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mackenzielovee · 1 year

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parenthood blurb: a wife's intuition

a/n: this is a little long for a blurb but i hope you guys enjoy it! i'm a little on the fence about it but let me know what you think. happy sunday <333 xoxo

warnings: swearing, crying, depictions of anxiety

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

You collapse on the couch Thursday night alone, which is something you’re wondering if you should get used to. Tuesday night, Wednesday night, and now tonight, Rafe has had to work late, and each night, he shoots you a last minute warning text telling you he can’t make it and he’s sorry.

This fact, combined with dinner, bath time, and taming both kids into bed has you near tears. Every once in a while is different. Rafe’s picked up your slack plenty of times without the tears, and a part of you feels guilty that you find it so overwhelming when he isn’t present. But three nights in a row of not taking your eyes off of two children who will run away at the drop of a hat, combined with never-ending questions about where Rafe is feels a little unbearable.

You hear the door to the garage open and force yourself to sit up on the couch, wiping your waterline of any stray tears that may have escaped. You inhale and plaster on a smile, not wanting to make him feel guilty.

He doesn’t even take the time to set down his keys or remove his shoes, but instead, comes rushing into the living room. When he sees you on the couch, he tosses his wallet, keys, and phone into the armchair, then drops to his knees in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of lighting so he can’t examine your face as closely.

“Everything’s under control,” you murmur, even giving him a small smile, “Are you hungry?”

“I’m going to eat,” he says slowly, “But I’ll get it.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll get it for you,” you reply, wanting to be the partner for him that he is for you, “Sit down. I bet you’re tired.”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, “You’re the one who must be tired.”

You shake your head and stand while Rafe remains on his knees, moving his head up to look at you.

“Come tell me about your day.”

Just Rafe’s presence in the house is enough to calm you down. After a mere few minutes, all of your anxiety seems to melt away, and before you know it, his food is in the oven and you’re on his lap in one of the chairs belonging to the kitchen table.

“We got the preliminary site plans back for the marina, and I don’t know, Dad fuckin’ hated ‘em. He said the way it was laid out was dysfunctional, and gave me all these notes. The client’s up his ass. I sent Maria and Coop home, like, an hour ago so I could concentrate, but all I could think about was you guys.”

You give him a little smile, brushing his hair behind his ear with your fingertips. He leans into the gesture, seeking the comfort it brings.

Maria, a newer employee at the office, is a step below Rafe, but is still consulted on all of the major projects. You’d never met her, but Rafe speaks highly of her work ethic. Cooper, Rafe’s oldest buddy at the office, is also Josie’s office crush. Every time she sees him, she blushes and giggles and wants to hang out with him in his office.

“We’re fine,” you promise him, even though it makes your heart ache, “Let me check on your food.”

“Mmm,” he hums, protesting you getting up without giving him a kiss.

His expression makes you laugh, and you lean down to kiss him before you can help it. He lets you get up after a minute to check on his dinner, which looks done. You transfer it on a plate and serve it to him with a bottle of water.

“How were the kiddos?” he asks, thankful that you sit to join him while he eats.

“They missed you,” you say quietly.

He nods, “And their mom?”

Your eyes flicker up to him, watching how his expression changes. His lips slowly turn upward, and so do yours. Naturally.

“She didn’t even notice,” you tease him.

He laughs, dropping his fork on his plate before he looks over at you with raised eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I mean, it’s really—”

“Is Daddy home?”

Both of you turn to the doorway, finding Josie confidently standing in the middle of the kitchen, while Connor stays back. You smile and usher him in, watching his saucer eyes flicker cautiously between you and Rafe.

“I’m home, princess,” Rafe says.

Josie wastes no time crossing the kitchen and crawling up Rafe’s lap, where she eventually settles herself, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Missed you, Daddy,” Josie pouts, “Stop workin’.”

Rafe chuckles, “I’m sorry. Did you drag your brother out of bed?”

Connor stands beside you, his hand on your leg as he waits for Rafe to give him a hug. Josie shrugs from her place on Rafe’s lap while he leans down, embracing Connor.

“She was in my room,” Connor explains, “She was trying to sleep, but got lonely without you, Dad.”

Your bottom lip juts out as you pull Connor into your lap, hugging him tightly. Rafe presses his lips to Josie’s forehead, looking regretful.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he whispers to her, “Daddy’s sorry, okay?”

“It’s okay,” she replies. He looks over at you, and when he notes your tired eyes, your dropped shoulders, and the way your grip on Connor isn’t as tight as usual, he pushes out his chair and stands, setting Josie on his hip.

“Come on, munchkins,” he announces, “Back to bed. Give Mommy her kisses and tell her thank you for taking care of you.”

Connor turns and looks up at you, giving you his best smile, “Goodnight, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you, too, handsome,” you reply, giving him a hug and a kiss.

“Night, Mama,” Josie says. Rafe leans down, letting Josie reach out until you could kiss her on the cheek.

“Night, honey. Sleep tight.”

Rafe tucks his arm around you and presses a quick, sweet kiss to your temple, then nods his head in the direction of your room.

“Go,” he whispers, “I’ll be right in.”

When Rafe comes in about twenty minutes later, you’re already laid down. He smiles and steps over to you, watching as you faintly drag your eyes open to register that it’s him. You smile when you see his figure, but when you move to speak, he hushes you and pulls the blankets up over your body.

He joins you a few minutes later, after he changes and brushes his teeth, and presses himself right up against you in the bed. His arms wrap around you, his scent fills your nose, and you can physically feel your body relax under his touch.

“This okay?” he asks you quietly.

“Perfect,” you reply, “I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispers, “Get some rest.”

The next day, Rafe texts you and asks if you and Josie can come by his office and have lunch with him. You decide it’s a good idea, and before you know it, you’re unloading a bag full of takeout food from the Club and a fussy, desperate-to-see-her-dad Josephine.

“Daddy’s gonna eat all my french fries,” she says, and you can’t tell by her tone whether or not she wants that.

“I got Daddy his own fries, sweetie,” you promise her, pulling her from her carseat.

“He says mine taste better,” she remarks.

You laugh, because of course he does, and pick up the food, praying like hell your purse stays in place on your shoulder because you have officially run out of hands to hold it. Once you’re out of the parking lot, you let Josie walk with her hand in yours through the office building. Rafe’s section of the office seems busier than the remainder of the building, and the first thing you see when you walk in is Cooper.

“Well, hey, Josie girl,” he grins, “Didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Joise draws back, her lips tipping up into a cheeky smile and her posture melting as she takes him in.

“Hi, Mister Cooper,” she greets, giggling.

Cooper laughs, “Did you come in to see me?”

“No, my Daddy.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods in understanding, reaching out for a hug from you, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Coop. Is he in his office?”

“Yeah, yeah, should be. And hey, if you get bored, Josie, come see me, okay? I’ve got a basketball hoop in my office.”

Her cheeks flush, “Really?”

You laugh at her cheekiness, at the way she’s totally crushing on him, and Cooper knows it too.

“Oh, yeah. Anytime you want.”

“What do you say, Jo?” you remind her, watching her purse her lips.

“Thank you, Mister Cooper,” she grins.

“No problem,” he smiles in his most charming smile, “You guys enjoy your lunch.”

Josie tucks herself behind your legs as Cooper walks away, giving your arm a friendly pat as he passes. You laugh at her but let her remain there, clutching your leg as the two of you move toward Rafe’s office. You stop in front of his door, just for a moment, to get a better grip on the food and on your child, when a voice sounds through the hustle of the office.

“Can I help you?”

Only out of pure curiosity do you spin around, being met with a pair of dark brown eyes. You scan down her body before you can help it, at her white blouse and pencil skirt, tan legs and heels that look a little too expensive.

She draws back at you, too, you notice, eyes widening slightly as she looks at you, then down at Josie, who is still hiding between your legs.

“Mrs. Cameron,” she breathes, “Oh.”

You swallow and shake your head, trying to put on your best friendly face. You smile, noting silently how her cheeks go pink at the understanding of who you are.

