Teen Rhett - Years Later 1 - Adult Rhett Abbott/Adult Female Reader
briefing: whilst working at his new job in Arizona, Rhett gets an alarming call he can't ignore. when he gets home the chaos that ensues is very overwhelming. words: 8k warnings: some panic/anxiety, crying, emotional distress over beloved pets, lots of chaotic Wesley energy, minor injury from a startled snake bite and Rhett smacking his head, domestic fluff, kissing, implied intimacy, very loved-up behavior, emotionally codependent snakes, and one deeply traumatized bathroom sink
author note: Enjoy a sequel to the Teen Love birds. IT'S A COMEDY :D
Spring 2026
Arizona still didn’t feel completely natural to Rhett. Not yet.
Some mornings, he still woke up expecting Wyoming cold against the windows instead of warm desert light creeping through the thin curtains in his apartment. Still reached automatically for heavier jackets he didn’t really need here. Still caught himself looking toward distant stretches of land, expecting green instead of dry gold and dusty brown.
But it didn’t feel temporary anymore either.
That was the strange part.
The farm wasn’t nearly as large as the Abbott ranch, but it sprawled enough to keep him busy from sunrise well into the evening. Fence lines stretched across dry land that shimmered in the afternoon heat. Dust coated the legs of his jeans before noon most days, settling into the creases of his boots no matter how often he knocked them clean against the porch steps.
Everything smelled different here.
The air was drier. Hotter. Thick with sunbaked dirt instead of rain and grass and Wyoming wind. The birds sounded different, too. Sharper somehow. Louder in the mornings outside the barn.
Even the rhythms of the place felt unfamiliar in ways he was still learning.
Which horses tested fences when they got bored. Which dogs followed him around the property like he’d personally offended them by existing. Which gates stuck in the heat. Which section of fencing needed repairing every damn week, no matter how many times he fixed it.
And somewhere along the way, without really noticing it happen, Rhett had learned exactly what time the old property owner took lunch every afternoon.
The realization hit him sometimes in quiet moments.
Not hard. Not painfully.
Just… strangely.
Because for a long time, Rhett had gotten used to things ending.
People leaving. Dreams changing. Places becoming memories before he’d even settled into them properly.
For years, permanence had felt almost dangerous to want.
But now—
Now he had work.
Routine.
You.
And slowly, piece by piece, Arizona had started attaching itself to those things too.
Not just a place he ended up.
A place he was beginning to build a life in.
—
By late morning, the Arizona heat settles heavily across the property, dry and stubborn beneath the bright sun overhead. Rhett stands near one of the fence lines with his sleeves rolled to his forearms, tightening loose wire against a weathered post while dust gathers across the toes of his boots.
Somewhere off near the barn, one of the dogs barks lazily before trotting across the yard toward the shade.
The property owner watches him from beside the barn doors, metal coffee mug in hand.
“You know,” the older man says, “most people your age spend half the day lookin’ for ways to avoid work.”
Rhett glances over briefly, squinting against the sun. “Maybe you just hire lazy people.”
That earns him a rough laugh.
“There it is,” the man says, pointing vaguely at him with the mug. “Wyoming as hell.”
Rhett shakes his head a little, crouching to grab his tools from the ground. “You keep sayin’ that. Still don’t know what it means.”
“It means you sound like somebody that should come with a horse and a Marlboro commercial.”
“You sayin’ I’m pretty?”
The older man snorts hard enough to cough. “Christ. Smartass.”
Rhett grins faintly to himself as he stands again.
The man rubs at one of his knees with a grimace before taking another sip from his mug. “Shouldn’t’ve had kids so late in life,” he mutters. “Body ain’t built for this anymore.”
Rhett hooks the fencing tool onto his belt. “Thought kids were supposed to keep you young.”
“That’s propaganda spread by people under thirty.”
That pulls another quiet laugh out of Rhett.
And that, more than anything else, is what the older man seems to like about him.
Rhett works hard. Doesn’t complain much. Doesn’t stand around talking when there’s work left unfinished.
But more than that, he doesn’t bullshit people.
What you see is what you get with him.
And after enough mornings spent working side by side beneath the Arizona sun, the easy rhythm between them settles naturally.
A few years ago, Rhett probably wouldn’t have joked back this easily.
Wouldn’t relax enough to let conversation stretch out while he worked.
Teenage Rhett always carries himself a little tense around people. Quiet in a guarded sort of way. Like he expects conversations to turn into something sharper if he lets them go on too long.
Adult Rhett is quieter, too.
But steadier now.
More settled into himself.
Comfortable enough to tease somebody back. Comfortable enough to laugh without feeling like he has to hold it in.
The crunch of gravel pulls both their attention toward the driveway.
Rhett straightens from where he’s crouched near the fence line just as a dark SUV rolls slowly up beside the barn. A woman climbs out a second later, sunglasses pushed up into her hair as she shuts the door behind her.
She’s pretty.
Not in an intimidating sort of way. Just… effortlessly put together.
Around Rhett’s age, maybe a little older. Confident in the easy way people usually are when they’ve lived somewhere their whole lives.
“Well,” the property owner mutters beside him, “there’s my youngest.”
“Thought you said your youngest was still a kid.”
“She’s thirty-five.”
Rhett snorts softly. “That ain’t a kid.”
“She is to me.”
The woman heads toward them, smiling easily as she gets closer. “Dad,” she says, leaning in to kiss the old man’s cheek before her attention shifts toward Rhett. “And you must be the Wyoming cowboy.”
