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amydunnewithmen · 3 months ago

Text

aftershocks

michael ‘robby’ robinavitch x heather collins

| “you need to stop blaming yourself,”

“that’s fucking rich, coming from you.” |

a/n: this is basically what i think happened following pittfest with these two<3 love ya ! - anna

shoutout to @mads198-9 for being my beta reader, you’re the best 🫶🏻

wc: 4.8k

warnings: angst, angst and more angst. brief mentions of addiction, alcohol. oh and angst.

Heather opened her eyes, stretching out her still tired, and achy body. She looked at the clock.

3:00AM.

She groaned. She had fallen asleep right after getting home, after Robby told her to go home and relax. She had had the glass of wine, sat down in the shower, and then curled up and felt the weight of the world lift off of her as she slept.

Grabbing her phone, she powered it back on. A few seconds later she watched as the screen illuminated, followed by a rush of notifications. Her eyes widened as she saw the missed calls.

Robby, Dana, Robby again, Dana again. And then Robby a dozen more times.

Then, the news headline followed the phone notifications.

Shooting at Pittsfest | ACTIVELY UPDATING

Heather immediately sat up in bed, opened her phone and called the one who had spent hours trying to reach her.

Ring…Ring…

On the third ring, he picked up. She didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

“I just woke up and saw the news. Saw all your calls. I turned my phone off when I got home and—Jesus Christ, I’m sorry Robby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She heard him breathing on the other line, not saying anything.

“God. The one day I fucking leave early…it must have been hell. I’m so sorry. So so so sorry—“

“Heather.”

“I can’t believe I actually turned my phone off. I’m a trauma doctor! We never turn our phones off and for a damn good reason! I—“

“Heather. Stop.”

His voice was rough, raw like he hadn’t used it in hours. She stilled, her breathing slightly faster than usual. She began to nervously pick at her fingers with the hand that wasn’t holding her phone.

Robby didn’t say anything. They stayed on the line in silence for what seemed like eternity until she broke it.

“Are you okay?”

He could have laughed, could have made a witty retort about how that was such a stupid question to ask, but he was so drained. Just tired and empty.

“No,” came his response.

In all the years that she has known him, he has only ever answered no to that question once. And it was on the worst day of his life.

She paused, making sure to think through what she was going to say. That it would be the right thing. That he would answer.

“What can I do?”

He let out a small laugh. But it wasn’t a happy or amused one. It was one of exhaustion. Dry and bitter.

“Unless you have a fucking time machine and can restart the shift, I don’t think there’s anything you can do, Collins.”

She bristled slightly at the use of her last name. It was such an odd formality for three in the morning.

Robby ran a hand through his hair, groaning slightly, waiting for her to respond.

“You and I both know that if I could do that, I would, Robby. But I can’t. So answer me honestly. What do you need from me right now that I can easily do?”

Her voice was soft, but there was edge of defiance in it. The stubbornness he knew all too well. He knew he had to give her an answer, despite him just wanting to tell her to forget about it and go back to sleep.

But he didn’t say anything.

“Robby,” she sighed, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I’m fine. I don’t need anything. Especially not right now.”

He was lying through his teeth, and she could tell. She didn’t even have to see his face to know that it was scrunched up in agony. That his features were layered with exhaustion and his eyes closed.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, her voice quiet as she started to get dressed.

He heard the rustling and sighed, running a hand over his face, “I’m fine. I’m serious.”

“When was the last time you ate something?” She asked, ignoring his last comment as she pulled on an old pair of sneakers.

He paused, thinking. He couldn’t remember the last thing he ate. Maybe it was a the sandwich at the end of the shift? Hours ago? He couldn’t recall. Of course, he didn’t want to admit that so he just stayed silent.

Heather took that as an answer.

“Do you want food? I can come over.”

He exhaled, “Heather it is three in the fucking morning. You are not bringing me food.”

She grabbed her purse and keys and began to walk across her apartment, phone still in hand.

“Robby?”

“Yeah?” came his gruff response on the other end.

“I’m bringing you food. I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up, leaving him no room to protest. He sighed, putting his phone down. He was still lying in bed in his sweatpants with no shirt on.

He got up, slowly, throwing on an old Led Zeppelin t shirt and a different sweater— one that wasn’t stained with the horrors of the day, and walked out to his living room. Sitting down on the couch, staring at the TV with nothing playing. With nothing but his racing thoughts to keep himself occupied.

After about twenty minutes of silence, he snapped out of it, looking up as a soft knock came from the other side of the door.

He stood up, cracking his neck before walking over and opening the door to reveal Heather, in very casual clothes holding two large bags of Chinese food.

But not just any Chinese food, his favourite place.

She walked in, letting the door close behind her. He studied her carefully as she placed the bags down and began unpacking the food. Her movements were brisk but purposeful- ones he’d seen her use at the hospital. She laid it all out, setting the fortune cookies aside, then turning to l him, holding out a box of shrimp fried rice and a pair of chopsticks.

“Here. Eat.”

Robby took the box from her begrudgingly and opened it.

“You didn’t have to do this you know,”

“Oh shut up. Eat.”

Her voice was light, but the look on her face told him that if he didn’t take a bite of the food in his hand within the next three seconds, she was going to force it down his throat.

He nodded, taking a bite. Closing his eyes as the pitt of hunger in his stomach that he had ignored until now thanked him.

She sat down in the chair across from his couch, and took a few bites of her food before looking up at him.

“Again, Robby. I’m so sorry—“

He cut her off, “Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault at all.”

“I should have been there.”

“I sent you home for a reason, Heather.”

His tone was light, but there was a definitive air to it.

She exhaled sharply, her gaze never leaving his, “You should have sent someone to come get me.”

He snapped, a brief second of anger flashing across his features. “I couldn’t really afford losing another staff member. Between you and Langdon—“

“Langdon? Where the fuck was Frank?”

He held her gaze, examining the look of suprise on her face. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before opening them again.

“Frank won’t be working with us for a while.”

Heather nodded, although not understandingly, “Why?”

Robby paused before telling her. And watched as her eyes widened in suprise, shock, and inevitability landed on anger; what he had been feeling all day since finding out.

