Happy Danktober 4th! Today's prompts are Spanking, Scallop, and National Taco Day! Happy Taco Tuesday!
TBAD Polycule: Dave York x Carol York x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)
Summary: You and your lovers share your strange dreams one lovely, lazy morning.
Word Count: 937
Warnings: none. Dave being a horny bastard toward the end.
A/N: Hi my TBAD babes <3 kissing you all on the mouth.
[full danktober list here]
[TBAD series masterlist]
"There is no possible way that there's an entry on tacos."
"It's possible. There's actually tons of meanings."
"This is wild," Marcus laughed and pulled an arm around you, tugging Carol closer in bed. You lounged with your head in Carol's lap, and she played with your hair idly.
"This website is insane. Tell me more about the tacos. Were you... eating them? Making them, were there too many tacos?"
"Too many tacos? Blasphemy," Carol scoffed.
"I was eating them," Marcus said, taking a breath and refreshing his memory. "We were in the kitchen. On the outside it looked creepy, we were all staring at one another and smiling across a big plate of tacos. Nobody talking, just smiling."
"You're right, that does sound creepy," Carol teased, earning her a visit to Marcus' ticklehands.
"Aw, this is so cute." You sat up and turned to face them. "Tacos signify warmth and comfort, going with the flow and being content with your life. Sharing with others--I'm assuming, since we were all there and not fighting over them--could mean you're a selfless person and a provider for your family."
"That's so sweet! What the hell?" Carol leaned over and reread the entry you were referencing on the dream meanings website. "So random, too. How do the tacos know?"
"Dreams don't always have to make sense," Marcus said, blushing a little and trying to deflect the praise as always. "In fact, dream ballets tend to occur outside the continuity of the production."
"They also were powerful tools of foreshadowing through dance and music."
"Foreshadowing what? Tuesday?"
"Plot."
"Damn, forgot you were a dance captain in high school," Marcus said with a shake of his head. He kissed Carol's cheek. "What'd you dream about last night? Anything weirdly symbolic?"
"...yes."
You looked up at her eagerly, opening another tab on your phone. "There... we were... okay, I can't remember a lot of it. But I do remember I was sitting on the beach with everyone. And suddenly the ground started shaking and we were picked up high in the air, and we were all sitting in the shell of a scallop."
"A scallop?!" you and Marcus said as one.
"Yes! Just the empty shell. It was so strange."
"What happened next?" you implored, typing furiously for anything that could be deciphered.
"The shell stopped rising, and you all looked at me and said this is yours," her voice was oddly monotone. "And then we all vanished. And I woke up."
"... and you say my dream was creepy. We were at least at home in my head."
"Oh, shut it," Carol laughed. "What's it mean, honey? Am I going to kill again?"
"Yes," you said dryly, before your face went all soft and sappy. "Scallops are the symbol of love and beauty. Aphrodite came from a scallop shell. You also like to wear lace a lot, so this tracks. Scallops can imply lace of fancy ornamentation."
"I like dressing nice!" Carol said, mock-defensively.
"Take the compliment, Carol..." Marcus growled, tickling her again. "You're our goddess of love and beauty."
She kissed him to stop him. "Fine. I'm the goddess of love and beauty. Happy?"
"Yes," you and Marcus answered.
"What about you, sweetheart?" he asked, reaching over and playing with your hair like Carol had done before. "Any dream meanings to share with us?"
"I'm six of one, half a dozen of the other," you said with a wave of your hand. "Dave spanked me for my birthday last year and my birthday is in a few days."
"You... you had dreams of getting spanked?" Carol said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"You were right about the foreshadowing," Marcus said with a similar smirk. You felt your face get hot at the very thought of what they may have planned for your birthday.
The front door opened and shut then, followed by a lock sliding home and a familiar sigh. Dave walked in through the door a minute later, sweaty from his run. "Look at you all," he said adoringly when he walked through, putting his running shoes back in the closet as he started to strip for his shower. The three of you watched greedily.
"Do you have dreams, Dave?" Marcus asked.
"Of course."
"Of what? Did you dream last night?"
"Hm, possibly." He wiped his face off with a dry spot on his shirt before tossing it in the hamper. "Why?"
"What happened?"
"Yeah, tell us."
"Was it weird or special?"
He gave you all a strange look, eyes landing on the phone in your hand. "Oh, you can't possibly believe that."
"We don't, it's just funny to look at," you said quickly.
"It called Carol the goddess of love and beauty."
"And it called Marcus happy, and that he loved providing for us."
Dave shrugged, slipping his shorts off. He tended to go commando on his runs, and this morning was no different. Your smiles grew wider, watching the free show. "I guess there's some truth to it. But anyone could have guessed that."
"I dreamed of getting spanked for my birthday."
"Well I'll try and make your dreams come true, then," Dave smirked. "I just dream of fucking you three stupid, all the goddamn time. Comes true every day."
He stepped into the shower, leaving his stunned partners on the bed gaping after where he was standing.
"I'm foreshadowing shower sex," you said, scrambling to your feet.
"That's not how foreshadowing works!" Marcus called, getting up as well.
"She's just making his wishes come true!" Carol laughed, joining the crowd in mobbing Dave in the shower.
Chapter 7: Eggshells Underfoot
Carol York x Dave York x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)
Series Masterlist
Rating: Mature (Series overall Explicit)
Word count: 3436
Chapter summary: A date, a long-overdue talk. Kids are great.
Warnings: i’m drunk sorry uh i think theres smut? idk i wrote this like a month ago and i was so fucking insecure based on some people in my life that i never posted it!!!!!!!!!!!! content warning author lol
Taglist is linked in my bio and my main masterlist!
< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >
You were going on a date.
J was with Carol and Dave and the girls for the night and you were going on a date.
With Marcus.
On a date.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, mommy.”
The date was J’s idea.
J had come up to you after school one day and they had told you mommy, I want you to go on a date with daddy, and you’d been so stunned you had to tell them yes.
But now you were sitting in the living room, all dolled up in your best dress and heels of all things. You hadn’t worn heels since you’d gone out with Carol, and before that, you hadn’t worn them since…
Well, since the last time you were with Marcus.
Perhaps this was a sign you were too rose-tinted to see fully, forests and trees and all those other metaphors that slipped through your fingers the moment you tried to concentrate. Because Marcus was coming to pick you up, after Carol and Dave came to pick J up.
J had packed an overnight bag.
They were getting a bit presumptuous.
At long last, there came a knock at the door and J bolted for it, throwing it wide before you could check the peephole. All four Yorks stood at your doorstep, and you felt yourself flush at the sight of the few unwashed dishes in the sink, the corner of the rug that never flipped flat, the chewed-off windowsill from the previous tenant’s dog. It was a far cry from the intricate beadboard and pristine white kitchen Carol York ruled her kingdom from.
The girls shouted and squealed at the sight of J, even though they’d just seen one another a few hours ago at school. J didn’t even bother with a goodbye as they were ushered down the stairs to the York-mobile. Carol and Dave stood smirking on your doorstep, watching you lose the one person who could have called off this whole night.
“Don’t you look gorgeous,” Carol said, sweeping inside and wrapping you in a hug, pressing a careful kiss to your cheek to preserve your makeup. Dave was less attentive in his greeting, more possessive and claiming with his kiss, smearing your lipgloss against his mouth as he pressed you against the countertop. Your hands flew up by their own volition, burying themselves in his hair right above that scar on his neck. You tugged him closer, as if you hadn’t seen him the day before.
You were really no different than your children at times.
“Am I interrupting something?”
You and Dave pulled apart to see Marcus standing at the door with a vase of flowers in his hands. He wore a burgundy suit that matched well with your dress, and his facial hair was trimmed but not shaved. If it weren’t for Dave’s hips keeping you pinned to the counter, you would have swooned.
“Not at all,” Carol sang, grinning as she puttered around your kitchen, brightening all corners in that unique way you loved about her. “Hello Marcus.”
“Carol,” he says softly, nodding his head. You disentangled yourself from a rather unhelpful Dave (who was grinning to himself in that infuriatingly handsome way) to welcome him in. You smoothed down your dress and thanked him for the flowers, unable to stop smiling. Any lingering nerves you’d had about the date were dashed to the wind. You leaned up on tiptoe to kiss Marcus’s cheek, too shy to show off the way Dave had so clearly wanted to.
“Did you coordinate this?” You asked, turning around to narrow your eyes at Dave.
His grin only went wider.
“I was wondering why there was a minivan escorting me to your apartment,” Marcus laughed, putting his hand on your waist. It was simple. It thrilled you.
“We can get out of your hair,” Carol said, sweeping across cracked linoleum like it was a pageant stage.
“Nonsense, you’re more than welcome to use my time,” Marcus said, smiling down at her with a sweet smile. Something about the exchange made your heart pound, and you watched as Dave rubbed at his chest almost nervously, if you didn’t know Dave York didn’t get nervous.
“Do you have an antacid?” Dave asked softly, pulling you from your reverie.
“Of course!”
##
Marcus drove carefully, only ever looking at you when you were stopped or parked. It left him open for you to observe him openly, which should have made him nervous, but after nearly a decade of missing your eyes on him, Marcus was ready to be in your crosshairs again. Your attention made the air sparkle for him. He felt envious of your daydreams.
When J had cornered him about going on a date with you, he’d agreed more on instinct than actual thought. At the same time he wanted to make up for his kid’s lost relationship with him, which made him agreeable to probably a detrimental point, but he also wanted to be a good dad who raised a good kid.
So it made sense to go on a date with you.
But he was also very, very nervous about it.
He hadn’t been on a date with someone since that singular failed rebound after Teresa, and that had (thankfully) been incomprehensible due to the loud music of the concert venue. He’d never seen that person again, which was probably for the best.
He’d chosen somewhere quiet and out of the way but not too out of the way, nowhere too intimate or quirky, nowhere he felt out of his element, nor would you feel the same. It was gallery night at a specific block of the Arts district in downtown. Marcus had reserved parking and tickets, and took you into the first gallery with nerves running high.
“I would have thought you didn’t want anything to do with art after…”
You bit off the rest of your sentence like a piece of food you didn’t particularly want to chew. He watched your expression shutter in embarrassment; you probably hadn’t wanted to say that. He did the brave thing and let himself be vulnerable with someone, despite everything in his life warning to the contrary.