Rhett shakes the hand she offers him. “Rhett.”
“Oh, I know,” she says with a small grin.
The owner rolls his eyes immediately. “Lord help me.”
She laughs at that before looking back at Rhett. “Dad talks about you constantly, y’know.”
“Mostly complains,” the older man mutters.
“Mostly says you make him look lazy.”
“That part’s true.”
She laughs again, and Rhett smiles politely before crouching back near the fencing tools at his feet.
She lingers anyway.
Not awkwardly. Just interested.
Asking questions while Rhett works.
Where he’s from. If Arizona’s been an adjustment. Whether he misses Wyoming.
And every single answer somehow circles back to you without Rhett even realizing he’s doing it.
“My darlin’ likes it here more than I expected.”
“My girl keeps threatenin’ to make me start gardenin’.”
“She’s got these two little snakes that somehow run the whole house.”
The woman laughs harder at that than the comment probably deserves. “Snakes?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You don’t like them?”
Rhett glances up briefly as he tightens another section of fencing wire. “I didn’t say that.”
“You definitely implied it.”
He grins faintly. “My girl likes‘em. So now I got opinions on snake tanks and heating lamps somehow.”
The daughter smiles at him for a second too long.
Not inappropriate. Not pushy.
Just clearly interested.
And maybe Rhett notices a little. Maybe he doesn’t.
But either way, he redirects naturally every single time without seeming to think about it.
“My darlin’ would probably love this weather.”
“My girlfriend says Arizona sunsets look fake.”
“My girl’s still tryin’ to convince me cactus flowers are pretty.”
The property owner watches the whole thing quietly from beside the barn, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Finally, once his daughter wanders off toward the house to grab something from inside, the older man looks over at Rhett.
“Girl’s got you bad, huh?”
Rhett doesn’t even hesitate.
A small smile pulls at his mouth as he wipes his hands off against his jeans.
“Yeah,” he says simply. “She’s been my whole world since seventh grade. That was before I even knew.”
The old man’s expression softens slightly.
Rhett looks back down at the fencing wire in his hands as he continues quieter, more thoughtful this time.
“Lost her for a while,” he admits. “And I never plan to do anything to ever lose her again.”
The afternoon settles into an easy kind of quiet after that.
No broken fencing. No horses getting loose. No machinery deciding to die in the middle of the heat for once.
Just steady work beneath the Arizona sun.
By the time the worst of the afternoon heat starts easing off, Rhett and the property owner end up near the barn organizing tools back into place after finishing the last of the day’s smaller repairs.
The old radio hanging near the workbench crackles softly with some old country song neither of them are really listening to.
Rhett wipes his hands off on a rag before tossing it onto the edge of the bench beside him. His shoulders ache pleasantly from the day’s work, the kind of soreness that comes from actually accomplishing something instead of running himself ragged.
The property owner nudges a toolbox shut with his boot. “Y’know,” he says, “I keep waitin’ for you to complain about the heat.”
Rhett snorts softly. “Complaining won’t make it colder.”
“See? Wyoming as hell.”
“There you go again.”
The older man grins into his coffee mug. “Still true.”
Rhett shakes his head, smiling faintly to himself as he hooks a hammer back onto the wall rack.
It’s quiet after that.
Not awkward. Not forced.
Just comfortable.
The kind of silence that settles naturally between people who’ve spent enough time working beside each other that conversation doesn’t always need filling.
Outside, wind drifts lazily through the dry grass near the fencing. One of the ranch dogs sleeps stretched beneath the shade of a truck nearby, barely twitching an ear when Rhett walks past.
It’s a good day.
Simple. Easy. Steady.
The kind Rhett never really trusts at first because he spent so much of his life waiting for something to go wrong eventually.
But lately, he’s been getting a little better at letting himself enjoy them while they’re happening.
His phone suddenly buzzes loudly against the workbench beside him.
Rhett glances down automatically.
Your name lights up across the screen.
Rhett’s expression softens automatically the second he sees your name across the screen.
Then he pauses.
That’s weird.
You seldom call him while he’s working.
Text sometimes, sure. Little things throughout the day. Pictures of the snakes doing something stupid. Wesley complaining about something dramatic. A reminder to pick something up on the way over.
But actual calls?
Not unless something matters.
The phone buzzes steadily against the workbench.
Rhett reaches for it instinctively, thumb hovering over the screen for a second.
He almost answers.
But the day’s been easy. Calm. Nothing feels urgent out here. And he knows you usually try hard not to interrupt him while he’s working unless you really need something.
So after another second of hesitation, he lets the call ring out.
The silence afterward feels wrong almost immediately.
Not dramatically wrong.
Just enough to make something uneasy settle low in his chest.
Rhett picks the rag back up from the workbench, trying to ignore it.
Beside him, the property owner takes another sip from his mug. “Girlfriend?”
Rhett nods once. “Yessir.”
“She usually call while you’re workin’?”
Rhett shakes his head lightly. “Almost never.”
The old man hums softly but doesn’t push.
Rhett hooks the rag through his belt loop and reaches for another tool just as his phone buzzes again.
His attention snaps down immediately this time.
Your name lights up the screen again.
Rhett’s shoulders tighten slightly before he can stop them.
Not panic. Not yet.
But definitely concern.
He grabs the phone faster this time, eyes narrowing faintly at the repeated call.
The owner notices instantly.
“You alright?” he asks, voice quieter now.
Rhett doesn’t answer right away.
Just stares at the screen for another second too long.