“Fucking hell,” she cursed, “I had no idea.”

“Yeah. None of us did.” He replied shortly, his voice harsh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Again, not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. You had one of the hardest shifts of your life without either of your R4s.”

He nodded, not saying anything. He just took another bite of his food.

Heather swallowed what she was chewing and cleared her throat, causing him to look back up at her.

“You—uh,” she exhaled, “How many patients did you see? Or how many did the ER see…?”

He swallowed, but it wasn’t because there was food in his mouth.

“112.”

He knew the exact number— of course he knew that. She wouldn’t have expected him not to.

Heather nodded, taking another bite of her food, “And how many pulled through?”

“Six of them died.”

“That’s not what I asked,”

“But it’s what you meant.”

She gave him a knowing look. He returned it. The steam off of their rice lingering in the air between them. The only sound the clicking of the clock on his shelf.

“I’m sorry.” She broke the silence.

“I need you to stop saying that.”

“But it’s true.”

“Stop.”

He continued to stare at her. And she stared back. Neither one of them wanting to back down.

Eventually, Robby’s shoulders slumped and he leaned back on the couch, continuing to eat. He finished, and placed the box down on the table beside him.

“Thanks for the food, by the way.”

She nodded, also finishing her rice. “Anytime.”

He stood up, “I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?”

“Water?”

“I was thinking something stronger for myself, but I can get you water.”

He tried to crack a smile. A brief attempt to break the ice that had settled in, trying to lighten the conditions under which they were meeting. Make it slightly easier for both of them.

She begrudgingly smiled back, admiring his attempts, though knowing that the hard conversations were far from over.

“You have wine?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Always. I’ll be right back.”

Robby went into his kitchen and bustled around, finding glasses and bottles, pouring himself a scotch on the rocks and her a glass of red. He walked back out and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling slightly, taking a sip of the wine.

He sat back down and turned to face her again, his eyes sunken and sad.

“How are you feeling?”

Heather knew that he was deflecting. That he didn’t want to talk about the day, and would rather focus on anything else.

She gave him a knowing look, “I’ve been better. But I’ll be okay. It’s not the first time it’s happened to me.”

His eyes widened slightly, but his expression remained the same, “At work? You’ve miscarried before at work?”

She nodded, “Twice.”

He ran a hand over his face, “Jesus Christ Heather, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey-“ she held up a hand to silence him, “No apologies. Remember?”

Robby nodded, taking a sip of his scotch. The ice crinkling against the glass.

Heather took another sip of her wine, and the two fell silent again. They were both thinking, both processing.

Her eyes widened and she put her glass down and looked at him. “Jake. He was at Pittfest. You gave him the tickets is he—“ she stopped talking, watching how his face contorted in pain. Her lips parted slightly.

“Jake’s fine.” Robby managed to get out. His eyes closed. He swallowed harshly, refusing to let any emotion out.

Heather’s shoulders sunk in relief, but she knew there was something else. She waited for him to speak again.

“His girlfriend, Leah.”

“Oh,” the realization was soft as it escaped her lips.

“We couldn’t— I, couldn’t save her.”

She nodded, once. “She was one of the six.”

He nodded again, his hands beginning to shake. The ice rattling in the glass once more.

“Is Jake—is he—?” the words were lost on her lips. She didn’t know how to ask the question.

“He hates me. Doesn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t blame him—“

“Robby—“

“I killed his girlfriend—“

“—you didn’t kill anyone!”

The silence that fell between them was almost deafening. Robby’s head was looking down at the carpet beneath him. His hands twitching almost involuntarily.

“You didn’t kill anyone.”

Heather repeated her statement, but her voice had softened.

He nodded, letting her know that he heard her.

“I-“ his voice cracked, faltering slightly, “I did everything- literally fucking everything I could. I exhausted every resource. Every drop of blood we could spare. Hell, I even donated some of my own. I used Abbot’s too. And it still wasn’t enough.”

She spoke again and her voice had somehow gotten softer than it was before.

“Sometimes our best isn’t always enough.”

Robby nodded, remembering how he was the one to tell her that after her first loss years ago.

“I know.”

His voice was raw and stained with emotion as he took a shaky sip of his drink. A drop of condensation fell onto the carpet below.

“You did your best and it wasn’t enough to save Leah. But you did manage to save 106 other people. They will get to survive and live their lives. Because of you.”

“But Leah won’t.”

“No. She won’t. And today will stay with you. Leah will stay with you. But I need you to try and focus on the good. You know that’s how we stay sane in this job.”

His lips twitched upwards involuntarily, “When did you become the one to give me the pep talks?”

She continued to look at him, holding his gaze, “This isn’t a pep talk. This is me being honest.”

“Right,” Robby nodded, “Honest.”

“I need you to believe me, to trust what I am telling you.”

He made a sound. Not one of annoyance or understanding. Just a sound.

“Do you trust me?”

He continued to look at her. Steadily holding himself up until he nodded, sharply.

“Good.”

She picked up her wine glass again, taking another slow sip of it. Waiting for him to speak. He took another sip of his own drink, letting the sting of the scotch coat his throat.

“Thank you—for coming—“ he cleared his throat, “For being here.”

Heather nodded, “I’ll always show up, you know that.”

He nodded, averting his gaze from hers, “Yeah. I know.”

She stood up, and walked over to the trash from their Chinese food. She began cleaning it up.

He turned and watched her, “You don’t have to do that y’know. I can clean up,”

Heather smiled softly, “You’re awful at letting people help you, you know that right?”

She put the garbage in the trash next to the kitchen.

Robby nodded, “I know, I know. You’ve mentioned that before.”

She smiled again, though halfheartedly, picking up two of the fortune cookies and throwing one to him. He caught it in one hand and his lips twitched upwards again.

“I still can’t believe you remembered my favourite Chinese place.”

Heather scoffed, a smile still toying on her face, “It’s a pretty damn good Chinese place.”

“Oh trust me. I know.”

She sat down on the couch next to him and began to open the cookie- the plastic crinkling as they both opened them. He cracked the cookie in two and pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it.

