#djo fandom

Two days ago, your 6-year-old daughter had been asking you incessantly why some girls in the front row of her dad's show wore colorful beaded bracelets. On the first day, you explained that those were friendship bracelets and that some fans made them with their friends, putting favorite song names and things like that on them. That day, a fan gave a bracelet to some of the guys in the band, which made Amy even more obsessed with the object, staring at and grabbing the bracelet off Wes's wrist every time she ran into him. On the second day, you decided to head out around the city right after lunch to look for beads, so your daughter could make some bracelets herself. You remembered when you yourself were Amy's age and used to make bracelets with your little friends at school, so this would probably be a good experience for your daughter to have. Plus, she'd have a different way to pass the time, since the tour bus wasn't the most fun place for a six-year-old to spend several days in a row. You could already feel her mood shifting because of the few hours of boredom that popped up every now and then.

Joe had eaten lunch with you both at the hotel and gone off to do something else with the band. Rehearsal? Going over the songs? You hadn't really paid attention, because while he talked and kissed each of you on the cheek, Amy was smearing herself with pasta and red sauce beside you and you were doing your best to minimize the damage that was going to do to her clothes. All you remembered was agreeing to be at the venue an hour and a half before the band went on stage. After that, you went to the room to get Amy changed and headed out to look for the beads.

After going to three different stores and Amy starting to complain about her feet hurting, you finally stopped at a café that was practically empty. You ordered a black coffee, a slice of cake, and an orange juice for Amy. You opened the bags of beads, laying them out on the table as neatly as you could, opened the roll of elastic string and cut off a piece, setting things up so your daughter could put together her own bracelet, and watched chaos take over that café table, chaos that, unbelievably, made your whole world stop. Meanwhile, outside, cars drove by honking, people walked back and forth in an incredible hurry. But there, in the café, your daughter picked out, with her tiny little hands, the letters she wanted for her bracelet, then she chose the colors of the beads, putting them on one at a time, until she'd decide she didn't like it and take them all off the elastic string and start over from scratch. You, elbow resting on the table, stepped in only when needed or when she asked you to. By the fourth time she gave up on her project and started over, you began to worry you wouldn't make it to the arena on time to meet Joe.

"Sweetheart, do you want mommy's help?", you asked, finishing your coffee and sorting out some beads yourself. You could see the frustration taking over that little person's expression and how her mind was working hard to create something from scratch again. It was like the gears in her head became visible to you through her eyes. Just like her dad, Amy could convey every emotion to you with just a look. And you felt privileged to be able to read the two most important people in your life so easily.

"I want to make one for daddy, he's my best friend," she answered, sipping her orange juice through the straw, her eyes still fixed on the beads the whole time. You, on the other hand, were speechless. On one hand, because your six-year-old had just said her dad was her best friend, and that stirred up a tiny bit of jealousy in your mom heart. On the other hand, this was probably the cutest thing you'd ever heard come out of your daughter's mouth, who, up until now, only really talked about aliens, princesses, alien princesses, boogers, and… probably that.

"Do you already know what you want to write for him?", you asked, trying to hide all the feelings running through you at that moment.

"No, that's the problem, mommy!", she said, huffing a little, but still not taking her eyes off the beads, holding the elastic string between the tip of her thumb and index finger. Amy already knew how to write several words, mainly the ones that came up in everyday life, like her own name, yours, and Joe's, her uncles' names, Joe's bandmates' names, her grandparents'…

"What do you always call him, princess?", you asked, and she immediately went looking for the letters D, A, two more D's, and a Y. Without saying anything, she looked up at you smiling, taking another sip of her orange juice and now attacking a bit of the cake, as if the arrival of an idea had opened up her appetite.

"Okay, we've got our word!", you said, kissing her forehead and wiping a few crumbs of cake off her face.

"Now, which colors are we gonna use? What do you think daddy would like?", you raised your eyebrows, looking at Amy, as if giving her time to think it over.

"All of them!", she answered enthusiastically, her little arms up in the air, still holding the elastic string between her fingertips. And so, off you went! Within a few minutes, Amy had put together a friendship bracelet for Joe, always measuring the size against your wrist and adding a bit more room, since his wrist was probably a little bigger than yours. "Do we still have time?", she asked as you closed up the bracelet for her, making it secure to wear, with no risk of the beads falling off or the bracelet snapping.

"Yes! We've got a few more minutes… why?", you asked, figuring she'd want to eat something else or drink more juice.

