Summary: Cassie and you have a surprise for Frankie's birthday. Your baby boy decides to participate.
Word count: 2k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, fluff, domestic life, dad!Frankie
A/N: In the Shared Breaths universe, Frankie's birthday is in September. However, today is my dear friend @msjarvis 's birthday so this is dedicated to her. I hope you have a fantastic day and that this small gift will make you smile. As always, I'm not a native speaker, this isn't beta'd, enjoy! Don't forget to leave it some love if you do :)
Frankie doesn’t believe anyone has heard him come back home from work. Not with the chatter coming from the kitchen, the laughter and the baby squeals. So he closes the door that connects to the garage just a tiny bit louder than usual.
“I’m home!”
“Don’t come in the kitchen!” Cassie gasps, in a flurry to stand in the doorway and effectively bar him entrance.
“What’s going on?” he asks playfully, making a grand show of trying to peek but not trying very hard either. He’s caught wisps of secretive whispers between you and your daughter these past few days, so even though he doesn’t know the specifics, he knows something is happening for his birthday.
“It’s a surprise!”
Of the baking sort he supposes, given the apron she’s wearing, the streak of yellow frosting in her hair, locks everywhere but in her scrunchy, and the specks of flour on her cheek.
There’s some in your neck, too, as you appear behind her. Tired eyes that still smile and a babbling, wiggling baby in your arms.
“Hey, hermosa. What are you guys up to?”
“She told you. A surprise for your birthday.” You wink, hand him your son who goes happily and already grabs a handful of his jacket to anchor himself to his dad. Mateo smells of sugar and exotic fruit when Frankie gives him a kiss. “It’s almost done, though. You’ll see soon. Why don’t you go relax outside for now?”
“Now, that’s a proper birthday gift,” he jokes, dodges the hand you try to swat him with. You’re not quick enough to dodge the quick press of his lips to your sweaty cheek. Not that you’d want to. “All right, big guy, let’s go play outside for a while. Maybe you can tell me what’s going on? What’s my surprise? I promise I won’t tell.”
It’s only more enthusiastic squeals that answer him, not that Frankie expects more from a six-months old, how ever talkative your son is. Always eager to take part in conversations happening around him.
About the swing or the butterflies in the backyard Frankie shows him from the cozy armchair he settles in, pointing things out, wiping drool and trying to evade grabby hands. Big round curious eyes stare at him as he narrates what he sees and that toothless grin which makes Frankie’s heart sing.
So blessed. So at peace with his family.
“We’re done!” Cassie exclaims after a while. “Close your eyes!”
“All right! Here we go!”
“Don’t you want him to see you with it?” you whisper and she considers it, glances down at the cake she’s carefully holding with two hands.
“Don’t close your eyes!”
“Got it!” Frankie chuckles, sits up straight and he’s glad his eyes are open because it’s a sight.
His daughter walking outside, watching her steps, carrying the most gorgeous birthday cake to him. You follow close with the plates and the cutlery, ready to help but she doesn’t need it.
Cassie is glowing with pride when she sets the plate in front of her dad for him to admire. There’s a face-splitting smile illuminating the porch, one that you match, watching how dumbfounded your husband look.
“Happy birthday, Papá!”
“Oh….wow, you guys...Cass, did you make that?”
“We did!” She bounces a bit on the soles of her feet. “I made the letters and the pineapples here and here!”
She points to the clustered frosting, the green and the yellow, the fruit that they represent. The letters are crooked and there’s a proportion problem, the first ones ginormous and day piped really small, but it simply ties it all together.
Frankie is stunned.
“This is incredible. Just look at th—”
He leans closer still to inspect it more. Too close. When he points to one particular design, he’s not fast enough to stop a curious baby from doing the same. With much less restraint. Both of Mateo’s chubby hands collide with the top of the cake. They dig straight into it with his little momentum and Cassie gasps in shock and horror.
“No!”
“Hey, hey, no, Mat, no…,” Frankie tries to make him stop but it seems like a delightful new experience and your son goes back for seconds.
“No! Stop!” Cassie pushes his hands away. Once, twice when it doesn’t work, getting more frustrated each time. So does her brother when Frankie stands up to put the cake out of his reach and away from his new game.
There’s gooey yellow filling everywhere on Mateo, white frosting almost all he way to his elbows and then some on Frankie’s chin and beard when the baby flails and pushes against his dad.
It’s all happened so quickly, you’re still frozen where you stand, surveying what seems like a disaster now.
Mateo is wailing, Cassie’s shaking, staring at what’s left of the cake that seems to have exploded all over the table.
“Here, I’ll take him,” you decide, setting everything on the table and opening your arms to collect your son. “I’ll get him cleaned up. Come with Mama, baby boy.”
That in itself is a struggle, to hand him to you, to listen to his angry, frustrated tears back in the house, that your soft voice doesn’t seem to calm at all.
There are tears on the verge of spilling closer to Frankie as well, as he stands by his daughter.
“Hey, Cass—”
“It’s ruined!” she blurts out, lip quivering, voice wobbling. She balls her fists. “It was perfect and now it’s—it’s ruined!”
She furiously wipes at her cheeks and she even shrugs the hand Frankie lays on her shoulder to comfort her. She refuses to look at him, fingers twitching, unable to decide what to do next to fix it all.
So Frankie sits back down instead. Lets her breathe a little bit better before he tries to speak to her again.
“Did you make it all?”
She nods, sniffles.
“The cake too?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you.”
“Because you like pineapple on everything.”
“I do. Thank you. It must have taken you and Mom a long time to make all of this.”
She nods again. The entire afternoon since she’s come back from school and there were so many delays because of her brother and now this. She hiccups and tries to stop the crying. But it’s overwhelming.
“I wanted it to be perfect for you and now—now it’s ugly and—”
“Hey, sweetie, hey, listen to me. C’me here?” He opens his arms and this time she does come, burrowing in the comforting hug and crying on his tee-shirt while he rubs her back. “I understand why you’re upset, I’d be too. But you know what? You put so much love and care into it and that’s what matters to me. I saw how beautiful it was, still is, you know, because you made it with love. It’s not ugly.”
She doesn’t react, still staring at the mess of crumbs, filling dripping from the edge of the table now. It’s a disaster and she was so careful making sure everything was just right earlier. All of that for nothing.
“Maybe...maybe we can fix some of it?” Frankie ventures and this time she shrugs.
“He’ll just ruin it again,” she mumbles.
“We’ll be more careful when Mom and him come back, I promise. How about you tell me what to do? You’re the expert baker here.”
He grabs the closest knife and it does make her smile a bit, his praise. It’s impossible to restore the cake to its past grandeur, everything is uneven now, the edge where your son dug in collapsing on itself but at least somehow, Frankie manages to scoop all the filling inside and to cover it with a pile of crumbs that Cassie attempts to smoothe with what’s left of frosting. They have to use some of the colored frosting as well, only salvaging half a pineapple and Cassie sighs when she realizes it. The different shades on the side and the empty spot that now looks like a crevasse right below the only remaining P and A of Frankie’s title.
“Cass…,” he glances carefully at her, how she’s not crying anymore but definitely looks dejected still, “you know your brother didn’t do it on purpose, right?”
She sighs again. Louder. Deeper.
“I know. He’s a baby.”
“That’s right and—”
“I’m still angry with him.”
“I understand but—”
“We had to stop all the time in the kitchen because of him and I didn’t wrap your present and—”
“You got me a present?”
“Yeah?”
“Another one than that cake?”
“Yeah.”
“Cass. C’me here.” He goes for a second hug, pressing her close to him, dropping a kiss to her hair. “I’m so grateful you’re my incredible, caring daughter, warrior. I love you. You’re amazing.” Another kiss and a squeeze to her shoulder. “But yeah, it’s not easy every day, being a big sister, uh?”
She shakes her head. She loves being a big sister and playing with the baby but right now, not so much.
“I get you. But you know what? It gave us a chance to do some cake decorating together and I’m thankful for it.”
She gives him a weird look, because that’s not decorating at all, it’s like patching the holes and doing a poor job of it, much like the holes in the roads that create more bumps than anything, that’s what her dad complains about all the time.
“There’s some frosting left if we’d like to try and—oh you’ve done it!” You re-appear with a clean baby and a new shirt on his back, a bowl in your other hand, only to find out it’s not needed at all. “Well, look at that! Good job. It looks good as new!”
“That’s not true. There’s only one pineapple,” Cassie grumbles.
“Why don’t you show me how to make a new one with what Mom just brought us?”
“Okay…,” she considers it. “But he stays away.”
So it means you, too, but it’s probably for the best, to avoid another potential catastrophe. It was a handful enough, wiping his arms and his hands, stopping him from burying his fingers in the yellow frosting you brought outside.
It means that the pineapple Frankie makes is only of one color but Cassie is so dedicated in her instructions, a bit snappy, bossy, that she soon forgets she was upset, seeing the cake come back to what it used to look like. With the candles as a finishing touch, that she sets up herself, it does look almost as good as new. If only she could light them up, but that’s still forbidden.
The pictures you take of them both, of your husband lighting his own candles and asking your daughter if she’d like to help him blow them, they’re fuzzy, seeing that it’s impossible to keep your son still in your arms. It doesn’t matter.
What matters is how adamant Cassie is that no, those are her dad’s candles and he needs to blow them by himself because it’s his wish, he has to make a wish, and the best pictures of the afternoon are the last ones you take.
Frankie blowing out his candles, Cassie watching him do it.
Frankie smiling at you, frosting still on his face.
Frankie pressing his face to your shoulder when you join them to try and take a selfie of the four of you with the cake. Which is impossible. The angle is too hard to get and you don’t want to risk another diplomatic incident. So it’s just a photo of the four of you, one chubby hand pushing against your cheek and Cassie giggling at your weird face on the phone screen. Frankie laughing at how you huff.
So blessed with how imperfect everything at home. So imperfect that it makes it blissfully marvelous.
And even if the cake looks not quite like what Cassie had envisioned, it tastes delicious and she eats so much of it, she’s not hungry at all for dinner later on. Neither are you or Frankie and you all ride a nice sugar rush for the entire evening.
Thank you to @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics for the amazing dividers!!
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Summary: Three times Frankie and Miss were (very) horny for each other
Word count: 3.5k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, smut (oral f-receiving, unprotected and protected piv, breast worship), domesticity, domestic fluff, inaccurate descriptions of pregnant and post-partum bodies
A/N: Turns out it's easier to write fluff than quick smut for these two (and these stories *are* short, that's the whole point of them) so this was a challenge and I hope you'll enjoy it. I'm not a native speaker, this isn't beta'd, enjoy! Don't forget to leave it some love if you do :)
The sun on this spring morning hits you perfectly in the back. It warms you up. It makes you and the teeny shorts you’re wearing and that Frankie loves glow as he treads to you. Preparing breakfast for the two of you. Fruit and pancakes and the knife you’re holding that you still clutch as you feel him step close to you.
His hand is on your top, pressed to the cotton and feeling your stomach rise and fall underneath it. There’s the gruff of his beard in your neck where he presses his lips.
“’Morning, honey.”
“Good morning.” You sink into his chest only a tiny bit more, enjoying the light kisses to your collarbone. Up your neck to your jaw. “How did you sleep?”
“Good. I had a great dream about you.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Yeah,” he hums against your salted skin, sweaty still after last night. The way he sucks at it, the swipe of his thumb on cotton, barely grazing the bare skin of your stomach, the hint of tongue, it makes your eyes flutter for a second. “I was kinda disappointed when I woke up and you weren’t there to make it real.”
His crotch is hot against your butt and Frankie groans at the light shifting of your legs, how it makes you brush and press into him differently.
You tilt your head, giving him access to more of you to kiss. To your lips when you turn to admire his sleepy face properly. Disheveled hair. Eager eyes staring straight at you. Awakening the desire that you thought had been sated last night.
But who are you kidding. You always want Frankie. And he always wants you. The evidence of this is hard against your shorts.
“I’m here now,” you whisper against plush lips, letting go of your knife to let your hand wander down his tee-shirt, fully turning around so that you’re caged against the counter. By the heat of his body and the tongue sweeping in your mouth. Hungry.
“Here?”
His mouth hovers right by yours, pecks that he gives you, heart going fast at the tips of your fingers teasing the sensitive skin of his stomach, the elastic band of his boxers. He keens at how you cup him through the material, intentions clear.
“When will we ever get the chance again?”
Cassie’s at a sleepover you dropped her at yesterday and you’ve had the house to yourselves ever since. The first time it’s ever happened since you moved in with them a few months ago. You’ve already taken full advantage of the situation last night, the couch is a mess waiting to be straightened up.
Frankie’s only answer is to dive in for a longer, deeper kiss, his rough palm strong against your cheek and the little noises of appreciation at the way you’re rubbing him drip down your throat like the honey you sampled before he came down.
His other hand slams hard on the counter when you dip your hand in his underwear to grab at how hard he already is. It must have been an exciting dream indeed.
It sends the spatula rattling but nowhere close to falling on the floor as you glance to check on it, eyelids heavy and your heartbeat loud in your ears. In the hollow of your throat where Frankie nips at delicate skin.
You swipe your thumb over the head of his cock and you feel the shiver coursing through his veins.
“Maybe not that close to the pancake batter, though,” you rasp, wriggling but he’s everywhere, one hand under your tank top, fondling your breast.
“Why not? That’d add some protein to it.” He shrugs. His lips are wet by your ear, smiling, and he winks, eyes dark and awake once he straightens up, finds you gaping. Gasping for air too.
“Ewww,” you scrunch up your nose and Frankie laughs. A hearty sound. One, two, three open-mouthed kisses. “That’s gross, baby.” He’s still chuckling, his mouth a cute round shape when you squeeze his cock a bit more and he growls. “Not to mention wasteful.”
“That, you’re right about,” he concedes. Pinches your nipple and smothers your moans. At his attention. At his fingers, hot and skilled in your underwear. Brushing silky, wet folds. Sensitive spots that have you quivering.
You jerk him a bit faster until he pushes your hand away.
“Turn around, hot stuff.”
He kicks his boxers down his legs, licks his lip at how you shimmy out of your pjs, still taking time to put the bowl out of harm’s way, before you do as you’re told.
“I think I stretched you enough last night, didn’t I?” he asks, mouth by your temple, one large hand on your tit, squeezing the way you like it, and you can only nod at his probing fingers between your legs for the briefest of second before they’re replaced by his weeping cock.
Frankie feels your entire body shaking with anticipation as he pushes inside your pussy. How it clenches around him and your small whimpers. The way he knows you always bite your lip. Feeling so full and so whole and out of breath by the time he’s fully inside and you can exhale in a gasp. His chest is sweaty against your back when he gently pushes you down more, drops a loving, warm kiss to your spine.
He goes slow at first, taking time you rarely have. Ignoring responsibilities, enjoying each other.
Enjoying your boyfriend and his hand bruising the hip he’s using as an anchor to drive into you to hit spots that make you smile and sob and messily reach for another kiss.
“You’re so slick still,” Frankie mumbles instead of breathing, his nose bumping against yours, against your cheek. Moving his hips faster when you shift yours to hear your pretty moans tumble out. “So full of me.”
You gasp in his mouth, loving the appreciative grunts he gives at the thought and then he brushes his thumb over your nipple. Back and forth. Again and again until you cry out for him not to stop and even after that.
Your own hand slams hard by the sink as he sneaks two fingers on your clit, hot and throbbing, the head of his cock resting by your fluttering hole. Smearing pre-cum and slick and most probably his cum from last night all over your folds.
It takes you by surprises, the unrelenting attention to your breast and your pussy and how his cock sinks hard into you. Chasing your high, Frankie’s beard deliciously scratching the skin of your collarbone.
“Fuck, Frankie, baby, I—”
“I know,” he grunts, barely holding himself together for you to clench and squeeze him dry before he all but collapses against you. Feeling the rapid rise and fall of your body matching his own.
A sweaty mess of limbs as he hugs you close now, still inside of you, legs shaking and bruised lips kissing your smiling cheeks. The drag of your hand in his hair makes him twitch inside of you and you grin.
