Sandra

The television is muted, but the weather forecast predicting 8-12 inches of snow in your area has Frank almost excited. Of course there will be shoveling, warming up cars and ridding them of piles of snow. But it’ll be your son’s first significant snowfall, and one your middle child is finally old enough to enjoy. Somehow, whatever force in the universe that has made Frank Castles life a living hell, has managed to turn the tide and have him fall in love. It’s a miracle, he figures, you ever even gave him the time of day. Let alone marry him.

With that, his heel pushes into a stray Lego block. Not the damned miniature pieces, but the big ones they make that come in the 4+ box that’s around the room somewhere.

“Damn it.” He swears, getting shot doesn’t have any competition to a fucking Lego. The damned things were everywhere, and always managed to be just in his line of walking.

“Daddy said a bad word!” Your four year old Callie, braided hair and all 3 feet, five inches of her feet determined self looks up at her father. Hands on her hips and a tiny tapping foot, just as her mother would scold. Frank grins, hands raising in defense before poking at her sides.

“Didn’t I tell ya the Castiglione’s are no snitches?”

“Mommy said there are egg-sections to that rule.”

“Exceptions.” He corrects, pointing to the colorful blocks scattered around the carpet. “Before you pick out new toys, you gotta clean up these ones sweetheart.” She does as told, humming to herself as she goes on with the task. The middle of three children, Calliope is quite the character.

Frank figures she takes after you. Her curiosity grows every day, and she’s always had a sharp glare and quick-wit. Matthew, the youngest and your only boy. Named after his “Uncle” Murdock. Which took months of convincing on your part. Frank, stubborn as ever, eventually gave in when you argued he wasn’t the one carrying the baby for just under a year. Murdock was honored, of course, bastard always had a sweet spot for your kids and to have one named after him did him in. Him and his colleagues showed up to just about every family occasion, Frank would always pretend he didn’t want them there. But you know your husband more than he does, and couldn’t imagine having your best friends not celebrate every milestone with your children. Aleena, already 16, was your oldest. She was Frank’s soft spot, his first born and oldest daughter. Funnily enough, the girl was like her father from the start. Stubborn, passionate, and enough love and loyalty to withstand just about any obstacle thrown her way. All except her father, of course, the two were quite the match when it came to conflict. It was better to have them on opposing sides though. To be on the competing side of that team had you backing down from the argument before it even stated. They were quite the persuasive charmers when they worked together.

You eye your husband and daughter from the kitchen, preparing dinner as he keeps an eye on the younger ones. Aleena shadows you, tidying dishes you’re done using and helping you prepare ingredients before you even ask. She wants something

“Leena.”

“Hmm?”

“Is there something you wanted to ask me?” The teen ceases her playing with her younger brother. Sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor with him and a coloring book as company.

“What d’ya mean?”

“I mean, the Aleena I know would probably be in her room at the moment. On her phone or doing homework. You tend to need alone time after school.”

“Seems like there’s gonna be a snow day tomorrow. Figured I’d get used to family-time considering it’s gonna be a long weekend of tolerating you people

You chuckle, amused with her humor despite your shaking head. “Seems like you’re kissing up, but I could be wrong.”

You always have to read me like that?”

“Call it mother’s intuition.”

“Creepy, is a better word.” Your brows raise expectantly, and she raises from her spot on the floor before continuing. Chewing on her lip to suppress the hopeful smirk that attempts to etch onto her features.

“I was talking with Brooke today.”

“There it is.”

“And she said Ryan invited her out with a friend…” She studies you, sighing when you only busy yourself with cooking and await her continuation. “A friend that is another boy. And they want me to come so the four of us can all go out together. As like, you know, a friendly get together sort of thing.”

“Or maybe a double date?” You muse, containing the excitement that’s risen within you as she bashfully covers her face

“Maybe? I don’t know, seems like maybe Ryan and Brooke both like each other and they’re trying to set me and this boy up too.”

“And do you know this boy?”

I know of him. He’s on the lacrosse team. And he’s cute mom, really cute. So I would really love to go.” You nod, complimented she feels so comfortable in confiding with you.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea. I mean, I never really went on dates until I was older. But I don’t see why not.” You shrug, searching through the spice cabinet to find the right seasonings

“No way. I’ve seen your high school year book mom. You were gorgeous. It’s a miracle dad managed to pull you in college.”

