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sentientcave · 2 months ago

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Please Say Yes

Part 6 - The Question

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Contains: John Price x OC (Chelsea), This is just cutesy nonsense, low-stakes romance, pregnancy, breeding kink, daddy kink, alcohol, smoking, divorce mentions, annoying ex, Slight scheming (mutual), Good vibes all around, bootblacking

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~3.1k - 18+ - MDNI

They finished the tiling late in the afternoon the next day, and went home, leaving Chelsea alone in her house again. Strangely, it didn’t feel as good as it had just a few days before— She��d found it all too easy to get used John and his friends in the house, working and keeping her company, and now the house felt too big and too quiet to bear. She would have asked them to stay longer, but she had promised Krissy that she would fill-in for someone on her football team that night, and had to send them off, unfed, which seemed unfair, considering how much they had done for her, even though they all told her she didn’t need to do anything to thank them.

She turned on some music while she ate and changed into a pair of black shorts and a tank top (Krissy had promised to bring her proper shoes and an extra jersey, so she didn’t have to worry about that), and headed out on her bike.

Krissy was in the lot next to the field already by the time Chelsea got there, leaning on her car and chatting with their friend Robyn and Robyn’s friend Liv. She waved Chelsea over, grinning. “We were just talking about you, babes. Have you seen the shit that Derek’s been posting on facebook about you?”

Chelsea groaned. “No, I have him blocked. What’s he on about now?”

Robyn snickered. “Sad boy shite. What was that one? All those years together and you threw me away… I miss you Chelsea.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes while Liv and Krissy dissolved into giggles. “Jesus. I should have saved some of the voicemails he’s left me. It’d be pretty clear really fast why I left him, even without the actual catalyst.”

“Why do all the decent looking men have to be such knobs?” Liv asked, shaking her head. “It’s like they never learned about personalities and why you’re supposed to have one.”

Krissy dug in her duffel bag and tossed the jersey and shoes and a pair of tall socks to Chelsea. “He messaged me asking if you were sleeping with your neighbour, too. I said yes, so if what’s his name gets egged or something, that’s probably Derek’s doing.”

“Kris! Why would you do that?”

She laughed. “Because it’s funny. And your neighbours military, right? I’m sure he can handle Derek, if it comes to it. Don’t worry so much. He’s gonna give up sooner if he thinks there’s no chance of you getting back together with him. Getting on a new horse is a good way to communicate that.”

“Is he hot? Maybe just sleep with him for real,” Robyn suggested. “Send Derek a picture of you cuddled up with him.”

“You are all terrible influences,” Chelsea grumbled, sitting down on the grass to change her shoes and socks.

“So he is handsome,” Liv said.

“He’s also— Okay, so this is going to sound a bit mad, but I’m thinking about asking John— the neighbour— to father my child. Like, I don’t need to be in a relationship to have a kid. I can do it on my own. But I don’t want to sleep with him and make him think I’m trying to trap him with a baby. I think I should look for the no-strings attached sex somewhere else, you know? It could get kind of messy otherwise.”

“Are you gonna get him to donate sperm?” Robyn sat down on the grass next to Chelsea, tucking her short black hair behind he ear. “Or are you going to do things the old fashioned way? Because, I mean, there’s no reason why you can’t have fun while you’re trying to get knocked up.”

“I just— I don’t know, it might be awkward! I don’t think I’d say no if he wanted to— But I’m not going to ask him for that. I’m not totally sure he’s straight, or remotely interested.”

Krissy snorted. “You’ve never fucked a military guy before have you? As far as I’ve seen, most of them aren’t picky. A hole’s a hole.”

Chelsea grimaced. “Krissy, that’s disgusting.”

“I’m just sayin’! Don’t be a prude, Chels. There’s like, zero chance he’ll say no to a good fuck. And you’re a great fuck.” Krissy elbowed Liv, smirking. “She’s like, a sexy, kinky dynamo. You wouldn’t know it from looking at her.”

“Krissy, will you stop telling people that?” Chelsea groaned. “I get enough weirdness as is.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be weird about it,” Liv promised, grinning. “I actually saw you at that ropes workshop last month, I was there with my girlfriend. The pink hair’s pretty distinctive.”

Chelsea had to think about it for a moment. “Oh, you’re Marnie’s girlfriend, right? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you out of context. Didn’t know you knew Kris and Robyn.”

“It’s okay. We only talked for like, zero-point-two seconds. And Marnie did most of the talking.” Liv offered Chelsea a hand up once she was done lacing up the borrowed shoes. “You any good at football?”

“Not really. But I’ll do my best not to lose you the game.”

“Oh please, Chels. It’s a rec league. We’re just here to have fun,” Robyn said, laughing. “You just have to kick the ball around with us. We’d have to forfeit if we showed up with too-few players. Winning is not necessary. Now come on, lets get in there, eh?”