Under the warm evening glow of the new light bulb he replaced in the master bedroom earlier this week, Frankie finds you pouting in front of the floor-length mirror you brought along when you moved in.
The one Cassie loves because she gets to twirl endlessly in front of it to see how high her dresses can go. Or how many twirls before she gets dizzy and collapses in a giggling heap.
“What’s wrong, hermosa?”
“It barely fits anymore,” you frown, tugging on the tank top you’re wearing to bed. Or the one you were hoping to wear, at the very least. Too tight against your growing breasts. “And it’s the third one I’ve tried tonight.”
You point to the pile on the armchair and Frankie feels you sigh, discomfited, as he wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you tight. It stops you from fiddling with your clothes.
You watch him kiss your cheek in the mirror and it relaxes you. If only a little bit.
“Why don’t you go without if it’s uncomfortable?”
“Are you kidding? I need something to hold how massive these are getting and no, I’m not wearing a bra to bed.”
“Right. Well, then, that just means you’re gonna have to go shopping soon. I don’t see anything to complain about.”
It’s a playful tone and Frankie rests his head by your temple, looking at you through your reflection. He watches how your features change. Your upset frown vanishes slowly as you process his words and the corners of your mouth lift slowly. A blinding sight after a long day.
“Well, sure, when you put it like that…”
“Exactly.”
“But tonight—”
“But tonight,” he cuts you off, “let me—arms up, honey, thank you—” You do so, letting him drag the garment up your chest, up your arms and off it is, joining the other useless ones, until you’re naked from the waist up. “—tonight, you can go without and I’ll hold them for you.”
They’re hot, rugged by manual work and yet so smooth, his hands when they gently cup your breasts now. Careful not to hurt you and so large. Safe. Resting there even as you’re laughing at the idea.
“They’re beautiful,” Frankie praises, eyes raking your body on display for him. The only evidence that you’re pregnant is in his grasp, your secret still and he finds you holding his gaze when his eyes finally move back up to your face. He stares straight at you in the mirror. “You’re beautiful, hermosa.”
His fingers dance softly along the underside of your breasts, hardly supporting anything anymore but you can’t quite feel uncomfortable anymore. Not with the marvelous tingling sensations erupting under your skin, coursing through your veins and making you weak for him.
And then Frankie tentatively brushes one pad over a nipple and watches, enraptured, how your eyes fall close, your mouth falls open and you breathe out a short oh.
The bud hardens against his skin and you whimper when he does it again.
“Good?”
“Very.”
“D’you want to?”
“Yes, please.”
“You’re not too tired?”
“Never.”
“Ok.” One hot kiss to your cheek and one hand travels down to yours to lace your fingers together. Frankie hisses when you shift on your feet and brush against his crotch. “Come to bed, you’ll be more comfortable.”
He tugs on your hand and you follow happily, pjs bottoms and his tee-shirt abandoned before you both settle in bed. The headboard feels cold against Frankie’s back as he reclines against it. For a handful of seconds until holding you on his lap, holding you close and feeling you squirm and get comfortable indeed, it makes his blood boil in anticipation.
Your breasts are so close to his mouth in this position, knees digging in the bedding on either side of his lap and your ass the perfect weight on his thighs. You can feel his hardening cock pulse so close to your pussy like that. You’ve been wanting Frankie even more since you got pregnant and you’re already wet from him lightly fondling you.
You feel it gush as he brushes his lips to your nipples. One and the other. Kisses and then his tongue. His nails feel delicious, scraping at the other breast his lips can’t tend to and you grip his head to you with both hands. Handfuls of hair that you grab and clutch at, urging him to suck and lap at you even more. It awakens nerve endings you weren’t even aware you possessed and it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, Frankie decides.
Under you, smothered by your tits, tight against your chest, your body frantically moving against him. Your pussy rubs against his thigh, seeking friction, and with every pass that you make, you rub against his cock, leaking now, encouraged with the endless string of moans high above his end, a shower of them that you can’t help, chasing pleasure and feeling so hot it’s like your heart may burst soon.
“Hold on, I—”
“—Wait, I’ll—”
You both struggle to reach and grab his length, giggling when you rise ever so slightly and as he raises his head to give you some space, he fully bumps into the valley of your breasts, nose and mouth and chin and you almost lose your balance. Laughing and reaching for his shiny lips and his kisses. The hand splayed on your hip, the one that keeps you in place and helps you set the rhythm that you need when you do sink onto his cock.
Fully seated on him, at home and you’ve never been more beautiful, Frankie is transfixed by how you glow in his arms. How much he loves you, adores you even. The way you moan and sigh and move your hips, his hands caressing your ass now, with every bounce on his lap.
When he realizes he’s closed his eyes, lost in the sensations, lifting his hips to match you, he finds you staring right at him, panting and smiling, nipping at his lips and he has to reach up for a deeper kiss before he gets overwhelmed and asks you the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue. The one he promised his daughter he’d wait for her before asking you. With the ring they’ve hidden in her bedroom yesterday.
So Frankie kisses you deeper, anchors himself to your waist, plunges his cock deeper into you. Kisses all the way down the column of the throat to the sweaty skin of your chest, down between your breasts until his mouth closes around a nipple again. No hint of teeth like he knows you like because he can’t quite trust that it won’t actually hurt you. But enough heat and tongue and adoration to make you quiver and come undone against, nails digging in the mass of curls on his head.
When Frankie comes, he shudders inside of you, mouths an I love you with searing lips against the breasts he’d like to always hold for you.
Warm summer afternoon sunlight floods the little cabin through the front door before it closes on Frankie and plunges the small living space in relative darkness again. One glance behind your shoulder to catch his smile before your attention turns to the crib and your baby boy sleeping in it once more.
Frankie’s hand is clammy on your naked hip, sneaking underneath the beach cover-up you’ve been wearing right above your bikini bottom.
He kisses sun-kissed skin and rests his chin on your shoulder, watching your son sleep with you.
“All good?” you whisper and you feel him hum.
“Yeah. And Sasha has that new toy she wants to show Cass so Greg said he’ll collect them both when they’re done and they’ll bring her back later.”
One long afternoon of fun between the activities planned by the camping ground staff and the friends Cassie made when you first came on vacation here two years ago. The ones she’s eager to see again every summer. And the parents are alright. So supportive and dotting on Mateo.
“But I suspect we’ll have to go fetch her for dinner,” Frankie adds and your whole body shakes with your quiet laughter, eyes forever on your baby.
“Are we really getting an entire child-free afternoon?”
“Until this one wakes up at least.”
“My, what ever shall we do with all this free time?” you wonder, wiggling your way to face your husband, arms loose around your waist now, yours around his neck. Fingers playing with longer, darker curls. Grey around the edges which make you love his hair even more.
There’s mischief glinting in your eyes, the smell of the peaches you had for lunch on Frankie’s breath when he pushes you more into him, the tip of his nose brushing yours.
“I think we should take a nap of our own, Miss.”
“And how much sleeping would that entail?”
“Depends how fast we finish what we started last night,” he shrugs, kisses you softly. Too softly. You’ve been yearning for what he’s picturing.
How hot and bothered you were last night indeed, clothes everywhere in your bedroom, sweaty and panting and so close to orgasm when Mateo had suddenly awoken. Upset and impossible to soothe. Even with food and a new diaper so Frankie had resorted to what worked wonders with Cassie when she was little: going outside for fresh air and stars.
All ideas of sex and shenanigans had left you once you were by yourself, the minutes ticking and ticking and Frankie had found you passed out, curled up in bed much later when it was all quiet again. Not that he had any desire to finish himself off without you either.
“Hopefully not too fast.”
You reach for his lips again, the kiss too short before he’s dragging you back to the bedroom, fingers crossed that you’re not interrupted this time.
“Now, where were we?” he teases, watching you crawl and settle on the bed, beach cover-up floating to the floor. Only you in the most gorgeous bikini you’ve ever worn.
It’s been a journey, loving your new body after being pregnant and giving birth and caring for a baby and you weren’t quite sure about a new swimsuit for this year. Showing off so much softer skin and stretch marks now but Frankie absolutely was.
From the first pictures you’ve sent him of you trying it out in the store to right now, offering yourself up for him. Emboldened by his visible desire and the way he rubs his crotch, standing at the foot of the bed.
“You’re so fucking sexy, honey,” he praises, body covering yours, hot hands reaching for the enticing skin of your belly. Of your inner thighs and the swell of your ass. Mapping edges and valleys he knows by heart yet always explores with fresh enthusiasm.
The curve of your breasts with chapped lips, feather kisses under the cups of your swimsuit. Nails dragging on sensitive skin so close to your core that your pulse is already quickening, stomach rising under the long caresses of his mouth gliding down. Under the anticipation of his hand reaching to rub the fabric of your bikini. A long, hard press between your legs and you feel slick gush out of you in response.
“Take it off, Frankie, baby,” you moan.
“Uh?”
“Take it off.” You raise your hips to show him what you mean. “I don’t wanna make a mess of it.”
“Ah gotcha,” he says with a wink. And still kisses you right there between the legs before he obliges. Then another kiss on bare skin, right by already glistening folds. Straight on your hole once he’s settled better and then one long swipe of his tongue that has both of your hands fly down to his hair.
Right where you were last night.
“Right there,” you gasp as he laps at you again. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about that all morning.”
Frankie’s enthusiastic response is an eager nod, too caught up on you for words. Better things to do with his mouth. Lips sucking on your clit and that hint of teeth which is always gone too soon, he knows exactly what to do to make you last.
The pretty sounds that you made and that guide him. The gasps. The itching of your breath and the tugs on his curls when he moves lower to focus on your hole. The tongue that breaches you open and the strong fingers rubbing against your clit now.
It’s wet and hot and messy, it burns the way you like it, the scratch of his beard against your thigh, against your pussy. The press of his nose and the small kitten lick to your folds as he holds your gaze.
Frankie pushes your leg open more as you clench around the fingers he dips into you. Unrelenting in working you open and suckling on your clit on a rhythm that as you thrashing and gripping the bed cover. Biting your lip so you can stay as quiet as you can. But you’re sobbing, heat smothering your lungs and feeling so full of Frankie, so tingly.
You whimper helplessly when all too suddenly he’s gone. Smell and taste of yourself strong he bruises your lips with his before you can even voice your complaint. There’s fumbling on top of you.
“I know, I know but I need—I need to be inside of you, fuck, where’s—”
He fumbles with his shorts, fumbles around for a condom, going as fast as he can and when you were feeling empty for a handful of seconds, you suddenly feel much fuller when the fingers that were gone are replaced by the heavy weight of his cock and your pussy chokes him, welcomes his thrusts.
No longer his mouth or his tongue between your legs but against yours, letting you suck your smell off him in frenzied kisses.
Frankie grunts in your mouth, bending your body to dive so deep inside of you that you come so hard you’re panting underneath him and he works through it, clutches at sweaty skin. Suckling at the spot below your ear where he burrows when he can’t hold himself any longer and comes with a groan, your nails sharp holding on to his shoulders.
No interruption this time.
Thank you @saradika-graphics for the cute dividers!
I hope you enjoyed these little spicy slices of their life together! If you did, I'd love to hear what was your favorite part of it!!!!
Summary: Three soft moments in the life of Frankie and Miss.
Word count: 3k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, fluff, domestic life, dad!Frankie, pregnancy, sickness (cold)
A/N: Moment #2 came to me last week as I was by myself in my hotel room and allowed me to tie in two moments fully anchored in my universe. Moment #1 refers to something very briefly brushed in Family Museum that I don't think anyone but me remembers, and Moment #3 is a headcanon I thought of eons ago. I hope you'll enjoy these soft slices of life. Leave them some love if you do. As always, I'm not a native speaker and this isn't beta'd :)
You knock on Frankie’s door and then let yourself in, like you’ve been doing for a while now. Knocking is only a way of announcing your arrival.
“It’s me, guys !” you say nonetheless, peeling off your jacket in the entryway and peering into the living room.
The TV is on, playing whatever cartoon Cassie is currently obsessed with and she scrambles up from her seat at the coffee table, abandoning her games to come and hug you hello.
“Hey, Peanut Girl, how are you?”
She giggles at the title, well earned with how she devoured the snacks on the plane back from visiting your parents. Hers and Frankie’s and yours.
“I’m making bracelets with my new beads! You can make one, too, if you want, there’s tons of colors. Oh! I’ll show you my new book, it’s in my room.”
She’s already hurrying up the stairs, pausing in the middle, remembering something important.
“Papá’s not feeling very good today,” she explains, turning around. “He has a ja-hammer in his head, you know, when they do construction and it goes rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat, so we have to use our inside voices.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
He’s indeed not looking that good, your boyfriend, from the corner where he’s hunkered down on the couch. Wrapped in a duvet, trying to give you a smile but it’s weak and his eyes are glassy and he sniffs, clears his throat, evades the kiss you want to gently give him. Shaking his head no is indeed torture.
“Don’t wanna get you sick too.”
He sounds congested as he says it. You kiss his forehead instead.
“You do feel a bit warmer than usual,” you wince, feeling it with the back of your hand, too, and Frankie leans into the soft touch, coughs almost in your face.
“Sorry.”
“You’re okay.”
“I can’t believe—I,” he heaves, “I can’t believe she’s the one who went around Colorado with no gloves, sometimes no hat and she would’ve gone without a jacket and I’m the one who got sick.”
“Life is unfair, Muffin. But I’m glad you told me.” You pet his hair and he makes the softest grunt in response. Before a shudder runs along his spine and he clutches the duvet closer. “What can I do? Do you want some more tea?”
There’s an empty mug by Cassie’s game. An array of paper tissues and a slob of honey sticking to the furniture. Frankie coughs again.
“That’d be nic—”
Cassie calls out your name from the top of the stairs, peering down at you both, no book in sight so far.
“Are you coming to the museum with us?”
“The museum?”
“Yes, Papá is taking me to the museum to see Big Jim, he’s a fossil!”
“Big John?”
“Yeah! I can’t wait!”
Then she dashes off again, for the book, not waiting for your answer, taking it for granted probably. You do love dinosaurs as much as she does and that is one fun exhibit to see.
“Fuck,” Frankie mutters, “the museum. I forgot about the museum.”
“I’m sure she’ll un—hey, what are you doing?”
He battles with the duvet, limbs tangled in it and the second one you discover hiding underneath it when he manages to get out of his cocoon.
“I promised we’d go. I’m not—I can do it, I’m not that—that—,” he sneezes, pain ringing in his skull and bright spots hide how skeptical you look, cocking your head at him, “—that sick.”
“You can barely stand, Frankie, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m gonna have a shower, that’ll make me feel better,” he nods to himself, doesn’t see you come closer as he tries to round the couch, “and then some of that tea and—”
He takes another couple of steps in the general direction of the staircase, but without the support of the couch to steady him, his legs too wobbly, his head spinning, he can’t get that far and you have to reach for him.
“Frankie. Sit back down. Don’t make me use my teacher voice.”
This time, when Frankie’s eyes shine, it’s with a hint of mischief and he smirks.
“Now, that’s a thou—” cut off by more wheezing and gasping and he all but collapses against you, losing his footing until you do help him back to the couch, sitting next to him as well, wrapping him back up in his layers of fluffy material.
“Let’s put a pin in that, shall we? You’re not going anywhere right now, Muffin.”
“M’okay.” He finally surrenders, lulled by the graze of your fingers on his temples and down his cheeks and his neck and he keens softly, closing his eyes and trying to focus on that feeling instead of the pounding headache behind his eyelids.
“Tell you what. I’m gonna make you some tea, bring you some medicine, painkillers, cough syrup maybe. You’ve got some upstairs, right?” He nods to confirm. “And then, I’ll take Cassie to the museum so you can rest. Here or in bed, your choice.”
“You don’t have to, we can go another time.”
Even if he’s aware, in between sharp breaths through his mouth, that his daughter will be disappointed for the rest of the day (if not the school break) and that’s the last thing he wants. But standing up is exhausting.