Before Rhett can decide whether he’s overthinking it or not, the phone buzzes again.
Third call.
His stomach drops a little this time.
Because this is not like you.
You’re careful about his work hours. Almost overly careful sometimes. If he doesn’t answer a text right away while he’s working, you usually wait patiently until lunch or until he’s off for the day.
You don’t call three times in a row.
Rhett’s grip tightens slightly around the phone as he stares down at your name across the screen.
The easy feeling from a few minutes ago disappears completely.
Beside him, the property owner glances over before chuckling softly. “You might wanna answer the missus.”
Normally, Rhett would smile at that.
Probably roll his eyes a little. Maybe mutter something sarcastic back.
This time, he doesn’t.
Because now he knows something’s wrong.
The phone starts ringing again almost immediately.
Fourth call.
Rhett answers before the first ring fully finishes.
“Hey, darlin’, I’m sorry, I’m at work—”
The words die in his throat instantly.
Because you’re sobbing.
Not quiet crying. Not sniffling.
Full-body, panicked sobbing.
The kind that makes your breathing uneven and sharp between broken sounds. Rhett hears you trying to speak through it, hears you cough hard like you can’t catch your breath properly.
And just like that, everything around him disappears.
The heat. The farm. The conversation. The old country music crackling softly from the barn radio.
None of it matters anymore.
Rhett straightens so fast the rag in his hand falls forgotten onto the dirt.
“Darlin’?” he says immediately, voice low and sharp with concern. “Hey. Hey, what’s goin’ on?”
On the other end of the phone, you try to answer, but another sob cuts the words apart before he can understand any of it.
You try to answer him immediately.
Rhett can hear you trying so hard to calm yourself down enough to explain, but the words keep breaking apart underneath the crying.
“I’m s-sorry, I n-need—”
Another sharp breath. A cough. A hiccuping sob that completely cuts you off.
Rhett’s chest tightens hard.
“Hey, hey, baby, slow down for me,” he says quickly, already moving away from the workbench without realizing he’s doing it. “What happened?”
On the other end of the line, your breathing stays uneven—wet, shaky breaths between panicked little attempts to talk.
Then finally, through another broken sob:
“Nat-a-lie and Err-rrr-l are in the pipes.”
Rhett stops walking.
A long pause stretches between them.
His eyebrows pull together immediately, confusion cutting through the panic for just a second because the sentence genuinely makes no sense to him.
Not because he’s dismissing you.
He literally cannot understand what you mean.
“What do you mean they’re in the pipes?” he asks carefully.
Before you can answer, Rhett hears sudden movement on the other end of the line.
Fast footsteps. Shuffling. Something knocking lightly against a counter.
Then Wesley’s voice cuts through the chaos.
“Gimme.”
There’s a brief fumbling sound before the phone gets very obviously snatched out of your hands.
Immediate chaos.
“ARE YOU ON YOUR WAY?!” Wesley shouts into the phone. “WE DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”
Rhett pulls the phone back from his ear slightly, blinking hard.
Even with Wesley yelling at him, Rhett somehow stays the calmer one between them.
“Uh… no?” he says carefully. “I’m confused.”
“GET HOME NOW, RHETT!”
And then—
Click.
Dead silence fills the line.
Rhett slowly lowers the phone from his ear, staring at the dark screen for a second, like maybe it’ll somehow explain what the hell just happened.
Behind him, the property owner is very obviously trying not to laugh.
Not at you crying.
At the sheer chaos of whatever that phone call just was.
Rhett finally looks over at him with a helpless little smile. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what just happened.”
The older man snorts into his coffee mug before waving one hand dismissively toward the driveway. “Kid, sounds like your family needs you.”
Rhett pauses slightly at the word.
Family.
Something warm settles strangely in his chest at hearing it said that casually. Like it’s obvious. Like, there’s no question about whether those people belong to him.
Like he belongs to them, too.
He doesn’t say anything about it.
Just glances down briefly before looking back toward the truck.
The owner’s expression softens a little as he nods toward the driveway again. “Go on home.”
—
Rhett grabs his keys off the workbench and heads for his truck without wasting another second.
The old man calls a quick, “Drive safe,” after him, but Rhett’s already climbing into the driver’s seat, dust kicking up beneath his boots as he pulls the door shut behind him.
A second later, the truck rumbles to life.
Rhett backs out faster than usual, gravel crunching sharply beneath the tires before he turns out onto the road toward home.
Not recklessly.
Just urgently.
One hand stays tight around the steering wheel as the Arizona landscape blurs past outside the windows in dry stretches of gold and dirt.
His mind keeps replaying the phone call over and over.
Your sobbing.
Wesley yelling.
“Natalie and Earle are in the pipes.”
Rhett still has absolutely no idea what that actually means.
What pipes? How? Why?
None of it makes any sense.
But he understands one thing very clearly:
You were terrified.
That alone is enough to make him leave work without a second thought.
Rhett exhales slowly through his nose as he drives, jaw tight.
Honestly, he still thinks the snakes are weird as hell.
Tiny little things. Always climbing somewhere they shouldn’t. Always staring at him like they know something he doesn’t.
But he remembers walking into your room once and finding Earle wrapped lazily around Thistlebear while you laughed so hard you could barely breathe trying to explain why it was “cute.”
He remembers the way your whole face lights up when talking about them.
The little tanks. The heating lamps. The names.
You adore those damn snakes.
And because you adore them—
Rhett cares too.