"Because I want to make one for me, that says 'PRINCESS,' 'cause that's what daddy calls me…", she said, already eyeing the letters she remembered spelled the word. Your heart squeezed with love. Before getting pregnant, you never imagined it was possible to love someone the way you loved this tiny human being who amazed you more with every passing day.

You helped her when she asked you to check if the word was right, and off she went to make her little bracelet. That one took much less time, since Amy's wrist is small. With everything ready, you tucked the two bracelets into your bag, gathered up the beads, and caught a cab toward the venue. Because of everything that happened that afternoon and the city traffic, you ended up arriving a few minutes late, and Joe was already waiting for you both impatiently.

With one hand on his hip, he had the phone to his ear, and you felt something in your bag vibrate… he was trying to call you. But then he spotted you two. Amy was on your hip, arms wrapped around your neck and legs around your waist, almost falling asleep, because, according to her, she'd worked too hard that afternoon and was very tired. However, the moment she spotted her dad, who knelt down on the ground to get to his 6-year-old daughter's height, she stretched out her little legs, a signal to be put down, and as soon as her little feet touched the ground, she ran toward Joe. Joe lifted her up high, making her burst into happy laughter, and you smiled to yourself like a fool, thinking about how lucky you were to have gotten a family like this.

With Amy on his hip, propped against his side, Joe, with his other free arm, pulled you in by the waist and gave you a kiss, a longer kiss than usual, and when you finally looked at each other calmly, he asked, "What happened? You two nearly gave me a heart attack running late!"

Amy hid her face in Joe's neck and he immediately eyed her suspiciously, he already knew that when his daughter hid, especially in his neck, avoiding his eyes, it was because she'd been up to something. You watched her, laughing, pretending you were about to tickle her, just to make her laugh even more.

"Well, we were on a mission, daddy… weren't we?", you said, looking at Amy and winking at her. She nodded and reached her arm out for your bag. At that moment, you knelt down to open the bag and Amy got down off her dad's hip, Joe still asking what was going on and looking at the two of you with a mix of curiosity, anxiousness, and happiness. Amy rushed to search through your bag, telling her dad to wait just a little bit. When Amy finally found the two bracelets, she put hers on and handed the other one to Joe.

"Here, daddy… this one's for you. It's a friendship bracelet… and you're my best friend"

Joe had almost the same reaction you did, except he picked her up in his arms, also speechless, and pulled her into a tight hug, covering her in little kisses and repeating "I love you" over and over. Amy clung to Joe's neck and laughed loudly, the most beautiful laugh you'd ever heard in your whole life. Whenever Joe and Amy shared moments like these, you wished you had a camera filming everything, as some way to record these moments forever. Either way, you knew they'd stay etched in your memory. When they finished, Joe set her back on his hip and Amy put the bracelet on Joe, then immediately showed hers to him. You could see his eyes were welling up and you felt yours filling with tears too. When you two caught each other's eye, you smiled foolishly at one another, as if you couldn't quite believe the daughter you'd made together.

With his hand on your waist, pulling you in a little, he asked, "And mommy?"

You immediately pouted, trying to put on a little bit of drama for the two of them, even though, now, after seeing just how much they really were best friends, it didn't bother you anymore. Amy immediately reached for you, pulling at you to be picked up, and once you did, she hugged you and kissed your cheek, "Mommy's can say her nickname, Mommy, or 'Best Mom,' right, daddy?"

Joe kissed your cheek and then your lips, both of you smiling into the kiss.

From your seat, you could easily see the puddles forming on the grass outside. The rain was getting heavier by the second and you wondered if he was still asleep. It was Sunday and you had woken up earlier because of the sound of the rain and now you were sitting on the couch, a blanket over your legs, your coffee mug resting on the windowsill, watching the movement of the raindrops in the puddles.

The day was bright despite the weather, and the light illuminated almost the entire living room and part of the kitchen. The house was clean, since you and Gator had decided to do a full cleaning the day before, and it smelled like lavender, coffee, and the cookies baking in the oven.

It was when the bedroom door creaked that you were able to turn your face to follow the sound coming from inside, recognizing it in Gator's dragging footsteps down the hallway, leaving the bedroom and heading to the bathroom. You heard him brushing his teeth, washing his face, peeing, and washing his hands. Then, the sound started moving again, coming closer slowly, now accompanied by Gator's figure itself, toward the living room. He stood still in the doorway, staring at you with a confused expression. "Why are you up so early? It's Sunday!", heading toward the couch, he lay down, resting his head on your lap, burying his face against your stomach, making small noises to show he was still sleepy. "I woke up with the rain… decided to make cookies," you said, stroking his hair and taking another sip of your coffee.