“Self blame builds walls; self forgiveness builds bridges…” Robby read aloud.

“Hmph” Heather muttered, “Fitting.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled softly, “Open yours,”

She unfolded the piece of paper, “The weight of the world is not yours to carry alone.”

“Also fitting,” he commented, prompting her to smile again.

“Looks like you need to blame yourself a little less.”

Her tone was light but her words weighed heavy, her eyes sad as she watched him.

“That’s pretty fucking rich, coming from you,” he retorted, his defensive side poking out just a little.

“I never said I didn’t blame myself for things,” she responded, almost too calmly, “But for this? For what happened today? You can’t blame yourself. You just can’t.”

He closed his eyes as his body tensed again. She watched him carefully.

“Everyone that lost someone today is going to blame me, because they need to blame someone.”

“And I understand that. But you don’t need to add yourself to that list, okay?”

Robby didn’t respond and she grabbed his hand, not harshly, but not softly either.

“Okay?” She repeated. Her gaze was steady and she was watching him. His eyes were still on the carpet in front of them.

Heather squeezed his hand, just enough so he could feel it, “I need an answer, Robby.”

He lowered his head a bit, his shoulders sank, and he pulled his hand away from hers, “I could have done more.”

“No. No.” Heather spoke, her voice harder than he was used to hearing, “I am not letting you go down this spiral. This was not your fault. I need you to understand that.”

Robby looked at her, his expression meek as he listened to her. He nodded once, not saying anything.

“Do you understand me? I need to hear you say it.”

“I understand you,” his voice was low.

“Say the full thing.”

He groaned, “Heather—“ His head fell downwards again.

“No. Say it. I’m not letting you do this. I need you to say it.”

He didn’t respond and she leaned a bit closer, putting her hand back over his, leaning down so that she could look up at his face.

“Michael,” she whispered, “This was not your fault.”

His first name almost felt like venom on her tongue. She hadn’t called him by it in years.

Robby’s eyes widened a little at the use of his first name, and he looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw someone who he once loved, but still cared for staring back at him. Trying to help him, trying to break down his walls that he spent so hard building back up.

He inhaled shakily as he felt her start to rub her thumb softly over the skin of his hand, a minuscule, yet soothing gesture. He continued to stare at her, neither of them moving, neither of them breaking.

“It’s not my fault,” Robby whispered.

As he spoke, one tear slipped out and fell onto the top of Heather’s hand. She didn’t flinch and continued to look at him, as more tears slipped through the cracks of his hard exterior.

She nodded slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements and using her other hand, raised it to his face and wiped away a few of the tears.

“Say it again,” she whispered, “Say it like you believe it.”

He flinched slightly at being told what to do, especially by her. But he inhaled again, closing his eyes as more tears threatened to fall.

“It’s not my fault.”

As he said it a second time, he felt lighter. His eyes opened and she was nodding again, her own eyes sparkling with tears that she wouldn’t dare let fall. The two stayed that way, staring at one another, neither of them speaking but so much being shared between them regardless.

After what felt like eternity, Robby spoke again. This time, his voice was quiet, almost too quiet. Like if he tried to say it any louder the moment would be over.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back.”

She squeezed his hand, her gaze filling with determination.

“You will.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because I know you.”

Robby studied her.

The way her gaze never once wavered.

The way her eyes shone both with sadness and support, with a small sense of admiration and respect that he knew she harboured for him always.

The way that underneath her calm demeanour and exterior, she was still the girl he had met on her first day of residency during his second year of being a senior attending. The girl that was once scared, he watched grow into an outstanding doctor.

He knew she was right. That he would be able to face another day at the hospital. But right now it felt impossible, almost nauseating. The thought of walking back through those doors.

As if she could read his thoughts, she squeezed his hand again. For a brief second.

“You will keep being the great doctor that I know you are. Because there will always be patients-hell, even doctors that need you.”

Heather paused, unsure of the next few words that were about to escape her lips.

“I need you.”

She exhaled shakily.

“Heather—“

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

He held her gaze, watching as her face turned against her and her eyes softened even more under his stare. She inhaled again, her hand still in his.

“You know how much I care about you, Robby. I know you know that. But I just…can’t.”

Her words felt like a knife to his heart, “You can’t what?” His voice was dry.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Forget it. Please.”

That last word was a plea, and Robby knew it. He just nodded, continuing to hold her hand in his.

Heather looked at the clock that sat on his bookshelf. It read 4:47 AM. She had almost been there for two hours. She knew he needed sleep, judging by the lines that continued to crease his tired face.

He followed her gaze to the clock, clearing his throat.

“If you need to go, you can,”

She turned back to him, shaking her head softly, “I was more thinking that you need to sleep.”

He shook his head lightly, “I don’t need sleep.”

“Robby. You need to sleep.” She held his gaze, “I can leave—“

“No.”

His response came out faster than he expected and he paused, collecting his thoughts. His next words coming out barely a whisper, shielded with vulnerability,

“I don’t want to be alone.”

She nodded once, letting go of his hand and standing up,

“I can get extra blankets from the closet and crash on the couch. I don’t mind. You won’t be alone.”

Robby nodded, “Okay.”

His sleep deprivation was catching up to him, and his body physically ached as he stood up, stretching. He winced as almost all of his joints cracked.

He went down the hall, and she heard the bathroom door close. She walked to the closet and dug out the extra throw blankets he had, making herself a makeshift bed on the couch that they were just sitting on.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and he came out holding a small bag- one that she recognized instantly as being the overnight bag she kept at his apartment when they were together.

“I think—“ he cleared his throat, visibly a bit sheepish, “I think that there’s still a toothbrush in here.”

Heather nodded, taking the bag from him, “There should be, yeah. Thanks. I didn’t even know you still had this.”

Robby shrugged, “It was under the sink. Behind a few things”

She unzipped the bag and looked at it. Her belongings from three years ago completely untouched. Like frozen memories. He had kept it, all these years.

She tried to brush off the pangs of sadness that were beginning to form in her chest, digging through the bag and pulling out her old toothbrush.

