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crowandmousewritingco · 8 months ago

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𝚈𝚘�� 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙾𝚠𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙰𝚗 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢

Paring: Javier Peña x trans!reader

Words: 6k

Rating: PG-13

Author: Mod Crow

Author's Note: I thought I thought I had posted this because it's been done a minute now. This was a fic written for @burntheedges' Roll-A-Trope. I had a lot of fun writing this! ˢᵒʳʳʸ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉ

Summary: The two of you were childhood friends, thanks to the fact that both of your dads worked together. Starting high school, you had each made new friends, but the friendship between the two of you didn’t change. By the time senior year came and went and the two of you spent that summer together, falling in love. When college rolls around the two of you have different college plans, Javier wanted to go to college, you wanted to explore. After you move outta Texas and the years pass, Pena joins the DEA and you explore the world a bit first. You return and stay in Texas after your brother ODs on coke. So you too get a job with the DEA, only you don’t know Pena will be there too. Will the old feelings rekindle or are they long snuffed out for good?

Warnings: Mentions of death, drugs, drug use, overdosing, and language

“What do you mean you aren’t going to college? I thought we discussed what we're going to do. I was going to go for sociology and you were going to go for psychology.” Javier was right, the two of you had been talking about what the two of you were going to do after high school for a year or so now. He had mentioned college and the way his face lit up over him suggesting that you come with him. How were you supposed to tell him no?

“Javi…College is never what I wanted. I should have told you when you brought up college, but you were so happy with the thought of me going with you.” You look up from your coffee and reach out, placing your hand on top of his. Or at least that’s what you try to do, because for a split moment you feel the warmth of his hand before you feel -and watch- him rip his hand from yours almost as if you had the plague. Pulling your hand back, you could feel a rush of hurt rip through your chest, but you’d be damned if you’d let Javier Peña see that hurt he’s caused.

“So instead of telling me that you didn’t want to go to college you led me on with the thought that we’d be at college together. For how long? A year if not longer?” Watching as he crossed his arms, you couldn't help but lean back in the uncomfortable coffee house chair, wanting to disappear into the hard wood that was holding you at the table.

“Javi…I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell you so many times, but you don’t make it easy to come to you sometimes.” Your voice growing softer as you near the end of the sentence. The last word to leave your lips was barely above a whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BEEP BEEP BEEP

With a groan, you languidly roll over, hand reaching out and fumbling for a moment as your tired fingers attempt to shut your alarm off. With a tired sigh you kick your feet over the edge of your bed, the cool room causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. Feeling the cold hardwood under your feet -doing nothing to calm the goosebumps- a shiver runs up your spine. Pushing yourself up from your bed, you stopped for a moment, a stretch forcing your arms up, a pop from your shoulder filled the quiet bedroom.

Dropping your arms back to your side, you made your way to your dark mahogany dresser. Pulling open the top drawer you grabbed the first pair of boxers on top. Closing the drawer, you turned your attention to your closet door. Thankfully you had had the brilliant idea to put your dresser next to your closet to make getting ready faster. Grabbing the cold doorknob, you twist, hearing the soft click, you pull the door open. Blindly reaching around the corner of the doorway, you felt around for the light switch. Once your fingers found the switch, you flipped it and gave your eyes a moment to adjust to the new light. Once your eyes were adjusted you stepped into the doorway and scanned your closet. Deciding on a simple black button up, you looked to the closet’s leftmost wall, where your pants were. Finding your khaki dress pants, you grabbed them, turned on your heel, flipped the switch once more and walked out of the doorway pushing it shut with your foot.

As the door closed you could hear the soft ringing of the house phone in the kitchen. Sighing you leave your bedroom, heading for the kitchen. As you grew closer to the kitchen the sound of the ringing grew louder. As you rounded the corner you reached out and grabbed the ringing phone. Clicking the answer button you pressed the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice rough and dry from your slumber, whoever it was would be able to tell that you had just woken up.

“Hey this is, um, this is Steve Murphy. I don’t normally make these calls, but you start today -I guess- and you’re going with my partner Peña and I to Columbia. You got about thirty minutes to get here before the plane is supposed to take off.” You were surprised at first, you were expecting a southern accent given Texas, but something about Steve’s accent didn’t sound entirely Texan. Realizing you hadn’t responded to his comment yet, you clear your throat before you respond.

“Oh, um okay, thanks. I’ll uh, I’ll go pack I guess. Bye.” Without giving Steve a chance to reply you set the receiver back on the base. Turning from the phone, you made your way back to your bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you had managed to just barely make it to the airport. Handing the taxi driver a five dollar bill, you opened the door and stepped out into the Texas sun. Closing the cab door you walked around to the trunk; hearing the pop of the trunk, you grabbed onto the trunk and pulled it open. Seeing your luggage a soft sigh fell from your lips as you grabbed a hold and then pulled the heavy bag from the trunk. Once you had your suitcase out, you shut the trunk of the taxi, maybe slightly harder than needed because you could see the taxi driver turn in his seat and shoot you a dirty look. Lifting your hand in a silent apology, you watched as the driver turned around to face the road and put the car into gear before driving off.

Turning on your heel you look at the glass doors that lead into the airport. Taking a deep breath, you start towards the entrance that sat in front of you. Pushing open the door, you let your breath out slowly. Looking around the airport terminal, your eyes searching for someone who was wearing DEA clothing or someone holding a sign. When your eyes didn’t find either of those things, you decided your best bet would be to ask an employee. Looking between the employees helping others, you make your way to the shortest of the lines.

The line moved surprisingly fast despite the crowds of people. Stepping up to the window you tuck your suitcase in front of your legs and pull your wallet from your back pocket.

“Hello, how can I help you today sir?” Your eyes look at the perky women behind the counter. She had a beautiful smile with the perfect set of white teeth behind her painted red lips, she couldn’t have been older than twenty-six or twenty-seven.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be catching a flight to Columbia with the DEA. Where could I find the other agents or the little group of agents?” She stood silent for a moment before dropping her attention to the boxy computer. Hearing her type away, you stood there quietly, checking your watch once, it had taken you twenty-five minutes to get here, you only had five minutes to find the right gate and have your ticket ready.

“Okay, so here’s your ticket. The agents are using one of our smaller planes, so you’ll be on the far right side of the terminal. Terminal gate number 27b, the flight leaves in about…” You watched her look around you. You followed her eyes to the giant clock on the wall behind you, “The flight boards in five minutes the take off is up to the captain. Have a wonderful flight.”

Grabbing your ticket and the handle to your suitcase, you offered a soft ‘thank you’ nod. Turning from the counter, you look at the walls behind you once more, this time looking at the directional guide posts. Finding the group of gate numbers -yours sitting someone in that string of numbers- you headed off in that direction.

As you made your way to your gate, you heard the overhead announcement go off.“All those boarding flight number 422 at gate 27b, your flight is now boarding first case fliers. Again, flight 422 at gate 27b is now boarding first class passengers.” Looking down at your ticket you scan over it, looking for what class that they’ve put you in. A small sense of relief washing over you as you read ‘Business Class’ on the ticket. Looking up from your ticket you notice a person walking right at you, his own eyes glued to the ticket in hand. Before you had a chance to react though, the two of you collided. The impact of the two of you making you stumble a small bit, ticket flying out of your hand as you used it almost as a makeshift balancing pole.

Looking up from your feet on the ground, your eyes shoot to the poor man you had run into. Seeing his ticket was out of his own hand and laying on the ground next to your own ticket. Quickly picking up your ticket and the stranger’s, you check them to see which had your name on it. Looking over the tickets, you read over the stranger’s first -not that you had planned on doing it- and as your eyes read over the name, you feel a twinge of familiarity. Stephen Murphy. Standing back up, you extended your arm out, his ticket in hand.

“Sorry about that, I was trying to figure out if I was missing my boarding.” A soft, embarrassed chuckle escaping your lips. You watch as he looks down to the ticket in your hand, as he takes it from you, his lithe and tepid fingers grazing your own.

“Thanks. I’m the one who should be apologizing, I’ve flown out of this airport a number of times and I still get turned around,” You watch as his empty hand reaches and rakes through the short sand colored locks that sat on the top of his head, “Do you think you could help me actually? I can’t find the damn gate that's going to where I need.”

“I don’t think I’m the best person to be asking help to,” A sort of embarrassed sounding chuckle escapes your lips, “I only recently just moved back here, but I can definitely try. What’s your flight number?” It was silent for a moment as he checked over the ticket, looking back at you he finally talks.

“I’m looking for flight 422 at gate 27b.” Realization was the first thing to hit you, that’s why he sounded familiar, he’s agent Murphy. Chuckling softly you extend your hand.

“That’s the gate I’m looking for, is it safe to assume you’re agent Murphy?” You watch as a quizzical look washes over his soft features.

“I am…How did you know that?” You watch as the once quizzical look on his face morphed into one of heedful readiness.

“You called my house right before I had a chance to slip out the door. Honestly I’m glad you did, otherwise I would have been at the local DEA headquarters.” You watch as the apprehension melted away into a look of realization. Reaching out, you feel him grab a hold of your hand, before giving it a firm squeeze and one single shake.

“So you’re the newbie? I’m not going to lie, I was expecting someone…” He gestures to you, “Someone taller and a bit more intimidating.” Murphy let go of our hand, the hand that was in yours only a moment ago reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“I get it. I don’t look like someone who would join the DEA. I’ll be honest the only reason I joined is because my brother ODed on some co-” Your voice gets cut off by the overhead intercom system.

“Business class for flight number 422 to Medeílln, boarding now. Again, business class for flight number 422 to Medeílln is boarding now.” The two of you shared an ‘oh shit’ moment together before pulling yourself back to the moment.

“The women who helped me at the ticket terminal said that because the DEA is using one of the airport’s smaller planes we should be all the way on the right. She made it seem like it's the last terminal on this side.” Your eyes look from the taller man’s face to the small directory board hung on the wall that was slightly behind Murphy. Pointing to the sign you speak up once more, “The directory sign is pointing the way you just came from for gates 25b to 28b. I guess we start there huh?” You watched as Murphy gave you a single nod, no talking this time. Nodding back you take the lead, despite not remembering much of the airport.

