Fanfic Writer

Tom's brows furrow as he reaches the front door, turning the knob, expecting it to be locked as it usually is, only for it to swing open.

Stepping inside, his worry grows when he's hear how quiet it is. His fingers quickly moving to shut and lock the door before bending at the waist to untie and take his boots off. It's only habits and routine that has him putting his keys, wallet, and sunglasses away.

His feet leading him to the living room and his heart stops when he sees his girlfriend, arms crossed over her chest, breath hitching and eyes swollen from crying.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Tom."

The sound of his name in near sob has him flying over to her, hands hovering around her. "What's going on?"

Her bottom lip trembles, "It's uh, I had to take Lav to the vet."

His eyes move to the couch, where Lav should be curled up, soaking in the sun, if she doesn't get up to curl around his legs as he tries to take his boots off, but she isn't there and she wasn't there to greet him at the door.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her into him, lips pressing against her head as she buries her face into him. "She wouldn't get up this morning so I took her and," she sobs. "She's gone, Tom, she's gone."

"Oh, baby." He breathes, his eyes squeezing shut, trying not to cry with her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She's shaking in his arms and he holds her tighter, unable to imagine what she's going through. They've only been together two years, he's only known Lav for a little bit less, only living with them for a year now. But she's had Lav for seventeen years, since she was six years old. Lav saw her through the death of her grandma, her cheating high school boyfriend, high school graduation, came with her when she moved to go to college. She also saw her through meeting Tom, graduating college, moving in with Tom, and then moving again with Tom.

Tom and her had both been holding onto hope that she'd be there for when Tom proposed, when they got married, and maybe if they were really lucky their first child. His heart aches as he thinks about what Lav hadn't been able to see her through and it makes him wish he was there for La's last moments.

He wants to tell her she should've called the base, called his office number, and pleaded a family emergency. He would've left immediately and rushed to the vet's office, to be there for her, to hold her. He hates to think of her having to gather up Lav to take her to the vet's all on her own and then sitting by herself and holding Lav alone as Lav was put down. But he knows if he said any of that she'd remind him that she promised to only bother him on base if it was truly an emergency and that this wasn't an emergency, just a painful moment.

He takes a deep breath at his own thoughts, at her words echoing in his mind, 'it's not an emergency Tom, just a painful moment'.

"What can I do to help you right now?"

"Hold me and don't let go." She murmurs.

A knock on the door sounds out and Chuck nearly lunges off the couch, rushing to the door and having to fight to get rid of his large grin.

He knew exactly who it was, Walter not barking was a clear giveaway.

Opening the door, he forces himself to look concerned, eyebrows furrowing, head tilting to side slightly.

Her name easily leaving his lips as he ushers her inside.

"What's wrong?" He asks, wrapping an arm her shoulder and she instantly burrows into his side, a sob leaving her.

He watches as she shakily reaches into the pocket of her jacket, Orange's jacket, and pulls out notes, nine of them.

"I got another one of these." Her voice is a whisper as she hands them to.

"What are they?" He asks, taking them before having her sit down, joining her when her fingers reach out for him.

She shakes her head, unable to speak and then she's jumping as the sound of the door opens and closes.

Chuck looks over, before quickly reassuring her. "It's alright. It's just Orange getting home from work."

Orange pauses in the barely there entryway, "everything okay?"

Chuck looks at her, but she's looking at her hands, still shaking and Chuck looks back at Orange, quickly grinning at him, before frowning again, with a small shake of his head.

"She just got here. Handed me these." He holds up his hand, holding the notes. "Said she got another one."

"Oh," Orange also is now looking at her concerned. "Is it eviction notices? What is it?"

Chuck gives a shrug and Orange joins them on the couch, sandwiching her between them and they share a grin when her shaking stops at the feeling of both of them surrounding her.

The notes, all nine of them, are more than familiar, Orange and him had written them after all, but it does make anger well up inside of him at the thought of someone actually threatening her. Of someone scaring her.

"Wow." Orange murmurs when they get to the last one, the most recent one, the one Orange had snuck into her mailbox before leaving for work.

"Who does this guy think he is?" Chuck scowls.