“I’m gonna get changed. You uh—,” Robby’s voice was gruff, the tiredness seeping into it, “You know where the bathroom is.”

Heather nodded, smiling softly at him as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she looked around at the familiar tiny room. The white LED light was almost blinding as she stood over the sink, putting the toothpaste onto her old brush.

It was odd. The taste of the toothpaste was the same. The one they shared for months. She spit it out as fast as possible once she was done, rinsing her mouth out with water.

There was a single soft knock at the door just as she finished splashing water onto her face. Dabbing with a towel to dry, she opened the door to see Robby standing there holding what looked like a pair of boxers and an old t shirt of his.

He didn’t hand it directly to her, but spoke quietly.

“I know you didn’t plan to stay the night, and I know you’re probably okay to sleep in what you’re wearing, but if for whatever reason you’re not I dug these out for you.”

Heather looked at the clothes he was holding and back up at him. She nodded once and took the clothes from his hands.

“Okay. Thank you,”

A small smile ghosted his features as he leaned ever so slightly against the doorframe, studying her. She held his gaze, and crossed her arms.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

He paused before answering, “Just reminiscing.”

She gave him a knowing look before tearing her eyes away from his. A soft sigh escaping her.

“Go to bed, Robby. I’ll finish locking the place up.”

Because she knew how to.

“Are you sure?”

Heather nodded, “Yeah. Besides, you look like hell.”

He chuckled. The attempt at breaking whatever was between them didn’t go unnoticed. He nodded, conceding, taking a step back from the doorway.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

She smiled softly as she closed the door to get changed, “Goodnight.”

As the door closed, Robby walked back down the hall to his bedroom. He sighed, running a hand over his beard before crossing the threshold, lightly tapping the door behind him to close it.

He didn’t realize it hadn’t fully closed until he was already lying down in his bed. And he didn’t care to get up and shut it. His eyes drifted closed, the only sound being Heather’s footsteps, after she opened the bathroom door.

As quietly as possible, she turned off all the lights in the apartment, and locked all the doors. She plugged her phone in beside her with the spare charger he kept in the living room, and lied down on the couch, trying her best to get comfortable.

After what felt like hours of trying and failing to find a position she could fall asleep in, she looked at her phone, tapping the screen to illuminate and reveal the time.

7:34AM.

She cursed softly. Her back was hurting on the couch and she knew sleep wasn’t in her future if she stayed lying there on it.

In her severely sleep deprived state, she stood up, grabbed the throw blanket and carefully, but successfully navigated the dark halls of Robby’s apartment, reaching his door and pushing it open ever so slightly.

“Robby,” she whispered. She could see the outline of his body in bed, not moving.

“Robby-“ she whispered a little louder this time.

“Hm?”

There was a soft grunt of acknowledgment from where he lay. But he didn’t move. She spoke again, her voice slightly louder than the whispering had been.

“I can’t sleep on the couch. It’s killing my back. And you can say no but is it okay if—“

He didn’t let her finish her sentence. Just murmured in agreement and moved further over to his side of the bed. She watched him move and she just stood there. Unsure of whether or not she should actually go in.

Robby opened his eyes ever so slightly to see her silhouette briefly illuminated by the moon that was shining through his window. He could almost feel the apprehension radiating off of her.

He patted the space beside him with one hand, “C’mere.”

She quietly walked over to the opposite side of the bed and carefully climbed into it. Pulling her throw blanket over her, to not fully get under the covers.

Everything smelled like him. The blankets, the pillows. Him. Heather blinked hard a few times, trying to push the thoughts out of her mind.

Robby was facing away from her. But she knew he was still awake based on the way she felt his body tense beside her every time she moved, even if it was the smallest shift.

She rolled over, so that she was facing his back. The familiarity of how she used to sleep in this very bed was almost overwhelming. She took a shaky breath, quietly trying to exhale.

Robby was wide awake. He felt every breath, every movement, hell, he could probably even feel every thought she was having.

He didn’t roll over, but he moved his arm backwards, searching for her hand in the dark, finding it and grazing his fingers softly against hers.

Heather almost jumped at the contact, but her breath only hitched slightly.

“It’s okay.”

She heard him whisper, causing her body to relax, but not fully.

“We’re okay. This doesn’t mean anything.”

At that, her body fully relaxed, and she brushed her fingers in reflex against his, signalling to him that she heard him.

He shifted his body ever so slightly to make himself more comfortable, not moving his hand from hers, and eventually, after a while of listening to the other breathing and enjoying the comfortable familiarity of it, they both fell asleep, their fingers just barely intertwined.

62 notes · View notes

amydunnewithmen · 8 months ago

Text

never have i ever

frankie morales x fem!reader

your childhood best friend Ben takes you on a beach trip with him and his friends from the army. you and Frankie seem to get along like a house fire.

a/n: Written for @yxtkiwiyxt Kiwi’s Never Have I Ever challenge (open til March 1). Thank you so much for tagging me in this, it brought me out of my writing slump!

tw: fem reader, afab reader, drinking, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, dubcon, poor excuse for including he speaks Spanish, reader has hair long enough to grab, first Frankie fic so he may be poorly written, not proofread.

word count: 5.5k

MDNI

masterlist

—

The cool breeze carried the briny scent of the ocean, making the fire flicker as you stared into it. The bright light felt like it was burned into your corneas, but you couldn’t look away as it twisted and danced before you. You were already more than a few drinks in, your body warm and languid as you settled into the patio chair.

You blinked, your gaze swept over the thinning circle of people before you landed on the man next to you. Francisco… or Frankie… or Catfish–you weren’t exactly sure. You tended to settle on Frankie.

Ben had brought you along to a get-together with his army friends and respective plus ones in Saint Pete: they’d rented a house that was just a ten minute walk from the beach. You had an extra pull-out couch with your name on it for just the price of some food and alcohol. It was a no-brainer to tag along.

“Hey, nena, it’s your turn.”

His brown eyes looked like caramel in the firelight, his body angled toward yours as he spoke. You’d only met him yesterday, but he seemed nice enough. Definitely more of the drinking type, so you were peas in a pod.