As the two of you walk further and further back you start to hear the soft murmurs of conversations. Looking over your shoulder, you see Murphy is still following behind you. Shooting him a soft smile, you turn back towards the sound.

Drawing closer, you can read the small metal sign that stuck out perpendicular from the wall it hung on, 27B. A weird sense of relief washing over you. Looking up to the taller man who was only a few steps behind you, you saw that he was looking out the tall floor to ceiling windows that showed off the runway. Clearing your throat, you watch as he snaps his eyes to you. Gesturing towards the sign on the wall with your head, a soft and warm smile gently painted on your face.

“Guess we work pretty good at directions huh Murphy?” You turn your head for a moment, seeing you were near the end of the line -that seemed to be moving- your walk slowed to a stop. You watched as a lopsided smile stretched across his face and for some reason, seeing his smile and hearing the soft chuckles that escaped the agent's lips, caused your heart to speed up a bit. Turning your head, hiding your -what you could only assume was red- face from him.

“I guess we do, rookie,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the nickname he used. Watching the line move, you followed along at the snailike speed, wishing it would move faster. Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you look to the large hand and follow the attached appendage up to Murphy’s neck, your eyes lingering for a second or two too long before coming to a stop on his face, the smile he had still there even if it’s just the trace of a smile that once was. “You and Peña are going to get along great.” Something about that name makes a small part of your soul burst into flames of pure, white hot rage.

“Tell me about your partner. Have the two of you been working together long? I like to know what I should expect when I’m meeting someone for the first time if possible.” As the line moved along slowly, you turned to face Murphy. As you studied his face, you could tell he was thinking of how to answer your question.

“I’ll be honest this is my first time meeting him. From what I’ve heard from around the agency and other agents, he’s a dick.” There was silence, was he saying that you’re acting like a dick? It was obvious that you were confused based off of Murphy’s face expression that did a full 180 in what felt like the blink of an eye. “Shit. Th-That’s not what I meant. Fuck man, I’m sorry about that. I should ha-” You wave off his words, a soft smile on your face.

“Don’t worry about it Murphy. I know what you were trying to say, and insulting wasn’t part of it. Besides,” You turned back around, back now facing Murphy. Looking over your shoulder, a playful smirk on your face, “It’s time to board.” You smiled at the ticket agent as you handed her your ticket. As she looked over your ticket you looked up to the clock that hung on the wall over the walkway to your flight.

“Here you are sir, you’re in seat 13, it’s a window seat. You have a safe flight.” Taking your ticket back, you offered her a thankful head nod. Walking past her, you slowed in the walkway. You could hear the whole spiel that was just said to you, “...seat 14, it’s an aisle seat.” Looking over your shoulder you can see Murphy tuck his ticket into his jacket pocket. Watching him walk closer, you slowly go from the sluggish pace to a walk that attempts to match his.

“Guess we’re sitting together huh?” A chuckle slipping out of your throat.

“Guess so.” You look over your shoulder just as a smirk starts to grow across his stubbled face. Your heart skips a beat at the sight. Looking away from Murphy you see the door to the plane nearing. Smiling to the slight attendant who stood just outside the door.

“Hello, if you have any carry-on you may store in the overhead areas or if it’s small enough you are allowed to place it on the floor either at your feet or just under your seat. Have a wonderful flight.” Offering her a nod as well you slip past her and into the airplane.

You were by no means scared of flying, but you wouldn’t deny that sometimes flying makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and your blood run cold. Apparently, Murphy noticed this. Place his hand on your shoulder like before, only this time something was different, there was a gentleness to it.

“Hey you all good, rookie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” A chuckle erupted from his throat, “Or Escobar.” The once gentleness morphed from comfort to one of a friendly grab. Closing your eyes, you forced a laugh from your tight chest.

“Oh if I had seen Escobar then there would have been more yelling.” Opening your eyes you continue on your once paused walk. Looking to the overhead storage, you scan over the numbers as you walk past them. When your eyes found the small faux-gold plate that had the numbers thirteen and fourteen on it.

Reaching up, you open the storage door and slid your bag inside before ducking down and climbing all the way to the window seat. Sitting down, you look back to Murphy who was now doing the same. You’re eyes finding the small sliver of exposed stomach from where his shirt had come untucked and pulled from the cinched waistband of his jeans. As his arms come down from above to rest at his sides, your eyes shoot from where the exposed skin once was, to the small shitty airplane screen that rested in the back of the headrest. The information on screen was simple telling you the weather of the local area and the expected weather for Colombia.

You could feel him clumsily find his way into his seat, based solely on the ‘oomph’ that escaped from his lips. Looking towards him from the window, you can’t help but chuckle at the look on his face.

“You gonna live there Murphy?” The only sound you were able to get out was a chuckle, before he spoke up.

“Shut the hell up Rookie.” Your eyes locked with his for the split second he snapped his eyes to you. For a split second you feel the anxiety of maybe you actually upset him, but the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Lucky you I actually like you, you’ve been the first pleasant person in the DEA.”

The anxiety that was once building in your chest, a relieved breathy laugh bubbles from your chest. Your laugh is short-lived by a yawn that has crept up your spine; your left hand raising to cover your mouth.

“This is about a five and half hour flight, if you’re still tired you can sneak in a nap. That’s what I plan on doin’.” Feeling his hand gently slap the top of your hand, an act that was meant as a friendly, but in your mind it was meant as a flirtatious act. Shaking those thoughts down you gave him a nod.

“That sounds like a good idea. If my head falls onto your shoulder you are more than welcome to get me up and tell me to get off of ya.” You ended with a playful shoulder nudge, a chuckle getting knocked loose.

“That’s even if I stay awake on this flight. Normally if I’m not the one driving I pass out pretty quickly. Being in a plane can’t be all that much different.” You could feel him shrug, the seats in the business section small and cramped pressing your shoulder to his.

Nodding in response, a yawn slips out of your lips. With that as your final sign, you made yourself comfortable -or at least as comfortable as you could get- and let your eyes shut. Sleep had found you rather quickly and peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Rookie. Wake up and smell the Columbian air.” If the voice didn’t get you up, the shaking sure did. Opening your eyes, you were immediately blinded by the sunlight spilling in from your window. Squeezing your eyes shut you reached your hands up and ground your palms into your eyes. Dropping your hands, you open your eyes slower and with more caution this time.

“Jesus H. Christ, it’s brighter than a thermite fire in here.” Turning your half awake attention to the window you had sat next to, you look around the small airport. Sure the airport wasn’t much but the scenery was a different story. Looking back to Murphy, you finally notice how close he was to you. Feeling your face heat, you lock eyes with him as his own eyes snap from the window to your eyes. Watching him jump back slightly, you clear your throat and look away from him.

“That scenery is beautiful. Is this also your first time here?” When you finally look back at Murphy, he too was looking away. You decided to bite your tongue at the laughs and teasing that wanted to come flying out of your tired mouth.

“Yeah, this is my first time here.” You watched as Murphy turned to look at you once again, you can see the fading evidence of red on his cheeks. “I think we’re all staying in the same hotel. We have to go get checked in, I don’t think they need us at the agency tonight. So we get to just relax tonight. You might find Peña in the hotel bar.” Murphy managed to climb out of his seat, once in the aisle, you watched as he bent slightly and offered you his hand. It took you a moment to realize what he was doing. When your brain finally caught up, you reached out and took his hand. It was softer than you were expecting. Feeling him help you out of the tight seating, you almost tripped on the seat. Catching yourself, you let go of Murphy’s hand and -without thinking- you press your hands to his chest, almost falling forward. Looking at where your hands were, you had to actually follow the chest up to the man’s neck, then to the face. Pulling your hands away you tuck them away in your pockets.

“S-Sorry about that. We should probably get going huh?” Clearing your throat, you turn and reach up, opening the overhead compartment and pulling down your carry-on. Looking back to Murphy, you see him nod. This could be an interesting ride to the hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to the hotel was actually quiet and peaceful. The whole process of getting inside and checking in was anything but. You had taken Spanish in high school, but that’s been way too long ago to be of any help. After about an hour of trying to find someone to translate for you, you finally were able to check in and get your room key.

Finally in your room, you dropped your bags by the closet door. Walking over to the bed, you stare at it, examining the look. Sighing, you feel your shoulders relax. You didn’t even know you were holding them up. Turning around you sat on the edge of the bed. Leaning back on the bed, you stare up at the ceiling. You weren’t going to be in this hotel long before they move you from this hotel to the search bloc.

Forcing yourself up and off the bed, you make your way back to your bags. If you didn’t have to sit in your work attire then you weren’t going to. Picking up your suitcase, you carry it over to your bed. Opening it, you look at the clothes that had been crammed in. It didn’t take you long to find what you wanted, a pair of basic black swim trunks -you never know, maybe you’d get time to swim- and a looser fitting button up shirt that had a design on it. The shirt looked like it was covered in dots, but if you got close enough, you could see that the dots were actually little cat heads.

Once dressed in something more breathable, you stepped into your shoes -some sandals you had picked up from the airport- and grabbed your keycard. Looking over yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but stare at the buttons. The last time you wore this shirt was before…Smiling to yourself, you reach up and pop open the top two buttons. Fixing how the shirt was sitting, you scanned over yourself once more. This time your eyes stopped at the new revealed skin. The scar that stretched across your chest was just barely visible. Giving yourself a nod, you tuck your keycard away in your pocket and headed out of your room to the hotel bar.

The trek to the bar was surprisingly quiet, you were expecting some kind of sound, talking or unintelligible murmurs. But there was nothing. I was kind of eerie if you were being honest, but you wouldn’t complain out loud about it.

