⭐️⭐️⭐️

She felt unwanted like she felt so many times, distance to her used to mean they didn't like her anymore. As much as she shouldn't let trivial previous friend break ups and rejections rule her life, the weight was still daunting. 

She could cope that he was away on a trip and not here with her. That he would be back as soon as he could be. 

She wanted Rhett so badly, she worried that he may cheat on her because she wasn't enough anymore, that's why he went away. 

She wishes the chokehold of her childhood trauma would release, but it felt like the tears at her waterline, utterly inevitable with the weight on her chest. 

He calls her, tells her he loves her but is it just a front? Is there a woman he's secretly loved this whole time but kept a secret? She’s the glue he found to seal the crack another woman left, not natural or meant to be but a replacement, a filament. 

She doesn't say this because she doesn't love him, she's never loved anyone more. Which made the intrusive thoughts that much harder, that gave way to the way it slithers up her spine to wrap around her chest like a cage. Why, these aren't me, I don't want to feel this way. 

But she does anyway, she has no other choice, she's as sensitive as a raw nerve, pulsating with oxygen making the blood blue. 

Rhett was loving, kind, when he had his moments of ignorance, he slowed down because he said, “My heart beats for you.” He took care of her, did the dishes because he knew how much she hated them. Folded the laundry because he knows how guilty she feels when she can't fold it for a week.

He was patient with her mental health issues and anxiety, he didn't push her to just magically get better. When all the colors seem to go flat in her world, when she feels like a stranger in her own body. He loves her and reminds her that it doesn't last forever. 

Rhett held her when her heart was overwhelmed with sorrow for not being conventional. She didn't want to be hard to be around and he reminded her that she's not. 

But what if she kept doubting herself then he wouldn't want her anymore, she wasn't strong enough for him.

The last couple days all she could do was lay in bed, her skin almost congealing to the sheets, rotting from the inside out with anguish for her lover to come home. 

It was like something was eating at her, tearing down her walls of tolerated solitude to show her true feelings that lay underneath. 

A deep insecurity that she would not be enough for him, an intrusive thought told her it was more about wanting to know what he was doing- not his actual company. That it wasn't love, but obsession eating at her composure, proving she could never truly be in love or be loved.

The stupid thoughts that appear like acidic bubbles, when her finger presses into one, even tempting the surface it can latch on and disintegrate any strength she tries to hold out.

To tell herself she isn't love sick, because even if his absence is the trigger, it isn't the ammunition or the shooting off. The pain with Rhett’s absence was being used as a mechanism for her mind to push the one she loves the most away. 

She can't emotionally grasp the gentle, sweet, cowboy who always came into the house with a smile on his face, even if it didn't reach his eyes, “Gotta smile for my girl.” 

She doesn't want her thoughts to make her ambivalent about Rhett. She didn't want that ache in her bones that resembled the icy chill of a plague. 

God she couldn't wait for that. It was like watching paint dry, unproductive and boring. Though it felt a hindrance in her heart, an ache in the chambers, lungs buzzing with bees, not a flutter or not suffocation. 

Then he called, her heart soaring, “Hi, baby.” Rhett’s deep western drawl greets, she sniffles, a tremble in her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I miss you, a lot. I don't mean to be emotional.”

“It's okay to be emotional, I miss you too, baby, so much. I’m coming home tonight, it'll be late or well early but still.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” he hums. 

The hours felt like days, she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, she just sat and watched movies on TV. Not quite paying attention, her head lightly lulled to the side, a tired look in her eyes that weighed her shoulders down. She didn’t want to fall asleep until he got home but at last she was failing, passing out on the couch. 

She wakes up to the creaking of the front door, her eyes flutter open, but she isn't cognizant. 

Rhett steps inside, throwing his bag to the side, looking over at his girl as he hangs his keys on their hook. He shucks off his boots one by one, impatient as he hurries over to her side with a confident stride.

When he gets to her, he's careful to slide into her as she wakes up, “Rhett!” she cries, lurching forward and wrapping her arms around him.

“Hi baby.” he sighs, cupping the back of her head with his other arm around her body. She presses her face into his neck, the faint smell of his travel cologne, deodorant, like he’d been in the car for hours. “Honeybee, I got you.”

She doesn't move holding him tight, Rhett didn't seem to mind as he petted her head. “Don't let me go.”

The throbbing in her chest eases with his embrace, like he just squeezes all the pain away even if it just for a moment. She wonders if she’s too much, if he could feel how she feels when Rhett melts into her, would he think she’s insane?

“I won't.” Rhett draws, husky, hot breath washing over her ear. 

Her limbs felt heavy as she clung on to him, like a magnet fused to its opposite part, different strength but meant to stick together. She didn't want to let him go, and Rhett’s hands soothe down to her hips. Before lifting her to properly sit on his lap, knowing exactly what she needed. 

She didn't care if he smelt kinda sweaty and musky, it was Rhett and that was all she wanted. Needed, like blood needs oxygen, like the sun needs the moon. It was natural, the way the world spun and how flowers bloomed. 

Rhett could feel a wetness soak his shirt, little did she know how it soaked into his marrow to make his heart quiver. He wishes he could solve this pain, but it wasn't a problem to be solved, it was how Y/n lived her life, even if she didn't want to. 

Her soft heart and intense emotions were a part of her, even with pain laced into inevitable things, he saw the beauty and strength in how she battles through it. 

Bob is beyond sweet, so maybe truly, it wasn't a him problem. It was probably her, her attention span or her anxiety flaring at the slightest abnormability of everything not clicking right away.

It's weird because it did click! Through text, face time, but now....

She was nervous, he was nervous, she couldn't really blame him for not talking when she didn't know what to say either. Those blue eyes alone could probably bring her to her knees, but she needed more, she didn't do one night stands, and certainly didn't want that with Bob.

They were at the local Mexican restaurant that she had been going to since she was a kid. She had been nervous about meeting up so he drove about fifteen minutes to her hometown.

She got her classic chicken and rice with flour tortilla's, an upgrade from when she was a kid when she would ask for corn dogs or shrimp and rice and only picking off the shrimp. It was growth, her palate expanding through the years, and Bob had gotten the same.

She wore tight black leggings, her oversized red flannel, not super flattering as it went over her butt and hid most of her body. But she had a couple buttons at the top loose, which she noticed the fleeting glances from Bob, that made the tips of his ears pink.

There were always nerves when it came to dating, a lot of the times she never actually met the person she was talking to because she was nervous they wouldn't find her attractive in person.

She's always been a bigger girl, she worried that this was what this was about. That yeah maybe she had big boobs, maybe he didn't expect much of this.

She broke the silence as they finish eating, feeling awkward, "Bob, uh, is everything good? You aren't...say much...if you regret this, I understand, I know I'm not..."

"What?" Bob questions, confused, "I'm sorry, I just don't want to say the wrong thing," he trails, glancing down at his plate, quietly tapping his fingers against the table. He stutters through the rest, "I really like you, and sometimes I just...trauma dump too early, we talked about so much over text but there were things I didn't tell you. Things that might make you change your mind about me." He grew red all along his chest, cheeks, and ears, giving her a wobbly fake smile.

She goes soft, her anxiety dimming, shoulders relaxing as she stretches her arm across the table to slowly calm the tapping that grew faster, soothing his fingers.

Bob looks at her with starry eyes, "You can always open up to me," she promised, giving him a real, reassuring smile, hopefully conveying that she can be trusted, "I'm not going to judge you, I mean I came from crazy, I have my own things," she shrugs, "We are all in some ways, some people are judged for it, others get away with it...I'm not here to do either, I just know it can be intense. God sorry, I'm not your therapist, I've just done a lot of therapy..."

He dips his chin, cracking a bashful grin, making her feel all tingly inside.

Bob glances around, making his voice smaller, "I um, won't go into too much detail here, but um my dad was really abusive growing, along with just drinking all the time...Then uh we got into a car accident, almost killed me and it did him...My mom wasn't with us. I um got addicted to morphine and just everything fell apart after that. I dropped out of school, got kicked out of the house. I um I was a drug addict from twelve to twenty two... got arrested a few times, and then I had a really bad manic episode that landed me in the mental hospital. I was mandated to check in with my probation officer, go to support group, attend therapy. I didn't have insurance or anything but it was court mandated...I'm surprised I just didn't get thrown into jail but they diagnosed me with Bipolar and I've been completely sober for three years. I uh got help when I was twenty one but...I still struggle off and on, nothing big or major, but I almost got everything taken away when the drugs induced a manic episode-jesus, I said I wouldn't say a lot but I said a lot."

He cringes at himself at the info dump, but she doesn't remove her soothing hand, a glint her eyes as pets at his fingers. "It's amazing that you're sober, my parents were alcoholics...I...It's not the same but it can be really hard to not give into it because it's all we knew..."

Bob nods his head slowly, a thickness in his throat from the fact that she did understand him, "I uh, I'm on some prescription medication that they track pretty closely. I got off probation last year, early...I still go to group, and regular therapy...But my meds have really helped."

"I um...have you ever heard of borderline personality disorder?"

"I have, loosely..."

"Well I got diagnosed when I was nineteen, along with PTSD and autism..." her eyes widen, "I'm not saying that to be like I have it worse at all, but, I'm overthinking and it isn't the same but they're both intense...Things can flip on a dime for me, one moment I'm fine, the next I snapped, or I'm annoyed, or crying, or laughing so hard I can't breath. It's...confusing to a lot of people when they see it."

"I understand," Bob hums, his thumb had moved to the crevice of her own and her pointer finger, soothing. "I know why I didn't say anything but why didn't you?"

She glances down, sighing, "I mean, I know it's a personality disorder but I use to kinda open with that, warn people, attract the weirdoes or abusive people...or people who instantly thought I had to be abusive or obsessed with them...Because a lot of people don't understand it. So along the same lines but I just...didn't want you to only see that because I'm trying really hard not to only see that."

"God, I wanna kiss you right now." Bob utters, passion lacing his voice.

She giggles, both of their cheeks hot, her teeth skims her bottom lip. "Well you gotta wait." she teases while slipping her digits between his. "They make really good fried ice cream here, do you wanna try it?"

"Sure." he nods, a giddy smile on his face as he glances down for a second, when he meets her eyes once more, he's flushed red.

"I really like you too, by the way...." she smiles.

note: ahhh, lmk if you guys like the short not edited stuff, I have other ones I have written as more of practice but don't know if I wanna post...

Self-Harming: Regardless of if Bob has a history of it or not (which I HC he does, because look at the way he harmed himself in the movie - not just physically but also mentally) he understands and is going to be there for you.

Suicidal Thoughts/Ideations/Attempts: Bob canonically has a history of this. Ideation in the vault. Attempt when he went after the void (I will forever see that as an attempt: self-harm is when there is no intent to kill yourself, a suicide attempt is when there is that intent, regardless of whether or not what you're doing can actually result in that. I definitely read Bob beating the Void not just as him wanting to hurt the Void but to STOP it, to make it go away, to kill it. And the Void IS Bob. To kill the Void would be to kill himself).

The way I always imagine it is this:

He walks in on you doing it, SH or an attempt, and he's on you immediately. He's grabbing your wrists and stopping you from continuing to lay a hand on yourself. He isn't going to let go no matter how much you try and pull away from him or how much you cry and tell him to let you go and leave you alone. Does he respect your space? Yes. Does he not want to smother you or be too overbearing? Yes. But this is way different. Now your safety is at risk. This is when he breaks the rules and the boundaries. He has to. He can't talk to you gently right now. He can't sit there and wrap and arm around you and just hold you. He's not going to reach through to you with gentleness, you're in a crisis, you're not thinking rationally. No, now he has to do something, even if you don't like it at the moment.

So he stops you. Physically stops you. And he holds you. No matter how much you try to push him away he doesn't let you. No matter how many hurtful things you say to him he doesn't leave. He knows you're verbally hurting him only as a way of hurting yourself. It doesn't make the pain for him less (and this hurts him so much, to see you hurting like this, and to hear you saying the words you're saying even when he knows you don't mean it), but he endures it. For you.

He will sit with you and let you break apart on him. When the self-directed hate dissipates and is replaced with so much sadness. When you go from being angry to crying. He holds you. He lets you dig your fingers into his skin as you cling to him. He lets your tears and snot soak his shirt. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head and says, “It's okay,” and “I've got you, you're gonna be okay,” and “I'm here. I love you.” He repeats these words like a prayer. He repeats it over and over again like if he just tells you enough times you will understand exactly how much love for you he has, how much it would devastate him if you hurt yourself or if you were no longer there with him, and that it will make you never ever think of doing it again.

You'll say “sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bob.” It's compulsive, you just can't stop apologizing. Once the apologies taper down and you talk - about all the things you feel, the dark thoughts, and the despair, and the hopelessness, and the pain, and how tired of it all you feel - he listens in silence. He doesn't interrupt. He lets you get it all out, the cork has popped and the bottle has overflowed and he is letting you empty it completely.

You're exhausted after, emotionally and physically drained. You slow down. Once you're fully calm Bob lets you go. He wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. He gets up and grabs water and paper towels, some damp and some dry. He wipes down your cheeks and goes over your forehead just to help cool you down and make you feel better with one of the damp ones. He gives you the rest and lets you blow your nose and wipe down the rest of your face. He gives you the dry ones to pat the water off your face with. He gives you the water to drink.

If there are wounds he will tend to them.

He asks you what you want. Food? Sleep? To just lay in bed with him holding you? Whatever you choose he's on it.

Mind you, Bob is just a regular guy (Golden Sentry Serum excluded). He loves you and he is there for you. He knows exactly how you feel. But he is not a trained counselor nor is he trained in crisis intervention. He also doesn't have a well of healthy coping mechanisms to pull from. He can only help you by doing the things he would want someone to do for him if the roles were reversed. And they have been, he has had his moments where it is you who is holding him while he is breaking down in your arms.

But.

Bob will call for help if needed. He would hate to. He's been on the receiving end of the Baker Act before, he knows it fucking sucks.**

It would be an absolute last resort and used in an extreme circumstance. He would try and help you off that ledge himself or with additional support first before getting outside forces involved. He would call the others first, if they were close enough. He would have them come and help him comfort you - to have them come help you. And they would.

But they are also not trained professionals and they also have their own demons that they struggle to cope with in healthy ways.

So yeah, it is an absolute last resort. For when it's bad enough that not even he can shut down the noise in your head. When it's bad enough that the second he leaves you alone for more than a few minutes you're going after yourself again. When it's bad enough that he would have to sit and watch you 24/7 in order to make sure you don't do anything. He's one man. He can't sit with you every second of the day and night. He would call the others to help but he knows that it's not going to solve anything if they just sit there and ignore the underlying issue and hope that it just goes away. He knows, as much as he wishes he could, he can't just love all that pain away. It just doesn't work that way.

And of course that Last Resort becomes the First Thing he does if you have hurt yourself in a way where you need medical attention. There's really no other option at that point.

But Bob is there for you. In the ways he is able to be. He just wants you to be safe. To be okay.

“In a van? I’m aware, it's all this town could talk about when you first got here.” Gossip ran rampant in Sowell Bay. Folks loved to act as if a newcomer was a rarity and Cameron Cassmore had given them plenty to talk about. He’s single handedly kept this town entertained for nearly a month now. You had heard things, about someone owing him a lot of money, how he seemed to argue with nearly everyone he met.

At open mic night, his demeanor was different. Less guarded. Probably helped that Tova was there, proving to everyone that this guy wasn't some dangerous drug dealer or whatever the rumor mill came up with this week.

Yeah, he was still awkward and needed a woman old enough to be his grandmother to strike up a conversation. After a beer or two, he had relaxed enough that Tova made an excuse about needing to leave (not before sending you a very obvious wink).

At the very least, Cameron would be a good time. If he could stop tripping over his own words.

“Oh, yeah.” He was clearly uncomfortable with the gossip surrounding him. Granted, it's not like he tried to fly under the radar, "It's not bad or anything. I mean, the heater doesn’t work but I have a ton of blankets. If you're cool with that, that is.”

He doesn't want to take you back there, it's clear as day. So you offer him an alternative.

“We could go back to my place if you want.”

He nods, “Yeah. We could do that.”

Cameron is silent in your car though his body can't seem to stay still. He alternates. First, fidgeting in the passenger seat, shifting his hips like he's trying to get comfortable. Knees bending despite there being plenty of room to accommodate his long legs. Then he’ll run a hand through his hair, once, twice before moving on to fingers. Tracing over his many tattoos, finding something on his nails to pick at.

“Been awhile?” Your tone is light, well meaning. And yet, one would think you had just accused him of murder.

“No. Actually. Uh, before I came here I had a girlfriend. Not that she's still my girlfriend, we broke up before I left. But we did…it pretty regularly. So no, it hasn't been a while. I mean, it's been a while since I hooked up with someone but that's just more of a situational thing. Totally doesn't impact my ability at all, if that's what you're wondering.”

Alright, that was kinda a lie. The last two months of his relationship with Katie, things had cooled off in the bedroom. She was always tired or something. And it had been almost two months since he arrived in Sowell Bay so…four months and some change. But the last thing Cameron needed was for you to think he couldn't deliver. You were cute, you actually approached him at the bar. When was the last time something so serendipitous happened to him? He couldn't remember. So he had to play it cool and he'd like to think he was doing an alright job at it.

“Hooking up with someone you barely know is really different than having sex with your girlfriend. For all you know, I could be a serial killer,” you were joking but the way his eyes widened again, it was clear he was in over his head and your comment did not help.

“I'm not. Besides, too many people have seen us together. You also have a job that requires you to be punctual. So if you go missing, it'll be noticeable immediately.” Oh God, you were scaring the poor kid, “Sorry, I listen to a lot of true crime podcasts.”

He laughs and for the first time since he sang on stage, the facade breaks. His shoulders relax, a crooked smile forms on his face. The corners of his blue eyes slightly crease. Its really fucking cute.

It lasts until you pull into your driveway.

“You live here?” Cameron asks, incredulous at the sight of your townhouse.

“I mean, I rent it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It makes Cameron feel slightly better, feel less like a loser who lives in a van. But once his feet hit the gravel, his body tenses up. He’s going into your house. You live in a house and you’re his age. A nice house, all by yourself. And what does he have?

He just needs a little more time. That’s all he ever needed. A little more time, and he’ll meet Simon Briggs, get eighteen years worth of child support, buy an actual car, pay back Aunt Jean, and then rent out a nice place. Maybe he’ll even have enough for a down payment for a house or maybe a condo. Yeah, a condo with a patio. Nothing like the shitty one bedroom apartment he lived in with his mom until she-

“Cameron?” Your voice breaks him out of his racing thoughts. Somehow, he got to your porch, feet just steps away from the door like he’s a fucking vampire waiting to be given permission to enter. You’re in the doorway, not quite inside your home but not outside either.

Anxiety is practically pouring out of him. It was endearing though. So you take a step forward, grasping his large hand into yours.

“It’s been a while for me too,” You confess.

“What? No, I just told you-” You don’t let him finish the blatant lie. No amount of eye rolls would do the trick, so you let your lips shut up his. There’s the distinct remnants of whiskey on his lips. They’re surprisingly soft. He doesn’t exactly scream ‘guy who applies chapstick regularly’. He’s rusty at first, body stiff. His nose smashes into yours, as though he doesn’t know where else it could go. Cameron’s fingers twitch, as though he wants to move them but just doesn't know where.

The last month before the breakup, all they had done was exchange quick, tight lipped kisses. Looking back, it was clear Katie was looking for any excuse to break up with him. It was even clearer that Cameron hadn't passionately kissed someone in a fucking while.

Just when he remembers what to do with his damn hands, you pull away. That was a total shit kiss, like did he even do anything besides stand there? Cameron should just go home before you ask him to-

“Let's go inside,” you give his hand a gentle squeeze before leading him into your living room.

“You have a fireplace in your house?” he stares in amazement and if he hadn't dropped the fact his mom was a drug addict who abandoned him, you would be confused by his reaction.

“It's really common in the houses up here. Gets cold in the winter and there's plenty of trees.” He continues to stare at it, like it’s hypnotized him. Reminding him of all the possibilities he could have had in his past. In the present.

“Why don’t we go to the couch?” That’s when it hits him. Why he’s here.

He doesn’t want it to be a one night stand. Yes, that would be much easier. But talking to you is nice. You don’t treat him like an idiot. You don’t listen to the gossip that swarms this town. You’re cute, but also sincere. There’s a calmness to you that he yearns for. Always had, if he really thought about it.

So he lets you lead him over to the couch and sits down first. It gives him more time to gather his thoughts, more time to plan how he’s going to convince you that he should be more than a one night stand. He doesn’t have the money to take you out to a nice restaurant-do those even exist in Sowell Bay or is it all family style restaurants where everyone knows everyone? And he could, if he dipped into his paycheck. Or maybe he could take you out on a picnic. Tova probably had a picnic basket he could borrow, she seemed like that type. He could get sandwiches from Ethan at a discount and it wouldn’t give you food poisoning as long as you ate it the day of.

“You think really loudly,” you giggle, running a hand through his soft hair. It’s mused from his earlier fussing with it and the ends are beginning to curl, “It’s really cute.”

“It is?” His eyes are wide and bluer than the ocean. It's the fact he's genuinely surprised by the comment that gets you.

Aw.

“Also if you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay, like really. We could just watch a-”

“No! I mean,” he clears his throat, clearly a nervous habit, “I’m fine. I’m not nervous. It’s not like I’m a fucking teenager and it’s my first time.”

You straddle his waist, much to Cameron’s surprise, “It’s just your first time in a while with a stranger, right?”

“I mean, there was one time me and my ex were on a break-”

Nope. You weren’t listening to this. You tugged on his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Before another excuse could fall from his lips, you pressed yours against his. This time, Cameron remembered what to do with his fucking hands. They reached for your shoulders, helping you push off your jacket. It landed on the floor, somewhere. He could pick it up for you later, if he remembered.

His hands skimmed across your back, landing at your hips. He really wanted to grab your breasts, he had been trying not to stare at them all night. But that would be too much too soon.

At least he's a better kisser this time. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and a low sigh escapes your mouth. Cameron wants to hear it again. Like now. He's never felt this need so badly, to know you're enjoying it as much as he is. He wouldn't call himself a selfish lover, it was just never a driving force behind his actions.

He gives your hips a tentative squeeze and you shift in his lap, aligning your core with his crotch. You don't notice it at first, but then his mouth is exploring your neck and it feels really good. But this time when you shift, you can feel his erection pressing against your clothed core and fuck he’s already this hard from kissing?

Cameron is painfully aware how pathetic it looks to be this hard from a make out session. But you keep letting out these soft moans every time his teeth find your pulse point below your jawline and it's the hottest sound he's ever heard. He wants to hear it again, more than he wants to thrust his hips upwards to get some relief.

You grab his hair again, giving the ends a tug so he's forced to look up. He's pretty like this. Hair curly, pink lips slightly swollen. Adam's apple bobbing hard in his throat. Curious, you rolled your hips against his and his head tips back. His teeth are biting down on his bottom lip hard.

You could make a comment about it. But then he'd probably try to make an excuse, try to explain it away. And you don't want that. So instead, your mouth attaches itself to his neck and you continue to grind against his erection, having never been more grateful to be wearing a dress. Even though there's still two layers of fabric separating your bodies, you can feel how hard he is. His cock twitches against your covered core and it makes you want to swallow him whole.

You continue to rock your hips, delighting in the strained, breathy groans that fall from his mouth. Cameron can't help but jerk his hips upwards when your teeth sink into his neck. Fuck, you're marking him. He hasn't been this excited about a hickey since ninth grade. He can hide it with his hoodie, or maybe you want others to see?

Maybe you wouldn't mind if he gave you one? The thought thrills him. He's certain by tomorrow morning the whole town will be talking about how the two of you were seen going home together. But you didn't seem to care about that or the fact he lived in a van. So maybe you wouldn't mind if he marked you?

“Should we um…go to your bedroom?” His voice is strained, broad chest practically heaving. His hands are gripping your ass and unfortunately it's not because he wants to cop a feel. The reality is Cameron needs you to stop grinding against his cock because otherwise he will one hundred percent come in his pants.

You nod, leading him up the stairs. Cameron has to bite his tongue so he doesn't comment on the fact your place has three levels. Of course it does. You have your shit together, for a while now. And it's obvious he doesn't. He was also close to coming in his pants like a damn teenager.

He wants to see you again. But that won't happen if he's gawking over the fact you have an office and coming in his pants. You didn't seem to pay any mind to the gossip surrounding him but you've still heard it. He needs you to see that he's not some loser who lives in a van down by the river. He has potential, always had, the circumstances have just never been right and they're so close to being that.

He just needs a little more time.

Right now, he can't do much over the fact that locating Simon Briggs is harder than finding a needle in a haystack. But he can give you an unforgettable night. He can prove that he's worth keeping around, even if it's just for a tousle in the sheets.

So instead of ogling at your breasts, which look amazing in your lacy bra, he's studying your face as his fingers curve inside of you. He's listening for your breath to hitch, for you to let out one of those sweet moans so he knows what he's doing is actually bringing you pleasure.

Cameron has never thought so hard about this. Usually he considers fingering just part of the ‘warm up’, nothing too special. But what if he's bad and that makes you reconsider? If he can't use his fingers right, how could you expect him to pleasurably use…other parts of him?

His thumb draws a circle on your clit and he notices how your back arches off the mattress. Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Yeah? You… you like that?” He winces. It sounded sexy in his head. But it comes out unsure and clunky. Usually he's the quiet type. But he's heard that erotic audio has become a big thing lately, so women must like guys who talk during it.

“I think you should get a condom.” Your voice is even and that worries Cameron. Shouldn't you sound a little more out of breath? Oh God, does he suck at this? Was Katie just faking it this whole time?

“You, you sure? I can keep going if you want.”

“I'm ready and it seems like you are too.” You're referring to the fact he's painfully hard in his boxers. At least he remembered to do laundry yesterday, the last thing he needed was for you to see him in a ratty pair of boxers that had more than an acceptable number of holes in it.

“Do you need one?” You run a hand through his curls to get his attention.