—
By the time Rhett pulls into the driveway, his nerves are wound tight enough that he barely remembers shutting the truck off.
The house looks normal from the outside.
No smoke. No broken windows. No ambulance-worthy disaster.
Just your house sitting beneath the late afternoon Arizona sun, exactly the way it always does.
Which somehow makes the panic in your voice even more confusing.
Rhett climbs out quickly, keys already in his hand as he heads for the front porch.
Then he slows slightly at the door.
Because for the first time since getting here—
he doesn’t need to knock.
A few months earlier, Wesley had tossed him the spare key with almost no ceremony whatsoever.
“Congrats,” he’d said while digging through the junk drawer in the kitchen. “You live here emotionally now.”
You’d nearly choked on your drink laughing while Rhett turned pink all the way to his ears.
But then Wesley had pressed the key into Rhett’s hand anyway.
Easy. Certain. Like it was obvious.
And Rhett had kept it on his keyring ever since.
Now, standing on the porch with your panicked crying still echoing in his head, his thumb brushes across the worn metal before he slides the key into the lock.
A tiny moment.
Barely anything at all.
But it settles somewhere deep in his chest anyway.
Trust.
Belonging.
A place he’s expected to return to.
Rhett unlocks the door and steps inside—
And chaos immediately destroys the moment.
“COME ON!” Wesley shouts the literal second Rhett gets through the doorway.
Rhett barely manages to kick the door shut behind him before Wesley is dragging him through the house at full speed.
“No hello or nothin’?” Rhett mutters automatically, stumbling slightly as Wesley yanks him down the hallway.
“We are WAY past hello!”
There’s no explanation. No attempt at one.
Just pure panic radiating off Wesley in frantic waves.
The entire house feels chaotic.
The drawers stand wide open in the kitchen like somebody’s been tearing through them looking for supplies, or tools, or something. Towels are scattered across the floor near the hallway bathroom. Something metallic clatters somewhere deeper in the house as Wesley practically hauls Rhett around the corner.
“You have GOT to fix this,” Wesley says quickly. “I don’t know what else to do! We can’t get in there!”
Rhett reaches the bathroom doorway and stops cold.
You’re standing in front of the sink.
Absolutely sobbing.
Both hands are wrapped desperately around the tiny brown tail of a snake disappearing somewhere down into the exposed drain pipe, like your entire life depends on not letting go.
Your face is blotchy and tear-streaked, your shoulders shaking with uneven breaths as you struggle to hold on carefully without hurting it.
Then you look up.
And the second you see Rhett, relief crashes across your face so hard it almost hurts to look at.
“Help me, please.”
The words come out broken and desperate.
And Rhett responds instantly.
No laughing. No confusion. No “what the hell.”
Just immediate calm.
“Okay.”
Rhett moves beside you immediately, crouching down in front of the sink without another question.
“Give me his tail.”
“This is Natalie,” you correct instantly through another shaky sob. “Earle is already all the way in there. I just don’t know how far.”
Rhett’s chest tightens hard at the sound of your voice.
Not because of the snakes. Not really.
Because you are genuinely devastated.
Your hands are shaking. Tears keep spilling down your cheeks faster than you can wipe them away. You look terrified in a way Rhett almost never sees from you, and it kicks his pulse up immediately.
So he shoves everything else aside and drops straight into practical mode.
Calm. Steady. Focused.
“Okay,” he says quickly, carefully taking over holding Natalie’s tail. “Hey, baby, I have a toolbox in the back seat of my truck. Bring it in, darlin’.”
You don’t even hesitate.
You practically sprint out of the bathroom the second he says it.
The second you disappear down the hallway, Wesley starts pacing again.
Aggressively.
Hands in his hair. Walking tight circles across the bathroom tile. Talking so fast Rhett can barely keep up with half of it.
“I know better than to let the kids too close to the sink, I swear to God I do, but Earle likes the counter, and Natalie follows him everywhere, and I only turned around for like two seconds—”
Rhett keeps one careful hand wrapped around the tiny tail still disappearing into the pipe while trying very hard to process the fact that Wesley is talking about the snakes exactly like they’re actual toddlers.
“The kids.”
Jesus Christ.
“I really thought the drain stopper was all the way in,” Wesley continues, spiraling harder by the second. “I don’t even know how they got down there that fast—”
“Hey, Wes,” Rhett says carefully, trying to keep his voice level. “Come grab him for me.”
“This is Natalie!” Wesley snaps immediately, offended on the snake’s behalf as he rushes over.
Rhett blinks at him once before the stress finally cracks through his composure a little.
“Dude, I’m doin’ my best, okay?” he says, exasperated but genuinely trying. “They’re snakes.”
A loud clatter echoes down the hallway a second before you come sprinting back into the bathroom with the toolbox clutched in both hands.
“RHETT! HERE!”
You nearly trip over one of the towels on the floor trying to get to him fast enough, catching yourself against the doorframe at the last second before practically dropping to your knees beside him.
Your breathing is still uneven from crying.
Panic still radiates off you in frantic waves as you shove the toolbox toward him like it’s the most important thing in the world.
And something about that hits Rhett hard right in the chest.
Because you trust him to fix this.
You didn’t call animal control. Didn’t call a plumber.
You called him.
Rhett swallows once before pulling the toolbox closer beside him. “Okay,” he says again, calmer than he feels. “Okay, darlin’, I got it.”
Rhett flips the toolbox open quickly, metal clinking sharply against the bathroom tile as he digs through it for the right wrench.