“For a while I was pretty jaded, but that was more anger to the institutions that ruled me than the art itself. The art was always an innocent factor in the crimes we investigated, not alive yet still a victim. I think I understood that sentiment a little more when the dust finally settled.” He got you a small glass of wine from a tray going around, and you promenaded about the gallery, light jazz playing through hidden speakers in the ceiling.
You thanked him, absorbing what he had to say. “I always liked that about you. It took a lot to get you really angry about things, but your anger never manifested in violence or harsh words and actions. I felt comfortable making mistakes around you, when we were together before.”
Marcus felt his breath catch. Every time he thought of those few months, he found it difficult to breathe. He’d been so in love with you, and you must have had some idea. You must have known. The fact that love manifested in a perfect child he had the pleasure of knowing only made the whole thing fonder in his eyes.
The silence stretched out a little bit, and the two of you found yourselves laughing nervously, meeting eyes for fractions of seconds before glancing away. “I haven’t been on a date in a while; I don’t know what to say.”
“I wasn’t sure if this was first-date conversation or if it’s… well, something else.”
“My my, Mr. Pike, what kinds of things are you going to say?” You asked, teasing coming back like riding a bike.
“Whatever you’d like to hear,” he said, kissing the side of your head as you moved by him. It felt seared into your scalp the rest of the time you wandered through the gallery.
##
“So they’re all together?”
“No. Well. Kind of. Let me get a paper.”
“I think my daddy isn’t with them.”
“He’s not. Kind of. Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
Molly watched her sister draw out a box in one color, and labeled each corner with a letter. “J’s mommy and daddy, our mommy and daddy. So they’re both together,” Alice drew a line connecting the C and the D, and another connecting the M and the final corner. “And then our mommy and daddy are with your mommy,” she made a triangle. “And I think your daddy wants to be with our daddy and mommy but I don’t know for certain.”
“How do we know for certain?” Molly asked, frowning. This whole thing stank of geometry, and where there were triangles, there were proofs, and Molly York hated little else more than proofs.
The three sat in contemplative silence for a while, frowning at the flowchart Alice had made in sparkly glitter crayon. Alice was thinking of possibly the most complicated way to get proof, much like her father would have. Molly was only pretending to think, still somewhat daydreaming about her jiu jitsu spar from that afternoon. This was also her father’s influence. J, however, had learned one thing from Dave York that his daughters had yet to fully manifest:
The creation of problems in as few words as possible.
“I’m gonna go ask.”
##
Marcus’s hands were some of your favorite things in the entire galaxy. He held yours like they were precious and fragile, and in your entire time of knowing him, you never once remembered them to be cold. They were warm and comforting and—
“Ah!”
—they knew all your buttons and just how hard to push, even after all these years.
In the back of his car, with the tinted windows and the leather seats, his hands were everywhere at once. Up your dress, between your thighs, around your breast, you name it, he was touching it. You’d never been so glad to have at least exfoliated before tonight, because he made you feel like a goddess for every second he touched you. His fingers rubbed tight little circles over your clit, through the thin material of your panties.
“Good girl, so sexy for me like this. Been thinking about this for a long time, so fucking long,” his lips brushed your ear as he breathed the words, sending shivers down your spine and lighting a fire in your veins. You didn’t want to full-on fuck in his car on the first date, but things were getting desperate. You thought you’d never be horny again, until Dave. Until Carol. Until, until, until.
You’d both stretched and snapped in places you’d been able to bend and flex before. Marcus’s fingers had a rougher quality to them - fieldwork - and your hips held weight put there by him - motherhood. Yet he couldn’t separate the two, holding you across years and silvery skin and calluses on his palms because his bones knew yours like God knew the stars.
“Wanna make you cum right here on my hand, can I do that? Do that and take you home?”
“Please!” You begged, pulling him in for a harder kiss, one that spoke of Dave’s influence on you. He’d opened up that possibility of want and have being the same word. Your pleasure was something to take and enjoy, never to sacrifice or withhold. You’d never cum so much in your life than when you were in the Yorks’ bed.
But here with Marcus, you felt a fiery intensity pass between your tongues like secret breaths from the depths of your lungs, exchanged and held and exchanged again. His forehead bumped yours, and you pulled back to look him in the eye. He wanted to watch you come apart for him. He watched you with the same concentrated focus he looked at compelling art with. He knew you knew what that look meant. It brought tears to your eyes as he plunged his fingers deep into you, curling and coaxing an orgasm out of you it made your head spin. You were pretty sure you bruised your wrist from smacking it so hard against the back window.
When you came back down to earth, he was kissing your collarbones so thoroughly your whole body tingled. “Fucking hell, Marcus,” you breathed, melting against the leather seats.
He huffed a laugh against your skin. “Back with me?”
“Don’t be smug,” you grinned, helpless as you nudged his shoulder.
“I think I made you see deities lost to time and legend. I can be a bit smug.”
“You interpret all that from one orgasm?”
“You’re right, we should incur further study.”
“You’re ridiculous. Take me to a bed and I’ll incur something better.”
##
Dave York didn’t get nervous.
Seeing his daughters and a child he was quickly growing to consider his own staring across the dining table at him with hands folded atop it was nerve-wracking.
At least Carol was there, flippantly calm as ever, like she wasn’t being subjected to tween attempts at telepathy.
The stares were getting to be a bit creepy, after all.
“I trust you know why we have called you here?” Alice said, and Dave was equal parts horrified and impressed by her composure, despite still calling things “mix-match” a week ago.
“To the contrary, Ms. York, we have no idea.”
Alice’s brows drew together, and the three huddled together, a Greek chorus deciding the fate of the immediate future. When they pulled apart, J spoke next.
“We wanted to ask you about your relationship.”
“Well, we got married in 199—”
“Not that one. We know about that one.”
“Even though, suspiciously, none of us were there.” Molly fixed her parents with a narrowed gaze.
“There were many reasons for that, you would have been invited had you been alive,” Dave said as lightly as he could manage.
“Oh.”
J picked up the thread. “About your relationship with my mommy and daddy.” Despite the bookended York bravado on either side of them, J looked genuinely curious, lacking the judgement and disapproval that Dave and Carol had privately feared since the beginning. It was relief and panic in the same offered hand.
“Well, we—”
“Polyamory is—”
“Sometimes I think about marriage again but—”
“Wait, you do?”
“Yeah, I just, I didn’t want to—”
“I have too!”
“Wait, really?”
The adult Yorks stumbled over their conversation in a way neither of their children had seen before. It stunned both daughters silent as they hot-potatoed their words back and forth, interspersed with laughter and smiles and hand-holding before they realized they really hadn’t answered the question.
“Oh, I’m sorry, J. We don’t really have an answer as simple as you’d probably like, but… we’re figuring things out too.”
J nodded. I’m figuring it out had always been an acceptable answer for them growing up. They were lucky to have grown up with a patient and caring mommy who understood mistakes and accidents were part of life, and nothing to be ashamed of. J wished you could be taught the same lessons you taught them.
“We shall recon-bean at a later date,” they declared. “The court is adjourned.”
When the kids cleared out, Dave turned to his wife and smirked, “We should have turned over the PTA job to J.”
##
“Fuck! Marcus!” You cried into his pillow, gripping his sheets and shaking beneath him as he pounded you into his mattress with love. You had no way of describing it besides that. You had no thoughts left in your head besides don’t stop don’t stop.
“That’s right, fuck I missed this pussy - every - day.” He groaned as he felt his peak rise again. “Gonna fucking cum in you again and eat it out of you.”
You could only give a high-pitched whine in response, rocking back harder against him. Dave had built up your tolerance (and desire) for rough sex, something that surprised Marcus when you’d asked him to put a hand on your throat. Feeling you squeeze his dick as you came all over him was worth squeezing your pretty little neck.
The two of you had lost count of whichever round this was. Marcus still had one sock on and you had nothing but your jewelry left, the rest adorning the floor of his sad, sparse apartment. There was timeless joy in your intimacy, stretching to let your time together simmer and shrinking to heal the rift between you and him.
You caught your breath after that round ended with a knee cramp in Marcus’s leg, from some injury he’d gotten just after leaving Florida. It signaled an end to tonight’s fun activities, and you helped massage it out with thumbs and kisses and a hilarious amount of lube. The two of you had gone a bit crazy at the CVS earlier that evening.
You thought catching up with him would be more painful. You thought talking about the space would only draw it out further. It did the opposite. You felt parts of your jagged heart knit back together with every time you shared laughter in his bed.
“What—?!” You wheezed.
“I know, I know, it’s terrible!” He laughed, red-faced. He buried his face in his hands as you caught your breath again and started shriek-laughing at his ceiling fan.
“Marcus Pike, you’re telling me that a woman agreed to marry you and your immediate reaction was to fistpump and say yesssssss like-like—I don’t even know, who does that?”
“I’ve only ever had someone say yes once before, I’m not exactly an expert.”
The reminder of his ex-wife didn’t sting as much as it had the first time he’d told you about Lacie. They’d been young and dumb in college and had lofty dreams of a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. When things broke down the first year he joined the FBI, they tried counseling and mediation, and Marcus had bent over backwards to try to make her happy. When it wasn’t enough, he swallowed his pride and signed the divorce papers. The period after that, his re-emergence into bachelorhood, had allowed him time to work on himself, and it was those first few halting steps of healing when he had met you.
“I’d say yes.”
You didn’t know what made you say it. It just sort of… tumbled out of your mouth, past your lips and into the open air between you. You couldn’t stop yourself.
“I would have said yes back in Florida, if you’d asked.”
The look on his face was pained, and he closed his eyes as he processed this. You felt your stomach start to sink, and more words poured forth.
“There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about how things might have been if I’d gone with you back to Austin.”
“Sunshine…” he whispered, leaning forward to thumb away at the sudden tears springing to your eyes. “Baby, why are you saying all this?”
“It’s the truth,” you sniffled. “I love you.”
His expression softened considerably, and he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I love you too.”
“Why does it feel like there’s a but in there?” you asked.
He shifted and pulled you up against his bare chest, kissing your head before speaking. “You’re with Carol and Dave. I don’t… I don’t want to come between the three of you just because I was too late.”
“But you’re not too late,” you insisted, looking up at him. “You’re not. And… they understand a lot more about polyamorous relationships than I do. You don’t… you don’t have to be with them too.”
