#HES SERVING FIVE KNIGHTS AT FRANKY'S!!!!

[misqnon]

NOOO THEY BLASTED HIS BEAUTIFUL FACE OFF!!!!!! FRANKY!!!

[backtothefanfiction]

WHAT BENNY DOESN'T KNOW | Chapter 6

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: Things get heated on the mountainside then five months later Santiago knocks on your door asking for a favour.

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3997

A/N- Hey guys thank you so much for your love on this series, after the heaviness of the last chapter this one is more story development for how we ended up at chapter 1. It's split into three parts; the boys interaction on the side of the mountain, Santiago coming to your flat to ask for a favour and you meeting with Frankie in a diner to collect on that favour for Santi. This is the second to last chapter and I am currently working on the final chapter so we can end this story and Friday on a high! In the meantime I hope you enjoy.

PART SIX | TRIPLE FRONTIER

Without you, the mission had become a shit show. Five days full of reckless testosterone clouded decisions that had lead to them trekking across the Andes, millions of dollars literally being lost over the side of a cliff, three different gunshot wounds between the group and multiple dead bodies; including Tom's. The sun had almost fully set now, just a dull hazy glow on the horizon as Santiago, Will and Frankie lay back against the bags of money, waiting for the younger Miller to return. The tension was thick between them and not just because of the multiple fuck ups or the fact they had lost a friend.

Each one of them had brought up your name at some point during this trip, wondering if things would have been different if you had been there. A strong team of six instead of five. Santiago had watched Frankie subtly flinch, every time he heard your name and although he himself wished you had been there, he could clearly see now why you had said no. He still didn't completely know what had happened between you and Frankie other than what he found out that one night in Italy; but he knew if you had been on this mission with them right now, the team would be even weaker, not stronger.

“I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?” Frankie's voice said strongly, breaking the stoic silence that had befallen the three men since Benny had left their company.

“Yeah.” Santiago murmured, acknowledging the statement.

“We gotta get back on our game.” Frankie said. “Enough of this. It stops now. You Understand?”

“Copy that.” Santiago replied.

Frankie had ended up spending more time than he thought he would thinking about you these last few days. Even with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt odd to him doing a job like this without you. Over the years and countless missions you had all worked together, you had become a partner to him. His co-pilot, the one who always had his six. The absence of you only served to remind him of how fucked up things were between you now. He felt himself tense anytime one of the boys said your name. He spoke with a venom, anytime he was dragged into a conversation about you. That was until he lost a mule over the side of the mountain.

The rocks had given way bellow the animals feet and he had watched helplessly as it fell to its death, bags of money exploding as they hit rocks. His own mortality truly hit him then. His mind raced to images of his daughter and Laura but then they turned to you and that's where they stayed. Tom's death a day later had only reinforced those thoughts more. If he died on this godforsaken mountain before he had a chance to talk to you and sort everything out, it would be the biggest regret of his life. He needed them all to get back on their A game. He needed to get back to you.

“Why did she say no to the job?” Will's question permeated the silence. It was a question that had been on his mind since the very beginning and one Santiago had tried to avoid and work around the whole mission. Santiago remained quiet, trying to work out the best way to respond.

“Because of me.” Frankie's confession rang out. Will sat up then, looking at Frankie confused, silently asking him to elaborate. Santiago's gaze had also turned to Frankie, but it was a soft look, one of pride that his friend wanted to face up to his demons instead of run from them. Frankie's look back to Santiago was a desperate cry for help. Although he knew they all needed to get this out in the open so they could work better as a team, he also was struggling with how to say it.

“He was sleeping with her.” Santiago tried to say as gently as he could. Although he knew the relationship between you and Frankie had been fucked up, he also knew you were both hopelessly in love with one another, which was what had made things between you so much more complicated.

“Wait. What?” Will stuttered out in shock. “When?”

“About 11 months ago.” Frankie quietly confessed. Will gave Frankie a hard look as he realised he was telling him he had cheated on his partner with you. “Look, I know.” Frankie said in response to the stare, “It wasn't exactly my finest moment.”

“How long for?” Will questioned.

“A couple of months. She broke things off when she found out Laura was pregnant. That's why she took that job in Italy.” Santiago's mind raced as he remembered back to the night he spent with you in Italy, his head dropping sheepishly. He thought if he kept his head low, he'd get away with not having the Italy conversation with Frankie but he was wrong. Frankie had recognised the look on Pope's face and the fact his was currently staring away from them at the rock in front of him, just told him how guilty his friend felt.

Will had watched the exchange, analysing the looks between the two men before him. “What happened in Italy?” he asked, suspecting there was something about your time over seas that they were both privy to and hiding from him.

“Why were you in Italy with her Pope?” Frankie doubled down.

“I went to her first to talk about the job.” Santiago said, only giving half the truth. Frankie fixed him with a hard look, forcing him to elaborate. He wanted to know how that fucking phone call had come about. “Look she wasn't answering my messages so I got on a plane, went over there and-” his sentence hung awkwardly in the air a moment as he tried to decide how to carry on. “Look, I thought that if I got rid of the guy she would be free to come back with me and do the job, but she got mad at me.” Frankie and Will listened intensely as Santiago continued to babble. “Look I did some things and she said some shit to get back at me. Look man I didn't know.” He looked desperately to Frankie.

“But even after you did find out you still fucked her, right?” Frankie's voice bit back. It was more of a statement than a question.