Behind him, Wesley is still holding onto Natalie’s tail with both hands like he’s afraid she’ll vanish completely if he loosens his grip for even a second.
“Don’t pull too hard,” Rhett says automatically as he grabs the wrench. “You don’t wanna hurt her.”
“I KNOW,” Wesley says immediately, horrified at the implication. “I’m not yanking my daughter out of a pipe like a cartoon character, Rhett.”
Rhett decides not to unpack the word daughter right now.
Instead, he shifts awkwardly beneath the sink, one knee pressed hard against the tile as he reaches up into the cramped cabinet space.
The metal joint beneath the drain is tighter than he expected.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, adjusting his grip on the wrench.
You hover anxiously right beside him the entire time.
Too worried to sit still. Too worried to stop talking.
“Do you think they can breathe in there?” “Are they scared?” “Oh my God, what if Earle keeps going farther down?”
“They’re okay,” Rhett says steadily, even while sweat starts gathering at his temples from both the heat and the awkward angle he’s twisted into beneath the sink. “They’re okay, darlin’, I got it.”
Wesley is pacing again now, too, but only in tiny, frantic little movements because he refuses to let go of Natalie’s tail.
“You know what,” he says nervously, “I actually think she’s calmer now.”
Rhett glances over briefly. “Wes, that’s a snake.”
“And?”
“And I don’t think she feels better just cuz y’here.”
Wesley gasps softly like Rhett’s insulted both of them.
“Wow.”
You make a tiny, stressed noise that’s dangerously close to another sob, and Rhett immediately refocuses.
“Hey,” he says quickly, gentler now. “Hey, we’re good. Just gotta loosen this.”
The wrench finally gives with a sharp metallic creak.
All three of you freeze.
Very carefully, Rhett shifts lower and starts loosening the pipe joint by hand now, movements slow and deliberate.
Trying not to scare the snakes. Trying not to hurt them. Trying not to make you panic worse than you already are.
The pipe loosens another inch.
Wesley holds his breath dramatically beside him.
You’re practically kneeling against Rhett’s shoulder at this point, trying to see inside the pipe.
“Can you see them?” you whisper urgently.
Rhett squints into the dark opening beneath the sink.
“…maybe,” he says carefully.
“That is NOT reassuring,” Wesley says immediately.
The pipe joint finally loosens enough for Rhett to carefully ease it apart.
A small rush of water drips onto the towel beneath the sink as he shifts the pipe lower, squinting into the dark opening.
Then—
“There he is.”
Relief hits all three of you instantly.
A tiny orange tail is barely visible, curled deeper inside the pipe.
“Oh my God,” you breathe, already tearing up all over again.
Wesley makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a prayer.
Rhett’s entire expression softens immediately at finally spotting him.
“Hey buddy,” he whispers automatically, voice low and gentle as he carefully reaches farther into the loosened pipe. “There y’are.”
Slowly, carefully, he gets his fingers around the tiny body and starts easing Earle free inch by inch.
“Easy,” Rhett murmurs softly. “Easy…”
The little snake finally starts sliding out into his hand, orange scales glinting faintly beneath the bathroom light.
Rhett supports the body carefully as more of Earle emerges from the pipe—
Then the tiny head pops free.
And immediately chomps down on Rhett’s finger.
“AH—shit!”
Rhett jerks backward so fast he smacks the back of his head hard against the underside of the counter with a loud thunk before completely losing his balance and falling onto the bathroom floor.
Instant chaos.
“EARLE!” you gasp, immediately scooping the little orange snake carefully out of Rhett’s hands before he can go flying across the tile too.
Wesley yelps in horror somewhere beside the sink.
Rhett sits halfway up, one hand clutching the back of his head while the other shakes sharply where Earle bit him.
“What happened?” you ask immediately, still cradling Earle protectively against your chest.
Rhett stares at his hand like he’s personally betrayed.
“The fuckin’ thing bit me!”
“HE WAS SCARED!” Wesley shouts instantly.
Rhett looks genuinely offended by that. “I was rescuin’ him!”
Earle immediately starts curling himself loosely around your forearm the second he’s safely in your hands again, tiny body winding instinctively against your skin, tongue flittering, while you hold him close to your chest.
But the moment you know he’s okay, your attention snaps right back to Rhett.
You drop to your knees beside him quickly, still clutching Earle with one arm while your free hand moves immediately to the back of Rhett’s head, where he hit the counter.
Your touch turns gentle instantly.
Concern replacing panic.
“Are you okay?” you ask softly.
Rhett rubs at his bitten hand with a deeply annoyed expression before looking up at you.
“Y’askin’ me or the snake?”
A small laugh escapes you before you can stop it.
Wet and shaky from crying still—but real.
And the second Rhett hears it, something in the room finally starts settling.
Your breathing evens out little by little. The panic loosens its grip. The worst of the crisis starts draining out of the bathroom all at once.
Because Earle is safe.
And now, finally—
You’re smiling again.
Rhett exhales slowly and pushes himself back upright with a quiet grunt, still rubbing the back of his head once before looking back toward the sink.
“Alright,” he mutters. “Now we gotta get the other one out.”
“Natalie,” Wesley corrects immediately.
Rhett gives him a flat look. “I know.”
He absolutely does not.
Still, despite getting bitten, smacking his head, and surviving what feels like twenty straight minutes of snake-related emotional warfare, Rhett scoots back toward the cabinet again.
You stay close beside him now, Earle still loosely wrapped around your arm, while he flicks his tongue lazily like none of this has traumatized the entire household.
