Despite his unspoken discomfort, Sy wordlessly leaves the room with two boxes at once in his arms–one of the ornaments he'd come up here for in the first place, and one of the photographs he just found and briefly got sentimental over. 

“Oh, no, you don't,” you simply tell him, blocking his way at the top of the staircase. “That's too much. Let me help.”

Even with grumpy-brows, he surprisingly concedes. 

Unsurprisingly, however, he gives you the lighter box consisting of delicate ornaments before walking around you with the heavier one jam-packed with photographs. Sighing, you follow him down the stairs. 

You hold back the urgent impulse you're feeling to apologize to him a million times for being the cause of his knee pain. Instead, you carefully glance down at him around the box in your arms to see how he's faring, quickly enough for you to not lose your balance or fall. 

That'd be pretty horrible–falling. You'd end up trampling over him and actually breaking his legs, you bet. You guess with all things considered, a sore knee isn't so bad, actually…And surely you can’t be the sole cause of his knee pain. It's cold outside which affects it. And he’d chosen to walk around the farm with you. He wanted to. He took you there. 

Your intrusive thoughts need to go somewhere else. 

“So what’re you gonna wear to the party later on, anyway?” you ask Sy as you step down into the foyer. 

“Eh, some sweater Sam got me," he dismissively answers, and by your side, he looks over at you. 

You remain in place and absently glance at his leg after hefting up the box in your arms one last time. At his continued expectant expression, however, you look back up. 

“Oh, me?” you ask.

He hums.

"What,” you tease, finally choosing to just secure the box at just one of your hips like you're carrying a baby, “you wanna see if we're gonna match?"

Again, not offering an actual answer, Sy just levels you with a look.

“I don’t really own anything I could wear,” you tell him while slowly walking down the hall and now imagining you're a peasant from long ago, carrying a basket of fresh-picked root vegetables on your hip because the winter will be long and there's still so much work to do, “so Amelia just loaned me somethin’ at work yesterday." 

While Sy makes another small noise behind you, you enter the kitchen and set down the box you've been hauling onto the first surface you see. Despite worrying about the state of Sy's knee–and having a million simultaneous and uncontrollable other random thoughts–your attention is quickly consumed by another object on the kitchen counter: the Charlie Brown tree you'd picked from the tree lot. 

You can’t help but longingly stare at the tree in all its small and pathetic and perfect glory, and you think to yourself for the millionth time–you're just so happy. You got the tree you wanted. 

Sy mirrors your actions by placing his box of photos directly beside the box of ornaments, and by your side, he stands there simply watching you. It’s a calm look of interest, but interest for what, you don’t know. Figuring he just wants to hear you talk, you continue with the last topic you’d just brought up–the sweater Amy loaned you.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just a dark green sweatshirt with, like, red trim at the bottom and top,” you explain while using one of your hands to describe, and even though you feel like the topic is boring, Sy puts his hand on the small of your back and continues providing full attention to you.  

“And in the middle,” you go on, now realizing you're chewing the nails of your free hand, “it’s, uh. It's got a bunch of random off-center things. Like a snowman and a Christmas tree and a star. I think there’s a reindeer or somethin’ on it, too.”

Sy slides his hand lower down your back. “Sexy.”

Chuckling, you drop both your hands and push his hand off your ass. “Yeah, and I’m gonna have to wear a turtleneck underneath it, too,” you gesture to your neck and tell him playfully, “so thank you very much for that.”

“Anytime,” he answers conversationally as he touches your ass one last time, ultimately moving his hand to rest on your hip. When he glances at you again and badly winks, you roll your eyes playfully. 

Stiffly, Sy tilts his head towards the counter. "You wanna do this now or what?"

You look over at what he’s gesturing to. “Decorate?”

Sy's face curiously tightens while he nods.

"Sure,” you carefully agree. That's why you'd brought down the ornaments in the first place, you remind yourself. “You got some lights we can put on first, right?"

Sy looks up at the ceiling, most likely imagining what's in the storage room you'd both just exited. "Well, hell.”

Softly, you chuckle. “Guess not.”

“I do–Just–Big." He clears his throat. "The ones that're up there are gonna be too long."

Your apology for getting a tree so small that a regular string of lights won't even fit on it is right on your lips. It's right there. You want to say sorry. 

Instead, you take a deep breath. You don’t need to have weird continued anxiety over this too-small Christmas tree right now. You like it, Sy likes it–it’s done. What’s more concerning is that he’s so silently uncomfortable right now. Even the way he’s currently touching your hip is telling. As if he's actively trying not to use you as an outlet for the pain, he's purposefully not squeezing too hard. Still, you can somehow feel the restraint. 

"I've actually got some lights in my room that'll work," you suggest, sympathetically touching his chest. "No problem."

Slowly, you disengage from Sy and walk to the little cabinet by the refrigerator where he keeps his stash of vitamins and protein powder. You dig around until finding some extra-strength Tylenol, and after shaking out three capsules into your palm, you open another cabinet to find a cup.

"They're the lights around my bookshelf," you tell him while reaching above your head and pulling down a glass. "I'll just bring ‘em by next time.”

You fill the glass with water from the fridge and walk back to Sy, wordlessly placing the pills in one of his hands and then holding out the cup to him in offering. He stares down at his own palm for a moment before ultimately tossing all three capsules into his mouth, accepting the glass from you, and then washing them down with two long gulps.

His face is still pinched when he wipes residual water off his mustache. He nods at you. "Thanks."

After nodding back, you pull your mouth downwards. “Do you think you might need somethin’ stronger?” you quietly ask. “Like, do you have an actual prescription for when your knee gets really bad?”

Sy shakes his head and deeply answers, “I don't fuck with that shit.”

You just nod again. You figured. 

After mulling over his pain and then ultimately sighing, you finally just take his glass from him and set it on the counter. 

“Don'tchu be worryin’,” he quietly tells you. 

“Tryin’ not to.” You shrug. “I just don't want it to hurt.”

“It's gonna,” he bluntly answers. “I'll live.”

He stares at you for such a long time that you end up pushing yourself up onto your tip-toes to casually kiss him, partially in apology that he has to go through this knee shit alone, and partially just because he's who he is. You use the subsequent heavy silence to pick up the Christmas tree and admire it some more. You know that discussing his injury is the last thing Sy wants to do right now.

Imagining where you’re going to display the tree–the first tree Sy's put up since moving into this house, you remind yourself–you slowly carry it into the living room.

Passing the mantle of the fireplace where you imagine some Syerson family photos being displayed soon, you approach the thin table in front of the room's double-paned window. You place the tree there in suggestion and you glance back at Sy who's by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets. After you two make eye contact, he nods just once. 

You look at the tree again and then back to Sy. "You sure you’d like it here?"

"Looks good," he affirms. 

Touching the tree carefully while you prop it up against the wall to keep it upright, you wonder what you’ll need to use as a tree-stand. You wonder what it’ll look like once it's lit up with fairy lights and adorned with five or six well-chosen ornaments. You wonder how it’d look with strands of tinsel hanging off its too-long branches.

You’re broken away from your daydreams by Sy audibly stretching. “We waitin’ on those lights, then?”

“I guess.” You shrug. “It'd be easier. Plus we need some sorta stand before we put ornaments on here…the tree'll just tip over.”

"Ten-four. I'm gonna go do some chores 'fore we gotta get goin’, then," he tells you, and you turn to him. 

“You’re serious?”

Wordlessly nodding, he pulls his chest out while clasping both hands behind him in another long stretch. 

“The instant that tree-decoratin’ is off the schedule, you’re already on to the next thing, huh?”

“Gotta feed the chickens, fetch some wood…”

It’s pointless to comment about how he should probably rest his knee. "You go fetch that wood," you absentmindedly murmur as you make your way to the couch and plop down, and Sy stares at you with his expression unmoving until it finally breaks. 

Smiling at your hilarity, he steps closer to the couch and taps your nose with his index finger, right above your sudden matching grin. The lingering touch serves as a kiss until he steps away again, heading out of the room. Looking at you one last time with a small smirk on his face, he opens the back door and then walks outside. You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers at him before he kicks the door shut with his boot.

With a smile of your own still on your face, you lay back and stretch out the full length of the couch, and that’s when thoughts of last night re-enter your head. Thoughts of last night on this exact same spot.

While your cheeks heat up, you wonder if Sy was thinking of the same thing while he was looking at you just now, if that’s truly why he was smirking and not from your dry wit he’s totally jealous of.

He was probably thinking of last night, too. Obviously, that’s where his mind would’ve gone…He's cocky that way. But cocky or not, though, he’s still so fucking sweet. For someone so big and so tall and so…large–and honestly quite intimidating-looking with his perpetual resting-scowl-face, too–he’s honestly just so fucking sweet. He really is. As you stare at the Christmas tree for the thousandth time today, you’re reminded that he really would do just about anything for you.

You continue mulling over the insane state of your life–you’re in a relationship, a real one–while grabbing the remote and switching on the television. After changing the channel a few times, you settle on a show about jade-miners in Alaska and hug a pillow to yourself.

It’s still a strange concept–both asking for things from Sy and accepting things from Sy–but you’re really getting better at it. You are. You genuinely are. You’re struggling, but you’re getting there. You’re at that point now where you aren’t so afraid, at least. Things are still just so new and everything is so massively different compared to the men you’ve been with in the past, is all. 

Because Sy actually communicates with you and welcomes you to honestly communicate back, you’re always sure where you stand with him. And, more than that, you’re happy. You’re happy for yourself. To be involved in a relationship that’s actually healthy for once, it’s…huge. Despite your anxiety causing you to worry about just about every single thing ever in existence, you don’t have to add your relationship to that list. 

You don’t have to worry about picking out a less-than-desirable Christmas tree–he honestly does not give a shit. You don’t have to worry about him being somehow mad at you because he’s being quieter than normal–it’s because his knee hurts. And you definitely don’t have to fret about going to a party with him–you know from experience that it won’t end badly. 

If you were going to this party tonight with anyone but Sy, you’d already be anxious. You would’ve been anxious all week, honestly. There’d be entirely too much to consider, too many factors involved, too many option-lines where things could go all wrong. Any discrete miscalculation on your part could open up five or more scenarios that an average person would never typically dwell on.

But, if it were anybody but Sy, you’d have no choice but to dwell. 

First, you’d have to plan out who would be driving. It’d almost always be you, but there would always be the chance that could change…maybe you could catch a ride with someone else who was going, too. You’d have to text around to find out who else was invited so you’d know how to plan out all the travel options. At the same time, you’d have to prepare yourself for the socialization, for all the factors at play with everyone’s individual relationship histories.

Then you’d have to think ahead about what clothes you’d wear. (Themed parties would always be hard.) You couldn’t be down-dressed for the occasion or else your partner would feel embarrassed, but you also couldn’t dress in anything considered suggestive because then he’d assume you were trying to purposefully get attention from other men. Then that would start accusations. Then that would start an argument. 

Next, you’d have to consider if you’d be able to even drink. That would mean you’d have to know in advance how long you’d be staying and how many drinks you’d be able to metabolize in that amount of time and still be legally good to operate a vehicle–assuming correctly that you’d be driving back home that night, that is. You’d leave the option open of possibly sleeping there, but that would mean imposing and potentially being seen as annoying and needy guests, so that’d be the first obstacle to cross. 

If you even got past that hurdle by speaking with the hosts to see if it would even be okay, then you’d have to strategically ask him prior to the party if he’d be willing to stay the night. Almost always the answer would be no, so you’d have to be really careful about your wording so you could at least try to be persuasive when you asked. You’d have to practice what you were going to say a few times, then you’d also have to make sure there was a good-mood-window for you to even take your chance to ask at all, because if he was already in a bad mood, you’d just make things worse by bringing it up. And even if he was in a good mood, you’d still have to fully expect the answer to be no because high expectations only breed disappointment. After all, why would y'all need to stay somewhere else when he’s got a bed of his own and someone to drive him back home to it?

So then you’d have to drink slowly and only socially once you arrived at the party because of you being the designated driver. The medicine you take would also be a factor, of course, but mainly, you wouldn’t want to let your guard down and do or say something stupid with him and other people around to witness. You'd have to be careful. Exacting. You’d have to make sure you weren’t talking with any men for too long. You’d always feel the constant weight of being watched and perceived. 

You’d have to secretly monitor his own drinking. You'd have to step in to carefully steer all his later conversations to a happier place, a livelier place, all-the-while stewing in second-hand awkwardness over his loudening and ever-growing embarrassing behavior. Then you'd have to make sure none of it could be seen on your face or else the drive home would be ruined, subsequently the entire night. 

You’d have to plan every single thing out.

But you don’t need to anymore. You don’t need to do any of that. 

Tonight, all that you’re honestly worrying about is the headache you might have tomorrow from having too much fun. That's it. 

You physically shake your head to clear it once you realize that you’ve been thinking so intently about past scenarios that the show on TV is almost done and another episode is about to start up. Christ. 

You wish you could get to a point where they’d just not enter at all, anymore–these intrusive thoughts–but you’re just not there yet. They still somehow force their way inside. 

But it's okay. The difference you’re seeing is in how quickly the thoughts are beginning to leave. They aren’t sticking around for so long anymore. You credit Sy with a majority of that. 

And you also credit him for your sudden interest in Alaskan-fucking-jade-mining, of all things. 

Ahead on the television, a giant pick-up truck is driving directly through a large river to get to a bypass road on the other side, and you’re so excited to get to zone out and watch these people arrive at their worksite that it takes several moments for you to notice your phone vibrating from your jeans.

After digging into your back pocket and turning down the volume on the television, you sit up and bring your phone to your ear. "Hey, Momma."

"Hey, Y/N/N," she greets you, and you realize that it’s been forever since you’ve actually heard her voice. “Just wanted to check in.”

"Yeah, I know it's been a while, sorry," you say. "Every time I think I get the chance to call, somethin’ seems to come up. Sorry. Busy time of year. Work and school...Same old stuff.”

She makes a sympathetic noise. "How's everything been goin'?" she asks.

Since she's asking about you instead of immediately venting about something going on in her own life, you give her an honest answer. You talk about work, about how you're down to just one job now. You talk about school and how you're down to just one more semester now, too. 

And you talk a little about Sy. 

You're cryptic to a degree, still downplaying your relationship, but you mention that she may be meeting him soon. Maybe.

“And you’re comin’ up when, again?” your mom clarifies. “Christmas Eve?”

“Oh, I’m gonna stay here for Christmas,” you mutter, “but I’ll be visitin’ probably the week after. Before New Year’s.”

“Alright,” she simply says, and you pick up a tiny sliver of guilt-tripping she wants to offer from that one word alone, but you close your eyes and count to three, letting the guilt you want to sit with escape. It’s your last Christmas holiday with Justine’s kids, and that’s sort of a big deal for you. 

They’re the children here, not you. There’s no honest reason to visit your family on Christmas Day itself. Not when you can get together afterwards and have it still be entirely the same. There aren't any children up there to visit, anyway. They're all adults. They can get over it. 

You dwell on your selfishness a little bit while your mother picks up the conversation and starts updating you on things going on with people you don’t really know. Are you being selfish? Or do you just feel like doing anything for yourself whatsoever automatically puts that label on you?

Well. You are inconveniencing people, which you absolutely hate. Your family wants to see you. Your grandma’s recently been hospitalized, and you hadn't visited for Thanksgiving like they wanted. 

But then again, it’s your last Christmas with Justine’s kids. Your very last one. (And your first one with Sy, too…Not that it’s some huge thing for you two, but still…)

Okay, you’re overthinking again. You’re obviously overthinking. You’ve made your decision already. You’re going to Virginia after Christmas. It’s settled. 

Now onto the next thing: Would Sy even want to come with you? 

You don't think he'd mind. You think he'd actually like it, honestly. You'll ask him soon, feel him out. He'll either say yes or he'll say no. No big deal either way. 

Your mom talks non-stop after that since you have nothing else to really discuss, but your mind wanders the entire time, anyway, imagining Sy being up in Virginia with you. You don't realize how long your mom has even been talking when the ongoing occupant of your thoughts loudly enters the house from the back door. 

“Sonuva fuckin' bitch,” Sy's grumbling underneath his breath while heavily taking a seat at the kitchen table, and you sit up and come to alert with a gasp. His face is pinched and tight. 

Fuck. His knee. Fuck, you knew it.

Worried, you quickly interrupt whatever your mom’s saying. "Hey, sorry, Momma, it was great talkin’ to you, but I gotta–I gotta go.”

You've just caught her in the middle of a sentence. "Oh–Okay. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's all good," you stand up and say, but by the look on Sy's face, it's probably not. "I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll see you real soon. Love you."

"Love you!" you hear before you disconnect the call and toss your phone onto the couch.

You squint your eyes and take in the scene in the kitchen. While your mind has automatically gone towards Sy's knee, that's apparently not what's wrong at all. He's got his left hand laid out face-up on the table, and he’s actively digging what appears to be a pocket-knife into the center of his palm. As he groans and loudly drops the knife onto the table, you go to him.

“Oh, no, what’d you do?” you ask. “What’s wrong?”

He grumbles something while picking up the knife again, and his words are so low and jumbled together that you don't at first understand. It's not until you walk closer to him that his heavily accented sentence makes sense: He's got a thick, dark splinter in the middle of his left hand. 

“Oh, shit,” you swear. “What happened?”

"Was messin’ with the brooder box without gloves on," he says from between his teeth.

You drop your mouth at the size and depth of the splinter, and you watch Sy sternly steel his jaw and cut around it precisely enough to have the end of the piece of wood stick out. When he starts actually pulling at it, your mouth drops even more as the sliver seems to never end. 

“Je-sus,” you murmur, holding your stomach and grimacing along with Sy. “That thing’s freakin' huge!”

“Thank you,” he mutters, not seeming to be fazed by the size of the splinter nor at the small wound it’s left behind. If anything, pure relief covers his face once it's gone. 

While you roll your eyes at him, he simply licks the end of his right thumb and slides it around his left palm where it's cut. Your grimace continues.  

“Here…I–Lemme go get some peroxide or somethin’," you decide, and you quickly walk to the bathroom down by the laundry room. 

"Don't know if I got any," Sy hollers out, and as you're already crouching to look underneath the bathroom sink, you figure he's right. The spot is bare, only one singular roll of toilet paper taking up any space at all. 

You sigh. You seriously can't wait to eventually freshen things up in here a little bit. Put a little femininity in the house. An actual towel to dry your hands off with instead of paper towels—something. 

You stand upright again, and in front of the mirror, you pause and then shake your head at yourself. What the fuck kind of a thought is that. 

A thought that Sy should probably keep basic first aid items in his home, that's all. And items for guests. You swing open the closet door that’s behind the hallway door and find a few thin towels, some random tools, Aika’s old dog bowls, and a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol on a sticky-paper-lined shelf. Behind it is a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. 

"A-ha!" you let out, but when you grab the peroxide, you discover it's so nearly empty that it weighs next-to-nothing, though. You deflate. "Dammit, Sy…"

Regardless of its contents, you take the bottle into the kitchen, this time walking a little slower. There’s nothing upfrontly urgent about his hand, you remind yourself—or his knee. He’s fine.

Some weird déjà vu passes through you as you stand in front of the sink, and memories of another scene enters your mind. A kitchen that looks very similar to this one…a sink with a window above it facing the back yard…a door off to the left… Johnny’s farmhouse. 

“Ah. Where it all began,” Sy murmurs, showing you he’s instantly matching your wavelength. “Peroxide at the sink.”

You pretend to sigh while you set the bottle of peroxide down and turn to the side to face Sy. “Could be a song title.”

"...Peroxide At The Sink?"

You nod and start singing twangy-sounding, fast-paced lyrics. "Where it all began…Peroxide at the sink…From a man who ran…into me after too much drink."

Sy gives your lyrics a thumbs-down gesture while you grin.

"Whatever. Song wouldn't work anyway," you say. “Everything began before the peroxide at the sink."

"How's that?"

You lean your hip against the counter. "You said you recognized me before that night and just didn’t tell me."

Sy nods once. He'd already admitted that to you in the shower. "I did," he affirms again. 

"Watchin' me from across the road like a creeper," you continue to tease while turning to face the sink again, just waiting for him to get up and come to you, just beckoning him almost. You turn on the faucet and begin rinsing off the dishes inside.

You see Sy kick off his boots and lift his eyebrows from your peripheral vision. "I wasn’t creepin’.”

"Mmhm."

You think back to that night at Johnny’s bonfire. Where it all truly did begin. Where you and Sy had talked about Led Zeppelin for all of four minutes after you’d embarrassed yourself to hell by falling almost flat on your face. Now look at you. Here. In Sy's house. In Sy’s house, about to do the dishes like it’s your own space. With him. Really with him.

Your mind has been on overdrive literally all day, starting from the Christmas tree farm and lasting all the way through your recent conversation with your mom, but now it’s starting to slow down a little bit. Even if you weren’t actively flirting with Sy, you’d still feel at ease. He has a way of projecting this strange happiness onto you just by being in the room…some sort of all-over calmness that makes you feel comfortable in your own skin in a way you’re not used to…a goofiness, almost. 

"Every breath you take," you quietly start to sing. You grab the dish soap and the brush and start scrubbing while going on, “Every move you make…”

Watching you from the kitchen chair, Sy leans back and widens his legs. "You been drinkin'?"

You laugh and look over at him. “No, why? Should I get a head-start?”

He smirks while sticking his tongue against the inside of his mouth, making his cheek stick out. “Go for it.”

Your happy face falls just a bit. You aren't going to start drinking this early or anything, but you still want to know: “You gonna drive tonight?”

“You know I’m gonna drive tonight,” Sy answers while finally standing, and you look down at your sudsy hands and smile. You knew it. 

"And we're stayin' the night, right?" 

"Mm. Johnny said we could crash there.” Sy approaches you from behind and puts his hands around your waist. “'Less you just wanna come on back home afterwards."

The word “home” does something to your insides, making them flutter, but so does the fact that Sy’s holding onto your hips while obviously smelling your hair. You currently don’t know how you’re feeling so many–things–while doing something as mundane as washing cups, but then again, yes you do. His body’s matched up to yours and he smells like the outdoors and he’s touching you without reservation. Even though he should honestly have no reason to really want to. Not after everything last night and this morning.

"Honestly, I think I'd like to just stay,” you let Sy know, naturally tilting your head to the side when he puts his chin on your shoulder. “But it's up to you."

His beard scratches your still-sore neck before you feel a more softer sensation from his mouth, right over the slightly sore area he’d given this same type of attention to last night. He pulls a patch of skin between his lips and gently sucks before releasing and asking in a low voice, “Stay where?”

"Uh." You take a second to think. “Stay…there. At their house.”

“Whatever you want,” he murmurs offhandedly.

You have to stop washing the dishes for a moment while Sy continues kissing your neck. Feeling totally enveloped, you grab the edge of the countertop and squeeze onto it while wasted water continues falling down from the faucet.

Your eyes slip shut. "We can–” You clear your throat. “We could stand by their sink and reminisce.”

Sy grunts, but it’s flirtatiously, and you bite your lip through a smile because–how have you come to recognize what a flirtatious grunt even sounds like? 

Apparently you chuckle; a second later, Sy makes a questioning sound against your throat. 

You let your head fall back onto his chest. “Of the time you spent stalkin’ me from your grandma’s house,” you whisper.

Warm air hits your skin after Sy chuckles. “I didn’t stalk you,” he maintains. As you turn off the faucet and turn around, he’s sure to clarify, “I watched.”

You give him a look. Without looking behind you, you reach backwards for the bottle of peroxide.

“Respectfully."

“You respectfully watched,” you repeat, flicking open the bottle’s cap with your thumb. With your other hand, you find Sy’s left hand and flip it palm-up.

“Yes.”

You mockingly nod and pour the few drops of peroxide left inside the bottle out onto Sy’s hand. The liquid barely bubbles. "With total respect."

"I did," he maintains. 

You lift Sy’s hand to gently blow on the skin. "I'm sure."

In the stillness that follows, Sy gets serious. “You know I did,” he touches your forearm with his fingertips and says.

You find yourself suddenly staring up at him in some sort of suspension, eyes glued to his. “Did you, though?” 

He closes his eyes briefly, and you watch him in curiosity. He’s usually forthcoming. “Did I what?”

“Watch respectfully,” you give. “You’re sayin’ there wasn’t any sort of disrespectful watchin’ happening?”

Briefly, Sy looks away with his head tilted to the side, and that gives you your answer. In victory, you point your finger into his chest. 

“You so did not watch respectfully,” you state, almost in glee, but he just crosses his arms and moves to lean against the side of the counter. 

“Ain’t my fault you kept wearin’ those damn short shorts all the time,” he gives.

“Ain’t my fault it was a hot summer,” you reply with a smirk and a shrug, still staring at Sy and waiting for him to look back at you. 

But he doesn't, so you move to stand in front of him again. 

“Daww, why’re you lookin’ away?” you tease, not used to being in this position. Not used to him being in this position. “‘Fraid your nobility’s finally in question?”

Sy gently grabs your elbow and pulls your entire body towards his. “Get in here and shutch’yer mouth,” he says. 

You pretend to look intense while squinting your eyes. “Make me.”

As you continue to look up at him, still on a slight high from whatever this is you’re doing, your mouth slightly parts, and your excited face somewhat falls. What did you even say that for?  

“I…don’t know why I said that,” you utter, trying to step back. 

He holds onto you. “You sure about that?”

A heaviness sits in the air while you stare up at him and he stares down at you, and you’re careful with the breaths you take until you ultimately have to look away, not sure if you’re imagining this tension or if it’s real. Surely after last night and this morning, he wouldn’t… 

When Sy presses his fingers into the sensitive spot by your stomach and hip, you instantly gasp and jerk away with a smile, the thick moment dissipating.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn't mean it,” you laugh while he tickles you again, and you simultaneously lean into his body while trying to break away from his touch.

"I didn't mean it," he copies you. 

“Jerk,” you say just as he’s hooking his arm around you to pull you closer against his body again. “I really didn’t mean it.”

Sy moves hair away from your face to see you better, and after staring up at him again and offering him another grin, you nuzzle against his chest. 

Even though you're entirely comfortable right now, a memory flashes into your mind–a scene from your old apartment in Virginia. The kitchen. A moment like this where you and your ex were playing around, happy. A pinch at the kitchen sink–too hard. Not welcome. It hurt.

In what you could only assume to be playful, Michael reached out and pinched the exposed skin of your arm as you were preparing to wash the pile of dishes in the kitchen sink. Instead of playfully pinching you, though, he ended up forcefully pulling your skin before quickly and tightly pressing down in a way that honestly burned.

Gasping in pain, you pulled back your arm while your knees slightly buckled. “Ow! Fuck, Michael!”

“Oh, that didn’t hurt,” Michael brushed off, almost chuckling, already on the other side of the kitchen.

“Yes, it did,” you rubbed your arm and sulked, honestly offended that he’d hurt you like that. It was totally unnecessary to be that rough.

“You’re fine,” he repeated with a smile in his voice.

“Because you have the same pain sensors as I do,” you muttered, and then Michael’s playful demeanor left.

He yanked a cabinet open. “God, you can be such a bitch sometimes, you know that?” he asked, and inwardly, you began retreating.

Raising his voice, he went on, “It was just a damn joke. I’m just tryin’ to have a little fun for once, and you’re here bein’ fuckin’ Debbie Downer. Like always.” He loudly shut the cabinet after pulling out a jar of peanut butter. "Because you have the same pain sensors as I do," he mocked you in a high-pitched voice, and all you could do was stare down into the kitchen sink, looking at all the dishes needing to be done.

God, you never made the right choice in things. Not ever. You never said the right thing, you never reacted in the right way. Everything always ended up to shit, all because you ruined them. 

Maybe you could’ve pinched him back or something. Turned it into a pinching war. It could’ve been fun. You could’ve flirted or something. You could've been…better. 

After carefully walking across the kitchen floor, you opened the refrigerator for two slices of bread, and quietly, without speaking whatsoever, you took the jar of peanut butter Michael had gotten out for himself and began to take over making his sandwich for him.

Back in the present, the feeling of ice water trickling from the stem of your brain and down your spine rushes through you quickly and all at once. Almost lost inside the memory and frozen in another time, you look up at Sy's face to ground you again. 

The adoration you find there brings you to reality again. It actually takes you aback for a second, his unfiltered happiness at being close to you like this, verging on devotion, so you have to briefly look away. By the time you look back, his expression is unchanged, and you're finding yourself matching it once more. 

You stay as you are for long moments that pass in silence, hugging Sy and letting the world go on around you. You don't know how you’re both able to say so much to one another without actually speaking, but you're grateful for it. You love him. 

“You're sweet,” he eventually murmurs.

Your mouth moves against his shirt. “Sometimes.”

“Mm. All the time.”

The corner of your lip twitches. “Just to you.”

“Well, I’d hope just to me.”

Gradually, your smile grows. After finding his hands and squeezing them gently at the fingers, you take a tiny step back. You stand there playing with his calloused hands until finally getting the nerve to bring up a new topic.

"I was on the phone with my mom a few minutes ago," you carefully bring up while playing with Sy’s fingertips. “Before you gave birth to that splinter outta your palm.”

He makes a strange face at your choice of words which makes you laugh, but, knowing there's more you want to say, he raises his eyebrows. 

“I’m gonna go visit sorta soon."

"Oh, yeah?"

You look to the side. “Mmhmm."

A few seconds pass. "When?"

"Oh. After Christmas."

He glances at you, still sensing you need time to say something more. 

You do, and you still don't know if it's awesome or just plain sad that he's grown to understand that it takes time for you to word things. 

"I…You totally don’t have to say yes," you quickly forewarn, "but if you wanna come with me when I go, you’re welcome to.”

With the smallest of smiles, Sy cocks his head to the side. “Is this you askin’?”

You shrug. You nod. 

"Then count me in."

In relief, you smile. It slowly fades. “It’s nothin’ fancy where I’m from…I can’t really promise a whole lot of excitement or anything.”

Sy pauses and looks around the kitchen. Pointedly, he looks around, settling his gaze where there aren't cabinet doors at all underneath his sink. "And this is fancy?"

You nod. "It's bigger than any house I've ever lived in. It's nice."

He's quiet for a moment. "Glad you think so."

After a few more silent seconds pass, you force a chuckle. "Okay. You really don't have to tag along, though," you make sure to tell him. "I'll be goin' again in the spring if that's a better time."

Sy blankly stares at you, and you blink. 

“...What?”

He tilts his head to the side and continues looking at you. Meaningfully. Speaking to you with the turn of his eyes, with the set of his lips.

"Oh." You swallow. "Am I…Am I doin' the thing?"

"If I say yes, I mean yes," he tells you, and you nod, letting go of his hands. 

"Okay," you breathe out, then you clear your throat. “Okay. Got it. Cool.”

He gives you a minute and then asks, “You good?”

“Yep.” You nod, trying to stay casual, but there’s a weird excitement inside that you can’t help letting out by briefly grinning. “So, uh. I guess we probably oughta start gettin’ ready for tonight, huh?”

Sy pauses. “We gettin’ there early?”

You look at the clock on the stove. “No…I mean…I still gotta bake cookies and stuff, and I just…don’t wanna rush.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What? I don’t like feeling rushed,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Just 'cause it takes you, like, five minutes to get ready doesn’t mean it’s like that for everyone else,” you comment before walking through the kitchen. You hear Sy chuckle from behind as you approach the stairs.

Alone in Sy’s bedroom a few moments later, you get changed into a pair of black jeans, a thin turtleneck shirt, and your truthfully-very-ugly sweater that Amy loaned you. Sy begins to slowly come up the stairs right as you’re stepping into the bathroom, and after he goes into his bedroom, you hear him opening his dresser drawers through the bathroom wall. When you’re in the same position as you were this morning–barefoot in front of the mirror putting in a decent effort in making your face and hair look presentable--Sy's large presence suddenly takes up the entire doorway of the bathroom. 

He actually casts a shadow in the bathroom from the way he suddenly blocks the hallway light, and while applying mascara, you continue looking straight ahead into the mirror, not able to stop yourself from smirking at how quickly he’s changed his clothes.

“Okay, so…In actuality, guess it only took you three minutes to get ready,” you say.

"I look alright?" he asks, and you chuckle without looking at him. The silence that ensues after that has you curiously turning your head, though, and you realize from his face he’s being serious. Showing a little vulnerability, he’s essentially asking you to give your opinion. 

You put down your makeup, turn to the side, and check out his outfit. Despite it being December, he’s in a pair of khaki shorts, and you see he’s put on a knee-brace. He’s paired the chunky shorts with a forest green sweater depicting Santa Claus inside a large tank. As you examine it, he pulls at the bottom of it to show it off better.