“I want to. It’s been a long time since I’ve visited Big John myself. It’ll be fun.”
“Thank you,” Frankie purrs in the crook of your neck when you guide him there, your fingers brushing sweaty locks of hair in the nape of his neck. He makes a very contented noise when you kiss the top of his head again. Before he coughs against your clothes. Once, twice, three times until all he can do is gasp.
“I can stay over tonight, too, if you’d like,” you whisper, so much rummaging coming from upstairs, you doubt you’ll see that book and you’re actually dreading seeing the state of Cassie’s bedroom. “If it makes things easier for you.”
“You said you were going to prep for school.”
“I can prep for school here, you have an internet connection as well. We’ll just swing by my place after the museum so I have everything I need.”
Frankie looks up from his cozy spot, everything a blur around him except for your concerned look and your kind smile. The warm lips to his temple.
“I love you, Frankie. I want to take care of you. You don’t have to do it all alone.”
He sniffles in your face, everything so heavy all of a sudden, his head and his body, that he has to lean against the armrest and the cushion there, hand grabbing around until he finds your fingers and holds them as tight as he can. Everything so heavy but also less scary, less stressful. To have someone else having his back. He loves you so much, too, and he doesn’t realize he’s been saying it out loud on a loop until you shush him quietly and then, blissfully, there’s no more cartoon sounds in the living room but only you and Cassie finally reading a story.
You stir in bed, shifting against soft bedding, nose brushing fabric that smells of sweat and warmth and fancy laundry detergent. Eyes still closed, your toes curl with happiness and you breathe in, smiling.
It’s early morning in the hotel room, you can tell by the relative darkness as you blink your eyes open, touches of dawn peeking through the tall windows and the curtains.
Where Frankie’s head should be on the pillow by your side, you’re met with his naked waist instead, from how he’s sitting up. Soft tummy that you can’t help but kiss gently and he jerks with surprise, a reflex. So deeply engrossed in his thoughts he hadn’t realized you were awake.
“’Morning, hermosa.”
He smiles down at you, squeaks adorably when you kiss him again, the hot spot by his hip. Everything else hidden by the sheet thrown over you both. You giggle against his skin before giving him a break. Frankie loves those sounds. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how silly you are in the morning when there’s no rush. He hopes he never does.
“Good morning. Is something wrong with it?”
You point at the wedding band he’s taken off to study closer. The one you put on his finger the day before yesterday and it still feels a bit surreal, that your boyfriend is your husband now. That you have a handsome husband you get to yourself with no interruption for your short honeymoon. A husband that you get for the rest of your life.
The one whose waist is the perfect cushion to rest your cheek as you watch him slide the shiny band back on his hand. Frankie flexes his fingers a couple of times, mesmerized by it too. Mesmerized by the sleepy sight of you. His hand comes to rest against your back, grazing the edge of the sport bra you have to wear if you want to get a decent rest these days.
“Nothing wrong with it. It’s perfect. I was just—still can’t believe we did that.”
“We did.”
“You’re my wife.”
“I am.”
You hold your own hand up to admire, the matching band and your engagement ring and then you’re laughing to yourself again, giddy with happiness, hugging Frankie as tight as you can from your tangled embrace, burying your face in his body and breathing him in deeply.
Before you hoist yourself up to his actual level and groan at how your body refuses to wake up properly. You kiss his cheek.
“I love you, Muffin.”
“Love you too.”
“But we also did something else a few months back and now he’s pushing against my bladder so I gotta go pee.”
Frankie chortles, his throat dry from too much exertion last night. The recollections come to him with a sigh as he watches you hurry to the bathroom. Your beautiful face lying on the bed and your open arms urging him to join you. The sharp rise and fall of your chest and your hands buried in his hair. The ghost sensations of your lips everywhere on him made for some nice dreams and the sight of you now, coming back to him and the warmth of the bed, it makes his heart skip a beat.
“Wow.”
He’s staring at you in disbelief. Your disheveled appearance right after waking up, wearing nothing but that bra. Your hand rubbing the stretched skin of your stomach. Staring like he can’t quite believe you’re real. Can’t believe his luck. Before his face breaks into a giant grin again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he praises, helping you back in bed, tucking you the way you like it so that you can rest your cheek on his chest and listen to his heartbeat and his calm breaths. You drop a kiss on freckled skin right there and you hum at the strong press of his lips on your hair, then hot lips are on your forehead.
“I’m so lucky I’ve found you,” he mumbles, the words seeping straight to your veins. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find someone like you. I love you.”
“We’re lucky we’ve found each other. I’m never letting you go.”
You press another kiss to his chest to seal the deal, and you’re quiet for a moment, watching your own finger trace heart shapes on his stomach. Frankie watches you, too, squeezes your arm and it is foreign, the press of his wedding band against your bare skin. You never want to get used to it. It feels magical.
Then, his body rumbles under yours with his quiet laughter, he’s grinning when you look up.
“Are we reading our vows again?”
Memories of the ceremony come back to you like they must have come back to him, misty eyes and the wind and the flowers and all the faces of the people you loved and Frankie’s hand strong in yours. All that you said to each other and yet not enough. Not enough words in the world to tell each other how you felt then, how you’ve been feeling for so long. All the time in the world to show each other instead.
“Now, that’s an idea, baby.”
You yawn, close your eyes, ready to sleep in some more. Lulled by Frankie’s fingertips and how they’ve been grazing your stomach, the edge of your bra. Right where your skin flutters with your son’s movements inside of you, close to his dad.
You wave at Frankie and Cassie from the armchair by the living room window before going back to cradle your son’s little face and the very little but oh so very soft hair on his head as he nurses. Cassie tries to wave back when she notices you, and promptly drops the bag she’s been carrying. Content spills all over the driveway and you have to stifle a laugh at how Frankie shakes his head behind her, his own arms way too full to help her right away.
So it takes some time for them to join you inside but once they do, Cassie is sporting a face-splitting grin that stretches the wonderful butterfly make-up adorning her entire face.
“Hey, guys, how are you? How was it?”
“It was so much fun!” she stresses, bouncing a bit, dropping what you suppose are gifts she got on the coffee table before she huddles close to you and her brother, always curious about him. Invested.
“Oh, I’m so glad, you look beautiful, sweetheart.”
She giggles and nods at the compliment.
“I almost chose the tiger but there wasn’t enough blue and I like blue.”
“I know you do. You’ll have to tell me everything!”
With your due date being so close to Cassie’s birthday there was never any doubt that it wouldn’t be feasible to host your daughter’s 9th birthday party at your house. Not with a newborn who’d be barely a month old. You did only give birth three weeks ago, constant reminders shooting through your body all the time and you wince a bit at how your sore your nipples feel right now.
But it was no reason for her not to have a birthday party at all so she was given the choice of Chuck’E’Cheese with a couple of friends or a bigger party at the park where tables and space and games were already available for free. You’d given her a couple of days to think it through when you’d sat her down to tell her but she’d made her choice in a couple of hours. The park it was. With her dad.
“But I have a question first. Why isn’t Papá fully made-up too?” you tease, a glint in your eyes as he strides to you three.
Frankie can’t hide his grin as he drops a kiss to your forehead, so gently. Even more gently when he bends further down to give one to your son before he plops down in a chair by your side with a heavy sigh. Children birthday parties are exhausting.
“Because, everyone wanted to see photos of Mateo.”
“I bet. He’s really cute.”
“He is. And then there was cake to be cut and—”
“It had palm trees on it and also crabs and a star fish and a treasure chest!”
“Oh my.”
“Yes, Papá has pictures, he can show you. I had a crab on my piece, it tasted like strawberries.”
“We’ve saved you a piece too,” Frankie mentions and you can’t help how your face lights up at the news. You did have time to eat lunch yourself, in between naps and changing diapers and resting your eyes just for a second, but you’ve been ravenous lately.
“You did? Thank you, Muffin. It sounds delicious but I’ll have to have it later, my hands are pretty full right now.”
You look down to find Mateo staring up at you, lips puckered and it hits you every time, that wave of love that threatens to overwhelm you. You wouldn’t mind.
“You can have it now if you’d like. Gimme me a sec.” He brushes his lips to your temple once more, how much he’s missed you both even though his own hands were pretty full too, before he stands up with a groan, hands his unlocked phone to Cassie. Even if she could have unlocked it herself. It’s been the same combination forever. “Here, Cass, show Mom the pics.”
She does, running a very complete if not out-of-order summary of her afternoon. Listing all the friends who came, all the drinks they had, who won the games, who fell during their race, the gifts she got, especially the tickets to the cinema that she can’t wait to use.
And then Frankie is back with your piece of cake on a plate, half of a star fish and some of Cassie’s name in frosting you suppose. A fork, too, so he can feed you pieces of it himself. You deserve it. You must be starving and exhausted too.
“There you go, Mama. Enjoy.”
You shake your head with a smile at how he’s forever surprising you. So attentive and loving and you do miss some of what your daughter tells you, too focused on the divine taste of the buttercream. The fluffiness of the sponge and the sugar rush of the frosting. That bakery better never go out of business.
You can’t even help the pleased sound that you make as it all melts on your tongue and you’re eagerly asking for a second bite before you’ve even swallowed it down.
“Good?” Frankie asks, already knowing the answer and you nod happily.
“Very. Thanks.”
“Of course, hermosa. Open wide now.”
You laugh out loud, but still do as he says, his lips stealing some of the crumbs on the corner of your mouth as you chew. Frankie stays there for a second longer than necessary, the sounds of Mateo being done eating close to his heart, which means this is a stolen moment coming to an end.
Right before you’re both being chastised by Cassie for not listening and he feels you smile against him. Give him another quick peck before you focus on your children again. And your cake.
Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the dividers!
Big John isn't made up, you can totally go see him in Tampa!
If you've enjoyed this, don't forget to reblog and give it some love. I'd love to hear what was your favorite thing about it.
Summary: Three Thanksgivings with a growing Morales family.
Word count: 3.3k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, fluff, dad!Frankie, domestic bliss, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth (blink and you'll miss it tho)
A/N: I promised they'd be back and here they are. The first part was supposed to be a full story on its own but I like this 3-part stories layout so here it is, with two other cute slices of Miss and Mr Morales's life. I'm not a native speaker, I did celebrate Thanksgiving in the USA once and went into a food coma, this is unbeta'd but written with the fantastic dinosaur pen @msjarvis gifted me so this story is dedicated to her. Enjoy!
Main masterlist | Series masterlist
There are napkins waiting to be folded on Frankie’s dining table. A heap between plates and the fall decoration his sister brought yesterday because she knew too well he wouldn’t have much to brighten up the table. Her words.
The first Thanksgiving that he’s hosting since buying the house in the summer so she wasn’t quite wrong about that.
Napkin folding with Cassie and her cousins, all diligently following their abuelo’s instructions, it’s a family tradition. For him to fold them into animals or leaves and the kids have been trying to create their own masterpieces for as long as they’ve been able to use their hands. Getting better every year.
A silent respite of concentration from their loud games earlier in the morning which almost makes it possible for Frankie to hear your conversation with his mother and his sister in the kitchen where you’re all busy cooking.
His own napkin is left untouched in how he’s trying to discreetly eavesdrop and check that you’re doing okay, your first holiday with his family.
Until it’s all smashed to pieces by the doorbell ringing and Cassie sits up straight on the chair by his side. She hops down before the echo has even died down.
“He’s here!” she shrieks, abandoning it all, cousins hot on her heels as she barrels to the front door and her uncle behind it. The last person missing to make the day complete.
“Inside voice, Cass. Please.”
Frankie sighs, catches the heavy square of brown fabric before it can land on the floor. He’s royally ignored by his daughter, though. Everyone speaking on top of one another, Santiago’s loud, booming laughter that reach you in how he greets his nephews and his niece. A proper assault of excited love.
“Ah, let her be, mijo. She’s fine,” Frankie’s mother does reply by your side at the kitchen counter, not even taking her eyes off what she’s doing.
You do. Biting your cheek to stop the snigger at how matter-of-factly she rebukes her son and you steal a glance in the living-room just in time to catch your boyfriend’s scowl at being told off. Not much he can do when a grandmother goes against what he says.
You smile at him then, and even from a distance, his face softens at the sight until it dissolves into another frown at whatever Santiago tells him as a greeting. It’s brotherly loved disguised as anything but that follows, or so it seems. Banter going too fast and Cassie still hanging on to her uncle’s arm, begging him to come and see the pet tortoise she brought home last month.
“Hi, Teach!” Santiago hugs you after a kiss given to his sister and one loud one to their mother. One hug for you and one tiny theft of a grape in the bowl behind your back. “It's good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Santiago."
"Tío Santi, come on! Come see!"
"Mija—" comes the warning from the living room.
"One sec, chiquita. I'm getting a drink from Papá's very well-stocked fridge and I'll be right there," he promises, loud enough for Frankie's ears and a wink to you. He dodges the hand Frankie's mother tries to swat him with on his way to steal some more food. Not that it deters him. His next words are chewed around the grapes. "It smells good in here, by the way. It didn’t take long for you to be recruited, I see.”
“Oh, I volunteered actually! Frankie made enmoladas for one of our first dates, you know,” you explain, to him but also everyone that will listen, the fridge door opening as Santiago helps himself to a beer indeed and gets pestered to bring out more for Frankie, his father and their brother-in-law. Hollers from the other room. “He said you’d taught him, Mrs Morales, so I wanted to learn from—”
“Oooof,” Santiago interrupts, one hand on his heart, a smirk on his face, beer request forgotten for a spell. “Fish cooked for you and you’re still around to tell the tale? That’s unheard of!”
“Why don’t you get a move on those drinks!” Frankie speaks up, annoyed already and it’s not even been five minutes. “And come help us fold napkins instead of running your stupid mouth!”
Santiago chortles and it’s hard even for you to keep a straight face on. How chaotic it’s been since yesterday. The first time in a long time your Thanksgiving break won’t be spent quietly with your friends. You’re still seeing them later in the weekend, to hopefully bring them leftovers.
Frankie had you as a house guest even last night, he’ll have you for as long as you’ll want to. A guest on his couch again, albeit in his living room now. With him, since his parents were offered the master bedroom during their stay. Their first time seeing their son’s new house as well.
But it means you’ve already had Mrs Morales’s cooking for a light dinner and it made Frankie’s heart sing to see you bond over food and recipes. He’s so glad you seem to be fitting so well, elated that you’ve chosen to spend the weekend with him. With them.
Of course Pope had to be an asshole from the start but he didn’t expect otherwise. It’s worth it to tell him off, it always is, even if it means more scolding from his mom.
“Chicos. Behave. Go help with the napkins, bebito.”
Which you know is a pet name Frankie will have a field trip about, one he must have riled his brother up about for years probably. They never seem to have grown out of sibling bickering.
"Come see Lettuce first!" Cassie all but pleads, how proud she is to have a pet to take care of. Her cousins have been obsessed with her since yesterday.
"Lettuce, uh? Genius name."
“They were really good, though,” you eventually stress when the chaos has moved to the dining table and it’s somehow quiet again in the kitchen. You still get tingles of joy at how special you had felt, to have your new boyfriend cook a family recipe and share it with you. “His enmoladas.”
Frankie's mother smiles to you at your compliments.
“I’m sure they were. He wanted to impress you.”
“He did.”
“Good, that’s good.”
She pats your hand fondly for a second before going back to her potatoes. Even from far away, eyes strained on your from across the length of the room, Frankie notices how you look down at your wrist, the corner of your mouth lifting. Maybe stunned, maybe pleased and it’s a din in his ears, how well you fit in, that he misses his mom calling out to him to ask where sharper knives are. In Spanish.
“Right here,” you answer for him without missing a beat, pointing to a drawer. Focused and missing how impressed she looks, how she nods to herself and carries on with her food preparation.
But Frankie does, attuned to everything except Pope’s nonsense somewhere to his right. He notices it all. His mother’s quiet approval, not that he needed it but it’s a relief, how at ease you are and how he never wants to see you go. You make everything so much better and brighter. Easier to bear the kids’ squeaks and shouts all around him.