Rhett points toward the loosened pipe still hanging beneath the sink. “Okay, Wesley. Let go of her tail.”
Wesley gasps softly. “What if she disappears farther in there?”
“She won’t,” Rhett says patiently. “There’s nowhere else for her to go now. She’ll slide right down.”
Wesley looks deeply unconvinced by this information.
Rhett sighs. “Wesley.”
“Okay, okay.”
Very slowly, like he’s releasing a hostage negotiator into danger, Wesley loosens his grip on Natalie’s tail.
For a second, nothing happens.
Then suddenly the little brown snake starts sliding smoothly down through the last remaining section of pipe before slipping free into open air.
“There she is,” Rhett says immediately.
Wesley scoops Natalie up with both hands so fast you’d think she’d been falling off a cliff instead of calmly exiting plumbing.
“Oh my God,” he breathes dramatically, clutching the snake against his chest now. “My babies.”
Wesley immediately reaches over and takes Earle from your arm, too, cradling both snakes dramatically against his chest like he just rescued them from a natural disaster.
Which, honestly, to him, he probably did.
“You two,” he says sternly to the snakes, “are GROUNDED.”
Rhett slowly blinks up at him from the bathroom floor.
Wesley points accusingly at Earle with one finger while still holding Natalie securely in his other hand. “No outside time for two days. EITHER OF YOU.”
Rhett stares at him for a long second, trying very hard to figure out what the hell is happening in this house. Because Wesley is fully scolding the snakes like misbehaving toddlers. And somehow the snakes look equally unbothered by it.
You sniffle softly beside Rhett, still emotional but visibly calmer now that both snakes are safe.
Wesley continues carrying them protectively toward the hallway. “You scared your mother HALF to death,” he informs them seriously as he disappears out of the bathroom.
Silence settles for a second afterward.
Rhett watches him go with the strangest mix of disbelief and reluctant fondness pulling at his expression.
This house is ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
And somehow—
he fits here perfectly.
The bathroom finally goes quiet after Wesley disappears down the hallway, still lecturing the snakes under his breath.
For the first time since Rhett walked through the front door, the panic drains fully out of the room.
Rhett stays sitting on the floor, elbows braced behind him against the tile while he exhales slowly through his nose.
You’re still kneeling beside him.
Close.
Close enough that he can still see tear tracks faintly shining on your cheeks beneath the bathroom light.
Your eyes are watery still, lashes damp from crying so hard earlier.
But now, when you look at him, there’s no panic left in them.
Just affection.
So much affection it almost catches him off guard.
“Thanks for coming,” you say softly.
Rhett blushes immediately.
It hits him so fast it’s almost embarrassing.
Pink creeps across his cheeks as a small, crooked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Any time.”
And then his eyes drop.
Just for a second.
To your lips.
Before lifting back to your eyes again.
You close the distance first.
Softly.
The panic from earlier is still lingering around the edges of you a little—tear tracks still faint on your cheeks, breathing not completely steady yet—but now all of that emotion settles into something warmer.
Relief.
Affection.
You kiss him gently, and Rhett melts into it immediately.
One of his hands slides instinctively to your waist while the other braces against the floor behind him for balance, and he lets out the quietest little breath against your mouth like he didn’t realize how tense he still was until right now.
You smile faintly into the kiss.
“My hero.”
Rhett actually chuckles at that, soft and embarrassed all at once, the sound warm against your lips.
“Don’t start,” he murmurs, even while he’s smiling.
You kiss him again before he can say anything else.
And somewhere in the middle of it, you shift closer naturally, carefully climbing into his lap without breaking the kiss.
Nothing awkward about it. Nothing hesitant.
Just easy.
Comfortable in the way only years of loving somebody can be.
Rhett’s hands settle automatically at your waist the second you’re there, holding you close while he tilts his head to kiss you deeper this time, smiling a little every time you steal another soft kiss before he’s fully done with the last one.
A soft knock-tap sounds against the bathroom doorframe.
Neither of you reacts at first.
Rhett’s still kissing you slowly, hands warm against your waist while you smile faintly into his mouth.
Then Wesley’s voice cuts through the room with perfect timing.
“Hey, I really need this sink fixed, can thank-you sex wait til later?”
The casualness of it is what kills the moment completely.
Not scandalized. Not awkward.
Just genuinely practical.
Rhett freezes beneath you.
You pull back first, immediately laughing as Rhett closes his eyes briefly like he’s physically suffering.
Rhett finally opens his eyes again, still leaning back against the bathroom cabinet with an expression that can only be described as long-suffering.
“I really hate that he does that.”
There’s no actual anger in it.
Just genuine suffering.
You laugh softly again, still smiling as you lean down and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll talk to him,” you promise.
Rhett snorts quietly like he already knows that conversation won’t accomplish much.
“But,” you add, unable to stop grinning a little, “he may keep doing it.”
Rhett stares at you for a second.
And you can physically see the realization settling in.
Oh.
Oh no.
This is just Wesley forever.
Rhett groans quietly under his breath.
And notably does not sit up right away.
Because he was very, very into kissing you.
You smile at him for another second before finally pushing yourself up from the bathroom floor.
Rhett watches you stand, still leaning back against the cabinet with that same fond, slightly overwhelmed expression lingering across his face.
“Do you need help puttin’ the sink back together, rabbit?” you ask casually.
The nickname slips out so naturally that neither of you really thinks about it.
Not yet, anyway.
