PARENTS CONFERENCE
ex-husband!rafe x ex-wife!reader
summary: Rafe is never coming back to one of these.
word count: 3.7k (i got carried away w the fights lmao)
warning: language. talks about past-relationship. talk about a deceased father. parents fighting against each other. something else? probably. (as always English isn't my first language so apologies for any possible grammatical error).
author's note: thank you guys for all the love w everything i posted about this AU 😭 i hope you like this one bc i had fun writing lollllll. i'm so excited to explore this dynamic.
also should i make a tag list ?! a few people asked me
EX-HUSBAND!RAFE MASTERLIST.
Rafe Cameron.
Your dear ex-husband for two years now (the divorce anniversary was last week, not that you've been counting) and you have to meet up again for your kids' school conference, the ones Rafe normally doesn't assist because he's working, always saying he has some major deal to deal with that falls casually on the same day these meetings do, but you forced him to come today. There's no way you're going through this hell all alone one more fucking time.
There he is, standing in all his glory while typing on his phone. Office suit still on, but he keeps it open and makes sure that his tie is still well done. He knows how much you've always liked to see him all sharp. You tried not to look more than two seconds and hide behind your sunglasses.
You sighed at the sight and decided to think nothing of it while you clutched the purse in you shoulder, one that Rafe bought you years ago. Beautiful, designer, expensive. It's your favorite.
He looked up when he heard footsteps, he could recognize those heels anywhere. "Hey, baby." He said all too natural to his ex-wife and mother of his two kids. You, like this is just part of the routine gave half of a wave, clearly wanting to be out of this place as soon as possible.
"Hey." You said lazily and you kissed cheeks as a greeting, pushing your sunglasses up your head. You have told yourselves that this is way too engraved in your habits to take it out of them, so you don't waste your time on trying to be any different.
You're still annoyed, you haven't really been able to stand to be next to each other without sensing some form of irritation, but you're really trying your best here. You forced yourself to come here today because you know this is out of his usual events and you just can't wait to pick on him. The last time he picked up your kids you told them, on purpose, in front of them that you guys had a parents conference to attend to.
And he really couldn't say no when you put him in that position.
You sighed, brushing some expensive well done hair out of your face and gestured the school building. "Let's go." You walked inside the school with all the other parents, your heels clicking against the floor. Always so loud and demanding. He followed behind, eyes still on his phone as he walked next to you.
Typical.
You rolled your eyes and he didn't even have to look up to know that you did. He rolled his eyes too because after so long you do start getting similar with each other, he put his phone down, putting it in the pocket of his suit pants. And he adjusted his cufflinks, one of your gifts that you brought for him years ago when you were in Paris for work. They were gold (you wear gold, so he obviously started to do it as well), along with a delicate engraving.
You notice them. It's almost on purpose, the way you keep wearing each other's gifts around the other one without a single care. As if saying yes, your gift was good, the divorce won't change that.
He took a chance to look around, the last time he really been here was... probably when he graduated. I mean, he didn't even make it inside when it was your kids' first day of kindergarten (you know, emotional crying and all that bullshit), so it was a bit odd to be back. "No way they still have that fuck-ass water dispenser—" He noticed as he walked past.
You raised your eyebrows, unimpressed with his comment as you kept your walk fast, watching all the other parents also arriving at the meeting, some older couples and some people you didn't know. You felt some eyes on you. This was probably the first time at the school of you and Rafe walking together since the divorce. And if there's something about Outer Banks, people for sure like to talk.
"You look good." He commented under his breath. Not flirty, not really sweet either. Just... true, as if the fact that he noticed at all pisses him off.
But you rolled your eyes. "Save it." You scoffed, not taking him seriously anymore.
"Just sayin' how it is."
You groaned internally when you finally arrived the classroom where the meeting was being held. You stepped inside and stopped when Rafe stopped his walking on the door. "What?" You asked.
"Here? In the kids room?" He asked, already looking around the place.
Is he really so out of touch?
"Yes." You said like it was obvious. Because it was. "Where else is it gonna be?"
"I don't know, a place where they have chairs my ass actually fit into." He walked past you as he finally went inside, choosing the desk closest to the door in case he needed to escape at some point. But he knows you won't allow it. You had to laugh at that, the chuckle that escapes you admits just how right he was.
He grabs the back of one chair and pulls it back for you, offering you the place like he has always done. You gave him a stoic look and take the chair out of his hold and you sit yourself in it.