“Sorry,” you breathed, wiping the excess hard cider off your bottom lip as you crossed a leg underneath yourself. You’d taken one of the blankets from inside with you, draping it over your shoulders like a cloak. All eyes were on you, reminding you of the hands that were held up, various amounts of fingers remaining. You still had all five.

Never Have I Ever was a stupid game anyways.

“Um, well...” you tried to think of something that wasn’t pathetically uptight. You took a deep breath, your cheeks warm as you stared at the fire. “Never have I ever… been in a helicopter.”

You already knew the reaction you would get.

“Oh come on,” Ben sighed, his third finger folding over his palm.

“I’m literally a fucking helicopter pilot, s’not fair,” Frankie complained, chugging the rest of his drink as his last finger went down—hand in a loose fist for a moment.

The rules were shaky when it came to what to do when you reached the end of your allotted fingers, everyone had just settled on finishing their drink. Frankie grabbed a new beer from the cooler next to him, twisting the cap off and taking a sip before stretching his hand open again.

It was just the three of you left, the others having gone to bed but leaving their patio chairs and empty drinks like sentinels in their absence.

“Never have I ever banged a football player,” Ben said as soon as Frankie had his new drink open.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Now that is a low blow,” you said, putting your thumb down. Playing games like that with Ben was never fun–the two of you had known each other since you were kids. You could exchange pointed shots all night at one another if you wanted to. “And I hardly call losing your virginity to a benchwarmer banging a football player.”

The laughs at your expense made you scoff. You took a drink of your cider to hide the flash of embarrassment on your face. “None of us even knew he was talking to you,” Ben said, snorting softly, “we didn’t think the kid had enough fire in him to handle you.”

“Well, I was stupidly waiting for another guy but settled for the first boy who was nice to me,” you mumbled in a sorry attempt to defend yourself, your face warm from more than just the alcohol.

Ben hummed his acknowledgement, eyebrows lifting. “Oh yeah, this super secret high school crush that you refuse to tell us about.”

You could feel Frankie cast a knowing look in your direction, one eyebrow quirked.

“Yeah because even though I’m over it you would make a big deal out of it because you know the guy,” you said, finishing your drink. You got up to get one from the cooler next to Frankie, hoping he would decide to take his turn already and change the subject of discussion.

Ben snorted, crushing his empty cup in a hand as he stood. “Whatever you say,” he acquiesced, stretching. Your gaze found the strip of skin that revealed itself as his shirt rode up, staring for a bit too long before you got a hold of yourself.

“Well, crazy kids, I’m going to bed.” Ben crushed you in a side hug, ruffling your hair despite your sound of annoyance. “Don’t let Fish keep you up all night, he’s a bad influence,” he said, hand rubbing over the cap of your shoulder as he stuck his tongue out at the other man.

“Psh. Don’t listen to him, nena, I’ll take good care of you,” Frankie protested, his lip twitched into a smirk as he gulped his beer.

“I think I’m plenty capable of handling myself,” you murmured, waving them both off with a hand. “Goodnight, Bennie.”

He wished you both a goodnight before disappearing into the house, you could hear the squeal of the sliding glass door closing behind him.

You lowered yourself into your deck chair, shifting it so you better faced Frankie at an angle. He still had his baseball cap on, strands of his dark hair curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. His cheeks were rosy from drinking, his smile a bit broader now.

“Whaddya say we keep playing?” Frankie suggested, watching you open your bottle. The condensation wet your fingertips, your nail picking at the softening label.

You were still too wired to go to bed. If you turned in you’d just be restless and on your phone until you finally passed out.

“Alright, fine,” you said, tapping your fingertips on the metal armrest of the chair. A smile found its way to your face, your five fingers stretching out. Frankie did the same, you could see the calluses on his fingers and palm.

“Never have I ever… skinny dipped.”

Of course Ben had told the story—your group of friends had decided to go skinny dipping in the nearby lake. But the moon wasn’t even out and no one could see much of anything. “I was in high school and it was dark,” you defended, putting your thumb down.

Frankie looked like he was the cat that caught the canary, drinking with you even though he didn’t have to.

“Okay, never have I ever played strip poker.”

He put a finger down. “Well I know what I’m making everyone play for tomorrow’s entertainment,” he said, taking a long gulp of his beer. “You’ve gotta let loose a little.”

Your face was hot, part of you wishing the ground opened beneath you and swallowed you whole. He loved to tease, his sarcastic tone making your stomach flip every time you heard it.

You gently shoved his chair with your foot, making it scrape over the paving stones. “I am loose enough,” you argued.

—

A snort pulled from you, morphing into a too-loud laugh. The empty bottles were nearly overflowing the side table you and Frankie were discarding them on. Both of you had finished your drinks of choice and resorted to passing a cheap bottle of wine back and forth, staining your lips purple.

“It was only one time, and you have to understand that I was so damn exhausted,” Frankie explained, leaning toward you as he spoke. His laugh belied his attempt at seriousness, his dimple showing as he snickered.

“You fell asleep during sex!” You let your head fall back against the chair, looking at the stars above you. They swam a bit. “That is kind of hard to do.”

“It’ll happen to you someday, nena, and you’ll think of this conversation.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you snatched the wine bottle from him, bringing it to your lips. The glass was cool against your mouth as you drank a swallow, just enough to warm your belly and keep your buzz. More than a buzz if you were honest with yourself.

“Never have I ever had sex with someone to make someone else jealous,” you countered, a knowing smirk on your face.

Frankie rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I didn’t realize that Ben was telling you all of our secrets.” He pulled his hat off his head for a moment, running his hand through his hair before replacing it. “Gonna kick his ass as soon as he wakes up.”

You wet your lips, trying to cover your giggles. “In his defense, he never thought we would meet,” you muttered, leaning against the armrest of the chair.

The fire was dwindling in the pit, casting tangerine-colored light across the two of you. Frankie said he’d put more wood on twenty minutes ago, but neither of you cared enough to actually do it.

“Well, it wasn’t my proudest moment,” he muttered, shaking his head. “This girl I was kind of seeing had been flirting with this other guy the whole fucking time we were out and I just lost it. Got a different girl to very publicly go to the bathroom with me.”

