kookkyra

[kookkyra]

i simply log on twice a year, post a fic those two times.. and leave..

#let's see if i actually post this tho #k.talks

[kookkyra]

i knew it was going to happen but i was still gasping when it happened…

ambivalence part thirteen: heaven and back - rafe cameron

a/n: hi my loves. i hope you enjoy this one! leave me a comment and let me know. this series only has one or two parts left!!! :)

Summary: You wonder what's important to Rafe, and he proves to you what really matters.

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking

Word Count: 4.7k+

series masterlist

my writing

Rafe doesn't text you the next morning. You lay in bed for an ungodly amount of time, debating on texting him first, except you have no idea what to say. You really have no idea where you stand with him at this point.

You gather yourself and get to work, sighing in relief when you enter the back and find Topper digging around in his locker and fixing his hair at the same time. You walk up to him and groan, throwing yourself up against the locker beside his dramatically.

"I screwed up," you inform him, not caring about how vague that statement is.

"Apparently, I did, too."

"What?" you ask, turning toward him.

"Had a little chat with your boyfriend this morning," he says, eyes trained in his locker instead of you.

"He called you?" you say, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach.

"Oh, yeah," he nods.

"What did he say?"

Topper frowns, then closes his locker and looks over at you, "It wasn't so much what he said. It's what he implied."

"Well, what did he imply?" you ask, growing impatient.

"I think he would prefer if I didn't comfort you when he's thousands of miles from us," he says, grin threatening to form at the ends of his lips at the thought of Rafe being jealous of him.

"You're kidding me," you say, already reaching for your phone, "That's ridiculous, Topper. I'm gonna-"

"No, you're not," he says, plucking your phone from your hands, "I'm assuming you two got into it, judging by the way he sounded."

"Still, he had no right to drag you into it," you protest, reaching for your phone.

"He's just displacing his frustration," he assures you. You raise an eyebrow.

"Displacing his frustration? What are you, a psychologist?"

He laughs, "No, you just learn a thing or two when you've been analyzing Rafe Cameron's moods all your life. Trust me, he didn't mean anything by it. Just blowing off steam the best way he knows how."

"By yelling at you?" you question.

"No, by not yelling at you."

You frown, opting to not respond. You open your locker and shove your bag in, ignoring Topper's pointed glance.

"Honestly," Topper continues, "I think he's just mad at the situation. Not you."

You slam your locker shut, "Top, you know I love you, but I really don't think you should be any more involved in our relationship than you already are. Rafe should be saying this stuff to me."

"I agree. But, remember, he's never done this before. Just take it easy on him, okay?"

You just nod, not wanting to completely agree because you're feeling heated. Topper peels himself off of his locker and starts toward the door, leaving you to figure out your shit on your own.

You don't hear from Rafe until you're walking out of work. He's calling at the perfect time, and you're surprised he remembered what time you'd be getting out of work. You take a deep breath, letting it ring for a minute before you pick it up.

"Hello?" you question, irritation present in your voice.

"Hi," he replies easily.

"Hi."

You climb into your car, phone pressed to your ear by your shoulder as you await his response. You can hear him sigh, but you don't acknowledge it.

"How was your day?" his voice is thick, and you wonder if he really cares.

"Well, I'd tell you, but I wouldn't want Topper to get another angry phone call if you find out he spoke to me today."

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, "Look, Y/N-"

"I just don't understand, I mean, I told you last night that I didn't want to hang up until we fixed things, and you totally blew me off, and then you call Topper and-"

"Settle down, sweetheart," he stops you, "I didn't mean anything by it. I just was calling to ask him about your run-in with Marco, and yeah, I may have expressed that I didn't necessarily appreciate, y'know, his comfort. But, it's not like I went raging jealous boyfriend on him. Relax."

You sigh, throwing your head back against the headrest, "Please don't tell me to relax, Rafe. This is so messed up."

"What's messed up?"

"This!" you repeat, "Us. I don't know. I spent the whole day thinking you were mad at me because I didn't hear from you."

"I told you, I had a meeting this morning."

"Yet, you found the time to call Top and berate him for being there for me," you say, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I did not berate him," he protests, "But, I am sorry I didn't text. I had a really busy day. I never intended to worry you."

The words comfort you, even though you still can so blatantly feel that he's thousands of miles away.

"So, you're not? Mad at me?"

It almost sounds like he chuckles before he answers, "No. I'm mad that I'm in the fucking Bahamas."

"Me, too," you mumble, "But, it's where you need to be."

"Wrong."

"Wrong?" you question, furrowing your eyebrows together.

"Where I need to be and where I am are thousands of miles apart," he informs you, voice somber, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Rafe," you say, wishing you could see him smile, "And I'm sorry about yesterday. And about your sister, and-"

"You have nothing to apologize for, baby. I shouldn't have jumped on you about the Sarah thing. You had every right to react that way after everything she's done. This distance thing, it's going to get a little frustrating. But, I'm sure you're well aware by now, I'm all in. If you are."

"Of course I am," you say immediately, "I just really, really miss you."

"I'm about to book a flight. You can't keep telling me that."

"Sorry," you grin, listening to him laugh on the other end.

"So," he starts, muffling the phone as he attempts to get comfortable on his bed, "Tell me exactly what Sarah said."

Rafe gets better at communicating with you for exactly a day and a half. He forgot to call on Monday night, which, although you hate to admit it, made you cry. You never thought, when you watched him get on that jet, that it would be this hard to not have him around. Mostly because everything between the two of you had been great before he left. Now, you feel as if you can't suck in enough oxygen to keep your heart pumping.

On Tuesday night, when you're walking out of work, you find a missed call from Rafe on your phone. You quickly dial him back, listening to the phone ring and ring before going to voicemail. When you climb into your car, you toss it on the floor of the passenger side out of frustration. You debate picking it up before you leave, just in case he calls back, but you realize he probably won't and you leave it there.

You call him Wednesday morning, getting the same amount of rings and then listening to the automated voicemail message on the other end. While you're in class, he calls you back. You can't pick it up, but you stare at his contact photo and do your best to keep your finger off of the accept button. You finally get ahold of him Wednesday evening, even though you had to excuse yourself from the dinner table and the glare of your parents, to pick up.

"Rafe," you say when you answer, almost worried that it wouldn't actually be him. The last time the two of you spoke on the phone had been Sunday evening.

"Sweetheart, finally," he groans, "So good to hear your voice."

"Rafe," you repeat, "It's been three days. This is crazy."

"I know, I'm sorry. But, listen to this. I secured a deal with that Davis guy I was telling you about. Closed the deal over lunch today. It was fantastic. I called my dad, he was over the moon."

"I'm happy for you," you say, trying your best to mean it.

"Marcus and I are going out for drinks to celebrate. I don't have a lot of time to talk-"

"Really?" you interrupt before you can help yourself, "This is the first time we've talked in three days, and you're already ready to hang up?"

"That's not what I said," he speaks calmly.

"It's starting to feel like calling me is more of a chore to you. And I hate to say that, Rafe, I do, it's just, you call when I'm in class or at work and you know I can't pick up-"

"I'm sorry," he stops you, annoyance becoming prevalent in his voice, "I forget about the time difference."

"This is too hard, Rafe," you sigh, throwing your head back on your headboard.

Rafe doesn't respond for a minute. When you open your mouth to speak, he says, "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," you say quietly.

More silence. You can practically hear him swallow as he tries to think about what the best thing to say is.

"You're supposed to be getting on a plane to come here tomorrow. It wouldn't be this hard if we were going to see each other."

You laugh incredulously, "I'm sorry I couldn't make that happen for you, Rafe."

"I'm not blaming you-"

"Sounds like it to me," you snap, "I have to get back to dinner."

"Okay," he speaks slowly, "Can I call you later tonight?"

"Don't say you're going to call if you're not going to call."

"I'm going to call," he insists, his voice weak. He almost sounds ready to cry.

"Don't if it's late. Time difference, remember."

"What time is too late?"

You sigh, "I'll just talk to you tomorrow. I feel like going to bed early, anyway."

"Okay," he says again, and you close your eyes at how fragile he sounds, "I love you. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

He pauses and so do you, neither one of you hanging up yet. You start to pull the phone from your ear when he speaks again.

"Please, say it back. I think I'll lose my mind if you don't."

Even with the frustration, the annoyance, and everything in between, your heart still melts at the words. You sit up in place, then swallow, "I love you, Rafe."

"Thank God," he mutters, "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, you're too exhausted to even think about Rafe or the situation at hand. With no message from him when you wake up, you get ready for school and head out the door before you can let yourself get upset. Once you arrive at school, you sigh in relief when you find Topper waiting on you.

"Did he call?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, he called," you grunt, walking past him and expecting him to follow.

"Oh, no," he sighs, "How did he screw up, now?"

"It's just-" you stop yourself, spinning around to face your best friend. You watch his expression change when he sees your face, how upset you really are, "I never expected it to be this hard. Things were so easy before he left, and now, I just don't know."

"You mean, you don't know if he's the right fit for you?" he asks, choosing his words carefully.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," you say immediately, "He's- he is everything I have ever wanted and then some. And he's doing a great job down there, he's doing everything right. I'm so proud of him-"

"So, I'm not understanding what it is you're unsure about," Topper says, "Because it sure as hell can't be how much Rafe loves you."

You bite your lip but don't speak, trying to figure out how best to explain your hesitations with the way Rafe's been lacking communication with you. You're concerned, but you don't know how to say that in the right way. Topper groans loudly, throwing his hands up on your shoulders.

"Look, I'm never going to tell you how to feel, okay? About anything except this. I have quite literally thrown up on several occasions that I've been with Rafe because of how sickening it is that he only has eyes for you. It's so annoying. I mean, this one time, we went out for Kelce's birthday, and this super hot girl came up to Rafe and-"

"Topper," you narrow your eyes at him.

"Um, sorry. Anyway, he spent the whole night asking her for advice about you. And she even tried to help him! He wound up getting super drunk when she told him he had to tell you about his feelings, then he fell into the bushes in his front yard-"

"Topper," you repeat, exhaling loudly.

"The point is," he sighs, exasperated, "He loves you more than anyone has ever loved anyone else. I can promise you that. And I know for a fact that if you tell him to come home, he'll be on the next flight out. So, if it really is too hard, you have options."

"I can't tell him that," you shake your head, "It's only about two more weeks. I can handle it."

Topper raises his eyebrow, unsure if you mean that or not. You shrug his hands off you shoulders and start walking into the building, knowing he will follow.

"I think you should at least tell him you're having a lot of trouble."

"I have. We both get frustrated with each other and then cut the call short because we don't want to talk about it."

He swallows, nodding as if he's trying to stall as he thinks of something else to say. Another solution to your situation.

"It's two more weeks," he ultimately decides to agree with you, "You're going to be okay."

You speak with Rafe briefly after Thursday night dinner. Neither of you bring up the distance or the time left in his trip. You merely talk about each other's days, then you tell him that you have a lot of homework and he lets you go.

At dinner, you and Sarah exchange a few glances across the table, but no words. You know you have to address it soon, especially with Rafe's words spinning around in your head. But, tonight is not that night for you.

You and Topper both work Friday night. You're surprised when you walk into work and find Topper already clocked in, sitting at the bar and chatting with Scott, who has a wide smile on his face and a beer bottle in front of him.

"Excuse me," you come up to the boys, bag still on your shoulder, gesturing toward the bottle in your brother's hand, "Who gave you that?"

"Relax, Y/N," Scott laughs, pressing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

You move your glance to Topper, who is also smirking wide, "It's a beer, not a loaded weapon. He's fine."

"He's underage," you correct, "By a lot."

"Relax," Scott says again, "You should have one, too."

"I'm working, you idiot," you roll your eyes, reaching for the bottle. He snatches his hand back, smirking at your failed attempt.

"Come on," Topper pushes you back inside, "Let's at least clock you in so you get paid to harass our customers."

"Scott is not a customer," you remind him, "And why the hell are you letting him drink? You know how I feel about-"

"Yes, I know you want to protect him from everything evil in the world," Topper rolls his eyes, "But, he's celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" you scoff, shoving your bag in your locker.

"He did a really nice thing, and now he's having a beer, like a normal person, to celebrate."

You furrow your eyebrows at your best friend as you tie your apron around your waist, "What the hell did he do?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Topper," you frown, "He's my brother."

"Yeah, and I promised him my mouth is zipped," he says.

You roll your eyes and sigh, then make your way out of the swinging door. You're fully ready to go back outside and fight Scott for his bottle, but when you make it to the door, you spy him sitting at the bar, chatting, drinking, and laughing with Sarah. Your jaw drops as you stare, feeling Topper approach behind you.

"Please, don't rip her hair out," he whispers, "She actually helped Scott with his good deed."

"If you're not going to tell me, I'm going to ask him," you say, meaning for it to sound threatening, but Topper snorts in response.

"Be my guest."

You open the door and rush over to the bar, stopping beside Scott's chair. Both he and Sarah turn to look at you, Sarah giving you a small smile and sipping on her mai tai.

"Are you here to ID us?" Scott snickers, intentionally sucking his beer down just to make you mad, you're sure.

"I want to know what you two are so giddy about," you motion between the two of them, "And what this thing you're celebrating is."

"All in due time, sister," Scott smirks.

You raise your eyebrow at him, then look to Sarah. You almost want to say you'll put the past in the past and she can redeem herself now if she tells you the truth, but that's a big thing and you're not sure it's worth that.

"Sarah?" you try, but she shakes her head.

