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schemmentis · 19 days

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La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 2

Co-Written w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1

Summary: You tell Melissa what's going on, and the investigation continues...

WC: 2k

Irish Translations: Mo ghrá - My love, A storin - My little treasure

Italian-American/Italian Translations: Figlio di puttana - son of a bitch, mamaluke - idiot/fool, Ti voglio ben’assai - I love you so much

“Well,” Danek sighs. “She said the magic words.”

You let out a rather long yawn, this unplanned late night catching up to you. “Can I go home now? God... my wife is going to kill me.”

“You’re back here at nine sharp, lawyers present,” Shaw tells you. “Or we will find you, and we will arrest you.”

You huff. “Can we do ten?” you try to negotiate. “If I’m going to stay married, I know I’m going to have to take my girls to school today, and they start at nine.”

“Ten o’clock,” Shaw tells you. “But know that if you aren’t her-”

“I know,” you roll your eyes. “You will find me, and you will arrest me.”

You stand and go to leave, only to realize that your car is sitting safely in your driveway at home. It’s far too late for you to walk home alone safely now too. “Can you take me home?”

You’re escorted back to your house, grumbling about how if you were hiding something like they think you are, why on Earth would you let them know where you live. You only hope these two believe you. The entire ride home, you feel the binder dig into your back, and you know when you go to change you’ll have various marks from the edges of the sharp book.

Unlocking your door, you sigh heavily. Kicking off your shoes and relocking the door in the dark, you finally shrug off your blazer and pull the binder from between your belt. You stretch just slightly before making your way into the bedroom.

The sight before you makes your heart swell. Both of your little ones are curled into your wife’s sides as she sleeps just slightly propped up, clearly having fallen asleep waiting for you and trying to work out her own business. Her glasses are half on her face, her phone is resting on her chest, and both hands are laying over your twins’ chests.

You get ready for bed as quietly as possible and hide the ledger for your illegal business in the safe under your bed before sliding in and attempting to lay Melissa down without waking her. Of course though, that doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” your wife lets out sleepily as she blearily opens her eyes. They take a few seconds to adjust and focus on you. She glances at the clock. “It’s three am, and you’re just getting in?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you sigh softly as you curl up around Rosie. “Get some sleep, I’ll wake up with the girls tomorrow to make it up to you for not being here last night.”

“Are you okay?” Melissa asks you in a whisper.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to kiss her gently. “I don’t know, but you three will be.”

“What does that mean? Where were you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you sigh as you lay back down and close your eyes.

You feel a gentle hand reach for your own in the darkness. It squeezes, almost too tight for just a moment before it relents to a soft grasp. You take a deep breath, though you don’t open your eyes. You know it’s Melissa’s silent way of reinforcing her presence, as well as her combination of frustration and worry.

“You don’t just get to come home at three am after leaving me high and dry for mom duty.” Your wife’s voice hits your ears softly in the dark. You’re certain it’s only because your girls are asleep next to you both that she doesn’t sound as pissed as you expected. “After having Tony tell me to take my ziti off the menu, might I add. Then he didn't even tell me where you were. I was worried.”

“I was down at the station,” you reveal with a heavy breath. “Now seriously, Mo ghrá, get some sleep, and we can talk about this tomorrow.”

Your wife huffs, not thrilled to not be clued in with whatever is taking place, but she does relent. An arm of hers wraps around Cat as she lets her own eyes flutter shut.

That night, you dream of what might come out of this. You dream of ways for you to possibly escape the sticky situation that you’ve found yourself in. But you also have nightmares of the many (and more probable) ways that this could all pan out: Melissa being hurt, your girls getting hurt, being taken away from the twins, being murdered- just like Bobby.

You don’t know how long it took you to fall asleep. Properly asleep, that deep and restorative sleep. You know when you wake up though. Your eyes pop open, startled awake by the slap of a tiny palm to your face. Half a palm and little fingers blocking your left eye and the other half pressed to your upper cheek.

“Mam.” One tiny voice doing her best to whisper calls for you. You blink when the little hand pulls away to see Cat, half sprawled across your wife and her sister to reach you. “Mam!” Her decent attempt at a whisper rises with her excitement to see you awake.

You softly shush her. “I’m happy to see you too, A storin, but we don’t want to wake up Mommy.” You quietly explain as you untangle yourself from your little family taking up all of your bed.

You pick up Cat first since she’s awake, kissing her small cheek before you maneuver to pick up her sister. You carry both your girls to the kitchen, setting them to their chairs at the table. “Mam is going to make breakfast and then take you to school, okay? We’re going to use our inside voices and let Mommy get some extra rest.”