"I don't know." She finally speaks. "I started getting them five weeks ago. I thought it was a joke at first, some sort of prank but then the fourth one," her breath hitches. "It mentioned," she sobs, unable to say it. "They've just gotten worse and I don't know what to do." Her shoulders are shaking and she's trying to brush away her tears. "You both said if I needed anything to ask and I need help. I'm scared."

"Of course we'll help." Orange says, hugging her, pressing her face to his chest so he and Chuck can exchange grins.

"We'll scare him off." Chuck reassures, patting her back.

"How?" She sniffles.

Orange pauses, "well," he stops, voice flattering. "No that's stupid."

Chuck's eyebrow raises at how he's going off script.

She pulls away from Orange, wiping at her eyes. "What is it?"

He looks bashful, a small blush coming to his cheeks, and it makes Chuck want to coo, pinch his cheek before planting a kiss on him that will turn him red all over.

"I was just thinking that if you were dating someone, or," he pauses, eyes flickering to Chuck and then back to her. "Or someone's, he might back off. It doesn't seem like they want to hurt you. And he might back off, seeing two guys dating you, protecting you, two guys he even mentioned."

Her eyes are wide, mouth open, as her own eyes flicker back and forth between them.

"It'd be fake of course." Orange rushes to say before she can say anything, and only Chuck can hear the silent for now. They both catch the flicker of disappointment on her face at that. "We just want to keep you safe."

Her face softens at Orange's last words. But her face quickly turns to look at Chuck, "and you'd be okay with that?"

"Of course. I'd, we'd," Chuck corrects. "Do anything for you and saying I've got a hot boyfriend and girlfriend for a while sounds more like a win to me than anything."

"Okay." She murmurs after a moment. "We can, we can fake date."

It's hard to hide their excitement, but they manage as they both hug her, their eyes locking, excitement clear in them.

"He's still looking." She murmurs, shoulders practically touching her ears as she tries to make herself as small as possible.

The two drivers in front of her both scowl and then Charles is gently grabbing her elbow moving her. Max switching positions with her, and Max instantly glares at the man who hadn't stopped looking at her, approaching her, being near her.

"You've said no, practically a dozen times now. Stupid," Charles starts to mutter under his breath, words, curses, she can't catch, but Max recognizes one if the way his lips twitch upwards is anything to go by.

"I don't know what to do." She groans, burying her face in her hands.

She feels one of them, most likely Charles, gently pat her arm.

"You could date someone." Max says and her hands fall away from her face, an odd strangled sound leaving her throat. He's no longer glaring behind her, instead looking at her, lips tugged upwards, but his eyes are serious. "He fucked off when I didn't stop glaring. He'd back off if you are with someone."

"Right." She scoffs, rolling her eyes, arms going across her chest. "Because I've got a boyfriend."

"You could always pretend to date someone."

Her eyebrows raise, looking at Charles, unable to believe that he's agreeing with Max about this. "I'm not doing a my boyfriend goes to a different school bit. I doubt he'd believe that."

Max and Charles share a look. "There's always the fake route."

"And your offering?" She looks at Max, surprised.

"We both are." He corrects and she looks over to see Charles nodding in agreement.

"He has been very persistent. Two might be better."

Her stomach twists a bit at Charles’ offer, at the offering of being with them both, but it'd be pretend, fake. So close to what she wants but incredibly far away.

"I don't know." She says, lips pressing together.

Another look is shared between the two.

Max speaks again, "We don't want you to get hurt. Just think about it, yeah?"

She laughs along at her aunt’s joke, ignoring the way tears are stinging at her eyes and how embarrassed she feels. She wants to leave, not just this small group of people but the house, the get together her dad had decided to hold. She wants to be back in her apartment or better, Jenson’s house, in his arms and his bed.

She can’t leave it, but after a few minutes, she excuses herself from the small group, and looking around, she can’t see anyone looking at her, she darts upstairs to her old bedroom.

As soon as the door closes behind her, tears start to fall. It makes her sniffle, head tilting back, fingers pressing under her eyes, trying not to have tear tracks on her face. Shuddering breaths leaving her as she tries to calm down.

The sound of the door opening startles her, hands falling back to her side, and she clears her throat.