“Hi,” you say, “Sorry. We’re going in, I was just losing my grip on the food.”

You hold it up as if it’s evidence, to which she just nods. She’s starting to look downright uncomfortable, and for a brief moment, you wonder what she’s doing guarding Rafe’s office the way she is.

“No, no,” she replies, “I’m the one who should be sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first, but when I saw your face — Rafe has a picture on his desk of you — I mean, Mr. Cameron, um—”

“Hey,” you chuckle, reaching out and patting her forearm as an effort to relax her, “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not offended.”

She nods, but looks like she might throw up, “Okay. Sorry.”

You smile, ready to convince her that it’s all okay and ask for her name, when Rafe’s office door whips open.

“Daddy!” Josie exclaims, letting go of you completely and reaching for him.

“Hi, princess,” he greets her, leaning down to pick her up.

You turn and give him a smile, tangling your hand in his when he grasps onto you, “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart, I was wondering where you were,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “I see you’ve met Maria.”

Maria. Maria with a good work ethic. Maria that he’s spent every night with this week. Maria, whose face is bright red now, as she observes her boss kissing his wife and daughter. Maria, who knows there’s a picture of you on Rafe’s desk, and who has looked at it so many times that she recognized you when you turned to face her.

“Maria,” you smile, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She gives herself away instantly. She refuses to meet Rafe’s eye, and only gives you quick glances, which is how you figure it all out. Rafe, seemingly oblivious, takes the bag of food from your hand.

“You get fries?” he asks Josie, “You’ll share, won’t you, baby girl?”

“No,” Josie protests, “Mommy got you your own french fries.”

Rafe turns back into his office, expecting you to follow, “But yours taste so much better!”

Maria clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable under your glance, but you give her a smile anyway.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maria,” you say.

When she looks up at you, she can see it in your eyes. You can tell.

“You too, Mrs. Cameron,” she says weakly, then turns to walk back to her desk.

You spin around and walk into Rafe’s office, closing the door gently behind you. He’s got Josie in his lap and has already unpacked the bag of styrofoam containers, serving her food to her first.

“Did you mean to get tomato on your burger, baby?” he asks you, knowing you never do, “You can eat mine. Here.”

Your mind is still focused on her, still focused on not imagining them working late, alone, in this office, her in that short skirt, legs on full display, maybe she bends over a bit too far, maybe, just for a moment, Rafe thinks of how her body must look, never having been changed with child bearing —-

“Y/N,” he draws you out of your thoughts, “Sweetheart, sit down. You said we only have an hour.”

You swallow and nod, “Sorry.”

He gives you a hesitant look but hands over his burger and fries, which makes you shake your head.

“That’s yours,” you object, waving it away.

“No,” he says gently, “They put tomato on yours, so I’m gonna eat it. You take mine.”

“You didn’t get tomato?”

He chuckles, stealing one of Josie’s fries, which makes her giggle. You remain standing, staring, wondering why he wouldn’t get tomato if he likes it.

“No, I haven’t gotten tomato on my burger since we started dating.”

You frown, “Rafe—”

“Sit. Tell me about your morning.”

You’re being ridiculous. That’s what you tell yourself all throughout lunch. It’s Rafe. The same guy who has been in love with you since he was six, the same guy you’d been married to for seven years, the man you know would never jeopardize what you’ve created together. You squirm in your seat every time you can feel his eyes on you, and although you try to play the part, you can’t seem to get your heart all the way into it.

Josie asks to see Cooper again, to which Rafe dials him on speaker on the office phone and lets Josie talk to him herself. She blushes and giggles when Cooper offers to come scoop her up so they can play basketball with the hoop he hung on the back of his door, eventually accepting the offer with the promise that Cooper will be right over to get her.

He enters Rafe’s office not two minutes later and asks if he can carry her over, grinning widely when she nods and holds her arms up. Cooper takes her from Rafe’s lap and smiles proudly, then turns to both of you.

“Obviously, you guys are welcome, too,” he says.

You glance at Rafe, who shakes his head at you subtly. Normally, you would’ve declined when Rafe wanted to, but with the way he’s looking at you now, you give Cooper a smile.

“Sure,” you reply, standing from your chair.

Rafe clears his throat but you ignore it. Cooper starts out of Rafe’s office, busying himself with Josie. You hear Rafe stand as you start to follow them, and just when you reach the threshold of the door, right where Maria can see you, Rafe calls to you.

“Hold it.”

You halt immediately. You can feel Maria’s eyes, but you don’t look at her. You don’t turn around to Rafe, either. Instead, you swallow and remain rooted in your spot, ready to convince him that everything is fine.

His arm maneuvers its way around your waist and pulls you into him, spinning you around once he can. You give him a gentle smile which he returns, not caring in the slightest about who can see the two of you.

“What’s up?” he asks you quietly, “You’re distracted.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flicker to Maria’s desk. She averts her gaze immediately, flushing yet again as she scrambles to look busy.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping it’s convincing, “I think I’m just a little tired.”

Rafe raises a brow, “You sure?”

You swallow just as Rafe’s office phone starts ringing. He doesn’t even flinch, but you glance over at it and then back to him.

“Shouldn’t you get that?”

He turns his head halfway, calling over his shoulder, “Maria?”

Your eyes move to her before you can help yourself, and you watch as she quickly stands, banging her knee against her desk at the abrupt movement and wincing.

“Yes—” she clears her throat, dropping her gaze from you, “Yes, sir, Mr. Cameron?”

“Can you get that line for me?”

She nods, even though Rafe’s focus is still on you, “Yes, sir.”

“Talk to me,” he begs you, dropping his volume.

You look into his eyes, meeting the desperation, the need to know what’s bothering you, and you smile. You smile because he’s working so hard to find out. You smile because he hasn’t gotten tomato on his burgers since you started dating in case you wanted a bite. You smile because, as he told you last night, he works late with Maria, and all he can think about is coming home to his family.

This smile is believable, and it visibly relaxes him. His shoulders fall and his grip loosens slightly, like he no longer fears you running from him.

“I was having a moment,” you mumble, “I’m okay now.”

He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, “Promise?”

Nodding, you answer, “I promise.”

“All right,” he gives in, “Why don’t we go see if our daughter’s gonna go pro, okay?”

You laugh, “Okay.”

He grins and takes your hand, leading the way to Cooper’s office without so much as a glance away from you.

You and Josie leave pretty soon after. Rafe walks you two all the way down to your car, where he promises to be home on time tonight. After you leave, both you and Josie pick up Connor from school and head home, where you work on your laptop in the living room while the kids play together. Connor tries to teach Josie different facts about each of his stuffed dinosaurs, to which she politely states that she doesn’t really care to know that stuff, and instead invites him to play a game with her on the iPad they share.

The second your laptop closes, Connor rises and walks over to the couch, carrying his favorite dinosaur toy.

“Snuggles, Mama?”

You grin, “Come here.”

You pick him up and lay him down on your chest, letting him cuddle in. He moves his head to look up at you, giving you his best dough eyes.

“You okay?” he asks.

His question forces a deep breath in, unable to believe that he’s so intuitive at his age. You nod and give him a smile, one that you pray is believable.

“I’m great, baby,” you promise him.

Josie’s head peaks up over the coffee table and her eyes narrow when she sees the two of you. She stands abruptly and waddles over, glare still prominent.

“I want snuggles, too,” she pouts.

“There’s enough room for you, sweetie, come on up,” you smile at her, helping her climb over the couch.

That’s how Rafe finds the three of you. He gets home about twenty minutes later, and when he catches sight of the view, a part of him wonders why he even bothers leaving for work during the day.

He dives right in, moving Josie onto his chest and giving Connor a kiss while he asks how his day was at school. You just smile, unable to believe that you’d been insecure for even a moment about your marriage, or your body, or your husband.

Rafe makes dinner, cleans up, and bathes the kids and puts them to bed, trying to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been home for that process all week. When he descends down the stairs with exhaustion written all over his face, you open your arms to him and laugh when he collapses on the couch beside you.