When the bar came into view, you recognized one of the two men at the bar. It was Murphy, that poor man stuck out like a sore thumb. The man next to him was shorter, but definitely more…muscular. As you got closer, you watched as the shorter man turned just enough for you to see his face. At that same time Murphy spotted you and pointed you out to the other man. Javier Peña. THE Javier Peña. The same Javier Peña who got mad at you for deciding that you didn’t want to go to college right away.

As you stared at Javier, you stopped in your tracks. It was obvious he didn’t recognize you. Or if he did he was really good at holding a poker face. Forcing yourself to continue to the bar, you could feel a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You had so much you wanted to tell him, you also had so much to yell at him about.

“So you’re the new agent huh?” Hearing Javier’s voice you noted how it had grown raspier, more gruff. Nodding you close the distance between the three of you.

“Y-Yeah. I’m the fresh meat.” You chuckled nervously, you couldn’t tear your eyes from Javier, no matter how desperately you wanted to.

“Do you even know who we’re after? I can’t imagine the agency told you much about this whole thing.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. He wasn’t wrong. The agency didn’t tell you much of anything, but you were smart. You knew that the DEA had their fingers in Columbia thanks to the media.

“You aren’t wrong. The agency wasn’t much help, but I’m smarter than I look. I knew about the DEA being here thanks to the news. All I had to do was guess why.” You crossed your arms over your chest, pride of your innovation filling your chest.

“Damn Murphy, guess they actually sent one with a working brain.” Javier elbowed Murphy, the two of them laughing at the joke that obviously went over your head.

“Yeah, they did. Now, if you don’t mind me, I would like a drink.” You spoke up before Murphy even had a chance to respond. Stepping forward you walked between the two of them, shoving Javier a bit rougher than you meant. If the shove pissed him off, he kept it under check.

Once at the bar, you flagged down the bartender. Luckily he understood your order, nothing too flashy. Just a simple local beer. Normally you’d order a cocktail, but it was far too early in the morning to be jumping right into liquor. Nodding a thank you to the man, you turned to face the other two again. Your eyes shooting straight to Javier. You couldn’t explain why but him not recognizing you made your blood run warm, however, seeing him standing there like what happened between the two of you never happened was enough to boil your blood.

“Javi, can I talk to you alone real quick?” You dropped your gaze from Javier to the label on your beer bottle.

“Uh, yeah I guess so.” You didn’t have to look at him to see the confused look on his face.

Without raising your gaze, you turned towards the empty interior of the bar. Once you were probably five or six feet away from Murphy, you stopped walking.

“Do you want to expl-”

“You don’t recognize me do you?” You couldn’t look at him yet. You weren’t sure if looking at him would make you breakdown and cry, or blackout in rage.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t get a very good look at your face. I also interact with quite a large group of people.” You could hear the annoyance lacing his voice. Clenching your jaw, you turn to face him; a reaction you were expecting coming to, tears.

“Let me see if I can help you. The last thing I said to you, before you got up and stormed off, was something along the lines of ‘you don’t make it easy to come to you’, or something like that.” As those words were said again you felt the all too familiar squeeze of anxiety. The two of you didn’t have a chance to talk about anything after that, he just left.

“Oh my god…What the fuck are you doing here? Why do you look like…” You watched him gesture towards you, “That?” You could see the same anger as before and start to settle on his features.

“I took some time after you just up and left me. I traveled a bit, met some people, made some connections, learned some very personal things about myself. As for,” You gestured to yourself in a dramatic manner, almost as if you were picking at how he did only moments ago. “I’m transgender. I’m here though because I also work for the DEA. I guess we got put together for this case.” The tears that were once present were now dry and your words began to have a venomous bite to them.

“You work for the DEA now?” Javier huffed. Gods you just wanted to reach over and punch him, but use your better judgment and decide not to.

“Yes I work for the DEA, which means I work with you. I don’t think we can ever quite fix whatever we had, but I know how you could start. I want an apology. A real apology, not some half-assed one you’d give to your sibling as a kid. I want you to mean it.” Crossing your arms over your chest you waited, you knew he’d never apologize but gods would try to get one out of him.

“Apologize? For what? You decided to ditch me. Not the other way around. We planned out our future, and you had to throw a ringer into it. If anything, you owe me an apology.” Hearing Javier talk, you clenched your jaw. He wanted you to apologize to him? In his dreams.

“Apologize to you? Javier, you stormed off after I told you what I wanted to do. You got mad at me! I supported you every step of the way, but the moment I want to do something for myself, you say no. You want to know why I’m here? I’m here because I want to catch the fucker who sold my brother the drugs that killed him.” Tears stung your eyes once more, this time the tears were ones of anger, not sadness.

“I-I had no idea about your brother…” You scoff, not wanting to hear the rest of the excuses he was about to spit out.

“I know you didn’t. Why would you? I only tried to call you a handful of times after I learned.” Shaking your head, you shove past Javier. You couldn’t stand him any longer. “Whatever, I can’t deal with you right now. I’m just going to go back to my room. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.” You had only got a foot or so away when you heard Javi, his voice softer this time.

“I’m sorry, okay? What I did was a shitty thing, I had no right to get mad at you. But I did, and nothing I do now can change that. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry you had to go through all the shit alone. I wanted to call you so many times, I really did. I didn’t think you’d answer so I didn’t even try.” Hearing the apology leave his mouth like a hushed secret, brought your feet to a stop. Had he really just apologized to you? Was this all some kind of joke?

“Wh-What?” You had to hear him say it again. It wasn’t real. It was some kind of auditory hallucination brought on by the altitude change. Turning to face him, a look of confusion painted your face.

“Come on, you’re going to make me say it again?” You didn’t answer, but apparently it was an answer to him. “I said I was sorry. I’ve had time to think about how I reacted okay. I was an asshole to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

All you could do was nod in response. He actually apologized. Javier Peña actually said “I’m sorry” to you. Maybe you had died on that plane ride and this was your heaven.

“O-Okay then. I wasn’t expecting an apology. The you I knew would have never said sorry to anyone, let alone me. I was so hell-bent on getting an apology from you that I never planned on what I’d do next.” A breathy laugh bubbling up from your chest.

“Yeah, well people change. You changed in your own ways, and I did the same.” Javier dropped his eyes from you to the floor between the two of you. It was obvious that he meant what he said, normally he had this spark to his voice when he wasn’t being serious, and that spark wasn’t there.

“I guess that’s true. So what now?” You stared at Javier, your hands playing with the bottle in hand; the beer inside now warmer.

“We try again, I guess. I’m not sure.” Javier looked from the floor to you, the harshness that had found its way to his face over the years, softened.

“Try again. I like the sound of that. Though this time, I don’t want you to owe me an apology this time around.” A laugh bubbled up from inside you, one you haven’t heard since the last time you saw Javi.

“No apologies this time. I think that’s doable.” Javier’s lips were pulling up into a lopsided smirk. That smirk that always makes you roll your eyes. You wouldn’t tell Javi this but, you missed this, hearing his voice and the way he made you laugh even when you didn’t want to. This time however, you weren’t letting him run away.

Credit: @inklore

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crowandmousewritingco · 10 months ago

Text

Another Cog in the Murder Machine

Paring: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x fiancé!reader

Words: 6.2k

Rating: R

Warnings: The reader gets purposefully misgendered, mentions of drugs and past addiction, mentions of character death (it's Tom, I'm not gonna scare y'all like that), heavy mentions of violence, blood, weapons, and cleaning injuries

Summary: You’re a teacher at a high school and you’re engaged to the local helicopter flight instructor. You’re nearing the final day of school -and your wedding- when all of a sudden there’s loud, unexplainable pops followed by the piercing sounds of screams.

Author: Mod Crow

Notes: This ended up being longer than I was anticipating and here we are. It's almost 6.3k words of pure angst. This is my entry for @sp00kymulderr's MCR challenge, and I got Teenagers. I was honestly hoping to the song, and when I did, I got super excited for this one! That being said, this is a darker 18+ fic so MDNI. If you click the "Keep Reading," you know what you're getting yourself into. (Y'all have been warned)

You tip-toed around your bedroom, careful not to wake the still sleeping man who you planned to spend the rest of your life with. Looking over to Frankie you can still hear the soft snores leaving his parted lips. Normally he’d be awake with you, but Frankie and you had a late night, the two of you had gotten caught up in wedding planning.

Turning away from Frankie you continued your path to your shared closet. Reaching for the handle you take it and quietly turn the knob and pull the door open. Hearing the all too familiar squeak of the hinges you curse under your breath. Normally Frankie was the handyman between the two of you, but you had promised to fix this. Once the squeak stopped and the door was now fully open, you flip the light switch. With the closet full of light, you start the search for what you are wearing to work.

Deciding that it would be a nice surprise for Frankie, you grab one of his well loved flannels, this one a deep forest green. With the shirt in hand, you flip the light switch once again, turning from the closet you gently push the door closed with your hip. Starting towards the dresser by the bedroom door, you look at Frankie once more and smile softly. Stopping half way to the door you turned and quietly tip-toed to Frankie. Once over him you crouch beside the bed. With your eyes level with his, you reach out and move a few strands of hair from his face. Leaning forward you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, with your lips hovering over his forehead you whisper a soft, “I love you” before standing back up and continuing to the door.

Parking your car in a spot that luckily had shade, you sit there for a moment. Today is the final week of school before summer vacation, which means two weeks till your wedding. Two weeks till you become Mr. Morales, just thinking about it made your stomach fill with butterflies. Taking a deep breath, you calm the storm of butterflies, and grab your shoulder bag. Turning off the car, you push open the door, the tepid summer air filling the car. Stepping out of the car, you swing the door shut behind you. Once closed you reach out and press the block lock button beside the handle. Hearing the beep, you turn and start towards the school.

You only recently became a teacher, specifically an environmental science teacher at the local high school. Reaching into your shoulder bag, you fish out your ID lanyard that would unlock the front door. Now standing at that said door, you run your name badge across the outside scanner. There was no beep, instead you heard the locks unlock. Grabbing the heavy door, you pull it open. Stepping into the building a chill ran down your spine, you couldn’t understand why they kept the building so cold.