“Merry Tankmas?” you ask while making a funny face, and almost with pride, Sy taps to the giant tank in the middle of his shirt. 

“We used these in my unit.” 

"Ah," you say in interest. 

He lets go of his sweater. "Nice, huh?”

“It’s…Yeah,” you agree. “It looks…comfortable.”

He looks down at himself. “You callin’ it ugly?”

You let out a large laugh, bringing your thumb and your index finger close together by your face. “That’s the point, though,” you tell him, “so you did good.”

Even if it weren’t an Ugly Sweater party, though, Sy could somehow make the outfit look good. Even down to the matching green socks. His easy smile matches your own as he steps into the room and gets closer to you, naturally wrapping his arms around you and hooking them together at the curve of your lower back.

He slouches his shoulders in order to lean down and place his forehead against yours. “Can’t all be as good-lookin’ as you,” he says, and you half-groan.

“Oh, my God, stop.” So not true. You're literally wearing the tackiest sweater imaginable right now. 

“What?” he seductively lowers his voice. “I can’t call my girl good-lookin’?”

You don't get how he can still look at you after last night and this morning and still feel like saying shit like this, and maybe you never will, but maybe that's okay–as long as you can try to keep reminding yourself that he does mean what he says. Sy means what he says, and he sees what he sees, and whatever he sees, he likes. 

Slowly and with purpose, Sy kisses you. Not so slowly, he then hefts you onto the bathroom counter like you weigh nothing. You lower your hands to the countertop so you don’t fall, and he puts his hands on your knees to widen them a little. After extendedly hugging one another downstairs just literal minutes ago, this sort of extended close-contact is unexpected, but you still smile at him when he breaks away. 

Instead of leaning back in to kiss you, Sy digs a hand into his front pocket. His forearm brushes your inner thigh as he clears his throat and says, “Gotchu somethin’.”

When he pulls out a small square box from his shorts, you just look down at it.

“It ain't what it looks like,” he says with a chuckle.

You just keep staring, and Sy shakes the box a little to signal you to accept it. “Oh,” you stutter, reaching out.

Slowly, you crack open the box, and whatever’s inside instantly shines. When two little stud earrings come into view, you don’t dare to even touch them. They’re small yet not too tiny, but they’re clearly diamonds, and…you’re hardwired to decline gifts like this. You set the box on your lap.

“Oh, wow…”

Sy remains silent, and so do you.

“These look really nice, Sy,” you eventually murmur.

After a long pause, Sy finally chuckles. “They’d look nicer if you put ‘em on.”

Almost shyly, you smile. “Oh.”

Feeling awkwardly watched for a moment, you finally reach out for the little diamonds and place them in your earlobes, then you twist around to look in the mirror again. The earrings are pretty but modest like you prefer, twinkling in the light from above the mirror. Even though you feel undeserving of the jewelry for some reason, your eyes give away your appreciation at the unexpected gift.

You move your hair from your face and give yourself one final look. “Well, thanks, Sy,” you softly murmur, actually feeling kind of pretty. 

Behind his thick beard, you see the hint of a satisfied smile.

“And here I didn’t get you anything,” you say with a small pout. “I…didn’t know you were gonna…”

“My ears ain’t even pierced.” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes. “You’re so freakin’ corny.” 

“Butchu love me.”

You reach out and wrap your index fingers into the belt loops of his khakis. Looking up at him, you murmur, “I do.”

Sy smiles. “Say the whole thing.”

“Huh?”

“Say you love me.”

You grin. “I love you,” you say, and though you’re totally happy, there’s another memory-flash from your ex that enters your head like static–“Tell me you love me,” he had once said, and it sounded like an order. Unpleasant. Threatening. You didn’t like it, so you’d paused, and your heart had sped up, and you put on a fake smile. And you said it. 

This is different. This is different. Sy is completely different. Your smile is genuine now, and it only grows when witnessing Sy’s face in reaction to your words.

Still hating how you can't stop the intrusive thoughts occurring this afternoon, you push the old memory out of your head as quickly as possible. Maybe this is just your brain rewiring itself or something. Because what the fuck. 

“Well, I love you, too, darlin’,” Sy says, and with a final long, drawn-out kiss, he steps aside so you can slide off the counter. He leans against the wall and casually crosses his arms, calmly watching you. You clear your throat. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to finish up. “Well, the hair is as good as it’s gonna get, I guess,” you eventually murmur into the mirror.

From the side of your eye, you watch Sy begin to rub his head. “You think I should do somethin’ with mine?”

“Oh, good Lord. Are you gonna do the dad jokes this entire night?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “Should I prepare myself now?”

“Long as you keep laughin’, I will.”

Just looking over and seeing the mischievousness in his eyes has you laughing all over again. 

“Good to know,” you say, but even just responding with those three words has you giggling even more. Just–Sy’s in a good mood. 

You bet it was the Tylenol and singular drop of hydrogen peroxide you helped him out with. Look at you, mending his ailments left and right. Excellent girlfriend material. 

…Are you, though? You’ve literally never thought of yourself like that before. But now…Now you feel like you may be. Now you feel important. You feel special. You were given casual diamond earrings–just because. And you accepted them without fussing that you don’t deserve them. You…You sort of feel like you do deserve them. That you deserve nice things. And it’s enough to make your eyes start to sting from the sheer expansiveness of the happiness taking up your body. The past twenty-four hours have been…a lot. In a good way. 

“I think I–” You clear your throat. “I’m all done gettin’ ready now. I’m gonna–I’m gonna go bake the cookies now and then we’ll have time to chill a little.”

With a casual touch on your hip, Sy steps aside to let you walk past him. You’re able to collect yourself to a more appropriately-calm state of mind by the time you enter the kitchen again, and when Sy steps into the room a few moments after you do, he smells like cologne he didn’t smell like before. 

The next half hour is spent listening to Christmas music and sharing more stupid banter–you making fun of Sy’s loud kitchen mixer and old half-peeling oven trays and him, in turn, making fun of how sloppy your cookie batter ends up. Through your laughter, you manipulate the sticky balls of dough as best as you can to try to make shapes that are somewhat circular, and in the end, you chalk it up to a success.

“I’m a better cook than I am a baker, alright?” you tell him while he stares at what you’re doing with an eyebrow raised.

“Babe, you ain't even got to the bakin’ part yet.”

You push at the brick-wall of Sy’s arm before placing the baking sheet into the oven. “Shut up.”

While staring into the oven, another memory hits your face along with the heat of the coils inside. 

You walked into the apartment to discover the scent of food already being cooked, and in pleasant confusion, you stepped into the kitchen with your plastic grocery bags of taco fixings.

“Hey,” you greeted him, and–

“Hey,” he greeted you back.

“I thought you said you wanted tacos,” you pondered in slight confusion.

He'd shaken his head. “The chicken's gonna go bad.”

You blinked a few times at your bad memory. You could’ve sworn asking him last night what he wanted for dinner and him suggesting you get “taco stuff” from the store–which always meant actual ground beef for him since you couldn’t eat it and never had it on hand. You could’ve sworn that he had even said something about it being Taco Tuesday. 

“Oh, okay. So we’re gonna do chicken tacos instead?” you asked, now a bit more excited than confused.

“I got all these leftovers at this work luncheon today,” he answered while shaking his head. “Let’s just eat that. Already heatin’ it up.”

You stuffed all the groceries into the refrigerator while hiding the disappointment on your face. “So did you wanna eat tacos tomorrow for dinner since I bought all the stuff?”

“I don’t know, damn,” he said, his voice getting a weird, irritated edge to it. “We can make it literally any other night this week. Just chill.”

“I was just…asking,” you mumbled in confusion again, and because your comment meant that you were now perceived to be In A Mood, you tried your hardest to make nice conversation while watching television on the couch, a plate of leftovers on your lap.

“It’d be fun to cook for more people every now and then,” you tried making conversation. “Don’t you think?”

Sitting on the chair next to the couch, he asked with his mouth full of food, “Whatchu mean?” 

“Like, maybe have friends over one night or somethin’. For dinner.”

“What, you tryin’ to get with my friends?” he joked, and you paused and looked at him strangely. What a weird thing to ask. 

“No,” you slowly answered. “Just to, like, get to know people more. Other couples. Or some people in my classes or whatever. Socialize. I don’t–”

“Don’t what?”

You shrugged. Saying “I don’t have that many friends” would just sound pathetic, so you stuck with just telling him, “I don’t ever cook for anyone besides just us. Thought it’d…be fun.”

“What, me alone ain’t good enough for you anymore?”

You smiled a little to hopefully express you weren’t being anything but light and conversational, but inside you were jittering. “Oh, shut up," you joked. "I didn’t say that. It’d just be nice.”

“Okay…”

He was treating you like it was such a weird suggestion. You guessed it really was, because the topic never came up again.

You have to loudly remind yourself internally–That's the past, and this is the present. That was then, this is now. You’re having a great day, it’s been a great day, and your brain needs to stop with this weird flashback shit. 

Sy helps. He hugs you from behind for a little while with his hands on your hips, and a few Christmas-songs-on-the-radio later, the cookies are finished. They end up…edible-looking. Even though you’ve turned the entire baking sheet into a glob of dough so giant that the shape of individual cookies is barely discernible. 

“These can just be the back-of-the-table cookies,” you decide after using a spatula to separate the cookies into something resembling circles. Sighing in defeat, you're surprised when Sy picks one up after it cools and takes a giant bite. He shows you he obviously likes it by immediately finishing it instead of spitting it out. 

“...Verdict?”

“They might look like shit, but they taste great,” he says with his mouth full.

You drop your mouth at his bluntness, causing him to just smirk until he finishes chewing. 

You stick out your tongue. “Well, thanks for your honesty.”

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you,” he says, reiterating what he’d finally gotten you to understand this morning.

Still– “Not even about hatin’ the tree I chose today?” you tease.

He snaps his fingers. “Oh, shit, that reminds me,” he mutters, and then he begins walking to the back door. Over his shoulder, he goes on, “Got somethin’ I wanted to show you,” and then, after opening the door, he’s gone.

You slowly walk to the door and curiously wait for him to come back, and when he does, he’s got a small tree-stump in his hand. It’s about three inches tall and probably about the same width. In the very middle of it is a small section where he’d apparently drilled into. You stare at it for a few seconds, not putting together what exactly he’s trying to show you. 

“Sorry, but…What is this?”

He looks down at the stump then back up at you. “Somethin’ to put the Christmas tree in.”

You look back at the stump and gasp. “That's perfect!”

Without asking, you take the little piece of wood from Sy and hurry into the living room with it. The stump is entirely level at the bottom, so when you place the small Christmas tree in the middle of it, it doesn’t tilt. And it matches. Almost like a continual tree. 

“I can’t believe you just–did this so quickly,” you look back at Sy and enthuse.

He shrugs. “Ain’t nothin’ but a tree stump I drilled a hole into.” 

You look down in curiosity. “Yeah, but there’s, like, somethin’ else in the hole, too.”

“PVC pipe. To keep it from rottin’ after water’s in there,” Sy explains.

“Where’d you even get that from?”

“Out in the garage.”

“...And you cut it to fit into this hole you drilled?”

Sy nods. 

“Damn, Sy.”

“Ain't really that biguva–”

“Jeez, just accept the praise,” you interrupt playfully. “So–we've got to decorate now.”

“Oh, we got to?” he mocks.

You nod your head. “’Cause this just looks awesome,” you say again, unable to stop staring at the tree. “This is, like, some Pinterest-level shit.”

He laughs. “Didn't know it’d impress you so much.”

You pause. With a soft voice, you murmur, “You always do.”

Sy reaches out with his thumb and slides it across your cheekbone. You duck your head. 

In the end, the little tree holds a total of seven carefully-selected ornaments. Lightweight enough that the branches don’t break, the lucky selections include an Army logo, a handmade snowman with one of Sy’s nephew’s handprints on it, and a tiny circular picture of Sy’s parents. 

The next time you come over, you’ll still bring lights. Then you’ll bring a tablecloth to bunch up underneath the tree. You’ll tie a ribbon around the top. You’ll get gaudy tinsel. You’ll do all of it. And it’ll look so freaking cute. 

“Y/N,” Sy says from your side, and you jerk your head at him. That tone of voice means he’s probably already been trying to get your attention but you’ve been zoning out. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, lifting your eyebrows. “What?”

Sy chuckles at you. “All day…You keep starin’ at this damn tree like you’re lookin’ at–”

You pause. “Like what?”

“The look in your eye…. It’s like you’re lookin’ at a–baby or somethin’.”

“Well.” You smile and turn back to the tree. “It looks nice. And I like it.”

Sy stands by your side staring at the tree for a while, too. You’re expecting some cheesy comment like he’s been doing all afternoon– “Not as nice as you” –but he remains silent. In the dim sound of the radio playing Nat King Cole from the kitchen, it’s comfortable. 

It’s the first tree in this place in two years. 

As you slowly stretch, Sy bends over to pick up the box of unused ornaments. “I can do that,” you stop him.

Sy pauses and stands upright. “My knee’s fine,” he points out. 

“Yeah, ‘cause you put a brace on,” you challenge him, picking up the box and going to the staircase before he can interject. “You need to rest it.”

In less than a minute, you take the box to the spare room upstairs and then rush back down to join Sy on the couch. Naturally, he’s on the left side of the sofa leaning back with his legs spread, and naturally, you fit into the spot directly next to him. After squirming around to find your phone that’s been neglected all afternoon and checking any notifications you may have missed–none–you eventually decide to put your head on one of Sy’s giant legs, staring out at the show on the History Channel he’s just turned on. 

Immediately, his calloused right hand finds its way onto the back of your head. After touching your ear and feeling the new jewelry there, he lowers his fingers and begins to gently and absentmindedly rub your shoulder. At that, you let out a long groan. 

Sy pauses. “You sore?”

You nod against his khakis. “After last night, I’m literally sore all over,” you admit.

“From what?”

“What d’you mean ‘from what’?” you close your eyes and mutter, and he chuckles. 

“Ah, c’mon now. I gotta getchu in better shape then,” he jokes, and you open your eyes again just to narrow them even though he can’t see.

“You shut up.”

He pinches your shoulder before going back to kneading your muscle. “Y’know, I do need me a workout partner,” he says seriously. “You should consider it.”

After a few minutes of indulging in Sy rubbing your shoulder and the show on television, you eventually sit up and tilt your head in consideration. Sy’s hand naturally slips off your arm to rest down by your hip. “One of my resolutions for the new year was gonna be to start exercising more,” you say. “Healthy living and all that…”

All he does is look at you, and you’re already pointing your finger at him. “But nothin’ crazy. I’m not gonna be, like, flippin’ tires through the woods with you and shit.”

He winks with both eyes. “Ah, too bad, darlin’. That’s my favorite workout.”

“You got jokes and jokes today.” An exasperated look spreads over your face while you settle backwards against the cushions. When you look at Sy from the side of your eye, you find his own eyes bright. It’s enough to have you smiling despite trying to keep yourself from doing so.

You settle against Sy’s side after he lifts his arm a bit and casually places it around your shoulder. “This guy’s voice on TV is gonna make me wanna take a nap,” you murmur, closing your eyes while the British narrator relays information about different military uniforms through the centuries.

“So take a nap.”

You fake-whine. “But then I’m not gonna wanna wake up.”

Sy grunts. “I’ll find one’a them true crime documentaries you’re always watchin’ to keep you alert, then.”

You open your eyes again. “Ha, ha.”

“Well, we could always do somethin’ else that would keep ya awake.”

You wait for his suggestion, but it doesn’t come. While he trails two of his fingers across your shoulder, you look over at him to find a certain look on his face, almost like he could wag his eyebrows any second, and you simply blink. You’d just told him you’re sore, but it’s more than just your muscles that are sore. Like, everything is sore. And after last night and this morning… You’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Sy could still be–that he could still possibly want–

“Um. I'm–” You look down. “I mean, you're–”

He nudges you with his knee. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh.” Of course it was. Now you feel stupid.

In the silence that ensues, you’re awkward and you know you’re awkward, so Sy nudges you again with the arm wrapped around you. “Y/N,” he says. “Look at me.”

You reluctantly look up. When you do, Sy’s face is strangely serious.

“I know I’ve been teasin’ today, but I wouldn’t ever make fun of you in a mean way. I ain’t tryin’ to embarrass you here.”

You shake your head. “Oh, it’s totally–That's not–You didn't. You weren’t.”

He watches your face for a minute, and then ultimately, he frowns. “Your face changed. I crossed a line somehow.”

Quickly, you shake your head again. “You really didn’t. I promise. It’s really not you, it’s me.”

Sy scratches his beard while watching you curiously. You can tell he wants to speak, but you go first.

“You didn’t do anything–seriously. I’m so sorry. I know we’ve already talked about this already–like, a little bit just as recently as this morning–and it's not that I don't believe you, I promise, but it's harder than I thought it'd be for me to, like, re-learn certain things. So the things that you say…it takes time for everything to actually stick. In my brain. It’s not that I don’t believe you, though. That’s not…That’s not the problem.”

“Okay,” he answers slowly. “...But what is it you’re actually talkin’ about?”

“That–” Ugh, it’s so hard to talk about sex out loud. Openly. “You just suggested…you know. And I…I keep thinking that if I say no that you'll be mad at me or something,” you admit. 

Sy inhales roughly, and you look down at your lap. 

Man. You really didn't want to ruin the day. For the second time. It’d been going so nice.

Sy pulls you into his side more closely. “I told you. Only thing I'm ever mad at when it comes to you are the people who've made you think that way in the first place.”

Slowly, you nod. “Yeah.” He’d said that before. He says the same things a lot.

You say the same things a lot. It must be exhausting being with you. 

“So if I'm ever comin’ on too strong–”

“You're not,” you interrupt. “You weren't.”

Gently, Sy smiles. “But if I ever am,” he goes on, “you just tell me to lay off.”

With a stupidly-small sounding voice, you answer, “Okay.”

It takes a few moments, but after too much silence goes on, Sy finally asks, “What’re you thinkin’?”

“That you’re still somehow gonna get offended or mad if I do that,” you answer straight-away, wincing and squeezing your eyes shut.

“We’re shuttin’ that down,” Sy says. “It won’t happen. It won’t ever happen.”

“Okay.” 

“Got it?”

You clear your throat awkwardly and give a tight nod. You blankly stare ahead at the television while lost in thought, and you feel the power of Sy’s attention on you almost the entire time. When you finally turn your face to look at him again, he’s got his eyes on yours already.

“Um,” you begin. 

Sy patiently lifts his eyebrows. 

“Let’s just say I–Let’s just say you weren’t kidding,” you mutter. “And that–” You start picking at the skin around your thumbnail. 

“Just me here,” he reminds you.

“Right, sorry,” you say. “I mean–No, I’m not. I’m not sorry.” You smile. “Okay, let me try this again. Let’s just say that you weren’t actually kidding…” You trail off, trying to put words to your thoughts.

“...I didn’t have to be just kidding,” Sy eventually says, a bit confused.

Your face twists in its own confusion. “See, that’s the thing. If I had said ‘sure’ just now, you’d really…Like, you’d really actually want to?”

Sy looks to the side. “...Yeah?”

“Like, you’d really sincerely want to?”

“Baby, yeah,” he says again, this time with a mix of confusion and emphasis lacing his deep voice. “I mean, it’s you we’re talkin’ ‘bout…”

Sitting entirely still, you just blink while taking in that statement. 

“I can usually…” Sy sighs. “I can usually get where you’re goin’ with stuff, Y/N, but I gotta admit…I’m havin’ a hard time understandin’ what the problem is.”

“There isn’t a problem,” you shake your head and genuinely tell him.

“Okay,” Sy slowly says. But he’s still confused. And you don’t blame him. “So you know that you can always say no to me,” he summarizes.

“Right.” You nod. You do know that. And you will eventually get yourself to the point where you intrinsically believe it without doubt. 

“And now you know that…you can also say yes to me,” he goes on, “and that I’d be entirely fine with that, too.”

There’s a joke he’s trying to make with that, his voice a little lighter, and you understand how stupid it all seems, but something about it just isn’t–you just can’t comprehend it. 

“What am I missin’, Y/N?” Sy asks.

You take a deep breath. “After last night, and then this morning…And you–And you’ve kissed and hugged me a lot today, too…” You finish with a shrug.

His eyes turn hawk-like. “You’re thinkin’ I’m some kinda nympho or somethin’, ain’tchu?”

You could almost laugh. “That’s not at all what I was thinkin’.”

“Then what?”

Again, you shrug. “That, like…I just don’t get it. I don’t see how you could still have any sort of desire after…” You clear your throat. Fuck, you’re weird. “How you could even still want to…touch me or kiss me so much or to do…anything.”

Sy’s eyebrows meet. He hears what you say, and he listens, and he must replay it in his head, because then he’s taking a sharp inhale, and then he’s removing his arm from your shoulder, and then he’s lifting both his hands to his face, and then he’s dragging them down his cheeks. 

You close your eyes. You make yourself open them. “Did that make you mad?”

Sy wraps his arm around your shoulder again. “You haven’t made me mad,” he says. “I want you to–” He sighs. “I'm glad when you communicate.”

You nod. “...So that was okay? That I said that?”

“All you did was speak your mind. Which I always wantchu to do.”

You hate that you need so much reassurance, but– “Even if it makes you mad?”

“I’m not try’na make this about me,” he quietly says. “It ain’t about me.”

You don’t know what that means. “Oh,” you utter. 

“No–Not like that. You just don’t need to be worryin’ about my reaction when–” Sy takes a deep breath, and a long, controlled exhale. “You don’t make me mad when you say things. It’s the things you actually say that…I just…I’ve gotta learn to get ahold of my temper. Which I will.”

“But…What are you mad at if you’re not mad at me?” you slowly ask.

Sy removes his arm from your shoulder in favor of placing both of his elbows on his knees. “You don’t even see–It doesn’t even occur to you, does it?”

You swallow. You feel dumb. “I’m sorry, but I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve spent so much time with–” He sighs, sits upright again, and fixes his knee-brace where he’d messed it up. “How many relationships were you actually in again?”

You look down. “Officially? Two.”

“That's what I thought,” Sy mutters. “Okay.”

You hesitate. “Why?” you ask. “What’s on your mind?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I do,” you answer.

Sy side-eyes you. “You seriously don’t.”

“Why did you ask that?” you try again. “About my exes.”

“Because they’re human pieces of shit,” Sy seethes, “and I get that you’re still not ready to talk about everything, but the intel I’ve gathered from what you have already let out…” His nostrils flare. 

“I…” 

Slowly, you shake your head. Earlier today, you’d already had a conversation about your previous relationships in the spare bedroom upstairs with Sy. Well, as much as you were able to. Ever since Sy had said you’ve been brainwashed, you’ve literally been oscillating between past and present non-stop, old memories popping up like sharp, unpleasant zaps in your mind.

But–“That wasn’t about–I was just making a general statement.”

Sy tilts his head to the side. “What was your general statement?”

“That, like…That it’s just hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that you’d want to keep kissing me and…that you’d maybe even want other stuff.” You shrug. “After what we’ve already done. Recently.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense to kiss my girlfriend so soon after already taking what I really want from her,” he replies. 

“Right,” you answer, and then you whip your head over to look at his face. Those words don’t sound right coming out of his mouth. “Wait.”

Sy's face almost looks sick. “Are you hearin’ how that sounds?”

“But–” Your mouth parts. “That’s not what I meant, though.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and suddenly, your eyes can’t focus. “I…” 

Another sharp, zapping memory assaults you.

“Headache?” Michael asked with his hand under your shirt, and you paused, opening your eyes. They instantly furrowed into a slight scowl as you stared at the wall, hidden from your boyfriend as he lay behind you in bed plastered like a barnacle to your back.

You were grouchy. It was your birthday, but you were grouchy as hell.

It was a school night. You’d already been in class all day long, trying to stay as alert as possible so you could succeed in meeting your goal of finally increasing your GPA a little. You then worked a half-shift at the grocery store where you handled dirty cans of vegetables and wet produce items and heavy cases of beer and laundry detergent and dog food for five hours straight. You then made it home in the rain where, upon entering the apartment, you had to instantly muster up energy that didn’t exist in order to cook for yourself and Michael. You were tired. 

And tomorrow, you just had to do everything all over again.

“‘M just tired,” you honestly whispered, already close to drifting off with your head on the pillow, and then you felt Michael’s hand under your shirt grab one of your boobs and shake there, almost like he was attempting to wake you up. 

“C’mon, Y/N,” he said into your ear. “It’s your birthday.”

You yawned. “Yeah, but we were gonna do somethin’ this weekend,” you reminded him in a drowsy mumble. “I got class and work all week.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Michael repeated, and silently, so that he couldn’t hear it or even feel it with how his hand was so close to your chest, you inhaled.

You knew what he meant now.

You knew what he meant now, and you’d be letting him down if you shook him off and denied him. Not when he’d gotten you birthday flowers. 

Wrapped in cellophane on the kitchen table when you came home, they were kind of ugly, like the petals had already wilted or something, but it was still a nice gesture for him to’ve done. Especially because he didn’t have a lot of money. Of course, he probably spent the money on them in the first place to get you to have sex with him, honestly, but–

But, no. That’s a weird thought to have. He was your boyfriend. That’s what couples do together–they…Birthday sex. There’s even a song out there about it.

If you said no, then that would cause him to pester you about it, and then that would either lead to you getting pissed off that he won’t drop it when you were clearly tired and not into it right now, which would cause a big argument, or it’d lead to you just giving in to his persistence and conceding in order to save all the energy that arguing would inevitably expend.

You took another deep breath and then rolled over in bed.

Without preamble, you’re being shaken from your thoughts and immediately pulled into the warmth of Sy’s side again. “C’mere.” 

The sheer number of groundbreaking conversations with this man over the past twenty-four hours…Even the past four hours…You’re reeling. 

You–You guess you really have been brainwashed.

After continuously being subjected to unpredictable behavior for so long–by so many different people in your life–you’ve had to protect yourself by constantly reading the play ahead of time. By over-thinking and over-analyzing and over-compensating and over-apologizing. And just not doing those things or thinking those things anymore takes time. It takes rewiring. 

It really does feel like your head is full of a million crossed wires, and as you’re slowly learning normality with Sy, one individual wire breaks and makes an attachment somewhere else, a joining that only fuses after weeks and weeks of reassurance and witnessing consistent patterns. And then another wire breaks and meshes somewhere else after a few more weeks. And then another. And another.

But where does that leave you? Forever a work in progress? 

“None of it was your fault, you know,” Sy’s chest reverberates against your cheek while he speaks, and there’s a confidence and finality to his words despite them still sounding so illicit to your ears. 

“I…” Your fingers twitch against the fibers of his sweater. You can’t. You can’t talk about this. 

Not just because it’s talking about sex out loud, but it’s because it’s talking about your fucked up past and how Sy should never have to deal with the repercussions of choosing you to date but how you’re so, so happy that he sees something in you worth staying for despite it all.

Sy doesn't speak after that, just puts a hand over your hair and holds you, and you let him. “Thank you,” you finally whisper. Because that’s all you know how to respond with. 

Eventually, you sit up and dab the side of your right eye with the pad of your finger. 

“We can prob'ly make it through one more show before we gotta leave,” you suggest, picking up the conversation from earlier about how the current show on the History Channel is going to put you to sleep. 

After you steal the remote from the side of Sy’s leg, he mumbles, “Woman,” and you just smile at him–a little to thank him for consoling you just now, a little to convey to him that you’re fine. 

He relaxes once you settle on an episode of Alaskan Jade Mining instead of The First 48. 

“The plant's in jeopardy of shuttin’ down,” you catch him up while leaning against his side again and staring ahead at the TV. 

“What'd that dumbass do now?” Sy mutters. 

“The land he threw all that money into is yielding, like, no results. The entire crew’s overworked and fed up. Then they hired some new chick that doesn’t have any experience and it’s taking extra time to train her.”

Sy grunts, and that leads into the two of you mindlessly binging the show. 

“I'm lookin’ forward to meetin’ some more of your friends tonight,” you say during a commercial, then you instantly think that's so stupid to just mindlessly say like that–he's going to think you're interested in them or something…

No, he won’t. 

“Lookin’ forward to it, too,” he just replies.

You exhale. “Who’s comin’ tonight, anyway?” you ask. “Did you ever figure out if Johnny got in touch with anyone from the Army like you said he was tryin’ to do?”

“Nah,” he answers. “We’ll just find out when we get there. Johnny’s been more concerned with–”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Everything in general, I guess,” Sy finishes. “Food and drinks, shit like that. Said they're doin’ some drink station in the kitchen or somethin’.”

You turn to look straight ahead again. “Ooh, that'll be fun.”

“Mm.”

After the TV show is over, ending with drama from an impending storm on the horizon, you gently slap your legs with your hands. “You wanna go ahead and leave?”

Sy looks at his watch. “Sure,” he shrugs. “Or we could stay here for another episode.”

You grin. “I knew you’d get hooked if I put it on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Easily, Sy smiles, and you briefly glance at his teeth before looking back up at his eyes. “We could be a little late to the party. Ain’t like they’re gonna be missin’ us none.”

“Maybe they won’t miss you, but they’ll miss me,” you stand up and say, and it takes Sy a second, but he finally smiles at your delivery, standing up with a grunt and a playful ass-pinch. 

Sy clicks off the television and starts following you into the kitchen. “‘Course they will,” he agrees.

While you pack up your ugly Christmas cookies to match your ugly Christmas sweater, you watch Sy step his feet into his old discarded boots by the kitchen table and then open the refrigerator. He pulls out two cases of alcohol–Bud Light beer for himself and Bud Light seltzers for you. 

Quietly, you assess him. He's always just so good at reading you, and reassuring you, and complimenting you, and making you laugh, and making you happy. He’s also so handsome you can’t stand it. 

“Hey,” you quietly say, and he closes the fridge and looks over at you. 

“Hey, yourself.”

“I never told you…” You look at him head-to-toe. “You look nice tonight.”

Sy smiles. “You admittin’ you like the sweater?”

“I like all of it,” you say–which is true. The sweater, the socks, even the khaki shorts in December. “You look good.”

Sy holds your gaze for one long, charged minute. “So do you.”

You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. “But I’m talking about you,” you say. “You look nice.”

The satisfaction in his eyes is evident even though he doesn’t respond. After pushing yourself up on your tip-toes to kiss his scruffy cheek, you take your case of seltzer out of his grip, put your container of cookies on top of it, and then begin walking down the hall to put your shoes on by the front door. By the time Sy meets you there, he’s not only carrying his case of beer anymore: he’s got a broom, too. 

There’s some shuffling around while you two put your jackets on, and then Sy locks the front door and holds the broom out like a metal-detector on the way to his truck. Immediately, his rooster comes from out of literally nowhere, going from zero speed to full force with one singular goal in mind, but Sy sweeps the broom at him before he can bite at his calves.

By the time you make it into the cab of his truck, you don’t think you’ll ever stop laughing. 

"God, he's such a fuckin' dick," Sy just grumbles next to you a few minutes later, and then he sticks his keys in the ignition and revs his engine.

Exactly like you’d done earlier this morning, you place your hands out to the air vents to warm them up before reaching out to change the radio station. When a very country version of Two-Step ‘Round the Christmas Tree begins playing, you turn it up and start tapping your legs playfully. 

Sy gives you a look. "Abso-fuckin'-lutely not."

You let out a loud laugh that has Sy scrunching his eyebrows funnily, and you have to clear your throat. "Sorry," you say while changing the radio station. "I'm good."

"Are you, now?"

For no reason, you laugh again, ending it with a nod. "That rooster, Sy...I can’t."

“Glad I can offer you some entertainment,” he mutters, which may have sounded passive-aggressive coming from anybody else’s mouth but his, but from him, there’s no bite to his words. 

“My grandad told me about a cowboy he knew, once. We’re going way back to the forties here. He rode into town and stopped at a saloon for a drink. Unfortunately, the locals always had a habit of picking on strangers, which he was. When he finished his drink, he found his horse had been stolen. He went back into the bar, pulled his gun, and fired a shot right into the air.”  Clint made a gun motion with his fingers and mimed the action.

“Way to make friends an influence people.” Pete rolled his eyes.

“Well, it was his horse, ya know, valuable commodities in those days. They still are.” Clint shrugged, “So, he goes back into the bar, kicking off, demanding to know which snake had taken his horse. No one answered, so he says that he’s gonna have one more beer, and if his horse ain’t back outside by the time he finished his drink, that he’s gonna ‘do what I dun in Texas, and I don’t like to have to do what I dun in Texas…’” Clint mimicked a southern accent and cleared his throat. “Some of the locals start shifting a little, ya know, nervous like. Anyway, true to his word, he has another beer, heads outside and his horse has been returned.”