"Sorry," she smiles, glancing at Scott before she continues, "I've been sworn to secrecy."

"Hey, guys," you hear behind you, spinning to find Kelce approach and sit down at the bar next to Sarah.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him, looking at Topper, who is now standing behind Kelce, patting him on the shoulders.

"I thought-"

"He's thirsty," Topper interrupts him, "Aren't you, Kelce?"

"Yeah, a little," Kelce shrugs, "But, isn't-"

"Shut up," Topper offers, hitting him even harder on the shoulders. Kelce's eyes widen, then he nods.

"Got it!" he says victoriously.

"What are you guys-" you start, but Topper raises his hand and steps over to you.

"I think we both need to check on our tables, huh?" he says, guiding you away from the odd gathering of people at the bar. You look back, finding Scott, Sarah and Kelce all sharing knowing glances.

A hour goes by. You watch the group continue to sit, laugh, and drink, almost as if they're waiting on something. Topper goes over and talks to them every time you're busy with a table, and you start to wonder if it's intentional. Eventually, you're able to corner Topper when he's inside, inputting orders.

"I want to know what's going on," you say.

"Y/N, I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, staring at the screen and biting his lip.

"Cut the shit, Top, come on," you grumble, "Why are they all here? What's going on?"

He sighs and glances at his watch, holding his breath when he sees the time. You watch his shoulders tense up, then he silently finishes inputting his orders. You're about to speak again when he turns to you, taking your hand.

"Come with me."

You frown but do as he says, figuring if it will give you an answer, then you're okay with it. He drags you back out to the bar, stopping once the two of you are standing with Scott, Sarah and Kelce once again.

"About that time," he mumbles to Scott, who nods.

"What time?" you groan.

"Can you not ask so many questions?" Scott groans, "Just enjoy this time with us."

"No," you frown.

"God, sometimes I wonder what Rafe sees in you," he jokes, shoving your shoulder lightly.

"Thanks," you mutter, "Seriously, why am I out here? I have tables-"

"Jess is covering," Topper tells you.

"Why? I'm not splitting tips with her-"

"Oh, my God, please, relax," Scott groans, throwing his head back against his shoulders, "We're trying to do something nice for you, and-"

"Something nice?" you raise an eyebrow, "You think coming to my place of employment, drinking underage, and dragging me away from my tables to chat is being nice? My, God, Scott, you have a really twisted sense of what being nice is-"

"Y/N," Topper stops you, voice gentle, as he flicks his eyes to the other side of the deck.

Your heart drops to your feet. You can barely hear Scott snicker and mutter under his breath, 'finally'. You feel your mouth start to fall open as he drops his duffle bag onto the deck, running a hand through his messy hair. His eyes are tired, and frankly, he looks like he just woke up.

But you've never seen a better sight in your life.

"Oh, my God," you whisper, "Rafe."

You feel as if he's a mile away when you start over to him. He looks hesitant, almost fearful, as you stare at him, like he can't get a read on your expression. Your heart is beating out of your chest; the desperation to feel him, smell him, touch him, completely overwhelming. His eyes never leave yours as you approach, but he speaks once you get closer.

"Sweetheart, please don't be mad. I just couldn't do it anymore, and I heard-"

He stops when you throw your arms around him, tears already spilling as you take him in. Although it's only been two weeks, it feel like a lifetime. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you impossibly closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck and squeezes you as if his life depends on it.

"Oh, my God," you say, sniffling, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I couldn't, baby," he says, and although it doesn't make sense, you know exactly what he's trying to say, "Too hard. Can't lose you."

"Rafe," you say, tears hitting the back of his neck as you squeeze him, "You're crazy. That trip was important-"

"No," he stops you, "You're important. There will be other clients, other trips. Besides, Ward went down there to finish up. Everything is fine."

Your heart melts in your chest as you hear his words, hugging him even tighter. He lifts you up off the ground, listening to you laugh in his ear and swearing it sounds like heaven to him. Everything that mattered five minutes ago means nothing to you, now. It's just you and Rafe.

"I can't believe it," you say when he finally sets you back down, pulling back to look at him, make sure it's really him, "I can't believe you."

"Believe it," he grins, "I got an SOS message from your brother and was on the next flight out."

You turn around in Rafe's arms, finding Scott holding up his beer bottle at you with a smile. You grin and shake your head at him.

"Rafe," you sigh, running your hands up and down his arms, "I don't want you to think I couldn't handle it. I don't want you to have come home and wrecked things because of me."

"Not because of you, sweetheart," he frowns, "For you. You're just going to have to accept the fact that I love you too much to stay away."

You smile up at him, swearing in that moment that you've never been more in love with anyone and you never will be again. He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, giving you a sad smile.

"Speaking of," he continues, "I hear you were having some doubts about my feelings for you."

"No doubts," you shake your head, "Just... hesitations."

"I think those are the same," he smiles, but you can still see a hint of sadness on his face, "Regardless, I obviously screwed up if you're questioning it. So, I'm sorry for being a complete airhead while I was gone. I'd say it won't happen again, but it probably will."

You grin, bringing one hand up to his cheek, "You weren't an airhead."

"A dumbass, then."

"Rafe," you say, voice serious, "I love you. So much."

"I love you so much, too, baby. Promise you that."

He leans down and kisses you, pulling you into his chest once again. When neither of you pull away, you hear the group behind you all start to protest.

"Okay, Cam, there are siblings around," Scott yells from the bar.

Rafe pulls away but doesn't so much as look their way, just smiles down at you. Kelce shouts for you all to join them, most likely wanting to drink with his best friend that he hasn't seen in two weeks.

"It would be totally rude if we left right now, huh?" he asks you quietly, eyeing your lips once more.

"Yes," you nod, "Plus, I'm technically still clocked in."

"I think Marco's going to give you the rest of the night off," Rafe grunts, scanning the deck as if looking for your boss.

"Rafe," you give him a warning glance.

"What?" he asks innocently, "I'm just going to have a word with him."

"Please, don't."

He shakes his head, clearly still not pleased that your boss hadn't given you the time off and made you upset. He reaches down and takes your hand, then grabs his duffle bag off the ground with the other.

"Forty-five minutes. Max," he mutters, guiding you toward the group.

"Thirty," you say back.

"Twenty," he decides, leaning down and kissing the side of your head, "But, you have to sit on my lap the whole time."

"Deal," you grin.

He smiles back down at you, then turns to greet his two best friends. You step over to your brother while Rafe chats with the boys, throwing an arm around his neck.

"You called him home?" you question him.

"It was a split decision. Top, Sarah and I all discussed it."

You flicker your eyes to Sarah, who looks hopeful. You give her a small smile, then turn back to your brother.

"You shouldn't have done that," you say, but you know you don't mean it when you see Rafe with a huge grin spread across his face.

"Yeah, we should've just watched you suffer for two more weeks," Scott rolls his eyes, "Y/N, we all talked to Rafe about it. We tried to be unbiased, just to tell him what was going on with you, but when he heard about the conversation you had with Top, he made his mind up. There was no stopping him. This is what he wants. Stop stressing."

You smile, giving your brother a hug the best you can while he sits on his bar stool. When you glance over to Sarah again, you find her watching you.

"So, you helped get him home?" you ask, your voice gentle.

She nods, "I convinced Ward to switch with him. It really wasn't that difficult."

You're sure she's full of shit, but you don't call her on it. Your eyes flicker up to Rafe, who is watching you speak to Sarah out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank you," you tell her, "That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she smiles.

Rafe pats Topper on the back, moving him out of the way and coming over to you. He leans down, pressing himself against you and whispering in your ear, "Time's up."

"That was not twenty minutes," you say, and then wonder why you're objecting.

"That's correct," he nods, "But, the reason I came home really needs me to kiss her right now, and apparently I can't do that in front of siblings."

You grin, wider than you probably ever have in your life, "I'll go get my bag."

Rafe looks up past you, finding Marco carrying a tray of food out on the deck. His jaw tightens, and so does his grip around you.

"Take your time," he mutters.

You step inside and hurry to the back, clocking out and tucking your apron into your locker. When you walk back out on the deck, Rafe is walking away from Marco, who sports a fearful expression. Rafe smiles when he sees you, reaching out for your hand.

"Let's go home," he says, laying a kiss on your temple before he leads you out of the Club.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @hopebaker @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sk8rcal @ims0golden @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @igotmajordaddyissues @babeyglo @dr3aming0utl0udx @beskar-boba @billowingbanshee @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @layazul @cremextart @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @gillybear17 @notdisneychannel

#r.cameron rec #r.cameron fic

[kookkyra]

yeah it’s fine just rip my heart out

ambivalence part twelve: love is easy - rafe cameron

a/n: hi my sweets! sorry this took so long. i'm so happy to be writing again consistently. hope you love this, please let me know what you think xoxo

Summary: Rafe being away proves harder than he initially planned.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.2k+

series masterlist

my writing

By the time Thursday rolls around, you feel like a zombie of some sort. Getting ready for a dinner you knew Rafe wouldn't be present for made you sad, to the point where you didn't bother getting dressed up in the slightest. It reminded of you of when you first broke up with John B and gave up on trying to look decent. Although, this time, you felt comfort in knowing that Rafe is only a phone call away.

"I'm sure he wishes he was here, too," Scott whispers to you at the table when he catches you staring at the empty chair beside you.

"He's probably golfing," you joke, trying your best to give Scott a convincing smile.

"Oh, God, help those people," he teases. Scott knows Rafe could beat him at a golf game blindfolded, but refuses to admit it.

You smile, then turn back to where your mother is attempting to pass you the casserole dish. You frown, just for a moment, realizing Rafe isn't here to pass to you. You brush off the expression and accept the dish from her, portioning out your food and then handing the dish to Scott. You reach for your phone, which is tucked under your left leg, and check it. No missed messages from Rafe. You sigh lightly, frustrated that you haven't heard from him since this morning. It had been a short 'Goodmorning, busy day, miss you,' text. You try to remind yourself that just because he isn't texting all day doesn't mean he isn't thinking of you, then you type out a new message to him.

I miss you.

"Have you heard from Rafe, Y/N?" Rose asks, attempting to be friendly. Your eyes flutter up to her, tucking your phone away quickly.

"Yes, a bit," you reply with a small smile.

"I bet he's missing you," she grins.

You just nod and smile, then pick up your fork and pick at your food. You can't help noting how your back feels cold without Rafe's arm tucked around your chair, or hand wrapped around your thigh under the table.

"When do you think you'll plan a visit, Y/N?" Ward asks, the same sympathetic voice you'd heard on the tarmac ringing through your ears once again.

"Um, I'm not sure," you say, noting how your voice sounds hoarse.

"Visit? In the Bahamas?" your father speaks up, "Y/N, you're in high school. You're not traveling out of the country to visit a boy, no offense, Ward-"

"No, I understand," Ward nods, gesturing toward Sarah, "It was just something Y/N and I had discussed-"

"Dad, come on-"

"I said no. That's final. Scott, pass the green beans," he mutters.

"Can't we at least discuss a visit? Just a weekend?" you protest, feeling your heart start to race in your chest.

"Not at the table," he counters, leveling you with a glare.

You sigh audibly and collapse back in your chair, glancing at your mom for a look of reassurance and instead finding nothing. You know instantly that she agrees with him. Unbelievable, you think.

You don't say another word at dinner. When the adults rise from the table for their usual wine and chit chat in the living room, you collect a few plates and make your way into the kitchen to start the dishes. As you rinse them off, you think about the night Rafe came in to help you. The night that started all of this, you realize. You're too caught up with the memories and the scrubbing to notice her until she speaks.

"Here's the rest," Sarah speaks slowly, sheepishly setting down a stack of the remaining plates on the counter beside you.

Your eyes flutter up to meet hers, but you don't speak. She stands there awkwardly, hands folding and unfolding on the counter top as she stares at you.

"If you're waiting on a thank you, I wouldn't hold your breath," you remark.

"I'm not."

You nod your head, trying not to roll your eyes. You continue to scrub, trying your best to ignore the fact that she's practically staring holes in the side of your head. After a minute or two, you finally look over at her again.

"Want me to dry?" she asks before you can speak, her voice quiet.

You're taken aback by the offer, noticing only then how she's not wearing any makeup and how tired she looks. Although, you figure you probably look the same. You swallow and silently hand her the plate you'd finished washing, watching as she tries to smile when she accepts it.

"So, how's Rafe doing, being away and all?"

She steps away and tucks the clean, dry plate into the cabinet the same way Rafe had done every time he helped you with the dishes. Envisioning his tall figure opening up your cabinet makes you smile.

"He's your brother," you say. keeping your gaze in the sink.

"We don't talk much," she admits.

"Wonder why."

Sarah sighs and throws her dish towel down on the counter, letting the silence linger for a moment before she speaks again.

"John B broke up with me."

You snap your head up to her, immediately knowing she's telling the truth when you catch her expression. She presses her lips into a line and moves her glance down to the plate in your hand, gesturing for you to hand it to her.

"He broke up with you?" you repeat, eyes wide.

She nods, "Apparently, my behavior at the wedding was less than mature."

You snort, picking up another plate, "That's the understatement of the century."

"You needed to know the truth."

"And that was the best way you thought I should find out?" you raise your voice without meaning to, glancing to the doorway as if to ensure nobody was coming in.

"Y/N-"

"Why are you even in here? I mean, I hope you weren't counting on me to be your shoulder to cry on, just because I've been through a Routledge break-up."

"I wasn't counting on that," she informs you, "I just thought you should know. And, I don't know, I thought, maybe, we could start over-"

"I don't think that's possible at this point."

