."
"then what are you saying?" his voice breaks, just slightly. "i'm getting real tired of you acting like i'm the only one here. you think i don't care, don't you?" when you're silent, he laughs bitterly, "that's fucking insane."
hope sparks, stupidly, like a slight ember. for one second you think: finally. finally, finally, he's going to say it.
but then you see that fucking expression on your face, and you just know. he isn't. of course he isn't. he's rafe cameron, golden boy of kildare. instead, he just shakes his head and looks away. "if i didn't care, you wouldn't still be here."
your chest caves in. that's all he has, all he's ever offering and ever will be. not love, committment or a future, everything that your whole friendgroup has told you you deserve. just access, proximity, just enough to keep you around but never safe nor loved. "okay."
"i didn't mean —"
"yeah." your voice is flat and empty. "don't worry, i know exactly what you meant."
he looks fucking terrified and you know he knows he's just confirmed every fear you've ever had. that no matter how much he wants you, he'll never actually choose you. and no matter how much you love him, you're finally starting to choose yourself.
"don't do this." it's almost pathetic, the way he says it.
"do what?"
he gives you a knowing look. "leave."
who's he kidding. you do anyways.
the next time you see him, you two are in another party because you only ever really see him then.
"who's that?"
you don't evne look up from your phone, "who's who?"
rafe leans back against the couch, arm stretching across the cushions behind you. you have to duck your head so he doesn't see your jaw clench: never touching, only when other people are around, but close enough to remind everyone he could if he wanted to. "that guy."
you glance towards the kitchen, where some random guy from the party is talking to sarah. you shrug, "i don't know."
"bullshit."
you finally look at him, already exasperated. "what?"
"he was staring at you."
you stare for a second, then laugh. actually laugh, because it's so stupid that you don't know how else to react. but you immediately regret it, because something in rafe's face shifts. "what's funny?"
"nothing."
"clearly it's sometjing."
you shake your head, looking back at your phone, because if you don't, he'll see the smile, and if he sees the smile, he'll get worse. "you're jealous."
"of him?" there's genuine offence in his voice.
you bite the inside of your cheek. "see? that's exactly what i mean."
"the fuck does that mean?"
you stand. mostly because you're smart enough to know where this conversation goes and you're not interested nor energtic tonight. "nothing, rafe."
he grabs your wrist before you can walk, just enough to stop you. "don't start whatever game this is."
"i'm literally standing here, babe."
"exactly."
"don't get all possessive over me."
his jaw flexes, "possessive?"
"you know, that thing where you act like im yours?"
he quickly lets go of your wrist. "i don't act like you're mine."
you hum, which is somehow worse than arguing, because now it sounds like you don't care, which rafe hates. "okay."
"okay?"
"mhm."
he stares, waiting, and you don't give him anything.
you know exactly what you're doing. you know exactly how much it bothers himL the same way he knows exactly how much it bothers you when he disappears for days and then walks back into your life like nothing happened.
the same way he knows you'll answer every single phone call. the same way he knows you'll always make room for him. "you're being weird."
"you say that every week." you deadpann.
"because you are."
"maybe you're just observant."
"and maybe you're just annoying."
"there he is."
the corner of his mouth twitches, "there who is?"
"the rafe i know."
for a second he looks guilty, and you don't like it. "what?" you prompt.
he blinks back, "what?"
"that look."
"i don't know what you're talking about."
you know every version of his face, and that one was bad. you just stare at him and he scoffs, looks away.
conversation over, just like that, and everyone else goes back to talking, laughing, living.
something between you cracked then, you could tell. not enough to really mean anything, but just enough that you spend the rest of the night thinking about it, and enough that rafe spends the rest of the night watching you from across the room, every single time you aren't looking.
you don't think about it. you don't think about the way he left without saying goodbye, because that would imply you care, and you don't. obviously.
except that three days later, you're still thinking about it, which is exactly why you're annoyed when your phone lights up. rafe.
you stare at the screen, which rings thrice before stopping. a second later another call comes through, and you roll your eyes before declining it immediately.
silence, the calm before the storm, before your phone buzzes.
rafe: answer the phone
you snort.
you: no
the typing bubble appears immediately.
rafe: where are you?
you: weird question
rafe: where are you?
you: why?
the typing buble appears appears, disappears, then appears again. nothing. you stare at the screen, frowning. that's strange, because rafe never shuts up once he starts.
your phone buzzes again, except this time it's not him, it's topper. you answer immediately: "what?"
"where are you?"
"you sit up slightly. "why does everyone suddenley want my location?"
"answer the damn question, y/n."
"home." something cold settles in your stomach. "topper. what happened?"
"nothing happened."
silence. then: "rafe got arrested."
for a second, you think you heard him wrong. "what?"
"he's fine."
what bullshit. nobody says he's fine unless things are very not much fine. you stand so fast your chair nearly tips over. "what happened?"
"i don't know everything."
"topper thornton."
"i'm serious." a pause, then: "fine, i just know there was some fight."
of course there was. it's rafe. there's always a fight. you're used to it by now, but something about this feels different. you odn't know why, it just does. "where is he?"
"y/n."
"topper —"
"y/n thornton. don't go down there. seriously."
"bye."
"don't you dare hang up on me."
you hang up anyways, grabbing your keys. your heart is beating too fast, because he's fine.
please.
your phone bzuzes just as you're about to slide into your car. a text, from kelce, which is weird enough on it's own because you and him aren't exactly friends.
kelce: where are you?
you: home
kelce: don't come to tannyhil.
your eyebrows pull together.
you: wasn't planning on it
kelce: i'm serious. he's losing his fucking mind
you: what happened
kelce: i dont know. just don't come over
unfortunatetly for him, that is exactly what guarantees you will. twenty minutes later, you're pulling into the driveway, house lit up with cars everywhere, music blasting from somewher inside. a pary, of course, except something feels off. people are standing outside, and the second you step out of your car, every single head turns.
what the hell?
you start toward the house, while someone mutters something and another person laughs nervously. you ignore all of it, until you hear your name. stopping, you turn around.
two girls are standing near the porch. one immediately looks away.