"Oatmeal raisin?", Gator asked, turning his face to look at you, smiling. The smile was more like that of a kid who'd been up to something. You, on the other hand, rolled your eyes and set your mug back down on the windowsill. Lifting his head off your lap, you stood up and started walking toward the kitchen, "Of course. What else would I make?", and he let out a small laugh through his breath. You turned off the oven and took out the cookies, leaving them on the table to cool. Coming back to the couch, you curled up close to him, practically on top of him, really, and he covered you with the blanket that had been on your legs before.

You both stayed like that until Gator's stomach started growling and you couldn't hold back your laughter. "What, woman? The smell of the cookies is making me hungry!", he answered, trying to defend himself. "Then why don't you get up and go eat?", you turned your face to look at him, but he quickly pulled you into a hug, crushing you against his body. "It's better right here. I can go a little longer without eating."

Since the events at the Ranch, you and Gator had decided to move into your old house. Your sister hadn't managed to sell it and now, with Roy in jail, there was nothing to worry about. Gator wanted distance from the Ranch and anything that could connect back to his father, and on top of that, he was serving his sentence on probation, with an ankle monitor, suspended from working at the police department. You, on the other hand, now worked for Dot's mother-in-law. She had an office in the neighboring town and you drove there and back every day, an hour-long trip in total. The work was easy, mostly administrative, and you ended up seeing Dot and her daughter at least once a week there. Every once in a while, Dot and her family would come visit you too, and Gator would light up at his former stepmother's visits. Your sister also visited more often, she had gotten divorced and lived in a small apartment downtown with the kids. You even tried to get her to live in the house, with you and Gator moving to an apartment, but she said she couldn't live there with so many memories of your parents. For you, the memories were a plus, something that warmed your heart and made you want to build traditions and a family with Gator someday. You two were finally living in peace.

The rain was starting to let up, the puddles were now almost still in the street, and you were trying to decide what movie to watch while the popcorn popped. Gator had gotten out of the shower and was taking his time in the bedroom, you could hear the sound of drawers and closet doors slamming and him grumbling quietly. At this point, you already knew it was better to let him figure out whatever it was on his own than to try to help him, since he was the most stubborn man you'd ever met.

When the popcorn was ready and you had finally picked a movie, you called out for Gator and he answered with a grunt, which made you head toward the bedroom, but when you stepped into the hallway, he shouted from inside, "DON'T COME IN, WAIT IN THE LIVING ROOM!". You tried to ask what he was doing, but he just repeated himself and you went back to the couch huffing. You were pretty stubborn yourself and didn't like it when he tried to "order" you to do something. When he finally came into the living room, faded black t-shirt, sweatpants, hair slightly damp from the shower, one hand in his pocket, you looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, pressed together, trying to show that you didn't approve of his attitude. You tried to speak, "What are yo-", but he cut you off. At that moment, he sat down beside you on the couch and pulled a small box out of his pocket. A small box you had seen before. He held it out in front of you, "Take it!". You took it, hands trembling, "Gator, how did yo-".

"I have my methods," he said, smiling, ear to ear now, waiting anxiously for you to open it. The little box was identical to the one he had given you years ago, back in school, on one of your birthdays. You opened it, already with tears in your eyes, and there it was. The silver necklace with the initial of your name. Exactly the same as the one you used to have, the one Gator had given you when you were 13.

You had put the necklace away in your jewelry box years ago, because the clasp had broken and you never had the money to fix it. Besides, after you and Gator broke up, there wasn't even a reason to fix it.

You took the necklace out of the box and looked at Gator, confusion written across your face.

"When we were moving, I saw your jewelry box and one day I noticed the necklace was in there. So, the week before last, I asked a guy I know to fix it. Turned out nice, right?"he answered, looking at you, waiting for approval, but you had no words to say. You set the box down and, holding the necklace, you hugged Gator, practically jumping into his lap, "This necklace is still one of the most beautiful things I've ever owned," you said, undoing the clasp and motioning for Gator to put it on you. Once it was on, he kissed the pendant with the letter, then your neck, moving up to your cheeks, making you giggle, but with every kiss, you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck and he tightened his grip on your hips.

You pulled his face back, looking into his eyes, admiring that face you had dreamed so many times of being beside, waking up beside, falling asleep beside. "I love you, Gator Tillman", you said. He smiled at you, "I love you too," kissing your lips without any rush at all. Finally, you didn't need to rush anymore.