“No, I'm good. Absolutely have one. Cause why wouldn't I?” He nearly trips over his shoes to get to his pants and he hopes that maybe, just maybe, he has a condom that hasn't expired in his wallet.

Fuck, he doesn't. Because why would he? Katie was on the pill and despite everyone assuming he's a fuck up, she was the only one he was with for the past year.

“If you need one, second draw from the right.” Cameron looked to find you sitting up, legs to your chest.

“I usually have one. It's just been a while since I needed one. My ex was on the pill and I'm totally clean. I don't just walk around, putting my dick in everyone,” Jesus Christ, why did he say that? “What I'm trying to say is I don't want to get someone pregnant. I’d make a terrible parent.”

“I don't know you well enough to agree or disagree,” you chuckle, “But it's okay. You're fine, I promise.”

Cameron can't help but feel a pang of disappointment run through his body when he finds an opened box of condoms. Obviously you two aren't dating, you were free to fuck whoever you'd like. But that meant….you were free to fuck whoever you'd like.

He could be impressive, leave you wanting more. He'd like to think he’s decent at the whole sex thing.

Just needed to get this stupid condom on.

“I got you,” your voice is soothing. Cameron watches as your fingers roll the condom down his hardened length.

He has to make this good. Hell, unforgettable. You have a real, adult job (what it was exactly, he couldn't say at this current moment), and live in an actual house. Cameron knew he had a lot to offer, probably. But in this moment, he needed to wow you, make you want him back. Then he could prove he can be more than just a one night stand.

“You okay? Breathing kinda heavy.”

He doesn't respond back. If he does, he’ll just make up some excuse and that's the last thing he needs. Cameron surges forward, mouth crashing against yours. You're taken aback by the sheer force of his kiss.

One of his hands cups the nape of your neck, the other lays against the small of your back. He uses his hands to gently press you down against the mattress. You look like an angel among the pillows. A really sexy angel.

Focus.

His nose nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume. You smelled really, really good but he knew admitting that would make him look like a fucking weirdo. He wouldn't mind this, his body on top of yours, face buried in your neck.

Maybe afterwards.

For now, he grabs the base of his cock and guides it to your soaked core. The gasp you let you when his cock drags against your folds is music to Cameron’s ears. He still has it. One bad breakup didn't ruin his game.

You can feel every inch of him like this. The fat head of his cock rubs against your clit and you can't help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Sound really pretty when you do that,” Cameron says against your neck, “Gonna make you do it a lot tonight.”

“Y-yeah?” You try to chuckle but it's really hard when he’s rutting his cock against you. So instead you rake your nails across his inked biceps.

Usually Cameron doesn't talk. He’ll grunt occasionally, particularly when he's close to coming. But you don't need to know that.

“Yeah. Gonna make you feel good.” Every gasp and moan that fell from your lips motivated him.

“If you k-keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” you grit between your teeth.

“Want to come with me inside you?” You nod and Cameron has to fight the urge to raise a fist. He's doing this, things are actually going well.

He stills his hips and guides his cock down to your entrance. He sinks the tip in and holy shit, it feels like you're pulling him in, you're so tight.

“F-fuck. Bigger than I expected.” He should be walking on cloud nine with that compliment. Yeah, he always knew he was above average in that department. It's still nice to hear, puts some pep in your step. But Cameron can't because he's too busy trying not to come immediately. You're just so warm and feel incredible and yeah, it has been a long time.

So he stills his hips again, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on your bare chest. Fuck, your tits. They somehow looked even better without the lacy bra. He couldn't stop himself, bringing one of your breasts to his mouth.

The action causes his hips to move forward, his cock to sink another inch deeper. Your fingernails have become well acquainted with his back, leaving half crescent marks scattered across his shoulders.

You feel incredible. Actually, incredible was an understatement. It's taking everything in him not to fill you to the brim, to not come immediately.

He slowly pulls out, just a little. Then he thrusts back in and shit. Shit shit shit. This is fucking amazing. You were so tight and warm. His hands find the backs of your thighs and he pushes your legs closer to your chest. He doesn't think he can do that whole “your legs over his shoulders” thing because who the hell is that flexible besides gymnasts? So this seems like a good compromise. Plus it makes him look like he can take charge.

So he does and fuck, this is a terrible idea. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, something he didn't know was possible. With every kiss you press against his lips, Cameron finds his brain becoming more and more cloudy. The only thing he can focus on is this need to fuck you, to make you moan, make you come. He needs it desperately.

“F-feel s’good,” his words are slurred, which is odd considering he only had two beers, “Gonna make you feel better.”

But also you feel so fucking incredible. He can't deny that either. You're warm and tight, so fucking tight. Your walls grip his cock and has he ever had sex this good? He needs to focus, you have to come first, but you feel fucking fantastic and oh God, you just clenched around him and fuck. No, no, this was not happening, this could not be happening.

“F-fuck, wait!” He tries to warn you, tries to pull out. But your legs are wrapped around his waist and it's too late. His hips are jerking forward uncontrollably and he can feel himself coming coming into the condom.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck!

He's pulling out before you can process what just happened. It's not until you see him taking off a now very full condom that it hits you.

Oh.

Honestly? It was hot. You never had that kind of effect on a guy before.

“Sorry, I um,” his face is bright red, “I-I’ll leave.”

“Why?” He paused, boxers barely on, “B-because I just came after two minutes of sex like a fucking teenager?”

You shrug, “I thought it was hot.”

His blue eyes widened, “You did?”

Nodding, you prop yourself up against your pillows, “Yeah. You were really into it, which was honestly refreshing. Most guys try to act like they're above it. I liked that you’re enthusiastic. I like that I made you feel that good."

He's staring at you like you just told him a mind blowing secret. A million thoughts are running through his head.

“Really?” Is all Cameron can get out. He's standing in the middle of your bedroom, clad only in a pair of worn boxers. His chest is rising up and down rapidly, like he just ran a marathon" "You don't think it's like, beyond pathetic?"

“Really,” you assure him, “I’d hate to see you leave so soon. We could still hang out or-”

“You want me to stay?” he sounds incredulous. Is such a concept that foreign to him? You knew there was more behind the sarcastic comments and eye rolls. Just weren't expecting it to be such….lonelieness.

“I would love for you to stay, Cameron.”

He nods his head, like that four letter word didn't just knock him off his feet. Silently, he moves back to your bed, his lips pressing against yours. This kiss is different. More urgent. Fervent almost. As though he thinks you slip through his fingers if he doesn't.

“You didn't come,” he whispers against your neck, lips trailing down your body.

“It's fine-” Cameron's shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence. His mouth skims over your chest, his breath against your nipples creating goosebumps across your body.

“No. Need-wanna make you feel good,” is all he says before settling himself between your thighs.

Before you could respond, he dived into your heat, eagerly. His tongue circled your clit in deliberate strokes, his eyes glued to your face, watching for every little reaction.

Somehow you tasted sweet and tangy and all too addicting. Cameron saw how your back arched when his tongue found your entrance. He shifted, moving your thighs so they hugged the sides of his face. His cock was throbbing (how, he didn't know) but Cameron didn't care. Every brain cell was focusing on you, making you feel good.

It's how he noticed that while his tongue was making you moan, it wasn't the same as when he sank his cock into you. Not as breathy, not as needy. Fingers. He had long fingers. It's how he was able to learn the guitar and actually be quite good at it.

His mouth moved back up to your clit, allowing his index and middle finger to circle your entrance.

“C-Cameron, please.” Good. Yes. He sank his fingers into your wet entrance. Fuck you were tight. Had he actually obtained any will power, he could have felt that tightness with his cock for longer. But he couldn't harp on that.

He crooked his fingers upwards, trying to find that spot. Normally this wasn't a mission, his fingers and Dick were long enough that they usually ended up finding it without any extra effort.

Cameron couldn't just hope now. He already left a less than desirable impression with how he came after maybe five minutes of sex. He had to prove he was good at this, that he wasn't some jackass who lived in a van and didn't care if his partner came or not. He was good at something damn it and you were going to see that.

All while having this internal battle, you were fighting the urge to claw at his shoulders. No guy had ever eaten you out with this much vigor. His broad tongue drags a flat, wet stripe across your clit and oh fuck.

Your back arches off the mattress, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. He's a quick learner, you'll give him that. He repeats the motion and God, he’s looking at you with such intensity, studying every little reaction.

“F-fuck, don't stop,” and he's a much better listener than he appears because he doesn't. He keeps going, keeps moving his fingers in a come hither motion that feels so good it's making your hips roll upwards. Cameron doesn't seem to mind that you're practically humping his face. In fact, he seems to enjoy it given how his own hips are jerking against your mattress.

“Don't stop. M’gonna cum,” you can barely get out more than several words, much less a full sentence. You expect him to pull away, like most guys do.

Instead, his mouth continues. Your body feels light. There's a warmth that's spreading, seeping into your veins. A band is tightening in the pit of your stomach, tightening with every stroke of his tongue.

His fingers brush against that one spot and you feel the band snap. You start to have a vague idea of what's going on, though it's hazy. Like the fact you can now feel his tongue lapping up your essence, nose bumping against your clit. The mattress is moving, ever so slightly, against the headboard with the way his hips are basically jumping your mattress. There's a wet spot quickly spreading from the crotch of his boxers, but Cameron hopes you have a washer dryer (why wouldn't you, you have a fucking fireplace) he can use. Right now, all he can focus on is the taste of you on his tongue, how addictive it is.

He's chasing after it, desperate. You have to pull his mouth off of your cunt for it to register to Cameron what you were saying.

“S-slow down. It's o-okay,” your breathing is uneven, tits nearly spilling out of your bra and all he can think is,

“Can I..go again? Like keep going? If you want…me to.”

Y/n begins to actually sleep through the night, maybe because she slept next to Rocco every night. Even if things are everywhere, messy, there was a brightness that led her towards her future, she just had to follow it. 

Rocco hones in finishing up the kitchen, Cody stays an extra week with Marina, Y/n decides to go to see them when Miranda tells her to take a day off. Spending the day with her old friend, catching up on Y/n’s love life as Marina pries with all of her heart. She cared for Rocco deeply, and always would, he’s the father of her child. But they always wanted to see each other happy, healthy and if that wasn’t together, she accepted that. 

Miranda was planning a grand opening party for when the new kitchen is done, giving Y/n some of her recipes that she had kept secret. Those were going to be Miranda staples in her menu, she was excited to include someone so important to her. 

The two of them spoke about almost everything, not going into detail but entrusting her with the full story. She had spoken about Rocco in the past briefly, but Y/n hadn’t spoken about him frequently out of avoidance on the subject. Then she came from Christmas four years ago, Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Y/n always had mental health issues, that wasn’t a problem for Miranda, she accepted them, gave her the stipulations with her job. Boundaries on her behavior while on shift, but giving her accommodations that so many others didn’t deny, but never executed. Sometimes she couldn’t help it, she was slower, overthinking, dissociating to try and not feel the emotional overwhelm. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but it was slipping up, forgetting, going blank, human things that couldn’t have a simple explanation. 

“What’s going on, Y/n?” Miranda begins with suspicious eyes, wiping the espresso counter, the grounds swept into her rag before she throws her soapy water. Her white hair tied back in a bun, glasses on the edge of her nose. 

“Nothing?” she replied, shaking off the dissociation before getting back to work, reorganizing the pastries. 

Miranda urges, shaking her head, “No, something's going on, just tell me.” 

“I-I’m just thinking about the past, being around family again, my mother didn’t even acknowledge me. Rocco tried to talk to me but I just told him to worry about himself when he offered me a seat. I didn’t want to talk to him because it makes everything hurt all over again.” she whispers, looking down at her hands, tears rising in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked softly, taking off her glass, tilting her head with a meaningful gaze, “What happened?”

So she told Miranda about what happened that night, how embarrassing the whole thing was, how her heart broke into a million pieces, how she ran away and never looked back. All of the pain she held back, relinquished as she just stopped trying to be something she isn’t. There weren’t the pressures of people she knew’s impression of her. How freeing it felt, until she went back and realized just had badly Y/n missed her family, Rocco-it was so hard not to talk to him, to give into old patterns. But Y/n thought he married one of her friends, he had a baby with her, now they were there and she felt out of place. 

Miranda never gave Y/n her opinion on it, but she also never asked for it, so Miranda just supported her, understanding her emotions. Why she did what she did, wanting to help her in whatever goal she wanted. There wasn’t much she could do right then, Miranda believed some things just needed time. 

There were small things that popped up over time that she came to terms with, that time truly did repair a lot of the damage. Because one thing she had known was she shouldn’t have ever changed, even if that child’s voice in her head fought to be heard. Sometimes it didn’t need to be heard, sometimes she just needed to feel, to let go of what held her back. Anger still festers over time but nothing that couldn’t be dissolved when she was with Rocco. How he actually never married Marina, he hadn’t said exactly why but it made a difference to her. 

Cody came for the last week, where Rocco was finally wrapping up the project, the boy spent a lot of time with her and Miranda. The three of them were baking in Rocco’s kitchen, when Rocco came back to the apartment, they usually always ate with Miranda. Though last week she had given the two more time to themselves. 

Miranda was wary of Rocco at first, and he was too. Rocco hadn’t heard much about Miranda, not because there wasn’t anything to talk about. But Y/n moved on from the past, kept that part in her heart, tried not to touch it because she knew missed Miranda. That when she began to think about that, it hurt, she kept in contact with her, and never meant to never speak about her. But once they planned for her to come visit, she started to talk about her, going on about stories.

How she was the mother she never had, who actually had consistent moods and followed her moral compass. Miranda was in her late sixties, she had been married before, struggled with addiction, failed at being a parent when she was supposed to be. But she made something of herself, she put her whole self into her work and had a successful busy bakery-learned how to reconnect with others again. 

Let’s just say Rocco became a bit intimidated by the prospect of meeting her but also felt grateful. That someone kept an eye out for Y/n all this time, he thought of her being alone in the last decade and it made something hurt in his chest. Especially how he had no idea how to fix that, but he couldn’t, he can’t fix her problems. But he can love her, try to make her happy, and to take care of her. 

Rocco put so much effort into that bakery, to make it perfect for her, he wasn’t trying to make up for anything. But he wanted to fulfill this, he wanted to make her dream come true, he had a gut feeling about it the moment he knew she needed help with her bakery. 

Miranda was walking Y/n through the hiring process, so she wouldn’t be left on her own. After the party, Miranda was going home, planning on visiting again though it just was not scheduled. Y/n was going to miss her but wanted to make a point to reach out to her more. 

The night Rocco had finally gotten all the appliances in, Cody was with Lonnie and Sadie for the weekend. She was eating dinner with Miranda, going over plans for the bakery, for the new hire, a concrete plan for teaching them the ropes, but leaving room for learning and leeway. Miranda reminded her that this was Y/n’s first time doing this, it’s okay to make mistakes, but remember how important this business is to her. It helped calibrate her because her bakery was everything to her, a place where she could try to be free, herself. 

They were just finishing up their meal when Rocco knocked on the door, “Come in!” he opens it, her eyes widened with excitement as she stands up from the table. “So?”

Rocco smiles, sauntering over to her, “So, Y/n, are you ready to come see your new kitchen?”

“Yes.” she giggles, scrunching her nose. 

“Have fun you two, I’ll check it out in the morning,” Miranda nods before heading to the bathroom. 

Rocco comes over to Y/n, his corded arm outstretching towards her, intertwining their fingers, before leading her out of the room. She moves in closer to him, he pauses before he gets to the door, she smiles into the back of his shoulder. Then he reveals her kitchen, pristine, clean, a fresh appliance smell that only one with a renovated bakery could have. 

The excitement coursing through her as she takes in the room in silence, eyes wide, hands clenched tight. Completely forgetting that anyone else was there with her, like she got lost into her own world. There was a large stove, with two glass panel doors, lined with metal, handles jutting out, along with storing space underneath. She could imagine baking muffins on one side, then cookies on the other, wondering how fresh the aroma would be. 

There were silver metal counters along the wall that she could imagine kneading her sour dough. One slick wooden counter that she would chop up fresh fruits for the fall pies she would bring out. A large stainless steel fridge, freezer, she wondered what kind of ingredients she could prepare to store away, how much the customer’s loved her brigaderio’s, and how much space that took up. 

He got new racks that actually have wheels, she walks over to move it back and forth, to feel how easily the wheels glide. She wouldn’t have to drag the old one where the wheels would lock, or catch on a broken tile. Rocco also got two slick sliver industrial size stand mixers, that make genuine tears spring to her eyes. The chance of it overheating with much slimmer, or frying the circuits that looked brand new, she even thought about making something right now to test them out. But she probably shouldn’t.

There was a new black stove with five gas burners, two large sinks with drain disposals, they were deep, and a large hose connected to the top that made cleaning easy. A large metal table that was raised up and long, some high top stools are off to the side, some storage space underneath the table. There was a proofer, along with two smaller dish washers, but still a nice size, side by side.

The lights on the ceiling were brighter, “Oh, here.” he said, using the dimmer on the wall next to the flip. 

“Oh my god,” her hands come over her face as tears stream down her cheeks, “This is everything I could ever want.” she turns around, sobbing as she lurches forward to hug Rocco tight. 

His arms close around her to hold her closer, palm soothing against her back, face dipping into her neck, “I’m really glad you like it,” he coos as she leans back, her hands coming to his face to look into his eyes. 

“I love it so much.” she sighs, kissing his lips, fingers sliding into his hair to pull him closer. “I love you, god I love you so much.” 

He hums into her lips while she grabs him by the labels before dragging him into her office. She locks the door behind her before pushing Rocco against the desk. He laughs at the rough way she handles him, his hands bracing himself on the edge

“I found out how to thank you.” She smiles, colliding their mouths while her fingers undo his belt, fluently plucking the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down. “Then you can take me home, and do anything you want to me.”

“H-home?” Rocco stutters.

She sinks down on to her knees slowly, taking his jeans with them, his cock twitching in his boxers. “Wherever you are, you're my home,” she sighs, palming at him. “Do you want that? To do whatever you want?”

He breathes heavily, jaw uneven, “Y-yeah fuck.” 

“What do you want?”

“Wanna come in that pretty mouth.” He husks, his fingers pinching her chin as she tugs down his boxers too.

His length revealed in the light, long, the curve of him drooping down beginning to thicken and harden. She bites her lip, looking up into his eyes before taking him in her hand. Pressing soft kisses to the side of his cock. 

Rocco’s breathing grows more heavy as she spits on his member, pumping him to life. He grows warmer, more ridge, he was smooth but had a few veins protruding underneath, she soothes the slick down his length. One of her hands pushes up his shirt to see his dark sparse happy trail that starts underneath his belly button and down. 

He looks down at her with his chin tipped, attention completely honed in on her. Those blue eyes dark, half lidded as his mouth drops open in a heavy breath.

Y/n brings the tip of his cock to her lips, kissing the precum that was flowing from the tip. Her tongue peaks out to lick it up before taking him into her mouth. Lulling her tongue around his frenulum as she moans the more she takes him. 

Rocco takes her ponytail in his grip to guide her along his length, she whines taking him deep.

“Taking it so well baby, look at you.” he moans, rolling his head back, curls messily splay out on his forehead. 

She grips his thigh for leverage before pulling off to catch her breath. 

Rocco husks, “How do you like it baby?” 

“So good, Ro. Want more.” she hums, sliding her saliva up and down his dick to coat him before slipping her tongue out to let him in. 

She strokes what she can't take in her mouth, slowly bobbing her head, “Y/n.” he groans, hips bucking into her, her hands come to his lithe hips to push him against the teeth.

Rocco chuckles before taking her hands in his, holding them over her head, “Said I get to do whatever I want, be a good girl and take it.” 

She gags around his length but doesn't relent as she takes him. There's a churning in his gut as he looks at how pretty she is, how eager. How he was ever to get a woman like her who was confident and gorgeous, he could watch her for hours. 

Her palm cradles his balls, massaging them as she uses her hand to stroke the rest of his length that wasn't in her mouth.

“I'm gonna cum.” he gasps, his heart pounding, trying to prevent his eyes from clenching shut because he wanted to watch every second of her. She moans around him, while he shutters.

His thighs tense, mouth opening into an ‘o’ as he groans, cumming into her mouth as she takes all of it. Then swallows without hesitation, she slowly moves up his body, to come level with his face.

“Was that good?” she asked with a small smile, he brushes away some saliva on her chin. 

“You know it was.” he husked, lurching forward to kiss her hard, palms trailing up her back.

“Take me home.” she whispers.

And he does. 

He puts himself back together as she gathers her things in the office. Tomorrow she will be baking all day to prepare for a big party, where she’ll be fully stocked with fresh food. She hoped there was a quality shift, though it was good before she could always do better. She also wanted to add macaroons to her menu along with monster cookies with icing in the middle.

She started planning on the way home, Rocco found it so hot how she got lost in her own world. Completely locked into the flavors, ingredients she would use for certain things, especially after having his cock down her throat. 

Tomorrow morning they would deliver the rest of the new utensils, pans and such. Rocco was ecstatic to give her this, he would always remember the way she lit up when she took everything in. 

She was excited, prepping during the week would look different, she had more storage, she could make more things in bulk. She really hoped this event started something, it was friends, family, and she was practically throwing away money. But Miranda said it's good to build morale and plus it will be open to the public as well. She’ll help behind the counter with Y/n. 

Rocco’s hand rests on her knee, his thumb rubbing against the bone as he listens to his music. She didn't care when she was in this mode, and she usually hogged the aux otherwise. 

When he finally pulls up to his apartment, she stuffs her tablet into her purse before following Rocco up to his apartment. His hand in hers, when he gets her into the door, he presses her against the door.

She gently drops her purse on the ground, as his hands frame her face, Rocco just looks into her eyes to memorize the flecks of color in her iris that made him always feel at home-proof it was really her. Not some part of his imagination- though at this point, he could probably picture her in his dreams. She gazes up at him-like she always has big doe eyes full of want and so in love with him that she'll stay up all night thinking about him.

“You are so beautiful.” he sighs, thumbs caressing her face before he leans down to connect his lips to hers. 

Her palms on his waist, trailing to his back to pull in his body to hers. Rocco smiles into her lips, hand coming to the wall to steady himself. “Patient.” he snips, his teeth skimming her lip.

“What if I'm not?” she taunts, one of her hands cupping his ass as he raises a brow. 

“Then you will be.” 

He grabs her by the hips to twirl her around to press her to the door. His face fits along hers as she turns her head to the side, “You wanna be my good girl?” he presses his erection into her ass. 

“Y-yes.” she whimpers, while his other hand slithering around to grasp her pussy in his palm. He presses his body to hers before turning her around to kiss her hard. 

Rocco backs her up into his room, hands gliding along her body to feel her curves, holding her ass, mouths moving messily. Then his palms come to her shoulders to push her down onto the bed, she sits down, staring up at him. 

He sinks to his knees, long legs crumbling for her, chin rising so he could look her in the eyes. “I wanna fucking devour you until you can’t take it anymore.”

Her knees press together while his palms start on her calves before sliding up her spandex clad legs. “I'm so obsessed with you.” he groans, sliding down her leggings with swift yanks as she lifts her hips for him. 

Rocco sighs at the sight of her naked legs, “Take your shift off.”

“Okay.” she breathes, throwing off her shirt, leaving her in just a sports bra.

“That off too.” he hums, jutting his chin as he splits her thighs apart, tugging and throwing her legs over his shoulders. She moves her elbows to hook out of the fabric of her bra, before he grimaces, shaking his head, “Nah I got it.” 

He slips his palms up her sides before capturing her breasts through the material. Then he pulls it over her head, taking greedy palmfuls of her bare tits, she can’t help but arch into his touch. Rocco looks at her like she was a greek goddess to be worshipped, that glossy want in his eyes that never ceases to drive her crazy. He leans down further, fingers splayed out, his thumb tucked along the other side of her breast. It’s a daunting burn that runs down her spine as his tongue meets her areola, lapping before sucking on her pert nipple, cheeks hallowing. 

Her fingers slipped into his hair, ruffling the strands that were smooth down his head, curled at the ends. She tugs him in closer as Rocco circles his tongue, a moan slips from her lips at the ept attention. He grins against her skin, pulling back to press a kiss along with his saliva, kneading her roughly before switching to the other breast. 

“Ro-.” she whines, bucking her hips into him, feeling the slick that began to spread to her thighs. “You’re-fuck.”

“Is that good? Said I could have anything I wanted.” he hums, pressing a long kiss to her nipple before taking her back into his mouth. 

“Y-yes.”

Rocco’s free hand massages her tit, making her head dizzy from lust, licking at her with utter obsession. Then he buries his face between the crevice of her chest, pecking along her sternum. 

“Please, Rocco.” she begs, squeezing her thighs around him, as his teeth skim along the plush before he starts kissing down her torso. He clasps at her hips before slipping her sweatpants off her body, hands petting at her calves. Before slowly skating up her legs, a smile came over his lips at the patch of arousal soaking through the cotton. 

He husks, “You really liked that,” pressing his lips to her inner thighs along the cellulite, then he llaves at the wet spot. “Almost wonder if I could make you come just by playing with your sweet nipples.” Her thighs quiver once he takes another handful of her tit as he seeks her clit through the material of her panties. 

“I need more, Rocco, I-.”

He spanks the side of her thigh before grabbing her by the hips and turning her around, “Be a good girl, let me enjoy you.” Rocco growls, hiking her ass up in the air, side of his palm spanking her. She pushes her ass back for more, as he grins, leaning down, kissing over the curve of her ass before gently sinking his teeth into the flesh.

“Ro.” she moans, thighs pressing together as he smiles against her skin before trailing down to lick over the fabric once more. 

He puts her out of her misery as he hooks his fingers into her panties before stripping them down her thighs. “You doing good, baby?” his palm soothes against her ass before cupping each cheek.

“Yes.” she said, voice as clear as she could make it with the lust making her voice raw. “I need you Rocco.”

He slaps her behind again, making her whimper, more wetness seeping out, he adjusts her to better see pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” his fingers trail along the wetness, “So whiny makes me wanna give in, I’m so fucking hard for you.” 