“I finally managed to pry my hand from around Little Miss,” he tells you, “She’s got one hell of a grip.”

“She does,” you reply.

“All right,” Rafe sighs, making himself comfortable, resting his head on your chest and shoving his hands underneath your shirt so he can feel you up, “Why don’t you tell me about your little moment today at my office.”

“Rafe, come on, it doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me,” he says, his tone harsher than he means, you’re sure, “I don’t like it when something’s bothering you and you won’t tell me what it is. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. I don’t care if it’s gross or weird or—”

“Maria has a crush on you,” you blurt, feeling him freeze from his place on top of you, “And it made me a little uncomfortable. But only for a minute. I’m fine now.”

He takes his time forming a response, but you note how his fingers begin to stroke the skin on your stomach a little more lightly, more tender, more gentle. You feel his jaw shift back and forth against your breast as he considers your words, and you hear him inhale a sharp breath before he sits up and looks at you, his eyes full of concern.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, “I would’ve asked her to leave.”

“Leave?” you sit up, staring at him as if he’s lost it.

“Yeah, leave,” he shrugs, “I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable when you come see me at work—”

“Rafe, that’s ridiculous. You couldn’t have asked her to stop doing her job just because I was there.”

“Why not?” he questions you, “I’m her boss.”

“Okay, just hold on,” you sigh, pushing your way out from under him and walking the length of the living room, “It was dumb of me to even be bothered by it. Can you at least admit that?”

“No. I would be bothered if someone you worked with had a crush on you,” he replies.

“Yeah, but—”

“But, nothing,” he stops you, “Sweetheart, if you express to me that something is making you uncomfortable, I would never just brush you off. You know that.”

“Yes, I do, but this is stupid, Rafe. Maria seems like a sweet girl, and honestly, who can blame her for having a crush on you? I can’t, because I do, too. So, I don’t want you making her leave the office when I come in. I’m not that catty. This is silly to even talk about. I’m just tired. This poor girl has done nothing wrong, and—”

“Y/N,” he practically laughs, “Would you please just come sit down and relax for a second?”

You frown as you walk over to the couch, intending to sit beside him, but no part of you is surprised when he pulls you onto his lap instead.

“I mean it, you know,” you mumble into his shirt, “I’m just tired, and I felt insecure, and I was thinking every single cliché thought about — well, her. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“I understand,” he says calmly, shifting your hair to the side and bringing his lips down to your neck, “What were your cliché thoughts?”

“Rafe,” you laugh, and so does he.

“Come on. I want to know what was going on inside your head. You looked like you were one second away from getting sick all over my office.”

“I was not.”

He chuckles, pressing another soft kiss to your neck, “Tell me.”

“You know, all the typical shit,” you shrug, “She’s beautiful, and you guys are working late, and she’d start flirting with you, and—”

“Hmm, I don’t think I want to hear any more, baby,” he says quietly, his voice deeper than it had been, “I’ll handle it.”

You freeze, “What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it does,” he replies, “Because it’s not just a matter of you seeing her when you come in. It’s a matter of me seeing her, too, isn’t it?”

“No—” you stop, shake your head, “Rafe, please don’t fire her—”

“I’m not going to fire her, sweetheart,” he laughs lightly, “I’ll put in a transfer for her. It’s not a big deal.”

You sigh, “This is so—”

“It’s not stupid,” he grunts, “I know that you trust me, and I know that you know me, but I’m not going to let you continue to be uncomfortable with this. Everything is fine. Just relax.”

“I feel ridiculous,” you pout, but cuddle yourself into his chest anyway.

“You shouldn’t,” he replies, “All you did was tell me the truth.”

“But, you told me how she has a good work ethic, and if you need her or whatever—”

“The only woman I need is you,” he says, a teasing smile forming on his lips, “So, no, I personally don’t give a fuck if she’s in that office or not.”

You purse your lips to hide a smile, “Okay.”

“I’ll hire a really old guy to take her place, how’s that sound? But, if he starts crushing on me, too—”

“Stop,” you groan, burying your head in his neck to hide your embarrassment.

Rafe laughs, and the sound of it makes you smile. His grip tightens around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Kidding,” he mumbles, “Although, I am still thinking about how you admitted to having a crush on me.”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” he hums.

“Of course I have a crush on you, you goon.”

Rafe laughs, loosening his grip when you move to turn around on his lap. He smiles once you’re face to face with him, placing his hands on your waist and squeezing.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’ll always pick you. Your happiness, your comfort, your security. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it, it’s all noise to me anyway. Clear?”

“Clear,” you repeat, “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too. Can I take you to bed now?”

You grin, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he mutters, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “It’s been a long fucking week, and I haven’t been paying proper attention to my wife.”

You giggle like a little kid when he stands up, guiding your legs around his waist so he can carry you to your room. You kiss him as he walks, trying to kiss your thanks into him for being so understanding, so compassionate, so yours.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket just before you enter your bedroom, and when you pull it out to check it, you find a text from Maddie.

Did you talk to him?

Rafe laughs as he looks over your shoulder, “You should totally mess with her.”

“What, like tell her we’re breaking up over it?” your eyes go wide.

“She’d freak,” he chuckles to himself, “But, no. Don’t speak that into existence. You’re stuck with me. Even Maddie knows it.”

You smile and kiss him again, your heart swelling in your chest at the feeling of being so close to him, so in love with him, and so needed by him.

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mackenzielovee · 1 year

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parenthood part twenty: intemperance

a/n: ahhh , this is a long one! but it's a good one (hopefully). happy sunday and i hope you guys have a wonderful week ahead. reblogs are appreciated, as is feedback! thank you! xoxo

warnings: swearing, verbal arguments, complicated family dynamics, alcoholism, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, birth control, vasectomy, allusion to smut

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

You’re completely still in front of the bathroom mirror as you stare at yourself, listing off the symptoms in your head and connecting the potential dots.

The nausea. The tender breasts. The bloating. The alert on your phone telling you that your period is five days late.

Your life plays out before your eyes as you anxiously plan out what another pregnancy means for everyone. Not just you, who already feels defeated and drained at the thought of having to go through another nine months. It also means a baby, a million sleepless nights, and another adjustment to your house. Your family. It changes everything, and it wasn’t anything you planned on.

Rafe knocks on the bathroom door and you shove the unused pregnancy test back into your vanity, spinning around and giving him a fake smile as he enters.

“Sorry, forgot my belt,” he tells you, looking handsome as ever as he gets ready for his boys night with Kelce and Topper.

“You’re fine,” you promise him, “You look handsome.”

He smiles as he buckles his belt, “Thanks, baby.”

You accept his kiss when he offers it, and without another word, he escapes back out to watch the kids. You take one final look at the mirror, then at the drawer concealing your pregnancy test, and walk out behind him.

“I can handle it.”

It’s your fifth time saying that statement to Topper, and yet, he still seems hesitant. He clutches Eleanor tightly, as if the thought of separating from her is going to physically rip her from him. You glance over at Rafe, who shakes his head at you.

“I know you can, I just hate leaving her,” Topper mumbles, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

“I get that, man, but Y/N’s got this,” Rafe promises him, “A night of no spit-up is exactly what you need.”

Topper, who has spent the last two weeks moving into the guest house while also taking care of Eleanor, truly does need a night out. Kelce and Rafe volunteered the idea of drinks at the Club, and with Maddie out of town, Noah and Julian are with Maddie’s parents. You promised to watch Eleanor so Topper could go, and while he initially agreed, he seems unable to separate.

“Alright,” Topper declares, stepping toward you, “But, don’t forget that she cries if you take away her pink giraffe. And, she gets fussy around seven, but if you give her the purple pacifier—”

“Topper,” you groan, “I have two. I know. Now, go. Have fun.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, gazing longingly at Eleanor.

“Alright, kiddos, come give Daddy hugs,” you call over your shoulder.

Josie hops right up and sprints over to Rafe, who lifts her up with no challenge whatsoever.