Wesley, thankfully, is still occupied somewhere down the hallway talking to the snakes like they understand English.
Rhett’s mouth twitches into another soft smile at the sound of it. He reaches out automatically, catching your wrist gently just long enough to pull you back in for one quick kiss.
“I’m good, darlin’,” he murmurs against your lips. “Give me a few, an’ I’ll have it fixed.”
You nod, smiling.
“Okie.”
As you turn to head toward the hallway, Rhett gives your butt a quick, playful swat on the way past.
You yelp immediately, spinning around with an offended gasp that’s completely ruined by the grin spreading across your face.
Rhett just smirks at you from the floor, entirely too pleased with himself.
And somehow, after all the chaos and crying and sink dismantling, the tiny moment feels strangely domestic.
Easy.
Like this kind of playful affection has already settled comfortably into the shape of your relationship.
By the time you disappear into the living room, the house finally settles into something quieter.
Wesley’s voice drifts faintly down the hallway every few seconds, still lecturing the snakes dramatically about “reckless behavior,” but the panic from earlier is gone now.
Rhett exhales softly through his nose before scooting back toward the sink cabinet.
The loosened pipes still hang crooked beneath it, tools scattered across the bathroom floor beside his knees. He reaches for the wrench again, adjusting the metal joint carefully back into place.
The work is slower now.
Unhurried.
The adrenaline’s worn off enough that he can actually focus on what he’s doing instead of trying to rescue tiny reptiles from plumbing.
A faint smile keeps tugging at the corner of his mouth anyway.
Mostly because every time he closes his eyes for half a second, he keeps hearing you say: “My hero.”
Rhett shakes his head to himself, cheeks warming all over again as he tightens the pipe back into place.
Outside the bathroom, he can hear you laughing softly at something Wesley says.
The sound settles warmly in his chest.
A few years ago, Rhett never really pictured himself here.
Fixing somebody’s sink while his girlfriend laughs down the hallway. Tools spread across the floor. A ridiculous snake emergency becoming part of a completely normal afternoon.
But now that he’s here—
he likes it.
Likes the feeling of being useful to you. Likes being the person you call when something goes wrong. Likes that this house already feels familiar enough for him to move through it without thinking anymore.
Carefully, he wipes his hands off on the towel beside him before testing the repaired pipe one last time.
No leaks.
“Hell yeah,” he mutters quietly to himself.
By the time he steps out into the hallway, the house feels completely different from the way it did when he arrived.
Calm now.
Warm.
He follows the sound of your voice into the living room, finding you curled into the corner of the couch while Wesley sits cross-legged near you, both snakes safely contained in their enclosure nearby now.
“You cannot keep calling them grounded,” you’re telling him through quiet laughter.
“Yes, I can,” Wesley argues immediately. “They need structure.”
“They’re snakes.”
“And yet they committed actual crimes.”
Rhett snorts softly as he walks into the room.
Both of you look over immediately.
Wesley’s expression suddenly shifts like he remembers something important.
“Oh—hey.” He sits up straighter, gesturing vaguely toward Rhett. “I’m never trying to make things uncomfortable.”
Rhett pauses mid-step, immediately suspicious.
Wesley continues before anybody can stop him.
“I know I’m weird sometimes—”
“Sometimes?” you mumble. Wesley puts his hand in your face to hush you.
“—but I am just trying to welcome you into the family.”
The room goes quieter for a second after that.
Not awkward quiet.
Just enough for the words to settle.
Because Wesley says it so casually. Like it’s already decided. Like, there’s no question about whether Rhett belongs here anymore.
And that word shows up again:
Family.
And Rhett feels that one land just as hard as the first time.
“Hey, rabbit! So, it’s like done done?” You push yourself up from the couch almost immediately once Rhett confirms the sink is fixed, smiling as you walk over to him.
“Yeah,” Rhett says, smiling a little as you stop in front of him. “Should be good now.”
Wesley’s face scrunches almost instantly from the couch.
“Rabbit?” he repeats. “What kinda pet name is that?”
You blink at him, genuinely confused by the question.
“…that’s his name.”
Rhett lets out a quiet laugh through his nose while Wesley stares between both of you like he’s trying to solve a math problem.
“What?”
You look back at Rhett like the explanation is obvious. “Rhett Abbott. R. Abbott.”
Rhett’s eyebrows lift slightly.
“…Rabbit,” he says slowly.
“Rabbit,” you confirm.
Wesley points at you immediately. “That is NOT where I thought this was going.”
You ignore him completely.
“When we were kids, you were in my phone as ‘R dot Abbott,’” you explain to Rhett. “Then one day, before high school, I realized it spelled rabbit if you said it fast.”
Rhett’s ears are already starting to turn pink.
“And I thought it was cute,” you continue, smiling a little. “So I added a rabbit emoji next to your contact.”
Rhett looks genuinely stunned by this information.
You laugh softly at his expression. “Then after we started dating, I just took the space out and made it rabbit instead.”
For a second, Rhett just stares at you.
And something soft settles across his whole face all at once.
Because suddenly, he realizes this wasn’t some random nickname you started using recently.
You’ve been carrying this affection for him around since before high school.
Since before first kisses. Before dating. Before everything.
Rhett steps closer automatically, eyes fixed on you with this quiet, overwhelmed sort of fondness.
“I didn’t know that’s why you started callin’ me rabbit,” he admits softly.
The pink in his ears deepens when you smile at him.
Your smile falters just slightly under the way he’s looking at you now.
Not upset.
Just… emotional enough that it suddenly makes you self-conscious.