“So not only were you disgusting—you were disgusting in the bathroom of some bar?”

“Hey, hey, no need to judge me so hard,” he said, putting both hands up like he was pretending to be innocent.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating him. He had a similar relaxed posture, slumped against his chair in his white shirt and gray sweatpants. It was a miracle that he hadn’t spilled any wine on himself yet.

“I’ve just never been so desperate for someone’s attention,” you said, sitting mightily on your high horse.

That made Frankie guffaw, sitting up suddenly. “Oh yeah? Never have I ever had a crush on my childhood neighbor,” he said, a shit eating grin on his face as he scratched at the patchy beard on his jaw.

You could feel yourself stiffen, giving yourself away without meaning to. “I… I do not have a crush on Ben,” you protested, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh sure you don’t, nena,” he said, making you want to reach out and smack him. “Oh Bennie this and oh Bennie that, the only way it would be more obvious is if you had big fucking hearts in your eyes… well obvious to everyone except him.”

Apparently your embarrassment was loud and clear anyways, your attempts to be nonchalant failing miserably.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Frankie said, trying to placate you.

You scoffed, standing up as you drank a bit too much wine from the bottle, the excess dripping down the corner of your mouth. “Don’t be embarrassed? I just found out that everyone has been watching me be a huge fucking idiot this whole time!”

He stood with you, hands smoothing over your shoulders as he crowded into your space. “I’ve got an idea if you’re game,” he said, catching your attention again.

“What?”

“Well… we could kill two birds with one stone, ya know?” It must have been clear that you didn’t know what he meant. “We can make Ben jealous… and cross something off your ‘Never Have I Ever’ bucket list.”

Your brow furrowed as you considered what he was saying. His hands rubbed down your arms, gently pulling the wine bottle from your fingers. He took a swig before setting it with the empty bottles, making them clink against one another.

Then it all clicked.

“You want to have sex?”

Frankie laughed, his big hands finding the flare of your hips. “I thought Ben said you were smart,” he teased, his forehead bumping against yours as he shuffled in closer.

You clicked your teeth at him. “I’m drunk… so what’s in it for you then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, a smile lifting his lip. “I get to have sex, that’s more than enough reason for me to want to do it.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sigh, shaking hour head as you lightly smacked his chest. “Men are ridiculous,” you mumbled, grinning softly as you looked up at him.

Frankie was smiling, showing off his straight white teeth in the light of the dying fire and blue glow coming from the in-ground pool. He moved closer, his aquiline nose nudging against yours. You were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your face, smell the wine he just drank.

“Just tonight?” you asked, one eyebrow arched.

He nodded obligingly, grin growing impossibly wider. “I don’t catch feelings.”

You were drunk enough to think it was a brilliant plan—it would be impossible for Ben not to jealous if he heard you and Frankie next door. The idea was foolproof. “Okay, then let’s do it.”

—

Frankie’s room was just next to Ben’s, the two of you giggling with bottles of wine in hand as you followed after him. He’d grabbed an additional bottle from the kitchen when you snuck back inside to have on standby, the remaining quarter of the first bottle still sloshing around in yours.

You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him as you opened his bedroom door. He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you inside, slamming the door shut behind you both. “Frankie!” you scolded between kisses, mortified that you were being loud.

“Waking him up is the point, nena,” he said, half carrying you to the bed. You rolled your eyes, holding the bottle for him to drink from before he confiscated both and set them on the nightstand. “C’mon, loosen up for me.”

He leaned down to capture your lips, messily licking into your mouth. You could taste the wine on his tongue, making you hum as you returned the gesture.

“Get this stupid thing off,” you muttered against his lips, knocking his hat off and foraging your fingers in his thick curls. You gently tugged at his roots, making him groan as he smashed you into the mattress with his weight.

“Thought you liked the hat,” he said with a chuckle deep in his chest, pushing the offending accessory the rest of the way off the bed.

You desperately pulled him back to you, hitching one leg around his hip as his arm flattened near your head for support. “Fancy restaurant rules. Definitely not allowed in the bedroom,” you said with a smirk. He huffed his disagreement against your jaw, shaking his head as his blunt teeth scraped over the thin skin.

It was messy. Tongues meeting and teeth clashing and nails scratching over fabric and skin alike. Playfully suggestive hums and giggles filled the quiet of the room. You were sure you were disrupting the rest of the house, Frankie’s bedroom right in the center of it.

The alcohol made everything so easy, whisking away your shirt and sweatpants before you even realized. You took Frankie’s shirt along with them, tossing it somewhere in his room.

He nudged your chin up with his nose, his tongue flattening over your windpipe. Your breath tripped, eyes squeezing shut. Admittedly, it had been a while for you. Everything he was doing was making your head spin.

The kiss turned sloppy with tongue as he traced his thumb beneath the waistband of your panties. Your manicured nails traveled over the expanse of his bare chest, following the soft ridges of the lean muscle and stray scars to the line of dark hairs beneath his navel. It was your guiding beacon, your fingers following it to the elastic waist of his sweatpants.

“Off,” you asked softly, snapping the elastic against the thin layer of pudge on his belly. “Please.”

He obliged quickly, pulling you up with him as he got off the bed to ungracefully shove them down his legs and kicked them somewhere into the room. Tight black boxer briefs hugged his quads, stretching as he knelt onto the mattress.

“C’mere, nena,” he practically growled, grabbing your thighs as he yanked you up onto his lap. You yelped, giggling as your legs bent at the knee and toes anchored against the duvet. His fingers sunk into your ass, dimpling the soft flesh as he held you close.

One hand skated up your spine, unlatching your bra easily. You cackled, leaning back as he pulled the straps down your arms and tossed it aside. “Didn’t know you were such a slut, Frankie,” you murmured, smirking as he palmed at your freed tits. Your nipples were pinched between his forefinger and thumb, making you arch toward him. “Unhooking a girl’s bra with one hand?”

He muffled your words with more kisses, stamping his lips over yours. “That takes some practice–should I be impressed or disgusted?”