Nice touch, kiss-ass. But your dad and I only met in college. He didn’t ask me out til years later, when we somehow crossed paths as adults.”

“And they lived happily ever after, so why this is such a good idea?”

“Just don’t get your hopes up. I still have to think about it, and then there’s your father.”

“Which is why I came to you. You can work your magic and talk to dad about it.”

“We can both talk to dad about it, I’m not playing telephone.” You laugh with a shake of you head, shushing Matthew who fusses on your hip

“Talk to dad about what?” Frank places a kiss to your temple when he reaches for a sliced pepper. Taking the raven-haired toddler from your arms and lifting him into the air as he squeals. He hold the baby on his hip as you did, leaning against the counter expectant of your answer. You glance over at Aleena, chewing on a pepper like her father, avoiding the answer.

“Girl stuff.”

“Are we still calling periods girl stuff? What d’you need, me to pick something up?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Your husband raises his brows at your opposing answers, you figure if he wasn’t holding a babbling Matt, grabbing at his beard he’d have his arms crossed by now.

“Leena…” You warn your oldest, her nose scrunching in discomfort, a habit she’s got from her father. Frank makes it a point to thank hod every day your children look like you. But their mannerisms, attitudes, unbreakable will, that’s all their father.

“Dad,” she muses in that sweet voice of hers, something she’s learned from you you’re sure.

“Oh boy, what’d you do.”

“Well, technically I haven’t done anything yet. Your loving, very helpful, daughter is asking permission first. Which you should keep in mind when considering your answer.”

Frank only hums, looking over to you with an unspoken ‘what’s she up to’ in his eyes. You busy yourself chopping vegetables.

“To the point, sweetheart.”

“Right. So there’s this boy-“

“Absolutely not.” Franks quick to push off the counter, exiting the kitchen as quick as he’d came in.

“But dad! You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Don’t need to, answer’s no.”

“Baby, hear her out first.” Frank’s tense muscles relax at your voice, he sets Matt down in the living room to begin setting the dinner table. His sister makes her way over to him, offering him one of the cars she’s amusing herself with. Aleena grabs the utensils as Frank gathers the plates, he places them down as she follows and adds a folded napkin to the side of each one. You smirk at their unknowing sync, swearing you’re living with three carbon copies of your husband sometimes.

“Brooke will be there too! She knows his friend Ryan from English class, he’s really nice. We were all gonna go bowling and get dinner. Just four friends hanging out! You know, avoiding drinking and drugs and bad things I could be doing had I not been such an angel.”

“Such a pain in my ass, actually. What’s this boy’s name anyway?”

“Leo.”

“Oh hell no.”

“What, you’ve made your decision off his name?”

“Yep. No boy named Leo’s got good intentions.”

“Dad-“

“Last name?”

“It’s He-“ she pauses, cogs turning in her head, “wait, you’re gonna try and look into him! That’s like, every type of invasive and totally weird!”

“What makes you think I was gonna do that?”

“Oh please, the second I left the room you were gonna text Mr. Lieberman! I’m not stupid.”

Frank glances over at you at the sound of your laugh, putting Matthew in his high chair as he speaks.

“And what’d your mom say about this?” You bring over the plate of pasta and bowl of salad. Handing Callie a small basket of bread to add to the table.

“That we’d talk about it.” You answer for yourself, everyone settling down at the table as the conversation goes on.

“Then we can, after dinner.” Frank shoots your oldest a warning look. She only huffs, knowing not to push it any further if there’s any chance he’ll say yes.

“Leah has a prince! Just like in my book mommy!” Callie’s ecstatic at the realization, using her nickname for her older sister as she can’t pronounce ‘Aleena’ just yet.

“If dad’ll ease up.” Aleena mutters defeated, smiling sweetly when Frank cocks his brow at her across the table.

“Mommy.”

“Yes, baby.”

“Leah says princesses don’t only have to like princes, s’that true?”

“Sure, honey. Some princesses like other princesses instead. And sometimes, princesses are actually princes. They just don’t know it yet. But it’s important we’re nice to everybody, cause it doesn’t really matter who you like.

“You think so too, daddy?”

“I don’t give a crap what you wanna be or who you wanna love. Long as they treat you right, we’re good.”

“Unless, of course, it regards the beauty of teenage love.”

“Aleena, last warning.”

“Kidding!”

“So, Matt’s a prince. Like Uncle Matt. But if one day he wanted to be a princess, he could?” You nod, heart warming at her inquiry for knowledge.