Making your way to the main office you listen to the sound of your shoes echoing slightly in the empty halls. Pulling open the office door, you walk in saying a soft “hello” to the receptionists as you walk past them. Before you could go to your classroom and get things set up for the day, you needed to check your mailbox, and then get a cup of hot cocoa from the lounge.

Just before you had a chance to check your mailbox you heard an annoying, yet familiar voice, Mr. Waters. “Oh well if it isn’t my favorite science teacher!” As much as you wished he was being sarcastic, he wasn’t. For some reason when you started here, Waters took a liking to you. A repeatedly shot down liking. Not only was he persistent, but he was also bigoted. He isn’t the first man to blatantly ignore your identity, and you know he won’t be the last.

“So you and the mister are getting married next week right? So that’ll make you a Morales, Mr. and Mrs. Morales.” You close your eyes and quite literally bite your tongue, which you nearly bit through hearing his chuckle. “That does have a nice ring to it, but personally I like Mr. and Mrs. Waters. Now that has a nice ring to it.” Opening your eyes you turn your attention right to your mailbox.

“Oh look at me, I got lucky. No mail.” Looking at Waters you force a smile, “Have a great day Greg,” Turning from Greg, you start towards the lounge, “I like the former more, Mr. and Mr. Morales. Have a great day Mr. Waters.”

Once out of the offices hidden behind one of the receptionists, you turn towards a small hall that leads to the teachers’ lounge. The teachers’ lounge was also about ten degrees warmer than the rest of the building, but today the lounge had the audacity to be about twenty degrees warmer. “Sweet Christ.” You mumbled under your breath as you made a beeline for the sink. Grabbing your “Flying Fish’s” mug off of the drying rack. You remember when you came home with the mug for Frankie.

The two of you had just moved into your first apartment, he had just gotten back from wherever he went off with Santi and the others. When they had returned, they all came back one man short. No one told you exactly what happened, and all you knew -at the time- was that Tom had been in an accident and he was killed.

It took Frankie a while to come back to you after that, a lot happened between the two of you. One of those things was cocaine, and it nearly killed Frankie, but you refused to leave him. Frankie needed someone in his corner at his lowest, and you loved this man too much to allow him to go through it with anyone other than yourself.

After fighting Frankie for months to get help, he finally caved. As you drove him to the center, he had started to get moody thanks to withdrawals. One of the biggest moods that he went though, was sadness. He kept telling you to leave him for Benny or Ironhead, that they’d be able to be a real husband for you one day. You had let him cry and get all of the noise in his head out. Once his talking turned into soft jerky sobs, you reached over and placed your hand on top of his. Swallowing back your own sobs you managed to say, “If I’m marrying anyone, it’s you Francisco. I don’t want to be a Miller, I want to be a Morales. I’ve wanted to be a Morales since our first date at that lame little arcade.” Thinking back to it caused a soft chuckle from your lips. Hearing you chuckle caused Frankie to settle a bit, “Y-Yeah, that was a pretty lame place. But that’s where I fell in love with you mijo.”

While driving to the rehab center Frankie continued to sniffle and take shaky breaths. Resting your hand on his thigh, you rubbed your thumb gently across the top of his knee. By the time the two of you had made it to the center Frankie had calmed down enough for the two of you to say your temporary goodbyes. Watching him walk into the building you could feel tears invading your waterline, blurring your vision. Frankie was originally only supposed to stay at the facility for a week, two weeks max. In the end, Frankie had stayed for nearly two months. You were torn in the beginning, you wanted him healthy and clean, but you didn’t want to spend anymore time away from him then needed. You had soon fallen into a place of contentment and happiness for the man you loved. The two of you had a goodnight call every night he was gone, and from the way it sounded, Frankie was determined to get clean for yours and his future. When it was finally time to pick him up, you brought a little gift for him from that lame little arcade. You had pointed it out then, it was a white mug with some kind of fish on it and the fish had wings, and above and bottom the fish, was the words “Flying Fishes!” From what the two of you had come to was that it must have been a funny childish expletive.

Chuckling at the memory, you smile softly, flipping the mug over and place it under the Keurig Machine. Looking at the K-Cup holder, you spun it slowly. When you saw the hot cocoa, you grabbed one and popped it into the machine. After you closed the top, you pressed the eight ounces button, and listened to the machine come to life. While you stood there waiting, you hummed softly, pulling out your phone. Turning on the screen you saw how you still had no notifications, chuckling you thought to yourself, ‘Aww I must have worn him out yesterday with the planning.’

Hearing the machine come to a stop, you opened the top and grabbed the used pod. Throwing it in the nearby trash can, you grabbed your mug and made your way to your classroom on the second floor. Walking through the halls of the school you took the silence that still hung in the air, it was in these moments that made you realize just how loud teenagers really are.

Once at your classroom, you grab the small ring of school keys and find your classroom key. Unlocking the door you push it open, flipping the lights on carefully with your mugged hand. Leaving the door wide open, you head to your desk to set down your things. With things out of your hands you start the process of setting up for the first period.

“Good afternoon, with today being the last week of school I don’t expect any of you to do any school work. That being said, the principal doesn’t like it when I just have you guys watch videos,” You turn towards your desk and grab the stack of paper, holding it so that the class could see you continue on, “That’s why we’re going to fill out this page while we watch some Bill Nye.” As you spoke you watched as everyone in class changed their expression when hearing you say Bill Nye.

Splitting the stack into five small stacks you hand one to each person sitting in the front row, “Take one pass it back, if you need a pencil I still have a few in the pencil cub on the counter there.” You gesture towards what used to be a cup full of pencils, now however, it holds only seven pencils. You knew leaving them out they’d get taken, but that’s what you wanted, if someone was taking a pencil that means they needed one.

Once the papers were passed back -and the remaining back up- you asked a student closest to the switch to get the lights. You stood there a second, seeing if you’d have to make a decision for them as to who gets to do it. Before you could open your mouth however, you watched Savannah stand and get the lights. “Thank you Savannah.” Hearing her soft acknowledgement, you bent over slightly to look at your computer screen. Humming softly you click on the video and look to the front to make sure it was being projected.

Nodding at the sight of the video you press play and grab the small remote on your desk. With the video playing you adjusted the volume so that it would disrupt either of the teachers who you shared a wall with. Once it was at the perfect volume you set the remote down next to your laptop. You took this moment to sit at your desk and enjoy the coffee you got yourself during your planning break.

You sat there in relative quiet, only having to remind the class that this is a treat for them once, before you heard the first unfamiliar sound. You thought maybe it was a sound from outside, turning your chair to face the window, you push yourself up from the chair and scan the outside, “What the hell?” You mutter under your breath so that none of your students heard you curse. The second time you heard that sound again, it was closer, and accompanied by screams. Whipping your head to your class, you could see the realization wash over their faces, the sight of fear and terror was evident.

Quickly grabbing the remote you paused the video, “Okay guys, let’s get ourselves into lock down position,” Looking around your class you found the jocks, “Tristen, Caleb, and Kody can you guys move a couple of tables to block off the doors?” None of them answered verbally, but they didn’t need to, by the time you had finished your question the three of them were already in motion. Looking back to Savannah, you pull your keys out of your pocket and gently toss the keys to her, “Savannah, while the boys get those tables can you start leading everyone to the classroom’s back closet?” It took her a moment to respond, but when she did, you could hear the tremble in her voice. Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a deep breath, opening your eyes you scan your class once more. Taking mental count you feel your breath catch in your throat, “Oh no. No no no no no, I’m missing two students. Fuck.”

Clearing your throat, you speak softly, “Boys, don’t completely cover that last door, we’re missing two of our friends. I have to be able to open that door in case it’s one of them. Now, go to the closet. Close the door behind you guys, don’t open the door for anyone unless you hear me say it’s okay or if you hear me knock on the door in the beat of Bill Nye’s theme song. Okay?” You stared at the three boys in front of you, you could tell that Tristen -the biggest of the three- wanted to say something, probably something to argue that it isn’t safe for you out there. Before any of the boys could say anything however, more pops rang out, followed by more screams.

Looking at the three of them you gesture for them to go, this time, no one tries to say anything, they simply listen. Once the closet door is shut you quietly make your way back to your desk for your cell phone. Opening the top left draw you reach in and quickly find your phone. Once out of the draw, you don’t bother closing it. Unlocking the screen you saw that Frankie had texted you sometime during the start of the final period.

‘Hey baby, you didn’t wake me up with you this morning. So I didn’t get to give you a proper goodbye this morning. I’ll make it up to you tonight ;)’

Reading his text you couldn’t help but let out a sad laugh. Feeling the tears well in your eyes you decided to sit on the ground behind your desk so that you were out of sight. Take a shaky breath in, you hit respond.

‘Hey babe, sorry I didn’t wake you this morning…I really should have. Something is happening at the school so I may be late tonight. I love you with all my heart Francisco Morales’

*Frankie’s POV*

The buzzing in his back pocket caused Frankie to stand up from his bent over position he was in. Grabbing the shop rag from his other back pocket, Frankie wiped the grease from his hands. Once his hands were clean, grabbing his phone he unlocked it and read over it. Reading that last sentence, he felt an unexplainable chill to run down his spine. In the five years the two of you had been together, you have never once used his whole name, not unless you were yelling at him.

Without responding to your text, Frankie tried to call you. And when you didn’t answer that first time, he tried again. And again. And again…By the fifth time of no answer, he took his well-worn hat off, and raked his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. Replacing his hat, Frankie did the only thing he could think of, call Pope. Navigating through his phone he found Pope’s name, and hit the little phone icon. Bringing the phone to his ear, Frankie fidget with the metal band that sat around his ring finger.

“Hey Fish, what’s up? Change your mind on letting me host the bachelor's party?” Hearing Pope chuckle, caused his breath to hitch, and based on Pope’s reaction he heard Frankie.

“Frankie, what’s wrong?” Hearing the difference in Pope’s voice made Frankie close his eyes, and sigh out.