“I'm sorry man, but you should have seen her face.” Santiago felt his cock twitch just at the memory alone. “She freaking begged me Fish.” Santi's voice pleaded, trying to get his friend to understand. Will scoffed in disbelief over the conversation they were having. “Hey.” Santiago said rounding on him, “You would have done exactly the same thing if you were there. You're just bitter because you only got to fuck her the once.”

“HEY!” Frankie's voice cut across Pope.

“No, you don't get to act like you're her knight in shining armour right now and defend her honour, not when you used her like you did.” Santiago snapped back at Frankie.

“I didn't use her.” Frankie attempted to defend himself.

“You fucking snorted coke off her body, fucked her, then went back home to continue playing house with your actual girlfriend. If that's not using her-”

“I told her I fucking loved her and that I wanted to leave Laura, that I was gonna get clean for her and she fucking cut and run on me man.” There was silence as the weight of Frankie's statement hung in the air between them. When Frankie spoke again, breaking the silence, his voice was softer, curious. “Did you make her?” He didn't want to ask but he needed to know. The 60 second phone call had played continuously on a loop around his head ever since it had happened, the words haunting him.

“Yes.” Santiago's voice was timid and he struggled to look at his friend. “If it helps, she really tried to fight it man. I think she liked that it had been your thing.”

“What?” Will questioned, confused by the ambiguous conversation his friends were having in front of him. “What did you make her do?” His voice was worried, protective. Both Frankie and Santiago struggled to meet Will's eyes. “What did you make her do?” he asked again his voice demanding an answer.

“I'm sorry man.” Santiago said.

“He made her squirt.” Frankie said at the same time. Will's expression was one of reserved surprise.

“Wait you both?” Will asked, looking for clarity.

“Yeah.” Santiago said. There was a silence again as the information set in.

Something Santiago had said was weighing on Frankie. “What do you mean she begged you?” Frankie asked him timidly.

“She's been torturing herself man. She feels so guilty about everything that happened, she's just looking for a way she can live with herself.”

“What did you do?” Frankie asked, he was scared of the answer but wanted to know, his own form of punishment.

“Tied her to the bed and edged her to within an inch of her life.” Santiago's statement was slightly rushed and guilty. Will fought to remain silent as he began to picture the scene in his head.

“Did it help? Did it make her feel better afterwards?” Frankie continued to question.

“She's in love with you man.” Santiago said softly. “Those feelings aren't just gonna go away. She's gonna be carrying them around with her for the rest of her life. She's always gonna be stuck wondering what would have happened if things were different. Wondering if there ever would have been a way for you guys.” Santiago's statement left everyone silent once more. None of them brought it up again, but they couldn't stop thinking about it.

---------------------

It had been 5 months since you had come home from Italy. 5 months since the boys came back from their trip to South America. Will and Ben had escorted Tom's body back to the states and broken the news to Molly. They stayed with her as she broke the news to her girls and made a point of being there for them whenever they needed.

For 5 months, Will and Benny were the only company outside your family that you saw, but even then you didn't see them as often. None of you met up as a group again. You hadn't even heard from Santiago, that was until he showed up on your doorstep late one Saturday afternoon. “Hey Querida, I need your help.”

You reluctantly let him in, ushering him inside your small apartment. “What do you want Santi?” you asked as you continued to hover near the front door.

“I've got this job-”

“Nope, no way.” you quickly cut in. “After what happened in South America, I don't think so. Besides I thought that was supposed to be your last job. You said you were retiring.” you folded your arms across your chest defensively.

“I know, I know. But this isn't like that job.”

“Are you determined to burn every friendship you've ever had?” you spat at him, a warning to choose his next words very carefully. Will and Benny had told you everything when they got home. Both of them were shells of the men they once were, it almost pained you to be around.

Santiago collapsed onto the sofa, his head hung in his hands. “I know I fucked up.” he said slowly. “It was a shit job. I wanted to be able to just let it go and move on but I can't. I can't let that be the last job I did. The last thing that defines my career for me.” You softened at the broken man's words.

“What's the job?” you tentatively asked him.

“Corrupt cop.” he said, finally lifting his head from his hands.

“What?” you questioned slightly shocked. You had not been expecting that but you were immediately invested and Santiago knew it.

“He's based along the border between Columbia and Brazil. Been taking bribes and working with the cartels down there for years. With Lorea out of the way he's kind of stepped up to the plate behind the scenes, but he's nothing without his money.”

“So it's just getting the money, then getting back out.”

“Yes.”

“I'm assuming because he's a corrupt cop this is all gonna be done off the books.”

“That's why I need the team. The whole team.”

“They'll never go for it. Not if it's coming from you.” Santi looked at you then, his eyes pleading. You could read his mind without having him say it. “No.”

“They'll do it for you.” he said getting up.

“No, I'm not lying to them.”

“Please.” he said placing his hands on your arms. His eyes were desperate, “I need this.” You couldn't help but look at him with pity. He was far from the man who had teased you in Italy just a few months back. You could see the effects of his last failed mission clear on his face and his body. The dark circles under his eyes from nights of restless sleep. The extra patches of grey scattered amongst his dark curls. All he wanted was one last good job so he could rest in peace and think back on the glory days with fondness. He needed an excuse to make things right with his friends.

“Fine.” you reluctantly agreed. “But if they are gonna believe this is my job, you are gonna have to really let me take charge of this. You gotta give me everything you know.”

------------------

Getting Will and Benny to agree had been easy. You had brought it up over beers one Sunday afternoon. They hated corrupt cops as much as you and Santi and although they had been a little apprehensive when you told them Santiago was also going to be on the mission, they still agreed to go anyway for you. Frankie on the other hand was probably going to be a little trickier.