"what?" you bark.
the girl hesitates, winces, "you seriously don't know?"
"know what?"
when they dont reply, you push past them, straight through the front door. standing in th emiddle of the room, surrounded by half of the island, is rafe.
and he's staring right at you. not even relieved, or guilty, like he's been waiting.
and that's when you see her, standing beside him. close enough to touch, wearing one of his hoodies.
your hoodie. the one you left in his truck three weeks ago.
drunkenly ranting to a frat guy about how much ex!rafe sucked, only to realize halfway through the conversation that the stranger listening to every word is rafe himself.
“you sound familiar,” she laughs, words slurring slightly as she leans against the sticky kitchen counter. the frat house is loud, bass shaking through the floorboards, but his voice cuts through it anyway.
“do i?” he asks.
“mhm.” she squints at him, pointing lazily. “you’ve got the same voice as my ex boyfriend. which is unfortunate for you because he was literally the worst person alive.”
he chokes on his drink a little. “damn. harsh.”
“no, you don’t get it.” she grabs his arm like she’s telling him a secret. “rafe thought he was so charming. all backwards hats and stupid smirks. god, i hated him.”
“sounds like a dick.”
“exactly!” she says, delighted he understands. “wait—” her eyes narrow again. “you even laugh like him. that’s freaking me out.”
“maybe everyone in fraternities is the same guy.”
she gasps. “that’s so deep.”
he laughs harder this time, and she groans, covering her face. “stop doing that. it’s actually scary.”
“sorry.”
“whatever. at least you’re nicer than he was.” she pokes his chest. “rafe used to disappear at parties and leave me alone.”
his smile fades just slightly. “yeah?”
“yeah.” she looks down at her cup. “i think he loved being loved more than he actually loved me.”
for a second, he just stares at her. then quietly, “you really think that?”
she shrugs. “doesn’t matter now.” another crooked grin spreads across her face. “besides, i’m talking to you. frat boy clone number six.”
“number six?”
“maybe seven.” she tilts her head. “wait.”
his heart jumps. she steps closer, eyes scanning his face with drunken concentration. “oh my god.”
“what?”
“you even have the same cologne.”
there’s a long pause. then she bursts out laughing. “if you turn around and tell me your name is rafe i think i’d actually throw up.”
“…that would be pretty bad.”
“right?” she says, missing the way he’s already smiling. “anyway, what’s your name?”
he looks at her for a long second, like he’s debating whether to ruin the moment. then, “matt.”
“matt,” she repeats suspiciously. “that’s such a frat guy name.”
“you’re at a frat party.”
“fair.” she sways a little, nearly losing balance before he catches her elbow automatically. she blinks up at him. “see? rafe never caught me when i almost fell.”
“maybe rafe sucked less than you think.”
“absolutely not.” she points at him again. “don’t defend him. that man ghosted me for twelve hours during formal.”
“i was throwing up behind the hotel.”
“he didn’t even text me!”
“my phone died.”
she narrows her eyes. “you are weirdly invested in this story, matt.”
“just trying to see both sides.”
“there were no sides,” she insists. “he was terrible and i was adorable.”
“that part’s true.”
she freezes for half a second at the easy way he says it. “you flirt a lot,” she mumbles.
“only with girls who compare me to their ex boyfriends.”
“well maybe i have unresolved issues.”
“maybe.”
she studies him again, slower this time. his face is half-shadowed by the shitty colored lights strung across the ceiling, but something about him keeps tugging at her memory.
“have we met before?” she asks softly.
his expression shifts. “i don’t know,” he says carefully. “have we?”
“your eyes are familiar.”
“that so?”
“mhm.” she steps closer until she’s practically pressed against him, squinting with intense drunken focus. “and your nose.”
he laughs under his breath. “my nose?”
“don’t laugh.” she reaches up and touches the bridge of it lightly. “i know this nose.”
his hand catches her wrist gently, mostly because he thinks his heart might actually stop. “you’re really drunk.”
“a little.” she looks at him through her lashes. “you’re really pretty.”
that catches him off guard enough that he actually looks away. she smiles triumphantly. “ha. made you nervous.”
“impossible.”
“matt,” she says seriously, “if you end up being secretly evil i’m going to be devastated.”
“what if i said i already know you?”
“i’d say that’s creepy.”
“fair.”
she tilts her head again. “wait.” there it is. that same almost-recognition. his stomach flips. “oh my god,” she whispers.
“yeah?”
“you stole rafe’s face.” he stares at her. then she frowns. “that sounded smarter in my head.”
he laughs so hard at that he has to look away.
and that’s what does it.
the laugh.
not the voice, not the eyes, not the stupid cologne she kept noticing — the laugh. the exact same laugh that used to wake her up at 2 a.m. in his dorm room when he was watching dumb videos with the volume too loud.
her smile slowly drops.
“…rafe?”
his laughter dies immediately.
around them, the party keeps moving. somebody yells from upstairs, music rattles the walls, cups clatter in the kitchen sink. but suddenly it feels weirdly quiet.
she stares at him like she’s trying to sober herself through pure force.
“oh my god,” she says again, except this time it comes out horrified.
“hey—”
“you asshole.” she smacks his arm hard enough to make him wince. “you let me talk shit about you for, like, twenty minutes!”
“in my defense, it was kind of entertaining.”
“rafe!”