“Santi, I could very well be overreacting, but Marito…he isn’t answering his phone. And before you say,” Frankie did his best Santiago voice, which didn’t remotely sound like him. “Fish he’s a teacher, he’s teaching,” Dropping the voice he continued, “Before I called he texted ‘I love you with my heart Francisco Morales’.” Frankie stood there a second, even Santi knew that Fish’s whole name never comes out of your mouth if you weren’t arguing with him over something, which had been years at this point.

“How many times did you try?” Any hint of joking that was in Santi’s voice before was completely gone. Frankie knows this voice, it’s the voice that Santi uses when he’s going over mission plans, or if he’s about to give bad news. Clearing his throat, Frankie reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

“I don’t know, five maybe six times. Why does that matter? If he didn’t answer call two, why does it mat-”

“Catfish, shut up. It matters because it gives you an idea of how long he’s been M.I.A. I would say if he was surprising you by showing up early, he’d be too busy driving, but your guy's car has that hands free answering option.” Frankie closed his eyes, he knew Pope was trying to lighten the mood. Sighing softly Frankie went to respond, when his phone started buzzing against his head.

Pulling the phone away to see the screen. Seeing your name pop up, Frankie quickly offered a ‘good-bye’ to Santi before answering the call.

“Hermoso, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Do I need to co-” Frankie could hear your ragged breathing, and then he heard your hushed, pained voice.

*Your POV*

“H-Hey Frankie. Look, don’t come to the school, it isn't safe right now. I just wanted to hear your voice, and tell you that I love you.” You had stopped trying to fight the tears about ten minutes ago, when you were attempting to help an injured student get into your classroom. The student was just out of your reach, he had to have been a freshman because you didn't recognize him, and he didn’t know your name when he reached out for you.

You couldn’t help but look down to your hand, it was splattered with blood, none of which belonged to you. Clearing your throat, you went to continue in your hushed tone, but Frankie was faster. As you listened to him, you squeezed your eyes close and bit back your sobs.

“Marito, what is going on? And before you say nothing, I can hear it in your voice. And, and, before you ask, yes I’m already on my way to the school.” Letting out a shaky sigh, you drop your head.

“F-Fine. There’s an…an active shooter. I’m fine, my students were safe last time I was in my classroom. I know what I did was stupid, why would I leave the safety of my classroom? There was a student who was shot in the thigh, laying about three feet away from my door. I thought maybe I could go get him and help him back. But when I got in reach, he was shot. In front of me. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save him. His…his head was…it was…” You kept trying to finish your sentence but it just wouldn’t leave your mouth.

“Shhh Marito, I know. I know baby, I’m almost there. So is Pope. Were you shot? Are you okay?” Hearing Frankie ripped you from the scene replaying in your head. Shaking your head, you swallow dryly.

“I-I’m fine. I wasn’t hit, I think I was able to outrun whoever it was. I know my kids are fine because I locked the classroom door before I tried for the student. I was able to get into the teacher’s bathroom on the floor below my classroom. Frankie, am…is this how I’m going to die?” The thought wouldn’t leave your brain, no matter how hard you tried to force that thought out.

“Hey. No. None of that, do you hear me? You aren’t dying in a school bathroom, do I make myself clear mijo? Now, I need you to breathe with me, si? Just like how you taught me when I got back. In for four,” You followed with Frankie, you took a shaky breath in. “Bueno, now hold for two.” Normally this would be easy for you, holding your breath for two seconds is nothing, but right now it feels impossible. “You’re doing great Marito, now out for six.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you slowly let your breath out.

“Thanks Frankie, I heard sirens not too long ago so I can’t imagine I’ll be in here too much longer right? They sent everyone out here right? I-I mean, this is a building full of children, and people wouldn’t let anything hap-” The sound of the bathroom’s door slamming open caused you to slap a hand over your mouth.

“Marito, what's happening? Is everything okay?” You wanted to answer Frankie, you wanted to scream out for help, but you couldn’t. As you sat there on the toilet, knees pulled up to your chest. As you sat there, hand over your mouth, you could still hear Frankie on the other side of the phone, and it seemed like he may have caught on. Frankie went from asking you if you were okay and still there to softly talking to you, “Just stay quiet” and “It’s okay, you’re getting out of there”, the occasional “I love you” could be heard from Frankie. It wasn’t until you heard him say, “I’m here, there are cops everywhere Marito.”

You watched as black gym shoes walked past your stall door to the furthest one, you felt yourself relax slightly. Moving your hand you take a shaky breath in, you wanted to tell Frankie that you loved him back, but now you’re set out to say it back to his face.

When the footsteps stopped you carefully placed your feet on the ground. The moment your feet hit the floor however, there was a loud metal hitting metal sound. The sound caused you to jerk your feet back up to the toilet. Hearing the sound a second time it registered exactly what the sound was, and when the realization hit, it felt like being hit by a train, ‘Oh God, they’re kicking the stall doors open.’ Squeezing your eyes shut, you buried your head in your knees.

*SLAM*

One door closer, you knew it wouldn’t take long for the shooter to open your stall, or at least try. You thought you were being clever locking the stall door, but now it may have been for nothing.

Hearing the stall next to you get forced open, you tried your hardest to hold in any noises, but the suddenness of the slamming sound caused you to jump slightly, a gasp leaving your mouth. You couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that the shooter did hear, but it was obvious Frankie heard.

“Mijo what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Listening to Frankie you could hear a familiar tone, a tone you’ve only heard a couple of times. ‘He’s petrified, and I can’t tell him that it’ll all be ok-’ You were ripped from your thoughts when there was a bang at your stall door.

“Oh you think you’re smart huh? All you’ve done for me is made it easier, it’ll be like shooting for a fish in a barrel.” Staring at the stall door, you could feel your hot tears running down your face. As you sat there waiting, you decided to talk. With eyes closed, you whispered softly to Frankie, “Thank you for being you. I love you Fra-”

*POP POP POP*

*Frankie’s POV*

“Thank you for being you. I love you Fra-” Then three -unmistakable- gunshots rang out. Standing there, phone pressed to his ear, he wanted to call out to you but he couldn’t. It was like reliving the death of Tom, only this time it was him who lost someone. Sure when Tom died he felt like he lost a small part of himself, he lost a friend, damn, it felt like he lost a brother. But you? You were the love of his life, someone who refused to give up on him, even when things got dark after Tom’s death. Moving the phone from his ear, Frankie hung up the call. Looking around the crowd he managed to find Santi. Speed walking over to the Santi, Frankie kept his eyes down, hiding his face to the best of his abilities with the bill of his worn hat.

“God Fish, you look like shit.” Frankie raised his gaze so that his eyes locked with his friends. Staring at him Frankie closed his eyes, reaching up he wiped his eyes. Opening his eyes once more, Frankie cleared his throat, it felt like his heart was in his throat.

“There were three gunshots as he went to tell me he loved me. There was no sound after that. Pope, he’s…he was shot three times, in a bathroom stall. He’s…Pope I-I think he’s…” Frankie couldn’t bring himself to say the word, dead.

Dropping his gaze, Frankie stared at the ground, he had lost a friend and that nearly killed him. Without you? Without you will kill him. All Frankie ever wanted was to start a family with you, but he can’t. You were ripped away from him by the hands of some pissed off teenager.

Looking to the school, Frankie could feel his blood starting to boil. “Why the fuck aren’t these guys going in there?! There are kids in there and they’re all just standing around like this is all some kind of fucking game.” Looking at Santi, he noticed that Santi had been staring at him. As the two of them stood there, Frankie shook his head softly before looking Santi in the eyes and gave him an all too familiar look, the ‘I’m fixing this myself’ kind of look. Santi looking between Frankie and the school, he understood why Frankie was willing to go in head first, but if on the chance you were still alive Santi would be damned to let his friend die.

“You aren’t going in there, Fish.” Frankie watched as Santi crossed his arms over his chest. Frankie couldn’t help but clench his fists a few times before relaxing slightly. Frankie closed his eyes and thought for a moment, ‘It’s obvious he won’t go in there with me, I’ll just go in alone.’ Opening his eyes, Frankie gave Santi a nod.

“Fine, I’m not going in.” Looking at the growing crowd that was being held back by the extra officers, he continued on, “But I’m going up there so I can see if he gets carried out and is alive.” Without letting Santi get a word in, Frankie sped walked through the crowd, shoving his way to the front.

Once at the front, Frankie scanned the area. ‘Getting around the cops this way is going to be next to impossible.’ Looking at the side of the school, Frankie saw that there were officers going in through some of the school’s side doors.

‘Bingo.’

*Your POV*

*POP POP POP*

You had always thought the volume of a gun going off was the worst part, because it had been for the longest time. You had never been shot before, so when you opened your eyes, not feeling anything at first you were confused. The moment you looked down however, you saw that there were two -growing- spots of what looked the color of mud, the dark maroon of your blood dulling the green. When the searing pain hit your brain finally allowed you to connect the dots. You’ve been shot twice. Luckily, the third shot missed your face.

Clamping your hand over your mouth, your left hand goes to cover the wound that seemed to be bleeding the worst, the shot through your upper right bicep. Keeping your hand over your mouth, you stayed as still as possible, not wanting the kid on the other side of the door to shoot again. When you finally heard the bathroom door open and close again, you dropped the hand from your mouth.

Looking down at yourself again, you put your now free, shaky hand over the second hole. Pressing your hand on the wound on your right side you felt a white hot pain that radiated from where your hand sat all the way to the middle of your back. Squeezing your eyes shut you felt an unfamiliar tightness in your chest. Trying to take a deep breath, you feel the searing pain again, this time worse. Nodding to yourself, you lift your head and look at the stall door. You could see through the forced holes that were now there. Moving your now blood painted hand from your chest, you grabbed a hold of the handrail and pulled yourself to your feet. The moment you were upright, you felt yourself wobble on your feet. Taking a moment you try to calm the spinning that your head was doing.

