#Epcot Day 3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clarktooncrossing · 1 year

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Didn't Wanna Feel Old in 2023? Sucks to be You!

Happy 2023 everybody! It's a new year meaning I've got new goals to meet. Goals like finally publishing something, setting up commissions so people can pay me to do what I love, cross-posting between my account here and on deviantART, summoning more kaijus just so they can play elaborate games of poker, y'know, all that good stuff. It also means the return of my 'list of things that have reached a milestone anniversary' list. However, it seems like I've been doing this for so long that these lists have in fact reached their own milestone. From what I could tell, this is the fifth year of my doing this, at least on deviantART. If that doesn't make you feel right from the gate, I present the following:

If I don't mention this my buddy Volts48 won't let me rest; the highly influential sci-fi movie Metropolis turns 100 years old this year, meaning it is now in the public domain. I plan to take full advantage of this fact later, but for now I have the rest of this list to get to...

Anything from 1973 turns 50 years old this year. This includes...

Schoolhouse Rock! (Jan 6th)

Beneath the Planet of the Apes (June 13th)

Robin Hood (yes, the version with the fox) (Nov 18th)

Pirates of the Caribbean (Magic Kingdom) (December 15th)

Charlotte's Web (the animated movie, not the book) (March 1st)

Godzilla vs Megalon (March 17th)

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (April 5th)

Soylent Green (May 9th)

The Exorcist (December 26th)

A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (November 20th)

The Young and the Restless (March 26th)

Star Trek: The Animated Series (Sept 8th)

Super Friends (Sept 8th)

Asteroid (Space Race) (July 16th)

The Night Gwen Stacy Died (MARVEL) (June - July 1973)

'We’re an American Band' by Grand Funk Railroad

'Free Bird' by Lynyrd Skynyrd

Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road album (Oct 5th)

Anything from 1978 turns 45 years old this year. This includes...

Alien (May 25th)

The Cat from Outer Space (June 9th)

The Star Wars Holiday Special (Nov 17th)

The Small One (Dec 16th)

Jaws 2 (June 16th)

Grease (July 8th)

Revenge of the Pink Panther (July 13th)

Animal House (July 28th)

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (Oct 8th)

Halloween (Oct 25th)

Watership Down (Nov 1st)

The Lord of the Rings (animated version) (Nov 15th)

Superman: The Movie (Dec 15th)

Lupin the Third: The Secret of Mamo (Dec 16th)

Fantasy Island (Jan 14th)

The Incredible Hulk (TV series) (March 10th)

The Amazing Spider-Man (TV series) (April 15th)

Hanna Barbera's Godzilla (Sept 9th)

Yogi's Space Race (Sept 9th)

Taxi (Sept 12th)

WKRP in Cincinnati (Sept 18th)

Space Invaders (April 1st)

Anything from 1983 turns 40 years old this year. This includes...

Mickey Mouse Splashdance

Journey into Imagination (EPCOT) (March 5th)

Winnie the Pooh and A Day for Eeyore (March 26th)

Tokyo Disneyland (April 15th)

They Disney Channel (Rest in Peace) (April 18th)

Welcome to Pooh Corner (April 18th)

Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi (May 25th)

Pinocchio's Daring Journey (Disneyland) (May 25th)

Sorcerer's Apprentice (Atari 2600) (Aug 5th)

Horizons (EPCOT) (Oct 1st)

Mickey's Christmas Carol (Dec 16th)

The first annual Walt Disney World Christmas Day parade (Dec 25th)

Superman III (June 17th)

Jaws 3-D (July 22nd)

National Lampoon's Vacation (July 29th)

Risky Business (Aug 5th)

Cujo (August 12th)

A Christmas Story (Nov 18th)

Scarface (Dec 9th)

Fraggle Rock (Jan 10th)

A-Team (Jan 23rd)

Reading Rainbow (July 11th)

He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (Sept 5th)

Alvin and the Chipmunks (Sept 17th)

Cheers (Sept 30th)

The Video Game Crash of 1983

Mirage Studios (Sept 30th)

DC acquires Blue Beetle, Captain Atom, and The Question

'Let's Dance' by David Bowie

'Mr. Roboto' by Styx

The My Little Pony franchises as a whole

Anything from 1988 turns 35 years old this year. This includes...

Good Morning Vietnam (Jan 15th)

The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (Jan 17th)

IllumiNations (EPCOT) (Jan 20th)

Totally Minnie (Feb 25th)

Willow (May 20th)

Big (June 3rd)

Norway (EPCOT) (June 3rd)

Mickey's Birthdayland (Magic Kingdom) (June 18th)

Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (June 21st)

Die Hard (July 22nd)

Language Arts Through Imagination starring Figment (he's a dragon) (Sept 8th)

Oliver and Company (Nov 18th)

Tin Toy (Dec 30th)

Beetlejuice (March 30th)

Return of the Killer Tomatoes (April 22nd)

Rambo III (May 25h)

Killer Klowns from Outer Space (May 27th)

My Neighbor Totoro (July 13th)

Mac & Me (Aug 12th)

Scooby-Doo! and the Reluctant Werewolf (Sept 14th)

Akira (Oct 19th)

They Live (Nov 14th)

The Land Before Time (Nov 18th)

Scrooged (Nov 23rd)

Michael Jackson's Moonwalker (Nov 29th)

The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! (Dec 2nd)

Twins (Dec 9th)

Count Duckula (Feb 6th)

Denver, the Last Dinosaur (April 1st)

A Pup Named Scooby-Doo (Sept 10th)

Alf Tales (Sept 10th)

Garfield and Friends (Sept 17th)

A Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Nightmares (Oct 8th)

Mystery Science Theater 3000 (Nov 24th)

Final Fantasy II (Dec 17th)

Mega Man 2 (Dec 24th)

Super Mario Bros. 2 and 3

Nintendo Power

The Killing Joke by Alan Moore

Batman: A Death in the Family (this was not Batman's year)

'Don't Worry Be Happy' by Bobby McFerrin

'It Takes Two by Rob Base' and DJ EZ Rock

'Parents Just Don't Understand' by Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff

'Nothin' But a Good Time' by Poison

'Cult of Personality' by Living Colour

Anything from 1993 turns 30 years old this year. This includes...

Homeward Bound: An Incredible Journey (Feb 3rd)

Roger Rabbit in Trail Mix-Up (March 12th)

The Sandlot (April 7th)

Super Mario Bros, the unfortunate film (May 28th)

Hocus Pocus (July 16th)

Robin Hood: Men in Tights (July 28th)

Bill Nye the Science Guy (Sept 10th)

Boy Meets World (Sept 24th)

The Nightmare Before Christmas (Oct 29th)

Mrs. Doubtfire (Nov 2nd)

Disney's Sing-A-Long Songs: The 12 Days of Christmas (Dec 1993)

Tombstone (Dec 25th)

Groundhog Day (Feb 12th)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III (March 19th)

Jurassic Park (June 11th)

Last Action Hero (June 13th)

Free Willy (July 16th)

Coneheads (July 23rd)

Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday (Aug 13th)

The Thief and the Cobbler (Aug 25th)

Demolition Man (Oct 8th)

Addams Family Values (Nov 19th)

We're Back! A Dinosaur's Story (Nov 24th)

Schindler's List (Dec 15th)

Wallace & Gromit in The Wrong Trousers (Dec 17th)

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (Dec 25th)

Beavis and Butt-Head (March 8th)

The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. (Aug 27th)

Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers (Aug 28th)

Late Show with David Letterman (Aug 30th)

The X-Files (Sept 10th)

Legends of the Hidden Temple (Sept 11th)

Animaniacs (Sept 13th)

Late Night with Conan O'Brien (Sep 13th)

Fraiser (Sept 16th)

Rocko's Modern Life (Sept 18th)

The Atari Jaguar

DOOM

Sam and Max: Hit the Road

Batman: Knightfall by Alan Grant

'I'll Do Anything For Love' by Meatloaf

'Shoop' by Salt-n-Peppa (Deadpool's favorite!)

Anything from 1998 turns 25 years old this year. This includes...

Movie Surfers (Jan 1st)

Beauty and the Beast: Belle's Magical World (Feb 17th)

PB&J Otter (March 15th)

The Enchanted Tiki Room (Under New Management) (April 5th)

Toon Disney (April 18th)

Disney's Animal Kingdom (April 22nd)

Mulan (July 22nd)

The Parent Trap (remake) (July 29th)

Hercules: The Series (Aug 31st)

Out of the Box (Oct 7th)

Halloweentown (Oct 17th)

The Lion King II: Simba's Pride (Oct 27th)

Rollie Pollie Ollie (Nov 6th)

A Bug's Life (Nov 24th)

Mighty Joe Young (Dec 25th)

Elmopalooza (Feb 20th)

The Big Lebowski (March 16th)

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (May 19th)

The unfortunate American Godzilla film (May 20th) and it's surprisingly good TV follow up (Sept 12th)

The Truman Show (June 5th)

Saving Private Ryan (July 24th)

Blade (Aug 19th)

Rush Hour (Sept 18th)

Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island (Sept 22nd)

Antz (Oct 2nd)

The Rugrats Movie (Nov 20th)

The Prince of Egypt (Dec 16th)

Power Rangers in Space (Feb 6th)

CatDog (April 4th)

Sex and the City (June 6th)

Whose Line Is It Anyway? (Aug 5th)

That 70s Show (Aug 23rd)

The Wild Thornberrys (Sept 1st)

Will & Grace (Sept 21st)

The Powerpuff Girls (Nov 18th)

Banjo Kazooie (June 29th)

Spyro the Dragon (Sept 19th)

Half Life (Nov 19th)

Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (Nov 21st)

The Sega Dreamcast

Gameboy Color

Spider-Girl (Feb 1998) - Fitting, considering she makes her cinematic debut this year in Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

'I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing' by Aerosmith from the soundtrack for Armageddon

'...Baby One More Time' by Brittney Spears

Anything from 2003 turns 20 years old this year. This includes...