He sighs. "C'mon, honey. Can you cut me some slack?" He murmured. Words dripping with the right amount of charm (and sarcasm) to make you both nostalgic and enraged. "Been a long week."
He rolled his eyes and made a mental note on to count how many times he did it by the end of this goddamn circus.
"Ugh, tell me about it." You agreed with a groan as you rested your ching on top of your hand, looking around.
"What, full of idiots?"
"Full of them. Oh, my God—" You said in disbelief.
"Yeah, I bet."
He sat down, being obviously too big to fit into the kids' sized desk. Why is this meeting even happening here? This big ass school that has a very expensive tuition has an auditorium where these things can be held. Do they do it here because... it'll make you more empathetic? They think you'll think about how your kid feels in the same classroom? Or really they're just lazy people that only use the auditorium in especial occasions.
"Fucking kindergarten setup." He complained, uncomfortably moving in the tiny desk like a caged animal, knees spread too wide for the space (which you're definitely trying not to touch with yours). He was uncomfortable, so naturally, the arm that couldn't fit in place was stretched along the back of your chair. And you pretended you didn't feel the warmth emanating from him. Or his perfume.
You watched the classroom getting filled by other people, some other couples who came here together and you are sure that Rafe is wondering why the hell do they need both parents here, some other people who came here on their own: mothers who are married but their husband couldn't be here today (which was your case most of the time a few years ago), some who are divorced (now you're one of those) and the occasional one who shows up for their kid today for the first time.
That's Rafe.
Sure, he's pretty present (now) in any other thing that involved the kids but anything school related that required his presence was always a no for him. Until today.
There's a few people who you already know; from around the island, the country club and there's obviously those other high school sweethearts that are still married. One bitchy couple that graduated on your same class that never got the same attention you and Rafe did (because apparently they weren't relevant enough) and apparently they are still hung up on that by the way they're looking at you like they obviously just won.
Jesus, if only they knew what Rafe knows about them.
And then: "You cut your hair." He noticed.
You looked over your shoulder, back at him as you blinked slowly after what he said. "Just a few inches. Like always." You hummed, shrugging it off with indifference.
"Hm."
You nodded, with half of your mind already outside of the classroom and thinking about dinner. You looked around and your eyes ended up falling on him and the crooked collar of his shirt that you just noticed. You only gave him half a glance but it's enough to notice the imperfection. "You're over 30 years old and you still don't know how to dress?" You said while reaching out to accommodate what was looking wrong.
Rafe tried to ignore the shiver that went down his spine when you touched him and he pulled away, pretending this wasn't exactly what he wanted. "You always gotta be criticizing something or what—"
"If you knew how to dress I wouldn't have to—"
"Yeah, yeah."
At that moment, the young woman known as Ms Jones enters the classroom. A way too bright girl, who you're sure was genuinely a really sweet smile to see in the morning, but at 4 pm, at the end of the school day, you can see how she's pulling the strings to keep going. And you can't blame her, a parents conference wouldn't be your favorite activity at all.
"Good evening everyone, thank you so much for showing up today. We know you all have a tight schedule, so this is appreciated." She started, smile up to her eyes almost. Not all of us, Rafe thought as he looked at some people. "Today we're here to talk about the upcoming science fair next month, the end-of-year recital and class dynamics." She sighed softly and look down at her notes once again before continuing. "And by the end I'll go talk to each of you individually about your respective kid, just a few words so you can see how they are all doing—"
She wasn't even finished when you hear this agitating, unbearable voice. The same one you've dealt with for years while you were in high school. Eleanor.
"Excuse, Ms, hi—" She raised her hand, talking before even allowed. Hm, you could already sense the headache coming up. "My daughter practiced for hours for the starring and now it's suddenly a 'shared part'? How is that fair?"
You immediately tensed, frowning a little bit at the question because your daughter got the other part. She finally, finally dared to come out of her little cage and do something different because you know how much she's been struggling with opening up ever since the divorce happened.
And Rafe knew it as well, Olivia has been nothing but beaming ever since she got it. He felt the way you tensed underneath the touch of his fingers that had been slowly coming closer to touch your back.
"Well, ma'am, this is also elementary school," The teacher clarified more sternly, clearly prepared for people like this (or she already knows how Eleanor behaves). This is not a music orientated school, they don't focus on this. "All kids deserve their time to shine and to do their own thing." She was being as rational as she could be. "And Olivia really worked for her part as well, she deserves it too."