When the spinning finally became tolerable, you unlocked the stall door. Walking out of the stall you looked around for a moment. You knew fighting would be pointless with you in this state, so now you had a choice to make. Barricade the doors? Or try to get back to your classroom? As you stood there thinking, you began to realize something. It was getting harder to breathe.

Looking down to your side you pulled your hand away slightly, feeling the air hit the wound it ran a chill down your spine. Looking at yourself in the mirror you wobbly walked towards the mirror. Once in front of the mirror you grabbed the edge sink, your blood covered hands painting the once stark white with a bright shade of red. Looking at yourself in the mirror you could tell you weren't in a good enough state to attempt going back to your classroom.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bit back the cries that wanted to escape, not because you didn’t want to be found. No, it was because breathing was now getting harder, the only thing that didn’t cause an excruciating amount of pain was short pant-like breaths. Dropping your head, you opened your eyes. Staring down at the flannel you thought for a moment, you had to get the bleeding to slow, and you could think of one way to help the slow flowing waterfall of blood that was leaving through the hole in your bicep.

Standing up right, you carefully unbutton the flannel. Once fully unbuttoned you slowly slide the blood soaked shirt off. With the fabric now off of your body, you could look at yourself in the mirror a bit better. As you stand there, taking in your exhausted and battered form, you mindlessly find the hole in the sleeve of the once perfectly worn and loved flannel. After a moment of merely playing with the edges of holes, you tore the flannel. You continued to tear the flannel until it no longer resembled a shirt.

Taking one of the pieces you carefully place the middle of it under your arm. Holding the scrap of fabric in place with your body, you manage to somehow tie it over the hole. It could have been tighter, but something was better than nothing. Looking at yourself in the mirror again, your eyes focused on the hole on your side. Or at least that’s what your eyes tried to do.

As you stood there, you could feel a fog creep into your brain. The fog was only the beginning, soon you could feel your limbs getting heavier and heavier. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head slightly. Opening your eyes, you looked from the mirror to the pile of scrap fabric and to the door. If you stayed in here there was no telling how it would take for someone to find you, and you might not make it if you aren’t found sooner rather than sooner.

Grabbing a couple of scraps, you wadded one up and pressed it to the hole on your side. Clenching your teeth through the pain, you gently push off of the sink, and with wobbly legs, make your way to the bathroom door. Grabbing the handle you push it open slightly. You slowly peek your head out of the room. Listening to the deathly still air, you could still hear the sounds of screams and gun fire, but it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the school.

Slipping out of the bathroom, you press the wad of fabric a little hard. Looking down the hallway, you could feel yourself being torn in two. Do you leave for your own help? Or do you go back to your classroom and protect your kids? Thinking it over for a moment, you nod softly and make your way to the stairs. You only had to go up one flight of stairs to your floor, and find your classroom, you could do that. You’ve been doing it for an entire school year.

Once at the bottom of the steps, you placed a shaky bloodied hand on the railing. Pulling yourself up the stairs, you had to stop every couple of steps. Without being able to suck in full breaths, climbing the stairs was harder than you were expecting. After what felt like an eternity, you were finally on the third floor.

Standing on the top of the stairs you listened to the air once more. Things were quiet for a moment, but when the silence was shattered you nearly jumped out of your skin. The source of the disturbance sounded like it was just under you. Swallowing dryly, you pushed off the stair railing. Walking down the hall you felt the fog come back, only heavier this time. Turning slightly, you made a beeline for the wall of forest green lockers. Reaching out, you felt the chill of the metal. Holding yourself up right, you pressed the wad of fabric against yourself harder, the radiating pain making you grit your teeth.

Trying to focus on the little breaths that you can take in, you try to force the fog away. After a moment of trying to clear the fog, you registered the sound of footsteps coming towards you. You could also feel your hands getting heavy and the pain that was once howling in your brain, had silenced. You didn’t hurt anymore. Turning your head towards the person, you tried to focus your eyes on them, it took you a moment but when you felt relief wash over your battered body. But that was the last thing you saw before you felt yourself slowly slip into a barely alive, unconscious state.

*Frankie’s POV*

Sticking close to the walls of the school, Frankie moved through the maze of halls. When he finally found a flight of steps, he heard those all too familiar pops. Frankie couldn’t tell what floor they came from, all he knew was that they were happening on one of the floors above, maybe even on your floor. With that thought in head he felt a fire light under him as he made his way up the school’s stairs.

Once on the landing between the first and second floor, Frankie reached around to his back, pulling the handgun from his waist line. After the mission when Tom died, he had become weary of carrying the weapon with him everywhere. So instead, he decided to keep it tucked on his side of the bed if the need for it arose. What Frankie had never imagined using it for this, he knew if it came down to it he’d have to shoot the kid doing this, but the feeling in the bottom of stomach told him what he already knew. Frankie didn’t have it in him to kill the kid, no matter what he’s done, he wants to be a dad with you. He has a kid now, she’s only six but he knew he would be furious if some random person killed her.

Shaking the thoughts from his head Frankie made a beeline for the closest wall. With his back pressed against the wall he carefully looked up and down the hallway. As he looked towards the way of your classroom he saw something that looked like someone was bending over slightly, and they had definitely been shot in the upper arm. Readying the weapon in front of him, Frankie slowly and cautiously walked towards the figure.

As the distance between him and the mystery person, he soon recognized the person. He had spent the last five years learning as much as he could about you. Relaxing his stance, he quietly called to you. At first he used the nickname that he came up with, marito, when you didn’t respond to that he called out your name. When you still didn’t react Frankie could feel anxiety fill the pit of his stomach. By the time he was several feet from you, he watched you turn your head and look at him. Seeing your face caused Frankie to stop in his tracks for a moment, you were paler than normal and you were covered in sweat and blood, as to whether or not it was all yours he couldn’t tell. As he continued to study you, he noticed you slowly start to sway slightly on your feet before collapsing.

Rushing to you, Frankie attempted to catch you, and he had. But in that process he hurt himself as well. As you fell Frankie reached out and managed to get a hold of your arms so that he could pull you into him, while pulling you into his grasp he had stepped forward, his foot landing in a small puddle of blood. Trying to take that small extra step to you, his foot slipped in the liquid. Catching you isn’t what hurt him. What hurt him was the way in which he protected you from slamming into the floor, twisting and attempting to pull you on to him. Laying on the floor, Frankie groaned slightly. He hadn’t managed to land square on his back, instead his entire left side slammed on to the cold linoleum flooring. Opening his eyes, Frankie looked to his chest. He had managed to catch you and it seems you didn’t meet the same cold hard fate as him.

Trying to carefully move you off of him, Frankie felt a shock of pain from his left arm. Clenching his jaw, he let his head fall back onto the ground. As Frankie laid there thinking, he heard doors being thrown open down the hall. “Fuck.” Frankie murmured the curse to himself.

Looking at your unconscious form, Frankie clenched his jaw once more. Trying to move you again, Frankie pushed through the pain in his arm. Once he had managed to move to the ground beside him, he was quick to his feet. Looking down at you, Frankie breathed out, crouching down, carefully he slid his fine hand and arm under the bend of your knees. With his injured arm he, once again, fought through the pain and managed to pick you up. You were by no means too heavy for Frankie, but with only one fully functioning arm. Breathing through the pain, Frankie looked down the hall in the direction of your classroom. The same direction as the sound from earlier. Thinking for a moment Frankie scanned the area around him, when his eyes fell on the custodial closet door he made his way towards it. As he drew closer he said a silent prayer that the door would be unlocked.

Once at the door Frankie blindly felt around for the knob for a moment with his good hand. Grabbing onto the door knob Frankie breathed in and unknowingly, held his breath. Feeling the door knob twist Frankie let out the breath he was unaware of holding. Pushing the door open, he scanned the room. It was a small room but it had a way to lock the door from the inside and it could be barricaded if needed. Walking over to a relatively empty area, he gently sat you on the floor, back placed on the wall. Kneeling beside you Frankie carefully took off the bandage you had made for your bicep. Once it was finally off, Frankie looked around for the first aid box. When he failed to find it by looking around he stood up and walked towards the lone desk. Pulling open the draws he saw that the first two he opened were filled with junk, the third one had tools, and the fourth one had the first aid kit.

Grabbing the kit, Frankie spun on his heel and walked back over to you. Kneeling down once more, unzipped the kit. Looking around inside Frankie found the things he knew would help, the rolls of crepe bandage, gauze, and finally a small bottle labeled ‘saline’ that was in the kit. Thanks to his time served, then the contracted missions, and Benny’s matches, he had become pretty good at bandaging people up.

Before Frankie started disinfecting the wound, he gently pulled you forward. Looking at the back of your arm Frankie found what he was looking for, an exit wound. Gently leaning you back against the wall he started preparing to wrap the wound. Grabbing a couple of squares of gauze, he picked up the saline and ripped the top off. Once open, he poured some on the bandages. After wetting the gauze he carefully cleaned the area around your bicep wound. Frankie had managed to clean a majority of the blood that had dried before he picked up a roll of the gauze and made quick work of wrapping it around the still bleeding wound. Once it was wrapped, he picked up the crepe wrap and wrapped that around as well.

Moving his attention down, he carefully moved your hand and the blood soaked wad of fabric that you were holding to your side. Swallowing dryly, Frankie could feel panic start to swim through his veins. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the tears that wanted to pour down his face. Opening his eyes, he carefully reached around your back. Feeling around a chilling realization hit him, there was no exit wound this time, which meant you still had a bullet in you. Grabbing on to the collar of the undershirt you had decided to throw on, he pulled, ripping the shirt down the front to expose your bare chest and stomach to him. Scanning over the rest of your chest and stomach Frankie noted that you had only been hit with two of the three shots.

Turning his attention back to the first aid kit, he rummaged through it once more, his slightly bloodied hands painting some things with a light coating. Grabbing the weird plastic tweezers that practically every first aid kit has. Looking back at you, he also decided to pull out a small amount of alcohol prep towelettes. Tearing open one of the towelettes, he wiped the tweezers down, setting the pad on your outstretched legs. With the cleaned tweezers, his eyes fell to the bleeding wound, as he carefully placed the tweezers on the towelette he had laid down moments earlier. It was obvious that this wound was bleeding worse than the other one, so he knew he’d have to work fast.