That's So Raven (Jan 17th)

The Jungle Book 2 (Feb 14th)

Atlantis: Milo's Return (Feb 25th)

Piglet's Big Movie (March 21st)

Holes (April 18th)

The Lizzie McGuire Movie (May 2nd)

X2 (May 2nd)

Finding Nemo (May 30th)

Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (July 9th)

The Simpsons: Hit & Run (Sept 16th)

Lilo & Stitch! The Series (Sept 20th)

Mickey's PhilharMagic (Magic Kingdom) (Oct 8th)

Brother Bear (Nov 1st)

Star Wars: Clone Wars (Tartakovsky) (Nov 7th)

The Haunted Mansion (movie) (Nov 26th)

Kim Possible: A Sitch in Time (Nov 28th)

Destino (Dec 19th)

Kangaroo Jack (January 17th)

Daredevil (movie) (Feb 14th)

Charlotte's Web 2: Wilbur's Great Adventure (March 18th)

Daddy Day Care (May 4th)

Matrix Reloaded (May 16th) and Revolutions (Oct 27th)

Bruce Almighty (May 23rd)

Rugrats Go Wild (June 13th)

Ang Lee's Hulk (June 17th)

The Room (June 27th)

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (July 2nd)

Freddy vs Jason (Aug 13th)

Kill Bill: Volume 1 (Oct 10th)

Elf (Nov 7th)

The Cat in the Hat (movie) (Nov 8th)

Looney Tunes: Back in Action (Nov 9th)

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Dec 17th)

Big Fish (Dec 25th)

Mythbusters (Jan 23rd)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (KidsWB animated series) (Feb 8th)

Power Rangers Ninja Storm (Feb 15th)

Red vs Blue (April 1st)

All Grown Up! (April 12th)

Spider-Man: The New Animated Series (July 11th)

Teen Titans (July 19th)

My Life as a Teenage Robot (Aug 1st)

Clifford's Puppy Days (Sept 1st)

Devil May Cry 2 (Jan 25th)

Postal 2 (April 14th)

Tomb Raider: The Angel of Darkness (June 20th)

Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic (July 5th)

Jak II (Oct 14th)

Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne (Oct 14th)

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (Oct 28th)

SpongeBob SquarePants: Battle for Bikini Bottom (Oct 29th)

Call of Duty (Oct 29th)

Ratchet and Clank: Going Commando (Nov 11th)

Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc

Invincible (Image) (Jan 2003)

JLA/Avengers (Sept 2003)

The Walking Dead (Image) (Oct 2003)

'Where is the Love?' by Black Eyed Peas

Anything from 2008 turns 15 years old this year. This includes...

Phineas and Ferb (Feb 1st)

Horton Hears a Who! (movie) (March 3rd)

Iron Man (May 2nd), The Incredible Hulk (June 13th), and the birth of the MCU

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (May 22nd)

Toy Story Mania! (Hollywood Studios) (June 17th)

WALL-E (aka the greatest movie ever!) (June 27th)

Star Wars: Clone Wars (movie) (Aug 10th)

Star Wars: The Force Unleashed (Sept 16th)

High School Musical 3: Senior Year (Oct 24th)

Tinker Bell (Oct 28th)

BURN-E (Nov 18th)

Bolt (Nov 21st)

A Muppets Christmas: Letters to Santa (Dec 17th)

The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything: A VeggieTales Movie (Jan 11th)

Rambo (Jan 24th)

Kung Fu Panda (June 6th)

Hellboy II: The Golden Army (July 11th)

The Dark Knight (July 18th)

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (Aug 1st)

Ponyo (Aug 14th)

Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa (Nov 7th)

Twilight (Nov 21) - I'M VENGEANCE!

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (Jan 13th)

Breaking Bad (Jan 20th)

Power Rangers Jungle Fury (Feb 18th)

Spectacular Spider-Man (the best incarnation of the wall-crawler) (March 8th)

Ben 10: Alien Force (April 8th)

The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack (June 5th)

The Penguins of Madagascar (Nov 28th)

Super Smash Bros Brawl (Jan 31st)

God of War: Chains of Olympus (March 4th)

Dead Space (Oct 13th)

Spider-Man: Web of Shadows (Oct 21st)

Little Big Planet (Oct 27th)

Fallout 3 (Oct 28th)

Mirror's Edge (Nov 11th)

Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe (Nov 16th)

Gears of War 2 (Nov 7th)

Left 4 Dead (Nov 17th)

Sonic Unleashed (Nov 18th)

Grand Theft Auto IV (Dec 2nd)

Lego Batman and Indiana Jones

Final Crisis (May 2008)

Marvel Apes (Oct - Nov 2008)

'I Kissed a Girl' and 'Hot n Cold' by Katty Perry

'Viva la Vida' by Coldplay

'So What?' by P!NK

Anything from 2013 turns 10 years old this year. This includes...

Sofia the First (Jan 11th)

Aliens: Colonial Marines (Feb 12th)

Oz, the Great and Powerful (March 8th)

Iron Man 3 (May 3rd)

Mystic Point (Hong Kong Disneyland) (May 17th)

Monsters University (June 21st)

Phineas and Ferb: Mission Marvel (Aug 16th)

Disney Infinity (Aug 18th)

Castle of Illusion starring Mickey Mouse (Sep 2nd)

Toy Story of Terror! (Oct 16th)

Thor: The Dark World (Nov 8th)

Frozen (Nov 27th)

The current run of Mickey Mouse cartoons (Nov 29th)

Saving Mr. Banks (Dec 20th)

Texas Chainsaw 3D (Jan 4th)

Evil Dead (remake) (April 5th)

The Purge (June 7th)

Man of Steel (June 14th)

My Little Pony: Equestria Girls (June 16th)

Despicable Me 2 (July 3rd)

Pacific Rim (July 12th)

Turbo (July 17th)

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2 (Sept 27th)

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (Nov 22nd)

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (Dec 13th)

Teen Titans Go! (April 23rd) - HOW IS THIS STILL ON THE AIR!?!?!?

Orange Is the New Black (July 11th)

PAW Patrol (Aug 12th)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine (Sept 17th)

Rick and Morty (Dec 2nd)

Tomb Raider (March 5th)

God of War: Ascension (March 12th)

BioShock Infinite (March 26th)

Injustice: Gods Among Us (April 16th)

The Last of Us (June 14th)

Deadpool (video game) (June 25th)

Rayman Legends (Aug 29th)

Grand Theft Auto V (Sept 17th)

The Stanley Parable (Oct 17th)

Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (Oct 29th)

'Get Lucky' by Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams

'My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up)' by Fall Out Boy

'Roar' by Katy Perry

'Wagon Wheel' by Darius Ruckus

'Wrecking Ball' by Miley Cyrus

'Applause' by Lady Gaga'

'What Does the Fox Say?' by Ylvis

'Happy' by Pharrell Williams

And with all that said, I hope you all have a happy new year!

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Did I miss any milestones? If I did, feel free to let me know in the comments. For now though, MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

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mir-osik · 2 years

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Magic is Here for You and Me - 1

Fandom: Triple Frontier Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Summary: While on vacation with his friends and daughter, a series of unexpected encounters makes Frankie wonder if 'happily ever after' isn't just for fairytales. Wordcount: 12.9k (Don’t look at me LOL) Rating: 18+ Minors DNI (Mostly soft given the nature of the fic, but there will be some spice at some point so just want to set my boundaries now :)) Warnings: children (Charlotte and her relationships with Frankie and the other guys feature heavily in this story so just in case kids aren’t your thing), widower!Frankie, brief mention of death post-pregnancy, mentions of grief, shorter-than-Frankie reader, eventual smut. The TF boys deserve their own warning. Read this if you like: meet-cutes, repeated chance encounters, found family dynamics, three four men and a baby, match-making friends, tooth-rotting fluff, Disney World, vacation romances, and hot men being soft men.

Author’s Note: Takes place some years after the events of TF, there’s a minor discrepancy in when Charlotte was born, but it never comes up in the plot so we’re just going to suspend canon for it :) This is a wholly self-indulgent series and I know it won’t be for everyone. I spent a week at Disney World and saw so many hilarious interactions with children and their dads and ended up being super inspired to create an entire ‘The TF boys take Frankie’s kid to Disney World every year for her birthday’ fic and here we are! So this one’s for my Disney bishes who wish they could meet a Frankie Morales at Disney World :) Thank you in advance if you check this out, it’s my first reader fic and Pedro character fic, and I hope you enjoy it! The title is part of a lyric from the song that plays during the current fireworks show at Magic Kingdom. P.S. Huge shoutout to Ren over at the-ginger-hedge-witch for letting me bother her with all my questions about posting reader fic, warnings, platforms and the like! She’s a gem!

Benny’s Disney World Itinerary: Chapter 1: Disney Springs Chapter 2: Epcot (7/29) Chapter 3: Animal Kingdom Chapter 4: Rest & Recovery Part 1 Chapter 5: Hollywood Studios Chapter 6: Magic Kingdom Chapter 7: Rest & Recovery Part 2 Chapter 8: Epilogue

Disney Springs

Benny has vacation planning for Charlotte Morales’ Disney World Birthday Extravaganza™ pretty much down to a science now, and thank god for it considering how disastrous the first year had been. He’d made the rookie mistake of cramming too much into too short a trip, and had grossly underestimated how much sleeping an infant actually did.

And how cranky four grown men could get, even at the happiest place on earth.

He’s picked up a trick or two over the last few years, like knowing how to cushion for a growing child’s unpredictable moods and naptime schedule, and accounting for the guys’ limits for theme parks and crowds. The end result has evolved into a rather solid itinerary.