You asked him to meet you at a local diner on a Saturday morning. The sun was streaming through the windows onto your little booth. You couldn't tell if it was just the heat from the sun, shining through the glass making you feel like you were in a green house or just your anxiety at seeing Frankie for the first time since he had told you he loved you, but you felt like you were suffocating. You were contemplating abandoning this whole thing and bolting for the door when he finally walked in, the little bell ringing out, drawing your focus to him.

He looked good. He was wearing his favourite t-shirt, an unbuttoned shirt thrown over the top, the sleeves of which were rolled up, showing off his muscular arms. You became aware you were staring and quickly dropped your eyes to the half full cup of coffee, that now sat cold in your hands in front of you.

“Hey.” he said as he approached the table. You looked up at him, your nerves clear on your face.

“Hey.” your voice came out unsure. You wished you could just put on a fake smile and pretend like everything was okay, but the guilt monster that had grown attached to you since you last saw each other wouldn't let you.

He shuffled into the booth across from you as a waitress came over with a pot of coffee. You eagerly held out your own mug for a top up while Frankie flipped over the cup in front of him. “A stack of blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon?” the young girl questioned Frankie as she poured coffee into his cup.

“Actually no, I already ate.” he replied shooting her a forced half smile.

“Very well.” the younger girl said. “Anything for yourself sweetie?” she turned to ask you.

“Umm, no thank you, the coffee's fine.” you said, raising the cup in your hand as you said it.

“Very well then.” the waitress said with an exaggerated smile.

“Thanks Candace.” Frankie said as she walked away.

“Candace? Blueberry pancakes and bacon?” you questioned Frankie once she was out of earshot.

“Yeah. I got in the habit of coming in after early NA meetings.” he told you, his fingers twisting the mug of coffee in his hands as he waited on your response.

“You look good Frankie.” you said, finally being able to find a smile for him. His eyes met yours, they were hopeful, soft. It made you wonder what had happened to him in South America that had him come out of the trip looking far less scathed than the others. You assumed it had something to do with coming back alive for his little girl, a reminder to live the best life he could with her.

“Thank you.” he said. “You look good too.” you could tell by the way he said it that he meant it, even if you didn't feel like it. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Frankie had smiled fondly when your name had popped up on his phone asking him to meet you. After everything that had happened in South America he had been eager to contact you but he had a few things he needed to deal with first.

He had broken things off with Laura as soon as he'd gotten home. They had sat down and had a long conversation, Frankie coming clean about all of it. He expected her to be furious, to scream the house down, throw all of his stuff out onto the front lawn and tell him he couldn't see their daughter ever again; but she surprised him when she told him she had known he was in love with you all along. He moved into the spare bedroom while he looked for a place of his own and made an effort to regularly talk and work out the situation. He was so grateful when she told him he could see Lilah as often as he wanted and he ended up spending a lot of his free time at the house with her, not wanting to miss a single moment as she continued to grow.

“I know after the shit show that was Santiago's job you'll probably want to say no, but I need your help on a job. They other guys are already in, I just need my pilot, my mission partner.” you said trying to lay it on thick.

“I'm in.”

He had said it without hesitation. He'd do anything for you, even if it meant trekking across the Andes again. “Wait, you don't want me to tell you what the job is?”

“It doesn't matter. You need me, I'm all in.” he said leaning back into the booth. “Besides if you've gotten the other guys to agree...” he left the statement open as he brought his coffee cup up to his lips. A silence fell between the two of you. Now you had gotten out all you had to say, you didn't know how to proceed in conversation.

“How old is she now?” you found yourself asking. It was more torturing yourself actually.

“Just over 7 months.” he replied. He held up a finger to you, instructing you to wait as he reached into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a small photo of her that was tucked into one of the slots, handing it across the table to you.

You tried to keep your fingers steady as you looked at the picture. She was beautiful and definitely Frankie's kid. “She has your eyes.” you found yourself saying, softening at the image of the little girl who had changed everything.

You couldn't help but wonder, if things had been different, if you and Frankie had gotten together all those years ago. Would you have your own baby by now? Would they have inherited his eyes like this little girl in the picture had, or would they have gotten yours? Then you wondered, if you hadn't run away when Frankie had told you about her, would you have been able to stick around and love her? To be her second mom and raise her with Frankie and Laura.

You quickly handed the photo back, no longer able to look at it or deal with the thoughts that were now swimming around your head. “Yeah, I'm just grateful she didn't get my nose.” Frankie said as he slotted the photo back into his wallet with a fond smile.

“Is she crawling yet?” you asked.

“Oh that girl is such an over achiever.” he chuckled fondly. “She was trying to stand at 3 months, even though her little legs were no where near ready for that. You'd have to fight to get her to relax them to feed.” You couldn't help but smile at the image of Frankie trying to wrestle a fussy baby to sit in his arms properly so he could feed her.

The way he looked at you changed then, like he was sad you hadn't been there, like he had really wanted you to be there with him. He had. There had been so many late nights he'd spent up with his little girl in his arms, wishing you were there. Wishing that she had been yours. He was about to open his mouth and try to tell you everything he had wanted to say since being on that mountain, but you became distracted when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up, telling you both you had a text message from Santiago.

You reached for the phone and Frankie's chest sagged, it felt like a hole had just opened up in his chest and was suddenly being filled with all his self doubt. 'He'd waited too long. You and Santiago were probably a thing now.' were the main two thoughts that began echoing through his head. “I'm really sorry, I've got to head off.” you said, rooting around in your bag for your purse so you could pay for your coffee.