“So, that’s it?” Bucky frowned, “that’s the point of this story?”

“Pretty much.” Clint shrugs, “he saddled up, and started to ride out of town. He hasn’t got more than a few yards though, when the bartender comes out and asks ‘say, partner, before you go…what happened in Texas?’ Dude tips his Stetson as he looks back and says, ‘I had to walk home’.”

There was a moment of silence, before the group groaned collectively, as Clint laughed. Bucky threw the crust of his sandwich at Clint’s head.

“That is the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.”

Steve snorted, listening to the guys banter as he leaned back against the tree trunk, his hat pulled down over his face. It had been a busy few days, moving the herd back down to the summer pastures and getting ready to bale the hay and silage that would see them through the winter. But he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he hadn’t complained about much over the past 5 years or so.

 Well, bar Bucky being a persistent pain in his ass, but what else was new?

In the months that followed the battle, Fury had been appointed interim president of the WSC and had been permanently installed following a term of elections, for two terms running now. As such, the World Security Council had made good on its promise. Each state had their own elected representatives, and the divide which had separated red and blue states had been torn down.

 Of course, some states still held conservative views, but even in those areas things had gotten much better for Omegas. Because their basic human rights had been secured through the Omega Rights Act at a federal level, something they failed to do the first time round due to the WSC preferring the appeasement method. Now, violation of those rights was punishable by law, no matter where you were, although how much it was enforced was anyone’s guess and varied, again state to state.

It wasn’t perfect, but then again nothing was. And it had been met in some instances with violent opposition, but that had been quashed pretty quickly. Some had been in favour of a more gradual overhaul, suggesting that each state should be allowed to install their own laws around Alphas, Betas and Omegas, as a sort of half-way house with a view to eventually changing the overall attitudes of people.

But, as Tony said in his speech when he was elected as the Senator for Montana, “sometimes you gotta run before you can walk.”

Essentially, it was all that they could have hoped for, and whilst it wasn’t perfect, it was a damned site better than it had been. Steve's shield and suit, and indeed the rest of the Avengers’ weapons and kit remained untouched, gathering dust in the armoury. 

Things had even taken a turn for the better at the ranch. It was bringing in good money, both from the cattle and the sudden tourism boost, people flocking to see the battle grounds where the latest Civil War had taken place. This, in turn, had seen an expansion to the ‘Dude Ranch’. Although Steve hadn’t been particularly on board with that idea at first, he’d quickly been talked around.

As such, life for all the Avengers Ranch and everyone else in Stark Wood was good. In fact, life all round was good, but from a selfish point of view, the former was all Steve really gave a damned about now.

His mind strayed to you, and a soft smile spread across his face. Married now, you bore his name and his rings. More symbolic than anything, given the fact you were bonded beyond the normal ties of a bond anyway. But he’d wanted to show you exactly what you meant to him. Following his casual proposal, the night you’d returned home to the ranch, he’d done it properly a few weeks later. The pair of you had taken a ride up to the top of the hills and he’d gotten down on one knee at sunset, offering you his Mom’s ring. Which you’d tearfully accepted.

You’d married in the same place, the following summer, Thor overseeing the ceremony in his ordained state as Sheriff, and then you and your friends had partied long into the night in the huge tent on the grounds of the ranch.

Steve had kept good on his word too. Once he felt it was safe, the pair of you had gone to Texas where you’d visited your mama’s grave and told her you were okay, laying a bunch of her favourite wildflowers by her headstone. And then, you’d located Colin’s. Tactfully, Steve kept his distance there and allowed you to say a proper goodbye to your previous alpha. You’d told Colin (or at least you’d spoken to his modest headstone) all about your job at the ranch, how you worked shifts at the Vet clinic with Banner. You’d chuckled when you’d explained how you were still the one doing the books because your Alpha was just as bad at it as he had been…and you’d finished by thanking him for his sacrifice which meant you were alive today, and living the best possible life you could. Whether Steve believed in the afterlife or not, it had clearly made you feel better having said a proper goodbye, and who was he to deny you that?

He’d deny you nothing. He’d give you the moon and the stars in the sky to make you happy.

A boot kicking at the sole of his foot jerked Steve from his daydream, and he tipped his hat to look upwards.

“Ready to kick on?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” He smiled. With a groan, he pushed himself up and dusted down the seat of his well-worn wranglers before he mounted Star.

Together, the five men herded the longhorns down towards the pastures which surrounded the ranch, where the work would start over the next few weeks to tag the calves and conduct the health checks needed on the females. When the last one was in the correct pasture, Clint closed the gate with a click.

As they turned the final corner towards home, Steve couldn’t help the smile as he saw you in the riding arena. You leading Quin around, your Stetson sat on your head, a grin on your face as you walked. And upon Quin’s back sat a smaller figure, whose head was covered by a safety helmet.

Your daughter, Serenity Clara Rogers, known as Seren. It was a name chosen for its various meanings. In its full form her first name meant peaceful, which was what your lives had been since the battle and what you both hoped it would be for the rest of your lives. In its shortened, it translated as star, a small tribute to Steve’s emblem.

Her middle name was a payback to your Southern roots, and it meant bright and clear. And when it was all put together, it was exactly what she was to you both, a shining, bright star of peace and love and hope.

Getting Star up into a trot, and then a loping canter, he was pulling into the main grounds of the ranch a few minutes later.

“Daddy! Looks! I wides Quin!”

Steve grinned as he hopped off his horse and strode towards the paddock fence, looping the reins around the top rail. “I can see that!”

“Cans I has my own?”

Steve laughed, “you think you’re old enough?”

“I’m free!” A tiny handheld up three fingers as Steve faulted over the post and rails and strode towards you both.

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beamed as he kissed you softly.

“Hi, Doll.” His lips brushed yours before he turned to look at his daughter. She was much like you, same eyes, same hair, same attitude, and excitement to life. But, very much with the Rogers attitude and, funnily enough, his cheekbones and nose. 

“Good day?” 

“Yup, all cows present and correct. Did that new family check in?”

“Yeah, all good.” You nodded. “Oh, Banner called. He asked if I could cover the on call shift tonight at the surgery. Apparently Natasha has come down with that bug that’s going round, and he doesn’t want to leave her to take care of the baby Danny alone. Think they’re all still adjusting, ya know, after the adoption…”

“I think that’s okay, don’t you, Wren?” he playfully poked Seren’s tummy, speaking his nickname for her and she giggled.

“Cans we watch Toy Story? Wivs popcorns?”

“Toy Story? Again?” Steve groaned and Seren narrowed her eyes.

“I wikes it. Is my fave-rite.”

“Really, I’d never have guessed.”

Her Daddy’s sarcasm went right over Seren’s head, and you chuckled. “We got everyone coming for dinner tonight, baby, so you might not get chance.”

“After dinner?”

“We’ll see.” You smiled, “you ready to get down? I think Quin could do with a drink before we pop him out.”

“Otay…”Seren sighed, dramatically. She held her arms out and Steve reached up to pluck her out of the saddle. Her little arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her cheek. “Daddy, your whiskers are scratchy!”

“Are they?” Steve frowned, before he rubbed his cheek against hers, causing her to squeal. Her hands pushed at his face as she giggled. With a laugh, Steve pulled back and she cupped his face, her fingers threading into his beard as she smushed his cheeks together.

“I wobes you, daddy bear.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than all the stars.”

Your heart swelled, the way it always did when you watched Steve with your daughter. She was the apple of his eye and he doted on her in all the right ways. He indulged her, let her be her own person, but wasn’t afraid to dish out the discipline when needed.

In contrast to Bucky, who pretty much let her get away with anything and everything.

Steve carried her out of the paddock, and you followed, leading Quin.

 “Unca Buck!” Seren squealed as she spotted her favourite uncle and she wriggled. Steve let her down and she took off towards him.

“Hey, Squirt!” Bucky grinned as he picked her up. “You had a good day?”

“Yips. Me and Mama took ‘Mando for a walk, dens we made lunch, and I rides!”

“yeah, I saw you on Quin. Bout time daddy got you a pony of your own, huh?”

“Dass what I saids!” Seren held her hands out to her side and Bucky laughed, ignoring the death stare Steve was shooting him.

“She might have a point, Alpha.” You smirked as you passed him by and tried not to chuckle as his head whipped towards you.

“huh?” he followed you into the barn. “Really? You think she’s old enough?”

“It’s not like she’ll be going on cattle drives.” You smiled as you undid the girth to Quin’s saddle. “But what harm can it do? A little pony or something she can love and cuddle. You’ve seen what she’s like with every animal she comes across.”

“Yeah, which is how we’ve ended up with a damned cat that lives in the house now and not the barn, much to Commando’s disgust.”

“Hey, Barney would have died otherwise…”

“And the guinea pigs? Were they on deaths door too when Bucky and Sam bought them for her?”

“Sparkle and Cookie live outside, well in Summer anyway…”

“The tank of goldfish?”

“She won one at a fair. Thor was right, it was mean to keep him in a bowl on his own. He needed friends.”

Steve scoffed and you snorted.

“Stop being a grouch.” You teased, “make the most of her being like this. Because give it ten, twelve years she’ll be out dating and chasing boys instead.”

“Over my dead body.” Steve glowered.

“You can’t fight her growing up.”

“No, but I can fight any punk that comes within a three mile radius of her.”

That made you laugh, as you placed Quin’s saddle on the rack. “Oh, Steve.” You turned towards him, stepping into his arms. He groaned, his face pressing into his neck.

“Stop it…”he whined. “I don’t want her to grow up, ever. Where’s our baby gone?”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You kissed his cheek. 

“What time are you on call from?”

“Seven-ish.” you stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, which was a little damp with sweat. Not that you cared. “I might not be needed but, you never know.”

“Okay, so if we grill for dinner at sixish, you should be okay?”

“Counting on it.” you smiled, “sides and fixings are all ready.”

“You’re too good to me, to us.” He smiled, his lips pressing back to yours.

You hummed into the kiss, allowing him to pull you closer. The smell and feel of your Alpha, your soul mate, your husband washed over you as his strong arms wrapped around your back. You allowed yourself to get lost, giving into that Omega part of you that you now loved as much as Steve did. 

“Mama and Daddy is smoochin’!” A loud giggle came from behind you and Steve gave a small groan as he pulled away.

“Ewww!” Bucky wrinkled his nose, “do they smooch a lot?”

“Aaaallls da times!” Seren said, dramatically. “Unca Tony says mama wobes daddy’s animal maganatism…”

“I’m gonna kill Stark.” Steve muttered as you, and the rest of the gang laughed.

**********

As was customary post the cattle drives, you hosted the guys, plus their partners for dinner. Thor and Tony also joined you, along with his daughter, Morgan and Pepper who was sporting a pretty large bump as Baby Stark number 2 was very much about to make an appearance.

Morgan and Seren, separated in age by less than a year spent the spring evening playing in the garden, and by the time everyone was leaving they were both exhausted. Steve took this as a win as he didn’t have to sit there and watch Buzz and Woody for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

After bidding everyone goodbye, after clearing down the dishes and table, you headed off to take a call which had come through from the surgery.

Steve scooped his daughter up, “bedtime, baby.”

“I nots tired…” Seren protested, as she yawned and blinked hard.

“Sure…” Steve chuckled, “well let’s get you bathed and then we can discuss this, huh?”

Once bathed, dried and in her little set of cowgirl themed pajamas, Seren had given up the fight and was, indeed, half asleep. Steve tucked her into her little bed, chuckling as Commando took up his usual place on top of the comforter, by her side. Her little hand curled into his fur as she yawned.

“Story?”

“You bet.” Steve smiled, “which one tonight?”

“Spinderella.” She grinned. “I wikes dat one.”

“Spinderella it is…” Steve crossed the room to her bookshelf and then looked as you wandered into the room.

“I gotta go in.” You sighed, “one of Mr. Craft’s horses has injured itself, pretty badly in its stall. He said it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s okay, we got things here, huh Wren?”

“Yups.” Seren yawned again.

“I give her two pages, tops.” Steve chuckled, waving the book at you.

“I bet its four.” You smiled, leaning over to kiss her head. “Night baby, momma loves you so much.”

“Wobes you too, momma.” she hugged you before you stood up, ruffling commando’s fur. You then turned to Steve and kissed him quickly.

“I dunno how long I’ll be.”

“It’s okay’ Mega.” he smiled. “Drive safe, okay?”

You winked before you pulled away, his hand squeezing yours and you turned and left.

****

Seren actually fell asleep after three pages. When Steve heard her breathing even out, he glanced down and saw her eyes closed as she snuggled into him.

With a soft chuckle, he gently moved, his hand curling the back of her head. He lay her down, made sure she had her little bunny teddy with her and tucked her in.

“Night, my little star. Sweet dreams.” He whispered as he kissed her head.

Commando followed him as Steve headed down the hall after quietly shutting Seren's door. He padded his way down the staircase and found refuge at the wet bar for a drink before he settled up on the couch. His faithful dog hopped up next to him, resting his rather large head on Steve's lap. Flicking through channels, he found the mundane drone of the news filled his ears.

He watched the report and the panel as they chatted over a high profile court case that was filling the news at the moment, an actor versus his ex-wife who was accusing him of having jars of cocaine and ‘mega pints’ of red wine or some bull shit like that.

It was frivolous. And really, Steve had no idea why it was news. But the fact it was, meant there was nothing more worthy of the airtime, meaning things with the WSC and senate were calm.

Which was fine by him.

He sighed contently and brought his whiskey to his lips. He'd nearly finished the glass by the time he'd heard your truck pulling up toward the porch.

He checked his watch, all in all you’d been gone just over an hour. Which meant whatever it was can’t have been that serious. Hopefully, you wouldn’t get another call that night. It was rare that you did when you were covering the emergency shift.

Commando grunted and slipped off the couch to greet you at the door.

“Hi…” you bent down to give him loves, “hi, fella…”

His tail wagged and wagged happily. And when Steve snapped his fingers, the dog walked off. The simple command allowed you to get back inside and shut the door.

"That was quick," Steve spoke gently as he stood from the couch. He made it a point to never, ever have his back to you in conversation if he could help it. You were his equal and you deserved  equal respect.

“Oh, daft animal had been rearing in his stable and got his leg stuck. Nasty cut but I managed to clean it and pad it. Gave him a tetanus booster and that was it, said I’d check back in tomorrow.” You smiled, “I just need ten minutes to type up the notes before I forget.”

"Alright," Steve nodded. "Can I get you a drink. 'Mega?"

“I’ll take a tea, please.” You smiled, “best not drink anymore in case I gotta go back out.”

You took your tablet from your bag and headed to the couch. By the time Steve was placing your drink down, your notes were done.

You shut the device down and placed it on the coffee table, picking up your drink and getting yourself comfortable as you swung your legs up beside you.

Steve picked up your leg from the ankle and set it in his lap, his strong hands rubbing over your calf through your jeans.

"Seren go down okay?"

“Three pages.” Steve chuckled.

You smirked as you blew a little over the rim of your mug, "new record."

“Think today tuckered her out. And I did a little thinking…”

He watched you wince a little as he dug into a knot, "what's that?" You looked at him.

“Maybe a pony of her own ain’t such a bad idea.”

“Okay, that…that didn’t take much convincing at all, Alpha.”

Steve chuckled then he sighed, "I think she's ready. I could make a few calls, see who's got one available."

“No need…” you bit your lip. “The Crafts have one…their youngest has outgrown him. I said I’d talk to you…”

"Oh," Steve nodded, "that works then."

“Yeah, convenient…” you agreed. And then Steve noticed the smirk on your face.

He gave a groan and a snort. “Was I actually going to get a say in whether or not she got a pony or was this just something you were gonna do regardless?”

"I mean I was just making it known that we'd discussed it. Formalities of checking with my mate and all that."

Oh, checking with your mate? Don’t you mean asking permission from your Alpha?” Steve teased.

"Details, details," you sniggered.

Steve rolled his eyes and took a sip from his drink. “So, what is it?”

“A male Shetland pony. Called Coco.”

Steve merely nodded as you continued.

“And. Let’s face it, it’s an investment.” You continued, “because when Seren has outgrown him, well…hopefully there’ll be another little one who’s ready to take the reins so to speak.”

Steve's face softened. "yeah?"

“Yeah.” You looked at him, a smile on your lips. “I thought that maybe when my next heat is due to hit, I don’t get my shot…see what happens.”

"Don't, don't do it." He sat forward, "I'm ready, darlin'."

You bit your lip, “me too.”

Steve held your ankles on his lap with one hand and leaned forward toward you more, "I want as many pups as we can, while we can."

“Woah, slow down there cowboy…” you chuckled, “I’m absolutely happy for two, I could be persuaded for three…”

Steve pecked your lips, "I'm teasing. We talked about two, but I'd be alright with three."

You smiled, your hand running through his hair, and then you moved to press your fingers to your mark.

I love you… your voice echoed in his head.

“I love you too," he whispered lowly. "So much, 'Mega."

“Kiss me Alpha.”

It took a tiny growl from his chest before his lips slowly, tenderly melted against your own. His soft kiss fluttered your insides and without though to it, you were in his lap.

Your hands cupped his bearded cheeks, the pads of your fingers softly brushing against his bristles as your lips allows his to lead them in a slow, sensual dance.

"Lemme love on you, 'Mega."

“Always…” your nose brushed his, “take me to bed.”

Steve needn't say another word, nor make any extra moves. He simply stood as he settled you into his arms and began his way towards the stairs. Blindly, yet expertly, he carried you up and up, to your bedroom where your bed awaited.

With a tenderness he reserved especially for you, he laid you down in the middle, on top of your pale blue comforter and positioned himself over you. One knee nestled between your thighs, his left hand planted by your head whilst his right hand cupped your face.

"My beautiful 'Mega," his voice whispered as his breath gently fanned your face.

Your own hand reached up, fingers gently tracing the curve of his jaw as he closed his eyes.

“My handsome, strong, protective Alpha.” You purred.

Time stood still when the two of you were like this. The intimacy so pure, that it squeezed at the heart in your chest that now beat for only he and Seren.

Steve dipped his head and captured your lips in a soft kiss. The feel of his lips on yours made you hummed against him. You parted your lips as the tip of Steve's tongue tickled at the pucker lines of your bottom lip.

Your hands dipped, finding the hem of his shirt and you gave a tug.

Steve's kiss barely stopped as you pulled the shirt up and over his head. The material pooled at his wrist by your ear. His fist curled together in his right hand, and he knuckled the mattress to flick away his tee. His lips were quickly back on yours trailing across your jaw and down your neck.

You sighed, happily, an Omega trill rolling in your throat which made Steve grumble a chuckle in response.

He sat back on his knees and pulled at the hem of your own tee as he did so, taking your body with him. With a light giggle you fell back with a little bounce to the mattress.

"That's better," Steve rasped as he bent back over you. He continued his trail of bearded kisses down your décolletage, to between your breasts and descending towards your navel.

He smiled against your skin as your belly twitched, always the same. So sensitive and ticklish in areas. He found it cute, and sexy.

He gave a nip to the skin below your belly button at the tip of your scar that gave him his daughter. Then he kissed the sting away tenderly. Those glittering, cerulean eyes looked up at you and he smiled against your skin.

You felt as if you blinked and then suddenly you laid naked before your Alpha, bar the bra that covered your breasts.

You chuckled and Steve looked at you, his chin resting on your sternum.

“What?”

“Nothin, just the speed at which you undress me always amuses me.”

"You make me very impatient, doll."

“I bet you say that to all the girls…”

"Just you," he smirks as his beard began to tickle the inside of your calve.

“Good to know…” you sighed.

"Mmhmm," he kept his lips to your leg.

You trilled again as whiskers tickled the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Mega…I love those noises…” he worked his way up.

He nudged that joint where hip and thigh came together, scenting you. Your hand automatically tangled in his hair, your breath hitching in your chest.

Tentatively, Steve nosed your mound, the tip of his tongue tickling your swelling, sensitive bud. You whined, your back arching off the bed.

A low rumble sounded in your ears as Steve tasted you. He locked at you like a kitten to milk.

You whimpered and moaned softly, your knees caging his head in at his ears as your alpha gave you what you craved, what you wanted.

He'd eat away at you with fervor, then he'd slow to a near stop and  make love to you there like it would be the last time.

And you loved every single moment.

Your orgasm was growing close, and you felt your body teetering on the edge of bliss. Tingling through your body felt like soda bubbles in your nerves.

"S'close, Alpha..."

He growled a little, before just as you knew he would, he slowed down. Leaving you mewling and begging for more.

"Please, Alpha..."

With a final grunt, Steve pulled away and wiped his face on the comforter. With a quick movement, he was up, out of his jeans and then back over you.

You were breathless, your body aflame. A sheen of sweat was beginning to cover your skin as you burnt hot from within.

“I got you, mega…” he whispered.

Steve held himself as he slipped right into you, a moan from you and a groan from him filling the airy space of the room.

Your hands flew to his broad back, curling round his shoulders as you dug your fingers into his muscles.

"You feel so good, doll." Steve's voice tickled your ear.

“You too…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper over your panting.

Steve pulled back and slowly thrust back in, a rolling tide to his hips as he set the pace of loving on you.

His hands reached for yours, fingers lacing through your own as he pressed them either side of your head.

You sighed as his body melted into yours. The weight of him felt like a warm blanket, comforting you and securing you. It gave you a never ending sense of security. And to lock your bodies together tightly; you raised your hips and brought your ankles up to settle the heels of your feet against his lower back.

“Shit…” he grunted, his eyes closing for a moment before they opened, locked back on yours.

"There you are, Alpha," you sighed as he kept rolling those hips into you. "Don't ever hide." His eyes flashed a little as you arched into him even more. “Let go, Steve…”

"No....not 'til you...."

Always putting you first, that never changed. No matter what, you were his priority in your moments together. 

You preened your neck, stretching out for him. You felt his nose dip along your mark, and he shuddered. Your lips parted in a sigh as you started to tilt your hips again to meet him.

His teeth nipped softly at your mating gland, enough for you to feel it, but not enough to break the skin.

"Oh shit," you rasped. "Alpha...."

“Mega…my mega…”

"I'm...." you needed just a little more, you were so damn close.

Steve knew, he always knew. His hips picked up the pace, but somehow he kept the same depth and rhythm. 

His lips claimed yours, the kiss deep yet soft. A juxtaposition. Just like your alpha himself. So strong, get gentle. So firm, but soft.

"Alpha...." you whined as you tightened around him, your nose buried right against his mark.

“Cum for me, mega…” his voice was deep, his instruction clear. It was an alpha command, the only time he ever used them in you was in moments like this. 

And you craved it.

"Oh my....fuck, yes," you came with a cry.

“Good girl…” Steve panted, his lips back at your mark.

You whined, whimpered then whined again at the praise.

“My beautiful Omega…” Steve’s words were almost whispered, a strain in his voice. 

He was close.

"Steve....let go, baby," you cooed.

“Fuck…” 

You nudged at him with your nose, bringing his eyes back to yours.

Like times before there was the fleck of gold that flashed in his eyes, and you knew he saw it in yours. For the room went black and beyond the gaze of your connection a galaxy swarm around you.

When you finally found yourself again, Steve’s face was buried in your neck. He was panting, deeply. The rise and fall of his chest pressing against you and then releasing you from its hold.

Your fingertips danced up his spine and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He gave a soft hum.

"I love you, my Alpha," you whispered.

“I love you too, my Omega. And I always will. Until the cows come home.”

With Ari’s blessing, you stayed in Boston for a few days.

Okay, maybe blessing would be pushing it a little too far. It was more like a begrudging acceptance, punctuated with sarcasm about how you favoured that asshole to your own brother.

You knew he was mostly joking, however. That said, when you got news that Ari was being discharged, you flew back to New York, to be there for your brother.

Three days after that, Ransom was given the okay to return to Queens, under strict instructions to take it easy.

When the two of you had talked, you’d made it clear that your reconciliation was taking place at your speed. You hadn’t been quite ready to jump all the way back in just straight away. Instead, you wanted to take it slow, build what you had back up from the very foundations which had been shook.

So far you had spent most of your days with Ransom at the mansion whilst he was still recovering. Be it watching TV or taking short walks around the grounds. You cooked or ordered in, snuggled up together but each night you’d drawn the line in the sand and headed back to Ari’s, your intimacy not passing the kissing stage.

Ransom hadn’t argued, he hadn’t pushed. He’d simply agreed to give you the time you needed, his only request being that if you still weren’t ready to move back in by the time the baby arrived, you at least agreed to stay in the house and he would go back to his penthouse, to allow you and your future son or daughter somewhere comfortable to begin your life together.

You’d agreed, although you knew deep-down it wouldn’t come to that. You wanted to move on. You forgave Ransom, you had to if you wanted to make things work. You just needed the time to navigate this new start, but you were confident you could.

You smiled at Ransom, as he stood in the open doorway as you pulled up the drive.

“You should be resting.” You looked at him. He was dressed casually, in a pair of dark blue denims and a cream cable knit cashmere sweater.

“I’m fine.” He rolled his eyes as you stopped in front of him. You stood on your toes to peck him on the lips. He then moved back to let you walk into the hallway.

You smiled a little at the Christmas decorations that had been installed over the weekend. Usually you liked to decorate yourself, but with everything that had been going on, and the fact you were now two weeks into December, you’d agreed to let Ransom pay for someone to come and do it.

“Have you drunk enough water?” He asked and you couldn’t help the chuckle. Today was your first ultrasound, the first time you’d get to see your baby and hear its heartbeat. And of course, Ransom had been reading up all about the process.

“I…yeah, I guess. I mean I’m peeing every fifteen minutes or so. In fact, I need to go now.”

Ransom snorted as you headed off and made his way to the kitchen to wait for you. Soon you joined him, and he slid a small water bottle to you from the fridge, along with some carrot sticks which seemed to be a snack you couldn’t get enough of at the moment.

“Carter or Blanc can drive us today.” He offered, “I would myself but…”

“You’re not allowed yet.” You chuckled, swallowing your snack. “I can drive, it’s no issue. I drove here.”

Ransom popped a shoulder. “I’d prefer it if you let them, please.”

You looked at him and then smiled softly, deciding to let him have his way. “Okay.”

“And I thought if you wanted after, we could go for lunch.”

“Sounds great.” You nodded.

After a quick cup of coffee, decaf for you, you headed out to the car and we’re soon pulling up outside the private clinic.

Ransom stepped out first, and you didn’t miss the little wince he gave. You sighed and then leaned between the seats to speak quickly to Carter.

“Thank you, I know you know what’s going on.”

“Don’t know what you mean, Miss.” he shot back, flashing you a wink.

With a smile, you moved to step out of the car and took Ransom’s hand.

“Do we find out what it is today?” Ransom asked as you walked into reception, and you laughed.

“No, I’m only…well, about 8 weeks or so. We won’t see that for a good few months. That is if we decide to.”

“Oh.” He then blinked. “You don’t wanna find out?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged, “maybe, maybe not. I like the idea of it being a total surprise.”

Ransom smiled and pulled your hand up to kiss your wrist, “whatever you want, baby.”

Soon enough, you were called in after waiting in a small, comfortable room and you led on the bed, the cold jelly spreading over your stomach as the doctor moved the wand. Your ears then filled with the rhythmic thumping and your eyes caught the first glance of your baby on the little screen.

You smiled and glanced at Ransom, his eyes were fixed on the image, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

The Doctor smiled, then showed you where your baby’s head was, their heartbeat.

“And from the size then, yes, I’d estimate you’re between seven and eight weeks. So that gives us a due date of…the 29th of July.”

You swallowed and dropped your head. You’d secretly been hoping for s miracle, that you wouldn’t actually be that far along. But you knew deep down that had been stupid. Because no matter how much you did the maths, no matter what apps you keyed the dates of your cycle into, it still came back to the same thing. That your baby was likely conceived at any point really from 28th October to 12th November. It could belong to either of the twins.

“Can…can I get a copy, can we get a copy?” Ransom asked, his eyes still on the screen as he raised your hand to his lips.

“Absolutely.” The Doctor smiled. “I’ll grab you one now and we’ll get you booked in for your next ultrasound and I’ll get you some information leaflets on our Lamaze classes.” She smiled as Ransom leaned over to kiss your head. You spluttered as you wiped your eyes. “Is there anything you wanna ask me?”

Ransom launched into a myriad of questions about what you could and couldn’t do, what you had to stop eating, drinking and you couldn’t help but some out, instead focusing on his face.

You took a deep breath, and as you watched Ransom intently listening to the doctor, your heart swelled. Your momentary wobble flew from your mind as you were reminded that it didn’t matter. He was all in, you could see that. As far as Ransom was concerned, this baby was his. And when you logically thought about the odds, it probably was.

You’d agreed when you’d decided to make things work, not to dwell on any of this. And now it was time for you to live up to the bargain. Your baby was a Drysdale, not a Rogers.

You heard the Doctor tell you she’d be back soon, and you smiled as she wiped the gel from your stomach and left.

Ransom turned to you, your hand still held in his. “You okay, Princess?”

“I’m fine.” You nodded, “that was just…”

“Yeah…did you see him?”

“Oh, it’s a him?”

“Yup.” Ransom nodded, smirking. “My son and heir.”

“You know, it might be a girl. Girls are just as capable of being bad asses.” He playfully wrinkled his nose, and you slapped his arm. “Oh, wait till I tell Natasha your opinions on-”

“Err, there’s no need for that.” He cut you off, chuckling. The room fell silent, and he took a deep breath, his hand round yours as he looked at the floor. “Listen, Y/N. I know…I know we said we’d take things at your pace, and I’m, well, maybe happy to do that is the wrong phrase, but I understand. I know it’s what you want, and it’s the least I can do after…after everything I did, because I don’t deserve you.”

“Ran, please…we agreed not to dwell-“

“No, I know…lemme finish, please baby.” His blue eyes bore into yours, imploring you to let him have his day and you closed your mouth. You watched him, as the hand that wasn’t wrapped around yours moved into his pocket. When he brought it back out, you blinked as you recognised the small ring box he held in his palm. “I’d like you to have this back. It’s yours. And…maybe when you’re ready, you can put it back on. Whenever that may be…if you…if you ever are.”

You licked your lips and swallowed the lump in your throat, but it stuck in your chest. You inhaled through your nose and sighed out of your mouth. You bit the inside of your cheek. The look in his eyes appeared defeated. It didn't sway the way your heart felt. Your eyes flicked back to the box. Then you nodded and gently took it.

Ransom exhaled loudly as you smiled and nodded towards your bag.

“Imma need to put it in there…”

"Okay," he nodded. He figured that was what you wanted.

He passed it over and you stored the box carefully, zipping it into the compartment for safe keeping.

Soon enough, the two of you were on your way, copied of the ultrasound pictures with you. He took you to lunch in the Harbor. The changing of the seasons didn't make for a great view, but the gesture was there. The pair of you chatted, in a way you’d always been able to. About anything and everything.

Certain subjects were off limits, elephants in the room. But it was smooth. The ride back to the mansion was quiet but not unbearable. Your mind whirred. So much had gone on in the last few hours it seemed, and it had you thinking. Your eyes would flick to your bag at your feet, and you'd chew on your cheek.

“Princess?”

"Hmm?" You hummed softly.

“Are you coming in or do you want to head back to…to Ari’s?”

"I'd like to stay a little longer," you admitted.

“You can stay as long as you want.” Ransom took a deep breath. “If it was up to me you’d never leave.”

You softly smiled at the sentiment as he opened his door. He strode round to yours and offered you his hand.

You took it and allowed him to help you out of the car. His hand settled on the small of your back as he led you to the front doors. Once inside, he took the time to follow you into the foyer and then toward the kitchen where you left your bag on the island. You took the ultrasound images out of your purse and set the on the marble.

"Can I keep one?" Ransom asked as he stood behind you, his arms snaking around your middle to rest his hands on your stomach.

"You can have more than one." You turned your chin, so you looked up at him.

“Yeah?” His lips curled up at the side.

"Yeah, you can have half if you'd like, they gave us six," you chuckled.

Ransom snorted as he kissed your neck, “I think I’ll stick one to the fridge.”

"Oh my, that's a big step," you sniggered. "Big Mob Boss Ransom Drysdale puts a picture on the stainless steel."

“Hey, that’s my future son and heir.”

"Or daughter."

“Whatever.”

"I'm only kidding," you leaned back into him a little.

“Me too, sorta. I don’t mind what they turn out to be. As long as they’re healthy.”

"Me either. But it'd be interesting to see you with a daughter. It'd be entirely comical to see you with a son."

“Why comical?”

"Because I can see it." You turned in his arms and wrapped your own around his neck after they slid up his chest. "A little boy with your eyes that reins terror over this house and your kingdom. God help you when they're sixteen."