Thankfully, they listen to you. Seemingly, they’re content so long as you’re in sight and softly speaking with them or humming the songs you know they like. You only have a small snafu when Cat insists she has to wear the shoes you’d just gotten onto Rosie’s feet. They are her shoes and not her sister’s, she informs you. You placate her by proffering an exact matching pair that would have been put on her feet next anyway. She still grumbles a bit about her sister wearing her shoes, though.

You’re just about to get them out the door when Melissa appears, dressed aside from her shoes. She kisses each of your girls’ heads when they greet her excitedly as she leans down to grab the pair she means to put on.

“I told you I’d take them in.” You softly remind her. “You were supposed to be sleeping in.”

She glances up at you as she slips her heel over her foot, balancing without leaning against the doorway. “Are you kidding? This is already more sleeping in than I usually get. I need to check on the prep since I didn’t get to oversee it personally.” Melissa looks away just long enough to situate her other heel before her eyes return to you, slightly harder than usual. “Besides, you still need to tell me about last night.”

You nod, hustling your little ones out the door a little faster than you might otherwise. You’re on the edge of running late and the last thing you need is some PPD squad car pulling you over because it’s 10:01 and you haven’t walked back into the station yet.

Melissa gives you a look once you’re all in the car, the girls safely into their car seats in the back. You can read her expression well enough by now. You can tell she doesn’t like what’s going on- your late night last night, you're rushing them all this morning.

You sigh as you pull out of your driveway towards the girls’ school. “I have to be back at the station at ten.” You finally say beneath the girls singing along to Frozen songs played from your phone over the car speakers.

“Back at the station?” Melissa repeats, staring at you. “What’d they need you back for? They didn’t figure all this sh—” She stops herself short of swearing with a deep breath. “They didn’t figure out what they needed from you last night?”

You glance in your rearview mirror, ensuring both the girls are still occupied. Not that they’re old enough to understand anything they may hear. They are, however, old enough to repeat whatever they hear without discretion.

“They’re investigatin’ Bobby’s murder.” You answer as you look back to traffic. “I dunno what they’ve found in doin’ that but it…it sure seems like whatever it is also put them on to the salon. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got people campin’ it.”

“So, let’s just call Tommy. He’s kept the blues off of everything for us plenty of times before.”

“Mel…” You take a breath. Tommy is one of your ins in the PPD, an old connection and friend by now. The girls call him Uncle Tommy. He comes to your house on holidays. You trust Tommy. But even Tommy can’t go up against the FBI. Not without risking himself immensely. “It’s the Feds, babe.”

“Figlio di puttana!” Your wife does curse now, not exactly quietly but not as loud as you know it would have been if you were the only two in the car. Hopefully the language switch and bigger words means if the twins heard, they can’t really repeat it properly.

Melissa doesn’t say anything else as you pull up to the twins’ school. She only speaks to say goodbye to both your girls and tell them to have a good day before you walk them in. You take a little extra time to say goodbye to them yourself in their classroom doorway. You hug them both tight, telling them you love them. Just in case. You can’t help imagining the worst from the rest of whatever today holds.

When you get back to the car, Mel has switched to the driver’s seat. You slip into the passenger without batting an eye. You can see the tension the redhead is holding. In her shoulders, in the steady whitening of her knuckles as she grips the steering wheel. You feel it all mirrored in your own muscles.

“I’m comin’ in with you.” She says as you turn down the street the station sits on.

“No.” You quickly protest. “I kept you from the restaurant last night; you need to worry about that today.” You insist.

“Fuck that, I’m not leavin’ you to sit in an interrogation room for hours again. If you had told me that’s what was happenin’ last night—”

“I was already asking plenty by asking you to miss your prep. The girls needed you to be with them last night.”

“No, what the girls needed was you to be there to keep your promise to ‘em. Don’t get me started, Y/N.”

You close your eyes briefly as Melissa swings your car into the station’s parking lot. You squeeze them tighter just a little when you hear her grumble next to you. “Oh, great. Do we really need Sammy?”

You open your eyes after a deep breath. You see Sammy, dressed immaculately in a suit as he steps from his mercedes. Salvatore ‘Sammy’ Gaetano is one of the best lawyers in the city. He’s also a member of the Italian mafia in Philly. Which is why he’s standing in the station’s parking lot, staring pointedly at you through your car’s windshield. He raises his arm, tapping his rolex. You’re running out of time.

“Look, go to the restaurant, okay? Take care of everything there that you need to, alright? I’ll ask Sammy to call your Ma to get the girls from school so you don’t have to worry about them tonight.”

Melissa’s glare turns away from Sammy, still staring as he waits on you, to you. “And what about you, huh? I’m just ‘spose to not worry about you, that it?”

“For today, yes.” You say as you unclip your seatbelt.

