Summary: A protective husband. A stubborn wife. One unexpected separation that tests patience, love, and a whole lot of attitude. Quarantine, But Make It Cute is a witty, tender glimpse into what happens when care comes wrapped in chaos and affection. 💕
Warnings: ⚠️Mild language and teasing banter. ⚠️Light domestic argument (playful, not serious). ⚠️Fluff with hints of emotional vulnerability.
Word Count: 600+.Author’s Note: Hello, my sweet lovelies! It’s that time of year again! Your girl is celebrating another year around the sun, so I had to drop something for my babies.💖 The assigned vibes has nothing to do with the fic and everything to do with my birthday/mood right now.💖
You stood there frozen, looking at your husband, dumbfounded, waiting for him to say it was all a weird joke. Unfortunately, the words never came.
“So what you’re saying is… you’re evicting me from my own house?”
Your arms are folded, belly protruding just enough to serve as a physical reminder that you’re carrying his baby, something you know he’s obsessed with but refuses to get all soft about. Rio, standing in front of you like he actually thinks he can win this argument, shrugs, lips twitching in amusement.
“Nah, mama. Just temporarily relocating you. For your safety.”
Your safety. Like you’re not a fully grown woman who’s been handling herself long before he ever waltzed his irritatingly fine ass into your life with that damn smirk and infuriating charm. You tilt your head, unimpressed.
“For my safety?”
“Mmhm.” He leans against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I can’t have you falling sick and miserable, yeah? Ain’t good for our little one.” His voice drops a bit at the end, eyes flickering toward your belly with that stupidly fond look he swears he doesn’t do.
You narrow your eyes. “So your solution is to kick me out?”
He grins. “No, relocate. Temporarily, of course. Genius, right?”
It’s not. It’s ridiculous. But the worst part? You know he’s not going to budge. And judging by the way your luggage is already sitting by the door, along with your favorite snacks, fuzzy socks, and, oh, this sneaky man! He even packed that lavender-scented pregnancy pillow you love? Yeah. This was planned in detail.
“How long am I being exiled?” You place a hand on your hip.
Rio rubs at his jaw, considering. “A week should do it.”
“A week?”
“Doctor said rest is key, and I don’t rest when you’re around, mama.” His grin is slow, deliberate, but the rasp in his voice tells you it’s not just for show. “You don’t let me.”
That is not your fault.
“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” you deadpan, but he just chuckles. “You’re not even sick, Christopher. The kids are, my babies need me,” you worry your hands in irritation.
“Nah. Sounds like a ‘get your pretty ass to that nice little Airbnb I booked’ problem. Mick gon’ drive you and be at ya beck and call ’til it’s all clear to come back. Me and these germy minions gon’ be good. I got grams coming to help out.”
You groan, throwing your head back. “I hate you.”
“Mm, love you too, mama.” He kisses your forehead before you can stop him, lingering just enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips before he pulls back with that knowing look.
And damn it, you should be mad. Should stomp your foot and demand to stay. But between the way he’s looking at you, the genuine concern behind the cockiness, and the fact that, okay, fine. You really don’t want to catch anything while pregnant. You sigh.
“You’re gonna miss me,” you taunt, grabbing your bags dramatically, Mick removing them from your grasp to place them in the trunk.
He smirks, opening the door for you. “Not with all these FaceTime calls you’re about to force on me.
“You'd better answer every single one.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You pause at the passenger door, narrowing your eyes. “I will be annoying the hell out of you.”
He laughs, leaning in like he’s about to whisper a secret. “That ain’t nothin’ new, mama.”
You gasp, smacking his arm, and he just chuckles, looking so damn smug.
“Go on, now,” he murmurs, voice softer. “Gotta take care of you both.”
And that’s the part that gets you, every time.
So yeah, you let him win this round. But only because he’ll suffer more than you will. And you will be calling all the time, both out of nosiness and loneliness.
Fair’s fair.
Please be sure to comment, love, and reblog my sweet lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this short and sweet fic. I'll be tagging a few of my love bugs below.💕