Ransoms brows flicked up before he gave a lowly chuckle, “well, maybe having a girl wouldn’t be so bad. There’s one obvious upside to that too.”

"Which is?" You cocked your head to the side a little as you looked up.

“They’re more likely to be like you, less like me. Not quite as fucked up.”

Your face softened, "Ransom." Your eyes welled up, "don't you ever say that again."

He licked his lips and hung his head, “I’m sorry…”

Your hands moved from around his neck to his jawline, your fingers spreading over his cheeks. "You're not a perfect man, but you're not fucked up either. You fell from grace, but that doesn't mean you can't change, or you haven't already made changes. I see you for what you're worth, Ransom. Our children will too."

At that he swallowed, his eyes misted over before he frowned a little, a soft smirk spreading across his face. “Children?”

You gave a soft smirk and a little pop to your shoulder, "I won't rule it out."

Ransom opened his mouth, but closed it again, and instead his hands cupped your face. “I don’t deserve you.”

You could see the turmoil in his eyes, he felt guilty. Guilty over what he’d put you through, ashamed of what he’d done to you, how he’d hurt you the way he did.

"We're gonna get through this," you encouraged. "It doesn't feel like it, but we will. I still love you."

“I love you too, so fucking much princess.” He sniffed.

You swallowed and sniffed, "I know."

He leaned down to you, his nose bumping yours gently before he kissed you.

There was something different to this kiss than the others you’d shared since you agreed to work things through. It was laden with emotion. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tenderness behind his lips made your stomach somersault. Your fingers pressed into the nape of his neck as a small whimper slipped through your throat.

“Fahk…” Ransom wrenched his lips away and pressed his head to yours.

You were a little breathless and lightheaded. "Ransom...."

“I know…too soon.”

"Just kiss me again."

With a surprised blink that merged into a soft smile, Ransom did exactly as you asked.

Again, the kiss was heady and needy. You needed him, no, you for the first time in a long time, you wanted him.

“Take me to bed.” You whispered, your eyes closed as he pulled away, lips mere centimetres from each other.

"Yeah?" It was barely a whisper, in fact you weren't sure he spoke at all, but you felt the word on your lips.

"Yes."

His lips were back on yours, those hands that cupped your face slid down your arms to your hips before they curled around your thighs.

In an easy movement he lifted you off your feet, your legs wrapping around his waist. He grimaced slightly, but made no moves to set you down.

"Be careful," you spoke gently. "You're still healing.”

“I’m fine, princess.”

"Okay," you kissed him again.

Somehow you ended up in the bedroom you once shared, him having carried you up the stairs.

Ransom set you down gently on the bed, bending at his waist to continue kissing you. When he pulled away for just a moment, you saw a hunger in his eyes you hadn't seen in a long time. A hunger that made you tingle and a spark that set your inside on fire. But there was a softness behind the hunger that made you want him more. You easily took the lead and grabbed the side of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor.

Ransom wanted to touch you, put his hands on you. Felt desperate to have your skin at his fingertips. You waited on bated breath for him to do something.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he swallowed.

A step forward closed the space between you, and he settled between your legs. His hand cupped your face and settled into a cradle against your jaw. He rubbed his thumb across your cheek bone then slowly dragged along the column of your neck until he reached your sternum. With a flat palm, he gently pushed until your back hit the mattress.

You couldn’t help the little giggle that flew from your lips as your head hit the soft surface of the comforter.

You watched as Ransom pulled his own sweater off, tossing it somewhere over his head.

Your eyes glazed over with desire as you watched him kneel against the mattress and began to cover your body with his. But you didn’t miss the scar that ran along his side, where his brother had done his best to take his life.

It was still red and raised. A mark that wouldn't fade for a long while. Your fingers reached out and lightly grazed it.

Ransom swallowed as he watched your eyes follow your fingers before your gaze flicked to his.

“It’s the only thing left of him.” He shook his head, as he reached for your hand. “And soon, it’ll fade to nothing. Like he has.” His lips kissed the pads of your fingers.

You nodded, your lip tucked between your teeth. It was the only truth you needed. The baby in your belly was his and only his. Nothing else mattered.

He let go of your hand and leaned over, his lips brushing yours before they moved to the hinge of your jaw.

Your mouth parted in a sigh as you bent upward to kiss him. You traced the seam of his lips with your tongue and Ransom eagerly responded but kept allowing you to lead the pace.

There was a fear in the back of his mind that you'd change your mind, tell him to stop. That all this was a mistake. But the minute your hand slid up over his shoulder, nails caressing the short hair at the nape of his neck, that fear left him.

He kissed your lips, your jaw, your neck. He nipped gently at your collarbone, fluttered kisses between your bra covered breasts and you hissed as he palmed your left one with his right hand.

"Are you okay?" Ransome wondered against your skin.

"Just sensitive," you smirked.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

"You won't."

“Tell me if I do.”

“Ransom...."

Yeah?”

"I want you. I want...I want this. Stop stalling."

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

You cupped his face, "no more sorry."

Okay…” he nodded, as he took a deep breath. “I love you.”

"I...we love you."

With a soft expression on his face, his lips were back on yours.

With tenderness you knew he was capable of, he stripped you, kissing every inch of skin he could find.

You sighed and gasped, hummed and whimpered. You were already wet between your legs and by the time you were naked, you were squeezing your thighs together for relief.

As his knee nudged your thighs apart, his hands reached up and his fingers slipped between yours.

You felt his tip kiss at your slit, and you titled your hips upward. Ransom slid in with a slow and shallow thrust.

"Oh my god...”

“Shit, princess. Fahk…”

"You feel so good, baby...."

“You too…” he groaned as he pulled back, and then pushed deeper into you with a roll of his hips.

Your back arched off the mattress as your body curled around him completely. You crossed your ankles at the small of his back and squeezed his fingers between yours.

His lips crashed back to yours in a desperate kiss.

Your tongue forced upon his and he growled against your kiss. You whimpered at the thrust he reciprocated with. It only made you speak against his lips.

"Faster," you begged.

With a low moan, he gripped your hands tighter as his hips began to thrust.

"Oh fuck, thassit, Ransom..."

“Oh, baby…” he choked, his lips latching onto your pulse point, “I missed this. I missed you.”

“Oh shit," you whined. "Me...too..."

“My Queen…” he whispered, his nose brushing the shell of your ear.

"My King," you rasped.

You felt him shudder, a soft whimper escaping his mouth and it made your insides burn. The power you held over him, the way you could reduce him to a quivering wreck. Such a ruthless man in his business, ruling his kingdom with an iron fist and yet you could undo him simply with words.

"S'close, Ran," you moaned.

“Me too, baby.”

"Just...right...."

He knew how to read your body like a cartographer knew how to read a map. He knew where to touch, where to kiss, where to brush gently and where to grab a little more firmly…

The beginning flutters of your orgasm coiled around his cock and your fingers began to squeeze his a little harder. "Ransom, I'm....I'm gonna..." You sighed with a high pitch to your breath as you came. Your body tenderly tensed around him as your heels pressed against him, your toes curled.

“Oh, thassit…” his eyes watched your face. He loved seeing you fall apart, the way your jaw laxed, how your eyelashes kissed your cheeks like the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

He wasn't far behind you. His body flexed above you, his fingers tight and palms pressing the back of your hands into the mattress.

When you opened your eyes, you saw the look on his face before he whimpered and let himself press into you a little more, his face buried into your neck.

"Oh, baby," you cooed.

He didn’t reply, simply nuzzled into you more. And it was only when you felt the wetness against your skin that you realise he was crying.

Your eyes stung, too. There were a lot of emotions that came through the course of the day, and it seemed to have settled between the two of you at the end of your physical reconnecting. You kissed his shoulder and whispered that things were okay. That you were okay, and the two of you were okay.

Eventually he pulled back, and you wriggled your fingers free from his. With a soft smile you reached up and brushed back the longer strands of hair that had flipped forward over his forehead.

"I wanna come home," you whispered wetly.

“You are…” Ransom’s voice cracked, “you don’t ever have to leave.”

******

You stayed that night. And you stayed the next night. And the night after that. On the fourth day your engagement ring was back on your finger, and by the seventh most of your stuff was back from Ari’s. The items you left, which Carter had put into storage instead of being destroyed as Ransom had instructed, were returned to their rightful place and it was as if you’d never been gone.

Christmas came and went, you spent it at home, just you, Ransom and Ari. The New Year passed, the snow melted, the spring flowers emerged. And, as the seasons changed, so did your body. Your bump blossomed like the trees, your eyes shone like the diamond on your hand, and to Ransom you were simply more beautiful with each day that passed.

Before you knew it, six months had passed. Things on Ransom's 'business' end were still a tight ship.

He hadn’t attempted to seize Brooklyn, instead he’d left the power vacuum to sort it sort itself out. His personal involvement with the ‘dodgy dealings’ had become less and less, his outside focus mainly on the Publishing Company. His attempt was to at least appear more straight on the outside, the unborn baby in your belly his number one priority.

He didn’t want your son, or daughter, being born into any kind of turf war, despite him joking about them being heir to his empire. He wanted safety, security for them, and if that meant appearing to go straight, so be it. He kept peace with the other factions and mobs in the area.

But he still ruled his own with an iron fist.

One particular day in April, you’d met your friend for a spa day, a bit of pampering whilst he held a meeting in his office.

“So, whaddya want me to do boss?” Langley asked, “send a message? I mean, do we want the Maximoffs muscling in on this?”

Ransom pondered for a moment, then looked across the table to Stark. “What do you think?”

Tony wrinkled his nose, “it depends, do you wanna rock the boat?”

Ransom tapped his fingers on the desk, “leave it be, it ain’t important. Let them take their shipment. It won’t have a big effect.”

“You’re the boss.” Langley shrugged.

An hour or so later, the rest of his men had left, leaving him and Langley alone.

“I gotta hand it to you, Dysdale, you really have calmed down a lot. Impending Fatherhood suits you.”

Ransom merely flicked his brows.

“I know what happened with Rogers was shitty, but… well, looks like it all turned out for the best, huh?” Langley stood from his chair, “whoever it was that sent that photo to you did you a favour in the long run.”

Random cocked his head to one side, studying the man in front of him through narrowed eyes. “Hmmm.”

“Anyway, I have stuff to do so I will see you tomorrow, Boss.”

“Sure.” Ransom nodded, reaching into his desk drawer.

With a final nod, Bryce turned to go, but stopped dead when he heard the loud click of a gun mechanism being cocked.

“You know, I knew Walt had to have someone pushing his buttons. The Iago to his Othello, so to speak, but I never expected it to be you.” Ransom’s voice was cool and collected as Langley turned to him, his eyes narrowing.

“Boss, I’m not-“

“I told no one I’d been sent those photos,” Ransom chewed the inside of his cheek as he rose gracefully from his seat.

“What?” Langley’s voice was a whisper as he swallowed, realising his mistake. His eyes were fearful as he watched Ransom round the desk and advance on him, like a tiger stalking its prey.

“So, the only possible explanation for you knowing is if you were the one who did. And, if you knew Rumlow was going to be there, with Walt, then you had to have known about it from the start.”

Bryce floundered like a fish outta water, looking for a viable story on a dime. His eyes flicked from Ransom, then to the gun which was trained at his head.

“Why?” Ransom exhaled, “come on, humour me. And don’t try and tell me it was all Walt, because we both know if brains were dynamite he wouldn’t have enough to blow off his eyebrow. He might have wanted the head seat at the table but there’s no way he’d have come up with something so elaborate. So, here’s your moment. The big confession before I blow your brains out.”

Langley blinked, before his jaw set, and an angry look crossed his face. Ransom recognised it as resignation, and he openly smirked. He knew his childhood friend too well, Bryce understood his time was up and he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to explain, gaud Ransom one last time.

“The plan was to get rid of you and Steve, frame it as a rivalry gone wrong with the Maximoffs. Then Walt would take the lot, the business, inheritance. I’d get twenty percent, plus Brooklyn.” He clicked his tongue, “only Rumlow fucked the hit up, hit Peggy instead. It could have screwed it all up-“

“Then Steve killed Rumlow…and you saw your next opportunity, right?” Ransom arched a brow, “I played right into your hands, I listened to you, and I didn’t give Steve an alibi for Rumlow’s murder.”

“You always listened to me,” Bryce scoffed, “Walt was right, you were too soft. You’d have done it for him, despite everything that had happened between you. But I convinced you and then we had a new plan. We’d wait, bide our time, feed Steve a little metaphorical ammo and then he’d come after you.”

“So, you’re the reason he thought I organised the hit?”

Langley nodded, “I expected him to kill you, take out a hit of his own…but as time went on, it never came. Then it all went to shit. We didn’t expect Steve to get out as quickly as he did, not before we had come up with another plan. I mean, I wasn’t bothered at first, I expected him to kill you, not to…well…anyway, he totally fucked the whole thing up. And I knew it would only be a matter of time before you both started digging and the truth came out.”

“So, you panicked.” Ransom felt the nerve in his jaw tick. “You sent the photos to get yourself off the hook.”

Langley licked his lips, “when I heard that Levinson was looking into it, yeah. I cut my losses and sent him the photo with the intent of leading him to Walt. Then that asshole Barnes stabbed him so…”

“You sent it to me.” Ransom finished.

Langley nodded.

“Ransom took a deep breath. “You seriously did all this for money? You caused all this for…”

“No, it wasn’t just for money!” Langley’s face grew red, and Ransom notices with some amusement the man was shaking, a combination of fear and anger no doubt. “I wanted my share, what I was owed, what is my birthright!”

“What are you talking about?” Ransom narrowed his eyes.

“Your shit head father?”

“What about him? He’s been dead for fuckin’ decades….”

“He was my shit head father too!”

For the first time since the confrontation began, Ransom wavered. His gun lowered slightly, “he…you’re my…”

“Half-brother? Yeah, that’s right, he was fucking my mother, and he left her pregnant and penniless! You two got the big house, the private education, the family business…I got fuck all!”

“I…I had no idea.” Ransom shook his head.

“Neither did I until a few years back. But would it have made a difference?” Bryce scoffed.

Ransom hesitated for a moment, before he licked his lips, “you know, had you told me before all this…honestly? Yeah…yeah it would. I’d have done something…I mean…I was always closer to you than I was to my own twin!”

Ransom swallowed. This betrayal was hard to take. He’d always loved Bryce as a brother and had often wished he were his twin, not Steve. They’d been inseparable from the day they met, and Ransom had done everything he could to help Bryce. It had started with sharing sweets and toys, and in the end becoming his right hand man, paying him a wage he knew would set him up for life.

But all that…all that was crashing down around him.

He ran his hand over his face, groaning a little. “What a fuckin’ mess…”

“Ransom…” Bryce spotted the chink in the mob boss’ armour and jumped on it, “look, we can…I know I fucked up, but we can get through this.”

Ransom lowered his gun even more, and Langley let out a breath of relief, as Ransom looked at him.

“See…the thing is, Y/N.”

“What about her?” Bryce frowned.

“She’s my world. I killed my own twin because of what he did to her. And then I…I hurt her even more because of my anger and stupidity and I was so goddamned easily manipulated and twisted by what he did. I’ll never forgive myself for being so cruel and fucking weak.”

“But she’s forgiven-“

“And now I find out… all that was down to you and Walt.” Ransom finished, cutting Bryce off and the man stuttered.

“What, no, I-“

“Steve did what he did because he thought I killed his wife. Which, I suppose is understandable. I’d have done the same, well maybe not the exact same but I’d want revenge.” Ransom pondered for a moment and Langley waited, his entire body tense as he watched Ransom slowly raise the gun again. “Y/N has suffered the way she has because of Walt and your actions. You arranged the hit, you then let him think it was me. And for that…”

Ransom pulled the trigger, blowing a hole right through Langley’s eyes, exactly the same way he had done with Steve. He grimaced as, once more, bits of blood, bone and brain matter splattered across his face. This time they belonged to his half-brother.

The door to the room flew open and Carter bustled in, gun raises. He stopped dead as he looked from the smoking pistol in Ransom’s hand, to Langley, then back again, “boss…what-“

“He was in on it,” Ransom jerked out of his trance and turned to Carter. “With Walt.”

There was a moments pause and Carter let out a soft sigh, and Ransom saw the man’s eyes full with tears.

“I’m…I’m sorry none of this will bring Peggy back,” Ransom licked his lips, shaking his head a little, “I only hope you find comfort from knowing the men truly responsible are dead.”

Carter nodded and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Ransom’s phone. He reached into his pocket and a smile spread across his face.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yeah, erm, I’m just on my way home.“ your voice was soothing, as it always was, and he took a deep breath.

“How was the spa?”

“Amazing…erm, do you mind if we just get pizza and a film tonight instead of going out? I…I just wanna curl up and relax now. Plus, our little bean seems to be doing the tango on my bladder…”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay, have you finished your meetings?”

“Yeah,” Ransom glanced down at Langley’s body, and the mess in his office, “I just need to tidy up a couple of things then I’m done.

“Okay, well I’ll see you soon. We love you.”

“Love you both, too.”

He slipped the phone in his pocket and looked at Carter. He drew his shoulders back and wiped the forearm of the hand that still clutched the gun across his face, smearing the blood and gore over the sleeve of his shirt.

“Get someone to clean this up.” He instructed, his tone still softer than normal and Carter nodded.

“Boss.”

With that, Ransom stepped over the body of his dead half-brother and swept from the room, without so much as a glance back.

He was done looking over his shoulder. The only thing he cared about was you, and his baby.

You know those scenes in movies? The ones that come at the end of a heroic showdown, or battle. There’s silence, and then the rain starts, or the clouds clear. And the heroes stand there, bloodied and bruised, wiping the filth off their faces whilst some cheesy, melancholy yet rousing overture plays in the background.

Well, the reality is somewhat different.

There was no music, no heroes in fact. Just those who remained from both Shield and Hydra, stood in a silent cease fire. All around you, the wounded were being tended to by Medics, Natasha included.

Hydra factions were approaching Shield ones, their hands were up in surrender in most cases. But some held out a single hand, extended in front of them in displays of amicable concession, ready to shake.

It was surreal, you really couldn’t grasp how two factions that had been so bloody and violently opposed to one another could now be working together the way they were, but then, you guessed such was the nature of war.

It made all the bloodshed even more pointless in your eyes, but it was exactly as Steve had said; whilst Shield and Hydra existed, so would the divide.

Simply telling someone their opinions were wrong would never work, a person has to be given the opportunity to explain, to understand, to debate. A chance to see reason and logic, and not just stubbornly believe that they were the only ones with a valid point to make.

And that was what had been lacking from the whole Shield/Hydra set up from the start. The Civil War hadn’t solved anything, it had simply pushed Hydra and Shield even further apart, which had come at a heavy cost to people like you.

Now, you hoped, that would change.

“Y/N…” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts loud and clear. You turned your face to look at your Alpha, and his eyes locked on to yours. “It’s okay…it’s over.” Then you realised his lips weren’t moving. His hand was pressed to the mark on his neck. “Are you hurt?”

As you watched, you raised your own, shaking fingers pressing to the intricate gold infinity loops. “I’m fine Alpha…”

With a nod, he dropped his hand and held it out for you to take. As Steve pulled you to him, you felt something cold and wet drip onto your head.

It was starting to rain.

You turned your face to the sky and closed your eyes.

*****

In the hours following the battle, Steve was bustled off to an emergency WSC meeting with Tony and Fury. As you waited for them to return, you’d taken up seat with the rest of the team in Natasha’s hospital room as she led there having been patched up. The doctors hadn’t been too pleased about the blatant flaunting of the 2 visitors at a time rule, not to mention the fact that you’d refused to leave Commando outside…but one look at Bruce’s angry face had made them back off.

“Are you ever not eating?” Sam looked at Peter, who was sprawled in one of the chairs, his arm in a cast whilst the other was stuffing his face with potato chips from a bag which sat on his lap.

“He’s a growing boy.” Bucky teased, his bruised face breaking into a teasing grin, “aint that right?”

“Hey, I saved your ass out there.” Peter pointed at him, “if I hadn’t tangled that dude up in my ropes and slingers, he’d have shot you straight in the back of your head. You got sloppy, stopped watching your 6.”

The room fell silent, before Cling roared with laughter. “He has you there, Buckaroo!”

“Piss off.”

“Now now, no need to resort to that kind of language…” Natasha snorted.

“You know, if you weren’t already in a hospital bed…” Bucky glared at her.

“You’d do what?” She scoffed.

You smiled to yourself, simply listening and watching as your friends exchanged well natured insults and teasing. You felt a large hand softly rest on your shoulder and you turned with a smile to look up at Thor.

“Are you okay, little bird?”

“I...yeah. As okay as I can be, I mean, I shot my brother…”

“Oh, I’ve lost count of the amount of times my brother has shot or stabbed me.” Thor waved his hand. “Your brother only has himself to blame. He was offered a way out, but he couldn’t let go of his pride or beliefs.”

“He’s always been a stubborn asshole.” You gave a wry little smile, “just like my father.”

“Yes, and just as my father predicted, it was that same stubborn line of thinking which brought Hydra to their knees. You were ready to sacrifice yourself for your mate, and still Hydra didn’t see that as an act of bravery on your part, but a sign of weakness on the part of your Alpha.” Thor took a deep breath, his hand running through his dirty hair. “Maybe now they can start to understand that tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.”

“You sound like Al Capone…” You shook your head.

“Who?

“’Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness’, seriously? You don’t…” you snorted and then shook your head. “it doesn’t…not important.”

“Well, indeed.” Thor merely raised his eyebrow as he nodded. “That was your brother and Rumlow’s biggest mistake. The underestimated you, when I’m fact, you are stronger than many Alpha’s I know. Stronger than me, stronger than Steve…and their inability to understand this, is what led us here.”

You looked at Thor, blinking as you swallowed. “I don’t…I doubt that…”

“You doubt it? Do you think that Steve would have the strength to kill Bucky, should he have needed to?”

“I…”

“And I can tell you know, for all the times me and Loki have fought, I’ve never tried to kill him.”

You swallowed. “I…I didn’t set off wanting to kill him, I just…it would never have ended. And I was so angry…I hated him…I still do. I don’t care he’s dead.”

Thor smiled, and shrugged, “and no one will or can blame you for having those feelings, but I leave you with this thought. If you were so weak, Omega, do you think you’d be able to sit here as you are now, admitting to those feelings? Admitting that you don’t harbour any guilt at all over your own brother’s death? Omega’s can be as strong as Alpha’s, if not stronger when it comes to the protection of their so called pack.”

You blinked, but before you could reply the door opened and Steve’s huge frame filled the doorway. Behind him, you could hear Tony arguing with a nurse.

“Yeah, and my money is paying for all this, so if I want to hold a disco in this room I will…” He pushed past Steve into the room, and looked round. “Well, this looks like fun. Can anyone join?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “if I pretend to be dead will you go home, Shell Head?”

As Tony bit back with some smart ass quip, your eyes flicked to Steve. His face was bruised, nose a little misshapen. His lip was split, as was his left eyebrow, all evidence from the battle and the blows he’d taken from Rumlow.

He was also favouring his right side, his left leg having been stabbed by the knife Rumlow had been fighting with.

Your feet moved slowly toward him without thought. Your head tilted just a bit as your eyes looked over the battered features of his face. Ever so gently, your hand lifted to his bearded cheek. He sighed, his eyes closed as he leaned into your palm, with the air of a dog seeking out touch and comfort. “I will, Mega, once we get home.”

“Home? As in…”

“The ranch, yeah.”

The ranch, it sounded so pleasant coming off his lips. You’d missed it. The feel of it, the way it enveloped you like a den, your little nest by the window. You were desperate to feel that warmth, the feeling of 'home'.

“So, Steve….” Bucky spoke and Steve looked over, “what’s happening now? What did the WSC say?”

“Just what we all agreed on. Shield and Hydra, both go. Well, go in the sense that they can’t be segregated in the way they are.” Steve took a deep breath, “so the WSC agreed to a joint Congress. Reps from both factions to be elected, democratically. And there will be a number of Constitutional laws past, which make Omega rights basic human rights across every state in the country. That means that even states which end up with a ‘red’ representative will have to abide by them.”

The details made a breath in your chest hitch quietly, but Steve sensed it. His eyes flicked to yours and he noted that little quiver in your lip.

“It’s…it’s what should have happened last time,” Sam shook his head, “instead of carving up our country and leaving red and blue to police their own states, the WSC should have been braver and we should have listened to each other. Maybe if we’d done that instead of feeling a desperate need to contain the threat as opposed to listen and reason, Rumlow would never have gained the support he did.”

There was silence as everyone took the news in, before chatter turned to what was going to need to happen next. But, after fifteen or so minutes, you saw Steve shift uncomfortably, and that was when you gently touched your mark.

“Home…”

He turned to you and nodded.

****

“Man, I need a shower.” Steve groaned as you headed inside, the smell of home overwhelming you.

“Plastic wrap.” You smiled softly.

“Huh?”

“To stop the sutures in your leg getting wet. Trust me, it works…”

By the time you’d located it, he was upstairs; a trail of gear and tactical uniform pieces showed you the way.

The shower was running and you watched as Steve stood, his upper body bruised and battered, just like his face. Your eyes scanned down, following that strip of hair which trailed all the way from his chest right down over his Adonis belt, to the thick, wirey patch between his legs.

You kept going, over his toned upper thighs, your eyes stopping at the left one, a clean white bandage wrapped securely around it.

"You gonna let me wrap that up?"

“Do I have a choice?” His voice carried an air of amusement

"Nope." You tore off a piece of plastic wrap and squatted down to secure it over the bandage and around this thigh. Steve simply watched you as you wrapped his leg and then stood. "Time to get the grime off."

“Would now also be the time to suddenly give into the pain I’m in and ask you to come help?” Steve whispered. He swallowed, and as you looked into his eyes you could see he wasn’t joking. His mask was slipping. “I’m too old for this shit."

“Oh, Alpha.” You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, fingers sliding into his beard. The steam from the shower filled the farmhouse bathroom. The mirrors were fogged up and the air grew thick. “lemme take care of you.”

He nodded, and then merely watched as you stripped from your own filthy clothes and held out your hand.

It was a complete role reversal, you moving Steve into position with a wordless command. And he simply happy to acquiesce as you guided him under the warm spray.

But was it really? Was it a true role reversal? Or was it just that being with Steve allowed you to be a full Omega. Your caring nature, the desire to nurture and love were not only needed here, but wanted and appreciated. They weren’t just traits that were taken for granted, to be used and abused.

You started with the soap and sponge, building a lather that was thick and sudsy. Your delicate touch held his hand in your free one while you held him still to wash his arm. The lather began to turn from white to gray as you scrubbed away the dirt and grime from his wrist and up toward his shoulder. You gently turned and twisted his arm, by way of your locked hands, to clean his skin. Then you moved up and across his shoulders to the other arm, paying careful mind of the cuts and stitchless wounds that littered his skin.

The colors of war washed down your body with the pooling water at your feet. Down the drain went blood and mud, sweat and tears. Your hands roamed softly over Steve's back before you brought the sponge and your own body around to his front.

Gently, the sponge in your hand cleaned away his face, those striking blue eyes of his entranced by your movements. You slid it down the side of his neck, over the curl of his shoulder.

"I love you," you whispered.

Steve smiled, his eyes blinking slowly. “I love you too, Mega…”

"Kiss me, Alpha."

With a soft sigh, he leaned down, his lips pressing to yours gently.

Your hands gently cupped his bearded cheeks and held him there. As your tongue slipped over his lips, you heard him whimper a little. It was a sound you’d never heard from an Alpha before.

You tipped your self forward on your toes and deepened the kiss. Your fingers slid through his beard and into his hair as you steadied yourself.

His hands softly slid from your hips to your back, splaying across your skin.

You forearm pressed against his neck, just at your bonding mark without intending to. You felt him shiver, a spark flowing through the pair of you. You could hear his thoughts, a jumble of arousal, relief but also fear…and guilt.

You pulled back just a little, "tell me, Steve."

“You…I almost lost you. I let him get the better of me and you had to…had to step in.”

You bumped your nose with his, "I'm right here....safe. Because of you." You spoke softly, assuringly, your eyes closed.

He shook his head, “no…you saved me. You’re the reason we’re here. You…your courage and your brains. Not me. You came up with the plan. You…” he swallowed and dropped his chin , “I failed you.”

"Steve Rogers, you look at me right now," you pulled back. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Ever!" you weren't shouting or raising your voice. In fact, your voice was filled with emotion, sad emotions because he felt that way. Your eyes were misty as you bore into his.

“I’m your Alpha. I should be able to keep you safe…that’s twice now I didn’t…”

"I don't fault you for it, and I never will. I, we came out on the other side of it." You kissed his lips, "and we came out of it together."

Steve took a deep, shaky breath as you looked up at him. “I love you, Steve. My alpha…”

"Omega....my omega."

You purred a little and moved back, your nose nudging at the mark on his neck, inhaling the scent over his mating gland.

"I wanna love on you, Alpha," you speak against his neck.

Steve swallowed, the tendons and muscles in his neck tensing as he gave a slow nod, and then he bowed his head in submission.

“I’m yours, Omega…”

You were gentle with your hands, dragging your fingers down his neck and over his shoulders. You did this while you kissed him, your tongue slowly, softly exploring his mouth.

Your hands moved down over his chest and his abs. One rest agaisnt the lower indent of his Adonis while your other gently took his cock.

He gave a grunt, his arm moving from your back and he planted his palm against the cool tiles just to the side of your head.

You stroked him, giving him a twist as you slowly dragged your hand up and down his shaft. His jaw was slack, forehead pressed to yours, eyes still open.

You glanced up at him and bit your lip. You could see him releasing control but there was something in that stare that showed you his Alpha side was pacing.

"You're holding back," you smirked. But your wrist picked up the pace and your palm grew a little tighter.

“Yeah…because you…” he grunted a little, “wanted control.”

"And I've got it," you turned your neck presses your lips into his wrist before dropping to your knees.

“Yeah…” the hand that wasn’t resting against the wall slipped into your hair, “you do…”

Your lips wrapped around his tip and your throat opened around his length as you swallowed him. Slowly, you drew back and forth against him.

His head dropped forward, eyes flickering shut as his soft noises of satisfaction filled your ears.

Your hands settled on his thighs, careful to avoid the bandage as you slowly increased your speed and hollowed your cheeks.

Not only could you hear him, you could feel him. The tension and his raft of emotions were clearing, you could sense it.

You kept up, taking care of his needs, his desires.

You knew he’d given in completely, when his hips started to slowly move in time with your actions.

You hummed around him. It was instinct and lust that took over.

His hand tightened slightly in your hair, but his hips didn’t pick up any more pace. He was letting you control, as much as he could.

You pulled off and switched to your hand, the pressure and rhythm not ceasing from your mouth.

Steve’s breathing was fast and shallow, you could feel him twitching in your palm,

"It's okay, Alpha. Let go."

With a low growl, his hips began to rut forward as he fucked your hand.

"Thassit, Steve..."

“Fuck, Y/N…”

"Let go, Alpha, you want to. Nice and easy, baby..."

His ruts became a little quicker, and you tightened your grip. Your eyes flicked up as Steve’s looked down and you could see the wanton heat he was feelin inside reflected in his expression.

His hips stuttered, and with a choke and a little whimper you felt him pulse in your palm, his warm seed mixing with the water as it trickled down your arm.

The Alpha in him growled but the Steve in him dropped his forehead to the tile as his knees gave way. But he managed to keep himself upright as you slowly got to your feet.

Your lips tenderly kissed his, still providing the soft care you sensed he needed.

“Sweetheart…”

"Yeah?"

“As much as I’d love to, I don’t think my leg could take me railing you against the wall.”

Your clean hand ran through his wet hair, tucking a bit back behind his ear. "It's okay, I'm okay. This isn't about me, Steve."

You cleaned him up and cleaned yourself up, standing by to help him out of the shower incase that stabbed leg faltered.

“Do you need to eat?” You asked as you both made your way to the bedroom wrapped in towels

"I could. It's been...been a long few days," he sighed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm fucking exhausted."

You grabbed a clean set of clothes for him and checked his bandage after the saran wrap and it was fairly dry. "Can you manage getting dressed?"

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse. Trust me.” He smiled, his hand reaching to scratch commando’s head as the large dog laid it on his knee.

You bent at your waist and pressed your lips to his damp forehead. Then, with a smile you left him and headed for the kitchen.

Whilst you and Steve hadn’t been back to the ranch for a fortnight or so now, the other guys had. More so to make sure the livestock were okay and that no one had been in the house. But right now, you were simply grateful that meant your kitchen and fridge were stocked with the basics you needed. Milk, eggs, butter, yoghurts and some cheese sat in the refrigerator and your pantry was still stocked.