“Oh okay.” Frankie said back, slightly defeated.

“Umm, I'll send you over all the information for the job.” you said quickly as you climbed out of the booth while trying to send a quick reply to Santiago to let him know you were on your way.

“Yeah of course.” Frankie said also getting up, to see you off properly.

His action caught you off-guard and you almost walked into his chest as you looked up from the phone in your hand. You both froze. You softened as you looked up into his eyes, then slowly let them wander down to his lips. You really wished you could lean forward and kiss him right now. You came to your senses, clearing your throat and taking a step backwards, blushing.

“It was great to see you Frankie.” you quickly said. “Oh and thank you for saying yes to the job.”

“Uh yeah, no problem.” he said, hooking his fingers into his pockets. He wanted to touch you, to hug you or something, anything, but the way you had stepped back from him, made him feel like he couldn't. You both stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

You felt your phone buzz in your hand. You looked down at it, another message from Santiago. “Umm, I've got to go.” your voice was barely above a whisper. Before you realised you had done it, you leant forward and placed a light kiss on Frankie's cheek. You felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards as he began to smile, but you couldn't bring yourself to look. You knew that if you did look, it would remind you of everything you missed out on with him. Instead you did the same thing as you did last time you were with him, you walked away and you didn't look back.

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[ohnopoe]

Once Upon A Time | Frankie Morales

Ship: Frankie Morales x Reader Prompt: “What happened to their happily ever after?” “Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just once upon a time.” Word Count: 3.6k+ Tagging: @remmysbounty​ (requester) Author’s Note: If anyone... wanted more on this story... lmk because I kinda got invested whilst writing this ngl

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It was a story he knew better than any other. A story ingrained in his mind, with every detail as clear as day. The words might change, but the world never did, a story of friendship, a story of love, a story that he would turn into something magical and foreign, and do his best to hide the reality of.

It was a story that Sophia knew just as well, but that never stopped her from asking for it. Night after night, whenever Frankie would go to put his little girl to sleep, she would ask for the same bedtime story, eyes wide, pout in place, and Frankie, well, he could never say no to his daughter.

The story was a part of the bedtime routine at this point, and it hurt just as much as it brought a smile to both their faces.

Sometimes he would tell of adventures, times when the two protagonists would go off to distant lands, fighting for their country and their families. Sometimes the tales would be simpler, funny instances that seemed just a little too familiar to be made up. And sometimes, if she tried hard enough, Sophia could almost believe she remembered being there for some of them.

It always revolved around the same two characters Frankie had long since given up on renaming them with every story, sticking to the pseudonyms he had given them so long ago; even if the names didn’t truly fit. But sometimes, sometimes they were joined by others, three or four friends who would always seem to linger in the distance, never taking centre stage, but never truly leaving either.

There was a near endless number of adventures for Frankie to tell, but they always came back to the same story at the end, a story of a friendship deeper than any other, a story of love.

At five years old, Sophia had grown to love story time more than Frankie ever could have expected. At one time, convincing her it was bedtime had been a task and a trial, and even his friends had been at a loss for what to do. But then you had floated in, hiding your own nerves as you offered your god-daughter a warm smile, wrapping her in your arms as you carried her to bed.

The story had been different that night. You hadn’t gone for one of the ridiculous number of books Frankie had bought in an effort to appeal to his daughter’s brimming imagination, no, you had gone into your memory and stolen stories from reality.

It was the first time in a long time that he saw Sophia relax and surrender to bedtime. Curiosity and wide eyes kept her focused on you and you alone as you weaved memories into something magical, and far more child friendly than the reality of them had ever been.

Frankie never mentioned the way his heart warmed at the sight of you sitting there on the edge of Sophia’s bed, never dared to bring up the way he adored watching the two of you interact, or how he wished it were a permanent part of his life. No, he simply stood there with a smile plastered on his lips as he watched from the doorway until his little girl was sound asleep and you gently ushered your way back to the living room to return to the group of friends that you had arrived with.

Over a year later, and he continued on what you had started with a bittersweet smile. He wasn’t as good with words, and he’d stumble as he tried to turn real life threats into mystical parallels, but he’d never fail to put on voices that made Sophia laugh, and he never missed a night time story, no matter what was going on.

Tonight’s story was a soft one. There were no tales of your joint time in the special forces weaved into tales of Knights serving a magical kingdom, no heroics or daring rescues. No, tonight it had been simpler, the memory of the two of you relaxing together as you simply drove for as long as you could, camping out in your car when you got too tired to go on, and just enjoying a weekend off with your best friend.

He could remember that evening clearer than what he had eaten for lunch only hours ago. You had been exhausted when he finally decided to pull over for the night. Curled up in the passenger seat, with a sleepy smile playing on your lips, it was the most at ease he had ever seen you in all your years of friendship. The stars had shone brightly, the open air making them gleam all the more as you turned to face him in the car that had felt far too small all damn day.

“This is nice,” the words were mumbled as they slipped past your lips, your exhaustion pulling you closer towards sleep with each passing second. And maybe it was the fact you were already falling into sleep, curled up awkwardly as you were, but the next words you spoke gave him the slightest flickering of hope.

“I’m glad the other’s were busy,” you admitted, each word slurring further into the next. “I’m glad it’s just us.”

Years had passed and still those words were ingrained in his memory. Of course, in tonight’s story it hadn’t been a car but a carriage, the two knights, because you were far stronger than any princess, travelling together through magical realms that were just as beautiful as that night sky had been. But even in his retelling some things remained the same, and your words… well, he could never replace those.