The first day in Orlando is easy, it’s always Frankie, Charlotte, and her honorary uncles checking into their resort by late afternoon. After settling in, they head over to Disney Springs — Disney World’s special retail, dining, and entertainment venue — for dinner and a little shopping. The days following are meant for the parks, with a rest day in the middle and one at the end of the trip before the flight home.

If you ask Frankie, the week is a good length of time to get the most out of not just the parks, but the vacation itself. Benny’s figured out the perfect balance of doing stuff and actually relaxing, and there’s no better remedy for all of the stress and responsibility of work and being a single dad, than having the opportunity to do absolutely nothing.

They’re staying at Port Orleans Riverside this time, a first for them, and even he has to admit that Benny did well choosing a resort this year. The lobby is massive, the very picture of extravagance with its opulent period rugs and cherry wood furniture. Walking inside is like being transported directly back in time; he keeps expecting sharply dressed men with top hats and pocket watches tucked into their vests to round the corners, or to see women wearing hoop skirt gowns strolling across the floor, parasols clutched in hand.

It’s silly, because they’re on vacation, but he almost feels underdressed in the faded jeans, gray t-shirt and flip flops he’d worn for the flight. Will lets out a low whistle beside him and Frankie knows without looking that he is sharing the same sentiment as he takes everything in.

Benny comes up behind them, slinging his arms around their shoulders and leaning against them with his sunglasses pushed down to the tip of his nose. The posture of a man entirely pleased with himself.

“Go on, you can say it.”

“Say what?” Frankie asks, feigning ignorance and fighting back the little twitch of the corners of his mouth.

“That I’m amazing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Will replies, eyes dancing with mirth.

Benny is quick, tightening his arm around Will’s neck and snagging him in a playful chokehold. “Are you kidding me? For this? At the rate we got? I’ll remember that next year when I get rooms at the Grand Floridian and your wallet weeps, William.”

Will ducks, twisting out of his brother’s grip and shoving at his shoulder lightly. He chuckles, readjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder and holding his hand up to catch the fist Benny swings in jest in his direction.

Frankie has to give credit where credit is due, though, and he taps the bill of Benny’s hat. “You did good, Ben.”

“Finally, someone who appreciates my efforts. Thank you, Fish.”

“I can’t work under these conditions!” Santiago calls, interrupting them. He’s several feet ahead, trying to wheel his two large suitcases and wrangle Charlotte at the same time. “Let’s go, you slowpokes!”

“Slowpokes! Slowpokes!” she giggles.

She looks like she’s doing her best to either pull Santi towards the General Store or escape the hold he’s got on her hand, Frankie can’t tell which. With Charlotte, it could be either or both.

“Why does he need two suitcases?” Will wonders, staring after them. “We’re only here for a week.”

“I’m actually concerned he only has two,” Benny mutters out the side of his mouth.

Frankie nudges him with his elbow. “What you really need to be concerned about is how long it’s going to take him to unpack.”

Will barks out a laugh at that while Benny throws his head back on an aggravated groan.

“Fucking shit,” he grumbles.

“Come on you, knuckleheads!”

“Yeah, knuckleheads!”

“Hey, watch that mouth, kid,” Frankie warns Charlotte. He gives Benny a sympathetic pat on the cheek before heading towards the check-in line to join her and Santiago.

He notes that the lobby’s ceiling is high and only challenged in grandeur by a large, gleaming chandelier that hangs in the center of it. Despite the hour and the current illuminated state of the lobby, it glows warmly with light. His gaze moves to the white pillars lining the inner part of the floor, eyes tracing the ornate gold accents at the top and the thin lines of gold running down around the columns. Above the pillars, on the architrave, are the names of various Louisiana cities done up in elegant, capitalized letters that he can’t help but read while they wait.

Perhaps the most notable design feature, though, resides even further up, where decorative arch panels hide Mickey-shaped heads in plain sight. He makes sure to point them out to Charlotte, hoisting her up onto his hip when she reaches for him so she can get a better look. The way her face breaks into a grin when she recognizes the iconic silhouette serves as a sweet reminder of why they keep doing these trips.

Adjacent to the lobby entrance, a set of doors leads out onto a pier and a little marina with one dock. They were told that a manmade river runs through the entire resort, connecting it to the Port Orleans French Quarter next door. When they get out there, he sees that its waters are murky and dark, the sunlight catching on the rippling surface and making it glimmer a mysterious blue-black hue.

Automatically, his eyes do a quick scan for gators. It’s unlikely they’ll see any; he knows the resorts have gotten really good about keeping their properties free of them, but he figures it couldn’t hurt just to be safe. He’s been out of active duty for years now, but the instinct to assess potential threats has never really gone away, especially with a small child around. If anything, having Charlotte has only continued to enhance that particular skill set.

The rest of the views are like a scene out of one of Charlotte’s picture books — cloudless blue skies, grassy riverbanks, trees everywhere. Pretty in all its greenness, magical in its tranquility. Impressive, Frankie thinks, and picture perfect.

As if to prove his point, a very large family stops off on one of the bridges above the river, cellphones at the ready. The chaos of attempting to get everyone into frame makes him glad their own group is so small in comparison.

A cool breeze ruffles his hair, drawing his attention to the way it brushes at his cheeks and offsets the heat of the sun. With it, a sugary sweetness permeates the air and has him lifting his nose up for a deeper inhale. The smell is familiar to him — warm, buttery, comforting.

Benny grins at him.

“Beignets,” he sighs, as if the scent alone were enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. He points in the general direction of Riverside’s sister resort. “They’ve got Mickey-shaped ones at French Quarter. We can pop in on Wednesday sometime.”

He tosses a look at Charlotte. “What do you think, Charlie? You want some Mickey beignets?”

“Yeah!” she agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

Frankie’s fairly certain Charlotte has no clue what a beignet is, but he knows that she’s figured out that if her tío Ben is asking, it likely will involve something to her benefit — usually something sweet for them to share.

As they keep making their way down the pier, he glances over to a quaint, brick-red water wheel attached to the end of the main building. He’s never been to the Old South, which is what the resort is meant to mimic, but he’s once again struck by how charmed he is by all the architecture, vegetation and general ambiance of the property.

All the thoughtful little details shouldn’t surprise him. If there’s one thing Disney knows how to do, it’s create an experience.

“Daddy, look!”

Charlie’s little gasp makes his head turn and he catches sight of a cream and blue ferry boat chugging slowly into port. It reminds him that the river serves an additional purpose: providing a water taxi service to Disney Springs. Their resort is the only one with that specific perk, a fact the front desk clerk had made it a point to boast about.

A fact that’s proven to be of extreme interest to Charlotte. She’s already begging for them to take it when they go later, her “Please, please, please, please” combined with her big puppy-dog eyes leaving Frankie and the boys little room to argue or deny her request.

Frankie sighs exaggeratedly, matching her smile and poking at the dimple in her cheek. The twin to his.

“If we must,” he says.

“Yes, Daddy, we must,” she echoes, her serious tone negated by the way she jumps up and down excitedly. “Right, Tío Will?” He’s the closest in proximity to her, so his validation is naturally required.

“That’s right, French Fry, you’re the birthday girl,” Will nods indulgently.

Charlotte catches one of Will’s hands, pleased by his answer. She keeps chattering absentmindedly at him while they walk — pointing out trees and the birds she spots in them, asking if alligators live in the river, when they can go to the pool, and if she can have a Mickey waffle for dinner.

Will is unbothered by her chattiness, he’s got patience for her in spades and is always attentive like she has the most important things to say. Even when it takes her a hundred years to get a sentence out or she repeats the same thing ten times. Frankie shakes his head in amusement, listening in on their conversation while he wheels his and Charlie’s suitcases after them.

The wood beneath their feet soon turns to pavement and rustic-looking buildings with tin roofs begin to come into view. Many of them are tucked off the main walkway, along more winding paths. They’re staying on the bayou side of the resort, so the swamp vibes are accentuated by bald cypress trees hanging over decorative ponds between the buildings.

It wouldn’t be a Disney World trip if they didn’t get lost on at least one wrong turn on the way to the rooms. Especially with Santiago and Benny insisting they each are reading the resort maps more correctly than the other.

“Ben, I’m looking at the map right here, I’m telling you, we have to go that way.”

“Listen old man, I’m looking at the map too and I’m telling you, it’s this way!”

“Can we go over here?” Charlotte asks innocently, smiling up at their scowls and making Will reach around to cover her mouth with his hand, effectively silencing her before she can get herself into any more trouble.

Settling in is a relatively easy endeavor once they finally get to where they need to be, the only one who ever gives them any trouble is Santi. He has a habit of unpacking his suitcase in its entirety in preparation for the week, and it tends to take an hour longer than Benny has the attention span for. With two suitcases this year, Frankie imagines it’ll be twice that.

Once Benny shoves his luggage into the corner of his own room — never to be opened until he’s rushing to get ready the next day — he meanders over to Santi’s to lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed. He lets his displeasure loose, whining into the mattress while the other man organizes his things.

“I’m hungry,” Benny complains, drawing out the vowels on the second word.

“Ben, you’re a grown-up with a wallet, go to the General Store or the food court and grab a snack.”

“It’s not the same!” he huffs, turning his head to watch Santi neatly stack socks, undergarments, and sleep attire inside the drawers.

“If you help me, this would go faster.”

“I would rather be eaten by the crocodile from Peter Pan.”

“Tick-Tock, Tío Benny!” Charlie chimes in.

She likes to be in there during this process too, giggling as she lays across Benny’s back and listening to Santi explain the benefits of putting things in their proper places while on a trip. It’s the same spiel he’s given since the first one they all did four years ago, but Charlotte doesn’t mind.

Even if she doesn’t always grasp the things he tells her, she likes to listen to him talk. She always has, since she was a baby. Frankie can’t even count the number of times he had called his friend in the middle of the night with a screaming infant in the background. His apology wouldn’t even be halfway out of his mouth before Santi would just simply brush it off.