It wasn’t long before Steve smelled the delicious aromas and slowly brought himself downstairs, his trusty pup at his heel in support. A warm feeling spread through his chest as he saw you at the stove, stirring something in a pan.

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of this, seeing you happy, safe, in your shared home.

You’d made tomato soup, grilled cheese, and a bag of frozen fries which you’d tossed in a little rosemary and sea salt to give them a little bite.

Neither of you talked much as you wolfed your food down, and when through, neither of you took much convincing to head up to bed.

The weight of the past few weeks hadn't settled within you. You knew it was over, the battle, the war.

Your brother.

But it felt as if you were still in it. As you pulled back the bedding, you scoffed a bit. This was too normal, too routine. It was just odd. Your heart and your instinct pulled you to care for Steve and his needs. You blocked the rest out.

With a groan, Steve sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"Are you alright?" You asked with a soft worry.

“Yeah…” he assured you, as he gently shuffled between the covers.

"Okay," you whispered and did the same.

Steve rolled to his side and looked at you. “I love you.”

You turned your head and gazed back, "I love you, too."

His fingers trailed down your neck. You moved over to him, your own hand reaching out to thread your fingers through his beard.

His eyes fluttered closed and a sigh escaped his nose. "You're worried," he spoke softly. "I can feel it."

“About you.”

He sighed, "'Mega...."

“I know. I can’t help it.”

"It's over, sweetheart. It's all over."

The implications of what he said suddenly started to sink in. “I guess…yeah…”

And then the tears came.

You sobbed until there was nothing left in you. A shuddering to your chest.

Steve kissed your head and pulled back to look down at you. Your face was wet from your salty tears, your eyes swollen.

His hands moved to swipe the tears from under your eyes.

“I could've lost you. I...everything, I..."

“But you didn’t. And we’re here. Yes, there’s a bit of a way to go but, well, I have this feeling. This time it’s done.”

You could only nod as Steve took a deep breath. “we move on. No more fighting. And…” he moved and slowly rolled you into your back, “we…build our life, our home, our future.”

"I think I like that idea.”

"Well, I'm glad you do." Steve chuckled "because you feature quite heavily in all of it."

You smirked, "how so?"

"Well, "Steve kissed down your neck to your collarbone "I mean we are bonded. For life. It's a soul bond. You couldn't leave now even if you wanted to."

You stretched your neck, "a rarity at best. But I don't want to leave."

“Good.” He kissed across the dip of your throat. “Then you’ll have no objections to marrying me.”

You stilled, "Steve...."

“Yeah….”

"Did... Marry you?"

“Mmmhmmm. I mean…” he moved and propped himself up to look at you, “technically we don’t need to. We’re bonded. That’s the main thing, but…I’d like you to, if you want.”

"I...yes," you gasped as you read the look on his face.

“Yeah?” His mouth curled into a smile.

"Yes," you nodded with a smile of your own.

You whimpered as he kissed you, your hands carding through his beard and to the back of his neck, cradling his head.

“There’s…something else I wanna do.” You whispered against his mouth.

"What's that, baby?"

“I…I wanna go back to Texas. Once the dust has settled and, well, the WSC have done whatever they’re gonna…”

Steve blinked. “Okay, that’s…”

“Just to visit.” You swallowed, “my mamas grave is there and…” you looked down a little, avoiding his eyes, “Colin’s will be somewhere. I left so fast, I never got to say goodbye, and thank him for what he did. I know it’s stupid, they ain’t really gonna be there…but…”

"Hey," he sat up a little more, his weight on his good knee and elbows, "we can do whatever you want. Whatever it is."

“Thank you.”

"There's no need to thank me," he blinked. "I'll spend the last of our days giving you everything you deserve."

Your eyes filled and Steve softly kissed the tip of your nose. “Now…I said I didn’t think I could love on you in the shower…but I think I could manage it just fine here, doll…”

"Okay," you whispered with a small sniffle. "I'm yours."

“I know…” his nose nudged at your bonding mark, scenting your gland.

You inhaled and you preened, elongating your neck as the tip of his nose moved along your tendon. His tongue then traced the line of the golden infinity loops, making you whimper as it sent jolts through your body.

Your hands curled back around his neck as he did it again and a third time.

“Steve…”

"Sweetheart...."

“Need you…”

“I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

And he did.

It felt like no time at all before he had you both out of your sleep wear, when in fact Steve took his time, undressing you slowly and gently. It was like you’d been in a trance, simply allowing him to caress and love on you.

It felt good, damn good. A sensual relief that had been building in you for some time.

He made you cum twice with his mouth, and when he finally crawled back over you, slotting his hips between yours, you were more than ready to feel him.

You gasped and sighed as he stretched you. Steve made you feel full and satiated just from the simple action alone. His hands slid up to find yours, fingers laced together as he gently pressed them to the pillow at either side of your head.

It was breathy, your connecting bodies were punctured with sighs, whimpers and quiet moans. Your words were soft and whispered. His eyes never truly left yours. This was an Alpha loving on his Omega in every pure form.

His thrusts were slow, deep. Your hips rolling together, your body sliding up the bed as he moved in and over hou.

You were holding out, enjoying the feel of him consuming every part of you. His scent, it settled you, his warmth comforted you. His phsycial being weighed you down like a secure blanket. The taste of his tongue on yours was encompassing and delightful.

Both of you could sense the other was holding out, you could feel Steve’s self control almost thrumming around his chest and limbs.

You nuzzled his bonding mark, "together, Alpha."

He groaned and managed a breathy nod, his head moving so he could see your eyes again.

“Let go, Steve..."

He gave a low, rumbling growl and then you saw it, that flash of gold round his beautiful blue irises.

You reacted instantly, your body tightening arou d him, curling into him, your own eyes streaking that reflective gold. The connection, the bond, ignited between you and your souls connected in one universe. A galaxy surrounded your vision and it was just you, and just Steve. United.

His forehead pressed to yours as you trembled beneath him, your hands tightening in his.

You whimpered in his ear. The exhale through your nose fanning his skin. The aura grew bright and then it faded as the warmth of your release blended with his.

For a while you both lay there. Whilst he wasn’t knotted, neither of you wanted to move.

He never pulled out, never pulled away. Rather, when his senses came too and his vision returned, his arms released yours. Then those built and strong arms wrapped around you. With a nudge to his left, he rolled so you were on his chest as he lay in his back.

You sighed happily, and snuggled into him, your head tucked under his chin.

And as you lay there in his arms, the darkness of the room was comforting.

“We can go for a ride tomorrow.” Steve’s deep voice spoke, breaking the silence. “Take the horses up to the hill. Just you and me.”

“And Commando,” you moved and pressed a kiss to Steve’s chest, just above his tattoo.

“And Commando,” he chuckled, kissing your head.

You closed your eyes, a contented smile on your lips. And then, for the first time in weeks you heard the barn owl that lived in the rafters, high about the stacked haybales screeching outside.

His arms tightened just a little as you both lay there, sated, safe and satisfied..

Alpha and Omega.

"It... You... It wasn't him," you cried.

“Hey…shhhh.” His arms pulled you close, holding you gently but securely enough to make you feel safe.

"I was so scared," you sobbed.

“It’s okay…you’re safe with me.” He kissed your head as you pressed your face into his neck.

You cried for a while like that. There was a pain in your chest, a ghosting sting to your face. But when you were through with the sobs, Jimmy slowly laid you back down and kissed your forehead.

"Lemme get you some water," he spoke gently.

You nodded as a raspy 'thanks' left your lips. He moved, swinging his legs out of bed, cracking his neck as he stood. You pulled the duvet to your chin and squeezed it between your arms and legs. Your senses were heightened.

When Jimmy returned, he helped you sit up and you took the offered glass. It was cold in your hand and by muscle memory you'd brought it to the side of your face.

"I'm sorry," you said with a now soft less whispered tone.

“Hey, there’s nothin’ to be sorry for.”

You took a sip of the water and set it in both of your hands on top of your lap. "We’re not starting the new year off very well, huh?"

“Darlin’ you can’t control your dreams, no more than I can control the weather.”

"I know."

Jimmy’s hand rested against the bottom of your spine, his thumb drawing soft circles on your skin.

"I don't know if I can take that job. I'm scared it won't stop. I'm terrified he's gonna show up." You admitted, your eyes screwing shut.

“Then you don’t.” Jimmy simply shook his head. “There's no pressure.”

"I just can't...."

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

"You should go back to sleep, Jimmy. I'll just go sit on the couch, watch the sun come up."

Jimmy chuckled, “Honeybee…you should know me better than that by now.”

A gentle scoff left your nose, "I tried."

“You did…” he leaned over and kissed your shoulder.

"Well, if we're gonna be up, can you make me your special pancakes?"

“Of course.”

You balanced the water glass as you slipped out of bed, your head beginning to ache. You glanced at the clock and noted the time.

2:47 am

It was going to be a long start the usually quiet Sundays you shared.

He stood from the mattress after you, his darkness adjusted eyes watching you. His heart was still shattered from the night the box arrived. And each night thereafter when the nightmares came, it turned to dust, further grinding away to near nothing.

He didn't know what to do for you. He wanted to suggest some help, but you'd already made mention you weren't ready. He didn’t want to push you, it had to be at your own pace. But, even though he’d never admit this out loud to anyone, Jimmy was hoping you’d get there sooner rather than later. Because he had plans, ones for the both of you. Plans he'd been working on since you'd come back to him, but it wasn't the right time. 

Not yet anyway. Not since the nightmares came.

You'd made your way to the living room, Jimmy following you.

He hadn't even bothered throwing a shirt on, he just followed in his boxers. You took a seat on the couch and within seconds, he had wrapped the blue tartan fleece blanket around you. He pulled it tight over your arms and cupped your face.

With a soft smile, he stood and walked in the direction of the kitchen. As you listened to him, you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath.

This needed to stop. You felt like you were teetering on the verge of insanity. But how? Would therapy help? Possibly, but then Jimmy was right, it’s not like you controlled your dreams. You closed your eyes and focused on what you could hear.

Jimmy.

Catering to your need, servicing you like a queen. But you didn't feel deserving. Not this night, or as it happens, this very early morning. You soon felt the weight of his body as he sat next to you.

He had a plate of pancakes, with a fork teetering on it and cup of coffee in the other. He passed you the plate, but held your mug.

"Where's yours?"

He grinned as he took the top one, rolled it up and took a bite.

You smiled, "okay." You did the same. And he sipped your coffee too. You just chuckled, you could do nothing but, and it helped ease the tightness in your chest.

"That's my favorite sound," his arm came around the back of the couch and gently ran his fingers up your neck and through your hair.

"What?"

“That. Your little laugh.”

"Oh."

“Reminds me of us as kids.”

You swallowed the bit you just took and set the plate down. "How so?" The blanket fell from your one shoulder as you took the mug from his hands.

“Because it ain't changed a bit.”

You smirked over the lip of the cup. "Charmer."

“Well…” he popped a shoulder.

You sighed and embraced a bit of silence. Your eyes weren't heavy at all, you weren’t tired. And you were thankful for that because if you didn’t sleep, there would be no more nightmares. "Build a fire?"

“Sure…you wanna find something to watch?”

"No. I just want the quiet and you."

He nodded and built you that fire. Then he slipped in behind you on the couch. You leaned back into him, and his arms came around you. One crossed your chest, the other rest a little further down. Your head fell back to his shoulder as your eyes watched the mesmerizing flicker of the flames.

“You, okay?”

"Mmhmm."

“Good.”

"That was a hard one."

Jimmy’s nose brushed at your jaw. “I know, baby. But I’m here, okay?”

"I know."

“I ain’t going anywhere.”

"Okay."

Despite your protests that you weren’t tired, It didn't take much after that and you were back to sleep. Jimmy stayed where he was, He himself dozing in and out of consciousness with you.

With the fire never stoked and refueled, it died out to glowing embers by the time the sun began its day. Jimmy's eyes slowly peeked open until they were focused on the room around you both. You were still in his arms, heavy against his chest, in deep slumber. Slowly, he managed to slip out from under you without waking you. He gently led you back against the cushions and quietly took the mug and plate back to the kitchen. He tidied the space up and checked on you before he went to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the unmade bed. 

With elbows propped up on his thighs, his face fell into his hands. He didn’t know how to make it better for you. Which was the worst bit. He felt a sting against his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he exhaled.

You were safe, the abusive asshole you’d run from was nothing but a bad memory. But still, he felt defeated.

Since you'd come home and began opening up about the things that had happened to you, Jimmy made it his daily goal to give you love and adoration to amount for the pain and suffering. He wanted every day you were with him to make up for time lost between you and the horrible memories fade.

But he didn’t know what else he could do.

"Jimmy...." Your voice was soft, concerned. Gone was the blanket that you'd been wrapped in and now you stood in the doorway of your bedroom.

He looked up and smiled. “Mornin' honeybee. How you feelin?”

"Okay," you stated, walking to him. You stood between him legs, your one hand wrapped around your middle, the other settling softly against his neck. Your fingers sat against his hairline behind his neck while your thumb ran along the side of his face. "Thank you."

“What for?” He blinked up, his hands gently sliding up the sides of your thighs.

"Taking me back," you blinked slowly, "dealing with me like this. It ain't been easy on you. And I'm sorry for that."

“I didn’t need to take you back,” he shook his head, “I never let you go. Not really…not from here.” He tapped his temple, “or here.” His hand flattened over his heart.

You shuddered a breath. "I love you, I've always loved you."

“And me you. I ain’t never lettin’ you leave again.”

"I won't."

He smiled gently, “so…whatdya wanna do today?”

"Well, it's Sunday, so..."

"Mama..."

You smiled softly with a short nod.

"Tell you what, why don't we get cleaned up, get dressed and go for a drive. We'll get Daddy after and go see Mama."

"Okay," you nodded. "I'd like that."

“Alright, it's settled then. We can drop in and see your folks too, if you want?”

"Not today." You bent to kiss him. "I just wanna be with you," your drawl soft.

“Hmmm.” He smiled against your lips, “okay, after we’ve seen Mama how about we come back and cook a roast dinner? It’s been a while since we’ve had one.”

"Okay," you nodded, tucking your lip between your teeth.

“I’ll make my signature roast potatoes.” He grinned.

"My mouth's watering already."

With a squeeze of his hands, you backed away, padding over to your closet. You slid the doors open and started looking for something to wear.

Jimmy's eyes remained on you. The curtains were bathing you in an ethereal light, bouncing off the cotton shirt you wore to bed. He didn't know what more he could do to help you with your terrors, but he was going to continue to try.

A flutter in his heart brought him to his feet. Earlier that morning, he'd recalled to himself how it hadn't been the right time for his plans, but that flutter as his eyes gazed upon you changed his mind. With your face caught up in looking for clothes, he quietly walked to his sock drawer and reached to the far back. His fingertips brushed the velvet box, and he pulled it out.

“I need to go shopping,” you sighed, “all my stuff…well, what I have left ain’t really me. Not the me I really am…”

"Then I'll take you," Jimmy stated simply.

You turned to look at him with a smile. When you did so, your eyes widened.

He was looking down at the box in his hand, still half naked. He looked up with his own gentle smile. "This was not the way I was gonna ask, I had a very different plan."

"Jimmy..." your hands shook as they came away from the closet.

"Truth is, as soon as you'd come back, I had nothing but this on my mind. And your daddy was more than happy to say yes."

“Then…then ask me. Please.” Your voice was nothing but a whisper.

"Marry me, y/n," Jimmy's voice was strong but wavered with emotions. "Be my wife, like you'd always been meant to be."

You sputtered, "yes...."

With a huge grin and tears in his eyes, he plucked the ring from the box and took your left hand. It was a perfect fit, but you didn't even bother in that moment to look at it. Your arms flew around his neck as you kissed him deeply at first. Then peppered his lips with shorter, peck like kisses.

As he hugged you tightly, burying his face into your neck, he sniffed. Jimmy kissed your skin and held you tighter.

You opened your eyes and held out your hand. The ring was beautiful. The bezel set, asscher diamond glittered like a glacier, even in what little light was in the room. It sat snug in the gold setting, and you couldn't help but grin.

“It ain’t fancy…” Jimmy watched your eyes as they scanned over your ring, “but I thought it was your style. You always did like the simple jewels. Like that necklace your mama and daddy got you for your sixteenth birthday.”

"You remember that?"

“Of course, I do.”

Your eyes shone, your bottom lip slightly quivered. "I love you so much, Jimmy Dobyne."

Jimmy’s hands cupped your face. “I love you, too.”

You sputtered, "I'm... Now what?!"

“Errr….” Jimmy scratched the back of his neck, “I dunno…I wasn’t planning on it being this way. I was…gonna take you out in the old truck, starry night, beer, and champagne in the ice bag…” he bit his lip.

You shook your head, "no, this was perfect." You kissed him again.

"I don't want you to think I did this because of last night," he bumped his nose gently against yours, his forehead touching you.

"I don't," your hands came to the back of his neck. "I don't."

He nodded, his lips pecking yours, satisfied you believed him.

"Let's go for that drive," you whispered.

Jimmy nodded, “sure…”

You kissed him, turning back to your closet. You pulled out a pair of black leggings and a long blue sweater. It would look good with your black booties, you thought. It was the closest thing you had to feel like yourself. Not the faux, spoiled victim you were in Boston. Not the scared and timid woman who had to hide the bruises and scars.

You hadn't come with much on hand. It was whatever you could quickly jam into your case to get out. The things you'd gotten since, still didn't reflect you deep down. It felt wasteful to have them.

"I'm calling tomorrow to decline the job," you whispered, as your fingers skimmed the sweatshirt, you'd soaked yourself to the bone on that first night.

“Okay,” Jimmy called back, his voice echoing from the bathroom, “I think that’s for the best. We’ll find you somethin’ else, no rush,”

"So, you keep sayin'," you chuckled. You heard the shower run and turned to see him walk back into the room.

“Well, I just wanna make sure the message is sinking in…” he chuckled, reaching for your hands. He moved backwards out of the room, and down the small hallway, pulling you with him.

"The construction business must be booming," you smirked.

He snorted, as he stopped in the bathroom, his hands reaching to the shirt you had on. “I do okay. We do okay…”

You lifted your arms and felt the cool air against your skin. Your nipples quickly pebbled. Jimmy’s eyes flicked down your body, before he looked back at you, his gaze heated. It made your belly flip and a lump in your throat form. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you close to him. Your peaked nipples lightly brushed against the hair on his chest. You swallowed that lump with a little whimper.

“Wanna get filthy in the shower, honeybee?”

"Yes...."

With a grin, his lips slanted back over yours, the steam from the shower now filling up the small bathroom. You moaned as his hands felt up your back and down over your ass. Fully palming your cheeks, his thumbs slid up and hooked into the sides of your panties. He dropped to his knees, taking them down with him. You looked down at him, his eyes only closing with each kiss to your skin. He trailed his lips up your leg, his mouth mapping out an unmarked path. Your breath hitched as he moved closer to your sex. On his knees, you could see the already thick bulge in his boxers, standing out against the backdrop of lightly colored granite floor.

He nosed at the inside of your thigh, and then he moaned. A deep, guttural moan. A thankful moan. A moan of delight. Delight because he was on his knees in front of you.

"What?" You rasped.

“You.” Was all he replied.

Your hand ran over the top of his head, that growing hair between your fingers. As his nose brushed over your slit, you whimpered.

"Fuckin’ smell so good, honeybee."

"Please..." You didn’t need to ask, you knew you didn’t. But you liked to anyway. Because it told him, told Jimmy…your Jimmy, your fiancée what you wanted. Which was all he ever desired to give you. 

Hands to the back of your thighs, his mouth set to you and if it weren't for his grip your legs would have gave way. He slurped at you, a filthy sound as he took his second breakfast. He hummed against you as he devoured your wet heat, your slick coating his tongue. He sucked your clit between laps and teases to your hole. And it wasn’t just the feeling of his skilled mouth that had you chanting his name.

It was the fact you knew he enjoyed it. He loved giving you what you enjoyed or wanted.

You came quickly, no doubt worked up from his moans and hums, the soft care he offered you through the night. His perfect proposal. Your knees shook and he hummed as he kissed around your belly and thighs.

Slowly he stood, making sure you were still safe in his hands, in his arms, in his embrace. When you were stable, he hooked his thumbs into his own boxers and dropped them to the floor. His cock sprang free, and you licked your lips as you looked down at it.

It was thick, long and his head was a shade of red mixed with purple. Filled with blood making it sensitive and ready for your core.

He backed you into the shower, taking care to make sure you didn’t slip. Your back was nowhere near the wall, but his hands cradled your head, fingers tangled in your fast dampening hair. His eyes peered into yours for a second, a glint there that you knew so well. You nodded, giving him the green light to the filth he'd promised. His lips crashed hungrily to yours, your shoulder blades the first thing to hit the cool tiles of the shower cubicle, but gently despite the urgency. Your hands fit between your chests and your nails scratched upward to his shoulders and neck. You pressed the pads of your fingers into his skin and moaned into your kiss. You felt Jimmy smirk. 

The noises you made, he loved them. They weren’t wild, or overly loud. Understated, almost, a little like you were at times. Unassuming.

But fuck, the way you made them. How your lips parted, or your nose scrunched up, eyes closed…

He broke away and started at your jaw, caging you in with one hand against the tile at your head, the other falling to your hip. With a nip of his teeth to your collarbone, his fingers danced down your thigh and back over to your middle. He swirled his middle finger over your clit and you hissed. It was sensitive as it was. Your hand reached between you and wrapped around him. You gave an upward twist and he now hissed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I want filthy, Jimmy," you rasped in his ear, the water drowning out anything louder.

“How filthy? Tell me what you want, baby girl…”

"Fuck me good. Talk to me," you grunted. “I don't wanna walk right." You felt his teeth nip your neck as he moaned loudly. And you knew why.

In the time since you’d been back, Jimmy had been slow and soft with you mostly, occasionally taking you from behind when the pair of you were that way. But, this was the first time you’d asked him out and out for filthy.

And it would be the first time he’d get to give it to you like that.

He stopped at your clit and took your hand away from him. "Yes, ma'am," his hand hooked at your left knee and bent your leg over his hip. His tip slid over you and with a tilt, he was in. Your hands grasped at his shoulders, mouth open in a silent moan.

"Imma fuck you like you need, baby," Jimmy groaned and pushed up on his feet. Your back slid up the tiles, "fill you up good." He slid out a bit and thrust back in. "Stretch you."

“Please…need it…”

"Yeah? You want it hard and dirty, darlin'?" His pace picked up and you moaned and hissed as the near imperceptible curve of his cock hit you good. It tickled the edge at the end of your upper wall.

“Yeah…” you nodded, hands at the back of his head, nails scratching lightly, “show me…how good…fuck…hard can be…”

He brought you to both feet, "I’m gonna turn you around."

You nodded and let him.

He took your hips and pulled them back, so your ass popped back just a bit. His hands moved up your back and over your shoulders. He flattened your palms to the tile. You felt the hair on his calf against your smooth skin as he shuffled your feet apart.

Quickly, he snapped back inside you and your head tipped back with a shout. "Oh fuck!"

“Thassit, pretty girl…” he nipped your neck, “sing for me.”

"Gawd, that's...yes," you whined followed by a deep groan. "Fuck, Jimmy!"

"Make a mess of you," he grunted as he began to piston. "Marry you, fuck you...fuck you all you want."

You chanted 'yes' as he went.

"Make my babies...."

“Oh…oh, fuck yes…I want it…”

"Yeah? You want my cock cummin' in you," Jimmy groaned. He was so fucking close. He'd been holding off half a dozen snaps ago.

“Yeah…please…”

"I'm gonna," he nipped. "But you gotta let go." His tongue laved at the bite mark to your shoulder.

“S’close…” you panted. And you were. You’d been teetering on that edge for a while, riding the crest of that blissful wave as it threatened to crash over you.

"Thassit baby, let go."

Your hand curled, fingertips grasping at the smooth tiles as you shuddered, your belly full of heat. "Harder... S'close."

Jimmy moved, one hand from your hip made its way between your legs. He snapped and snapped as he found your clit. "Fuckin' milk my dick, honeybee."

He’d never talked like that to you before, it wasn’t a side to Jimmy you’d explored much but fuck, you loved it. So damned manly and strong…

You came and came hard.

“Thassit…Thassmagirl…” Jimmy crooned, his lips at your ear.

Your world spun, your legs gave way and he scrambled to catch you. He slowed his pace little by little as you rode out your orgasm.

“Oh, honey…my perfect, beautiful Honeybee,” he whispered.

He was twitching inside you. Dragging himself against your insides. He didn't get to see your face as you came like, but god damn did his ears ring and his gut twisted as he heard you, felt you. You were limp in his arms, your breaths ragged with whimpers.

A few shallow pumps later he came, his teeth grazing the skin at the base of your neck.

You shuddered and sighed as you felt him fill you.

There was nothing but silence and the sound of the shower as the pair of you stayed still, your mind still hazy from the afterglow.

Eventually, gentle hands roamed your body as lips caressed your back. Jimmy carefully pulled out, running his hands up your spine, over your shoulders and to your hands. He pulled them away from the tile with ease. His fingers laced between yours and made your joined hands fist together. He felt that ring rub against his finger and he sighed. "Are you alright," he wondered as his arms brought yours to cross your middle. "That... I'd never..."

“Yeah…I’m good.” You led your head back, resting it against the front of his shoulder.

"You still wanna go for that drive?" He kissed your temple.

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "But we should probably stop by my parents, too. Now that we’re…we’re engaged.”

Jimmy chuckled, “I like the sound o’that.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, smiling, “don’t want ‘em hearin’ it from anyone else.”

“I also like the sound o’that too…”

“What?”

“Your drawl…it’s slippin’ back.”

You smiled, but didn’t say anything. There was nothing really to say.

The water was going cold so, regrettably, you pulled away from Jimmy and the two of you showered. Soon after, dressed and ready to go, you sat with a smile in the truck as it warmed up in the Memphis winter. You couldn't have been more happy, able to shove the darkness that plagued you at night aside for the time being.

Jimmy put the truck into gear and backed out of the drive. When it's wheels touched the street, he looked at you with a look you'd never seen.

It wasn't long before you'd made it back to your brother. Natasha drove and you were thankful, as the entire way to the hospital your mind was distracted. Your thoughts remained on Ransom and the situation you were in. 

You’d decided to call him yourself and tell him Ari was awake, instead of asking Natasha do it. It felt more real that way. And also, if you were honest, a part of you wanted to hear his voice. 

You hadn’t been prepared, however, for the fact that the first thing he’d basically asked when you’d called was if there was something wrong with you or the baby. It was something you’d seen and heard other expectant fathers ask their pregnant partners when they called, and it had made you feel all sorts of emotions. 

You still didn’t know what you were going to do about the baby. Your heart and mind were so conflicted, not only over that but Ransom. It all made your head hurt when you thought about it. 

Setting foot into your brother's room, you noticed that there was a crowd. Ari in bed; looking more colorful than when you'd left him, Sam, Kebede and Max all stood round. Their words were in a hushed tone as they conversed. Silence began the moment you appeared in the doorway.

“What…what’s going on?” You asked, dropping the bag of Ari’s belongings onto one of the free chairs as Natasha hung back a little. She then excused herself as her phone rang, ducking out to answer.

"There's been a development," Ari spoke with zero emotion, as if he were back on the job.

You felt flushed from the inside out, heat coursing through you in a panic you hadn't yet identified. You felt your stomach knot as you asked, "what do you mean?"

"Walt's dead, Steve's dead and Ransom has been stabbed," Ari looked at you and no one else as he answered. He wanted you to know there was not one iota of mistruth in what he told you.

You blinked, “what…Walt? I…” and then your brain registered what else he had said, and your stomach stopped. “Ran…he’s…is he okay?”

Sammy stepped forward to catch you as you started to wobble, "sit down, love."

"I don't know," Ari admitted.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You looked at Ari, “what…what happened?”

"I called and when he answered he was in bad shape," your brother, again, replied stoically. "He asked for help, then the line went dead.

“But you got him help, right?”

"If they got to him in time," he nodded. "I haven't heard either way."

Your eyes filled with tears, and you were about to give your brother a full verbal lashing for his blasé attitude but you stopped yourself. Ari was angry about what Ransom did to you and what had happened to him. And deep down you knew he had every right to be. 

But that didn’t stop you worrying about Ransom. Because despite everything, you still loved him.

“Harlan found him.” 

You turned to look at Natasha, who waved her phone in explanation as she stepped into the room. “He’s lost a lot of blood but he’s alive.”

Your chest shuddered as the breath you held let go. Your left hand covered your mouth while your right clutched your chest, just over your heart. "I need to go, now. The fastest you can get me there," you looked only at Natasha. If you'd looked at your brother, you knew already the look on his face would be of sad eyes and disappointment. He'd try to delay your exit possibly only to talk you out of leaving in his mind.

Natasha nodded, “Harlan suspected you might say that. His private jet is on the way.”

You stood slowly and began to walk forward, one foot out the threshold when Ari stopped you.

"Y/N," he spoke. When you turned to face him, he spoke again, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

You took a deep breath and shook your head, a tear trickling down your cheek. “I don’t know what I want, but I need to see him, Ari. I still love him. I’m not asking you for permission, or for you to understand because fuck knows I don’t understand it myself. But I need to go.”

"Alright," he nodded. Ari looked to Max, "get her there safe. Then get back here so we can figure out how to clean this shit up. If he survives, that bastard owes me the rest of his life."

"Sure thing, boss," Max spoke with his gravely East Coast accent. He turned toward you and Natasha, with a single nod, and Nat began to follow. You took a final glance at your brother.

"Thank you," you whispered. Ari nodded and you were beyond the threshold.

*****

Less than three hours later you were touching down in Boston. A car was waiting for you and Natasha, and she gently ushered you over the tarmac of the private air field towards it, Max casting a watchful eye from the top of the steps.

A familiar face was waiting for you in the driver’s seat.

“Carter…” it was almost a relief to see his face.

"Doll," he nodded at you. 

"How's..." you began but Carter interrupted you as Natasha slid in beside you. 

“He’s in a bad way, but being cared for by the best.” Carter swallowed. “I’m under instructions to take you straight to the house.”

“The house, is he not…”

“He’s being cared for by Doctors at Harlan’s mansion. We couldn’t call the authorities…too many questions.”

You had a few questions of your own, especially now you’d had an entire flight to sit and think about them.

“What happened? I know Steve stabbed him, but what…”

“Mr Thrombey has asked that I let him explain. He’s waiting for you, I’m under instructions to send you to see him before you see Ransom.”

"No, I want to see Ransom first, Carter," your voice held a pleading tone.

"Harlan first." Carter said firmly. He wasn't about to negotiate.

“Why does everyone in this damned family get off on pushing me around?” You grumbled.

Natasha caught your under-breath comment and smirked, "it keeps their dicks bigger. Mobsters lose control, they lose their rights."

You glanced at her, and she gave you a small smile as you scoffed. 

The drive to Harlan’s was a familiar one, you’d been plenty of times before. Soon, Carter was pulling the car up to the front of the house. You didn’t even wait for it to stop before you opened the door to let yourself out.

"She's eager," Carter joked with Natasha as you left the door open. 

Fran, Harlan's housemaid, thew open the door just as you reached for the handle. "He's in his study," she directed you.

You nodded, walking down the hall, ignoring both Ransom’s mother and father as your sneakers squeaked on the well-polished tiles. The mahogany doors were heavy as you pushed both open with your palms flat on their surface. You didn't even bother knocking, and frankly, you didn't give a shit. You wanted the answers you were seeking and you wanted to see Ransom.

Harlan wasn’t surprised to see you, he was stood by the window, clearly having seen you arrive.

“Y/N.” He gave you a soft smile.

“Where’s Ransom?” Your voice was quiet.

"He's upstairs," the oldest Thrombey said with softness. "You can see him in a moment, if you choose to after we talk. Have a seat."

"I'd rather stand," you stood your ground.

"Alright," he nodded.

You took a deep breath, waiting for Harlan to explain.

“The feud between Ransom and Steve, the one which you were regrettably caught in the middle of. It was started by Walt.”

You felt your jaw go slack as your brows furrowed and eyes squinted. "What?"

“Walter ordered the hit that went wrong. He’s the reason Peggy is dead and the reason Steve…well…” he trailed off.

“You know?” You whispered. 

Harlan nodded. “Ari came to me, not long after it happened.”

“I know, I just wasn’t sure if he told you everything.”

Harlan took a deep breath as you licked your lips.

"Why am I just hearing this?" You shook your head, "So much could have been...I could..."