Shaking his thoughts away, Frankie grabbed a few more squares of gauze and the saline. Using almost the rest of the liquid, he wet the gauze in hand and started cleaning the area around the entry wound. Once most of the dried blood was gone, he picked the tweezers up and the remaining saline he took a deep breath. This wasn��t the first time he’s dug a bullet out of someone, but it is the first time he’s done it to someone who he loved like you. Leaning forward he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, with lips hovering over your clammy skin he whispered a soft sorry.

Leaning back, Frankie turned his attention to the wound once more, dumping a small amount of saline onto the wound he watched as it cleared the area enough for him to find it with his finger. Eyes flicking to your face for only a moment, closing his eyes Frankie slowly pressed his finger into the wound. Upon doing so, it was enough to pull you from your unconscious state, pain flooding every sense for a moment.

*Your POV*

You weren’t sure where you were when you felt your consciousness slam back into you. Eyes shooting open, you go to make a sound of pain, but you feel a hand clamp over your mouth. Panic and pain course through your veins, you follow the stranger’s arm up his body. When your eyes landed on Frankie’s worried face, you wanted to comfort him and tell him everything would be okay, but that was a promise you could make sure came true. Closing your eyes again, you leaned your head back, resting it on the wall.

Feeling Frankie remove his hand, you swallowed dryly, slightly numb to the pain. That was until you felt Frankie’s finger bump into what you were assuming was the bullet. Slapping your own hands over your mouth you squeezed your eyes shut, tears flowing down your cheeks despite your eyes being closed. As soon as his finger hit the bullet, he pulled his finger from the hole. Your jaw falling open, you suck in short and pained pants of air, even if you wanted to scream out in pain, you didn’t think you were capable of doing so.

“I’m sorry mijo, I had to figure out where the bullet was. This next bit though…” You watched Frankie avert his eyes from yours, you knew what that meant. This was going to hurt way worse than earlier.

“Do…it…” Your voice was airy and soft. Seeing him look back at you with an ‘are you sure?’ Nodding softly, you closed your eyes once more, not wanting to see it coming nor happen.

“Okay. This shouldn’t take me more than five minutes.” Frankie spoke softly. As you go to respond you feel a searing hot pain in your side. Clenching your jaw, you held in the pained screams that wanted to escape.

As you sat there pain on the front of your brain, you heard someone try the door. Eyes shooting open once more, you twist your head to the door. As does Frankie. Looking at him you shake your head and talk softly, “Keep…going…” With the verbal instruction Frankie nodded softly and continued his work at retrieving the bullet.

Feeling the white hot searing pain once more, grinding your teeth, you hold back the screams of pain that want to rip their way through your throat. After what felt like an eternity, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Looking down to the wound, you could tell it was irritated from all the attention it just received. You could also now see that it had started bleeding -just slightly- more now. Without talking, you watched as Frankie rolled up a small thing of gauze before looking at you. You knew what the look was, he had given it to you only moments early, and once again you responded with a nod. The feeling of the dry gauze being forced into the opening surprisingly hurt less than you were expecting, or maybe it’s because it isn’t moving around.

Once the gauze was packed in, he picked up the final gauze squares he had grabbed out of the kit. Pressing the gauze into your side he looked at you and nodded his head towards the gauze. Raising a shaky hand, you place it on top of the gauze to hold it with slight pressure, but mostly to make sure they don't fall. You watched as Frankie once more dug around the first aid kit, this time pulling out a roll of bandage tape.

As you watched Frankie tear off a few pieces you could feel the fatigue and brain fog coming back. You tried to say something to Frankie so he knew but your voice was failing you. With the small bit of strength you had left you moved your hand from the gauze and on to his thigh. You watch through blurry eyes as he lifts his head to look at you, and once more you feel yourself slip into the quiet black.

*Frankie’s POV*

Watching you pass out once more, Frankie nearly drops the wound dressing. Luckily he had leaned you against the wall because instead of falling forward or sideways, your head leans back on the wall.

Looking back to the supplies in hand, Frankie finished with the pieces of tape and an extra gauze. Placid the gauze on top of the ones that you were holding in place only moments earlier. With the dressing on your side securely, Frankie starts thinking. If the two of you stayed here, you could die. If he left you here to get help anything could happen. If he carried you out with him there was a chance that the two of you could die, but Frankie wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Taking a steading breath, Frankie stood up, groaning at the pain in both his -now bruising- left arm but also his knees. Once standing up right he looked down at you, he could see you breathing, but something about it seemed…wrong. Feeling that familiar heaviness in his stomach Frankie grabbed the brim of his worn hat, lifted it off of his sweat-dampened hair, and scratched the top of his head. Replacing his hat, Frankie crouched down once more. Slipping his arms under you, he thought for a moment of the best way to carry you out. Obviously, the first thought was how he was holding you now, your legs bent at the knee over one arm and your back and head being supported by the other. There was a problem though, if he had to arm himself, it would be impossible to. Planting a soft kiss to your forehead, Frankie carefully -and painfully for him- laid you over his left shoulder. Your head hung down his back while your legs were in front.

Looking over the room once more, Frankie grabbed the gun from his waistband once more. With his gun in hand and you over his shoulder, he turned his attention to the door. Walking the short distance, Frankie hesitantly reached out and grabbed the door knob. Before pushing the door open, he planted his ear to the door and listened. After a moment of waiting and listening, he pulled his head back and carefully twisted the knob. Pushing the door open, Frankie glanced around the immediate area he saw that was empty of people. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, Frankie snuck out the room. Catching the door before it closed all the way, he slowed the close, not wanting to make a loud thump sound.

Once in the hall, Frankie did one more scan. When he was certain the area was empty, Frankie made a beeline for the stairs that he had ascended some time ago. Going down the stairs was far easier on his knees, and he was thankful for that. Once Frankie stood at the top of the last set of steps, he stopped once more and listened. He could hear something but it was too muffled to pinpoint what it was.

Putting the gun away, Frankie pulled out his cellphone. Turning it on Frankie navigated his way to his contact book. Scrolling through the list he found the man he knew would help. Santiago. Clicking the small phone icon, he raised it to his right ear. Listening to the ringing Frankie could hear whatever was making that sound earlier, slowly getting closer, though he couldn’t tell if it was on the second floor or the first.

“Fish? Where the hell did you go man? Your truck is still here and yo-” Frankie could hear the worry in Santi’s voice, though was not the time.

“Pope, I need you to get the spare key from the toolbox in the bed of the truck. Once you have the key, drive to the east side of the building. I-I think the door number I came in through was 7. You’re also going to want to open the door before I get there. There is no time to explain, just get a move on it.” Without waiting for Santi’s response Frankie hung up the call. Pocketing his cell phone, Frankie retrieved the gun.

Taking one more deep breath, Frankie started down the final stairs. Now on the first floor, he scanned the area. As he scanned the area, Frankie heard a familiar sound, one that took a moment to click. Turning to look behind him, he locked eyes with some kid standing at the top of the stairs Frankie had just come down from.

“Kid, you should stop now, you can just drop the weapons and walk outside.” Frankie reluctantly raised the gun in his hand, really didn’t want to shoot the kid, but if he gave him no choice… Being pulled from his thoughts, Frankie’s eyes refocused on the movement of the kid doing the same to Frankie. Slowly backing up Frankie looking around the kid, something else he could shoot.

Raising his gun, Frankie fired at the window behind the kid. Frankie, not wanting to stand around and watch the glass, took that moment when the kid turned to do the same. Running towards the exit, Frankie could feel his shoulder growing damp. Looking at the open door, Frankie turned towards it. Running through the doorway, Frankie threw the door shut. Pressing the button on the handle, Frankie heard it click lock. Doing the same with the deadbolt, Frankie quickly -yet cautiously- he pulled you from his shoulder.

Sitting you on the floor, your back being supported by the wall, Frankie looked over your wound dressings. Muttering out a soft curse, he noticed your side dressing. You were bleeding more than he was expecting, taking off his well loved hat Frankie raked his fingers through his wettened hair. Replacing the hat, Frankie turned to look around the room. As he turned Frankie’s eyes landed on the bodies of what appeared to be school staff of some kind. Swallowing dryly, Frankie turned back around and looked down at you. Crouching down, Frankie placed two shaky fingers to the side of your neck. As he searched for a moment, he did something he hadn’t done since before leaving for the army, Frankie prayed.

When Frankie’s fingers found your pulse, he felt himself relax, but only a little. While he had found your pulse, it was weak and barely there. Moving his hand from your neck, dropping his hand to yours, gently picking up your hand he brings it to his lips. Planting a gentle kiss on the engagement he proposed to you with. Pressing your hand to his face Frankie took a steadying breath, pushing past the pain he was currently in.

“I made a promise that I was going to marry you one way or another Marito, and I’m keeping that promise.” Pressing one more kiss to the ring, Frankie placed your hand on your lap. Standing up, Frankie picked you up and once again, put you over his shoulder. Whispering a soft ’sorry’ to you, Frankie grabbing his gun one final time. Unlocking the room’s deadbolt, Frankie paused for a moment hearing the deadbolt retract back into the door. Standing there the only thing Frankie was able to hear was his pounding heart in his chest. Deciding to continue on, Frankie grabbed the handle and twisted it just enough for the lock to pop.

Waiting for another moment, Frankie took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open, head peeking around the door towards where he had run from. When Frankie didn’t see anyone, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and started towards the door he had snuck in through. As he made his way towards the door Frankie felt a weird chill run down his back, it was too quiet. With the door nearing, Frankie could see his truck just outside on the road, Santi standing next to the open passenger door. Once at the door Frankie pushed on the bar that ran along just under the window.

As the door opened, Frankie watched as Santi raised his eyes from his phone screen to the two of you. Santi’s face going from confusion to something akin to a mix of panic and fear. Once close enough to the truck he could hear Santi’s distraught voice.