“Is that okay?” you ask a little quieter.
Rhett’s expression softens immediately.
Before you can start overthinking yourself any further, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.
“I think it’s super cute.”
There’s no teasing in it. No joking.
He means it completely.
And somehow that makes your chest feel warm all over again.
Rhett stays close afterward, a soft kiss brushing your shoulder lightly as he smiles to himself, still very obviously processing the fact that you’ve apparently been calling him Rabbit in your head since you were kids.
A dramatic sigh echoes from the couch.
“I’m so alone.”
You don’t even look away from Rhett as Wesley slumps farther into the cushions like the most persecuted man alive.
“Oh my God,” you mumble, laughing softly.
Wesley gestures vaguely between the two of you. “You’re standing there being emotionally in love at each other again.”
“That’s kinda how relationships work,” Rhett says dryly.
Wesley ignores him completely. “Meanwhile, I’m over here raising children alone.”
“The snakes are in a tank,” you remind him.
“They need emotional support. It was a very taxing day.”
You finally step away from Rhett enough to point toward the hallway. “Can you go hang out with Dani?”
Wesley gasps like you’ve deeply offended him. “Wow. Exiled from my own home.”
“You’ll survive.”
He narrows his eyes thoughtfully for a second. “Can I get one more joke in?”
You just stare at him. Completely silent.
Wesley sighs dramatically so hard his whole body moves with it.
“Ohh kaaayyyy. Fiiine.”
He pushes himself up off the couch and walks past Rhett, bumping a playful elbow against his arm on the way by.
“Congrats on the thank you sex, by the way.”
“Wes.”
“I’m leaving!” Wesley calls immediately, already disappearing toward the front door, laughing at his own jokes.
The front door swings shut a second later.
Silence settles over the house almost immediately once Wesley’s voice disappears outside with it.
And the energy changes instantly.
Quieter now.
Warmer.
Rhett barely has time to look back toward you before your hand catches the front of his shirt collar and pulls him closer.
His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise as he stumbles the half step toward you.
“Oh,” he says softly, smiling almost immediately once he realizes what you’re doing. “Hi, darlin’.”
You’re close enough now that your noses almost brush.
Close enough that he can feel your breath against his mouth when you smile.
“You saved my babies,” you murmur.
Rhett’s hands settle automatically at your waist again, thumbs brushing lightly against your sides.
“Well,” he says quietly, “somebody had to save‘em from the world’s most dangerous sink.”
You laugh softly under your breath before leaning even closer.
“That requires a reward.”
Rhett just stares at you for a second.
Actually stares.
Like his brain completely stops working the moment the words leave your mouth.
You watch the realization hit him in real time, slow and obvious across his face, and it makes you laugh softly under your breath.
Because somehow, after all these years, you still do this to him.
Still completely undo him.
“Reward,” he repeats blankly.
You smile and lean in, kissing him again before he can recover enough to say anything smarter than that.
One of your hands slips between you, fingers hooking casually into his belt as you kiss him slowly.
Rhett makes the quietest startled sound against your mouth.
Not scandalized.
Just thoroughly overwhelmed by you.
His hands tighten automatically at your waist, and before you can even finish unbuckling the belt, he scoops you up effortlessly into his arms.
You laugh immediately, arms sliding around his shoulders as he holds you close against his chest.
“Oh, now your brain works again?” you tease softly.
“Barely,” Rhett admits honestly, smiling against your cheek before kissing you again.
There’s nothing rushed about the moment.
Nothing aggressive.
Just warmth. Affection. Comfort.
Wanted in the safest, happiest sort of way.
Rhett carries you down the hallway like it’s the most natural thing in the world, smiling every time your laughter breaks softly into another kiss.
The bedroom door nudges shut softly behind them a few minutes later.
The house is quiet now.
No panicked yelling. No pipes clanking apart beneath a sink. No Wesley dramatically disciplining snakes from the other room.
Just warmth.
Rhett settles onto the bed with you still half-curled against him, smiling when you immediately tuck yourself closer like that’s where you naturally belong now.
Because it is.
You steal another kiss from him, softer this time, smiling against his mouth when he lets out a quiet laugh under his breath.
“What?” you murmur.
“Nothin’,” Rhett says, even though the fondness written all over his face says otherwise.
Your fingers drift lazily through the hair at the back of his neck while he keeps one arm wrapped securely around your waist, thumb brushing absently against your side beneath your shirt.
Comfortable.
Easy.
Outside the bedroom window, the last bit of Arizona sunlight stretches warm and gold across the floorboards.
And laying here with you tangled against him, Rhett realizes something quietly important.
A few years ago, he thought loving you meant losing you eventually.
Thought happiness was temporary by nature. Something you held carefully until life took it back.
But now—
Now love looks like this.
Snake emergencies. Wesley yelling through the house. Repairing sinks. Inside jokes carried since middle school. Being handed a house key without hesitation. Getting interrupted halfway through kissing because somebody needs plumbing fixed.
Domestic. Ridiculous. Warm.
Home.
After you and Rhett finish, you yawn softly against his shoulder, and Rhett smiles before pressing a slow kiss to your forehead.
The house around him feels lived in now.
Not just yours.
Not just Wesley’s.
His when he’s here, too.
And maybe that’s the real reason his chest still feels so full tonight.
Not because he rescued two tiny snakes from a pipe.
But because somewhere along the way, without even noticing exactly when it happened—
he stopped feeling like a visitor here.
-more of my writing here-
