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doctorbitchcrxft · 5 months

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Bugs | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: BUGS lol, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7012

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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You and Dean decided that after your last job, you deserved a break. You went to a bar to play that eight-ball game you’d talked about back in Ankeny. The two of you were pretty evenly matched; you had to admit. He would win a game, then you would win a game, and that pattern continued for quite a bit. Then you’d swapped to nine-ball. The two of you walked away from the pool tables and found a table when you’d grown tired of playing with each other.

“I’ll admit, you’re pretty good, Winchester,” you told him.

“You too, sweetheart,” he responded, chuckling.

“You’re never gonna stop calling me that, are you?” you asked.

“Nope.”

You pretended to be annoyed and rolled your eyes. “You suck.”

“You, too.”

You playfully glared at him.

“You hustle?” he asked you.

“Duh,” you responded, taking a swig of your beer.

He chuckled. “How ‘bout it? I’m low on cash after I paid off that morgue tech.”

“Hey, you did that on your own volition,” you joked back. “Nobody forced you to pay him off. And maybe you lost even more cash after you lost that poker game to me yesterday.”

He glared back at you. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Sure. So who’re you hustlin’?” you asked.

He scanned the room for a moment. “Them.” He subtly nodded in the direction of a group of guys who looked around your and Dean’s age. They seemed kind of douchey, and you’d love to watch Dean kick their asses if you were being honest.

“Eight or nine ball?” you asked him.

“Nine.”

“Ooh, good luck,” you told him.

“I won’t need it,” he answered arrogantly and began heading over to the group.

Your newfound friendship with Dean was slightly difficult for you due to your unbelievable attraction to him. The more you got to know him the more you began to like him for more than just his beautiful face. But you knew neither of you had the time for anything more than friendship, especially considering you knew you’d be hitting the road as soon as they found their dad. You chose not to focus on the finite amount of time you had with the Winchester boys and just enjoy it while it lasted.

As much as you tried to push the thought away, you couldn’t deny that watching him hustle pool made you even more attracted to him.

“Cute,” you told Dean sarcastically when he walked back over to your table waving a wad of cash in the air. “But I betcha I can get us double the money.” You snatched his money out of his hands.

“Hey!” he said. “I earned that.”

“And I’ll earn it back,” you smirked over your shoulder.

He quirked a brow at you as you “drunkenly” walked away, watching you head over to a pool table surrounded by another group of young guys.

You wore a black tank top that showed off your cleavage, and stuck Dean’s money in the top of your bra while you sauntered over to the pool table. A tall blonde guy holding a cue stick was surrounded by his frat-boy posse hollering about how good the blonde guy played.

“Fifty dollars to play!” One of the boys yelled.

“I’ll play,” you piped up, looking down at the table set for nine-ball.

You pulled some cash out of the top of your bra and placed it on the rim of the pool table.

“Uh, sweetheart,” the blond began, “That’s only twenty.”

“Oh, sorry,” you snorted out a laugh, putting thirty dollars on the table.

“She’s hammered, dude,” one of the blond’s friends told him.

The blond waved him off, still looking over you. He handed you a pool cue with a smirk.

“You break.”

You fumbled with the cue before lining up your shot. After you hit the cue ball, you allowed the wooden stick to slip clumsily out of your hands. The balls flew all over the table in different directions because you had struck them so hard. However, you had not managed to pocket a single one.

The blond lined up his shot. Managing to keep the dopey look on your face, you mentally smirked at his amateur hand bridge. This guy would be easy to beat. With his friends cheering him on, he pocketed the yellow one-ball but missed the shot he took at the nine-ball. The nine-ball was in the perfect position for you to win on your next two shots, but you were not going for the big bucks just yet.

“Your turn, baby,” the blond told you.

You resisted the urge to cringe at the nickname. You had never liked being called “baby.”

Instead, you gave him a wide smile, walking up to the cue ball. You went to aim for the four-ball, but the blond stopped you.

“What are you doing?”

“Aiming for the pretty purple ball,” you replied innocently. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“You have to aim for the two-ball. You ever even played before?” he asked jokingly.

“No,” you smiled.

He was not expecting that answer to his jest, his face dropping out of the smile. “Then why are you playing for money?”

“I thought you were cute and wanted to play with you.”

The blond smirked down at you.

Before he could respond, you said, “C’mon! I wanna keep playing. This is fun.” You lined up and hit the two ball, knocking it only a little bit closer to the pocket than the blond had gotten it.

He ended up sinking the two-ball and then the nine-ball after that, his friends cheering for him. He took the money off the table. “Maybe next time.”

“Ooh, can we play again? Please?” you whined.

He looked around at his friends. They all shrugged.

You took all of the money out of your bra, including fifty dollars of your own to compensate for the fifty you just lost. You did promise Dean you would double the amount he had earned, after all.

The blond laughed nervously. “Uh, that’s a lot more than fifty dollars.”

“Is it?” you pretended you were surprised. “Oh, well. We’ll just play for whatever this is, then.”

One of the blond’s friends, a brunet, was already counting the money. “This is three-hundred dollars, man.”

“Look, you’re really drunk. That’s a lot of money,” the blond said. “Let’s just stop.”

“No,” you begged, “please? It’ll be fine!”

He finally conceded, collecting a total of three hundred dollars between himself and his friends.

On the break, he hit the one-ball and the five-ball ended up falling into the left side pocket. However, on the shot he took at the nine-ball, he missed.

You hit the two-ball, sank it, and clapped excitedly. You aimed for the three-ball next, hitting it between the right side and back pockets. The ball hit the wall and stopped only two inches off of it, giving the blond no shot at sinking it on his next turn.

He ended up pushing the three-ball and the cue ball into the perfect position for you to hit the red ball into the hole. Once you sank the three-ball, you lined up the cue behind the cue ball and hit the nine-ball into one of the pockets. Blondie and his friends stood there slack-jawed.

“I won!” you cheered, giggling. You gave Blondie a kiss on the cheek when you took your money.

You walked back over to Dean with your hips swishing confidently. Smirking, you held up your winnings.

He took them from your hands, counting the money. “Damn. I’m impressed.”

You feigned shock. “Dean Winchester? Impressed by something I did?”

“Can it, (Y/N).”

You walked outside of the bar with Dean at your side. You waved the money in your hand back and forth triumphantly as you approached the Impala that Sam sat atop flipping through newspapers. He looked disapproving. “Y’know, we could get day jobs once in a while.”

"Hunting's our day job,” you countered.

“Yeah, and the pay is crap,” Dean added.

“Amen.”

“Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, guys,” the younger brother argued.

“Well, let's see, honest—” Dean began, and you held out one hand palm-up for “honest,” “—Fun and easy,” he finished.

You held out the other hand, representing a scale, tipping it to the side of “fun and easy.”

“It's no contest,” you shrugged.

“Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do,” Dean added.

Sam was still not convinced. “Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked.”

“Yeah, says you,” sassed Dean. “We got a new gig or what?”

“Maybe. Oasis Plains, Oklahoma— not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.”

“Gesundheit,” you commented.

“Human mad cow disease.” Sam shot you a playful glare.

“Mad cow. Wasn't that on Oprah?” Dean asked.

“You watch Oprah?” you responded.

The older brother looked embarrassed and couldn’t think of anything to say. He decided to change the subject. “So this guy eats a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing?”

“Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less,” Sam stated.

You nodded slowly. “Oh-kay, that is weird.”

“Yeah. Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be somethin' much nastier,” Sam told you.

“Alright. Oklahoma,” Dean said, beginning to get in the car. You and Sam followed suit. “Man. Work, work, work,” the older Winchester sighed. “No time to spend my money.”

“You mean our money,” you said, handing him three hundred. You kept the other three.

“Right.” He put the money in his wallet and began driving off.

***

Dean had driven you to the gas and power company the deceased had worked at. You approached a man with shaggy hair and a scruffy chin who you had learned from another employee was the man who discovered Dustin’s dead body.

“Travis Weaver?” Sam called.

“Yeah, that's right.” The man turned to you.

“Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?” Dean asked.

“Dustin never mentioned nephews. Or a niece,” he responded.

“Really? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest.”

You nodded, affirming Dean’s lie.

Travis smiled sadly. “Oh, he did? Huh.”

“I hate to ask you, but… what exactly happened out there?” you asked.

“I'm not sure. He fell in a sinkhole, I went to the truck to get some rope, and, uh... by the time I got back…” he trailed off, face contorting in discomfort.

“What did you see?” Dean questioned.

Travis shook his head. “Nothin'. Just Dustin.”

“No wounds or anything?” Sam chimed in.

“Well, he was bleeding... from his eyes and his ears, his nose. But that's it.”

“So you think it could be this whole mad cow thing?” Dean asked.

“I don't know. That's what the doctors are sayin'.”

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to me,” you added. “Uncle Dusty just never acted like that to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it was, he would’ve acted like he had dementia, a loss of motor control, you ever notice anything like that?” you asked.

“No. No way. But then again, if it wasn't some disease, what the hell was it?”

“That's a good question,” Dean responded.