Sarah goes silent. You raise your plate up in the air, not bothering to make eye contact as she accepts it. You dry one hand off and pull your phone from your back pocket, finding no messages from Rafe. You try not to be hurt by that, although you'd do anything to hear his voice right now.

"I just thought, you know, Rafe loves you, and my parents talk about you all the time-"

"So, what?" you groan, "You think you can come in here and dry off a few plates and we'll be even?"

"I just thought-"

"Well, don't," you snap at her, grabbing the rest of the dishes and setting them in the sink before you shut off the water and storm out of the kitchen, leaving Sarah alone.

Between your dad saying no to a trip to visit Rafe, not hearing from Rafe all day, and now Sarah bringing up the past, you just feel too overwhelmed to do anything. Your parents don't say a word when you hurry through the living room and up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door for full effect.

You collapse on your bed, phone ringing in your pocket. Quickly, you pull it out, not sparing a split second when you see Rafe's goofy contact picture smiling at you.

"Hey," you greet, plastering a smile on your face even though he can't see you.

"Hi, sweetheart," he replies, voice loud because of the background noise.

"Where are you?" you wince when someone on Rafe's end cheers loudly in the background.

"Oh, I'm just - hey, man, you promised you'd wait - no! Five minutes! Tequila!"

"Tequila?" you repeat, "Who are you with?"

"Baby, I'm crushing it down here," he says, his voice louder in the phone as he holds it closer to his mouth, trying to prevent the guys he's with to hear, "Yes, tequila, but it's business."

"I'm glad you're doing well," you say, voice weak.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to check in. But, I actually have to - I'll be right there!"

"You should go," you frown.

"Anything pressing I should know about?" he asks, although his voice is chirpy, so you know he can't tell you're upset.

"No," you lie, keeping your voice light, "Nothing."

For half a second, you think Rafe knows better. You think he might stop, step outside, and ask what's going on.

"Okay. Call you tomorrow," he says quickly.

You take a deep breath, withholding your sigh, "Okay."

The sound in the phone muffles, and you hear a faint, 'Jesus, Cameron!', on the other end. You can hear Rafe's voice after, but can't make out what he says.

"All right, sweetheart," he comes back after a minute, "Love you."

"Love you, too," your voice is strained, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Okay, bye."

You groan and throw your phone down on the bed, wishing more than anything you could just call him back and tell him everything. But, you know he's working, even if he is drinking, and the last thing you want to do is get in his way when he seems to be doing so well down there.

Just as you start to doze off, you hear the Camerons exit the house. Minus your favorite one, of course.

"Oh, thank God you're here. Marco has me on way too many tables and we're down a busser again. I have had it, I swear, and if I wasn't going to college a million miles away, I would quit."

Topper follows you into the locker room, noting your expression and your silence in response to his rant. You open your locker and shove your bag inside, busying yourself with tying your apron to avoid his lingering stare.

"Okay, you realize he's not dead, right? Just away for work," Topper remarks. You send up a glare, knotting the last tie on your apron.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just - I don't know. The look on your face. You look upset, so I just assumed it was Rafe."

"You assumed Rafe upset me?" you challenge, raising an accusing brow at him.

"Okay, let's dial back the attitude for a minute," he holds his hands up in defense, "And start over. What's going on with you?"

You frown, "I'm sorry. Last night was just..."

"Oh, God," Topper says after you trail off, "Fill me in. But do it quick."

"All right. My dad forbid me from going to visit Rafe, then Sarah asked if we could start over-"

"What?"

"-then, Rafe called, and I was upset, and he was at a bar, or something, and I barely got to talk to him. He's busy all the time down there. I barely hear from him, and when I do, the calls and texts are short. I don't want to be that needy girlfriend, y'know, but I miss him."

Topper's mouth is hanging halfway open by the time you finish, and you watch as he struggles to figure out which part of that to respond to first.

"Wow," Topper says after a minute, "I'm gonna get you a mai tai. Hang tight."

"No, Top," you reach out, grabbing his arm to keep him still, "I don't want a drink. I just want-"

"Rafe," he finishes, "I figure. I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sure he's just wrapped up in the clients and the pressure from his dad. He would never intentionally brush you off."

"I know that," you argue, "I mean, jeez, Top, it's been less than a week and I already feel like I'm falling apart without him. This is crazy."

"You're starting to sound like Rafe himself. Do you remember when you and your family went to California last summer on vacation? You were gone for two weeks, and he acted like he was going to check himself into a mental institution. I really thought he was gonna book a flight out there."

"I didn't know that," you say quietly.

"All I'm saying is, you're not crazy or whatever for missing your boyfriend. And I'm sure he misses you just the same."

You nod your head, smiling slightly when he sets his hand on your arm to comfort you. He gives you a small smile in return.

"Thanks, Top."

"Tell me more about Sarah, now," he insists, watching as you smile and shake your head.

"You should've seen the look on her face when I told her I wanted nothing to do with her."

"You don't even understand how much money I would pay to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation," he grins.

"You should've taken my place," you roll your eyes.

"Mhm. Come on, we gotta get out there," he places his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around toward the door.

Later on in your shift, once everything slows down, you spy your boss in his office. You swallow and approach the door, silently repeating your request over and over in your head to try and perfect it. He moves his glance up to you when you enter, taking off his reading glasses.

"Hey, Marco," you greet him, trying to keep your voice friendly.

"What can I do for you, Y/N?"

You take a deep breath, "Um, well, so, my boyfriend - he's on an extended business trip for his job. Anyway, I was hoping to go visit him and I was hoping to get next weekend off so I can fly down there and-"

"That's a little short notice," he frowns, "What days will you need off?"

"Thursday to Sunday," you say quickly.

"The weekend is our busiest time, you know that. And Hannah already requested off that weekend, we're gonna be down a hostess, I really don't think that's going to be possible."

You feel your anxiety start to rise, feeling the same way you felt at dinner with your dad last night. You thought that if you could convince Marco to let you have the time off, you could handle your dad, too. But, now, you're feeling as if everything's spinning out of control.

"Okay, I understand. The following weekend, then? That's more notice-"

"It won't work, either. Maggie and Ben are both off, so I'm going to have to have you and Topper working doubles as it is. I'm sorry, Y/N, but requests off are first come, first serve. I wish I could help."

He doesn't look like he means what he says, as he straightens his back in his chair and puts his glasses on again. You frown, swallowing the lump in your throat as you back out of the office. You're trying to keep yourself calm as best you can, but every part of you just wants to cry. And call Rafe.

You wipe underneath your eyes as you exit the back again, spotting Topper instantly. He drops what he's doing and comes over to you, no goofiness present on his voice.

"What's wrong?" he asks, voice gentle.

"Marco just informed me that it's impossible for me to go see Rafe," you say, feeling the tears starting to well in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he says, pulling you into his chest. You let the tears fall, just for a moment, then pull back.

"I have to check on my tables," you tell him, pulling away and wiping your eyes as you walk off.

"Y/N," he calls after you, "It's gonna be fine."

You just nod, no part of you believing him. It certainly didn't feel like everything would be fine. You still have three weeks to go before Rafe comes home, and you're already feeling as if your world is coming down. To make matters worse, you'd barely heard from him today, either.

Your parents call for you when you walk in the house, finding you looking like a mess. Your bag is hanging off your shoulder, ready to fall to the floor, and your eyes are red from crying on your way home. Your mom frowns but doesn't discuss it, and your dad doesn't seem to notice.

"What?" you ask them, not bothering with the formalities.

"Good day?" she questions you, eyebrow raised so far up it's practically in the air.

"My boss denied my request for time off, and a customer yelled at me for not bringing him Diet Coke. Great day," you mutter, voice sarcastic.

"Why were you trying to get time off?" your dad asks.

"Um," you hesitate, looking down at the floor, "To go see Rafe."

"Y/N," he frowns, "I thought I told you that wouldn't be happening. You're not going to the Bahamas, unsupervised-"

"Thanks for reiterating, Dad, but I'm really tired of people telling me that."

"There's no need to be disrespectful," he snaps.

"I'm going upstairs."

"I'm sorry, honey," your mom says, voice quiet, "But, your dad's right. You're still in high school. But don't get us wrong, you know we love Rafe-"

"Yeah, I get it," you say, already halfway up the stairs, "Thanks so much."

The second your bedroom door closes, you dial Rafe. The line rings once, twice, three times, before you hear his voicemail message. You can't believe his voicemail is the most you've heard his voice today. You hang up before leaving a message, not wanting to tell him this over the phone.

An hour goes by before he finally calls you back. It's FaceTime, rather than just a phone call. You frown at the time, ready to go to sleep and not wanting to have this conversation with him, now. Getting yourself all worked up again sounds like hell.

"Hi," you greet, quickly glancing at yourself to ensure you don't look like a total mess.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, looking tan and happy, "How are you?"

You try your best to give him a smile, letting his voice comfort you, "I'm good."

Rafe frowns quickly, giving you a pouty look, "You're lying. Is something wrong?"

"No," you say quickly, groaning when his frown only deepens, "Rafe."

"Rafe, what? I'm not the one lying. What's going on with you? I feel like we haven't talked in a bit. Tell me what's up."

"You're saying that like it's my fault we haven't spoken," you say before you can help yourself, sitting up in bed.

"Are you saying it's mine?"

"I don't know," you look away from him, not able to watch his blue eyes soften in the camera. He sits up, too, expression completely transformed from what it had been when you picked up.

"Talk to me," he insists. You're surprised when all you see on his face is concern.

"Rafe, I-"

You stop abruptly, letting the silence linger for a moment. He shifts again, squirming out of anxiety for whatever you have to tell him.

"Sweetheart, if you don't start talking soon, I'm getting on a plane," he says, and although you know he's joking, he looks serious.

"No, it's fine," you say quickly, "I just have to tell you something."

"Okay," he says slowly.

"So, last night at dinner, my dad caught wind of the fact that I'm trying to come see you and-"

"And he said no," Rafe finishes for you, frowning.

"Yeah," you nod, looking down again, "And then, today, I asked Marco for time off, and he basically told me it was impossible and I got really upset-"

"Marco made you cry?" he says urgently, shifting yet again.

"Top was there," you say, as if that's supposed to make it better.

"There to comfort you," he guesses.

"What?"

"Nothing," he mutters, "So, you aren't coming."

It's a statement, not a question. You sigh, taking a deep breath before you nod. Rafe swears under his breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. You stay quiet, not knowing what to say.

"There's no way you can convince your dad? Like, no way he's budging?"

You shake your head, "My parents are both in agreement."

"And you didn't think to request the time off with your boss before today?"

You note the annoyance in his voice, crinkling your nose up at it. He watches as your eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Rafe."

"You don't know that for a fact."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, replaying your conversation with Marco in your head to be sure. All of those people who had requested off, you're sure it wouldn't have mattered.

"I'm sorry," your voice is weak.

"I just don't understand," he says after a minute, "I mean, I thought we were good to go, and it's been less than a week and I feel like I have no idea what's going on with you, and Topper's comforting you because I'm not there."

"Okay, well, I barely hear from you, so it's hard to keep you updated when you're calling me from loud bars and not returning texts for hours," you inform him, watching his lips part before you continue, "And what does Top have to do with any of this?"

"Nothing, all right?" he groans, "And, I'm sorry about last night. You just texted me saying you missed me and I wanted to call you. Maybe I shouldn't have."

"What does that mean?" you ask, accusation heavy in your voice.

"Shit, no, I just mean, maybe I should've waited until I got back to call," he covers, and you watch as he visibly swallows.

"It would've been late."

He doesn't respond to this, just frowns. The call goes silent for a minute, both of you staring around your respective rooms instead of at each other. You want to ask if he's mad at you, if he's as frustrated with this situation as you are.

"Baby," he says, finally, earning your attention, "Is there anything else?"

"I yelled at your sister," you volunteer, watching his eyes go wide.

"You did what?" he questions, scooting the phone closer to his face.

"She came into the kitchen while I was doing the dishes and told me that John B broke up with her-"

"What?"

"-and then asked if we could start over, and I was so frustrated because my dad had just said no to me, and I hadn't heard from you, and I snapped at her and walked out."

He shuts his eyes as he processes your words, "She was trying to make amends with you, and you shut her down?"

Out of all the things you thought Rafe would say, that's not one of them. You open your mouth to speak, then close it when you realize you don't know what to say. You think for a moment, then start again.

"It's Sarah, Rafe-"

"So, what? She's not worth redemption? Is that what you would've thought about me back in February, if you had known?"

"Whoa, what?" you say, practically gasping at him, "Why would you go there?"

"Why would you? I know a lot about second chances, Y/N, and although my sister can be the biggest bitch on the planet, she deserves one just as much as the rest of us."

His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched, but he's moving around too much in the camera for you to tell much more about his expression. You take a deep breath, trying not to screw this up any more than you already have.

"I didn't mean it like that, Rafe. Of course, I believe in second chances. I just didn't know if she meant it."

He pauses, considering your words before he speaks again, "I get that."

His voice is quiet and he doesn't say any more than that. You lay down again in your bed, your gut telling you that this phone call is going nowhere. When you don't speak after a moment, he starts again.

"I have an early meeting in the morning. I should get some rest."

"Rafe," you stop him, watching his eyes move back to the screen, back to you, "I don't want to leave it like this."

"Like what?" he's playing dumb and you know it.

"You're frustrated with me," you inform him, as if he's not already aware.

"I'll get over it."

You frown, "I'm sorry I can't come. Believe me, I want to see you more than anything in the world."