“Your Uncle Matt can be a princess sometimes, that’s for sure.” Frank grunts when you kick him under the table. He studies your oldest, who moves her food around with a pout. He tries to ignore the piece of him that makes his heart wrench at the sight.

“What made you ask mom first?” Aleena takes a bite of her food, debating a response. She’s taken aback, surprised he’s brought the topic back up.

“Because mama’s the boss.” Callie chimes simply, struggling to get a piece of pasta onto her kiddie fork.

Frank let’s out an amused huff, stopping the forkful of food that’s about to go into his mouth at Aleena’s knowing smile.

“What, you agree Leena?”

“Let’s be real dad, mom has you whipped. She wears the pants.”

“What’s that? Whipped?” Frank looks to you in confusion at her terminology. “Are all you under the impression your mother is the boss ‘round here?”

“I’d like to agree with the counsel.” You raise your finger, amused by your husbands astonished demeanor.

“Me and Mathew might be outnumbered, but I’d like to think the men in the house still have a say.”

“When I allow it.” You muse from the seat beside him, smirk growing at the giggles that ensue across from you. Matt can’t understand, but mimics his sisters regardless. Pushing a piece of food off his tray for the pitbull below to catch.

“Hilarious. You’re a comedian baby, really.” Frank jokes beside you, rising from his seat to collect your plate and his own. The girls follow along, finished with their meal and following his lead.

“So what’s the verdict then, can I go?” Aleena presses despite her fathers growing irritation.

“Didn’t we say we had to talk about it?”

“I don’t see what you have to talk about, really.” The tension grows in each of their voices, Callie climbs into your lap as she watches them.

“You’re pushing your luck, Leena.”

“It seems like you’ve already made up your mind, so what’s the point of even trying?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Once you make up your mind we all might as well give up!”

“You got that right. If there was any chance I was gonna say yes, it’s gone now.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Her skin runs hot with anger as you stand, setting down Callie who hides behind your legs.

“Aleena Castiglione!” You don’t mean to shout, but the sheer shock of her outburst hits you before logic can. Frank crosses his arms, practically seething. He stares her down, and in true Castiglione fashion, she only puts her hand on her hips and stares right back at him.

“Room. Now.” It’s almost a whisper. And coming from Frank, it’s much more intimidating than any shouting ever could be.

“Whatever.” Tears prick at her eyes, but she’s too stubborn to let them fall. The teen spins on her heel, stomping up the stairs and slamming the door before you can even let out a breath. Matthew jumps at the noise, startling him into a sob. You sigh, placing a reassuring kiss to Callie’s head before taking Matt in your arms. Swaying and shushing to soothe him. Callie stays at your legs, verging on tears as she holds onto you.

“C’mere, Calliope. Come help dad in the garage.” Frank crouches down to her level, smiling when her pigtailed-form goes over to him. Falling into a fit of giggles when he tickles her sides before grabbing her and standing to his full height.

“Where are you going?”

“Like I said, garage. That lopsided shelf needs to be fixed.” Your eyes narrow at his dry tone, finally able to calm the toddler in your arms down well enough to hear him.

“So we’re not gonna talk about it?”

“Seems like you were with her before I got involved.” Frank distracts the little girl in hand as he speaks, not wanting her to sense the tension between you.

“Oh, so we’re doing that now? Even though I waited for you to be involved before making any decisions?” He wasn’t being fair, he knew it. But the anger was still coursing through him at the previous argument and it was falsely directed at you.

“I need to think. We’ll be in the garage.”

“Her bedtimes in a little over an hour-“

“Yeah.” And with that, the garage door closes as soon as it opens. Your eyes burn into the door, pissed that he’s taken all this out on you.

******

You hold Matt in his rocking chair, the quiet of the dimly lit room is filled with the sound of your soft humming. It’s the only way he manages to fall asleep, milk-drunk off the half empty bottle slipping out of his mouth. You let out a sigh, relieved he’s finally fallen asleep as you set him in his crib. You take a minute, to watch the soft rise and fall of his chest as he falls into a heavy slumber. Truthfully, you could sit there and watch him til dawn, taking in all his soft features you’ve come to love so much. It hurts, sometimes, how much you love them.