“Don’t be a mamaluke.” Melissa grumbles. “You know damn well I’m gonna worry anyhow.” She reaches as you open the car door, gripping the sleeve of your dress shirt and tugging you to lean across the console to her side of the car. She kisses you like her life depends on it. Like she’s worrying about the same thing you are. Like it could be the last time. “Ti voglio ben’assai.” She whispers to you when she pulls away.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #collab fic

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schemmentis · 17 days

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La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 4

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Summary: The search warrants on your salon and house are executed and Melissa turns to an unlikely source for help...

WC: 2k

You turn to your right, glaring hard at Sammy. And then you remember that the books for your family are stowed away- in your safe... at home. Melissa is at the restaurant as far as you’re aware, and if the FBI finds that safe hidden under one of the broken floorboards in your room, you’re dead meat.

What you don’t know is that Melissa, after making a few calls, ends up back at home. She immediately goes for the safebox to look for anything else that could somehow miraculously get you out of this sticky situation, but when she opens it she finds the binder that holds your fate. That’s the absolute last thing she wants to see in your house. She lets out a shaky breath before picking it up and holding it close to her chest. She has no idea where to even take it. If the interrogation leads to warrants, they’re going to check your salon, your home, your cars, even her restaurant.

And then an idea strikes her- and she hates that she even thinks of this. Barbara Howard has no connection to anyone other than being the sweet woman that your family engages with at church. And even at that, your girls are so popular among the congregation, that the entirety of that circle adores you and your family- they can’t certainly go there and interrogate every single person who gathers. Even if they did, nobody knows of the illegal business that she and you run- not even the reverend.

Before she can talk herself out of it, the Italian woman dials the number that she had only dialed a few times before- mostly to pray over you and your girls together, and once to gossip about the fact that Sister Sloss had been skimming money off the top of the church funds and dipping her own toes into a business she had no right to be a part of.

“Hello? Melissa?” the other woman answers the phone.

“Hey, you remember when you told me I didn’t need to wait to meet you at Mass?”

“Of course I do, and I meant it,” Barbara says into the phone, eyebrow raised.

The redhead runs a nervous hand through her hair. “Care to have brunch?”

“I would be delighted,” the church going woman smiles into the phone. She has no idea what she’s just gotten herself into.

The two women meet at a small diner a few blocks away from the church, and Melissa has the ledger hidden in her all too big bag.

“Not that I’m not happy to be here, but what made you change your mind?”

Melissa lowers her eyes to the table as she lets out, “I need you to do me a favor- no questions asked.” When the woman across from her furrows her brow and bites her lip, the redhead continues. “I have something I need you to hold onto for the time being.”

“And what would that be?”

“I thought I said no questions asked,” Melissa grumbles. “Just... the ledger for the salon. You just have to hold onto it and keep it safe until I take it back.”

“Melissa, are you and Y/N committing fraud?” Barbara asks lowly, just barely audible.

The redhead shakes her head, and she’s telling the truth. “It’s just an extra copy of the financials, but I have a feeling they’re going to take the original copy and I need a backup so I can sue their asses when this is all over.”

Barb closes her eyes for a few seconds, internally wrestling with herself.

“Please,” Melissa begs. “If not for me and Y/N, then for Cat and Rosie.”

“Okay. Hand it over.”

“I’ll give it to you when we’re leaving,” the redhead sighs. “Now, can we talk about what Delisha was wearing today?”

The pair end up having a delightful brunch, and when they part ways Barbara takes the binder with explicit instruction from the Italian to never open it and to hide it somewhere safe- somewhere where even Gerald or the Howard girls won’t be able to find it.

And then Melissa is on her way back home.

Meanwhile, your salon is being torn apart as they look for anything suspicious. There is nothing though of course, because the one thing that they’re looking for isn’t there anymore. Hours go by, and as they move and rearrange everything in the building, you’re right behind them cleaning it up. Your salon might be a front, but you still do good business, and you’d like to keep it that way if possible. It’s the extra pocket money that you and your wife use to spoil the girls as often as you can.

You think of them as you put your business back together- how they’re probably running amuck right now in kindergarten with their all too smart little mouths that they undoubtedly learned from Melissa, their insanely high energy levels. If you can remember as you glance at the clock, they’re probably sprinting around the recess yard giggling with glee at this very moment. It makes your heart warm, and you silently pray to whatever God is out there that they’re safe, happy, and that they get to keep their innocence as life continues for them.

It seems like hours pass before the search is over. But then they move onto your house, and a nasty pit settles in your stomach. Sammy drives with you back to the house, but when he pulls in, the family car is sitting there. Melissa’s home?

Danik knocks on the door rather abrasively, and inside where your wife is folding your girls’ clothes in the living room she jumps.