“I’m okay.” She means to say but the words are stolen from her when familiar arms are wrapping around her before gently turning her in their grip. She practically collapses into his arms, face burying itself in his chest as a quiet sob leaves her.

His hand rubs up and down her back, lips pressing against the crown of her head. “What happened sweetheart?”

“My aunt, it’s stupid.”

He makes a noise at that and she presses closer to him, blood rushing to her face.

“She made a joke about how stupid I was for going to college, for getting a business degree of all things. Wasting money and time.”

Jenson scoffs, “it’s not a waste at all or stupid. I reckon she’s just jealous. You got all the brains and beauty. And you’re already successful, running your own business, you're just setting yourself up for more success.”

“Everyone laughed when she said it, nodded.”

That’s the part that really gets her. The way everyone had laughed and seemed to agree. That she was being stupid, that she's wasting money and time deciding to get a degree.

“Well, I’ve never particularly liked any of them.”

She laughs, head pulling back to look at him.

“You’ve gotten drinks with Bob before.”

“I was invited to get drinks with your dad, Bob was just there.” He corrects.

She shakes her head, smiling at him, and she watches as his face turns fond, smile gentle, eyes filled with love.

She nearly whines when his arms leave her but his hands are cupping her face, thumbs gently moving under her eyes, catching the tears that had gathered.

“Beautiful girl.” He murmurs, staring at her.

She sways closer to him at his words, head tilting a bit, and he gives her a gentle kiss. Lips fitting together perfectly and she can’t help but sigh into it, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

It ends far too soon for her liking but his hands move again, pulling her back into him, holding her, she easily goes.

Breathing him in, settles her, and she still doesn’t want to stay, would much rather leave, she doesn’t feel like if she sees everyone downstairs again she’ll cry.

“Thank you.” She murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.

“Of course. I saw you come up here, figured something happened.”

She hums, not wanting to leave his arms and with how he squeezes her tighter, lips again pressing to her head, she reckons he feels the same.

But the sound of a throat clearing startles them both. Her eyes flying open and they widen seeing her dad.

“Dad.” She breathes.

Jenson stiffens a little, but he doesn’t pull away from her, he just slowly moves until he still has one arm around her, but he’s also facing her dad. “Mark.”

He looks at them both before his eyes just settle on her. “I didn’t see you anywhere downstairs. Figured you were up here.”

She doesn’t know what to say to him, how to respond, and he steps into her room, no longer just standing in the doorway, and her heart starts to pound when he closes it.

“When did this start?”

“Five months ago.” Her voice is quiet and Jenson’s hand tightens on her waist at her response. But now isn’t the time for them to playfully fight about how long they’ve been together and she doesn’t think her dad would like hearing the words over a year ago right now.

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “Five months.”

She nods.

“He,” Mark cuts himself off, shaking his head.

“Mark,” Jenson starts and he’s cut off.

“No. You're one of my closest friends. One of the few people from that fucking circus I got close with and your, your with my daughter? My twenty-five-year-old? She’s twenty years younger than you. She’s a fucking kid.”

She makes a noise at that, protesting. “I am not. You don’t get to say I am a kid, dad. I am your kid, your child, but I am an adult and have been for seven years now. I even own my business, run it and everything. I’m putting myself through college. You don’t get to act like I’m a child.”

He looks at her surprised.

“We didn’t mean for this to happen.” Jenson says, taking advantage of Mark’s silence. “Honest. We both just felt something and now,” he stops himself, rethinking his next words. “It’s serious, Mark.”

“Bug,” She does a sharp inhale at the nickname, at the blatant attempt at pulling at her, “He’s so much older. Just think about it.”

“What was it you said to nana and papa, I don’t know what to say, she’s just perfect. We fell in love.” The blood drains from his face at her words. “You can’t tell me he’s much too old, not when I’m an adult and you weren’t even eighteen yet when everything with Ann actually happened.”

“Ann was thirteen years older than me.”

“That is not the argument you think it is. Ann was your manager and you were underage, I don’t give a shit. You and her might’ve sold a nice story about not meeting until you were eighteen, and that’s when everything happened, but nana and papa told me the truth.”

He manages to pale further at her words.