With a soft knock on her door, you creep into Aleena’s room. Her bedside lamp illuminating her sleeping form as an opened book is splayed over her chest. ‘Moby Dick’ her fathers recommendation, is now highlighted and filled with annotated post-it notes. You smile, placing the text on her dresser before covering her frame with her comforter. Not letting her rosy, tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes go unnoticed. She’s likely full of regret and even anger. It’s impossible sometimes, being in such a young body with such fierce emotions. With a kiss to her hair, you turn off the lights and gently close her door.

Your mind wanders as you put away the dishes from the drying rack, cleaning up the kitchen before it becomes a disaster yet again from tomorrow’s breakfast.

“Mommy!” A small, but nonetheless panicked voice approaches you with speedy footsteps. Callie is flushed from running, eyes wide and worried.

“What’s wrong baby?” You get down to her level, hands going to her shoulders as she points behind her.

“Daddy got hurt!” Tears threaten to spill from her eyes as Frank comes from the garage, a towel wrapped around his arm.

“I’m alright, princess. It’s not that bad.”

“Is too! You’re bleeding a whole lot.” She argues defiantly, looking up at you expectantly. You set her in her chair at the table, stroking her hair to soothe her.

“I’ll fix him up, okay? Dad’ll be better in no time.” You reassure gently, thumb wiping a tear from her eye as Frank trails you to the sink. He reaches for the first aid kit above the fridge as you remove the towel from his forearm, tongue clicking at the sight of the gash.

“Shelf fell when I was trying to level it, damned corner scratched me. I’m okay.” He rasps calmly, looking over to Callie’s trembling frame.

“Can you come over here Calliope,” the use of her full name gets her attention, “hold my hand while mommy fixes me up?” She nods, taking careful steps over to him and looking over at the wound when he uses his good arm to lift her onto the countertop.

You run a fresh washcloth over some water, wiping at the excess blood to get a better look. Frank nudges Callie’s head to keep her eyes away from the injury, not wanting her to see all the blood.

You pour alcohol onto the cut, Frank isn’t even fazed by the sting. He sucks in his teeth anyway, squeezing the little girls hand just hard enough for her to attempt to pull away with a small laugh.

“Don’t cry, baby. Momma knows what she’s doing. It doesn’t hurt me much.” He soothes, kissing the top of her head when she nods.

“Gonna need to stitch it.” You speak softly, making eye contact for the first time since you argued. He looks almost solemn, guilt ridden all over his face as he nods.

Frank doesn’t even flinch at the familiar sensation of the needle threading his skin, Callie attempts to climb over his good arm that’s outstretched to prevent her from seeing what’s happening. She gets behind him on the counter, small arms wrapping around his shoulder to look at you.

“How are you so good at that, momma?”

“Practice.” You reply simply. You could probably be blindfolded and dress a wound, with all the times you’ve patched Frank up. A rough hand pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, you lean into its warmth. Looking up to see him mouth a “sorry” with that sorrowful, compelling look in his eyes. You know he puts himself under a lot of pressure. Constantly reminding himself that you guys are his second chance at this life. He punishes himself too much, you only wish you could relieve some of the weight off his heart.

You kiss his palm, lips ghosting over the simple reply. “I know.”

“Daddy.”

“What’s up, Callie girl?” Frank glances over his shoulder as you wrap gauze around the stitched wound.

“How’d you get mommy to be your princess?” He chuckles at her words, and your cheeks heat at his intense gaze while you continue your work.

“I’ve got no idea. Guess I finally worked up the courage to ask her on a date. If I hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be now.” He grabs your jaw, placing a peck to your cheek as you fondly roll your eyes at his praise.

“Daddy said you were his saving grace, mommy.”

“Thanks for keeping the secret, kid. Last time I confide in you.” He pokes at her stomach, smirk etching his face when he takes in your flushed demeanor. You pull him in for a quick kiss, the both of you pulling away when Callie squeals.

“Again!” She places a tiny hand on the back of your heads, pushing them together so you kiss again and yelping even louder as you do. Frank laughs, amused at her excitable reaction. Egging her on by grabbing the sides of your head and attacking your face with kisses. You and Callie both yelp this time, the little one attempting to squirm away when her father does the same to her.

“You’re gonna get her all riled up before bed.” You warn, trailing your husband when he throws Callie over his shoulder and heads up the stairs to her room. Blowing raspberries on her stomach the entire way up.