Frankie was so used to seeing the angelic features of his daughter fast asleep at the end of each story, that it stunned him to look down, pulling himself from the memory and the hope he had once had that you might one day be something more than friends, to see those same curious eyes staring back at him.

“You should be asleep,” he offered with a chuckle. After all, he could never truly be mad at his little girl, not when she was staring at him with questions dancing in her gaze. It wasn’t uncommon that she would ask questions about his stories, little things, things that seemed irrelevant to him but meant the world to her, but usually they came earlier in the night, long before the stories would reach their climax. “Go on then, what do you want to know?”

Shuffling her way up her bed until she was sitting upright, that same stubborn determination of her father reflected back at him, she pulled her toy frog, aptly named ‘Leaf’ into her hold as she stared back at him determinedly. He could practically hear her mind whirling, trying to find the words to ask whatever was distracting her from sleep tonight.

With a frown, and a tilt of her head that reminded him eerily of Santiago, she spoke carefully, almost as if she was scared of the answer. “What happened to their happily ever after?”

Frankie paused at the question, visibly shocked. He had expected another of her eccentric ponderings, questions of hair colour or clothing or something that gave the story depth but no real significance. He had never even considered the end.

The truth was, the ending hadn’t been anything remarkable at all. In fact, the mediocrity of it almost broke his heart. Time had pulled at you both, a short lived relationship for him with a woman who had never really gelled with his daughter, a new job that took you a few states over… And then somehow it had been months, hell, it had almost been a year now, and he hadn’t even spoken to you through text.

But maybe that was a good thing, maybe this was the chance you had been bereft all these years. For so long you had been there for him, for the whole damn team. Your own life lingered in the shadows, pushed aside so you could help him adjust to suddenly having a child, to being a single parent all at once, so you could help Will’s confidence in public speaking, so you could be there to support Benny at every fight.

Now you were further away, but you had a job you had dreamt of, you didn’t spend every waking moment on a group of men who never could quite figure out how to function without you. Didn’t you deserve a chance at something real? Something that was purely your own?

Sure, it wasn’t the life he had dreamt of, you weren’t by his side, but you must be happy, and that, hell, that meant so much more to him.

With that same bittersweet smile that dragged at the corners of his lips every time he recounted one of your adventures together, Frankie pulled at Sophia’s blankets, trying and quickly failing at getting her settled again. But she was determined, wiggling away from her father’s attempts as she stared resolutely back at him.

A heavy sigh, and he glanced away, terrified of how she might react at learning the horrible truth of the world.

“Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just ‘once upon a time’,” he admitted. And, damn it, when had he started to think of this as a love story? When had he given in to the fact that he had fallen so damn hard for his best friend, even now, so long after you had left.

“Maybe that’s because it’s not the end,” Sophia pondered, although there was a resolve behind each word, as though she was answering a question whilst asking it.

The soft plush fabric of Leaf was pushed against Frankie’s hand, a silent attempt at comfort from the little girl who somehow always seemed to know too much. “You should call Y/N,” she spoke softly, but decisively; the impact of her words louder than anything she could have shouted.

Frankie’s head jolted up, any walls that had once been in place shattering as he heard your name fall from his daughter’s lips. He had been so careful, always making sure to fictionalise the tales, even your name, to make it something far from reality. How had she figured it out? And when?

Perhaps it was merely a coincidence, his little girl recognising a similarity between what she had once seen between the two of you and the characters he spoke of each night. Perhaps she hadn’t truly figured it out. Perhaps, and even he could admit it was beyond hoping, perhaps she just missed you too, and was thinking of you and the stories you once offered when you’d come to visit.

But, while there was a sad longing in his little girl’s eyes that burned away at him, it was not the strongest of emotions he saw there. This wasn’t just his little girl missing a friend, she was too focused, too set in her decisions. She had to have figured things out, and it had Frankie gulping nervously.

There was no risk of her telling you, not when you hadn’t spoken in months, and if she were to tell Pope or the Miller brothers? Well, it’d hardly be news to them. But still, something about her just knowing how he felt about you made things so much more real.

For so long you had been an unattainable dream, a picture of love that he would never dare reach for knowing Sophia had to be his number one priority. But now you were something far more terrifying, you were real.

Of course, he had no misconceptions that you’d ever actually go out with him, especially now that you had moved away. No, you’d laugh at the suggestion, thinking it was a joke the boys had put him up to, surely. But knowing Sophia wanted this rather than fought against it… somehow there was something damning about that thought.

Pulled from his thoughts as Sophia took back her precious Leaf and began snuggling back into the warmth of her blankets, he offered a smile that was anything but convincing as he struggled to find the words he needed.

But she beat him to it, holding out her little finger with the same determination she had held all damn night. “Pinky promise me you’ll call her,” she spoke, still focused even as her voice became muffled behind the toy she hugged close. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a suggestion, it was a demand.

At any other time Frankie might have laughed at the way the words were almost barked, he might have even scruffed up her hair and teased her, his little princess demanding she get her way. But he was still far too lost in his own mind to even comprehend the ridiculous tone he was met with.

Perhaps it was time to give you a call. It didn’t have to be an admission of an undying love that had settled within him years ago, and it certainly didn’t have to mention the fact that he told stories of you every night to the little girl who had wrapped him so thoroughly around her little finger that he had given into her demands of calling you without so much as a moment’s discussion. But it would be nice to hear your voice, to know you were ok. Even if it broke his heart to hear how happy you were in your new life, even if he found out you had everything you had put aside in the past, it would be worth it just to hear your voice again.