"Unfortunately, this is how these things play out. It's pathetic really. Cliché dramas that sometimes translate from screen to life." Harlan’s tone was gentle. A little like you found the man himself to be, despite the fact he was a ruthless mob boss. “That and I didn’t know.” Harlan shook his head. “‘None of us did, not until photos of Walt meeting with Rumlow emerged.”

“Photos?”

Harlan nodded. “Copies were sent to both your brother and Ransom.”

"Who took them?"

“No idea.” Harlan shrugged. “And I don’t think it matters much. Not now. Steve got his revenge, and then Ransom got his.”

Harlan studied you for a moment as you took the entire situation in. He watched as your face screwed up a little and you pinched the bridge of your nose, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from crying. Almost as if you didn’t want to give into the jumble of emotions you were feeling. Like you didn’t want to show weakness, or admit to anyone other than yourself that you cared what had happened to either of them. 

But he knew you did, because you were here. 

To Harlan, it was no wonder Ransom had fallen for you the way he had. You took crap from no one, but yet underneath it all, you were an incredibly kind hearted and loving person. You rounded off Ransom’s gruff and rough edges perfectly. And, as he stood there now, watching you in his study, it struck the older man exactly how much you reminded him of someone he knew extremely well, and missed every single day. 

You looked to him after a moment or two and wondered about the expression on his face. It was like he was somewhere else, but not quite, caught in a memory almost. And as you watched, a soft smile spread across his face. 

“Forgive me, but you’re a lot like Ransom’s mother, you know. Fierce, strong, independent. Well, she was until Rogers sucked it out of her. God I hated him. Cruel twist of fate really that the boys looked so much like him. Steve is…was his double, and well, apart from Ransom’s hair colour, he is too.”

At that you frowned, “their hair colour?”

“Steve is…was blonde, Ransom isn’t.” 

You frowned. “Steve…had different hair colour?”

Harlan nodded.

Your frown deepened. You’d done everything you could to push that night from your mind. But…how could you have not noticed? You swallowed as you tried and tried to remember. The bathroom had been dimly lit, it wasn’t like you’d really had chance to look at his hair either…but then you shook your head.

“That’s not possible.” You looked at Harlan, “they’re identical twins!”

Harlan gave you a curious glance, “they’re not identical, Honey. They’re paternal. Or they were. I mean, they did look ridiculously alike, but there are subtle differences, the hair colour being one, and then there’s a slight height difference, not much but…”

You swallowed, again zoning out of the conversation as the impact of Harlan’s revelation hit you.

You had come to terms with the fact that you would never know for sure who was your baby’s father. A paternity test for identical twins would mean shit, as they had identical DNA. But paternal ones however, did not. And now, you were fast realising that there was a way for you to find out if the baby you were carrying belonged to Ransom. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harlan’s voice cut through the fog and you looked at him, nodding.

Your face felt void of emotion but your mind and heart were overflowing in competitive thoughts, "is he going to live?"

“Yes,” Harlan nodded. “He's battered and bruised, lost a lot of blood but they've patched him up. Unlike your brother, his spleen remains in act and nothing else was damaged apart from some muscle in his rib cage.”

The shaky breath you inhaled opened up your emotions for your eyes to flood, "I want to see him."

Harlan nodded. “He’s sleeping at the moment, still undergoing the blood transfusion, but he’ll be glad to see you. I haven’t mentioned you were coming in case you changed your mind.”

"Where?"

"Upstairs, the guest room to the left after the landing," he softly spoke. “The one the pair of you usually, well, did usually stay in.”

"Thank you," you whispered. You'd only just stood when Harlan spoke your name. You waited for him to continue. 

"Ransom has not made the best choices," he sighed, "but despite the unbearable act he's done to you, I know he loves you. I'm not trying to sway a decision for you, my dear. I only speak my truths with those I care for and you, no matter what, will always be a part of this family."

You swallowed, nodding as you licked your lips. “I…I still love him too, Harlan, but what I don’t know is whether if that’s gonna be enough, not after all this.”

Harlan seemed to have had an understanding for he only nodded once, dismissing you to go. So, with a deep breath, you headed up the grandiose staircase and turned to the left. You stopped at the cracked open door and closed your eyes. Your hands were shaking and your throat felt dry. Your eyes stung with salty tears but you took a steeling breath anyway and slowly cracked the door open enough for you to step in.

Looking small, feeble even, with his complexion pale, Ransom looked anaemic already. There was a canula under his nose along with a half full bag of blood which was being administered via IV into the back of his left hand. His body was covered by blankets and you stopped halfway between the door and the foot of the large bed, listening to the beeps and bleeps of the heart monitor.

His hair was out of place only a little, cuts and bruises, even dried blood was still visible and the sight worried and scared you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and closed the space between he and you. There was already a chair on his left side, presumably from Linda, whom no doubt had sat there to at least show face and play the part of worried mother so those on staff and the goons in and out of the house would buy into it. You didn't, not really. 

You took a seat at his right side and glanced down at your shaking hands. They felt cold even by your own touch. Worrying them in your lap, you slowly looked up, your eyes roaming over your former lover and fiancé.

As you sat there you tried to figure out why had Ransom not corrected you when you’d said there could be no way to know which one of the brothers had fathered your unborn child.

Why would he lie? The only plausible reason you could think of was that he didn’t want to know, and he didn’t want you to know either. Was this some cruel attempt to keep control of you?

“If you keep it…I’ll support you. I’ll do whatever, be as involved as a father or as not involved as you want, but you’ll want for nothing. Either of you. Whatever you decide…”

Whatever you decide…

“Oh, Ran…” you sniffed, your hand reached for his right. You gently held it, your thumb skating softly over his bruises and split knuckles as you looked at his face. “This is such a fucking mess.”

*****

The beeping of his alarm was most certainly not welcome. Ransom was too warm, too comfortable.

There was a sleep laden grumble that wanted to force its way out of his throat but instead he grunted and slung his arm out to shut the damn thing off on his phone.

But his phone wasn’t there.

Odd.

Nevertheless, the noise stopped and he turned himself over onto his other side, and felt the tickle of hair on his face.

He cracked an eye open, in surprise more than anything. You were here. Back in his bed. After everything…

His brow twitched downward and his chest tightened a bit. He sat up onto his elbow and took you in fully.

You were led on your side, back to him, the bed covers pulled up to your chin. Your features soft as you slept.

His hand reached out to run a knuckle over your cheek but he stopped. What if he touched you and you melted away? What if he touched you and you just vanished. But he had to know. So, he curled his first and fingers, delicately dragging them over your cheekbone towards your ear and down your jaw. You were real, you were there. He knew so now, his fingers over your soft skin. So kept going, slowly down your neck, pulling back that bedding just a bit.

His hand paused at the crook of your shoulder, before it carried on, slipping underneath the comforter. He traced a line down your ribs, your naked body felt just as he remembered. 

His heart filled with so many emotions. And those very emotions tickled his nose and made his eyes pool. His hand now opened wide and splayed over your little swollen belly.

The second his palm came to rest over the life which was growing inside of you, a long breath left his nose. It relaxed his chest and dropped his shoulders.

You stirred a little, your nose twitching in that adorable way it did when you were someplace between sleep and consciousness. 

His thumb swept up and down over your skin. His eyes flicked between your face and what he was doing. His mind whirring.

How did he get to this? How was this possible? Did he die and now this is his purgatory?

A soft sigh left you as Ransom shuffled and snuggled into you as closely as he could get. He pressed his lips to your bare shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"Hi...." you whispered as your arm covered his as it wrapped over you.

“Hi, Princess…”

"You been up long?"

“No,” his lips brushed your skin again. “Just woke…”

You hummed a little smile.

“I love you.” He whispered, his lips moving to your neck.

"We love you too."

His lips curved into a smile against your skin before he sniffed. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

You were caught off guard by the comment, "why wouldn't I be?" You turned your body towards him a little more so as not to crane your neck so hard.

“Because I’m a no good, son of a bitch who treat you like shit.”

"What? Did you have a bad dream or something?" You grew concerned. "Ransom, are you okay?"

That was when he noticed it, the sparkle and twinkle on your left hand.

“I…I…I don’t know.” He whispered.

You turned completely over, "hey," you cupped his cheek with your left hand, "whatever it is, it's okay. I'm here, baby. You can tell me."

He sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter…I have a feeling I’m dreaming now and…I just wanna stay here with you for as long as possible.”

You smiled warmly with a slight shake of your head. "Oh Ran...."

“I love you…and I’m so sorry…” he sniffed, as he pressed his lips to yours. 

He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. It had been so long since ha had last kissed you.

You pulled back just a breath's distance, "I don't know," you kissed him, "what you're sorry for," your lips ghosted his. "But I love you too." You kissed him one more time, "soon we won't get mornings like this."

“Let’s make the most of it…” he whispered, his lips back on yours as his hand cupped your cheek.

He felt you shiver a bit as you hummed at his touch.

His lips never left yours as he eased himself over you, a little more, his hand sliding down your body and coming to rest at your hip.

He gave his baby in your belly enough space as he held himself up with his free arm. That hand at your hip gently rubbed along your skin as he moved down your thigh. His strong hand curled under knee and lifted your leg over his hip, opening you up for him.

You sighed, your nails running lightly up his back, coming to rest in the shorter strands of his hair at the back. Your eyes met his, and he saw nothing but love. A stark contrast to the fear and hurt he had seen in them the last time you’d been under him.

"I love you so much," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "Forgive me, baby, please forgive me." He whimpered as he bent to kiss you again, "I'm so sorry." His final apology was spoke against your lips. And whilst he kissed you, he slipped into you. 

He choked a little as your body responded to him. Your leg hooked round him, heel digging into his ass. Your head sank further into the pillows, leaving your neck bare for him to lavish affection on with his mouth and tongue.

You were made for him. 

How could he have ever hurt you the way he had? Why had he ever doubted you? He was disgusted. Ashamed.

Walt hadn’t made him do that to you. Neither had Steve. He did it himself. Blinded by the hurt and anger, he’d brutally fucked you, despite you asking him not to.

Ransom knew this wasn’t real. Each thrust and roll of his hips was ecstasy but he knew, it was all in his head.

Or he was dead, and this was his new forever.

Either way, he didn’t want it to end.

There was a sharp pain in his side, one which made him hiss and close his eyes in discomfort. And when he opened them, your features were blurring, as if he was seeing them through a dirty window.

“No, please…don’t…don’t go…” he begged.

You opened your mouth, his name a whisper, your voice soft and faraway.

And then there was that damned alarm again. A persistent, annoying fucking beeping.

*****

Your eyes looked to the monitor as Ransom's heart rate had sped up. It worried you, your hand squeezing his.

“Ransom…” you spoke, your voice croaky. “Ran…”

"You came," he said hoarsely. Then he flinched as that searing pain came again.

“Yeah…” you squeezed his hand again, your heart thudding at the fact he was awake. “I did.”

“I didn’t…didn’t know if you would.” His speech was slow, quiet and you took a deep breath.

“Just take a moment, let me go find the doctor. I’m assuming he or she is around somewhere.”

His hand squeezed around yours, a silent plea for you to stay.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

You quickly headed out into the landing and called out for anyone. Fran immediately appeared from one of the other bedrooms and you looked at her.

“He’s awake…and he’s in a lot of pain.”

She nodded, “the doctor is in with Harlan, Linda and Richard, I’ll go get him.”

You nodded and return to Ransom's side. You knew a conversation needed to be had, but you weren't about to have it when doctors, and most likely his parents, were about to barge in.

"It'll be just a minute," you told him.

He nodded and lay back, his eyes closing. 

“Can’t believe the cunt stabbed me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, well, you killed him so…I’d say you came out on top.” You swallowed as you looked at your hand where it still held his.

The doctor and, as you predicted, Linda and Richard came in quickly. His mother gave you a jerk of her head, but Richard barely registered your existence not that you cared. You’d never given much of a shit about either of them to be honest. 

You went to move from the chair to give them space. But Ransom's hold on your hand remained. You weren't going anywhere. You looked at him, squeezing right back, "It's okay."

You glanced up at the doctor, he wasn’t someone you recognised but it didn’t surprise you. The Thrombey firm had many a professional on its payroll, all of whom were willing to look the other way for backhanders.

You zoned out as he began to talk, instead your eyes simply focussed on your hand which was wrapped around Ransom’s battered one.

You inspected his knuckles, the bruises and the cuts that were raw and still covered with dried blood. In fact, you'd noticed that most of his still had some remnants of the blood bath he no doubt endured with his brother. You barely registered the doctor working on him and stepping away.

It was all a blur. 

But what broke through was the stern tone he had with Linda when he told them to go. Your glance shot up from his hand to his face. That busted lip moved as he spoke again.

"I want to talk to Y/N, alone. I don't need the two of you squabbling and worrying with your bullshit feelings right now."

Linda took a deep breath. “Son, we’re just…it’s a big shock. You, here like this. Steve…Steve dead…”

"Go, Linda." He demanded.

“Ransom…” Harlan spoke from the door, his voice soft but stern. 

Ransom groaned, “I’m sorry mom, but please. Go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

"Alright," she relented. Richard waled her out, his hands on her forearms. Harlan gave the two of you a nod and walked away.

Just before the doctor made his last check on Ransom, he spoke, "These won't take long to kick in. So, just so you're aware, you may nod off."

Ransom nodded.

Once the doctor was gone, you took a deep breath and turned back to him. You didn't know how to start, and maybe he didn't either. But the conversation needed to be had. So you started with the obvious. "Why?"

"It had to be done," he simply stated as if there were no other choice. "Walt and Steve both deserved it. This could have all been avoided." He settled himself with a wince. "Walt's wrecklessness caused a war. No matter what happens between you and I, I couldn't let Steve get away with what he'd done to you. I told Ari I’d kill him. And I did.”

“But I don’t understand, why did Walt arrange the hit in the first place?”

“Apparently he wanted the head seat and if he could frame me for Steve’s death it would lead the way. But…I don’t know, the more I think about it, the more I can’t understand it myself. But then Walt never was the sharpest tool in the box.”

"So this was over a seriously bent ego and power struggle?" You were deeply frowning as you registered Ransom’s explanation.

“That’s what Walt explained before Steve put a bullet in his head.”

You sighed. It hurt to think about all the logistics and how much damage was caused. How confusing even the smallest details were because of one man's jealousy. It trickled so far down the line that it had even affected you. Ari had become a target, he'd nearly died. And that assessment didn't even include what had happened to you. How Ransom had treated you, what he'd done to you. It was a lot to take in. But you had to press on, "And Steve? How..."

Ransom sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. “He…he figured it out. That you’re pregnant.” Ransom blinked heavily as he looked back to you. “When he stabbed me, he said he’d find you, and take you and the baby…and if it was the last thing I did, I wasn’t gonna let that happen. So I shot him. Same way be shot Walt, right between the eyes.”

You swallowed as Ransom took a deep breath, wincing a little as he did. 

“And I don’t regret it. What I do regret is the fact I hurt you, that I…I forced myself on you the way I did. I should have listened and believed you…and I’ll never forgive myself.”

You bowed your head and sighed. Your words stuck to your tongue like glue on a paper. You weakly nodded and lifted your eyes to meet his.

“I know, we never really talked about kids, I just thought it would be something we figured out together along the way. But…I meant what I said.” Ransom licked his lips, “I’ll support you in anyway that you want or need. I’m not expecting you to forgive me for what I did. I don’t expect you to take me back. But, if you wanna keep the baby, I’ll be there for you both. 

“Even if it isn’t yours?” You asked softly. 

As his eyes looked at yours, he blinked slowly. “You know, don’t you?  About me and Steve, how we’re not…”

You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?.”

Ransom licked his lips. “I was scared…” He took a deep breath, a grimace on his face. “I should have, but…I was scared that if you knew, you’d want to find out…and then I’d…I don’t know, if I could could…” he shook his head, “So, instead, whilst I still had hope that one day you could forgive me, then…I guess I didn’t want to know. Because whilst I didn’t for sure, then there would be a chance it is mine and for that reason alone I’d be able to love it like it is. But I see…you have a right to. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

In that split second, as you looked at his battered and bruised face, his eyes filled with remorseful tears, you suddenly realised there and what you wanted.

You didn’t truly understand why, after everything that happened but you did. You loved him, and the simple fact was you’d never love another in the same way. So, if Ransom was willing to go through life bringing up and loving you and your child, a child that may or may not be his, then who were you to stop him? Why would you deny your child a father? And why would you deny yourself the love of a man who you still loved with all your heart.

You didn’t need to know and, moreover, you didn’t want to know. It might be an ultimately selfish decision, but seeing as there hadn’t been a single thing in the shit show that had been your life for the last two months or so that you had been able to control, you were taking this one for yourself.

“I wanna keep it,” you spoke softly. “You’re right, the likelihood is that it is yours. And that’s…that’s good enough for me, if it is for you…”

“Y/N…” Ransom let out a little choked sob, and you sniffed, shushing him gently.

According to Ferris Bueller, “life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Well, you certainly could relate.

Within what felt like such a short amount of time; Lucy was growing, life was rapidly changing and there was no slowing down. You had gone back to work and while that was an adjustment in and of itself, you enjoyed the opportunity to work from home as well when necessary. Lucy was attending a daycare in the lobby of the building, and it gave you (and Andy) a chance to check in on her. Although you weren’t sure it were a good idea in the beginning as you knew Andy was down there “watching” or “checking in” far more than you were. Ron even would joke that if one couldn’t find Andrew Barber in his office then his calls should be 

“forwarded to the nursery in the lobby.”

And speaking of Ron, the end of the year was fast approaching and so was his retirement. The founding partner had given the news to yourself, Andy and the board with their spouses present at a dinner party they’d hosted at autumn’s start. He had declared that he would be stepping down at the end of February the following year. That meant many changes were coming including adding much more to Andy’s desk. Because, with Ron’s announcement, came another vote to seat Andy as the second head of the firm.

Simply put, it was as if you and Andy had merely blinked, and here you were. Your baby girl now almost three, and another year about to draw to a close.

You woke and stretched, leaning over to give Andy a quick peck on the cheek good morning. He stirred, and smiled, his arm moving to slip round your back.

“Morning, Angel.”

“Good morning, BB.” You smiled as your lips brushed his. “Happy first of December.”

Andy snorted, “whoopee…” You playfully slapped his chest and he laughed. “Seriously, what’s to get excited about? You’ve already put the tree up…it went up the day before Thanksgiving.”

You knew he was only half-serious. Whilst he’d grumbled it was far too early, when he’d seen how excited his little girl at the boxes of decorations, he’d got stuck right in to help.

“Listen, Mr Grinch…have you forgotten what’s waiting downstairs?”

At that, Andy grinned. This was the first year that Lucy had really appreciated and understood what Christmas was and her excitement was infectious.

“I can’t wait for her to see it.”

The two of you laid quietly talking for a few minutes, until Andy’s alarm obnoxiously signaled it was time to get up.

"Hit snooze," you suggested.

Andy sighed, “I’d love to, but I have a lot of prep today.”

You groaned, "alright. I'm working from home today. I'll keep Looby with me."

Andy groaned as he stretched. “I know it’s only a DUI and possession but whilst he’s pleading guilty for the DUI, on the rest he claims he’s been stitched up…”

You rolled to your side, facing his side of the bed, "well, I know it's been tough so far, but I’m sure it's going to work out."

“It feels like an awful amount of prep for something so minor, but there’s huge implications here that go behind the verdict.”

“Like…”

“Bent cops.” Andy wrinkled his nose. 

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Andy shrugged a little, before his arm which lay under your neck threaded into the hair at the back of your head. “Busy couple of weeks before the holidays.”

You nodded and leaned up for a kiss. "You best get up, or I'll kidnap you."

“Isn’t kidnapping when it’s done against your…” he trailed off, the joke dying on his lips. “Fahk, Angel…that was…”

Your eyes grew soft, "Hey....," you cupped his face, "Andy no, it's okay. I'm okay."

He took a deep breath and accepted the soft kiss you gave him. “I know, I still don’t like the…the jokes, you know?”

Before you could reply, a little voice called out echoing down the landing and through the monitor on the bedside table.

“Daddy! Mommy! Isss awakes!” 

“Well, that's a new record," you snorted. "That’s your fault for reminding her last night she’s got her advent calendars to open.”

"Me? I did no such thing, that was Penny sending that fahkin' ugly bright box of which, no doubt, is full of shit prizes and candy."

“Oh hush!” You giggled, “you know full well she’s more excited about that glittery card dinosaur one you managed to find!”

Andy chuckled as you moved so he could climb out of bed, his bare torso flexing a little as he headed out of the room, Grant following. He opened the baby gate into Lucy’s room to find her sat up, the early light from the sunrise illuminating her slightly.

“Good morning Looby-Saurus.” He beamed.

“Hi Daddy Wex!” She giggled as Grant hopped up onto her toddler bed and stuck his nose into her face. “Gwant!”

“Stupid dog…” Andy grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Daddy nos calls Gwant!” Lucy admonished as she stared up at him and Andy couldn’t help but snort at the expression she wore, so like you.

“Okay, okay.” He grinned and swooped her up in his big arms. She still sometimes looked so small in them to him, his precious girl. "Do you want to come snuggle Mommy so I can get ready for work?"

“Yup yup yups!” She hugged him round his neck and then she gasped. “Oh…iss a-vent day?”

He groans a little, "yep, it's advent day."

She squealed. “We goes?”

"Yes, but after I get dressed for work."

“Otay…”

"I'll be quick, promise." He kissed her cheek as he walked them into his room.

“Mommy!” Looby grinned as she saw you sat up in the large bed.

"Good morning, Looby Loo!"

“Iss assvent!”

"I know! Are you excited?"

In the corner of your eye, you saw Andy trying not to laugh at the unfortunate mispronunciation of the word.

“I so esscited!”

Andy headed into the bathroom, and you smiled at Lucy.

"I tell you what. Let’s go grab your robe and your slippers, make sure you’re warm when we go down, yeah?”

"Does it snows wast night?"

“I think so.” You grinned, “shall we see?”

"Outs dare?" She pointed to the French doors on your balcony.

"Yep, go see!"

She hopped down from your bed and ran to the long curtains, pulling them apart as she pushed her face through. “Mommy! More snows!”

"Oh my! Well, we'll just have to go out in it, won't we?" You laugh. “Make a snowman!”

“Wike Olaf!” Looby grinned as you climbed out of bed and grabbed Andy’s sweater from the vanity chair.

"Yes!" You pulled it on over your sleep cami.

That was when Andy threw open the bathroom door and rushed out in only a towel. "Sorry, two minutes." he quickly said and grabbed his underwear and undershirt, running back in.

“Daddy siwwy.”

"Yes, he is!" You carried her back to her room to get her robe and slippers. Andy met you two in the hall, his tie hanging around his neck and his jacket fisted in his hand. The smell of his shower gel, aftershave and the linger of toothpaste was a particularly heady mix that morning.

"Okay, let's get your advent!” He swooped up Lucy as she grinned and clapped. 

You followed and smiled at Andy as you opened the door to the huge open plan loving area of your old farmhouse. Andy set your daughter down and she immediately squealed.

“Oh. Wow!” You gasped as Andy took a dramatic inhale, “what on Earth…”

"Wassat, Wassat?!"

“It looks…it looks like an elf!” Andy grinned as Lucy ran to the little elf doll on the sofa. The Elf was sat holding a balloon.

"Das 'L' for Lucy!" She bounced on the spot, pointing at the balloon.

“You’re right.” Andy nodded. “That’s what it says. Hi, Lucy!”

Jumping up and down with pure glee, she took the sign and handed it to you.

You gasped, "Bunny, I think it's... It's a note, look!

“Issat?” Her eyes widened.

"Hang on, I need to make sure it's real...." Andy took the note from you and squinted as he inspected the teeny writing on the page. “Miss Lucy Jo Barber, Sheephill Cottage!” He read with an astonished tone. “It is real!”

"Reads it, Dadd-wex, peas!"

“Okay…” Andy took a deep breath and opened the letter. “Hi Lucy! I’m your special elf! I’m new, from the North Pole, and Santa sent me to your home especially so we can play together!” He paused as Lucy gasped.

You could help the grin that matched your daughter's as Andy read. This was definitely going to be the best part of the season.

“Like all new elves, I don’t have a name. So, the first thing we can do together is pick one. Anything you want, as long as it isn’t a rude word like…” Andy gasped and playfully looked at Lucy, “like fart or butt…”

She giggled and covered her grin with her small hands.

“You can play with me all day, but at night you have to leave me under the tree so that I can report back to Santa through the special Red bauble…”

"I can do it, I can do it!"

“I can’t wait to play and have lots of adventures. With love, from your Elf!” Andy finished. “Well, how awesome is that?!”

"I so esscited! I has to name hims! Don't goes!"

Andy chuckled, “I have to get to work soon, Bunny but…okay, a couple of minutes.”

"Think really hard, Lucy... A name is special." You encouraged.

“Erms….Pickles!”

Andy snorted, “what?"

“Pickles!”

Andy was about to ask why, but his phone rang. It was Ron. "Angel... I..."

“Yeah, okay…go. See you tonight.”

"I love you," he bent and kissed you. Then he kneeled down, "I gotta go, Bunny, come gimme a kiss then you and 'Pickles' can play."

“Bye daddy!” She ran to him and kissed his bearded cheek. “I wobes you.”

"I love you, too." He stood and kissed you again before rushing out.

"So," you clapped your hands together and smirked, "what are we going to do with Pickles?"

And that was how it started.

You quickly realized the Elf couldn’t be left “under” the tree as Grant took a liking to him, and on the first night, Andy spent a good five minutes trying to retrieve him from your dog’s jaws. 

Then, each and every day you had to remind yourself or Andy to move the damn elf, that fast became an annoying and obnoxious chore. But seeing Lucy’s reaction each morning was so worth it. It was in the kitchen hanging off the fridge, it was in the bathroom Lucy used being naughty using the sink as a tub. It scuba dived in Grant’s water bowl, pulled all the cushions off the couch, left a trail of marshmallow footprints all over the kitchen counters….When it was Andy's turn to move it, you'd learned to double check the setup, for the first time he was in charge there was a very precarious pose your husband had put it in. So, you had to fix it. And that was how every turn Andy had went, so you had to scold him each time as you fixed it before Lucy saw.

But one Tuesday evening, a few weeks after his 46th birthday, Andy outdid himself.

You’d arranged Pickles on the coffee table with one of Lucy’s Barbie Dolls, and a few of her dinosaurs around a little table of their own along with a sign that informed everyone that this was a “tea-rex” party. You’d left to go grab a drink from the kitchen and come back to find Pickles’ head was now between Barbie’s legs and Andy was bent over the scene, giggling like a naughty schoolboy.

“Andrew!”

"What?” He spun to face you.

“You absolute child!”

“Hey, Picks has to try Barbie at least once in his life!"

“You are the…” you slapped the back of his head, causing him to yelp, “absolute worst!”

"Oh c'mahn!" He drawled in his Boston baroque as you moved to fix the toy porn scene in front of you. “I mean I'm naht a Barbie man myself, but..." he  wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling your neck.

“You’re not?”

"Nope...." he kissed your skin. "I like wings."

“Smooth….”

"I have my moments," he snorted.

“Hmmm…” you moved in his arms, turning to face him.

"It's just a little fun, Angel," he smirked and kissed the tip of your nose. "You laughed, something you haven't done for a week."

You sighed. "I know, it's been busy. With both Amber and Eva already gone, and now the nursery closed for the holidays, I've been overloaded. And I'm still not feeling well."

“No?” He frowned. “I thought you said you were yesterday?”

"I just still feel tired and run down," you sighed. "Honestly, it's just the full plate but now that I'm working from home, it'll get easier. Especially with you and Ron buttoning up this case. I didn't want to say much because you're so stressed and putting in the hours."

Andy took a deep breath, “well, we have the closing arguments tomorrow so…that’s it. If no verdict by 5pm, it’s deferred until new year. I’ll be finished tomorrow evening regardless.”

"Good," your hands ran up his cotton tee covered chest and sighed. "You wanna light that fire now? We can turn the lights out and leave the tree on?"

“Mmmm get comfy, huh?” He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. “Any of that red we opened at dinner left?”

"A bit. Maybe a glass each."

“Just enough.” He smiled, “the Christmas order from the Wine club should be arriving tomorrow or the day after. I stuck a few bottles of the cheap stuff in so we can make mulled wine.”

"My favorite," you slipped from his arms and padded back toward the kitchen.

When you came back a small fire was just starting to pick up. Andy tossed on more kindling before, once satisfied it was going to take, he chucked on a log.

You passed off his glass and he took it with a soft smile, but not without kissing you gently in the glow. His free hand rest against the small of your back.

You loved the night times. Andy always made time for Lucy when he came home, playing, bathing, and reading her a story. But once she was tucked in, and it was just the two of you, he relaxed even more.

"I love you," you bumped your nose against his.

“I love you too.” He smiled, his lips brushing yours.

"What now, counselor?"

“Movie? Sit on the rug and talk?

"Rug sounds good to me,” you winked.

You both settled down, you sat between his legs, your back settled in against his chest as he leaned against the oak coffee table. One of his long legs was extended flat along the floor, the other bent at the knee.

The two of you drank your wine and talked, in the easy way you’d always been able to. Andy’s hands would rub up and down your forearms and sometimes his lips would kiss your neck. Your hands would move up and down the top part of his shin or fingers would draw lines and swirls over his thigh.

It was peaceful, intimate, and in the comfortable moments of silence, the crackle of the fire filled the room making it feel even more homely and cozy. 

As the flames started to die down, you checked your watch.

"It's late, Andy," you spoke with a softness almost as if any louder you might disturb the silent night. "You don't want to be late in the morning."

“Ten more minutes.” He whispered, his lips kissing the back of your shoulder.

"Alright," you sighed in appreciation.

His lips didn’t move far from your skin. His beard tickled you as it gently rubbed against the crook of your shoulder.

You reached back to curl your hand around his neck. Your fingers ran down the length of his neck.

He hummed in appreciation, as his lips found the hinge of your jaw. You responded the same. But you leaned your body into him more as your fingers scratched at the shorter hairs along the back of his head and a hand pressed further into his thigh.

As he nuzzled into you, one hand moved, splaying across your belly as the other arm wrapped across your chest. Your hum turned into breathy grunt and sigh.

The hand that was splayed on your belly slid further down, fingers softly brushing the inside of your right thigh through your sleep pants. The other softly traced the swell of your breast. A gentle moan left your throat at the feel of his hands on you like that. Your body easily responding to your husband’s touch with a delicate yet elevated sensitivity.

Andy sighed, his lips now at your chin as his fingers danced over your nipple, which was peaked through the soft material of your sleep shirt. “Oh, Angel…so responsive for me…”

You whimpered at his voice and touch, "Mmm, yeah.” You tilted your hips back against him. His lips met yours as you felt the hand on your thigh slipping beneath the waistband of your pants.

You gasped into his mouth, the tickle of his fingers passing your mound was pleasurable. Your own fingers curled into his hair. His mouth hovered over yours, his eyes twinkling as he slowly circled your clit with his fingers, the other hand now slipping into the neckline of your top.

The twist of your body against his chest gave you a better angle to feel his hot breath against your lips. Your hips tilted forward just a pinch to practically fall into that finger circling you. You jutted your chin just a fraction outward to capture a kiss as his hand now cupped your breast.

He gave a squeeze and his thumb rubbed over your nipple now with the pad of his thumb against your skin. It was slow, delicate, like a strum to a guitar string.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips.

“Good?” His voice was a grunt as his tipped his hips forward, his hardness pressing into the dip of your back.

"Yeah," you whispered. "S'good...."

“Can I fuck you like this?” he rasped.

Your belly knotted as your chest fluttered, "ah, fuck, yes...."

You didn’t wait, your hands moved, and you pulled off your top and then tipped your head back round to Andy. 

“Lose yours.”

His hand came away from your sleep pants, your clit missing his touch, as he took that very hand to single handedly pull that collar of his sleep shirt over his head.

You moved as he did so, slipping your sleep pants down and you heard Andy groan a little behind you.

"Good?" You smirked.

He chuckled as you felt him shuffle, hands on your hips as you knelt up. He eased you back over him, one hand letting go to grip at his dick. As you moved yourself backwards, you felt his head brushing through your folds, and you moaned. 

“That feels good…”

Andy sighed pleasurably as you rocked over his cock. His head tickled your clit and a delightful whimper sounded from your lips at the feel. His hands remained at your hips, not pushing, or pulling, simply resting as you dictated your speed.

It all felt so good. His hands on you, your hands bracing yourself at his thighs as you rubbed along his shaft. You felt a stir inside and changed tactic, wanting him inside you.

You stopped and shifted backwards, Andy immediately obliging. His tip slipped in with ease and you slowly sank down on him. The remnants of the burning embers and fire, now near gone, still warmed you and  the Christmas lights around you casted a romantic glow across your bodies.