“Jenson might be twenty years older than me, but I am twenty-five, twenty-four when everything with us started. Things are very different.”

Silence fills the room, her dad still looks at her shocked, and she’s happy that his attention is fully focused on her. She can’t imagine Jenson would have been able to express surprise or shock at information he already knew.

“Okay.” He finally manages to say. “I-, just give me some time, to think, to get used to it.”

She gives a small nod. “Okay.”

Charles watches as Ollie’s face completely changes as he glances over at her laptop. The large grin, practically glittering eyes, gone in a flash. Replaced by a tight frown and eyebrows furrowed. He’s also now leaning towards her, looking at her closely.

It makes Charles lose his grin as well, leaning forward as well.

He’s never seen Ollie be protective before, not even when walking into the paddock with her, but it’s easy to see that he’s in protect mode now and it has Charles there as well.

“That’s during a race weekend.”

Her lips thin as she presses them together, closing her laptop. “Ollie,” She starts.

“We talked about this.” He interrupts. “If you're going to go see them alone, I need to be able to get to you or be available for you to easily get to. And you shouldn’t be seeing them alone.”

Charles’ eyebrows raise at how Ollie is talking to her and how she’s letting them. She never lets them just tell her what to do. It makes him want to stop Ollie, tell him to calm down, squeeze the back of his neck, but she doesn’t look upset with Ollie, just tired.

“I know. But, they asked me to visit.”

Ollie looks geared up to say something else, but Charles’ confusion is too strong.

“Why is it a problem if she visits whoever?”

Her face softens as she looks at Charles and he smiles at her, reassuring. “My family. We aren’t on good terms.”

He nods, encouraging her to go and ignoring Ollie who looks like he’s swallowed something sour.

“They can be temperamental.”

“Abusive.” Ollie corrects, with a small glare to her and Charles flinches at the word.

“What?”

She sighs, shaking her head at Ollie before looking at Charles who looks utterly heartbroken by what Ollie said. The sight makes her frown and she moves from her chair, easily sitting in his lap.

He clutches at her immediately and pressing close to her and she runs a hand over his back.

“Ollie isn’t wrong.” She doesn’t like to think about her family and their treatment of her and it burns at her to label it as abuse even though it is.

“Now that I’ve moved out it’s better, but anytime I visit, it’s a lot of yelling, insults, threats.”

“Things getting thrown at you.” Ollie adds when she doesn’t, still not having forgiven her for not calling him when she had to go to the hospital to get stitches and glass removed from her head after a vase got thrown at her head and she hadn’t been able to dodge. She hadn’t been back alone since.

“It used to be physical.”

Charles doesn’t phrase it as a question, but she answers like it is. “Yes.”

His eyes close, a curse leaving him. “And you want to go visit?”

He doesn’t understand, can’t, and her next words confuse him more. “Not really.”

“Then why?”

She gives a small shrug, “I don’t really feel like I can say no when they tell me to visit.”

Ollie makes a choked sound at her admission, not having known she felt that way about it. Before when he asked why she wanted to go back, she also said that she had cousins that weren’t too bad, she wanted to just visit the place, not the people. She had never said that.

Her words have tears stinging his eyes as he moves closer to her and Charles, carefully touching her face until she’s looking him in the eyes.

“You can absolutely say no. You can say no to anything. Don’t go back and continue to hurt yourself because you feel like you have to. Please.” Ollie pleads.

“Listen to him.” Charles' voice is quiet, barely a mutter. “Listen to yourself.”

And that breaks the dam, a heart-wrenching sob leaving her and her whole body shakes. Ollie’s arms wrapping around them both as she continues to shake. “I don’t want to go back. I never want to go back.”

She winces when she hears Robby call her name, voice thick with concern. Turning around, her eyes linger on his crossed arms before she forces them up.

“Everything alright?”

She nods quickly. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

“What’s going on over here?”

Blood rushes to her face as Abbot wanders over, standing next to Robby, both of them looking at her.

“You aren’t working a double are you?”

“No.” She laughs. “I already did my hand off, I just need to go to the fifth floor.”

She watches as both of their eyebrows furrow, but understanding dawns on Robby’s face first and he’s ushering the three of them into an empty room.