“You know, can you tell us where this happened?” Sam asked.

Travis nodded. He instructed Dean the path to follow in order to find the scene of the incident. Surrounding the sinkhole he had fallen in was police tape, but the neighborhood it was in seemed mostly uninhabited except for a few construction workers milling about.

“Huh.” Dean looked down into the hole. “What do you think?”

“I don't know. But if that guy, Travis, was right, it happened pretty damn fast,” Sam responded.

You ducked under the tape and looked down into the hole with a flashlight.

“So, what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?” Dean’s face scrunched up in confusion.

You shook your head. “No, there'd be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside.”

“Looks like there's only room for one,” Dean commented. “Hate to say it, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to get down there.”

You flinched back. “What? No. We have no idea what’s down there.”

He picked up a nearby coil of rope. “Alright, I'll go if you're scared. You scared?”

“No. Dick.” Your stubbornness would not let you back down despite the genuine fear clawing at your throat. When you were younger, your father would often starve you to ensure you could fit into small spaces such as the hole you were about to journey down. You had no doubt you would’ve grown taller than 5’6” had he not done this. Even still, you mustered your courage. “I'm going.”

“I said I'd go,” Dean argued.

“I'm going,” you pressed, taking the end of the rope from him. You tied it around your waist. “Don’t drop me.”

“I won’t.”

“Sam, don’t let him drop me.”

Sam chuckled.

“What?” Dean sounded offended. “You don’t trust me?”

“Nope,” you smiled, clambering down into the hole. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they did, you were surprised by what you’d found.

Dean drove, and Sam was examining the dead beetle you’d found in the sinkhole. Some bugs you could handle, but beetles were not one you could spend prolonged periods of time looking at.

“So you found some beetles. In a hole, in the ground. That's shocking, (Y/N),” Dean quipped.

You shook your head. “Dude, no. There were no tunnels, no tracks, nothing. No evidence of any other creature down there.”

“You know,” Sam added, “some beetles do eat meat. Now, it's usually dead meat, but…”

“How many did you find down there?” Dean asked you.

“Ten.”

“It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat out some dude's brain, Sam.”

“Well, maybe there were more,” his brother argued.

“I don't know, it sounds like a stretch to me,” Dean responded.

“Well, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before,” you added. A sign advertising an open house decorated with red balloons caught your eye.

Sam was looking back at you. “What?”

“There.” You pointed to the sign.

You passed another that read, “Models Open. New Buyers' BBQ Today!"

“I'm kinda hungry for a little barbeque, how 'bout you?” Dean remarked.

Sam gave him a look.

“What, we can't talk to the locals?”

You snickered. “And the free food's got nothin' to do with it?”

“Of course not. I'm a professional.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Right.”

Dean pulled over and the three of you got out of the car to walk toward the open house.

“Growin' up in a place like this would freak me out,” Dean remarked.

“Ditto,” you said.

“Why?” Sam looked at the two of you like you were crazy.

“Manicured lawns, ‘How was your day, honey?’ I'd blow my brains out,” Dean chuckled.

“White picket fence,” you sing-songed, “private school, stay-at-home moms with three snotty children— no thanks.”

“There's nothing wrong with ‘normal,’ “ Sam rebutted.

“I'd take our family over normal any day,” the older Winchester said. He approached the house and knocked on the door.

A man in a steamed collared shirt opened the door. “Welcome,” he said.

“This the barbeque?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, not the best weather,” he replied, referencing the gray sky, “but... I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are... ?”

“Dean. This is Sam and (Y/N).” He shook Larry’s hand.

“Sam, Dean, (Y/N), good to meet you. So, you three are interested in Oasis Plains?”

“Yes, sir,” the older brother responded.

“Let me just say—” You had no idea where Larry was going with this— “we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or... sexual orientation.”

You realized what he was trying to say. “They’re brothers. I’m just a friend.”

Larry nodded and seemed slightly embarrassed.

“Our father is getting on in years,” Sam explained, “and we're just lookin' for a place for him.”

Larry laughed awkwardly “Great, great. Well, seniors are welcome, too. Come on in.” He guided you to the backyard where dozens of people were chatting and eating. “Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We're the first family in Oasis Plains.” He brought you over to a woman around his age. “This is my wife, Joanie.”

“Hi there,” she smiled.

Larry introduced the three of you to her before saying, “Tell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses.”

She laughed. “Right.”

This painfully fake interaction you were having reeked of Middle America. It was making you sick.

Larry left you alone with Joanie who said, “Don't let his salesman routine scare you. This really is a great place to live.”

A very energetic woman with bright, Ariel-red hair pulled back in a tight bun approached your group. “Hi, I'm Lynda Bloome, head of sales,” she grinned.

“And Lynda was second to move in,” Joanie went on. “She's a very noisy neighbor, though.”

Even Lynda’s laugh was obnoxious. “She's kidding, of course. I take it you three are interested in becoming homeowners.”

Before any of you could answer, she said, “Well, let me just say that we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or... sexual orientation.”

Dean chuckled. “Right. Um... I'm gonna go talk to Larry.” Dean began walking away. “Okay, honeys?” He smacked you on your ass as he left.

You nearly yelped in surprise. The rest of your interaction with Lynda became very awkward. You were barely interested in what she was saying about the various features of the home. “Who can say "no" to a steam shower? I use mine everyday.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Sounds great.”

Sam noticed something just beyond her, saying, “Excuse me,” and pushing her out of the way. What he had picked up off the picnic table was a large tarantula. You noticed a snickering boy with shaggy brown hair a few feet behind where Lynda had been standing.

Sam walked over to the boy. “Is this yours?”

The boy took the spider from him. “You gonna tell my dad?”

“I don't know. Who's your dad?”

The teen scoffed. “Yeah, Larry usually skips me in the family introductions.”

You sucked air in through your teeth. “Ouch. First name basis with your dad— sounds pretty grim.”

“Well, I'm not exactly brochure material,” the kid remarked.

“Well, hang in there. It gets better, all right? I promise,” Sam said.

The kid didn’t seem convinced. “When?”

You heard Larry call the name, “Matthew!” You turned to see the older man and Dean walking toward you.

“I am so sorry about my son and his... pet.”

‘Clearly there’s some issues there.’

You shook your head. “No big.”

“Excuse us.” Larry’s face was set and hardened, pulling his son away from you and the boys.

“Remind you of somebody?” Sam asked his brother. He was gesturing toward the arguing father and son. “Dad?”

“Dad never treated us like that,” Dean argued.

“Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember?”

“Well, maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes, you were out of line.”

Sam scoffed. “Right. Right, like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bowhunting.”

“Bowhunting's an important skill,” Dean replied. You agreed with him, but chose to say out of the brotherly debate.

“Whatever. How was your tour?” Sam asked.

Dean turned on the sarcasm. “Oh, it was excellent. I'm ready to buy. So you might be onto somethin'. Looks like Dustin Burwash wasn't the first strange death around here.”

“What happened?” you questioned.

“About a year ago, before they broke ground, one of Larry's surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this severe allergic reaction to bee stings.”

You nodded. “More bugs.”

***

Later that evening, Sam was driving you and Dean through the neighborhood. You put your head on Dean’s shoulder over the back of the front seat as he flipped through his father’s journal. He had looked at you strangely and tensed up when you’d first rested your head on him, but you just shrugged in response. To your surprise, he allowed you to stay there.

“You know, I've heard of killer bees, but killer beetles?” Dean shook his head. “What is it that could make different bugs attack?”

“Well, hauntings sometimes include bug manifestations,” Sam replied.

“Yeah, but I didn't see any evidence of ghost activity,” the older brother said, referring to his house tour.

“Me neither,” you added.

“Maybe they're being controlled somehow. You know, by something or someone,” Dean stated.

“You mean, like Willard?” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, bugs instead of rats.”

“There are cases of psychic connections between people and animals - elementals, telepaths,” Sam continued.

“Yeah, that whole Lassie thing,” you commented. You were thoughtful for a moment. “Larry's kid— he's got bugs for pets.”

“Matt?” Sam seemed unconvinced. “He did try to scare the realtor with a tarantula.”

“You think he's our Willard?”

“I don't know. Anything's possible, I guess.”

Something caught Dean’s attention. “Ooh, hey. Pull over here.”

Your head perked up.

Sam pulled into the empty driveway of one of the Oasis Plains homes. “What are we doing here?”

Dean got out of the car and began pulling the garage door up and open. “It's too late to talk to anybody else.”

Sam scoffed. “We're gonna squat in an empty house?”

“I wanna try the steam shower. Come on,” his brother responded simply.

Sam didn’t move.

“Come on!” Dean urged.

Sam rolled his eyes but complied and pulled into the driveway. Dean closed it behind him.

To your surprise, the home was fully furnished. You assumed it was for staging house tours. You and the boys were thankful to find three beds within the home, avoiding the awkward task of deciding who was going to have to sleep with who. And for the first time in quite a while, you slept incredibly well on the soft mattress and plush pillows.