Eleanor scoffed, like she had better things to do and acted like she already won this case. "Her mom—"
"Her mom *what*?"
The room fell silent after Rafe's intervention. He was not letting anyone speak on your name like that, he was daring her to finish the sentence.
"She works in this—" She pointed out the fact of your profession.
"I didn't make my daughter audition for a school recital." You said indignated. Does people really this dense exist in real life or are you just hallucinating after such a long week?
"Oh, please." The woman rolled her eyes. The one time you asked Rafe to come to a conference just so he could also see how much of a shit show the whole thing was and how you were never wrong about this people. "Her daughter suddenly got a second position in a role that wasn't even shared to begin with and she happens to be a music producer. The show didn't even had two stars and now it does."
"She didn't make our daughter do anything, she didn't call anyone. Olivia auditioned like everyone else, are you fucking serious right now?" Rafe scoffed, almost going nonverbal at the implications this woman was making against a kid?
"Oh, you're one to talk, Cameron." Eleanor's husband, Michael, talked now.
"Excuse me?"
"It's the first time I see you at one of these." He gestured around the place to signal the situation they were in. "So, if I were you I would stay quiet if I don't know how this normally works." He said firmly, pretending to be democratic about this whole thing as if it actually counted for something other than just school merit that no one cared about.
"Yeah, Mike," Rafe said in that same tone that he used to call the guy in high school when they played in the same football team for years and he never really got to be a quarterback because of Rafe. Rafe used to be a little condescending just to make him boil.
"I'm actually working, y'know? That's why I don't have time to come to this bullshit and deal with people like you, y'know..." He shook his head, ignoring the daggers that you were sending at him through your eyes. "I'm a little busy actually providing for my kids. I mean, man's got three kids and you're still living off your daddy's money and your wife's reputation, huh?" He taunted, knowing he immediately touched a nerve.
Then Rafe leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he breathes out, too calm for your own liking.
"I didn't know a divorce was what would take you to lock in." Michael said again, with that snake tone that you always sensed around this kind of people.
You sensed Rafe shifting on the chair, the way he was moving to be the absolute same kind of man that he always was: a reactive one. He was always faster to take in action than in word.
You placed a hand on his arm and held him back shaking your head. Not worth it.
It's electric, massive. Even tho it's through clothes, even tho if you're not really touching him.
He goes still again, feeling incredibly bewildered by your touch again. Because, despite everything, the jokes, the flirting that goes around sometimes, you don't touch him like this anymore.
And he can't help but being absolutely shocked that you still manage to have such an effect on him. He doesn't dare to defy you and do the opposite of what you say now.
And he feels absolutely bitter because this man definitely touched a nerve. If there was something Rafe hated was the reminder of how they got to a divorce, how it was obviously his fault and how everyone around can tell how you definitely got away.
And Michael sees it, the subtle touch, the exchange of looks that a couple (or ex-couple) like you shouldn't even have anymore. But it lingers. "Still whipped, huh?"
Rafe takes a deep breath.
His eyes flick to Michael's hands, no ring tan line, but he's still wearing that same cheap-ass watch from graduation day— and then he looks back up with a smirk so sharp it could cut glass.
Rafe wishes he still had his ring tan line, he might as well get it tattooed so the mark permanently stays there. A reminder of what it had been.
He frowned and leaned against your touch in his arm like it was the only real thing he could rely on in a room full of assholes. "At least I'm not cheating on my wife—" He managed to say before being cut off by the teacher.
"Okay!" She interrupted. "I suggest that personal feuds are left outside the classroom during this meeting." She said, tense as a stretched elastic. It obviously isn't the same to deal with kids than with adults' tension, everything cuts deeper.
Rafe sighs and leans back in, settling on the tiny chair that he really wants to break right now. He looks down, your hand still on his arm like you're holding him with a leash, you might as well have.
Michael tensed after Rafe's words, it's not that what he said is exactly a secret but they like to believe he hides what he does in the country club pretty well. and Eleanor glance at each other with smug smiles. But leans forward in his chair, all too proud. "Speaking of cheating..."
And Rafe snaps from the moment, eyes darkening at the implication. "Hey." He warns. He knows all about what people say around the island since they separated and since Rafe really makes use of his singleness.
Rafe is not a cheater.
"Sir—" Ms Jones tried to stop the conversation.