When all three bed time stories have all been read, you and Frank finally settle into your own covers as the first flurries of snow start to come down. The sight lulls you into a drowsy state, your head on Frank’s chest as he reads. There’s no colorful post-it’s aligning the pages like your daughter. But every now and then, when he finds a line he particularly likes, Frank will crease the corner of the page. You make him read the line out loud every time, insisting you get to hear it too.

“We’re gonna have to let her grow up, you know. At some point shell stop asking permission and sneak behind our backs instead. Frank sighs, pressing the book to his chest to meet your tired eyes.

“She’s only 16, I thought we had a couple more years ‘til this conversation.” He whines, hands running over his face in distress. You only laugh, wrapping both your arms around one of his and pulling it into your chest.

“And what we’re you like at 16, Castle? Enjoying s’mores with the fellow boy scouts?” He scoffs, eyes wandering around the room to avoid your accusing gaze.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. That she’ll be like me. Meet the wrong people and start doing the wrong shit. I can’t have that, baby. She’s our little girl. We can’t just let her go, can we?” You turn to him, arms crossing over his chest to support your head as you press your forehead to his. Humming triumphantly at the relieved sigh he releases at your touch.

“We’re not letting her go, hun. Just making our grip a little looser, that’s all. She needs the freedom to make her own decisions, but not enough so that she’s in complete control. It’s a balance.”

“And what if we give her too much room anyway? And she ends up taking after her old man? I was a menace when I was her age. My parents were too old to have any say over anything I did. I left the house whenever I wanted, came back whenever too.

“She’s gonna make mistakes. All we can do is try our best to lead her in the right direction.”

“Or I could just pull her that way.”

“And whatever direction you pull, she’ll start tugging the other way.” You warn, hands tracing circles over his skin. His eyes flutter closed at your soothing touch, shaking his head at your words.

“You’re much better at this than I am, no wonder they say you wear the pants.”

What can I say Castle, you’re whipped.”

“I’d have a witty comeback if I knew what that meant.”

*******

It’s daylight when you open your eyes again. The sheets beside you cold with the absence of your husband You stretch, hitting the alarm clock before it can sound in hopes that it’ll keep the baby sleeping. At least long enough to put down a cup of coffee and start breakfast.

It’s not unusual for Frank to wake up long before the rest of you. His internal clock gets him up better than any alarm could. You pull on one of his hoodies and a winter jacket before opening the front door. Slipping into a pair of boots that are much too big for you and stepping onto the front porch. Where a pathway is already learned to your partly shoveled driveway. Your heart warms at the sight of your husband, working intently.

“The neighbors are gonna think you’re crazy. I’m guessing you got out here at dawn?” You yawn out as you reach him. Trembling from the harsh weather as he turns to face you. There's speck’s of snow littering his beard, you brush them out with a knowing smile.

“Might as well get a head start if I’m up. I know that asshole next door was gonna offer to do the whole driveay with that shiny fucking plow of his.

“George is nice, baby.”

“George is a flirt, and a shit one at that.” You only laugh, shuffling into his chest to avoid the freezing air. He’s practically toasting despite the weather, and you hum when he pulls you closer into his embrace with a kiss to your hair.

“Is that coffee in your hand for me?” He takes it before you can respond, grimacing at the taste of milk and sugar accompanying the caffeine.

“No, why ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee by making it sweet?” He teases, rubbing at your back to keep you warm.

“If you come inside I can make you your own with some breakfast. Then we can both come out here and finish up.”

“Like hell you will, I’m not having you out here shoveling.”

“Just come inside and eat, yeah? Sit with me while we enjoy the last moments of peace before the little monsters wake up.”

“Sold.” With that, he turns you toward the front door. Sighing with relief when entering the heated home.

********

It’s only 90 minutes later when you’re finishing up breakfast. The home comes alive when the youngest two wake up and eat their meal. Waffles, hash browns, eggs, all the food to fill and warm their stomachs in preparation for the day. Frank had gone out to continue outside, insisting after eating he finish before “that bastard next door” could start bragging about his damned plow.

Your oldest finally joins the chaos at the kitchen’s island countertop with squinting eyes. Face still puffy with sleep as she takes the plate you hand her with a small, but no less genuine ‘thank you.’

“Hey Lee, I’m gonna go check on your dad outside. He’s insistent on doing the whole driveway himself. Can you just keep an eye on them for a bit while I’m out there? If they’re done eting just call me back in.” SHe nods at your instruction, playfully swatting you away when you kiss her head in appreciation.

