Simon Peter & Andrew | Your Day Will Come | Platonic
When your brothers Peter and Andrew once again leave on yet another ministry trip, you decide to tag along, whether you’re explicitly invited or not.
Requested by Lizzy
What a blessing it is to be able to miss someone to the point that it physically hurts…
…So why is your chest aching, you think to yourself as you watch your brothers pack their things through the blur of your unshed tears, and why does it never get any easier no matter how proud you are of them?
You fiddle with your necklace nervously as Eden slides up next to you to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your tearful state. With a quivering bottom lip - which you are biting hard to keep yourself from crying - you give her a look. “I know,” is all she says, soft and understanding, and oh, that tightens your throat even further.
Andrew tightens the leather straps of his bag, shortening them to the right height, one of them hastily repaired by your unsteady but willing hand. He’d been appreciative of your offer to fix it for him when he showed up with a broken bag only a week ago. The Jonah brothers had hardly settled before having to leave on their next mission trip again.
Simon Peter gives you an apologetic smile and ruffles your hair through your veil in an attempt to make you smile. It works, for you move away with a girlish shriek and swat at his hand, causing him to chuckle. “Come on, (Y/n), you know we will be back before you know it. Besides, I need you to look after my wife,” he winks at her, “Someone has to keep an eye on her.”
Eden crosses her arms as one of her eyebrows shoots up at her husband. “Are you still pretending that it’s me you’re most worried about whenever you’re away?” There is no sharpness in her tone. It is a truth that Eden had accepted long before the two of them married. Luckily, your sister-in-law is as fond of you as your older brothers are.
“You always see right through me,” jests the older son of Jonah before pecking her forehead and heading back inside to get some supplies. “You know where my spare tunics are?”
The woman clicks her tongue. “Oh, let me get them for you. I recently rearranged the wardrobe to get rid of some old rags.”
Peter’s voice sounds muffled from the house: “You better not have thrown out my stripy fishing gown.”
“It had more holes in it than not.” Eden retorts, “Besides, I couldn’t get the smell out anymore.”
The former fisherman lets out a noise, causing your sister-in-law to perk up and rush inside. “Excuse me, time for me to de-escalate a domestic squabble.”
As you watch her go after Cephas, Andrew walks up to you. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m just going to miss you guys so much,” you sigh, a hopeful flicker growing in your gaze, “…Again… Say, Andrew, can’t… Can’t you try and ask Jesus whether I could come, too?”
Andrew flinches at the suggestion, although he is no stranger to it. Shaking his head, he gives you a look of apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, (Y/n)… I know you want to come with us, but… Who is going to look after Eden, hm?”
“Zebedee always looks after the two of us,” you try, “I mean, I don’t believe for a second that you guys want me to stick around because of our sister-in-law.”
Your brother sighs. “I know. And I know that you know that’s not the true reason, but… Well, you know how it is. It’s dangerous out there. Something might happen to you.”
The scoff that leaves you is unintentional but speaks volumes all the same. “As if you guys aren’t getting yourselves into danger all the time… What makes it different for me? Because I’m a girl? There’s other girls in your company, so that doesn’t hold up.”
Andrew puts a hand on your shoulder and lets out a long breath. “Look, (Y/n)… Peter and I, we made a vow to our parents. When abba passed, we swore we would keep you safe at all times. We cannot put you in harm’s way willingly, now can we? Neither me nor Peter would forgive ourselves if anything happened to you.”
Letting out a sigh of frustration, you lower your gaze. “But your stories,” you try, “I want to see it for myself. I want to witness the miracles beyond Capernaum. Listen to Jesus’ teachings at the campfire after a long day on the road. I want to see Him clash with the Pharisees. I want endless nights at the campfire. I want to sleep under the stars. To be used for the ministry the same way you guys are being used…”
Your eyes have begun to glitter in awe and Andrew feels his heart swell with affection. Your fire for Adonai is inspiring, and he can tell that you want nothing more than to join him and Peter on their travels with the Messiah.
“Maybe some day,” Andrew hesitantly replies, snuffing that candle of excitement without wanting to. “But not this day. Right now, you’ve got different things to do, hm?” He squeezes your shoulder, but it’s of little comfort to you. Pouting a bit, you avert your gaze. You aren’t sure why you’re surprised; it’s not like this is the first time you’re having this conversation… Nor the second or third… “You know that God can still use you, even if you stay back here.”
“I don’t want to stay back here, I want to—”
“—Crisis averted,” Eden breathes as she steps out of the house, cutting into the conversation unknowingly. “Lucky for me, the tunic was still tucked into the back of the wardrobe.” When she notices your dejected expression, she frowns a little. “Everything alright here?”
“Yeah, fine,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t want to talk about it anymore. Andrew hums and gives your arm one last apologetic pat before joining your oldest brother inside the house.