Chelsea still gave it her all, rec league or no, and by the time the game ended she was tired and sore with grass stains and mud on her elbows, and had laughed so much and so hard that her abs cramped. She bid goodbye to her friends after the obligatory handshakes and a brief chat with the opposing team (the other team had won, but by less than Chelsea might have initially predicted. She even managed to score one goal), and started off home, leaning heavily on her bike rather than trying to ride it with her jellied legs.

It took a bit longer to walk home, and it started raining by the time she reached her street, not too hard, but in the steady, persistent way that was liable to last all night. By the time she reached her driveway, she was cold and soaked through and looking very forward to a hot shower.

Shit. The grout was still setting in the bathroom— She was pretty sure it wasn’t a good idea to get it wet or walk on it too soon. She just kept walking automatically, headed towards John’s house now. He’d probably let her use his shower. If not, she supposed that stripping naked and standing in the cold rain wasn’t completely out of the question, it just sounded terrible.

She knocked on the door, and it was only a moment before John opened it, surprise giving way to a smile right away. “Hey, peach,” he said. “You’re all wet.”

“It’s raining,” she explained lamely. “I was wondering if I could use your shower? I think you said earlier that I shouldn’t walk on the tiles until tomorrow.”

“Course. Come on in.” He stepped back to let her in, leaning over her to close and lock the door. “I was just thinking that things were a little quiet. Boys went back to Gaz’s for the night.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing after you all left mine earlier. You guys are kinda nice to have around.” Chelsea crouched down to unlace her shoes, glancing up at him sheepishly. “When are you all headed back to base?”

“Sunday night. Might get deployed early, got a call from Kate earlier that she’s close to some intel, might have to move fast once she gets it.”

“So soon?” Chelsea asked. “You only got back a few days ago.”

“Well, it’s just how it goes, sometimes. Hopefully won’t be gone as long as last time. A month, maybe. Let me go warm up the shower for you. Takes a minute.” He retreated before she could collect her thoughts and say anything in return.

She’d hoped to have a couple weeks to work up the nerve to ask her question, to ask a few probing questions of her own to see if he would be the slightest bit interested before she embarrassed herself. It was a nerve-wracking subject to raise, to say the least.

Setting her shoes nearly to the side, she ventured further into John’s house. It was familiar to her by this point, she was in there at least once a week when he was away, but it was a bit strange being inside when he was home too, the lingering smell of smoke and the faint traces of John’s cologne and leather polish in the air. When she peeked into the living room, she saw that he’d been getting ready to polish his boots, a half-smoked cigar and a glass with a few fingers of whiskey in it sitting off to the side.

“All set." John's voice behind her made her jump slightly, even though she should have expected it. "Hop on in. You hungry at all?"

"Um, kind of, but don't worry about that. I've got food at home. I’m probably just gonna have tea and toast anyway.”

“Think I can handle tea and toast,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “Go have your shower.”

“Yes sir,” Chelsea laughed. “On it, sir.” She pivoted to head upstairs a little too soon to see the spark of heat in his eyes.

There was something strangely intimate about using John’s shower, though. Fully naked in his house, washing with soap that smelled like him, drying off with towels that smelled like his laundry detergent. He’d noticed that she didn’t have a bag with clean dry clothes in it too, because he’d left a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist and an old t-shirt with the SAS logo on the front of it. She had to roll up the pants to keep the hems from dragging on the ground, but there was something all too comfortable about wearing John’s clothes. She’d worn his borrowed shirt to bed the last few nights, but this was more epochal, made more substantive by the fact that he would actually witness it. As far as he knew, his shirt had been laying in her laundry pile, or hanging over the back of a chair since he wrapped it around her the other night.

She hung up the towels and her damp clothes, convictions shaking somewhat. Maybe it wouldn’t be wise to ask that kind of favour from John. It was one thing to watch his place and water his plants, or let him help her with work around the house, but asking him to father her child… It would change the comfortable relationship they had.

But then again, it already had changed. They hadn’t been this close when Derek was still around. They hadn’t shared meals or spent time in each other’s homes or cuddled on her couch during a movie before.

John handed her a mug of tea as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “How was football?” he asked. “Did you have fun?”

Chelsea nodded, leaning her hip into the counter, both hands curled around the mug. “Yeah, it was nice. Even scored a goal, shockingly enough. Been told I’m now the first person they’re gonna call when someone can’t show.”

“Not bad, eh?” John stuck a few slices of bread into the toaster and picked up his own tea. “Figure with all the bikin’ about you do that you’d be a decent runner.”

“Definitely works some different muscles though. I’m going to feel it tomorrow. Good thing my only plans are sitting around my stall.”

“What, not planning on walkin’ through the rest of it?” John asked. “The boys can handle things long enough for you to see what else is goin’ on.”

“I can’t ask them to do that. You’ve all done plenty, John, I’ll just be glad for the company, really.”

“Don’t think you were askin’.”

“You really still want to come with me? Even though you’re headed back so soon?”