“Wanna bring ice cream home?” Josie grins mischievously.

“Maybe,” Rafe whispers, “Only if you’re good for Mom, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she nods.

“Alright. I love you, princess.”

“Love you, too,” she replies, hugging him tightly before he sets her down.

Connor hurries over to Rafe, who kneels and hugs him right away. You smile at the sight, loving their relationship. That smile drops when you think about whether or not adding another would be good for Connor’s sensitivity; what if he can’t understand? What if it’s too much for him, or he feels too disconnected from you or Rafe?

“Be good,” Rafe whispers to him, “Keep an eye on your sister.”

“I will,” Connor promises, “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Rafe smiles.

“Uncle Top, you have to give hugs and kisses, too,” Josie demands, holding her arms up in expectation of being picked up.

“Yes ma’am,” Topper laughs, grabbing her and lifting her up.

She squeals when he kisses her cheeks repeatedly, then squeezes her tight. Eleanor stirs in your arms, so you rock her back and forth to try and relax her.

“Best behavior,” Josie lectures Topper.

He chuckles, “I promise, baby. Be good to Ellie, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods.

Topper kisses Josie once more, then sets her down. Connor steps over and gives Topper a hug, and the kids follow you to the door to wave goodbye to the men. Rafe wraps a gentle arm around you on the porch, then presses his lips to your temple.

“Call me if you need anything,” he lectures, “I’ll come right home.”

“I’ll be fine,” you promise him, “Have fun with them. Don’t worry about me.”

Rafe steps away, but shakes his head as he starts walking backward down the sidewalk, “I always worry about you, baby. Love me?”

“I love you,” you smile.

“I love you, too.”

“I love you, three,” Topper calls, “Thanks again, Y/N.”

“Have fun,” you yell, waving as they climb into Topper’s car.

Once the boys are gone, you corral the kids back inside. Josie, who obsesses over Eleanor, immediately wants to play, while Connor goes back to his puzzle.

The evening plays out as successfully as you could’ve hoped, and you’re almost sad when Josie falls asleep beside Eleanor, who is resting soundly in the pack ‘n play you’d set up just for her.

Connor comes over and crawls up on the couch, not even asking before he sits down in your lap. You welcome it and give him a smile, watching as he returns it.

“Mama?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Is Aunt Sarah coming home for Christmas?”

You comb through his hair as you stare into his deep eyes, pursing your lips as you debate how to answer his question. The truth is, you have no idea. You haven't reached out to Sarah after what she’d had to say about you last time she was home, and no part of you wants to. You just hate that it has to impact the kids.

“I’m not sure, handsome,” you reply softly, “You miss her?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“It’s okay. At least we have baby Ellie.”

You smile, grateful for his big heart, and pull him tighter against you. It doesn’t take long for Connor to fall asleep, with you not far behind him. The worrying combined with babysitting — practicing for when you have to handle three, you try not to think — has exhausted you.

While you’d never meant to doze off, you also never thought you’d be waking up to someone banging on the front door. Your eyes open in a panic, and you gently remove Connor from your lap before standing up. The uneven banging continues, and you know Rafe and the boys would never do that because of the kids.

Hesitantly, you stand, hurrying to the foyer out of desperation for the sound to stop. You’re thankful Eleanor hasn’t started crying yet, but you’re sure she will if you don’t stop it. Glancing out the window, you grow frustrated when you realize that it’s Scott on your porch. He’s unbalanced, leaning on the door as he pounds on it.

Without another second wasted, you swing open the door to stop him. He tumbles forward, having been leaning all his weight on the door, and you have to reach out and grab him so he doesn’t fall to the floor.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters to himself, then laughs, “Whoops.”

You shut your eyes as Scott grips your hands, steadying himself before standing up straight. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, the shitty bar on his clothes, the cigarette smoke in his hair.

“Scott—”

“Lost my keys,” he tells you, slurring his words, “Couldn’t get the door open without my keys. Why are you holding my hands?”

You frown, “You’re drunk.”

He shakes his head, but the movement causes him to feel unsteady again, and he stumbles once more. You groan as you attempt to keep him upright, ignoring him when he starts to laugh at himself again.

“I am not,” he replies, “Just had a few. But I am not a lightweight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter to yourself, then shake your head, “Scott, the kids are asleep.”

He chuckles, “I’m not gonna wake ‘em.”

You roll your eyes and debate what to do, trying to remember if the guest room is prepared for anyone to use. Deciding that it has to be, that you have no choice, you sigh.

“Alright, let’s just get you upstairs,” you say, pulling him toward you.

“No, wait,” he says, yanking his hands away from you, “Fuck, I lost my phone. I have to call her.”

You don’t bother asking who — given that you already know. You quickly figure out that Scott has done something to ruin his relationship with Mae, which has caused an apparent relapse in his drinking.

He’d been keeping himself under control for a few months now, and you’d been proud of him. Now, he’s taking three steps back.

“You can call her in the morning. Please, I don’t want you to wake—”

He attempts to side-step you, resulting in him stumbling, tripping over his own feet, and falling down on the floor. His hands fly out to try and brace himself, but the noise his body makes when he hits the hard wood is loud enough to wake even the best of sleepers.

You cover your face with your hands as Eleanor starts to cry in the living room, knowing she will also awaken both Josie and Connor.

“Shit,” Scott mumbles to himself, “You should really put a carpet here.”

He makes no motion to get up from where he lays in the middle of the foyer, and you don’t try to get him up. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm yourself.

“Mommy?”

You turn around and find Josie standing in the middle of the entryway, her tired eyes moving between you and her uncle.

“Josie! Hey, baby!” Scott cheers from the floor.

Confused, Josie looks back up at you. When she doesn’t find any source of direction, given that you feel completely frozen, she starts over to the two of you.

Instead of allowing her to step any closer, you move over and pick her up. Quickly, you turn her away, running a hand up and down her back to calm her.

“Let’s go take care of baby Ellie,” you say, giving her a smile, “Will you help me?”

“Sure, Mommy,” she replies, although you don’t miss the way she looks over her shoulder to steal another glance at Scott.

Connor is awake and standing over the pack ‘n play that Eleanor occupies when you get into the living room. You set Josie down and walk over to him, giving him a smile and a soft ‘thanks’ when he points down to the baby.

“Is Uncle Scott okay?” Connor asks, glancing heavily toward the foyer.

You swallow, “He’ll be just fine.”

He nods and watches as you grab Eleanor out, cradling her in your arms as you attempt to coax her back to sleep. You can hear Scott groan and yell for you from his place on the floor, but you pretend not to hear it.

You feel too many emotions to know how to handle all of them right now. Sure, Scott didn’t know you were watching the baby tonight. And, yes, you’re glad he came to you instead of passing out on the side of the road or in an unsafe situation. But for him to come here and pound on the door, drunk out of his mind, when he knows you have children? Who are both asleep at this hour? It makes you feel angry. Then, you switch to relieved, knowing he’s safe. Then, you decide you’re anxious, because you can’t take care of four people right now.

Your heart sinks when your mind tells you to call Rafe. You don’t want to — you want to handle it, to let him have his fun and keep Topper’s mind off of all the stress, but you know he will be sad if he comes home to you when you’re overwhelmed and upset and didn’t feel as if he would be of help.

Eleanor falls back to sleep relatively easily, which you’re thankful for. Connor sits down on the couch and Josie follows him, where she ultimately falls asleep with her head in his lap. You kiss Connor’s cheek, then grab your phone from the coffee table. It lights up right then with a new text from Rafe, one that has you letting out a breath of relief.

How’s everything? Can’t stop thinking about you.

You smile at the text, and for a brief moment, you want to suck it up. Then, Scott groans once again, and you drop your gaze back to the keyboard, staring at each individual letter as you prepare to let your husband down.

Can you come home?

Your thumb hovers over the send button for what feels like forever, and the second you press it, a shot of anxiety shoots through you. Even though you know he will with no hesitation, you hate having to ask. You hate being a potential burden.

