Little Town Street
Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader
Summary: A college fling with Andy Barber is rekindled when you move back to Boston and youâre both single.Â
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Smut 18+, language, tinge of angst, Defending Jacob spoilers / all the warnings that would go along with the series, fleeting mentions of divorce and bad breakups
A/N: *THIS IS A ONE SHOT* This is the Week 3 prompt to the Optimistic Captain Donut Challenge created by @captainchrisbaby, @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho , and @donutloverxoâ || The Week 3 Prompt was based on All Too Well by Taylor Swift || Iâm only 3 months late, minimum || Fall dividers by @firefly-graphicsâ
Boston. Your heart raced just thinking about getting back to the place you went to college. The glide of the tassel across your cap and the memories of late night conversations over pizza and beer while elbow deep in a tort. Youâd loved the smell of law books and the haze of the green lamps on the libraryâs oversized and ancient oak desks. The magic of that place was lost on you while you were there, as was the magic of the few relationships you managed to establish while getting your law degree. But here you were, the little suburban town just out of the city, boxes piling up in the empty living room as you settled into your newly single life at a small firm that liked your big New York City success. This was a needed change after a painful breakup. This was your clean break.
Covered in sweat with your hair in a messy top bun, tank top slithering up the steep curves of your soft sides while the sun kissed the back of your bronzed skin, you heard a honk at the intersection in front of your house. The unexpected sound jolted you and the heavy box of books slipped from your fingers and landed on your foot. Hopping to the steps of your new brick home, you looked over at the intersection. It was a near-accident that was the cause of the ruckus. Both cars now at a standstill at the center of the four-way intersection. It took a minute for you to process the shock as you rubbed at your aching foot, but there he was, thick brown hair and bright blue eyes looking at you through the windshield of a black Audi A6. Andy Barber.
With such a public court case and the subsequent car accident, every news-viewing American knew who he was and knew a little too much about him. The problem was that while youâd sat in your own office in the Big Apple, trying to put yourself in Andyâs shoes, you watched a person you once knew in a new light and while your now-ex kept bringing up the commentary of obvious guilt, you couldn't help but sympathize with the collapse of his life. It was too easy for you to slip into the heartache of a family stalked and ruined, a person left so completely exposed and judged by everyone that youâd trusted. It was, after all, why youâd left New York. It was a miracle youâd gotten your fresh start, the Barbers certainly didnât. You could picture it, but you never speculated, never stayed on the channel when the case came on. Every fiber of your being couldnât look at him, not because of what broadcasters said but because of the too real memories of a love lost.
You were the one that ended the stare-off, your foot aching more with every passing second. Jaw clenched and lips pressed into a line, you were just about to convince yourself that there was no way Andy Barber, your biggest competition in college and your first love, was outside your new home⌠and then you heard him say your name. God, it always sounded so good coming from his mouth. The last time youâd heard it he was asking you not to go, drunk outside the bar youâd had your first date telling you that what you two had was bigger than the careers ahead. He didnât see the tears streaming down your face once you turned away to get in your cab. Maybe, after all this time, he thought you didnât hear him scream your name.