He moves back to undo his jeans, “Turn around,” he said, hand coming to her hip to help move to the side. 

“Your shirt.” she whines, moving back on the bed, he watches with a haunting drawl, pushing down his jeans. Then he strips off his shirt, revealing his strong chest, the soft muscles carved into his stomachs, leading to the hair along his adonis belt that she was so obsessed with. 

Rocco moves his knees on to the bed before laying on his stomach, separating her thighs apart. Her fingers come to caress at his hair, as he pecks along her pubic bone before leaning to lick up her entirety. 

She yields to him, gives everything up to him so she could just be here at this moment. Head falling back as he teases her clit with bittersweet tugs of his lips. Rocco has never just taken care of her, he’s always tried to make her feel good, better. That wasn’t going to ever stop, he always wanted to make sure she had what she needed. 

Not that he didn’t like to see her beg for him, it thrilled him, causing a hot churning in his stomach. He can’t help it as he begins to lap at her arousal, that spreads along her folds, down the crevice of her ass. Rocco presses his underwear clad hips into the bed for friction, sensitive from his previous orgasm. 

He begins to ravish her, hungrily slipping his tongue into her wet entrance, before relentlessly sucking on her sensitive nerves. Never-ceasing movements that make her hips cant up into him, cries falling from her mouth. Rocco’s nose flush to her mound, lips separated as the tip of his tongue traces letters into her. 

“Rocco-.” she groans, eyes squeezing shut, clutching on to his hair hard, nails digging in. 

From all the pent up desire from having him in her mouth, all of the kissing and licking-it wasn’t hard to get her to her first orgasm. She shatters with a burning sensation through her lower half, thighs trembling as he presses them into the mattress with flat palms. 

Rocco lowers to lick her cum away with long curls of his tongue, before pulling back to breath, huffing with a satisfied grin on his face. Then he readjusts her, reaching up to grab a pillow, he lifts her hips to stuff it underneath them. 

“Taste so good, need more,” Rocco mewls, darkly, hooking one of her calves over his shoulder before splaying her other out for a different angle. 

When he runs the flat of his tongue up her slit before taking her overstimulated bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Ro.” she sobs, legs quivering as he holds them where he wants them, fingers gently digging into her thigh as a soft warning. He moans into her sex, before bringing one hand up to slide his digits along her sticky vulva. 

“Love how much I turn you on,” he sighs, his hair a wavy mess on his forehead, she runs her fingers through the strands. “You’re my everything, Y/n/n.” he says in a rush breath, before prodding his middle digit into her fluttering pussy, begging to be filled up. 

He easily adds his thick ring finger, stretching her walls as she melts into the green cloudy comforter underneath. Then his mouth joined the mix once again. Her body floating on a cloud as his eyes remain on her with utter devotion to not miss a second. When her own can flutter open, it's a whole other kind of intoxicating to see him devour her with so much passion. Completely wrapped up in her in a way she thought she could only dream of, he wants her just as much as she wants him. 

“Oh god, it’s too much.” she whines, bucking her hips as he pulls off his mouth.

“Yeah? In a bad way or a good way?” Rocco crows, curls his fingers, she clenches, gushing around him. 

She tugs him in closer, “G-good, more.” he hums in response before taking her clit between his lips, pumping his digits in and out of her. “So-.” her vocal cords tremble, “Close-ah.”

A heat washes over her body as she draws closer to another high, he wetly makes out with her sensitive nerves, quickly twirling his tongue. While pressed in just right, before her back arches, body seizes as she cries out. One of his arms wraps around her hips to pull her in closer, fingers leaving her so his tongue to lap up all the arousal. 

“Rocco-please.” Y/n whimpers, huffing out air, he lets her go, his fingers swiping at his wet chin before bringing the slick to his mouth. 

“Hmm what do you need?” he taunts, one of his palms sliding up her belly before caressing her nipples, his other hand coming to pull away his briefs from his skin before snapping back.

She gasps, tilting her head back, “Your dick, I need you to fuck me.” 

“Yeah? God, I can’t fucking wait.” he sighs, peeling off his underwear, throwing them off on the ground before moving to slot his body against her. 

Rocco leans on to one arm, as she clings her thighs to his waist, he lines his cock up with her entrance before sinking inside. She moans, his thick length rubbing against all of those sensitive nerves, stretching her to the point where it was almost too much. He looks at her face, at the way her eyebrows contour with pleasure and how beautiful she looks underneath him. Once his hips are flushed against her, one of her palms soothes up his arm before grasping on to the back of his neck.

Their lips meet in a heavy wet kiss, clicking a few times, slow and absorbing each movement. Then he begins to shift against her, pulling out his member half way to thrust back in with intention. One of his hands cradles her head, he presses his forehead to hers as her hazy eyes look back at him. 

Rocco felt that soaring urge to protect her, to do anything for her, it spread through his chest like wildfire. He knows as he makes love to her that this is the rest of his life, it didn't matter how many times it came over him. It felt like a shock each time, so intense that tears spiked to his eyes as he gently kissed her. 

Apart of him that the could never truly feel secure or safe before, was a light with her, in the memories of being able to love her. To her being all of herself, surrendering to him in a way he felt undeserving of, yet cherished with every part of him. From the moment he saw intimately, even all that time ago, it was locked somewhere deep inside of him. So significant to his soul that he could only piece together now, that he was able to be entirely with her. 

“I love you,” he husks into her lips, littering kisses along her face, taking her hands in his to raise them over her head. 

Y/n looks into his eyes with glassy admission, her hand spans against his shoulder before swiping up to card through his hair. “I-I love you more.” she said, before dipping her chin to connect their mouths. “I love you.” 

Words she was so afraid of for so long, that she was sure ruined everything, it was pleading for more of it. But not being denied, Rocco somehow presses in closer, something that was feral turning into a collision of souls. Of passion that was no longer hungry, but savoring, everlasting, enough that their highs ricochet through them. Making the world feel like it was closing in before completely relaxing, this moment meant for only them. 

---

The next day they were getting ready for the party, Y/n coming back to the shop with Miranda to begin baking. She practically skips into her kitchen, above in love with the space as the plans she had been putting together can finally happen. The space, the appliances, it’s a completely different experience than before. It was baking in her own kitchen, this was meant for her, this was hers, making most of the recipes that she had crafted over time to put her own mark on them. 

She was ecstatic for the party tomorrow night, it was all happening so fast but she couldn’t feel any more prepared. Like things were finally lining up in the way they were supposed to, in a way she believed were just meant to be a part of a childhood dream. They were finishing up tonight's baking, some things needed to cool overnight and solidify, or be prepped with time. 

Rocco shows up with a late lunch, Cody in tow, the four of them eating together before Cody begs to make sugar cookies. Miranda is easy to fold, she was a grandmother, but not close with children made these moments even more special. She so easily stepped into the role with a full heart, as Rocco follows Y/n back to her office, keeping the door open as they enter.

Where he leans against her desk, opening his arms just for her to snuggle into his embrace, hiding her face in his chest. “Been working hard,” he hums, as she nods, arms slithering around his lithe waist to hold him close.

“Just want you to hold me.” she sighs, as he kisses her forehead, closing his eyes as his palms skate up and down her back in affirmation. 

Then they go back out to help Cody decorate the cookies, Rocco taking lessons from his son, while Y/n cleans at the sink. Miranda was doing it but Y/n kicked her out since she’d been on her feet all day. There was a little more baking to be done tonight that she would take care of before going back to stay with Rocco for the night.

The next morning was the final touch on the baked goods, making fresh cookies with the dough they prepped. Miranda kicks her out so she can take time to get ready upstairs, she decides to go with jeans and a cute blouse. She does her hair, makeup, and makes herself feel confident for hosting a party. 

There weren’t going to be many people she thought, the ones she invited, anyone who wanted to join for free baked goods. Then there were people who were in and out during, asking questions, picking out their treats. Along with her family, and friends who came in. She was nervous for the cafe to ever get this busy in real time, but the prospect was also exciting. Seeing the place so full, so many people enjoying her and Miranda’s hard work, along with Rocco’s, Lonnie’s, without them this wouldn’t have happened.

Once it settles the later it gets, people lounging in the chairs, along with the new couch that Lonnie got for the corner of the dining area. She sees Rocco with a donut in his hand while talking to Miranda, who seemed to be going on about something, he still listened intently. Decidingly goes over to him, slipping an arm around his waist, as he grins down at her.

“How’s the party?” she asked, her fingers pinching at the back of his shirt like a fidget.

“It was amazing, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. I’d say you even rival me.” Miranda hums, as Y/n rolls her eyes.

“Well I wouldn’t have been able to do without your guidance, Mir.” 

“But still, it’s a really great party, gonna have to deal with the dad bod you induce.” Rocco cautions as Y/n giggles.

“You’d still be hot.” she said, which made Miranda cringe, waving her hand.

“You two.” she shakes her head before leaving her spot, going off to talk to Marina. 

The room suddenly felt stuffy, his heart and mind were racing, making him feel dizzy. He sat back down on the bed; his elbows found support on his knees as his hands clung to his head trying to calm the rushing thoughts. You had been acting so perfectly normal. How was that possible? Maybe you liked him better with no soul. If he had no soul, he probably wasn’t his broken, tainted self. Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to you other than a good time he had definitely been the one to offer. Or worse; maybe you regretted it.

Sam risked another look at the objects in his hands. You didn’t even know he had taken those pictures, or your underwear. He wondered what else he had done that he didn’t yet know about; what kind of monster he was when his conscience wasn’t there to stop him from just taking what he wanted. Surely, he wouldn’t have forced you; you would have killed him and so would Dean. Besides, you seemed to be enjoying yourself in the dream’s he’d had. You had clung to him, whimpered his name, asked him not to stop. God, just the memory of how soft and warm your skin felt was enough for him to lose himself in a spiral of despair. It was entirely too much; the mix of guilt, shame and persistent need. He didn’t know what to do, how to deal with what he now knew, and he wanted more than anything to know the full extent of what he had done.

There had to be more, something he didn’t know yet, so he searched his mind and the memories he now had access to, trying to find anything else. He did what he shouldn’t have; he tried to remember. Sam leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to roam the memory of you freely for the first time. Slowly, the gaps started being filled, and new moments revealed themselves. The first thing he remembered was you, bent over a table, showing him and Dean something, and how the thoughts he had repressed for years suddenly rose in his mind. Dean scolded him, told him not to go there, but when he saw the way you looked at him fresh off the shower, a hunger took over him, and he knew he had to have you. He navigated through the tortuous recollection of teasing you for weeks, revelling in how flustered he made you, until that night when he first tried to kiss you. You had told him no; told him to go find someone else.

The next scene was familiar. It was the memory from when you had gotten hurt on a hunt and he patched up your leg. Sam noticed how nervous you were, how you tried to avoid his touch, until you finally realized you had no choice but to let him help you. You were vulnerable, and instead of taking care of you, helping you feel safe, he took the opportunity to tease you, to see how far you’d let him go. He remembered whispering in your ear; pouring the shower gel over your chest, and despite the guilt and disgust he felt at himself, he couldn’t help the way his body reacted. A groan escaped him, and he could feel tears build up behind his eyelids. The words you had said to him burned into his mind. “We can’t. I can’t.” You couldn’t. “You’ll regret this when you get your soul back.” His fists tightened, leaving half-moon marks on his palms.

He had asked if you wanted him as much as he wanted you, if you wanted him to kiss you, and you had said yes. How could he live with himself knowing there had been so many no’s before those yes’. You could be lying; you could be scared to say no because you had no idea what kind of monster he had become. But then, he asked if you wanted him to touch you, and you hesitated. A wave of relief washed over him when what followed was a question, and nothing else. “You want Sammy, don’t you?” His heart was pounding in his chest, and it nearly cracked his ribs when you answered yes with tears in your eyes. All he could do was watch himself and pray he hadn’t hurt you as the hazy dream he had had before became a clear memory. He recalled everything through gritted teeth, his body at war with itself between sadness, disgust, lust, anger, frustration; too many emotions to name. It was like everything he should have felt then was flooding him now. That night, you had asked him to stay after, and he left without saying anything.

It had clearly been a while between that day and the following memory; the room was different. Another set of words were seared into him. “You left. (…) when you get your soul back, you’ll hate yourself for it, and me for allowing it.” But it wasn’t true. He could never hate you; especially not for something he had done, and you had clearly tried to avoid.

He had dreamt of other women before, ones he didn’t know, and he realized he must have been remembering random hook-ups he had. What he didn’t understand was why he was remembering that now, until he heard the loud sound of a slamming door and the memory evaporated. You had left because of him, because he was arrogant enough to bring someone to his room and have them shout his name knowing full well you were next door.

The next thing he remembered made him sick to his stomach. It was a feeling; the one he felt when he saw you at the bar flirting with some stranger. Sam didn’t remember ever feeling like that, so angry, so possessive, and it disgusted him. He then broke into your motel room and waited, like some abusive creep, and when you fought, he had the gall to wonder why he couldn’t shake off the need to have you, like it was a nuisance to him. God, it was all so obvious to him now. You were ingrained so deep into him you had taken root in his very bones; the loss of his soul wasn’t enough to be rid of you. His breaths were quick and shallow; sweat beads formed at his forehead, and he was somewhere between unconscious and fully awake.

You were angry at him, and worst of all, you were hurt, and he had just made it worse. He had you pressed between him and the wall, and he could hear all the horrible things he said to you. “If you wanted to hide your feelings you should have done a better job. (…) You shouldn’t have made it so obvious.” Feelings. Obvious. It was so much worse than he thought. Sam hadn’t just used you; he had found out how you felt and used that, too. All the love you had shown him in all these years, the respect, the way you seemed to see through him every time and never ran from what you found; he had thrown it all away. He broke your heart like it was fun to do. And in the end, you were still so brave, still did what you had to, because after he said those words you told him to leave, and that knife he had given you for your birthday once was against his neck. She should have cut my throat; should have killed me on the spot. The last thing he remembered was leaning further in and mocking you.

He woke with a loud gasp, tears already falling from his eyes. Suddenly, he screamed and thrashed, knocking over the lamp on the bedside table. The air didn’t seem to want to stick to his lungs, leaving him dizzy and gripping the sheets as he knelt on the floor, sobbing and trembling.

You heard the sudden scream and the noise coming from Sam and Dean’s room, and immediately grabbed the key they always gave you. Without another thought, you ran next door, barefoot, in nothing but your oversized T-shirt.

“Sam?! What’s going on?” There was worry in your voice as you put the key to the lock. When the door swung open, you saw him on his knees next to his bed. You could see he was shaking and breathing heavily, and immediately ran to his side. “Oh my god, are you okay?” He wouldn’t stop crying and was struggling to breathe; his face was lowered to rest his forehead on the edge of the bed. You knelt beside him and placed your hand on his back, rubbing small circles over it to try to calm him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, just try to breathe.” Those sweet words and the way you spoke them made him release a loud sob, before he finally turned to you, revealing his reddened face and tearful eyes.

“I remembered.” He sniffled as you moved your thumb to his cheek to try to wipe some of the tears away.

“Remembered what?” Although you spoke gently, your brows were pinched together, confused by his statement.

“Everything.” His voice broke as he spoke. “How can you even look at me?”

Your hand fell from his face. The moment you had feared so much had arrived. It had been foolish to think it never would. “I-I’m sorry, Sam.” Your hands settled on your lap, tightly wrapped around each other. Just as he was finally able to catch a proper breath, your apology and the glassiness of your eyes left him baffled.

“You’re sorry?” Sam stood up and paced behind you, panting, making you turn to face him. “Look at what I’ve done; what I’ve put you through. For God’s sake, I hounded you for weeks, I-“ He choked on the words. “I used you! Then I-I fucked someone else where I knew you could hear and chased you down when you left!” He stopped for a moment, bringing his hands to his face and trying to breathe so he could at least speak. “I was a monster to you. How - How can you even stand to be near me?” You froze for a moment; the only sound in the room was his laboured breathing.

Finally, you stood up to sit on the edge of the bed. Silent tears fell down your face, and you leaned your head down, unable to look at him. “I promised I’d be here when you got your soul back. No matter what.”

“Wha- When?” His eyebrows stitched together. “I don’t remember that.”

“It was before… whatever you remembered.”

“You knew I didn’t remember, and you stayed anyway. Why?”

“When Dean called, I didn’t know you wouldn’t remember. All I knew was I had made a promise and I would keep it… even if you did remember everything, and hated me, and told me to leave.” Your elbows rested on your knees, and you covered your face. “When I realised you didn’t remember, I was just so happy to have you back I- I didn’t want to think about what I had done.” You took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I know I shouldn’t have said yes; it wasn’t right.”

He knelt down again, this time in front of you, and gently grabbed your wrists to remove your hands from your face. “Why would I hate you?” How could you blame yourself for something he did? Worse - how could you put all that responsibility on your own shoulders when all he did was hurt you?

“Sam, I was so selfish. I had my soul; there was no excuse.” You sniffled. “I knew it wasn’t what the real you would have wanted. I knew you’d regret it.”

Sam let go of your wrists and fount support in your legs as he sat on his heels and leaned further against you. “My only regret is how much I hurt you.” He let his head fall and buried his face on top of your thighs. “God, how can you ever forgive me?” Turning his head to the side, he let out a small sob. Your hand combed through his hair, and your thumb stroked his cheek, resting there.

“It wasn’t you, Sam. Not really.” He raised his head to look up at you with those wet puppy eyes of his, and you felt his grip on your legs tighten.

“I’m so sorry. I-I wish I hadn’t pressured you to say yes like that.” Despite knowing how you felt at the time, Sam didn’t want to assume you still felt the same after all that had happened. You had never given any sign that you wanted to be more than his friend, which probably meant you didn’t. Clearly, you had more respect for your friendship than he ever did.

“I wanted to say yes. I just –“ You couldn’t tell him. Not like this. Not when he was drowning in pain and guilt. If he knew how you felt, he’d just feel worse.

“I know. I remember.” Warmth crept up your cheeks.

“How much do you remember?”

He gulped “All of it.”

Your eyes widened. “Then- you know-“

“Why you didn’t want to say yes to me then.” Of course he knew. That’s why he was taking it so hard. He knew he broke your heart, and he was about to do it again. “You can’t even begin to understand how sorry I am. I know I’ve ruined everything, and it’s probably too much to ask, but- I don’t want to lose you. You mean too much to me.” He was clinging so hard to you it would hurt if you didn’t want him even closer. “If you ever consider forgiving me, staying my friend - my best friend – I promise to spend my life making up for what I’ve done.” Silence hung in the air.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you spoke. “What if I can’t be your friend?” His grip loosened completely, and his eyes became glossy again.

He hung his head and retracted, sitting back on his heels. “Then-“

“You said you know how I felt, but you don’t. You don’t understand. I never thought we – this – would happen.” You gestured between the both of you. “And I was fine with it.”

“I’m sorry – I-”

“You were gone. Dead. And then you came back, and I was so relieved, so happy. I had never felt more grateful for anything.” You gripped the duvet, trying your best not to cry. “Then I found out you had no soul, and I had to live and hunt with a half version of you.” Sam watched you; his brows pinched with pain. “It was so confusing. He looked like you, sounded like you, knew me the way you do. But he wasn’t you.” Your eyes couldn’t hold the tears in anymore, and when he saw them fall, Sam forgot everything, and instinctively moved to wipe them away from your cheeks. He was so close to your face now, you could feel his scent. “I was weak. When he – you – began to touch me, tried to kiss me, and that night when I got hurt – It was like a sick joke. I loved you so much. I missed you. I just wanted you back.”

“Shh, you don’t have to explain.” Your eyes were closed. You could feel his thumbs rubbing your cheeks, his forehead leaning against yours, and it only made you ache more.

“You – he – knew exactly what I wanted, and I caved.” You sniffled. “I laid our friendship to waste just to have a fragment of you. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. And it was never enough. Because what I’ve always truly wanted was all of you; this you.” A small sob escaped you. “I still do.”  You confessed. His eyes had been shut as you spoke, but they opened at your admission. You felt him pull away, and when you opened your own eyes, his gaze was fixed on you.

“Sweetheart –” He gave you a sad smile, which was interrupted by a huff and a roll of his eyes. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I ruined everything because I never told you – I never understood – it was so much more than just wanting to touch you.” Whereas his breaths were accelerated, yours had stopped all together. “I didn’t lie that night, in the shower. It didn’t start when I got back from hell.” For the first time that evening, the pink blooming in his cheeks wasn’t caused by crying. “I didn’t – I don’t want someone else. I did dream of you. For the longest time.” A smile crept up on him; warm and loving. “I still do.”

 “Sam…” The two of you stood there, facing each other, as breathless as if you had been running. All other words evaded you; the only thing you remembered was his name. He was so close, you couldn’t help but look down at his lips, and when he noticed, he looked back at yours. It seemed like you were both stuck, looking between each other’s eyes and lips. Another word came to you, lighting up in your brain. “Please.” Your voice was barely audible. You were already so close; a simple movement of his head would have brought his lips to yours.

“Please what?” It was a plea for reassurance. Sam’s mind was a whirlwind, and he didn’t want to risk doing the wrong thing.

“Kiss me.” He was so nervous he could hear his own heartbeat become louder as his trembling hand caressed your jaw, before he pressed a finger to the bottom of your chin, lifting it slightly. Your movements were slow, tentative, like you were both scared it was all a dream and needed to make sure it was real. As soon as your lips touched, though, it was like muscle memory. The kiss quickly deepened, and you pulled him flush against you by the collar of his T-shirt. A small sigh escaped you and, at the sound, something took over Sam. The soft tip of his tongue brushed against yours, and he pulled you as close to him as he could. One of his hands held the back of your head, while the other gripped your thigh, and he gently laid you back further into the bed, where he rested on top of you. He was so lost in you, he didn’t even realise what he had done. You opened your legs further so he could slot himself between them, and when you felt him press against you your hips moved involuntarily, making you whine. The feeling made him moan, but it pulled him out of his trance. Suddenly, he was off you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – we don’t have to.”  You grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him from getting up completely.

“Sam.” You pulled him closer, and he let himself hover above you. “Please.” Taking his hand, you slid it down your torso and dragged it over your underwear. “I want to.” He shuddered when he felt a wet patch on the fabric, and his fingers twitched automatically, pressing lightly against your core. You let out a small whimper at the movement. “Need you, Sammy. Please.” The plea made him groan, his head dropping lower. When he had no soul, he had wanted to hear you beg; teased you endlessly just to make it happen. Now, here you were, pleading for him to touch you without provocation.

There was a struggle happening within him between the instinctive guilt and shame of wanting you like that, and the acceptance of his own feelings and desire. He wanted you more than anything, but he needed this time to be different. There could be no doubt in your mind about that. “I promise I’ll stay.” There was a sadness in his voice. As if the memory of his regrets was still present.

“I know you will.” You caressed his cheek and pulled him in for another kiss. This one burnt like fire, all consuming. His hand traversed your body like it was discovering it for the first time, squeezing gently what he learned were his favorite parts. In the midst of the kiss and the soft touch of your skin, he felt himself getting drunker on the taste and feel of you. Sam was breathless, and he had only just begun. You weren’t faring much better. Each time he gripped you, or when his tongue brushed against yours, you found yourself whining.

“Fuck.” He broke the kiss and stood up, panting. “I’m sorry. I just need to see you. Please.” His pupils were blown, hair tousled, lips kiss-swollen. Although this was technically not your first time, there was something about him that made it feel like it was. Even he reacted as if everything was new, and to him, it was. Although his body already knew you, his soul had never seen you like this, never touched you, never kissed you.

“Can I see you, too?” You didn’t know why you felt so flustered asking that question; you had obviously seen him before. But you couldn’t help it.

“Of course.” He conceded, removing his clothes, leaving only his boxers. You kneeled on the bed to face him; your hand running over his toned chest, down to his navel. The touch alone was enough to make him sigh. As soon as he saw you reach for the hem of your shirt, he stopped you. “Let me.” His gaze pierced into you as he slowly removed your shirt, broken only when it slid over your head. “God.” He exhaled. Just like that time in the shower, he twitched when he looked down at you, and oddly enough, it made you giggle. “What?” He asked, worried.

“Your reaction. It was the same as the first time you saw me.” Sam didn’t remember that particular detail.

“I know it’s probably going to sound weird but – it feels like it’s the first time.” His hands held on to your waist.

“It doesn’t.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “It feels like the first time for me too.” With that, your lips found each other’s again, and Sam laid you back down on the bed. His big, heavy hands moved slowly through the newly exposed skin as he left a trail of nips and open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“You’re so soft.” He grumbled, squeezing your hip before grazing his tongue over your collarbone. “God, I want to kiss you all over.” His body and mind were fighting between the desire to have you completely right then and there and savouring you properly. The way you gripped his hair showed you were having the same struggle. His lips latched to your nipple just as his hand moved down to remove your underwear in a swift motion. A loud moan slipped from you when you felt the cool air touch between your thighs; contrasting with the warmth of his mouth on you. He stayed like that for a while, revelling in the small sighs he ripped from you as his tongue and teeth explored every inch of your chest.

You tugged on his hair a little tighter to pull him up for a kiss, making him groan against you. “Sammy, please.” The breathlessness with which you said his nickname almost made him lose his mind. “Touch me.” Your own hand slid down, his muscles contracting reflexively under the graze of your fingers until you reached the band of his boxers. When you finally touched him over the fabric, he whimpered louder than he meant to.

“Baby, you’re gonna kill me.” Sam was already embarrassingly close, but he wasn’t ready to be done. He nipped at your soft skin, unable to contain his hunger, and slid down your body to slot himself between your thighs. Your legs were propped up, and he leaned against one of them to watch you closely. His fingers brushed softly over your mound down to the source of your arousal as he laid kisses to your inner thigh; eyes never leaving your face. That barely-there touch made goosebumps erupt in your skin and mellow sighs slip from your throat. “You’re so beautiful.” He punctuated the compliment by finally touching you where you wanted him most, drawing small, light circles that made your sighs turn into moans. Eventually, his gaze descended, switching between where he was touching and the skin he was kissing. He slowed down for a moment, caressing your lips and the juncture at the beginning of your thigh, which made your head fall back into the pillows with a whine that was both protest and pleasure. “I’m sorry, angel, it’s just – I can’t believe I actually get to touch you.” Another kiss to your leg was accompanied by the most lovesick puppy eyes you had ever seen on him.

