#janes basically done she just needs her arms and belt buckle

[pug-bitch]

The Parent Trap (2)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: PG, except a few instances when my foul mouth couldn’t help itself and let some bad words slip through the cracks :p.

Word count:about 2,600

Notes: Alright, I said this was gonna be a one-shot but I feel like I have more fluff to share, so here we go :) Fair warning: this is VERY emotional and all fluff. I hope you like! Oh, also - I slipped in some minor reveals about Dramara’s life post-Book 2… since it’s taking me so long to write my main fic, I might as well give some tidbits here and there :) (but some things I did not mention, for the sake of suspense ;))

To catch up, read Part 1 here!

*****

Drake kisses his wife deeply and squeezes her hand. He’s up for the mission. She’s three months along, and the cravings and hormones have been doing a number on her for sure. But he’s not about to make her feel bad about it.

‘Jorge,’ he asks his father-in-law on his way outside, ‘where can I find a bakery around here?’

Jorge pats his back. ‘Sweetheart, if you walk to Amara’s favorite bakery, you’ll be back in 4 hours. Let me take you.’

Drake sighs in relief. ‘Thank you.’ He was tasked with bringing her a pain aux raisins, but he wasn’t sure where to find one in the Philadelphia suburbs. He’s grateful Jorge knows what’s up.

*****

Amara sits on her bed, her phone in hand, waiting for it to beep. She starts biting one of her nails, and stops in her tracks as soon as she realizes what she’s doing. She won’t be caught dead with shitty nails.

She also promised to herself not to become one of these pregnant women who send their husbands on crazy errands, and yet here we are. She checks her phone again. No more action than three seconds ago.

She takes a deep breath. Calm thoughts, she tells herself. She thinks back to her father’s unbridled joy when she announced her pregnancy. His tears, free-flowing, completely out there. His warm hug, after he made his way to her across the room, as quickly as possible. Her loving dad, who she knows is the best grandfather possible to Callie, and will soon be to her own baby.

She thinks of her own childhood, as if to do a quick scan of anything notable she needs to remember for her information as a mother-to-be. Her eyes dart to the family portrait in the corner of the room, as if on cue. She tries not to think of the fact that half of the people in the picture are now dead. She focuses on her dad’s smile, his ever loving smile. Her mom’s hair, long and curly, much like hers. Sergio’s cowlick, completely untameable, even as an adult. And her own little self, just five years old in this picture. All smiles and curly hair, in her little checkered dress and mary janes. Her parents are each holding one hand of each child’s. She remembers the love vividly. How even as a teenager, Sergio was not allowed to be ashamed of his parents dropping him off at school and yelling ‘I love you’ through the car window. How their mom gave the best sloppy forehead kisses. She can almost feel them now.

Almost as if she hadn’t stopped feeling them twenty years ago.

A light knock on the door lets her know that Nancy is there. ‘Come in,’ she says, her voice shaky.

Her stepmother peeks her head in the door. ‘Hey honey. I don’t mean to bug you, your dad and Drake went to the bakery, I just wanted to see if you needed anything.’

Amara opens her mouth to say no, but nothing comes out. Before she knows what’s happening, tears stream down her face and she can’t stop the sobs from escaping her throat.

‘Oh honey,’ Nancy says softly, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed beside Amara. ‘Come here, it’s ok. Come here.’

*****

‘So, mijo,’ Jorge says as soon as Drake is buckled up in the car, ‘the crazy errands have started, huh?’

Drake chuckles. ‘I guess so. I don’t mind, really, I’m happy to do whatever I can do to make Amara happy and comfortable.’

Jorge nods as he turns the ignition. ‘Oh yeah, I remember this feeling. Even if all you can do is bring her ice cream at 3 AM, it’s your mission and you gotta do it.’ He smiles fondly. ‘Marisol’s weakness was ice cream for sure. She’d send me to get it at any hour of the day or night. Our freezer was full of it, mind you, but she always craved the one flavor we didn’t have.’ He chuckles. ‘But by the second pregnancy, I had it down to a science, and I was always prepared.’

Drake smiles. He wonders if his own dad had catered to his mom’s cravings.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jorge asks earnestly. ‘You ok, mijo?’

Drake shrugs and takes a deep breath. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I spaced out.’

Jorge nods understandingly and drives in silence for a minute. Then, tired of the lack of talking, he reprises. ‘Look, on the right, you can see Amara’s old high school!’

*****

Amara takes a deep breath and searches her pockets for a tissue. Her stepmother hands her one immediately. ‘I thought it was better to come armed,’ she jokes.