The silence was telling. Marcus didn’t say anything. Bravely, you ventured forth.
“Do you want to be with them too, Marcus?”
His ears turned red, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. You had so much sympathy for him, eternal patience and love. You felt this way several weeks ago, wrestling with your own feelings that bucked the norm of monogamy and singleminded devotion. Marcus was running to catch up with you, but you were reaching behind to pull him closer.
“That’s okay, baby, I promise. I don’t know exactly how they feel towards it, but they’re always willing to talk about things I have questions about. You’re already part of our family, you know that right?”
Marcus pulled you in. “This is a lot to take in right now,” he murmured to your hair. You nodded.
Carol York x Dave York x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)
Series Masterlist
Rating: Mature (Series overall Explicit)
Word count: 3365
Chapter summary: You, Dave, and Carol deal with the fallout of his decision to protect you from your boss.
Warnings: Implied death threats, Marcus isn’t here yet, f/f making out <3
Taglist is linked in my bio and my main masterlist!
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 >
“This isn’t looking good, Dave,” the man on the other side of the desk sighed. Michael Deborak had been working the DIA’s off-book Special Intelligence Office for close to nine years, and he’d never seen someone as talented as Dave York, or the team who followed him with more loyalty than they had sworn to the flag on his desk. The group of four assassins before him gave nothing away by their expressions. Michael Deborak had been working with their kind for long enough that these men didn’t show emotions to people like him.
“Garcia quit,” Michael continued.
“Why is that my problem?” Dave asked, his tone even and as still as the rest of him. His three disciples echoed the sentiment, though not aloud. If aloofness could stifle a room, it would have suffocated this one.
“Mr. Bridges has deemed it a problem. He’s deemed you, and you and you and you, problems. We’re meant to be handling problems, not creating more by—what was it? Calling in unsanctioned clean-up services at an office park on a Tuesday morning. Really, Dave?”
“The guy was a predator.” Again, Michael Deborak wondered why he even asked. Dave York was the kind of man who knew the end of a conversation before it had even started, and never hid that he knew it.
“That’s not the point. You’re licensed to kill through the company, through contracts. Extra-curricular murder is against company policy. That’s why Garcia quit, he felt the two of you had no trust between you after this incident. It’s going to be difficult to find you another handler on such short notice. You need to have a handler, and you need to keep this handler. It’s in your best interests, and the interests of your families, that you do not shake this next one. Without a handler, things get out of hand. And if things are out of hand…”
You’re out of second chances.
“Understood.”
“So after your suspension is finished, we will get you four set up with your new handler, and go from there.”
Dave and his pack of assassins stalked out of the small office, the sounds of machinery fading in during the brief swing of the door. Just to be a bit of a dick, Dave didn’t close the door entirely, letting it stay cracked just enough to make it sound like an accident.
Dave could tell that the others were tense and pissed at him. He knew none of them would ever say it, or challenge him, especially after the incident during the hurricane. They’d nearly been threatened with decommissioning then, as well. But Dave had managed to tie up enough loose ends with enough neat stitches that he’d walked away from the McCall incident with a pay raise. He’d bought Carol a new pair of Jimmy Choos and they’d never talked about it again.
But this was more complicated. He’d killed your boss, all because of the haunting image of you crying in his shoulder about the way he’d threatened you during the workday. Luckily, working at a pharmacy, he’d been able to neutralize much of the evidence with quick chemistry calculations in his head, letting cleanup handle the body and the rest. He’d stared at your number in his phone for an hour after finally getting home.
“So what’s the plan, chief?” Kovac said, crossing his arms. Karl Kovac was a big guy, the biggest of the four, all bulging muscles and thick beard. He’d never quite grown out of looking like a SEAL, nor had he grown out of addressing Dave by his old Army Warrant Officer rank.
“We can’t kill our way outta this one like we did last time,” Resnik lit a cigarette, puffed on it twice, and stomped it into the parking lot. This was his version of quitting. Jon had a bit of a twang to his voice despite growing up in the middle of San Francisco, but that was the Army’s doing. Sit next to enough corn-fed good old boys and it’s impossible not to speak like them. “No one left to kill but you.”
The morbid humor could have been a threat to anyone less confident in his leadership than Dave York, who only rolled his eyes and put his hands in his pockets.
“Whatever we have to do, I’ll do it,” Ari said next. Arin Aristokles was jumpier than usual today. The group had noticed it back in the office, the unnatural tension in his face where there was usually calm. Michael Deborak hadn’t noticed, but he didn’t know Ari.
“What’s with you?” Dave asked, deflecting while he thought up a plan that sounded better than ‘do nothing and watch your six.’
Ari pursed his lips and scrubbed at the back of his head. “Lisa, she…” Dave knew that tone. He started to smile before Ari even finished. “She’s in her second trimester. We didn’t even know til just now, she’s a tiny thing, you know…”
The group took turns embracing the man, congratulating him in hushed but enthusiastic tones. The levity was cut short by the collective reminder that Ari would never get to be a father if they didn’t get their shit together, fast.
“We don’t have to worry about it right now,” Dave said softly, his go-to placating line for most things, while he thought up a scheme to save everyone’s asses. “We got a nice suspensication for us all to relax, well, for you three to relax, and by the time we go back in the field we’ll have a plan. For now, keep your ears to the ground and have a go-bag ready in case things go to shit. Not saying they will, but be prepared. They’ve burned hotter for less, but we’re the best. They’d need a reason to flush our assets down the drain.”
Part of Dave wondered if he asked them to retire, what their responses would be. He didn’t trust the DIA as much as they didn’t trust him, and he wasn’t a hundred percent positive they wouldn’t grant him his pension and turn it into widows pay immediately after. But seeing that loyalty in their expressions, the nods they gave him after his orders to lay low, Dave knew they had a bit more left in them before all was said and done.
When he looked in the rearview mirror after the meeting, he wondered if his best years were further behind him than he thought.
“You’re home early,” Carol said with a smile, though her raised eyebrow said what the fuck, Dave?
He kissed her cheek anyway, leaving a hand to linger on her waist as he grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter. She scoffed and grabbed it from his hands before he could take a bite, turning to wash it in the sink. He crowded her against the countertop, hands planted on the cool marble while his mouth pressed kisses to her neck and shoulder.
“You’re buttering me up. I’m on a diet from being buttered up, David.” Cut the shit, Dave.
“That meeting I had in the city got me in trouble,” he said. I’m in hot water at work. “A lot of trouble.” Really hot water.
“You overstepped your position, like I told you you’d do.” You’re impulsive and I know this. “What’s going to happen?”
He waited until she turned the sink off to speak, meeting her reflection in the window overlooking where the girls were playing outside. “I’m suspended two weeks, but if I try and shake this supervisor like I did the last, they’ll fire me.” They’ll kill me.
Carol sucked in a gasp, clutching the apple to her middle. She saw through Dave’s reflection, looking at the girls. She was frightened, and Dave let her be. He kept her safe in the castle of his arms, wrapping them tight around her and closing his eyes.
“You can fix this, right?” She whispered, thumbnail digging into the skin of the apple but not yet piercing it. “Turn things around, like with Robert?”
“Robert was a special case. He should have stayed…unemployed,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
“That’s not what I asked, Dave.” She fought his immovable strength to turn around and look him in the eye. She saw the life past that dead-eyed stare he gave everyone else. She saw the flickers and embers of the soul within.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, not looking away. There were many times throughout their marriage where he confided in her the things he could hardly admit to himself. She always listened to him and never judged him, but when he acted this reckless, she knew he was being stupid for all the right reasons.
You were all the right reasons.
“I’m very unimpressed,” she sighed, handing him the slightly-bruised apple. His lips twitched into a smirk. “Does she know?”
“No,” he said instantly. “She’s so stressed out I don’t think she has a clue he’s even—” Carol cleared her throat. “—fired.”
“If we’re going to bring her in, you know we don’t do things by halves around here. It’s her, and J, and all her darkness and all of yours, or nothing.” Carol York had made peace with her extreme assassin of a husband and his pack of wolves a long time ago, and understood that while she didn’t need to understand the details of that part of him, she needed to understand enough to help and love him.
Also the knives in the bedroom were a fantastic addition.
“All or nothing,” Dave promised her, pressing their foreheads together for a moment before Molly and Alice came barreling in.
“We caught two frogs! Can we bring them to the meeting?!”
Molly and Alice York were, devastatingly, not allowed to bring their garden frogs to the PTA meeting a few nights later. Carol had somehow convinced them that the frogs would live happier outside, and that while yes, Daddy’s office is green, color theory only works on humans.
Alice had immediately asked for a book on color theory. Molly had asked for a frog tank. They had different priorities, but most of the time, 13 year olds and 8 year olds didn’t think the same way, even if they were sisters.
The night of the PTA meeting couldn’t have come fast enough. Dave had been prowling around the house, bored out of his mind from his suspension and fighting every urge to google something about the pharmacy manager he’d killed. Ari sent photos of Lisa’s ultrasound, and Carol nearly screeched with happiness. She loved babies, but after having two, she had gotten her tubes tied with Dave’s wholehearted support. Carol loved him, endlessly, except when he was moping and sulking like how he had in high school the first time she dumped him.
It was nice to get out of the house. Alice had her nose in her color theory book, and Molly was singing along to the radio. Dave loved this energy, the kind of happiness that came from his girls being happy. It made him feel like he could taste redemption, even if they were only stolen sips of absolution.
They weren’t the first ones there, but they were the first council members to arrive, as usual. They dropped off Molly and Alice in the childcare room used for PTA meetings. With a smile, he pointed out J to the girls, who was playing by themself with a few animal toys. Their face lit up so similar to the way yours did when they saw Molly and Alice running up, and the resulting joyous reunion kept that smile on the Yorks’ faces as they entered the council meeting.
It was the first time since the late night budget call that you’d seen them. Dave hadn’t wanted to take things any further without Carol there to play too, and you’d been in such a daze after getting your mouth fucked and your pussy fingered for the first time in goddamn years that you’d just nodded and agreed.
Now, though, seeing both of them looking at you like the perfect slice of pie at a cookout, you saw things in utter clarity. You’d kept your head down in all things, at work, parenting J, weekly tasks for the PTA, and looking up at the Yorks now made you feel like you’d really been missing out.