Your cheeks were on fire, and you didn’t know what to say. “Fucking hell, Sam. If you keep saying stuff like that you won’t even need to touch me to make me cum.” He tittered at your very unintentional blurt, revealing those sweet dimples you adored so much.

“That definitely won’t do.” He said, bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly teasing it. The feeling made your eyes flutter shut with an exhale.

Your reaction to his touch drained the cockiness straight out of him. His lips parted slightly as he watched his fingers go into you with ease, and he was left in complete awe when he looked up to see your face. You fisted the sheets as you felt his fingers curl inside you, rubbing, almost as if by instinct, against that spot that made a coil tighten in your lower belly. As your moans got louder, he felt himself melt against you, biting your inner thigh to stop his head from slipping straight to your core.

“Mmph. Can I please taste you?” He muttered against your skin. The need was almost too much, his eyes scrunched shut and his brows were stitched.

“Mm-yeah.” You could barely speak between the sounds he was pulling from you; the pressure inside you building up gradually.

As soon as you gave him permission, he dipped down, covering every inch of you in kisses as his fingers curled going in and out of you. Your breaths became deeper and longer, with exhales that ended in moans. His tongue lay flat against you, swiping up and down a few times before it pointed to focus on your clit. “Ah- Sam.” You called, gripping his hair. Sam’s eyes were fixed on the way your face scrunched up in pleasure; how your lips became more vibrant the closer to the edge you got.

“You look so fucking pretty with my mouth on you.” The vibrations of his murmuring rippled through you right before you felt his lips latch onto you, making you cry out.

“Fuck!” The coil was about to snap; he could feel it in the way you tightened around his fingers. You couldn’t keep your eyes open at this point and were doing your best not to snap your legs closed around his head.

Sam could feel your thighs begin to shake. He saw the way your breaths were ragged and closed together, the way your belly contracted; the sound of your moans and cries of his name only adding to the overwhelming pleasure he got from seeing you like that. His hips moved of their own accord in tune with the movement of his fingers and tongue, trying to relieve some of the pressure that kept building under his boxers.

“That’s it, angel. Want to feel you cum on my tongue.” The band snapped with a force you had never felt before. Every muscle in your body contracted, to the point your loud moan became completely silent. It felt like being electrocuted from the inside out, exploding into the longest, most absolute bliss imaginable. He rode you through it, gently but surely, helping to ease the comedown from such a high, long-lasting peak.

When you finally settled, trying to catch your breath, he hugged the thigh he was leaning into and reached for the hand that had been gripping his hair and was now resting on your stomach. “God, you were so perfect.” He looked at you, smiling in awe; his chin still glistening.

“Me?” You huffed, looking up at the ceiling, unable to even let out a proper chuckle. I didn’t even do anything.

“Yeah.” The way he said it, so loving and sincere, with a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, made you sit up with a solemn look. He mirrored your movements and stood back, observing you, until you were on your knees. You reached for him, placing a hand on his cheek, and he immediately pulled you into his lap.

“I love you.” The words brushed against his lips just before you kissed him, coming as naturally as if you had said it a thousand times before. Sam couldn’t help the whimper he let out at your words. His grip instantly became tighter, as if he were trying to meld together with you. You had said it so easily, unprompted, of your own volition, sealing them with a long kiss that told him to keep them – that you didn’t need him to say it back; because that wasn’t why you said it. It only made him love you more.

The ache for you was becoming unbearable. His hands gripped your hips, and you couldn’t help but roll them, feeling how hard he was. His brows pinched in pleasure as he ground himself against you, feeling your lips against the column of his neck. It wasn’t long before his boxers were soaked in you, the friction and kisses only making you wetter. You saw Sam’s pink cheeks, his desperate breathless look, and realised he was waiting for you to tell him if you wanted to go further.

 “Sammy.” There it was again. It was like you knew what saying his nickname like that did to him. He’d give you anything you asked if you just called him Sammy with that sweet, sighing voice of yours. “Need you inside me. Please.” In an instant, he picked you up, pulled his boxers off, and you were back down, drenching his cock even more. Your nails scraped his back at the feeling of his head rubbing against your clit. Neither of you could take it anymore, but you were the one to finally make the move that pushed him into you. A harsh groan came from deep within his chest at the squeeze he felt as he sunk further in. When he finally bottomed out, you both let out long exhales. He could feel the way you fluttered around him, adjusting to the other-worldly stretch you seemed to have forgotten. Sam waited patiently, taking deep breaths to keep himself from moving. You experimented with small movements at first, ones that gradually punched the air out of his lungs. Soon, the roll of your hips became deeper; the position creating the perfect drag of his length against your clit as he went in and out.

Soft moans filled the room as you moved together in tandem at a slow but steady pace. He used one of his hands to grip your flesh and aid your movements while he laid feverish kisses on your lips, jaw, and neck. The movements slowly became harsher and somewhat faster, but your need to feel each other kept you from racing to the finish line. Despite that, the more he felt how wet you were and how much you clenched around him, the more Sam’s ability to hold off his orgasm faded.

“You feel so good, baby – ah – I don’t think I can last much longer.” He admitted through heavy breaths, kisses, and whimpers.

“It’s ok.” You held his chin and looked into his eyes. “You already did so much for me.” A moan interrupted you. “Ah – Thank you f-for – ah – making me feel so good.” Your eyes squeezed shut at the building pleasure. It seemed you were getting close too.

Sam held your face, pulling you in for another kiss as his grip on you tightened and he took control of your movements. “You do - so much more - than that for me.” It was getting harder for him to speak too. “I love you, too, angel.” His face scrunched up in pleasure, and you could feel his hips begin to stutter. You hadn’t expected him to say it back, especially not at that moment. He held you flush against him as he came, and the mix of his words with the feeling of him pulsing inside you, filling you with his warmth, brought you over the edge.  You gripped the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand and scratched at his back with the other; crying out his name.

It felt like you had fused together in that moment, and when you finally came down from your highs, he held you tight and laid you back on the bed with him. Just like the first time, he stayed inside you; lightly rutting into you whenever he felt you clench around him.

“You didn’t have to say it.” You whispered against his cheek following a soft kiss.

Sam turned to you; his thumb caressing your face. “I wanted to.” His lips reached for yours. “Just like I want to stay here, with you.” You couldn’t help but smile. Eventually, he did leave you for a moment; to get a warm wet towel to clean you up so you could sleep comfortably. Once he was done, he settled in next to you, pulling you into his arms and a deep sleep; not even thinking that the following morning, Dean would come in and find you sleeping naked together.

Bob’s search stares him down, the most recent in a string of increasingly pathetic sounding enquiries that had started with how do you know you really love someone? and spiralled into when is the right time to tell someone you love them? and then devolved into how can I tell she loves me back. He’d been hoping to find some sort of manual, maybe; a guide complete with universal phrases and body language to watch out for.

Instead, he’d found vague, realistic, unusable advice.

Did they make you feel safe? How do they show up for you? Can you communicate with them easily?

He’s trawled long-abandoned forums and subreddits for answers. He has the term ‘leap of faith’ burned into every fold of his brain and he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows that he just has to trust that you love him — you’d never indicated otherwise — but there’s something in Bob that doesn’t trust how easy this has been.

The early morning talks while you waited for your final final alarm to go off. The way you listened, never dismissed him even when he knew he was being a bit ridiculous. He loves the way you play with his hands while you talk about your day, turning them over in yours while you talk about clients and slacking coworkers. How easily you accepted his past, and never held it against him when you found out some sordid, humiliating fact from some of his worst days. Walking Angie, game nights with Yelena and Ava, the soft back hugs you gave him while he did dishes where you buried your nose and took a big whiff and then pretended to be offended when he called you a freak.

All the little moments that built until that eight letter phrase sat heavy in his chest, waiting for the right opportunity to be set free.

“You’re overthinking it,” Joaquín tells Bob when he goes to him for advice. “Worst case scenario, she doesn’t say it back because she’s not quite there yet, but that doesn’t mean she hates you or doesn’t want to be with you. You’ve told me all these great things about your relationship and now you’re worried she’ll think you’re too intense… for being in love with her?”

It sounds ridiculous when it’s explained back to him like this but he can’t help the doubt that festers.

“Okay but what if she just isn’t ready and saying I love you now, is too intense. I just need some sort of sign that it’ll be okay when I tell her.”

“She lives with you. She’s practically in your lap every time I video call. She wants to be with you literally all the time and you think she doesn’t love you even a little? Have a little faith, Bob.”

Bob supposes that sounds reasonable. That someone who wants to be with him day in, day out might be in love with him even if they haven’t uttered the specific phrase yet, but he vows to keep his declarations of love to himself until everything’s a little clearer.

Just to be safe.

However, once Bob has acknowledged what he feels, it gets harder and harder to keep it to himself. He wants to say it when you guys are walking Angie and you coo at her every time she finds a new leaf to play with. It’s on the tip of his tongue when you’re eating breakfast in the morning and you get crumbs on your breakfast shirt. It blows through his mind when you press yourself into him every time you guys settle on the couch to watch movies together, his hand in yours.

Over and over and over again he pushes down the urge to just tell you how he feels, opting instead for safer words.

“I just think you look really pretty today,” when you caught him staring at you one afternoon when the two of you are laying out in the backyard. You’d just laughed and returned the compliment, scooting closer so you could put your head on his chest and feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“I really like the way you do that,” he says on another night as you rub his back gently. He’d been having a bad week, days riddled with small misfortunes and all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep it away, but you’d dragged him out of bed that night with a stern warning.

“Not saying you have to smile, just saying you have to sit here with me. It’s not good to be alone when you’re sad,” you say as your palm rubs small warm circles into his back. “I mean, what am I here for, if not to help you feel a little better?”

Bob is sure he’s gonna burst from the pressure of trying to keep it in, but he loves you and he loves the bubble he’s built with you and the longer he waits the more he feels like the wrong timing will burst it.

Bob realises he shouldn’t have worried when you burst the bubble yourself on a regular Saturday afternoon. It’s one of your “clean everything” days. Big loads of laundry, deep cleans of the bathrooms, and unloading and cleaning the fridge in the kitchen, and — most importantly — giving Angie her monthly-ish bath.

You guys had woken up early, as you usually did and knocked out all the regular household things. The only thing left was bathing Angie, who had conveniently gone missing — like she always did on bath day. The two of you comb the house from top to bottom, shaking her favourite toy and calling for her until you find her half-tucked behind the entertainment unit, tail swishing as she tries t o squeeze her way behind it.

“Oh Angie, we do this every month,” Bob coaxes as he gently wriggles her out.

She responds in sad mewls, pathetically pawing at him as he carries her into the big bathroom.

“Stop. Stop, it’s just a little bit, stop it,” he argues with her as she tries to squirm out of his arms, throwing pathetic looks at you

Everything’s set out and after almost forty-five minutes of wrangling and cooing and bribing with treats you have her claws trimmed and her fur brushed.

“Maybe we can skip the bath this month, she was kinda good. She didn’t even try to scratch me this time,” Bob says as he scratches behind her ears. As if understanding he was on her side she climbs into his lap, looking up at you with her sweetest eyes, mewling softly.

“Bob. You’re too soft on her,” you say as you run the water, checking the temperature before plugging the sink.

“She’s just a baby,” he sighs as he squeezes out the final dregs of her treat.

“She is using her saddest little cat sounds on you and you’re falling for it. Again,” you chastise as you roll your sleeves up. “She’s a big girl, we’ve done this for as long as we’ve had her and we never had any problems until she realised that you are an easy target.”

Begrudgingly he hands her to you as you lower her into the sink, ignoring her pathetic pleas.

“I’m sorry sweetie,” he sighs as he opens up another treat.

“We’ll be done soon, won’t we Angie?” you ask her as you gently scoop water into her fur. She’s stopped complaining, letting you move her gently to avoid water getting into her eyes. It’s easy once she’s in the sink, and she lets you lather and rinse her with no further complaints. As promised, it’s quick but thorough, and you let Bob feed her some of her treat as you work.

“See. She’s in one piece. Like she always is when we do this,” you laugh as you towel dry her.

“She just looks so sad. Look at her. We betrayed her,” he pouts.

“It’s not betrayal if we do this every month.”

“It feels like betrayal.”

“It only feels like betrayal because she senses the softness in you. Remember when you first moved in and you used to double up her feeds because she’d look at you all sad?”

Bob laughs. “In my defence I didn’t know. And you’re very persuasive aren’t you sweet girl?”

She sits as still as she can while Bob starts the blow dryer up, and you wrap your arms around his middle while he gets to work on drying her.

“Nothing wrong with being a softie for my little angel is there?”

She seems to purr in agreement, preening as he dries her.

“I love you so much,” you laugh into his back as he waves the blow dryer over Angie, cooing sweet words to her while she purrs at the warmth.

He thinks he’s misheard you for a moment, but he can’t think of anything else you might’ve said.

“What?” he laughs, nervous. In all his anxiety, he’d never thought you’d say it first. Or say it like this.

“Sorry. Is that too much? You don’t have to say it back if-”

“No, no I do. I love you too, I just thought the moment would be way bigger you know. Not that this isn’t big, of course this is big I’m just…” he trails off, trying to find the words for what he feels besides dizzying relief.

“Well I love you now, so I figured I’d say it now,” you laugh as you press your nose into the fabric of his shirt. “I love you I love you I love you,” you say as you squeeze him tighter. “Even when you’re being a helicopter parent over a routine cat bath.”

“And I love you. Even when you make me betray our baby.”

Dennis wasn’t sorry for leaving Nebraska. He knew it was for the best. There was nothing of value there for him, and infinite value elsewhere. He wasn’t an egotistical man, by any means. But he knew he had value to bring too. 

Value beyond what Broken Bow would allow. 

Value beyond what the people there saw in him. 

He did wish he had a way to reach her, though. 

He hadn’t thought much of it when he left town at eighteen. The few people he’d have considered true friends in town were headed for the East Coast, and there was nobody else he’d have cared to keep in touch with then. Now, he regrets that deeply. He regrets it so profoundly that the ache of it all settles into his bones. The blood in his veins forms bonds with the grief to create a constant burn throughout his body. His own nervous system has staged a coup to let him know how gravely he’s messed up. 

Dennis is a deeply caring and empathetic person, so every day spent in the ED seems to add a brick to the bag of melancholy he carries everywhere. Through all the lives he couldn’t save, all the patients who didn’t get better, he at least knew he could look himself in the mirror and know ‘I did everything I could.’

Not with this, though. Not with her. No, he’d forever have to deal with not having done enough for her.

The realization kicked in during a shift that shouldn’t have carried any more weight than usual. To everyone else, it seemed like a standard day at the Pitt. Nobody would’ve guessed it to mark the beginning of a hellacious grieving period for Dennis. 

He’d been assigned to the case of a teenage girl who’d felt faint while warming up for cheer practice. Her school’s cheer team had been putting in an immense number of hours in preparation for the Pennsylvania State Cheer Championships. She continued to practice and was eventually dismissed with a call to her mother, reporting that she’d seemed dazed and was frequently ending up short of breath. So, her mother brought her to PTMC.

Through their evaluation, Dr. Whitaker and Dr. Al-Hashimi began to suspect an eating disorder. After consulting Psych, their theory was confirmed, and unfortunately, after a consult with Cardiology, Early-Stage Heart Failure was now the harsh reality this sixteen-year-old faced. 

This wasn’t Dennis’ first time treating someone with an eating disorder, nor was it his first time treating someone who’d experienced Heart Failure as a result of it. But everything about this case came together like a perfect storm, reminding Dennis of her. 

The first time they’d properly interacted, Dennis was in the ninth grade. The two had known each other their whole lives, as was typical for a town the size of Broken Bow. Their mothers had gone to school together growing up, and they’d both been stuck standing awkwardly in the grocery store aisle as they chatted many times before. They shared classes their whole lives, too. Everyone was in each other’s space in such a small town. It was inevitable they’d talk to one another eventually. It was honestly shocking that it had taken fourteen years.

It was the middle of the fall semester when the two people he normally would work with in class were out after giving each other strep throat. When she’d seen him sitting and looking around, she took pity on that sweet face of his. She approached him and offered to partner up.

Dennis knew she had no shortage of potential partners, but he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to have a solid shot at doing well. All the other stragglers were people who Dennis’ mother might describe as leaky buckets; she’d used the idiom to describe a farm hand or two in the past, stating, “they aren’t good for anything unless you want an ugly metal helmet.” He accepted her offer with that gentle smile on his face and asked when she wanted to work on it.

“Well, you normally sit with Fiona and Austin at lunch too, right? Since they’re gone, wanna work on it in the computer lab then?”

Dennis’ brows drew together at her knowledge of his routine. He’d always considered himself a needle in a haystack, that only the most devout people could spot. “Yeah, sure,” he’d nodded out just as the bell rang to go to Second Period.

When the lunch bell rang across Broken Bow Public, Dennis walked to the aforementioned meeting spot. When he arrived, he peered through the narrow window on the door to see her already sitting at one of the computers. He walked in and set his brown paper bag lunch in front of the computer to her right before greeting her and typing in his student credentials to log in. 

“Did you bring lunch?” Dennis asked when he noticed she didn’t have anything with her. He missed how she went rigid, and her typing stopped. “It’s turkey if you want half.” He offered, holding up the whole-wheat sandwich. 

“I’m okay, I’m not hungry.” She responded, eyes still locked on the screen. Dennis shrugged and continued on. As they worked through the assignment’s rubric, researching their topic rigorously in preparation for the presentation they’d have to do at the end of the week, they talked about their days. It was easy to talk to her, Dennis found. Something about her just made him feel comfortable. 

He would later realize it was something she’d developed as a defence mechanism.  She knew just what to ask to keep the other person talking so that the attention wouldn’t be on her. She didn’t care as long as the spotlight was anywhere else. 

They got about a quarter of the way through the assignment when the dreaded bell rang out. They didn’t have any other classes together, so she asked Dennis if he wanted to come over after school. He agreed, and when the time came, he met her at her locker so they could walk over together. 

Once they arrived at her house, Dennis noted how ‘white picket fence’ it looked. The stereotypical family portraits covered the beige walls with various quotes about love and family scattered throughout the living room. She called out to her mom to announce their arrival, and Dennis heard a faint question about whom ‘we’ included. As soon as his name slipped past her lips, her mother’s tiny frame came bounding around the archway that connected the kitchen to the living space. 

“Dennis Whitaker!” She exclaimed, setting a dainty hand on his shoulder, “I haven’t seen your mother in ages! How’s the farm?”

“It’s good, now that Tyler graduated, Mom has him just about running the farm full time with my dad.” He responded politely, with the respect he’d been brought up to offer.

“Well, you’ll have to tell her I say hello and to stop by sometime!” The older woman continued, “I didn’t know you two were friends? Though this one doesn’t tell me much about school, so that’s no surprise.”

“We have a project to work on.” She responded before Dennis had a chance.

“Oh,” her mother’s smile, which had previously seemed stapled permanently to her face, faltered, “well, Dennis, please stay for dinner if it’s no problem. I’m trying a new Bolognese recipe and need opinions, heaven knows my daughter will be no help in that department,” she continued, elbowing her daughter in the ribs lightly in jest. 

“I don’t think he-”

“I’d love to. Thank you for having me.” Dennis cut her off with a smile and a firm nod to her mother.

As they worked side by side in her small room, there was a comfortable silence. One that typically took time to cultivate with only the people one felt closest to. Once he finished the portion of the assignment he’d been working on, Dennis leaned back to sit against the foot of her twin bed. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. Why didn’t you want me to stay for dinner? I can make up an excuse. Say I forgot my mom needs me back or something.” 

“No, no, you can stay, I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to.” 

“I’d like to,” he started, yet again with that gentle smile, as he took this moment to look around the room. “Is that your dad?” He asked as he spotted a photo of a toddler, her features, in the arms of a man he didn’t recognize. He knew her father had died when she was young. It had shaken the town to its core. He was involved in everything in Broken Bow; there were countless photos in the Whitaker family album of him and his brothers at community fundraisers to cover his treatment when he got sick. While Dennis doesn’t remember ever meeting him (though he’s sure he had, he was just so young when he passed), he remembers the impact of his passing. It felt like the whole town paused to mourn him; that was the first time he’d seen his father cry. 

When her face remained blank, he quickly tried to retract the question, but she answered with a simple yes before changing the subject back to the project at hand. Thankfully, shortly after her mother called out their names, announcing that the dinner she’d prepared was ready. 

On the small round table adorned with a small flower vase and a tasteful floral tablecloth, sat a spread of food that made Dennis’ mouth water. The spaghetti bolognese was paired with homemade garlic loaf and roasted vegetables that smelled heavenly. As dinner was shared, Dennis was the centre of conversation, the older woman asking question after question about his life and how his family was doing. He couldn’t help but notice, though, that his partner had been picking away at a small heap of roasted vegetables for the entire time it took him and her mother to eat a fairly generous serving of everything. 

He noticed. Knew it wasn’t normal. Said nothing because that wasn’t his place. 

After that day, the two’s interactions had dwindled, limited to smiles when they’d pass each other in the hall. His friends Austin and Fiona returned from their sickness, and she returned to her group of friends. They’d still talk sporadically in class, but nothing much came of it, not until Sophomore year. 

Dennis always knew he wanted to go into medicine. He didn’t know, however, that she did too. So, they ended up with the same schedule. All 6 class periods spent together. Fiona and Austin both wanted to go into computer science, so they shared no classes with Dennis that semester. 

Some may call it forced proximity, but Dennis didn’t care what it was. He came to appreciate it as time went on. Throughout the semester, any time there was group work, they’d pair up. He knew she had ample choices and was grateful she’d picked him. Every time. They’d grown close over the semester and spent plenty of afternoons and evenings at each other’s houses. As the youngest of three brothers, he was often the butt of the joke, and it was nice having her around to be on his side. 

One afternoon as he walked with her into her home, her mother was hanging a new frame above the fireplace. She was balanced on a stepladder, still barely being able to reach the nail with her swinging hammer. Dennis rushed over and steadied the stool, telling her to come down and let him do it. After guiding her down, he climbed the ladder and hammered the nail into the wall with ease. He then reached down to be handed the frame and hung it. When he took a step back to admire his work, he froze for a moment.

The photo was taken shortly before their presentation in freshman year. She’d been thin then, but he hadn’t noticed that over the year since then she’d been progressively losing even more weight. Everything that he’d brushed aside came back. The time in the computer lab, later that evening at dinner, all the times throughout the year when he’d see her with her friends from the track team, not eating at lunch. 

He knew it was a problem. He just didn’t know what he could do about it. He was sixteen, and she probably hardly considered him a friend who was he to tell her he was worried?

Dennis had always had a purpose but for the first time he could remember, he felt stuck.

“You coming?” She asked, snapping Dennis out of his thoughts and gesturing up the stairs to where her room was. Her mother thanked him with a smile and a tap on the back. The night went on almost as usual. Dennis was a bit less talkative than usual, but it wasn’t abnormal for them to simply enjoy each other’s company while independently working on homework and asking each other the occasional question. 

He left before dinner that evening, not knowing what to he could do with the realization he’d come to. Later on though, when the farm was quiet and the moon was at its peak, his phone rang, and her name lit up the screen. Through tears, she asked if she could see him. They met halfway between the two houses, where she asked for a hug. They stood wrapped in each other for a moment before he dared ask what was wrong. Through sobs, she explained that her mother was ‘institutionalizing her’. By this, she meant she was being sent for eating disorder treatment. Her mother’s last straw was finding the stash of snacks hidden in her closet that she’d always claimed to have eaten at school. She knew her daughter wasn’t eating as much as she should, but she figured it would sort itself out. Now, she saw it as a problem.

To her daughter, however? This was the ultimate betrayal. Her mother who could somehow eat and eat and remain petite and conventionally beautiful was sending her off because she couldn’t appreciate the work she’d put in. In her head, she was simply disciplined. Her mother must be jealous. Like so many of her teammates who’d told her time and time again that they wished they had her level of self-control.

“I mean, can you believe that bullshit?” She sobbed. When Dennis didn’t answer, she stared up at him with watery eyes, mouth agape. “Oh my god, do you agree with her?” She said, pushing him away and standing from the curb they’d come to sit on.

Dennis continued to stand there, like a deer in the headlights. He still had no clue what to say. Even when he was faced with it directly. 

When push came to shove he froze. 

That was the last evening he spoke to her for a while. She’d been gone for sixteen weeks after that. The school had accommodated her for the ending of the fall semester into the beginning of the winter one, allowing her to stay relatively on track with her education except for a couple of classes. Dennis missed her dearly. Not only as a partner in classroom projects but as a friend.

When she came back, she avoided him for a couple of weeks. He thought she was still angry, so he gave her space. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t. The things he would apologize for weren’t what she was mad at him for. He wasn’t sorry for caring about her and being worried about her. He was only sorry he hadn’t said something sooner, and he was positive that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But then, two weeks after her return that had caused mumbles to follow her through the halls, she called out his name as he was making his way out. 

“Dennis!” She called, chasing after him. “Hey, can I walk with you?” 

His house was in the complete opposite direction from hers, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to spend time with someone he’d come to care for so much. He nodded eagerly when no words seemed to form in his mouth.

“Look, I wanted to apologize.” She said, looking at the ground. “I’m really embarrassed about how I acted that night. It’s no excuse, but I was mad at like, everything else and I took it out on you ‘cause I was hearing things I would've rather not heard.”

Dennis paused in his tracks, turning his body to face her with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not mad at me?” He asked, his voice small.

“No, God, no Dennis. I’m so sorry. I’ve been avoiding you 'cause I just feel awful. I can’t believe how I treated you.”

Just like that, they were back to being thick as thieves. Like nothing had happened. 

When June came around, a member of the boy’s volleyball team was throwing a bonfire party. Naturally, she’d been invited and she extended that same invitation to Dennis. He had been invited to parties here and there before, but had never chosen to attend. But with her there, he figured it was a memory worth making.