“Course. What do you like on you toast? I’ve got butter and…” He opened a cupboard and took out a jar, frowning at the label. “Marmalade, I guess. Don’t remember ever buyin’ it, but it’s still sealed, so…”

“Works for me, thanks.” Chelsea took a deep breath to steel herself, ready to steer the conversation into tricky waters, when John’s phone rang, breaking the silence.

He apologized, and stepped into the other room to take the call, leaving Chelsea to her toast and her thoughts. She didn’t try to parse what he was saying, but the low cadence of his voice was pleasant, and he laughed a few times. Not a work call, like as not.

She finished her tea and toast and washed the mug and plate, setting both into the dishrack just as John came back in. “Sorry, love. That was my mum. Left her a message earlier that I wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner on Sunday, and she was callin’ me back.”

“That’s too bad. You probably don’t get a lot of chances to see your family.”

“No, it’s for the best. She’s been tryin’ to set me up with someone from her book club. Told her I was seein’ someone, which will work as an excuse for a while, until she wants to meet the lucky lady.” He shrugged. “You stickin’ around a while? Was just going to give my boots a polish before you came over. It can wait.”

“If you ever need a fake girlfriend for a family dinner, I’d be happy to help you out. I’m good with moms,” Chelsea offered. “And, um, I could do your boots too. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, and sometimes it’s easier when I’ve got something to do with my hands.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Boots on or off, up to you. I’m more used to on, but I guess some people find that awkward. I bootblack at some kink events now and again,” she explained, answering the questioning quirk of his eyebrows. “And for friends.”

“Don’t tell the lads, or they’ll want you to polish theirs too.” John sat down on the couch and pulled his boots back on, offering Chelsea a couch pillow to kneel on while she worked.

“I don’t mind. I like doing it, or I wouldn’t’ve offered.” She settled down in front of him and patted her thigh. “Right foot, please.”

He settled his foot where she indicated. “I’m just worried that they’ll get some ideas, with you on your knees in front of them.”

“They wouldn’t be the first,” Chelsea laughed. “When you’re pink and cute and into leather, people, and especially really specific types of guys, get a lot ideas.” She pulled the laces free, glancing up at him. “Switch feet.” When he obeyed, she pulled the laces from that boot too, and twisted to grab a rag from the table behind her, hand braced on the top of his boot. She eyed the glass of water, and glanced at John again. “Is the water for this, or were you drinking it?”

“For this.” His voice had lowered to a purr, rumbling in his chest, blue eyes trained on her face. “Suppose a spit-shine’s not in the cards?”

Chelsea snorted, shaking her head as she wet the rag and dragged the laces through it a few times. “That how you like it, captain?”

He shifted forward in his seat. “Sometimes. Careful, peaches, or I’m going to get ideas.”

“So noted.” She draped the laces around her neck and twisted again, picking up a big rectangular brush with soft horsehair bristles. She ran the brush over one boot and then the other, knocking loose any debris. It was easy to get lost in the routine, working lather over the well-maintained leather, although there was an unfamiliar energy running through her now, voltage increasing every time she looked up to meet John’s intense blue eyes. There was no denying that they had a certain chemistry, and not as one-sided as she had assumed.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about?” John asked.

Busied hands hardly made the topic easier to broach, but she was still grateful for something to do while she gathered her thoughts. “How come you never got married or had kids?” she asked. Probably the best place to start. If he was ideologically opposed to having kids, then she could save herself the stress of asking her primary question. “Never wanted to?”

He hummed, picking up his whiskey glass. “Definitely wanted to. Did once, when I was young, but it didn’t last. Just hard to make it work. Hard to ask someone to wait around. Harder to get to know people in the first place. Always dated for keeps, and a lot of women thought I was a bit… Intense.” His moustache twitched. “Guess I stopped tryin’. Figured I’d just have to try and catch up after retirement.” He regarded her for a long moment, taking a sip from his glass. “Why do you ask?”

She wiped the last of the lather off the boots and picked up the tin of polish. “I was just— You don’t have to answer this right now, please think about it, as long as you need to— If you maybe wanted to be the father of my baby.” She popped the lid off the tin, the acrid-sweet smell of solvents and wax hitting her nose and clearing her head. “I don’t want— I don’t think I want to go through all that marriage shit again, so it would be just that. And you don’t have to be involved. I’m prepared to go it alone. But um. You could be, a bit, if you wanted to be.”

There was a quiet click as he set the glass down again, and the slight rustle of clothing as he leaned forward and pulled the tin out of her hands, closing it up and setting it to the side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you want.” She stared down at her empty hands, struck by the surrealism of the moment. Kneeling on the floor in front of her friend and neighbour, asking him to— Asking him for— God, she felt so stupid, he wouldn’t want—

His big hands closed around hers, and he pulled her forward between his knees. He tipped her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes, earnest and cornflower blue. “I want to.”

Title card made on Canva - Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 Banners by @/cafekitsune

#Cave writing #Please Say Yes #OC: Chelsea Wren #John Price X OC #X OC #OPE #sorry about abrupt chapter ending but I run full speed ahead into like 4000 words of smut after this #and i don't want this chapter to be like twice the length of the rest

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