“Heat assistance?”

Her eyes fall to the floor, more blood rushing to her face, as an alpha, a good-looking alpha, an alpha she struggles to not bare her neck to, asks about her heat. “Yes.”

And then Abbot hums before speaking and she wants to fall through the floor. Because it wasn’t enough for her to find one alpha attractive but two. “You doing okay?”

The concern in his voice has her eyes raising, offering them both a small smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just,” she pauses, wondering if she should really say anything to them, to what are her two co-workers, but they both give her an encouraging nod and there’s nothing embarrassing about it other than her body failing her. “My heats have become painful.”

They both wince at her words.

“I’m sorry.” Robby says and she smiles.

“It’s okay, but nothing is touching the pain anymore, not toys,” her eyes flickering to the floor as she utters that word and missing the want that flashes across both of their faces. “Or the prescription pheromones.”

“Shit, sweetheart.”

She thanks everything that her scent patch hasn’t worn off. She could only imagine how much the smell of her want would flood the room if she wasn’t wearing it all from Abbot calling her sweetheart.

“It’s alright, Dr. Abbot.”

“Jack.” He corrects, like he’s done before and this time she nods.

“It’s alright, Jack.”

He smiles when she says his name and her eyes flicker again to the floor.

“I talked to my doctor, she suggested getting some assistance for my heat instead of spending it alone. A system reboot, she called it.” And she can’t but laugh at the phrasing again. “I don’t love the idea of spending my heat with a stranger, but I also can’t handle the pain anymore.”

She isn’t sure what she expects for them to say to that, other than sorry again, or maybe she expects both of them to tell her that the hospital has a great heat assistance program, because it does, and she’s heard them both tell countless omegas that before.

She doesn’t expect the way they both share a look, something she can’t even begin to decipher before looking at her.

“We’d be willing to help you.”

Her mouth opens and closes, no sound escaping it as she processes their offer. “What?”

“What Jack is trying to say is that, if you would like, we’d happily assist with your heat.”

“Together?” Her eyes go back and forth between them. “I’ve never heard of two alphas sharing an omega in heat.”

“It’s fairly uncommon.” Robby agrees. “But, and to put all our cards on the table, we both like you and as I’m sure you’ve picked up on Jack and I are fond of each other. We wouldn’t be fighting over you or for you. Maybe some posturing, but nothing serious.”

Her eyes land on Jack, trying to read him, and she’s surprised to see how open and easy he is to read. They both are, she realizes as she looks at Robby.

Their faces are complete open books to her right now and she imagines that at this moment they’d happily answer any of her questions. But she can’t think of any questions to ask either of them other than if they are clean, are aware that her heat is a week away, and if they need to wait for her to be in heat.

Jack grins, seeming to read her want for them. “Think about it. Sleep on it. We can all do breakfast in the morning, you can ask us anything then. Full honest policy from the both of us.”

Robby nods in agreement.

“Me as well. Full honesty.”

Her words are nearly a whisper, but they earn her two smiles.

“I’ll give you a ride to breakfast.” Robby tells her when she starts to move out of the room, because she’s afraid if she doesn’t she’s going to ask them to touch her and she needs to get home, she needs to, she has to force herself to take a deep breath, she needs to take one of those stupid silicone knots that haven’t helped her with a heat and hope it helps dull this need for the both of them.

“Thank you, Robby. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Jack and Robby watch as she rushes out of the room, just able to catch the scent of mouth watering arousal.

“She’s going to kill us.”

Charles perks up hearing the sound of footsteps outside the front door, quickly moving from laying down to sitting properly on the couch. He thinks to call Max’s name, pull him away from the sim, but before he can, his face screws up in confusion.

It twists further when the door opens and despite only one person’s footsteps sounding, only on heartbeat entering, there are two scents.

She smells wrong is all Charles can think. She doesn’t smell like us. And he’s off the couch and in the small entry way in seconds, cornering her without thinking.

His nose pressing against the skin of her neck, as he huffs, trying to figure out why she smells so different as his hands run up and down her sides, back and front, getting her scent back to normal.

“Max!” The sound of her yelling for their other partner breaks through Charles’ haze, but he falls back into making her smell right the next second, tongue darting out to lick over her pulse.