***

The next morning, you found Sam remaking the bed he had slept in down the hall from yours. He had the police scanner quietly droning on in the background.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, yawning.

“How do you think,” he replied dryly.

“That’s what I was worried about.”

Sam sighed.

“Dude, we gotta get you right,” you told him. “You’re gonna end up really hurt.”

Before he could respond, the static of the police scanner coming alight with conversation caught your attention. Male voices spoke back and forth about a death that happened in what you recognized as the Oasis Plains area.

“You finish cleaning up; I’ll get Dean,” you told Sam, who nodded. Dean had been serious about indulging in the steam shower. He’d been in the guest bathroom since you woke up that morning.

“You ever comin' out of there?” you called through the door.

“What?” he responded.

You could still hear the water running. “A call came in on the scanner.”

“Hold on.”

“Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Come on.”

The door opened a bit to reveal Dean and his towel-wrapped head. Steam poured out into the hallway. “This shower is awesome,” he smiled.

You laughed in response. “Come on.” You walked away to finish helping Sam gather your things and hide the fact that someone had been here.

When you arrived at the crime scene, a body bag was being wheeled out on a stretcher. You found out from a visibly upset Larry that the realtor, Lynda Bloome, had been the one to pass away. The three of you discovered about a dozen dead spiders underneath a towel near where the outline of her body had been mapped out, and decided to pay Matt a visit.

It took a few hours, but you discovered where Matt went to school and followed his bus route. You watched when he got off the bus.

“Isn't his house that way?” Dean pointed in the opposite direction of where Matt was walking.

You nodded. “Yup. So where’s he goin’?”

The three of you began following the teenager from a bit of a distance. Unfortunately for you, he headed into the woods.

“Seriously, kid?” you muttered. “Always the fucking woods.”

Dean chuckled at your discomfort.

“Shut up, asshole,” you quipped.

Sam approached Matt first. “Hey, Matt. Remember me?”

“What are you doin' out here?” he asked, surprised.

“Well, we wanna talk to you,” Dean responded.

“You're not here to buy a house, are you?”

You shook your head.

“W-wait. You're not serial killers?” Matt began backing away from you.

“No. I think you’re safe,” you smiled.

“So, Matt... you sure know a lot about insects,” Sam began.

“So?” he shrugged.

“Did you hear what happened to Lynda, the realtor?” Dean asked.

“I hear she died this morning,” Matt responded.

“Mm, that's right. Spider bites.”

“Matt... you tried to scare her with a spider.” Sam’s tone was accusatory without being harsh.

“Wait. You think I had something to do with that?”

“You tell us,” you responded.

Matt scoffed humorlessly. “That tarantula was a joke. Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack or the gas company guy.”

“You know about those?” Now you were the one being accusatory.

“There is somethin' going on here. I don't know what... but something's happening with the insects. Let me show you something.” Matt shouldered his bag and led you deeper into the woods. You hoped he knew where the hell he was going and how the hell to get back.

“So, if you knew about all this bug stuff, why not tell your dad? Maybe he could clear everybody out,” Sam suggested.

“Believe me, I've tried. But, uh, Larry doesn't listen to me.”

“Why not?”

“Mostly? He's too disappointed in his freak son.”

Sam scoffed. “I hear you.”

Dean seemed surprised. “You do?”

Sam gave him a look before turning back to Matt. “Matt, how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Well, don't sweat it, because in two years, something great's gonna happen.”

“What?”

“College. You'll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad.”

Dean was upset. “What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family.”

Sam sighed and glared at his brother.

You tried to break the tension. “How much further, Matt?”

You knew Matt felt awkward, too. “We're close.”

Sam glared at Dean once more before continuing walking. Moments later, you reached a large clearing. As you’d been approaching, the sound of insects buzzing had gotten louder and louder. Hundreds of them flew about the clearing.

“I've been keeping track of insect populations. It's, um, part of an AP science class,” the teen explained.

“You two are like peas in a pod,” Dean remarked.

Sam ignored him. “What's been happening?”

“A lot. I mean, from bees to earthworms, beetles... you name it. It's like they're congregating here,” Matt went on.

“Why?” Dean’s brows knitted together.

“I don't know,” he responded.

You caught sight of a dark, bumpy patch of grass a few feet away. “What’s that?”

Matt looked at you and seemed curious as well. He led you once more over to the pile. Your skin began to crawl at the sight of hundreds of wriggling earthworms. Dean accidently stepped on a pile of them and it sank into the ground. You pulled him back by the arm to avoid him falling, too. You let him go, and he crouched to the ground. He used a stick to poke around. He then dropped the stick and stuck his hand straight into the hole. When his hand came back up, he was holding a human skull covered in dirt and worms.

“Gnarley,” you said.

***

Sam suggested bringing the remains to the department of anthropology at a local university. “So, a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave,” he said as you approached the building.

“Maybe it is a haunting,” you added. “Pissed off spirits? Unfinished business?”

“Yeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs? And why now?”

The older brother quipped, “That's two questions.”

Sam ignored him.

Dean continued. “Yeah, so with that kid back there... why'd you tell him to just ditch his family like that?”

“Just, uh... I know what the kid's goin' through,” his brother shrugged.

“How 'bout tellin' him to respect his old man, how's that for advice?” Dean’s tone was sharp.

“Dean, come on.” Sam stopped walking, and you and Dean followed suit. “This isn't about his old man. You think I didn't respect Dad. That's what this is about.”

“Just forget it, all right? Sorry I brought it up.” Dean shook his head.

“I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough.”

“So what are you sayin'? That Dad was disappointed in you?”

“Was? Is. Always has been,” Sam bit back.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I didn't wanna bowhunt or hustle pool— because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak.”

“Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in The Munsters,” Dean grunted.

“Dean, you know what most dads are when their kids score a full ride? Proud. Most dads don't toss their kids out of the house.”

You were accustomed to their normal sibling spats, but this was different.

Dean kept pushing. “I remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases comin' out of your mouth.”

“You know, truth is, when we finally do find Dad... I don't know if he's even gonna wanna see me.” The brunet sounded sad.

“Sam, Dad was never disappointed in you. Never. He was scared.”

“What are you talkin' about?”

“He was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around. But even when you two weren't talkin'... he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could.”

Sam’s smirk faded.

“Keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe,” Dean finished.

“What?” Sam’s puppy dog eyes were back.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn't you tell me any of that?” the younger brother asked.

“Well, it's a two-way street, dude. You could've picked up the phone.”

Sam stared at him sadly.

“Come on, we're gonna be late for our appointment,” Dean grumbled.

***

The professor you’d gone to see at the college informed you of a Euchee tribe outside of Sapulpa that the bones Dean had found might have belonged to. The three of you now headed over to a diner one of the local Native Americans had directed you to. He had told you how to find Joe White tree, a bit of a patriarch of their group.

You found him playing cards at his table in the diner.

“Joe White Tree?” Sam asked.

The man nodded.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right.”

Dean continued for his brother, saying, “We're students from the university—”

The man cut him off. “No, you're not. You're lying.”

Dean seemed taken aback. “Well, truth is—”

“You know who starts sentence with ‘truth is’? Liars,” Joe responded.

Dean looked at you and Sam strangely.

“Have you heard of Oasis Plains?” you asked. “It's a housing development near the Atoka Valley.”

“I like her,” Joe told Dean. “She's not a liar.”

You smiled.

Joe turned back to you. “I know the area.”

“What can you tell us about the history there?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

You considered for a moment. “Something bad is happening in Oasis Plains. I think it may have something to do with a Native American grave we found there.”

“I'll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him,” Joe began. “Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient. As my grandfather put it, on the night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time. And by the time the sun rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead. They say on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people.”

“Insects. Sounds like nature to me. Six days,” Dean stated.

“And on the night of the sixth day, none would survive,” Joe finished his story.

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look with you.

“Thank you, sir,” you said.

Joe nodded at you before you and the boys headed off.

“When did the gas company man die?” Sam asked after you had made it outside.

“Uh, let's see, we got here Tuesday, so, Friday the twentieth,” Dean responded.

“March twentieth?” You thought for a moment. “That's the spring equinox.”

“The night the sun and the moon share the sky as equals,” Sam finished. “So, every year about this time, anybody in Oasis Plains is in danger. Larry built this neighborhood on cursed land.”

“And on the sixth night— that's tonight,” Dean finished.

“If we don't do something, Larry's family will be dead by sunrise. So how do we break the curse?”

“You don't break a curse. You get out of its way. We've gotta get those people out now,” Dean said sharply.

The three of you got in the car and sped away.

***

Dean drove while he spoke with Larry on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Pike, there's a mainline gas leak in your neighborhood… Well, it's fairly extensive. I don't want to alarm you, but we need your family out of the vicinity for at least twelve hours or so, just to be safe… Travis Weaver. I work for Oklahoma Gas and Power… Uh…” He panicked and quickly hung up.

Sam gestured for the phone. He learned from Matt that his backyard was crawling with cockroaches. He urged him to get his family out of the house, and Dean told him he needed to, under no circumstances, tell his father the truth about what was happening.