“Hello?” She comes to the door and opens it wide, hoping to give off the impression that the two of you have absolutely nothing to hide- only she knows that there’s nothing here.

“Hey honey,” you sigh softly as you step past the officers to peck her lips. “Why are you home? I thought you had work today?”

She holds up her injured hand. “I got into a fight today... the knife won.”

“Baby,” you look up at the ceiling with an exasperated look as you take her hand in your own and start to unwrap it to check the damage. “Were you singing and dancing again while trying to dice the onions?”

“Maybe,” Melissa shrugs, although she knows that is very much not why she nicked her fingers today.

“Enough,” Danik steps between the two of you. He holds up the search warrant for Melissa to see. “We have to search your home now for any ties to the murder of Bobby Esposito.”

“To Bobby?” your wife plays dumb. “That was such a shame what happened to-” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because the police push past her rather harshly and begin their search.

They look through the whole house- moving furniture, opening drawers and cabinets, even going as far as pulling back the blankets on your twins’ beds while you and Melissa just continue to fold laundry in the living room. Hopefully by just letting them do their thing and not trailing their every step, they realize that you were not involved in the hit on Bobby. They find nothing. But then, they head into your bedroom.

Melissa is clearly trying to silently convey something to you, but you can’t pick up on what she’s attempting to tell you. Her eyes dart to yours every few moments from over the laundry you’re both folding, returning to the doorway of your bedroom that the agents are currently tearing apart.

“We found something!” Shaw shouts to Danik, who is still combing through the girls’ room. The woman goes rushing into your room, and you blow out a breath as you know they’ve just found the loose floorboard with the safe... that contains your ledger. You know your arrest is only minutes away.

“Mrs. Schemmentis, enough of the domestic household act,” Danik rolls her eyes as she steps into the living room. “We found the safe, and we need you to open it.”

You take your wife’s hand in your own and squeeze it gently, as if to say, ‘I love you, and I’m sorry’. She just returns the gesture as you both make your way into your bedroom.

The safe is sitting on your bed, and the agents look all too happy to have found what they think they’re looking for.

“Open it,” Shaw instructs.

You do, and when you expect to find the ledger laying on top where you had put it last night, you only find all of your other legal documents- birth certificates for your family, passports from the trip to Italy a few summers ago, your marriage license, social security cards. You try to hide the absolute shock in your face- where the hell could the ledger have gone?

Admitting defeat for now, the agents leave your home promising that they will find whatever you’re hiding. You shoo them out, telling them that you weren’t connected to the hit on Bobby in the slightest and that you wish they would just leave you alone. You tell them that you would kindly appreciate it if they would leave you to take care of your injured wife.

Sammy also makes his exit after assuring you that they aren’t going to find anything. That leaves just you and Melissa. You gently unwrap her hand to change the gauze out when your eyes meet hers.

“Where the hell did the books go?” you whisper, almost afraid that the cops had somehow bugged your house and you weren’t aware.

“Why was it in our house to begin with?” your wife shoots out just as quietly. “We had one rule, and it was that none of that shit ever comes home with us to protect the girls. Do you know how pissed I was when I found it?”

You close your eyes briefly at your wife’s biting tone. She may be quiet, but you can see the echoes of how furious she was when she initially found the ledger in your home.

You’re taken back to just after the girls were born. Barely six months old, swaddled in blankets and tucked safely in their car carriers a few feet away from you and Melissa both. The two of you helped put back together the apartment that had been flipped entirely upside down by the police. An hour before you had watched the tail end of the search being finished. It had, unfortunately in your eyes, been successful for the police and ended with Melissa’s younger brother Mickey in handcuffs.

It was then that Melissa had looked at you, in the middle of trying to put her brother’s apartment back together, with determination set in her features. ‘Business never comes home.’ She said firmly. It wasn’t a sentiment you were inclined to argue with, and if you had been, the look on your wife’s face would ensure you wouldn’t have.

“I knew they were going to search the salon, so I brought it home until I could figure out what to do with it,” you mumble. “I was going to get rid of it by the end of today.”

“Well you’re damn lucky Val convinced me to take the day off after I nearly cut off my fingers because I was so distracted worrying about you,” Melissa hisses out. “If you knew they were going to search the salon, you damn well knew they were going to search the house too!”

“I didn’t think they’d do it all in one day!” you defend yourself as you wrap her hand just slightly more aggressively than you usually would (and even then, it’s not aggressive at all... you handle your wife with such delicate care). “Now where is it?! My life depends on that book!”

“It’s somewhere no one will ever think to look,” the redhead tells you with a smirk on her face.

“Melissa Ann,” you huff out in frustration. “Now is not the time for games. Where is the damn book?!”

“With Barbara Howard,” Melissa whispers.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #janeyseymour #collab fic

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