Carol and Dave had both refrained from pressing you on things any further over text. Dave had acknowledged that you were all busy people (not both, as three required all) and making something like this work took careful planning and a fair amount of luck. You didn’t have the chance to ask him what he meant or how he knew that before he picked up an unconscious J from the playroom, took them to your car, and buckled them into the booster seat without breaking a sweat. The sheer show of paternity made you quite hot under the collar, and any questions of polyamorous relationships were swept away like a paper in the wind.
Seeing them only seemed to make that paper blow back into perspective, smacking you in the face like you were in a cartoon. This wasn’t the place for that. Vice Principal Treeford looked to have a fire in his eyes. Last council meeting had ended with the petulant man in tears, made worse when he snapped at his own secretary when she attempted to hand him a tissue.
Dave seemed to have a fierce soft spot for secretaries, because the wailing mess Vice Principal Treeford had become could be heard even out in the lobby. J didn’t understand your hysterical laughter in the car that night, but had joined you in your cackling all the same.
The man seemed hellbent on getting revenge, anyhow. Dave and Carol seemed nonplussed about it, greeting everyone softly and kindly, with gentle touches to your shoulders that made every nerve in your body stand at attention like military honors. “It’s nice to see you,” Carol murmured, taking her seat at your left. Just beyond her was Dave, and then the VPPTA, a phenomenally underqualified woman named Honora Pierce. Honora had to be tricked into arriving early, because she couldn’t be trusted to be on time to anything. On the day of the PTA election, she had assumed the ballot submission for PTA President was the sign-in sheet, as she’d arrived fifteen minutes late. Dave had won with 99% of the votes, Honora voting for herself to Dave face. Vice Principal Treeford had insisted that everyone who received a vote be allowed to participate on the council, a move Dave made him pay for during last month’s council meeting.
You hadn’t expected to be privy to all this gossip and politics when you’d joined. You didn’t know about the up-and-down accountability train that Dave conducted each and every month. You didn’t know that you would excel in your position as junior secretary, and you didn’t know what PTA President David York’s cum tasted like.
Of course, you now knew all that in spades.
Dave offered to grab coffees for everyone present, and you took him up on it. For whatever reason, work had been much more difficult, your boss having fallen off the face of the earth and all of his past-deadline projects and work had fallen to you with no warning. You’d been taking that paperwork home with you every day for the last week and a half, and you found yourself hungry for that silent place Dave took you to when he had his cock down—
“Here you go,” Dave’s warm voice nearly purred between you and Carol. He set down two to-go cups of coffee, courtesy of the teacher break room. He’d made sure to add enough sugar to kill a horse and the nice French vanilla creamer you never treated yourself to. Coffee at home was black, no time or money needed for anything else. Coffee at home was medicinal.
Dave York’s shitty teacher break room coffee at 6:00 pm on a Tuesday was recreational coffee.
“Thank you,” you murmured back, before looking over at Carol. You realized quite belatedly that you’d never returned her sentimental greeting. “It’s nice to see you too. I’m so sorry, work’s been crazy.”
She gave a tight little smile, sympathetic but not pitying. You knew Carol was a professional homemaker, that Dave’s job at the DIA paid more than well enough to support them. The dream, honestly. “If you ever need a night off, I’m sure J and the girls would love to have a play date while you get some things done. Or just relax with some wine.”
Was this an invitation? A come-on? Where the Yorks were concerned, you had no idea anymore. You looked between her and Dave, who was pretending not to listen while organizing his notes. “Maybe when things aren’t so… on fire.”
“I’ll hold you to that. I may try and bring a fire truck to make that happen.”
You laughed. Carol was a wholesome and warm kind of hilarious that you never quite got the hang of as a mom. She seemed to move through her life effortlessly and without complaint. Your affection for her and your gratitude for her welcoming friendship greatly outweighed any envy you may have felt toward her. “I think I’d like that.”
You weren’t certain, but you were pretty sure just just saw Dave’s lips twitch.
The meeting was boring and full up on Dave asking others to speak on topics he’d prepared in the meeting agenda email he’d sent that afternoon. Nowhere on that agenda, you noted, was a place for Vice Principal Treeford to pipe up.
There were so many things you didn’t realize went into making this ship run, really. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Carol had written you a message.
Once this meeting is adjourned meet me in the teachers unisex bathroom.
She quickly erased the message, after you tapped on your page to say you received it. You’d developed this method of code a few weeks into your time as junior secretary. Sitting near the middle of the table meant there were a lot of eyes on you and her, so you only ever did it when Dave or someone else was talking. You’d never been asked to do something like this, though.
The meeting wrapped up with signatures at the bottom of the minutes, and a brisk walk out the conference room door just as Vice Principal Treehorn started to get ornery with Dave. You’d seen it once, you’d seen it a thousand times with that asshole.
The unisex bathroom was on the far side of the administration building, which was a bit ridiculous honestly. You knew childcare only ran for thirty minutes after the council meeting, so you hoped whatever Carol had in store for you would be fast.
Apparently, Carol had wanted you there with her because there were no cameras in the corridors, and she wanted a locked door to kiss you senseless against. Her smaller frame pressed against yours beautifully, warm and fresh like her perfume and tasting like candy apples. Her lip gloss always turned your head, but this time it was her hands that turned your head so she could kiss you deeper.
“Thought about you so fucking much after Dave told me,” she moaned against your mouth, almost furious that she couldn’t kiss you as deeply as she wanted. “Thought about this.”
“You-you thought of kissing me in the bathroom?” You stuttered. She tossed her head back and laughed much too loud for the enclosed, tiled space.
“In here, out there, in my bedroom, everywhere.” She pulls back and gives you a smile that melts your insides. She’s happy. She’s really happy. “Do you want this? With me and Dave?”
Oh?
You hesitated. “Is it… is this just for like. Sex or a kink or—?”
“No, no no no no…” she shook her head, holding your face in both hands. “No. Sweetheart we adore you. We want to be with you.”
Dave York x Carol York x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)
Summary: A goddamn mess of a PTA AU.
Tags/warnings for overall series: Dave York and all his warnings. Canon divergence from The Equalizer 2 (Dave wins). Parent-Teacher Association AU. PTA President Dave York. Reader’s last name is Lane. Reader is a single mother. Wouldn’t call this a ‘found family’ but more of an ‘intentional family’ with an (eventual) MMFF polyamorous relationship. Slow burn. Explicit sexual content. In this house we love and respect Carol York. Eventual talk of pregnancy/issues surrounding pregnancy. Communication issues. Extreme nonchalance about murder to the point of this being crack fiction. Domestic fluff. Shifting/alternating POV. Themes of: angst, isolation, anxiety, depression, gifted children, nonbinary children, single parenting, secrets, pride, guilt, love, danger, and redefining family.
Rating: Overall Explicit, but chapters will contain individual warnings and ratings.
Chapter list:
1. A Slap on the Wrist
2. Clean Getaway
3. The Calm Before
4. The Storm
5. A Fire Rekindled
6. The New Plan
7. Eggshells Underfoot
8. The New New Plan
One-shots:
quick-change
Kind of a prologue of TBAD, setting up the very very beginning of this story. Dave/F!Reader, Mature
Dave and Carol’s first date, 1989
A cute prompt for my 30 for 300 follower celebration!
dream ballet
You and your lovers share your strange dreams one lovely, lazy morning.
To be tagged in this fic, the link to my taglist is in my bio and my main masterlist! There’s an option to be tagged in just this story if nothing else strikes your fancy. Responses are editable.
Chapter 2: Clean Getaway
Carol York x Dave York x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)
Series Masterlist
Rating: Mature (Series overall Explicit)
Word count: 6430
Chapter summary: The Yorks take you away for a weekend.
Warnings: Marcus still ain’t here yet, M/F/F explicit sex (p in v and f receiving oral sex), daddy kink (from me? shocking), slight body insecurity, discussion of physical changes from pregnancy
Taglist is linked in my bio and my main masterlist!
< Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 >
Carol York groaned as her head hit the pillow. Dave was still going through his usual evening routine, so she spoke her mind, never wanting to go to sleep angry. Going to bed angry was different, but going to sleep was the main sentiment she stuck with. “Your impulsivity is going to kill us all, Dave.”
Dave looked up from what he was doing, giving her a questioning look. “It’ll be fine.” He returned to his task.
“You said the same thing about the McCall thing two years ago. You came home with a neck wound. That’s not this family’s definition of fine.”
Dave sighed, thinking on her words while he worked his jaw a little.
“We handled that too,” he finally replied, though he couldn’t quite meet her eye. “Righteousness and morality don’t rule our lives. The law sure as fuck doesn’t. We rule our lives. And our livelihood.”
Carol sighed, feeling the same butterflies in her stomach that came every time Dave spoke with piercing conviction. He wouldn’t let this family fail. He’d been scolded once, and didn’t need to be told again. “Fine. Be sure you’re the one explaining your job to our new girlfriend, then.” She played with the fine curls at the nape of his neck, gently stroking her nails along the sensitive skin, sure to avoid where the aforementioned wound had been.
Her husband huffed a laugh, and rested his cheek on her thigh. “Can I finish eating you out now?”
“You may.”
You stared at your phone on the counter like it was an armed bomb. You hadn’t yet read the message on it, but there were three more that had popped up in the time spent contemplating it. The little gray bar that held the notifications covered J’s smiling face, a picture taken at last year’s school carnival.
The cameraphone was one of your favorite inventions. You had rolls and rolls of undeveloped film holding memories lost to the insurmountable effort it would have taken to get them developed. Back then, J didn’t need much more than food, diapers, and baby shampoo, so you’d used what extra cash you had as a single mom to buy disposable cameras. You had next to no photos of yourself and J. No one else was there to take them. All those years of J growing up were documented near-daily, but the last picture you remembered being in was just before you found out you were pregnant.
You were smiling, thinner, you wore pretty dresses and didn’t worry about things like tuition or college funds or having enough food to eat. You didn’t have silver piecing through your scalp like glimmering revelations of stress. You didn’t have premature wrinkles around your eyes, just your mouth where you had been smiling for the last eight months straight. The girl in that picture thought she had the rest of her life ahead of her, with the man she was smiling at.
The notification timed out and the smooth glass screen on your phone went black, reflecting the tired woman who had taken her place. Your heart sank at the image for a full second before the screen lit up again, showing Dave’s name and contact photo. He was calling you.