When you arrived at the Pike residence, Larry rushed out of the house. “Get off my property before I call the cops.”

“Mr. Pike, listen,” Sam urged.

“Dad, they're just tryin' to help,” Matt pleaded from the doorway.

“Get in the house!” Larry ordered.

Matt addressed you and the boys. “I'm sorry. I told him the truth.”

“We had a plan, Matt, what happened to the plan?” Dean grunted through his teeth.

“Look, it's 12:00 AM. They are coming any minute now. You need to leave now, before it's too late,” you told Larry.

“Yeah, you mean before the biblical swarm,” he replied humorlessly.

“Larry, what do you think really happened to that realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You don't think somethin' weird's goin' on here?” Dean questioned.

“Look, I don't know who you are, but you're crazy. You come near my boy or my family again, and we're gonna have a problem,” Larry told you.

“Well, I hate to be a downer, but we've got a problem right now,” the older brother responded.

“Dad, they're right, okay? We're in danger.”

“Matt, get inside! Now!”

Matt stepped further out onto the porch. “No! Why won't you listen to me?!”

“Because this is crazy! It doesn't make any sense!” Larry yelled back.

“Look, this land is cursed! People have died here. Now, are you gonna really take that risk with your family?”

“Wait!” you shushed the group.

Everyone went silent.

“You hear it?”

From a distance away, there was a faint buzzing that got louder and louder rapidly.

“What the hell?” Larry muttered.

The fluorescent bug light on the porch began overheating; killing several bugs at a time. The buzzing got even louder. Millions of bugs blanketed the sky, heading straight to you.

“Oh my God.” Your breath quickened. “Everybody in the house, now!”

You and Dean held up the rear of the group, and you felt his hand on your back guiding you inside. You locked the door behind Dean.

“Okay, is there anybody else in the neighborhood?” Sam asked Larry.

“No, it's just us.”

Joanie entered the room. “Honey, what's happening? What's that noise?”

“Call 911,” Larry instructed her. “Joanie!”

She seemed caught off-guard. “Okay.” She picked up the phone and began to dial.

“I need towels,” Dean told Larry.

“Uh, in the closet.”

Sam and Matt went upstairs while you and Dean packed the base of the front door with the towels you found.

“Phones are dead,” Joanie informed you.

“They must have chewed through the phone lines.” Dean shook his head as the lights went out.

“And the power lines,” you grumbled.

Larry tried his cell phone only to get no signal.

“You won't get one. They're blanketing the house.” Dean looked towards the windows that were beginning to darken from the thousands of bugs collecting on them.

“So what do we do now?” Larry asked.

Sam had come back downstairs with Matt. “We try to outlast it. Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise.”

“Hopefully?” Larry’s eyebrows raised in shock.

You looked to Dean. “You have your zippo lighter?”

He seemed to catch on to what you were suggesting and nodded. The two of you broke off to the kitchen and found bug spray under one of the cabinets.

Joanie seemed unimpressed when you returned with the can.

“Just trust us,” you told her.

A creaking sound from the fireplace caught your attention.

“What is that?” Matt’s voice was higher pitched than normal.

“The flue,” Sam answered.

“Alright, I think everybody needs to get upstairs,” Dean ordered.

Suddenly, thousands of bugs poured into the living room from the fireplace, swarming all around you. Dean used his zippo to light the can of bug spray. “Alright, everybody upstairs! Now! Go, go, go!”

You covered your ears and ran upstairs to the attic with Sam and Dean close by you. You could hear bugs thumping against the attic hatch door; trying desperately to get in. There was only a few moments reprieve before you heard gnawing above you.

“Oh, God, what's that?” Joanie cried.

“Something's eating through the wood,” Dean replied.

“Termites,” Matt added.

Dean ordered the family to get back from the spot where sawdust was beginning to descend and bits of moonlight were coming through. Moments later, bugs began to fill the room through the chewed in spot. You and the boys frantically tried to patch the hole, swatting bugs away from you like a madwoman. You were able to shove a board of wood with another under it to hold it up, but that only worked for a second. Two other holes were chewed through the roof, raining bugs down on you. You covered your ear with one hand and swatted bugs away with the other. You and the boys backed up into the Pikes, who were huddled in the corner. Dean tried his best to light the bugs up, but nothing was working. Then, miraculously, the sun began to rise. Thankfully, all of the bugs began to fly out of the holes they’d chewed through the roof. You watched through the same holes as they flew up toward the sun. You breathed a sigh of relief.

***

The next morning, you and the boys were about to head out of town but stopped by the Pike residence on the way. You approached the moving van that Larry was loading boxes into.

“What, no goodbye?” Dean joked.

“Good timing. Another hour and we'd have been gone,” Larry answered. He shook your hand.

“For good?” you asked.

“Yeah. The development's been put on hold while the government investigates those bones you found. But I'm gonna make damn sure no one lives here again,” Larry explained.

“You don't seem too upset about it.”

“Well, this has been the biggest financial disaster of my career, but…” He looked over to Matt, who was carrying a box in the garage. “...somehow, I really don't care.”

You smiled at him.

Sam walked over to Matt, who was throwing away all of his insect paraphernalia. You looked on fondly as the two smiled and laughed. You bid Larry goodbye and went over to the car with Dean. Seconds later, Sam joined you.

“I wanna find Dad,” the brunet said.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah, but I just... I want to apologize to him.”

“For what?”

“All the things I said to him. He was just doin' the best he could.”

“Well, don't worry, we'll find him. And then you'll apologize. And then within five minutes, you guys will be at each other's throats.”

You laughed. “I wanna find him, too.”

The boys looked at you strangely.

“I wanna kick his ass to hell and back for leaving you two alone.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Well, whatever they are, they aren’t good enough,” you quipped. “And I wanna thank him. If it weren’t for him, I never would’ve met you two.”

Sam smiled at you fondly at y0u. Dean had a look on his face you couldn’t quite read.

“I thought we agreed on no chick flick moments, (Y/N),” Dean remarked. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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Text

the melting point {chapter 20}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: The anniversary of meeting one Fransisco Morales approaches and with it, your marriage to the man who had become such a large part of your life in all the best ways.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, light angst, mild violence, one (1) instance of police abusing their power, talk of past gun violence, ptsd, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is handicapped, reader uses a cane and wheelchair, reader has mobility issues, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m and f receiving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, hints at a threesome perhaps (haha what?), sappy feelings, sexual feelings, joel and his part of the miller clan make an appearance, mentions of nausea, bodies are weird and so are emotions, (hopefully) good cliffhanger, lemme know if i missed anything else!

A/N: we made it, we did it. y'all this is the last chapter of this labor of love. i lost sight of it for a while there but i saw it through to the end and just a few days shy of the anniversary of the first chapter being posted!! thank y'all so much for being along for the ride ♡

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“Frankie! Frankie put me down!” You shout, laughter stalled in your throat as the man holds you tight in his grip and starts to walk down the deck.

“Nu-uh, you were badmouthin’ me. Gonna teach you a lesson.” You can’t see the look on his face but you can see the other’s all trying to contain their laughter as your thrown over his shoulder and uselessly pound your fists on his broad back.

“Do not throw me in that water! They’re things in there!”

“It was just a lil snake, mante! He’s more scared of you than you are of him!”

Your next words transform into a scream as Frankie shifts you to cling to his front, arms making sure your secure before he steps right off the last plank of sun warm wood and plunges you both into the water.

“Fransisco!” You shout as you bob up to the surface, legs kicking and arms flailing to keep your head up above the surface. He’s nowhere to be seen and you panic for a moment that you might have kicked him too harshly and he can’t make his way up to the surface. But something grabs a hold of your leg and you’re being pulled down.

He’s right in front of you underneath the surface, bubbles sprouting from his nose as he tries not to laugh at the shocked expression on your face. To sooth you, he swoops in and kisses you deep, giving you the very air from his lungs.

As the sun dips below the horizon, a fire is started in the put right on the deck. The crackling of split wood, bright glowing embers, and raucous laughter float about the air. Someone had come up with the idea to turn a regular game of poker into one of strip. The guys may be good at keeping their cool in tense situations, their training allowing them to think they would have the upper hand. But between you, Morgan, and Isabella whispering conspiratorially amongst yourselves and draping bare arms and legs over each other across the outdoor furniture as you help each other with cards gripped in loose hands, the cast of firelight illuminating the scene for their eyes alone, they had never stood a chance.

They all end up as stark naked as the day they were born, while all three of you have only a few pieces of clothing now exposing bikinis and skin that glowed in the fading firelight. And when Benny makes a beeline for the water at the end of the deck, Santiago is hauling a shrieking Morgan into his shoulder to follow suit. She slaps at his backside and you feel your face heat up as you realize what his clothes hint at is very much not an exaggeration. Frankie catches you eye with a twist of his own lips, but no one sees the way he pulls you into his lap to swallow your weak argument.

It's far too late when everyone is trudging from the cool water, droplets catching moonlight and tired muscles protesting the fun filled day now that it’s come to an end. You fall asleep atop Frankie’s chest in a matter of minutes, his lips pressed to your hair and his voice whispering his love for you.