He’s typing almost as soon as your test delivers to his screen.

Of course, baby. Is it urgent or just miss me?

You smile despite the situation, typing back quickly.

Not urgent but necessary. Scott showed up and woke up the kids. He’s drunk.

Rafe’s response is quick yet again.

Be home as soon as I can. Hang tight.

You let out a breath of relief, because you know he’s coming. Connor’s eyes are closed when you look over at him, so you feel comfortable stepping away from the kids to check on Scott. He’s sitting up now; his back is resting against the wall and his head is tipped back, like he’s prepared to sleep there.

“Scott,” you say softly, inching toward him.

His eyes open when he hears you, “Y/N, thank God. I’m gonna throw up.”

The mere mention of the action has your stomach turning. You swallow down the impulse, then reach for him.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom, then,” you try.

“Can’t,” he replies, “Your house is spinning.”

He starts to slide down the wall on his right side, but you don’t try to stop him. Instead, you watch as he collapses, unable to pick himself back up. He lets out a low groan as you turn on your heel, walking into the kitchen and getting an old grocery bag from the pantry for Scott to throw up in if need be.

Your hand meets your stomach before you leave the kitchen, and you catch yourself hoping that the pregnancy test shows a negative. Your heart sinks at the thought, at the blatant denial of wanting another child.

With another breath — because breathing seems to be all you can do — you walk back out to Scott and toss the plastic bag in his lap. You stare at him for a moment, and just as he turns his head to the side, you check your phone to find an empty lock screen.

The sound of Scott relieving his stomach of the alcohol he’d consumed draws you right out of your phone, just in time for you to notice that he doesn’t even bother using the bag you’d given him.

Your hardwood floors are ruined, you think.

“Scott—” you groan, but his sound is louder. It’s a mix between a sob and a grunt, but it all sounds sad to you.

“Fuck,” Scott swears, “Fuckin’ Mae. Why do I have to love her?”

You don’t reply, still too upset about the floor and him, and the kids, and the potential baby growing inside of you.

Scott’s eyes follow you as you step into the living room, checking on the kids. They’re all still sound asleep, which you’re relieved for.

“I know why,” he continues, “‘Cause she worked her magic on me. I’ll be in love with her forever. Wanna have babies with her. Y/N, should I have babies with Mae?”

You’re not sure if it’s your own anxiety projecting off of you, but when you look at your brother, and the state he’s in, you cross your arms defensively over your chest.

“No.”

His eyebrows furrow, and the expression that crosses his face borders on anger. You simply shrug, not defending or retracting your answer.

“Whatever,” Scott mutters, “Sorry I’m not as perfect as you.”

Your chest rises as you take in a steady, deep breath, trying your best not to react to that statement. Just as you open your mouth to speak, to try and defend yourself, you see the headlights on the car bringing your husband home as they reflect off the wall. Without a word to Scott, you walk over to the front door and open it just in time to see Rafe hopping out of his Uber.

You step out onto the porch, then down onto the sidewalk to get to him faster. His eyes never leave you as he approaches, scanning you for any potential physical issues as he opens his arms.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay?” he asks you, his voice soft from the sympathy and alcohol coursing through his veins.

Tears well up in your eyes the second his familiar scent hits your nose. Between the kids, your anxiety about being pregnant, and Scott, you feel as if the world is crashing down on you. Before you can suck it up, and instead, blaming it on hormones, you accidentally let out a sob into his chest.

Rafe’s grip tightens around you and he squeezes — not too tight, but tight enough that you feel him trying to put the broken pieces back together.

“Talk to me,” he whispers into your hair, “I’m right here. I’m sorry I left. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“It’s too much, Rafe,” you mumble, trying your best to calm yourself.

“Okay, hey,” he coaxes you, pulling back and tipping your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “Look at me. I’ll fix all of it. Just tell me the first thing you want me to handle.”

You pout, because of course he wants to swoop in and save the day. He always does, even if he doesn’t know it.

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your eyes, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me,” he says, earning a small smile from you.

You nod in understanding, then sigh, “Scott’s in the middle of our foyer on the floor. He won’t get up, and he was just being kind of rude to me. He woke up all three kids and everything.”

Rafe listens, nodding his head and waiting for you to finish telling him about it. Then, he wraps your hand in his and nods his head toward the house.

“I’ll handle it. Come on.”

You follow him up the stairs to the porch, a certain peacefulness washing over you just due to Rafe’s presence.

“We just need to get him upstairs,” you say quietly.

Rafe doesn’t respond to you; instead, he guides you inside the house and releases you so you can close the front door. You watch as he walks over to Scott, who is still laying on his side and pressed against the wall. Rafe glances at the now stained hardwood floor and turns his nose up, but doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t bother to hesitate for even one second. He touches his shoe to Scott’s chest and nudges him — not roughly, but not exactly gentle, either.

“Get up, Scott,” Rafe says loudly, “Don’t make me force you up.”

Scott groans, his eyes glued shut, “Go away.”

Rafe chuckles, but it sounds sarcastic and unforgiving. You draw back, knowing how this will end. Without word or warning, Rafe kneels down in front of Scott. Your brother’s eyes are still closed, so he doesn’t see how Rafe reaches around him and then grabs a fistful of the back collar of Scott’s tee shirt.

Rafe pulls him upright, eliciting a gasp from Scott’s lips. You watch Scott struggle to get his bearings, but you say nothing.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Scott exclaims, trying to brush Rafe off.

“Yeah, what the fuck,” Rafe repeats, “My kids are in this house. My wife is in this house. You think you can pass out on the floor in front of them?”

“Get off me,” Scott demands, but his words are still slurred and his actions are weighed down by the alcohol in his veins.

“No.”

“Cameron, I’m gonna—” Scott warns, covering his mouth with his hand.

Rafe rolls his eyes and starts forward, dragging Scott along toward the bathroom. He yanks him inside and closes the door, leaving you out in the living room with the three kids. Not sure of what else you should do, you quickly clean up Scott’s mess, then pick up Connor from his place on the couch and carry him upstairs to his bed. You come back down and do the same with Josie. Both of them are too far asleep to wake up as you do this, which you’re thankful for.

On your way back downstairs from Josie’s room, you find Rafe pulling Scott up the stairs. Scott refuses to lift his feet, reacting only when Rafe tugs on his shirt again.

“Come on, Scott, stop fucking around,” Rafe demands.

“I can’t—” Scott slurs, seeming that after he’s spilled his guts in your downstairs bathroom, he’s too tired to even climb the stairs, “Fuck— I can’t.”

“I’m not carrying you, so you don’t have a choice,” Rafe snaps back.

“Rafe,” you say quietly, hurrying down the stairs to meet them both.

Scott looks up at you when you set your hand on his arm, and you can see relief through his tired, drunk eyes.

“Y/N,” Scott whispers, immediately growing emotional, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m fucked up, I’m so fucked up—”

“Stop,” you demand quietly, letting him fall onto you in a hug, “It’s okay. Let’s just get you upstairs and you can sleep it off. Work with me, okay?”

He nods against you, and with the help of both you and Rafe, Scott makes it all the way up the stairs. You both guide him into the guest room, where he immediately collapses onto the bed without pulling the sheets back.

Rafe swears under his breath and shakes his head as he stares, while you move forward and untie Scott’s boots. When he starts to snore, you move his head onto the pillow and grab a spare blanket from the closet, then lay it over him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Rafe coaxes you gently.

You stare at your brother for another few seconds, desperately wishing you could change things for him. You wonder what this means — will he apologize and then go back to the same behavior? Is he sick? Would you be a bitch to bring up AA meetings and programs that will help him stay sober? Does he even want to stay sober?

You follow Rafe down the stairs silently. He crosses the living room and checks on Eleanor, who is still sleeping soundly.

“Topper’s gonna have to crash on the couch,” Rafe says to you, “He and Kelce stayed behind. I didn’t want them to see Scott like that.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His eyes linger on you for far too long, watching you squirm under his gaze. He steps toward you and opens his arms, watching as you practically collapse into him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod, “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Choosing not to answer that, you opt to change the subject instead.