"It is what it is, Y/N."

No baby. No sweetheart. No smile. You swallow the lump in your throat once again, getting tired of doing so.

"Okay," you say weakly.

"I'll text you tomorrow," he says, shifting in his bed and reaching for his charger, no longer paying attention to you.

"Okay," you repeat, quieter this time.

"All right," he counters, glancing at you once his charger is in, "Goodnight."

Your tears start to well when he doesn't say he loves you, which he always does when you two are starting to hang up. You pause and take a deep breath, then try it for yourself.

"I love you," you practically whisper.

"I love you, too. Goodnight."

The phone disconnects before you can speak again, but you breathe in his last words before throwing your phone down on the bed. If someone would've told you a week ago that this would be how you feel now, you wouldn't have believed them. You fall asleep, cursing your boss and your father, missing Rafe more than anything in the world and wishing he was wrapped around you entirely.

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#r.cameron rec #r.cameron fic

[kookkyra]

MY WHOLE HEART

ambivalence part eleven: devilish - rafe cameron

a/n: HELLO. im so glad to be back. this is all fluff but i can't wait to hear your thoughts!!! enjoy!

Summary: Rafe really, really doesn't want to leave his girl.

Warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos, underage drinking, kissing

series masterlist

my writing

Sunday night comes quickly. You and Rafe had been tangled up in your bed, chatting about what to get for dinner and how he would need a haircut when he comes back because he only trusts his barber. That lasted for all of half an hour, when Topper and Kelce showed up on your doorstep to kidnap him. Rafe had griped and grumbled, saying he wasn't going out with them, but Topper did not take no for an answer.

It had taken the boys forty-five minutes to get Rafe up and in Topper's Jeep, and Topper had to bribe you twenty bucks to help out. Rafe had kissed you about fifty times before getting into the car, promising he would only have a few drinks and then would come back after for a late dinner. You agreed, even though you knew what would happen.

Which is how you find yourself climbing into your car at ten-thirty, after getting a phone call from an extremely drunk Rafe, begging you to come to the Club because 'he just needed to see you'. You heard Topper in the background calling Rafe pussy-whipped, yet demanding that you show up.

You find it weird walking through your place of employment in shorts and one of Rafe's t-shirts, but that feeling goes away when you see your three drunk boys at the bar outside, screaming and hollering over some football game playing on the TV. Rafe's always been a sucker for Sunday night football.

"Top, what did you do to my boyfriend?" you question as you approach, noting the way Rafe is almost barely conscious, supporting his head with his hand as he leans on the bar.

"Nothing!" Topper protests, shoving Rafe off of his hand.

"Oh, my God," he stands up straight, slurring his words slightly and then looking over at you, "It's my girl. My pretty girl."

You smile but roll your eyes, groaning loudly when he slams all of his body weight onto you and wraps himself up in you. It takes all your strength to hold him up, but it's helpful when he immediately starts pressing his lips into your neck and jawline.

"I missed you, God," he continues, "You came all the way here for me? I love you."

Topper groans at Rafe, lightly shoving his back. It's enough for Rafe to shuffle, almost losing his balance but regaining it when you push on him and steady him.

"You promised you were coming for dinner," you tease him, rubbing his back as he maneuvers his mouth down your neck, pulling your (his) shirt off your shoulder to kiss your collarbones.

"Sorry," he slurs once more, then stands up straight and gasps when he looks at you, "Did you eat, sweetheart? I'll get you somethin'- hey, Tucker-"

"No, Rafe," you laugh, pulling his head back down so he's looking at you, "I ate. I'm fine. I'm just here to take you home."

"Hmm, no," he decides.

"No?"

"No," he nods, as if it's a complete thought, "I would not like to go there."

"Very formal," you tease him, "Why not?"

"I'm staying with my girlfriend."

"Oh, okay," you nod.

"Yeah. She's really hot. Wanna see a picture?"

"What?" you furrow your eyebrows, staring at him like he's lost his mind.

He leans down, holding his hand up like he's telling you a secret, "I know it's you, sweetheart. I'm not that drunk."

You roll your eyes, "Okay, great. Why don't you sit and I'll get you some water, yeah?"

He shakes his head to say 'no', while simultaneously allowing you to lead him over to a bar stool. He sits down, quickly pulling you in between his legs.

"Hi," he whispers.

"Hi, Rafe," you smile.

"Can I tell you something?"

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to decide how best to answer that question. You're almost afraid of what he could possibly say. Topper sits down on the bar stool next to Rafe, listening intently like he also wants to hear the secret. Kelce cheers, the only person still watching the game.

"Yes."

"I like you."

You laugh, running a hand through his hair and scratching his scalp with your nails. He closes his eye under your touch, happy smile plastered on his face.

"Gross, dude," Topper grunts, sipping more of his beer.

"Just like?" you raise an eyebrow, watching his blue eyes flutter open once more.

"Yes - no."

"Oh, that clears it right up," you say sarcastically, watching as he groans in frustration.

"You're my girlfriend."

"Yes, that's true."

"Do you like me?"

You laugh once again, then lean into him and peck him on the lips. It takes him a second to respond, longer than it usually does, but he kisses you back and wraps his arms around your waist.

"I love you, Rafe," you smile, heart melting at the way his eyes light up and his smile only widens.

"Me?" he gasps.

"Yes, you."

"Holy shit - Top, guess what?" Rafe leans forward, reaching past you to hit his best friend on the arm.

"She fucking loves you, probably," he replies, looking irritated he has to listen to the two of you.

"She loves me!" he exclaims, "You told me I didn't have a shot."

"You didn't, then," Topper reminds him. You frown, not wanting to reminisce about all this.

"Fuck you, bro," Rafe snaps, hitting Topper on the arm again.

Rafe's words are loud, earning a glare from a few other people at the bar. You step in front of him, setting both your hands on his shoulders and watching as his drunk eyes drag their way up to yours.

"Okay, baby, you gotta keep it down," you say, scratching aimlessly on his shoulders. He hums and smiles at the nickname, nodding in agreement to whatever you had said. You turn and ask Tucker, the bartender, for some water.

"I don't want to go to the fucking Bahamas."

You turn back to Rafe, who is sporting a pouty look. You smile slightly at his words, having been thinking the same thing in your head. He grabs ahold of your hips again, pulling you back toward him.

"You're going to do great things," you encourage him, watching as he frowns.

"If I settle for mediocre things can I stay here with you?" he questions, watching as you laugh.

"No settling, Cameron."

"But," he stops, letting out a hiccup, "I'm afraid, baby."

"Of?" you raise a brow, reaching behind you and smacking Topper without turning around when he continues to groan at you two.

"Of- that, if I leave you," he stops again, thinking, another hiccup, then continues, "You'll be like, 'Oh, I don't want him anymore', and all of this will go away because I'm the dumbass who couldn't look Ward Cameron in the - in his eyes and tell him to go on his fucking trip, you know what I'm saying?"

His admittance is messy and he stutters it out terribly, but you nod your head, trying to hide your frown. You know these are real feelings, yet you also know he won't remember your response tomorrow. You make a mental note to remind him again before he leaves.

"I know what you're saying," you nod, watching him mimic your movement, "But, that's not going to happen. I love you-"

"Come with me."

"Rafe," you sigh.

"C'mon, baby, you can do, like, online school or whatever. And I'll give you money and shit for the work you'll miss-"

"That's illegal," Topper shoves his head into your conversation, "To pay her to have sex with you. Bro, do better."

"Shut the fuck up," Rafe shoves Topper's face away.

"Rafe, you leave in the morning. I can't give my notice to my boss or notify my school-"

"I'll take care of your fucking boss," he stands up quickly, grabbing the bar for balance when he realizes he's more dizzy than he thought.

"Okay, tough guy, sit down," you laugh, pushing him back into the chair, "I can't go with you for a million other reasons. I would love to, but I can't."

"Fine," he grunts, "I gotta take a piss."

"Such a gentleman," you tease him, helping him stand back up again, "Need help?"

"Baby girl, as much as I would enjoy you going into the bathroom with me, we probably wouldn't come out for a while and I think people would get mad."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head at his dirty mind. He grins, then stumbles off in the direction of the bathrooms. You tell yourself that if he's not back in five minutes, you'll send Topper after him.

"It's disgusting how in love with you he is," Topper says, setting his bottle down and facing you.

"Thanks."

Topper just nods, eyes training back up on the game. You look over at him with hesitant eyes, wanting to ask him some questions you've had for a while, but not really knowing how. You're not sure if you want the full truth.

"What?" he groans, "I can tell you want something, what is it?"

"I've just been wondering," you start off, earning a roll of the eyes from him.

"That's never good."

"No, Top, seriously," you say, watching as he reluctantly turns to you, "Did you know? About the coke?"

His face falls, gaze moving to his bottle, "No. I noticed a change, yeah, but I never suspected it was that. I thought it was just that you were dating JB."

"Oh," you frown.

"Y/N," Topper sighs, "Rafe loves the hell out of you, I think you know that. And he's in a really good place right now. But, y'know, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. He was pretty messed up about things for a while. He's the guy that loves with his entire heart, but he was too afraid to show it until you showed real interest in him. I've been in love before, but never like that. You're like, endgame for him. I would know, he hasn't shut the fuck up about you all night."

You grin, "Really?"

"Holy shit, yes. It's all you, all the time with him. I want to remind him that I know you like the back of my hand, too, but I'm afraid he'll beat the shit out of me."

"He would never," you protest.

You glance up, finding Rafe stumbling out the door and back onto the deck. He grins when he sees you, acting like he wasn't expecting you to be here.

"But, he's good now, right?" you ask Topper quickly, urging his answer before Rafe can come all the way back.

"I think so. Shit like that never totally goes away, but the last thing he would do is fuck things up with you. Don't sweat it."

You nod, smiling when Rafe reaches you and throws his arms around your neck, "Hi, baby."

"Hi," you grin.

"Can we go home now? I have had too much tequila and not enough cuddles."

"Oh, my fucking God, take him home right now," Topper says loudly, glaring at Rafe.

"Dude, shut-"

"I'm gonna miss you, bro," Topper stops him, setting a hand on Rafe's shoulder, "I'll see you in a month."

"All right, Top," Rafe nods, pulling Topper in for a hug.

"You sure Top and I can't come to the Bahamas?" Kelce questions Rafe, standing up to give him a hug.

"Fuck no," Rafe says immediately.

"You invited Y/N," Topper points out.

"Yeah, my girlfriend wouldn't get a ticket for public intoxication and exposing herself by peeing on a tree."

"One time, Cameron. Let it go."

"What happened?" you speak up, eyebrows raised at your boyfriend.

"Nothing," Topper says immediately.

"Come on, pretty girl. My gorgeous girl. Let's go home."

"Y/N, seriously. Get him out of here," Topper begs you.

"All right, we're going. See you at school," you tell Topper, giving Kelce a pat on the back as Rafe starts dragging you toward the exit.

"Can't believe you came here," he gushes on the walk back, "You're so pretty. Is that my shirt?"

"Yes, it is. Watch out, Rafe," you say, tugging on his hand to move him out of the way of a parked car.

"Oops," he mumbles, stumbling and regaining his balance.

"You drank about half the bar, huh?" you tease him.

You reach your car and help Rafe lean against it while you fumble to pull your keys out of your purse. He starts fiddling with your hair while you're occupied, twirling it around his fingers.

"I'm fine," he says.

"Sure. Come on, wild child," you grab ahold oh his arm, helping him into the passenger seat.

"Wild child?" he questions quietly, focusing hard on moving properly so he can prove to you he's fine.

"Careful, watch your head," you tell him.

"I'm not four, Y/N," he reminds you, "But, I love that you care about me, sweetheart."

You smile, pulling his seat belt forward and handing it to him. He takes it from you and then holds up his hand, using his finger to motion you to come to him. He kisses you, holding your chin to keep you pressed to him.

"You're so pretty," he says again when he pulls away, drunk smile stealing your heart.

"Thank you."

Once he's buckled in, you hustle around and climb into the drivers seat, starting up the car and hurrying away from the Club. Rafe reaches over and hits the bluetooth button, connecting his phone and turning his music on right away.

"You know," Rafe looks over at you, and when you see the look on his face, you know whatever he has to say is probably going to be cheeky. He hiccups, swallowing before he speaks again, "You're going to have to send me pictures while I'm away."

"Pictures?"

"Yes, baby. Pictures."

You throw your head back when you realize what he means, shaking your head as he laughs, turning up the music.

"I'm gonna need them when I-"

"Rafe," you stop him with a warning glance, looking over at him for a second before looking back to the road.

"It's natural. I can't help it. Especially with you."

"You're cute," you smile, giving him your hand.

"Hm, I know."

"And cocky, apparently."

"Please don't say that word. I'm horny."

You laugh, tightening your grip around his hand. He smiles at you, looking at you with such adoration you have to look away before it drives you too crazy.

When you get back to your house, Rafe insists he's fine to get himself out of the car and up to the house. He promises to be 'extra quiet' once you unlock the front door, but winds up tripping on the steps and almost falls. Luckily, he catches himself on the doorframe, steadying himself and only swearing loud enough for you to hear.

The stairs are more of a challenge, since the house is dark. You use your phone to light up the stairs for him, reminding him that your parents will kill you both if they find out Rafe's staying the night.

He collapses in your bed, finally, closing his eyes when the room starts spinning.

"You okay?" you ask, crawling in bed beside him.

"Peachy," he mumbles out.

"Can't believe you're leaving tomorrow," you say quietly, attaching your lips to his jaw.