Michael scoffs at him and does not let the conversation be interrupted by the teacher, knowing he made Rafe nervous on purpose —he really likes to be detestable— and looks over at you with that same condescending grin that you used to see in his high school days.
"How's your business, honey?" Eleanor asks now, voice dripping in sweet, fake sympathy. The petname on its own makes you want to throw up. "Still tryna' sell those tunes no one buys?"
You frowned at the and let out a sarcastic chuckle. Really? Of all people, she's the one that's going to tell you that right now? When she doesn't work, didn't go to college, didn't do anything other than staying on this island, hooked on her husband's arm while letting him cheat on her because she's also too busy cheating with her personal trainer.
And you're not usually one to answer and waste your time on people who don't matter but: "You mean the ones that got me a Billboard award last year...?" You asked with a smirk.
No need to explain more.
Rafe can't hide his damn proud smile. God, if he doesn't find this hot...
Even after the divorce, he kept the magazine with a picture of you at the ceremony, the one with you holding that award and smiling like a kid at Christmas.
Eleanor's smirk falters slightly when she realizes she just stepped in a pile of bullshit. But she still goes for it, looking for something to grab on to. Michael's smug expression falters a bit, because, yeah, he didn't expect that answer.
But he quickly covers up his wife with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah, we heard." Bullshit. They probably didn't even know about the goddamn Billboard Awards. "Must be real easy to get those awards when Daddy paid the record label to get you on the ballot."
Michael's always known it's a sore spot for you, being called Daddy's girl.
And you hear a few gasps the more the conversation progressed. You saw the young teacher's face, almost going pale when she saw that she can't be the one to control the situation. She's probably thanking that she decided to work with kids.
You laughed at that, rolling your eyes at how these people have never been smart enough to actually make something out of their lives or at least have proper encounters with other people, especially when they are the ones starting every altercation.
They have always been like this. Jealous, envious.
"Jeez, I wonder how he does it six feet on the ground." You said with a smirk to make him uncomfortable, you have talked about this topic way too much in therapy to not make a joke out of it. "At least my dead father does something, what has yours done, huh? Other than trying to hide you because you couldn't even work for him—" You barked back.
Rafe can't help it — he snorts loud, a rough, unfiltered laugh that cuts through the tension like a blade.
His head tilts toward you, blue eyes alight with something dangerously close to pride. Holy shit, he thinks. That fire in you —sharp, fearless— always hit him right in the chest. And yeah, maybe he misses it.
Michael goes red. "Excuse me?"
But you’re already moving forward in your seat, voice cool and smooth like velvet over steel.
“Think hard,” you say with a slow blink. “Does ‘bankruptcy,’ ‘embezzlement,’ and ‘community service for public indecency’ ring any bells? Or did Mommy wipe that part from the family photo album as well?”
A beat of silence.
Then—a few parents actually gasp.
Eleanor jerks like she’s been slapped and her husband looks ready to combust. Are they really that stupid to be the ones starting fights they can't even win? It's almost pathetic, really.
Rafe leans back now, arms crossed again, one leg bouncing under the desk because he’s still buzzing from how fast and clean you just shut it down.
You leaned forward, eyes steady and penetrating with the purpose of killing. "My daughter's staying on the recital and you hope I don't hear about this again." You didn't stutter, your voice didn't shake, you meant it.
"Are you threatening us?" The woman's voice went high pitched.
Everyone immediately started making noise as the young lady who was in charge of this meeting started talking again, decided to put an end on this. "No, no one—"
"I am—" Rafe said clearly in the middle of all the hubbub.
"No one's threatening anyone, okay?" Ms Jones interrupted, finally successful in her attempts as the four of you decided to step back. "Can we continue? We're here to talk about the kids, not to start a fight over things that are nobody's business."
Rafe, resting his arm on the desk and his chin on top of his hand, murmured: "That's what I'm saying."
You rolled your eyes and sighed, leaning back again as you crossed your arms over your chest.
Rafe glances at you over his shoulder, not hiding the smile with the immense amount of pride that he's having right now. You've never been one to get into unnecessary feuds with anyone (Rafe has, all the time), so the fact that he gets to see you get out of that structure of grace, respect and elegance by giving such answers... Yeah, he can't hide his reaction. You need to talk back more often for sure (you normally do, you talk back to him...).
He taught you well.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at him, and for once, you don't fight the smile either.