There are fresh flowers in a vase by the head of Frankie’s bed in his bedroom at his parents’. An unusual touch which he knows is because you also are a guest staying there. In the year and a half you’ve been together, it’s the first time you’re actually seeing and visiting the house he grew up in. Him and later Cassie.
Life always got in the way before today.
Frankie puts your bags on the colorful duvet, watching you take in the space that used to be his. Shared with Pope. Shared with Cassie.
She’s downstairs right now, having a snack with her grandparents, enough chatter from her to fill the entire house with her tales of the singing they missed in her school show the night before.
Some quiet up here just the two of you after a long drive to spend Thanksgiving with Frankie’s family. To talk baby stuff, showers both bridal and baby, to talk weddings since yours is happening in literally a month.
Life is a whirlwind lately, not that you mind, it’s exhilarating to think of everything which is happening to you all. The family you are creating, Frankie’s arms sneaking around your waist from behind. Resting on your little bump, large on your stomach and the baby growing inside. Warm and safe. Tickling beard in your neck.
The family you’ll soon be joining even more than you’ve already have. A late ray of sun catches the stone on your engagement ring, making it glimmer on your finger, poised on top of Frankie’s hand. A quiet bubble as you recline against him and close your eyes.
His lips are soft by your pulse point.
“I can’t believe my mom offered you to take a nap straight away. We’re usually put to work immediately.”
She’s already listed tasks that needed to be tackled and you haven’t been in the house for more than an hour. If she’s anything like her son though, you know you’ll be properly dotted on for the entire weekend. And putting your feet up for some time does sound tempting. Still, you’ve been sitting for hours in the car already.
“About that, muffin. I think I’d rather be downstairs with you all for now.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Even if I’m sure I’d have fantastic dreams, surrounded by this superb decor.”
Frankie hears the snicker in the way your shoulders shake against him and his curls tickle your cheek when he shakes his head. Tightens his hold on you.
“I didn’t know you loved My Little Pony that much. You should have told me, I’d have gotten you that for your birthday. Ah well,” you click your tongue, playful, “there’s always Christmas.”
“Remind me why I’m marrying you again?” he mutters, poking your side. Making you squirm and giggle. Wiggle out of his reach. Or at least try to. No way he’s letting you. Not now. Not ever.
“Because I’m funny, I give great massages and I drive your kid home from school.”
Said kid who redecorated the bedroom when it became more hers than his. All of his and Pope’s childhood stuff either in storage or donated. Reminders that this space belonged to a little girl for years, her dad was only tagging along.
Stickers on the closet door. Stars and flowers and princesses. Dogs and frogs. The pencil marks by the door frame where he’s been keeping track of her growth, the last one dating back from the summer and he’ll have to make her stand there before they go back home.
The stars on the ceiling that he doesn’t think you’ve noticed yet, not during daytime. The ones he put there once she started being scared of the dark, even though he was right there sleeping with her. How in later years, as a toddler with her own room next door, more often than not, she’d have snuck back into his bed during the night.
The bright posters from what used to be her favorite toys that somehow, neither Frankie nor his parents took down.
But between the colorful decor and his daughter, Frankie remembers they all did help soothe an anxious mind and restless nightmares more often than not. So in your joke, you’re not that far off actually.
“Our kid,” he corrects softly. Another kiss to your neck and one to you cheek once you wiggle in his arms again, because you choose to, not because he's tickling you anymore, to face him.
You’re the one leaning into him to give him a proper kiss, fingers playing with his curls, the child you’ve been considering yours for months before you make it official apparently stampeding up the stairs. Barging in the room.
“You’re always kissing!” Cassie rolls her eyes adorably and you hide in the crook of her father’s neck.
“That’s coz we’re engaged,” he retorts.
“You were always kissing before that, Papá!”
“That’s because we’re in love, Peanut,” you say, although it’s hard to say if either of them hears you, how Frankie has been pretending to shoo her away but she’s having none of it, swatting his hand the same way he's doing it. Faster and faster the more he’s swating hers in the air between them. His whole body shakes with laughter, reverberating on yours until Cassie gets tucked against her dad. And you.
“Abuela says she needs you. Now,” she manages to deliver her message to her dad against your stomach.
“All right,” Frankie sighs. “We’ll be right down.”
“Good!”
And she scampers off as fast as she’s arrived. Frankie smoothes his hands down your back.
“No nap, then, hermosa?”
“I’m good, thank you. I kind of want to see those baby albums you mom mentioned.”
You grin and Frankie clicks his tongue, looking seemingly disappointed at the betrayal, as if it hadn’t been his utter pleasure to sit in your parents’ living room last December to browse through faded photos of you.
Seemingly disappointed but blessed actually, that you’re all getting along so well. He supposes he can live with the embarrassing stories. At least Pope isn’t here tonight.
“Maybe I won’t show you which armchair is the most comfortable then,” Frankie threatens, teasing right back after yours. No real bite in his words, a wink and a quick glance behind his shoulder as you follow him downstairs.
“If you do,” you whisper hastily, “I’ll do that thing you like. You know, with my tongue. When we’re back home,” you add, because there’s no way you’re getting up to any shenanigans under your future in-laws’ roof.
By the way Frankie’s eyes darken in a flash and he stops in the middle of the stairs, you know you’ve got him.
“You got yourself a deal, Miss.”
“Fantastic, Mr Morales.”
You do so love doing that thing with your tongue after all.
There are hushed voices behind the closed door of the nursery. Your husband and your toddler. Whispers and the doorknob that moves.
“I think we’re going to have visitors, Suzy,” you whisper softly to your newborn, chair still rocking you both and you watch her tiny lips pucker when you gently trace them with your fingertip.
It’s hard to believe that a week or so ago she was still cozy in your belly and now she’s here. Safe and healthy and warm in your arms. Sleeping again after you’ve managed to feed her. So you don’t quite mind the interruption. After all, they’re inevitable.
“Hi, Mama,” Frankie whispers, an example for your son, as they step into the room, Mateo toddling by his side, holding on to his dad’s hand but focused on one goal only: you. “We needed to see you. I hope it’s a good time.”
“Always. She’s done eating.”
The little boy collides with the side of the rocking chair, straining up to look at the new addition to the family just like his father is doing. Always interested in the baby for a few minutes before he gets bored with her.
Frankie never is. How marvelous you are and how beautiful your daughter is. So tiny when he takes her from you. The soft hair on her head, so little of it, so light. She’s already getting too big for her onesies. Tiny eye lids and the twitch of her tiny nose and how warm she does feel, nestling against his chest, against his shoulder and he carefully rises up to his full height.
Your lap is now free for Mateo to climb onto and reclaim his favorite spot. The one he’s been whining about since you went upstairs. Body still sore from the hospital and breastfeeding but you’ll forgive your little boy anything. Sharp elbows and feet that dig in uncomfortable places until he’s situated the way he likes it.
“Hi, there, baby.” You hug him tight. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me no baby!” He shakes his head, points to his sister and the kiss Frankie is giving her forehead. So small that his lips encompass all of it. Almost. “That’s the baby!”
“Suzy’s the new baby, sure. But you’ll always be my baby too. Because I love you. So much.”
You hug him even tighter, content to feel him giggle and relax and burrow deeper into you. Frankie hums something soft and you smile at him. Exhausted but happy. The humming continues, loud toddler breathing against your chest.
“What’s that, baby?”
You touch the wooden animal Mateo has brought along. Clutched in his fist. The black and white panda that you have no recollection of whatsoever.
“Wee gived to me,” is his only explanation.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, they stopped by to bring Suzy and the kids some gifts. They got Cass—”
“Are they still here? Do they want to—”
Your body tenses in spite of yourself at the prospect of having to entertain house guests. Even people like Will and Liz whose company you usually enjoy. But when you’d found out your due date was so close to Thanksgiving, Frankie and you had agreed you’d spend the holiday just the five of you. No outside stimulation or germs. Some days to bond with your three children.
You’re not about to throw your friends out though, even if there’s a small part of you which starts to be annoyed at the hassle that it is. Until Frankie notices, his hand strong on your shoulder before his thumb drags along your jaw, comforting.
Held up with one large forearm and palm, Suzy is almost disappearing against her dad.
“They left, hermosa, don’t worry about that. Dee was getting fussy anyway. They just dropped gifts and—”
“And tots!”
“Yeah, they brought us some food too. Some sweet potato casserole and some turkey and also—”
“Shut your mouth!” You can’t help but exclaim, too loud for the ears of a newborn, forgetting yourself. Suzy fusses in Frankie’s arm and he tries to shush her.
“Soft voice, Mama!” Mateo reminds you, just like he’s been taught. Just like he’s been reminded by his dad in the hallway. “For the baby.” Because it’s only been a few days but he already doesn’t like it when she cries non-stop.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just—they really brought all that?”
“And apple pie.” Frankie winks, pacing to settle the baby girl.
“I love them,” you profess, tears in your eyes you don’t even try to fight. There never was going to be any big dinner for you this year. No time and no energy. Frankie was going to make spaghetti and meatballs and try not to make a mess when Mateo was inevitably going to want to help.
But now, you’re getting a proper feast delivered to your front door and you’ve never been more grateful.
“But how—why?”
“Coz they know what’s it like to juggle small kids and also they said it was to thank us for looking after Jam-Jam during the summer.” When they traveled the length of the country to meet and bring back the baby they were lucky enough to adopt. “Liz said not to worry about the dishes by the way. We’ll give them back whenever. No rush.”
“What time is it right now?” Even if you don’t quite care, breastfeeding is hard and your stomach is growling so you’ll devour anything regardless of the hour. Lucky for you, your husband seems to be thinking the same.
“Time to eat, if you ask me. You’ve been up here a while. And who can blame you, look at her, she’s so cute.”
Settled again, somehow, even with voices that try to stay gentle but it’s hard, downstairs. With the sounds of life in your kitchen. Cassie busy listing what she’d like to get from the pet store with the gift card her uncle and aunt just gave her. Sounds and smells of life and family that Suzy gets to partake in. Blissfully sleeping still against Frankie’s sturdy chest, intricate wrap cocooning her to him.
Nothing more you could wish for.
Thank you @saradika-graphics for the cute dividers!
If you celebrate Thanksgiving, have a nice one! If you don't, I hope you have a great day! If you enjoyed this story, I would so love to hear what you think!!
Summary: Cassie comes to you and Frankie for help in the middle of the night.
Word count: 2.2k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, fluff, dad!Frankie, blood (mentions and descriptions).
A/N: You know the drill. Not a native speaker, not beta'd. Last night I unlocked the one missing piece which made it possible to write this story today. It's been so long, I hope their voices still ring ok. Enjoy :)
Main masterlist | Series masterlist
When there’s a crack in the door of the master bedroom, at first Frankie believes it’s you back from soothing a fussy baby Suzy. Except he can still hear your soft humming coming through the baby monitor on the bedside table. A nice lullaby even for him. So he sighs, shifts in the bed, hair rustling on his pillow.
“Mom?”
Frankie groans, cracks an eye open, the bedroom all dark, not even a ray of light coming from a dark hallway too.
“Mom?” A louder, still hushed whisper when there’s been no answer the first time around.
“She’s with your sister, bud.”
“Oh. I—”
Frankie clears his throat, mind fogged with sleep which doesn’t make him realize this is not how your son calls you nor does it sound like a toddler voice.
“You had a bad dream? C’me here.”
“It’s not—it’s me, Dad.”
Rustling and shifting on legs, the door that creaks a bit more and Frankie grapples with the switch to turn the light on, sprawled on the bed, struggling to sit up at how wobbly her voice sounds.
“Cass? What’s wron—”
It dies on his lips when light floods the bedroom and he takes his teenage daughter in. Blurry until he manages to focus on her. Standing by the door in the middle of the night. Wringing her hands, lips quivering and tears in her eyes. Not that it takes him long to realize what’s happening and when he does, he’s wide awake.
Pj shorts stained red on the front, some that has dribbled down the bare skin of her thigh, smudged where Cassie must have tried to wipe it. Blood on her fingers too and she’s looking everywhere but at him.
“Oh! Hold on. Let me get some clothes.”
He snatches the tee-shirt on the floor and the sweatpants hanging from the armchair, uncoordinated in trying to go as fast as he can.
“Are you—does it hurt? Are you having cramps?”
“No? I don’t think so but it’s—it’s—it’s all over the bed, Dad, it’s—,” she hiccups, ashamed and uncomfortable and looking down even when Frankie comes to stand right in front of her, palms up in offer. Raking a muggy brain for a situation he’s never encountered before, one he was hoping would take a few extra years to happen. Upset that his daughter is upset, fat tears she doesn’t seem to be able to stop steaming down her cheeks and her neck.
“Don’t worry about that. Can I—can I give you a hug first?”
“I’m gross, Dad,” she mutters, chin down.
“I don’t care about that. I love you. Hug?”
Cassie’s only answer is to sink into his chest, forearms pressing into his tee-shirt, almost compressing his lungs in how she burrows into him and the way he wraps his arms around her body, trying to smother the shivers running down her spine at what is bothering her. His lips press into messy hair mushed in her sleep and when he whispers, his words echo into Cassie’s skull in the way that always makes her realize she’s safe and protected. And loved indeed.
“You’re not gross, Cass.”
She scoffs against cotton but he carries on, undisturbed.
“You may feel like it right now, sure, but it’ll pass. As long as you’re not in pain, all the rest, we can fix it. Are you ok with me helping or d’you want to wait for Mom?”
Cassie would rather wait for you, you’re the one who talked to her about periods and her body changing and answered all the questions and it’s already a bit annoying that her Dad knows what’s happening and has seen her like that even if he’s not judging, but she’d rather have you. She’d also rather have clean clothes on right now and she was so tired. Such a long week and such a shitty day at school, everyone getting on her nerves, there and even at home, that she was looking forward to a good night sleep and a relaxing weekend.
So tired and that’s how she was jostled awake in the middle of the night. So uncomfortable and sticky and she really likes those shorts and now they’re absolutely ruined. She hates herself right now. And she wants it all gone from her skin and her clothes and her bed.
“You is fine.”
“Ok. Want to hear my plan?”
She nods against him, lets him rub his hands up and down her back, warming her up. Body and soul and heart.
“You’re gonna get cleaned up. Get in the shower, warm water. We’re gonna put your pjs and your underwear to soak so we can salvage them.”
“You think we can?”
A teeny edge of hope in her words and for the first time since she’s come to him, you, she shyly raises her head to meet his eyes. Frankie gives her an encouraging smile.
“It doesn’t look that dry yet. We may have a chance. We’ll do that. You can get a pad or we can ask Mom to help with tamp—”
“No, no, no.”
She fiercely shakes her head at the idea. How appalled she was the first time you had explained how they worked to her.
“All right. You know where everything is anyway, right?” She nods, you’ve showed her before, for when she’d need them. “Good. You do that and if you’re okay with it, I’ll go change your sheets.”
“I ruined them. They’re full of blood, Dad.” For how much he’s helping, listening, she still can’t look at him, ashamed of what she’s done. Just her luck that it’s happened this way. Tears swell up in her eyes once more.
“You didn’t ruin anything, sweetie. You didn’t go to bed thinking you were going to bleed all over it, did you?” He jokes and she does give him an odd look, eyelashes fluttering quickly, one fat tear escaping and she sniffles. “Those things happen, it’s no big deal. And to be honest, puke is way more gross to me than blood. You didn’t puke, did you?”
Another odd look which is enough of an answer, Frankie doesn’t believe he’ll get more out of her tonight. He barely gets his hug reciprocated when he pulls her back to him one more time before they get moving.
Not that much of a disaster in her bed after all, Frankie finds out when he gets to his task. Her mind clearly exaggerated how bad it was and he can’t even imagine how traumatizing it must be, to wake up like this. Especially when it’s the first time and his heart does seize a little at the thought, now that it’s more silent, the rush of the water in the shower at the end of the hall. That his daughter got her period for the first time. Forever his little girl but no longer a little girl. Growing up. There’s no time to be upset about it now, while he’s busy, but later, it’ll catch up with him fully.