Amara attempts to laugh, but it comes out as more of a howl, filled with tears still.

Nancy strokes her hair gently. ‘You don’t have to, but if you want to talk about it, I’m right here.’

Amara nods. It’s always been like that with Nancy. Amara was 20 when her dad remarried, but he and Nancy had been dating for a few years before tying the knot. Amara was about seventeen when she met her for the first time. She had been tempted to play the rebellious teen card and resent her new stepmother, but it was impossible. Nancy’s an open book, and an amazing mother, both to her own son Matthew, and to Jorge’s children, whom she loved from the very first day. When Sergio died, Nancy was just as devastated as all of them, except that she was the only one who kept it together enough to take care of everyone.

Amara takes another deep breath. ‘I feel bad for sending Drake on this stupid errand. I don’t need a pain aux raisins, you and Drake made so many sweets yesterday, I don’t know what came over me.’

Nancy chuckles. ‘Honey, you’re pregnant. Those hormones are no joke, I was completely impossible in my first and second trimesters, because all I wanted was cheese, all of the time.’ She takes Amara’s hand. ‘Drake doesn’t mind. He loves you so much, all he wants is for you to feel good. You don’t need to feel guilty about having cravings.’

‘I know, but I promised myself I wouldn’t be irrational like those pregnant women tropes you see in movies—‘

‘Those are not tropes, Amara,’ Nancy interrupts her softly, ‘it’s the reality of being pregnant and growing a human inside of you. No one is a robot, people have moods and cravings, and everything under the sun. Just lean into it.’

Amara laughs lightly. ‘I guess…’ she looks at the portrait once again. ‘It’s not just the pregnancy.’

‘Oh?’ Nancy asks politely, although Amara could bet that she knows exactly what she means.

‘No,’ Amara answers, more tears coming to her eyes. ‘I wonder how good I’ll be, at, you know,’ she gestures at her belly, ‘being a mother.’ Her voice cracks.

Nancy sighs. ‘Is this about your mom, honey?’ She asks, almost in a whisper.

Amara can’t hold back her tears. ‘Yeah. I only knew her for ten years of my life, and then my formative years were motherless, until I met you anyway…’ she trails off.

Nancy’s chin trembles as she nods. She knows how much Amara loves her, but she always gets emotional when her status as a mother figure is referred to. ‘Well,’ she says, visibly fighting back tears, ‘if you’re afraid of not having had a role model for long enough, I think you’re wrong.’ She clings to Amara’s hand even tighter. ‘First of all, your mami’s love was with you even after she passed. You have memories. You have all the love she ever gave you, which is monumental.’

Amara thinks back to the forehead kisses. She can feel their warmth, still. The smell of her perfume, « Rive gauche » by Yves Saint Laurent, the stand-in gift that her dad would buy her every Christmas. That perfume, Amara bought herself a bottle with her first NYPD paycheck. Not to wear, it’s not hers, but to spray over a blanket or her bed when she misses her mom. One of the few things she brought to Cordonia during her first trip, along with her favorite books and a whole truckload of nail polish.

Nancy plays with a strand of Amara’s hair. ‘Honey,’ she adds, ‘your mom has been raising you to be an amazing, strong, loving woman. Don’t ever forget that. And, second of all,’ she smiles broadly, ‘you had another amazing parent all along. Your dad is also a role model, and I just know you’re going to take everything you loved about his parenting and incorporate it in your own.’

Amara sniffles and smiles. ‘You’re right.’ She wipes away her tear and kisses her stepmother’s cheek. ‘Obviously you’re my role model too, and I’ll definitely take a page out of your book of motherly pep talks, Nance.’

Nancy laughs wholeheartedly.

*****

Drake sighs with relief as he sits back in the passenger seat, having purchased not one, but five pains aux raisins. He holds the bag on his lap, and takes in the appetizing smell. Hell, he’s not pregnant, but he could very well be tempted by one of these bad boys right about now.

Jorge sits at the wheel, puts on his belt, and turns on the car. Instead of backing out of the parking spot, he turns to Drake and asks him point blank, ‘Are you nervous, sweetheart? About being a dad?’

Drake sighs again. Dammit, Jorge has done it again. The man’s basically a thought wizard. ‘Completely,’ Drake admits.

Jorge nods. Drake expects him to go on with one of his signature pep talks, but he doesn’t. He merely nods and stares. Very unlike him.