"Hm, that feels good," he moans, "Keep going."

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whisper, moving along his jaw and down his neck. He moans again, low and deep, telling you you're really getting to him.

"What the fuck am I going to do without you?"

You smile, continuing your pursuit down his neck. You both sit in silence for a bit, his moans being the only noise made. You worry after a while that he's fallen asleep, so you stop and look up at him. He just groans. You press a kiss to his lips, watching his eyes pop open.

"Baby, please don't take this the wrong way."

"What is it?"

"I have to throw up, now."

He rises from the bed and practically runs to your bathroom, only closing the door halfway before he throws up. You sigh and lay back on your bed, knowing you're in for a long night.

By the time Rafe's alarm goes off, you both have barely gotten any sleep. He'd been up half the night throwing up, and the other half moaning and groaning about how shitty he feels. You feel as though you've been taking care of a five-year old all night.

"Why the fuck did I go out last night?" Rafe grumbles, voice muffled by the pillow he's shoved his face into, "Babe, please turn the alarm off. I'm about to throw my phone out the window."

"I got it," you grunt, rolling on top of him and grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

The second you hit snooze, Rafe sighs in satisfaction. You remain on top of him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Even though you're grumpy because he kept you up, you're really sad that he's leaving and you're trying your best to settle the pit in your stomach.

"I don't think I can get up," he moans.

"Yes, you can."

"I've never been this sick in my life."

"That's dramatic, Rafe."

He exhales, like he's annoyed, then attempts to roll over. You shift your body, letting him lay on his back, smiling lightly when he pulls you on top of him again. His eyes are squinted and his hair is a mess, and it's way too early in the morning for you to look decent, either. But, something about him just makes you smile.

"You look beautiful," he whispers, almost like he had been reading your mind.

"You're still drunk," you tease.

He rolls his eyes, morning voice filling your ears, "I think your toilet has seen everything I've consumed for the past forty-eight hours. I'm not still drunk."

"Again, dramatic."

He groans, moving one of his arms behind his head and the other running up and down your shoulder. With the expression on his face, you wonder if he even knows he's making the affectionate motion.

"I don't want to leave you."

You nod, knowing he means it. You bring a hand up to his cheek, stroking his skin with the base of your thumb, "I know. Should we have another heart-to-heart, like last night?"

"Oh, God," he groans, "What did I say?"

"Nothing," you shrug, but he knows better, "Come on. You're going to be late."

You try to roll over and stand up, but Rafe doesn't let you. He grabs ahold of your hips, leading you right back to where you started.

"Don't care."

"You should, your dad will be waiting."

"Fuck," he sighs, "You're coming to the tarmac with me, right?"

"Only if you're not late," you hope to motivate him, "I have school."

"All right, all right," he grumbles, "Up you go, sweetheart."

You stand, helping him up and making sure he's okay. He doesn't look great - he looks hungover - but you figure he'll look better once he's showered and dressed. Even though you'd put him under a time crunch, he doesn't seem too worried about getting a move on.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, "About last night. Getting so drunk and all that. Thanks for taking care of me."

You nod, giving him a smile, "You're welcome. I like Drunk Rafe."

"That's concerning," he mutters, leaning down and giving you a kiss on your forehead.

He breaks away from you after a minute, walking into your bathroom. He doesn't bother closing the door, which doesn't surprise you, as he pops some aspirin, brushes his teeth, and then strips for his shower.

You work around each other like a well-oiled machine; you getting in the shower when Rafe gets out, him moving over so you can do your makeup in the mirror while he does his hair. It's your first time having a real morning together, and yet, it feels like you two have done it a million times. After many forehead kisses, bickering over what shirt Rafe should wear to make a good impression when he lands, and Rafe telling you not to wear those leggings to school, he zips up his bag and reaches for your hand. You can tell he's still feeling awful, but you're glad he's done throwing up.

You drive him to the tarmac, both because he's hungover and because he didn't have his truck, listening to him groan about his headache and about his trip.

"I'm nervous," he declares.

"So I've heard."

"Shit, what did I say last night?" he groans, throwing his head back on the seat.

"I told you, that's between me and Drunk Rafe," you smile, reaching for his hand. He gladly accepts, folding his fingers around yours like he's done it a million times before.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he mumbles, absentmindedly stroking his thumb against the top of your hand.

"Stop apologizing," you say quietly, glancing over at him. You press on the brakes to brace for the red light ahead.

"C'mere," he whispers, holding his head above the console to signal he wants a kiss.

You smile and lean into him, kissing him until the green light reflects off of his tan skin and signals for you to move once again. He whines when you pull away, but reluctantly relaxes into his seat. His head hangs against the seat rest for the remainder of the ride, and you can tell he's anxiously playing out how the next month of both of your lives will play out.

As the tarmac grows into sight, you can feel your chest start to tighten. The thought of letting Rafe get on that plane and not be a quick ride down the road feels like the scariest thing in the world to you - which makes you reflect on how you never would've felt this way about Rafe leaving two months ago. You know you probably wouldn't have cared. Which only upsets you further.

You park your car beside Ward's, both of you glancing at him through the window. He climbs out of the vehicle, phone pressed to his ear and holding his finger up to his son.

"Shit, I don't want to get out," Rafe says to you, grip tightening around your hand.

"It's going to be fine," you assure him, "And I'll be right here when you come home."

He smiles slightly at your words, biting his lip to try and hide it, "Promise me."

You actively try not to roll your eyes at his words, "I promise you, Rafe Cameron."

"God, I love you," he grins, leaning over to kiss you once more.

"I love you," you reply when he pulls away.

Rafe glances out the windshield and finds Ward waving to him, signaling him that he has to get a move on. Rafe groans, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss before he untangles his fingers from yours.

"You should get to school, baby," he tells you, opening his door a crack.

"I have some time. I'll watch you take off."

He smiles, then nods his head and signals for you to get out of the car with him. He grabs his bag from the backseat and then struts around the car, engulfing you in a hug before you can even process his movement.

"I love you so much," he repeats his words, desperate to hear them from you in person once more before he leaves.

"Do you really?" you tease him, gripping the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to get him closer to you. He couldn't get closer if he tried.

"Not funny."

He runs his hand through your hair, inhaling your familiar and comforting scent. You can feel his breath against the top of your head, and as odd as it is, it comforts you.

"I love you, too," you tell him, feeling him relax under the words.

"You better."

"Rafe, time to roll," Ward tells him, a hint of sympathy in his voice. You're surprised, never having heard that tone from Ward in your life.

"Yes, sir," Rafe mumbles, not moving from you.

"Rafe," you say quietly to him, urging him to listen. He pulls back just enough to see your face.

"Give me a kiss," he demands.

You do just that, standing up on your tip-toes and grabbing ahold of his jaw as you press a kiss to his lips. You know he wants it to be longer, but with his dad watching, he backs off after a moment.

"Right here, one month," he says, breathless when he pulls away, "And you'll let me know about a visit."

"Yes, I will," you confirm.

"Okay," he drops his arms from around you, a sad exhale following closely, "Love you."

"Love you more," you whisper.

"Not possible," he shakes his head, and although you want to argue, you're sure he's right.

He nods his head, as if urging himself to walk away, and then turns to his dad. They talk for a moment, then shake hands, and Rafe steps toward the jet. You cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to suppress any emotions threatening to come up.

"I have to tell you," Ward steps over beside you, both of you watching Rafe walk off, "I owe this to you, I'm sure. I've seen a complete one-eighty in him in the last month. I'm proud of him."

"Me, too," you nod, "But, it's not me, Mr. Cameron. It's all him."

Ward shakes his head, "He had it in him, yes, but it never would've come out if it weren't for you. I know he didn't want to go."

You're not entirely sure what to say, and your focus is more on Rafe than Ward. He hands his bag to one of the guys working, then turns and blows you a kiss. You wave shyly, not wanting to do anything other than that given that you're standing beside his dad.

You watch as he starts up the steps to get into the jet, turning around once more to get one final look at you. You press the tips of your fingers to your lips and blow him a kiss discreetly, watching as he presses a hand to his heart and watches you for a second before he turns and disappears inside.

"I appreciate you giving him another chance, Mr. Cameron," your voice is quiet when you speak again, keeping your gaze on the jet.

"He's my son, Y/N," Ward reasons, "He'll always have another chance with me. But, with you, I'm not sure he's going to need it. He's making all the right decisions lately."

"He's a good man," you agree.

The jet starts moving after a few minutes, taking the person you love the most with it. As you watch it lift off the ground and enter the air, you can't help but feel the tears start to come. You hold them down, swallowing your emotions for when you're away from Ward.

"Are you planning on visiting?" Ward asks, both of you watching the jet.

"Yes," you say quickly, realizing how you miss him already and can't imagine not going to see him.

"Just let me know," he speaks, "I'll arrange the flight."

"Thank you."

Once the jet is completely gone, Ward turns to you, "Are you all right to get to school?"

You nod, "Yes, sir. Thanks for letting me see him off."

He sets his hand on your bicep, "Anything you need. I'll see you Thursday for dinner."

You agree, watching as he relinquishes his hand and then steps to his car again. He climbs inside and waits for you to do the same, then turns it on and drives away from the now empty tarmac. You turn on your car as well, but moving it seems like the biggest job in the world. You look over to the seat Rafe had just occupied, wishing so hard he was still there. The tears come in no time, flooding down your cheeks and hitting your leggings - the ones Rafe had picked out as appropriate.

Knowing Rafe would kill you if you were late to school because of him, you collect yourself and put the car in drive, relying on Topper to get you through the first day of all of this. You find him the second you get to school, sunglasses tucked on his face to cover his hangover. He envelops you in a hug the second he sees your condition, walking you to class and picking you up after.

You get a text from Rafe around lunch time, one that makes you smile and cry at the same time.

Hey, baby. Just landed. Miss you too much already. Please let me know when you're coming. I love you so much.

Taglist: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd@the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @hopebaker @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sk8rcal @ims0golden @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @igotmajordaddyissues @babeyglo @dr3aming0utl0udx @beskar-boba @billowingbanshee @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @layazul @cremextart @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @notdisneychannel @gillybear17 @intoccabilesworld

#r.cameron rec #r.cameron fic

[kookkyra]

obsessed with this i loved it so much

ambivalence part ten: numb to the feeling - rafe cameron

a/n: i know, i know i said a break. but i forgot i already had this done. hope you enjoy xoxo let me know your thoughts! also i couldn’t do my tag list sorry - i don’t have my laptop with me

Summary: Things get better, and then they get worse.

Warnings: arguing, mentions of drugs, sexual innuendos

series masterlist

my writing

The week passes fast; a combination of making out with Rafe in his truck after your shifts and texting him all day while he works and you go to school. Topper teases you relentlessly at school every time he sees Rafe's name pop up on your phone, but you just whack him on the back of his head the same way Rafe has done to him millions of times.

Your mom had informed your dad of your relationship with Rafe, and because he never found out about the drama from the wedding, he seemed as thrilled as a father could be.

Which is how, on Thursday night, you notice that your dad's handshake is a bit firmer when Rafe steps in, and how both men puff out their chest slightly as they speak. Rafe looks more tense to you than usual, and it doesn't fade when he hugs your mom. By the time he reaches you, he practically collapses into you, letting your scent and touch relax him.

"I think your dad just broke my fucking hand," he mutters into your ear, twirling your hair around his finger as he squeezes.

"He likes you," you reply back, smile threatening your lips.

"I'd hate to see what he does to the guys he doesn't like."

You laugh in his ear, pulling back to peck him before anyone can notice. He smiles as you watch him glance behind you and make sure your dad is still occupied. Your mom calls for everyone to gather in the dining room, and you try to contain your lust-filled smile as Rafe leads you in by setting his hand on your back.

The entire meal, you and Rafe steal touches, glances, and everything in between. You really believe you could not be happier, feeling as if everything is finally settling in place. You have a new weekly routine, a new anniversary, a new boyfriend.

"Hey," Rafe mutters over your head to Scott, earning your brothers attention, "How you doin', man?"

"Good, brother," Scott replies, "Let me know if there's anything I can do to pay you back for..."

He trails off, insinuating he means the fact that Rafe stopped him from full on fist-fighting John B in the middle of a wedding reception. Rafe snickers at him, subconsciously rubbing his pointer finger across the back of your shoulder.

"Consider us even. For the tree house," Rafe says quietly.

It earns a laugh from both you and Scott, which makes your heart swell. You'd think by now, you'd be used to something always ruining it.

"So, Rafe," your dad's booming voice stops all conversation.

Rafe swallows, yanking his fingers off of your shoulder but keeping his arm around your chair. It makes him feel brave, even though your dad doesn't notice.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you feeling prepared for the Bahamas?"

Your eyes flicker from your plate to your father, furrowing your eyebrows as if to silently ask him if he's mistaken. Rafe coughs awkwardly beside you, and you pretend not to notice when he finally extracts his arm from around the back of your chair.

When you look over at your boyfriend, he's taking his time wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

"Yes, sir," his voice is quiet, "The clients down there certainly like their golf."

Your mouth runs dry, trying to figure out what all this discussion is about. Rafe hadn't so much as even mentioned the Bahamas in any sense to you, ever.

"Better clean your clubs before you head down. They'll have you out on the course every Sunday."

Rafe chokes out a smile, while you cough, earning the attention of almost everyone at the table, "Every Sunday?"

You watch Sarah perk up out of the corner of your eye, sitting up straight in her chair as she senses the tension striking up. You really feel like you could reach across the table and bitch slap her if it weren't for the trouble you'd get into. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't look down at you.

