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moon-kn1ght · 3 years

Text

toes in the water

pt. 2: milestones

pairing: frankie morales x reader word count: 1.8k warnings: i know nothing about early childhood literacy milestones but i wrote a chapter about them -- to the real teacher in the room, i’m sorry. reader is a nervous talker. a/n: once again, thank you to my wife @wyn-dixie for the beta read and your unconditional support of my writing. you’re my light. i’m excited for where this fic is going and y’all should be too. things will move faster soooooon. :)

part 1 || masterlist

There’s nothing that can put a smile on your face like the things your kindergarteners say. Today, Frankie’s daughter said something absolutely hilarious at recess to you and Andrés. After she ran back to her friends on the playground, you two had almost doubled over laughing.

Now, you’re just barely resisting the urge to text Frankie. You know that he’ll get a kick out of it, but there’s the conflict of (1) you’re not supposed to be texting him in the first place and (2) you’re worried that it might freak him out since you only have his number for sort-of emergencies.

You hum to yourself as you tap out a message on your phone. You type and retype, till the message feels just right. You hit that blue up arrow and your heart skips a little when your phone parrots back that little whoosh sound.

Not a minute later, the little bubble with the three dots appears on screen and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You smile and slip your phone back in your pocket for the rest of the school day.

Walking to your car that afternoon, your phone dings with a new message. It better not be the principal asking to see me, I am off the clock, you grumble to yourself. But on your lock screen, you can see it’s a new message from Frankie. There’s no trace of your anti-Principal malice as you joyfully respond to him.

—X—

You gripped the steering wheel so tight after having that text convo with Frankie, all the excitement and emotions running through your body, threatening to take you and your car off the road in a fit of joyful glee. But now, you’re that same amount of excited but also terrified to be driving to the shop where you’re going to meet Frankie.

Next to you on the passenger seat are some old rubrics and learning targets about literacy progress in early childhood education. You’ve been teaching for years so you know all of this information like the back of your hand. But still, driving to meet up with Frankie Morales, you feel as nervous as you did on your first day of school, straight out of Teach For America.

You’ve got this, you’ve got this, you’ve got this, you chant to yourself as you pull into a parking spot. Walking into the shop, papers in hand, you are immediately disarmed by Frankie Morales’s warm smile as he waves you over to a table.

He beams at you and your heart melts a little. His brown eyes radiate kindness and care and you instinctively want to open up to him. Forget the rubrics, I want to fall in love with this man, the thought pops into your head but you quickly push it away when Frankie greets you. “Hi! Thanks for coming. I really appreciate your willingness to help me out.”

“No, thank you! Gosh, it’s so great to see a parent this engaged in their child’s educational journey, and reading skills are such an important building block for success,” you ramble but then lose your train of thought when you catch his warm brown eyes again. You stumble your way into, “I .. um.. yeah! Yes, it takes a village, I guess. Well, I’m preaching to the choir, right, so why don’t we get started?”

You pull out your notes as Frankie goes and gets you a latte. You try to pay him back for it, but he won’t let you. “Consider it a trade for the information you’re giving me,” he offers.

As you sip your coffee, you explain, “So as a kindergartener, Rosalia is in the group we call ‘Emerging Readers,’ so this means she’s gaining those essential skills to begin reading on her own in the next year or so. She should begin to be able to recognize high-frequency words in books; like in, I, he, or the. She can play rhyming games, understanding how words are made up of similar sounds. And then she can also recall and retell favorite stories, and recognize what is happening in illustrations in books.”

You continue, “Now, more than ever, it’s important to spend at least 30 minutes a day reading with her. And as she progresses you can have her 'read' to you—at first, this is more going to be her retelling the story and not reading off the page, but encourage her to identify words, and then full sentences as she ‘reads.’”

Frankie is jotting notes down on some of the worksheets and rubrics you’ve given him, along with on stray napkins from the shop. You could let yourself get lost in watching his mind work, processing the information you’re giving him and translating it into scrawled notes in his almost-script handwriting. Maybe it’s because you’re used to the writing of six year-olds, but his handwriting is beautiful to you, it’s almost the window into his mind that you so desperately want.

As you wrap up your lecture, you search for your next window into him, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for work?”

Frankie smiles (has he ever stopped the whole time he’s sat across from you?), “I actually own the bookstore next door. It's mainly just me running things and a couple of high schoolers who need pocket money for help.”

Your mouth is agape for a second, as this information catches you off guard. “No wonder you’re so interested in making sure Rosalia is a strong reader!”

“Yeah, reading runs in the family, I guess,” he chuckles, “I got the store from my uncle, it was his dream after getting out of the Army and when he retired he passed it off to me.”

“Were you also in the military?”

“Yeah, I served in the Army. Delta Force.”

You could tell by the shift in Frankie’s body language that there was a lot more to that story, but now was not the time for it. So you change the subject, “Can we go next door so I can scope out your store? You know, just to make sure that there’s enough appropriate literature for Rosalia. If not, I can inform your next book order, perhaps,” you joke and Frankie laughs, grateful for the tone shift.

“Yes, let’s. I hope I am up to par for this impromptu inspection.”

Frankie and you laugh with each other as you walk next door to the book shop. When you step inside, the smell of the place hits you. You have always loved the way the secondhand bookstore has that musty, attic-y smell, but better. The smell of 200 pages of ink on paper: adding heat, adding time, and human experience, times hundreds of books in the store. It’s a smell that never fails to make your day better.

Even though he doesn’t mention it out loud, Frankie watches you experience these sensations. And he understands it because he loves it too.

You meander through the store with Frankie on your heels, finally landing at the children’s literature department. You find a variety of authors, and a great selection of board books, early readers and easy chapter books. There’s a great choice of different art styles in the illustrations and an acknowledged pick of stories that have young protagonists of color.

“Wow Frankie, this is awesome. If I were principal, I’d hire you to run our school’s library because you certainly have all your bases covered.”

“Thanks, that means a lot—especially coming from you.”

His compliment in return makes heat flush through your body. You two look at each other, truly taking one another in. It’s not the first time this afternoon that this action has taken place. You smile, reaching out to place your hand against Frankie’s arm. “Rosalia’s really lucky to have you, you know that right?” Frankie leans into your touch and nods his head. You’re overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment, the base physical contact sets electricity sparking across your bodies. Would he be this responsive to your touch if he wasn’t also attracted to you? you think to yourself.

You release your hand and also a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Adrenaline courses through your veins, manifesting a confidence that you didn’t know you could have.

“Hey, I don’t know if this is too forward, but I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me on Friday night? If not, we can forget—“

“Yes, I’d like that a lot,” Frankie cuts you off, taking your hand in his and giving a gentle, but affirmative squeeze.

You laugh and bite against the inside of your cheek, a nervous reaction. “Okay, great,” you continue, “Want to meet me at the bar Bourbon Highway at 9?”

“That sounds great,” he says, squeezing your hand one more time before letting go.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x fem!reader #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #tumblr pls pls put this in the tags #i need it #i promise there's no bad words in here #just wholesome reading content

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