You leaned back against his chest as he tipped his hips upwards, both of you sighing as he filled you.

After a minute, your hips rolled as you snaked that hand and arm back and up around his neck and nape. His lips nipped at your shoulder, hands sliding up your rib cage until they cupped both of your breasts.

"Yes," you hissed. You splayed your fingers over the back of his head as the heel of your hand cradled the base.

His hips were slow, thrusts deep as his palms squeezed your mounds before his fingers pinched your nipples.

"Fuck, Andy," you squirmed.

His hands continued, teasing you as his rolls were measured. His lips brushed up your neck.

Your skin felt like it was on fire and not from the dying flames, but from Andy's touch and his deep thrusts. He filled your still tight insides with a stretch you'd grown accustomed to, desired most days and begged for at times. The way his soft hands were gentle always at first but demanding when begged for.

“Feel so good, Angel.”

"Yeah, it does," you replied with a whine. "Jesus, Andy, it's real good."

His fingers continued their massaging and plucking, your nipples so sensitive as his rolls and thrusts picked up pace ever so slightly.

Your delicate walls began to flutter against his shaft as it rubbed along your ridges. The hooded edge of his tip kissed your spongy surface as the slow drag of his thrusts slipped through you.

He kept that same, steady pace to the end, and you came with a soft whimper as his teeth nipped your shoulder.

Your weight settled with a welcome slouch against his lap as you became pliant to his touch. Your orgasm had your whole body tingling and every sense was intensified. You could feel the fibers of his hair on his thighs, the grooves of his teeth on your skin. Even the prints of his fingers and thumbs felt like imprints on your nipple and breasts.

“Oh, baby…” he cooed, “there we go…”

"Fuck, Andy...."

Andy could feel you, squeezing him as you trembled in his lap.

"Jesus, Angel...."

You could only whimper as your body kept going. It was as if a shorter, weaker, second orgasm was trickling through. An aftershock of sorts.

You were that caught up, you didn’t feel Andy as he came, but you heard his little grunt in your ear.

The room was silent bar your heavy breaths mixing with his. There was a peppering sound of soft kisses, but it were only for your ears.

"That was good, Angel."

“Mmmm.”

He lightly chuckled with a rasp to his voice but made no attempt to move you, and the two of you remained there for a bit longer.

****

Neither of you wanted to get up the next morning, but Andy knew the end was in sight. He was up, showered, downstairs and waiting with coffee before you and Lucy appeared.

He could hear the two of you in her room, giggling in excitement at what Pickles could have been up to overnight. He smirked with a flick of his brows knowing damn well what the little shit had been up to.

Soon after, the door opened and Looby ran into the room and squealed, “looks!”

"Oh my, he's had a party with your other friends!" You grinned and your eyes moved over to Andy. 

He smirked at you over his mug. “Yeah, said friends look really happy. Bet Barbie had a great time last night.

You blushed, "Angel did."

He said nothing, merely arched a brow and you knew he was smug as fuck.

Breakfast was the usual affair and at 8:15 you kissed him goodbye so he could make the half hour drive to Denver.

As he went through security, he placed his case in the conveyor belt and walked through the scanner. As Andy replaced his belt and watch, stuck his phone back in his pocket, the guy at the X-ray machine peered carefully at the screen before he chuckled to himself and looked Andy.

“Merry Christmas, Mr Barber.”

"Merry Christmas, Jack," he smirked. "Have a good one."

He grabbed his case and jacket and headed through. A few moments later he entered the courtroom as spectators did but slipped through the bailiff to sit at the Defense table. He placed his case down on the desk in front of his seat, an empty one to the left where his client would sit and turned to Ron as he clicked the clasps on his case open.

“Good evening?” Ron smiled.

"Great evening,"

“Dare I ask?” Ron snorted.

Andy just smugly grinned, "Nope."

Ron chuckled as Andy opened the case and stopped dead.

“What the…” his boisterous laugh filled the room as those around took a glare at him.

“I don’t…how the hell…” he chuckled as he turned his open case to Ron. There, on top of his files, led Pickles.

Now, it was Ron's turn to join in on the laughter.

“Is that the famous Pickles?” He reached for the elf.

"That it is," Andy shook his head.

Ron grinned as he sat the Elf doll on the edge of the desk.

“Shit, Ron! You can’t…” but Andy’s attention was jerked away as the Bailiff called for order and their client was led in.

"All rise...." the spiel went on and as the judge sat down then told everyone to do the same, his eyes shot up at the defendants side.

"Barber, what the hell is that?"

Ron snorted as clearly Andy was head seat and was taking the ticking off from His Honor.

“Erm…I…”

“A new witness.” Ron quipped.

“No, I…it’s… Ron!” Andy hissed.

“It’s a little unbecoming to try and enter a new witness at such a late stage,” the Judge’s mouth twitched a little. Various titters rang round the court room.

“I’m sorry, your Honor. My daughter…she must have snuck it into my bag…” Andy grabbed the doll and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can only apologize.”

"I'm a grandfather to twelve Barber, I get it. They’ve all had these damned Elf On A Shelf things each year for ages. But the merry little shits are annoying as hell, so put...."

"Pickles, Your Honor..." Ron interjected to more laughter.

"Pickles," the judge snorted, "back in the case until recess, huh?"

“Yes, sir…it’ll stay in there, believe me.” Andy tossed the doll into his case and closed it with a snap. “More than my life is worth to lose him.”

He glared at Ron as he sat back down, the soon retiring senior partner grinning like a fool back at him.

Thankfully, the rest of the proceedings went according to plan. The summing up was completed and then before lunch the jury were sent to consider their verdict. To Andy’s surprise, they were called by the clerk less than three hours later as the verdict was in.

Andy bit his lip and exhaled with relief as the verdict came back not guilty. The Judge nodded, and then following the sentencing for the DUI and a final consultation with their client, Andy and Ron left the courthouse. As they were leaving, the DA pulled them both to one side, informing them that she would be sanctioning an investigation into the allegations of corruption.

After Andy promised the firm would help in any way they could, they headed out into the cold air, buoyed by both the result and the fact it was now officially over in time for Christmas.

“Well,” Ron turned to Andy as he paused at his Mercedes, “not a bad one to bow out on.” He smirked as he opened his car door. “Maybe you should thank the elf…”

"You know, you're still my boss, or I'd say fahk you," he snorted.

“Only for another 2 months.” Ron grinned, “hit me with your worst!”

"Man, just 2 months left. I can’t believe you’re bowing out, you bastard!" Andy chuckled.

"Oh yes, yes I am," Ron touted. "I've put in my time. I'm seventy, and I’m done."

Andy had the door open to his Audi coupe, "I'm heading back for a few hours before going home.”

“What? Why? Fuck that! It’s back past your house to go to the office and you’ve done enough. We tied everything up, so go home. That’s an order, and as I’m still your boss…”

“Fahking fahk you!” Andy snorted, as Ron shot him a look. “Okay, okay, I’ll go home!”

“Good! I’ll check.”

“Don’t I know it. Hey, are you and Giselle coming by for dinner still?"

“Absolutely, be with you at seven-ish. Unfortunately, I’m driving as the boys, wives, and grandkids land early tomorrow morning so…”

“Yeah, you mentioned. Don’t worry, Y/N’s made mulled cider, not wine. Coupla beers if you fancy. Lucy will no doubt have us up at the crack of dawn, so we won’t have much either. Save it for tomorrow.”

“Speaking of my little pal, will she still be up tonight when we arrive or…”

“Well, she goes down around seven but she’s not in nursery, sure we can let her stay up a little longer. You never know, she may lay in tomorrow, I can pray for a Christmas miracle.” Andy winked.

"Good," Ron winked, "I'd hate to miss spoiling my God daughter on Christmas Eve Eve!" Ron chuckled and slipped into his Mercedes. He rolled down the window and shouted over the loud dual muffler. "See you at seven!"

With a smirk, Andy climbed into his car and pulled out of the lot, dialing his secretary’s number just to check in. By the time he was home, he was satisfied all his loose ends for the years were tied up and he was absolutely ready for the ten or so days break he would get.

The moment he stepped inside the house, he could smell the spirit of Christmas. Clearly, you'd been busy. And the motley crew of decorated cookies who seen better days proved so as they sat on the counter.

“Daddy!”

"Looby-saurus!" Andy kneeled down and dropped his case and jacket to his feet as he caught her little body.

“We medz cookies!” She grinned as she wrapped her little arms round his neck.

"I can see that! Did you decorate them?" He picked one up and offered her a bite before taking one himself.

“Yups!” She nodded. “Mama says Uncle Won and Aunti Zel will wike dem!”

"Oh, I bet they will, they're gonna be here later," he kissed her cheek. Then he turned to his right and kissed you tenderly. 

"How'd it go?" Your hands pressed into his chest. 

"Standard sentence for the DUI: fine and costs plus community service and a driving ban, no custodial or probation. But we expected that as it’s his first offense. Main thing is, not guilty for the possession," he said softly with a smile. “Which means we just ripped open an IA on the department.”

"Well, congrats BB, it all worked out. And judging by the early arrival, you're home for good now?"

“Yup.” He grinned and jiggled Lucy a little. “I’m done now until the 6th of January!”

You grinned, "Did you hear that, Lucy? Daddy-Rex is home for a lot of days!"

“Yay!” She cheered.

“So,” Andy set Lucy on the kitchen counter, “what else did my girls do today?”

"We cleaned up, made our cookies, had a Snowball fight!" You smiled.

"I gots Gwant. Den, he pushed me."

“He pushed you?” Andy gasped, as he reached to unwrap his scarf, “well  that’s just put him right on Santas naughty list!”

"Das what I says!" Lucy opened her hands up like she was saying 'I don't know.'

"Lucy, hop down and go wash so you can help me, okay?" You offered.

Andy gently dropped her to her feet, and she ran off with excitement towards the bathroom by the laundry room.

He took off his coat, dropped it over the back of one of the tall stools which sat under the breakfast counter and loosened his tie.

He snorted as he lifted his case to set it in the same stool, remembering what was inside, "the fahkin' elf."

"What was that?" You looked up at him.

Andy moved his case to the counter and looked at you, “open it…”

You dried your hands from your work and walked around to the stool. You clicked the locks on the top and opened the case. Then, you sputtered a loud snort that turned into a chuckle. "How...I swear I did NOT do that!"

“Well, if it wasn’t you, it was either that spotty little Asshole or Lucy.”

Knowing full well it wasn't Grant, you simply smirked and titled your chin as your eyes humorously looked at your husband.

“Ron sat the damned thing on the desk, in court. Then told the judge it was a new witness.”

Your jaw dropped as you tried to cover it, "oh no...." you started chuckling again.

“Thankfully, the judge saw the funny side.” Andy snorted.

"I'd hope! It's Callahan, right? Guy's got a crap load of kids and grandkids." You remembered the judge from Andy having had a trial previously with him.

“That’s the one.” He nodded, then spun round as Lucy came back into the room.

"Looby…." you smirked, "where's Pickles? He was here this morning..."

“Erms…” instantly she adopted the same guilty expression Andy wore when he’d been caught out and Andy grinned.

“Pickles has been in court!”

"I knows!" She giggled and put her chubby little hands over her grinning face. "He goes!"

“Did you put him in my briefcase?” Andy gasped, “I thought he climbed in!”

"I halps!"

“Well, he got to see the judge. Uncle Ron sat him on the table.”

“He did?” She squealed, “was you in tempt?”

Andy chuckled, "almost!"

You blinked, not quite sure how your nearly three year old knew what that was, let alone how to use it in the right context. But then again, she was bright as a button. Her vocabulary and self-awareness already streets ahead of what you’d expect of a child her age.

"Alright, Smart Bunny," you shook your head with a smirk, "I need your help with the snacks while Daddy goes and changes for Ron and Giselle."

“Otay…oh, I puts Pickles back first?”

"Yes," Andy thrust him in her direction, "He needs to think about what to tell Santa tonight about his day!"

As she took the elf, Grant sidled over, his tail wagging.

“No, Gwant!” Looby sternly told him. “Daddy, you ups so I reaches?”

“Absolutely.” Andy picked her up and crossed the dining area to the living space where the larger tree sat.

She reached and set the elf right on what Lucy had deemed the 'homes' branch next to a red bauble. Grant sat looking up, licking his lips.

"NO GWANT! Bad dog!" Lucy shook her finger at him. "No eats!"

“He can’t reach, baby.” Andy kissed her head, “don’t worry.”

You snorted as you heard, "I wouldn't trust that. He got all the way to the back of the counter this morning."

“He what?” Andy wheeled round.

"Yep," you popped your 'p'. "This," you indicated to the chicken and mushroom pasta bake waiting to go into the oven, "is the second one. Lucy and I had to go back to the market after nap." You glared at the dalmatian.

“Fur coat…” Andy grumbled.

"Today, I'd agree." You snorted.

Andy headed up with a shake of his head to change and decompress from the day before Ron and Giselle were to arrive. It felt damn good to keep the laptop closed for at least a week and ignore important emails for just as long. He hung his tie and shirt, ready for the cleaners as well as his suit pieces. He slipped into dark jeans and a thin sweater, keeping his undershirt from the day on. 

You heard his boots thud along the stairs as he came back down to join you and Lucy.

The three of you prepared the rest of the snacks and the accompanying sides to the pasta bake. Lucy then had her dinner, and Andy took her upstairs for a bath and to change into her pajamas ready for the evening. 

"No bed," she argued as he slipped her snowmen sleep shirt over her head.

“No, not yet. You can stay up and see Uncle Ron first. Maybe open the presents they’re bringing if mama says you can.”

"Oh... Can I seep wif Daddy Wex and Mommy?"

“I tell you what, you can go to sleep in our bed with the tv on and then I’ll move you later on, okay?”

"Otay, Gwant comes?”

“Yeah, Grant can sleep with you.”

She grinned, "Ups, peas, we goes!"

Andy chuckled, “want me to carry you or you wanna ride on my back?”

"Back!"

“Alright, robe and slippers on first.”

"'tay," she slid off her bed, feet first with her belly to the duvet.

She slipped her little feet into her Rudolph slippers that Pickles had bought one morning and then Andy held out her little dinosaur robe.

"Danks, Daddy Wex." Then Lucy gasped, "Daddy!"

"What, Bunny?"

"Oh nos! I forgot!"

Andy crouched down, "hey... Lucy what is it?"

"I fogots my assdent!"

Andy tried not to laugh, “that’s okay, we’ll open it now.”

"Okay..."

“Now…” Andy swiveled round, “hop on…”

He grunted as she did, then stood and tossed her a bit so he could settle her evenly, causing her to giggle. At the same time, he thanked whomever that she was still tiny, or he'd be fucked with his old man back.

“Lessgo Daddy-wex!”

With a roar, Andy jogged out of her room, causing her to shriek and giggle. You heard their laughs and giggles before his feet touched the stairs to come down and just as they hit the first floor, there was a knock on the door. Grant barking to make sure they were all well aware.

"Deys here! Dems here!"

“Well let’s go let them in!” Andy exclaimed back, bouncing to the door.

He opened the inside door to the porch first, Lucy still on his back and then he swung the heavy oak outside one inwards.

"Uncle Won! Auntie Zel!”

“Well, hi!” Ron beamed, as Lucy bounced on Andy’s back.

“Come on in outta the cold!” Andy chuckled, stepping back. He crouched so Lucy could slide off his back.

“Lemme get inside, pipsqueak!” Ron chuckled, “get these bags down so I can give you a hug!”

The greetings were spread between all and once the excitement died down and Lucy showed Giselle everything, she had in her advent for the fifth time, they'd settled in the living room by the fire.

“Bunny, did you open your advent for today now or did you forget again?” Andy asked.

"Aun Zelle halped! Penny gots me dis!" She held up a toy so close to his eye that he needed to lean back to see it.

“Another dinosaur!” Andy grinned.

"Issa di.... Di..." 

“Diplodocus…” Andy said, pronouncing it carefully so Lucy could copy.

"Diplodikis"

“That’s it. Hi five!” Andy grinned.

Ron found the mispronunciation hilarious while and Giselle rolled your eyes.

"Alright, Looby Loo, you get to open your gifts from us, and then I heard Pickles say it was bedtime," Ron sighed.

Lucy opened her mouth to argue but a look from Andy stopped her impending protest dead.

“Remember what we agreed upstairs, bunny.” He spoke softly but firmly.

"Yes," she sighs a bit.

“Come on…it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, we got a big day!”

"What's we do?"

“Well, we got breakfast and the last Advent day, then we’re gonna take Grant for a walk by the creek, build a snowman. Then we’re gonna help Mommy get things ready, before we go to Patti’s for dinner and watch the Carol singers. Then it’s home, and we make sure Pickles is ready to go back to the North Pole with Santa!”

"Santa! I sees him near Patti's," Lucy grinned as she took an outstretched gift from her Godfather. "Fanks!"

She flopped down as she started to unwrap the first present, but then paused halfway through ripping off the first bit of paper

“How’s comes dese presents here?”

“Well, you see, Santa brings some presents, but friends and family, well they buy each other things too.” You smiled, running your hand over her head. “So, Uncle Ron and Auntie Giselle bought these for you. And in a minute, you can give them their gifts from us.”

"Oh...." she drew out.

She continued and squealed as she unwrapped her gifts, which formed a set of new art supplies, complete with a wooden box with her name on to keep them in.

"I wuv dems! Fank you!"

“You’re very welcome, honey.” Giselle caught her hug before she then ran to Ron.

“Merry Christmas, my little squish monster!” Ron hugged her tight.

After exchanging the adult gifts, Looby was ushered round to say goodnight before Andy carried her upstairs.

That gave you the chance to invite Ron and Giselle to the dining area to take their seats so you could eat.

The hour was late by the time things were consumed and cleaned up. Giselle helped you, despite Andy's protests that he and Ron should be doing it. Even Giselle told Andy to piss off as she found it to be the perfect point in time for 'the two of you to have your cigars and scotch'. 

She stirred the mulled cider and inhaled the aromatic scent that made one's heart warm and fill with a delightful holiday spirit. "So, what'd you get Andy for Christmas?"

“A long weekend in Vermont, towards the end of January.” you smiled. “Ron helped me, said he’d wangle the diaries. Booked us a cabin. Lucy’s going to my parents.”

"Oh, how lovely! You two deserve a trip like that. A log cabin, big fire, skiing! Ugh, we haven't done that since Ronnie's hip replacement. Old fart seizes up as soon as it hits forty*.”

You chuckled, “you know I’ve never been skiing. Andy has, not for a while.” You smiled, “and, then from Lucy…” you grinned, “I booked them one of the experience days at the museum, you know where they do the special dinosaur days and tours?”

Giselle grinned and opened her mouth to answer you, but you suddenly felt extremely warm and a little bit funny.

"Y/N?"

“I’m fine just…it’s a little warm, that’s all.” You waved Giselle away, “been feeling off for a few days.”

"Well, here, sit," she guided you to one of your bar stools. "I'll finish these." She grabbed you a glass of water.

“Thanks…” you sat down, glancing over to where Andy and Ron were sat. Neither seemed to have noticed. 

After a few sips of water, you felt better and were thankfully able to participate in the rest of the night.

But something was niggling in the back of your mind, and you couldn’t quite figure out what.

*****

Christmas Eve morning had you slowly starting the morning. And that was despite Andy's plans of a big busy day.

But no worries, it was a lazy breakfast, more brunch really, and then you set off for a walk. Andy made good on his promise, you built a snowman the three of you before heading home and warming up with hot chocolate and a snack.

Then, you loaded into your jeep and headed back into Boulder. You let Lucy give Patti the small gift you’d bought for her, and in exchange she was very happy with the dinosaur book Patti gave her. 

Then, after your burgers and fries you went out onto the square full of little Christmas market stalls, to wait for the Carol service.

Lucy and Andy were busy examining something at one of the stalls when you glanced around, and it suddenly hit you. What that nagging feeling had been.

You moved towards Andy and gently stood on your toes.

“One last thing I need to pick up, won’t be long…”

“Alright…” he leaned down, giving you a quick kiss.

You shot off across the square, slipped into the shop in question, leaving less than five minute late with your purchase stuck in your inside pocket. You needed another quick pit stop, before you returned ten minutes after you had left.

“Looks, Mommy!” Lucy excitedly waved a little wooden tree ornament at you as you reached her and Andy. “Is a daddy wex!”

“Oh, wow!” You beamed. “That’s amazing!”

“We got three!” Andy grinned. “A daddy rex, a mommy rex and a Looby saurus.”

“Hmmm, that’s great.” You beamed, “but…well, you might need to add another.”

"What?" Andy looked as if he hadn't entirely heard you.

You reached into your pocket, dipping your chin into your scarf a little and pulled out the test you’d just done. Thankfully, Lucy was too busy looking at the Carol singers who were now walking into the square with their lanterns to hear Andy’s exclamation.

“Holy fahking shit!”

You grinned. It was all you could do.

His nose was redder than seconds ago his eyes definitely not stinging from the winter air. He had no words, but you could see it on his face.

You'd just given him the third best gift of his life with you.

And pulled his hands from his pockets and quickly grabbed your face. His beard poked then tickled your cheeks as he kissed you, hard.

Lucy giggled, “kissy!” and you spluttered a bit as he pulled away.

“I know….we hadn’t planned another after Lucy, and…we’re gonna be a bit older than we both probably wanna be but…oh, Andy!” You couldn’t help the tears of happiness that pricked your eyes, “another baby!”

He grinned and pulled your face to his again. "I love you, fahk, I fahking love you much, baby."

You spluttered, allowing him to kiss you again before a yell of protest came from Lucy.

You broke apart quickly with a wet laugh from you both. Andy spoke first his voice able to carry over the growing crowd.

"What's the matter?"

“I no sees ” She looked up at you both, pointing to the singers who were now stood ready to start on the small makeshift stage in the middle. Her woolly hat slipped down over her eyes and Andy chuckled. He lifted her up into his arms, righted her hat and gave her cheek a huge kiss. 

“Shoulders, peez!”

He grinned and tossed your daughter in her rightful place. Once she was settled, and her holding on, Andy looked down at you again.

His free hand cupped your jaw while his fingers carted through your hair and around the base of your head. "Here we go again," he grinned and bent as far as he could without losing Lucy.

You pressed up on your toes and met him the rest of the way, a final searing kiss to your lips as the opening carol played.

"Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly singing o'er the plains

And the mountains in reply

Echoing their joyous strains...."

He hadn't seen you walk in, hell, he never ever heard the door to the joint open or Vinny, the bartender greet anyone. But your voice, the tone and cadence made Andy jut his chin just a centimeter in your direction.

“Usual, Vinny.” You smiled, settling at a stool a few away from him.

"You got it, sweethaat." The guff and grumpy man crooned in his New England baritone. "No glass tonight?"

"Nope," you'd replied.

Andy's brows bent in a frown and he turned just a bit more to eye you from the corner of his eye. You were dressed professionally, a skirt and suit jacket. You looked like a corporate women, straightforward and if he was honest, fucking uptight. Your hair with not a strand out of place, your shirt pressed and jacket dry-cleaned. It hung over the back of the bar stool as your legs crossed in front of you. He eyed your peep toe pumps, no stockings, red toes peeking out.

You turned your head, as of sensing his gaze.

You weren't even shy about checking him out. Your eyes started at his dress shoes. Expensive, you thought. Then his wonderfully tailored suit, his jacket on, unlike yours. Striking features like the well-kept beard you would mind having between your legs or that well cut and styled hair fisted in your hands. But what spoke to you most were the color of his eyes. That striking blue that stood out in the darkened bar, the navy suit adorned to his frame. You took a good look at his hands, the way they sat on the bar top, fingers picking at that label. And, no ring. Not even a pale white circle where one could have been or used to be.

You gave him a twitch of your lips in a smile, making it at least awkward for your gawking but you truly smiled at him with your eyes.

His lips twitched in response and he inclined his head slightly towards you. He intrigued you. But Vinny passed your beer over and the moment was through. You thanked Vinny for the beer and wrapped your bottom lip around the bottom of the whole and your upper rested over it just enough to take a pull of the hippy fizzy brew.

“Rough day?” Vinny chuckled as you gave a sigh.

“Something like that. Couple of flashy assholes competing over who’s got the biggest dick. You know, the usual stuff.” You rolled your eyes.

"Sounds about right," he chuckled. "Let me know when you're ready for your next."

You nodded and then took another sip of your beer. Today had been a shit show, one you really wanted to forget. “Hey, Vinny?”

"Yeah, doll?"

“Mind if I order a pizza? I haven't eaten since breakfast, and even that was pathetic.”

"Banana and coffee on the run again?" He chuckled knowing you couldn't deny it. "You want cheese and tomatah?

You winked, “yeah…get yourself something, it’s on me…” you then turned to the man to your right, “you want some pizza? Burger? Something?”

"Me?" He seemed shocked.

"Mmhmm," you nodded.

"Uh, sure, pizza, Vinny."

“Usual, Mr B?”

"Hold the garlic tonight," he chuckled. Vinny disappeared and you took another sip of your drink. "Thanks," Andy nodded and tipped his beer to you. "Tell Vinny your next one is on me."

“The next one, huh?”

"It's a start," Andy smirked. "I usually end up with a scotch before I call it a night."

“Ahhh I thought you mean to the next pizza.” You chuckled.

"No," he chuckled. "Vinny's pizza," he held his fist to the left side of his chest, "one's good for me or the heartburn sets in."

“Yeah, but after a shitty day sometimes it’s the only thing that hits the spot.” You grinned, “I’m, Y/N, by the way.”

“Andy.” He replied.

“Nice to meet you, 'Mr B'.” You smiled back. You got up from your stool and scooted to the one next to Andy.

He looked a little taken aback but quickly recovered. 

“I could go with the usual line about whether you come here often…” his Boston accent was strong and you laughed.

“More often than I should, not usually on a Wednesday though. I tend to prop up at the end of the bar on Fridays.”

“Ahh, well that’s why I haven't seen you before.” He reached for his beer. “I’m normally back in Boston by then.”

"A commuter," you sipped your beer. "Can I ask what you do?"

“No, I’m not a commuter…I just, well I have commitments there.” He dodged your question, “not work related.”

“She giving you the fifth degree?” Vinny reappeared, “you wanna watch her, Mr B…she’s a-“

“Don’t you have glasses to collect or tables to wipe?” You turned to Vinny, cutting him off. If Mr Tall Dark And Handsome was keeping his cards to his chest, sowere you.

"Pizzas are out in about five minutes. You two need another round? Or you switching to the scotch?" Vinny eyed Andy.

"Scotch and pizza don't mix, Vin," Andy snorted. "I'll take another," he tilted his beer by the neck, "and out Y/N's next one on my tab."

“Same again.” You smiled. “When I’m ready.”

Vinny scoffed, “I'm gonna ban you one day…”

"No, you won't." You chuckled.

When the pizzas came, Andy and yourself tucked in. And two more beers later, conversation started flowing a bit better between you. You found out he lived on a reasonably new estate, five or so minutes drive from you, that he had moved from Boston roughly a year or so due to personal circumstances but you didn’t pry. If he didn’t want to divulge, that was up to him. Instead you talked about television, movies, music, food. Shit that was completely superficial but also fun to discuss. 

After five a piece, Andy was feeling good. He looked to you and asked in wonder, "you like tequila?"

"Thought you were a scotch guy, Mr B."

“I like to expand my horizons every now and again…”

You then bit your lip, “fuck it, I’m not back in the office until Monday so…why not.”

"Atta girl," he winked.

He waved Vinny over, "Vin, you still got that bottle I gave you from Mexico?"

"Sure do. Haven't opened it yet."

"We'll take two."

“Sure thing, seeing as it’s your bottle, want me to leave it?”

"Why not." Andy smirked. 

Vinny nodded and reached up top for the blue and white bottle of Reposado. It was a relic from Andy's past. A trip he'd rather forget. But, tonight, you seemed fun and why not, fuck it. He was horny as fuck, his balls were blue and he hadn't fucked his hand in weeks.

“Reposasdo…” you nodded, “nice.”

"Picked it up on a trip a few years ago."

“Mexico, I assume?” You asked and he nodded. “Haven't been in a while.”

"Mmhmmm," he finished his beer.

Vinny served up the tequila and set one each in front of his patrons. He left the bottle where it was and Andy slid the shot glass toward you.

"To Wednesdays.." You saluted.

“Wednesdays…”

It burned as you necked it, and the memories came flooding back. You, your ex, moonlight…

For Andy the smooth Jalsico born, $160 Reposado went down nice.

Less and less patrons were around, the bar quieter as the hour passed. Vinny left the two of you be and went about beginning to close up.

Vinny had gone as far as turning the chairs on the tables so he could clean the floor.

"You know, I gotta say, you're looser than I thought." Andy snorted. "I pegged you as uptight and couldn't let your hair down."

“Oh, I can let my hair down…I just have to put on a front at work, ya know. Surrounded by men all day, all of whom tend to need to do less work then me, for more money than me…I don’t act like one of them, I’ll get left behind even more.”

Andy laughed, “okay, okay, I get it…”

“Do you?”

“Well, alright, maybe not, I am a man…”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Joking aside, the whole gender gap thing, sucks balls.” Andy shrugged.

“Unless you’re willing to, of course…” you popped a shoulder. “In which case…” you raised your hand, whistling slightly, “straight to the top.”

Andy grimaced, “oh, c’mon!”

“It’s true!” You snorted, “so everyone thinks. Even if I did get to the top, on my own merit, someone would assume it’s because I’d bounced my way around each corporate dick in my firm.”

Andy blinked, before he burst into laughter, and you grinned, before you too laughed. It wasn’t that funny, but you carried on, the pair of you giggling away.

The more you chatted, the more you drank. The two of you weren't drunk, but you certainly weren't capable of driving home. In each of your heads, you knew that tomorrow would be awful.

But, in turn, your inhibitions started to dwindle. You thought nothing of touching his arm, didn’t flinch when his hand fell to your bare knee. In fact, it sent a little heath through you.

Andy was also feeling not only the Reposado but whatever it was that was going on. And, it felt good to feel the way he was right now. Warm from liquor and semi-hard from you. You’d absolutely sparked his interest.

Even if it did turn out to be a onetime thing. So what? He was single…and so far, you’d made no indications that you weren’t.

So, after the last shot of tequila was done, he went for it.

"You wanna get outta here?" 

You didn't even hesitate."Yeah...I do." Your short nod confirmed the statement.

Andy's eye darkened, as you smirked, your eyes staring forward towards the back shelves of the bar, coyly avoiding his gaze. "Vinny, can I get the tab? Add Y/N's to it, please."

"You don't need to do that." You argued, turning to him.

"I don't need to, but I'd like to."

"But I offered you the pizza."

"Alright, drinks on me, Vinny," he snorted, "pizza on hers."

You smirked and tipped your head towards him. 

With the tab paid, the two of you walked outside. Andy tucked his hands into his slacks.

"I'm going to be fahking forward," he snorted, "my place of yours?"

You bit your lip. “Erm…”

"Yeah, I'm...fahk, I'm so sorry, that was pathetic," he scolded himself. "It's been a long, long time since I've come on to someone."

“Hey, no…I’m…I'm flattered…” you blinked, “and just trying to figure out whether mine or yours is safer to stop you murdering me with an axe.”

"I've used a crowbar once," he shrugged.

“Really?”

"No, I mean yeah, sorta, but it wasn't what it sounds like. The guy was... he was a bit odd in the neighborhood, on my street. It was more to protect myself, than threaten."

“Hey, calm down…” you chuckled. “I was joking.”

"Oh," he chortled.

“My place?”

"Alright." He nodded, clicking the lock on his Audi to double check and just in time too. The Uber he seemed to have ordered had just pulled up.

"What were you going to do if I said no?" You smirked as he opened the door for you.

"Waited for another one," he answered honesty.

“Another woman?”

“No! Another-“

“Again, I was joking!” You nudged him.

Andy chuckled and shook his head. He closed your door and came around to the other side. He slipped in beside you and shut the door as you gave the driver your address.

“So…I don’t normally do this…”

"Neither do I." He sighed. 

“But I guess…I mean, we know each other’s names so we’re not total strangers. Right ?”

"Do you want me just to take you home? It's okay if you do. My ego might be a little bruised, but I'd be fine." Andy assured you.

“No...I…oh hell…” you shook your head as you grabbed his face.

That beard in your palms was softer than you expected. Your nose was filled with the aftershave that smelled as expensive as he looked. It was a blend of sandalwood and cedar, earthy in tone and manly. He'd outwardly moaned the moment your fingers carted through those bristles and you cared more for the sound than the fact that you were mingling the tastes of pizza, beer and tequila. You mumbled your address to the driver before your lips met his. A soft, tentative kiss to test the boundaries. 