“Put the baby on the phone, Fish, before she makes herself sick.”

He would tell Charlie stories, drowsily building fantastical worlds about whatever came to mind. Princesses. Puppies. Wizards. Anything and everything. Sometimes he’d recount shenanigans the team used to get up to, stupid shit that had Frankie chuckling quietly with nostalgia. Other times he would sing softly to her, Spanish lullabies his mamá sang to him when he was a kid himself, or Frank Sinatra or Etta James — the kid had an ear for the classics.

There were even nights where Santi would just come over, shuffling in wearing his slippers, pjs and bathrobe. He’d look so haggard, eyes bleary and curls sticking up every which way. Wordlessly, he would take Charlotte from Frankie and sit with her in the rocking chair in the nursery, murmuring to her until she calmed down and they both fell asleep exactly where they were.

So when she still seeks him out, eager for the comfort of his voice even after all this time, Frankie knows he’s more than happy to oblige. Santi smiles at her affectionately, and then resumes his unpacking.

Shirts, light sweaters and weather-appropriate jackets are hung up next, coordinated by color on the wall racks. He brings his own pants hangers, of course, and Benny can’t contain his eye roll when Santi pulls them out of his suitcase. Toiletries follow suit, set on the counter in the bathroom before chargers (yes, multiple) are plugged into the outlet near his nightstand. He places an umbrella on the table in the corner just in case, for unexpected rainy days.

Meanwhile, Frankie and Will usually set aside their suitcases for later so they can catch a cab or an Uber to the closest grocery store. They like to stock up on water instead of paying for the inflated prices in the parks, plus Will always insists on grabbing some healthier snack options for Charlie to munch on, rather than giving her park food all day.

By the time they make it back, drop off their haul, and change for dinner, Benny’s dragging Santi out of the room by headlock. The ruckus is only worsened by Charlie latching herself onto Santi’s leg koala-style.

“Mutiny!” Benny yells.

“Mutiny!” Charlie repeats, laughing like a hyena. “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Tío Will! Tío Santi’s our prisoner and we’re pirates of the Carry-bean!”

“Good job, French Fry,” Will grins, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as he surveys the scene and her handiwork. “Don’t be afraid to use your teeth either, just like I taught you.”

Santi scowls at Will. “Carlota Xiomara Morales, do not bite me! And it’s Caribbean!”

Frankie rolls his eyes at them. There isn’t any heat behind the gesture, but he knows he needs to put an end to this chaos now, otherwise Santi will take Benny to the ground and they’ll wrestle right past their dinner reservation. He makes a show of grabbing Charlie around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Alright, ye scallywags, it’s time to set sail.”

She giggles some more, kicking her feet while she hangs upside down. It’s an old routine, one she very much delights in, but it gets the point across and the guys all fall in line behind them, their easy banter and laughter following him and Charlotte all the way to the docks.

When they arrive at the venue, it becomes apparent very fast that they’ve picked a busy night to head out there. Even from the docks, he can tell that the music normally playing over the speakers is muffled by the chatter of the crowd. There’s so many people, it almost feels like a park in and of itself.

If he had known it was going to be this lively, he might have suggested staying in for the evening and just ordering a pizza, but he knows the first night dinner is the only opportunity he’ll have to acclimate to the crowds and energy unique to Disney World. The frazzled parents and rowdy children, the bright-eyed first-timers and the seasoned annual pass holders, the obscenely long waits for everything — it can be a lot at times, and he always prefers to ease his way into the trip rather than diving in headfirst.

After they disembark, Frankie takes a second to bundle Charlie into a Haunted Mansion sweater, a thoughtful early birthday gift from Will’s best friend, Jasmine. It’s bright purple with the hitchhiking ghosts screen printed on the front in black and Charlotte absolutely loves it. He already has his doubts that he’ll be able to get her to wear anything else the rest of the week.

She holds her arms up when he’s finished, silently asking to be picked up, and it makes his heart ache sweetly in his chest. He knows these moments will fade away soon enough, so he always makes it a point to treasure them at every opportunity.

He scoops her into his arms and settles her against his hip, pressing his lips absentmindedly to her cheek. She reaches up to rub at the spot where he kissed her, where his scruff likely tickled, and he smiles at the way her nose scrunches up at him.

“Can I have a cookie now?” she asks, giving him that doe-eyed look she knows he can’t resist.

“If you finish your dinner.”

They’re working on compromising.

“Okay,” she sighs, and her pout looks so much like his, he wants to laugh.

“Okay,” he agrees, then, whispering conspiratorially, “But I bet you could get your tío Santi to get you that Little Mermaid bubble wand over there.”

He tilts his head towards the shop they’re coming up on and Charlie’s eyes light up like the Grinch before he steals Christmas. She wiggles to get down and Frankie chuckles softly as he watches her skip over to Santiago. Santi’s head tips towards her when she approaches, and from the smile on his face, Frankie knows he’s already wrapped around Charlotte’s finger before her hand even slips into his.

They're still early for their reservation at the restaurant that Will’s picked, so once they’ve secured Charlie’s bubble wand, they continue taking their time heading over there. The shops haven’t changed too much over the years, but there’s several they still frequent every visit. It doesn’t take long for Frankie’s mood to shift. It’s easy to be affected by that buzz in the air, the kind that only Disney magic can create, and he can’t deny that he’s already starting to unwind and enjoy himself.

Benny’s had a lot of idiotic ideas in his life, but scheduling that surprise first trip none of them had wanted to go on, forcing them to do it anyway, and turning it into an annual thing is definitely one of his better ones.

By the time dinner finally rolls around, Frankie is famished. Their group ends up in the outdoor seating area of an Irish restaurant and pub called, ‘Ragland Road.’ The table is a little cozy for five, making it difficult to get all the plates situated; he keeps knocking elbows with Will and confusing his and Santi’s drinks, but all of that is easy to ignore when the atmosphere is so homey and comfortable.

There’s a live band in the middle of a set playing a song he doesn’t know. The beat is cheerful in a folkish, knee-slapping way, and his lack of familiarity doesn’t stop him from tapping his foot along while he eats. When he catches Charlie wiggle-dancing in her seat as she takes a bite of potato cake Santi offers to her, he smiles at the sight.

The food is delicious and judging by the nearly finished state of the other plates around the table, the others would agree. Even Charlotte eats most of her meal, a huge feat to say the least, and he deems it another win for the Miller brothers. Between the resort and the restaurant, the trip is off to a great start.

Early into the evening, one of the staff had turned on the heat lamps strategically placed between tables, helping to ward off the nighttime chill. Frankie shed his jacket a while ago, having been warmed further by his meal and the beer he had as an accompaniment. He’s pushed his chair back a little, too, sliding down his seat so he can lean back and stretch his legs, take the pressure off his stomach.

He can tell the day’s catching up to him. Travel fatigue, in combination with being full and content, begins to weigh on his shoulders and make his mind feel a little sluggish, like he’s watching everything from behind a fog.

A bed sounds nice, and so does sleep for that matter, but the guys are chatty tonight and many years of experience has taught him that they’ve got at least another hour in them before calling it a day. He doesn’t mind too much; he’s happy just to sit and listen to them trade stories and laughs over another round of drinks.

They reminisce about the old days and catch up on life, not an unusual occurrence for them as they do this already at least once a week. The result of a camaraderie forged in military service and a brotherhood kept long after retirement.

There are dinners and weekend BBQs, random visits throughout the week. Hell, even game nights if Benny can get them drunk enough. Sometimes evenings at the local dive bar, so long as Frankie can find a sitter. Still, despite the regular meetups, it’s nice to be in a different setting and away from the ‘everyday’ of their lives for once.

“Daddy, I want to go on the balloon ride!”

Charlotte’s voice cuts through his thoughts, reminding him of the hot air balloon they’d seen earlier on their way to the restaurant. It’s been a number of years that they’ve been coming out here, but they have yet to actually ride it.

“Sorry, kid,” Santi tells her, tugging playfully on one of her curls. “The balloon ride is already closed. How about we finish coloring-”

“I don’t want to color anymore!”

Her pitch is one octave away from tantrum levels and Frankie frowns.

“Charlotte.”

She pauses for a second, contemplates the warning tone in his voice and knows she’s toeing quite closely to a reprimand. She ends up huffing anyway, “Well, I don’t!”

It surprises him, the way she snaps back, and it takes him a second to regroup.

“Alright,” he replies slowly, calmly. “That’s fine. You don’t have to color anymore if you don’t want to. But we can say that without yelling at people, okay?”

“That right, French Fry,” Will chimes in. “Sometimes if you yell at people, it can hurt their feelings, and you don’t want to hurt Santi’s feelings, do you?”

She eyes the both of them stubbornly, bottom lip poking out in a pout. He can see the way her mind is weighing out the repercussions of whatever she decides to say next and it simultaneously terrifies him and fills him with so much pride witnessing how clever and astute she is even at her young age. Eventually she shakes her head and Frankie runs his hand soothingly down her hair.

“I bet Santi would feel better if you said ‘sorry’ to him. What do you think?”

Charlotte turns her head towards Santiago, who is doing a terrible job of trying to conceal his smile. He breaks as soon as she lifts her arms and wraps them around his neck, leaning down to draw her tighter against him.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“For?” Frankie prompts.

“For yelling.”

Santi presses a kiss to her temple and pats her comfortingly on the back. “You’re alright, pescadito. Thank you for apologizing, that’s very good manners.”

She’s tired, he mouths to Frankie, resting his cheek on her head when she keeps close.

He gets it, travel days are difficult enough as it is for regular adults and he imagines they’re even worse for tiny humans. Plus, there’s only so much coloring a kid can do on their placemat before they start getting antsy. But now that she’s gotten a little older and her attention span has gotten shorter, he’s started to notice that his sweet little girl is becoming a bit of a pint-sized demon.

When Charlie peeks out from her hiding spot in Santi’s neck, Benny beckons her over to him with a few crooks of his finger.