He went to her house before an hour before they were meant to leave, greeting her mother with a hug, as they’d come to do every time he stepped across the threshold. He made his way automatically upstairs to the bedroom and knocked before being invited to enter. 

“I don’t know what to wear.” She stated with a pout as he walked in. “None of my clothes fit me right.” She pinched at the jean shorts that now fit properly instead of being baggy. 

“I think this outfit looks great.” Dennis said, not wanting to comment on her body.

She shrugged and grabbed a pair of full-length jeans before asking him to turn around so she could put those on instead. When she’d prompted him to turn back around she announced that ‘this will have to do’ and began working on her hair next.

But the time they’d arrived, the party was already in full-swing with a bonfire bigger than Dennis thought possible. They’d stuck close together and Dennis made conversation when he was prompted to but for the most part, let her do the talking. It was the first party she’d been to since her return and people were pleased to see her socializing again.

She was well-loved throughout the school and missed profoundly in her absence. She’d been her usual, bubbly self the entire evening. Dennis loved this side of her. The way she just made people feel comfortable and remembered details about their lives in a way that made everyone feel special.

Until someone uttered the phrase, “Oh my god! You’ve gained weight you look great! I was so worried before, girl.” Only Dennis saw the way your smile faltered and the way she was only half-herself the rest of the night. 

Once again, he didn’t know what to say to make it better.

The night went on, the beer she’d been nursing now sat somewhere abandoned as she told Dennis she was starting to feel bloated from it.

He asked time and time again if she wanted to leave and by the third ask she’d snapped that everything was fine, and she wanted to stay.

Dennis left it alone after that. 

He watched as she struggled. Watched her tumultuous relationship with food ebb and flow through a constant cycle of getting better, hearing a comment that made her spiral, and having to start all over again. 

He never said anything, out of fear of making it all worse. He was a kid too, how was he to be expected to know what to say. 

Then, Senior year happened. She was cut from every sports team at the school because she’d become fatigued and out-of-breath so quickly. Her stamina was shot from years of restrictive eating.

This broke her. She cut everyone off. Dennis had sought her out after school, shown up at her house, called her phone more times than he could count. She never spoke in their shared classes anymore, never worked with him on projects and just shrunk into a shell of herself that nobody recognized anymore. Dennis even started dropping in at parties he’d heard about just for the chance to see her. She was never there. 

She hadn’t shown up to Graduation. Thereafter, Dennis gave up. He didn’t know what more he could do, so he spent the summer preparing for College and spending time with Austin and Fiona before they headed their separate ways. 

Thoughts of her were present in the summer, but slowly faded as he met new people and formed new connections in College.

As he stands outside the hospital after his shift, he types your name into the search bar of every social media he can think of, hoping to find some trace of her anywhere. Some indication that things have turned around. That she has a partner and a healthy support system, and a good life. Whatever that looks like for her, he hopes she’s found it. 

He will forever have to live with the fact he didn’t know how to help her. He may end up asking his mother about her, or even going so far as to ask for her mother’s phone number so he could check in. But for now, he’s going to imagine her somewhere. Happy, with a life she’s built up despite the adversity she’s faced.

He’s allowed into the room while you’re still asleep. He wasn’t sure he would be, but the nurse must have sensed his worry from a mile away, and his eyes tend to be very persuasive whenever he’s desperate for something.

He’s careful as he closes the door behind himself after entering, like the faintest noise could wake you up even though the steady beeping of the monitor already rhythms the otherwise quiet room. 

The doctors told him already, but seeing it lifts the heaviness on his chest when he sees you – you look okay. And maybe it’s stupid because his medical knowledge is very much limited and you could as well look the same and be doing horribly wrong, but something in him holds hope and he’s already half as less nervous just looking at you.

He drags the chair at the corner of the room beside your bed and sits, hands fiddling with the hem of his sleeves just to busy his hands. 

He knows you need your rest and he would never think to wake you up, but a part of him hopes you will wake up soon just so he can really make sure you’re okay.

The clock ticks so slowly and for so long, but Bob would rather be here with you than out there in the waiting room with the complaining hypochondriac man who, as he heard it from an intern, was here for the third time this week and that had only made him more anxious as he waited for news on you.

Bob’s arms are crossed and laid over your bed at your side, chin resting over his forearm as he waits, matching his breathing to yours, watching the rise and fall of your chest. He would rest his head over your lap if he was sure it wouldn’t bother you or wake you up.

His eyes don’t leave you, and he has watched you sleep so many times during nights he couldn't manage to that he notices the second something shifts over your face and you look like you could be waking up. He sits up, slow and careful, adjusting over his chair, hand holding yours, thumb caressing over your fingers as he awaits the slightest change in your demeanor. 

Your eyes open with difficulty, trying to fight the rays sifting through the blinds, closing again a few times until they adjust to the luminosity of the room, still remaining heavy with haziness. Your head spins funnily, but not in an uncomfortable way, and your limbs feel numb and somehow very present at the same time.

It’s only when you feel a tingle at your fingers that you fully realize someone is here, and notice the man sitting at your side when he had until then only been a faint shadow at the corner of your eye. 

Him. Bob. 

He has no reason to be here, you think.

But you're glad he is.

“Heyyyyy,” you grin, a dazed expression over your face, a cheerful tone through the haze in your voice. 

Bob’s face lights up and he shifts his position over his chair again. “Hey,” he murmurs, smiling, a bit surprised by your enjoyment. “How are you feeling?”

The tingle again. It’s more of a caress more than a tingle now that you feel it again, and your eyes track it, and it’s in your hand on the same side Bob is sitting. 

His hand is holding yours. 

“I think I’m doing just great,” you confidently declare, head leaning back into your pillow in contentment, a smile over your face. “But I have to ask–” you clear your throat lightly, eyes squeezing shut before opening again like you're trying to chase the veil of fuzziness away. “Is this– are you flirting?”

Bob’s eyes narrow in confusion. “What?”

“I don’t mind, it’s okay Bob” you nod, eyes closing for a second before you smile, still in the haze. It feels like you could fall back asleep in no time. “You’re finally making a move”

“I’m sorry baby, what do you mean?” he asks, gently squeezing your hand. The nurse told him you might not be making sense, after all.

Your head moves forward and away from where it was buried in the pillow, and your eyebrows lift as you blink in confusion. “Baby?” you repeat slowly, like you’re testing the word, how it rolls off your tongue. It sounds funny in your mouth, then your eyes narrow suspiciously at him. “Bob.”

“Yeah?” he answers carefully.

“Why are you calling me baby?”

He’s not sure what to answer for a second – he’s not sure whether he should be amused or worried that you’re confused like this. “You don’t remember?” he asks quietly, frowning.

You squint faintly, like you’re trying to put the pieces together, eyes roaming over his figure like it will help you figure it out. “Remember what?”

His heart sinks to his stomach so brutally it almost hurts. “Oh,” he breathes. He knows he shouldn’t be taking this so seriously, because he had been warned you would be out of the loop – confusion, memory gaps, disorientation – but he didn’t actually expect it to be that bad.

“Did I forget something important?” you ask, genuinely concerned now as you watch his reaction, which somehow makes it worse. Your worried expression brightens abruptly again, shifting to something else entirely. “Wait– did we hook up?” you ask excitedly.

“What? No– I mean, yes? Not just…” he lets go of your hand to rub his own over his face. “God”

Your mouth opens in shock before turning into an amazed smile. “Oh my god,” you gasp. “We totally hooked up”

His cheeks warm up and his hand rubs over his eyes tiredly again, but he can’t help the smile over his face. “Okay, listen.” he shifts closer to the bed, hand resting over yours again, smiling when your gaze flicks to where they meet when he does. “You and I, we are dating”

“No we’re not” your head shakes. “You’ve had a crush on me for like– months and we’ve been weird around each other for so long and you would combust before asking me out”

He laughs, head tilting to the side. Touché. “Okay, I guess that was true at some point” he nods, pinching his lips. “But we’ve moved past that.”

“Really?”

“Yes” he nods, a chuckle escaping from his mouth. “I love you and you love me… I’m pretty sure”

“Oh my god” you whisper, eyes flicking around the room, trying to piece it back together now that you have the information. Your eyes land on him again. “So we… Kiss? On a regular basis?”

He chuckles, a bright, rich sound that reminds you why you’re in love with him. Something you couldn’t forget. “Yeah. We kiss.”

“Oh,” you whisper, blinking like you’re trying to chase the fog of your brain to remember it. “That’s– that’s great” you nod, a smile slowly growing over your face, finally allowing yourself to believe it all, despite how it all seems too good to be true. You stare at him for a few seconds too long, like your drugged brain is trying very hard to put puzzle pieces together but keeps dropping them. Your smile fades into a frown when you pull away from his touch and busy your hands picking at the skin around your nails, a small pout and the threat of tears brimming your eyes. “Bob it’s– it’s really cruel if you’re lying just to make fun of me” you declare, voice quiet and throat tight. “Very fucked up”

His mouth gapes and he backs away for a second, an appalled and slightly panicked expression over his face. “I would never do that to you” he assures, getting closer again and reaching for your hands. You let him take them, gaze back on him. You look like you’re about to cry and he feels terrible. “I swear.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, watching as he holds both of your hands, the warmth of his touch strangely familiar now that you think about it. His thumb caresses over your knuckles and you look back at him, your chest tightening when you see the genuine affection he holds when he looks at you. 

“To be fair you do look like you’re in love with me” you admit. “So I’ll believe you”

He snorts a laugh and nods like he’s just been granted forgiveness, a more relaxed expression over his face.

“How long have we been dating?”

Bob’s eyes flick back to yours. “Not long,” he says. “A few months. And I was the one to make a move, for your information” he insists, eyebrows lifting, a teasing smile as he tries to lift up the mood.

You frown, inspecting his face. “Really?”

“Mhm.” he approves, trying not to laugh at your reaction. “I knocked on the door to your room one night and kissed you”

“Oh,” your eyes widen immediately and you let go of his hands to adjust your position a little better in the bed, like the sentence alone has jolted something awake in you more effectively than the anesthesia ever could, like things are finally getting interesting. You bring your knees to your chest and hide your face into your hands, letting out a drawn out whine. “Oh my god, I wish I could remember” you wail, hands sliding down your face in despair.

“You will.”

“But I’m scared I won’t, what if I just don’t?” you whine again, face dropping in distress, a frown etched onto your face. You look like you’re going to tear up again, and despite how much Bob empathises, he feels horrible that he can’t help but smile at the situation, doing his best to hold back and not laugh. 

“Sweetheart, you’re so, so high” he whispers, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek. “I don’t even think I have ever been that high” he says with a small smile – he most definitely has been, but he needs you to feel better, so for this exclusively, he will lie. “The anesthesia just needs to wear off. You will remember. I promise you”

He looks sincere, and it's the only thing you have for now, so you choose to believe it. “Okay” you mutter. Bob can practically see the gears turning in your head, and he knows you’re trying to make sense of it all, desperately searching through the parts of your brain holding those memories. He also knows you’re tiring yourself out trying.

“You should get some more rest” he advises, hand brushing your hair back.

You nod and blink, making yourself comfortable under the sheets again, positioning yourself onto your side, facing him. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember.”

He tilts his head so he can look into your eyes, a soft smile over his face. “That’s okay” 

Your eyelids grow heavier each second but you fight it, one last question burning your tongue. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, baby”

“Are you always this nice to me?”

He smiles. “I try”

“I’m really lucky, then”

—

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Y/n hones into her job, setting up the front, putting together the espresso machine from its state of the equipment being soaked in a bucket. She rinses everything out before setting it up, grinding more espresso beans, along with coffee beans, starting the coffee makers, decaf, medium and dark blend. She eventually wants an extra special one of the week, but that would be a future goal.

The morning rush came in, happy to see her back in the shop, she was happy that she already had some clientele. She felt bad that she didn’t have anything fresh throughout the day, so she would have to close early for the time being and plan on doing a bunch of baking tonight. 

Around the same time Rocco comes around with Cody, bringing her supper, a large bag of containers she recognizes being from her favorite mexican restaurant from when she was a kid. 

“Y/n/n, would you wanna take Cody back to the apartment while you prep? I wanna start here, if not it’s alright, I’ll figure it out.” he asked, setting down the bags on one of the four sitter tables. 

“No I can.” she nods with a sweet smile, she sits down across from Cody, while Rocco grabs out a to-go container for him. “Thank you for bringing me food.”

Rocco grins back at her, “It’s really nothing,” before sitting in the spot between the two, the three of them eating supper together.

Cody talks about his week with his mom while eating, he had Rocco’s smile, a charming little guy. He had hazel eyes, Rocco’s golden hair, he just reminded her so much of him when he was small. But he was more bubbly, happy, he could tell he was raised in a happy home even if it wasn’t a white picket fence. 

She didn’t expect any less from Rocco, he was always such a good guy, even if he was grumpy, did the hard things that other people wouldn’t. He was raised being challenged, playing dirty, just trying to get by and all that he went through made him the man he was today.

Rocco helps install Cody’s carseat in her car, he had a ‘work’ truck to haul things back and forth so he couldn’t just switch vehicles. She takes him back to the house to begin baking, making sure he was entertained at the dining room table. Promising him that he could help with sprinkles and that they could make their own batch of cookies after. There isn’t much prep to do since she got the pretzels done, she had a few treats she could store away for the day, but bread, cookies she liked to be fresh. 

Cody talks to her throughout, making her heart feel warm to have a little helper, he came over to help cut out cookies and decorate. She gives him a few spare cookies on his own wax paper, giving him extra frosting and sprinkles to make his own. Rocco wanted her to babysit, and didn't say anything about giving him sugar. 

“My daddy likes you.” Cody said, sticking the frosting tube in his mouth.

“Cody, please don’t do that, we decorate with frosting and eat it later.” she tries, as he gently sets down the tube, “Use some sprinkles on your cookies.” She opens the wrapping on one of them in front of him, a little ghost from last year’s halloween, and orange sugar sprinkles. “Just a little touch.” she comes over to show him before softly guiding him on how to decorate. 

“Thank you!” Cody smiles, “Can I have one now?”

“Yes, just one for now.” she said, “Save some for later.”

“Okay…” he grabs one, hopping down from his stool, running over to the table to play with his legos and she assumes he is watching something. She saw all the parental settings on it so she didn’t worry too much about what he was watching, but she kept an eye out. 

Cody was a kid who didn’t need his tablet, when the time ran up, he just went on to the next toy he had. Though his mind did keep going back to the cookies, she let them have a couple more. 

Rocco comes to the apartment around eight, knowing he needed to help Cody get ready for bed and it was already later for him. He got a lot of measurements, starting to deassemble the counters, sinks, but not getting too far. 

When he walked into the apartment, the kitchen had been cleaned up for the most part-there were signs she wasn’t done yet. She just liked to do a mind reset, clean up a little before going back to it. 

Rocco walks further into the house to see them on the couch. Cody is leaning into her side as he sleeps, Y/n shoots her head over to him.

“Hey…he was so insistent on cuddles.” She smiles sweetly, “He had quite the sugar crash, too.”

“Ohhh.” Rocco muses, moving over to carefully scoop up Cody in his arms, “I’ll be back.” he nods, before walking back down the hallway into his son’s room. 

When he sets his son down he sees his mouth smeared with blue frosting, he grins before tucking him in. He could give him a bath in the morning, so he turns on Cody’s night light, before leaving him to rest. 

Rocco comes back out to the living room, to see Y/n leaning back on the couch, “How’s the shop going?”

“It’s going good,” he hums, sitting down next to her as she tugs the blanket in closer to her. “Thanks for watching, Cody. I might need to find him a babysitter.”

“He was really chill, I don’t mind, Ro.” she offers, reaching out her foot to poke his thigh. “I’ll try to deter him from eating too much sugar though.”

He snorts, “Good luck.” he reaches out to squeeze her calf, before setting his hand back on his thigh. “Did you get all your baking done?”

“No…I’m so tired.” she sighs, shaking her head, “The late nights are getting to me, I usually go to bed around ten and I’m getting home after midnight.”

“You're working really hard, maybe you should hire someone else to help you during the day.” Rocco ponders, as she nods slowly, “It’s hard to do all of that on your own, especially without your kitchen.”

“You’re right, I hate that you're right.” she breathes out, laying her head against the couch and yawning. 

“I’m always right.” Rocco grins as she scoffs, eyes swollen from exhaustion. 

“You’re always something…God, would it be bad to close tomorrow so I can play catch up? Try to figure out how to hire someone, I honestly can't afford it.”

“I don’t think it's bad, it’s rough in the early days but your food is good enough to have a comeback.” He concurs, as she reaches her hand half way for his, he meets her, hooking his fingers in hers. 

“You think that?”

He answers, “Hmm, yeah.” His eyes move over her face with a certain delicate gleam in his cerulean eyes, his tone lowers, “Do you want to stay the night? You can have my bed.”

“I don’t want to put you out, Ro, I’m already using your kitchen.”

“You never put me out.” Rocco retorts, his other hand encompassing both of theirs, thumb rubbing along her wrist joint. 

“Well you aren’t sleeping on the couch.”

“We’ve shared a bed before,” he shrugs with nonchalance, even when the idea made his heart go a little crazy. “Let me help, c’mon.” he stands up, gently tugging on her hands, she trails forward, bumping her chest with his as their intertwined hands come down to his sides. “Have you been sleeping?”

“No…” she trails, as he begins to lead her to his bedroom, “I feel so bad about using your stuff, taking up space and time. I meant to come back here and just be a quiet bakery presence. But you did your whole grand gesture thing.”

Rocco laughs softly as she moves to sit on the edge of his bed, her fists coming to rub at her eyes. He comes over to gently stop her, “Don’t do that, it’s not good for you.”

She rolls her eyes with a careful twitch of her lips, but she doesn’t say anything, just pauses a moment to take him in-to let that softness grow throughout her heart. He interrupts the moment, by backing away, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you can root through the clothes, find something you wanna wear, if you want.”

“I will.” she hums, and he throws her the television remote before going into the ensuite bathroom.  

She goes back out to her purse to take her medication, slugging through the living room with tired limbs. But it needed to be done and she was smart enough to keep spares in her purse, especially after spending so much time over here. 

When she gets back into the bedroom, she starts the television, putting on adult swim before rooting through his drawers to find an oversized t-shirt. He had plenty in his bottom drawer’s, a bit of paint splotched on to the material, it smelled of tangerines and mangos-she wonders if it’s his shampoo. She turns off the main light, flicking on the lamps beside the bed before crawling under the covers. 

There’s a small notebook by the side of the bed, on his side, she thinks, she can tell by the heavy aroma of Rocco in the sheets. She reaches out for the notebook, snooping, as she pulls open the strap and sees the sketches. 

There were many, but the further she goes, she begins to see herself in the shapes, in the curve of the woman’s bodies. He was never really one for body art or portraits, or maybe he just didn’t share them, because clearly he could draw them. It grew more evident, the shade of hers sketched out, her smile, somehow he captured it so well. One of her at a picnic table, resting her forearms on the table, leaning in as she smiles. That’s her from the BBQ. 

The door to the bathroom opens, her eyes widening as she meets his eyes, before trailing down to choke on her tongue. “You-you didn’t bring clothes, do you want me to-to give you privacy?”

“Not unless you want to.” Rocco replies, flicking his eyes to the notebook with a little knowing twitch of his lips. He moves over to his dresser to find his own pajamas as she tries not to watch him with a curious gaze. “You found my notebook.”

“I did…” she closes it, putting the strap back onto the book, setting it on the night stand, “Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not,” he huffs with humor, letting the towel fall to throw on his boxers, she swallows deeply at the curve of his ass. She tries just to stare at the back of his head, or the strong expanse of his back, “Is it alright if I don’t wear a shirt?”

“It’s fine.” she shrugs, “You don’t care that I found your book?”

He shrugs, her eyes settling on the strong lines of his back, “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Cody-he won’t mind seeing us in bed like this?”

“No, he’s asked me if we’re gonna have sleepovers together.” Rocco replies, turning away from the dresser to step towards her, “That’s what Marina would say when she brought over her boyfriend, tried to ease him into it.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” she asked, as he moved to the other side of the bed, sliding under the sheets, turning on to his side.

“If that’s what you want, yeah, hell yeah.” 

That makes her giggle softly, stuffing her hands under her head as she lays down on the pillow. “I think so.” 

She moves in a little closer to him, leg reaching out to slide against his as his palm soothes against the bed between them. Before slipping along her waist, to pull her in even closer, she fits against his chest perfectly. “You make me feel so safe.” she mutters against him as one of his hands comes to the cradle at the back of her head.

“You make me feel safe too.” Rocco states, muffled into her hair as he lays a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

She falls asleep in the safety in his arms, no strings attached, he wakes up early the next morning to get Cody ready and make breakfast for both of them. A part of her could get used to this, mornings with these two, sleeping in Rocco’s warm arms all night, feeling completely encompassed in safety. They had that feeling when she was younger and he would always do everything to take care of her. 

That daydream she had all the back then, about him being her knight in shining armor, thinking about him doing this all because he loved her. It was true, not a figment of her imagination after years of pining for someone she couldn’t have. 

She was and was so far from the girl she was before, she grew up, learned how to take care of herself, wholly. Now, it was like a breath of fresh air to be able to let go, to be somewhere familiar, a feeling that only came with home. A feeling she had at the bakery, a feeling she had in Rocco’s apartment, or just being around him. Y/n didn’t need him to take care of her, but he would find his ways to. 

Y/n didn’t want this feeling to change with him, the next day, she does not take the day off but she only does the morning shift. After filling some coffees, day old pastries for the morning rush. Informing her patrons she will be closed the rest of the day, but will be back tomorrow with one free and fresh pastry for everyone. Trying to make their business worth their while, she plans to close before eleven, around ten Rocco comes in to work in the back. 

She decides to warm up an egg, bacon and cheese croissant, with some water, “Hey, Ro!” she shouts over the sound of the hammer slamming down on the wall cabinets. 

“Hey…what’s up?” he questions, shucking off his goggles and gloves.

“I made you some food, you’re doing a lot of work.”

“Thanks…” he trails, stepping in closer, taking his gloves off, shoving them into his dark grey carhartt jeans. 

“Yeah, I’m closing up, gonna go to the store and then head to your place…thought I could grab a bag of my stuff, if well maybe I could crash with you again tonight.” she suggests, not making eye contact as she sets down the plate and glass on a counter. 

Cody was spending time with Lonnie and Sadie tonight because Rocco wanted to make headway with the cafe. Rocco didn’t want to put all that pressure on Y/n, not with her arm, wanting to play catch up and focus-especially because Cody must’ve been somewhat of a distraction the night before. She wouldn’t complain because she wasn’t the type, Rocco could tell she genuinely enjoyed her time with his son. 

Rocco comes over to her, one of his hands comes to her waist, she glances up at him, “You’re welcomed to.”

Y/n’s fingers come to run through his hair, slicking back the debris that fell into the strands. “Got stuff in your hair.” 

He watches her fuss over him with stars in his eyes, before glancing down at her lips, she pauses, meeting his gaze. Then their eyes meet with hesitance, her digits pressing into his scalp, closing the distance to lean up to softly connect their lips. 

It’s like time freezes for a second, it’s slow, decades of feelings being released into the moment. The hesitance was chipping away to their true feelings, to all the pent up tension, all the regrets and wishes. 

Rocco’s so gentle, hesitant, his other arm coming around her waist to pull her in closer. Their mouths moving slowly, together like they were already in sync with each other’s heart beats, even while discovering what it was really like to kiss the other. 

A tingle runs down her spine, goosebumps littering her skin, as she grasps on to his shoulder and hair. Rocco is everything she has ever wanted, now he was in her arms, kissing her, waiting for her because she was worth it. All of it was worth this moment. 

Then there’s a ding from the front door opening, she pulls away slowly, hovering in close, not wanting to stop. Rocco’s the same, staring at her with a glint of desperation in his eyes, “I put the closed sign on.” 

But the footsteps trail to the back, so she steps away from Rocco, just as Lonnie steps into view, “Hey, how are operations?”

“Great.” she squeaks, before moving past him to go up the stairs to her apartment, stomping to make headway. 

Lonnie gives his best friend a lingering look, “Oh shit, what happened?”

“Nothing happened.” Rocco replies, shaking his head as Lonnie rolls his eyes.

“You guys always keep secrets from me, man.” he sighs, moving to pick at the croissant sandwich, Rocco smacks away his hand, before taking it for himself.

“There’s nothing to hide.”

“What does that mean?” Lonnie glares as Rocco sighs, reaching for the glass of water she brought him, taking a sip before also taking a bite of the sandwich. Making his friend wait as he chews then swallows. The croissant was perfectly flakey, the cheese melty, the egg perfectly done and bacon was maple, crunchy. 

“Nothing man…”

Lonnie gives him a lingering glare before pointing his thumb towards the door, “Where can I get one of those?”

Y/n went upstairs to take a shower, grab a few things, and put them in her car, just in case she spent the night again. She stops at the grocery store to stock up for the rest of the day, the feeling of Rocco’s lips on her never fades away. Going back to his apartment, he asked this morning if she would hang out with him for a bit, he said he would be back sooner tonight, and he’d bring food. That he would swing by to pick up Cody before he got back. 

A part of her was already trying to come with a loop hole to keep staying the night, but she was going to be up late making a bulk of her pretzels that had already sold out again, and now that he knew she didn’t like traveling home late…Rocco would probably keep offering. 

---

One night Y/n was left all alone, she was thirteen and Lonnie was out with his girlfriend after work, he was sixteen but worked at the gas station. Martie was working, she was watching movies when Rocco came over, knowing she wouldn't eat til well past eleven. He shows up around seven with food, sitting next to her while talking about her day. 

What was going on in her life, just catching up, “How's Amber?”

“Who?” Rocco trails with hesitance, before recognition crosses his features, “Oh um yeah Amber.” searching her eyes, “We broke up, I'm not really the type for relationships.”

She blurts out with wide eyes, “You don't believe in love?”

Rocco looks away, chuckling with a shake of his head, “I didn't say that, just I’m not a good guy.” he shrugs, “And a shitty boyfriend.”