Andy waited patiently, maybe seconds before his hands were at your waist and he was hoping the driver would get there quick.

You kissed him back. It was slow at first but you gladly directed the pace. Like two teenagers on a date, you made out with the man from the bar until the driver pulled up to your place.

You went to your purse and Andy quickly placed his hand on yours. “Let me.”

You nodded. "I'll just get my keys then."

You climbed out and fished in your bag. Andy followed you to your front door. He waited patiently as your key found the lock.

Eventually, your door swung open and you stepped inside your narrow hallway. 

Andy hadn't even walked in behind you more than a couple of feet and you dropped your bag on the entry table and spun to face him on your heel. Your lips crashed against his in a fiery, forceful kiss. 

He gave a little huff of surprise as he reached backwards with his foot, kicking the door closed.

Again, your hands were in his beard as his were quickly getting to collar of your jacket. He shoved it down over your shoulders, and you shucked it down your arms and off to the side.

As you kept a backward walk down your hall, you kicked your peep toes off and Andy had to gruff as he bent a bit while you shrank a few inches.

“Sorry…” you mumbled against his lips, your hands now pushing at his jacket.

"I'sokay...." he took the hint and helped getting rid of it.

Next you reached for his tie, which was already loose, top button popped open.

"Where's your room?" Andy took a breath against your lips.

"Up the stairs, second right." 

"Show me.."

You pulled back a little, biting your lip as you stepped away. Your hand took his. You led him up the stairs, his eyes on your hips as they swayed with each step. At thelanding, you looked over your shoulder to see Andy's eyes roaming your body, his tie very crooked and two more buttons undone, a white tee revealing itself. You caught his eye, smiling a little and he returned the gesture. Stepping into the second doorway on the right, your room revealed itself.

Your four post bed, the monochromatic bedding and decor, the crisp and cut lines of the artistic photos on the wall. It made Andy's mind think and his eyes darken that you, too, were in need of a good fuck. Nothing soft about you, rigid and needy for a good railing.

You turned back to face him, watching his eyes scanned the room. "See something of interest?"

“I was just…just taking in the decor….”

"Hmmm," you unzipped that pencil skirt and it fell away, dropping to your feet. Stepping out, you kept your button down on, sliding back along the edge of your bed. Your legs hung down, toes pointed. You rested the palms of your hands at your ass on their side, leaning a bit back.

Andy was quick to discard his tie completely, before he undid the rest of his buttons.

You sat up and undid your own, eyes never leaving Andy's. The pace seemed to have slowed, but there was an air of seduction as well.

Eyes scanned over your top half as you shrugged the shirt off. The skin toned lace set you wore and now revealed made his mouth water. And in a quick beat he seemed to have thrown caution to the wind and whispered 'yeah, fuck it'. In a quick step, Andy closed the space between you as your face filled his hands and his tongue filled your mouth. 

Your back hit your mattress as he caged you in with only his legs and body bent over you. Your hands gently moved to his waist band and you tugged the bottom of his white tee. But as your fingers brushed his abs to undo his belt, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and quickly pushed your arm back to the mattress near your head.

He was most definitely the one in charge now.

You pulled back a little, blinking up at him.

"What do you like?" He rasped.

“I’m pretty okay with most things…” you kissed him again, “but I’m not completely in the mood for soft.”

A deep chuckle came in reply, "good, cause neither am I."

You flicked your brow as his lips met yours again. You were pinned down and didn't care, your tongue lashing along with Andy's. Your hips lifted against his thigh, your panties seeking friction as he still caged you in. Your right leg was trapped between his legs while your left bent to aide in your search.

His lips moved from your mouth across your jaw, that beard scratching as he nipped behind your ear.

"Fuck," you whimpered.

You felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin. That beard burnt down your neck, soothing lips trailing behind. Over your chest and as lips bit into lace for a hardened nipple, a hand released its binding from your wrist to squeeze a tit.

It had been a while since you’d felt like this, and you let out a soft moan as your back arched. You were happy to just let yourself go, live a little.

Andy kept at your body with his lips, back up the column of your neck with a flat tongue until he found your lips again. That free had that had cuffed your wrist now danced its fingers down your belly to the waistband of your panties and slipped right in. Andy gave a little sigh as he realized you were bare, no mound to skim over in search of your clit.

“Fuck…” you whispered, your hand making it’s way to his shirt once more. You wanted to see him without.

Andy sat back a moment, his entire body coming away then. He leaned back on his heels and stripped the shirt from his body, tossing it to the floor.

You shamelessly stared.

Cut abs, bulging shoulders and narrow waist. Full pecs with an intricate bird of prey on his right and a phrase over his left collarbone. His biceps were well defined and you felt soaked just from the thin smattering of well trimmed chest hair. 

Andy's brows flicked upward and he palmed himself in his slacks.

You popped a shoulder as you sat up and reached for his belt.

He let you, his fingers tucking a hair behind your ear and then hung at his sides.

You slipped the expensive leather through the buckle, then moved to the buttons of his trousers.  Again, Andy watched as your deft fingers made quick work of the button and zip.

Your hand dipped into his boxers, your palm was warm and soft as it wrapped around his cock. He hissed at the touch. It was far more delicate and lacked the callous of his own.

Your eyes watched his face as you gave a slight twist.

"Ugh, fuck," he grunted.

You tightened your grip, watching his beautiful face as his lips twitched He groaned as his eyes opened and looked down on you.

“Do you…do you have…”

"Yeah, bedside drawer."

“Okay…good…I don’t, that’s all. It’s errr, well been a little while.”

"It's okay." You say quietly. You were focused on him and the size of his dick. You pulled him all the way out and swallowed at the sight. He leaned forward, his lips claiming yours again. His hands slipped round your back, and he opened the clasp of your bra.

Your breasts were freed and the cool air of the room quickly peopled your skin and hardened your nipples. You pumped your hand along Andy's shaft and desired a taste. You pushed yourself up and onto your knees, bending your head towards him

He watched and waited for your pout to cover his head. Much like the way you drank that beer earlier, your lips encased the tip of his cock

"Fuck," he hissed and gave an involuntary snap of his hips.

Your hands automatically went to the front of his thighs, pushing lightly. 

"Shit, I'm sorry." He wemt for the back of your head. "I..."

You answered him by gripping the base of his shaft as you took more of him back in, at a more controlled pace. Andy couldn't remember the last time he had good head like now. Ages was what came to his dulling mind. But seeing you like this, your lips around him, fuck it was a stunning sight. You seemed to know just how deep to take him, how much pressure to apply, where to lick, where to suck…

"I'll fahking nut down your throat if you keep going likethat," he stated. He throbbed against your tongue and with a tug to the hair between his fingers, you pulled off.

You wiped at the corner of your mouth with your thumb, “can’t have that…”

"Which drawer?"

“Left nightstand, top one.”

Andy slipped off the bed, stripped the rest of his clothes and walked over. He pulled open the drawer and plucked a foil packet from its place. He tossed it to the side of the bed and grabbed your ankle, turning and pulling you in his direction. He wasted not a single second more as his fingers grabbed your panties and pulled them down and off your legs.

You watched him, your chest heaving as your hand rested between your breasts. His soft hands rubbed upward toward your knees and then your inner thighs. Andy used his palms to spread your legs open. Your sex dripped for attention.

You took a deep breath, watching him with darkened eyes. He took zero hesitation as his mouth opened over your slit. His tongue tested your clit, poking at it before swirling the tip of his tongue around it.

“Shit…” your hands gripped at the duvet beneath you, the feel of his mouth and that beautifully groomed beard between your legs was, simply put, amazing.

Andy sucked at your clit and folds, as if your sex lips were your mouth. His tongue lashed through each part with clean strokes. He was ridiculously good at it. And it made you wonder exactly how much practice he had.

"Fuck, I'm..." You were so close that your thighs began to shake. With a soft nip to the inside of your thigh, Andy moved away. "Nnnnnonono," you stammered, "what are you doing?"

“Imma fahk you.”

A gasp hitched your chest at the bluntness of his reply, and Andy took the foil packet and opened it. He plucked the condom from its casing and rolled it on his length. It'd been a long while since he'd used one, and he was secretly thankful he remembered how to put the fucking thing on to save for embarrassment.

You watched, entranced as those large hands made quick work as they rolled the sheath down his length.

His hands grabbed your hips with gentle force and steadied your ass over the edge of the bed. His right hand rubbed his cock along your slit and watched himself as he pushed into you.

“Oh…oh, god…” you choked a little. 

"Fahk," Andy growled. He breathed out a grunt as he stilled, allowing you to adjust and himself to not cream his condom yet.

You were tight, so fucking tight and warm. He felt you sucking him in without even moving. Your hands tweaked at your nipples as you grew more aroused. Andy was already in your graces for how he ate pussy but fuck he was well on to the top of your list for greatest fuck.

Not even your ex-husband made you feel this way with such little foreplay.

He was thrusting at the perfect speed, depth and angle. Each roll and snap of. His hips had you climbing higher and higher. 

"Fahk," he rasped. "So fahking good," he praised.

“Yeah…” you swallowed, “real good…”

He pulled out and rolled you to your belly. You looked back as you attempted to get on all fours but Andy had other plans. That big hand of his glided up your back to the base of your neck and curled his fingers around you. He gave a little push and down you bent, your forearms resting on your duvet. Your hips were raised high and Andy tilted you just enough that he could get in his own knees behind you.

Your voice stuck in your throat as he thrust back into you, the angle allowing him to go as deep as he could.

"Oh fahk," Andy choked as he speared into you with an upper angle. His palms filled with your ass cheeks and he squeezed you good. You cried out in pleasure as he kept pace but you wanted, no you craved more.

"Harder..." You begged.

His reply was a grunt, and he obliged. Pistoning into you, a feral growl from him as you whimpered in pleasure, you knew neither of you were going to last. You wanted to see his face, you wanted to watch him cum as he saw you do the same. But this angle, this ferocity, it was so fucking good.

“I’m close…” you warned, your voice a gasp.

"Wanna see you," Andy moaned. "Turn... Turn over."

You did as asked, falling a little ungracefully to your back.

Again, he filled you, but he caged you in, his nose brushing yours as his thrust and rolled. His arms held himself up, his palms near your head.

You lifted your shoulders a little to allow you to meet his lips.

One hand trailed down your side, his weight balanced on the other, and it ghosted over your side and behind to the small of your back. That open hand splayed over your spine, tilting your hips upward and you were done.

You came with a shudder and a cry down his own throat. You felt Andy still, a groan vibrating in his throat. Heavy breaths filled the space around you. The beat of two hearts clamoring to escape chested thudded loudly.

“You okay?” Andy broke the silence, his voice raspy.

"Definitely," you whispered. "Wow."

“Yeah..I feel like I should be thanking you or something…” he grinned

You giggled, "what the fuck for?"

“That…”

"Good sex that hard to find for you?" You kissed him.

"It’s…it’s been a while, like I said.” He conceded again.

You replaced a small strand of hair that had fallen from his perfect styling and softly smirked. "The bed gets a little cold this late. Could use some company…if you want."

"Better cancel the Uber," he joked. He bent his neck and kissed you. "Stay there, be right back."

You immediately missed the weight of his body and fullness of his cock as he pulled out. Andy crawled off the bed and headed for your bathroom. He returned with a warm cloth. He seemed to have discarded the condom and used the cloth to clean you up from the wetness between your thighs. Then, he pulled back your blankets and helped you in before sliding in next to you.

He kissed your neck and draped his arm over you. It was a comforting weight to feel. One you weren't used to but welcomed. When J...your ex-husband used to be done with you, he rolled to his side and snores away. You'd fallen asleep wrapped in Andy's arms.

But come morning, he was gone.

You found yourself a little disappointed, but at least he had the decency to leave a note in handsome scroll. He apologized for leaving, telling you he had to be at work for a tight morning schedule but to call him or text. He said he'd love to see you again. Then he signed it Mr B and left his number.

And you’d had to laugh, as you realised two things. You had no idea what the B stood for, nor had you called him by his name, Andy, once.

*****

Over the next few days, you flirted via text. Andy was outta town over the weekend, so there wasn’t a lot of communication then as he was with Jake, afterall. But, the rapport you had was easy going, neither of you broached the subject of doing it again, but he just had a feeling you would.

Nothing serious, just company and a fuck. It worked for him.

He was early to work on Monday morning, his time with Jake over for a couple of weeks. The teen stating he needed a break, most likely Laurie's doing. He'd not fought it, instead text you about Friday night this time over Wednesday, maybe even you could spend the weekend with him, preferably in a state of undress. That is if you were open to that…

For now, he had to shove all that to one side for he was in a conference room, organizing some notes and going through a few things with his client. Andy felt sorry for the twenty-one year old that sat in the chair next to him. He had made a serious lapse of judgement and found himself up for theft of a car, but Andy had proposed a settlement where damages and remuneration would be paid in exchange for criminal charges being dropped, in an attempt to keep another young man from getting lost in the system.

The DA had agreed, subject to the wounded party also agreeing and over the weekend, he’d had notice from a private firm that they’d been hired to act on behalf of the ‘claimant’ and requested a meeting on Monday morningto begin initial discussions.

He was in the middle of explaining to his client how things would likely go today, with it simply being an initial meeting, when there was a knock at the door. It was his secretary, informing him that the ‘opposition’ had arrived.

He rose to greet them, and stopped dead. Crisp, clean, and not a hair out of place, you strode confidently into the room. You had those pumps on again, but your toes were different, the color of wine over bright red.

The expression on your face went from netural, to surprised, and then your lips curved upwards in a slight smirk as you, too, recognized your opposition. You set your things down and turned to him.

"Good morning, Mr B…" you extended the greeting.

The dry ice was fogging, the spider webbing was strung, and the buffet was set with finger foods and rum punch. The gravestones were back lit in the yard and there may have been a dead body or two floating in your pool. Festive lighting flickered around the house including the bathrooms that were haunted with ghosts.

You were adjusting the corset you wore so tight in your boudoir mirror while Jake was just getting out of the shower. He'd spent the afternoon decorating your house after a morning on base with the team working on training and a weapons course.

Your mind was in turmoil. Whilst you were looking forward to the party, the first one you and Jake were throwing since you’d moved into his ridiculously large New Hampshire home a few months ago, there was one thing you were certainly not looking forward to. 

And that was him meeting your father.

You thought that maybe a party setting would make the whole situation more comfortable. You were definitely wrong. Very, very wrong. The anxiety was far too high. Now, not only were you subjecting Jake to said meeting, but you were setting yourself up for a potential scene caused in front of your friends and the Losers.

You weren’t close to your father; he had left your mom when you were a very young child and since then your relationship had been rocky for many reasons. You didn’t hold his political views, you didn’t appreciate his opinions and you certainly didn’t like his loud, obnoxious long-term girlfriend. All in all, you did as much as possible to see as little as you could of him and that side of your family.

A soft kiss to your bare shoulder brought you from your thoughts.

"Get outta your head," Jake spoke softly in your ear. His arms wrapped around from behind comfortingly. Again, he kissed your shoulder, moving to your spine. "It's going to be fine."

“You don’t know him, Jakey…”

“No, you’re right. I don’t.” He nuzzled at the spot behind your ear. “But he can’t be that bad, surely?”

“Trust me, he can.” You scoffed. “He’s nothing like my mom…he’s…well, he’s a dammed Trump fan for a start!”

“Everyone’s got an idiot in their family. Although I can’t think of who mine is…wait…” he froze, “does that mean it’s me?”

You couldn't help the giggle that bounced your chest. Then you sighed, "alright," you met his spectacle-less eyes in the mirror, "you better get ready. Sexy Alice needs her Mad Hatter."

He grinned, goofily at you in. “You don’t wanna make like white rabbits and be late?”

"I mean..." You shrugged, "always."

He was about to reply when you both heard your front door open and a familiar, loud voice boomed through the hallway of your home. 

“Yo, Jensen! Thought this was supposed to be a party!”

He snorted. “You’re early, Clay!”

"I want my key back!" You added with a shout.

Clay’s signature chuckle echoed as you heard his footsteps making their way to the kitchen.

“I’ll go say hi. You hurry up.” You turned to face Jake, giving him a quick kiss.

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted you.

You giggled and just left the room. You stepped down the stairs, across the hall and into the kitchen, seeing a very robust and tall Frankenstein with his Bride already fishing around for snacks and cold drinks.

“Hi!” You greeted Clay and Aisha, hugging them both in turn. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

"Glad to be here, doll," Clay smirked. "Where's Jensen?"

“Getting ready.” You smiled, “he won’t be long.”

"You guys did a great job," Aisha smiled, looking around at the decor and set up.

"Jake did most of it before when he got home. Work keeps me busy and gone. He needs something to fill is down time." You snorted.

Then, again, the sound of the front door opened, and you peeked over the wall to see Pooch and his wife stepping in.

"Have no fear, the party is here!" He announced joyfully.

You grinned and stepped over to say hi, and just as you’d finished complimenting Jolene on her perfect Zombie look, Jake had appeared.

"Holy shit, crazy is as crazy does," Pooch snorted. "My friend, I expect no less."

“Pooch, Mrs. Pooch.” Jensen grinned, tipping his hat. “I like your dress.”

"Why thank you," Jolene winked.

Right on the heels of Pooch's arrival, Cougar waltzed in as, as expected, Zorro. Loud laughs and giggles rang out as he grinned, swiping through the air with his fake sword.

Bit by bit, the house began to fill with friends and neighbors, the few relatives invited while the food was consumed and replenished. The bar overflowing with drink and merriment, the ghoulish rum punch near gone and its third fill to be had.

A few hours in, and you were starting to think that your father might not show up. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he has bailed when he’d made plans to show up.

And then you heard it, the laugh that you never enjoyed, the deep tone that sometimes wounded you without reason. He had arrived and in tow, his girlfriend. Both not in costume but dressed in matching his and hers tees that read 'this is my costume' in the front of hideous orange cotton.

You weren't shocked. Not really. Mind, you'd half expected them to arrive looking like Trump and Melania, so this you could handle. 

Still, a reflex action had you slipping your hand into Jake’s as he stood beside you, talking to one of your neighbours. His eyes shifted and he took notice to why you were gripping his hand with an iron fist. He squeezed your hand back and sighed. He then politely excuses the two of you to mingle until you were ready for the inevitable.

“Let’s just get it over with…”

"Charm offensive loading," Jake grinned and kissed the temple of your head sweetly. You turned to look at him and his lopsided smirk softened. “Look, baby, I know things ain’t great between you but…well, he’s here so…”

You simply nodded and took a deep breath as Jake led you over to your dad, who was currently eyeing Cougar with a little bit of suspicion. You inwardly groaned knowing exactly what his bigoted mind was thinking.

You cleared your throat and he turned to face you, along with his girlfriend who had a different hair colour to the last time you’d seen her.

"Dad," you said with little to zero confidence. "Thanks for coming."

Your father snorted, "seems a good time as any to check in on you."

"Hi, I'm Jake," he jumped right in with an extended hand. "I've heard so much about you." He smirked in a way that only those close to him was meant only as pure sarcasm.

“Wish I could say the same,” your dad shook his hand, “mind you, I ain’t heard much about anything recently. When was the last time we talked, Y/N, other than the monthly check in text?”

"Uh..." You struggled for an answer, "not that long, I don't think."

“Sixteen weeks, not that I’m counting.” You dad dropped Jake’s hand. “So, where’s your mom?”

“She’s on holiday with a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend.” Your dad sniggered. “She turned into a dirty dyke now?”

You inhaled deeply, "would it matter if she had? You don't want her. But, no, a friend from work."

“Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve…”  your dad scoffed.

“Well, in this case it would be Eve and Eve but…whatever.” Jake raised his brow as you stood there the nerve in your jaw ticking.

Your dad, however, simply laughed, as did the woman besides him and then he looked at Jake.

“So, from what little Y/N actually did bother to tell me about you, Jake, I hear you’re in the army…how the hell can you afford a place like this?”

“Dad!”

“It’s okay, I’m actually Special Forces," Jake gloated, declining to comment on the last part of your dads nosey assed probing.

"Hmmm, don't look too much like Special Forces," he judged, "are you the drone guy, seen no action?"

“I’ve seen my fair share.” Jake replied, his tone still casual, “took a bullet last time. According to the government I died too but…here I am.”

Your father frowned and harumphed. His girlfriend with the jet-black hair pushed through, "so, Special Forces, have you gotten to meet the President and First Lady? I know a handful of vets who have. He's such an amazing man, what he's doing for us here on our soil."

You inwardly groaned and thought, 'well there goes the neighborhood.'

“No, I’ve not met him. Or her.” Jake shook his head, “I have met President Obama though. He was cool. His wife was cooler, she gave me a cookie.”

"Cookies.. And you fixed their daughters' computers." You added.

Your father hummed, "so you're a tech guy?"

“Yes sir.” Jake nodded. “Master hacker and master of disguise.”

You smirked.

“Oh, and intelligence.” Jake added, looking at you. “Can’t forget the intelligence.”

"Interesting." Your dad nodded.

There was then a painful silence and thankfully, again, Jake rescued you.

"Well, welcome to our home," he emphasized the 'our', "the bar is in the kitchen and the snacks are along the counter and buffet. Help yourselves."

Your dad nodded, and then spotted another relative to speak to and you exhaled loudly as he walked off.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Jake said as you both watched him beeline for one of your cousins that you were still in touch with.

"He's only getting started." You groaned. "I need a drink."

“Hey, look…if he starts then I’ll just get rid of him. I mean I am a lethal trained killing machine,” Jake made karate moves work his hands and you snorted.

“Dork.”

"C'mon, I'll make you a Jensen Special." He took your hand and heads towards the bar in the kitchen.

Pooch and Clay were getting refills when Pooch glanced over at the two of you.

"What can I get a pretty lady?" He offered.

"She's getting a Jensen Special," Jake smirked.

Clay groaned, "Jensen, there's people here, leave it for bed."

Pooch laughed as he spoke, "Jensen Special? C'mon, Pooch has had the JS and the JS is nasty."

“Okay, imma bite. What is it?” Jolene asked.

"Remember as kids, we used to fill up the Slurpees with every flavor on the machine, it's like that." Pooch cringed, "a suicide."

“Yeah, it ain’t great…but it’ll do the job.” You giggled.

Jake grinned as if he'd earned a victory.

He made you one of his concoctions, which tasted kinda fruity in a strange way and then you set about mingling with the rest of your guests.

Another hour or so had past, and things seemed to be going well. 

Until you heard your dad’s loud voice, as he said something that made you physically cringe.

"I bet you're here on DACA. Enlisted to serve so you could stay."

You froze and turned slowly on the spot to see him talking to Cougar.

“Oh no…no, no, no…” you muttered to yourself.

Jake followed your line of sight and twitched his jaw.

Cougar was simply staring at your father, his expression blank.

"Oh, it’s the death look," Aisha stated.

"Pooch, Jensen, on me," Clay spoke calmly and quietly.

Now, you were worried. Body language said they were just going to listen, close enough behind them to pull Cougar back from your father if need be.

Your father, meanwhile, was completely oblivious. As Cougar stood there, not even responding verbally, he laughed.

“Don’t speak much English, huh?”

Again, no answer. Cougar was good at this game. The silent treatment, the brash berating of anti-immigrant bigots. He wasn't a stoic, expert marksman for no reason. His ability to be calm and statuesque made him perfect.

“Mind you,” your dad grinned, “least you’ll be the right side of the wall when it gets built, huh?”

"What side would that be?" Pooch popped in.

“This side, of course.”

"Do you think that's a fair approach? I mean, there are people in dire need of intervention and this country could help them." Pooch continued. "Wasn't this country founded on immigrants? People chasing freedom from their supposed oppression from the hierarchy."

“I’m all for immigration provided they contribute to society, but we should look after our own first.” Your dad simply shook his head, “I’m sorry if that offends the likes of you…”

“The likes of me?” Pooch raised his brow.

“Dad!”

“Yeah, you know…with your…ancestry.” Your dad ignored you and waved his hand flippantly.  You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Oh. Right. You mean because I’m black…so, I obviously originate on the African planes, yeah?”

At that, you saw Aisha glance at Jake and smirk as he gave her a goofy grin. What that was about, you have no idea, but you had no time to ask as Pooch continued with a laugh.

“Hate to break it to ya, man, but I’m from Massachusetts!”

"Okay, let's just move on, huh?" You tried to intervene. "This isn't the time or the place, Dad."

Your dad groaned, “you’re too woke, you know that? What happened to freedom of speech?!”

"Woke?" You snorted. "You're a little old for that vocabulary." There was a tone of courage in your words, but the scene was growing heavier. Your eyes darted between your dad, his girlfriend and the Losers. It wasn't going well, and you weren't able to read the room anymore. Your anxiety was beginning to spike as you felt the fear of rejection growing near.

“Who you calling old?” Your dad looked at you, before he gave a scoff. “You know I love you kid but man I don’t get your ideology at times…”

“You don’t need to,” you sighed, “looks, we have this discussion all the time. I don’t…” you stopped and licked your lips, “no politics…no more, okay? And…stop talking about walls and stupid government schemes you don’t know anything about…”

"I know enough."

“Well…whatever just stop, please.”

“I think little Alice is right," Clay stepped forward, his commanding staunch apparent. "It's time to move on or take a hike."

Your dad remained quiet, before he smiled broadly, “time we were heading off anyway.”

There was nothing else said and wondering eyes began to look away, the blur of the music that was tone deaf in your own ears became clear and once the door closed, your tear-filled eyes looked at Aisha and the Losers. Your fear remained at the forefront as you swallowed. You were preparing for the worst to come.

Jake said something to you, as Clay stepped forward to gently squeeze your shoulder. But the words didn’t register.

“I need…” you managed to stutter, “just need some air…”

"Alright, baby," he said softly, taking your hand. "Let's go outside for a bit." You nodded and barely noticed Jake excusing you both.

Your breathing was hard, painful even. Tears stung your eyes as the chilly October air hit your skin.

"Hey, hey, hey...." his warm hands cupped your face, the dramatic mascara that you wore dripped onto his thumbs. "Look at me, deep breath, baby. Breathe with me."

Your hands gripped his wrists as you struggled for air

"Whoa, slow, sweetheart, with me."

You blinked through your tears and your eyes locked on his. You concentrated on slowing your breathing, focusing on Jake’s counting. Within a minute or two, you were back under control, yet still incredibly anxious as your body shook and your eyes were glued to his.

“You, okay?” He asked softly.

"I don't know." You answered in a whisper and in honesty. "I... God, they hate me now don't they. Cougar must think I'm just awful because he’s, my dad. Sperm donor, really. But...oh Jake, you all probably just think the worst." You panic and anxiety rose again as your breathing began to once again take on a staccato pattern.

 “No, no, they don’t. I don’t.”

"You don't...they haven't...the look on their faces, Jake!"

“Your dad is not you, okay?” Jake looked at you. “Trust me, Clay told me to take care of you. Not that I needed telling but….”

You sniffed, unable to control the emotions. It was so hard for you. You had worried and agonized about how tonight would go, and it had gone how you feared. 

But Jake was there, in confidence, that he wasn't bailing. Not leaving like your father had, no leaving you after your inexperience and all things first times with him. You loved him and while you never questioned his love for you, his feelings, right now, this moment, anchored them.

“Forget about him, yeah?” Jake ducked a little to smile at you. “You can’t choose your family. You can, however, choose your friends, your partner. And you chose me so…we know your taste is pretty good.”

You spluttered a laugh. "I love you...so much, Jake."

“I love you too, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead softly.

You had a need to seek comfort, to seek a rush of something to grasp hold of reality. So, you tilted your chin upward just a bit as Jake's dipped downward to level out with your eyes. Your lips connected with his and your kiss was weighted, not harsh or desperate, but needy and with pressure.

He kissed you back, his hands sliding down from your face, over your arms, coming to rest on your hips.

You took a step back, your hands curled into fists filled with the lapel of his hideously orange coat with tails and brown trimmings. There was no one around, not in clear sight at least. The two of you had taken the side slider outside, just off to the side of the house.

Jake stumbled with you a little, your back pressing into the wall as he grinned. “You want me to take you to Wonderland, babe?”

"Yes." You breathed into him.

He wasn’t wasting any time. His lips moved down your neck, nipping at your skin and the swell of your cleavage which was amplified thanks to the corset top. He groaned against your skin as his hands gathered your skirt, bunching it at his waist.

"Fuck, babe, no panties," Jake groaned, "kills me every time."

“Didn’t see the need…” You were fumbling with the waist band of his trousers, your mouth seeking his out again. You had it undone in a snap of time, your hands working quickly to pull him loose and twisting your wrist around him. Jake quite literally gasped into your mouth, and you smirked at his reaction. You twisted again.

He touched your folds, slick from the quick foreplay and pressed your clit with his thumb. You gave a groan of delight and moved your left leg, so you were on the ball of your foot. Jake grunted as you kept up with his hand job, his tongue against yours with deep swipes that his grunt vibrated the tip of your tongue. His slick fingers tickled across and down your thigh until the crook of your knee. His hand gripped the back of it and hiked it to his waist. 

Your next move brought him close to your center, your own hand moving his tip over you. You tickled your clit with him, and your body gave a little tremble. 

Jake snapped his hips and you felt with the fist of your own hand how he slipped inside.

His hands gripped your other knee, and he hoisted you up, pressing you into the wall of the building.

Your corset snagged on the stucco, but you gave zero fucks as Jensen was about to fuck you good, real good.

His hips pulled back a little before he pushed into you again.

“Fuck, Jake..."

His hips were quick to settle into a rhythm, not too fast but not slow. Gentle, but hard enough to slide your back up and down the wall.

Your hands had purchase around his neck now. Your fingers clasped together in his shorted hair. You chanted praise and filth as he kept at you.

The ridiculous wig he was wearing fell off, along with his hat, but you paid neither any attention. Instead, you moaned as his teeth nipped at your neck, collarbone before he peppered hot, wet kisses across the top of your breasts.

A loud 'ah' left your throat as your belly was burning brighter and brighter, quickly too. "Jesus Christ, Jake, don't stop."

“Can’t…don’t wanna…” he grunted, his lips back on yours.

"Fuck me...fuck."

His hips sped up, his cock bumping against that spot inside you that sent you wild.

"Right....oh, Jakey…"

 “Jesus, Y/N…you’re squeezing me babe…” he gasped, “fahk…”

"I gotta…." you heard a voice nearing, but in your haze, you couldn't pin it. "Jake, I'm gonna...."

“C’mon, baby, s’close…”

Your ankles locked tighter, your entire lower half bringing Jake closer in a seemingly impossible space and deeper. You were just right there and when his teeth sunk into the junction of your neck and shoulder, you were cumming hard and very fast. You bit your lip to hold back the scream of pleasure that filled your lungs and jammed your throat.

Jake’s hands gripped at your knees tighter as he gave a little whimper, before his hips stilled. With a groan he gave a last few sloppy and shallow thrusts before he stopped, his face buried in your neck.

"Jensen...." Clays voice was loud and nearby.

You felt him grow rigid, and the pair of you looked at one another, eyes wide in surprise and shock.

“Oh shit…” you giggled a little.

"Fuck, hang on." He rushed in a breath.

You continued to giggle as Jake slipped out of you, let go of your legs and gently set you to your feet.

“Jensen!”

He stuffed himself haphazardly into his trousers as you attempted to rearrange your corset, but the stucco scratches would tell all. "Colonel, yeah..." Jake called to at least give you a second.

“What the fuck you calling me colonel for you dumbass?” Clay rounded the corner and Jake spin round, jamming his wig and hat back on his head.

“Because that’s what you are?” Jake offered, “erm…what…do you…what do you need, want?”

"The rum is gone." Clay stated.

You snorted and couldn't help, "why is the rum always gone," with your best Jack

Sparrow impression.

“Because Cougar just sank a mega pint of it.” Clay replied with a wink. “You okay, Kiddo?”

“Yeah, erm…about my dad, I-“

“Say no more,” Clay shook his head, “my old man was a total prick too.”

You gave a sniffle of a smile, and your eyes were expressively bright.

“And to be fair, Aisha’s dad was a drug baron who Clay popped in the head…” Jenson offered, “so…he was a pretty big asshole too.”

“That is true…” Clay conceded, before his eyes scanned down Jensen, and he smirked. “So…what were you two doing out here.”

At once you and Jensen both answered.

“Oh, Y/N…you know…”

“I needed some air…”

“She needed air…” Jensen nodded, “so…here we are…just takin in the stars…”

Clay glanced up, before he looked back at Jensen, a knowing smirk on his face. “It’s cloudy.”

“That’s just what we were discussing…” you added.