“I’m sorry about tonight. I just—”

“Don’t,” he says gently, “I would’ve been overwhelmed, too.”

“Thank you,” you repeat, needing for him to affirm that you’d done the right thing.

He squeezes you tighter and lets you cuddle into him for as long as you need to, not making any attempt to move or anything.

The room falls silent as he holds you. Your mind buzzes with questions, plans, and doubts as you press yourself further into Rafe, as if he can fix this, too. You wonder if you should sneak off and take the test now, or if you should wait until the morning. Above all else, you want to tell him. You want him to know, and you want him to be there when you find out.

“Rafe,” you say, feeling him shift as he looks down at you.

“Yeah?”

You swallow, “I have to tell you something.”

He nods his head as you pull back, looking up into his eyes. He doesn’t seem drunk in any capacity. Not even tipsy. You briefly wonder how much he drank tonight, if anything at all.

“Okay, what is it?”

You take a deep breath, the words leaving your lips right as you hear Topper at the front door, sticking his key in the lock and twisting it open.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Rafe’s expression falls to shock as he stares at you, as if assessing your seriousness. His jaw is slack and his eyes are wide, but Topper enters the house and walks through the foyer before either of you can say another word.

“Hey,” Topper says casually, “How’d she do?”

You turn away from Rafe and give Topper a smile, watching as he leans over the pack ‘n play and smiles at Eleanor.

“She did great,” you promise him, “Um, Scott showed and kinda woke her up, but I got back to sleep pretty easily. He’s crashing upstairs, so the couch is all yours.”

He nods, “Sounds good to me. Thanks for letting us sleep here.”

“Yeah, of course—”

You stop speaking when Rafe’s hands fall from your waist, and he excuses himself to your bedroom without a word to either of you. Topper shrugs at the action and walks over to the couch, where he pulls out his phone as he gets comfortable.

You give Eleanor another quick check before whispering a ‘goodnight’ to Topper. Your anxiousness skyrockets as you walk toward your bedroom, not knowing how Rafe will react. You’re sure he’ll make you take the test, but you’re not sure what he wants the result to be.

When you enter your bedroom, Rafe is seated on the edge of your bed. His lips are parted and his eyes are glazed over as he comprehends what you’ve told him. He doesn’t look up when you enter; he doesn’t even seem to notice until you’re standing in front of him.

“Did you—” he starts, then stops and looks up at you, “Did you take a test?”

His voice is weak, hoarse, and you’re not used to it. He watches as you shake your head.

“No. I was going to, but I got nervous.”

He nods in understanding, but doesn’t speak. You’re now standing directly in front of him, but he hasn’t reached for you the way he always does.

You’re not sure what to say, and apparently, he isn’t either. His eyes are still wide, and you can see his mind going a mile a minute trying to make it all make sense. Desperate for him to vocalize those thoughts, you speak.

“Rafe,” you say softly, “I need you to say something.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, then exhales through his lips. You chew on your bottom lip roughly, but relax a bit when he reaches forward and places his hands on your hips.

“Do you have a test here?”

You stare at him for a moment, having expected a little more comfort from him.

“Yes.”

He nods, “A few of them? Sometimes they can be wrong.”

You furrow your brows, unsure of what that means he’s thinking. You swallow and shake your head, struggling to find your voice.

“I have three. One of them is old, though.”

He nods again, but he seems deep in thought. As if at his mercy, you stand and wait for a response, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he squeezes your hip.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “Let’s go take one.”

He moves to stand, to drop his hands from your hips, but you stop him quickly.

“Wait,” you blurt, setting your hands on his shoulders, “I just— I’m freaked out, Rafe. You’re not saying anything.”

“What do you want me to say?”

You shake your head, “I don’t know. Something.”

“Okay,” he repeats, squeezing your hip again, “How about this? I love you. And I would like to know if we’re having another baby before I start worrying about if this is what you want, because you look like you’d rather set a match to our house than be pregnant right now.”

You attempt to draw back at his words, but his grip on your hips keeps you completely in place. You stare, wondering what exactly it is about your demeanor that is telling him how you feel without having to verbalize it.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly, “We haven’t— I mean, you and me, we didn’t say—”

“I know, baby,” he nods, “Let’s get our answer before we talk about anything else, okay?”

As he takes in your concerned expression, his hands trail up your body slowly. He cups your cheeks in his palms and gives you a reassuring smile — one that seems to calm the deepest anxieties roaming around your chest.

“Okay,” you agree.

Rafe nods and leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead before he takes your hands and leads you to the bathroom. He watches patiently and silently as you retrieve one of the pregnancy tests from the drawer of your vanity, then gives you an encouraging nod and smile before you step over to the toilet.

He’s seated on the floor of your bathroom when you return with the test, which you promptly set down on the counter. His back is leaned up against the bathtub and he’s anxiously picking at his nails, but when he sees you, he stops and gives you a sympathetic, closed-mouth smile.

“You don’t want to be pregnant, do you?” he asks, phrasing it in a way that tells you he already knows the answer.

With a sigh, you sit down on the floor beside him, not surprised at all when he pulls your legs across his lap.

“Am I horrible if I say I don’t?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head, “No. I don’t think that’s horrible at all. In fact, I think that’s very reasonable.”

“What do you want?”

“Easy,” he replies, his hands stroking up and down your bare legs, “I want whatever is best for this family. I want dinners at the table and scrounging up cash to pay babysitters and an empty fridge telling me that my kids’ stomachs are full. I’d do the whole baby thing again in a heartbeat, if it’s what you want. But, I know it’s not, and that’s completely okay.”

“Rafe,” you pout, but he shakes his head.

“You’re the one who does all the work, so you’re the one who makes the call. Whatever it says, we have options.”

You smile through your emotions and tug him closer, resting your head on his shoulder as he moves to kiss the top of your head. Although you still feel anxious about the result of the test, you no longer feel as if the task is insurmountable.

“Can you look?” you whisper to him after a few minutes, nodding to the test sitting on the counter.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Ready?”

You nod, but don’t speak. He gives your leg a gentle squeeze, silently telling you to pull them back so he can stand. You do, and you watch as he takes a deep breath before stepping over and picking up the test.

He stares at it for a long moment, too long, and you swear you can feel your heart racing in your chest.

He clears his throat, and his voice is hoarse as he says, “It’s negative.”

You let out a breath — one that holds relief, guilt, and sadness — and finally let the tears fall from your eyes. Rafe stands still, clutching the test, and watches as you brush tears from your cheeks.

“I should take another,” you say, “They’re not always accurate.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

He hands you another test and watches as you escape, letting his eyes fall back onto the negative test. When you emerge a second time, Rafe’s now seated on the floor with the test in his hand, staring at it with zero expression.

“Are you—” you start, setting the new test down to wait on it, “Are you okay?”

He nods, but his expression doesn’t change, “Yeah.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you watch him, unable to read his mind or know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Are you mad that it’s negative?” you ask weakly.

His laugh is incredulous, and before you even realize he’s crying, Rafe angrily swipes tears from his cheeks, as if he can't believe they’re there in the first place.

“No,” he answers, “I’m not mad about anything. I just— I was thinking.”

You sit down beside him once more, but you don’t move to touch him. You let him shift his gaze from the test to you, where you smile sadly.

“About a third kid?”

“About our two kids,” he corrects, “About our family. About the way we work around each other. Maybe I’m selfish, but I don’t want that to change. And, yeah, I’d welcome a third baby, but I’m also content with what we have. You know what I mean?”

You extend a hand, then another, and soon, you’re pulling your husband into your arms. He comes to you without hesitation; wrapping his arms around you as he brings his head to your chest.

“Of course I do, Rafe,” you whisper to him, “You’re not selfish. Wanting what’s best for our children is not selfish.”

“You, too,” he says instantly, pulling back and looking up at you, “I want what’s best for you, too, sweetheart.”