Florida was a beautiful place to live, the winters weren’t too bad but the storms were. It rained the entire drive back from the cabin, something you suspected Will and Santiago had planned, knowing everyone was going to need a few days to recuperate after the fun of the week. Frankie pulled into the school parking lot just in time to see the bus begin to unload. The children were ushered into a line and lead down the main outdoor hall towards the two buildings of classrooms. Lex looked just as tired as the others, her bright purple umbrella standing out as she held it over her and a classmate.

“We’re giving her two options,” Frankie turned to you as the truck engine idled, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. “Pizza or that Japanese place you both like so much.”

“But-“

“Two options, and those are it.”

“What if-“

“Querida,” He sighs, no match for your wide eyes and pursed lips.

“I’ll be such a good girl for you later, please Fransisco?” You look up at him through your lashes and lean over the empty space on the bench seat between you, letting the collar to your dress dip lower than was appropriate for a school parking lot. It was blaringly obvious you hadn’t put on a bra that morning when you were packing up the sleep clothes and Frankie was mesmerized by the generous view of your cleavage. His hand holding up the peace sign fell to his lap and he shifted to fix himself, beginning to swell at the combination of you begging and the skin on display.

“You want that Mexican place that has the birria ramen, don’t you?”

“Please, Fransisco, I’ve been craving it like mad.”

“You play dirty, sweet girl.” He huffs out as you reach out a hand to caress it down his right arm, following the line of his down to where his hand rested over his lap. Sneaking it under his own, you press your palm fleetingly to the front of his jeans where the shape of him is semi-hard. At his gasp you’re pulling away and back to your side of the bench seat, phone in hand to bring up their menu for Lex to choose from.

“Yeah, but you like it.” You tease with a peek of your tongue between your teeth. He just rolls his eyes before grabbing his wallet from where it was nestled in your bag in the footwell.

“Mhm, love it, love you. Be right back,” He shoots you conspiratorial smirk before he’s moving out of the truck and down the walkway toward the building. He’s left the truck on so the humidity doesn’t seep into the cab of the vehicle.

Later that night, after Lex is in bed after a bath, Frankie slips into the guest room he had moved most of yours and his stuff into until the renovation. You’re fast asleep in the bed, curled up on your side with your hands balled up in front of you. The lamp is still on and your phone is half underneath the pillow you’re resting on as if it fell out of your grip. Your hair is loose and damp from your own attempt to wash the hours on the road away. The oversized shirt you’re wearing it one of his and he can tell you had tried to pull the covers over you but they only got as far as your hips. The two cats are curled up in the crook of your knees and on your pillow beside your head.

Lex had been so overjoyed at the realization that they were coming along with you when Frankie had asked her how she felt about you moving in with them. He now finds her taking her duties to make sure they have water and kibble very seriously, letting you or him know when they’re due for another bag way before one is needed. She didn’t want them to get mad at her if they noticed how low their container is, but he assured her that they weren’t that observant with an amused chuckle.

Sighing your name, he smiles as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as he pulls the covers up all the way. He knew you were gonna pass out the second your head hit the pillow, with the way you had begun to doze off on the couch after dinner, some cartoon on the screen to mildly occupy everyone in their hazy and lethargic state. He doesn’t fault you, he knows the week was long for you even if you hadn’t said as much. The swimming in the lake was a relief on your joints as much as it was irritating but he was glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserved it.

Your phone gets plugged into a charger and he makes sure to turn the lamp off on his way back out the door. He tidies up the kitchen from the scattered havoc of take out containers, plastic utensils, and to go cups, making sure it all goes out into the trash right inside the garage. Mind running, he snatches his own phone from the front pocket of his jeans and sends a text off to Joel Miller, double checking that they’re all set for their flight in the morning. As he waits for a response, he sees your truck parked and sitting there, a spot of oil beneath it staining the concrete of the ground.

Frowning he pops the hood and checks it out, making sure everything is okay for you to drive around tomorrow, ensures that your handicap placard is securely in place over the rearview mirror. He spots the large manilla envelope with your handicap emblazoned license and makes sure to replace your old one before he wipes down the dash and cleans out the various left behind items. The cab smells of your perfume and he smiles to himself as he basks in it. Warm vanilla and jasmine, a hint of citrus. You, so unbelievably you that it makes his heartrate pick up.

Something brushes up against his pant leg as he’s leaning into the cap, trying to get something that had fallen under the seat and he startles, bashing his hand on the mechanics of it. Removing himself, he looks down to see the form of your large tabby.

“Hey, Rig, just making sure your mami’s truck is all set for tomorrow.” He bends to scratch between the big guys ears, earning a purr of contentment. “We gotta get her a different car, though, huh bud?”

A long drawn out meow is the cat’s answer.

“What do you think she’d want?” Frankie picks up his phone and hits the button for Benny. The man’s magnetic energy and charming smile his best aid in the endeavor he had been silently thinking on since your release from the hospital. Once you had been cleared to drive, it was a larger worry, you having to climb up into the truck. He was able to help you when you rode with him, but he worried for you when you were out and about on your own.

“Fish, I literally just spent the whole week with you. I love you too, man, but I just laid down for the night.”

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Mind’s just firin’ away.”

“Is everything okay?” Shuffling can be heard down the line, Benny’s tone shifting to one of mild concern.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Lex and Mante are asleep, but I wanted to ask if you were able to go car shopping with me tomorrow.”

“For Manté?”

“Yeah, figured you could help charm the sales representatives and maybe co-sign if my standing isn’t good enough.”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll sign it and gift it to you. Wedding gift.”

“I don’t-“

“I ain’t worried about it, I got a business to use as collateral. Get me a cheaper rate if they don’t let me just outright purchase something. I want to.”

“Ma’am, you can’t park there. That’s for handicapped civilians only.” A security guard approaches you, ticket book already flipped open. But you just reach for the cane secured in the passenger side and begin the process of getting down from the slightly heightened cab.

“I know.” Is all you say as you, reaching for your bag once your feet are on the ground. But as you turn your back, a shadow falls over you and a hand is wrapping around your upper arm.

“Ma’am, a cane you don’t need is not a good enough cover. Please get back in your vehicle and park somewhere else.”

“I will not be doing that and better get your hands off of me.” You try to be as gentle as you can with yanking your arm away, but you end up jostling not only yourself but he officer who hadn’t expected you to move in such a way. He’s frowning at you, one hand reaching for you again and the other behind his back for what you assume are his cuffs.

“Please don’t make write up a report for resisting arrest AND a ticket.”

“I’m not doing anything except trying to park to pick up my friends.” Bag on your shoulder, you grip the door to the truck and make to close it but the can in your right hand is suddenly gone, your balance along with it. Pain crawls sharp across your entire waist and down your right leg, it had been sore from the second you woke up. “Hey!”

“This,” The officer brandishes your cane now in his hand. Your eyes connect with a few curious passerby and you silently plead with someone, anyone to see that this is uncalled for. “Can be considered a weapon, I’m eradicating the threat and asking for your ID so I can run in through the system.”

“No, you won’t.” You lean heavily against the extended part of the cab, trying to get any weight off your lower half you can but the feeling is slowly waning from your legs. Reaching for your phone, you suddenly find yourself spun around and your front is pressed harshly into the vehicle. “Hey! I need my phone, I need you to get off of me before I fall!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Yes there is! You’re hurting me! You took my cane from me, and my hip is hurting!”

“Excuse me, I believe the lady told you to back off.” A deep southern drawl breaks the growing hysteria and frustration, a small crowd gathering around the designated handicap parking right outside the pick up area between the bus lanes and the actual lanes of traffic. You turn your head as best you can with your cheek flush against the silver of your truck to see a pair of tall men and two young girls by back of the parking spot you had chosen to pull into.

The two men who you were supposed to have met inside, Joel and Tommy Miller. And they were stunningly handsome, the girls absolutely gorgeous as they peeked out from behind them.

This was so not how you wanted the first interaction with the two men to go. You had wanted to walk into the baggage claim area and display a cute sign for them, greet them with a smile and drive them to the bakery to show them the apartment they would be living in for the duration of the renovation.

Definitely not this way, them curiously and maybe hesitantly leaving the cool, conditioned atmosphere of the airport in search of you only to find you about to get arrested. Even if they were an extension of your close knit friend group, it wasn’t a good impression.

“Sir, please, this has nothing to do with you.”

“I reckon it does, you got my client pinned up against her truck and her cane in your hand.” Joel stepped forward and your cane dropped from the officers hand to clatter on the ground as he reached for his holstered firearm. “Hey now, all I’m askin’ is that you let her go and we can calmly talk this over.”

“There’s no talking now, she’s illegally parking in a handicapped spot, ignored my questions, and started to resist physical restraint!”

“I’m not illegally parked! My placard is on the rearview mirror and I have it on my license plate!”