“You never fucking shut up, do you?” Frankie asked good-naturedly, nipping at your lower lip as one hand smoothed against the small of your back. He pulled you close, squeezing your ass as he leaned forward to devour you further. You tittered, your forearm pressed against the nape of his neck as the scoop of your palm found the patchy beard at his jaw. Your hips rolled into his, nose pressing against his cheek as you smacked wet kisses on him.

“I’m not well-known for being quiet.”

The world spun around you before your back hit the mattress, the memory foam absorbing most of the impact. His rough fingers pulled your panties off in a smooth motion, his palms finding the insides of your thighs and pressing them apart.

“I’m counting on that,” he murmured as he kissed his way to the echo of your heartbeat, sucking small welts into the flesh of your inner thighs.

You were stunned into breathlessness, propped on one elbow as you watched him map closer and closer to the ache between your legs. He breathed in deep as he hovered just above your cunt–something that would have mortified you if you were any less drunk, but it only made you moan.

The tip of his nose brushed your clit, making your pelvis jump toward his face. “You have a gorgeous pussy,” he said dreamily, the drunken slur finally making itself apparent in his voice. He parted your slit with his strong tongue, making your eyes roll back in your skull before he fully dove in.

Your fingers clutched desperately at his hair, your breaths choking in your throat as your brows knit together. He made out with your cunt, a soft rumble in his chest making his mouth vibrate against you.

Infatuation and desire consumed you, leaving you dizzy. His cheeks were flushed pink and his hair ruffled as his hands splayed wide across your thighs. You eagerly lifted your hips to his mouth as much as you could, whining as he lapped up the entirety of your sex, suckling at your clit each time before repeating the motion.

You found yourself thanking the attention to detail he was taught in the military: he picked up on every time your breath hitched or your voice became a whine and he made it happen again. And again. And again. To the point that you could feel just how soaked you were, not even the pace of Frankie’s tongue fast enough to keep your slick arousal from dripping to the duvet.

You’d never been so turned on in your life.

“Fuck,” you keened, the word tight in your chest as the oxygen left the room. You gripped his hair tighter, hips twitching. The tip of his finger pressed at your entrance, making your cunt flutter around the temptation of being full. His groan was muffled, met by your own grateful whimpers.

His jaw went slack, framing the entirety of your cunt as he pressed all of his weight into eating you out. The swirl of his tongue churning his saliva with each motion made you want to die.

Brown eyes met your half-lidded gaze from between your thighs. You were shocked to see just how pleased he looked, feasting upon you with the desperation of a starving man. Frankie had seemed like a lot of things, but a munch was not high on your list. Thank god you were wrong.

“You’re going to make me come so fast,” you gasped, almost embarrassed by how quickly you felt like your whole body was buzzing. Almost pathetically fast.

Steady presses of his tongue devolved into wet kisses sucked between your lips. You pressed the curls of his hair back from his forehead, a few beads of sweat dripping from his hairline. Soft lips wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked, bringing you to rapture as the tip of his tongue batted the sensitive bud.

It took one wet swirl around your clit to shatter you, your orgasm ripping through you. A wail escaped you before you clapped a hand over your mouth–even if you wanted Ben to know, you didn’t want to wake up the rest of the house.

Frankie grabbed the fat of your ass with both hands, pulling your cunt to his mouth as he licked you into oversensitivity. He didn’t stop until you were twitching with discomfort, pushing his forehead away.

He sat back, his facial hair shining wetly in the moonlight before he wiped it off on the back of his hand.

You were a panting mess, hardly able to think as he moved toward you. He massaged your buzzing skin with his big, warm hands, coaxing your soul back into your body. “You’re such a good girl,” he murmured quietly, his gaze steady as he watched you tremble.

The compliment split you open, endless hunger spilling out as you reached for him. You knew you wouldn’t be satisfied without having him inside you.

You could see the outline of his hard cock in his underwear, your free hand rubbing over it as he settled between your bent legs. The feeling of his weight above you helped your lungs find their rhythm as you pressed your thumb to the wet spot at his tip.

“So I’m that good, huh?” he teased, his voice unsteady as he started to grind himself against your hand.

Your laugh was breathless, your face on fire as you looked up at him. “I think all the booze helped, made me sensitive,” you said, your tone raspy and soft as your hand slipped into his boxer briefs.

The way his expression crumpled as your fingers curled around his shaft was delightful. A self-satisfied grin bloomed on your face as you started to stroke him, watching him through your lashes. His hips bunched into your hand, his forehead dropping to yours as he let out a groan.

“Shit,” he panted, one hand fisting in the white duvet. You relished in the way he already sounded wrecked. “I’ve gotta fuck you before you make me come in my boxers like some teenager.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from him before clumsily removing his underwear. The sight of his cock made your throat go dry, tip red and leaking. He looked painfully hard, curved up toward his stomach and a little to the left from a trimmed patch of dark, curly hair.

“Hands and knees, nena,” Frankie murmured, playfully swatting the outside of your thigh. “Wanna see that fat ass of yours–been staring at it ever since you got here.”

Your face was hot as you rolled over, spine arching like a cat’s as you settled on your forearms and knees. He grabbed you by the hips, yanking you where he wanted you: facing the arched mirror on the dresser. The sight of yourself made your arch deepen, your chest pressed to the bed as you presented yourself to him like a gift.

“Jesus,” he groaned, softly smacking your ass before he grabbed a handful of the soft flesh, shaking it. There was something close to reverence in his expression as you watched him spread your cheeks, dark eyes focused on your pussy. His thumb gently ghosted over your slit in a way that made you whine.

“Frankie, stop teasing,” you said impatiently, glaring at him in the mirror.

“Fine, fine, calm down,” he breathed, his knees finding their place between yours as his cock notched in the cleft of your ass. He rocked there for a moment before pulling back enough to ease into you with careful rolls of his hips. One hand planted between your scapulae, the other clutching your hip as you both exhaled your satisfaction with every inch of delicious friction.

It took you both a few moments to adjust, your went cunt finally relaxing enough to let Frankie fit entirely inside of you. He shushed you softly as you whined, barely fucking his cock into you as he rubbed circles over your vertebrae.