“Oh…that's sad.” she replies, not knowing what to say as a part of her heart hurts. “Well you should try and do better, I don't think you're a bad guy.”

He snuffs out air through his nose, a barely there smile, “Yeah well I care about you, it's different.”

“Well try and care about other people too.” 

Rocco rolls his eyes, “You're thirteen, what do you know?”

“I know you're stupid.” she grins, setting down her plate as he does the same. Before darting forward to tickle her, she gasps for air, laughing uncontrollably, writhing and shoving at him playfully. “Stop it!” 

He doesn’t move far when he does, a triumphant smile on his face, then he notices the way she stares at his lips. He shakes his head, darting his eyes away and taking a breath out. “Whatever kid, be nice to me I bought you food.” he backs up with a lingering look on his face.

She scoffs at the nickname before resting back against the couch. He was just glad he managed to set her straight, to ruin whatever fantasy of him she was building in her head, about him being some good guy. Make her angry, before she does something she regrets. 

It wasn't right, she’s just a kid, he just wanted her to be happy, healthy, safe, and with him she wouldn’t be. Rocco’s known her forever and she was his best friend's sister, it was wrong and he couldn’t fuck it up with her. 

She was curious about things, digging to know all the details, it was what she did. Rocco never minds it, he was just overthinking it. There's always been something there between them but it didn't mean it was right. He just always thought she was like no one else, just special to him, they were friends. Friends could talk about these things without being weird. 

“Just…be careful okay? With all that love stuff, you saw where it got our parents.” he comments, trying to give out some advice, “I get it though, every one wants to be loved.”

“Yeah…” she stares at him with wide eyes, words on the tip of her tongue, but it's wrong, she closes her mouth. “I just want something real, I want to find myself.”

“I have no doubt you'll have that.” Rocco hums. “And some guy isn't gonna help you find yourself, only you will.”

Rocco still overthought sometimes, he worried that he was doing something wrong, he always has. It may be a justified answer but it wasn't the complete truth, his love was not all romantic, it was companionship, an over decade long friendship before she left. But shamefully, he's always loved her, been in love with her, wrapped around her finger. 

Now he didn’t regret anything, he never wanted to control her, he just wanted to love her, be there for her. 

---

Later the next week, Lonnie and a couple other of Rocco’s friends come to finish up the bulk of the removal and cleaning. He was hoping to be done within about three weeks, maybe a month or more. Rocco didn’t want to be cheap, or work too fast for the sake of time, then have to come back and fix it again. There wasn’t too much hesitation in investing in her shop, even before he tasted her baked goods, he would’ve done just about anything for her. 

It’s another day she spends at the apartment, she works every other day of the week. Business is growing even on her very short days on the weekends but once a week she closes up to catch up on baking. 

Then comes over to bring the crew lunch, just sandwiches. But some damn good sandwiches along with some extra cookies and little cakes, the guys all gobbled it up. While the group were sitting in the main room, Rocco wandered back to her office where she’d retreated after serving them food.

He knocks on the door a few times, “Come in!” she answers through the door, he slips inside.

“Thank you for making us food, you really didn’t have to.” Rocco hums, pressing his back to the door as her attention goes completely on to him.

“I wanted to,” she said, ruffling through paperwork before storing it away, and standing up from her spot. “Least I can do, Ro.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Rocco assured.

The way he looks at her, it’s changing, sleeping next to each other, stolen kisses, intimate moments where Rocco just stares into her eyes. Those little moments before bed or in the morning when it just felt like the two of them. Even if she wasn’t over at Rocco’s, some nights she had just come up with excuses to spend more time with him. It was causing all that tension built up throughout the years, slowly decimating. 

“I know,” she said, slowly walking forward, closer to him before pausing two feet away. “You’ve never forced me to do anything.”

Rocco looks down at her, his eyes twitching as they grow softer, he reaches his hand out for her. Her fingers sink into his, closing the rest of the space but not kissing him yet, just gazing, like she was waiting for a sign. 

“Let me take you out, just me and you,” he tries, his free palm coming up to cup the back of her head, and kissing her forehead. “Do this the right way.”

“You wanna take me out on a date?” Y/n questions, an inkingly of surprise in her voice, even with all the confessions, it also just sounded off. 

“I do.” she leans back into his touch, he moves down to kiss her, then there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey boss, are we good to go to the junkyard?” Lonnie shouts through the office door. 

“You know I ain’t your boss, but yeah, go ahead.” Rocco said, a little breathless, he rests his forehead against hers. He lowers his voice to a deadly tone, “When are we gonna tell him.”

“I don’t care…I’m not thinking about that right now.” she replied in a sultry tone that rivaled Rocco’s, staring at his lips with a quiet desperation that wasn’t so quiet. 

“Do you wanna kiss me?”

“Always,” she breathes, darting forward to gently fix their mouths together, arms wrapping around him, pulling him flush against hers. All the excitement thrumming through her as she presses him up against the door, one hand clutches at her waist. 

Then she falls away from him with a triumphant smile, hands sliding away from him as he lingers, wanting to go in for another. One of his hands came to her waist to stop her, squeezing before letting go with a sigh. She wanted to crawl all over him, give away all of her inhibitions, and just fold into him. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, especially since he was wanting to take her out.

“We can go out.” Y/n agrees, moving back to sit on the edge of her desk. “Just you and me, something simple though.”

Rocco grins, stuffing his hands into his front pockets, his hair a little mess from her wandering hand, “I can do that.”

“Might wanna fix your hair,” she points with a little smile that had trouble written all over it.

“Wouldn’t have to fix it if you didn’t mess it all up,” he retorts.

“Are you really complaining?”

He just gives her a small glare, sauntering forward, her legs spread for his body, his hands pressing to either side of her, “You know I’m not, just teasing you.” Rocco rasps, gently pressing a kiss to her lips, slow, noses softly clashing together. “I’m gonna finish cleaning up, I can meet at the apartment around five, I’ll get ready and we can go out.”

“I still gotta bake when I get back, so I can’t have distractions tonight.”

“Give me six thirty to eight o clock.” 

“Fine,” she whispers, before connecting their mouths together, her hand coming to the back of his neck. Her other arm coming up, fingers swiping through his hair to fix the strands, searching his pretty blue eyes. “Now go.”

Before she knew it was five, she brought things over to take a shower, get ready and dress up. She could barely get any baking in, she was excited, and then Rocco wasn’t there yet.

It was five thirty. So maybe he was coming a little later. 

Then by six thirty, he wasn’t here, at seven, she began to bake again, getting out all of her frustrations, as time passed, as tears spiked at her eyes-she swallowed them down. She ran off fear as she waited. 

She should’ve texted him, asked if he was alright, not just expect that his absence means he doesn’t want to be here. But that’s what her brain tells her when he gets back to the apartment around nine thirty-she’s cleaning up, packing things up for to come pick up in the morning.

“Y/n?” Rocco questions, she doesn’t look at him, just setting down the clean stand mixer bowl on the clean side of the sink. “I can explain, we were working on your kitchen and I just got so caught up in it that time slipped away from me, okay?”

“Goodnight Rocco,” she snaps, grabbing her purse, slipping on her shoes, quickly and walking out the front door, slamming it on the way.

He doesn’t let her get away so easily, he throws open the door and he catches up to her even as she speeds away, “Y/n, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah clearly you didn’t.” she said, continuing to shuffle away, her voice was trembling with anger or anguish he wasn’t sure, because she kept walking. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not, you're upset.” Rocco said, reaching out for her arm to stop her, she yanks her limb away from him, turning around to glare daggers into him. 

“Yeah I’m fucking upset, you stood me up! This is just a fucking game to you, Rocco? To play with my heart and throw it back in my face because you know how this means to me? Because you know how much I care!” she rambles, tears streak down her cheeks, breathless, “I-I can’t believe you.”

“I didn’t mean to do that, of course I didn’t mean to.” he panics, moving in front of her, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “You mean so much to me and seeing you in pain kills me, it’s the last thing I want to do. I was working on your bakery, Y/n/n, I was still thinking of you the entire time, what you might like. I checked my phone at five and knew I had some time left and then it was seven thirty and we had to clean up. I don’t need much time getting ready so I just assumed I’d have time…I’m a complete asshole, but this has never, ever been a game to me.” 

She met his eyes, wary, deflated, “I thought-...”

“I know, I’m so sorry, I will make this up to you, I promise.” Rocco presses as she tries not to blur the lines of what every other guy told her and how Rocco almost always kept his word with her. 

“I’m going home…”

“It’s late.” he protests, “I won’t pull anything, I’ll sleep on the floor if you really want me to.”

“You have a couch…”

“I know and if you want I’ll sleep on the floor, whatever makes you happy.” Rocco assures, reaching out his hand as she sighs, before taking it, and letting him lead her back into the apartment. “Haven’t you had supper?”

“No, I had some cookies and pretzels.”

“Let me make you something, I know it’s late, but I’ll be quick.” he suggests, as she kicks off her shoes, setting her bag down on to the counter. 

“Alright, I’ll go change into something comfier.” 

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Hours of baking later…” she trails, as he shrugs.

“You look beautiful any way you are, Y/n.” he said, before she rolls her eyes, walking towards the bedroom as her heart churns with a giddy emotion. 

Rocco watches her walk away with a small smile on his face, not from her reaction per se, but presence. The fact that she came back with him even when he was being dumb, it meant something to him, like he had finally done it right. He starts working on homemade pizza, putting some extra effort into it, using his baking skills for her. 

Y/n comes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, moving out to the island in a pair of short shorts and a long t-shirt. Then she slips into the chair to view what he was doing, “What are you cooking?”

“Homemade pizza.” Rocco hums, as he uses a fork to make the batter, “Ma has this really good recipe.”

“Hmm, I’ve had it before, let's see if yours is as good.” she retorts, getting out her tablet from her purse, she begins working on plans for the next baking session. 

Rocco doesn’t interrupt her during her process, as she did the same for him as he cooked, he made it a simple pepperoni and sausage pizza. He pops it into the oven, wanting to have a conversation but knowing why she was avoiding him. Not knowing what to do to ease the tension, he decides to just sit next to her, giving her fleeting glances as he mindlessly scrolls on his phone.

It’s a quiet night, but she doesn’t make him sleep on the couch or floor, so he calls it a win. She wound up moving closer before they fell asleep, he turned over to look over at her. Rocco’s arm stretches out for her, she wiggles into the free space, pressing her face into his chest. His other arm coming around her waist to cuddle into her, they hold each other a little closer that night.

Rocco also makes breakfast the next morning, “I’m sorry about last night, really.”

“I know you are, I just…don’t do well with men, you know that. I just don’t trust them. But I trust you, I should’ve called you to check in but I was so angry, or I don’t know, overwhelmed with the prospect this doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me. Which is silly since I’ve been the standoffish one…” she rambles, just going on, trying to figure out her emotions in the moment as he nods, listening intently. “I just-couldn’t process that last night, I was really tired and just…”

“It’s okay, you are so important to me, I’m an idiot and you are way too good for me, you always have been. It’s why I pushed you away in that sense, you’ve always deserved more than what we were raised with.”

“You’re worth more too, Ro.” she murmurs, as he continues.

“But what I'm trying to say is that you have every right not to trust men or me, and I should’ve been more mindful. You’ve had people just walk in and out of your life like a revolving door and I don’t want to be that, I’ve always wanted to be there for you. I’ve always wanted to do whatever I can to see you happy and safe.” Rocco adds, “This isn’t about me, it’s always been about you for me, even when I deny it… You are always the one I come back to. Not cause you’re some consolation prize but because you’ve always been it for me, even when we were kids. I just saw you and…you were everything.” 

“What a way to start a Friday morning,” she comments, as she leans over, cupping his cheek as she kisses him, slowly, his jaw slacking to give her tongue access to his mouth as it swipes past his lips for more. “You’ve always been it for me too, you’ve always been everything, Rocco. I’ve always loved you.”

“God, the things I want to do to you right now.” he breathes against her lips, before dipping his chin to kiss her once more, she tastes like the french toast he made this morning. 

“I need to go open the shop, so if you don’t stand me up tonight…” she trails, searching his eyes, her hand resting against his chest. 

“I won’t, if I do, then you can do whatever you want with me.” Rocco teases, leaning on his hip to hover in closer to her. 

“Okay dork…” she mutters, pursing her lips, flaring her eyes as she thought, “You know what? I’ll throw you out and keep this kitchen for myself.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” he smiles, kissing her cheek delicately before moving away. 

It takes everything in her not to tackle the man, for how charming he is, how he always got under her skin in the best way. How effortlessly handsome he is, with that lopsided smile, glittering blue eyes and defining wrinkles that were meant to melt her. 

She gets ready for the day, there’s a breezy feeling while doing it around Rocco, he waits up for her. They’re going to drive separately, she didn’t like stacking all of her goods in her car, so he transported some to shop with her. He helps her bring the cases out to the vehicles, driving behind her to the bakery, transporting them into the break room and her office. 

Y/n makes him a coffee to go, he comes over to her, hands bracketing on either side, pressing his front to her back, his face goes into her neck. Rocco rubs the line of his nose along the curve of her throat, there’s a tingle that runs down to her gut. Then she giggles, as his stubble tickles her. The sound he makes in return is almost like a silent ‘thank you’ before he whispers, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“You’re gone until noon, Ro.” she comments, as he hums non-comittally, burying his face into her skin as she sighs, closing her eyes as he keeps his body pressed close, his chest hard and body fitting perfectly against hers. She shivers, as she tries to put his coffee in his to-go mug, before turning around. “You're awful clingy.”

“Do you mind?” he asked, searching her face as one of his hands came to her waist, she leaned into him. 

Since the very beginning physical touch was something she never minded with Rocco, actually it was desperately sought out and wanted. Though she wasn’t verbal about it in the past, now she would relish in his affection. 

“I don’t,” she murmurs, leaning in to gently kiss his lips.

That’s when the door opens to the shop, Lonnie walking in with a surpise look on his face and a laugh in the back of his throat, “Fucking new it, you’re terrible liars!” he said, laughing manically, walking over to the counter as Rocco slowly parts from her to look at the man who intruded on their moment. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” she questions, “Coffee?”

“I did, I asked Rocco and yes on coffee.” Lonnie replied. 

“Leave a tip.” she directs, pointing to the jar. 

“Did Rocco leave a tip?”

“No, but he helped me transfer everything to the shop, so…” she shrugs, while pouring her brother a cup and getting out the special creamer she makes that tasted like cinnamon rolls. 

Rocco gets out a couple dollars to throw in the jar anyway, “How's it coming?” Lonnie asked, rolling his eyes at his friend. 

“It’s going good, new floors are done, and I got all the new counters in last night.” Rocco said, “Making headway.”

“It looks really good so far,” she hums with a smile, “We’re going for a more traditional bakery set up and I just-this is so special to me, guys.”

Rocco smiles brightly over her, sighing gently, “I hope you like it.” she gives him a lingering look worth a million words.

Lonnie scoffs, “You guys are gross,” he reaches over for his coffee on the counter, she moves it to the side.

“Tip.”

He scoffs, throwing in a dollar to the jar, “Not like I’m financing your bakery or anything.”

“You still get the brother tax, sorry. Don’t make me give you a cry baby tax too.”

“Haha, you’re so funny, fuck you, Y/n.” Lonnie snickers, before walking off towards the back to check on everything, as Rocco gives her a little wave before following after him. 

“Love you too!” 

---

Y/n honestly didn’t know what the first steps were in hiring someone else, so she reached out to her old friend from Seattle. Miranda, who had filled in a motherly role in the last couple of years before she left. She got a job there eight years ago, down on her luck, ran out of money and was fired from another place for smoking weed on the shift. She couldn’t blame them either, then she met Miranda, she had standards but she was relaxed.

Rather than having a smoke break, Miranda suggested she go to her office to collect herself for a while. One of the reasons why she always needed the breaks was because she was so overwhelmed with everything. She just needed a moment to herself. Miranda didn’t care if she smoked outside of the shift, but she taught Y/n how to be a functioning adult. Not just floating throughout life, hoping that somewhere she wondered would lead to the right end. 

It’s what inspired her to go to school, Miranda helped pay for tuition, as long as she kept working for her. She had her bakery running for over twenty years, so Y/n assumed she would be a good person to reach out to. She already did, updating her over the course of the last couple months, whenever she would let herself ask for advice. Miranda usually had a good answer for it. 

So she spoke to her over the phone, coming up with a plan to hire someone, what she needed to do to prepare for that. That she would wait until the kitchen was finished and she had a couple weeks of steady business. It wasn’t the most ideal because she needed help now but she suggested something else. 

“Oh I have a wonderful idea,” Miranda hums, “Let me come visit you, I can help you get in the swing of things, if you want. Meet this Rocco fellow.”

“You don’t have to do that, I know you have your own shop to run.” she answered.

“It would be a nice vacation! But I don’t want to put you out, I’m always here if you need to call.” Miranda added.

“You wouldn’t put me out, Miranda, I literally lived with you for a year…” she trails, some shame in her voice. Just as some customers entered the bakery, she said quickly, “You can come, a customer came in so I will update later.”

“Sounds good, honey,” she hums, before hanging up the phone.

“Welcome!” She smiles at the customers.

It’s a full day, she won’t close until late afternoon, it’s a long but she’s already thankful Miranda offered to visit. Y/n would lodge her up in the apartment above, and she would have to talk to Rocco about staying with him. She would figure it out if not, she had a couch, but it would make Miranda more stubborn about taking the bed. There’s an inkingly that Rocco wouldn’t mind her spending more time over there since he always offered now. 

After she closes up, she goes upstairs to get ready for her date with Rocco. She took a shower, did a blow out and added some curls. She did her makeup. Then put on a dress that had almost a corset top, cinching her waist but not tightly, just molding to her as the skirt goes down to her knee, flowy and a dark burnt orange color, but not muddy or too bright. 

She was nervous that something like what happened the night before would transpire, but she had a plan. She would call him, try to reach out rather than stew in her doubt, it might seem like a simple solution. But for someone who struggled with their communication out of fear of backlash-it meant something, it was a plan.

Rocco shows up fifteen minutes early, coming up to her apartment through the back door that he had a key for. It was for his work in the kitchen, nevertheless, he comes up, knocking on the door with purple tulips. 

The smile on his face freezes as she opens the door, to reveal her all done up for him, his eyes move up and down her body, to her face, gaping, “You look gorgeous, Y/n.” a flush runs to her cheeks as she steps forward, he leans the flowers towards her, “For you.”

“Thanks,” she beams, bringing the flowers to her nose to smell them, “I love tulips, Martie used to have them in her garden.”

“I know,” Rocco grins, “Are you ready to go?”

“Let me get my bag and put the flowers in a vase.” she said, nodding for him to come inside, he looked around the place, taking in the high walls, large windows, the way the floor slants to the right. 

The kitchen is broken down, but decorated to liven the space, along the rest of the apartment, lamps in corners to light the large loft room. It was all her, cozy, low light, smells like incense and vanilla, a large bookshelf on one wall, an aisle in the corner along with another table. Her bedroom part he assumed was behind a wooden partition, she grabs out a vase from a lower cabinet. 

“So I do have something to ask you,” she said as she filled the vase with water, careful to make sure the waters don’t get waterboarded.

“Go ahead,” Rocco hums.

“My old boss, Miranda, is coming to help out for a while until I can hire someone, and I offered my place to her.” she begins, “So I was wondering if I could stay with you? I understand if not, especially with Cody but I thought I would ask.”

Rocco retorts without hesitation, “Yeah of course you can stay,” as she gives him a long look. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, as he nodded, leaning against the countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m sure,” he husk, watching her a shimmer in his eyes that made her shiver as she set the flowers on the small table. 

“Okay, now I’m ready to go,” she said, scooping up her purse before taking his hand, and he led her out of the apartment. 

Rocco took her out to a concert down at the city square, it was some random band that neither one of them knew. When he brought it up, she liked the idea because it was really about being with each other. They had food trucks and merch stands, some other random tents that had trinkets or homemade crafts, scanning everything as they walked. There’s a small ferris wheel, they start there first, waiting in line. She spoke about her day and he updated her on the progress with the kitchen. 

He is incredibly touchy, but she doesn’t mind it one bit, leaning in when his hand comes to rest on the small of her back. Rocco’s hand is always skimming hers, intertwining their fingers and pulling her into his side so he can whisper something in her ear. 

Once on the ferris wheel, they hold hands over the railing across them, looking out at the city. There were large buildings in the distance, but this was near the river, so they had a decent view. It wasn’t as busy this time of the day. 

Rocco presses the side of his thigh against her, one because of the lack of space but two still leant into her. Her palm comes to his knee, before sliding up into his inner thigh, teasing, as he turns to look at her. “What?” she said, as his tongue sweeps out to wet his bottom lip, she caresses his bulge with the tips of her fingers, “Your jeans are awfully tight.” 

“You trying to tell me something?” he teases, his arm moving around her back to press in closer as she smiles, the ride stopping at the top. 

“That you wear really skinny jeans.” she retorts, as he snorts, shaking his head as her thumb teases the seam of his crotch. 

The ride starts again, letting each person out, she pulls away, discontinuing the sweep of her finger when it gets to their turn. Rocco steps out, before helping out of the car, he lets her lead him away. 

That’s when they go back to scope out the small craft stands, her hand coming to play at the necklace she wore. “I noticed you still wear that necklace I got you,” he nods to the small crystal laying against her chest. 

“It’s my good luck charm,” she shrugs, looking at a bracelet that had purple, green, and black crystal marbles on them, the tag saying, ‘Ruby Zoisite, meant for passion, vitality, gratitude, greater joy and growth’. “Here…” she holds up the bracelet, “Is yours,” she said, grabbing his hand to slip it on his wrist. 

How can someone’s wrist look hot? How crazy was she? God this man was hydrated. 

“Yeah? It’s gonna keep me safe?” Rocco teases, looking down into her eyes with a little grin on his face. He loves the way she ogles him, how she was thinking about him the same way he was thinking about her. 

“If you believe it does,” she smiles, softly, before she goes up to the cashier to pay for the bracelet.

He slips it on the moment he can after she pays for it, before going to check out the food trucks. Rocco can’t stop looking at her, he can’t believe this is really them, that they have good luck jewelry from each other, that he could ever love another human being this much. Just being around her made everything better, even if she never realized it she has been a light in his life. Someone he always looks forward to no matter the circumstances or how she treats him, she has always just been his person. 

Even knowing she was a picky eater, he makes her try onion rings, fried jalapeno poppers, and last was a burger with all the fixings. She had also convinced him to buy her cheese balls, a hot dog and milkshake, so they were both being fed well. The only ones she liked were the jalapeno poppers, he had gotten his own strawberry milkshake, while she had gotten a cookies and creme one. 

They sat at a picnic table together, making her try the different foods as she gave him a glare. Rocco just loves the way she reacts to food she finds questionable or doesn’t like, she can’t hide her distest. The moment she swallowed a piece of onion ring, there was a wrinkle at her nose and a grimace on the side of her mouth. 

“Um…I don’t like that.” she shook her head, taking a drink of her shake, “Please don’t make me try anything else.”

“You really don’t like burgers still?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Okay, okay, but I’m offering and it’s quite good, the sauce is kinda spicy so it helps.” Rocco offers, as she gives him a lingering stare before reaching out for it. She takes a bite, leaning over her plate, as she chews slowly, before grabbing her milkshake-she gags it down. 

He can’t help but start laughing, “The sauce was good.”

“I’m glad, that’s the only thing you liked huh?”

“For the most part I liked the bun, bacon, cheese…” he hums, nudging her food with his, as she purses her lips, “Are you done?”

“Yes, at least you like something.”

“I like you,” she muses, leaning in closer across the space, as she licks her lips and looks at his. 

“I don’t like you,” he counters, leaning forward, his nose twitching with deviance, “Or well, just like you, I don’t think you just like me either.” something laid underneath those words, they didn't just like each other, did they?

Y/n does the one thing that she was terrified of admitting now, the back lash that came with it, she ran away from everything. Now she had a life here, she couldn’t just run away, now she has more context, now she knows what really happened in his mind. 

A part of her still couldn’t believe he revealed so much so quickly but it was pent up, it’s why she couldn’t stop touching, looking at him, being completely obsessed with him. She hid it away for so long that it became a little hole in her chest, something manageable, but always absent, always in the crevices of memories and things she does that remind her of him. 

“You’re right,” she dips her chin, glancing at his lips before moving to his beautiful blue eyes, “I love you, Rocco.”

There’s a softness on his face that could melt solidified lava, he takes her hand across the way, kissing the back of hand with utter intention. “I’m so in love with you, Y/n.”

She gives him a wobbly smile, stretching across the space to peck his lips, he wants to follow after her but he doesn’t. They eat their food in comfortable silence, joy hanging in the air between them. 

The concert begins, they stand towards the back, swaying to the music side by side. Then she slips into his arms, his hands coming to her waist before skating down to her hips. She closes her eyes, following his movements as he moves back and forth, his head dipping into her neck. 

It’s like that for a while, holding each other close, her hands coming down on top of hers to pet over his forearms. The longer the concert goes, she eventually turns around to wrap her arms around his neck. She presses her body to his to feel a hardness against her front, she cocks her head to the side with a mischievous smile. 

That smile that knew how to make him concede into the trance he was falling into, having her so close, so natural around him. Rocco having her trust again meant something he couldn’t begin to piece together. 

Their lips meet in a kiss, his palms moving to the curve of her hips to pull her closer, as his tongue delves into his mouth. She breathes out through her nose, adjusting to better give in to the kiss. 

“Take me back to yours.” she whispers, against him.

Rocco takes in a shaky breath, rubbing his nose against hers, “Are you sure?” he husks as she nods slowly, wetly colliding their mouths. 

He takes her back through the throng of cars, gravel crunching underneath their feet, his hands intertwined with hers. Her heart was going crazy, she had a skip in her step, wanting him to walk faster. She had plans running through her mind, so many that by the time they got to his car, the tension broke. 

