It wasn’t like you’d meant to distract Rafe while he was on the phone; you knew better than that. But when you heard who he was talking to, you couldn’t help but feel a sharp thread of envy bubble in your stomach, and before you knew it, you slid your hands beneath the waistband of his jeans, easing the zipper down and tugging the fabric just enough to free him.
“Yeah, I’ll- fuck - sorry, stubbed my toe. I’ll see if I can take the boat out for jus’ the two of us.” Rafe breathed out, trying not to moan as you licked a stripe up from the base of his cock to his tip, feeling the ridges of his veins on the flat of your tongue. A pattern you’d almost memorized on every part of your body that could have ever touched it, your mouth, your hands, the plush walls of your insides. The phone’s speaker was tilted away as Rafe whispered your name in a scolding tone, “Cut that shit out.”
The way his face looked at you with both desperation and domination only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more, like they fed off of the realization that even with some other girl demanding his attention, it was still you he reacted to first, like it was his instinct, his loyalty to you written into his bones.
You softly smiled up at him, eyes wide and doe-eyed, as you kitten-licked the precum that leaked from his tip, his cock glistening red and hardened as it twitched from the sensation. You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently and hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper, revelling in the way his hand immediately flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to ground himself.
“Y-yeah, Stacey, that sounds perfect,” Rafe choked out, his voice was tight and strained as he fought to keep his composure. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight as you bobbed your head, taking him further into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You relaxed your jaw and hollowed your mouth, allowing Rafe to buck his hips and fuck your mouth slowly, the wet heat of your tongue dragging against the sensitive underside of his shaft.
The heat in your core started to pulse, your thighs suddenly slick, and the need for Rafe to solely focus on you became more urgent as you ground yourself against your hand to try and relieve some tension. Was it so wrong that he only had eyes for you, or that the boat was your thing only? As Rafe continued to thrust into your mouth, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you, taking him whole and almost completely at his mercy, solely because you were jealous of who he’d been talking to. It wasn’t like he was blind to it; he knew it’d spark the possessive side in you, the side he wished you’d show more often.
Rafe could do whatever he wanted, have whatever he pleased, and genuinely could not give a flying fuck as to what others thought. However, the one thing he’d always wished for was for you to stop pretending you didn’t care. To stop softening the edges of your jealousy, to stop playing it off when he knew damn well how deeply you felt things. He wanted you to be selfish, wanting him loudly, claiming him without apology.
“Dinner sounds good, what time were you thinking?”
You immediately hummed around him in amusement, the vibrations travelling straight through his cock and making him buck his hips involuntarily. You choked a little louder than you would’ve liked, leading Rafe to glare at you as a silent warning to behave. But his pupils widening and now darkened blue eyes gave away how much he was enjoying this. You doubled down, swirling your tongue around the tip before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt and swallowing around him.
“Seven works,” Rafe gritted out, his hand in your hair tugging at your roots as he tried to take control again. “I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up, yeah?” Jus’ you and me, no one else.” He paused, listening to her response. Feeling a surge of possessiveness in you, you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed hard, pulling back with a loud pop which led Rafe to hiss through his teeth into the phone. “Nah I’m just… handling some business right now. But I’m looking forward to Thursday.”
You smirked up at him, drool gathering at the corner of your mouth as you stroked him with your hand, slick with your spit. You leaned down to lap at his balls, taking one gently into your mouth and sucking, knowing it would wreck him.
“Ye-yeah fire away, what did you wanna ask?” Rafe managed to get out as he felt you take him in your mouth again, your fist twisting at the base of his cock as you bobbed your head, tasting him in the process. You heard your name being mentioned as you felt him swell in your mouth, the frantic throbbing pressed against your tongue.
“What does she have to do with this?” Rafe grunted, his hips bucking up involuntarily. His hand shot to the back of your head, not to push you away, but to hold you in place, to anchor himself as you took him to the hilt over and over again. The head of his cock was hitting the back of your throat with every downward plunge, and you just took it, swallowing around him, the constricting muscles milking him for all he was worth. “Listen you got a problem with her, then I-”
The dam that was built in Rafe for so long finally broke when he looked at the sight of you rubbing your clit while sucking him off with no mercy. He moaned out, thick and heavy, the first spurt of his release hitting the back of your throat. Rafe arched off the couch and buried his face in the crook of his arm, muffling the guttural sounds of his climax as you continued to work him through it, swallowing everything he gave you. His hips jerked with each pulse, a helpless, violent rhythm that spoke of his complete and total surrender to the pleasure you were forcing on him.
