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Behind His Back || Mobster! Harrison Osterfield {8}

•Picking Up The Pieces•

Pairing: Mobster!Harrison Osterfield x Mobster!Tom Holland Sister!Reader

Warnings: mentions of therapy, PTSD, medication use, sex, and pregnancy, language, relieving a near death experience

Word Count: 4,131

Author’s Note: Sooooo, this part is kinda filler/boring, but its useful and the ending’s pretty dope in my opinion. Lemme know what you think and I hope you enjoy.

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It seemed as though filling the new house with things that only you and Harrison owned, rather than filling in the spaces around Tom’s things, excited you more than you expected. Harrison found himself lying on a mattress with no sheet a number of nights, ditching the blankets to cover your naked bodies almost in celebration over not having to hide the fact that you have a relationship. He also discovered that you’d found a voice during sex now that your brother wasn’t breathing down your neck about it. You’d been loud and left big, dark marks on his neck he knew he didn’t have to cover. The domesticity of it all was exhilarating and made the both of you giddy.

His favorite thing though, was finding you in the kitchen in the morning. Most times you were making breakfast or sitting at the island reading, coffee made for him. He knew you got antsy being so far away from Tom, especially when he was in Italy with Nolan, but he also knew you trusted Nolan to keep Tom as safe as he could. Nevertheless, you cooked and cleaned to keep yourself preoccupied so much that Harrison had to wrap his arms around your waist and hold you back to keep you from running off, much to your dismay.

Waking to an empty bed, all Harrison can do is sigh, the smell of breakfast wafting up the stairs and into your bedroom. He rests his head back over your pillow for a moment after he pulls it under his arm and huffs in your scent. After another moment, he stands and does his morning routine, using the bathroom and brushing his hair back before he heads downstairs. Walking into the kitchen in just his sweats, you don’t look up from the pan of eggs, plates of bacon and pancakes sat out around you. Bee lining for you, you giggle as he wraps his arms around you,

“Good morning baby.” Your giggle turns into a smile as you lean back into him,

“Good morning. There’s coffee for you, in the pot. But if you want there'sorange juice too.” You tell him, head following as he walks around you, palm lingering on your lower back. He hums,

“Thank you love."

"Of course. And breakfast is almost done. I’ll let you call dibs on your favorite pieces if bacon.” You add, turning to watch him sit at his place at the island, sipping the freshly poured coffee in a mug he’d been using most recently. You smile when he sets his mug down and looks up, clasping his hands before him to watch you finish the food. His eyes wander your body when you turn your back to him completely, more and less of your soft thighs he’s found a new passion for touching and kissing being exposed to him as your body moves beneath one of his white button ups. After another minute, you sigh, turning the burner on the eggs off. Turning to him, you lean on your hands on the counter, eyes searching his beautifully exhausted face. His eyebrows knit together,

“What?” He asks innocently, leaning on his elbows. You cock your head and look down at him sympathetically for a moment before you reach out to caress his cheek and run your thumb over the bags under his eyes,

“How much sleep did you get last night Haz?” You finally ask softly, cocking your head and looking over his face. He glances down, turning the slightest into your palm and running his finger over the rim of his cup,

“That obvious huh?” You nod sympathetically before he sighs through his nose, jaw clenching,

“Not much. I just… this therapy session is all I can think about. I know I need it and I’ve admitted that and all but… reliving all this bullshit is just, it’s too much. I’m just nervous.” He lays out, continuing to run his finger around the rim of his cup. You nod, starting to serve food to Harrison. Walking around the counter, he sighs as you lean in and kiss his cheek,

“You don’t have to go baby. Of course I think it’ll help but… whatever you do or don’t wanna do, I’ll support you.” You tell him, watching him tap his fork against the counter. He nods, looking up at you, eyes searching yours. He strains his neck when you lean in to kiss him, stroking tufts of blonde hair from his forehead.