You nod and lean down, pressing your lips to his without a second thought. You kiss him for a long minute, then pull back and look up at the counter.

“My turn to look,” you say, earning a small laugh from him.

Standing from his lap, you feel calmer as you approach the second test. Knowing that if you hesitate, you’ll stop, you pick it right up and look at it before you can talk yourself out of it.

You stare at the word for a second too long, letting the adrenaline settle and the ringing in your ears come to a halt before turning back to Rafe.

“Negative,” you say, letting out a last breath of relief.

Rafe nods and gives you a small smile, one that tells you that he’s okay, he’s just sorting through things in his mind, and he just needs a moment.

You toss the test into the trash can under your vanity, and when Rafe waves you over to sit with him one last time, you don’t even think about denying him.

“So,” he says with a puff of his cheeks once you’re settled in his lap, “What should we do from here?”

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean?”

Rafe lets out a small chuckle and pulls you closer, taking his time raking over your features before he bothers to explain.

“Well, our current method of birth control just scared the living shit out of you,” he explains, “So, what do you think we should do so that this doesn’t happen again?”

Your current method of birth control — or lack thereof — has always left a little room for error, but you know Rafe’s right. You don’t want to go on hoping that nothing will happen, because the both of you know all too well that things do, indeed, happen.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I could make an appointment and talk about birth control.”

He frowns, “Those hormones mess you up.”

Shrugging again, you try to play it off, “Yeah, but only for a little while. My body will adjust.”

“Or,” he says softly, so softly that he earns your eyes on his, “I could just get a vasectomy.”

Your eyes widen immediately, “A vasectomy?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “It would take care of everything. You don’t have to pump yourself full of hormones, I don’t have to wear a condom, and we don’t have to worry about being pregnant again. And, it’s reversible if you change your mind.”

“If I change my— Rafe.”

He laughs again, and it’s like the anxiety from the past few hours just melts away. There’s no pregnancy tests, no drunk brother upstairs, no single parent with a baby on your couch. It suddenly feels like just the two of you, in love after years, and tangled together on the floor of your bathroom.

“I’m serious,” he presses, “It would solve all our problems, and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“But—” you stumble over your words, trying your best to digest his explanation and come up with a flaw, “Doesn’t that, like, hurt?”

He grins, “I don’t know, sweetheart. I can find out for you.”

“Rafe,” you repeat, eyes still wide.

He chuckles and kisses your forehead, watching as your mind works in overdrive to figure this all out.

“Just think about it. I think it’s our best option, but I can do some research on birth control if you’d prefer that route.”

You smile, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, giving you a smile back, “Let’s take a shower and go to bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

Rafe offers his hands to you and helps you stand before moving to stand himself, then peels off his shirt. You do the same, and both of you toss the dirty clothes into your hamper at the same time.

“I’ve gotta rest before I deal with your brother in the morning,” he mutters, “How do you wanna move forward with that?”

“Josie saw him, Rafe. I could see how confused she was. He can’t—” you shake your head, then look back up to him, “Not around our children.”

He nods in understanding, “I agree. I’ll handle it.”

You pout at him, staring as he unbuckles his belt and starts to remove his pants. He catches your eye and raises a brow, now standing in just his boxers.

“You don’t have to handle everything, Mister I’ll get a vasectomy.”

Rafe laughs, “I know I don’t. We’ll do it together. Now, take your shorts off.”

You grin and do as you’re told, and when your shorts rest in the hamper with Rafe’s pants, he crosses the bathroom and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You giggle and shake your head, watching as he silently questions what’s going on in your mind.

“A vasectomy,” you repeat, still trying to wrap your head around it.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “I’m gonna start the water.”

“Have you been thinking about doing that?” you question as he turns on the water.

He smirks when he turns back to face you, and you already know what he’s going to insinuate.

“There’s only one thing I’m thinking about doing right now,” he grins, “One person. So, could you get your mind off of the vasectomy and come take a shower with your husband?”

“I suppose,” you tease him, “But, what about—”

He smirks, “I’ll get a condom.”

You giggle and toss your underwear and bra into the hamper, then hurry into the shower. Rafe huffs audibly when he sees your undergarments in the laundry, having not stolen his glance like usual because he was busy riling through your vanity drawers to find a condom.

“Tease,” he mutters, tossing his boxers right beside your panties before he hops in the shower with you.

You wake in the morning with Rafe’s chest pressed against your bare back, his hands tangled in your own, and a smile on your face that you swear you must’ve woken up with. Sunlight streams in through your white curtains, and for a moment, you can’t believe that you both managed to sleep in. That is, until you remember that Topper stayed over, and you’re sure he’s playing babysitter to the kids.

“Rafe,” you whisper, bringing your tangled hands up to your lips and kissing his knuckles.

“Hmm,” he hums sleepily.

You smile, “Good morning.”

Although you can’t see him, you can hear the grin on his face.

“Good morning, baby,” he rasps, “Might have to hire Top full time if it means I get mornings in bed with you again.”

You laugh, turning around in his arms and facing him. His blue eyes peel open slowly, and the grin on his face only grows when you return his blissful expression.

“We should probably get out there,” you whisper.

He groans, “But it’s so warm and quiet in here.”

As if to prove his point, he tugs you closer under your shared comforter, then begins to press kisses down your exposed neck and collarbone.

“I know, but we have to be responsible parents,” you lecture him.

He smirks against your skin, “Do we?”

“Yes.”

Rafe laughs and pulls back, nodding you in for a kiss without a word. You comply, and soon, you feel lost in him.

It isn’t until his hands start to wander, until you feel as if you really could stay in bed with him all day if he asked you to, that you pull back.

“Alright, fine,” he sighs, “Up you go, baby.”

You smile and sit up, stretching out while Rafe stands from the bed and crosses to the dresser. He slides a pair of boxers on, then grabs one of his shirts and tosses it over to you. Without even being asked, he then steps to your side of the dresser and tosses you a pair of shorts, already knowing you won’t want Scott and Topper to see you in his boxers.

You dress and climb out of bed, following Rafe into the bathroom. The two of you brush your teeth while he pinches your hips, loving how you squeal and playfully swat him away. You make Rafe wait for you to use the restroom, and he cracks up when you cheer that you did, in fact, get your period overnight.

The two of you are still giggling like teenagers as you walk out to the living room, finding Topper, Josie, Connor, and Eleanor together on the couch. Topper holds Eleanor in one arm and has the other around Josie, who is cuddled into his side. Connor sits beside his sister, and they all seem content watching TV.

“Morning,” Topper greets.

Rafe chuckles, “Morning, Top.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Josie chirps, “Hi, Mama.”

“Morning, princess,” Rafe replies, raising a brow when she makes no attempt to move from her current seat, “Can I get a hug?”

“I’m comfy,” she answers, cuddling deeper into Topper’s side and earning a laugh from her uncle.

Connor chuckles at his sister, then gets up off the couch and walks over to you and Rafe. He watches his dad kneel before giving him a hug, then doing the same to you.

“Hey, Mama,” Connor greets you.

“Hi, baby.” you smile, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. Think we could make pancakes for breakfast?”

“We definitely can,” you nod, “Has anyone seen Scott yet?”

Josie looks over, her eyes containing the same hesitance they held last night when she saw him on the floor of the foyer.

“Is Uncle Scott gonna be weird again?” she asks.

Rafe’s jaw clenches, and you don’t miss the sight out of the corner of your eye. You plaster a smile on and hold out your hand, signaling for Josie to come with you and Connor.

“Let’s go start pancakes,” you say, “Top, wanna help?”

“Yeah, of course. Come on, Jo. You can teach Ellie how you like to decorate them.”

Josie smiles and nods happily, following Topper into the kitchen while you guide Connor in. Rafe, looking at you and communicating wordlessly, nods his head toward the stairs, telling you he’s going to deal with Scott.

Climbing the stairs, Rafe doesn’t even have to think about what he’s going to say. The expression on his daughter's face, coupled with the fact that his wife felt the need to call him home last night, fuels him enough.