No longer the baby he could carry on his forearm or the one who liked to perch on his shoulder in his parents’ backyard to grab leaves from the trees. Or the one who giggled to no end at his cousin’s wedding, propped on his feet, dancing with him. Or the one who smudged chocolate spread all over the living room wall and licked it all before he could clean it.
A long time since she’s been a baby and he’s relishing watching her grow up and becoming her own person, but this, tonight, this does something to him. So it’s better to concentrate on fixing what needs to be fixed. To focus.
A couple of stains on the fitted sheet that will join Cassie’s pjs and if they can’t salvage it, there’s plenty more in the store. Some red on the handle of her bedroom door and on yours when she’s opened it, he realizes, but those can wait until the morning to be cleaned. As long as Cassie’s as comfortable as she can and in warm, clean bedding.
With the ball he’s made of the sheets in his arms, Frankie comes face to face with you in the hall. The bundle of a baby still not sleeping in your own arms and a curious if not puzzled look on your own sleepy face.
“What’s going on?”
Frankie sighs, tilts his head toward the bathroom.
“Cass got her period.”
“Oh! How is she doing?”
“She’s upset coz it’s all over her bed but apart from that, I think she’s ok? I don’t know. She wanted you.”
You follow his gaze to the light at the bottom of the bathroom door, the only source of light in an otherwise dark hall and for once, it won’t just be one daughter who makes your night shorter than you’d like it to be. You hold Suzy up for Frankie to carry.
“Trade you daughters?”
She’s way too awake when she’s deposited against her dad’s chest, snug by the bundle of cotton he was carrying downstairs. Little belly full of delicious milk but not at all lulled to sleep by your songs so maybe a bit of walking around will help. How captivated she always is to listen to Frankie talk. Engrossed in his voice and his tales and his smiles, a little hand clutching the collar of his tee-shirt when you kiss his cheek before he disappears down the stairs.
“Peanut?” You knock on the bathroom door softly. “It’s me. Can I come in?”
Instead the door unlocks and Cassie steps out, in clean pjs and feeling slightly better thanks to the shower. Still awkward and uncomfortable and maybe a bit in pain, her dad might have been right, now that she’s calmed down from the initial shock of waking up in a pool of blood.
“Hey.”
“Did you find everything you needed?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Dad said you wanted me, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
Cassie shrugs.
“It’s ok. I—I did what he said, but I don’t think it’s working and my pjs they’re all—”
She heaves, making a vague gesture towards the sink you sneak a glance at. She scratches at her arm, pliant in yours when you pull her into another warm embrace tonight, bathroom tiles cold against your bare feet and hers.
“Which ones is it?”
“The bunnies.”
“Oh, crap, those are cute. I can see why you’re upset. I’ll see what I can do about them in the morning.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
You tuck a loose curling lock of hair behind her ear, a young girl growing up and it does suck the first time it happens and it’s such a mess. The whirlwind of emotions that must be clouding her brain. Thunder and hail. You remember it all too well.
“You know what happened to me? The first time I got my period?”
Cassie shakes her head, lets you lead her back to the safety of her bedroom until you can both sit on her bed. It feels weird, having something else in her underwear, Cassie realizes, folding her legs under herself to listen to your tale. She doesn’t enjoy it one bit.
“I almost wish it had ruined my pjs instead because that way I’d have been at home. I was on the school bus when it happened. Freshman year even.”
Cassie’s eyes bulge out at the very thought. She’s only in middle school herself and would have died of shame if she had been in public but high school? She would have never left the house again.
“Yup. It was as awful as it sounds. But also it was winter in Colorado so I was wearing a massive winter jacket and no one saw that my clothes were stained. But I didn’t have anything on me and also I was supposed to have gym class.”
“Did you go?”
“No. I hunkered down in the nurse’s office. That little old lady, she was blunt but she did give me some spare clothes and covered for me with the teacher. So see? Some stains on sheets? It does sound terrible but it’s just one of the hazards of being a woman now. It still happens to me. Not our fault. No big deal.”
“Dad said that.”
“He’s often right.”
That does pull a smirk from Cassie and you both fall silent. Yawning and listening to Frankie going back to your bedroom, humming now for your baby girl. Maybe he did the impossible and got her to fall back asleep. Fingers crossed.
“Mom?” Cassie is back to wringing her hands.
“What is it, Peanut?”
“How can I go swimming tomorrow?”
“Oh. Well, either you wear a tampon or—”
“No.” She scrunches up her nose, terrified of doing that. Not yet at least.
“All right. Then we can ditch practice this weekend and we’ll go to the store to buy you a period swimsuit.”
“Those exist?”
“Yup. I’ve got one and they work wonders. So next time it does happen, because welcome to the club, every month now,” you say lightheartedly but Cassie only scowls at the prospect, “you can still go swimming. How does that sound?”
“Can we go to Target?”
“I’ll check if they have some. Otherwise the mall?”
That works too, Cassie decides, going shopping a prospect she can quite get on board with actually. Time with her Mom, maybe without her siblings. Perhaps not the relaxing Saturday she was hoping for since there won’t be swimming but still cosy and who knows, there may be cute pjs waiting for her there.
Thank you @saradika-graphics for the cute dividers!
I know I'm not around much anymore but I'd still love to hear what you thought of this xx
Summary: Cassie meets the one person she never thought she would. This is the aftermath of everyone who cares about her doing all they can to support her through it.
Word count: 7.7k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, dad!Frankie, angst: mentions of child abandonment, otherwise fluff fest (domestic, this is the official introduction of Cassie's SO). Cassie is in college now.
A/N: This has been a year and a half in the making. I got a request around the time I wrapped Shared Breaths about it. I've toyed with the idea for a long time, not wanting to give Penny (Cassie's bio mom) more attention than she deserved and not wanting to have this be a repeat of Family Museum. It's gone through many rewrites, so many that I couldn't fit it all in one story so there will be a Part II. This is a special one though, as it also introduces Cassie's SO. More about this in the notes at the end. As always, this isn't beta'd, I'm not a native speaker. I hope you enjoy, as with anything SB but especially the trauma of Frankie's past, it's my baby. Take care of it.
Part II - Main masterlist | Series masterlist
Cassie feels numb, walking back to her dorm. Mind still reeling, unaware of her surroundings or the people breezing by her on campus in the early evening. Body shivering and she knows it’s not because it’s cool on this late summer night. She knows it’s not because her hair is wet from her post-swim shower either.
Constant glances she throws behind her shoulder to make sure that she’s not followed, the strap of her gym bag digs into her shoulder and it’s oddly grounding. A buzzing in her ears, head full of swirling thoughts and recollections burning through her mind. Searing hot in how loud they’re nagging her. Impossible to ignore, her hand shakes to unlock her dorm room until she’s safe inside and locks it again.
Heavy breathing to try to control an erratic heartbeat, from walking fast, from fleeing. From trying to make sense of what just happened to her, that she didn’t imagine it all but it’s just too much. It’s everywhere, closing on her, even as she’s alone, her roommate out somewhere. Everywhere even behind her eyelids when she screws them shut. That face imprinted in her memory even as she presses her palms to her eyes to suppress it. An epic failure.
How it can’t be real, doesn’t seem real, and yet.
Her phone shakes in her hand as she dials home, the only escape she can think of.
You’re the one who sees her picture light up Frankie’s phone in your office and the one who picks up.
“Hey, Peanut! Dad’s trying to fix the printer but you’re on speaker!”
“Hey, Cass!” Frankie speaks up from underneath the desk, much better language than his curses earlier at the piece of technology which according to the store was obsolete years ago and that frequently breaks down to prove you both just that.
“What’s up?” you ask, shuffling so that your husband can crawl back up to you. It’s a treat when she unexpectedly calls, she’s so busy usually.
“Hey, I—I just needed to hear your voices, that’s all.” Cassie shrugs to herself, lying on her bed, picking at her blanket, her soft reminder of home and the people that she needs. The chaos she can hear through the speaker of pens rattling and children playing somewhere in the house. Bickering and the sounds of the guitar her sister has decided she wanted to learn to play.
There’s an edge to hers, her voice, which gives her away, though. You can hear it in her hesitation, in her tone. In the way Frankie frowns as he rises back up to stand by your side and the phone in your hand.
“What’s wrong, warrior?”
“I was—I’ve just come back from practice and something, something happened. She—she was sitting on that bench, you know, she called me Cassandra, which was fucking weird to begin with,” she starts rambling, pouring all her worries out, and once she does, she can’t stop. “She was waiting for me outside of the pool complex and she said she wanted to talk to me but I don’t know, she gave off those weird vibes, you know and I don’t—”
“Wow, sweetheart, slow down. Who’s she? Who are you talking about?”
“My—,” you hear the deep breath she takes on the other side of the state, your own heart clenching to listen to her confusing tale without being able to reach out to her physically. Frankie’s body twitches next to you and you’re so used to the kids being loud in the house and the backyard that it all suddenly fades and there’s only your daughter that matters. The grown one who’s spitting her next words through the phone. “She’s not dead, Dad. You know how you told me you didn’t know if she was? Well, she isn’t.”
This time, Frankie’s body goes full rigid, frozen and as you glance at him, you notice how his hands ball into fists as he slowly comes to understand what she means, who she’s talking about. There’s fury and shock that radiate out of him and bounce off you. Off the palm you rest on his back, muscles clenched but he doesn’t startle. Doesn’t move. Almost doesn’t breathe.
“What?” he manages to grunt, nostrils flaring.
“Yeah. She was there. Tonight.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“I didn’t want to but she didn’t give me a choice. She was there, couldn’t really avoid her.” Cassie picks at her blanket, all the memories it brings, comfort and love and it feels good, talking to her parents. Telling them all this, even if it’s with a shaking voice. “She said she saw me in that feature article that newspaper did about the team. When school started again, remember?”
Of course you do, you’ve printed it from the newspaper’s website to pin it to the fridge and Cassie even went out of her way to send you all a physical copy by mail. She was so proud of it.
“And yeah,” she continues, “she was there and she wanted to talk to me but I—I told her to leave me alone, to get lost.” To fuck off is really what Cassie said. And as the minutes since the altercation pass, she still can’t feel bad for being rude. She’s very well entitled to it. “But I—are you guys still there?”
She pauses when she realizes there has been no reaction. None that she can see at least.
Because Frankie has been reacting all right, the only hint that he’s been hearing her his fleeting eyes, panicking, trying to find a solution that doesn’t exist and trying to focus and stay in control. Because he can’t break down, not when Cassie doesn’t seem to be. That’s not what she needs right now. She needs support. No word that he can utter yet, mouth dry and he’s thankful for you. Always will be.
“We are,” you speak up for you both. “We’re…processing. Cassie, sweetheart, how are you feeling? Are you okay?” Even if you understand it may be a futile question. “Where are you now?”
“Back in my dorm. Yeah, I think I’m fine?” Cassie hasn’t even thought about how she’s been feeling yet. Too busy putting as much distance as possible between herself and the intruder. She knows her body isn’t feeling the way it usually does after swimming. She doesn’t feel that exhaustion or that ache. Instead, there’s a knot in her guts but she can’t say what is twisting it. She doesn’t even know how she should feel. It’s not like there’s a guidebook for these situations. “She’s nothing to me, she’s a stranger. I told her that. I told her I have a mom already.”
“And a damn good one at that,” Frankie says through gritted teeth, nodding to himself. Cassie hums her agreement and you reach for your husband’s hand, squeeze it.
“Thanks, Muffin. Gosh, Cassie, sweetheart, I feel terrible, I wish we could be closer, I wish I could give you a hug right now.”
“No, it’s okay, hearing your voices is enough.” And truly, it’s soothing. If she closes her eyes, she can almost ignore the persisting image and replace it with her parents’ faces. “It’s just, I don’t know, it—I wasn’t expecting that. It was kind of a shock. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Well, of course it was. I’m sorry.”
Cassie shrugs to herself again, not that you can see it. You can hear the sharp breathing and the sighs.
“Is there anything we can do to help? Even from home? We can stay on the phone if you’d like?”
“Well, I was supposed to meet Max for dinner but I’m not really hungry anymore so—”
“No, you should definitely do that still,” Frankie cuts her off. “You should be with someone who cares about you.”
And try to get some food into her because it must be the shock speaking. He knows his eldest and if there’s one thing that never fails it’s how ravenous she is after swimming. So it breaks his heart even more that she’d turn down dinner. Especially since she’s always raving about how good the cafeteria is at her college.
You’ve never met Max, not yet at least, but you’ve seen the pictures of their summer vacation together, you’ve heard lots since they’ve started dating last fall and there’s one thing you know, it’s that Cassie is deeply happy in that relationship so if you two cannot be there physically with her, if someone else can, it will soften the blow of distance.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“Often,” you try to joke but neither Frankie nor Cassie react. He’s bracing himself on the desk now, knuckles turning whiter with how hard he’s gripping the edge. What he does react to is your palm back on his back, rubbing soothing circles and when he glances at you, there’s so much misery in his eyes, at a total loss of what to do that you press closer.
“We love you so much, Peanut,” you say for the both of you and Frankie nods, not that his daughter can see it but she knows. “We’re here for you, if you need to call again after dinner, at any time, you do. We’ll keep the phones on. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Even now. We can stay on until you have to go. To talk about anything.”
There’s a long beat of silence before Cassie speaks softly, quirking an eyebrow in her room.
“About what Suzy is playing?”
“Oh, boy, don’t even start with that. We have no idea. We’ve printed her some sheet music,” what probably made the printer break down, “but we hardly know how to read them, least of all her, so I guess she’s just making it up as she goes.”
“It sounds….terrible,” Cassie dares admit, scrunching up her nose, and when you chuckle at the truth, this time she does too.
“It truly does. But no one has complained yet, if you don’t count your brother.”
“Is she taking lessons?”
“I think she’s going to, soon. There’s a new music class at the community center and we’re going to go check it out this weekend.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is. Oh, and the other day, we had fish fingers for dinner but they were shaped like dinosaurs. You’d have liked those. They were rather good, weren’t they?”
“Yeah.” Frankie nods sharply, not that he can quite make out what you’re talking about. The sound of your voice is indeed enough. Calming.
“You guys had fish fingers?”
“Well, they were for the kids and we were going to have salmon.” The treat that it would have been, to find it on sale at the grocery store but your children had other ideas. “Except they thought it was more interesting to eat pink fish than dinosaur-shaped one and they decided it was actually good so we traded.”
“Those guys.” Cassie shakes her head and there’s disbelief in her tone, effectively distracting her for a while. “Trading dinosaurs for anything.”
“I knew you wouldn’t approve.”
“Sometimes there’s chicken nuggets shaped like that here. Maybe they have them tonight.”
“You should definitely go find out.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Her phone has been buzzing with text notifications, Max wondering where she is and Cassie can admit that she’d rather stick to their original plans than be by herself. She wants the distractions. Talking with her parents, thinking of dinosaurs. Bitching about professors and the nacho cheese dispenser which is always out of order. Seriously.
“Thanks for picking up,” she sighs.
“We will always pick up for you. Always. You can call or text whenever you need to, okay? We mean that. We love you and we’re here for you, even if we can’t be there.”
“I know. I love you too.”
“Love you, Cass,” Frankie chimes in, the fog in his brain clearing and he’s so upset, so numb that he can’t just reach out to her and hug her close. “So, so much.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
It echoes in his mind when the tone goes dead and she’s truly gone, no longer on the phone with you both. On the brink of collapse by your side, chewing around his thoughts, eyes glued to his home screen in your hand and then it’s gone too, the phone digging in his back when you pull him in for a tight hug and you don’t let go. Even less when he hugs you back and crushes you to him.
