boys will be boys
summary: just a soft summer afternoon where rafe teaches your little son how to swing a bat and the sight makes you fall in love with your husband all over again.
wc: 960
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the warm sun beat down on the backyard, casting a golden glow over the grass. you were sitting in one of the lounge chairs, a cold glass of iced tea in hand, watching the scene unfold in front of you. it was one of those rare, perfect moments, quiet and calm, a gentle breeze flowing through the trees, the sound of laughter filling the air.
rafe was shirtless, ever so sun-kissed, sun-freckled skin glistening with sweat as he crouched down, his hands on his knees, trying to teach your four-year-old son how to swing a baseball bat. the sight of him—lean, strong, with that familiar smirk—sent a flutter through your chest. you always thought he looked his best when he was completely in his element, focused on something, and right now, that something was your son.
“okay, buddy, watch me.” rafe’s voice was firm, but there was a softness to it that you couldn’t help but notice. it wasn’t the same voice you heard when he was angry or annoyed, it was the voice of a father, patient, determined. “you gotta hold the bat like this, alright?” he positioned your son’s little hands around the bat, the tiny fingers struggling to grip it properly.
your son, who looked like an exact carbon copy of rafe with his tousled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, giggled, trying to mimic the way his dad was holding the bat.
“like this, daddy?” he asked, his voice high-pitched but full of excitement.
rafe nodded, his smile widening. “yeah, exactly. but now you gotta swing it, alright? like you’re trying to hit a home run.”
your heart melted at the sight of rafe helping him with the swing, gently guiding his little arms, even though he could’ve easily done it himself. he was so careful, almost like he was afraid of breaking him, both physically and emotionally.
you knew how much he’d struggled with his own father, how much that relationship had shaped him. and yet here he was, teaching his son with a tenderness you never thought you’d see in him.
“okay, buddy, now you gotta watch the ball,” rafe said, standing back up and grabbing the baseball, ready to pitch it. “keep your eye on it, don’t blink.”
you took a sip of your iced tea, admiring the way rafe interacted with their son. the father-son dynamic was still so new, but it was undeniable how natural it felt. you couldn’t help but marvel at how far rafe had come—he was no longer the angry, reckless guy you first met. there were still flashes of that old rafe, sure, but now he had this softer side, the one that came out when he was with your son. and seeing it made you appreciate him in ways you hadn’t before.
“here we go, little man,” rafe said, winding up dramatically like a professional pitcher. you stifled a laugh, he was putting on a show for the both of you, pretending like he was a pro when, in reality, he was barely pitching the ball five feet. your son’s eyes were wide with awe, clearly taking in every move his dad made.
rafe tossed the ball, and it barely made it past his knees.
“swing!” he called out, and your son swung with all his might. the bat hit the air with a whoosh, and the ball—well, it didn’t exactly go anywhere, but it didn’t matter.
your son’s face lit up with excitement. “i did it!” he shouted, spinning around and looking up at rafe with a grin that mirrored his father’s.
rafe dropped to his knees in front of him, a big grin on his face as he ruffled your son’s hair. “yeah, you did, kiddo. you’re gonna be a baseball star, no doubt.”
you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched them. there was something so beautiful about the way rafe was so determined to be the kind of father he never had.
you had known about his complicated past, how his dad had never shown him affection, how he’d been treated like a pawn in his family’s game. yet here he was, the man who’d once been so lost, now creating a future with your son—one where love and tenderness were part of the equation.
you took another sip of your tea, feeling the warmth of the moment spread through you. it was quiet for a few seconds, just the sound of your son giggling and rafe laughing in return, and then rafe stood up and turned his attention toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.
“want to try, babe?” he asked, his voice teasing, the smirk back on his lips.
you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “i’ll pass. i’m perfectly content right here, watching you two.”
rafe’s smile softened as he met your gaze. for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the sun, the grass, even the ball that was still lying in the dirt. it was just the three of you in that space, sharing something beautiful, something simple.
“alright, fine,” rafe said, his voice quieter now, as if the moment had shifted into something deeper. he glanced at your son, then back at you. “but you know, i think he’s gonna need you to cheer him on when hits home runs when he’s older.”
you smiled, heart swelling as you watched rafe take his son’s little hand again. it was moments like these that reminded you just how far you had come together, how much rafe had healed, and how much you had built.
“one step at a time, baby,” you said, setting your iced tea down, already knowing that you’d be here for all of it.
and just like that, it was another perfect memory in the making.