Surely seven text messages would have gotten across whatever he had to say, but then again, you weren’t answering those. You picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
Dave didn’t bother with greetings. He knew you knew who was calling. “What are you doing Labor Day weekend? Don’t say working.”
“I won’t say working,” you mumbled, putting him on speaker as you flicked over to your calendar app. “I’m checking.”
Dave was patient, and silent.
“I don’t have anything going on. I don’t even need to take time off work, they scheduled me off. What’s going on? Do you need me to watch Molly and Alice?” J would love to see them again so soon after the near-nightmare their last playdate with the Yorks had been for you.
“No,” he said, and you could hear his smile through the phone. “Carol and I, we own a cabin up on Deep Creek Lake. We like to take the girls out whenever we can to enjoy the nice weather. Is that something you and J would enjoy too?”
Your jaw opened slightly as you fought for words. Dave continued, as if you weren’t already sold on the idea.
“It’s got a dock area and a private lakeshore inlet, in case J isn’t too keen on swimming. We also have a hot tub, and a near-untouched wine cellar we’d love to put a dent in with you.”
“Dave…” you whispered, feeling overcome. You’d never thought your life would end up remotely close to how it was today, and he managed to take it all in stride. “I—”
Carol’s voice cut in. “Did she say yes?” she asked from some distance away.
“She hasn’t said anything yet, dear,” Dave said to her. To you, he made an inquiring noise. “You won’t have to worry about anything but packing for four days.”
“Yes, that sounds wonderful, Dave, thank you.” You covered your mouth to hide your wide grin. “Thank you.”
“Great!” he exclaimed. You could hear Carol making a happy squealing noise in the background, and you could easily picture her chestnut brown hair bouncing in her excitement. “J too?”
“J is only in the beginner swim group at school, but I can get them a life-vest if—”
“Nonsense, we’ll take care of it. All we want is the two of you. We’ll go a pretty long way to make that happen.” The timbre of his voice had dropped low, hitting you in the gut with that same warm feeling you’d been fighting that first night together.
“You don’t have to do that…” you said, flustered.
“Let me anyway?” he said, a hopeful little laugh at the end of his question.
You didn’t hide your smile this time. “Okay.”
The cabin was what the Yorks called ‘small’. To you and J, it was a veritable lakeside fortress, hidden among the bushy black locust trees and old-growth tamaracks. Towering pines and near-extinct chestnuts covered the whole area in blessedly cool shade, a long way from the Maryland summer that was boiling the capitol like lobsters. Though what bones remained of the original house were erected in the sixties, Carol explained on the three-hour drive Thursday night, the Yorks had been renovating and making over the whole property since they were given the place as a wedding present in the early nineties. The dark gray and blue cabin blended in with its lush natural surroundings, pine needles pervading every inch of the roof except for the skylights peeking from the shale exterior.
When you’d arrived, you hadn’t been able to see the true glory of the Yorks’ getaway cabin, but after a very tired night spent curled up beside J in the guest bedroom, you gave yourself permission to walk around. J was playing with the girls in the wide backyard, which Dave assured you went on for a few acres, so you didn’t need to worry about strangers on the property. If the York family home in North Potomac was anything to go on, with its state-of-the-art home security, invisible infrared fenceline, and wide space between neighbors, you expected that this house had some semblance of the same. Dave’s job at the DIA was comfortable where your pharmaceutical administrative job was not, and you were surprised you felt no shred of jealousy from the things they had.
The Yorks were well adept at sharing, after all.
You admired the craftsmanship on the deck. You knew nothing about deckmaking or general hardware, but Carol had likened Dave to an old sea captain for the two months he’d taken over the summer to build the thing himself. “He would stare at it from the window, still as death for hours, when he wasn’t working on it, like it would grow legs and walk away if he ever blinked.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” you laughed, grinning.
“It wasn’t the deck, it was this raccoon that kept coming around—” Dave started.
“It was not the Ghost Raccoon that haunts your remodeling sites,” Carol rolled her eyes, grinning.
“It was! There’s this raccoon. It knows. It knows when I go to Lowe’s. It shows up with its little stupid hands like it’s gonna help me build a railing or dig a firepit. It watches me.” This was the most paranoid (and dare you say silly) you’d ever seen Dave act, and it took your breath away to see him so put out by an animal.
Carol leaned in to whisper at you, another breathtaking sight you couldn’t get enough of. “You should have seen him during the IKEA incident.”
“I heard that!”
From the deck, you moved around the beautiful, covered and screened, wrap-around porch that provided as much cross-breeze as possible without letting in the pesky lake bugs (or mysterious remodel-obsessed raccoons). The entire place spoke of a shared dream between two people with impeccable taste, and had the makings of a place to grow old and die at from the first time you looked at it. The way Carol and Dave carried themselves here spoke to that theory as well. You looked out over the backyard, wide and grassy up to the sandy, rocky shoreline of the lake. Molly was chasing Alice with a lizard she’d found on a tree, and J was begging her to put it back on the ground. It bloomed a kind of quiet peace you’d never imagined getting to experience.
You thought back to that girl in the photo. She never imagined peace was something she wanted out of life. Most of her hopes and dreams boiled down to him.
“You’ve got some heavy thoughts for someone on vacation,” Dave said from behind you, coming up to rest his hands on your waist. You still weren’t entirely used to the closeness he craved around you, nor Carol’s easy affections. For now, they kept it out of sight of J and the girls, until you all had a better hold on what exactly was going on between the three of you. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing bad, I promise,” you assured him, twisting to look up at him, to show him your eyes and thus, your honesty. “I was just thinking about how peaceful it was out here. Everything feels so solid, where back in D.C., it…”
“Feels like a storm?” he asked, brushing his nose over the tip of yours.
You nodded. “A lot of shit kicked up at work right before I left on Thursday. I’m surprised I haven’t been called back in, or called at all.”
Thursday afternoon, just before the temporary office manager had given you all the last two hours off, six federal agents had walked into the manager’s office, carrying briefcases and badges that got your blood pressure skyrocketing. You hadn’t been able to tell what happened next, because you were told to log out of your terminal and go home, enjoy the long weekend, with the unspoken caveat of it’ll be the last one for a while.
“Don’t dwell on it, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your cheek. “The world will be there for you to face it on Tuesday. But right now it’s Friday. And that means you’re mine.”
He kissed you fully now, hungry as he spun and pressed you against him. He tasted like coffee and the protein bar he’d had when he finished with his run that morning. The sight of him sweaty and vascular walking through the door had been enough to startle you silent in your conversation with Carol, and he’d watched you with the kind of far-away desire that came from a man too wrapped up in his workout to notice anyone else.
That had been almost two hours ago, now. He still felt just as thick and strong as he’d looked then, only now he was in loose comfortable jeans and a soft tee, and he was kissing you against one of the porch posts like he knew exactly how much strain he could put on it. You whined into his mouth, some soft plea from the back of your throat that begged him for something.
He spoke the language of desire and passion, however. He knew what you needed, and spun you inside where you would feel safer, where you would open yourself up to more, with a roof over your head and solid arms and walls around you. Your own arms wound around his neck as he deepened the kiss, pinning you to the white quartz kitchen island with nothing but his hips. His tongue pushed into your mouth, tasting you the way you couldn’t help but love. Your whimper of pleasure had turned into a low, sinful moan, the form of your want gaining shape and edge, things Dave was made of.
But still.
“Tell me what you want, pretty thing,” he rasped, his nose and lips dragging down over your jaw to your neck. His kisses pressed into your throat, over your pulse, and for a moment, you thought he’d bite you, but then he stilled in that unnatural way he could do, he stood like stone and waited for your response.
“I… tonight.” You were astonished by the words coming out of your mouth. “I want to fuck you tonight. And Carol.” You sounded so silly when you spoke of such things, like the words didn’t know the shape of your mouth and vice versa. “But until then… you can kiss me however you want.”
Dave grinned, pulling back and cupping the sides of your face. “I can make that happen, babydoll.” He needed a moment to put his body back in control of his mind, but once he did, he reveled in the feeling of simply getting to kiss you lazily in the kitchen, the way he’d longed to that first night, the night that had changed things for you all.
“Looks like things are getting cozy in here,” Carol said, still putting on an earring as she walked further into the kitchen. You could only smile widely at her. What once would have been a jolt of panic was instead joy, feeling like the group was complete again with her near. She approached the two of you, and drew a hand down your back. She was much shorter than Dave, but you were almost the same height as him.
Bravely, you leaned over and kissed her, the fresh rose scent of her lip balm wrapping you in a feminine cloud while Dave held you close with his strong arms. Carol was delighted to kiss you, pressing forward and gently sighing. Dave’s hand left your hip to rest on Carol’s back, and the three of you embraced calmly as the fevered frenzy drifted back into peace.
While Dave got the hot tub set up, you and Carol put the kids down for bed. Once stories were read, foreheads kissed, and little arms and legs tucked in, you slipped back to the master suite to change. “I haven’t worn a bikini in so long,” you said, covering your nerves with what you hoped sounded like excitement.
The last time you’d been in any state of undress had been with your last boyfriend, the last time your body was unchanged by pregnancy. You remembered fighting your mental state as you grew and changed, choosing to cover it up with big shirts and jackets instead of showing off the incredible thing your body was doing.
Carol seemed to know where your mind was heading anyway. “The first time I had sex with Dave after having Molly, I cried almost the whole time.”
It was difficult to picture someone like Carol York crying out of any emotion but happiness. She carried herself with confidence and authority, but never let herself come across as unapproachable or ashamed of her body.
“We were still working through some post-partum depression. He had taken a whole month of family leave to be with me, and then two days after he went back in he came right back home on leave again. He knew I needed him. He got so upset that I tried to cover the stretch marks and the discoloration and the belly flab and… well, you know. I wasn’t crying because I was ashamed. I was crying because I knew he loved me, and all the new parts of me that helped bring our daughter into the world.”
You didn’t know what to say. It took you off-guard to be spoken to so honestly like this. Carol trusted you down to the bones of her. You couldn’t help the pricking of tears behind your own eyes. She came over and put her hands on your shoulders. “We’re not going to forsake the forest for its trees. You’re beautiful and strong. Your body is that of an enduring, loving woman. And we love you.”