“That fucking bitch!” he snarls in your neck, words dripping with contempt and hate. Everything he never once displayed with you when talking about Cassie’s biological mother. Something has to give tonight. “How—how dare she? How—how can she even begin to think it’s okay to—to just show up like that and—”
He’s shaking in your arms, your big hunk of a husband, so strong and yet so vulnerable right now, like he’s always been whenever this part of his life was mentioned and you don’t even know what to say, what could make it better because it’s a situation you were never expecting to experience. Not after almost twenty years of her being gone. But you know it’s as much of a shock for him as it was for Cassie.
“How could she think that it would be—did she even think about Cass—well of course she didn’t! She has a fucking poor track record of thinking about her. Jesus fucking Christ!”
“I feel so helpless, she’s there and we’re here and she said she was okay but do you think…?”
“I don’t know. She’s pretty strong but she’s got to be upset, I mean, I am and I’m so fucking furious, I’m—Sorry, that’s a lot of swearing,” he stops himself, remembering the open office door and the little children running havoc in the house. Shrieks in the living room.
You smoothe your hands down his back. Up and down. Enough to feel the tremors running along his spine. His fingers twitch on your clothes, nails digging into them and your skin underneath them.
“You’re allowed tonight, Muffin. You’re okay. Do you need to take a break? Some time to yourself to regroup? I can handle them on my own if you need to.”
He kisses your neck, your cheek, rests his forehead against yours and dives into your caring gaze, where you could stay forever. All the peace and comfort you exude and he craves. Especially right now.
Until the choice is taken away from him by the sounds of broken cords and a crash.
“No! Papá!” Suzy shrills.
Then a thud and a long wail.
“Stop! Mama!”
Frankie sighs right in your face, lingers one second longer.
“Duty calls.”
It’s a welcome distraction actually, to shake his head and stride right out to the living room, tugging you along, his hand squeezing yours before he lets go and claps his hands loudly. Twice.
“All right!” One more time when it hasn’t stopped the kids. “Hey! Hey! What’s all this? Why did the music stop?”
Cushions are on the floor and Suzy’s on the verge of tears, snuggling right in your arms the second she sees you, seeking comfort as well. Shaking and hiccuping in her botched explanation. Not that it takes a genius to understand what’s happened, her brother grumpily mumbling about her lack of musical talent, shuffling awkwardly on his feet before Frankie cuts him off.
“Ah, Mat, no. We talked about that.” He’s quick to shut down whatever excuse your son was trying to make up for interrupting his sister. “You don’t have to enjoy everything that Suzy plays but you cannot be mean about it. Remember?”
“Yeah.”
“Now apologize, please.”
“But, I—”
“Don’t test me tonight.” Frankie grits his teeth, tone cold which would make even you obey him at once.
“She pushed me first,” Mateo nonetheless explains and Frankie sighs, tilts his head towards the little girl who peeks at him from behind wild hair and your hand smoothing it.
“Suzy?”
“….sorry.”
“Good. Thank you. Mat?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“We don’t push people, Bee, you know that. Someone could get hurt,” you say quietly and she rubs her face against your pants to acknowledge that she’s heard you. Wipe her tears more like.
“And you know,” Frankie sits so close to your son on the couch, grabbing the instrument he was still holding, “if you don’t like her music, you can always put on your headphones. Or you can go somewhere quieter. To your room.” Frankie glances at his watch, Mateo sulking still, no sign that he’s actually listening. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s high time everyone went to their room and to bed.”
And it’s true. It’s later than you usually herd them both up to their bed. They’re cranky. Both about to gang up against him and protest though. And forget they were fighting minutes ago. But Frankie is quicker. Used to this. It’s almost part of your routine at night.
“So, chop chop, teeth and bed, up you go!”
“And hair,” Suzy mumbles to remind him and Frankie pauses, ruffles the messy one on her head, which makes her squeak and burrow closer into your hug.
“I almost forgot about that, good catch, guapa. Go with Mama?”
She nods against you, sitting dutifully on her bed in front of you, wide smile now, missing a couple of teeth, whenever she tries to turn around to talk to you properly, giving you a distraction as well. Blissfully unaware of adult troubles and beyond happy to tell you about the new song she decided she wanted to try and play, the same one that kid’s band she likes was playing in their latest video.
Enough chattering which makes it easy to give her your full attention as you brush tangled curls. Enough so that you don’t worry too much about her sister. Not until Mateo and her are both somehow quiet in dark rooms and your mind drift off to Cassie again.
Mile and miles away that she is, only some sparse texts since she’s called to let you know there weren’t any chicken nuggets, unfortunately. And that they’re heading back to her dorm to watch one of her favorite movies together so she’ll be okay tonight.
It’s a bit of a relief, to know she won’t be by herself that much, if not at all, she’s a big girl after all. Grown-up and more and more independent but still Frankie’s little girl. His baby and he’s buzzing for the rest of the night. Restless, trying to go work in the garage but hands shaking. Restless in how he paces downstairs before you somehow convince him to go to bed, even if you both know you won’t be able to fall asleep quickly. If at all. Steady glances to your phones and waiting for the screens to light up.
Except they don’t and you don’t even realize you fell asleep. Maybe it was in the middle of your conversation with Frankie, maybe it was during a long lull when you were gazing at each other in the darkness of your bedroom. Maybe it was when his cold feet finally turned warm under the sheet and it felt cozy there, despite the turmoil in your mind.
You realize you fell asleep when there are gentle fingers brushing your face, following your jawline. Grazing your hairline, your ears, your chin. Rugged, warm finger pads. So gentle and careful and then Frankie’s voice. Hoarse yet hushed. Fanning over your face and that’s when you realize you fell asleep: when you wake up.
“Hey, honey.”
“What’s—,” you clear your throat, blink, “did she call? What time—”
“No, she hasn’t called. But I’ve been thinking.”
Not sleeping at all, watching you instead. The frowns and the sighs and he’s surprised you’ve managed not to be awoken by all the tossing and turning he’s been doing. Everything so loud in his head. Grating like sandpaper. So close to spiraling, unable to settle. Because everything is unpredictable now. Who knows where she is. Who knows what she’s going to do next? He can’t rest. Not while he’s here and she’s in the same city as his daughter and it’s not like he doesn’t think Cassie can hold her ground, apparently she has, but he just can’t grapple with the situation and it’s twisting his stomach. Opening wounds he’s worked so hard and so long to seal. Bursting at the seams of his heart and making him sick. Bile rising in his throat. Distress. Anger. Rage even.
Frankie exhales slowly, rubs one warm thumb on your cheek.
“I—I can’t stay here. I can’t stay here and do nothing for her. It’s making me sick. I—I can’t sleep and I need to see her. Cass. I know it’s not ideal with the kids but...yeah.”
He watches, gauges your reaction. The sleep fading and the way your fingers close around his. How your lips press gently against the center of his palm.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Another kiss to his palm before you push yourself up to sit and he follows. The metal of the headboard is chilly against his bare back. He watches you play with his fingers on your lap. Yawning before you speak again.
“Frankie, baby. Of course it is. To be honest, I—I want to go, too, but yeah, the kids.”
And out of the two of you, it’s a no-brainer who should drive down to your daughter.
“Thank you.”
In the darkness, you watch how somehow his shoulders seem to relax, even if your eyes are still blurry with sleep. How he scratches at his chin and worries his lip. You gently trace the lines in his palm with the pad of a finger.
“Can I ask you something though?”
“Sure.”
“Can you wait a bit before going? Can you try and get some slee—”
“I don’t think I can. And I mean, if I leave now I could get there by—”
“It’s the middle of the night, Muffin.” The numbers on the nightstand by his side the only light in the bedroom in the dead of the night. “What good will it do if you get there and she’s sleeping? You don’t want to wake her up.”
“I—no, you’re right.”
“I know. Even if you can’t sleep, can you try and get some rest? I can stay awake with you. I just—I need you to be careful on the road.”
He rubs at his eyes in the darkness, and then he’s gripping your hand again, an anchor to ground him. Reminding him of all the good things in his life and all his priorities and tethering him to his senses when his thoughts are a swirling chaos.
“Okay,” he sighs, his jaw locked under your lips when you kiss him thank you.
His arms stay strong in your embrace when you settle back into bed, your head tucked under his chin. Whispers for a while, plans and reassurance. Not much rest indeed but somehow enough so that Frankie doesn’t feel any exhaustion when he sits in his car later on, leaving you undisturbed in your sleep once again.
Driving towards the pinker hues in the sky. Night sky giving way to dawn, whatever’s playing on the radio in the small hours of the day filling the enclosed space. Fingers tapping on the wheel, drumming on his thigh. A heavier weight dropping on his shoulders as miles roll by. More and more cars on the road joining him as life slowly awakens. Young people milling about on campus once he’s found a parking spot. A text to you to tell you he’s made it because he knows you’ll worry until you’ve heard from him.
Frankie has never visited Cassie’s new dorm for this year, she moved in by herself, but you’ve all seen the video she made for her siblings when they begged her to show them where she’d live this time. So it’s not that hard to find his way to the new building. To the new floor. To find the colorful door with the bright mushroom stickers on it.
Especially when there are people he recognizes coming out of the room at the end of the hallway.
“Wait! Hold up!” he speaks up, hurrying to them, busy college kids hardly paying him any mind on their way to their first class. “Hey, Polly,” he greets Cassie’s roommate and she stills for a second, her hand on the doorknob, door still half open. She frowns, as if he’s a figment of her imagination, out of place.
“Mr Morales? Hi? I didn’t know you were visiting today! I—I’m sorry, I have to go? I’m already late to class. I’ll see you later?”
She waves to the other girl that Frankie has only ever seen in pictures and videos but he would recognize the short blond locks streaked with blue anywhere. The hairstyle was a hit with Suzy from the very first picture she saw.
Frankie’s a bit out of breath now, heaving, having climbed too many stairs too fast that he misses how she cocks her head at him, too, studying him, backpack swinging on her shoulder, one foot in the doorway to keep the door from slamming shut.
“You must be Max,” he eventually manages to say and she nods. “Hi.”
“Hi but I—Mr Morales, did you—did you just come all the way from Tampa? Like, does Cass—”
“I had to.” He sucks in a breath, nods to himself. “She’s in there?”
“Yeah but she’s still sleeping. She—she didn’t have the best night.”
It breaks his heart to hear what he was hoping wouldn’t happen even if he’s been bracing for it. At least she’s getting some sleep, how ever poor it may be.
“I’m actually relieved you’re here,” if not astonished, Max can’t even fathom that someone would do something like that from so far away. Drop everything in the middle of the night to come comfort their daughter. “I didn’t want to leave her but I have a class, too, and a—”
“No, of course. Of course, you should go. I’ll stay with her. Thank you for looking after her, though.”
“Sure.”
She gives him a tiny smile, her foot pushing the door a little more open to let him through. Frankie is almost shutting the door close after him to shield Cassie from the noise before he remembers, in the fog of his brain.
“And Max?”
“Yeah?”
“I know it’s not ideal but it’s very nice to finally meet you.”
She looks down at the hand offered for her to shake. A sentiment she has to echo. Strange to say the least. Not how she thought her morning would go. Not how she thought her night would go either.
She shakes his hand, smiles again, almost forgets it’s been sprung on her, meeting her girlfriend’s dad like that. No time to be nervous at all.
“Nice to meet you too.”
“Maybe I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Another polite smile and then she’s off, too, a busy morning ahead.
Sort of a mess in the little space Frankie steps into. A similar set-up from Cassie’s dorm last year. Two doors for two separate bedrooms and a couch which has seen better days and a small table in the middle. A fridge and an array of mugs, textbooks, pens and clothes scattered everywhere. A messy pile of shoes by the door and mismatched cushions around him when he sits down. The entire couch seems to sink with him, no support at all. There’s one discarded half-open yogurt on the window sill that he scowls at.
Sunshine from outside and barely any sound as he waits. Rubbing his eyes. Yawning. Listening to the muffled footsteps up and down the door, giggles and curses. Doors slamming. He’s pretty sure he dozes off himself at some point, eyelids heavy and an uncomfortable crack in his neck that wakes him right up once he suddenly hears bare feet shuffling closer to him.
He curses, groans and straightens up, struggling to stand up as Cassie’s door squeaks on its hinges and she pads out, blinking in the morning sun. Squinting at him once she notices she’s not alone. Speechless, startled.
“Dad?”
“Hey, warrior.”
“What? How? What are you—What about work—what—”
“Don’t you worry about that. Family always comes first.” Even if he’s shot a text to work to let them know he needed some emergency PTO and it’s not like he was asking for permission, he’s so far away already. But he’s been working there for so long, he’s one of the senior employees now, he’s sure it won’t be a problem. If it is, it’s not his problem right now and he couldn’t care less about the consequences. “I just—after you called I couldn’t sleep and I—I just had to see you.”
Frankie watches how her shoulders drop tremendously under her ginormous hoodie and how her whole body seems to give up on pretending that she is fine. Because Cassie sighs loudly, a long exhale that empties her lungs of all the pent-up anxiety and her eyes fill with tears. Her dad can’t see them with how she hurries to him and his open arms and his hug but he hears the wobbles rising in her throat and he feels the grip she anchors herself to his jacket with.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“You’re okay, sweetie, you’re okay,” Frankie promises in her hair, rocking her on her feet and shushing the sobs and the sniffles.
“Thank you,” she repeats quietly, her head on his shoulder once he’s made her sit down on the couch by his side. She’s heaving still and it’s so reminiscent of that time when she was younger and she asked him where her birth mother was that his heart seizes with fresh pain that she’s been put in this situation again.
“Of course. D’you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head no, shudders against him. “Okay. You’re okay. We don’t have to talk, it’s all right.”
“How did you get in?” Cassie asks instead.
“Max let me in.”
“Oh.”
She tenses against him involuntarily, because they’ve never met before and her dad has a history of being quite protective of her, quite judging of the people she dates, even if she can count on less than the fingers of one hand the number of people she's dated. And she hates to admit it but that guy in high school who ended up dumping her the moment she said no to him? Her dad was right in the end, to be skeptical of him. Not that Cassie is about to admit that to her father.
“She’s a good one,” Frankie thinks out loud. Even if he doesn’t know much about her, apart from the tidbits of information Cassie has told them in passing, when recounting their adventures together. But she’s stayed the night, worried and supportive and that’s enough for him to trust her. To see how much she cares about his daughter.
And his words, spoken in the quiet of the morning, they make Cassie relax against him.
“I know.”
“I’m happy for you, warrior.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
She hugs him closer, seeking warmth and love and unexpected presence, wet eyelashes blinking in the sun. A chill on the sole of her feet before she tucks them under a cushion. Crinkles in Frankie’s jacket when she settles better on the couch.
“Oh, I forgot. They must be cold now, but I got you these when I stopped on the road. They’re not dinosaur-shaped though.”
Surprisingly, unexpectedly, Cassie hears herself laugh when he fishes a bag from his pocket. Oil stains on it and as she peers in it, a handful of chicken nuggets. She could cry again. She sniffles and snorts.
“I got you ketchup too.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She’s hesitant at first, nibbling on one under his gaze, a strange breakfast for a stomach still in knots but one nibble turns into two and then she swallows the entire thing. Munching loudly, going for a second one. There’s a dollop of red on the corner of her mouth that has Frankie’s hand twitch by his side but she’s too fast, licking it from her finger. Smiling a bit at him and he does, too, even if with the way he’s frowning, it must resemble a grimace more than a warming sight. But he’s here, next to her, he’s come to her, he’s brought her food and comfort and it does calm her restless heart a little.
Not much, but a little.
“She doesn’t look like me,” she says eventually, picking at the last snack in her hand and Frankie sits up straight, ready to listen now that she seems ready to talk about last night. He sucks in a breath.
“She doesn’t?”
Cassie shakes her head no again.
“No. She doesn’t even look like the pictures you’ve shown me.”
“Well, those were taken almost 20 years ago so—”
“I know that but she—I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t know what I expected. I mean, what I expected was to never see her ever, you know, but she just looked—she looked, like, so well-put together, you know? I don’t know. Like she has her life under control. She even gave me her—”
Cassie scoffs then, bitterness dripping around the salty taste the chicken has left in her mouth. A sour edge coating how much she despises the person she’s talking about.