"It'll be great experience for you, if you plan to head up Cameron Development one day," your dad continues, ignoring you.

"Yes, sir," he agrees weakly.

"I'm sorry," you hold your hand up, taking note of how silent Ward is being, "Can we just, like, clarify for a moment?"

Apparently, Ward takes this opportunity to speak up, "Y/N, Rafe has the opportunity to go down to our firm in the Bahamas to meet with some clients down there. Very rich clients. It's a lot to trust him with, but he can handle it, can't you, son?"

"Yes, sir."

You want to scream at him and ask if he's capable of saying anything else.

"That's wonderful," you barely recognize your own voice, "I hadn't heard."

"I'm sure he planned to discuss it with you," Ward waves you off, "It'll only be a month."

Rafe groans quietly beside you, throwing his napkin down on the table beside his plate as a way of signaling that he's finished eating. You feel your blood run cold, and you swear you stop breathing for a second.

"A month," you repeat.

You feel him finally look over at you, but you don't bother looking up. You mimic his actions and set your napkin on the table as well, placing it instead of throwing it the way he did.

"When does this month start, Rafe?" you ask, turning your head and noting his clenched jaw.

Sarah snickers, and his eyes flick to her for a moment before settling on the lit taper candle in the middle of the table, "Monday."

"Monday," you repeat once again, "That's great. You must be proud, Mr. Cameron."

Ward nods awkwardly at you, noting the tone in your voice and assuming there is an alternate meaning behind your words. Rafe practically growls next to you.

You inhale quickly, but regain your composure and glance at your mom. She's staring at you sympathetically, like she doesn't know what to say but knows you need something. You move your gaze down to your lap, anxiously starting to pick off the nail polish you had laid there two nights ago. Ironically, it was in preparation for this dinner.

"Would anyone mind if I spoke to Y/N in the kitchen for a minute?" Rafe asks politely, his eyes traveling around the table in search of objections.

"I would mind," you mutter, only loud enough that he could hear you.

"Please?" he says quietly, pushing his chair out and waiting for you to do the same.

You do it to save both of you from further embarrassment. Your mom smiles at you when you walk out, leaving a tense scene behind you at the table. Rafe turns and grabs ahold of your wrist, pulling you as far away from the door as you both can get.

"If you're going to yell, we should go outside," he says, sounding irritated with you, then immediately after, changes his mind, "Actually, let's do that."

You don't even have time to object before he leads you out by the pool. You wonder why in the hell he could be annoyed with you after what you just learned.

"You're acting like I did something wrong," you say dryly once he shuts the back door.

"You must be proud, Mr. Cameron," he grunts, "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know, Rafe, I panicked when I didn't know anything."

He sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair and completely messing it up, "Yeah."

"How could you not tell me about this?" you raise your voice, now thankful he made you go outside, "What, were you just going to leave without telling me, too?"

"Of course not," he says immediately, looking frustrated you would even suggest that.

"Well, then why?" you demand, trying to keep your voice lower.

"Look, I get why you're upset," he ignores when you laugh incredulously, "But, this is a great opportunity for me, I need you to try and understand that-"

"Please don't act like I don't appreciate how difficult your job is."

"I know you do, okay, babe, I just - things were - are, great with us. These past few days since the wedding have been... incredible. But, y'know, we were busy before that, and we've been busy after that, and every time I try to find the words, they don't come. And, honestly, I kind of wanted to back out. It's a lot of pressure and it means leaving us, and-"

"You need to go," you stop him, "It's important to you, and to your dad. And with the thin ice you're on right now, I don't think it's wise to push it."

Rafe nods, knowing you're right, "I should have told you."

"Yes," you agree, "You should have."

You cross your arms over your chest, not bothering to meet his eyes. You can tell by his stance and his tone that he just wants to hug you, but you don't want that right now. You rake over all the times you'd been sitting on his lap in his truck the past few days, ignoring and kissing him through his words every time he said he wanted to talk. But you'd never assumed it was about something like this.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, kicking the ground.

You stay quiet for a moment, then speak, "It's a month, Rafe."

"I know."

"That's four weeks."

"Yes."

"That I'll be here. Alone. Without you."

"Baby," he sighs, "I've really been trying not to think about that."

"I'm really trying not to be frustrated with you right now," you say, tone telling him that you're not playing.

"Why?"

"How could you let me get so comfortable seeing you every day, kissing you every day, and not drop this fucking A-bomb on me and at least warn me-"

"An atomic bomb?" he raises a brow, smirk threatening to grow.

"You know what I mean," you sigh, frustrated.

"I know that I fucked up, all right? I should have told you. I just hoped that, maybe, it would get cancelled or my dad would want to go instead-"

"And now we're fighting on my patio."

"Okay," he grunts, "Obviously, I didn't plan on it coming out like this. And I'm sorry, sweetheart. But, maybe I could send the jet back and you could come visit-"

"I have school."

"-on a weekend-"

"I have work."

"God, you're really not gonna make this easy," he mutters under his breath, growing shy when he sees your raised eyebrow and daring expression, "What do you want me to do, babe?"

You shake your head, not knowing how to answer that question. He has to go, you know that. You just wish he didn't.

"Let's just go finish dinner. We've been gone too long."

He runs another hand through his hair, frustrated at your response, "Fine."

He doesn't move, so you uncross your arms and let them drop to your sides, stepping toward the back door. Right before you pull the door open, he speaks again.

"Hey."

You turn, humming instead of speaking as if to ask what he needs.

"Can I come back after dinner and stay with you?"

You swallow, feeling your heart melt in your chest at his sweet question. You weigh your options, and finally settle on the conclusion neither of you think you're going to say.

"I don't wanna get used to sleeping with you if you're gonna leave. It'll just make it harder."

You turn back, twisting the knob and stepping inside, not bothering to wait on him to follow. As you pass through the kitchen, you hear his dress shoes shuffle onto the wood. You march into the dining room alone, anyway, settled completely by the time Rafe pulls his chair out beside you.

"Nice night, huh?" Sarah asks you with the raise of an eyebrow, an evil smirk on her face.

"Maybe you'd like to go stand in the middle of the road and see for yourself," Rafe mutters to her, earning a glare from Rose. He's lucky Ward didn't hear.

"Ouch," Sarah mumbles, giggling to herself.

"Bet it's an even nicer evening in the Bahamas," you mumble to Rafe, pettiness taking over.

"Come up with that one all by yourself?" he questions, glaring down at you.

"Pretty good for only knowing about this for five minutes," you remark back.

Rafe rolls his eyes, shaking his head, "Can you please not act like this?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you liked when I act like a bitch."

The fight takes place quietly, the only people noticing it are Sarah and your mom. Rafe's face drops completely at your words, and the expression on his face is pure hurt. You almost wish you could take it back, and you open your mouth to do just that, when he stands abruptly. His chair squeaks against the hard wood and startles half the table, but Rafe doesn't care.

"Excuse me," he mumbles to your mother, stalking off toward the guest bathroom.

You sit back in your seat and sigh, using your fork to push soggy lettuce around your plate. You know you should go after him, you just can't. Being fully aware you acted like a five year old, the guilt only rises.

Rafe doesn't come out of the bathroom for a while. Everyone finishes dinner and moves into the living room, but he never comes out. You wait approximately seven minutes after dinner for him to come out, and when he doesn't, you go up to your bedroom instead. After about an hour, you hear everyone start to say goodbye downstairs. You're surprised your mom doesn't make you come down to say goodbye, but you figure she heard the fight and feels bad for you.

You check your phone once you hear the front door close, but find nothing. The guilt rises in your throat, begging to be swallowed down again. You groan, rolling over on your bed and staring at the ceiling. Every word replays in your head, starting with the beginning of the night when you had been tangled in Rafe's arms and he'd been complaining about his hand.

How do things always end up so messy when they seem so simple?

You stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours, contemplating going over to the Cameron's. You're sure your parents would have something to say, and so would Rafe's parents, so you figure you might be better waiting until tomorrow. When your phone goes off, however, you look at it right away, finding a text from Rafe.

Open the window please.

You let out a sigh, because of course he wasn't going to go to sleep and leave things like this. Tossing your phone down without responding, you stare at your spinning fan and try to figure out what the hell you and Rafe are supposed to do. Your phone dings again, pulling you out of your thought.

Baby, your read receipts are on for me. Please open the window. I'm standing in the tree.

Your head shoots over to the window, seeing only Rafe's phone screen waving around. You sigh and rise from your bed, whipping the window open and finally seeing him come into view. He's now seated on the branch across from your window, scrawny legs dangling down. He drags his sad eyes up to meet yours, swallowing visibly when he sees your expression.

"Can I just say one thing? And then, you can yell and say whatever you want."

You nod your head at him slowly, crossing your arms over your chest while you wait for him to speak.

"I, uh," he starts off, scratching the back of his neck before he continues, "I never intended for us to be like this. Don't get me wrong, the past few days I've been, like, in heaven. But, you know, I think I was so focused on getting you that I never thought about how to keep you. If that makes any sense. I've been screwing up a lot, but it's only because I've never done... this before. I've never dated anyone, or whatever, because - well, you know why. I just have loved you all my life and-"

"Rafe," you stop him, watching as he stops anxiously making hand gestures and stares at you with wide eyes.

"I'm rambling, okay," he nods, "I messed up. With the drugs thing, and the Bahamas thing. But, that's it. There are no more secrets or surprises. I promise. So, if we can just work this out, we'll be set. And, listen, I'm not even considering going to the Bahamas if it means I lose you, I mean it's not even on my radar-"

"Rafe," you say again, dropping your arms to your sides, "Just come inside, baby."

He grins at the nickname, standing up so fast you swear he's gonna hit his head on the branch above him. He ducks just before he does, strategically maneuvering his body over to your window and sliding through it with a surprising amount of grace.

"Hi," he murmurs, grin still present on his lips when he adds, "Baby."

"Hi," you breathe back, voice barely above a whisper.

"Would you like me to continue with the speech, or-"

"No, please," you laugh, your mind instantly being set at ease when he smiles, too.

"Good. I was about to start talking about how your mom spanked you with a wooden spoon that time-"

"I was nine."

"-because you climbed up on the counter to get the cupcakes she had hidden up there-"

"You dared me to!"

"They were my birthday cupcakes!"

You laugh and so does Rafe, and suddenly, it feels as if no harsh words had ever been exchanged between the two of you. He stares down at you as he smiles, sadness still present in his eyes. You're sure he took your words to heart earlier, and you want nothing more than to take them back.

"I'm sorry," you say, meeting his eyes.

"For the cupcakes?" he raises a quizzical brow.

You sigh, "For tonight, Rafe."

He nods his head, letting his playful expression fall. You accept his touch when he holds his arms out and pulls you into him, pressing you right up against him, "Me, too, sweetheart."

"I should never have said those things at the table."

"I deserved it," he insists, "I can't imagine how I would feel if we had just gotten started and you didn't tell me you were taking off for a month."

You nod against his chest, letting his scent flow through your body, "It will be good for you, though. Get you back on your feet with your dad and stuff."

"Yeah," he says quietly, resting his chin on the top of your head, "Miss you, though."

"I don't want to even talk about it," you confess.

Rafe exhales, his way of silently agreeing. You really can't even imagine a month without this boy - not after you've gotten so used to having him around to hug and kiss and harass Topper for you at work.

"Just say the word," he whispers, stroking a hand through your messy hair, "One word, and I'll cancel. Dad can handle it."

You only consider it for half a second. Of course, the selfish part of you wants him to stay and cuddle and not be a long distance boyfriend for the next month. But, you know this is what's best for him and his future - not to mention his relationship with his dad.

"I want you to go, Rafe. I mean - I don't want you to. But, I know you need to."

"And we'll be okay?"

You move your head on his chest so your chin rests on his sternum, staring up at your worried boy. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as he waits for your reply.

"We'll be just fine."

"Okay," he nods, tightening his grip around you, "Okay."

"Okay," you repeat, letting out a little laugh at how he reassures himself.

You both stay quiet for a bit, just relishing in the touches and thinking about how hard it will be when Rafe has to leave. You're already planning on a weekend to take off work so you can see him when he speaks again.

"Are you sure I can't stay?"

You smile, "I think you should."

"Good, because I'm not leaving."

You laugh against him, and the warmth that fills his body is nothing short of euphoric. The truth is, Rafe never thought things would move as fast as they have. He had planned on going on the trip and seeing where things stood between the two of you when he got back, and then he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. Every single plan he had made over the course of the past month or so had been completely ruined.

However, standing in your room, holding you the way he is, he really doesn't care.

"I love you," you whisper.

He knows those words coming out of your mouth, directed toward him, will never be something he's used to hearing. It's still so new - so unbelievable to him that he finally has what he has wanted for all these years. It just took a lot of battles and pain to get it.

"I love you, too, baby."

He can tell by the way your voice sounds and the way your shoulders droop that you're upset. So, he leans down and tucks one arm around your waist, the other behind your knees, and picks you right up off the ground.

"What are you doing?" you question, smiling when you see his goofy expression.

"Trying to get that pretty smile out of you," he replies, smirk present on his lips, "It worked."

You laugh, arms locked around his neck and holding on tight. You know he'd never drop you, but you like to be close to him in this way.

He walks over to your bed and sets you down on your side, crawling on top of you the second you're flat on your back. He hovers over you, arms resting on either side of your head and supporting his weight.

"Did you mean it? About not being able to come visit me?"