“Thanks love.” He says softly when you round the island again, preparing your own plate,

“Of course. You take things at your own pace, just like I told you with physical therapy. If you’re not feeling up to something, there'sno use in forcing yourself to do it.” You explain. You share a nod as you head back to sit just beside him with a soft smile. Leaning your feet on the bars at the foot of his stool, he smiles back, watching you jab your fork into an egg,

“One step at a time Osterfield. Always.” You coo, guiding the yellow food to your mouth. You smile as you do, another giggle slipping past your lips as you eat in silence for a few moments, soon starting up a new conversation to distract Harrison from his plans for the rest of the day.

—

“Is this okay?"

"Yeah, yeah it’s fine, thank you.” Harrison muttered, holding the small, greenish grey disposable coffee cup in both hands, watching a bubble swirl in the dark drink. Glancing back up at the therapist sat across from him, he sighs and leans back in the stiffly upholstered armchair. Clicking her pen on the pad of paper in her lap,

“You didn’t… have a problem with me being your therapist did you Mr. Osterfield. Your… wife-”

“Oh, no, she uhh… she’s not my wife… yet. Damn, she should be, but uhm… no, there’s no problem. I’ve just never done this before.” He admits, setting his coffee aside. She nods with a soft smile,

“My apologies.” She says. Harrison shakes his head,

“’S alright. Like I said, she should be my wife at this point. The amount of things that woman has done for me.” He says exasperatedly. The therapist smiles,

“You love her.” She says softly. Harrison nods and he knows she wants him to talk about it. He licks his lips,

“Yeah… I have for a long while. She’s uhh, she’s my best friend’s little sister. I’ve known them since we were all really young and I’ve always thought she was beautiful, but just this past year its been… interesting. He beat the shit out of me when he found out we were together. But now he’s okay with it I guess.” He says with a shrug. The therapist cocks her head,

“Does that disappoint you?” She asks. Harrison starts to shake his head before shrugging, sipping his coffee and setting it aside,

“I dunno I guess. I wanna say no but… I guess it kinda does. The rush of… being with her behind his back, the whole forbidden love thing, it was kinda hot, ya know?” He says. She laughs softly, scribbling on the notepad in her lap,

“I do. But you still love her, yes?” Harrison nods, eyebrows knitting together,

“Course. She means the world to me. I’d do anything for her.” He replies. Looming over her notes, the therapist’s eyebrows furrow,

“You almost died for her, didn’t you Mr. Osterfield?” The question has Harrison’s heart pausing briefly in his chest. He licks his lips and nods, heart thundering and sweat collecting on his body as he remembers that night. Just like whenever he finds himself zoning out, he remembers all of the worst parts of the night he got shot. He remembers you most, but he remembers the pain and the tears and the blinding light as he bled out and Nolan and Tom trying to hold him off and the feeling of paramedics, drawing him in and out of consciousness. He can feel his tunnel vision, he can hear the ringing in his ears as he sets his cup down with a shaky hand. He nods, swallowing nothing, his mouth suddenly dry,

“Uhh, yeah. Yeah, I almost did.” He says. She nods,

“And you don’t like talking about it. Do you… have nightmares about what happened?” She poses. He nods, looking down at his shaky hands,

“Yeah, I do. There’s a lot that happens and it just… I find myself getting jumpy at the sound of a trash can lid closing in the neighborhood we moved to. It’s just the smallest things and I- I don’t wanna mention these things to Y/N. She has so much more going on and I just… I don’t wanna burden her with shit like this.” He rambles, shifting in his seat. She shakes her head,

“I can guarantee you that she won’t think you’re a burden for expressing your pain. It’s part of healing, admitting your pain to those around you. Especially if you plan on marrying her. You can’t keep these things from her. You’ll never heal, you’ll never move forward if you feel that you can’t talk to her. Do you… think she’ll react negatively?” Harrison shakes his head,

“No. No, I know she wouldn’t. She’s been my ultimate supporter and everything that we’ve done, we’ve done together. I just… I don’t wanna burden her. Her brother’s in Italy with a guy that we’ve known for only a few months. And we’ve moved into this new house and she’s got me and all of my problems already and I just… she doesn’t know the half of it. But I’m not gonna burden her, not right now.” He says, shaking his head. The therapist nods,

“But if she supports you, surely she’d support you through this too, no?"