Unable to take the sudden surge of emotion, you pulled her forward into your arms. Her arms didn’t miss a beat wrapping around you.
You were all adults, adults with children, with families. The kind of love between you stretched to that of families. You knew you loved the Yorks, loved them for endless reasons, but you loved them also because you loved that you and J were no longer alone in the world. “I love you, too,” you croaked into her hair.
“It’s okay, I know it might feel fast but we won’t let you fall. We promise.”
“Everything okay in here?” Dave’s voice came from the doorway. A warm, callused hand pressed against your bare shoulders.
“We’re good, just telling her she’ll be sexy when she gets her cute butt into that bikini.”
The Yorks give you some privacy while you change, despite the after-hot-tub activities you had planned. The bikini was in white, bought on a whim when you had a few free hours with J. They had seen you try it on, and hadn’t given you a chance to even think about frowning before they demanded you buy it. The thought of your child seeing you doubt yourself enough to respond this way hurt your heart, but you were warmed by their sentiment. With that memory and Carol’s words in mind, you walked back into the bedroom, where Dave stood in some small trunks, and Carol held a few towels, having already changed into her pink bandeau two-piece.
Their eyes held matching hunger when they saw you. Their quiet conversation silenced completely, gazes raking up your legs to your hips to your chest to your face and back down again for good measure. You felt thoroughly ogled, and for the first time in a long time, it flattered the hell out of you. “We gonna go in the hot tub or just stand there?”
Dave broke first, taking the towels from his wife and leading the way out onto the back deck, where the hot tub stood on a raised platform. Carol had explained Dave’s meticulous pool care routines earlier, the house in D.C. being something of a third child to him since its installation. She’d also told you about the “pool-cleaning uniform” she bought him.
That had been a fun conversation.
Carol had a bottle of wine open on the patio waiting on ice. In the balmy late summer evening, it was a reprieve. The three of you shared a wordless cheers together, clinking glasses and trying not to think too hard on any expectations for tonight.
The wine felt great on your tongue. Especially at the beginning after you’d had J, you’d abstained from anything that wasn’t wholly nutritional and on-budget. At the one or two apartment quad parties you’d visited, you’d accepted a cup of light beer here and there, but you were always wary of their intentions, especially considering the few risky moments you’d survived in Tallahassee bars in your youth.
Carol climbed in first, setting her drink in the raised cupholder and settling into the burbling jets with a happy sigh. Even in the warmth of the lakeside, steam rose up from the water’s surface. You broke next, sitting at her left. Dave was hot on your heels, sliding in behind you and bookending you between the two of them.
You tried not to get too excited, just enjoying the heat of the water and the rhythmic pressure of the jets at every angle. Occasionally, your feet would brush under the water, but like before, there were no apologies or things to be said at this moment.
Carol looked overly pleased in the comfortable silence. You glanced over at her to see why. Her left foot was dragging up Dave’s leg, visible from the lights in the floor. Dave, on the other hand, looked calm as ever, eyes closed with one hand casually wrapped around his wine glass. His toned shoulders and chest had a few scars here and there, but who among you didn’t, save your children?
He cracked an eye open at his wife. “Already?” He asked, lips curling into a smirk. From just the long day of driving and getting the house ready, a darker shadow of stubble was making itself known along his cheeks and jaw, a darkening above and beneath his lips. He must shave every day.
“Can you blame me?” Carol giggled, sipping her wine and slipping down some more so she could tease along his inner thigh. Dave’s resolve held. Carol must have loved to tease. “There’s a beautiful woman in here with us.”
It was like there was a sudden spotlight on you. Two pairs of dark brown eyes snapped over to you. Your face flushed with blood at the attention, and you gripped your thighs from where they’d been pressing together. Dave slid closer with effortless ease, humming as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You shivered at the touch. “You like seeing Carol get handsy?” He asked, brushing your hair behind your ear so he could murmur directly to you. You jumped as a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling it over so you could feel the outline of his cock against your palm. You gasped. “Feel what she did to me?”
You couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe as you looked up at him. Dave lowered his face to yours and kissed you. His mouth was blessedly cool from the wine, and he wasted no time pushing his tongue into your mouth, grinding up into your hand and groaning filthily against your lips.
And then he was gone. You blinked, dazed, to find him just a half a foot away from you. His hand still rested on your shoulder, thumb gently stroking your collarbone. “You alright, baby?” He asked, eyes bright and attentive.
“Why’d you stop?” You whined petulantly. Something flashed dark and domineering in his eyes, that flash of him that came about when you’d been in his office that first time, the unnamed third Dave you’d yet to be acquainted with. Did he like a bit of a whiny brat in bed?
Smaller hands and a full pair of breasts pressed against your shoulder blades, before those hands moved to hold you around your middle. “How long has it been since someone’s touched you like you wanted?” Carol asked sweetly in your ear, laying kisses down your jaw and neck.
“Shit… before that night with Dave… eight years?” You said breathily, arching into their touch as it gradually returned. The Yorks shared a look you didn’t quite catch, so lost as you were to the feeling. Later, they would explain their worries about overwhelming your intimacy-starved body all at once. One partner could be too much; two may have short-circuited you entirely.
“Looks like we have some making up to do. Why don’t you come sit on Daddy’s lap? Both of you.” Your mouth went dry despite the taste of wine still in it, the afterburn of Dave’s tongue still there against yours. You could only respond in a helpless moan, letting your forehead fall against his broad shoulder as you nodded. You didn’t quite trust your legs to move where you wanted them to, which Dave caught onto quickly. Broad hands spanned your hips and pulled you out of Carol’s embrace, situating you astride one of Dave’s thighs, spread wide to accommodate the both of you.
Carol joined you, happily kissing Dave as she rocked her hips beneath the water, a pleasured sigh leaving her lips. “Good girl, Carol. Why don’t you take off your top for me?”
Carol didn’t immediately follow his suggestion, instead turning toward you to take your hand. Slowly, she pulled your fingers up and into her mouth, where she sucked them clean and coated them with her spit before bringing it to the knot at the nape of her neck. It took you a moment to catch her drift.
Your hands only shook a little as you undid the knot, pulling the spandex cord free and letting the cups of her swim top fall toward her tummy. Her breasts spilled out, nipples hard and dusky. You couldn’t look away as Dave leaned forward to suck on one of them. The hand he had wrapped around your waist to keep you in place tightened against your skin. He made a noise of contentment, of enjoyment, as he laved and licked over the tight buds on her breasts. From here, you could see evidence of the stretch marks bearing two children had brought her. The surgery scars from her Caesarian. You wanted to lick and kiss at each and every one of them.
“C’mere, baby,” Carol murmured, leaning over to kiss you before your jaw could fall open any further. She liked to use her teeth to get what she wanted, the sharper points of her nails doing what they couldn’t down on your thigh. You shivered and moaned against her mouth, all at once feeling every nerve fire at once and a blissful numb slide you were addicted to.
You couldn’t keep track of time the longer you sat there on Dave’s lap. You don’t know when you started rocking your hips, but the friction against your clit and the tense strength of Dave’s thigh had you gasping into Carol’s mouth and struggling to keep upright. “That’s it, baby. That’s it.”
Dave’s fingertips came up to brush the top of the triangles covering your breasts, just tracing where it gave way to skin, the plush way your body changed when you became a mother. “Can we take this off, babydoll?” Dave rasped, looking up at you with all his attention. You knew in that moment a kind of stunning clarity: if you said no, if you said stop or slow down, they would both listen and heed you instantly.
But you didn’t want slow.
You didn’t want to stop.
“Yes, Daddy,” you said, when you could get your lips to work again. Dave’s grin, and the lights shining from beneath you three, made him look like an angel. You couldn’t help yourself, surging toward him to kiss him deeply.
Carol plucked at the strings at your mid-back and neck until they fell away entirely, baring your top half to them both. Dave wasted no time cupping one of your breasts and sucking the other into his mouth. The feeling was so abrupt that you couldn’t help the sharp noise or surprise that leapt out of your throat, nor could you help the hand you wound into his hair, pulling at the longer strands on top. He moaned against you, the vibrations making your vision go fuzzy for a moment before you resumed your rocking.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Carol whispered into your ear, reaching around you to embrace you, helping you rock your hips as they stuttered and faltered the closer you got to your peak. “Gonna cum all over his leg like this?” She asked, grinding you down harder. You nodded against her, foreheads pressed together so she got a closer-than-front-row seat of your unfocused, glassy gaze. “Good girl.”
For whatever fucking reason, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, your hips snapping forward and your whole body going taut as you came untouched for the first time since Marc—
“That’s a good girl, what a beautiful girl, cumming for Daddy like that…” Dave’s voice filtered back in as you came back to earth. All at once, your strings were cut, and you slumped against him with another moan of gratitude. “Feel good, babydoll?”
You nodded, melting against him happily. Carol stroked your spine. “You wanna keep playing, baby? Night is young.”
“Yes,” you said, voice a little choked and all over the place. Your body felt all out of whack, but well on its way to being back in good form. Dave and Carol would take care of you. You knew they would.
“I’m gonna get a shower running, then.” Carol kissed your shoulder and left the hot tub. Idly, you felt Dave reaching over to fiddle with some buttons and knobs at the control panel. One by one, the jets and lights turned off.
“Think you can get up and out, babydoll?” He asked in your ear. “Or do you need another minute?”
“C’n do it…” you slurred, moving sluggishly but steadily as you walked out of the tub. He retrieved your top and apparently all of Carol’s swimsuit before covering the tub and going inside.
The shower was running, in a huge tiled bathroom with custom windows and plumbing. The master bath had been one of the last things they did at this place, and it showed by the expert attention to detail you were coming to associate with Dave’s handiwork. In the walk-in shower, Carol waited, sitting on a built-in bench completely nude and all sudsed up. She’d already rinsed out the chlorine from her hair with a soft sponge. The soap smelled like eucalyptus and lavender.
The details of the next few minutes passed in a heady, warm buzz as they washed you off and scrubbed down. You giggled at the fact they were getting you clean just to get you messy again, which made Dave chuckle and kiss you against the wall.
“I’ll get you messy whenever I damn well like, how’s that?” He asked, his voice suddenly deeper and more resonant in the small space. You shivered and moaned, looking up at him through your eyelashes submissively.
“Yes, please.”
“Yes, please, what?” Dave snapped.