“—she gave me her business card. Like, she has business cards. Her life is so under control she has business cards! Gave it to me if I wanted to be in touch with her, talk more, and why, Dad? Why would she do that? She’s—she’s—I really wish she were dead. It was just easier when I thought she didn’t exist at all but now I know she does, she’s right out there!”
She flings her arm around, shaking from her fingers to her shoulder, tremors in her voice again and a fury in her eyes Frankie has rarely seen except when she was angrily shouting at him during teenage fights.
He tries to squeeze her shoulder, bring her back to him. At an actual loss about what to do. She won’t let him, or she doesn’t see it, flailing and scratching at her arm the way she does when she’s overwhelmed and upset.
“—she’s in the same city and she could come back to see me at any time and I don’t—I don’t want that, Dad! I don’t! It’s not fair!”
“I know, I’m—I’m so sorry, warrior. So sorry this is happening to you.”
He’s been worried about all that too. Amid the shock of learning she’s alive and around, who knows how long she’s been, if she’s ever left the state, so many questions that last night has made resurface from his past. Worried that Cassie might bump into her again, Miami is a big city but she knows where Cassie goes to school, knows where she goes to practice, and Frankie doesn’t know her. Not that much when they were younger, not at all today. Who knows what she might do. And it’s making him sick. Not knowing. Not being around to support his daughter all the time.
“Do you still have that card?”
“Yes.” Cassie doesn’t even understand why she took it. She doesn’t care about the phone number on it. She should just toss it. She should have tossed it right away.
“Can I see it? I wanna check something.”
“Sure.”
It’s a slick rectangle of glossy plastic that Cassie hands him from her gym bag under the table. Fancy with intricate lettering. The position that she holds in whatever firm she works for. A last name which doesn’t match the one he remembers from his daughter’s birth certificate. Another question joining those that will probably be left unanswered.
He turns it over, studies it carefully.
“These aren’t Miami phone numbers.”
“They’re not?” She perks up at the new piece of information.
“Nope and I—that’s an out of state address. Look.”
“No, I’m good.” She shrinks back away from him.
“Okay.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know.” Frankie rubs his chin. “Maybe she’s traveling for work? Who knows. But she probably doesn’t live here so I’d say the chances of seeing her again are pretty slim, if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t. I don’t want her in my life. I have you and I have Mom. But she’s nobody, she doesn’t exist in my life. She never has.”
“And she doesn’t have to. You don’t have to reach out to her again if you don’t want to. It’s only up to you. She didn’t pressure you, did she?”
“I don’t think so? I don’t remember. I—I don’t think I let her talk much,” Cassie admits. Last night is kind of a blur in her mind, with the blood pulsing in her ears and the shock and anger that overcame her. She can’t really recall what was said.
“Whatever you decide, whatever you want to do, you know we’ll always be here to help and support you. You’re in charge. If you decide you change your mind and you want to see her again,” his heart thuds at the idea, anxiety gripping his guts and making his jaw tighten and yet he powers through, “we can come with you. We’re here for you. You hear me? We’ve got you.”
Fat chance of that, Cassie thinks. That she’ll ever change her mind. She mumbles a yes nonetheless.
“I gotta admit, though,” Frankie continues, twirling the business card and then putting it far away on the table, out of reach, “it’s a bit of a relief. To know she probably lives elsewhere.”
“Yeah.”
“I was—still am, to be honest, I was so mad when you called last night,” he says through gritted teeth, glancing at her. “To think it’s okay to spring that on you like that, to just reappear like that with no warning, no nothing, to just—fuck. It’s been 20 fucking years, she better have a good reason to—who does that, who—”
He balls his fists, an attempt at bottling his anger but it’s still spilling. Hot and blinding until Cassie tugs on his arm and nestles under it again. Snuggles close to him. Helps him regulate and probably doesn’t realize it. Or maybe she does. She knows how much her biological mother leaving him –them – affected her father in the past.
“She really fucked us both up, uh?”
The rebuke should be easy, to mind her language. Already on the tip of Frankie’s tongue but what comes out instead is a dry chuckle at the truth. It’s not like he’s been setting a good example right about now after all.
“She did. But we’ve got each other and that’s what matters. I love you, warrior. You’ll be okay.”
Except Cassie doesn’t see how. Because she may not live around, if she was there last night, probably still somewhere in the city today, who knows how often she visits. How long she stays. And even if she manages to evade her, if she stays away, not hearing from the child she abandoned, she’s out there somewhere. Cassie knows she exists now. She’s no longer just someone on faded photos or a name on official documents. She’s an actual person who abandoned her and her dad and who has a full life of her own. Someone who doesn’t deserve to be dwelt on and yet someone who’s forced herself on Cassie.
She could be sick, drowning in the possibilities of an uncertain future. She has no idea how to face it all. In a way, blissful ignorance from when she was little was almost a blessing. Less of a headache. She’s had a terrible night of broken and suffocating sleep, she doesn’t feel rested at all even now. Her head is pounding.
Not even the kiss that her dad drops to her hair can lessen it. But it’s nice nonetheless. His warmth and his strength. How he squeezes her shoulder, brings her closer and listens to her sighs and her shaky breaths.
It’s gentle then, the way he curls locks of hair around his fingers, brushing her back from time to time as he does. A comforting touch from years ago that used to ground her and settle her. It still does and this time, when there are tears threatening to flood her eyes once more, it’s more from gratitude and sheer disbelief that he’s actually here with her.
“Did you do something new to your hair?” Frankie asks after a while. Almost a sacrilege to break the comfortable silence which is surrounding them both. She’s gotten quieter, blinking surprised eyelashes at him when she looks up. “It looks…lighter. It’s nice.”
“I didn’t dry it or brush it last night, that’s what’s new,” Cassie scowls, pushing herself up. It’s a tangled mess, she can just feel it. “That’s gonna be a pain.”
“D’you want some help with it?”
“I’m 19, Dad.” She throws him a pointed look from behind her shoulder as she drags her feet to her room again and Frankie can hear her rummage in her things. He’s the one frowning at her reminder now.
“I know, sweetie. Believe me, I know.”
“But yes, please.”
She hands him the hairbrush, a sad smile on her face and tensed shoulders in front of him when she plops back on the couch and lets him get to work. Nothing but his sorry that break the silence when he encounters a rough patch from time to time and she winces at how it tugs at her scalp. Practiced touches otherwise that relax even Frankie, to fall back into old habits from when she was little and nothing could hurt her because her dad was always by her side and he always had her back. How safe she’s always felt. How lucky she feels right now, that he’s always been there for her.
Even when he was a pain, even when he stuck his ground and even when she said things she didn’t mean to him.
“What do you want me to do with it?” Cassie shrugs at his question, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the brush and his hands. “I’ll braid it,” Frankie decides for her, taking his time. Humming some tune from the shows that Suzy watches on repeat and which are forever stuck in his head now. Tunes of home. “There. All done.” He finishes with another kiss to the top of the braid.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Cassie twists to look at him, a bit more relaxed, fiddling with the scrunchie he’s used to tie it all up, playing with her hair. Some things never change.
“Thank you for being here. I can’t believe you’re actually here. You must be so tired.”
“I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty rough right now.” Frankie rubs his hand down his face. He’s pretty sure if he closed his eyes for a minute, he’d end up falling asleep now. “But I’ll be fine. Nothing that coffee can’t cure.”
“There’s a diner a few streets away. They have some mean pancakes, too, if you want.”
“Better than mine?”
He cocks his head, smirking at her, and in the midst of her sadness, her anger, her feeling of being lost, he notices the hint of mischief shining through. Dimmed but there and that’s worth a sleepless night.
“...different.”
“D’you have any classes today?”
“Yes but I’m not going. I wasn’t planning on going even if you hadn’t come. Not after—I couldn’t focus, I don’t think. I’ll get someone’s notes, I’ve done the reading anyway.”
“Tell you what then. Why don’t you get changed, get ready and we go get some proper breakfast? We’ll take it from there afterwards. How does that sound?”
Because her stomach has been growling more and more, probably awakened by the chicken nuggets, what a pity there were so few of them.
“Good. It sounds good.”
“Brilliant.”
“I’ll go get some shoes.”
“Oh, and Cass? I don’t know what’s her schedule like, if she’s free or not, she said she had to go to class, but if you want, you could ask Max to come with.”
“Oh, I—”
“I mean, we were a bit rushed earlier, didn’t talk much. You don’t have to ask her if you don’t want to but I’d love to get to know her more. Food’s on me.”
Her shoulders slump as she considers it. He’s met her already after all, Cassie realizes and she can’t shield her girlfriend from her dad’s scrutiny forever. At least he’s offering and he seems genuine, he may not even pester her with questions that much, given the circumstances.
“I’ll ask her,” she decides eventually, staring at him pointedly. “But no embarrassing questions or stories if she says yes.”
“What are you talk—”
“I’m serious, Dad. Please.”
“When have I ever done that?” he asks, palms up in surrender and Cassie rolls her eyes, huffs. Slings her purse over her shoulder and her chest.
“Just all the time?”
“I’m looking out for you, that’s all.”
“I know but you don’t need to. Not with her. I’m a big girl, Dad.”
“You’ll forever be the baby who tried to eat butterflies to me, Cass,” he quips and there’s a flash of how done she is with him already when she whirls around, just in time to catch his grin and to realize he’s teasing her.
Frankie makes a grand show of zipping his lips and tossing the key, wiggling his eyebrows and it makes her snort, how silly he is. A bit cringe, always, but bent on making her feel better even when he’s running on little to no sleep, even when he can barely make sense of all the thoughts and questions in his mind.
Doing everything he can to cheer her up. Not enough to make her forget what is happening in her life but enough to distract her for a while.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics, thank you!!
A/N: I'd always wanted to have a triptych story about important questions Cassie would come ask her parents when she was a teenager and one of these questions would have been about love and all the feelings she was starting to feel. I may still write this, who knows, but I actually like it better to have Max introduced like this (although it had been hinted at in Tough Times), that her parents know about her already and that we don't need to see the conversation to know that they support and love their daughter no matter what (you know dad!Frankie will be a pain no matter who his daughter chooses to date anyway!)
If you've enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging to spread the love. Comments and questions are always loved. I have no ETA on Part II but it's a fluff fest and will have way more of Miss and the little kids. Also, Lettuce!!
Summary: Over Christmas break, Frankie and Cassie fly to Colorado to meet your family for the first time.
Word count: 4.6k
Story info: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, fluff, dad!Frankie, dogs, mentions of PTSD. Listen, we all know Miss is a Reader character but apart from the fact that she has no description (and I try hard not to give her one), for the rest, at this point, she's more like an OC and even though I've been super vague about her family in past stories, now she does get parents who have actual dialogue. I've tried to keep it as vague as I could but yeah. They exist.
A/N: This story has been living in small snapshots in my head for more than a year. It may be obvious that they are pieces threaded together but I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out, especially as this was written in an afternoon. I hope you'll enjoy this winter wonderland. I'm not a native speaker, this isn't beta'd, enjoy! Don't forget to leave it some love if you do :)
Once their plane has landed in Colorado, Cassie is only interested in one thing : seeing the snow she saw from the window seat Frankie is so glad he splurged on, for real. To touch it without the gloves her father bought her, along with her winter jacket and her winter hat.
All the white that’s waiting for her for snowmen and snowballs and snow angels, the activities you listed and that she’s so excited to try during the few days they’re coming to stay with you and your parents in your childhood house over Christmas break.
She’s leaving all the worrying about making a good first impression on your parents to Frankie. The significance of that first meeting flying way over her curious head as she takes in the airport, the first time she’s ever flown (commercial) after all. With how much she’s buzzing and how much he has to corral her to make sure she doesn’t just take off, Frankie doesn’t really have time to feel stressed anyway.
Because Cassie is so thrilled to show you the new backpack she got at her grandparents’, the one with the diplodocus, that she makes a mad dash for you as soon as she’s noticed you at Arrivals, smiling bright at you and your dad and twirling to show it to you. And being shy to meet new people, even though you’ve talked a lot about them to her, it’s the last thing on her mind.
Her greetings are loud in between her chattering about her gifts and then her gasps at noticing the Christmas sweater you’re wearing. The glimpse she can catch of it through your open coat. The Christmas tree made up of so many different kinds of dinos. Unbeknownst to her, there’s a similar one wrapped under your parents’ Christmas tree, waiting for her.
“How was the flight?” you ask her, your hand there against Frankie’s back as he greets you and your father. Shaking hands and thanking him, again, for having them over. And how nice it is to meet him.
“Papá flies better,” she says, nodding seriously and you bite your cheek. Frankie shakes his head, but he can’t help the smile he rewards his daughter with.
“Oh, I had no doubt about that,” you wink.
“But we got peanuts and crackers.”
“One point for commercial airlines then.”
“Next time I’ll just keep some in the cockpit,” Frankie mutters, left to take care of all their luggage and refusing to let your father help him, until you distract them again and suddenly, the smaller suitcase is no longer by his side but rolling on the dirty floor in front of you three.
“You guys hungry? There’s food at home but it’s another hour or so away.”
There’s a cart selling pretzels on the way out and it turns out Cassie does devour hers, liking the taste and the texture very much. Hers and half of Frankie’s. Pulling it apart in the backseat of your father’s car that she shares with you. Frankie gets to ride shotgun and that’s just great because you’d mentioned before he was a pilot but now your father has even more questions for him. Enough to cover almost the entire drive home.
Until the urban landscape fades to give way to a more original, green and white one. White everywhere, just like in the movies and in the pictures and it takes Cassie’s breath away. There are sparkles in her eyes and delight in her words at the fields all covered in snow. The trees and the frozen lakes. Her face is touching the window, the tip of her nose bumping against it as she tries to see as much of it as she can.
“It’s like a Christmas movie,” she marvels, putting her foot down in the snow along the driveway, carefully. To see how deep it can sink in the cold powder. Not much.
Your dad watches her with a smile and you’re so grateful they’re letting them both stay. So grateful they’re welcoming them into their house. Not batting an eye at the prospect of having to entertain a child for a few days. Even going a step further and buying her some presents. A growing little pile joining yours for her in their living room.
“I’m glad you think so. There’ll be plenty of lights there once it gets dark,” he explains, showing her the garlands and the strings of lights up the stairs to the front door.
“What colors? My abuelos, they have them red and blue.”
“Lots of red and yellow here, you’ll see. Those two snowmen, they’re motion-activated too.”
They’re almost as tall as Cassie as she goes to inspect one.
“Now,” your father continues, hand already on the doorknob, ready to open the front door wide, “she’s not aggressive but Maple does get pretty excited when she meets strangers, just so you know.”
“That’s your puppy!” She’s seen pictures and truth be told, Cassie is probably more excited to meet the dog than to meet her parents.
There’s a chorus of barking the second the doorknob turns. Claws on hardwood floor and a frenzied dance, circling you all as the dog inspects the newcomers. Cassie is giggling and trying to pet her, to no avail. Not right now. There’s so much excitement that Frankie can barely hear what your mother is telling him. Her smiles and her warmth are enough to make him feel welcome. Not that he doubted it but it’s a relief.
That your parents, they don’t seem to mind the little girl and her energy stealing the show. Giggling, hair mussed from the winter hat she’s handed her dad, now that she finally, finally gets to pet Maple as she lies down on the rug with a ball for Cassie to play with.
“I have a tortoise,” she informs your parents, hand being licked, sitting on the floor as well, her jacket only half off.
“Do you now?”
“Yes, her name is Lettuce. Papá got her for me. I wanted a puppy but I can’t take it to school. So I have Lettuce. I can’t take her to school but she can stay alone. She eats veggies and we’re building her a house. Also! We built a house for birds so they can eat.”
“We’ve got one of those as well here. I’m guessing with different birds than the ones you get in Florida.”
“Can I see it?”
The dog’s ears stand at attention as her sudden gasp.