“Ma’am you need to calm-“

“Do not tell me to calm down!” You shout, officially at your capacity for the sheer stupidity of the entire situation. Another office is approaching, a woman with two small kids leading him. He calmly asks what the problem is from the other officer, who keeps insisting on what he thinks is happening, checks for the placard and the symbol on your license plate and then turns to you once he orders the man holding you to step back.

“Would you mind if I run your plates and ID?” He’s helping to support you as Joel reaches for your fallen cane. He wants to bring it to you but he’s hesitant at the arrival of the second officer, the crowd thickening around, and the way your breath is quickening as you reach into your bag. “Sir, you can step forward, it’s alright.”

He does so immediately, a calming hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you as he makes sure you have a good grip on the cane with a shaking hand. He helps you to slip the card for the officer from your wallet when he sees you can’t manage it with one hand. His fingers are warm against yours as he gently helps you, towering over you as much as Frankie does.

“Thank you, I’ll be right back with this. I apologize for the out of line conduct.”

“Out of line?!” The first officer sputters, looking very much like he’s about to step toward you but at a hard look from the second one he stills and quiets.

“Are you okay, darlin’?” Joel’s deep baritone is close, he’s leaning down a little to speak lowly to you, trying to calm you as best he could despite just meeting you for the first time.

“Yeah, yes. I just…I just need a minute to breathe.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“I- yeah.” You nod, registering the sound of the truck gate being lowered and then being carefully set atop it to get the weight of your body off of your lower limbs. Tommy is perching beside you, introducing himself with a bashful smile and a compliment on your tattoos. Small talk and introductions are made while you’re waiting for the officers to return, all easy going even if your nerves feel shot and your body is aching.

The second officer returns with an apology and a reassurance that you were well within your rights to park in the spot you had. His words were repeated a few times, something striking you as him trying to avoid a lawsuit. But you weren’t interested in doing anything like that, you had just wanted to park and go about your task of picking up the Miller family. With a sigh you wish the man a good day and brace your hands beside you on the lowered gate.

But Tommy is shoving off of it and offering to help you get down.

You idly wonder what Frankie is up to as you drive across town, the airport on the outskirts. He had left you a note by the coffee maker saying he had some errands to run with Benny. Wedding stuff, he had written and you had felt so touched by the way he was willing to participate in the planning and decisions. Past relationships had split at the mere thought of marriage in your mind, as if they could sense the way it began to linger. But Frankie, for all the time and miscommunication it had taken to get here, was all in. You loved him, who he was, who he had been, all versions of who he had to be. Because it meant you got him as he was now, and he was perfect. Through all the heartbreak, he had been worht waiting for.

“This is the bakery! There’s parking along the front and a small lot to the left but,” You guide the truck down the alley between the right side and the next building over. “There’s a gated space behind it big enough for two cars and the delivery trucks when orders are dropped off. I hope they aren’t too loud in the mornin’ for you, but apologies if they are.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay if we stay here, Pastel?” Tommy asked from the back seat, somehow he had been convinced to sit in the middle of the bench, the girls on either side of him with a window. Even if his only wan argument had been that they had the window seats on the plane. But it was endearing the way he gave in, as if he would even think about denying the teenagers anything they asked for. Within reason, you figured as he winked at you through the rearview mirror as they loaded up.

“Of course, I don’t live here anymore since moving in with Frankie, even before the shooting.”

“What was it like, being shot? It was more than once, right?” Ellie turned from her window to look at you. Tommy is immediately elbowing her in disapproval as Joel tenses up in the passenger seat.

“Ellie, that is completely inappropriate. Darlin’, I am so sorry.” Joel shoots her a look as best he could, turning in his seat beside you. “She doesn’t need an answer to that, right?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She huffs out, crossing her arms and avoiding her father’s eyes.

Once parked, everyone piles out and you lead them through the backdoor. Motioning to the door leading to the apartment before walking them through the kitchen and to the café of the bakery. The girls fawn over the pink and pastel color palate of the place, the treats in the case, and the whole vibe of the shop. Joel and Tommy taking you up on the offer of coffee to refuel after the flight.

“There are two rooms, but the guest room has a queen and the main room has the same. The sofa turns into a bed as well, so whatever you’re all comfortable with and works best for you. There’s a laundry room but only one bathroom that’s connected to the main bedroom and the corner of the kitchen. It’s pretty decent, should accommodate all four of you.” A tour is moot, but you list off the accommodations as you pivot in the middle of the main room upstairs.

“Apologies again for the last minute change of plans, the girls are smart and I trust ‘em. But six weeks is a long time to be left to their own devices.”

“I don’t mind at all, really. Just want you to be comfortable, the pantry is stocked and I’ve left a credit card on the counter for takeout and other supplies you might need for your stay. I did have a cleaning crew come in because I wasn’t sure if any of you were allergic to cats, and I have two. They’re at Santi’s now, but the house was cleaned professionally too just in case.

“Really thoughtful of ya, sweetheart.” Tommy brushes a hand over your shoulder as he takes in the apartment. He had been right in front of you, Joel behind you to ensure you got up the stairs okay.

“The girls are more than welcome to work with me in the bakery if I’m on shift or even sit in the café with their schoolwork. And all of you are welcome to get coffee and pastries in the morning, though the cabinet is stocked with stuff too.”

“You’ve really taken everything into consideration, gotta say you’re turning out to be one of the best clients we’ve had hire us.” Joel turns from where he’s inspecting the street down below from the window above the kitchen sink.

“I wouldn’t say that quite yet, might turn out to be nitpicky about tile placement or somethin’.”

“That wouldn’t be anything we couldn’t accommodate.”

“Okay, well, cookout’s at five or six, just bring yourselves. Will and Benny are hosting, I’m sure they can’t wait to see you. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment I need to get to, please make yourselves at home.”

“I don’t want to overstep, but do you need any help, darlin’? I couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a wheelchair in the truck.”

“I think I can manage okay but thank you. You’re very kind to offer.”

“That officer had no business doin’ what he did. Just wanna make sure you’re alright.” Tommy agrees, closing in for a departing hug that turns into him ushering you towards the stairs.

“I am, if I wasn’t it’d be a simple call, but uh…please don’t tell the guys.” You pitched your voice low as the girls disappeared into the master bedroom. “I don’t want them to worry, we’ve all just managed to get through everything.”

The brother’s nod their silent agreement.

The garage won’t open even when you press the clicker fastened to your visor. Once, twice, three times before you just pull up into the empty drive. Frankie’s truck is parking on the curb right outside the house and you grumble a little as you start to gather the few bags from your errands. You hadn’t anticipated Joel brining along his daughter with them. Something he had covered the cost for, claiming it was no big deal and that she was excited to go somewhere new. It was all organized with her school, for her to finish up the last month or so of the academic year online, Joel explained along with how he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her to the neighbors for that long. He had only given you a lopsided grin and a shake of his head when you asked after a girlfriend or anything of the sort out of curiosity.

But the whole ordeal over the parking spot, the bakery being a little hectic, and being blindsided by the lovely arrival of the entire Miller family, you were tired and sore. Ready for a nap before the dinner that Will and Benny were hosting at their home. You didn’t even register Frankie as you stepped out of your sandals and hung up your bag. Not even when you walked directly passed him laid out on the couch, half asleep.

Hours later, you’re venturing out into the living room to find the man fully awake and going over the vendors who had offered to cater or help with the wedding party. He’s got his phone open on the coffee table and a fresh mug that lets loose steam into the air. It prickles your senses in a bad way, temples throbbing at the scent.

“….Frankie? I want to be completely transparent with you, but I don’t want to…” Trailing off, you realize how ridiculous the situation is, but you don’t think you can handle the sight of the man strutting about your home as the repairs and renovations get completed without staring just a little. You plop down on the couch, legs sore from the long day. You should soak in a bath later, to help alleviate some of it but you had been using the cane all day. “I dunno, make you uncomfortable.”

“What is it, Mami Pastel?” He teases, trying to lighten the tension that was coming off of you in waves.

“Well, I think you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I mean, I look at you even just for a second and melt because you have the warmest, most gooey brown eyes and you’re so competent it adds to your attractiveness. The way you walk is…hypnotizing and the way your butt looks in jeans is just…mhm. The patches in your scruff, now I know you don’t like that you can’t grow a beard like Santi, but they are so you. I love pressing kisses to them and hearing your breath huff. And your smile, Frankie, your smile is my favorite in the whole entire world.”

“Okay…?” The man in question looks confused by your rather passionate rambling until he recalls the way you had stuttered under your breath and practically bolted towards the room to lay down when you returned from dropping off the Miller family at the bakery to settle in after their flight. He had seen photos of both sets of Miller brothers from family events before and it clicks. “Querida…do you have the hots for Joel?”

“No! I barely know the man.” You defend far too quickly, and you know it’s giving you away just as much as your intention to come clean anyway. Frankie just quirks a brow up in a silent question, his full lips twitching as he tried not to laugh at how adorably flustered you’re getting. He can practically feel the heat of embarrassment coming from the other side of the couch. You aren’t able to meet his eyes, knowing it would just spark arousal paired with the image of both of them being such sturdy, broad men.