“okay, yeah, i deserved that one.”
she covers her face with both hands. “i told you you were pretty.”
“still thinking about that part, actually.”
“i’m going to kill you.”
he grins despite himself. “you also said you were adorable.”
“because i am.”
“true.”
she groans loudly and leans forward until her forehead hits his chest. he catches her automatically, hands settling at her waist like muscle memory.
that makes both of them go still.
she notices it first, probably. the way he still holds her like nothing changed. like they didn’t spend months pretending not to exist to each other on campus.
quietly, muffled against his shirt, “you really threw up behind the hotel?”
he snorts. “violently.”
she starts laughing before she can stop herself, shoulders shaking against him. “you could’ve texted me from the bathroom, idiot.”
“i know.”
“i thought you were cheating on me.”
his smile disappears. she lifts her head enough to see his face properly then, and the guilt there hits harder than she expects.
“i never cheated on you,” he says softly.
the drunken haze in her brain dulls around the edges. “i know that now.”
for a second neither of them says anything. then, because she can’t handle sincerity for more than ten consecutive seconds, she pokes his chest. “still can’t believe you introduced yourself as matt.”
“panicked.”
“that’s not even close to your name.”
“could’ve been worse.”
“what, chad?”
“i could pull off a chad.”
she laughs again, and he swears it feels exactly like getting something back he thought he lost for good.
☆summary: After hours of waiting for Rafe, he finally comes home. He is injured and drunk so you get mad.
☆warnings: swearing, mention of blood, hurt/no comfort, angst
DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK
♡♡♡♡♡
It was 2:18am when the door finally unlocked. You've been pacing in the living room for the past twenty minutes, your heart racing from how anxious you were but also frustrated and angry. Rafe had said he was going to go at a party for a bit with his friends. He said he would be home early but that was hours ago. Your mind wouldn't stop racing to different bad scenerios. You've called him a millon times but no answer. The door finally unlocked.
"Rafe?"
The door opened slowly and the second you saw him, your stomach dropped.
His lip was split, fresh blood at the corner of his mouth, nose and at the side of his forehead. There was a bruise forming along his jaw and his knuckles were swollen and red, slightly bleeding. His shirt was wrinkled with a few faded stains of blood and once you came close you could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on him. For a second the anger had disappeared.
"Rafe what the hell–"
"I'm fine" He said his voice sharp while closing the door behind him, running his hand in his hair. That's when the anger came back.
"You're fine?" You said raising your eyebrows "It’s two in the morning and you’re drunk and bleeding. I mean... yeah Rafe, you're fucking amazing"
He walked past you, heading toward the kitchen like nothing was wrong. Not even responding to you.
"You didn't answer any of my calls! I called you like a million times!" You followed him immediately.
"I was busy"
"Oh yeah? Doing what? Getting into fights and getting drunk?!" Your voice raising.
He grabbed a glass and poured some cold water from the fridge, completely ignoring the tone.
"Can you not start right now?" You let out a frustrated laugh.
"Oh I'm sorry, is this a bad time for you?" He let out a sigh.
"I'm tired" He said holding his head, obviously dizzy from alcohol.
"Oh really? Well so am I! I’ve been sitting here for hours wondering where the hell you were!" There was pause. He took a long sip of his water.
"I didn’t ask you to wait" He said casually.
"What?"
"I didn't ask you to sit here worrying!" He said avoiding eye contact now.
"Wow"
"I’m just saying–"
"No don’t" You cut him off, shaking your head.
"Don’t say anything else" You stepped back, putting distance between you. It did hurt you more that you could admit.
"Go sleep on the couch" He blinked, finally looking at you properly.
"What?"
"You heard me"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes Rafe im serious"
"You’re kicking me out of our bed"
"I’m not kicking you out" You pause for a second. "What im telling you is i just don’t want you in it tonight."
"Because I got into a fight?"
"Because you don’t care! About yourself or me!" you snapped.
"That’s not true!"
"Whatever Rafe! what in the world happened that you could end up like that!" You demanded.
"Nothing"
"Rafe! You can't even tell me what happened? What the fuck!"
He slammed the glass down a little harder than necessary.
"Just some guy talking shit, okay? I handled it."
"By handled you mean you hit him?" He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"God you never learn, do you?" You said trying to be calm sliding your hands in your face. His jaw tightened.
"Watch it"
"No you watch it!" You suddenly snapped stepping closer.
"You keep doing this! Every time you go out it's the same thing! Fights and drinking. You're coming back like this– like you don't even care what happens to you! What am I supposed to do? Sit here and be okay with it?!" You face slightly red from anger and frustration, your hands moving around.
"I said I'm fine" His voice firm and louder this time.
"That's not the point!"
"You're overreacting. It not a big deal!" He snaps and you let a frustrated laugh once again.
"You're unbelievable Rafe. You're unbelievable." There is a pause and you really look at him. He looks horrible.
"Fuck" You stepped forward and grabbed his wrist before he could pull away.
"Sit down."
"I don't need–"
"Sit down, I'm not going to ask you again Rafe." Voice sharper than intended to be. He exhaled frustrated and sat down. You grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and dropped it in front of him.
"You're not going to sleep like that"
"I don't need you to–"
"Stop talking"
"The fuck– you're not my boss."
"No, but i’m the person who apparently has to deal with your shit every time you decide to act like this!" you snapped, opening the kit. He didn't answer. You stared cleaning his wounds.
"Hold still"
"I said I'm fine"
"And I said shut up"
You grabbed his chin, a little firmer this time, tilting his face toward you so you could see the cut better. He flinched slightly.
"Relax"
"That hurts"
"Should have thought that before starting the fight, hmm?" He didn't answer once again. After a few minutes of silence you ask.
"Who was it?"