When you opened your eyes Andy was there at the bottom of your driveway on that little town street, brows knit together with concern as he locked his car that was perfectly parked on the steep driveway like heâd done it a million times. âDonât look so worried about me, Andrew. Youâre the one who just nearly crashed a bajillion dollar car.â
He laughed, despite noticing how youâd used his full name like you two were standing on opposite ends of a courtroom- and maybe you were. But that laugh, the warmth of it wrapped you up and you were thrown back through the magic and memories of that romance once more. The plaid shirts you stole in the middle of the night to run to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your skin was covered in goosebumps despite the heat as you remembered how Andy had peeled you out of his shirts to warm you back up with his skin on yours, the metal of the fridge pressed to your back. Every moment with him was crystal clear in your mind the smells of autumn and taste of cider and beer when your tongues met, the feeling of his beard scratching your thighs, and... It took his hands on your chin to pull you out of the pain and want of those happier days that youâd ignorantly run from scared of settling. âAre you sure the box didnât land on your pretty little head?â
The sound that passed your lips was practically a damn purr, you mentally cursed him for pulling it out of you with familiar ease. Opening your eyes to look up at him, you wondered if the emotions of that tumultuous relationship sat at the forefront of his mind too and if it was written on your face. âNope, definitely landed on my foot.â Swallowing at the sandpaper in your throat, you looked at the swollen discolored mess. âYou didnât have to see if I was okay.â
âFirst, yeah, I did. Itâs been fifteen or sixteen years since Iâve seen you. Second, I saw you hop over here clutching your foot. I canât leave a wounded deer on the side of the road, can I?â His hands were stubbornly placed on his hips and thatâs when you noticed the pale indent of a missing wedding band on his left handâs ring finger. His blue eyes followed your gaze and he rubbed at the spot like heâd not gotten used to the absence of the cool metal. A similar thin, faded line from a discarded engagement ring on your matching finger. âI guess weâve both been through it.â
Offering him a small smile, he helped you up and as Andyâs strong hands clutched your waist you wondered if heâd remembered just how ticklish the space between your ribs and hip were when he was careful to not touch you there. When you grabbed at the perfectly tailored coat trying to hop around the man let out an amused grumble and scooped you up. âArenât we a little old for grand gestures?â Your head rolled back as you laughed and he turned to get you through the door without smacking your injured foot on the frame. âJesus are you hitting the gym and benching thick girls, Barber?â
The laughter filling the house was only amplified by his unceremonious dropping of you onto the love seat. The crooked smile looking down at you made you melt. That look, it was a drug that youâd had you first taste of in a mock trial, when he knew heâd won his case and looked back at you in the seats behind him, taking notes. âOther than the box on the lawn, are there any more?â
âYou donât have to..â
âBut Iâm going to and I want to. Besides, you canât.â Andy was already pulling off his coat, loosening his tie, and buttoning his shirt before you could protest... not that you were capable of it. He bit his lip when he caught sight of you drinking him in. The slacks and the undershirt that clung to him. âLike what you see?â
âItâs rude.â You stated matter of fact, gesturing to all of him. Andy raised his hands as if to apologize, heading to the door to get to work. Closing your eyes, you could perfectly picture that one picture of the two of you at your graduation. Inadvertently, you mumbled to yourself. âI miss looking that damn good.â
If your eyes hadnât been closed maybe you wouldâve seen the way he froze in the doorway, biting his tongue before stepping out. It wasnât until you heard the hefty thunk of a box on the hardwood floor that you peaked your eyes open. A clear sheen of sweat glistened on his brow and you bit your lip, the heat running over your body was hardly from moving boxes or the summer heat pouring in the front door. âPlease tell me the rest of it isnât boxes of books, Legal Beagle.â
Scoffing at the old nickname you sighed, âNope, itâs just bottles of wine and liquor and pictures. The remnants that I didnât want to break or misplace in the moving truck that came a few days ago.â
âYouâve been here for days and you didnât call.â His tone was surprisingly wounded.
âWell, Legal Eagle, you didnât exactly shoot me an email either.â Andyâs eyes burned into you when you used his old nickname back, but you couldnât decipher what that look really meant. Before you could ask or apologize he was turning back out the door, leaving you there to chew the inside of your cheek raw.
Andy made quick work of the boxes in your car while you nursed your bruised foot trying to unravel the feelings bubbling to the surface of your mind in memories and regrets. When the front door shut, you couldnât even bring yourself to look up, eyes fixed on the bruise while you thought about the emotional bruising youâd caused each other. It wasnât hard to really know why he hadnât emailed, nothing funny in the broken pieces you bother were left to pack up and move on from. When had you started crying? Cheeks wet when his hands cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him, thumbs brushing the tears away. âHey, if it hurts that bad maybe we should take you to get it looked at.â
Reaching up you grabbed Andyâs wrists, but you found yourself hanging there, incapable of pulling him off of you. Instead, your thumbs brushed across the inside of his wrists just applying a little bit of pressure before skimming your hands up the firm muscles of Andyâs forearms. Each of you tried to translate the signals the other was putting off. If it hadnât been for the haze of being so close to him, maybe you wouldâve had the sense to pull away. With a sniffle and apologetic smile you shook your head ânoâ- or at least to the best of your ability when he was still comforting you like no time or pain had passed between the two of you. How long had you been holding on to this first love?