With a heavy sigh, he leant forward, entwining his pinky with the little finger of his daughter. “I pinky promise.”

Sophia nodded in response, like a general sending her troops into battle, even as her shoulders began to droop against her pillows. It seemed that now, satisfied with the fact she got what she was after, sleep was finally starting to creep its way over her.

“Good.” The word was softer than her demands, although she would never admit it as she snuggled further into bed, her eyelids beginning to droop as her other hand came to tighten her hold against Leaf. “You should do it tonight,” the words were almost mumbled now, eyes slipping shut as she spoke. “Tell her I miss her.”

Frankie sat there far longer than he usually did, just watching his little angel as she drifted peacefully into sleep. She looked so pure and sweet when she was asleep, no hint of the conniving way she could control her father in sight.

She was growing up too fast. He used to think that parents said it too often, overused the term to a point it had become a cliche. But watching her now, the way she had been able to put pieces together when he had worked so hard to keep them a secret, the way she had made him promise to call you, not that he ever needed much convincing… It was hard to reconcile that this was the very same little girl who still thought mud pies were fantastic fun, the same girl who had curled into him in fear when Santiago had bought crackers for the fourth of July and unintentionally terrified her only months prior.

He was procrastinating, even he knew that. But somehow the idea of leaving the terrifyingly pink and green room, (never trust a five year old for matching colour combinations, that was a lesson well learnt), made his promise feel all the more real.

The night was pitch black now, no hints of dusk lingering in the sky. Hours had passed as he simply sat there, lost to his thoughts of you and the terrifying possibilities of what calling you might entail.

The perfect job, a nice apartment, your life was finally what you deserved, and he was anything but thrilled to hear about it. He knew it’d break his heart to hear just how happy you were away from him. He knew because each time you had spoken after you first moved had hurt so damn much that, in a truly cowardly manner, he had let more and more time slip between the phone calls until they had ceased all together, all out of the fear of the pain he was bound to feel.

It would only get worse, he reckoned. Soon enough you’d find love, you’d start a family, have a picture perfect life, and he’d be nothing but a piece of your past. He could cope with that, so long as you were happy, that’s what he had always told himself. But when you spoke of how great your new job was, of how nice your community was, that green monster ate away at him with a ferocity he had never expected to feel.

He had to just get it over with, stop thinking about it and just call. If he didn’t, he’d be lost to his thoughts all damn night, and that was never a good idea.

He was pulling up your contact before he even left the softly lit bedroom, thumb hovering over the call button as he shut the door ever so carefully.

He could do this. It was just a call, it didn’t even have to be long.

What surprised him most as he finally pressed the green button was the excitement he felt at the thought of talking to you again. Sure, he was terrified, but the thought of hearing your voice… it still felt far more like coming home than it ought to have.

The shrill ring of the tone felt horribly loud, echoing through the silence of the small house almost tauntingly. But Frankie persisted. He could do this… most likely…

With each ring, a hole seemed to grow within Frankie’s chest. You must have been busy, probably out with new friends, maybe even a date, enjoying your new life, the life you deserved. He almost hung up, considered it with more conviction with each echoing ring, but he couldn’t tell Sophia a lie, and he couldn’t just give up now. Maybe it would ring out, maybe you had even changed your number. One way or another, he’d see it through, if only so he would be able to meet his daughter’s gaze in the morning.

And then the sound cut off suddenly, and it was replaced by something that stole his breath away.

“Frankie?” you sounded almost hopeful, questioning if it really was him, rather than why on earth he was calling.

He would never tire of hearing the way you said his name. It didn’t matter if it was in teasing or happiness, hell, he’d even take the way you groaned out an irritated ‘Francisco’ when he’d embarrass you with stupid jokes. There was just something about the way his name came from your lips that made it sound like so much more than just a name, it sounded wholesome and pure and so damn important.

“Hey,” he spoke with a huff of laughter that felt awkward and forced.

He sounded just as insecure as he had that first time you’d met, Will dragging you over to meet the rest of the boys after he’d quite literally run into you during orienteering earlier in the day. Frankie had been anything but smooth, used to hanging with the boys, and not some gorgeous woman who stole his breath away.

Had you always been on base? How had he not seen you before? He was certain he would have remembered seeing that smile before, and those eyes. The moment you met his gaze, he had been lost, and any attempt at speaking had come out so damn garbled that it had taken him weeks to get the others to shut up about it.

It had been far too long since you’d spoken, all those years of comfort that had grown between you reverting back as his insecurities crept their way back in once more. But, damn, was it good to hear your voice again.

“How are you?” the question was so impersonal that it had Frankie closing his eyes in embarrassment as soon as the words had left his mouth, wishing he could take them back, wishing he could have been smooth and suave, anything but the awkward mess he seemed to be as he pottered around the house anxiously.

Your breath caught on the other side of the line, a giddy smile filling your features as you curled up on the sofa of your apartment. God, it was good to hear that voice again.

“I’ve missed you.” The words passed your lips before you could even think to stop them. The admission was far more than he had asked for, but it felt so good to get it off your chest. You had missed him from the moment you had left, hell, you had missed him from the moment you agreed to take the damn job that had uprooted your entire life.

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted with a sigh of relief, letting your words curl around him like a comforting blanket. Maybe you were just being polite, sure, but he doubted it. You never said something you didn’t mean, at least, not to him, and he was holding onto that fact desperately as his pacing finally came to a halt. “I wish you were here.”

Damn, he really had no control over his mouth, did he?