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
His lips were back on yours in a heartbeat, claiming and hot and possessive as you whined and writhed against him. This was all you needed, to be here with him, and here with her, feeling wanted and loved, desired and touched. “I love you,” you gasped, feeling the length of his cock pressing hard and hot against your thigh. You flailed a little, reaching for Carol. You turned from Dave, feeling his mouth smear against your cheekbone as you breathed the same declaration against her lips.
The sentiment echoed from each of you as you eventually rinsed off and toweled off enough to justify moving to the bed. You were laid out like something precious, something fragile and revered, and they bracketed your body on either side once more. You traded lazy kisses with one another, until your curious hands trailed down to paw at the two of them.
Your hand brushed against Dave’s cock, making him groan and grind against you. You managed a grip around him, just as Carol guided your hand between her thighs. She was still hot and damp between the legs from the shower, but when you dipped your fingertips between her lips, you found her arousal already dripping from her cunt. You moaned happily, and your lovers happily used your body to heighten their pleasure for a bit as they exchanged kisses over top of you and with you.
When Dave rolled up to stand at the end of the bed, he pulled your legs with him, spreading them with strong, sure hands. “Look at you. Dripping for me.”
“How do you know she’s not dripping for me?” Carol said, gasping softly as you ground the heel of your palm against her clit. Dave almost seemed to smirk at her uncomposed state.
“Looks like you’re doing a good job dripping for her. Why don’t you let her taste you. Sit on her face, Carol.”
You made an eager noise, tugging Carol up to your face as your mouth watered at the very thought of eating her pussy. When Dave’s fingers circled your entrance, you gave a long groan. Carol settled atop you, her breasts and her tummy blocking your view of her face, but you didn’t mind. You loved the sight of her, and more than that, you loved the scent of her arousal.
Your tongue curled up through the glossy lips of her pussy, and you moaned delightedly at the taste. This was one of your favorite things to do, or at least it had been, before you’d been a mother. You fell into the familiar motions and rhythm easily, the ache in your tongue and jaw settling happily across your nerve endings.
As you ate her out, Dave fingered you open, keeping his lips near-fused to your clit as he prepared you to take his cock. Carol pulled your hair as she rode your mouth, making a mess of your nose and chin and cheeks. The stretch and ache at both ends made your senses sing. For the first time in nearly a decade, you were able to forget everything that had ever worried you and just exist in the comfortable intimacy of sex again. You hardly noticed the grateful, happy tears sliding down your face, but Carol did. She wasn’t upset at all, just glad to see you were enjoying yourself.
When Dave worked you up to three fingers comfortably, your body remembering what to do and where to relax, he pulled out and pressed a wet kiss to your cunt. “You want my cock now, babydoll?”
Carol raised up enough for you to answer him. You moaned out a yes, half-garbled and wanton. She reclaimed her throne upon your mouth shortly after.
There was a collective holding of breath as Dave pushed into you. They knew you were on birth control, if just for some kind of stability in your life, so you had no qualms about him not using protection. He’d only ever been with Carol his whole life. Some part of you still knew that even if you were to get pregnant here and now, they would take care of you, love you, and never judge you.
You felt full of him almost immediately. You knew this cock would wreck you, and his hands would put you back together just as brutally. You couldn’t wait. You whined and whimpered into Carol’s cunt, licking into her with renewed desperation.
“Shh, shh baby, we got you. Need us to stop?” She asked, cheeks flushed pink from how you were working her over. You shook your head and rolled your hips, encouraging Dave to sink deeper into your body. He rocked back, the friction sending tremors of feeling through your body, manifesting in your fingertips, digging into Carol’s thighs.
The three of you moved in an unhurried unison, rocking and swaying together like you were in a trance of some kind. You very well could have been; Carol’s pussy held some kind of new nirvana, some promised land for you. Being split open on Dave’s cock carried a revelatory feeling with it. You really had been neglecting your sexual spirit. You could feel parts of you long-broken begin to fuse back together, repaired like pottery with seams of platinum strengthening and beautifying the broken places. Your fingers traced Carol’s stretch marks, like silvery little bolts of lightning across her body. You were both the same, inside and out. Those happy tears came again.
When Carol came apart on your tongue, you could taste the very rapture she was feeling. Dave’s relentless pace kept your mouth moving against her until she rose up on shaky thighs to escape the overstimulation. Dave took the chance to kiss you filthily, licking in and tasting his wife all over you. Your bodies rolled together quicker now, the both of you chasing your highs as one. Carol gripped Dave by the hair, earning her a warning growl as his hips turned feral, demanding.
“C’mon, Daddy. Give it to me.” The taunt was spoken out of curiosity. You wanted to feel Dave let go. You wanted to feel the ache of him between your legs in the morning, for the next hundred thousand mornings. His hands went to your knees, lifting them up and pinning them backwards to the comforter as he let loose. The slap of his balls against your ass sounded so fucking filthy. It brought another deep flush of heat to your face.
“You want Daddy to give it to you hard like this, babydoll? Want to get used a little rougher? I hear you, I know, I know.” He reached up and grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to cease your pleasured thrashing this way and that. He was immovable. His grip, his touch, it was nothing if not intentional and unnegotiable.
He exuded power and lust as he fucked you within an inch of your life. You could feel him all the way up in your fucking throat like this, deeper than you could have ever imagined with him. He trembled with whatever last vestiges of control he used to hold back that which would harm you. That shake, that very struggle with his primal desires, is what drove you over the edge. He swallowed the cry of pleasure you gave, mindful even now of the little ears in the house. He finished inside you with a half-dozen thrusts later, growling against you as he shook through the aftershocks.
Now both full of and covered in your lovers’ cum, you allowed your body to float back into place with your mind, idly feeling the two of them clean you up and get you tucked in.
I love yous and thank yous were exchanged as punctuations to your goodnight kisses. The morning would bring with it another day just like the last. You could get used to this.
Chapter 3: The Calm Before
Carol York x Dave York x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)
Series Masterlist
Rating: Mature (Series overall Explicit)
Word count: 3175
Chapter summary: Fate closes in.
Warnings: Marcus is HERE. Kinda. Paranoia/anxiety. Exposition. This is almost a filler chapter but it’s necessary. Mention of miscarrying and physical assault, not on any of the main characters.
Taglist is linked in my bio and my main masterlist!
< Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 >
The reprieve brought to you by the long weekend was summarily squashed the moment you walked into work Tuesday. Before you could even set down your things at your workstation, you were ushered into the rarely-used conference room with twenty other workers. You heard murmuring going around, two stoic-looking men in suits you didn’t recognize at the front. “Take a seat if you can.”
There were five seats in the conference room. You almost laughed at the absurdity. The seriousness of the situation made you glad you didn’t.
“This everyone?” one of the suits asked the acting supervisor. She nodded, and they walked to the front. The room quieted.
“I am Special Agent Kevin McInnes of the FBI and this is Special Agent Raymond Nevis. We’re here to ask you a couple of questions regarding a Mr. Brian Larson.” The name of your boss, the one who’d gone missing a few weeks ago, made you frown.
“Has something happened to him?” Another person asked. Brian was widely disliked around the office, and had been known for harassing several of his female employees. As far as you knew, however, you were the only one he’d tried anything physical with.
“We’re looking into his disappearance.”
Why would the FBI be looking into a missing administrative manager? You crossed your arms. They asked a few general questions of the group, and then separated you further, corralling you into other areas while they questioned you individually.
Disclosing the incident in the copy room would make you suspicious. You’d left your phone in your purse, back on your desk, and you couldn’t go get it until the FBI released you. Anxieties rising, you waited your turn until your name was called. What you heard when you walked into the small office they were operating out of made your blood go cold.
“…telling you, it’s more than that. There’s something bigger at play here. The cleanup here is immaculate. Professional.”
“Don’t go poking your head into matters above your pay grade. You wanna end up like that Pike guy?”
The pieces were a little too precise to be anything but a coincidence. How many FBI agents in D.C. had the last name Pike? He couldn’t have been the only one.
“I heard they sent him back to Texas,” Agent McInnes shrugged.
“And I heard he was sent to a farm upstate, to go be with all the other little art nerds on that assignment.”
Fuck.
The interview went surprisingly smooth. You managed to keep your cool through it all. The agents didn’t seem to be too organized or particularly motivated to investigate Brian’s… disappearance? homicide? which had you guiltily grateful by the time they released you for the day. They were still combing through the data on the servers, so your work tasks were suspended until further notice. The acting manager dismissed you all for the afternoon.
Paranoia bubbled up in your throat. If he was here in D.C. and your boss just went missing… no, he would have never done that. Why were you acting so frightened? He’d been nothing but a good guy. He had no intention of ever hurting you. Even when he’d left you alone and pregnant, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to hate or resent your time with him.
You pulled J out of school for some bullshit reason, a faked dentist appointment or something. J chattered along, telling you about the new friends they made with their higher-grade buddies. “And Molly was there too!” They exclaimed.
“Molly York?” You asked, checking your rear view for the fifth time that traffic light.
“Yes, Molly York,” J sassed, exasperated. You didn’t even have the wherewithal to scold them, or correct their rude behavior. The moment you were home, all your panicked plans disappeared like candy floss in water. You couldn’t even hold the memory of them.
“Mommy, what’s going on?” They asked.
You were busy locking doors and pulling blinds, motions jerky and unnatural. The last thing you wanted was to scare your own child, but you had to make sure you both were safe.
“I just missed you is all,” you lied, though it hurt your heart immensely to do so. J was about to call you on it when your phone rang, making you jump a foot off the ground in surprise.
Carol’s face lit up your screen. You answered quickly, breathing a hello and forcing your hands not to shake. “Are you alright?” She asked before any greeting. “I think I saw you at the school, didn’t have the chance to say hello before you got in the car.”
“No, no I’m—I’m just a little busy. Running errands with J,” you said, voice strained. Why were you freaking out so badly? Was it because of the guilt weighing over you?
Carol said your name, concern lacing her voice even through the tinny digital speaker. “What’s going on?”
You couldn’t answer her, not with tears welling up and a lump forming in your throat.
“Are you safe right now?” Carol said, softer but no less intense.
“Y-yeah, I’m just. We’re just at. At the apartment.” You whispered, and J hugged your leg. You smoothed down their soft brown hair, trying to be strong again.