This close you could see it, the little creases of age at the corners of his eyes and a little salt and pepper in his beard. Despite the way those lines seemed to crease his face like words of chapters youâd not been privy to, his blue gaze was unchanged and every welcoming detail of them looked at you like you hadnât changed either. The moment his knee pressed between your thighs to your core you realized just how needy you were, whimpering and parting your legs as he lowered himself onto you. His hands moved down your neck to your breasts and a firm squeeze and the brush of his thumb over your nipples elicited another breathy moan from your lips. How long had it been since anyone had looked at you like that? How long since youâd gotten off?
âAndy,â The weight of his name on your tongue was dizzying, but the way he said your name back was just as heavy. You pulled his mouth to yours and he parted his lips to wrap around your bottom lip. His beard scratched at your chin, sending shivers down your body.
Picking your hips up from the couch, you satisfied the ache between your legs on his thigh. Smirking against your lips Andy pressed harder into your core. âYou missed me.â
âTo the bone,â The confession passed your lips and all you wanted was for him to stay, the thought alone so wholly selfish. Your eyes fluttered open, scared that it had been poison on his own tongue, noticing how heâd pulled away ever so slightly. âThat wasnât fair.â
Though it seemed like a poor apology, Andy was already shaking his head to reassure you that it wasnât. That quiet, it wasnât a trait in him you recalled. His hands moved down your frame and he pulled you onto his lap, careful to let you move your legs to straddle him and not hit your foot along the way. âDid you think I wouldnât care that you were coming back?â
Before you could answer, he stole your air again. Andyâs lips pressed to your neck and he hummed as he tasted the salt on your skin. Then he found the spot he used to always mark, that spot that always seemed to peak just a little out of your favorite courtroom blouse. Gasping, your nails scratched softly at his sides. He took it as a hint and pulled off his undershirt, throwing it at the boxes that had his tie, coat, and button up. âAndrew. Iâm trying not to assume anything here butâŚâ
He looked up at you so sweetly that it erased whatever logic you were trying to pull on him with that one dopey smile. âTell me this isnât home.â
âI..â Your mouth bobbed open and you looked at him with wide eyes. Did he mean Boston or this moment on his lap like pieces were falling into place since youâd left.
Squeezing your thighs in his palms he repeated the question. âTell me this isnât home. Tell me you donât remember the promise you broke. Tell me those boxes with pictures donât have the pictures of us all over this town.â Was this a call out? If he hadnât been looking at you with such heartache you would have looked away. âMaybe I asked for too much and maybe I was just as scared as you were about the future I saw for us⌠but tell me we didnât just find our time.â
The tips of your fingers moved up his chest and settled at the sides of his neck, innocently tugging at his beard. Leaning forward you pressed your lips to his forehead and slipped off of his lap though your whole body seemed almost unamused by the cruel neglect of his warmth, your legs staying draped over him and one arm still linked through his. Looking over the boxes you found the stack with the bright blue sharpie, âwinter clothesâ sprawled across the top as it sat halfway between the bottom of the stairs and the closet by the front door. âGrab that one.â
Andy untangled himself from you with his fingers burning across your skin, reluctantly slipping off the couch to grab the box. When he came back with it you noticed a hesitant look on his face. His eyes moved to his discarded clothes and you sighed and pulled him back to the small couch. âWant to tell me why youâre avoiding my questions?â Ignoring him you peeled the box open and moved a few things out of the way while you pulled out exactly what you knew you needed. âI donât break over honesty anymo-â
Words seemed to escape him the moment he saw his scarf from the first time heâd gone home with you to meet your family. He didnât do the meet-the-parents charade and the relationship had been new, but yours had welcomed him in and made him want his own one day. Andy never thought heâd settle with someone else, but thatâs exactly what heâd done when you didnât call, write, visit, or move back⌠heâd settled. That little trip was a memory heâd revisited often in the torment of waiting for you to come back. The pair of you had spent most of the holiday either studying for exams on your twin sized bed or pouring over old photographs from your childhood. Now you could practically see the memories flooding back as he reached for the scarf and brushed his fingers over the soft fabric.