She doesn’t try to move, doesn’t think she really could if she tried, and it’s only the sound of rushed footsteps that comforts her.

“What’s going on,” Max cuts himself off as he sees them. “What the hell?” He asks and before she can say she doesn’t know, that she’s just unsure as Max, she sees him take a deep breath and heart skips a beat as she sees his eyes dilate, his expression nearly the same that she had seen on Charles before he had pushed her back into the door, his face burying itself in her neck.

“Max,” She tries, even though his self-restraint on his werewolf side has always been weaker than Charles.

“You smell different. Not like us anymore.”

Her eyes widen at his rumbled out words. “Fuck.” She lets out. The word leaves her again when Max is suddenly by her as well, pressing into Charles and Charles easily fixes himself so Max can have access to the other side of her neck.

“No marks.” She rushes to say when she feels Max’s elongated teeth scrape alongside the thin skin of her neck.

He growls and she can feel his hand, hot and heavy on her hip, squeeze.

“Not there.” She corrects, “No marks there, Max. You want me safe right, want me to just be yours and Charles? No marks on the neck. No suspicion.” Her brain is fighting against her body. Her body has become loose with Max joining Charles, it has swayed closer to them, her legs are weakening, it wants her to give in. But she can’t, not yet, not against the door, that they could easily break.

“Take me to the den. Can mark me there, make me smell right in the den. I’ll be safe there.”

Her pout deepens, and she twists in her vanity chair to look at the man resting against her headboard. “You would pout too if you couldn’t wear your Van Cleef necklace.”

Jenson’s eyes soften as he looks at her, “You like it that much.”

She nods quickly, “Jenson… it’s beautiful really. My only complaint is that I can’t wear it anywhere. Maybe we should talk again about budgets.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not buying you jewelry that costs less than a hundred pounds, a thousand pounds, it’s not happening. Why would I ever buy you something that is less than what I paid previously for an hour of your time?”

Blood rushes to her face as she remembers how falsely confident she had been in requesting only two hundred an hour for her time, and of course that Jenson pay for everything for their dates, only for him to nearly laugh in her face, his large hand capturing her hand, his voice low as he told her she was worth far more than that.

It’s no wonder why she hadn’t been able to stick to their arrangement.

His words then strike her and she turns to look at the necklace he had so lovingly given her for their three month anniversary of officially being together. He had told her it was Van Cleef and besides knowing it was a luxury brand, she didn’t actually know how much it cost.

“Jenson,” she starts, slowly turning back to face him.

“Yes, darling?” He doesn’t even have the nerve to look intimidated by her narrowed eyes and serious expression.

“Do I want to know how much this necklace costs?”

“No.” He answers.

She stares at him, unable to blink for a moment, and slowly her hand moves towards her phone and in a blur of motion that she’ll hold over him later when he tries to say something about being old, he’s out of her bed and dragging her and himself back into it.

“Jenson!” She protests.

“I told you no!” He laughs, getting between her legs, one of his hands wrapping around both of her wrists, pulling them above her head, when she tries to wriggle away. “You’ll have a heart attack if you see the price.”

“That is not what you should tell me.” She laughs, staring up at him.

He looks back at her, unbelievably fond, and she tilts her head a little, and his grin turns to a smile and he presses closer to her, kissing her.

“If you really wanted to wear your necklace out, you could.”

She throws him an unamused look, his grip on her wrists loosening as he turns serious and she pulls them away, unable to cross her arms with him on top of her, she settles for laying them on her stomach. “Not yet, Jenson.”

“I’m not rushing you, I know what timeline we’re working with. I’m just saying you could wear them.”

“And if someone recognizes what they are?”

He gives a small shrug, “Tell them, you’ve got a very loving, doting, boyfriend.”

“Jenson.” Her voice is quiet and she’s grateful when he just nods, nothing but acceptance on his face for her to see and the sight of it, the understanding of it, has her taking a deep breath and she doesn’t let herself think about it, because she knows she’ll spiral, she just says it.

“Finals are a month away, a week after that is commencement, I want you there.”