Uncharacteristically, Drake grows weary of the silence and offers up a little more. ‘I mean, my dad wasn’t—he was great, but um… what I mean is, he wasn’t a very—well, he wasn’t like you.’ As he says the words, Drake feels the hot tears getting dangerously close to coming out. He shakes his head, as if that would help. ‘I mean… he never said anything sweet to us, ever. Or to my mom, I guess. Very quiet guy, not one to reassure us or to hold our hand…’ he trails off. He tries to remember an instance in which his father held his hand, past the age of 6 when he needed supervision to cross the street. After that, the family motto was basically ‘be a man, do it yourself’.

When Drake sees Jorge interact with Amara, or with Matthew, Callie, Michael, or even himself, his heart sinks. That’s what a father should look like, a man who’s not afraid to cry when his daughter announces her pregnancy. A man who genuinely kisses his son-in-law’s cheeks when he finds out he’s going to be a grandfather, not caring about the tears streaming down his face.

A man Drake aspires to be.

Jorge finally opens his mouth and takes a deep breath. ‘All dads are different. Mine was sort of like yours. Never a kiss, never a hug, just a pat on the back when he was semi-proud of us. Then, the old man became a puddle of affection for his grandchildren.’ He shrugs. ‘Go figure. Well, me, I didn’t want to be tough. It’s not who I am. Am I strong? I think so. But am I a complete marshmallow when it comes to my kids and grandkids? Hell yeah.’ He squeezes Drake’s arm. ‘I see that in you, mijo. I see the way you look at my Amara. You love her so much, I can’t imagine you being a toughie as a dad. Look at the other day! You were worried about her eating freakin enchiladas!’ He laughs. ‘You were born to do this.’

Drake stops fighting and the tears come out. He lets them, and he lets himself go. He opens up his arms and brings his father-in-law in for a tight hug.

*****

‘Honeys, the men are home!’ Jorge says in a singsong tone, jokingly announcing their arrival home. ‘And we brought pastries for Mama Amara!’

Drake smiles warmly as he takes off his Clarks boots. He turns to the staircase, where Nancy and Amara appear, their eyes puffy and red, but a big smile on their faces. ‘Hi, boys,’ Nancy jokes, ‘I certainly hope you didn’t come back empty-handed!’

Drake glances at his reflection in the hallway mirror, and notices that his own eyes are puffy and red. He shrugs. Oh well. Guess it’s only the beginning.

‘Babe!’ Amara exclaims as she throws herself in Drake’s arms for a long hug. ‘Thank you so much for getting the pastries. I owe you one.’ She plants a deep kiss on his lips.

Drake chuckles. ‘You owe me nothing, Suarez. Also, those bastards look so good, I’m gonna have to learn how to make them myself.’

Amara’s eyes widen. ‘Really?’ She says in the most excited voice. ‘You could do that?’

Drake smiles. ‘Of course. I feel like it would be an awesome addition to the breakfast menu. I know everyone, especially Max, would go wild for those.’

Amara’s face lights up. ‘Oh! I almost forgot. I got this text from Max, he sent a bunch of pictures of Bartie and Callie playing with Yoda. Look how adorable!’

Drake takes Amara’s phone in his hand to see about twenty photos of their niece and nephew, playing with their corgi. Drake had been slightly worried about leaving Yoda to Max, since he is well known for dressing animals up and putting them in all kinds of staged situations, but Yoda truly seems like he’s thriving, so that was clearly a good decision.

‘Fuck, that’s cute,’ Drake whispers.

‘Right?’ Amara says excitedly. She puts her phone away and throws her arms around Drake’s waist, nuzzling in his neck. He draws her close and plants kisses on her head. He’ll never tire of her; her hugs, her kisses, her smell, her laugh, her temper, everything. He’s all in.

‘I love you,’ he says softly.

‘I love you too,’ she says, her voice cracking. ‘I’m sorry I sent you on an errand like I’m some kind of tyrant.’

He chuckles. ‘Are you serious? You asked me to go to a high-end bakery about two miles away, that’s hardly a tough errand. I had a good time, I got some inspiration for the restaurant, and got to hang with your dad. Win-win. It’s all good.’ He kisses her forehead. ‘You can send me on any errand you like, babe. I told you, I’m all in.’ He pulls away and lowers himself to the height of Amara’s tiny baby bump. ‘You hear that, baby? All in. You can demand any pastries you like, Daddy’s got you.’ He smiles widely and looks up to Amara. ‘Welp, I promised myself I wouldn’t be one of those dads who speak to their wives’ baby bumps. But here we fucking are.’

Amara laughs, her beautiful, throaty laugh, and pulls his closer for another warm hug.

*****

Taglist:

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