Summary: You and Frankie get caught in a rain storm while on a fishing trip
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (though no real physical descriptions are given to reader)
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Suggestive content but no actual smut, fowl language
Word Count: 950(ish)
Author's Note: This is for the April Showers Challenge made by @undercoverpena.
xxx
It wasn't supposed to rain. Every forecast you'd listened to during the week before your fishing trip with Frankie had promised some clouds, but no precipitation.
Not a single one had predicted the downpour that actually ended up occurring.
It had started with a few droplets, a drizzle so mild you both thought it would pass, but within a half hour it had intensified so badly you and Frankie had to box up your fishing gear and return to the shore in the metal fishing boat Frankie had rented for the weekend.
You'd only been out on the lake for a couple hours, but at least you'd been able to catch a decently sized perch. It was what you'd both be eating for supper...once the rain stopped. Hopefully.
If it didn't stop there would be no way to start the campfire back up and no way to cook the fish.
If that happened it wouldn't doom you, you and Frankie had brought plenty of other food to eat, but it meant putting the fish on ice for the next day and you'd both been hoping to eat it fresh.
"Mother nature sucks," you decided, pouting as Frankie secured the small motorized boat with rope to a birch tree along the edge of the lake.
"She's definitely got bad timing," he agreed, glancing up at the depressingly gray sky.
Usually Frankie was all about the outdoors, at least more so than you, but even he had his limits, and you could tell he was as disappointed with the unpredictable weather as you were.
You shivered as the rain started to soak through your fleece jacket and the short sleeved t-shirt underneath and that was enough for you. You headed for the three person tent you and Frankie had sent up as soon as you'd arrived at the remote campsite that morning, already sore from the two hour hike to get there.
"I'm going to get out of my wet clothes and stay in the tent until this shit is over," you informed Frankie.
He chuckled. "Sounds like a plan. I'll be with you in a minute."
You unzipped the front of the tent and crawled inside before briefly turning back to gaze out at the lake before you.
"At least the view's still nice," you muttered, eyes scanning over the breathtakingly massive mountains that surrounded the lake and the body of water itself. There was something mesmerizing about the way the drops of rain hit the surface, forming little circles that expanded out and quickly dissipated.
You secured the storm flaps of the tent back into place to prevent the slanting rain from getting in and stripped out of all your soaked clothes, leaving you in nothing but your underwear until you were able to dig your nightwear out of your duffle bag.
If you were going to be stuck in the tent the rest of the afternoon and possibly the night, you were getting comfortable.
Frankie slipped into the tent a few minutes after you had settled in with a book, and began changing too. You watched in silent amusement as he struggled to get his clothes off in the tight space without disturbing you or the edges of the tent, the places prone to letting water in if even just a hand brushed against it.
"Let me help," you offered, laying your open book print down over the top of your bag.
You kneeled next to him and tossed his Standard Heating Oil cap onto the top of his sleeping bag and lifted his shirt over his head.
A smile played on his lips when his dark eyes met yours after.
"What?" you asked, though you recognized the mischievous look.
"Impatient to get me undressed, cariño?"
You huffed. "I was helping you out. Nothing more. You were starting to look like your nickname for a minute there, flopping around like that."
He leaned forward and brushed his nose against yours. "Thanks."
"No problem."
You pulled away to roll over to your sleeping bag but overestimated how far you needed to go, hitting a corner of the tent with an arm.
You cringed as water seeped through, making your sleeve damp again. "Damn it. I really, really hate camping in the rain. I'm going to be cold all night."
"We can fix that," Frankie said, still dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs. He gestured at your two sleeping bags. "These can be zipped together. Good for sharing body heat."
"You learn that in the army?" you teased, knowing full well why he really wanted to join your sleeping bags together.
"A survival book I read years ago," he replied.
"Nerd."
He reached for your sleeping bag and you let him zip it with his and you both climbed inside.
"What now?" you inquired, laying on your right shoulder so you could face him.
He turned to you and placed a hand on the back of your head so he could pull you in close and give you a peck on the corner of your mouth.
"Next we need to get you out of this damp shirt," he murmured afterwards, his lips brushing against yours. "That way I can warm you up properly. Wouldn't want you getting hypothermia."
"No, indeed we wouldn't," you agreed, beaming up at him, enjoying the act. You stretched your arms above your head and he slid his hands under your shirt to remove it.
"Probably wouldn't hurt to do some exercises too while in here," he figured as he caressed you along your ribcage. "Get the blood pumping."
You nodded. "Probably."
You reached for him and he engulfed you in his arms, dragging you on top of him as you captured his mouth with yours.
Maybe your fishing afternoon being interrupted by a storm wasn't so bad after all.
I miss writing, I miss editing, I miss roleplaying. Even though I still work in a creative field… the way I have ideas for so many things is 🥺🥰 something I just wish I could devote more time to.