"Just a guy"
"What did he say?" He stayed quiet. "Come on Rafe"
"He was talking about you." You paused.
"What about me?"
"Said you shouldn’t be with me and not to be so happy cause you’d leave eventually anyway" Your chest tightened.
"And you proved him wrong by hitting him?!"
"I’m not letting someone talk about you like that."
"You don't get it" You said your hand sliding in your forehead in frustration.
"This isn't about him. It's actually about you"
"What does that even mean?"
"It means you keep doing this you. You keep acting like you have something to prove to anyone else but you're the one ruining everything" The second the words left your mouth, you felt it. The line you just crossed. Rafe went completely still and quiet.
"Ruining everything?" He repeated quietly making sure he heard right. You didn’t take it back.
"Yeah" Silence filled the room. It clearly hurt him. He avoided eye contact at all cost, he was thinking or trying not to cry? You couldn't understand why you had said that. Why you crossed the line. Did he really made you that mad? After a few moments he spoke.
"Go to bed" He said firmly.
"What?"
"I said go to bed" No emotion in his voice.
"I'm not the one who–"
"Just fucking go" He cut you off, his voice cracking, a little louder this time.
"You got what you wanted, right? I’m sitting here and I'm going to sleep on the couch like you said cause you don't want me near you." You didn’t know what to say anymore. He slowly got up and started walking to the couch. You didn't stop him. The couch cracked when he laid down. You started walking to the bedroom. Unsure what to think or do. Maybe you really had crossed the line and messed up.
☆summary: After hours of waiting for Rafe, he finally comes home. He is injured and drunk so you get mad.
☆warnings: swearing, mention of blood, hurt/no comfort, angst
DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK
♡♡♡♡♡
It was 2:18am when the door finally unlocked. You've been pacing in the living room for the past twenty minutes, your heart racing from how anxious you were but also frustrated and angry. Rafe had said he was going to go at a party for a bit with his friends. He said he would be home early but that was hours ago. Your mind wouldn't stop racing to different bad scenerios. You've called him a millon times but no answer. The door finally unlocked.
"Rafe?"
The door opened slowly and the second you saw him, your stomach dropped.
His lip was split, fresh blood at the corner of his mouth, nose and at the side of his forehead. There was a bruise forming along his jaw and his knuckles were swollen and red, slightly bleeding. His shirt was wrinkled with a few faded stains of blood and once you came close you could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on him. For a second the anger had disappeared.
"Rafe what the hell–"
"I'm fine" He said his voice sharp while closing the door behind him, running his hand in his hair. That's when the anger came back.
"You're fine?" You said raising your eyebrows "It’s two in the morning and you’re drunk and bleeding. I mean... yeah Rafe, you're fucking amazing"
He walked past you, heading toward the kitchen like nothing was wrong. Not even responding to you.
"You didn't answer any of my calls! I called you like a million times!" You followed him immediately.
"I was busy"
"Oh yeah? Doing what? Getting into fights and getting drunk?!" Your voice raising.
He grabbed a glass and poured some cold water from the fridge, completely ignoring the tone.
"Can you not start right now?" You let out a frustrated laugh.
"Oh I'm sorry, is this a bad time for you?" He let out a sigh.
"I'm tired" He said holding his head, obviously dizzy from alcohol.
"Oh really? Well so am I! I’ve been sitting here for hours wondering where the hell you were!" There was pause. He took a long sip of his water.
"I didn’t ask you to wait" He said casually.
"What?"
"I didn't ask you to sit here worrying!" He said avoiding eye contact now.
"Wow"
"I’m just saying–"
"No don’t" You cut him off, shaking your head.
"Don’t say anything else" You stepped back, putting distance between you. It did hurt you more that you could admit.
"Go sleep on the couch" He blinked, finally looking at you properly.
"What?"
"You heard me"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes Rafe im serious"
"You’re kicking me out of our bed"
"I’m not kicking you out" You pause for a second. "What im telling you is i just don’t want you in it tonight."
"Because I got into a fight?"
"Because you don’t care! About yourself or me!" you snapped.
"That’s not true!"
"Whatever Rafe! what in the world happened that you could end up like that!" You demanded.
"Nothing"
"Rafe! You can't even tell me what happened? What the fuck!"
He slammed the glass down a little harder than necessary.
"Just some guy talking shit, okay? I handled it."
"By handled you mean you hit him?" He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"God you never learn, do you?" You said trying to be calm sliding your hands in your face. His jaw tightened.
"Watch it"
"No you watch it!" You suddenly snapped stepping closer.
"You keep doing this! Every time you go out it's the same thing! Fights and drinking. You're coming back like this– like you don't even care what happens to you! What am I supposed to do? Sit here and be okay with it?!" You face slightly red from anger and frustration, your hands moving around.
"I said I'm fine" His voice firm and louder this time.
"That's not the point!"
"You're overreacting. It not a big deal!" He snaps and you let a frustrated laugh once again.
"You're unbelievable Rafe. You're unbelievable." There is a pause and you really look at him. He looks horrible.
"Fuck" You stepped forward and grabbed his wrist before he could pull away.
"Sit down."
"I don't need–"
"Sit down, I'm not going to ask you again Rafe." Voice sharper than intended to be. He exhaled frustrated and sat down. You grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and dropped it in front of him.
"You're not going to sleep like that"
"I don't need you to–"
"Stop talking"
"The fuck– you're not my boss."
"No, but i’m the person who apparently has to deal with your shit every time you decide to act like this!" you snapped, opening the kit. He didn't answer. You stared cleaning his wounds.
"Hold still"
"I said I'm fine"
"And I said shut up"
You grabbed his chin, a little firmer this time, tilting his face toward you so you could see the cut better. He flinched slightly.