"I know she would. But why add insult to injury? I mean… as it is, I came here to take some of the flax off her. I knew I needed to come and… I did because I couldn’t just… throw all of this at her. I can’t just… I can’t.” Harrison’s thoughts are jumbled, but he knows he doesn’t want to do this to you. With everything you’ve been going through, he knows he can’t just unload all of his extra baggage on you. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. A sigh from his therapist breaks the silence,

“I don’t… mean to be so blunt but… do you know that twenty seven percent of people who suffer from PTSD attempt suicide? Do you know what that twenty seven percent of people don’t have?” She poses again. Harrison looks up and shakes his head. She leans forward,

“An open network of communication. You have a woman at home that loves you and is always willing to sit down with you and let you know that any communication is okay. If she really loves you, she’ll let you vent. And trust me… our sessions are fine, but I’m not available at all times like your girlfriend is Mr. Osterfield.” She informs. Harrison nods. He does know the statistics because he’s looked them up. He’s felt that urge. But everytime he looks at you, thinks about you, hears you, he knows he can’t do it. He has to be strong for you. He has to be strong because what you’ve lost already is too much. And he can’t do that to you. But his thoughts are loud and they scare them. He sighs,

“Ya know what’s funny? We have a lot of time on our hands. Her brother’s basically been… paying us to lay low and stuff like that. Nolan, the other guy we’d met, it’s his house we’re living in so we don’t really have to pay much and with all this time on our hands I’ve been thinking about a baby. About… having a baby. Well… talking to her about having a baby.” He informs. She smiles,

“It would be an excellent distraction. But you just need to make sure that it’s what you want. And extra help will only aid you. Medication, little tips to fight the panic attacks, anything that helps you. But… I definitely think that if you believe yourself to be strong enough, and you can see a baby being a good distraction, I’ll advise you to present the idea to your girlfriend. Change things for the better.” She aids. He nods, sighing through his nose,

“Should probably give her that ring too. Actually make her my wife. Marry her, have a baby, I could see it.” He says. The therapist smiles at him and nods,

“These are all steps in the right direction Mr. Osterfield.” She reassures, watching a smile cross his lips as he thinks of you. Butterflies erupt in his stomach at the idea of himself proposing, marrying you, having a baby with you. He’s actually giddy to get back home, present all these things over dinner. He finds himself zoning out thinking of all the new things to come, only breaking from it when the therapist clicks her pen again,

“Well this is a drastic change. When we first brought up your injury and what happened to you, you got pale and shaky and now you’ve got color and you’re happy. This… this is how I know that you proposing these ideas is a good idea. I think that you and your girlfriend will last.” She says. Harrison scoffs,

“I sure hope so, I got my nose broken by her older brother for this.” He jokes making them both laugh. He sighs, thinking through a plan for how to propose everything to you.

—

“I love that we went out against Tom’s say but the minute we’re free of him, we stay home.” You joke to Harrison, smiling as you set a plate of chicken in front of him. He smiles, watching you sit across from him. Leaning forward, he clasps his hands together,

“I just figured being alone would be better and all, ya know. For all the information I’m gonna throw at you.” He replies. Leaning in on your hand, you smile across the table at him,

“Oh yeah? Like what?” He shrugs,

“There’s just… some things I wanna tell you and ask you.” He says, watching you raise an eyebrow,

“Is that why you kept what was said between you and your therapist, a secret?” You ask. He smiles and nods,

“Yeah actually.” You nod, watching him choose a piece of chicken before doing the same and serving yourself potatoes and the mixture of vegetables. Harrison wipes his hands nervously on his pants, sighing shakily, watching you jab a carrot with your fork before raising it to your lips and chewing on it, eyes meeting his. Your jaw pauses, eyes looking around the room for a moment,