Eden sighs. “You seem troubled.”
“Well, I’m getting tired of being swept under the rug like my devotion doesn’t matter.” When the words leave you, they feel unfair immediately. Exhaling, you close your eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just… I wish they would give me a chance.”
“Do you feel like they aren’t giving you any? Chances, I mean.”
You consider her question. “Maybe not in the way I’d like to.”
“Well, perhaps you should be patient. I’m certain that Jesus has a purpose for you.”
You feel like you’ve been patient for long enough, but you don’t say that out loud.
“I’m going to check if these guys have everything they need. Last time I neglected to do so and Peter had to wear the same pair of sandals for two months straight.”
You give a nearly playful roll of your eyes. “Isn’t my brother old and wise enough by now?”
Eden laughs. “You’d expect that from a man his age, but hey.” With a noise of amusement, you watch how she disappears inside.
Your purse your lips in thought, listening to the muffled voices drifting from the house. You recall for a fact that they’d agreed to gather at Matthew’s former place, and you decide to head in that direction just to catch a glimpse of Jesus. If you aren’t allowed to join them, you’ll at least see the Messiah before their departure.
Knowing Capernaum like the back of your hand, you easily find the luxurious home that the former tax-collector once lived in. There are surprisingly few people around - scratch that, only the older son of Zebedee is there.
“Shalom, (Y/n),” greets Big James, who is busy strapping in a few jars of water.
“Hi there,” you muse, “Where is everyone?”
“Not here yet,” he answers with a shrug. “Where are your brothers?”
“Eden’s taking a look inside their bags to make sure they’ve got everything.”
Big James chuckles. “Ah, of course. Last time, Peter forgot his second pair of—”
“—Sandals, yeah. Bet he complained about blisters all the time.”
The older Thunder plants his hands on his hips as he recounts the moment. “You have no idea. He was nagging about it constantly. John and I made a bit of fun of him for it, too.”
“Wish I’d been there,” you sigh wistfully. “I’d have joined right in on the teasing.”
Big James puts a hand on your shoulder, giving an amicable squeeze. “The road is no place for a girl like you, (Y/n).”
The look you give him must be downright scary, for his smile quickly fades and he removes his hand, gulping hard. “I… It’s nothing negative, of course. It’s just… I’ve never considered it, is all. Having you tag along, I mean.”
You don’t have time to formulate a response, for Simon the former Zealot shows up with a squeaky handcart in tow. “Shalom,” he states, wiping his brow as he straightens his back upon placing down the handlebars, causing it to tilt forwards, “Am I interrupting something?”
“Ah, not at all.” Big James averts the attention away from the tense moment. “Do you need help with anything?”
Zee smiles. “I’m glad you asked, I’d love some extra muscle to get a bunch of blankets this way.”
“Alright!” The two head back to where Zee came from, leaving you to yourself.
For a second, your chest feels tight. No one even considered you to eventually become a member of the group travelling all over Judea and beyond? Neither your brothers nor your friends?
It feels unfair. Even more so, it downright hurts. Of course the road is meant for you, too. You’re certain of it.
You swallow away the lump and take a deep breath, gaze falling upon the cart that Simon Zee had brought here.
As your eyes narrow, you look around, then at the cart. Lifting the cover that sits over it, you notice how empty it still is.
An idea pops up in your mind, growing at the forefront of it rapidly.
You cast a look over your shoulder, wondering if you’re being watched.
You’ll show them just how ready you are.
Before you can second-guess your own perhaps foolish decision, you slip into the cart, underneath the blanket. Peeking out from the gaps between the planks, you try to keep your breathing steady. Right in time, for the Disciples approach, Jesus alongside them.
“All set?” Thomas wonders.
“I believe so,” Simon Peter comments, whom you hadn’t seen approaching from the other side. Andrew must be with him, and a surge of nervousness travels through you. What if they find out about your presence here? Would they be mad? Disappointed in you?
A gust of bright light pours over you. Immediately, panic finds a home in your chest. A thousand apologies and excuses bounce through your head as you turn to face the person who has discovered you so soon, but as you look up, you are almost instantly smothered by a pile of blankets being thrown on top of you with reckless abandon.
The sound you let out is muffled, and you nearly cough at the scent of wool filling your nostrils. Your nose itches, but you resist the urge to sneeze.
“All set.” Thomas establishes now, and everyone agrees. You almost yelp when Simon the Zealot lifts up the handles of the cart to pull it ahead.
It’s a rocky road, which you had never really realised until now, as you are jostled about with the blankets serving as padding to take the brunt of the damage. Still, it’s far from comfortable.
“I didn’t know we brought extra supplies today,” Zee remarks.
“If it’s too heavy to bear, I can always take over.” James smugly counters.
“I didn’t say it was too heavy. Just heavier than I expected, compared to the few blankets we just put in.”