“What are you doing back out here, miss?”

“I’m reinforcements, here to help.” You motion to the shovel in hand, frowning when he shakes his head.

“You’re not staying out in the cold and shoveling snow.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too pretty. And because that’s ridiculous. I’m more than capable, sweetheart.”

“Hey! I might be pretty Castle, but I’m strong too.”

“Damn right. I knew that when you almost broke my hand in the delivery room on three separate occasions. Now go warm up inside.”

“No. No way you’re doing all this alone.” You cross your arms in defense, taking a step back when he gets closer.

“Tough guy, huh?” Luckily, it’s still early enough for the neighbors not to hear your yelp of surprise when he hoists you over his shoulder. Walking across the driveway to toss you into the highest pile of snow on the ground.

“Asshole!” You insult through a fit of laughter. The much taller man clutches his stomach in amusement as you attempt to get up. Unable to roll onto your stomach or rise to your fet because of the heavy snow gear and how deep you are into the pile.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I had to, really.” He lets out through more laughter, extending his arm out for you to take. Completely caught off guard when you yank him forward. Fit of giggles even worse when he face-plants right into the snowbank. Covering your mouth to stifle your amusement when he rises with a frost-covered beard. He pulls you up by the coat collar, tugging you to his chapped lips with a smile. Your soft lips connect with his, completely content in the moment before you pull away.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Chucking you into a snowbank?”

“No, for always taking care of us.” You speak gently, kissing the tip of his nose, grinning at his flushed cheeks.

“You’re blushing, Castle.”

“ I was just face-first in the snow. Of course I’m red.”

“Right.”

*********

When you’re back inside just ten minutes later, you tug the copious amounts of miniature snow gear onto the little ones. Not being able to help but laugh at Mathhew, who’s unable to lower his arms because of the layers on him. He eventually stops fussing once you take off one of the jackets. Only after sending a picture to the groupchat with Karen, Foggy, and Matt.”

________

Froggy🐸: I’m calling CPS

Red: Foggy just described the picture, if it’s anything like it sounds I’ll be going over there to save my poor God-child.

Karen💜:So cute! Send me more pics of them in the snow!!

____________

“Aleena. Will you bring this out to dad? I have to get their boots on and then they’ll be ready to go out.” You hand her the steaming thermos of black coffee, eyebrows raising when she hesitates to take it.

“We’re not exactly on good terms at the moment.”

“Precisely why it’d be nice of you to give a peace offering.” You hold out the cup again, chuckling when she takes it with a heavy sigh.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the cops. It means dad killed me.” She muses before shutting the door behind her. You roll your eyes fondly, motioning over a bundled Callie to be pisces up so the both of you can watch the interaction from the kitchen window.

Your eyes follow her form shuffle across the snow. Frank only turns around when she taps his shoulder, holding out the steaming thermos to his panting form. There’s a short exchanging of words after he takes it from her, their eyes lingering on one another before Aleena turns back toward the house. Frank grabs her elbow before she can even take a second step, tugging her into an embrace with a kiss to the top of her head. He pulls away after a long moment, wiping a tear off her face before continuing their conversation. Which of course you can’t make out from inside. You and Callie gasp when they both turn to look at you, ducking out of view as to not be caught spying. When you peek back out, they’re rushing behind one of the snowbanks. Clearly up to no good.

“Frank?” You hold Mathew on your hip as Callie stalks close beside you. Her little feet unaccustomed to the clunky snow boots as you creep into the front yard.

Aleena pops up from behind a snowbank, snowball in hand and raised at you. Frank does the same, Callie squealing and grabbing onto your leg.

“You can’t throw anything, I have babies!” You yell out at them, heart racing from the adrenaline.

“Put down the baby, and nobody gets hurt.” Aleena warns, mischievous smirk plastering her face at your shock.

“So what, you two turn on me now?”

“Looks like it, you’re outnumbered baby.” Frank tosses a snowball from hand to hand as he speaks.

“And you’re a pain in my ass. No hot chocolate for traitors, Aleena!” You raise your brows at your daughter, who pauses at your words.

“Don’t listen to the enemy, sweetheart. She’s bluffing!”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the jumbo marshmallows and whipped cream you’ll have none of if I get hit with one of those. Not to mention, I grew you for nine months only for you to side with your father?” With that, the teen heads over to your side.

“Where the hell is your loyalty?”

“With the cocoa, sorry dad!”