You rocked back against his thrusts, falling into a steady rhythm as the sound of your sweat-dampened skin smacking together filled the room. His hand moved from your back to the nape of your neck, grabbing a handful of your hair and tilting your head to make you look at him through the reflection of the mirror. The grip at your scalp was almost comforting as you melted into the sensation.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured low in his throat, his gaze taking in every detail of your reflection. Your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, your lidded eyes. Your hair was twisted around his fist, ass jiggling with every connection of your hips.

It was hard to keep your eyes open, moaning wantonly as you kept your gaze on Frankie. Your expression was pornographic–enamored and thoroughly pleased as he stretched you open on his cock.

He curled his body over yours, meeting you at his waist and shoulders as his lips found the back of your neck and shoulders. “Ben must be a damn idiot to not see how pretty you are,” he murmured, sucking marks into your neck. You were too lost in the pleasure of the head of his cock carving deep into you to respond.

“Squeezing me so tight, nena,” he grunted into your ear, his hot breath making shivers prickle up your spine. His hold on your hair kept you in place. “This is the sweet little pussy of my dreams, milking me so good.”

Frankie kept running his mouth, spewing filth and praise that made you melt into a puddle beneath him. You were possessed with pleasure, almost drooling as you whimpered and moaned.

His hand left your hip, weight pressing you even deeper into the mattress as his arm wrapped around you. You sobbed as his fingers skated over your belly, pressing against your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles against it.

“Frankie, right there,” you gasped, fingers bunching up the duvet as you tried to breathe through the sensitivity, still tingling from your last orgasm.

“Greedy girl…” he chastised, chuckling into your ear as he kept working your clit without mercy.

Your cunt was fluttering around his cock, your sounds becoming louder and more wanton. He exhaled through his teeth with each thrust, his breaths sharp and punctuated in your ear. “Frankie,” you moaned–his name being one of the few words you could even think of.

“That’s it, let ‘im know who’s giving it to you so good.”

Oh yeah.

You were still trying to make Ben jealous. The thought had slipped your mind entirely as you felt Frankie’s cock press over every slippery ridge inside your cunt, setting your body alight.

Who knew if Ben was even listening, if he was even awake.

You repeated Frankie’s name like a prayer on your lips, further and further gone the closer you got to your orgasm. He yanked your hair gently, making your eyes flutter open again to look up at him through the reflection.

His lips were moving, cursing in Spanish as his jaw clenched so hard you could see it flex beneath his beard. You could tell he was close, too, starting to lose his steady rhythm as he sped up. Bruising kisses were pressed to your neck and shoulder, his cock splitting you open with frantic thrusts.

Then he started to beg, almost making you black out. “Come for me, nena. Come all over my cock. I wanna feel you come all over me, squeezing me so damn tight.”

His thick fingers were still rubbing your clit, coaxing you further and further to the edge. Spanglish filled your ears as he grunted and groaned, clearly holding back until you finished first.

“Frankie! Oh my god!”

Euphoria left you strung out, ripping at the seams of your sanity as your pussy spasmed hard around his cock. Frankie turned your head by tugging on your hair, contorting you so he could smash his lips to yours as his hips started to stutter. You felt him pulse inside you, groans muffled between your mouths as his come spilled inside your cunt like lava.

You wilted together, exhaustion and drunkenness catching up to you as you collapsed to the bed in a heap of limbs and sweat and come. It would be smart to get up, to clean yourself up and go sleep on the couch. But you were already so comfortable, Frankie nestled close to your back as he started to softened inside you.

“M’I sleeping here?” you asked, already yawning as you and Frankie lay on your sides. He reached for the throw on the end of the bed, yanking the fuzzy blanket up and over the two of you.

He kissed your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck.

“Of course, nena, you gotta come out of my room in the morning for this to work,” he muttered against your skin, yawning in response to you.

This. The plan. You could hardly consider it as sleep pulled you under.

–

The morning light woke you up, making you groan as you rolled over to bury your face in Frankie’s neck. He stirred as you did, a hand running over your hip to placate you as he pulled you closer. “Morning, nena,” he murmured, voice raspy from sleep.

You hid from the sun in his clavicle, the warmth of his skin seeping into you. “What does nena even mean?” you asked after a few moments, voice sounding muffled.

Frankie’s hand ran up and down your side, clipped nails making goosebumps lift on your arms. “Means baby.”

It was simple enough. Just a normal nickname.

But you felt your cheeks warm, a thrill running through you anyway. “Yeah? You’ve been calling me baby this whole time?” There was a kernel of bashfulness in your voice.

He let out a huff of air, still too tired to laugh fully. “Yeah, I have.”

Silence lapsed between you two, your breaths even and slow as neither of you tried to move away. It was too comfortable for you to want to get up.

“You gonna go find Ben today?” Frankie asked, a twinge of something in his voice making you lift your head up.

You squinted in the sunlight, rubbing one eye with the heel of your hand as you fixed Frankie with your gaze. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you murmured, lips pursing to one side as you chewed the inside of your cheek. “Unless you wanted me to, of course.”

His tired smile soothed you, the hand running up and down your side inching closer and closer to your breast as he looked at you. “Nah, you should stay,” he said, thumb stroking over your nipple. He swirled it to hardness, heat already starting to pool in your lower belly despite your exhaustion.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

–

Ben and Will drank coffee in the kitchen in the morning, nursing their hangovers just like everyone else. Most of the group was awake and in various levels of pain, Santi cooking breakfast and Tom still wearing sunglasses. Their girlfriends were laying on the couches in the living room, curtains drawn as they sipped cups of water.

A giggle could be heard from Frankie’s room, the creak of a bedframe. No one understood how you two still had energy after going to bed at three in the morning. But, lucky for them, Frankie was resilient.

“Did they keep you up last night?” Will asked his brother, a hint of a smile on his face.

Ben nodded, blue eyes focused on his coffee. “Oh yeah, and you owe me twenty bucks.”

Will rolled his eyes–betting that Frankie would wait until the end of the trip to hook up with you had been the stupidest thing he’d done in a while.

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