Her hand comes to the back of his head, taking control as she presses him against the car as she kisses him hard. Rocco moans into her hands, his own moving along her back, as he moves his mouth to keep up with her. Then she starts trailing her lips along his stubbled jawline, his cologne making her crazy as she moves under his ear, along a vein to suck a bruise into the skin.

“Oh fuck-.” he breathes before chuckling, palm coming to pet at the back of her head. 

Then she lays another one that makes his cock thrum in his jeans, he opens the back door.

The night grew darker, it was late, but not quite the end of the concert, in a gravel parking lot packed to the brim. It was risky, but his back windows were tinted and he needed her right now. 

Rocco flips them around so he can help her into the back of the car, she falls onto his lap, spreading her thighs and grinding down on his center. “God, that-feels so good,” she whines, fingers threading into his hair. “Touch me, please.”

“We shouldn’t do that here,” he rasps, as she moves to start kissing along his neck.

“Really?” she asked, before pulling back to look into his eyes, hands petting at his face. “Because I want you right now.”

“I-I know you do,” Rocco heaves, gently, trying not to come off too intense before he leaves a gentle kiss to her mouth. “I do too but…”

“What if I say please?” she pouts, giving him those puppy-dog eyes, not moving her hips on him but up and bucking forward from the ache. “That I’m already wet for you?”

“Fuck…” he trails.

“If you really don’t, then I’ll stop,” she said, slowly moving off of him, but before she could get too far his hands came to her waist to bring her back.

Rocco shakes his head, tugging her hips down on to his erection, “I don’t wanna stop. I’m hard as a fucking rock, but I’m taking you home and giving you what you deserve.”

She leans in to whisper against his lips, “You can…later.”

He doesn’t give right away even if he knows his fate, he sighs, “I won’t argue with that.” her hands coming to his jeans, palming at the bulge, unzipping his fly. Rocco lifts his hips to help her tug the fabric down, while he tugs up the dress. 

“Never thought it’d be like this…dirty…” Rocco husks, tugging her dress over head to show off her bare breasts. The dress having a liner for her tits, he groans deeply, hands coming up encompassing the large mounds. “Oh god, Y/n, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Her shoulders quiver in, his eyes going to the old scars on her upper arm. Rocco leans in to press soft kisses into the few lines on her skin. Her fingers played in his hair for a moment, caressing. Her attention pivots as she takes his cock out of his boxers, pumping a few times as she sighs shakily, the way he molds his palms to her tits makes her hips grind forward. 

“Feels so good, Ro.” she mutters, her hands come to her hips, fingers curling around the waist band of her panties and shimmying them down her thighs. “I need you inside of me.”

“Let me make sure you're ready.” he retorts, as he helps get the fabric off of her leg, settling her on top of him.

“I’m ready.” she whimpers, as his hand slides between her thighs, fingers slipping between her wet folds.

Rocco’s grin makes her want to kiss him and punch him at the same time, “You’re so wet.” he grumbles, the pad of his digits circling her clit before his middle finger dips into her slick entrance. “Oh god, I don’t know how I’m gonna last, you’re so damn tight.” his mouth comes to her neck, making out along the flesh, as her hand teases his length between them. 

She brings her fingers up to his mouth, dipping them inside as he lulls his tongue around the middle and pointer finger, coating them with his spit. Then she brings it down to his dick to pump him slowly, while he stretches her out, gets her walls to relax. She can’t really see him in detail in the light, but he was long, girthy, smooth under her touch. He grew warmer the more she played with him, she bucks into his hand, tipping her head back.

“I-I need your-.” she whines, pushing away his hand to readjust her hips.

His teeth clench at the feeling of her slick pussy, “What about a condom?” 

“I’m on birth control, just please fuck me.” she begs, as he nods his head then connects their lips. His cock leans against her thigh, heated, as his hand wraps around himself before swiping his tip through her folds. “God, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt about this,” she confesses, meeting him with a messy lip-lock, as he pushes past the threshold to feel her tight walls surround his member. 

Rocco’s mouth drops open in a moan, once they're finally connected, her fingers dig into the back of his neck. She whines against him, his hands gripping her waist, one of them coming to the back of her head. Looking into her eyes, he was dark, glossy with lust and love, his forehead resting on hers as she adjusted to him. Then she begins to lift before sinking back down on to him, grinding into a spot that made her see stars. 

It was so much more though, Rocco couldn’t stop looking at her, almost in amazement that this was even happening. The air was growing thicker, his lips moving along her jaw, as she just swiveled in her hips in a circle. She clutches on to him, fingers tangling in his long hair, small sounds falling from her lips. His car rocking when she started to let him control her movements, guiding her up and down. An airy gasp at the way he fills her over and over again, gut churning with pleasure. 

It was a moment in time where everything just stopped, it's just them. Their hearts wrapped up in each other physically, emotionally. Tears spiking her eyes from the release of a passion that was stuffed so deep, she never thought it could be accessed again. With Rocco it's endless, it is to never be unraveled, it's just impossible. 

“Rocco, more, more.” she cries, meeting his thrusts as his cock jolts up into her, a furrow in his brow as he focuses. 

Y/n’s head rolling back, her breasts sway with the way he fucks her, so thrown back into pleasure. He felt like he was in a trance, eyes roving over with desperate hunger, a line of drool falling from the side of his mouth. 

It was layer by layer, walls they didn't even know that had shattered, it was no longer a lucid dream. It was real, completely tangible, they could feel each other. From this moment on, they could never let go. 

Her hands come to his face, she leans down to lick up the line of drool before pushing her mouth to his. Rocco’s tongue sliding along hers, noses squishing together, the wet sounds of her pussy flood the car. She spasms around him when his fingers come to her clit to swirl around in circles. 

“Come on baby,” he rasps, “What do you need?”

She mewls, “Harder-.” his jaw constricts as his cock pistoning with vigor, making her tremble, she meets each glide of him. “Yes-.” 

She succumbs to her orgasm, shuttering above him as she slurs his name, he pumps in a few times, “Fuck-where do you-want me to-.”

“In me, in me.” she begs, while he comes inside of her with a loud groan, his hands come to her cheeks to collide their lips. 

Rocco trails to lay kisses along her face, gentle, caring as she leans into his palm, “I love you.” he sighs, sweetly, rubbing against his nose against her, she pecks his lips somberly.

“I love you, Ro.”

He drives her home that night, she keeps her legs crossed to try and keep herself from making a mess. It’s quiet, but he keeps his hand in hers, there wasn’t anything to talk about. 

A comfortable silence, a peace between them that this was them now. She was never going back to the pain, it would always be there, but she was finally moving on. 

Rocco lays her down on the bed when they get back to his place, licking her clean before making her fall apart over and over. Her fingers curling into his hair, hips bucking up into his mouth, his hands wandering and caressing her body. The scars that lined her skin from years of self abuse, he kissed like they were meant to be worshipped. 

He made love to her until they were both exhausted, limbs tangled together in his messy sheets. Holding her close, laying meaningful kisses along her skin as he just watches her relax in his arms. The way her eyes flutter close, the way her face slowly relaxes, the pleasure giving her a sedating effect after so many orgasms.

Rocco couldn’t believe she was so beautiful, in his arms, how he was able to deserve this after all this time. He promised to never mess it up, to give her anything she wanted, or needed, he wanted to put a ring on her finger-call her his for the rest of his life. It wasn’t a jump, not his mind because deep down he always thought this was meant to be.

"i didn't see you eat last night," he murmurs. not an accusation, just an observation coming from a place of concern.

"i waited 'til everyone else was done," you mumble. it's the first thing you've said in over twelve hours. it feels strange to talk again. bob just nods; he gets it, you know he does.

"what did you have?" he asks, not expecting a response, but it's bob. if anyone is going to be understanding, it's him. actually, everyone probably would, but you couldn't imagine having this conversation with john. maybe bucky or yelena.

"something from the freezer. i think it was pasta."

bob nods again and goes quiet for a while. the sky is beginning to lighten a little by now - it's taken you that long to be able to converse with him. he follows your gaze, looking down at the few cars and pedestrians below the tower. he can tell something is wrong; you're acting similar to how he acts when he's going through an episode.

he wants desperately to talk to you, to help, to do something, but he knows that asking you what's wrong will just result in nothing.

"what do you need?" he settles on.

you think for a moment. you don't really know what you need. a nap, maybe. you're getting a little hungry again. a shower. you really could do with a shower, you don't remember how long it's been. at least a week, maybe two.

"a shower," you say eventually. god, a shower sounds so good right now, but you don't have the energy to move from your spot on the windowsill, let alone wash your hair.

"a shower? we can do a shower," bob replies, a little more hopeful now that you've given him an answer. he holds out a hand to help you up. "we'll go at your pace, yeah?"

you take his hand. it's the most you've moved since you sat down. he lets you sit for a moment longer, then stands and tugs at your hand. "c'mon. you'll feel better."

it takes another minute or so, but you manage to force yourself to stand. you stay quiet, just letting him guide you. he takes you past your room and into his, making a beeline for his ensuite bathroom.

"your room is full of bad energy," he says. there's something akin to humour glazing his tone, trying to lighten your mood a little. "you can shower in here, and i'll open your windows and change your sheets."

"i can't."

he pauses. he looks a little comical, a towel hanging from one hand and the other resting against his bathroom door. he frowns. "you can't?" he asks.

"i can't. i don't--" you can't find the words for what you're feeling. you just can't bring yourself to shower. even the thought of stripping out of your clothes is too much, let alone turning on the water, washing your body, shampooing and conditioning your hair, then drying and dressing yourself.

bob understands, like you thought he would. "can i help?" he asks softly. the towel gets discarded on top of the closed toilet. you nod. bob's seen you naked before, albeit never in this context, so there's nothing he hasn't seen. you're too tired to be embarrassed, even if this wasn't the case.

he reaches for your hoodie, hands curling around the hem. "this okay?"

you nod again. he lifts the fabric, and you robotically raise your arms. the hoodie comes up and over your head, revealing your bare torso. he drops the hoodie on the floor, making a mental note to wash it later. he crouches in front of you, hands resting on your hips. he looks up for permission to pull down your sweats. your gaze is far away. he settles for taking off the sweats but leaving you in your underwear for decency.

"this way," he narrates, guiding you towards the shower. he turns on the water, stripping down to his own underwear to let it heat up. he gets in first, making sure the temperature is okay, before pulling you in and situating you under the stream of water.

admittedly, the hot water immediately makes you feel more alive. you sigh deeply, eyes fluttering closed contentedly. bob smiles at the sight. he lets you stand under the water for a while before turning you to face away from him.

"i'm gonna wash your hair, 'kay?" he asks. well, states. he grabs the shampoo and lathers it in your hair. his fingers massage your scalp gently, starting at your hairline and slowly moving to the base of your scalp, then you feel him pause his actions.

one of his hands traces down your back gently. you shiver. you know exactly what he's looking at: a jagged, faint scar, running from the base of your neck to the bottom of your left shoulder blade.

"what's this from?" he murmurs, quieter than he's said anything so far. not for the first time tonight, he's not expecting an answer. it's just a question he floated out. he was barely asking. wondering aloud, really.

already feeling better, you answer anyway. "when everything happened with the... void," you say quietly. the void is a touchy subject for the entire team, but especially bob. you're always careful when you bring it up. "when we were fighting, well, you, something cut me. and now i've got this ugly scar."

bob held back his initial thoughts. you had a constant reminder of that horrific experience, all because of him. instead, he comes up with, "i think it looks cool."

"cool?"

"yeah. it looks cool. it's also, like, a physical reminder of how you fought past everything that happened in the void."

you're quiet for a small stretch. "that was cheesy." it's the closest you've come to telling a joke in what's likely to weeks.

bob huffs out a small laugh. he leans down and kisses the top of the scar, then the middle, then the bottom where the divet evens out against the rest of your skin. he wraps his arms around you, shampoo temporarily forgotten.

"you don't need to talk," he whispers to you, his voice quiet alongside the running water. "i get it, really."

you let out a deep exhale, feeling some of the feeling lift off your chest. having him there was helping. now that you're more present, he feels better about leaving you to wash the shampoo out of your hair. you can wash your body tomorrow - one thing at a time. you don't smell, it's fine.

true to his word, by the time you go back to your room, dressed in a fluffy towel courtesy of bob, your curtains are pulled back, windows open, and there are clean sheets on your freshly made bed. hell, he's even put your overflowing laundry in the wash. he meets you at the door, folded pyjamas in his arms.

“It’s so good to see you!” Y/n hums, before the two begin to fall into old patterns of rambling on for hours about everything. 

It wasn’t unusual for Marina to be around, they were in the same groups still and Rocco was still friends with her ex, Johnnie. He doesn’t know at what point he had forgotten about the girls’ friendship, they grew up apart in high school when Y/n pushed everyone away. Though in reality he never forgot, it was there in the back of his mind, which made falling in love with Marina-complicated in hindsight. 

Cody gets distracted by someone else, Rocco watches from a distance, nervous, he wasn’t sure about what. 

Y/n’s feelings weren’t unintelligible to Marina, neither were Rocco’s. She still cared for her ex, and her friend. A part of her felt bad that she hadn’t gone to Y/n before she went out with Rocco, but it just hadn’t crossed their minds (Or more so Marina’s). They had been too worried about what Johnnie thought when he gave Rocco a hard time in the beginning. 

“So, you and Rocco?” Marina questions, lowering her voice, leaning in with a grin on her face.

“What about me and Rocco? You’re the one who married him.” she retorts, with a lazy smile, bringing her fruit punch up to her mouth and taking a sip. 

She points with a knowing finger at Y/n, “We never actually got married, and you’re the one he’s staring at.” jutting her chin out and taking a swig of her beer. “I don’t know, you’ve always been special to him, in a way I don’t think I could ever be.”

Y/n laughs uncomfortably, she never heard of a wedding but she just assumed, replying completely confused, “I have no idea what you’re talking about seriously, maybe I used to feel that way but he didn’t. He was practically a stone wall…” she didn’t want to think about that night again, she groaned gently. “Stop talking about him.”

“Fine, but it would be fun to be sister wives.” Marina jokes, as Y/n laughs, hitting her arm.

“You’re nuts.” 

“I’m right, you’ll see.” she points her finger at Y/n with a knowing look. 

“Even if you are, I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole. Cody’s adorable, and I would love to be around him but it isn’t about Rocco.” She states, turning her face to see Rocco looking over at her, up through his lashes before darting his eyes away. Her gaze lingering on the line of his jaw, the stubble growing, she shakes it off, “It can’t be.”

Marina relents, slapping her hands down on the picnic table, “Fine, fine. You win for now.” 

Then Y/n gets up, walking over to sit across from Rocco, glaring at him, “Why are you staring at me?”

“What?” Rocco gapes, clearing his throat, cheeks growing red. “I just-I was worried about you and Marina.”

“Well we’re fine, we used to be friends, same grade as me.” Y/n affirms, as Rocco watches her intently, as Cody sits next to him, eating a hot dog and chatting with another kid. “Why would there be an issue?”

“I know, I know, there isn't ,” he said, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “Cody really uh took a liking to you.” he nods over to his son, who shoots his head up with a grin and ketchup on the corner of his lips and cheeks. 

“Yeah, he’s a sweet kid,” she winks over at Cody who giggles before turning to talk to his friend. Her gaze trailing over Rocco, his fingers intertwined into each other on the table, then she meets Rocco’s eyes, “Remember when you used to be sweet?”

She knew it was a mistake from the salacious grin that grew on his cheeks, “From my memory, you were the sweet on me.” he hums, elbows on the table as he leans towards her, she stays in her spot. “Now…”

“Now, you’re running your mouth.” 

Rocco huffs out laughter from his nose, nodding his head, pursing his lips with humor, “You always liked that, don’t lie now, Y/n.”

She cocks her head to the side, testing him once more, “I don’t think I was the liar between the two of us.” it was a poke, that maybe a hint of what Marina said was true, even if it was, it didn’t matter. So why did she say it?

What happens feels unexpected as Rocco freezes but his eyes don’t waiver, swallowing deeply, clearing his throat, “Yep.” he pops his lips, hand petting over his mouth like he was wiping something away, he goes to say more, but she stands.

“See you later, Rocco.” she said, quickly, before darting towards the food table, grabbing a plate and some watermelon slices-she felt his stare continue and knew it wasn’t because he was watching Marina. 

Sadie comes over to her swollen belly from being six months pregnant as she steals some pineapple. “How is integrating back into society?” 

“It’s…fine.” she sighs, seeing DJ, Rocco’s stepbrother, sit down in the spot she was in-a breath of relief that she didn’t have to go back there. 

“It certainly is.” Sadie trails, giving her a lingering look, before following her gaze, “You and Rocco…always been complicated.”

Y/n begrudges, “God, no it’s not.” giving her sister in law a withering look. “He’s Lonnie’s best friend, that’s it.”

She snorts, shaking her head, “Girl, shut up.” Before walking off towards Ruth who sat with one of her girlfriends, Y/n follows after her in order for a distraction. 

Ruth always carried on interesting conversations, when she wasn’t so drunk she actually remembers who they are. 

“Oh Y/n honey!” Ruth croaks, tapping the spot in front of her, “Come sit down, come sit.”

“Hi Ruth, it's really great to see you.” she smiles as Ruth waves her hand. 

“Really is it, huh? I'll uh need to come by that shop, little Cody keeps going on and on.”

“I hope it's all good things.” Y/n jokes.

“Oh you know! I just…I look too young to be a grandma right? I didn't spend all my money on plastic surgery to be a grandma.” Ruth complains as Y/n giggles softly, shaking her head at her nonsense. 

“No Ruth, you know you're always fabulous.” she counters.

“Aww you're just the sweetest.” she picks up her beer and takes a long swig, “Now, you and My Rocco, when are you two getting together?” 

“Ruth it's not like that.”

“You're just lying to yourself! Cody wasn't the only one rambling on about you. It's Y/n this, Y/n that. He's happy that you're back in town, he can fix what he screwed up all those years ago.” Ruth rants as Y/n stares at her in slight shock. 

“He told you?”

“Told me he ran you off, that's it…did something happen?” Ruth presses with curious wide eyes and a smile. 

Rocco had been worried about Marina but how he had not expected Ruth? 

“I uh-” she grows flustered, glancing around for a second. 

“Hey, Ma, are you causing trouble?” Rocco greets, coming to Ruth’s shoulder as he gives Y/n a sympathetic glance. 

“Oh say you!” Ruth counters, giving Y/n amble time to get up from her spot. 

Rocco slides in next to his mom, giving Y/n a chin tip before he lifts his eyebrows to say, ‘Are you gonna get away?’ So she does.

Y/n manages to avoid Rocco for awhile after that, helping with the dishes inside while the guys cleaned up outside, before making their way over to the fire pit. She hated, hated with all of her being that she kept looking out the window to always have her eyes land on him. 

Even if she denied how she felt, things were always the same, secretly pining after him, believing no one knew-oblivious to the blind truth. But he’s here, so incredibly handsome, and a good dad. Whatever was happening didn’t feel one sided, but to her it never did, deep down she always thought he felt the same. 

What had Rocco lied about? Did she want to know? Was she jumping to conclusions to think a part of him was being fake that night he rejected her? Like he didn’t mean it, yet he had no other option but to push her away? She doesn’t regret it, none of it, she realized, she doesn’t wish anything was different. Y/n just doesn’t want to repeat her mistakes yet another part of her wanted answers. 

Once she was done cleaning up she wandered outside, throwing on a sweatshirt before sitting in one of the lounge chairs. There weren't too many people left, Cody came over to ask if Y/n would help him with a s’more, then proceeded to sit on her lap while he ate one.

Rocco made Y/n one, coming over while Cody sat enjoying his gooey s'more, he placed one into her hand with a napkin underneath, “Thanks Ro.” it just slips from her tongue and she'd smack herself for letting the nickname slip out. 

He goes back to sitting across the way, like he was keeping distance just to look at her. Seriously, what was his deal? Did he not trust her with his son? She knew it wasn't that, she didn’t want to let herself believe he had feelings for her.

It took her so long to come to terms with him not wanting her back, it's why she ran. She didn't know how to move on with him around, that's all she wanted was to escape the pain. Something so idealized in her head, grew more lucid with his kindness, the moments alone with him. Someone who was there for her through thick and thin, maybe he did love her. Maybe he just wanted his friend back, the one he grew up with, the one he loved like family. Stupid stupid of her to ever make it anything else.

Marina eventually took Cody back with her and her boyfriend, Santaigo. Some others clearing out, Sadie heading to bed, Y/n planned to crash in their guest room, so she just curls up, enjoying the fire and chit chatting. 

The night felt dizzy with the smell of smoke, beer, the sound of crickets and the crackling of the fire. The crispiness of the night coming down on them, the stars glimmering in the sky. 

She tucks her chin into her sweatshirt, shivers before her attention is pulled back to the one person she shouldn't, Rocco. Who didn't know how to keep his eyes to himself. It was starting to be creepy at this point, even if that wasn't what she felt-it was better to tell herself that than the real reason her cheeks were growing hot. 

The orange light flickers off of Rocco’s face, showing a peak of his cold red nose, and the tired pull of his eyes. His hair was growing tangled as the day grew long, and he was wrapped up in his classic leather jacket. A piece of material that used to almost hang off his body, now it fit him so well he could barely zip it, his arms straining the fabric. 

Then he gets up, grabbing out his cigarette packet before flicking on a lighter. He walks away from the pit, towards the side of the house and she stares for a moment. Jitters running through her that tell her to follow after him. 

There's something there, there's something there, go. 

Y/n got up from her spot, bringing her plastic water bottle with her as she walked back towards the house. That's when she sees Rocco, leaning against the siding, cigarette between his lips. 

“You shouldn't smoke.” she said, before digging around in her sweatshirt pocket for her thc cart. “It's bad for you, nicotine." 

“You just feel justified because you're smoking weed.” Rocco retorts, pushing his shoe out to tap hers as she stands in front of him. She moves to stand beside him, against the house. 

“That might be true.” she muses, before offering it over to him, he pops the cigarette out to pull from the cart. Then he hands it back over to her, bringing the cig back as the smoke falls from his lips and his nose. 

“Might be?” he teases as she nods, leaning her head back as she gets lost in thought. “You good?”

“Why have you been staring at me, Rocco? Like all night.” she blurts, growing flushed at the outburst and crossing her arms over her chest. He moves to completely face her, eyeing her up and down, “Just like right now!”

“I can't help it, I've missed you, don't want to miss a second.”

“What the fuck does that mean!” she blurts with something more intense than frustration. 

“I-”

“No-no I don't want to know, I don't want to do this anymore. I don't care.” she rants, moving to walk away and this time he reaches out for her, without even touching her but his words make her pause. 

“Because I’m stupid, I’ve been stupid,” Rocco said, “and I meant it, when I lied. I lied that night, in the room, I said the worst thing I could think of so you would stop having feelings for me. I didn't know that's not how that works.”

She turns around to face him, “Yeah that was stupid.” she states, “Is that it?”

“No, no, I know I don't know you anymore but I was in love with you back then, growing up…it all just felt wrong, the wrong timing. We were both too young.” Rocco rants, searching her eyes as she then notices the way he wobbles, the sheen of belief in her eyes, fading away at the realization that he wasn’t sober. 

“You're drunk, and I just got you high.” she sighs, shaking her head. “I shouldn't be doing this with you, goodnight Rocco.”

“Don't leave, please, not again. I can't take it-” Rocco begs, reaching back out for her arm and gently tugging but not roughly, not commanding, it was pleading. He was pleading. “I just wanted to keep you safe and then I drove you away, out into the world but to me it somehow felt safer than being stuck with me.”

“That's not how I saw it. I-I didn't want to be humiliated.” she confessed, “You would've told everyone, or you did.”

“I didn't, no one else knows but Lonnie, Marina. I never told Lonnie the full truth.” Rocco explains, “I told-I told Marina a lot of things about you.”

“I got that, she told me.”

“Oh god told you what?” he groans, blue eyes wide with fear, head tilting back to show the length of his throat. 

“It doesn't matter, you should go to bed.” 

“With you?”

“I think you're playing up your inebriation.”

“I'm taking a chance.” Rocco replies, leaning into her, “Just to sleep next to you.”

“Fine.” She knew Rocco had always been respectful when it came to sleeping arrangements. She wasn't sure if he was planning on staying with Lonnie, but it didn't matter.

She leads him to her room, Rocco kicks off his boots, leather jacket, flannel, wearing his classic chain, white t-shirt, and jeans. She turns around, taking off her sweatshirt and then her pants. She crouches down to get a larger t-shirt to sleep in and switches them out. She wonders if Rocco was watching and as she turns around she finds he is. She never told him to look away, maybe because she didn't want him to. 

Rocco slips into the bed and she lays beside him, tired from smoking all night, she yawns before shivering. He moves in a little closer from behind, “Can I hold you? You're cold.”

“Just don't throw up on me.”

“I'm not drunk.” Rocco rasps, “Not completely,” his hand comes to soothe over her waist. “Should I drive? No. Should I have a kinda innocent cuddle with you? Yes.”

She giggles, hooking a leg through his and pressing in closer. Her heart was growing wild at the proximity, at the smell of his cologne and tobacco. His arms move further around her, tugging her in close to his chest. She flips to press her face into his strong chest, melting as Rocco dips his head into her neck. 

It was two hearts finally in sync, it was giving in to decades of pent up emotion. A collision in the softest of ways, something that was meant to be in this moment.

She wouldn't admit a thing, but she would give in to her instincts to be close to Rocco in some tangible way. To pine after him silently but earnestly, breaking through the tension with a knife to her words. 

There’s a challenge, one she sets up in the moment to protect herself. 

Now his hands were soothing along her back as he slowly fell asleep wrapped around her. It was the sweetest torture, telling herself she didn’t know how to feel but deep down she felt so entirely safe in his arms. Like he would always protect her, even if it didn't make sense to her at the moment. 

She was glad they didn't get together when she was eighteen, she needed time alone, to adventure. He had been drinking tonight so god knows if he’ll remember but she had no idea what his tolerance was like. But the sincerity in his eyes as he confessed he was in love with her. It was bone chilling. 