But before he could berate his idiotic mind for forgetting to filter thoughts from speech, he heard the way you inhaled sharply. Your words followed quickly, leaving no time for him to over analyse the sound.

“So do I.”

[wanderleave]

Rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better.

Tagged by @stoprobbers and @share-the-damn-bed. Sorry it took me so long, but quarantine mood means it’s taking forever to do anything.

Top 3 ships -

I’m going with currently because I’d be here forever if we did always.

Jancy, obvs (yes, I am still working on high five.)

Zelink, BOTW. A princess fighting for a hundred years to keep the world safe until her knight wakes up and even if he doesn’t remember her he knows instinctively that he has to fight for her, GOODBYE. Also Zelda is such a nerd, I love her. 

Bellarke, 100 emoji. It’s always there, a low thrum. I love them. (Absolutely convinced Bellamy is going to die and I’m going to have lost seven fucking years of my fucking life. Also cast Bob Morley on Prodigal Son as Lou Diamond Phillips’ son plz and thank you, hapa representation 4 eva.)

Last song - The new Purity Ring album came out yesterday and I’ve just been listening to it beginning to end nonstop since then, so technically it’s Stardew, but it’s all of it.

Last Movie - Emma., which I rewatched on a Zoom call with a friend in DC. This is our lives now, guys!!

Currently reading - The Passage, which remains my favorite virus end of the world book and one of my favorite books of all time, and I thought... why not reread this RIGHT NOW? It’s going better than I thought it would.

What food are you craving right now - Something served in a restaurant. But, mostly things I can technically make myself but want a specific restaurant version of, so: ramen (Ichiran), penne vodka (Vinny’s), anything from Frankie’s, sushi even from the crappy place on Seamless, my Chinese place that is closed hopefully only temporarily. I did order from the restaurant down the block last night and they sold me their usually $40-50 bottles of wine for $18 and $22 so, it’s not as bad as it could be.

Tagging: @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @leslie057, @alexiscrose, anyone who wants to do it!

[sfarticles]

New Haven’s Camacho Garage puts focus on contemporary Mexican street food

The wait is over, and there is a buzz going around town. Camacho Garage, featuring contemporary Mexican street food, has opened in New Haven’s Westville neighborhood, at 36 Fountain St.

The restaurant follows the trend of offering small plates, or tapas. Ceviche and raw bar offerings, and an extensive taco menu with fillings such as adobo marinated chicken, slow roasted lamb, confit of duck and wild mushrooms and cactus is offered, on house-made, heirloom, corn tortillas or “naked” as a filling over a bowl of grains, beans, greens and avocado.

Small-bite menu items include Tamal de Birria (slowly braised lamb and corn dumplings), Mexican Hot Dog (bacon wrapped turkey sausage dog), Ensalada de Nopales (cactus), and Duck Tambores (drumettes). The Queso Flameado (mushrooms and poblanos served with flour or corn tortillas and of course melted cheese) is served in a scorching-hot stone vessel — the perfect dish to share while your order is being prepared

.A few larger plates served family-style for four — “Para Todos” — are featured as well as daily specials. Mexican street corn, a traditional Mexican street food, is served topped with chipotle aioli, Cojita cheese, Ancho chili powder with a lime wedge to squeeze on top. Another favorite, fried sweet plantains, is drizzled with Mexican cream. With just the right kick, the Borracho beans are pinto beans cooked in beer and tequila with chipotle, onions, pickled cauliflower, carrots and jalapenos. Go all the way, adding bacon or chorizo.The desserts will wow you, too. The warm, filled churros, you won’t be able to eat just one; luckily, three were served. Milk chocolate stuffed figs, flan and paletas, chocolate lava cake and other heavenly sweet endings round out the menu.

Complementing the menu are libations including Mexican and local beers, specialty cocktails, tequila, mescal and traditional and inspired Mexican beverages. The beverage menu picks up on the garage theme with “Low Octane” offerings that include non-alcoholic beverages such as Jarritos fruit sodas, Topo Chico mineral water, Horchata, seasonal, house-made frescas and spritzers, refreshing iced teas and house-squeezed vegetable juices. The “High Octane” selections include favorites from the restaurant’s sister brands (i.e. the Geronimo Margarita), as well as 15-plus original cocktail offerings such as Papa Doble (Montelobos Mezcal Joven, Lazzaroni maraschino, grapefruit, lime), Frankie Goes to Hollywood (Plantation Pineapple, Lagrimas de Dolore Mezcal Joven, ginger beer), Senor Camacho (Presidente Brandy, Bruxo “X” Mezcal, lime, agave) and Wake the Dead (Casamigos Reposado, vanilla simple syrup, espresso, cocoa powder).The proprietors are no strangers to the culinary scene here and beyond. Executive Chef/co-owner Arturo Franco-Camacho, co-owners Robert Bolduc and Marc Knight, and the team behind the award-winning Geronimo Tequila Bar and Southwest Grill, Shell & Bones Oyster Bar and Grill, and Nantucket’s Bar Yoshi have created a fun and lively atmosphere. The vintage  garage theme is reminiscent of Camacho’s father’s garage in Mexico.

Camacho’s accomplishments include: five years as chef de cuisine on the prestigious QE2; owning several restaurants in Connecticut (Roomba, Bespoke and Suburban); serving as guest chef at the Director’s Dinner at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah; his cuisine has been recognized as “excellent” in the New York Times, and he has received accolades from Connecticut Magazine, Yankee Magazine, Zagat and on Food Network’s “Food Nation” with Bobby Flay. He has been nominated for Chef of the Year by the Connecticut Restaurant Association; recognized as an Ambassador Chef by the annual Greenwich Wine + Food Festival; and two-time winner of Iron Chef Elm City, a fundraiser for Gateway Community College’s Foundation.