“Carlota, mi tesoro,” he sing-songs.

Frankie smiles at that. Benny’s accent is terrible beyond belief, but Frankie appreciates the effort he and Will have been putting in to learn Spanish in their free time.

Charlotte’s sad little pout transforms almost immediately as her tío Ben takes her hand. He gets up to twirl her beside the stage with the band’s latest tune playing in the background. Out of all of them, Benny’s always been the best at being able to redirect an impending meltdown and getting some of that energy out. Probably because he has it in equal measure.

The knot loosens in his chest with the situation effectively diffused. Her tantrums don’t happen all the time, thankfully, but when they do, they’re definitely not fun for either of them. While he’s doing his best to parent her through this new stage in her development, he’s finding it more challenging than he anticipated.

He’s never been more grateful that he’s got extra sets of hands to help him with Charlotte than during moments like these with the guys having his back. Teaching her, guiding her, loving her as deeply as he does. Loving her as if she were their own. It truly takes a village.

Frankie grins watching Benny and Charlotte together. Her dark hair fans out around her as she spins under his arm again, and the dimple in her cheek deepening with her smile is only further sweetened by her joy. He can feel his heart light up with her bright peals of laughter and he hopes that she always feels like this: carefree, happy, cherished. That’s all he could ever want for her.

As the night winds down, and Charlotte’s energy finally begins to wane, she climbs into Frankie’s lap to snuggle into his chest. Her little cheek presses right over his heart and the easy way she makes herself comfortable against him makes him sigh happily. He’s only half-listening to Santi chat about a woman he met at a bar recently. It’s decidedly inappropriate conversation for a five year-old anyway, so he’s glad Charlie picked that moment to fall asleep.

Her breathing evens out despite Benny’s antics and boisterous teasing over Santi’s taste in women. Or rather, the kind of women often attracted to him.

Frankie rests his hand reflexively over the back of his daughter’s head when Benny laughs again. The gesture soothes him as much as it’s meant to soothe her and keep her with her dreams.

When he glances up, he catches Will watching them, the other man’s smile soft around his eyes. Will leans forward slightly, lifting his hand to rub his thumb over a smear of chocolate on Charlie’s cheek.

Frankie brushes a kiss across her brow, taking in the sight of the guys around the table. They’ve been just this way hundreds of times before, hundreds more since Charlotte had come into their lives. It’s an image that is comforting in its familiarity, safe in its constancy, and he feels incredibly blessed to be celebrating another year of his daughter’s life in her favorite place, with all her favorite people. Mainly because they’re his too.

“One hundred dollars she tells you she misses you before the week is up,” Benny tells Santi, pointing a finger at him.

“She’s not like that,” Santi argues, throwing one of the leftover fries from Charlotte’s plate at his head.

Benny ducks out of the way at the last second but Santi is anticipating him and reaches over to flick his finger against Benny’s forehead when his lean puts him within striking distance. Benny swears under his breath, swatting Santi’s hand away playfully.

“She’s sweet,” Santi continues. “But she’s got her own things going on, you know? And thank god for that.”

“I don’t know, man, you’ve got a history.”

“What do you mean, ‘a history?’ A history of what, Ben?” Santi doesn’t snap, but his eyebrows pinch together with the question.

Benny looks to Will and Frankie for back-up, a habit ingrained from their days in the field, and gestures at Santi.

Frankie merely shakes his head and laughs quietly. “Ohh, no, no, no, no. Nope. I’m staying out of this one.”

Will shrugs beside him, and Frankie’s brow lifts in surprise as their eyes meet. It’s obvious that Will’s feeling loose-tongued tonight, and unafraid of the consequences; his smirk is all mirth as he raises his beer to his mouth for another sip.

“What Ben’s trying to say is that you’ve got a history, Pope…” Will claps Benny on the back as if to reiterate the point. “Of dating stage five clingers.”

Santi is unfazed by that assessment, however, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he leans back and rests his hands on the back of his head. “Well, when the dick is just that good-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Frankie’s response is immediate and protesting as he covers Charlie’s ear with one of his hands.

Will chokes on his beer, moving forward to let the fizzy liquid drip down onto the floor instead of all over him while he laughs through a coughing fit. Frankie, ever in dad mode, holds out a napkin to him with his free hand, glaring at Santi all the while. Benny just groans, dunking his fingers in his water glass before shaking the droplets at the older man.

“Hey, man,” Frankie chastises. “This is a family establishment!”

“Family establishment!” Santi says, his eyes positively gleaming. He shifts and holds his hand out towards Charlie. “She’s asleep! She’s not gonna know!”

“Yeah, but the kids at the next table have ears, pendejo, and so do their parents!”

Frankie has a couple more choice words for him in Spanish that make Santi snort with laughter but he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, alright. For the sake of little ears, we’ll keep it clean.”

It takes them another minute to all settle down again, the last bits of jesting and laughter filling the air. Once they do, Santi suddenly turns serious, and his gaze falls to him and Charlie. He nods at Frankie when Frankie’s eyebrow arches up questioningly.

“Hey, what about you, Fish, huh?”

He stills, eyeing his friend carefully. “What about me?”

Santi’s shrug is casual but Frankie knows him better than that.

“You think you’re ever gonna get back out there again?”

“Out where?” He keeps his tone nonchalant, his posture relaxed despite feeling his hands beginning to grow damp.

“We know you’re not that dense, in the dating pool,” Benny speaks up, reaching across Santi to pilfer one of the uneaten pickles off Charlie’s plate and grinning like a pirate.

Frankie wrinkles his nose at that, inhaling deeply while he thinks on his answer. Truthfully, with Charlotte getting older, the thought may have crossed his mind a few times. Albeit very fleetingly and far between.

He reaches up, rubbing at his bottom lip with his thumb and attempting to mask his anxiety behind the casual gesture. “Honestly, I don’t know, man. I’ve been so focused on Charlotte, it hasn’t been a priority.”

Benny whistles lowly in response and Frankie’s eyes drop to the table, his composure threatening to fissure under the combined weight of their attention. His emotional wounds begin to ache at the seams, dull yet insistent despite the many years he’s had to heal, and he wonders if he even ever really did. After his wife’s unexpected and tragic passing, his whole world has been nothing but his little girl and he’s just…never needed more than that. Never allowed himself to look beyond that.

“I mean, it’s fine. We’re doing okay just the two of us, I think.”

“Yeah, but how long has it been? Don’t you have…needs?” Benny wonders, eyebrows arching suggestively.

“Jesus Christ, Ben,” Frankie grimaces, feeling his face warm at the sudden scrutiny of his personal life. “Look, I’m not celibate if that’s what you’re asking!”

Will chucks his crumpled up napkin at Benny’s head. “Why you so interested in Fish’s sex life, huh?”

“Yeah, is your own a little lacking there, Ben?” Santi retorts with a snicker.

Benny, predictably, rises to the occasion, defensive and boasting about his own recent conquests. Frankie’s grateful for the redirection of the conversation, but with the truth laid bare and now at the forefront of his mind, he finds himself distracted from the rest of their heckling.

Sure, there’s been the occasional fling here and there, some one night stands just to scratch the itch, but nothing ever serious, and certainly not serious enough to disrupt Charlie’s life with.

Besides, Frankie’s grown quite comfortably into this version of his life without romantic love. He’d had to pivot in a way he’d never imagined, from husband and new father in one breath, to widower and single dad in the next. His entire world had plunged into a tailspin, and he’d nearly lost himself in the turbulent spiral of his shock and incomprehensible grief.

There had been many days where he just didn’t know how he was going to make it, where trying to balance the loss of her with raising their newborn child was too much to bear. She was his match, the love of his life, his partner in every way, and the abrupt absence of her had been debilitating, his heartbreak suffocating. He could never seem to catch his breath, choking on the air trapped in his lungs until they started to burn, until they felt near exploding, and even then, simply enduring.

Anything could set him off: seeing her toothbrush in the holder next to his, realizing he poured two cups of coffee in the morning instead of one, her favorite song on the radio. Even Charlotte smiling for the first time. That was perhaps the most difficult, all the little things and all the big things she’d missed and would continue to miss where their daughter was concerned.

But even in that darkness, even with all that despair, the light had always been Charlotte. She could steady him with a look, ground him with the grasp of her tiny hand around his finger, soothe him by simply needing him in the ways that infants need someone to care for them. To be fed, changed, held, loved.

And so he did.

And bit by bit she’d forced him to piece the broken shards of himself together. It hadn’t been easy and some of the pieces never really fit back properly, the remaining shapes made too small by his unending pain or too big by his lingering rage, but what had remained of himself he’d simply given wholly to her. He’d endeavored to be the kind of father she deserved, the kind of man her mother would have been proud of.

Some days it almost felt wrong to keep living the way that they had, to keep having those little slivers of happiness — her first steps, her first birthday, her first word (“dada”) — when half of Frankie’s heart was missing. He knows that’s what she would have wanted, but it never made it any easier.

There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest now, soothed only mildly by their daughter’s weight against him. He rarely speaks her name aloud anymore, but he still thinks of her everyday.

Time has stolen so much from him, though. It’s just…the shape of her in his memory now. An image no longer as crisp or clear as it once had been, the tangibility of her — her smell, her touch, her voice — all things he can barely remember anymore. But she still exists in other ways.

Snapshot moments in his mind, seconds of the life they once shared. Her smile the first time he tried to flirt with her. Her eyes welling with tears when he slipped her wedding band onto her finger. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed too hard. How pretty she looked in his t-shirts with her lips kiss-swollen and hair all mussed from his fingers.

She hated folding clothes even though she didn’t mind washing them.

She liked paperbacks over hardcovers, but disliked creased spines.

She played Sudoku like a champ.

She used to order onion rings as the side with her burger despite preferring fries because he liked onion rings more. His own were never enough, and he didn’t figure that out until after she was gone.