“We just arrived, mija—,” Frankie tries to pace her. He’s only just sat down in the sofa. His own curls are wild after he’s taken off the winter hat you insisted he needed too. He looks so cute in it, making you yearn to sink your fingers in his hair. Later.
But he also looks so cute, in the living room where you grew up. All bundled up in winter apparel with cheeks still red from the cold and staying red thanks to the fire burning. Warming all of you up.
“I was going to get some more wood for the fire,” your father saves him from how Cassie pouts at the rebuttal, feeling quite at home already. “If you’d like you can come along, I’ll show it to you.”
“Papá?”
How can he ever say no to big brown eyes begging him. And it’s Christmas. Or it was a couple of days ago. It’s still Christmas break. Never mind that he was hoping to rest and sit down in a seat which isn’t moving across states or counties. His shoulders rise and sag with the long exhale he takes before he stands up once more.
“Sure, I’ll come too. I can help you bring more inside, Sir.”
“Yay!”
“Cass! Jacket!”
It’s hanging from her arm as she scrambles to her feet. He could remind her about her gloves and the hat too. How easy it is to forget them when you’ve never experienced a cold winter in your life. There’s a freezing blast of wind seeping in the house before the back door closes on them all.
She doesn’t even care for the gloves, the dog leaping around her, as delighted as Cassie is to have found a new friend.
You’re content watching them from the kitchen window, helping your mother make hot chocolates for everyone. To go with the cookies you baked together yesterday. And you already know the moment you offer them to Cassie, she’ll launch into the tale of how you baked some with her Secret Santa gifts. You, Frankie, Santiago. Her.
“She’s cute,” your mother comments, standing by your side, watching the little girl touch the snow. Bring it to her mouth and shake her head, pink tongue peaking out. Dashing to where the bird feeder is.
“She is.”
There’s a beat of only mugs banging against one another and cupboards being open and closed before she speaks again.
“So. No mom, uh.”
“Nope,” you sigh. Without elaborating. That’s as far as you’d told them, when you’d told them you had a boyfriend who was a single dad. It’s up to Frankie to supply more. “But he’s an amazing dad.”
“I can see that.” How he pauses in loading the little cart with logs to throw a handful of snow at his daughter when she kicks her feet high, spraying white all around her. And him. She shrieks so loud you can hear it through the window. “That’s good to know.”
You roll your eyes so hard at that.
“Mom.”
“What?” she shrugs, pats your arm. “I’m just saying.”
Not that she needs to point it out. It’s obvious for you. You’ve been talking about it a lot with Frankie. That and everything else. But your mother doesn’t need to know that.
It’s dizzying sometimes, how in sync your boyfriend and you are. How, when you’ve found your person, even as there’s still plenty to discover and learn about each other, some things are crystal clear. Where you both want to be headed in life. Together.
Dizzying not because it’s scary or unstable. Dizzying in seeing your life shaping into what you’d hoped it be when it always seemed out of reach before Mr Morales. It isn’t anymore and you smile to yourself at the thought, eyes drawn back to the backyard, the edge of the forest far, far behind Cassie trying to shape the biggest snowball ever.
Blessed that these two people, they’ve chosen you and they’ve chosen to spend some of their Christmas break with you and your family. Not Christmas itself, Cassie’s grandmother drew the line there, but the days between it and New Year’s Eve, they’re for time together in the cold outdoors and you couldn’t be happier about it.
Heart at peace to share family stories and space with your boyfriend and his daughter. To watch her yawn later on, even with the sugar rush from her snack and drink. And watching the lights on the Christmas tree and those on the porch from the living room window. After she’s unwrapped her gifts and was almost going to rush to her bedroom to try on her new tee-shirt before she remembered she didn’t know where she was sleeping.
Your childhood bedroom with all your books that she wants to peruse before bed but the excitement of the flight, the snow and the dog, it takes a heavy toll on her and Frankie isn’t even surprised when she doesn’t come down the stairs to check on the adults after he’s wished her good night. Many more adventures to be had the following day. And the others after that.
“Do you mind if we leave the door open?” he asks you, old battered tee-shirt on his back in lieu of pjs in the guest bedroom. He barely hears your response, yawning so hard himself his jaw cracks and he rubs at his chin.
“Of course.”
He smiles with sleepy eyes, letting you come close. To stand between his knees from where he’s sitting at the edge of the bed.
“Thanks. She’s gonna be up at dawn.” He shudders. You both tried explaining the concepts of time zones and jet lag to her, even if it’s only a couple of hours but the only thing she took from it was that it was like time travel. Time travel which is going to make Frankie’s assumption probably true.
You try to soothe his worries, one drag of your fingers on either side of his face and his eyelids flutter close, his hands close on your waist, and he puckers his lips up, waiting for the kiss he knows is coming. Finally. A better greeting than how chaste he’s determined to be when your parents are around. And not that he’s going to ask for more as long as he’s a guest in their house.
But your kisses sustain him. He’s been dreaming about them. About your scent and all the good things they remind him of. All the dreams and aspirations and the safe cocoon they are. Deep in the crook of your neck where he nuzzles before he falls asleep, snores in your ears that you are starting to miss when you sleep by yourself.
Frankie has a faint recollection of his daughter maybe climbing into bed with you and him, better with you two than her waking up your parents though, except he can’t tell whether it’s in the middle of the night or closer to morning. He only vaguely recalls being nudged and cold feet and the smell of bubblegum shower gel.
What is clear when he eventually wakes up and feels around under the sheet is that your side of the bed is cold and as he drags a hoodie over his head and heads down the stairs, it’s obvious is the last one to wake up.
“Good morning, Frankie,” your mom greets him from the kitchen.
“’Morning.”
“There’s coffee if you’d like.”
“Thanks.”
“They’re in the living room,” she supplies, even though the sound of the TV would have been enough for him to find his way to his daughter and to you.
Cozy on the sofa, Cassie holding the plate with a waffle on it and eyes glued to the screen. You right next to her, trying to tame the wild hair on her head. Doing a much better job every time you try your hand at a hairstyle. Much more than your first attempt when you all went camping in the summer. So focused on your task that you don’t see how Cassie has stealthily been feeding Maple pieces of her breakfast.
Frankie’s coffee can wait at the heartwarming sight he has no choice but to join. Your brush pauses on her head so he can drop a kiss of tangled locks.
“Good morning, muffin.”
“Hi, hermosa. Hola, mija. D’you sleep well?”
“Yes! I had cocoa already!”
“Good.”
“I figured I’d let you sleep in. Get ready for the day.” You crane your head to meet his good morning kiss and he hums against your lips.
“You’re the best. Thank you. I love—”
“We’re going sleddl-ing!”
“We are?” He frowns in your face, back cracking that he holds with a groan when he stands up straight.
“My parents won two tickets at the Church Raffle and they were going to exchange them but then they figured that’s something she’d probably like.”
And from the way she can’t keep still, nodding vigorously in front of you, you give up on the ponytail. Or the braid. Frankie can try to tame it later. He’s much more skilled than you are. Years of experience.
“So that means you’re going with her, then?”
You grin up at him.
“Nope, you are, muffin. How else can I document it all for your parents otherwise?”
“Raf is gonna be so jealous!” Cassie giggles, excited. Bouncing a bit, her butt half off the couch already.
In the end, after photos and videos, you do join them in their fun. Frankie may be an expert at styling his daughter’s hair, you’re one when it comes to winter activities. He can’t even remember if he’s ever been sledding before. But his ears and his heart, they’re filled with Cassie’s squeals and shouts and her tiny body pressed tight to his the first couple of times they go down the hill together.
Tensed and apprehensive and then chortling when they reach the bottom. He could hug her forever. Keep her small and happy and well in his line of sight when she decides to try it on her own, on a smaller slope.
You’re tucked under his arm for the few unexpected minutes you get to yourselves, eyes strained on her and your encouraging thumbs-up as she gets ready to go down. Bundled up so tight that half of her face is hidden. Frankie’s heart swells at your supporting words, even as it seizes with nerves the whole time she’s gaining speed until she stops, safe and sound. Ready to go again. And again.
A day well-spent and she doesn’t last long at night.
In a surprising turn of events, Frankie wakes up before her and as he goes to check on her, he finds the dog keeping watch by her bed. They’re becoming inseparable, Maple accompanying you all into town so you can give your boyfriend a tour of the places where you grew up. The school you attended, the gym and the ice rink there may not be enough time to visit, Frankie is crossing his fingers.
The main street with all the lights still tinkling and the giant Christmas tree in the square. Cassie’s hat falls off her head when she stands in front of it, trying to see the star at the top. The dog waits dutifully by her side, corralling her if she gets too far ahead of you and her father strolling hand in hand. Pointing to acquaintances, people waving to you.
More so in the evening when Maple is resting from her adventures in her warm bed and you’re all going out for dinner. Frankie didn’t really know what to give your parents for Christmas so you’d agreed he’d treat you all to dinner.
A local establishment everyone swears by, with what turns out to be the best venison he’s ever indulged in on the menu.
Cassie gets her trusted chicken nuggets and broccoli and she’s satisfied. Her place mat has games on it, a drawing she gets to color and she’s so independent, knows how to entertain herself when needs be that she doesn’t interrupt the adults’ conversation much. With the games and the book she’s picked in your bedroom that she’s brought along.
Your father likes tinkering with engines so that’s one thing Frankie and him both have in common and even though it all sounds like a strange made-up language at some point, they do seem to understand one another and it’s a happy sight as you sip on your water.
Neither you nor Frankie believe Cassie is paying any attention to anything happening around her until the waitress comes back with the check, Frankie hands her his credit card and she turns on her heels swiftly.
“Oh!” Cassie gasps, looking up sharply. “Papá! She didn’t say Thank you for your service!”
“What?”
“You know. When we go to restaurants and you pay and they say Thank you for your service. She didn’t!”
Or maybe that’s not something they do here? At home, whenever she goes to a restaurant with Benny or her Tío Santi, people always say it back.
Frankie clears his throat when he understands what she means.
“Well, yes, Cass, but I—”
Her little outrage, it’s loud enough that the waitress whirls back to you as quickly as she’d gone.
“You in the service?”
“No—I mean, I was but I—”
“We have a veteran discount too, I’ll take your card, no problem.”
“Jeez, I’m sorry I—I wanted to invite you all out without—,” he shakes his head, fishes his card out of his wallet under his daughter’s scrutiny, “—I don’t always use it, I—”
“Why not?” your father interjects and you understand the sentiment behind your boyfriend’s intentions but honestly, with how much the time in the Army has messed him up, you agree with your dad. “We’re proud you’re using it tonight.”
Your mother nods by your side and so do you. Frankie winces still until he meets your kind eyes and you wish you could just reach over the table to squeeze his hand. Then you decide you don’t care about the audience, your parents approve of him so much, they’re so supportive that it settles any uncertainty you may have had about the kind of relationship they could have with your boyfriend. Someone who’s here to stay. Forever.
Frankie’s fingers wrap around yours for a few seconds. He ruffles his daughter’s hair, always looking out for him. So perceptive. She sees so much, he didn’t even think she knew about the card. She barely knows any detail about his life before she was born.
Cassie quietly approves when a new check arrives and the waitress looks more at her than at her dad when she does say Thank you for your service. A well-rounded interaction just the way it’s supposed to be.
Frankie knows you haven’t gone into details about his former life with your parents either, that’s not your place to say and you’re too respectful to go behind his back. Leave it to his daughter to provide new topics of discussions. New ways to show how much she sees, so attentive.
Because as New Year’s Eve draws to a close and your parents mention there are fireworks happening to celebrate, Cassie’s eyes light up. She loves them in the summer. With the snow and the white everywhere, it must be so pretty. Maybe they have different colors and shapes here than at home. Like the Christmas lights and the birds.
“Papá doesn’t like fireworks,” she states matter-of-factly, when the outing is discussed. Taking giant steps in the forest behind your parents’ house. The trail Frankie would have never guessed was there but you know them all by heart. It must also be a beautiful place in the summer, he supposes. Green and lush and quiet. Another reason to come back another time of the year. “They make too much noise.”
He gapes at her as she isn’t looking, gripping your hand.
“But I do!” she continues. “Liz takes me, or my Tía. I like the small ones that go fzfzfzfzfz like when you open a Coca-Cola!”
“I could take her?” you venture, because now that it’s in the open it’s going to be hard to make her forget about them. Even if now, she’s back to foraging for the best pine cones peaking out from under the snow. Helped in her research by Maple, way too happy to dig to her heart’s content.
You could take her but also, you’re uneasy about leaving Frankie alone when this isn’t something you’d prepared or planned for, you tell him when it’s just the two of you alone in bed in the dead of the night. When he’s squeezing you to him, no crack in your embrace left for former demons to come bother him. His daughter, she shouldn’t have to worry about these things, even though he doubts that it actually worries her. It’s probably just a fact about her dad, as far as she’s concerned. Like how he wears a hat and likes pickles. Yuck.
Your father doesn’t need to know more about Frankie’s former life to piece the random clues together and to suggest, the next morning when they’re driving to their neighbors for eggs and so that Cassie can see all the animals on the farm, to suggest that if Frankie’s comfortable with him and his wife, they’ll the little girl to the fireworks. She’s funny and well-behaved. A bit strong-headed especially when they’re trying to make her leave the cows. Curious and polite and so when Frankie looks in the back seat to check if she’d be okay with it, she’s so busy slurping on the candy your father always keeps in his car that she happily agrees.
That way Papá can stay home with Maple, because dogs are also very scared of fireworks, she’s seen the ads on TV and the Missing posters in the street after shows and that’s just sad. She waves at him from the car as they drive away. Him and you because you’re not going to leave the man you love alone. You haven’t been privy to one of Frankie’s episodes since the summer, you’re not quite sure he’s had any as violent since, but you’re better equipped to help him now. Especially as this has been sprung on him. But your parents do live way out of town and with the movie you put on TV and the blanket you both cuddle under in front of the open fireplace, with your glass of wine and your chirpy comments at the ludicrous events on the screen, Frankie has never felt safer.
Never able to take his mind completely off of what’s happening outside the sturdy walls but able to settle better. More when your phone pings with a message from your mother and the picture of his daughter looking at the sky with wide eyes. Green sparkles reflecting on her face and in her eyes. Then anoher pictuer, her large smile and chocolate mustache from the cup she’s holding tight. No gloves on her hands, why did he even bother. Probably the most hot chocolate she’s ever drunk during a holiday season. It does make more sense to drink it to keep warm here than in Florida.
“They’re amazing with her,” he whispers by your ear, nuzzling your jaw as the phone screen turns dark again. You hum in agreement. You could hardly believe it when your mother had mentioned their plan to you while they were away at the farm. Fiddling and hesitating, wondering if they were overstepping, but wanting to help how ever they could. They’re helping so much, they’re amazing indeed.
“This week has been a total success.”
“Couldn’t agree more. I love you.”
“Love you, Frankie.”
You’re both dozing off on the sofa when the tires crunch on fresh snow in the driveway and Frankie shakes off the grogginess to jog out and carry his sleeping daughter inside.
Head full of memories that the next day, when you’re all flying back to Florida, back home for them and that’s the way it’s also starting to feel for you, too, your question of what her top three of her stay in Colorado is, it takes the whole flight for her to make up her mind.
Frankie would be in a bind to draw a list as well. It went much more smoothly than he could have hoped and he’s felt more than welcomed by your family. Accepted even. Judging by the hug your mother gave him as he was saying good bye and the way your father clapped his arm and his back as they were shaking hands outside of the airport.
“We’re coming back next year?” Cassie asks from her window seat as the plane takes off. Your head on Frankie’s shoulder, sitting between his two favorite girls, his hand clasped in yours and the little girl’s feet moving rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth.
You won’t. Too busy getting married in your backyard during your next Christmas break. Your parents flying to you three this time. To you four. But you don’t know about any of that yet.
Flying into the New Year with joy and hope burning bright in your heart.
Thank you @saradika-graphics for the festive dividers!
I hope you enjoyed this little story and if you did, I'd love to hear what was your favorite part of it!!!!