"Relax"
"That hurts"
"Should have thought that before starting the fight, hmm?" He didn't answer once again. After a few minutes of silence you ask.
"Who was it?"
"Just a guy"
"What did he say?" He stayed quiet. "Come on Rafe"
"He was talking about you." You paused.
"What about me?"
"Said you shouldn’t be with me and not to be so happy cause you’d leave eventually anyway" Your chest tightened.
"And you proved him wrong by hitting him?!"
"I’m not letting someone talk about you like that."
"You don't get it" You said your hand sliding in your forehead in frustration.
"This isn't about him. It's actually about you"
"What does that even mean?"
"It means you keep doing this you. You keep acting like you have something to prove to anyone else but you're the one ruining everything" The second the words left your mouth, you felt it. The line you just crossed. Rafe went completely still and quiet.
"Ruining everything?" He repeated quietly making sure he heard right. You didn’t take it back.
"Yeah" Silence filled the room. It clearly hurt him. He avoided eye contact at all cost, he was thinking or trying not to cry? You couldn't understand why you had said that. Why you crossed the line. Did he really made you that mad? After a few moments he spoke.
"Go to bed" He said firmly.
"What?"
"I said go to bed" No emotion in his voice.
"I'm not the one who–"
"Just fucking go" He cut you off, his voice cracking, a little louder this time.
"You got what you wanted, right? I’m sitting here and I'm going to sleep on the couch like you said cause you don't want me near you." You didn’t know what to say anymore. He slowly got up and started walking to the couch. You didn't stop him. The couch cracked when he laid down. You started walking to the bedroom. Unsure what to think or do. Maybe you really had crossed the line and messed up.
IT’S SAFE HERE 1.7k words where ex!rafe cameron wants to protect you after JJ’s death
“Don’t talk to her Rafe,” Topper scoffs, shoving past him to get to his car.
Rafe couldn’t not, though.
He watched you lean your forearms against the railing, looking out at the beach. The wind whipped your hair back, and about you was mostly consumed in darkness except for the glow of the cigarette dangling between your fingers. Still in your uniform, and weary; you’d walk home.
Home. The word was bitter in his mouth- as bitter as the taste of his blood when he’d punched Luke for you once. That was no home. He’d seen them earlier- he couldn’t see them now so far, without so much light- those bruises that had begun to show up as dull shadows beneath your makeup.
“Rafe!” Topper called out, not even shaking his steady gaze on you. “Come on man, leave it alone.” He works his jaw. “Nah.. get in the car, go home,” Rafe drawls.
“Rafe–”
“Get in the car. ‘M not coming with you..” And then, without any more explanation, he stalks off towards you.
Scratching his jaw, he thinks of what to say, the wind filling the silence. But you can hear his approach- you could even hear Topper; they were so ridiculously obnoxious in the way they moved about life, kook boys. “What?” You ask hoarsely, turning to face him, leaning back against the railing and fighting off a wince from the pain that shoots up it- your father had shoved you to the ground only two days ago.
Rafe sees it. Even if he says nothing (for now), he sees it.
“Jus’… d’you want a ride home?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m not a charity-”
“No one fuckin’ said that,” he cuts you off, his voice firm. Then, softening, “no one- I didn’t say that. And I’d never think it.” After a beat, and staring at your unconvinced face for too long, he elaborates: “JJ picked you up every day.”
You nod stiffly, and feel tears burn your eyes. When his name is mentioned, your eyes always burn with tears.
“And he’s not here anymore… and I know- I know that without him, shit’s getting worse at home.”
You swallow the painful lump in your throat and avert your eyes. “Yeah.. and what? Your fancy fucking car pulling up in front of my house in The Cut will make it all the more worse. Again.”
Rafe bristles at the word again. Luke hated when Rafe was your boyfriend. He hated that you might find an out to the hole he’d buried himself in, and he hated that you might leave and he’d get nothing from you. It would get bad- the beatings, and the curses, and the insults. So bad, Rafe even kept you in his house at times, only until you insisted on going home for JJ. Now there was no JJ- so who did you go home for? But though Rafe asked this question what he really knew was that you no longer had him to escape with.
“Alright so don’t go there,” he says, so determined it makes you let out an amused and disbelieving laugh.
“Don’t go? Right,” you scoff.
“I’m serious.”
“Oh no, I know you are. You’re stupid,” you retort, taking a longer drag of your cigarette before you let it fall to the floor and crush it beneath the heel of your shoe.
“How?” He squints. “Don’t go there. Stay with..”
“You?” You raise your eyebrows. “Now do you hear it- the stupidity?”
“I’ve done it before,” he mutters, irritated by how right you were, and all the same how wrong you were. “I know we’re not dating anymore, but I care about you!” He pauses and waits to see if you’ll react even slightly… but no. “I don’t- I can’t see you hurt,” he admits. “JJ was around… so I knew even when we left each other that you might be protected, but he’s gone.”
Your face nearly crumples.
“And John B’s not gonna stand up to that man- I would do it. You know I would,” he pleads softly, taking a step towards you. “C’mon..”
One tear rolls down your face, hot and fast and uncomfortable. You swipe it away, then when the other falls, succumb to the fact that since his death, the tears have been endless and will forever be endless.
“Just go home Rafe.”
“No-”
“Yes,” you correct him. “Go home… and leave me alone.”
Rafe is a proud man. And if you want him to leave, he won’t beg. Though he’s conflicted- he sees those bruises, and he knows they must hurt. But at the same time you’re right, that he only ever made things worse.
So he does as you say.
Blood has become as common a drink to you as water. Only a few hours since you rejected Rafe, and you find yourself reaping the consequences of such stubborness- you haven’t willed yourself from the ground yet. You’re sat up against the kitchen counter, but your still sat amidst glass and alcohol. Luke is passed out in JJ’s room. He doesn’t belong in that room, but you don’t have the strength to drag him out of it.