“Did you- did you wanna talk before we ate?” You sputter out, a chuckle falling from Harrison’s lips. He shakes his head, picking his beer up and sipping from it,

“You’re alright love.” You nod and chew, swallowing and twiddling the fork in your fingers,

“So… where do you wanna start?” You pose softly. Setting the beer aside, Harrison licks his lips and moves a potato around on his plate. He swallows,

“Uhm… I- I guess with the session-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You inform him, waving a hand between the two of you. He nods,

“I know. Yeah… I- I wouldn’t. But if I’m keeping things from you, what is our rrlationship babes?"

"Comfortable. I understand not wanting to keep secrets from one another, but this is different Harrison. You have no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed of what you’re going through and in time, maybe you’ll let me know of all the other stuff, but what you want me to know now, you have every right to share.” You tell him. The way you passionately speak has Harrison’s eyes burning. He loves you so fucking much and hearing you say everything he needs to hear is overwhelming. He gives a small smile before licking his lips,

“Damn… okay. Uhm… well… she’s putting me on Zoloft for mild PTSD.” He says softly, testing the waters. He watches you cock your head, features softening as you come to the realization of your boyfriend’s issues. He’s always out of bed in the middle of the night and up long before you in the morning. He’s started eating less and is jumpy in the most random times. Reaching your hand out, Harrison sets his own hand in it, smiling a small bit wider,

“Oh Harrison.” You say softly. He nods, looking down with an almost heartbreaking chuckle,

“I know. But uhm… she said that I’m doing good considering what happened. She’s proud if me for being able to control everything, ya know? And she… she wants me to talk to you more. She thinks it’ll help, definitely because you’re always here and she isn’t, ya know?” You nod, resting your chin in your hand, giving his hand a squeeze. He sighs, playing with your fingers. Licking his lips, he sighs through his nose,

“We…” he pauses, avoiding your eyes before you lean down almost to give him the okay to continue. He looks up, searching your eyes for a moment before licking his lips again nervously, “we… agreed on a way to distract me if it goes well with posing the idea to you.” He mutters finally. Sitting up a little straighter, your eyebrows raise and Harrison swears his heart stops. He’s never posed the idea of having a baby. You’ve never been serious about it when you talked about it. But it’s now or never with the idea and he doesn’t know how you’ll really react, but he can guess and he mentally slaps himself for expecting the worst. But he can’t help it.

“Oh yeah? What’s that love?” You finally pose, breaking the silence. He swallows, searching your eyes again before he draws his clammy hand from yours. He rubs his hands together, pressing them together and leaning on his elbows. Pressing the sides of his hands to his lips, he looks at you again,

“I was thinking we could… ya know… try for a- a baby.” He stutters out. It’s as if the world stops in that moment. You don’t move, don’t even breathe and Harrison can swear that the clock in the kitchen has stopped ticking. You lean back in your chair, letting out a breath,

“Wow… you’re serious this time.” You say, eyes cutting back up to him again. He nods and then shrugs,

“Y-yeah I am… I was. I’m realizing now how stupid it sou-”

“No! No, it doesn’t.” Practically lurching over the table, you place your hand flat on the table as close to him as you can. He swallows as you give him a soft, reassuring smile,

“Its not stupid Haz. God I just- I- I just remember a time where even thinking about dating was out of this world, ya know? And now we’re living together and we’re… now we’re talking about… trying for a baby. Its crazy.” You tell him. He nods, watching your face move. You sigh and look up again,

“I love you. And yeah… it’s crazy, but so is everything else that’s happened in life. We’ve known each other forever Haz and if there is anyone I wanna do this whole life thing with, it’s you.” You tell him sweetly. He reaches out to take your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You nod, listening to him sigh before your smile widens and you nod a little more firm,