You hold your breath. Are you about to be discovered already? Simon the Zealot is far too perceptive for his own good.
The older Thunder shrugs. “Maybe someone put some stuff in there while we were still on our way back.”
“That must be it,” concludes the former Zealot. They carry on their conversation about nothing that interests you, so you take your time to look out of the handcart between the gaps again. Jesus walks right behind the cart, speaking to Mary of Magadala and Philip.
The Messiah seems relaxed, toying with the end of the rope around His waist between His fingers, and He lets out an occasional laugh or hum at whatever the followers are saying.
For a split second, He seems to be looking straight at you, and your heart stutters. Quickly diving back into the blankets and pelts, you hope He hasn’t noticed your (e/c) eye peeping right out.
You shouldn’t have done that. The moment you pop back into the dusty furs covering you, your nose begins to prickle so much that your eyes water.
“Achoo!”
The squeaking cart comes to a halt. “What was that?” Zee asks.
“Blankets don’t sneeze.” James states. With a dull thud, Simon places the handlebars back down, and you nearly tumble to the bottom of the handcart.
The covering of the wagon is pulled off, then each blanket removed one by one. You can feel the weight on top of you becoming less and less, and you sigh, deciding to face the music. Once sunlight overwhelms you, you squint and cough at the fresh air streaming into your lungs.
“(Y/n)?!” Andrew exclaims in disbelief, and you plaster on a smile of feigned innocence.
“Hi guys,” you croak, hacking into your hand a few times before you can gather yourself.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Peter demands an answer.
You sit up a bit, looking around as you fix your veil into place, almost sheepish. “I have no reasonable excuse for this, honestly. I… I wanted to come with you.”
“Of course you did,” Peter huffs, “But we’ve had this talk before. It is not your position to join us on our mission trips—”
“—I’ll take it from here, Peter. Thank you.” Putting a hand on the former fisherman’s shoulder, Jesus gently ushers your brother behind Him. “Shalom, (Y/n).”
“Shalom, Jesus,” you whisper, turning a little embarrassed now. You rub your arm, averting your gaze. “Sorry for crashing the party like this.”
The Messiah lets out a warm chuckle. “You don’t have to apologise for anything, (Y/n). I know how much you want to join us.”
A hopeful glimmer passes through your eyes, but as Jesus observes you, you realise that He isn’t about to invite you.
“…Look, forget I even asked, okay? I know I have to look after Eden, that I need to stay here to aid the ministry in my own way, that Adonai has chosen for me—”
“Your day will come,” Jesus interrupts. “Trust Me, (Y/n). The Father has great plans for you.”
You look at Him - stare, rather - and blink in confusion. “Really?”
“Of course He does. You are of importance just as much as My Disciples are. Just because they travel from city to city with Me, doesn’t mean they are more important than those who serve Me from other locations.”
You bite your lip. “But the stories Andrew and Peter always tell are just… You know… I want to see that for myself, You know?”
“I know,” Jesus muses, “And there is nothing wrong about wanting that. But (Y/n)… You will see and do things far greater than what we are doing here right now. Your time will come, that you will travel and serve and be a witness to My Name. I can promise you that.”
“Really?” you croak, as if He’d be lying to you, or as if He’d say things that are simply meant to comfort you and nothing else. Jesus chuckles and nods.
“Yes, really. Now, come out of that cart.”
You accept the hand He stretches out to you, and you rather ungraciously clamber out between the furs, fixing your tunic and veil the second you’re back on your feet. Jesus gives your upper arm a gentle squeeze and smiles. “Now, we can’t have you walk back by yourself. Your brothers will go with you back to Eden’s house. They will catch up with the rest of us eventually.”
“I think that would be a good idea, Rabbi.” Peter states, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s trying to appear strict, but he cannot keep the mirth from his eyes. Andrew is simply smiling as he nods at you, then towards the village.
“Shall we, then?”
You sigh, look around at the group of people surrounding you, and smile a bit. “Okay. I’ll see you all later.”
“Bye, (Y/n)!” a few people say in unison, whilst the others wave as you head with the sons of Jonah back home.
Andrew wraps an arm around you as you leave behind the group you’d so desperately had wanted to join. “You’ve already won the hearts of our whole group with that move back there, (Y/n),” he muses.
You roll your eyes. “Psh, sure. They think I’m some naive, childish little girl who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, (Y/n),” Peter joins in, mirroring your brother so that you’re wedged in between them, “What Andrew means to say, is that it’s good to see that you support all of us so staunchly, and that we’ve always got you to come back home to. Isn’t that bright?”
You hum, smiling a bit. “That’s bright,” you murmur.
“Alright,” Peter releases you, then pats your shoulder. “So, for old times’ sake… Race you back home?”
A fond feeling sparks within your chest.
“Oh, you bet!”
At that, the three of you leave a trail of dust in your wake.