He thinks back to Santi’s question again, turning it over and over in his mind. The answer remains elusive, and perhaps it always would be. But that’s probably for the best.

He’s already experienced a big, big love once, and maybe once is all he gets. Maybe once will just have to be enough.

It would save him some disappointment, at least. Preemptively stave off any potential heartbreak — not just his, but Charlie’s as well. He couldn’t put them through something like that again. Not after everything they’ve been through.

He glances around at the table again, rubbing a hand over Charlie’s back. He’s not even sure what the guys are talking about anymore, but their laughter feels like a salve for his reopened wounds. So does Charlotte’s quiet snores.

And if this is all he gets for the rest of his life, this brotherhood, this camaraderie and family, and the generous love of his kid…he could be okay with that, he thinks.

Later, as they’re headed back to the resort for the night, Santi elbows him lightly in the ribs to get his attention and he turns his head towards his friend.

“Hey, about earlier,” Santi says quietly, just between the two of them. “Sorry if we overstepped.”

Frankie shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Pope, it’s fine.”

“For what it’s worth, Fish, you and that kid deserve the world, and whatever that means for you, whatever that looks like, we’re always gonna have your back.”

“But?”

“What do you mean ‘but,’ there’s no ‘but.’”

“With you, Pope, there is always a ‘but,’” he smiles.

Santi rolls his eyes at him. “Alright, but…”

He trails off, inhaling deeply. Instinctively Frankie braces for the blow.

“You deserve a second chance at love. Juliana would want that for you.”

Santi shrugs then, clapping him lightly on the back. The gesture is meant to be casual, but Frankie feels the pressure of it all the same, just as he feels the heaviness of hearing Juliana’s name spoken out loud. A punch to the gut that has his hold tightening around Charlotte’s small frame.

“You’re a good dad and a good man, and some women find you easy on the eyes, though I can’t imagine why-”

Frankie reaches out with his fist, knocking Santiago lightly against his jaw and making him laugh as he maneuvers out of reach.

“I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot of stuff going for you still. It couldn’t hurt to see what’s out there! You might be surprised.”

Frankie hums noncommittally at the advice, adjusting his daughter in his arms as they approach the buses meant to shuttle them back to the resort.

“Yeah, maybe someday,” he mumbles, more for Santi’s benefit than his.

But he couldn’t have known that maybe that day was closer than he realized.

You love Disney World, truly, you do. But it’s almost criminal that there’s this many people at Disney Springs on a Monday night. Particularly during what should have been one of the least busiest weeks to go. It’s well after the holiday rush of Christmas and New Year’s but it doesn’t appear like everyone’s gotten the memo.

Bus after bus comes to take people back to their resorts and your little group of four frustratingly continues to end up on none of them. The line is moving, though. You can tell simply because eventually you’ll realize you’re in a different place in it than you were ten minutes ago.

Closer to the front, but somehow still not close enough to get on an actual shuttle. It imitates a park ride wait so perfectly, like an adult version of ‘Are we there yet?’ except you are both the impatient child and the irritated parent.

Disney magic at its finest.

“Is there a single rider option for this?” Your best friend, Taylor, mutters under her breath from her place behind you.

The question makes your mouth twitch at the corners, but as another bus pulls away from the curb, and another round of disappointed sighs and quiet grumbling goes up through the crowd, you can’t help but agree with the sentiment. At this point, you wouldn’t mind standing so long as you actually get back to the resort soon. Tomorrow is your first day in the parks and you and your friends are all eager to shower the day off before going to bed and resting up.

There’s little else to do while you wait for the next ride so you reach into your bag for your phone to check the time. You have to plan for tomorrow, calculate exactly how many hours you have until you have to get up. The number determines your sleep schedule and whether you do the long or shortened version of your nighttime routine, especially because you still have to decide on an outfit and allot time for getting ready in the morning. Oh, and making a coffee and breakfast run.

Your fingers dig around inside the purse, brushing against crumpled receipts, a tube of lip balm, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer before you frown.

Huh. That’s weird.

You grasp the bag, pulling it further in front of you so you can actually see while you’re rifling through it. Every item you know to be in there is mentally checked off as you touch each one: wallet, passport, some loose change from when you paid cash for a water bottle at the airport convenience store, dinner and shopping receipts, lip balm, sanitizer.

Everything is all accounted for; everything, that is, except your phone.

“Shit,” you mutter.

The panic hits you quick and sharp. You try to tamper the feeling down but it’s too late, you’re already on edge and the way your stomach clenches tells you that you’re spiraling fast. This is the very last thing you need on the first day of your trip, your mind racing with thoughts of fraudulent charges, emptied bank accounts, and scam emails being sent to your entire address book.

And what the hell are you going to do if you need to have all your cards canceled while you’re out here?

One of your other friends, Sasha, gives you a quizzical look as you start patting yourself down. Your movements are frantic, hands flitting between your jacket pockets, jean pockets and back on a second pass just to be sure.

“You okay?” she wonders, her voice concerned.

Your eyes flit downwards in a frenzied scan across the pavement as you search between people’s feet on the off-chance you may have simply dropped it. But then in your periphery you catch sight of a young boy just as he drops a piece of chocolate. It lands by his shoe and he’s quick to lean down for it, but his mother’s reflexes are quicker. She grabs onto his arm before he can take it back and attempt to put it in his mouth.

Shit. The Ganachery.

You can see it so clearly in your mind, how you’d been taking photos of the chocolate in the displays before setting your phone down on the counter when one of the employees came by and offered a sample. Absentminded and careless and entirely your mistake.

“I left my phone at The Ganachery,” you sigh, the sound frustrated and grouchy as your fingers press into your temple where you can feel a headache starting to brew.

“What?” Taylor leans over your shoulder, her ears ever sharp. Automatically, her gaze drops to the ground as well. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t have it.”

“You checked your pockets? What about your jacket? Your bag?”

She means well, logically you know this, but there’s nothing more irritating when you’re on the verge of a minor crisis than someone trying to tell you to do the things you’ve already done. Another agitated sigh escapes between your lips.

“I have to go back,” you announce, wasting no time unclipping one of the ropes helping to designate the boarding line for the buses so you can slip out of line.

Reese, the fourth in your friend group, pokes her head out from behind Sasha’s. Her phone already tucked to her ear, no doubt attempting to call yours.

“I’ll go with you, so you don’t have to be alone on the way back.”

You wave her off. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be quick. I’ll meet y’all back in the room!”

But Reese is insistent, saying your name in protest.

“Seriously, it’s okay! Just save me some hot water!” you tease, hoping your easy tone placates her.

She cups her hands around her mouth so her voice carries and you don’t miss the instruction. “Fine, but text when you find it and are on your way back!”

You give her a thumbs up before you turn, speed walking out of sight and back into Disney Springs. In all the years that you’ve been coming out here, you’ve never lost anything once, let alone something as important as your phone. It’s hard not to beat yourself up over it, your anxiety a heavy weight in your stomach as you make your way against the flow of traffic.

There’s a startled ‘Oof!’ that reaches your ears when you inadvertently bump into someone, but it does little to slow you down. All you can manage is a hurried ‘Sorry!’ while you breeze by. You miss the way they turn after you when you go, only left with the vague sense that you’d run into some guy in a hat holding a kid. Oh well, fingers crossed he’d at least heard your apology.

Your frayed nerves only begin to calm once the shop’s sign finally comes into view, and it pushes you to jog the last few steps, bursting through the double door entrance in dramatic fashion. The irresistible scent of sweetened cocoa slams into you, but it’s the looks from the employees and other customers that stop you in your tracks.

“Hi,” you greet the person behind the register, the word breezy and rushed as it trips out of your mouth. You recognize them, but aren’t sure if they recognize you. “Sorry, I was just in here about fifteen minutes ago with my friends. Did you happen to find a-”

“Phone?” The device is held up in their hand with a cheerful smile.

“Yes. Thank you so much!” Your shoulders sag with immediate relief. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“No problem, I was hoping you’d notice before you went back to your resort. Your friend called to let us know you were on your way to grab it.”

You cringe with mild embarrassment while you approach the register and your phone gets passed to you. Of course Reese did, she is notorious for being the ‘Mom friend’ of the group.

“Have a good night!” they say cheerfully, waving goodbye at you.

With your phone safely clutched to your chest, you back into one of the doors and push it open with your hip to leave. Now that you’ve caught your breath and the adrenaline is slowly working its way out of your system, your walk back to the shuttles is at a much more leisurely pace.

You notice the crowd has thinned out some since you had come through just minutes before, and that only the last stragglers looking to close out Disney Springs remain. You figure they’re staying to either make the night last just a little longer or wait for a less cramped ride back to their resorts. If you weren’t looking to catch some extra sleep, you might have entertained the latter yourself.

To your surprise, the boarding area for the Port Orleans resorts is much less crowded than when you had left earlier too. After you’ve shuffled your way back into line, you predict that the likelihood of you actually getting to sit for the ride back is looking pretty good, and though that comfort is merely just a little thing, sometimes the little things make all the difference.

You pick a seat near the front as you enter, planning ahead for easy access to an exit when it’s time to get off later, and busy yourself with your phone while you wait for other passengers to board and settle in.

The group chat is popping, 67 messages waiting for you as indicated by the red bubble on the top corner of your app. It’s mostly the other girls sharing photos from the day, with the occasional snarky text about Sasha’s horrible photography skills and Taylor’s obsession with food aesthetic photos.

You skim the rest of the messages, making a mental note to add your own photos later and to look at and save all the others at some point. At the bottom, Reese’s ‘Are you on your way back?’ is waiting for you and you let them know that you’re on the bus now and will be at the resort soon. A series of messages come in rapid-fire succession.

Sasha Vasiliev Be safe!

Reese Fraser Don’t talk to strangers!

Taylor Crawford Absolutely talk to strangers if they’re cute!