“We can do it. We can start trying.” You finally say. Harrison’s eyes widen a little,

“R-really?” You nod, eyebrows furrowing,

“What else are we gonna do? I’ve seen what it’s like when you aren’t involved in my brother’s business and if you’re chasin a little one around or doting on me, I think it’ll be good for us both.” You confirm. He stands, rounding the table with his hand in his pocket. You scoot your chair back and just as he reaches you, he drops to one knee, drawing the diamond and ruby ring from his pocket and presenting it to you. Your mouth hangs open as you stare down at it before you glance up to look him in the eye. He opens his own mouth, scoffing to himself,

“I just… you and I have been through so fucking much together. You make life so much more fun though and I can’t imagine working through all this bullshit with anyone else. And if we’re gonna try for a baby… I’m not gonna get my ass beat by your older brother for NOT proposing first.” He starts. Shifting, he sighs,

“Y/N, you mean everything to me. I love you so fucking much and I wouldn’t wanna suffer through all of this without you. Will you marry me?” He asks, watching your eyes gloss over with tears. You nod after another moment, a tear slipping from your eye as he slips the ring on your finger and pulls you into him, his arms bound around your waist and yours around his neck,

“I love you, so much.” You mutter into his neck. He rubs up your back,

“I love you too angel. Always.” He says back, leaning back on his knee and letting you run your hand across his face. He smiles, turning into your palm,

“I hope our babies are as beautiful as you are. You’re so fucking stunning and I, and any kids we have, are lucky to have you. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure that your PTSD fucks right off baby.” You tell him. He smiles, chuckling softly,

“Thanks darling. I just… I just hope that if we do get pregnant, it’s a distraction. I can build all the shit a baby’s gonna need and we can paint a room in here to make a nursery and go to doctor’s appointments. I think it’ll be good for us.” He says, shifting to move the chair beside you out to sit in it. He holds your hands, watching you nod,

“Yeah. I’m excited. Get a little cuddly baby boy that looks like an adorable mixture of his daddy with some features from Uncle Tommy."

"Ahh fuck… Uncle Tommy. Damn, I forgot about him.” You giggle, watching Harrison wipe a hand across his face. You giggle again after a moment,

“He’ll love our baby Haz. And he’s gonna be a great uncle to our little ones.” You reassure. Harrison nods, letting you lean in to kiss his cheek gently. Glancing across the table, he stands for a moment, dragging his plate to the side of the table you both sit on before scooting his chair closer,

“You’re sure you wanna start trying for a baby?” He asks, gesturing out to you with his fork in his hand. You nod, uncrossing your legs and smiling at him,

“Definitely. With you, I’d do anything.” You reassure softly. He seems to let out a sigh of relief, paying you no mind as you reach up to run your hand through his hair and he jabs his fork through a potato, raising it to his lips, chewing it while you cut your chicken. When he looks up his eyes linger on your hand, graced in a beautiful engagement ring before his eyebrows furrow at the small smile blessing your lips,

“What else did you talk about with this therapist Mr. Osterfield?” You tease. He scoffs, his eyebrows raising,

“You have no idea darling. Most of it was just about you and your fucked up family.” Giggling as he jokes back, you lean in, laying your head against his arm. He chuckles, leaning closer to you,

“I did talk about Tom being the bad child and you being the good child. Talked about how he’s an ass and the only time he’s useful is when we’re fuckinn around behind his back and how you’re everything.” He admits. You smile, looking up at his profile,

“’S alright if you don’t wanna tell me everything. Whatever you want me to know, I’ll be A okay with.” You inform. He nods and glances at you, tapping his fork on his plate,

“I know… and I appreciate it but you’re my fiancée. You deserve to know everything.” Crinkling your nose, you run your hand up his arm,

“You’re the cutest. Whatever you’re comfortable with handsome.” Glancing back down at you, he nods and licks his lips, looking at your own,

“Whatever we’re comfortable with.” He confirms softly, the both of your hearts fluttering.

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