So, it was your turn for a confession, an apology even. âI remember it all. I miss it all. We may have been young, but we werenât wrong. No one knew me like you did. No one ever has. We grew up, but you lingered here.â Your fingers combed through his hair and tapped his temple before moving down his body to his sternum, tapping at his pulse, â... and here.â Andy covered your hand in his, drawing your fingers lower to the buckle of his slacks. Your cheeks went red and you nodded a âthere tooâ without being able to form the words.
âDo I get a hundredth chance?â The hope in his eyes was mirrored in your own, your racing heart no longer felt like a warning sign.
âShouldnât I be asking you that?â A shaky laugh passed your lips. Andy wrapped his arms around you, tender, before he laughed too, his body shaking against yours. âOh, this is a prank? Well, damn. Thatâs embarrassing.â
Andy looked at you and lunging forward, mouths ricocheting in a deep kiss, tongues hungry for the lost time. Only when you came up for air, the pair of you now buried in the couch cushions, did he speak up, âYou deserve all the hell Iâm going to give you for waiting this long to let me love you.â
âDoes that mean youâre going to stay and rub my skin raw with this beard?â Squirming under him, the pair of you frantically reached for every clasp and zipper until there was nothing left between you. His lips moved down your frame and you surprised yourself, pulling him back to your mouth. âYouâre staying with me Andy Barber.â Your fingers wrapped around his length and pumped him, brushing the head of his cock against your slit, already dripping. âYouâre staying so beard on thighs can wait.â Pressing your mouth back to his as you continued to tease him you whimpered, not even needing to say it but recalling how much he used to love hearing it. âI need you. Donât make me wait anymore. I need to feel all of you. I miss-â
The begging and pawing, he couldnât take you slowly, not yet at least. Andy rutted himself into you, growling when your tight wet heat wrapped around him. He buried his forehead into the curve of your neck as he thrust into you over and over, savoring the way you gasped at his every slight movement. Andy worshiped the new softness of your frame and none of this felt like strangers trying to figure out how to get each other off. His thumb brushed back and forth across your swollen clit and, unlike anyone else, you stuttered his name as you got closer, clamping around him, hips bucking off the couch to meet every deep thrust as he slowed his pace to draw this out for both of you.
You loved the look on his face, the way he bit his swollen lips between a million kisses left on your sweaty skin. The way he lost focus when you said his name and how he gently grabbed your chin as you stuttered his name again; so close, so wet for him, so ready to finally get off. Permission, your legs shook and you whined as he kept you right there at the tipping point, building himself up to his own orgasm while he edged you. âCome for me, lover.â
The words were so welcome, just enough to push you over the edge and quickly chased by you begging him, âStay inside me.â Andy throbbed inside you as you pulsed around his cock, your fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as your orgasm didnât seem to stop, the room seemingly silent as the echoing thrusts and calling out of names tapered out to the sticky collapse of you both tangled up on the love seat.
Your eyes closed, exhaustion settling in, and Andy watched you breathing. Softly, Andy nuzzled his nose against the top of your head. âIf you fall asleep, Iâll fall asleep.â
With a hum you nodded, reaching up to his hand that had settled on your breast, patting it, âWould that be so bad?â
More to himself, voice so low you almost couldnât hear him. âI canât lose you again. Canât lose anyone else.â
âThereâs probably a lot we canât talk about, but this isnât a dream, Andy.â Pivoting just enough to look at him you held his hand and kissed his chin. âI canât lose you again either. I already lost a foot.â
There it was, that cheeky little smile. You both sleepy laughed and you watched his body relax. âYou almost cost me my car.â
âI couldnât run away again, even if I wanted to.â Crinkling your nose you smiled, brushing your finger over the smooth part of his skin where the missing ring marked him. He did the same. The scarf hung over the back of the sofa and looked up at him. âI donât want to, if that wasnât obvious.â
His blue eyes closed, his smile went soft, and Andy Barber fell asleep in your arms. If someone would have told you that this would have happened when you left New York you would have run back to Boston and spared the pair of you a world of pain. Though you were scared of bridging the gaps caused by the many roads the pair of you had taken to get here, you shut your eyes and smile at the reality that all those roads led home- to him. Like kintsugi everything seemed hopeful, incapable of breaking like the last time, stronger and made beautiful through the healing time of quiet apologies, verbal and physical.
It had been him all along, no denying it. Neither of you would ever have to ask the other to stay again.
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