“I’m beyond excited to bring this completely new experience to my adopted hometown of New Haven, sharing the flavors and experiences that I grew up with in Mexico cooking with my mother and grandmother, and spending time with my father at the garage he owned,” Camacho said. “In addition to celebrating both traditional and inspired recipes from my childhood, I’m very focused on providing guests with a healthy, fresh and delicious experience that integrates and celebrates local, seasonal ingredients while still providing flexibility and fun for those with dietary restrictions such as gluten-free, vegetarian and dairy-free.” 

To see the recipes, please visit https://www.ctinsider.com/living/nhregister/article/Stephen-Fries-New-Haven-s-Camacho-Garage-puts-15675372.php?cmpid=gsa-nhregister-result&_ga=2.135112625.1842255177.1604181568-1128023684.1499900500

Chef Arturo Franco-Camacho presents Queso Flameado, served in a scorching-hot stone vessel — the perfect dish to share while your order is being prepared.

[estacalavera]

This Must Be the Place — Jonathan Gold

Imagine a bright fall morning, a month with no particular plans, and a cheap train ticket from Barcelona to Toulouse.  The train breaks down in the Spanish Pyrenees, not far from the French Border.  You climb down from the stalled car.  A few feet from the tracks, a man with a small, cart-mounted grill emerges from the wood, or perhaps he has been there all along.  You find a few euros in your pocket; he hands you a fragrant twist of craft paper filled with mushrooms he has just snatched from the fire.

These are wild ceps, or porcini, singing with garlic and dripping with olive oil.  The pungency of the green oil stings the back of your throat: forest floor and fresh pine needles, a muskiness that under the circumstances is pure sex.  It is all showered with rough salt.  You could not possibly be anywhere other than where you are, or at any other time of year, or sitting against the trunk of another kind of tree.  The taste of the mushrooms will always be associated with this moment; with freedom; with the garlicky , wine-scented kisses from the girl you will eventually marry.  In a few years, there will probably be jobs to return to, fretful kids, maybe an appointment or a reservation at a two-star you are anxious about missing, but now there is only this: mushrooms and garlic, love, and a long afternoon.  It will take several hours for a replacement engine to be found.

The promise of street food, I’m pretty sure, lies in this kind of strong, unmediated sense of place, of time, of situation.  You are on the beach in Mumbai, and someone suggests a frankie.  You are on a Lima street corner, and you buy a skewer of soft, luscious anticuchos, marinated beef heart, from a guy who has been cooking them on a rig that looks as if it has been fashioned from old cans.  A regular restaurant duplicate the romance of the experience.  A sensible restaurant will not even try.

Because if an elegant restaurant near Girona served these same grilled ceps on pretty china plates, you might notice that the mushroom caps were scorched, the garlic too roughly chopped, and the oil too cloud.  Perhaps the stems have been raggedly trimmed, or patches of each mushroom have been left raw.  Are those wormholes you see?  Could the chef really be using that much salt?  Could these really be organic?  You take an agry drag from a glass of amphora-aged Priorat and contemplate sending the ceps back to the kitchen.  Michelin has let you down again.  

But technical perfection has never been the strongpoint of street food, whose defining characteristic is that it is prepared and eaten on the street.  It doesn’t matter that the halal white-sauce chicken from which you queued forty-five minutes would be laughed out of any of the Yemenite restaurants on Atlantic Avenue.  Neither that great brik in Paris nor that spicy, goopy plate of tteokbokki in Seoul would hold up in a dining room with wine lists and raves from Travel & Leisure.  Even the best taquero might find it difficult to stand up to the rigorous standards of haute cuisine— even a taquero trained by Alain Ducasse, who happens to serve tacos made with the best Santa Barbara uni and carnitas made from pork belly raised to Demeter specifications. 

When a cult street vendor expands into a brick-and-mortar location, it is usually discovered to be just another restaurant rather than a mobile knight of cuisine.  Customers are willing to give a grilled-cheese sandwich wagon a lot of credit from being something other than their dismal office-building canteen.  When you stagger out of  club at three a.m., that guy toasting bacon-wrapped hot dogs over a Sterno in a stolen shopping cart is your savior.  A few hours earlier, you wouldn’t have taken one of his Sonora Dogs for free.

One the other hand, when an established chef opens a restaurant based on street-food concepts, what is usually missing is the directness— not just the flavors, but that sense of place.  And, as has been obvious in the last few years, your ability to reconceptualize an enchilada or a bowl of pho doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re going to make a good one.  Even El Bulli made rotten tacos.  

Because while the allure of street food may involve all sorts of intangibles, it is also about the food.  If you’ve ever inhaled a taco of steamed cow’s head the second after the slivers of dripping meat has been pried from the skull, you know: at that moment, desire and fulfillment are one— happiness translated into the language of warm tortillas.  

But it is impossible to contemplate street food without those intangibles coming into play.  When you discuss Hainanese chicken rice with a Singaporean, her favorite is likely to be in an uncomfortable hawker center in a housing estate far from the center of town.  The version you enjoy in an outlying air-conditioned complex is unacceptable, although slightly less so than the good one in the posh department store food court.  The chicken rice in the fancy hotel on Orchard Road, the one both of you know is the best, goes unmentioned.  The hypocrisy would be too much to bear.