“Darling,” He breathes, eyes wide. “Are you,”

“Sure?” She laughs and her arms move, looping around his neck, pulling his face closer to hers. “Yes. It’s a split decision, not what we talked about before, but I want you there.”

“Dad?”

Andrew looks up from his plate, eyebrow raised as he swallows his second to last bite of dinner. “What?”

“Can I go to the mall tonight?”

He glances over at the clock on the wall, seeing that it’s nearly six. “What did your mom say?” And he looks across the table at her, to see her give a small shake of her head.

“She said no.”

Andrew looks at their son, unimpressed. “Then, it’s a no. You know that.”

“Take your plate to the kitchen and go finish up your homework.” She says before Isaac can start an argument.

Isaac rolls his eyes, but stands up, roughly grabbing his plate and Andrew has to bite his tongue, glaring at him. Fucking teenagers.

He starts to look back down at his plate, when he hears it and his head instantly snaps up.

“Such a fucking bitch.”

He catches the glare, so much like his own that Isaac throws his own mom and Andrew’s hands curl into fists at such a glare being directed at his own wife and it’s the sight of her face, the way she doesn’t look surprised, the just slight tiredness in her eyes, the barely there hurt in her eyes that has him standing. His chair practically getting thrown back into the wall as he follows Isaac up the stairs into his room, not allowing the door to shut in his face as he barges in, door slamming into the wall and he ignores the loud what the fuck.

He goes for the laptop first, shoving it under his one arm as he starts tossing the room. Throwing over half of his closet into the hall, gently tossing the laptop on them before more clothes get thrown onto the pile. He rips the framed posters off the wall next. Tossing them onto the pile of clothes as well.

“Dad, what the fuck are you doing? Stop!”

He ignores him, going for the rest of the fucking crap Andrew has let him spend their money on.

“Mom’s going to be pissed!” He protests when Andrew goes for the wall light she got custom made for him and the words make him stop, turning to look at him.

“Who?”

Isaac looks at him, exasperated. “Mom is going to be pissed.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do that. Because my wife isn’t your mom and you for sure aren’t my fucking kid. My kid wouldn’t call his mom a bitch, so I don’t know who the fuck you are, but my wife could give a shit if I take back all the stuff her and I paid for and returned it or donated it to a kid that has some fucking respect for the woman who gave them life.”

“All I did was call her a bitch. You're being ridiculous!” He protests and Andrew gets in his face and he doesn’t like seeing his kid, his son, look at him with fear in his eyes, but he obviously raised his son wrong if he thought for a second that he could get away with calling his wife a bitch, calling his mom a bitch and repeating it, doubling down just about.

“Am I? Because me taking back the shit we paid for is you getting off light and there will be more. The last person to call my wife a bitch,” He shakes his head, able to feel the bloodthirsty look on his face. “He ate through a tube for months. It’s only because I know that I fucked up somewhere that I didn’t lay you out immediately. So, I’m going to take all this shit that we paid for and get rid of it. All you are going to do now, is go to school and that is it, oh besides finding a job and going to that because you probably are going to want this stuff back and you’ll just have to buy it back from wherever the fuck we got it from.” Andrew takes a step back, but raises his hands, resting them on his shoulders and squeezing tight. “This is your one and only warning. You call your mom a name again, you insult her again, you’ll be either missing a tooth or only able to open one eye for a week, understand me?”

Isaac nods after a moment, the movement small, a little fear still in his eyes, but it’s overtaken by how much he realized he fucked up.

“Good.” He gives him another squeeze to his shoulders before turning around and gathering the rest of his son’s former stuff more calmly, his skin itching as he realizes the mess he’s made of the hallway. “You aren’t to say a word for the rest of today or tomorrow to her, not unless it’s a good morning or a thank you. You’ll make yourself dinner tomorrow as well and clean up after yourself immediately. I also know this isn’t the first time you called her a bitch to her face.” He can see through the mirror how Isaac flinches and the guilt that floods his face. “I don’t think you want me to know the amount of times.”

“This was only the third time.”

Andrew’s jaw clenches, temper flaring, but he doesn’t turn around just continues on. “Three strikes, you're out.”

“I fucked up.”

