#track record

I organize a Rock concert but the theme is "Only Friends". 💀💀

Have you read Baby, Make Your Move? have you read Track Record? Yes? This is a follow up. No? That's okay, you don't need to. You just need to be interested in watching TK Strand get sassed by a 16 year old.

This fic has been in my Google docs for like 3 months SO SORRY for the wait. It just didn't feel like the right time. Someone asked me whether "soon" was soon or Ronen Rubinstein soon, and I think I accidentally did a Ronen.

Thank you to @rmd-writes who helped me out and @actual-sleeping-beauty for being my Taylor Swift consultant.

Read on ao3

“Hey mija,” Carlos says softly, giving TK an almost imperceptible nod before turning to Isabel. “What happened?” “I’m sad,” she says matter-of-factly into the pillow she’s now clutching to her chest, TK rubbing her back. “A boy from my stupid chem lab was nice to me, hung out with me all summer, kissed me at a party and then decided he liked another girl better.” Carlos sighs, uncharacteristically dropping the sock onto the floor and crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. “Okay, firstly,” he says, “chem is not stupid.” Isabel groans and presses her face further into the pillow. “You’re just as bad as Dad,” she moans. “Except you focus on things like school, while Dad asks me about kissing.” Carlos arches an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from his daughter to TK. “Did he just?” “Yes,” Isa mumbles. “He asked me if Freddie kissed like a washing machine.” Carlos coughs, uncrossing his arms slightly to cover his mouth with two fingers. “Really?” he asks, trying and failing to bite back a smile.  “Yes,” Isa snipes. “I was hoping you would be less gross but if you’re here to talk about school work—” “I said firstly,” Carlos continues, biting his lip and crossing the room. “Shove over, please.” Isa sighs loudly and hauls herself up onto the pillows, pushing her back against the wall again. “You can’t both fit on here,” she complains.  “Why else did we buy you a double bed?” Carlos teases, returning TK’s grin from over her head as she curls into his chest. “And don’t worry, mija. All boys kiss like washing machines at the start.” “Even Dad?” she asks, “actually, don’t answer that—” “Especially your dad,” Carlos lies, as TK squawks in a very undignified way. “You just have to train them.”

"WeLl TrAcK rEcOrD dOeSn'T mAtTeR. It WoUlD bE bOrInG tO jUdGe It LiKe ThAt."