You shake your head at their antics, but the way your mouth curves up betrays your amusement. You’re just about to respond when a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Guess it’s standing room only.”

It’s honey-sweet and slow as molasses, and when it hits your ears, you glance up without thinking.

Piercing blue eyes the color of seaglass meet your gaze, and then the owner of them smiles. You blink in surprise as you take in the rest of him, as you are caught off guard by his blatant attractiveness. ‘Hollywood Handsome,’ Taylor would say, with his dimpled smile and perfectly disheveled sandy-blonde hair that’s just edging towards brown.

His eyes light up at your expression and you don’t miss the way he gives you a flirtatious once-over.

“Hi,” he greets — all of the charm he can muster in that singular word — and slows his gait as he moves past you.

Oh, here we go.

Your own smile is small, polite, but you don’t say anything back, not wanting to encourage him.

The man behind him claps him on the back, drawing your attention and making you start. He’s older — if the silver woven through his dark hair and beard is any indication — and about half a foot shorter but no less striking.

Although ‘striking’ doesn’t seem to be a big enough word. Not for the classical angles of his face or dimples in his cheeks that have turned to creases with age. Not for his sharp eyes, rich like dark mahogany wood, or the crinkles at the corners of them.

He gives his companion a light push towards the middle of the bus where there’s space to stand.

“Leave the pretty girl alone, Ben,” he says, winking at you.

“What? I was just saying ‘hi,’' Ben replies.

He sounds innocent enough, but you’re not entirely convinced. Apparently, neither is his friend.

“Mmhmm, sure you were.”

After Ben moves as far in as he’s able, he turns and leans against one of the bars flanking the steps to the elevated seats in the back. One of his hands is full of shopping bags, the other slides into one of the pockets of his jeans, and his feet cross at the ankles while he waits for the bus to finish loading. It speaks to his confidence, how comfortable he is in his skin. The kind of man who takes up space not because he can — or should, or wants to — but because he just does.

He never drops his head, his posture, or his gaze for that matter, and as if on cue, it sweeps briefly over to you again. He beams when he catches you watching him and he gives you a little nod in acknowledgement, a little wiggle of his eyebrows with that relaxed smile.

You look away, electing to ignore his easy affection. Connecting with a random guy during vacation isn’t at the top of your priority list, regardless of if it’s just a little harmless flirting. There’s only three f-words you’re here for: food, fun, and friends.

Speaking of friends, a quick scroll through social media shows that the girls have already started posting some of the photos from the group chat. You distract yourself with them, examining each post and liking them as you go.

You’re just about to comment on one when past the side of your phone, you see a man’s boot-clad feet step into the space in front of you. You groan inwardly, preparing to tough out the bus ride with a stranger’s crotch in your face. He doesn’t move, though, keeps his hip to you and you’re grateful that he at least has the manners and decency not to angle himself in your direction. You keep your eyes averted anyway.

“Daddy?” a little girl asks sleepily.

The sound comes from directly above you.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs.

“I wanna sit.”

It’s not a whine, but it may as well be.

“Sorry, mijita, we gotta stand for now. Just for a bit, okay?”

“No,” she answers. “I wanna sit.”

Oh, you know that tone. You’ve been around Disney World kids long enough to recognize when a tantrum is impending, and realizing there will be no opportunity for escape due to proximity, you brace yourself for the full force of her inevitable outburst.

“You want me to take her?” you hear another man offer. He’s standing beside him, just to the right of you.

It takes everything in you not to look up and watch the scene unfold. Apart from it being impolite, you can already sense the stress and embarrassment from the dad. The last thing the poor guy needs is another pair of eyes on him.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got her,” he answers.

He whispers to her in Spanish, too low for you to really hear, but instinctively you know it’s meant to calm her down just by the soothing timbre of his voice.

“Papá!” she grumbles, a few octaves higher now.

“Carlota,” he tsks.

And oh, you know that tone, too.

“There’s no place to sit. I’m sorry but we have to stand. It’s just for fifteen minutes-”

“I’m tired.”

You can make out the exhaustion in her voice as well as the frustration over not getting her way, and you feel for the kid. Big feelings for a little person; though you know not everyone will be as understanding. Or as patient.

That’s the only thing you hate about Disney World’s transportation service. It’s complimentary, yes, and hugely convenient for getting around their massive property, but making people stand and cramming the bus to breathing room only, is a bit excessive and torturous for people to have to endure. Little ones especially.

“I know, Charlotte,” he sighs. “You hang on to me and go back to sleep-”

“I wanna sit now!”

The words explode out of her, sudden and shrill, making the bus go abruptly quiet as all of the air is sucked out of the small space.

And then the waterworks start — deep, howling wails that pierce your ears and go straight to your head. You wince inwardly and take a peek up at her dad.

Your first thought, humiliatingly, is: holy hell because you certainly weren’t expecting the little zing of attraction that jolts down your spine just from the sight of his profile.

Your second thought, more appropriately, is: how can I diffuse this situation?

On a whim, you tap him lightly on the arm while he continues to try to pacify his child. His head jerks at the contact, turning towards your direction with an expression that can only be described as equal parts shame and dread. It looks out of place on his handsome face.

He stills when he sees you, regarding you with his deep, deep brown eyes. There’s a flicker of something in them, too quick for you to really discern. Then his whole demeanor softens apologetically, apprehensively, as if he is expecting a confrontation and dreading it. The fact that this would be his first reaction makes your insides warm with empathy.

“Hi,” you start, beginning to rise from your seat.

He shuffles away to give you a little more space to move, rocking his child all the while. She hasn’t stopped crying so you make sure to raise your voice a little in order to be heard over her.

“Forgive me for eavesdropping but…you’re welcome to have my seat.”

He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open. “What?”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m happy to stand.”

You give him your most friendly smile and hope your voice sounds cheerful despite its volume. But his head shakes resolutely.

“No, Miss, please, I can’t let you do that-”

“Really, I insist! I mean, we’re about to head out so…” you trail off, gesturing at the bus driver sliding into his own chair.

You smile again — disarming, encouraging. He continues to look horrified at your suggestion, but between his screaming kid, the irritated looks of the other passengers, and the time he doesn’t have to argue properly, there’s really no other option than to do as you’ve offered.

Maneuvering around you is a little bit of an awkward shuffle, bodies bumping and brushing despite the attempts at propriety in such close quarters. You try not to think about how there seems to be so much of him, just…tall, broad, man tangled up in your space. Eventually he gets to where he needs to, and eases down onto the bench.

It’s a tight squeeze for the width of his shoulders between the other two passengers who had been on either side of you, but he manages to make it work. You have the fleeting thought that Taylor would rate him a ‘15/10 Hot Dad’ on that feature alone. Shamelessly, you might be inclined to agree.

At least in the privacy of your mind.

Almost immediately, his daughter’s crying abates. Her sniffles and occasional hiccups are the only remaining evidence of her outburst. She snuggles deeper into his chest, cheek laying over his shoulder, one of her hands clutching the front of his shirt.

She’s a cutie — cherub-cheeked, with curling chestnut-colored hair and a sweet little button-nose. Her eyes match his, and they’re already starting to droop, heavy with sleepiness.

“Thank you,” he says, and you can tell he’s sincere in his gratitude by the intent way he stares up at you and oh boy.

You don’t know how it’s possible to feel a look, but you feel that one. All the way down to your fingers and toes you feel it.

“You’re welcome,” you answer softly, swallowing the lump that’s suddenly formed in your throat.

Without a fussy child between you, distracting you, your attention turns to other things. Like the scruff along the sharp line of his jaw, and the neatly trimmed mustache sitting under a prominent nose. The facial hair’s a good look on him, you think; it saves him from appearing too baby-faced. He’s got a baseball cap on his head that is doing a horrible job of containing all of his wavy brown hair, but that’s a good look on him too.

It’s the eyes that really get you, though — kind and soulful, warm like smoky quartz.

You glance away when your skin starts to tingle, in need of respite from the full-force of his attention. It’s just your luck that his attention is replaced by his companion’s, the one who asked if he needed a hand with his kid earlier. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, rugged.

He has a full beard, hair almost down to his shoulder with half of it pulled back into a messy knot. He’s got a way about him that’s unnervingly intimidating; it contrasts with the gentle smile on his face, the cute braid that starts at his temple and is tucked back into the tie, and you can’t help but stare in bewilderment at him.

It would appear you are four for four on meeting gorgeous men tonight. Must be something in the water.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply back, suddenly shy. He makes you feel like you need to fill the space with something other than his considering look but nothing will come to mind.

“Next stop, Port Orleans!” the driver abruptly calls out, pulling your thoughts away and saving you from continuing your awkward exchange with him.

There’s about a half second lag before the doors all close with a loud hiss and the driver hits the gas, making the bus jerk aggressively away from the curb. You grasp onto the strap dangling above your head as a reflex, but horrifyingly, you have no time to brace yourself.

The sharp movement disrupts your balance and you pitch forward with a sharp gasp — straight into Hot Dad — and the only thing stopping you from smashing your boobs into his face is the grip you manage to get on his shoulder, and his own steadying hand on your hip.

His very large, very strong hand.

You hover over him, so close you can’t help but catch the scent of his cologne — fresh and clean with a little hint of musky sweetness. It makes your head spin, traps the air in your lungs as your heart starts kicking against your ribcage, the harsh thump, thump, thump a resounding echo in your ears.

The edge of the brim of his hat lightly brushes over your cheek when his face tilts up to look at you, and your whole body heats up when your gazes meet again. It’s…strangely intimate, curiously familiar all at once, and that same spark of attraction from earlier unfurls in your stomach, like a flower blooming under the sun’s glowing rays.

It is a reaction your body most certainly has no business having.

“Sorry,” you tell him, the word rushing out of you breathlessly.