“Why don’t you come over, that might make you feel safer. And you can tell me everything.”
“Something feels fishy about this,” Resnik hummed, leaning against the wall on the far side of Dave’s office. The two-week suspension had come and gone in no time, giving the group time to plan and prepare for the inevitability that sat before them: another handler.
“Why’s that?” Dave asked absentmindedly. He was looking over the paperwork for the suspension, ensuring nothing too hinky was put in their already thick disciplinary records.
“They’re taking their sweet time getting the handler here. It’s not someone we know, that’s for certain. And if it’s not someone we know, then it’s gotta be a rookie.”
“They wouldn’t give us a rookie handler,” Kovac scoffed, crossing his arms. “Why would they? We already served our suspensions.”
“Maybe they want us to fail,” Ari chimed in, still a little jumpy about being back at work after he and his wife had announced their pregnancy.
“That would be preposterous. There are better, cleaner ways to burn someone,” Dave tried to settle him, looking away from the reports to meet his eyes. “We’ll be fine. Garcia was just a shit-for-brains who didn’t know what he was getting into.”
Dave didn’t know if things would be fine, honestly. Usually, they got a file on their handler weeks before they were assigned, and this kind of sight-unseen assignment was, as Resnik had put it, fishy.
“Why don’t you all take the day. I’ll handle the greenie and let you know. I’ll catch you up in the morning.”
Three silent hours after his office cleared out, Dave still hadn’t gotten a phone call or a ping about their new handler. He wondered if Ari was right, if they were meant to fail. The office building they worked out of looked nondescript and unassuming. Hell, the name on the LLC they were paid and contracted through was called The Company. No one save for operators of their caliber would have been able to tell it was a front for a black-book mercenary intelligence organization.
At four-thirty, he heard his name spoken outside in the hall, some questioning lilt to it that piqued his interest. Dave stood, going to the door just as someone on the other side knocked. He waited a moment before opening.
A tall man with eyes too wide and full of life for Dave’s line of work stood before him, hair swept off his forehead, though he’d clearly been running his hands through it. His nose was red and shiny, probably some unfortunate summer cold. His bright red VISITOR badge stood out from his suit, charcoal gray with a white shirt, brown and silver tie. “Are you Dave York?” He asked, voice slightly nasally. Definitely a cold.
“I am. How can I help you?”
“I’m your new handler.”
Well, great.
J quietly did their homework at the table while Carol poured the wine for you and her. The girls both had after-school activities that would keep them occupied for at least a little bit while you talked. “That’s the FBI part, but you still look worried. Does this worry have a name?” She asked.
“Yes,” you said with a sigh, sipping your wine before you spoke again. “Marcus Pike.”
“J’s father?” Carol asked under her breath. You nodded.
“I was young. Really young. He was um, on assignment to Tallahassee, extended assignment. He was operating out of the FBI field office in Austin but… anyway. He was stationed in Tallahassee for about two weeks when we met. I was trying to get my degree, on a half-ride to Florida State, when we met. He was researching a piece of stolen art in the university museum when we met. It sounds cliche, but… sparks flew.”
“How long were you together?”
“Seven months. We spent Christmas together.” The memories you held of Marcus were still fond, rose-tinted in places. “He left right after Valentine’s Day, and I had J nine months later.”
“What did he say when you told him you were pregnant?” Carol asked. Your guilt-stricken face caused understanding to bloom on hers. “He doesn’t know.”
You shook your head. “My mom slept with her boss. He’d promised her all these things to take care of her, but the minute his wife found out, we were on our own. She never recovered, the way her friends told it. She was in love with him, and she didn’t even have a whole enough heart to love me with when he left. So when Marcus was gone, and I was alone with a little life inside me… I couldn’t tell him.” You had ample chance, on and off for about a month before he took your silence as permanent.
You deleted the social media, you changed your number, you moved to Washington to start anew. You knew you loved Marcus then, but how much of that was a girl who didn’t know what she wanted? How much of that was just the bittersweet memory of the last time you felt desired and loved in return? There were times, when you were starving to make sure J ate, when you wanted to reach out and contact Marcus, but your stubborn pride and the yawning gap in time between the two of you stayed your hand from making that call.
“So what happened? Did he find you in D.C.?”
“A few weeks before… well, before Dave asked me to come over for the board-actions,” you blushed at the memory, “I was filling up gas when I looked up and… there he was. He didn’t know I saw him. He didn’t know I was there. I don’t exactly look the same way I did eight years ago, after all. He had one of those government access badges on. I assumed he was working at the capitol, or something. I freaked out. I think Dave heard a little of it but he hasn’t asked. I haven’t told anyone this story before.” Your breath was coming a little faster. “And now, with what happened at work…”
“What happened at—”
Before Carol could ask, her phone rang on the arm of the couch. Dave’s face showed up on the screen, some eye-roll expression while he wore what was most likely the result of Molly and Alice’s makeup application skills. “You should answer that,” you said, grateful for the reprieve.
She gave you a look of concern, one that said we’re not done talking, and picked up. She walked out of the room to talk to him.
“Hi Dave, you on your way home?” She asked.
“I’m actually just leaving the office. Someone gave my new supervisor bad directions so our initial conversation went long.” Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of his new handler. His last chance. “We’re still not done with the paperwork they need, but I told him to come over and we could handle it in the office.”
“It’ll be nice for him to meet me and the girls,” she grit out. Let that asshole know his actions have family-breaking consequences. “We have guests for dinner.”
“Anyone I know?” Dave asked.
“I’ll give you three guesses.”
“J too?”
“J too. Listen, Dave, she… she had a bit of a rough time today. I know you were wanting to wait to… tell her, but whatever you did seems to have some consequences. The FBI questioned her at work.”
“Just her?”
“Everyone.”
“It’ll blow over soon.”
Carol made a frustrated noise.
“I’ll make it up to her. Besides, this will give this new guy something to do while we’re in between assignments.” Carol wanted to scream at his nonchalance, but restrained herself, pouring more wine. “Mind if he stays for dinner too? He’s been eating freezer meals for about a week since he transferred to my division. This guy’s kinda sad.”
“Dinner for seven. My mom always used to say that’s a good omen.” Carol checked the fridge and hummed. “Yeah, can do. Can you pick up the girls? I’m opening more wine. We’ve got a lot to talk about later.”
“I can do that. Tutoring and basketball, right?”
“Yep,” Carol said, not even needing to check the family calendar to confirm. “Maybe pick up some dessert.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Love you too, Dave.”
“Love you.”
Dave hung up the phone and Carol sighed. Taco Tuesday just got a lot more complicated.
Marcus sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, staring at the message on his phone. York’s address sat innocently above the time he needed to come over. He’d been so lost since the half-filed report he made to OPR. The Office of Professional Responsibility had apparently seen fit to burn him in the messiest, most humiliating of ways afterward, and he fought every day to keep his head above water.
How the fuck did he go from leading an international division of art theft investigators to being assigned a job with a DIA black ops company? His FBI security badge had been revoked, and he’d had to go through his whole performance record during a polygraph just to maintain his clearance. Goodbye, corner office. Goodbye, sense of righteous good. Goodbye, comfortable salary. Goodbye, two story house in the arts district. Goodbye, every professional connection he’d ever had.
All because of some prideful men who felt threatened by a pregnant college student who knew too much.
He couldn’t think about her now, though. She refused to so much as look at him the last time he saw her in the hospital, pale-faced and devastated from losing her baby. He’d promised her he would protect her, and he’d failed at that. Those malicious decision makers above him made sure he was reminded of that every single day.
He knew the executioner’s ax hung above his head right now. There was that bureaucratic threat of fuck this up, step out of line, and you’ll be gone too. Even still, he’d been four hours late to his first day with his new job, led on a chase around an industrial office park until he met Mr. York.
Dave hadn’t been too interested in the circumstances that landed him here. In fact, there was a familiar look in his eye that Marcus shared. They were in the same boat, somehow. Marcus just didn’t know how.
No one seemed to want to know the truth.
He looked over the paperwork for the seventh time before heading out. Would Dave be the one to take him out? Would he be his judge, jury, and executioner?
Bitterly, Marcus Pike laughed, and went to find out.
Alice York was more attentive than most people realized. She was reading books at the college level when she was five, understanding concepts meant for people four times her age and chasing whatever interest her mind desired that day. Her parents were very insistent on reminding her she could do whatever she wanted, make whichever decision she wanted about the offer from the gifted school, but she knew better.
Her dad loved being PTA president. Loved it. She knew he tolerated his job in the government, but he loved the PTA. She was certain that if her mother hadn’t had that procedure after her second pregnancy, there would be many more children in the York house, allowing him to continue his reign in the position until he got bored of it. She knew that if she chose to attend the gifted school, Molly would be going into high school the next year and he would have no reason to continue his legacy.
It had been a very trying decision, one that Alice wasn’t sure of just yet.
All this was to say that she knew more of the family’s secrets than she was pretty sure they even knew she knew.
She also knew her parents didn’t know how thin the walls were between her room and her dad’s office, where he was currently getting an earful from her mom about “the undue stress” he put on your shoulders from “whatever you did to her boss”.
She’d known her dad kills people for money since Robert McCall walked into the house. Robert McCall had an air about him that was too righteous to see anything but his own objective, and Alice York had seen the tension in the bodies of her father and his the closest friends out in the street that morning, a few days before her dad came home with a knife wound to the neck.
All in all, Alice was still only eight years old, and she’d cried like any other eight year old would when her daddy got hurt. Some things, even gifted children still had to feel.
So when she answered the door just before dinner time to see a man she’d never met before standing in the doorway, she frowned, feeling the puzzle-solving pieces of her mind start to fit together. “Who are you?” She asked, momentarily forgetting her manners.
“I’m uh, I’m Agen—Mr. Pike. I work with your dad.” Hackles long-settled from Robert McCall threatened to raise again. Alice frowned.
“Are you supposed to be here?” She asked, a little interrogator in her own right. She had the same ability to see through to someone’s soul the way her dad did, and she stared down the tall man with as much you will not get my dad killed energy as she could, before her dad appeared behind her.
“You made it. Bike, this is my youngest, Alice. Molly is helping with dinner. Please, come inside.”
Alice wouldn’t have to ponder the mystery of Mr. Pike for very much longer, as shit was about to hit the fan in the York house.