You can only find the strength to drag yourself up.
When the door clicks shut, you will yourself to move quickly. Luke hates his children, and all the same he’d drag their ass back if it lost him money. JJ’s gone and he can’t risk even less of a paycheck.
But the walk to Figure Eight is long; you’re exhausted and limping and cursing yourself for not taking Rafe’s first offer. Now you’re about to disturb him, and maybe his whole family if you’re really unlucky.
The knock comes tentative at first. Then a little more firm. After too long of walking, you can’t find it in yourself to return home defeated- and the night’s too cold to camp it outside.
The door swings open. Rafe. You let out a small breath of relief.
He wants to open the door wider along with his arms, welcome you inside fully, and take care of you because he can see the new bruises and the pained look on your face. But externally, he remains a solid rock. “Changed your mind?” He asks gruffly, but he can’t force it to be unkind.
“I uhm..” you choke on your own words- or tears- and avert your eyes. You can’t get it out, and even talking hurts. Rafe takes pity- he always does- and he can’t torture you for longer. You don’t deserve it. “Nah- no, don’t. I’m bein’ an ass, you don’t need to give me an explanation.” God it’s pathetic how willingly he folds for you. “Come on- come in.”
And the door opens wider.
Tannyhill is warm, and inviting, and a safer space than you’ve ever had. Though you love John B, with social services knocking on his door every ten seconds, there have been better times.
The house is quiet, though. Silent even. Rafe closes the door and leads you up wordlessly- he can’t bring himself to turn back around and see your face so battered. He should have insisted earlier tonight, and made you see some form of reason. He could have avoided this, couldn’t he have?
“My dad and Rose aren’t home.. their anniversary,” he murmurs, as if to say that you don’t need to be tiptoeing as much as he can see you already are. You nod just a little.
Rafe doesn’t know why it’s his room he brings you to. Maybe because that’s where he wants you to be, in his sheets of blue and in his arms- safe. As safe as you could be, he thinks. But you don’t comment on it, and Rafe doesn’t either in case he provokes anything uncomfortable.
Every second you stand here makes you feel more foolish. You shouldn’t have come, or you should have come sooner. Now, still faintly tasting your own blood and tired from dragging your body here, you feel pathetic.
Rafe sighs, eyes closing. He’s had his back to you this whole time, but he’s fooling no one. “For God’s sake,” he mutters, heaving a breath before he turns and pulls you into him by your shoulders.
The contact makes you go stiff in his embrace.
Then the tears roll quick. Free and unrelenting. Not just JJ- but the pure pain and heartbreak of the past days, weeks, months… it pours soundlessly into him, and into his expensive linen shirt.
“You should have come sooner- why didn’t you come with me?” He asks desperately into your hair, tightening his grip while he crumbles about you too, all from the pure guilt weighing in on him. “I’m sorry,” he cracks. “I should have forced you into that fucking car- I knew he’d do this; God, I’ll kill-” he breaks off. He doesn’t finish his sentence, but your shoulders shake harder anyway.
All the times Luke nearly killed JJ. You. JJ’s death. Murder was a sensitive topic now. You couldn’t hear anything related to it without falling apart, understandably.
“I’m sorry,” he just repeats into your hair, smoothing it back with one rough hand. He cradles the back of your head, and hears the first muffled sob against his chest and feels himself wrench apart even more.
His other hand brushes against your cheek, and coaxes your head up. Though salt streams from your eyes, he ignores it entirely for the bruise blooming across your jaw, and the blood trickling from the corner of your lip. “Fuck..” he mutters, swiping it away with the pad of his thumb. He presses a kiss to your temple, and holds you tighter.
Between the pair of you, so much is left unsaid, unresolved, unfinished. But Rafe, despite his stubbornness and despite yours, can’t bring himself to care about it. You’re hurting- you’re hurt. And he is too. All he can think about now is taking care of you, as he always should have done.
Rafe rarely got sick but when he did, it was like you dealt with a 5 year old stubborn child. He wouldn't even admit when he was sick. Even when it was obvious.
Rafe woke up today with a sore throat and headache. Yesterday – Sunday – you went at a party one of the kooks hosted. They decided it was good to swim at the pool at 2 at night, winter time. This is why Rafe came down with a cold today.
Even himself couldn't admit he got sick. He thought he just slept bad or something. That's what he told himself while standing in the kitchen, leaning one hand against the counter as the coffee machine slowly filled his mug. He tried to convince himself it was just a cough and a sore throat. You stopped at the doorway, half asleep.
"Rafe?" He glanced up, already knowing that tone of yours.
"I'm fine" He said before you could even ask.
Then, another cough came up, little rougher. You raised an eyebrow.
"That didn’t sound like ‘fine'"
"It's nothing" He said grabbing his mug.
"My throat is just dry."
"And you're drinking coffee?"
"Yeah why not?"
"Cause it makes coughing worse, Rafe"
"Ah. Well its fine. My throat is just dry, love"
"You've coughed like 5 times" You stepped closer, crossing your arms.
"I have not" He said taking a sip of his coffee. "It's just morning air or I didn't sleep well. I'm good" But the slight rasp in his voice gave him away.
You watched him for a second before stepping closer and reaching up to touch his forehead. He caught your wrist immediately.
"No, dont start that." He said frowning.
"Start what?"
"The whole 'You're sick, go to bed, sleep' thing" He said still holding your wrist.
"I didn't say that" You said freeing your hand from his grip and touching his cheek slowly with the back of your hand. He looked tired, exhausted. His skin was warm. Definitely fever. You touched his forehead. Yeah definitely fever.
"Rafe..." You said and he already knew what was coming.