The thought of Frankie alone was enough to get you worked up, as had been the interactions with Joel.

The older man had been very attentive as you prattled on about the city as you drove them from the airport, about the bakery as you wound your way through the downtown area, and the apartment as you showed them where everything was and said you stocked it with essentials you thought they would need for the duration of their stay. But the two of them stood side by side, hands on hips and wrapped around blueprints for the house, the scent of them both mingling in your home? The sound of their voices blending in the perfect mix of deep southern twang and accented Spanish? Yeah, it was definitely doing something to you.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay if you think he’s attractive. He’s a handsome man.” Frankie shifts to pull you into his chest and you bury your face in his neck as he wraps his arms around your back. Embarrassed, you were so embarrassed that the thought of them together was getting you all worked up. The fabric of your dress far too loose to prove any relieve as you clenched your thighs together to ward it off. You pressed a kiss to the freckled skin of his neck at his comforting words, but it sent a spike of hot arousal through your middle as his scent enveloped you.

“Sweet girl, are you…?” Frankie reached a large hand down to sneak underneath the fabric, thick fingers brushing against the front of your underwear to feel the damp material. His voice had dipped to a lower octave, something heady in the words. “Oh, you really think he’s attractive, huh?”

“I think you’re attractive.” You argue weakly, though your words were completely true.

“I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“You didn’t do anything, right?” As your meek nod, he cups your face in both his hands. “Then it’s okay, perfectly normal to be attracted to other people.”

“Frankie, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweet girl. More than words can express.” He presses his lips to you and you sigh against him. “Hey, I’ve got a surprise for you. Me ‘n Benny got you something.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” He kisses you again before helping you to stand, making sure the cane is secure in your hand before he gently guides you toward the garage entrance off the kitchen. When he opens the door, you gasp at the sight of the car you had spent countless hours researching even before your relocation to Florida.

“Frankie!”

“Benny said it’s our wedding gift.”

“Frankie!” He’s fully prepared when you turn and jump into his arms, excitement and giggles sounding into the air. “Is this what you were doing today?”

“Wanted to make sure it had all the modifications you talked about, it’s the outdoors edition and the stereo system has a satellite subscription set up for you to blast your music.”

“We’ve got to christen it.” You smirk as you lean back to look down at him, his hold tightens on you before he begins to step toward the hood.

“As you wish, mi amor.” His own cheeky grin and huff of laughter stirring heat in your body as your backside is set atop the cool metal.

Six weeks go by, the renovation something Joel and Tommy pour their entire selves into. The girls join you everyday you’re in the bakery, helping you and having fun with it, even if they weren’t the best as using the piping bags. In turn, you make sure to either cook or order lunch for them and sit down with them to knock out some of their schoolwork each day. It’s a good routine, returning to Santiago’s home in the early evenings after picking up Lex, having been added to the office’s records at her school as a guardian. The man hosting you typically has dinner made when you walk through the front door.

Frankie is normally the last one home, taking over the task of bathing Lex before bed each night. Often finding you and his best friend cuddled or sprawled out in the living room with something playing lowly on the television. The sight warms his heart. Even more so when he walks through the door to see Morgan or any other of your friend group sharing in jovial evenings that he knows you cherish just as much. Each week someone hosted a cookout, since there were so many of you now, to get everyone together and ensure everyone is okay, breaking up the monotony of adulthood.

On the anniversary of first meeting the one and only Fransisco Morales, you both make your way down to the city hall and file for a marriage certificate. Just the two of you, something personal and intimate even if it was such a simple way to go about it. You both smiled so brightly at each other, recognizing how far of a journey it had been to get there. But one you would both traverse again and again if it ended all the same. Once the house was complete, the official celebration would take place.

And today was that day.

Everything was perfect, everything was what you had wanted it to be and more. The work Will and Benny’s cousins wrapped up, and the house Frankie had bought all those years finally exhibiting the life he had aspired to create for him and his daughter. For you, now too. Santiago’s home had become the home base during the repairs, but today, right now Joel and Tommy Miller were walking you through the completed house.

They were both so handsome and you wondered idly how you ended up surrounded by such beautiful people, inside and out. You had been so nervous to meet with them in person when they arrived, but an easy going and friendly ‘Well, hey there darlin’. Nice to put a pretty name to that pretty voice.’ had eased your anxieties as well as a greeting embrace from Joel once the whole parking ordeal had been resolved.

Tommy had been a little flustered, being so far away from home and having been flying once again, the only time he had known to do so was for his tour abroad with the Army. Something Joel had admitted to you when you called the morning before their flight to confirm everything and make sure they had the tickets in their hands.

So real, so human. So good, everyone in your life, in the little bubble you created for yourself born of running away from your old city and the traumas that had occurred there. With nothing but a newly signed deed for a building you had only looked at online and a crate of two cats, you had built your life up to what it is now and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“We did a little more than you asked for, but we didn’t mind. Wanted to make sure you had everythin’ you needed for getting around easy.” Joel leads the way through the door, your copy of the keys in his hands. Tommy was bringing up the line you, Frankie, and Alexia made.

“Saw the opportunity to do some modifications in the kitchen while we were putting the laundry in there and with Frankie’s approval we went ahead. He asked that we keep it a secret, a wedding gift to you.”

“Frankie…” You turn to look at the man, seated in your wheelchair today, the custom one having come in just in time for you to have a particularly bad flare of immobility in your lower extremities. There was a ramp now, through the garage, you had insisted you preferred the porch to have the steps and not alter it. The couch out here replaced with a slightly larger one that was higher up from the ground so your hips didn’t hinge as much to get up and sit down in it.

“I know you said you like the kitchen as is, but I just asked them to install gliding racks for the lower cabinets and had them replace the island so one side is low enough for you to roll up to if you feel like baking and can’t get up on your legs that day. No big deal, sweet girl.”

“It was an easy thing, don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel holds out a hand for you to take, Frankie watching diligently in case you trembled or dipped underneath your own weight. Your cane trading from his hand to Joel’s other and the older man leads you into the kitchen, since nothing was altered in the living room.

All new tile had been put down in the kitchen, the black and white stella star tiles you had torn yourself away from during a trip to the hardware store with the brothers when they caught up with you. The jade green backsplash you had taken a sample of gleamed to compliment the natural wooden cabinets that replaced the white ones that had previously been there. The countertops were now a white granite, the island indeed having been altered on one side.

“This is a little more than the island…”

“Was nothin’.” Tommy smiled as he opened up a lower cabinet and showed you the easy glide of the shelving put in place. “A baker has to have a kitchen that suits her.”

You feel tears prick hot and sticky behind your eyes, prompting Joel to stand right in front of you and tilt his head down to capture them. His eyes are so brown set into his handsome face and you feel heat rise to your face at being so close to him, acutely aware of Frankie just inside the threshold to the room with Tommy.

“We wanted to, all of us, okay? You’ve been dealt a harsh hand, darlin’. Wanted to bring some good into your life and we were able to, yeah? Besides, we’re gonna use the hell outta the photos we took for the business back home.” He hoped to lighten the mood, everyone relaxing when a giggle sprung from your lips as you wiped underneath your eyes.

“Papa! The house is so pretty!” Lex jostles Frankie as she hugs him tight around his legs. “It’s perfect for Mama Pastel!”

The small party is still going well into the night, the lights strung up all around the patio illuminating the jovial serenity. You feel the prickle of someone watching you and you turn from where you’re sitting to chat with Morgan who is seated across Santiago’s lap. Discussing possible dates for an end of the year trip out the cabin. Frankie is stood by the now cool grill, a beer in one hand and the other supporting the weight of Lex as she slumps against his chest with her face tucked over his shoulder. She’s tall for her age but not too small to be held by her father in the growing hour.

She should’ve been asleep an hour or so ago, but she had begged and pleaded to stay up ‘with the grown ups’. Taking her duty of ring bearer way more seriously than any of you had anticipated. Beside the man who is now your husband, stand Joel and you feel your stomach swoop at the sight of them together. Joel reaching out a hand to rub between the sleepy girl’s shoulders, words too low for you to hear from you spot. Both men chuckle, their teeth glinting as they share the moment.

Taylor saunters up to them both and you feel heat envelope you. You knew how two of them moved, how they felt, how they sounded. And the need to find out how Joel did too was strong. Guilt flared up at the direction your thoughts had taken. You were married now to such a loving and understanding, amazing man. But your body seemed to be out of your control as you felt something thrum through you at the sight of them all together chatting idly.

The memory of Frankie taunting you as he pinned you to the counter in the kitchen all those months ago springs up to the front of your depraved mind.

“Would you have let me take you in that store? While all those silly, jealous women watched? All those watching, dirty men palming themselves to the sight of you taking my cock in the middle of that aisle, pressed up against the shelves?” The tip of him caught on your entrance, and he pushed in, shallowly thrusting. He wasn’t giving you all of him, just teasing you open a little, waiting on an answer.

“Fuck, Frankie, yes.”