His voice is quiet, fragile. You wonder if that's what he's been focused on since you two were out on the patio - that you were so quick to reject that idea.

"I'm sure I can figure something out," you tease him, biting your lip to hide a smile.

"Mhm," he grins, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Can we talk about how you scaled the tree in my backyard to get up here?" you break away from his kiss, trying to hold back your laughter at picturing Rafe's six-foot-four self crawling through the branches.

"I'm an expert tree climber, thank you."

"An expert treehouse pusher, too," you laugh.

"Unfair!"

You giggle, pressing your hand to his mouth to cover it because of how loud he is. He laughs against your hand, and when you pull it away, he leans down and gives you a few more gentle kisses.

"You almost sound surprised that I would do that for you," he mumbles.

"I don't even want to know how high your threshold is for things you'd do for me," you reply, giggling when you watch his smile grow.

"It's up there," he agrees with another kiss.

You give in and let him kiss you deeper, bringing your hands up to stroke through his hair and down his neck. He eventually settles himself down on you, body shoved in between your legs and arms supporting the rest of his weight.

"Y/N?"

Scott's voice comes quietly through your doorframe. You both freeze, Rafe glancing at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah?" you call hesitantly, and when you see the door knob start to turn, Rafe hurries off of you and slides under your bed.

You try to suppress your laugh as you sit up, tugging your comforter over you so it looks like you had just been laying down. Alone.

Scott opens the door and peaks his head in, only taking one step inside.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, but he almost looks amused as he stares at you.

"I'm fine," you reply, voice quiet.

"Yeah, okay. Rafe left pretty grumpy."

You nod, "We'll work things out."

Scott scoffs, which makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion at his reaction, "That's gonna be kinda hard with him under your bed."

Your jaw drops as you stare at your brother, who smirks at your reaction. Rafe peaks his head out from under the bed, hesitant to make direct eye contact with him.

"Hey, man," Rafe says awkwardly.

"Dude, get your ass out from under there. I know there's dust."

"Shut up, Scott, I clean."

"No, you don't."

"Okay," Rafe cuts your bickering by dragging his tall self out from underneath your bed, standing upright, "Just don't tell your dad."

"I don't want you to die," Scott says, rolling his eyes.

"I appreciate that," Rafe replies.

"Well," Scott says, rocking on the balls of his feet, "I'm gonna let you two work it out. Just- don't- you know-"

"Ew, Scott," you frown.

"Ew?" Rafe questions you, eyebrows furrowed and offense heavy in his face.

"No, not 'ew' like that, just-"

"Don't elaborate," Scott begs you.

"Goodbye, then," you wave your hand, demanding him to leave.

He gives Rafe one last smirk, then marches out of your room and shuts the door. Rafe turns to you, still holding the same expression of confusion and offense.

"You know that's not what I meant," you grumble.

"Hmm, I don't know. I mean I thought it was pretty good the other night, but-"

"It was."

Rafe grins victoriously, "I know."

You roll your eyes, giggling only when he lays himself on top of you once more. You bring your lips to his, trying to get your fill even though you know you never will. Kissing him is like a drug and you only seem to be getting more addicted.

"Want to give Scott a show?"

"We better do it now, before you leave."

"Unfair."

Taglist: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @deenaswifeyyy @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @hopebaker @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sk8rcal @ims0golden @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @igotmajordaddyissues @babeyglo @dr3aming0utl0udx @beskar-boba @billowingbanshee @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @layazul @cremextart @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @@notdisneychannel @gillybear17

#r.cameron rec #r.cameron fic

[kookkyra]

best thing to come back to. i loved this bad.

ambivalence part nine: keep it up - rafe cameron

a/n: hi im so sorry this is late pls forgive me i hope you love it tho!!

Summary: Rafe makes up for lost time, but doesn't like when you do the same.

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, slight smut nothing graphic!

Word Count: 4.9k+

series masterlist

my writing

"I'm not getting in the truck."

Rafe swallows roughly and closes the passenger door, instead leaning up against it and facing you. You stand with your arms crossed, trying to look tough when really, all you want to do is cry. You want to know why, if it's true, and if it really had been your fault. You remember how Rafe had asked you if he could tell you the truth one night, and you wish he had. It would've avoided all of this.

"Okay," he says slowly, "Can you tell me what you're thinking right now?"

"Can I tell you what I'm thinking right now?" you repeat, laughing slightly, "No, Rafe. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Okay," he says again, shoving his hands into his pockets, kicking the ground with his dress shoe, "I should've told you."

"Told me what?" you raise your voice, "I don't even understand what happened back there! One minute I'm making plans to leave with you, and the next your sister tells me it's my fault you had a... cocaine addiction? What the fuck does that even mean?"

"No, okay - fuck, babe-"

"Don't," you raise a finger at him, "Don't do all that shit with the nicknames and the stories from when we were little. I want the truth, Rafe. No bullshit."

"I'm trying," he insists, but he won't keep his eyes on you, "I just hadn't planned on having this conversation tonight-"

"You make too many fucking plans," you snap at him, "Tell me."

"All right, all right," he sighs, "It really isn't that big of a deal. I had a little at a party one night last year, and, I don't know, I kinda got hooked on it a few months later. My dad caught me, fired me, demanded that I get clean, which I did, and I haven't had anything since. I'm fine, now. It's hard, yeah, but I'd never touch that shit again."

You sigh when he finishes, closing your eyes for a moment as you process his words, "So, you were doing drugs at work?"

"Yes," he confirms, looking at the ground again.

"Why?"

"I was... dealing with something."

"What does that mean?"

"It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago and I'm fine now," he promises, peeling himself off the truck to step over to you. You don't react when he comes closer.

"When did it start?"

"Sweetheart-"

"Rafe."

He sighs, pausing briefly before he tells you, "February."

You nod your head, counting the months. You'd never noticed a change in behavior, a difference in him. Then, you remember that you and Rafe rarely spoke at the dinners back then.

"Did you ever come to dinner, high?"

He swallows visibly, "Once."

You bring one hand up to your forehead, pressing your cool hand up to your burning skin. You try to recall when that might have been, but you never noticed. You'd been too busy with-

"Rafe," you say suddenly, feeling as if the entire puzzle had just come together.

His eyes shoot up to look at you, and when he does, he knows you know.

"February. That's when I started dating John B."

"I know."

His voice is sheepish, quiet, scared. You exhale loudly, dropping down so you're squatting in your heels. You need to sit, but you don't want to get in the truck and there's nowhere else to go but back inside. He steps forward instinctually, but backs off when you hold your hand out.

"You-" you start, but then stop. The words will never be the right ones. You set your head in your hands, trying desperately to push the guilt down.

"I was an idiot, okay?" he speaks up, staring down at you with regret written all over his sweet face, "I made a big, fat, fucking mistake and I wish I could take it back. It was just really hard to see you with him. But it's not your fault, okay, baby? You didn't do anything wrong. Sarah's a bitch for that. Please, stand up. Or let me sit with you."

When you glance up at him, it's all the permission he needs. He rushes over and sits down on the pavement beside you, wanting desperately to reach for you but knowing better. You'll come to him when you want to.

"Rafe, I-" you stop yourself again when you realize you still don't know what to say.

He scoots closer, so close that you could shift only a bit and then collapse into his lap. You think about it for a moment, then pause when he starts speaking.

"You don't have to say anything. I just didn't want you to spend the entire night not knowing. Now that you do, you can make up your mind."

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Make up my mind?"

"Yes," he nods, as if it's obvious, "If you still want to be with me or not. I understand if-"

"Hold on," you stop him, "You think that I'd - what? Duck and run?"

He just nods, swallowing visibly. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and for some reason, it makes your stomach tighten. You sigh and let your instincts take over, falling into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. He's surprised for a moment, but recovers well. He makes sure no part of your dress is touching the ground, yet wastes no time pulling you as close as you can get.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper, leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," he mumbles.

"Hey," you whisper, running a hand through his hair when he looks at you, "I'm really sorry. I can't believe that fucked up your life so bad. I really had no idea, otherwise I wouldn't have-"

"I know," he stops you, "It's not your fault. You were happy then, and who could blame you? He was your first love, your first boyfriend. You deserved to be happy. I was just selfish."

"Rafe," your voice sounds crushed, and you can feel your eyes starting to mist when you imagine how he must have been feeling, listening to you ramble on about John B for hours on end every dinner, "You're not selfish. I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head, and when you feel your eyes well up even more, you throw yourself around him so he doesn't see a tear fall. He grips onto you, hugging you as if his life depends on it. Maybe it does.

You sniffle accidentally, feeling him tense up immediately. He grabs the sides of your torso and pulls you off of him, bringing both hands up to your cheeks.

"Oh, my God, baby, no," he whines, "Please, don't cry."

"I should've known. About all of it."

He shakes his head again, bringing the base of his thumb up to your eye and wiping away any remnants of water there. Your little hands travel up and down his back, scratching slightly.

"None of this is your fault, all right? Do you understand me? It's all me. I didn't tell you about how I feel. I didn't tell you about the drugs. I didn't even tell you that I fucking pushed Scott out of that tree house-"

"Stop," you sigh, trying to get him to focus on the stuff that actually matters.

"I'm sorry," he grumbles, "I just keep screwing up, I feel like."

You let out a low laugh, which makes him smile, "Look where I'm sitting right now, then tell me you screwed up."

He smiles for a second, then makes a face, "Sweetheart, you're sitting on the dirty pavement of a church parking lot in a beautiful dress because I just told you I had a drug addiction. I'd say we can put that in the 'screwed up' category."

You shake your head, rolling your eyes playfully at him, "I'm sitting in your lap, Rafe. Do you really think I'd be here if all you were doing is screwing up?"

"I guess not," he mumbles, dropping his eyes to your lap.

You reach down and wrap your fingers around his chin, "Hey."

"What?" he asks, his voice quiet.

"You don't have to be that guy with me. You can tell me the truth. No matter how messy or screwed up it is."

"I know," he whispers.

"Good," you reply, leaning your head down and angling it just so, "Can you kiss me, now?"

Rafe smiles, nodding his head slightly, "I think I can handle that."

He sets his lips on yours, kissing you so gentle that you swear your knees would go weak if you weren't already down. His hand makes its way to your cheek, holding you to him for another moment.

"I don't want to be alone tonight, Rafe," you whisper when he pulls back.

"Me neither."

There's a silent understanding between the two of you, and when you move to stand, he offers you his hand to help. He stands quickly once you're upright, immediately pulling you in for a hug. You bury your head in his neck, leaving little kisses on his skin as he squeezes you. You can't help but feel like you have a lot to make up to him; over the years you'd been a complete bitch and he'd been suffering in silence.

All he ever wanted was for you to love him.

And as you sit there, tasting his skin and feeling the way he strokes his hand across the bare skin of your back, you're sure you do. You'd never been loved like this before, but you also have never loved anyone like this before. The sudden realization overwhelms you, only fueling your kisses. You move up his neck and underneath his ear, then along his jaw.

"Baby," he warns, voice low. Like you need to know what you're getting yourself into before you continue.

"Hmm?" you hum innocently, continuing your pursuit down his jaw and toward his chin.

"Now, hold on a minute," he practically moans, "What's gotten into you?"

"Just trying to make it up to you," you mumble, dragging your lips up to his.

"Wait," he stops you, grabbing the side of your face and pulling you back, "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to make it up to you, Rafe."

His jaw drops slightly, but he recovers and clenches it quickly, "That's what I thought you said."

He drops his hands from around you, stepping away and turning his back, walking back up toward the doors to the reception hall.

"Where are you going?" you ask, starting to follow him.

You can tell he's frustrated by the way his back is tense and his fists are balled at his sides. He doesn't respond to your words, so you hurry as fast as you can in your heels and reach out for his arm when you're close enough.

"Rafe," you say, stopping him with a tight grip.

"Since you won't listen to me," he starts, spinning around quickly, "I'm going to drag Sarah out here by her hair to apologize to you."

You stutter back, watching how the anger sets in his face. His eyes are dark and his jaw is clenched, shifting every so often as he thinks about how angry he is with Sarah for even implying that it was your fault.

"No, you're not," you sigh.

"Then what the fuck is it going to take for you to understand that you don't owe me anything? I'm responsible for my decisions, Y/N. Not you."

You nod your head, feeling more like a reprimanded child than Rafe's girlfriend. He softens at your expression, wrapping his fingers through yours as his way of apologizing for his tone.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, "I just feel guilty. And-"

"And, nothing."

"I can't just stop feeling guilty, Rafe. Can you give me some time to work through all this?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he nods slowly. You glance down at your shoes, realizing how much they're actually hurting your feet.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair."

You smile slightly, stepping toward him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. You're so sure he would've dragged Sarah out here, too. He wasn't bluffing.

"Can we go home now?"

Rafe looks up at you, goofy grin breaking out onto his face for the first time in over an hour.

"I really like that question," he admits, "Yes. Of course. Let's go."

He wraps his fingers up in yours and leads you back to the truck, holding the door open for you and giving you one of his hands to help you climb up. The drive home remains quiet - mostly because all of the words had already been spoken. Rafe keeps his hand in yours as you both silently process the night.

When you two arrive back at Rafe's, the house is silent. It's nice, knowing everyone else is not home and out of your way. If things hadn't gone downhill, Rafe would be in heaven coming back to an empty house, where the two of you could be as loud as you want, do whatever you want, with no lingering eyes or ears.

"Are you hungry?" he asks you quietly, leading you into the kitchen and pulling out two water bottles.

"No," you tell him, "I'd really just like to change and lay down."