“Holy shit Frankie…Is he still..” Frankie pushed past his friend and carefully put you in his truck.

“He’s alive, but barely. So get in the goddamn truck drive.” Frankie looked at his friend, despite his voice sounding cold and angry, the look on his face told a different story. Frankie’s face was painted with terror and pain, which was enough for his friend. Without talking Santi nodded and headed to the driver's side. As Frankie climbed into the truck he looked at his friend, the tears he had tried too hard to hold in till he had a moment alone. Allowing his head to roll, Frankie -now looking at the roof of his truck- felt a hand on his thigh. Looking down at his lap, Frankie sees your blood-stained hand, a small wave of relief washing over him.

*Your POV*

A month later

Leaning forward slightly, you let the nurse responsible for your oxygen therapy, take off the oxygen mask. Looking at her you smile, offering a small nod as a ‘thank you’. As you carefully stood from the hospital chair, you looked towards the therapy area door open. Normally the only people allowed back here through the doors are hospital staff and other therapy patients, so when your eyes fell on the all too familiar sun kissed skin and the deep espresso brown hair, you could help but perk up.

“Frankie.” Your voice was weak and mouth dry, after your therapy your mouth was always like a dried sponge. It seems that your fiancé had remembered your complaints because almost as if he knew what your next question would be, Frankie pulled his hand from behind his back. At first you were confused, you were expecting a small Styrofoam cup full of ice chips, like you’d normally get from one of the nurses. It was like Frankie could read your mind, because as he stepped closer he chuckled softly.

“I…I uh…” You could see Frankie’s cheeks grow pink. Frankie was a massive teddy bear on the inside, so whenever he did something for you he would start to get flustered, and you loved it. “I got you one of those cherry agua frescas from that little in the wall ma and pa bodega down the street from your favorite book store, I thought you might like something a little...normal?” Taking the cup from Frankie, you closed the distance between the two of you and pulled him into a hug, careful not to bump your still healing surgery scars. Feeling Frankie wrap his -non-casted- arm around you. Staying in the hug for a moment, you breathed in Frankie’s cologne.

Pulling away you looked up to Frankie, pressed a quick to his lips, then pulled away, and took a much needed drink of the tart drink. Swallowing the cold liquid, a pleased sigh escaped from your lips. Offering the cup to Frankie, he shook his head softly.

“I’m okay Marito, I got a coffee with the guys while I waited for you. By the way, if Benny asks me one more time what it felt like to break an elbow, I might show him.” You tried to chuckle alongside Frankie, but you still couldn’t without pain and the risk of re-collapsing your lung.

After you had finally woken up in the hospital, it had been a week since the shooting. You couldn’t remember all of the details after seeing Frankie coming towards you in the hallway, and some of the events before then were spotty. From what the doctors -and Frankie- say is you ended up getting hit twice, once in the left bicep which required minor surgery, and one in the the right side. That shot was the one that almost killed you, at least that’s what the doctors said. Apparently the bullet had just barely grazed the bottom of your right lung causing it to collapse, which in turn caused the breathing problems and chest pains, those you do remember.

Frankie on the other hand had gotten out far luckier than you. When you had passed out, he caught you, but you made him slip, or at least that’s how Frankie tells it. According to the doctors, Frankie’s break could have been far worse than just an elbow, if he had fallen differently. In addition to the broken elbow, the slip -then subsequently all of the running- Frankie had nearly tore his MCL, turns out years of traversing uneven environments has an effect on your knees.

Taking another sip, you motioned for the door, “Come on.” You lead the way from the inpatient care wing to the parking lot of the hospital. Once outside you stopped walking, closing your eyes and turning your face to the warm sun, you basked in its warmth. A pleased hum sounding from your throat as a happy but lazy smile slipped onto your face.

“As handsome as I think you are and as much as I’d love to just stand here and admire you, the boys have a surprise for you back at the house.” Opening your eyes, you looked at Frankie. One of the first things you had told him after they started discussing your release, was that you didn’t want some big party or something, you just wanted to go home and relax while you recovered, and it had been that way till now.

“Frankie, I told you guys that I didn’t want a party or something.” You whined softly, a pout forming on your face.

Without talking, Frankie grabbed your hand and took the lead to the truck. A pleased smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry it isn’t a party,” Frankie looked at you, a sparkle in his dark chocolate eyes. “Or something.” He did his best impression of you. Hearing his impression you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully.

“I do not sound like that.” You playfully argued, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. As you got closer to the truck you could see someone leaning against the truck. Getting closer you could see who it was.

“Well look who’s alive.” Santiago said in a playful teasing tone. “It’s good to know that the doctors fixed you up Marito, if you had to stay in there any longer, I would have had to come stay in your room with you just to get away from Fish.” Santi chuckled, pulling you into a hug. Feeling his warmth as you hugged him, you relaxed a bit.

You loved Pope, but you loved him in a way that you had never felt before, a familial love. A brotherly love. Growing up you were an only child, but then you met Benny, and you couldn't help but hang around him. You had just started college and he was trying to make a name for himself in the MMA scene. Somehow he had managed to talk you into coming to one of his fights while you were at a bar one night before finals. While there though, you got to meet the others. Tom was -as you’d learn is just how he is- quiet and withdrawn, Will was sweet and on the quiet side, then there were the other two. It was obvious from the moment that your eyes met Frankie’s dark brown ones, that he was falling…and so were you. As for Santi. Santiago definitely found you adorable, but he found you adorable in the sense of wanting to protect you, so from that day on he assumed the role of an older brother, the others soon figuring out ways to fit into your life.

Pulling away from the hug, you looked up to Santi, he motioned for the truck. You knew what he was saying despite not using any words. Looking at Frankie, you could see that he was already standing with the door open for you. You couldn’t help but smile at the man who you’d be calling your husband once he had his cast off and once your wounds healed enough. Closing the distance between Frankie and you, you could see that loop-sided smile you had grown to adore. Right outside the truck, you pressed your lips to his cheek then climbed in.

The drive from the hospital to Frankie and your shared place was a short one. Seeing the house come into sight, you smiled and rested your head on Frankie’s shoulder. As Santi pulled the trunk up the driveway, you felt Frankie plant a kiss on top of your head. Once the truck was off, Frankie climbed out and held his hand out for you to take, which you did. Climbing out of the truck, with a small bit of help from Frankie, you were careful not to twist, stretch, or move wrong, scared you might hurt and mess up the work the doctors did when finishing you up.

As you stood on the driveway, hand still in Frankie’s, you looked up to the slightly taller man. A relaxed smile on his face. With your free hand you reach up and rest it on Frankie’s warm cheek. Feeling him nuzzle into your hand, you smiled at the action.

“Thank you,” You spoke just loud enough for the man in front of you to hear, and by the flash of a confusion, you could tell he didn’t know why you were thanking him. Chuckling slightly you continued, “For saving me. It was dangerous, you could have died in there. You shouldn’t have done that, but you did.”

“I’ve lost friends and that feeling almost killed me. Mijo, if you died, it would have killed me. I made a promise to you that I was marrying by any means necessary, and I plan on keeping that promise.” Hearing Frankie talk, you could practically feel how much this man loves you, and that feeling was enough to make you tear up slightly. Without allowing the man to wipe away your tears, you pulled his face towards yours and planted your lips on his. Frankie’s kisses always had this magical ability to not only wake the butterflies in your stomach but they also make the world around the two of you melt away into oblivion till it was only the two of you.

“Transformer!” Chuckling into the kiss, you pulled away and planted one kiss on his lips before turning around to look at Benny. The nickname he had chosen for you happened as a joke a couple of weeks after you had told the boys you were trans, at first Will had playfully smacked the back of Benny’s head. It wasn’t supposed to stick, but it did, and you had come to love hearing Benny calling you it.

“Benny! I told you I was stronger than I look.” You pretended to flex your still healing arm, which made Benny laugh slightly. Putting your arm down, you stretched carefully, taking a deep breath in. Relaxing, a quizzical look found its ways to your features for only a moment. Taking a second deep breath, you figured out what you were smelling, a cookout. Look over your shoulder to Frankie, you gestured to the fenced off backyard.

“You better stop Will before he burns the burgers, and make sure two slices of cheese get put on my burger. Last time he said he did and it clearly only had one slice.” Your tone was light hearted and laced with a jokingly teasing tone. Watching as Frankie nodded and walked past you, he placed a hand on your back and pulled you in for one more kiss. Pulling away from the kiss, lips hovering over yours, Frankie spoke in a hushed tone.

“I love you hermoso.” You smiled and pressed your lips to his, before pulling away once more.

“I love you too Frankie.” Your voice was slightly louder than Frankie’s. Pulling away completely, you couldn’t help but to tap Frankie’s ass, before motioning to the backyard once more.

“Get going, I’ll be back there in a second.” Pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, Frankie headed towards the gate. Turning your attention to the other two you smiled, before clearing your throat.

“Come on boys, let’s go make sure those two don’t start arguing over who gets to grill.” You couldn’t help but let an airy laugh out, before they headed for the same gate.

Watching the men disappear into the backyard, you looked up to the sky once more. There were clouds, but not so many where they blocked the sun, except for every so often. Smiling, you dropped your gaze to the backyard fence at the sound of a loud voice.

“You coming Marito?” You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. You were surprised that it was Benny yelling out to you using the nickname that Frankie had come up with. Nodding to yourself you started towards the same gate that the others disappeared behind. “Yeah I’m coming, I was just enjoying the clouds!” As you finished your sentence, you stood at the gate. Pushing open the gate, you saw all of the boys, and Will’s wife and kid. Standing there for a moment, you took in everyone who had come here just to see you. You knew marrying Frankie made you a member of the family, and it was now that you knew exactly what that meant. Smiling, you thought to yourself, ‘It’s nice to finally be home.’

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All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary

Thanks to the lovely @tsunami-of-tears for the dividers I found and ended up using. I ended using two different dividers instead of one. They were both really nice how could I only use one?

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