She wanted to deny, to tell him that he was an asshole, dishonest, immature. He might be those things sometimes, but was also risking something he wasn't willing to before. Maybe Lonnie knew, maybe it was as inevitable as it felt, maybe none of that mattered. 

---

Cody was with Marina for the week, but Rocco still came by the shop. The two hadn't spoken about that night. The following morning, she checked on him and asked if he remembered what he said last night and when he replied, “I did.” she grabs her things and leaves to go back to her place. Not meaning to be vague or allusive, but she was confused, a deep wound stinging in a way she didn’t know how to explain. 

It was early in the morning, they weren't open for another thirty minutes but he knew she kept the doors open for the early crowd. Rocco walks into the shop with a little chime of the bells tied to the door. 

It’s quiet for a moment before there's a clinking of things in the back that draw his concern, “Y/n?” Rocco calls.

“Um one second!” she shouts, as he decides to round the counter, heading through the back to check if she was okay.

“What happened?”

“You aren’t supposed to be back here.” she sighs, holding a towel to her arm with her free hand. 

Rocco questions, glaring, though only with care, “What’s that?” He eyes her forearm that was wet with something red seeping through the fabric, his eyes going over to the stove that was pushed out from the wall and the back was seemingly broken, falling apart and some spring popped out. 

“Nothing Rocco! Go out there, I can make you a pot of coffee, I-I don’t think I can keep the store open today, so just..”

He grimaces, coming over to her and gently gripping her upper arm, his hand pushing back her hand to see the blood seeping through the rag, dripping down her forearm, “I gotta take you to the ER.”

She begins to ramble, “You can’t do that, I can’t afford that and-.” 

“Shut up, let me help you.” Rocco retorts, his other hand coming to her back, “I’m taking you, a little wound wouldn’t cause this much bleeding, shit, Y/n-.” As he reaches over for another towel, wrapping it around her arm before leading her out of the store.

“Lock it, please, this is my pride and joy, Ro.” she pressures, as he nods, she slides the keys out and he locks it for her. 

Then he opens his car door for her that was parked right in front of her shop, before softly closing it after her and rounding the his 1971 Ford LTD, “What happened to your hand?” he pressed, turning over the engine, sliding his belt across him before flicking on the turn signal and heading down the street. “Y/n.”

“The oven I bought off someone is janky and I was trying to move it to see what was wrong and once I removed it from against the wall, the back fully fell off, a part sprung out and cut me.” Y/n rants, gnawing on her bottom lip, as she makes a small sound as the pain sets in. 

“How deep is it?”

“I don’t know, clearly deep enough.” she retorts, with a frown on her face, leaning her head back. “Can’t believe you still have this car.”

“It’s my baby,” he shrugs, “How are you feeling?”

She sighs shakily and his eyes keep flickering over to her with worry, “I’m feeling pain.” 

“The hospital isn’t too far from here.” He gives her a tight lipped smile, she hums, closing her eyes as she focuses on her breath. “It’s gonna be alright.”

His heart is almost beating out of his chest, not because he thought the wound was fatal, but the memories it brought back. 

Rocco was supposed to swing by to drop off dinner for Y/n, his mom made her famous Ziti, which was one of Y/n’s favorites. He tried to come around to make sure she was okay, when Lonnie had to work often, when he knew their mom was probably out with some guy.

“Y/n/n, you here?” he questions, voice echoing through the house, “Martie?” he peeks into the living room.

That’s when he pauses, hearing a sob throughout the house, he completely freezes before trudging forward to find Y/n. “Y/n/n?” he hollers, before stopping in front of her bedroom, gently opening the door. “What’s-.” he chokes on his words, his heart stopping, his whole body stilling, before he darts forward. 

“Rocco-I.I.” Y/n stutters, voice trembling, it was like she was a deer, how slowly she moved. “I’m sorry-I.”

His jaw clenches as he reaches forward for her arm that was covered in blood, she had been lifting the paper towels off of it when he came in. Long horizontal marks on her arms, bloody, skin separated so far, he couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes.

“Oh my god-.” he looks around for a towel, for something, grabs one sitting on her chair, and wraps it around her forearm. “What happened?”

“I-I hurt myself, I just couldn’t stop…” she breathes, voice trembling as he nods slowly, his free hand coming to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

It wasn’t the first time something like this happened, but it was quieter before, finding out after it happened about her self harm. Rocco didn’t understand it, but he didn’t judge her for it, he numbs and hurts himself in his own ways. Not that it made it okay, not that it didn’t kill him to see her like this. 

“I’m gonna have to take you to the hospital, Y/n/n.” Rocco states, keeping his other hand against the towel to apply more pressure. 

“I-No I can’t go there again, I-I can’t-.”

 “You gotta trust me on this one.” leaning in to kiss her forehead, he promises, “It’s gonna be alright.” 

“I’m scared, Rocco, I shouldn’t have done this-I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Rocco counters, gently helping her stand up, “I just want you to take care of yourself, right now? Let me help you.” 

Tears drain down her cheeks as she turns to hug him, tightly, as he holds her back before taking her to the hospital. 

His hands tremble around the stirring wheel when they pull into the ER parking lot, he finds a plot close to the door. Rocco helps her out of the car, getting her through registration, eventually she gets called back to a room, “Do you want me to come back with you?”

“I’m okay,”

“Are you sure?” he presses.

“You can come back if you want.” Y/n offers, knowing that he probably wanted to make sure that she was okay, that he wouldn’t stop worrying until she was.

It annoyed her, the way she can’t deny the way he cares about her. “Yeah, I do.” he assures, before following her back.

Rocco sat across from her with his knee jumping with anxiety, he’s quiet as the nurses come in, accessing the wounds, giving her medication for the pain. She wasn’t completely loopy, but she felt effects on her, it was evident she felt calmer and less pain. 

Once she’s all cleaned, sewn up, she relaxes her head against the pillow, watching him, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, why are you asking?” he retorts, with concern etched in his brow, worry wavering in her voice. 

“You seem nervous…”

“Just a lot has happened in the ER, with you, with Marina, this where I met her, that ended in a diaster…This is where you, where we came…” Rocco rants, shrugging his shoulders though there was no nonchalance in it. 

“Oh, yeah…If this is triggering you can leave, Rocco, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to.” he said, swallowing deeply, “I never left you alone and I’m not now.”

“Well fine.” she murmurs, trying to keep down the smile on her face, she wasn’t happy that this was bringing back memories. She smiles because he’s still her Rocco, she shouldn’t think that but she does. She scans his face, reaching out her free hand for his, “Forgot you actually care about me.”

“You did?” Rocco questions, his voice pitching with confusion, taking her hand, moving his chair in closer. “How?”

She corrects herself, “Just while I was away,” she meets his blue eyes that are full of so many conflicted emotions, “Because I wanted to forget.”

Rocco wanted to ask, ‘Why?’ but it was a redundant question, “And now?”

“Now you’re around-or well I am and you keep reminding me.” she confesses, “Now you’re taking advantage of my loopy brain.” 

“You took advantage of mine, made me reveal my deepest darkest secrets.” Rocco teases.

“So being in love with me is your darkest secret?” she blurts, now she couldn’t take it back. 

“Nah.” he shakes his head, smiling gently with a crinkle to his nose, “My deepest though.” their eyes meet, feeling like two black holes guiding straight into their souls. 

“I also got you half naked in my bed.” she teases.

“Yeah, now that was a part of my plan, or well half of it.”

Y/n comments, “It’s so weird….you flirting with me.” 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, but I want you to change the subject.” 

“Can do,” he hums, she pulls away from his hand, “I’m gonna help you with the oven, you can't have hazards around.”

“Yeah? The whole place is a hazard, gonna renovate the place for me?”

“I could.” Rocco shrugs, “Got some money put away, before…I got out of the business." 

“How did you?”

“Marina, Cody, it wasn't easy but my dad helped and then I went to trade school to make something of myself, put my skills to work…I double majored, contracting, mechanics.” Rocco explains, “Didn’t ever think I was smart enough for double majors but look at me.”

“I knew you were smart enough.” she nods with a soft grin on her face, “I knew you got a new job but not the rest of it. So I guess I could put my trust in you to fix up my bakery…I just…want to do it forever.”

Rocco watches her, searching her face with a gentle touch, his lip softly taken between his teeth for a second as the gears in his mind turn, “You will, as long as you want to, you will.” 

She plans to close the shop down for the rest of the week, it puts a damper on Y/n’s mood, she puts so much time and effort into this place. Now she wasn’t even able to bake, it terrified her, losing the shop because she already fucked it up. She was trying to stay on the cheaper side, so she found deals on equipment, doing it all herself to try and be independent. A month later and half of the appliances didn't work, she was back in this town for a short time and everything was already going to hell. 

She knew from therapy that coming back to this place, where she grew up, even if it was okay, level, fine-it was stepping back into her past. It was her trying to find her roots, to grow in the place that took so much from her. And to be around the people who were there for her, that even throughout the chaos of growing up, she had small moments with the people she cared about. That it made it all worth something, Rocco used to make it worth everything and he was so easily doing that now.

She spent the next day sitting in her apartment, recovering, and the next day Rocco and Lonnie planned to stop by the bakery. 

She had the main oven broken, the larger baking counter top oven keeps frying the circuits. Her stand mixer kept slowing down no matter the plug-int, the sink kept clogging, this place was cheap for a reason, and now it was biting her in the ass. The counters were falling apart in the back, she put time and money into the front counter to make it look nice, for it to be functional. But the rest was so expensive and she already felt like she was taking too much. 

She vaguely remembers the conversation they had in the ER, how she felt they both moved on far too quickly. Rocco comes into the bakery with Lonnie, “So you used my money on cheap shit and now it’s biting you in ass.” her brother greets as she sighs, glaring over at the blue eyed man next to him. 

“Thanks for telling him.” She scoffs, as he shrugs.

“You should’ve just asked for more money, I told you I would help you.” Lonnie said, coming behind the counter, opening one of the display cases.

She smacks her hand away, “I can’t just take all of your money, Lonnie. And wear gloves!” 

“Fine.” he breathes, grabbing a pair, “Bro, these aren’t gonna fit my hands.”

“Then stop trying to steal my inventory!” 

His annoying voice pitches up, “I’m your money donor, why are you coming after me?” he complains in defense. 

“Lonnie, I swear to god, shut up.” she groans, shoving at his shoulder as he leans back against the counter behind her, creating distance. 

“Talk Rocco.” he nods over to his friend as Rocco keeps his hands tucked into the front of his jean pockets.

“You remember what we spoke about in the ER?” he starts, a different flare of recognition comes over her face, “About the bakery.”

She replies, “Um yeah, vaguely…” 

“I meant it, I’ll help fund the renovation, with the help of Lonnie. We get free food for life.”

“You already had that second part, you both know that.”

Lonnie shrugs, “We want to, alright? Give you a good reason to stay.” 

She sighs, nodding her head, before slipping on the gloves and walking over to grab a plate for Lonnie, “What do you want?” She opens the display case and her brother immediately saddles up to her.

After Rocco and Lonnie follow her into the kitchen to tell them what needs to be fixed, they come up with plans. 

“I’m going to be closed for so long,” she panics, “My kitchen upstairs is tiny, I can barely fit a table in there, I gotta make some kind of money.”

“You’ll be fine,” Rocco starts. “We’ve got you.”

“No, I want to make my own money.”

“Well you can’t do that without a new kitchen,” Lonnie adds.

Rocco nods slowly, “You can use my kitchen, I’m only a few blocks from here.” 

“What?” she inspects.

“It’s a nice kitchen, lots of room.” he offers, as Lonnie juts his chin in agreement as he stuffs a brownie into his mouth. 

“Alright…I might need help with traveling, and I suppose if you gave me a walk way I can store everything in the break room.”

“If I get bored I might renovate those after,” Rocco said, but he wasn’t joking as she scoffs. “Calm down.”

“What’s the catch guys? Really?” She asked.

Lonnie just shrugs, keeping quiet with food in his mouth but, making eye contact with Rocco, then he speaks, “No catch, you went through a lot and now that you're back…it’s a fresh start and like he said, we wanna give you a good reason to stay.”

“I also gotta say, it’s nice to have something to invest in, a home base, free food. You're awesome at your job, people love you, you’re kinda meant to be here, I think.” Lonnie rants. 

She nods slowly, looking down as tears cloud her eyes, “Thanks. I just need a moment.” she mutters, nodding, before going back to the office. 

The overwhelm washes over her quickly, starting in her throat before the pressure makes it behind her eyes. Once she gets behind the door, she lets out a shaky breath with tears blinking down her cheeks. She felt so much gratitude, love, she didn’t ever know how to repay them. She was a terrible sister, absent for a decade, skipped her own mother’s funeral, but welcomed back with open arms. 

There was a knock on the door, Rocco peaks his head in with a soft smile, a curl unfurling in front of his forehead “Hey? You alright?”

“I’m okay, come in.” she nods, grabbing tissues to wipe away the tears while he shuts the door behind him. “I'm sorry I’m just overwhelmed….I. I don't understand why you are doing this for me.”

“Lonnie’s helping too.” he adds as she leans against the desk and he stands a few feet in front of her. 

“Still! I’ve been gone ten years and I missed my mother’s funeral, and now you guys renovate my bakery?” she questions, voice high pitched, he steps in closer, “I used to stop questioning everything and now…I have so much to face.” 

“It's nothing scary, it's all gonna-”

“gonna be okay, I know,” she grunts, moving to sit behind her desk. I'm just emotional. I’m scared of having everything I wanted.”

“I get that.” Rocco hums, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know this is a great opportunity for you but do you want this?”

“I do.” She nods with big eyes, watching him with a silent focus. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“You don't gotta.”

“Are you sure?” she tilts her head to the side with real interest.

Rocco turns to leave before pausing, “I’m sure, but I know if you really want to you'll figure out a way, Y/n/n.” he winks before walking out the door.

God, this was a bad idea. One of the reasons she was freaking out was because what the fuck was Rocco doing? Did Lonnie not care? Did Rocco not care? What changed his mind after everything? Was this actually happening or was this all a dream? 

Y/n refuses to give into him, into whatever was going on. Maybe it was out of spite for the rejection back then, even if it wasn't the right time for them. He shattered her heart into a million pieces and she didn't forgive him until recently. Ever since she moved back and he acted like the person he was only around Y/n. But even better, he was older, comfortable in his own skin, he worked his way out of trouble and had a stable job, life. 

She was the mess she always was, did she really want to bring Cody into this? Would she be good to him? Or would she treat her the way Y/n’s step mom acted towards her? Singling her out, making her feel like she wasn't one of them. Martie in the end, seemed to have a vendetta against her daughter, and Y/n didn't understand. She loved her so much, even if Martie wasn't her real mother. 

Lonnie tried to make her feel included, seen, spend time with her, tried to take care of her. He was also a selfish teenage boy who got caught up with his girlfriends, but he was far more normal than her. 

Rocco always, always understood her, he never left her behind for some other girl. He didn't take relationships seriously back then, he was never looking for love or anything above sex. Plus he just didn't want to, his attention had been on his libdio, it wasn’t on Y/n. His attention pivots to her naturally, like she was the sun shining through the dark side of the moon. Rocco thought so lowly of himself for so long, he always felt like pain lined everything he did. The only time it didn't was with Y/n, he was himself. 

Now it wouldn't, now he would make it up to her, he didn't regret his life. He regrets hurting her in the way he did, not going after her to make sure she was okay, that look in her face would haunt him forever. 

Rocco loves her, he would take as much time making up for his mistakes. In never going after her like he always told himself he would. It didn't matter how long because their relationship never had a timer, it's always just been. 

He lets her into the apartment that night after she'd been gathering supplies to bring them over to Rocco’s. He had gone out to get her a new far too expensive stand mixer, and Lonnie was planning on bringing a new toaster oven to the shop. He was also going to work changing the outlets before he left. 

Once everything is inside she begins to clean, reorganize. It's only four pm but he assumes this is going to take all night. 

Y/n works on a checklist of everything she needs to make, while she eats her food, not able to focus on one thing. Rocco loiters, before she starts he comments, “Let me help you, seriously. How are you gonna do everything one handed?”

“Four years ago I broke my hand during Coachella, halfway through school. But it didn't stop me.” she smiles, before shoveling more noodles into her mouth, “It's healing well though.”

“Good,” he hums, “Still let me help you, don't want to put stress on those stitches.”

“Fine.” she sighs, “Just don’t get in my way.”

Rocco grins, “Yes, ma’am, wherever you want me.”

Dangerous words, she thought. 

Y/n opens one of her bags to grab out an apron to put on, throwing one to him. “First wash your hands and then gloves.” 

She works for hours, prepping ingredients, making what she can. 

She's prepping bread for the next day, her small cakes, brigadeiros, toaster strudels, assortments of cookies. She had spent a long time perfecting the recipes to make them a staple in her bakery. She also had prepackaged chocolate pretzels she needed to work on, fudge that would take forever, brownies. 

Rocco watched over the mixing bowl, he helped dash sprinkles on to the pretzels. Then he helped with the brigarderio’s, she made them and let them chill. He rolls them into balls with some butter to help the formation and then sets them in the chocolate sprinkles. 

“I didn't know you did this much work outside of shop hours.” Rocco said he was tired just from tonight. How did she do this every night? “Do you do this every day?”

“I usually have to do a lot of prep all at once and then I bake throughout the week to make sure everything is fresh. I usually donate the rest that is outdated.” she explains, while wrapping up the cookie dough to let it chill for a little while. 

“Damn it's eight already,” Rocco comments, “I could go pick something up.”

“Could you get more eggs? Pretzels and melting chocolate? I can give you some cash.”

“I can go, pick up a frozen pizza, wanna text me everything you need?” He suggests as her gaze linger on him for too long, he gives it right back, those blue eyes warming her all over. 

“Why are you doing all of this for me?” she asked, it wasn't the first time and a part of her felt like she knew the answer. Sometimes she just needed to be reminded, even when there was that hollow feeling in the shape of the answer. 

“Because I want to.”

“Give me something better than that.” she retorts, “You really have nothing better to do?”

“You know my answer, Y/n.” Rocco sighs, walking towards the other end of the kitchen island, leaning against it. “I do want to spend time with you, I miss you.” She stares at him, waiting and he frowns, “What do you want me to say?”

She wants him to remind her that he was still in love with her, she doesn’t know why, she shouldn’t want it. Because she wasn’t getting tangled up with Rocco, not after he pushed her away the first time. Her gaze moves up and down his figure before dipping her chin as she looks into his eyes. 

She doesn’t tell him the truth, “I don’t know.” Her gaze drifts dramatically, he immediately knows she’s lying.

Rocco doesn’t know whether to push her or not, but his restraint cracks, “That's bu-that’s a load of crap.” His jaw works with nerves.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“About what, Y/n?” he presses, emotion making his voice wavier, “You fucking-you started it.”

She mutters, still not meeting his eyes, “Yeah, I don’t know why I did.”

“Look at me, Y/n.” Rocco pushes, she doesn’t, so he moves over to the other side of the counter, leaning back against it, tilting his head down, with his fingers coming to grasp her chin. He adjusts her head up, her eye contact still drifting down.

“I can’t-.”

“Just look at me.”

The moment their eyes met she knew he sees straight through her, how much pain this was causing her. She didn’t know if it was painful because she was trying to push him away or just being around him. 

Rocco wasn’t hiding how he felt, so neither would she, “You-you have the audacity to-hurt me the way you did and then just…want me?” 

“It wasn’t the right time, you were younger, you needed time not some…older boyfriend who was going to send you down the wrong path. When you left, it killed me, Y/n/n, but it was the best thing that could've been out of the two, trust me.” Rocco said with conviction in his voice, a softness in his eyes, he continued, “I’ve always wanted you, I just…you didn’t need a boyfriend back then, you don’t now either. Because you’re, you. You're one the smartest people I know and anyone you let close to you is damn lucky. I love you, you know that, you knew back then too, you’ve always read me like a book. I’m sorry I’m not doing the right things, I just don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want, but I also wanna do everything I can to make you happy.”

A tear falls from the corner of her eye, lips trembling as she gets stuck in his gaze, until his hand comes to the back of her head. She presses her face into his chest, crying, letting out all the emotion she wouldn’t let show. 

One of her arms slipped around his waist to hold him closer, “I’m sorry.” he murmured into the crown of her head. 

When she eventually pulls away, her red eyes and swollen cheeks break his heart, he doesn't know how to fix it. Because he might’ve been sorry about hurting her but he does regret what he did for a second. 

“I-I’m not ready yet.” she whispers, as his hand comes up to wipe a few tears away, “I-I need time to…process.”

“I understand, it’ll be okay, alright?” Rocco said, before slipping away from her, she turns her head as more tears fall. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just gonna clean a little, I’ll text you my list.”

“Sounds good,” he hums, before coming back over to her and hugging her. She wraps both arms around his shoulders, fitting their bodies together in a way that feels far too perfect. Rocco squeezes her in a way that makes her never want to leave, but she pulls away wiping more tears.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” she nods, as he lets her go reluctantly before slipping his wallet into his pocket, shoving his boots on and grabbing his keys.

Rocco gives a lingering stare, blue eyes dark and stormy with a flint of worry. He gives her a soft smile before leaving the apartment, she takes a large exhale. She had no idea what she was doing anymore, there was no way to solve the past, she could only move on. If they were right together, then maybe she would give it a shot, trying to ignore the anxiety of something bad happening. Y/n needed to think about how easy it truly was with him, how he made her feel safe, capable, loved. 

She was sitting in her room alone, only ten years old, her father left, it felt like a part of her was taken with him. She was always a Daddy’s girl, why would he leave her? To gamble, to shoot up. She shouldn’t know what those words mean, she shouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. 

She was crying, she couldn’t stop crying, she kept replaying what happened over and over like she could do something to stop it from happening. It was the middle of the night, she had gone out to the kitchen for a glass of water. When she saw her dad, digging around in her step-mom’s purse, duffle bags by the counters. 

“Daddy? What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna go out tonight.”

“Where?”

“To the Casino, you know?” he said, shoving money into his pockets, she felt a thickness in her throat as she stared at him. “I love you, sweetheart, you be good for Martie and Lonnie.”

Then he left, she stood there, resuming like nothing happened, grabbing a glass of water before going back to her room. She set the water down next to her, and she began to cry. 

Because this felt different than every time before, why did he have so many bags? Should she wake up Martie? She just got out of rehab, what would happen if she told her? What would happen if she didn’t? 

She can’t be subtle about much, face pressed into her hands as she sobs, there's a soft knock on her door. “Are you okay?” Rocco asked through the door, before gently opening it but not peaking in. 

“I-Dad left.” she hiccups, as he opens the door, he comes in with his light brown hair a mess, bags under his blue eyes, his face speckled with ache, and cheeks plump with his young age,.gently shutting the door behind him, a furrow in his brow.

“What do you mean? To the casino?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip, walking over to sit down next to her on the bed. 

“He had bags, and took mom’s money.” 

“You saw? Why didn’t you get someone?” Rocco questions, confused. 

“I-I just wanted to get some water…I didn’t mean to.” she cries, “He told me to be good, not to tell anyone…”

“He makes you do that?” Rocco asked, as she cast her eyes down. 

A soft sob leaves her mouth, fists coming to rub at her eyes, “It’s me and him against the world, we-he used to say that.” she muffles.

His hands gently come to her fists, “Don’t do that, it’s not good for you.” he sighs, prying them away as more tears fall, he almost chokes on his next words, “He might come back…”

“Your dad didn’t.” she sighs, as he cringes, slowly nodding, and reaching out to squeeze her hand. 

“Our dads aren’t the same.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean-.” she rushes with anxiety, wiping at the loose tears. 

“You’re alright.” he smiles softly, “I’ll wait til morning, it’s a secret between you and me. Just get some rest.” Rocco leans to gently kiss her forehead, before helping her get tucked under the sheets. 

This wasn’t the first time he slept over at their house, it wouldn’t be his last, he’s also helped out Y/n before. She has nightmares, or sits in front of the TV late at night, when Rocco and Lonnie would come out to join her. Sometimes they would play games, even when dad used to go out to the bar or casino, mom worked the night shift. There were frequent sleepless nights, and she always was an emotional kid. 

Rocco was always there for her. 

Rocco didn’t tell Lonnie about their dad that night, he kept his promise to her, till this day he didn’t know what actually happened. 

Martie woke up that morning, coming out to the table that was unusually quiet. 

“Where’s your dad?” Martie questions, coming out to the kitchen, as Y/n’s knee starts to jump she shrugs.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.”

“That’s bullshit kid.” she snaps, as she flinches, Martie never spoke to her that way, she was always gentle with her. “Where did he go? You always fucking know.”

“I don’t know!”

Martie grabs Y/n by the arm, “Let her go! She doesn’t know!” Rocco protests, pushing Martie’s hand off of Y/n as she flinches at the now phantom grip on her bicep. “Get a fucking grip, she’s a kid.”

“He’s right ma, you can’t do that.” Lonnie said, softly, looking over at his sister with worry in his eyes.

“Fuck you,” she seethes, pointing at Y/n before she walks over to her purse that was strewn about on the counter, “That fucker, he took his shit, my money but left you?” she clicks her teeth together and Y/n feels tears run down her cheeks.

The truth was she didn’t know where her father went, that if she told Martie what happened it would only be worse for her. She never got angry at Y/n, her father maybe, but it was like a switch flipped and she began to resent the girl she was raised as her daughter. 

She grabs her pack of cigarettes, walking out the back door, Lonnie follows after her, as Rocco’s attention was already on Y/n. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” she murmurs, glaring down at her hands, trying to keep back tears.

“It’s okay to cry,” words he only heard from his mother, but it always felt like she wanted that pain, that it proved something-not her genuinely wanting him to express his emotions. But he knew what it truly meant, and he wouldn't take from Y/n.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, she flinches away, and he just soothes through with a soft smile. A gentle way of saying ‘your safe’, before retracting his hand, as tears fall down her cheeks. Her hand reaches back out for his as he pulls away, latching on as she closes her eyes and trembles.

“He’s gone.”

“Hey, you don’t need him, I don’t need mine.” Rocco said with a finality, his thumb soothing along the back of her hand.