Rafe nods, taking your hand in his once more and taking you upstairs to his room. Although you remember where it is in the house, you remember that you haven't actually been in it for many years.

You look around his room the second you enter it, observing the bunch of dress shirts on his dresser that had been discarded after work every night this week, and the stack of books about a mile high on his desk.

Rafe sets a pair of fresh boxers and a shirt of his on his bed, "There you go, babe."

You nod a thank you to him, still taking in his room. Everything about it seems perfectly normal. Just as you're about to give up, ready to wrap yourself up in Rafe's sheets, you spy the picture frames that line his wall above his desk. Four of them, to be exact. You step over to observe them more carefully.

One is a picture of he and Topper and Kelce on the golf course. It looked to be pretty recent. The stupid grin on Topper's face makes you laugh. The second is a picture of his whole family at Midsommers a few years ago. You remember the grey suit he had worn that night, and you hadn't thought twice about it. Funnily enough, you were crushing on JJ Maybank at the time. The third is a picture of he and Wheezie, both making goofy faces at the camera.

The fourth makes your heart stop.

It's a picture of you and Rafe, taken on that cruise you had taken when you were thirteen and he was fifteen. Your mom had forced you into a photo on the beach, clear blue water behind you. Rafe had awkwardly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, telling you it was so the picture would look nice. You had just shrugged, not bothering to wrap your arm around him, too. He had pretended not to notice.

Your eyes well up, staring at the photo of a boy who so desperately just wanted to be noticed by some girl who spent the entire trip trying to find the perfect, tan, thirteen year old boy on the beach to sweep her up. He really had loved you all along. A tear falls from your eye before you can help it, turning around to him. His expression changes when he sees you, immediately stepping over to you.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, voice heavy with concern.

He sets his hands on your hips, pulling you toward him. You look back at the picture, pointing at it so he knows what you're trying to talk about.

"Oh, shit, yeah," he trails off, realizing he'd been caught, "Why are you crying, though?"

He brings a hand to your cheek, stroking your skin with his own. The motion, the picture, everything from tonight, makes you feel it in your chest. Again. The same feeling you'd gotten in the parking lot with him. The love, the want.

"Because," you mumble through your emotions, trying to pinpoint exactly what it is you want to say.

"Because, what?"

"Because, I love you, Rafe. And it's new. But you - you've loved me since I was... that," you turn, pointing to the little girl in a two piece she had taken insanely seriously as a thirteen year old. She was a brat.

Rafe swallows, trying to decide which part of your declaration he would like to address first.

"I happened to enjoy that bathing suit very much," he mutters, voice thick through his own emotions.

You laugh, making everything worth it to him. He smiles, more out of relief that the tension is broken. Even crying, you're still the most gorgeous to him.

"I'm trying to tell you something right now," you say, smile still evident on your lips.

"I heard you," he nods, "I just need a moment. I had this planned out, too. I was going to tell you when I thought you were ready. I had no idea-"

"You really need to knock it off with the planning," you demand.

"I can't help it. I've been wanting this all my life, I'm not messing it up," he whispers the last part, making your heart squeeze, "Why do you always throw my plans off balance?"

"Apparently, it's the only thing I'm good at when it comes to you," you mutter.

He shakes his head immediately, "I can think of plenty of other things."

You smile, letting his kiss take over all of your senses. You've forgotten about the sheets, about changing your clothes or taking your heels off. It's just him, right now.

He pulls away, but when he speaks, you can still feel his lips on your own, "I love you, too, if it wasn't obvious."

You smile and pull him back to you by his tie, and both of you realize that you, in fact, will not be needing a change of clothes, after all.

The morning comes fast, too fast, and when Rafe's alarm sounds, you refuse to move a muscle. You feel him pull one arm out from around you and shut it off, then roll right back and set his arm in the exact spot it had been in. You smile to yourself, grateful he's wrapped around the back of you and doesn't know you're awake.

Just as you're ready to fall back to sleep completely, you feel his fingertips start to travel up and down the length of your stomach. Even though you're pressed up against him completely, he needs to feel more of you. Goosebumps rise on your skin as he continues his effortless and gentle touches, splaying his fingers across your stomach and then back in again.

You never want this to end.

Plain and simple.

The thought of getting up, moving from your position in Rafe's sheets, away from his smell and his naked body, feels like torture. You know loving Rafe is fast, but it doesn't feel fast to you. It feels right. It feels natural, almost like it's what you should've been doing all along.

You turn around in his arms, desperate to see his face. He feels you shift and groans slightly, but doesn't loosen his grip around you in the slightest. His eyes are still glued shut and his hair is a mess, but you've never seen a better sight than this one. You reach your hand up and stroke his cheek, swiping your finger along his jawline. You can feel it clench under your finger, but you don't speak yet. His eyebrows furrow slightly, and you feel excitement bubble up in your stomach when his lips part.

"No way it's really going to be you laying in my bed when I open my eyes," he murmurs, morning voice filling your ears and sounding like heaven to you.

You grin, fiddling with the chain around his neck, "Only one way to find out."

You watch as he pops open one eye only, like he's scared he might have been right. When he sees the big smile on your face, the other eye immediately opens, and the grin on his face is incomparable to any other sight you've seen in your life.

"No way," he repeats, voice only slightly above a whisper.

"Way, Cam," you tease, grin still prevalent on your lips.

"Don't even start with that," he mutters, dragging his head slowly across his pillow near you.

You smile once more, meeting him halfway and allowing him to initiate the kiss. Everything about the moment overwhelms you; his smell, his taste, the feeling of his sheets surrounding your body, the way his hands travel up and down your back.

He pulls away after a moment, laying his head down flat on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling while still keeping one arm around you.

"No fucking way," he mutters once more.

You laugh loudly, "Will you quit saying that, please?"

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling. You're convinced he's counting the fan rotations with how focused he is.

"I just don't believe I'm this lucky."

"I mean, I can leave, if you want-"

"Don't move from this bed, Y/N."

You grin, scooting closer and kissing his jaw, "I wouldn't dream of it."

He turns his head, leaning down to get another kiss from you. It feels like the perfect moment, the perfect morning. Nothing can ruin it. Except a knock on Rafe's bedroom door.

"Rafe?" Rose speaks from the other side, sounding hesitant.

"Shit," he swears against your lips, rising quickly and shoving boxers over himself, "Stay here, sweetheart."

You furrow your eyebrows, silently asking where he thinks you would go. He smirks and rolls his eyes, then pulls open his door and slips out with a slight 'Morning, Rose'. You try not to laugh, wondering what the hell Rose would need from him right now. You wonder if Scott covered for you with your parents, assuming he would know you came home with Rafe.

The door handle turns slowly, and when Rafe slips back in, his expression reads irritated. You sit up, using his comforter to cover yourself as he steps over to you, sitting down on your side.

"I need you to get dressed," he states, trying to keep his voice even, "I'm going to take you home, now."

"What?" you practically laugh, "You just told me not to get up."

"Your mom's been calling."

"Shit," you swear the same way Rafe had, throwing your head back onto his pillow.

"Apparently," Rafe grumbles, "Rose checked in on us late last night and informed your mom that you were with me."

You can tell Rafe is annoyed that Rose invaded his space - that she came in in the night and found the two of you tangled together in his bed and then told your mom about it. But, more than anything, he's annoyed that the morning - the one he's been fantasizing about forever - is being ruined by a couple of nosy women who have nothing better to do than meddle.

"Fantastic," you mutter sarcastically, frowning when he picks up his shirt off the floor and sets it on you.

"Five minutes," he says, voice almost sad, then leans forward and gives you a peck, adding, "I'm sorry."

You sigh and nod, letting him give you another kiss on the forehead before he stands and slips into the bathroom. You stand and dress, ignoring the butterflies you get from seeing your dress all tangled in Rafe's suit on the floor. You push away the memories of last night; of his kisses and the feelings you got from finally being able to be with him. You even replay his little whispers in your head, his voice in your ear telling you how much he loves you and how good it is, even better than he ever thought.

When he emerges from the bathroom, you're practically beat red in the face from remembering. You step to him and kiss him, captivating him in it for a while. He no longer cares about the time, about Rose demanding that he get you home.

"What was that for?" he asks, breathless when you pull away.

"Last night," you smirk at him.

He bites his lip, laughing quietly and trying to contain blushing of his own. He picks up your dress and carries it to his closet, aimlessly pulling out a hangar and promising to get in dry cleaned for you. Then, he takes your hand and leads you downstairs, trying his best to be quiet so as to avoid his parents.

You both successfully make it out of the house, trying to save yourselves from any more potential embarrassment being caught by them.

Rafe seems content on the drive home, regardless of the fact that your parents are probably fuming. He's with you - and he'd been with you. That seems like it's enough for him, and the rest is just noise. He tangles your fingers together as he drives, occasionally lifting your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

When he pulls into your driveway, he shuts off the truck and turns to you.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask bleakly, already knowing the answer.

"I think it's better for my overall well being if I don't," he says, and although it sounds like he's kidding, you're sure he's not.

"I'll let you know what they say."

You lean over and give him a kiss over the console, then climb out of the truck, turning back before you close the door.

"I love you," he breathes the words, almost as if he's afraid to say them again. He half expects you to jump back in fear and run away.

"I love you, too."

Despite the circumstances, he nods, inhaling the words and then exhaling a sigh of content. He bites back a smile, pretending to adjust himself in his seat to hide his beam.

You smile and then close the door, blowing him a kiss as you walk up the driveway. The front door already being unlocked is not a good sign to you, and with a deep breath, you brace yourself for lectures on lectures.

"Y/N?"

Your mother calls the second the door creaks open. You step inside and close the door, quickly glancing out the window beside the door and watching Rafe back out.

"Yeah."

Your mom emerges into the foyer, barely glancing at you in Rafe's shirt and sweatpants before sighing.

"Did you have a good night?"

You frown, "It was fine."

She sighs, letting her shoulders fall and the tenseness in her body go with them.

"I ran into Diane last night at the reception. She told me what happened between all of you outside."

You swallow, cursing yourself for being so dumb as to think that your parents would never find out about that little stunt. With the fighting and yelling and pushing, practically everyone outside saw the show.

"It was a misunderstanding, Mom."

"I was concerned you went to the Cameron's because you got hurt. I'm just glad you're okay."

You nod slowly, clenching your jaw, "I'm fine. I went to the Cameron's because - well. I'm with Rafe, Mom."

You hold your breath, waiting for the lecture on safe sex or how you didn't call or how irresponsible it is to be having sex with a family friend's son. Instead, however, her lips turn up into a smile.

"I know, honey," she smiles, "And, I think it's fantastic. That boy's been in love with you since he met you."

You throw your hands up in the air, exasperated at her words, "Did everyone know except me?"

She smiles, "It's not the kind of thing parents can meddle in. It has to work itself out."

You scoff at that, knowing that your mother and Rose would meddle in just about anything they could get their hands on. You know she's full of shit, but you don't mind. If you're not getting screamed at, you count that as a win.

"Well," you say quickly, "I'm gonna go shower, if that's all right."

"Change your clothes afterward," she whispers, "Your father will kill that boy if he sees you."

You start to laugh, but freeze when you hear your dad, "Is Y/N home?"

Your mother's eyes widen, and she starts to hurry you toward the stairs. Your father calls out again, sounding like he's getting closer.

"Mom," you say halfway up the stairs, turning to her, "Thanks."

She winks at you, then grabs ahold of your your dad's shoulder to draw his attention to something else while you make it up to your bedroom.

She had never backed you up or been that cool about anything when you had been with John B. And as you shed off Rafe's clothes to get in the shower, you can't help but wonder if everyone has been rooting for you and Rafe all along.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @kaatelyyynn @hayley1623 @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @dudinhahoff @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @hopebaker @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @sk8rcal @ims0golden @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @igotmajordaddyissues @babeyglo @dr3aming0utl0udx @beskar-boba @billowingbanshee @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @layazul @cremextart @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @notdisneychannel @gillybear17

#r.cameron rec #r.cameron fic

[kookkyra]

i disappeared… sorry i’ve been talking to a… boy (gasp). and really focusing on myself/mental health/etc.

hoping to come back very soon- and thank you to everyone who has continued to tag me in their work bc i need to catch tf up

[kookkyra]

so life has been crazy af. work is kicking my ass. trying to have a social life is kicking my ass BUT…. i do still be writing i promise

#k.talks

[kookkyra]

my toxic trait is becoming more obsessed with something than the person who recommended it to me

[kookkyra]

drew.

i have nothing else

tomfoolery 5/26/20

#d.starkey

[kookkyra]

my roommates and i for halloween…. gotta say i think we’re pretty iconic… anyone know who we are? 🤪

#k.talks

[kookkyra]

Sleepy JJ + Mama Pope

#j.maybank #p.heyward

[kookkyra]

rudy pankow | instagram videos

#r.pankow

[kookkyra]

i’m really stuck on it saying “who the fuck is mick jagger” but i could be (very) wrong

It's really irritating me that I can't tell what Drew's shirt says lol.

Ok now that you mentioned it: same

Internet FBI do your thing tell us what Drew's shirt says pretty please

[kookkyra]

rudy pankow | bubble skincare

#r.pankow

[kookkyra]

if you’re going to post 10k long fics and tag them in all of the common tags, please for the love of god use the read more feature.

if you’re posting from a phone using the app and can’t find the read more feature: type :readmore: and then press the enter/new paragraph button and it will input it for you.

[kookkyra]

“he is just some guy” YEAH WELL HE IS MY SOME GUY