When he reaches the door of his guest room, in his house, he knocks exactly one second before he opens the door. As he expected, Scott is sprawled across the mattress in only his underwear, having apparently stripped in the middle of the night. Rafe shakes his head before he pushes Scott, trying to wake him.

“Scott, get up,” Rafe demands.

Scott doesn’t budge. Rafe pushes on him again, watching as he shifts, turning completely on his side.

With another push, Scott grunts, but Rafe doesn’t give up in the slightest.

“Scott,” Rafe repeats, “Wake the fuck up.”

“Fuck off, Cameron,” Scott groans, burying his head in his pillow, “Just let me sleep it off.”

“No,” Rafe replies, “I’m not playing around. Sit up.”

“Go away.”

“Sit up.”

“Dude—”

“Sit up, Scott. Now.”

Scott grunts and groans, but when he turns to lay on his back, Rafe relaxes slightly. His hands meet his hips as Scott pushes himself up, resting his bare back against the headboard.

“Fine,” he snaps, “What the fuck do you want?”

“What do I want?” Rafe questions, laughing incredulously, “I want you to get up and get out of my house. I’m serious. Get up, get dressed, and go. Don’t say anything to the kids, because they’ll ask you to stay. Get out.”

“Y/N’s letting you kick me out?” Scott questions in disbelief.

“Letting me?” Rafe repeats him again, “Scott, my fucking children saw you drunk off your ass, practically passed out on the floor of our home. You threw up on my fucking floor. My wife had to call me to come home because she was taking care of your ass on top of three children. You crossed a line. You don’t even seem sorry about it.”

“Of course I’m sorry about it, you asshole,” Scott fires back, “I would never want the kids to see me like that. It won’t happen again.”

“You’ve already used that line on me,” Rafe snaps, “You said after Josie’s birthday party that it would never happen again. I don’t want this behavior around my kids. So, get up, and go get some help.”

“What, you want me to check myself into rehab?” Scott chuckles, but Rafe’s expression remains unchanged.

“If it means you won’t be harming my family with your drinking, yes,” Rafe nods once.

“Dude, be serious.”

“I am,” Rafe presses, “You were doing so well, man. But this little episode just shows everyone that you can’t control yourself. You’re impulsive and reckless and—”

“An alcoholic,” Scott finishes, narrowing his eyes at Rafe, “I’m not going to rehab.”

Rafe bends down and picks Scott’s jeans off the floor. Without missing a beat, he shrugs and tosses the pants at him, then takes a step toward the door.

“Then you’re not watching my kids,” Rafe replies, “Now, go.”

Wide eyed, Scott opens his mouth to speak, but Rafe turns and exits the room. He makes it to the top of the stairs before Scott comes bursting out of the guest room with his jeans on, unbuttoned at the top and sagging on his hips because he doesn’t have his belt on.

“Whoa, Rafe, you can’t just take the kids away from me,” Scott protests, stopping Rafe in his tracks.

“My kids?” Rafe raises a brow.

“I love them,” Scott replies, his voice heavy with emotion, “I love those kids and I would never do anything to jeopardize my relationship with them. You should fucking know that by now.”

“They both saw you, Scott!” Rafe exclaims, “They’re too young to understand it. Love has nothing to do with this—”

“Knock it off, Cameron. You’re taking all of Sarah’s bullshit out on me. You can’t keep banning people from seeing the kids—”

“They’re our kids!”

“Guys!” you yell from the bottom of the stairs, giving them wide, angry eyes, “Enough.”

“Y/N,” Scott says, sidestepping Rafe and hurrying down the stairs, a pleading look in his eye, “Please don’t take the kids from me. I messed up, okay, I know, but I’ll go to the AA meetings. I’ll get sober and everything. Just— please.”

You frown, looking between Scott and Rafe in an attempt to figure out how you should respond. Ultimately, you nod to your brother, but raise a pointed finger.

“Do not make me regret this,” you whisper.

He nods, “No, I promise.”

Before any of the three of you can say another word, Topper’s voice is heard in the doorway of the kitchen.

“No, Jo, come on, let’s stay—”

Josie comes running around the corner and through the doorway, where she comes face to face with Scott. For a second, neither of them say anything. Then, Scott sinks to his knees and swallows roughly.

“Josie, I am so, so sorry—”

She cuts him off by running over to him and diving into his arms, where Scott doesn’t waste a single second pulling her close. You watch as he embraces her, even noticing the tears that have welled up in his eyes.

“Uncle Top says you’re sick,” Josie tells him, “Want me to make you some soup?”

Scott laughs, but his emotion is evident, “No, thank you, lovebug. I am sick, but I’m gonna get better. For you and Connor.”

Josie pulls back and looks him in the eye, clearly taking his words to heart. You silently pray that he doesn’t let her down.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Scott replies.

Connor appears in the doorway then, standing behind Topper as you’re sure he was instructed to do when Topper told the kids to stay in the kitchen and let the three of you talk. Scott catches his eye and waves him over, watching as Connor hesitantly listens.

“Hey, buddy,” Scott greets him, pulling him into a hug, “I’m sorry about last night. I made a mistake. Do you think you can forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Connor replies with a nod.

Scott smiles, “Thank you. I love both of you so much.”

“Love you, too,” Connor answers.

“Love you, Uncle Scott,” Josie chirps.

Scott hugs both kids at once, seemingly reluctant to pull back and let them go.

Rafe, who still seems reluctant, keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the interaction.

Josie, always the first to bounce back, gives Scott a big smile as she starts to jump up and down.

“Can you stay for breakfast? I can make you pancakes!” she offers.

Scott chuckles and looks back at Rafe, who had previously told him that he couldn’t stay to eat. Rafe gives Scott one single head nod, which Scott takes as a win.

“I’d love to stay for breakfast, lovebug. We can put a thousand chocolate chips in our pancakes, how’s that sound?”

“Amazing!” Josie exclaims, “Let’s go!”

“Alright,” Scott grins, “Come on, Little Cam.”

He scoops up Josie and then reaches out for Connor’s hand, taking both kids into the kitchen. Topper looks between you and Rafe, all three of you communicating wordlessly. Then, he does the one thing that he knows will make you feel better.

“Wanna hold Ellie for a bit, Cameron?”

Rafe breaks immediately and smiles, “Sure.”

Cradling baby Ellie, Rafe nods his head for you to follow him into the kitchen, where both of you watch your kids cook breakfast with their uncles. Scott makes coffee and passes it out, then wastes no time conspiring with Josie to smuggle more chocolate chips into the pancake batter every time Topper and Connor turn their backs.

Rafe turns to you after a few minutes, keeping his eyes down.

“Do you think I was too hard on him?”

You glance over at Scott, who is too busy spraying whipped cream into Josie’s mouth to care about your conversation.

“Whatever you said, it worked,” you admit, “He seemed serious.”

“I think that’s part of the disease,” Rafe says quietly, his frown evident, “He thinks he can get himself under control. Until something stressful comes up, and he turns back to it.”

You nod in understanding and look at your brother once more, wishing that smile could stay on his face forever.

“Day by day,” you sigh, “Let’s just take it easy for now. We’ll handle things as they come.”

“Alright. I’m fine with that. But, he slips up again, I’m gonna get your dad involved,” Rafe presses, watching you nod, “And I won’t apologize for it, either.”

“That’s fair.”

Rafe leans over and kisses your temple, then offers you a turn holding Eleanor. As you take her into your arms, you smile, then kiss her tiny forehead. She grins, and the sight makes you smile.

“Vasectomy, huh?” Rafe whispers, teasing you.

“Ha ha,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls you into his chest, careful of the baby. When breakfast is served, complete with more chocolate chips and whipped cream than you could ever imagine, you just smile, because even though you know things are messy, there’s still so much love at your dining room table. That’s all you could have ever hoped for, and you smile because you get to do it all with him.

*i no longer use a tag list. follow @mackupdates for updates! <3 thank you for reading!

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