"It's nothing"
"You feel warm love. You might have fever."
"No, no I don't it's nothing, it's just hot in here"
"It's winter"
He leaned back against the counter, clearly already annoyed.
"You also look exhausted"
"I'm always exhausted"
"That's not comforting." There is a pause. "Come on Rafe, we both know you got sick because last night you jumped into the pool at 2 at night while it was freezing outside and also you didn't dry with a towel or anything after."
"No it's not-" Another cough slipped out, rougher and longer this time.
"You should stay home today" You said gently but he shook his head immediately.
"No, I'm not doing that"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not sick" He said calmly. "I’ve got work to do and I’m not calling my boss to say I need to stay home because I coughed twice"
"But love, it wasn’t twice, that's the thing. Plus your warm. I bet you have fever. I don't know why we're still talking about this while you should be in bed"
He sighed and hold his forehead for a moment. He just wanted the conversation to be over.
"You're exaggerating"
"Oh am I? You jumped into a freezing pool at 2 at night like an idiot."
He didn’t answer, he just kept staring at his mug hoping the conversation is over. Instead you were observing him. The way his shoulders were slightly tense, the faint dark circles under his eyes, the way he kept clearing his throat every few seconds like it irritated him. You couldn't take his shit anymore so you took the coffee mug from his hand before he could protest.
"Hey–"
"You’re not helping your throat by drinking coffee" You said calmly, placing it on the table behind you. Rafe stared at the mug like he had accepted his fate.
"That was my coffee"
"You can have tea instead"
"I don’t want tea"
"You should have tea"
"But I don't like–"
"I don't care what you like Rafe. You're sick!" You said a little harsh this time. His eyes fell down, frowning. "Fuck, I'm sorry love. You need to understand that you're sick, okay?" He didn't say anything. "Sit down for me okay? I'm gonna bring the thermometer." You said and left. Once you came back you had it in your hand. Rafe was already sat. He looked too exhausted. You checked his temperature and once you saw the number you sighed.
"Do I have fever?" His energy started dropping.
"Yeah love. I'm gonna call your boss tell him you're sick okay?"
"No no no I can go"
"I'm sure they can handle it. Plus you might get worse if you get out."
"Mhm you're right." His energy was non existent and everything hit him. The sore throat, the headache were way worse. Also, a weak feeling on his body started appearing.
"Maybe I do need to go to bed" He said almost whispering. You slightly smiled.
"Good"
"But I'm not sick" he said getting up and you guiding him back to your bedroom with your hand in his back.
"Of course you're not"
Once you reached the bed he laid down immediately. You pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders. At first he didn’t react but a few seconds later his hands moved to grab the blanket closer to his chest.
"You’re cold?" Rafe frowned slightly.
"maybe..."
You sat on the edge of the bed and touched his arm. His skin still felt warm and he was shivering. He shifted under the blanket, pulling it up higher.
"I feel awful" He said quietly.
"I know sweetheart. It’s going to be okay. I will take care of you"
You leaned forward and tucked the blanket more carefully around him, making sure his shoulders were covered. Rafe watched you do it without saying anything. Another cough came up, turning his head into the pillow. You brushed a hand through his hair.
"I’ll make you some tea"
"I don’t want a tea"
"But you're going to drink one" He closed his eyes with a tired sigh. "Fine..."
You left the room and came back a few minutes later with a mug of warm tea and a small bowl. Rafe was half turned onto his side now, eyes closed but he opened them when he heard you come back.
"What's that?" He said his voice raspy.
"Tea" You said, setting the mug on the nightstand. "And soup" He groaned quietly.
"I’m not hungry"
"You need to eat something"
"I’ll eat later"
You sat beside him again and handed him the mug.
"Drink first"
Rafe slowly pushed himself up against the headboard, the blanket still wrapped around him like he refused to let go of it.
He took the mug with both hands, enjoying the warmth of it. After a few sips his shoulders relaxed slightly. You picked up the bowl and held it out to him.
"Now eat" Rafe gave you a look.
"You’re really committed to this nurse thing, huh?"
"Open"
He rolled his eyes but leaned forward slightly, letting you feed him.
"See?" You said. "Not so bad"
He swallowed, then rested his head back against the pillow again.
"Come on, a few more spoons for me" After he finished eating his eyes were almost closing. You brush his hair away from his forehead and gave him a kiss there. He slightly smiled.
"Now take this medicine for the fever and I will let you rest." You said holding the medicine and the water. He sighed.
"Do I have to?"
"Absolutely"
Rafe took it, swallowing it with a sip of water before leaning back again. You pulled the blanket up around him one more time. For a moment he just lay there quietly.
Then his hand reached out, catching your wrist lightly when you were ready to get up.
"Stay for a little" He said, his eyes glassy from the fever.
"I will. I'm right here." You said and after a few minutes, his eyes shut close as he drifted to sleep.
Rafe rarely got sick but when he did, it was like you dealt with a 5 year old stubborn child. He wouldn't even admit when he was sick. Even when it was obvious.
Rafe woke up today with a sore throat and headache. Yesterday – Sunday – you went at a party one of the kooks hosted. They decided it was good to swim at the pool at 2 at night, winter time. This is why Rafe came down with a cold today.
Even himself couldn't admit he got sick. He thought he just slept bad or something. That's what he told himself while standing in the kitchen, leaning one hand against the counter as the coffee machine slowly filled his mug. He tried to convince himself it was just a cough and a sore throat. You stopped at the doorway, half asleep.
"Rafe?" He glanced up, already knowing that tone of yours.
"I'm fine" He said before you could even ask.
Then, another cough came up, little rougher. You raised an eyebrow.
"That didn’t sound like ‘fine'"
"It's nothing" He said grabbing his mug.