Frankie takes the last swig out of his bottle, Joel taking the empty glass from him and they share one last word before parting ways. Frankie brushes a hand over your shoulder as he passes, murmuring he’s going to lay Lex down and then he’ll be back. The other two men remain where they are by the grill, no doubt talking about the lumber and construction businesses they both are skilled in.

Sighing, you excuse yourself with the imitation of taking a drag from a cigarette and carefully make your way down the few steps into the yard. The grass is soft as it hushes over your sandaled feet, until you’re partially hidden off to the side underneath a tree. With another sigh you place the single cigarette you grabbed between your teeth and flick the lighter on. A few puffs into it and you’re startled by the sudden shadow of someone moving toward you.

“Sorry, darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Joel’s deep timbre greet you as ducks underneath one of the lower hanging branches. Your body sings at his close proximity, fueled by the few drinks you had indulged in and the quick trigger of your arousal as of late. Heat spears through your middle and down to your core as he steps impossibly closer, hand reaching for the cigarette, his fingers nudging against your own as he takes it from you to take a drag for himself.

He smells like the grill, like the embers of charcoal and wood from the still burning fire in the pit on the deck, like the body wash he must’ve used earlier that day as he got ready for the celebration. He’s watching you like you’re watching him, eyes dragging over the displayed ink across your skin. The light color of your flowing dress highlighting the detailed blackwork set into your tanned skin. His eyes are impossibly brown even in the dim light, so much like Frankie’s. You feel connected to him in a way you can’t quite explain.

“Y’look real gorgeous, Pastel. Glad to play a part in today.” He’s of course referring to the arch he and Taylor had constructed for the small ceremony, both of them collaborating once your best friend had arrived in town a week ago with his own child. The niggling feeling of wanting to share in that part of their respective lives bubbled up and warmth bloomed in your chest, both of them and Frankie all such good fathers. You…wanted that. To be a mother. The thought always a far off one, but now…now it seemed all the more like a waiting game. Something only touched upon by both you and Frankie. You and Joel as he passed the time with you during the days you didn’t work and made sure the second set of Miller brother’s had lunch and cool drinks while they did.

Gratitude was barely a whisper as you watched him exhale another drag.

“Gonna miss seein’ ya when we go back home.”

“Maybe we can visit.” The words are out of your mouth before you realized they were something you wanted.

“I’d like that.” He murmured, mouth upturning on one end to reveal a dimple so much like Frankie’s. His fingers were gentle as he passed the cigarette back to you. Your breath hitched as he dipped his head low to press a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna shove off, the girls need to get to bed. We’re still on for the zoo tomorrow?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.” Another kiss and then he’s gone, leaving you to titter to yourself for a few moments until you’re sure his little group is gone. When you step back onto the deck, Will and Isabella are gone as well as Santiago and Morgan. Benny and Taylor remain and you settle between them in an open chair.

“Hey Benny?”

“Yeah, mantequilla?”

“Thank you.” You reach out a hand to him and he takes it without question, his wide palm warm as it slides against your own. Taylor watches on with a smile on his face, fondness for you and the man who had extended his friendship to you in the time you had needed it most.

“Told you that first day you singed up for the gym, anythin’ you need.”

It’s depraved the way you move against him, desperate for him to touch you. He’s laughing as you trail sucking kisses down his neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach. Your hands are on his waist, messing with the belt and buttons of his trousers before he can even take a breath to catch up to the way you’re moving against him.

“Frankie, I need you.”

“Okay, but let’s slow it down a little, we have all the time in the world.” His eyes had tracked you throughout the day, well into the night. On how you had leaned heavily on your cane for support as you stood beside him and exchanged rings underneath a beautiful arch covered in florals of soft colors. Of how you had been sat in each seat for long periods of time, how everyone seemed to read the same thing he had, that your body was aching.

“Nu-uh, not too sore for this.” Gently pressing your hands to his chest, you lean into him and he falls to the bed with a loud gasp.

“I’m not complaining, sweet girl. But what has gotten into you lately, you’re so eager.”

“I love you.” Pausing, you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. And then trepidation seeps in, taints the arousal that had been thrumming through your veins. You lean up and back away, standing a few feet from the foot of the bed where his legs hang over the mattress. Emotions being to swarm you, conflicting in their vie to be felt. Suddenly, you’re hiccupping, hands coming up to wipe at the tears threatening to fall. “Do…you not want me?”

“What? No! I-I…I’m just a little confused.” Frankie is quick to dispel your worries, to give you an honest answer. He’s sitting up, reaching for you. But you back away a few more steps and he let his hands fall.

“I know I’ve been a lot lately, between the renovations and the whole thing at the city hall, and- and- and the whole Joel thing. I don’t…I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately!” The tears are flowing now, your hands covering your face from view. “I feel so selfish…”

Your name falling from his lips grounds you, his body wrapping around your own even more so.

“You are not selfish, you are merely overwhelmed. It’s…it’s been a lot since the shooting. For you, especially.”

“Frankie, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Joel, he…he oy I feel so silly and…weird.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, oh sweet girl. Here,” He holds out his hands for you and you willingly drift closer to stand between his legs. Expression open and accepting, you can feel him searching for something he must see because his eyes soften. He skims his hands up your sides, soothing the ache he knows is there in your hips and the sudden burst of emotions he was beginning to wonder what the cause of was.

It’s slow, it’s scorching, it’s perfect the way he worships you. Your husband. Your future. Your life.

It’s stifling, in the room. Sweat glistening across your entire body as you submitted to the roll of hips pressed against you, the hands that held tight to you, the sucking lips that latched onto whatever it could reach. Both pairs. One below and one behind. Scruff burns sweetly over your chest and the back of your neck, pulling mewling moans from you. The drag of hard, silken skin in and out of you has you panting for breath when you manage to pull in a lungful, only to be thrust from you as two bodies move in tandem with your own.

The feeling of course hairs against your clit have you arching, chest pressing to the man beneath you and back against the man behind you as he drapes over you. You try to warm them, the feeling of being completely full too much for you to handle, pleasure courses harshly through you, almost painful in its intensity but all you manage is a choked off sound before you’re tensing and falling over the edge of it.

Eyes catching brown eyes watching in wonder as you fall apart in a glimpse before black sparks over your vision.

Gasping, you bolt up from where you lay in bed. Chest heaving and eyes blurry you look around the room to find yourself alone beneath the covers. You’re as bare as you were when Frankie undressed you the night before, only now your skin is glistening with sweat from the overwhelming heat of your rather salacious dreamworld. Catching your breath after a moment, you feel embarrassment at what your mind concocted flare. You…you were never really one for that adventurous of a sex life. But your body was changing as you got older, your mind running away and the startling realization that you may be into something as risqué as that….kind of settles.

Nausea roils in your stomach, urging you to rush from the tangled covers that no doubt aided the feeling of being pressed between two bodies in your dream. You barely make it to the bathroom in time, hips twinging with the sudden movement and the way your knees knock into the patterned tile of the floor.

Groaning, you submit to the idea that maybe work would be too much on your body today.

The next step of your life, the one you had curated with Frankie makes itself known only a few hours later.

It all makes so much sense, literally everything. The week following the visit to city hall and the party, you’re hurling the two sips of coffee and granola bar you had for breakfast into the kitchen sink. It had prompted you to run to the store, the new car so smooth and easier to manage than the truck with how sore your legs had been. Frankie was gone to work early, a sunrise flight tour scheduled and he had been the only one willing to take it. But maybe that was for the best because you felt like it would all be too much for him so witness the way you almost dazedly went about the errand and returned home.

Conversations had been surface level, more of a curious ‘what if’ than an actual conversation. A more in depth one with the doctors and the concerns they had should you end up in the situation you were in, if the piece of plastic on the vanity counter could be trusted. It had been advised that you really weight the pros and cons of wanting it, of how much you were willing to alter in order to make it a reality. There were no concerns for your health aside from the way it would affect your hips, the extra weight that would rise as it went on, the claim that the only way for a safe delivery would be to schedule a procedure.

From the cravings to the increased libido, to the nausea and the zipping emotions.

The way you had been easily riled up at the simplest things, the way everyone around you seemed to exude brimming sexual energy, the way your body had responded to not only Frankie, but Taylor and Joel. The bursts of energy combating the spells of next to no energy. The way you had been seeking out specific foods and feeling intense dislike for others. The annoyance that had flared up far too quick along with hurt and sadness at the most mundane instances. The tears you had shed while bidding both Taylor and his son goodbye after the celebration a few weeks ago and the Miller family before that.

Ears pricking at the sound of steps, you look up and see Frankie reflected in the mirror. He’s stood in the doorway with his brows furrowed in concern. You were supposed to have gone to the bakery today, but your rather hectic start had dissolved the idea completely.

Turning from the vanity, you pick up the thing that had been holding your attention. You brandish the small screen so he can see it from his spot, hand unconsciously going to your middle. He’s watching you closely, concerned as he looks over your face that breaks out into a watery smile. To the item in your grip. Frankie’s breath gasps as he reads what the screen has displayed and his own lips stretch out into a wide grin, adorable dimple on display.

“Frankie, I’m pregnant.”

previous chapter || end

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