“We can go with that.” Andrew allows. “You're also going to figure out, and you’ve got a week, how you are going to make this up to my wife. I want in writing, with steps and I’ll look it over. And it better have at least ten parts to it.”

“When will she become my mom again?”

Andrew smirks at the low sound of Isaac’s voice, at how much he’s realized he’s fucked up and picked up on it. “When you stop thinking of her as a bitch and prove it.” And he shuts his bedroom door behind him.

It takes him fifteen minutes to get all the things in the hallway into the spare room and organized by group. Tomorrow he’ll figure out what he can return and what has to be donated. Most of it will probably have to get donated, but a fair amount of the clothes still have tags on them from Isaac buying them this past weekend and Andrew still has all the receipts for everything from the past ten years.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Is the first thing he hears when he goes back downstairs, his eyes immediately meeting hers.

“Yes, I did.”

“Andrew,” She starts and he shakes his head.

“How long has he been calling you a bitch?”

Her lips thin together, breaking eye contact, but she answers. “He started two days ago. This was only the third time.”

He nods, he had known that Isaac wasn’t lying, but it was good to hear. “You should have told me after the first time.”

“He’s a teenager. Most teenagers call their mom a bitch.”

He shakes his head, stepping closer to her, hands settling on her hips. “Don’t treat it like a rite of passage. It’s not. It’s disrespectful and he knows better, should’ve known better.” He corrects himself. “I did something wrong.”

“Andrew,” her hands run over his shoulders and they drop under her touch, his body swaying closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did. He should’ve been afraid of even thinking of that word and you at the same time. Saying it? Calling you that three times?” He shakes his head. “I never wanted him to be scared of me, I was happy he wasn’t, but I should’ve made him realize that he wasn’t an exception, that there were just different consequences.”

He looks in her eyes, ducking his head a bit to fully make eye contact. “You're my wife, no one is allowed to call you a bitch, especially the little shit you spent hours in labor with.”

“I know.” She says after a moment, because she does know.

Before Andrew had calmed down, had mellowed out, he used to regularly lay out men who just gave her a dirty look. He still ran hot, his temper was just no longer on a hair trigger.

“So, what’s his punishment?”

He gives her the run-down, hands squeezing at her waist every time she winces or makes a face.

“I’m no longer his mom?”

He nods.

“Andrew, that’s not how that works. He’s my baby.”

“I’ll give you a new one.”

She glares at him, but he can only smile, seeing the way her pulse has jumped.

“It’s not for forever, just until he earns the right to call you mom. It’s a privilege to call you that, he’ll earn it back.” Andrew has no doubt about that. “And while he’s making it up to you, earning back his mom privilege we can try for another baby.”

“You want to give our fifteen-year-old son a sibling?”

He shrugs, smiling at her as he pulls her closer. “We never meant to only have one. And we could have more than one. We’ve still got the energy for it, the time, the money. There's three empty bedrooms, four counting the guest bedroom.”

She stares at him, at how serious he is, at how much thought he’s put into this. “I don’t know when I’ll be ovulating.” It’s a test and he aces it.

“You start tomorrow.”

“Which is why we have a dinner reservation?”

He shrugs, “I was going to bring it up tomorrow, our firstborn decided to take matters into his own hands.”

She shakes her head with a sigh, arms looping around his neck. “Isaac is going to be happy before getting grossed out that his parents are still having sex.”

Andrew scoffs, “He’ll be more grossed out when he realizes we have sex more often than not.”

“If my pregnancy with Isaac is anything to go by that will change to every night and morning.”

He laughs, kissing her. “I did miss those lunches I got.”

She giggles, nails digging lightly into his shoulders as he lifts her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he begins to carry her to their bedroom, knees slightly protesting as he gets to the stairs. “You’ve just missed eating me out when I was pregnant. That’s what this is really about.”

He can’t even deny it. “You tasted different then, I miss it.” He murmurs, teeth nipping at her jaw and he enjoys the way she has to stifle her moan as they go through the hallway.

“Please.” She whispers when they enter their bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

“I’ll give you what you want. Don’t worry.”

She laughs, pulling him down with her when he puts her on the bed. “I’m not, just impatient.”

“You’ll get what you want.” He reassures.