"My throat is just dry."
"And you're drinking coffee?"
"Yeah why not?"
"Cause it makes coughing worse, Rafe"
"Ah. Well its fine. My throat is just dry, love"
"You've coughed like 5 times" You stepped closer, crossing your arms.
"I have not" He said taking a sip of his coffee. "It's just morning air or I didn't sleep well. I'm good" But the slight rasp in his voice gave him away.
You watched him for a second before stepping closer and reaching up to touch his forehead. He caught your wrist immediately.
"No, dont start that." He said frowning.
"Start what?"
"The whole 'You're sick, go to bed, sleep' thing" He said still holding your wrist.
"I didn't say that" You said freeing your hand from his grip and touching his cheek slowly with the back of your hand. He looked tired, exhausted. His skin was warm. Definitely fever. You touched his forehead. Yeah definitely fever.
"Rafe..." You said and he already knew what was coming.
"It's nothing"
"You feel warm love. You might have fever."
"No, no I don't it's nothing, it's just hot in here"
"It's winter"
He leaned back against the counter, clearly already annoyed.
"You also look exhausted"
"I'm always exhausted"
"That's not comforting." There is a pause. "Come on Rafe, we both know you got sick because last night you jumped into the pool at 2 at night while it was freezing outside and also you didn't dry with a towel or anything after."
"No it's not-" Another cough slipped out, rougher and longer this time.
"You should stay home today" You said gently but he shook his head immediately.
"No, I'm not doing that"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not sick" He said calmly. "I’ve got work to do and I’m not calling my boss to say I need to stay home because I coughed twice"
"But love, it wasn’t twice, that's the thing. Plus your warm. I bet you have fever. I don't know why we're still talking about this while you should be in bed"
He sighed and hold his forehead for a moment. He just wanted the conversation to be over.
"You're exaggerating"
"Oh am I? You jumped into a freezing pool at 2 at night like an idiot."
He didn’t answer, he just kept staring at his mug hoping the conversation is over. Instead you were observing him. The way his shoulders were slightly tense, the faint dark circles under his eyes, the way he kept clearing his throat every few seconds like it irritated him. You couldn't take his shit anymore so you took the coffee mug from his hand before he could protest.
"Hey–"
"You’re not helping your throat by drinking coffee" You said calmly, placing it on the table behind you. Rafe stared at the mug like he had accepted his fate.
"That was my coffee"
"You can have tea instead"
"I don’t want tea"
"You should have tea"
"But I don't like–"
"I don't care what you like Rafe. You're sick!" You said a little harsh this time. His eyes fell down, frowning. "Fuck, I'm sorry love. You need to understand that you're sick, okay?" He didn't say anything. "Sit down for me okay? I'm gonna bring the thermometer." You said and left. Once you came back you had it in your hand. Rafe was already sat. He looked too exhausted. You checked his temperature and once you saw the number you sighed.
"Do I have fever?" His energy started dropping.
"Yeah love. I'm gonna call your boss tell him you're sick okay?"
"No no no I can go"
"I'm sure they can handle it. Plus you might get worse if you get out."
"Mhm you're right." His energy was non existent and everything hit him. The sore throat, the headache were way worse. Also, a weak feeling on his body started appearing.
"Maybe I do need to go to bed" He said almost whispering. You slightly smiled.
"Good"
"But I'm not sick" he said getting up and you guiding him back to your bedroom with your hand in his back.
"Of course you're not"
Once you reached the bed he laid down immediately. You pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders. At first he didn’t react but a few seconds later his hands moved to grab the blanket closer to his chest.
"You’re cold?" Rafe frowned slightly.
"maybe..."
You sat on the edge of the bed and touched his arm. His skin still felt warm and he was shivering. He shifted under the blanket, pulling it up higher.
"I feel awful" He said quietly.
"I know sweetheart. It’s going to be okay. I will take care of you"
You leaned forward and tucked the blanket more carefully around him, making sure his shoulders were covered. Rafe watched you do it without saying anything. Another cough came up, turning his head into the pillow. You brushed a hand through his hair.
"I’ll make you some tea"
"I don’t want a tea"
"But you're going to drink one" He closed his eyes with a tired sigh. "Fine..."
You left the room and came back a few minutes later with a mug of warm tea and a small bowl. Rafe was half turned onto his side now, eyes closed but he opened them when he heard you come back.
"What's that?" He said his voice raspy.
"Tea" You said, setting the mug on the nightstand. "And soup" He groaned quietly.
"I’m not hungry"
"You need to eat something"
"I’ll eat later"
You sat beside him again and handed him the mug.
"Drink first"
Rafe slowly pushed himself up against the headboard, the blanket still wrapped around him like he refused to let go of it.
He took the mug with both hands, enjoying the warmth of it. After a few sips his shoulders relaxed slightly. You picked up the bowl and held it out to him.
"Now eat" Rafe gave you a look.
"You’re really committed to this nurse thing, huh?"
"Open"
He rolled his eyes but leaned forward slightly, letting you feed him.
"See?" You said. "Not so bad"
He swallowed, then rested his head back against the pillow again.
"Come on, a few more spoons for me" After he finished eating his eyes were almost closing. You brush his hair away from his forehead and gave him a kiss there. He slightly smiled.
"Now take this medicine for the fever and I will let you rest." You said holding the medicine and the water. He sighed.
"Do I have to?"
"Absolutely"
Rafe took it, swallowing it with a sip of water before leaning back again. You pulled the blanket up around him one more time. For a moment he just lay there quietly.
Then his hand reached out, catching your wrist lightly when you were ready to get up.
"Stay for a little" He said, his eyes glassy from the fever.
"I will. I'm right here." You said and after a few minutes, his eyes shut close as he drifted to sleep.