Rafe finally came back to himself, his chest heaving. He pulled you off him gently, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet sound. He looked at you: your swollen lips, the smug yet innocent satisfaction in your eyes, and a dark, possessive fire ignited in his gut.
“Then I’m sorry, but this isn’t gonna work out. My best friend’s not a fucking threat.”
Rafe hung up the phone and tossed it to the side, his full attention snapping on you. “You think you’re fucking funny?” he growled, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to crash his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.
the party is loud, warm, a little messy — bodies everywhere, music bleeding into laughter, beer cans clinking against the concrete. rafe tried to act normal for maybe the first hour. tried being social. tried being charming.
then the alcohol hit him just right.
now he’s sitting on the floor between your legs, back pressed to your thighs like that’s the most natural place in the world. your knees frame his shoulders, your hands resting lazily on his chest while he leans into you, loose and heavy and completely unbothered by anyone watching.
he’s drunk-drunk. the clingy kind. the kind that forgets the room exists.
“baby,” he murmurs, head tilting back so he can look up at you, eyes glossy, smile soft and stupid and in love. “stay. don’t move.”
you laugh, fingers sliding into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. he hums at the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed like a cat that just got exactly what it wanted.
someone walks by, says his name. rafe doesn’t even flinch.
you feel his hand find your knee, fingers curling possessively like he needs the reminder that you’re real, that you’re there, that you’re his. his thumb rubs absent little circles through the fabric of your pants, slow and comforting, not even trying to be subtle.
“you’re so warm,” he mumbles, pressing his cheek to your thigh. “this is better than standing.”
“you’re drunk,” you tease.
“mm,” he agrees easily. “drunk and married.”
that makes your chest ache — the way he says it like a fact, like a badge of honor. like nothing else in the room matters more than being yours.
your fingers trace the line of his jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. he catches it with his lips, kissing it softly before resting your hand against his cheek, grounding himself there.
the party keeps going. music gets louder. people get messier.
rafe doesn’t move.
he stays right there between your legs, head tipped back against you, breathing slow, trusting, clingy in the way only he gets when he’s had too much to drink and too much love for one body to hold.
rafe’s voice echoed through the house as he unknowingly thud down the stairs. “wheezie, seriously- what the fuck did i say about having people over.. it’s fuckin’ 9 in the morning.” his eyes widen slightly when he finally sees you in the kitchen next to wheezie, baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies.
“uh.. hey sorry i didn’t-” rafe stumbles on his words as wheezie snorts, clearly amused. she had caught onto rafe’s crush on you ever since you first babysat her a few months ago. but for whatever reason, rafe had become more and more awkward with you as time went by. “yeah? what about having people over?” she teases as you mix the dough cluelessly next to her.
“shut ur mouth” he quickly mouths to her when you’re not looking. rafe leans against the kitchen counter, trying way too hard to look casual. “uh…smells good.” he coughs out. “thanks rafe. hopefully i don’t burn them like last time” you joke. he responds with a short laugh as he scratches the back of his head awkwardly.
“jeez rafe did you forget how to socialize? or is it just because you have a big fat crush on-” rafe rushes over to wheezie, clamping his hand over her mouth before she can say anything more. “ignore her. she gets a little crazy in the morning” he says, wheezie slapping his hand away from her face.
“i do not get crazy in the morning. i don’t even know why i need a babysitter, i mean im 14. no offense by the way” she says turning to you. “none taken” you smile. “i just know it’s because rose hates me and doesn’t want me to have freedom” wheezie says as she rolls her eyes. “but it’s fine, rafe really likes having you around anyways.”
your cheeks turn pink as your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “huh? what does that even mean?” you look up at rafe, who is now shooting daggers at wheezie and whispering something underneath his breath. “she just means that uh- that-” he gets cut off by wheezie who just can’t hold it in anymore. “i mean that rafe has a huge crush on you.” your eyes widen as you look over at rafe who stands with his face buried in his palms. you can see how red his face is through his fingers.
“i- i gotta go. topper n kelce are waiting for me at the country club” he quickly replies, grabbing his car keys off the counter and heading to the door. “wheezie im gonna fuckin kill you later” he says as he gives you a awkward smile and closes the door behind him.
“what the hell was that?” you ask wheezie stifling a laugh. “i didn’t even lie, i mean he does have a fat crush on you. it’s so obvious like our entire family knows it at this point. sarah pointed it out at first and i was like no way.. but then i noticed he started getting all blushy and shy when you come over..i was like ew but then-” she starts to ramble as you cut her off. “okay okay stop” you say as your ears turn red in disbelief.
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.