Then the lights inside the vehicle go out, abruptly turned off and plunging you into darkness. The blessed safety of it where you’re able to avoid the intensity of his eyes. Still, you know little relief, your heightened sense of touch proving to be the next dilemma to contend with, specifically because you’re still holding onto him.

And he’s still holding onto you.

The singular sensation of the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes, knocks you off kilter more than the driver’s heavy foot. You make it a point to pull away.

“You alright?” he asks when you do, voice gruff in a way that makes your cheeks heat and your palms clammy.

Your laugh is airy as it passes between your lips, full of nerves you hope he doesn’t pick up on. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But you notice he doesn’t remove his hand until you’re stable on your feet.

“Sorry,” you repeat, trying to give him some room despite really having none to spare. You angle your body away from him, towards the front of the bus, and grip the strap like a lifeline. Your heartbeat is still thrumming in your head. “And sorry if I step on you or something. I swear these things are a death trap.”

He chuckles at that. “It’s okay, that’s why I’ve got steel-toed boots.”

The joke is lame, but you find yourself smiling at it anyway.

Trying to maintain your equilibrium is the most challenging part of the ride, nothing short of a herculean endeavor, especially with the way the driver takes the turns. You spend the next fifteen minutes obsessively conscious of the way your leg keeps accidentally knocking his knee on every break and acceleration of the bus. Apologies seem a little redundant at this point, though, so you keep them to yourself. But they still weigh heavy on your tongue.

It’s probably the most peculiar experience you’ve ever had on a Disney World shuttle, and you can’t say that you aren’t relieved when the Port Orleans French Quarter signage appears through the window. French Quarter is the first stop on the route which means your own stop is coming up quite soon. There are several drop-off locations on the Riverside route, but the lights at the main unloading area at the front of the resort are the brightest and most sobering. You blink against the sting of them while the bus pulls in, wincing when the interior lights flicker back to life again too and amplify the brightness. It takes your vision a few moments to adjust to normal and you drop your hold on the strap in the interim.

Oww.

The ache in your shoulder is instant, the muscles tense all the way down your arm. Hell, even your fingers feel stiff. You tilt your head from side to side, stretching out your neck and resisting the urge to reach across yourself and rub at the sore spot on your shoulder. With your luck, you’ll elbow Hot Dad in the face in the process.

Feet and bodies begin to shuffle about, the rustle of shopping bags and backpacks and other items filling the air as passengers eagerly prepare to disembark. Out of habit, you reach for your phone. You mean to look at the time but the screen blinks with a text message notification instead. It’s from Reese, undoubtedly checking on you.

And grounding you in a really needed way.

Food, fun, friends, you remind yourself.

When it’s time to go, you don’t bother to say goodbye to Hot Dad or spare him a second glance. Whatever spell this whole situation had previously cast on you is effectively broken. Whatever you’d felt in those moments, gone. With the reality of being back at the resort, he becomes just another face, another stranger in a huge crowd of them visiting the parks and being on vacation. You bet you won’t even see him again anyway.

You step off the bus, thanking the driver on your way despite his horrible driving and smiling when he wishes you a good evening. The temperature’s dropped even more since you left Disney Springs, and it makes you shiver as you begin the trek to your room. It feels good, even if your fingers are cold. You inhale the crisp air deeply, allowing it to fill your lungs before you exhale just as thoroughly.

If you’ve timed it correctly, the girls should just about be finished with their showers, which means you can get to yours as soon as you get to the room. Maybe even cram in a face mask after. If you hustle, you might just be able to fall asleep before Taylor too — she snores but will never admit it, and sometimes it’s difficult to fall asleep once she gets going.

You make it inside the lobby, past the doors that lead back outside to the little marina, and almost halfway across the bridge before you hear the distinct sound of jogging feet on the wood.

“Hey, wait up!” someone calls, and you turn out of reflex, before you can think better of it.

Your brows lift in surprise, particularly since you’d already convinced yourself the bus was all you were going to get.

“Hey,” Hot Dad greets when he catches up to you. His smile is sweet, if a little sheepish.

Attraction flutters insistently in the back of your mind, beating its little wings rebelliously against the rational voice trying to stress that you are on vacation — at Disney World — and don’t have time for any more of the indulgent thoughts swirling around in your head.

Especially about a stranger and a father no less. He could be married or otherwise attached. He could be a murderer, the nice guy act simply just a ruse. Hell, he could be a married murderer even. Okay, the last two might be a tad dramatic, but you’ve watched too many true crime documentaries and you know that sometimes you just never know.

“Hey,” you say back, noting that he is sans kid.

A flicker of movement behind him captures your attention and you lean out past his shoulder to get a better look. You instantly recognize Ben from the bus, along with his dark-haired friend. They’re just outside the doors of the dinning hall, next to the lobby entrance, standing together like they’re waiting around for something. Then you see that Ben is holding Hot Dad’s daughter, swaying tenderly and rocking her in his arms, and oh, they’re waiting for him.

Ben has the cheekiness to give you a little wink this time when he realizes you’re looking, and you’re 99% convinced he gets just about anything he wants with all that charm. Blondie joins them a second later, walking out the door with a bag from the general store clutched in his hand. He doesn’t wave but his curious gaze remains trained on you.

The dark-haired one does wave despite being semi-distracted with his phone, pacing around slightly with it pressed to his ear. His hand falls to his waist and you cant your head curiously. There’s an intriguing air about that one, like he’s fully in control of every situation at any given moment. Someone used to giving orders but not necessarily taking them. Suave, confident, a touch sophisticated. Like he would exude that same kind of power in a t-shirt as he would in a suit.

Seeing them all together is something of a sight and a bit of an enigma. Four men, all with differing dispositions, all gorgeous in their own ways. You haven’t figured out the connection yet, how the four of them are linked and bound together. But you just get the sense that they are.

“I knew Huey was with you,” you tell him. “But I didn’t realize Dewey and Louie were too.”

Confusion flashes across his face until he turns to follow where your line of sight had been. It takes him a second, and then he’s tilting his head back, a bright laugh rumbling out of him at your reference to Donald Duck’s triplet nephews. The sound is pretty in the night air, and the unexpected pleasure of being able to draw it out of him lights like a sparkler in your chest.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he grins, turning back to you.

The corners of his eyes crinkle and a deep dimple winks to life in his cheek. It makes his face even sweeter.

He stands there watching you for a time after, and that look from the bus crosses his face again, like he’s working out an answer to a question only he knows. You start to shift your weight from foot to foot, self-conscious, unsure of what to do as the silence stretches on and the air pulses between you — all shimmering heat and endless possibilities. You tug your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing on it nervously, and it’s not lost on you that his eyes are drawn briefly to the action.

You swallow thickly.

“Did you, um…need help with something?” you finally ask, trying to ignore the pull to him you can’t seem to shake.

That seems to break him out of his trance and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, suddenly shy.

“So hey, listen…I just wanted to thank you again for what you did back there.” He gestures behind him with his free hand, in the general direction of the shuttle drop-off. “It was really nice and you- you didn’t have to. I appreciate it and I’m sure the other passengers did too.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I was happy to help. I get grumpy when I’m tired, too, so I understand.”

You shrug and give him a playful scrunch of your nose that eases the tension in his shoulders and makes that cute little dimple appear again.

“Well, I’ve uh…gotta get back to my room,” you say softly when your cheeks start to warm from his unwavering gaze. “Early day tomorrow and all.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course.” He rubs at his jaw, fingers grazing over the scruff as he thinks on something. “I’d offer to walk you but, I know we just met and you probably don’t want a stranger to know where your room is…but, if you did want someone to walk you, it’s the least I could do.”

His rambling is terribly endearing but he’s right on all counts. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I’m pretty close anyway- oh! And I hope your daughter gets some rest.”

His lips curve at that. “Thanks, me too. Thank you for everything else. Again.”

You raise your hand in a parting wave. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he murmurs back.

And it suddenly dawns on you that this could very well be the last time you ever see him. There’s a disappointed twinge in your gut that shouldn’t be there but is and it’s silly, but still very difficult to ignore as your feet start to carry you backwards. Your body is reluctant to turn away, your eyes unable to resist taking their fill of him — just one last, long, harmless look before you go.

“Wait!”

He says it just as you start to turn away and it makes you pause. You glance over your shoulder with one of your eyebrows raised expectantly at him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m Frankie, by the way.”

You know what he’s inviting by giving you his name — the choice to give yours back. What’s the harm, right? It wouldn’t change anything. You could tell him your name and it wouldn’t mean anything.

Instead, you give him another smile, the corners of your lips tugging up.

“Have a good vacation, Frankie.”

He shakes his head at you, amusement clear on his stupidly adorable face as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back onto his heels.

“You too.”

This time, you force yourself to go, to keep your eyes ahead and your feet moving.

If you hadn’t, you might have seen the way he’d taken an unconscious step after you before catching himself, or the way his gaze had lingered on your form until you disappeared across the bridge.

The walk back to your room isn’t much further, just beyond the second bridge and right on the main path. Lucky for you since your mind is far too distracted for anything more than running on autopilot. You’re caught in a memory loop, incessantly replaying the night’s events over and over in your head.

You’ve read too many romance books, listened to too many love songs, seen too many romance movies. Have grown too fond of fairy tales and happily-ever-afters with their neat little ribbons and dainty bows on top.

You are on vacation, you remind yourself one more time, and you cannot romanticize a meaningless moment between yourself and a random stranger. One you are never going to see again. But even as you retreat from the bubble of that chanced encounter on the bus, and the subsequent exchange at the bridge, somehow, that man with his quiet demeanor and his sweet smile sticks with you.

End Notes: Re: Charlotte’s nicknames A ‘fry’ is a baby fish pescadito also translates to ‘baby/small fish’ mi tesoro means ‘my treasure’

Thank you so, so much for reading and joining the TF boys for vacation ;)

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #santiago garcia #will miller #benny miller #my writing #mihfyam

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